Seg the Bowman Read Online Free PDF Page B

lummox! We can get on more swiftly if I run too.”
    He plunked her down onto her feet so that her moccasins slurped deep into the mud.
    “All right. Keep moving on, and don’t talk.”
    “Yes, certainly—”
    “Shastum!”
    At that harsh command to keep silence she bit her lip. Then she started off to follow him.
    Seg was not at all surprised to feel her hand grip round inside his belt as she hung on as he forged ahead.
    The nature of the forest changed. Gone were the tall solemn trees with each giant isolated and denying life to lesser growths. Now the deciduous trees clustered, tangled and thickly growing, admitting light here and there and each fighting a long-drawn struggle for existence. Epiphytes twined about everywhere, sucking sustenance from the trees, and vines depended, looping, sensile, as ravenous to eat as any predator.
     
    Over the centuries the trees shed their leaves into a deep congestion upon the floor of the forest. The leaves took time to rot down. The smell rose high, thick, cloying, a stench that gagged. Seg and Milsi moved on more through than over a giant compost heap.
    The way grew hard and more hard.
    Presently Seg halted.
    He found a niche where a many-rooted tree left a space beneath the out-branching roots. Dampness cloyed. They were both sweating. Their clothes clung unpleasantly to them. Seg was not at all sure that the space beneath the roots was safe. A vine looped down inquisitively and he lopped the end with a slash from his sword. Milsi jerked back.
    “Keep still, do not speak, and keep your eyes open.”
    Dumbly, she nodded.
    She had known this warrior to be sudden and quick; now she was seeing a new side to his character.
    Seg peered about. He felt confident that any pursuit would have given up by now, especially when the pursuers hit the choking, dense, almost impenetrable forested area. The heat was stifling. Insects buzzed and pirouetted everywhere. Pin-heads clustered and started to suck blood. Seg and Milsi, cautiously, kept on slapping them away.
    As for Milsi, she could barely comprehend how she had contrived to find herself in such a terrible predicament.
    What would her people say if they could see her now!
    She had to persevere. She could tell this warrior Seg the Horkandur much; she knew she could not bring herself to tell him all. Not yet, at least...
    A monster, all teeth and scales and spikes, blundered past, forcing his way through the tangle by bulk and power. Even he had to pick a path that avoided the worst of the natural obstructions. Seg and Milsi were quite content to let him pass without comment.
    “We will wait here until I am sure no one is following us. Then we will think about a drink and some food.”
    “Very well, Seg.”
    So meek, her answer! She surprised herself!
    The sounds of the forest rose and fell with the ceaseless activities of life and death. The heat sweltered.
    The great red sun, Zim, and the smaller green sun, Genodras, cast down a muted, entangled radiance among the fronds and branches. The pin-heads stung and were slapped away with increasing irritation.
    Presently, Milsi said, “You mentioned something about eating and drinking, Seg.”
    “Aye.”
    “Well?”
    Her question was not so much tart as resignedly amused, as though she was waiting expectantly for a miracle.
     
    Patiently, keeping a continuing observation along the backtrail and all about the tangled root mass, Seg told her: “Food is no problem. As for drink, we must boil every drop of water we touch.”
    “I see.”
    She waited, sharing his patience.
    Then: “Do we eat and drink now?”
    “Wait.”
    “But—”
    Still he did not look at her. He sat comfortably, relaxed and yet, as she could clearly see, immensely alert.
    He was so still as to appear graven from stone, the only movement the occasional impatient flick of a finger to ward off the pestering pinheads.
    “Listen, Lady Milsi. In the jungle — or anywhere else, come to that — patience equals life.