Chapter 21

He gave Lyssa a quick hug, then watched as she ran down the trail, her hair a fastfading beacon in the autumn twilight. Olna and her squad marched off after Lyssa, leaving Mak and Kim alone in the darkening woods. The clouds were breaking up to the east, and a momentary rift revealed a moon that was nearing full.

The forest was still, with only fitful gleams of moonlight through the tattered clouds as Mak and Kim slipped quietly along toward the city of the Chak. They had crossed and recrossed the river some time back. The game trail they were following gradually grew fainter until it lost itself in a grassy meadow. Suddenly the hair on Kim's neck bristled and his ears laid back as he sniffed at the freshening breeze. He guided Mak around to one side of the meadow to where a number of Chakcha soldiers snored around the remains of a camp fire. One stirred, bending over another, shaking him by the shoulder to rouse him for his turn at sentrygo.

Mak waited until the camp had settled back into a drowsy silence. Creeping closer, he approached the far side of the tree the sentry leaned against. He pounced, his strong forearm locked about the sentry's neck. There was a muffled drumming of heels against the tree trunk, then once more all was silent.

Well clear of the soldiers' camp, Mak stopped to kindle a small fire. He waited until the sentry awoke, wrists tied securely to ankles. To one side of the fire crouched Kim, looking more than ever like a huge wolf about to spring on his helpless victim.

The fire at his back making him loom even larger against the feeble light, Mak waited patiently until he saw that the man was fully awake.

"What is your squad doing out here in the forest?" He made his voice harsh and menacing, but the soldier set his jaw and refused to answer.

"Your friends are far away. They haven't even missed you yet. Shouting won't bring help. Even if they heard you, you'd be dead long before they got here. Now answer me! What are you doing out here in the forest?"

The soldier shook his head, closing his eyes to shut out the sight of the two menacing figures. A rough hand clenched on the front of his tunic, and there was a ripping sound as its seams gave way. His eyes popped open, almost crossing as he tried to focus on the point of the dagger held a scant fingerwidth from the tip of his nose!

"Now then, soldier. Enough of this playing around. What is your name?"

Almost hypnotized by the gleaming dagger point, he gulped out an answer.

"Waldor! My name is Waldor. I don't know why we're here. Ow! It's the truth!" He almost shrieked out the words as the point of Mak's dagger sliced deep into the tip of his nose. "Prince, I mean King Riggan put squads out in all directions from the edge of the fields. We were told to look out for strange soldiers."

"Just what kind of a story did Riggan have to tell?"

"Just that he'd been away on a trip. He said that King Norgan had caused all our troubles, but now that he was King he'd save us."

"Did he say how?"

"No. Just that it would take great changes and a lot of hard work from all of us, now that things had gone this far."

"What about King Norgan? What if he comes back?"

"King Riggan says he's dead. Or if he isn't, he's to be thrown into the dungeon the moment he dares to show his face. Riggan is King now, and he's staying that way. Word is that he has all of the King's councillors behind him, as well as the High Priest, and nobody's about to argue with him."

"How many soldiers were sent out after the women, and how many are left in the city?"

"Well, let's see." Now that he'd started talking, Waldor babbled freely. "About a hundred and twentyfive of us went after the farm women, and at least a hundred more are out here in the woods. I guess that leaves another hundred and fifty in the city."

"With nobody else to fight with, how come you have such a large army?"

"That's the way it's always been, is all. Every adult Chak man is part of the army. He works out with his squad once each moon until he is too old to march. The active duty squads are mostly to keep order in the city and to watch over the farm workers."

Mak questioned him further, but the man could tell him little more. Finally he reached over and cut the thongs around Waldor's wrists.

"When the sun comes up, head straight for it. You'll find the rest of your squad on the other side of the hill."

Waldor froze as the dagger sliced through his bonds, then went limp with relief as his captors slipped silently away into the darkness. Mak watched from the shadows as he quickly untied his ankles and swiped at his bleeding nose with the hem of his tunic. He then built up the dying fire, gazing fearfully around him at the shadowed forest.

"He won't move until daylight," Mak commented, half to himself. "His tale will help to discourage his comrades."

Kim voiced a low snarl, but Mak just grinned at him.

"You're too bloodthirsty. Having him stumble back to camp all bloody, with a wild tale of wolves and hairy men, will do us more good than just having them find him with his throat slit. Let's hole up for the rest of the night. We'll see what else we can find out in the morning."

The sun was barely up when they skirted the edge of the Chakcha fields. Squads of armed men were stationed at irregular intervals just inside the woods, ill at ease in the leafy confines. Small groups of men and women from the city had already begun cutting trails, piling brush and small trees in clearings to be burned later. Mak could hear a lot of grumbling at this unaccustomed labor, but the workers were slowly getting the job done. As he moved through the woods, he began to see a pattern taking shape. The trails were growing into an interconnected web, one that would allow the quick movement of troops to any sector of the forests around the city.

South and east of the ancient city's ruins, they found traces of a welltrampled trail where Chakcha soldiers had been decoyed away by Nurm's forces. They turned and followed it, staying in the brush well off to one side. Their caution was well founded as they avoided group after group of wounded soldiers, each time avoiding notice by taking a few steps farther into the dense underbrush. Listening to their terrified words, Mak could only wonder how much longer the Chakcha officers would be able to force their reluctant soldiers to keep on marching deeper into the unknown forest.

The lone Chakcha runner who blundered onto them skidded to a hasty stop and turned to retreat. He froze at a shouted command, his empty hands upraised before the threat of Mak's bent bow.

"Don't! I give up! I don't even have a spear!" The runner looked almost too young to be a soldier, and was plainly in no mood to put up a fight against any kind of odds. Seeing the runner's lack of weapons, Mak lowered his bow.

"How come you're out here in the forest without any weapons? Aren't you afraid that the woodsdemons will get you?"

"It sure wasn't my idea to be here," was the sullen reply. "Your women took all our weapons away from us, and I was the only one who would volunteer to carry the bad news back to the city."

"Just how bad is the news? Was there much of a battle?"

"I'm not supposed to tell anybody but the King, but I don't suppose it matters." He looked as though he was completely baffled by a situation so far removed from his previous experience. "There wasn't any real battle. They just kept picking away at us and knocking off all our scouts until nobody would go far enough ahead of the rest of us to scout out the trail."

"And you kept on following them anyway?" Mak shook his head, unbelievingly.

"The decans tried to stop, but they couldn't make the sentan listen. Anyway, we were just following along, not knowing where we were going, so they were able to lead us right up a blind canyon. As soon as we were far enough inside, they rolled a bunch of rocks down behind us. We couldn't run, and there was no way that we could fight them. The women we were following just stood there laughing at us, looking down their dart throwers, with a bunch more boulders ready to roll down on top of us if we tried anything. A big fellow who called himself Nurm was there with them. He told us that if we'd throw down our weapons, they would let us go back to the city in peace." The runner stopped to take a deep breath. "The Sentan was mad enough to fight them all by himself, him and a couple of the decans, but they were the only ones who still felt that way. When things settled down, we didn't even take the time to bury them. The rest of us had already decided that there were worse fates than working in the fields. We left our spears and clubs in a big pile, just like they told us to do, and climbed back over the boulders they'd rolled down behind us. When we got back outside, my decan called for volunteers to carry the news back to King Norgan. I said that I would go, but I couldn't get anybody else to come with me, so I finally just left by myself. My big brother and I used to play in the woods when we were kids. We never saw any woodsdemons. Just wild animals, and most of them can't climb trees."