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out of his lungs.
    In front of
him Jon was being circled by two men with knives drawn; every way
he turned one was behind him, looking for a chance to give the
other an opening.
    They were wary
of him, dodging out of the way of his hands and feet. Suddenly
Lucien saw them rush in and tried to scream a warning, but there
was no air in his lungs to give voice.
    “ Watch the big Liaison Officer get filleted
like a salmon,” the man holding him chortled in his ear. “I love
the sight of fresh guts.”
    As the two men
closed on him Jon went down under their onslaught, falling as if
all his bones had gone soft.
    Lucien felt a
terrible wave of grief and a hoarse cry broke from him … and then
he realised it was a ploy.
    Jon was up in
a crouching position and this time his knife was in his hand. The
momentum of the attack had carried one of the men passed him and as
he went by Jon’s knife flashed out catching him across the back of
the knee, ham stringing him. He gave a howl of pain and collapsed
forwards.
    Jon did not
wait to see him go down; he went towards the other one. They
circled for a few seconds each looking for a lapse of concentration
that would provide an opportunity. Jon’s eyes never left the
other’s face, he was cool and contained, but his opponent began to
have doubts. His eyes slide towards the man holding Lucien for just
a second and then Jon’s knife flashed out, slashing him down the
side of his face.
    The man
dropped his blade as he put his hands up to stop his eyeball
falling out of his head.
    Jon turned to
face Lucien and his captor. “Your turn!” he said, advancing towards
them.
    A second later
Lucien was dropped to the ground. When he had enough wind to raise
his head, the only sign of violence was a pool of blood in the
mud.
    “ Are you all right?” Jon asked.
    “ Yes,” Lucien wheezed. “They were
tribesman, I saw their hands.”
    Jon shook his
head. “They weren’t tribal.”
    “ How could you tell?” Lucien asked, sucking
air into his abused lungs.
    “ If they’d been tribesmen we’d both be
dead,” Jon told him with a grin. “Now who do you suppose wants me
out of the way and The People blamed for it?”
    “ I don’t know!” Lucien
protested.
    “ I never thought you did,” Jon replied.
“Come on. We both need a good night’s sleep; we’ve an early start
in the morning.”

Chapter
7
     
     
    Lucien would
have liked to discuss the fight. Given the chance, he would have
gone over the whole thing blow by blow, knife slash by knife slash,
but he received no encouragement and Jon changed the subject every
time he began. The only thing he was prepared to talk about was the
remark Lucien had overheard about not hurting him.
    “ They wanted a witness who’d testify it was
an attack by tribesmen,” Jon explained.
    “ Why?”
    “ To add to the evidence. There are a lot of
people who’d like the tribes labelled as savages who must be
stamped out.”
    “ Are they?” Lucien asked.
“Savages?”
    “ You’ll find out for yourself soon enough,”
Jon said and refused to be drawn further.
    The next
morning he checked Lucien’s pack, adding a few basic supplies of
food, spare bow strings and a small amount of ammunition. He had
the boy make sure his knife was sharp and checked he had not
misplaced the means of making fire.
    They both went
over the rifles to ascertain they were clean and in full working
order and Jon also inspected Lucien’s clothing and boots.
    “ You’ll do,” he said. “Did you remember a
tooth brush?”
    Lucien nodded,
grinning.
    “ Come on then.”
     
     
    They left the
makeshift town as dawn was breaking and made their way back to the
river. Before them the cataract roared and water rushed over the
rocks.
    “ This way,” Jon said and they followed a
worn path up the bank and almost into the tree line. Following the
river they walked upstream for several hours until the water ceased
to foam white and grew calmer.
    Before them it
stretched away