Shadow of the Seer

by Michael Scott Rohan

  His wits were clouded, but that made the lure all the stronger. Hardly thinking, he heaved himself slowly to his feet. The air smelt hot, heavy and sweet, as if there was incense in it, or a drug; little he cared. He stretched out a hand to her, touched her only with his fingertips and stumbled forward as she skipped lightly away, towards the door. Her small chubby fingers closed about his and led him on, and that light touch alone made his heart leap and pound. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he grabbed out at her. His mind flooded with visions, a thrilling turmoil of what might be. What he wanted now was fierce, crude, nothing to do with Savi – or was it? Wasn’t that what he really wanted from her, too? Wasn’t that all there was to want?

  Visions … but he had lived all his life in visions, steered them to his will. And Savi was all he truly desired. With leaden efforts he gathered his thought, and bent it upon the alluring shimmer before him.

  It changed. Behind the naked figure of the girl, a jolting, looming sense of presence. As if someone else stalked suddenly through the misty light, a tall sweeping shape whose head was wreathed in many-coloured shadows, hues that shone in every hanging droplet and set it softly ablaze. The girl shrank away; he staggered back, stumbled and fell. He was dimly aware of the tall shape bending over him, and then it was like sliding back helpless into a cool dark pool of sleep. For a moment he lay quiet, as it enveloped him swiftly and smoothly, stifling even the turmoil of his dreams; but then he tried to stir, and his limbs felt enmeshed, as if in heavy, cold dark arms. He struggled, hard, but for every limb he tore free another seemed to become more heavily enmeshed. If he could only shout … but his voice was paralysed, caught in his throat by the writhing darkness. He threshed, strained; and then suddenly the dark was shot with racing fires.

  He sat bolt upright in his blankets, sweating, heart pounding. He lay in his bed, still, as if he had never stirred from it, never risen to the vision of the girl. A dream, then; a nightmare, even. They often ended like that, a threshing struggle between sleep and wakening. He breathed listlessly in the damp air, and longed for more light; no wonder his dreams had stifled him!

  At least there was the stove, no more by now than a faint sullen glow. And he was uneasily aware of another need, one that might explain the dreaming. Out the back, the woman had said; he did not like the idea of either door, at this hour, but he need not go far. He shuffled over to the back door, stumbling over someone as he passed. He half expected them to wake up with sword in hand, but they only mumbled and turned over. As well it hadn’t been Vansha, with his savage reactions!

  Alya reached the door, and was trying to find the bar when he tripped over something, a discarded blanket, touched the door and felt it swing loose and open. The bar had been lifted; to let someone else out, or in?

  He was wide awake suddenly, as if ice-water were tipped down his back; and he skipped hastily back to find his place and his sword. It might be nothing, another on his quest; or it might be …

  Another blanket, discarded.

  A thought struck him, and he looked beyond the fire.

  ‘What is it?’ Asquan was on his feet, though his speech was thick with sleep. ‘You gasped.’

  ‘A dream. Two empty blankets. An open door. And the women are gone …’

  ‘There’s more than perfume on the air!’ Asquan’s chuckle was cynical, but it choked as Alya’s hand clamped on his arm.

  ‘They wanted walls and bars! Would they quit them? Even for that?’

  Asquan’s voice was suddenly alert; and reaching into the stove he seized a heavy smouldering cane-stem. ‘Then come on! Wake the others!’

  CHAPTER 8

  Jewels in the Snow

  ASQUAN flung back the door, and stopped dead. The mist filled the misshapen frame from floor to roof like a wall of pearl, and cascaded in about him, spreading its pale chill tendrils across the floor. He swung the brand high, fanning it to flame; but it showed them nothing save pale shadows that might be cane-stems a few feet away.

  ‘Wake the others!’ he said savagely. Alya nodded; they must not go rushing out into that, only two of them. He prodded the first heap of blankets, but it only stirred and mumbled. Kalkan, by the sound of it. He prodded harder, then kicked; but Kalkan snored loudly and rolled over, not waking even when Alya shook his shoulder. The same for the next, Darzhan, and Fazdshan beside him. ‘As if they’re drugged!’ hissed Alya.

  And the next space was empty. Vansha’s. Beyond that Chiansha mumbled insults, even when Alya kicked him with bruising force, and curled up like a child. Alya cursed and ran back round to the door, but stumbled over one more heap of blankets, and stooped to shake its shoulder furiously.

