Planet Of No Return

It was a wild melee in the star-touched darkness. They were so close that weapons were useless, even a danger to those who wielded them. Hoarse cries of pain sounded as Brion picked up one of the men and hurled him into the largest group of attackers. His fists crushing down the three who had seized Lea. He thrust her behind him for protection, taking the frenzied blows of the spear hafts on his upraised arms. Striking back with fists more dangerous than clubs. The attackers fell back away from him — and the first of the stones crashed into the side of his head.

Brion roared in pain as more stones hit him, aware for the first time of the women who had been following behind the spear-armed attackers. Their weapons were rounded stones and they were deadly accurate with them. Brion seized up one of the spearmen to use his body as a shield — but too late. There were sharp blows on his neck and skull, impacts he never felt as he swayed, unconscious, toppling to the ground like a fallen tree. His last memory was of Lea’s horrified screams and his inability to struggle to her through the enveloping blackness.

After that. Confusion. Mixed awareness. Blackness, redshot with pain. Swinging back and forth, pain in his wrists, his hand, his head. Motion. Blackness again. Once the stars were visible, swaying unsteadily before his eyes. He called out hoarsely to Lea. Did she answer? He could not remember. Pain and oblivion were his only reward.

The darkness had drained from the sky, and it was grey dawn before any measure of rational consciousness returned. He became aware of Lea’s voice calling to him as he fought to open his crusted eyes. His arms and legs were immobilized somehow; he blinked until the blurs resolved themselves. Leather thongs secured his ankles and wrists to a long pole; they were tied in place with strips of rawhide. His right hand was soaked with blood, throbbing with pain. He stretched it out so he could look at it and grunted with annoyance. Lea’s whispered words were hoarse with worry.

“Are you alive? Can you hear me? Brion, please, can you hear me? Can you move?”

An inadvertent gasp of pain escaped his lips as he fought to move his head. His skull was bruised all over and one eye would not open all the way. The good one cleared enough so that he could make out Lea lying a few feet from him, bound as securely as he was to a second pole. At first he could only cough when he tried to talk, but he managed to force out the words.

“I’m all … right … fine.”

“Fine!” There were tears in her voice, behind the anger. “You look absolutely terrible, all kicked about and bloody. If your head wasn’t solid bone you would be dead by now … oh, Brion. It was terrible. They slung us from poles like corpses. Carried us all night. I was sure they had murdered you.”

He tried to smile but could only grimace. “The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.” He moved his arms and legs as best he could against the restraints. “I feel bruised — but I don’t think anything is broken. What about you?”

“Nothing important, a few scratches. You were the one they were hammering on. It was vicious, cruel …”

“Don’t think about it now. We’re alive and that is really all that counts for the moment. Now tell me everything that you saw on the way here.”

“Little enough. We’re in the hills somewhere. In a clearing in front of what appears to be some kind of natural caves in a cliff. There are tall trees all around the clearing. The women went into the cave when we arrived, they’re still there. But the men are sleeping all around us.”

“How many? Any of them awake or on guard?”

“I can count eighteen… no… nineteen… twenty of them. I think that’s all there are. If there’s a guard posted I can’t see him. Every once in awhile one of them will wake up and go off into the woods, their version of sanitary facilities I imagine.”

“Sounds good. Just as indisciplined as I imagined. Right now is the best chance to get away, while they are asleep, before they do anything worse to us.”

“Get away!” She shook her tightly bound wrists in his direction. “You’ve been hit on the head once too often. They’ve taken that big knife of yours, we can’t reach these thongs with our teeth. So how do we do it?”

“I’ll be just a moment,” he said calmly. He closed his eyes and began taking deep and regular breaths.

It was important to order his thoughts, to concentrate all of his attention and energies. He had used these same breathing exercises when he was weight lifting; this effort now would be about the same. His body relaxed and he became aware of the myriad cuts and bruises. They were not important; as he narrowed his concentration they faded, unsensed. Good. Now he could feel his strength being focused, channelled. His eyes opened slowly and he looked down at the thick rawhide bindings about his wrists. The muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed.