Neq the Sword

  She faced away angrily. Tyi smiled.

  They traveled south and east. Tyi and Neq were re-

  turning to make their report to Dr. Jones. Vara, though

  she did not see it that way, was that report. She was the

  only one remaining who could answer the necessary ques-

  tions about the nature of Helicon's demise. But she thought

  she was coming to have her vengeance on Neq; she did

  not mean to let him escape.

  Tyi did not start any conversations. Neq hardly felt

  like talking himself, and Vara remained sullen. They had

  about three thousand miles to go: between three and four

  months at their swift pace. It was not likely to be a pleasant

  trip.

  But they had to work together, for the natives were

  generally unfriendly and the old hostels no longer existed

  even in the formal crazy demesnes. They were cutting

  across what had been known as western Canada, intend-

  ing to skirt the southern boundaries of a series of large

  lakes, and the northern boundaries of the worst badlands.

  Tyi had a crazy map; it claimed such a route existed.

  Someone had to forage each day for food; someone

  had to stand guard each night; someone had to get them

  safely through outlaw territories. Tyi did most of it at

  first. Then Vara, shamed, began to help.

  Neq, stripped of his sword, could neither fight nor

  forage effectively. He was dependent on the other two,

  and mortified by the situation. It was hard to give up a

  weapon, and not merely in the circle! All he could do was

  keep watch—and for that he had to stay awake. That was

  not easy after a twelve hour hike, each day.

  One night as they camped by a river, Neq consoled

  himself by striking the tip of his pincers against the bells

  of his glockenspiel. He had not tried to play it since leav-

  ing the smithy's shop. But the sound was not proper;

  metal on metal annoyed him. He took the little wooden

  hammer and tapped the notes experimentally, regaining

  the feel of the music. Soon he was running through the

  scales, improving his competence while the others slept.

  It was possible to play entire melodies with no more than

  the hammer! He began to hum, measuring his voice against

  the clear tones of the instrument. It was there in him yet:

  the joy of music.

  Finally he unstopped the voice that had been dormant

  during the entire time of killing, and that had emerged

  only when his sword was buried. He sang, accompanying

  himself carefully on the glockenspiel:

  Then only say that you'll be mine

  And our love will happy be

  Down beside some water flow

  By the banks of the 0-hi-o.

  He sang all of it, though this was not that river and his

  voice, despite the smithy's compliment, was imperfect

  now, a creaky shadow of its prime. But the instrument

  gave him a certainty of key he had not had before, and

  the spirit of the melody suffused him with its odd rapture.

  As he sang, he rocked to the lovely, tortured vision of

  it: the young woman taking a walk by the river strand,

  refusing to marry the suiter, being threatened by his knife

  at her breast, and finally drowned. An ugly story but a

  beautiful song—one of his favorites, before he had come

  too close to living it. There were tears in his eyes, making

  his watch difficult.

  "Your wife—did you kill her too?"

  He was not startled to find Vara awake. He had known

  he could not sing aloud without arousing her curiosity or

  ire. "I must have."

  "I ask only because I have to," she said bitterly. "Tyi

  balked me, on pain I should know you. Before I kill you.

  I saw you had no bracelet."

  "She was a crazy," he said, not caring what she might

  think about Neqa.

  "A crazy! What have you to do with them?"

  "I thought to rebuild Helicon."

  "You lie!" she cried, clutching at her sticks, which were

  always with her, warrior-style.

  Neq looked at her tiredly. "I kill. I do not lie."

  She turned away. "I may not kill you yet."

  "You want the mountain dead?"

  "No!"

  "Then tell me: what is Helicon to you? Were you not

  kept prisoner there, and betrayed at the end? Don't you

  hate it yet?"

  "Helicon was my home! I loved it!"

  He studied her in the moonlight, perplexed. "Do you

  want it restored, then, as I do?"

  "No! Yes!" she cried, crying.

  Neq let it be. He kn«w what grief was, and the burn-

  ing for revenge. And futility. Vara was in the throes of it

  all, as he had been when Neqa died. As he was still. It

  might be months, years before she made sense to others

  or to herself, and she would not be so pretty, then.

  He tapped the flat metal bells of the glockenspiel again,

  picking out a new tune. Then he sang, and Vara did not

  protest.

  "I know my love by her way of walking

  And I know my love by her way of talking . . ."

  Tyi slept on, though their conversation was not quiet.

  "When I first saw Var," Vara said, "he was standing on

  the plateau of Mt. Muse, looking down from the rim. He

  could have dropped a rock on me, but he didn't, because

  he wasn't the kind to take advantage."