  Instead he found his hand on a flat breast, and his wrist clamped in a clawlike grip; but not thrust away, met instead with a sleep-sodden chuckle. ‘You? Of all people! Never’d have thought it! No wonder, all these dreams!’

  ‘It’s not that, woman! Wake up! Something’s happening!’

  ‘What?’ The dreamy slur vanished from Rysha’s voice.

  ‘Two of us are gone! And the women! Outside!’

  She started to snigger. ‘What, to water the cane together? Or a round of—’ Then she saw the mist that billowed across the floor, rising in eerie curlicues around the warm air of the open stove. ‘Out in that?’ She scrambled to her feet, still in her shirt, hopping to jam feet into boots. Not bloody likely, is it?’

  ‘No! And the others won’t wake up. Only me and Asquan.’

  ‘Half done myself. Feels like something dragging me down, still. You’re right, my lad, there’s something stirring here. Besides your hand. Be a bit less rough next time, eh? Or a bit lower down?’

  Alya swore in exasperation and dragged her after him.

  ‘Just her?’ hissed Asquan. ‘Better than nothing. Can you do anything, woman?’

  ‘Can I do anything!’ she sneered. ‘Sight more than you can, I’ll wager! Piss out that light, for a start! It’ll only serve to mark us!’

  Asquan shook his head. ‘Anything out there can surely see without light. Or doesn’t need to! Hurry, woman! You make your tricks shine in darkness. Can you kindle a better light for us?’

  ‘Not light! Just the look of it. To be seen, not see by.’ She bit her lip between long teeth. ‘Not so common down our way, mist; but maybe I can use it. Can’t lead you to whatever’s out there; but maybe I can do it the other way around! Supposing you’ve the nerve, this is!’

  ‘Stop wasting time, woman!’ snarled Asquan.

  ‘I kneel before you, oh master!’ she sneered. ‘Or would you rather I bent over?’ She laid hand on the door of heavy canes, then turned in surprise, waggled it, then thrust her fingers into the leather hinges. ‘Well greased. Silent. Might’ve guessed. So—’

  She flung her arms high above her head; and Alya gasped. She and Asquan were gone in the instant, in only a faint shimmer of the mist. Out of nowhere the brand was thrust into his hand.

  ‘Here! You’re so fond of feeling around in the dark – you lead the way!’

  Alya shivered, but they’d wasted enough precious seconds already. He stepped out into the fog, shivering at its clammy embrace, and the lank cold touch of the cane-leaves as they brushed his bare shoulders. A mocking whisper came from behind him, so close the breath tickled his ear. ‘Hold that brand up nice and high, now; and look stupid! Stupid and horny – shouldn’t be too hard! We’ll be right behind you – you hope!’

  Alya ignored her. That was what he was supposed to do, after all. He was the logical choice, the youngest and the strongest, the inevitable choice – for bait. He plodded on into the mist, zigzagging around, pushing the canes aside as stealthily as he could; that still made a degree of noise. He hoped it would be enough.

  After twenty minutes or so nothing had happened, save that he had come across what might have been a winding path, or maybe just an animal trail; and that he was helplessly lost, all the same. He stopped, gazing around, and saw nothing at all, nor heard any voice. Were the others
still with him? He couldn’t tell. Nothing but milky shadow, and rustling canes. Then, ahead of him, he did see something move. He hefted his sword, and stared hard. It seemed human enough, and small. A human shape indeed, in white, with long hair; and making its way towards him. Demons might have red hair, they said, though the girls he had seen were all shades; but this was black like his own, and straight. Just as he finally saw it clearly, only some ten paces ahead, it stopped.

  It was one of the peasant girls, legs bare beneath a short shift, patched and stained-looking. She saw him too, clearly, and stood hesitantly, legs rubbing together, biting her finger nervously. Like an animal poised to run—

  He stepped forward, raising the brand again. ‘Don’t worry! I won’t hurt you! I just—’

  She lowered her hands, and smiled at him, a little nervously still, her fingers playing with the hem of her shift. Then, very smoothly, she drew it up, over her shoulders and off, and stood there naked, swinging it in her hand, the misty torchlight gleaming on breast and belly.

