Chapter 13

OUTLAWS OF THE TREE

My vision obscured by a darkening haze, I blinked uncomprehendingly at the scarlet arrow which had so inexplicably appeared, transfixing the core of the vampire blossom as if conjured into being by an act of magic.

A blink of the eye, and another arrow-and anotherlflicked into being, pinning the heart of the flower through and through!

And the flower-screamed! A high, unearthly squeal of rage and pain and terror, so shrill as to be almost inaudible. The blossom petals shivered-the root tendrils convulsed-the filaments that bound Niamh and myself tightened in a spasm, then relaxed. I tore free, and, although I staggered on unsteady legs, still half-drugged from the narcotic perfume I had inhaled, I lurched to where Niamh’s limp body dangled in the flower’s obscene embrace, and tore her from the relaxing grip of the tendrils.

Men melted into being all around us, merging into sunlight from the gold-green gloom. They were taller, leaner, hardier-looking than the softer men who dwelt in jeweled Phaolon. They wore trim tunics and tight leggings of dark earth colors, umber, forest green, fawn, and russet. They wore peak-brimmed caps from which long feathers trailed, short cloaks of mottled suede, calf-high boots of supple leather. They were tanned and fit and bard-faced, with strong bare arms and bold, alert eyes. They looked, in fact, like Robin Hood’s merry men, stepped from a painting by Howard Pyle. This resemblance was enhanced by the longbows and quivers of

scarlet arrows they wore, although most of them were armed with glass cutlasses and light javelins as well.

Like magical apparitions they melted out of the gloom. Without a word they helped me carry the balf-conscious Niamh to a place of safety while their comrades hacked the flower to death with their curious crystal swords. The vampire blossom shrilled, lashed, and bled from a thousand wounds, its petals shredded; it lapsed into oozing ruin.

The exertion of pulling Niamh free had drained the last dregs of strength from my body. I slumped, staggered, and all but fell. One of the tall foresters gently took the girl’s limp body from me; another steadied me as I sank to my knees. A third uncorked a belt canteen-made, I dimly realized, from a bollowed nut of size sufficient to hold nearly a pint of fluid-and held it to my lips. I drank strong red wine, bitter and resinous, but bracing.

Still too dazed to speak, I blinked as another figure emerged from the leaf-gloom-a tall, long-legged girl, bronzed and fit, with brown-gold eyes and gossamer mane of silver, dressed in an abbreviated tunic, leggings, and feathered cap. A girl among these woodland outlaws-and a girl of astonishing beauty?

I must have gaped at her with goggling eyes, for she laughed, a clear, silver peal of mocking music. She had a wide-mouthed, boyish face, tanned, glowing with health. I saw full lips, voluptuously crimson, flashing eyes under arched, sardonic brows, and a full-breasted, wasp-waisted figure that moved with seductive grace and Amazonian vigor.

Then my weary, drugged mind could cling to consciousness no more, and darkness rose to drown me.

When I awoke, the succulent odor of roasting meat was thick in my nostrils and the din of strange twanging music, mingled with the casual laughter of men, was in my ears. I lay in warm softness, drinking in the mouthwatering smell of hot food, dreamily thinking of nothing, until someone said, quite close to me, “He has awakened. Call Siona!”

I opened my eyes and looked around me. All was gloom and shadow, struck through with wavering orange firelight, and for a moment I thought it must be night. But-no-that could hardly be, for our struggle with the

vampire blossom had been in early morning and I could hardly have slept for so many hours as to awake after sunfall.

Looking about, I saw we were enclosed on all sides by a rough dark surface. A-cave? Surely that could not bel Then I saw the roughness was that of wood, and I realized we were within the trunk of a hollow tree, or a hollowedout portion of a tree. A cheery fire blazed amidst the tree cave, painting monstrous black shadows over the uneven walls. Perhaps twenty men and boys sat or sprawled around the blaze, some drinking from cups that looked like halves of hollowed, enormous acorns; others strummed on musical instruments that resembled mandolins or Medieval viols. Turning on a wooden spit over the crackling fire, meat was roasting, fat dripping into the flames.

By my side, eyes enormous in her pale, heart-shaped face, Niamh sat with her back against the wooden wall, staring into the flames. She looked pale and exhausted, and was doubtless weak from loss of blood, but she was alive and did not seem to have taken harm from her horrible experience.

“Who are these people who have rescued us, Niamh?” I asked in a low voice.

“Outlaws and bandits of the forest,” she said. “Exiles, fled from justice … oh, I fear we have but fallen into a greater danger, having come into their hands!”

“Why do you say that?” I asked. “They are friendly, or they would not have saved us from that terrible flower … .”

She shuddered at the memory of the experience.

“They know no law but their own, and every man’s hand is against them, even as their hand is turned against every man. I fear they saved our lives for some reason of their own! Ransom, perhaps, or … even worse.”

“Slavery?” I hazarded.

She shook her head reluctantly. “They live in lawless freedom, bandit warriors equal each to the other, under an elective chieftain-in the case of this band, that strange woman, Siona-`the Huntress,’ they call her. Oh!”

