The Quest - Smith Wilbur (читаем книги онлайн бесплатно TXT) 📗

Four of the racing Basmara cut in directly ahead of them, closing the gap for which Taita had been aiming. They turned to face the oncoming riders, their tall shields on their backs so that their hands were free to use their weapons. Taita and Meren slipped their short recurved cavalry bows, designed to be shot from horseback, from their shoulders as they closed in. They dropped the reins on to the necks of their mounts and, guiding them with the pressure of their feet and knees, rode straight at the spearmen. A Basmara hurled his spear. He was aiming at Meren, but the range was long. Meren had time to react. With a touch of his toe

he turned the bay and the spear flew past his left shoulder. He raised his bow and loosed two arrows in rapid succession. One flew high, almost an arm's length over the man's head and went on for fifty paces - at this close range the bow was massively powerful — but the second hit the Basmara in the centre of his chest and flew clean through him. It burst out between his shoulder-blades in a spray of blood. He was dead even before he hit the ground.

Out on the right the second spearman heaved back his throwing arm.

He, too, was concentrating on Meren, and he was in Meren's blind zone.

Meren did not see him so made no effort to defend himself. Imbali swung out on the rope stirrup and threw her axe, which cartwheeled through the air. The Basmara's weight was on his back foot - he was in the very moment of his throw, unable to dodge or duck. The axe struck him in the middle of the forehead and buried itself deep in his skull. Imbali leant down to retrieve it as they swept by. Taita shot an arrow into the body of the third spearman, who dropped the weapon he had been about to throw and tried to pull the arrow out of his belly but the barbs had bitten deep.

The fourth and last warrior stood his ground. He was poised to make his throw, the shaft of the spear resting on his right shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot with battle rage, and Taita saw that they were fastened on Fenn. She was sitting high on Whirlwind's back, a perfect target. The Basmara grimaced with the effort of launching the heavy spear at her.

Taita nocked another arrow from his quiver. 'Down, Fenn,' he commanded, in the voice of power. 'Lie flat!' She dropped forward and pressed her face into Whirlwind's mane. Taita threw up his bow, drew until the bowstring touched his nose and lips, then released the arrow.

The spearman was already swinging his body into the forward stroke, but Taita's flint arrowhead hit the notch at the base of his throat and killed him instantly. However, the spear had already left his hand. Taita watched, helpless, as it flew straight at Fenn. She had her face down and did not see it coming, but Whirlwind did. As it flitted across his nose he shied violently to one side and threw up his head so that Taita lost sight of the spear for a moment. He thought that it had missed her and he felt a leap of relief. But then he heard her cry out in pain and surprise, and saw her writhe on the colt's back.

'Are you hit?' Taita shouted, but she did not reply. Then he saw the shaft of the spear dangling down Whirlwind's flank, dragging along the ground behind him.

Taita turned Windsmoke behind the colt and saw at once that the

head of the spear was lodged in Fenn's bare thigh. She had dropped the reins and was clinging with both hands to the colt's neck. She turned towards him, and Taita saw that she was ash pale, her green eyes seeming to fill half of her face as she stared at him. The shaft of the spear was bucking and kicking as it bounced along the ground, and he knew that the razor edges of the head were working brutally in her flesh, worrying and enlarging the wound. It had lodged close to the femoral artery. If it severed that great blood vessel she would be dead within minutes.

'Hold hard, my darling,' he called, and glanced over his shoulder. He saw a pack of Basmara in full pursuit after them, baying as they raced through the forest. 'We dare not stop. If we do, they will be upon us in an instant. I am coming to get you.'

Taita drew his sword and came up beside the colt. He measured his stroke carefully. The sight of the girl in such anguish seemed to restore the strength he had thought lost so many years ago. He focused his mind on the jerking spear. As he swung the heavy bronze blade he shouted a word of power: 'Kydash!'

In his grip the weapon seemed to take on a life of its own. There is a spot on the cutting edge of a well-balanced blade where all the weight and energy of the blow is concentrated. It caught the hardwood shaft precisely a finger's length above the leather bindings that secured the shank of the head and sliced through it as though it were a green twig.

The shaft dropped away, and he saw the instant relief that lit Fenn's features.

'I am coming to get you,' he told her, as he slipped the blade back into its scabbard. 'Be ready.' He pushed Windsmoke in beside her colt and Fenn opened her arms to him trustingly. He slipped his own arm round her waist and lifted her across the gap. She wrapped her arms round his neck as he sat her sideways across Windsmoke's withers.

'I was so afraid, Taita,' she whispered, 'until you came. Now I know it will be all right.'

'Hold tight,' he ordered, 'or it will be all wrong.' With his teeth he tore a strip of linen from the hem of her tunic, then pressed the stub of the severed shaft flat against her upper thigh and secured it with the linen. 'Not very neat or pretty,' he told her, 'but you are bravest girl I know, and that will hold it firmly until we get back to Tamafupa.'

The pursuing Basmara dropped back, and soon disappeared from sight among the trees. They were able to rein down to a trot, but still reached the gates of Tamafupa before the sun had made its noon.

'Stand the garrison to arms,' Taita ordered Meren. 'Those devils will

be upon us before another hour has passed.' He lifted Fenn down from Windsmoke's back, carried her to the hut they shared and laid her gently on her sleeping mat.'

Taita spoke reassuringly to Fenn as he washed away the clotted black blood from around the shank of the spearhead. Then he began a thorough examination of her leg. Until he was ready to operate, he would not remove the linen strip with which he had secured it.

'You were always a favourite of the gods,' he told her at last. 'The spear has missed the big artery by the breadth of your little fingernail. If we hadn't stopped the sharp edges sawing away inside you they would have ruptured it. Now, lie quietly while I mix you something to drink.'

He measured a strong dose of the red sheppen powder into a ceramic bowl and topped it up with hot water from the pan that stood on the coals of the central fireplace. 'Drink this. It will make you sleepy and dull the pain.'

While the drug took effect he searched in his leather medical bag.

There was a separate compartment in which he kept his silver spoons.

To his knowledge only one other surgeon had ever owned a set, and he was dead. When he was ready he called Meren, who was hovering at the door of the hut. 'You know what to do,' he said.

'Of course. You know how many times I have done this before,' Meren replied.

'You have washed your hands, of course?' Taita asked.

Meren's expression changed. 'Yes,' he said doubtfully.

'When?'

'This morning, before we rode out on patrol.'

'Wash them again.'

'I see no reason for it,' Meren muttered, as he always did, but he went to the pan on the fire and filled a bowl.

'We will need another pair of hands,' Taita decided, as he held the silver cups in the flames. 'Call Imbali.'

'Imbali? She is a savage. What about one of our own men?'

'She is strong and clever,' Taita contradicted him. What was more to the point, she was female. Taita did not want another man handling Fenn's naked body. It was bad enough that he must use Meren, but not