  "Why should anyone drop a rock on you?" Neq de-

  manded, disliking this reference to the dead man.

  "We were meeting in single combat. You know that,"

  "Why did Bob send a child?" Was the truth at last

  within reach?

  "And after we fought, it was cold, and he held me so I

  would not shiver. He gave me his heat, for he was always

  generous."

  They were working at cross purposes.

  "Would you warm your enemy if he were cold?" she

  asked him.

  "No."

  "You see. Var was a giver of life, not of death."

  She had meant to hurt him, and she had succeeded.

  How could he return to this bitter girl what he had taken

  from her?

  "Ambush," Tyi murmured. "Well-laid; I saw it too late.

  You two break while I cover the retreat."

  Neither Neq or Vara reacted openly; both were too

  well versed in tactics. They exchanged a glance of chagrin,

  for neither had been aware of the situation. But if Tyi

  said there was an ambush, there was an ambush, though

  the forest seemed deserted.

  Vara turned nonchalantly and started back. Neq

  shrugged and followed, while Tyi whistled idly and moved

  toward a tree as though for a call of nature. But it was

  too late; the trap sprung, and they were ,neatly in it.

  From front, back and sides armed men appeared and

  converged. They carried clubs and staffs and sticks. No

  blades, oddly. Now Neq understood how the three had

  walked into the trap: the ambushers came out of holes in

  the ground! The trapdoors were flush with the forest floor

  and covered with leaves so that nothing showed until

  they opened.

  But this was a great deal of trouble for a mere ambush!
>
  And no sharp weapons! Why?

  Tyi and Vera had run together the moment the men

  appeared. Now they stood back to back, sticks in each

  hand. Neq remained where he was; his first abortive mo-

  tion to uncover his sword had reminded him that he was

  no longer armed. If he joined the other two he would only

  hamper them.

  The men closed in. Neq remembered the similar ma-

  neuver of a tribe six years before, closing in on a truck. If

  he could have known in time to save Neqa ... !

  "Yield," the leader of the ambush said.

  No one answered. They were too wise in the ways of

  outlawism to doubt that death would be cleanest in battle.

  Such elaborate preparations would not have been made

  merely to recruit tribesmen! ,,

  "Yield or die!" the leader said. A ring formed about the

  two stickers, and another around Neq. "Who are you?"

  'Tyi of Two Weapons."

  "Vara—the Stick."

  The ambusher considered. "Only one Tyi of Two

  Weapons I know of, and this is pretty far out of his

  territory."

  Tyi didn't bother to answer. His sticks remained ready;

  his sword hung at his side.

  "If it is him, we won't take him alive," the leader said.

  "Or his woman."

  Vara didn't deign to correct him. Her sticks were ready

  too.

  "Why would he travel without his tribe?" another man

  inquired. "And with a girl young enough to be his

  daughter?"

  "That's why, maybe," the leader said. He came over to

  Neq. "But this one doesn't talk, and he covers his weapon.

  Who are you?" -

  Slowly Neq raised his left arm. The loose sleeve fell

  away and the metal pincers came into view.

  There was a murmur in the group. The leader stepped

  back. "I have heard of a man who had his hands cut off.

  So he had his sword grafted on, and—"

  Neq nodded. "They were ambushers."

  The circle about him widened as the men edged away.

  "We have a gun," the leader said. "We do not want to

  kill you, but if you move—"

  "We only pass through," Neq said. "We have no busi-

  ness with you." He was now talking to distract attention

  from Tyi, who might then get out his own gun unobserved.

  There were enough men here to overcome the little party,

  though that would not have been the case had Neq's blade

  been in place and Tyi's gun ready. The outlaw's gun was

  not the advantage they supposed.

  "You have business with us," the leader said. "We re-

  quire a service from you. Perform it and you shall go free

  with the wealth of our tribe on your shoulders. Fail it,

  and you shall die."

  Neq ached with fury to be addressed in this manner, as

  though any threat by any straggling outlaw could move

  him. He had/destroyed a tribe of such arrogance before.

  But he had given up the sword. Now he would live or die

  without it. "What is your service?"

  "Walk the haunted forest at night."

  Neq stifled a laugh. "You fear ghosts?"

  "With reason. By day the forest harms no one, and

  stands athwart our richest hunting-grounds, just a few

  miles down this trail. But the ghosts strike those who

  enter at night. First the blades, then the dull weapons.

