Storm Over Warlock

by Andre Norton

  9. ONE ALONE

  Once again the beach was a wide expanse of shingle, drying fast under asun hotter than any Shann had yet known on Warlock. Summer had taken abig leap forward. The Terrans worked in partial shade below a cliffoverhang, not only for the protection against the sun's rays, but alsoas a precaution against any roving Throg air patrol.

  Under Thorvald's direction the curious shell dragged from the sea--if itwere a shell, and the texture as well as the general shape suggestedthat--was equipped with a framework to act as a stabilizing outrigger.What resulted was certainly an odd-looking craft, but one which obeyedthe paddles and rode the waves easily.

  In the full sunlight the outline of islands wasclear-cut--red-and-gray-rock above an aquamarine sea. The Terrans hadsighted no more of the sea monsters, and the major evidence of nativelife along the shore was a new species of clak-claks, roosting in cliffholes and scavenging along the sands, and various queer fish and shelledthings stranded in small tide pools--to the delight of the wolverines,who fished eagerly up and down the beach, ready to investigate alldebris of the storm.

  "That should serve." Thorvald tightened the last lashing, straighteningup, his fists resting on his hips, to regard the craft with a measure ofpride.

  Shann was not quite so content. He had matched the Survey officer inindustry, but the need for haste still eluded him. So the ship--such asit was--was ready. Now they would be off to explore Thorvald's Utgard.But a small and nagging doubt inside the younger man restrained hisenthusiasm over such a voyage. Fork-tail had come out of the section ofocean which they must navigate in this very crude transport. And Shannhad no desire to meet an uninjured and alert fork-tail in the latter'sown territory.

  "Which island do we head for?" Shann kept private his personal doubts oftheir success. The outmost tip of that chain was only a distant smudgelying low on the water.

  "The largest ... that one with trees."

  Shann whistled. Since the night of the storm the wolverines were againmore amenable to the very light discipline he tried to keep. Perhaps thefury of that elemental burst had tightened the bond between men andanimals, both alien to this world. Now Taggi and his mate padded towardhim in answer to his summons. But would the wolverines trust the boat?Shann dared not risk their swimming, nor would he agree to leaving thembehind.

  Thorvald had already stored their few provisions on board. And now Shannsteadied the craft against a rock which served them as a wharf, while hecoaxed Taggi gently. Though the wolverine protested, he at lastscrambled in, to hunch at the bottom of the shell, the picture ofapprehension. Togi took longer to make up her mind. And at length Shannpicked her up bodily, soothing her with quiet speech and stroking hands,to put her beside her mate.

  The shell settled under the weight of the passengers, but Thorvald'sforesight concerning the use of the outrigger proved right, for thecraft was seaworthy. It answered readily to the dip of their paddles asthey headed in a curve, keeping the first of the islands between themand the open sea for a breakwater.

  From the air, Thorvald's course would have been a crooked one, for hewove back and forth between the scattered islands of the chain, usingtheir lee calm for the protection of the canoe. About two thirds of thegroup were barren rock, inhabited only by clak-claks and creaturescloser to true Terran birds in that they wore a body plumage whichresembled feathers, though their heads were naked and leathery. And,Shann noted, the clak-claks and the birds did not roost on the sameislands, each choosing their own particular home while the other speciesdid not invade that territory.

  The first large-sized island they approached was crowned by trees, butit had no beach, no approach from sea level. Perhaps it might bepossible to climb to the top of the cliff walls. But Thorvald did notsuggest that they try it, heading on toward the next large outcrop ofland and rock.

  Here white lace patterned in a ring well out from the shore to mark acircle of reefs. They nosed their way patiently around the outercircumference of that threatening barrier, hunting the entrance to thelagoon. Within, there were at least two beaches with climbable ascentsto the upper reaches inland. Though Shann noted that the vegetationshowing was certainly not luxuriant, the few trees within their range ofvision being pallid growths, rather like those they had sighted on thefringe of the desert. Leather-headed flyers wheeled out over theircanoe, coasting on outspread wings to peer down at the Terran invadersin a manner which suggested intelligent curiosity.