Her eyes widened. I looked up into the grinning face of the strange outlaw girl whose face had been the last thing I had seen before I fell unconscious. Lithely she stood, legs spread in boyish stance, head on one side, regarding us

with bright-eyed curiosity, the slim, tanned fingers of one strong, capable little hand toying with the pommel of a dagger.

“Aye, mistress, `the Huntress,’ my men call me,” the woman said in a clear bell-like voice in which overtones of sleek, cat-like mockery were audible. “And what shall I call you, whom I plucked from the bosom of the blooddrinking flower?-`the Quarry’?”

Her mocking gaze fell on me, and her expression sharpened with reluctant admiration, measuring my inches, lingering on my flat belly, deep chest, broad shoulders.

“And what of you, my lusty lad? You have the girth of a gladiator, the arms of a wrestler. Ah! I have it `the Champion,’ eh?” She laughed throatily, revealing small, even teeth, startlingly white against the bronze tan of her features.

“We are harmless travelers, nothing more,” said Niamh in a toneless, controlled voic.

“Perhaps,” Siona purred. “And yet ‘tis curious, you’ll admit-unarmed, lone travelers seldom venture into the middle terraces, preferring the upper tier and the great cities. Your champion has the look of a woodsman about him, but not you, my dainty lady! I’ll warrant those soft legs are more used to velvet skirts and silken couches than to scrambling about the giant boughs. And where are you bound, unarmed and unmounted, you travelers?”

“To the city of Phaolon,” murmured Niamh. I kept my mouth shut, sensing that she had more insight into this situation and its hazards than had I.

“Phaolon, is it? In truth, you choose an awkward route, and will find the road difficult, without a dhua! And I wonder what purpose you have, ragged travelers, in seeking the Jewel City alone and afoot? The wild is a savage realm, and the great trees conceal a thousand horrors which lie in wait for the unwary. To venture forth into such peril argues an overwhelming cause … .”

“We are from the city of Kamadhong,” Niamh said with a glibness that won my admiration. “We did not flee into the wild from free choice, but to avoid persecution. We make for the Jewel City of Phaolon for ‘tis said the queen of that realm offers a haven to all who come to her in need.”

The Huntress frowned, pouting her ripe red mouth.

“A haven, is it? Well, mayhap: but the outlaws of the

wild have never found a gracious host in her who holds the gold throne of Phaolon. In truth, her chevaliers hunt us as they will, as if we were but savage beasts, not men!”

At this candid appraisal, Niamh bit her lip, flushing, and bent her head. But the wild outlaw girl did not seem to notice.

“But, now-your story interests me, girl! `Persecution,’ you said it was you fled from. Tell me of that-what manner of persecution do they practice in Kamadhong against dainty ladies and their stalwart champions?”

Again, Niamh glibly concocted a reasonable story to account for our fictitious flight from a city of which I had never heard.

“We are the children of rival houses,” she said firmly, “and we-we would wed against the wishes of our houses. I am of an ancient family of the thurkuz, and my lover is a mighty warrior of the khaweng-ya, whose love is deemed beneath one of my rank.”

Now it was my turn to flush and fidget, but again the Amazon girl did not appear to notice the involuntary reaction.

The story which the princess had invented on the spur of the moment to account for our being found alone and unarmed, wandering amidst the branches of the colossal trees, was, actually, a good one which made perfect sense. I have mentioned before something of the system of hereditary castes into which the civilization of the Laonese is divided. To Siona, it would be quite logical that a daughter of the thurkuz, the landed and titled aristocracy, should be forbidden to wed a soldier of the lowly warrior class, the khaweng-ya.

In truth, she did not even question it. She eyed me with a bold and almost flirtatious appraisal, and said: “I can understand your reluctance to yield to the wishes of your family in such a matter, girl. If I had a lover with such shoulders, I, too, would cling to him!”

She shrugged, dismissing the matter.

“Well, you are welcome here, for this band does truly offer a haven to the homeless and the outcast! Take your place at the cook-fire; eat and drink your fill. With sunfall we depart for a place of greater safety, and you may come with us, if such be your wish, for our path tends in the direction of the city that is your goal and we have zaiph to spare, having lost three of our number to the

hazards of the chase during this hunting expedition. Rest well-we depart ere long!”

And with those words, and a casual flip of her hand, the outlaw girl turned on her heel and strode off. Niamh sagged with relief and smiled weakly at me. It was dangerous for us to speak, not knowing what ears might be listening, so I postponed to another time the questions that seethed within me. I assumed it was a mere instinct of caution that had bidden Niamh to conceal her identity and my own from Siona, and to invent a spurious account of our being here in place of the true story.

We joined the ring about the fire and feasted heartily on a venison-like meat, coarse black bread, and segments of fresh fruit, washed down with fierce red wine. The foresters welcomed us among them, studiously avoiding questions; their rude and careless hospitality was welcome, and I gathered that it was not unheard-of for strangers to join their band for a meal. Many of them were branded outlaws, but they did not seem a depraved or vicious lot, although they were a hard-faced crew, their tongues full of strange oaths, and very ready to brawl.

Considering the casual, offhand welcome they gave us, and their lack of curiosity toward us, I wondered that Niamh kept her head bent, her face in shadow as much as possible, and spoke little. But I could hardly ask her reasons.