The pain vanished. Blade, a seared leaf, a crumple of dust, a trace of moisture, trembled upward into void.
Chapter Two
Richard Blade regained consciousness in a strange crepuscular world; he did not, for the moment, open his eyes, but lay quiescent and let a myriad of stimuli impinge on his brain.
He was lying in thick grass. There was a hum of insects and, from a distance, the baying of hounds. Nearby a brook burbled. Even with his eyes closed he was aware of the florid wheel, the burning oriflamme, of a setting sun. Then an intertwine of moving shadow, an intrusion and then—
Cold water was dashed into his face. Blade, stung and shocked by the icy blast, sat up with a muffled curse. What in hell?
'There,' said the girl. 'That is better. I was sure you were not dead. Now you must help me. At once. I, Princess Taleen, command it!'
Blade sat up, squeegeed water from his eyes with his fingers, and stared at her. It was typical of Blade— a facet of his character which had saved his life many times over— that he accepted, immediately and without question, the realities of a situation. Not for a moment did he believe himself mad. Something had gone wrong with Lord Leighton's experiment. As simple as that. He would sort it out later.
'Do hurry,' said the girl impatiently. Her voice rose imperiously. 'And stop staring like an oaf and a peasant. They are getting very close. If they find us they will kill us. I will make them kill us. I will not go back to be a captive of Queen Beata. I will not. I will die first!'
Blade got to his feet, conscious for the first time that he was entirely naked. The linen loincloth had disappeared. For a moment the girl ran her eyes over his body and he saw approval, then she shrugged and handed him a short sword. It was bloodstained at the point.
'Here. You take it. I had to kill one of my guards to escape. It is the first time I have killed a man and I did not enjoy it. But you look like a warrior and will know how to use it. Listen— they are coming this way and getting closer.'
She spoke truth. Blade, swinging the heavy sword in his right hand, could hear the hounds baying closer now and men called to each other from somewhere toward the setting sun that was now only half a golden orb sinking behind green hills. They were in a small open glade through which the brook scampered, and ringing them was a dark and high reaching wood of oak and yew lightened here and there by stripling birch.
Blade had much experience in hunting, and being hunted, and he knew there was yet a little time. The voices were still a quarter mile off. He looked at the girl, again conscious of his nakedness— which did not appear to bother her in the least— and said: 'You say you are the Princess Taleen?'
Her eyes were a soft luminous brown. In another mood, he thought, they would be as limpid as a doe's, but there was a hard glitter in them now. Her small chin firmed at him, and her straight little nose was haughty as she said, 'You doubt it?'
Blade, without knowing exactly why he did it, made a little bow and raised the sword in salute. 'It is not that I doubt. It is simply that I do not understand. I am a stranger— in all things.'
She studied him, her eyes narrowing. 'Yes, I believe that. You are like no man I have ever seen in Alb. But still you must obey me— I am indeed the Princess Taleen, daughter of King Voth of the North. I am in great danger. If you help me I will see that you are well rewarded. My father will pay many scills to have his daughter back. Now will you stop staring like a fool and do something!'
She was tall and beautifully made. Dark auburn hair flowed to her waist, held back by a golden band. She wore a dress of dark linen, figured with semi-precious stones, that clung to her nubile body and did little to conceal the small firm breasts. Around her tiny middle was a belt of bronze links from which hung the drinking horn she had used to splash Blade. The dress ended well above dimpled knees. On her small feet were soft leather sandals with long thongs carried up and cross-gaitered around shapely calves.
Blade saluted with the sword again. He smiled, his white teeth flashing in a dark stubble of beard. 'I will obey, Princess Taleen. I am your true servant. But just exactly what is it that you want me to do? There is no danger at this moment.' He cocked an ear. 'They are still ten minutes away.'
The girl put her hands on her hips and stared at him in exasperation. Her eyes flickered up the tall trunk of him, over the slim hips, tidy waist, massive chest and wide shoulders and the thick column of his neck. Her gaze softened, as did her tone.
'One thing I know— you are no serf! Possibly you are a nobleman, an aristocrat, from some far-off land. Your name?' Imperious again.
'Blade. Richard Blade. And indeed from a far-off land.'
'Blade? Richard Blade?' She pronounced it Rich-hard Bleed. She grimaced. 'A strange name, by Frigga! My tongue will not accommodate to it. But we will speak of all this later— now I command you to escort me to the town of my cousin, King Lycanto. The town is called Sarum Vil and it should be somewhere near. My cousin will protect us and give us shelter for the night.'
Blade smiled. 'Somewhere near, you say? But you do not know exactly?'
She frowned at him. 'I— well, not exactly. But I am sure we can find it. There is a path that— '
He chuckled. 'If we can find the path. In other words, princess, you are lost. We are both lost.'
Before she could answer a great dog broke from the cover of the woods and came bounding at them. It was running far in advance of the pack, eyes glinting red and long muzzle slavering, and it was a killer bent on doing the work for which it had been trained. With bristling hackles and thunder in its throat the huge beast came straight in for the kill.
As Blade stepped in front of the girl he plucked the drinking horn from her girdle. 'Behind me,' he snapped. 'Remain perfectly still.'
The animal— to Blade it looked like some weird cross between a mastiff and a wolfhound— left the ground some ten feet from Blade. The long fangs glinted cruelly in the twilight. Blade went into a half crouch, the sword drawn back to thrust, the drinking horn in his left hand and in front of him.
The dog— at close quarters it looked as big as a small pony— crashed into Blade with furious impact, the long teeth snapping for his throat. Blade, taking one backward step, rammed the drinking horn down the red maw and