  A full flock gathered to escort them as they continued along the outerline of the reef. Thorvald impatiently dug his paddle deeper. They hadexplored more than half of the reef now without chancing on an entrancechannel.

  "Regular fence," Shann commented. One could begin to believe that thebarrier had been deliberately reared to frustrate visitors. Hotsunshine, reflected back from the surface of the waves, burned theirexposed skin, so they dared not discard their ragged clothing. And thewolverines were growing increasingly restless. Shann did not know howmuch longer the animals would consent to their position as passengerswithout raising active protest.

  "How about trying the next one?" he asked, knowing at the same time hiscompanion was not in any mood to accept such a suggestion with goodwill.

  The officer made no reply, but continued to use his steer paddle in afashion which spelled out his stubborn determination to find a passage.This was a personal thing now, between Ragnar Thorvald of the TerranSurvey and a wall of rock, and the man's will was as strongly rooted asthose water-washed stones.

  On the southwestern tip of the reef they discovered a possible opening.Shann eyed the narrow space between two fanglike rocks dubiously. To himthat width of water lane seemed dangerously limited, the sudden slam ofa wave could dash them against either of those pillars, with disastrousresults, before they could move to save themselves. But Thorvald pointedtheir blunt bow toward the passage with seeming confidence, and Shannknew that as far as the officer was concerned, this was their door tothe lagoon.

  Thorvald might be stubborn, but he was not a fool. And his training andskill in such maneuvers was proved when the canoe rode in a rising swellin and by those rocks to gain the safety, in seconds, of the calmlagoon. Shann sighed with relief, but ventured no comment.

  Now they must paddle back along the inner side of the reef to locate thebeaches, for fronting them on this side of the well-protected islandwere cliffs as formidable as those which guarded the first of the chainat which they had aimed.

  Shann glanced now and then over the side of the boat, hoping in theseshallows to sight the sea bed or some of the inhabitants of thesewaters. But there was no piercing that green murk. Here and therenodules of rock projected inches or feet above the surface, awash in thewavelets, to be avoided by the voyagers. Shann's shoulders ached andburned, his muscles were unaccustomed to the steady swing of thepaddles, and the fire of the sun stabbed easily through only two layersof ragged cloth to his skin. He ran a dry tongue over dryer lips andgazed eagerly ahead in search of the first of the beaches.

  What was so important about this island that Thorvald _had_ to make alanding here? The officer's stories of a native race which they mightturn against the Throgs to their own advantage was thin, very thinindeed. Especially now, as Shann weighed an unsupported theory againstthat ache in his shoulders, the possibility of being marooned on theinhospitable shore ahead, against the fifty probable dangers he couldtotal up with very little expenditure of effort. A small nagging doubtof Thorvald's obsession began to grow in his mind. How could Shann evenbe sure that that carved disk and Thorvald's hokus-pokus with it hadbeen on the level? On the other hand what motive would the officer havefor trying such an act just to impress Shann?

  The beach at last! As they headed the canoe in that direction thewolverines nearly brought disaster on them. The animals' restlessnessbecame acute as they sighted and scented the shore and knew that theywere close. Taggi reared, plunged over the side of the craft, and Shannhad just time to fling his weight in the opposite direction as acounterbalance when Togi
followed. They splashed shoreward whileThorvald swore fluently and Shann grabbed to save the precious supplybag. In a shower of gravel the animals made land and humped well up onthe strand before pausing to shake themselves and splatter far and widethe burden of moisture transported by their shaggy fur.

  Ashore, the canoe became a clumsy burden and, light as the craft was,both of the men sweated to get it up on the beach without snagging theoutrigger against stones and brush. With the thought of a Throg patrolin mind they worked swiftly to cover it.

  Taggi raised an egg-patterned snout from a hollow and licked at thestippling of greenish yolk matting his fur. The wolverines had wasted notime in sampling the contents of a wealth of nesting places beginningjust above the high-water mark, cupping two to four tough-shelled eggsin each. Treading a path among those clutches, the Terrans climbed ared-earthed slope toward the interior of the island.