  Banish our spook: walk it at night and live. We will re-

  ward you richly for breaking the spell. Our food, our

  equipment, our women—"

  "Keep your trifles! Feed us today; tonight we challenge

  your ghost. Together. Not for your sake, but because it

  crosses our route."

  "You will keep your sword covered in our camp?"

  "I keep my arm covered if no man annoys me."

  "And you?" the leader called to Tyi.

  "And I," Tyi agreed, and Vara also nodded.

  Slowly the encircling men lowered their weapons.

  As the sun descended they were ushered to the edge of

  the haunted forest. It seemed normal—mixed birch, beech

  and ash, some pine, with pockets of pasture heavily grown.

  Rabbits scooted away from the party. Good hunting,

  certainly!

  "Are there radiation markers near here?" Tyi inquired.

  "Some. But that danger is over. We have a click-box;

  the kill-rays are gone."

  "Yet men still die," Tyi murmured.

  "Only by night."

  That certainly didn't sound like radiation. It didn't

  come and go; it faded slowly, and was not affected by

  daylight.

  "If Var were here—" Vara began. And caught herself.

  "It is about ten miles," the tribe leader said. "We have

  a smaller digging downstream. Sometimes we need to

  travel between the two at night—but we must bike twice

  as far, over the mountain. No one passes the valley by

  night."

  "The river looks clean," Tyi observed. "Your footpath is

  open?"

  "Throughout. There are no natural pitfalls, no killer-

  animals here. Once there were shrews, but we extermi-

  nated them. Now there are deer, rabbits, game-birds. No

  hunting animals."

  "You have found bodies?"

  "Always. Some without marking. Some mutilated. Some

  dead fighting. We never send a man alone or unarmed,

  yet all perish."

  So they ambushed innocent travelers to send here, Neq

  thought. Very neat, but none too clever. Hadn't it oc-

  curred to them that whoever conquered the haunted forest

  might have second thoughts about the manner he had

  been introduced to it? He might decide on a bit of ven-

  geance. In that case, solution of the forest riddle could be

  disastrous for the tribe.

  Tyi began to walk. Neq and Vara followed quickly. It

  was not dark yet, but night would set in long before they

  got through the forest. A ten mile hike by night, rested

  and fed—routine, except for ghosts!

  When they were well away from the tribesmen, they

  split, ducking down out of sight on either side of the trail.

  No word was spoken; all three were conversant with such

  technique. The greatest danger might be from the men

  behind, not the supposed ghosts in front. Strangers might

  be deliberately killed in the forest to sustain the notoriety

  of the region, for surely the tribesmen could not be en-

  tirely ignorant of the nature of the threat, whatever it

  was.

  But no one was following. Cautiously the three pro-

  ceeded, Tyi flanking the forest side of the trail, Vara fol-

  lowing the river side, and Neq, who could not fight, mov-

  ing cautiously down the center. He held a thin stick in

  his pincers, probing for deadfalls, and he walked hunched

  to avoid a potential trip-wire or hanging noose. He ex-

  pected to encounter something deadly, and not a ghost!

  In an hour they had covered less than two miles. Then-

  extreme caution seemed to have been wasted; no threat

  of any kind materialized. But eight miles remained, and

  eight hours of darkness. The fear of the tribesmen had

  been genuine; perhaps they delved underground because

  of a lingering terror of the
forest surface.

  The way was beautiful, even at night. The somber trees

  overhung the path to the west, highlighted by the full

  moon, and the river coursed slowly on the east side, and

  great vines covered with night-blooming flowers lay along

  the ground. The heavy fragrance surrounded them in-

  creasingly, musky and refreshing in the slight breeze.

  Neq recalled his childhood. It had been nice, then,

  with his family and his sister. All the subsequent glory

  and ruin of empire could not compare with that early

  security. Why had he left it?

  Hig the Stick 1 The man had cast his lustful gaze on

  Nemi, Neq's young twin sister! Neq clenched his sword-

  hand in reminiscent fury and bravado—and remembered

  he had no hand. Yod the Outlaw had taken it—

  Time twisted about. It was dark, but Neq could see

  well enough in the diffused moonlight. A shape was com-

  ing at him, and it was the shape of Yod. Yod, whose foul

  loin had—

  Neq whipped up his gleaming sword and launched

  himself at the enemy. A head would ride the stake tonight!

  Contact! But his sword did not handle properly. It

  clanged, a discordant jangle.

  Shocked, he remembered. No sword! This was the

  glockenspiel, for making music. •

  He peered more carefully at his opponent. "Tyi! Do