  The sight aroused him with startling force. He almost forgot where he was, or that there were others there, and he started towards her at a run, dashing aside the canes with the flaring torch. She squeaked, turned and scuttled back a few paces, swinging her shift playfully, then ran in earnest, giggling loudly. He plunged and bounded after her, but she was faster than he at first, slipping nimbly between the canes. He stretched his legs and felt the fire take hold, and the canes part before him as if no more substantial than the mist. She saw him gaining, squeaked again in fright and swung around a canebrake, so close he could almost reach out—

  She sprang, not forward but aside; and out of the mist there loomed a monstrous shape, tall and inchoate, crowned with a huge head. For an instant the torchlight caught a wide white eye, a dark streaked muzzle and snarling jaws full of glittering teeth beneath a lapping tongue. Then the brand flew from his hands as he lost his balance and skidded forward into the gaping mouth of a pit.

  Only his speed saved him, that much faster than an ordinary man’s. As it was, he did not clear the pit, but falling, struck its far side, hard. Instinct, more than thought, led him to reach out, to clutch a clump of young cane there. It crackled and snapped in his fingers, but held him long enough to let him slash out with his sword, drive it into the earth there and hang, dazed and winded. The rich ground was soft, the blade pulled free almost at once, but he dug in his other hand among the cane-roots and struggled to haul himself up. But the mist rolled above his head, and in the faint glimmer of the dying brand he saw the monstrous shadow stoop over him. From one side something stabbed at him, struck the earth a finger’s breadth from his arm; something else whistled down across his sword-arm with stinging force. He yelped, the sword became a burning, deadly weight, the hilt slid through his fingers. And looking up, he saw descending the tip of a stiff cane, cut at a steep slant to create a deadly point; and he knew then what had stabbed Almur.

  Then there was a whistle in the mist, a high thin song; and a piercing scream. The point flew past him, and in desperation, snatching up his sword in his bruised arm, hanging on as best he could, he slashed out at that monstrous stooping head. It was not a strong cut, by his lights; but it connected with jarring force, and a shattering sound which was not that of flesh and blood. With a hoarse shriek the whole shape toppled forward and flew past him into the depths below.

  Not so deep; he heard the thud of its landing almost at once, an agonised cry, and beneath it, a lower, darker groan. As if something had been disturbed, a terrible stench welled up, and he flailed desperately for fear of he knew not what terror stirring beneath his dangling feet.

  Hands seized his arms, and he tried to shake them loose. ‘Stop that, you silly bastard!’ snapped Rysha. ‘Or we’ll let you fall into the shit where you belong!’ She moaned with the effort as she and Asquan hauled him up over the lip of the pit. ‘Powers aid the stupid bitch you do catch up with, you great stirk! You’ll grind her to pieces!’

  Alya sprawled gasping on the earth. ‘Right behind me, was it? Right bloody behind me? Where in Hella’s name did you get to?’

  A boot caught him in the ribs, and not lightly. ‘Right where we said, child! Till you went haring off after that little slut’s tail! We’re supposed to keep up, are we? I wonder you fell down anything, I’d have thought your prick’d get in the way! Wish this girl of yours could’ve seen you! If you’d only gone after her that fast, we’d never have had this—’

  Alya caught the boot as it was about to land again, and thrust it back. ‘Shut up, you murdering bitch!’ he hissed, springing up. ‘Shut up!’

  Rysha jumped back, hand to mouth in a gesture oddly like the peasant girl’s, her eyes wide and gleaming in the faint light.

  ‘Or what, my lord?’ demanded Asquan drily. ‘We’ve just saved your life, she and I, and that despite your best efforts! Though I think there was some force at work here, something you couldn’t control. Something that lured out the others …’

  ‘The others …’ Alya staggered around.

  ‘Yes. Best we go back and get some light, the moment you can walk. I think they’re down there. And someone else is, too.’

  ‘Some – one? Who, then?’

  Asquan gestured with his sword, and held up the brand. Cowering on the ground were the three girls, one naked, the other two in shifts. One was clutching a wounded arm, the other covering her eye where she had evidently been hit. ‘They had cane spears. The peasant’s weapon. We took ’em away. The other had one, too.’

  The older woman was nowhere to be seen.