  They found water, not the clear running of a mountain spring, but astalish pool in a stone-walled depression on the crest of a rise,filled by the bounty of the rain. The warm liquid was brackish, butsatisfied in part their thirst, and they drank eagerly.

  The outer cliff wall of the island was just that, a wall, for there wasan inner slope to match the outer. And at the bottom of it a showing ofpurple-green foliage where plants and stunted trees fought for livingspace. But there was nothing else, though they quartered that growingsection with the care of men trying to locate an enemy outpost.

  That night they camped in the hollow, roasted eggs in a fire, and atethe fishy-tasting contents because it was food, not because theyrelished what they swallowed. Tonight no cloud bank hung overhead. Aman, gazing up, could see the stars. The stars and other things, forover the distant shore of the mainland they sighted the cruising lightsof a Throg ship and waited tensely for that circle of small sparklingpoints to swing out toward their own hiding hole.

  "They haven't given up," Shann stated what was obvious to them both.

  "The settler transport," Thorvald reminded him. "If they do not take aprisoner to talk her in and allay suspicion, then--" he snapped hisfingers--"the Patrol will be on their tails, but quick!"

  So just by keeping out of Throg range, they were, in a way, stillfighting. Shann settled back, his tender shoulders resting against atree hole. He tried to count the number of days and nights lying behindhim now since that early morning when he had watched the Terran camp dieunder the aliens' weapons. But one day faded into another so that hecould remember only action parts clearly--the attack on the groundedscoutship, the sortie they had made in turn on the occupied camp, thedust storm on the river, the escape from the Throg ship in the mountaincrevice, and their meeting with the hound. Then that storm which haddriven them to seek cover after their curious experience with the disk.And now this day when they had safely reached the island.

  "Why this island?" he asked suddenly.

  "That carved piece was found here on the edge of this valley," Thorvaldreturned matter-of-factly.

  "But today we found nothing at all----"

  "Yet this island supplies us with a starting point."

  A starting point for what? A detailed search of all the islands, greatand small, in the chain? And how did they dare continue to paddle openlyfrom one to the next with the Throgs sweeping the skies? They would haveprovided an excellent target today as they combed that reef for an houror more. Wearily, Shann spread out his hands in the very faint light oftheir tiny fire, poked with a finger tip at smarting points which wouldhave been blisters had those hands not known a toughening process in thepast. More paddling tomorrow? But that was tomorrow, and at least theyneed not worry tonight about any Throg attack once they had doused thefire, an action which was now being methodically attended to byThorvald. Shann pushed down on the bed of leaves he had heaped together.The night was quiet. He could hear only the murmur of the sea, a lullingcroon of sound to make one sleep deep, perhaps dreamlessly.

  Sun struck down, making a dazzle about him. Shann turned over drowsilyin that welcome heat, stretching a little as might a cat at ease. Thenhe really awoke under the press of memory, and the need for alertnessrode him once more. Beaten-down grass, the burnt-out embers of lastnight's fire were beside him. But of Thorvald and the wolverines therewere no signs.

  Not only did he now lie alone, but he was possessed by the feeling thathe had not been deserted only momentarily, that Taggi, Togi and theSurvey officer were indeed gone. Shann sat up, got to his feet,breathing faster, a prickle of uneasiness spreading in him, bringing himto that inner slope, up it to the crest from which he could see thatbeach where last night they had concealed the canoe.

  Those lengths of brush and tufts of grass they had used for a screenwere strewn about as if tossed in haste. And not too long before....

  For the canoe was out in the calm waters within the reef, the paddleblade wielded by its occupant flashing brightly in the sun. On theshingle below, the wolverines prowled back and forth, whining inbewilderment.

  "Thorvald----!"

  Shann put the full force of his lungs into that hail, hearing the namering from one of the small peaks at his back. But the man in the boatdid not turn his head; there was no change in the speed of that paddledip.

