He felt angry with himself for being so preoccupied with the mud that he had allowed the frog-like creature to approach so close, and relieved that it had seemed as alarmed as he was. He hoisted the bucket to the top of the bank, scrambled up — now too preoccupied to avoid trampling on the flowers — and picked up his Reaper. For a moment he regretted leaving it at the top of the bank, then reflected that it would have made no difference; he would not have attempted to harm the creature as it fled. Then he tramped back thoughtfully, holding the Reaper in one hand to balance the weight of the bucket.
Simeon gave a grunt of satisfaction when he saw the mud. He wiped clean one of the smaller wounds, then quickly plastered a handful of mud on it. Thirty seconds later, when there was still no sign of renewed bleeding, he gave a sigh of relief and began removing the blood-stained bandages. While he was doing this, Manetho came back, carrying a bucketful of leaves. Each one had a swollen black object in the middle, looking not unlike a small grape; when Simeon broke one of these with his thumb, the air was permeated with a particular medicated smell. With the help of Manetho and Doggins, Simeon cleaned the wounds, squeezed the juice of the suva leaf on each, then slapped on handfuls of dark brown mud. In less than ten minutes, Milo was covered in mud from head to foot. But he was breathing regularly, and the colour had returned to his cheeks.
Niall waited until they had finished before he told them what he had seen. Simeon frowned, shaking his head.
“I’ve heard of such things, but I’ve never seen one.”
Niall said: “It was probably quite harmless — it ran away as soon as I reached for the Reaper.”
Simeon grunted. “Few creatures of the Delta are harmless. They can’t afford to be.”
The position of the sun in the sky told them that it was now mid-afternoon; they had perhaps seven hours of daylight left.
Manetho asked: “Do you think I should make a stretcher for Milo?”
Doggins looked at Simeon. “You know the Delta. What do you think we should do?”
Simeon shrugged. “I think you three should go on. I’ll stay here with Milo.”
“Do you think you”ll be all right?”
“Why not? With the Reaper, I’m more dangerous than any other creature in the Delta.” He smiled grimly.
Doggins looked at Niall and Manetho. There was no need to say anything. They all knew what he was thinking. If they left Simeon behind, their journey would be far more dangerous. And Simeon himself would be in considerable danger, left alone to face the night with an injured man. Yet the only alternative was to acknowledge defeat and retrace their steps. Something in Niall was revolted by the idea, and he sensed the same mood of stubbornness in his companions.
Doggins said: “All right.”
He stooped down and began closing his pack. Niall and Manetho did the same.
Simeon said: “I want you to remember one thing. The Delta is at its most dangerous if you relax your attention. So stay vigilant.”
“And you.” Doggins placed his hand briefly on Simeon’s shoulder. “We’ll hope to be back tomorrow. If we haven’t returned within two days, try and make your way back. But leave some indication of what you’ve done.”
“I will.”
They left without looking back.
The path downhill quickly brought them to the edge of the forest. Now, at last, the basin of the Great Delta lay before them, and they could form a more accurate idea of its geography. Ahead of them, perhaps twenty miles away, lay the western range of hills that ran parallel to the range that now lay behind them. To their right, the Delta sloped gradually downward towards the sea, a desolate plain covered with reeds and low bushes. The gentle upward slope continued to their left, but the swampland here gave way to jungle. In the far distance, the double range of hills became lower as they approached one another and descended to the inland plain. A hot, dry wind was now blowing from this direction. Immediately ahead of them there was swampland and, now they were in the plain, they could see that it was covered with high reeds, tall enough to hide a man. The only smell was the odour of decay carried from the jungle, the only sound the moan of the wind through the reeds.
Their objective — the hill that overlooked the junction of the rivers — was immediately in front of them. But there was no obvious path towards it. When they had crossed the intervening area of firm grassland, they found themselves faced with the forest of reeds and bushes. Manetho went first, machete in hand, tramping straight into it, and for at least two hundred yards they met with no obstacle; the ground underfoot was soft, but firm enough to support them. Then the character of the reeds changed; they became higher and thicker, so that it was necessary to use the machete. Some were as tough and hard as bamboo poles. After another quarter of an hour, they had advanced only another hundred yards, and Manetho was beginning to breathe heavily. The air was hot and moist.
Doggins said: “Hold on a moment. This is hopeless. We’ll be here for weeks at this rate.” He unslung the Reaper from his shoulder. “I’m going to try something.”
He knelt on one knee, carefully pointed the Reaper at ground level, and pulled the trigger. As he moved it sideways, the thin blue beam mowed through the reeds like an immense scythe, and they collapsed sideways on to the ground. The result was a clear path stretching for several hundred yards in front of them.
Doggins grinned triumphantly. “There. It only takes a little common sense.” He led the way forward. But although they were now able to trample the reeds underfoot, instead of hacking them down or pushing them aside, their progress was still slow. The reeds formed a thick carpet, and their feet sank into it, so that almost every step brought them to their knees. And there were places where the reeds were so thick that they held one another upright, and had to be pushed aside by main force. Twice more Doggins used the Reaper, until they decided to admit defeat. They had been struggling forward for at least an hour; behind them lay a broad, straight path through the reeds. Ahead of them it was obvious that the reeds were thicker than ever. And from where they were now resting, they could still see the campsite they had left an hour ago.
Doggins said: “We need a tame millipede to go ahead of us.” He stared gloomily at the surrounding reeds, some of which were eight feet tall. “I think we’d better go back and look for another way.”
They sat there for another five minutes, recovering their breath; Niall used a handkerchief to mop the sweat that ran down his face and neck. The air was stifling. Then, as they were about to stand up, Manetho raised his hand to silence them. In the distance, they could hear something crashing through the reeds. The sound gradually came closer, until it seemed to be coming directly towards them. They stood up quietly, raising their weapons, their fingers on the triggers. Then, when it seemed only a dozen yards away, the crashing changed direction. It was accompanied by a faint but distinctive grunting noise, and the sound of heavy breathing.
A moment later, they caught their first sight of the creature: an armoured back moving above the reeds a dozen yards away. It was humped, and for a moment, Niall thought it could belong to a giant turtle. Then the animal burst from the reeds behind them and crossed the path they had just made. They caught a glimpse of a flat, toad-like face with a horny projections above the brows, a massively armoured back, and short powerful legs. The feet were very large, and webbed like those of a duck, and it moved clumsily, rocking from side to side. The last glimpse they caught of it was a short but powerful armoured tail.
Manetho said: “My God, what was that?”
Doggins shrugged. “Most of these creatures don’t even have names. But I can see why it doesn’t care how much noise it make. With armour like that, I don’t suppose there’s anything that can harm it.”
They retraced their steps, and halted at the path that the creature had smashed through the reeds. It was no longer visible, but they could still hear distant crashing noises.
Doggins said: “We may as well go that way. It’s better than going back.”
As they followed in the trail of the amoured monstrosity, the going became easier; its weight had crushed the reeds flat against the ground; at one point, it had even uprooted a small bush. So far, they were following a path at right angles to the direction in which they wished to travel. But a quarter of a mile further on, the ground became soggier, and water squelched up through the reeds as they trod on them; at this point, the creature had turned inland, and they found themselves once more moving towards the heart of the Delta.