  Alya drew a shaking breath, and then reached out to Rysha. She flinched, but he only laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘I am very sorry, Rysha; and very grateful. Something did come over me, I don’t know what. But maybe I behaved like your idea of any man. Thank you for saving me, both of you.’

  She shrugged. ‘Any man; not the worst. I had dreams too. More interesting than usual, maybe, but nothing I’ve not tried out. Guess it was aimed more at men.’ She sniggered suddenly, and kicked the naked girl to her feet. ‘Explains why it didn’t hit his lordship here too hard, either!’

  ‘Evidently being of refined tastes was some defence – as well as merely well-worn!’ said Asquan acidly, and slapped the wounded girls with the flat of his sword. ‘You! Back to the house, all of you! We’ll deal with you later! Which does not explain,’ he resumed smoothly, ‘why our healthily amorous young friend was only affected at a late stage!’

  ‘It hit me earlier,’ said Alya miserably. ‘But I kept thinking of Savi. I always think of Savi. Almost always.’

  Rysha jerked one of the girls ahead of her by her hair. ‘Almost is as much as anyone manages. Think she’s still saving it for you?’

  ‘I know she’s still true to herself,’ said Alya. ‘So I would be, also.’

  Rysha was silent a moment. ‘Going to have a lot of catching up to do. Rub it raw, both of you. Virgins?’

  ‘Not quite.’

  ‘That’s something. Do all the funny things. Don’t get one up her too quickly, or it might go sour. That’s what happened to me.’

  ‘You had a child?’

  ‘Till he kicked it out of me. Because I wasn’t performing. Saved the kid a mort of trouble, I guess.’

  ‘You took the words right out of my mouth!’ said Asquan.

  ‘Brave of me, seeing what’s been in there!’ She jerked the girl’s hair till she squealed. ‘Hey, notice something, or are you blind with flogging it? The mist’s thinning!’

  Back at the house the others were stirring, especially Kalkan, furious at his bruised ribs, and rousing the rest. He was already at the door with a spear when they came in sight, hair and eyes wild, and he broke out cursing when he saw the girls.

  ‘What’s this? Are you all right, my lords? And where’s young Vansha – and that damned scholar?’

  ‘Down a hole, I fear – where I would have been, but for Asquan and Rysha. Get lights, fast, and rope from the bagga
ge!’

  ‘And keep these little bitches close guarded!’ added Asquan, in a tone that chilled Alya’s blood. ‘I will want words with them, later!’

  Alya had other concerns, though, as they slashed their way back out through the cane, under the light of flaring torches and brands. The mist was all but gone now, but the moon was low, and cast long, deceptive shadows among the cane.

  ‘Monsters!’ muttered Chiansha. ‘So much for that little tale! Did they get Almur, this crew?’

  ‘A cane spear did!’ said Alya. ‘And within a close ride of here. And he was lured off the road …’

  ‘We know how, don’t we!’ muttered Fazdshan. ‘And how many more, I wonder?’

  ‘A good many, I wager,’ said Rysha flatly. ‘That’s of Aikiya, of course.’

  ‘Ekwesh?’ Fazdshan stared.

  ‘Well, who else comes along here?’ she demanded as she stalked past them, still clad only in her shirt and boots. ‘Damn few. Maybe none. Maybe the Aikiya’s all they’ve ever known.’

  The soldiers stared after her. ‘What’s she mean by that, then?’

  ‘Leave it for now,’ said Alya, though he thought he guessed. ‘And keep your eyes open, there may still be real perils lurking! For now it’s finding the others that matters.’

  Even if it’s only to bury them deeper.

  But the first thing they heard as they neared the pit was a groan, and then a croaking call for help. A man’s voice, though they hardly knew it; and when they ran to the edge, some nearly sliding in, their torches showed them Vansha, mud-smeared and bloody, scrabbling wearily up the crumbling side.

  ‘Aha!’ said Kalkan jovially. ‘Trying to dig your way out, eh? Take you about a day, I’d say. Want a hoist?’

  Vansha’s gesture in return was weary but unmistakable, though he did not speak. When they hauled him out, they soon saw why; though they recoiled from the stink. ‘Tried to strangle me, the bitches!’ he croaked, when they poured watered wine down his throat. Even in the uncertain light the raw seam around it was obvious. ‘To hold me still, while they speared me! But then they gave up suddenly, and just kicked me down that bloody hole! And then someone else on top!’