  Shann leaped down the outer slope to the beach, skidding the last fewfeet, saving himself from going headfirst into the water only by apainful wrench of his body.

  "Thorvald!" He tried calling again. But that head, bright under the sundid not turn; there was no answer. Shann tore at his clothes and kickedoff his boots.

  He did not think of the possibility of lurking sea monsters as heplunged into the water, swam for the canoe edging along the reef,plainly bound for the sea gate to the southwest. Shann was not apowerful swimmer. His first impetus gave him a good start, but afterthat he had to fight for each foot he gained, and the fear grew in himthat the other would reach the reef passage before he could catch up. Hewasted no more time trying to hail Thorvald, putting all his breath andenergy into the effort of overtaking the craft.

  And he almost made it, his hand actually slipping along the log whichfurnished the balancing outrigger. As his fingers tightened on the slimywood he looked up, and loosed that hold again in time perhaps to savehis life.

  For when he ducked to let the water cover his head in an impromptu halfdive, Shann carried with him a vivid picture, a picture so astoundingthat he was a little dazed.

  Thorvald had stopped paddling at last, because that paddle had to be putto another use. Had Shann not released his hold on the log and goneunder water, that crudely fashioned piece of wood might, have broken hisskull. He saw only too clearly the paddle raised in both hands as anugly weapon, and Thorvald's face, convulsed in a spasm of rage whichmade it as inhuman as a Throg's.

  Sputtering and choking, Shann fought up to the air once more. The paddlewas back at the task for which it had been carved, the canoe wasunderway again, its occupant paying no more attention to what lay behindthan if he _had_ successfully disposed of the man in the water. Tofollow would be only to invite another attack, and Shann might not be solucky next time. He was not good enough a swimmer to try any tricks suchas oversetting the canoe, not when Thorvald was an expert who couldeasily finish off a fumbling opponent.

  Shann swam wearily to shore where the wolverines waited, unable yet tomake sense of that attack in the lagoon. What had happened to Thorvald?What motive had led the other to leave Shann and the animals on thisisland, the island Thorvald had called a starting point in his searchfor the natives of Warlock? Or had every bit of that tall tale beeninvented by the Survey officer for some obscure purpose of his own,certainly no sane purpose? Against that logic Shann could only set thecarved disk, and he had only Thorvald's word that that had beendiscovered here.

  He dragged himself out of the water on his hands and knees and lay,winded and gasping. Taggi came to lick his face, nuzzle him, making asmall, bewildered whimpering. While above, the leather-headed birdscalled and swooped, fearful and angry for their disturbed nesting place.The
Terran retched, coughed up water, and then sat up to look around.

  The spread of lagoon was bare. Thorvald must have rounded the southpoint of land and be very close to the reef passage, perhaps through itby now. Not stopping for his clothes, Shann started up the slope,crawling part of the way on his hands and knees.

  He reached the crest again and got to his feet. The sun made aneye-dazzling glitter of the waves. But under the shade of his handsShann saw the canoe again, beyond the reef, heading on out along theisland chain, not back to shore as he had expected. Thorvald was stillon the hunt, but for what? A reality which existed, or a dream in hisown disturbed brain?

  Shann sat down. He was very hungry, for that adventure in the lagoon hadsapped his strength. And he was a prisoner along with the wolverines, aprisoner on an island which was half the size of the valley which heldthe Survey camp. As far as he knew, his only supply of drinkable waterwas that tank of evil-smelling rain which would be speedily evaporatedby a sun such as the one now beating down on him. And between him andthe shore was the sea, a sea which harbored such creatures as thefork-tail he had watched die.

  Thorvald was still steadily on course, not to the next island in thechain, a small, bare knob, but to the one beyond that. He could havebeen hurrying to a meeting. Where and with what?

  Shann got to his feet, started down to the beach once more, sure nowthat the officer had no intention of returning, that he was again on hisown with only his wits and strength to keep him alive--alive and somehowfree of this water-washed prison.