The Warrior Returns - Anteros 04

by Allan Cole

  The trick was to guess where they'd be beneath all that ice, and then chip away the area and see if you'd guessed right. The nomad said you had to imagine you were a fish yourself and look at the breaks in the banks and the bends in the shallows to see where your favorite fishy hiding place would be. I'd guessed wrong the first few times—at the cost of much nasty labor and scowls from my mates, who were wondering if perhaps Lady Antero had lost her mind and her good magical sense.

  But I worked on, spurred by memories of Gamelan, who had been a skilled fisherman himself and used similar methods to catch our finny cousins.

  And when we finally struck through to the right place, my friends' scowls turned to broad smiles and loud compliments. A school of about two dozen were in the first find, and nearly that number in the second. Then my companions caught on to the trick and it became as certain a dish as if we'd cached supplies in advance of the journey.

  Fuel was a constant problem, although we managed well enough picking up bits of brush and frozen grasses as we went. Growth was spotty and sometimes the day would end with nothing but ice over frozen rocks for our beds. A few times, when we were caught out like that, I drew on my magical resources to keep us warm. Other times we actually dug up the frozen animal droppings from the caravan and burned those for heat and cooking.

  Water was also not easy to come by. There were no free-running streams, and we had to melt ice or snow to get it. This took time we could ill afford, and we were continually amazed that such big potsful of snow produced so little liquid.

  The magical landscape was as severe as the natural. The dogs of sorcery unleashed by the storm had killed mercilessly. All creatures with any magical senses had been slaughtered or crushed, no matter how small or innocent. It may surprise you to know that some plants and even a few lowly worms have small abilities that allow them to tap into the ethers to sustain their life processes. For a wizard, the ethers are always abuzz with such presences, like insects in a garden. But as we trod that frozen land, the ethers seemed silent and lifeless, like a desert is at first glance. Only the spoors and faintly glowing husks of what had been left behind were evident.

  Little by little, however, the etherous landscape began to change. I felt magical presences pop back into existence like flowers blooming in the mud after a brutal spring deluge. Like myself, some of my lowly cousins of the sorcerous world had gotten warning and had been quick enough to go to ground and remain there until danger passed.

  Although the caravan track twisted and turned, it generally headed south toward a ragged range of snow-covered mountains.

  We experienced a few squalls during the early days of the journey, but nothing like the storm that'd nearly killed us. Each time inclement weather arrived, I thought our enemy might be returning. We'd hunch down in a gully or dig holes in the snow to shelter us until the storm was over. Within hours the front would have passed over us without any real danger. I began to wonder if I'd been mistaken about the storm that had marooned us. Perhaps it really had been nothing more than an early winter blow.

  "Yer've never been wrong afore, me lady," Carale said one day, when I'd confessed my doubts.

  "Still," I said, "it makes better sense if this time I was. If there was an enemy behind the storm, where is our enemy now? Why hasn't he come back? Leaped on us with something new and even more deadly?"

  Carale shrugged. "Maybe he thinks he's done the job, me lady," he said. "Yer say yerself tha' ev'n the smallest critter suffered. So maybe this wizard thinks he's done all that's necessary."

  "The question is," I said, "what did he have in mind besides slaughter?"

  "Yer certain he didn't know we were here, me lady?" Carale asked.

  I considered a moment, then nodded. "I'm positive," I said. "That was a blind attack. There was no single target."

  " 'N' yer thinks this ice pirate we was after has somethin' to do wi' it?" he said.

  "I'm not so certain of that," I said. 'The enemy left no sign of identity I could decipher."

  "But yer inclination is t' suspect the ice pirate?" Carale pressed.

  "Yes," I said. I sounded more sure than I was. But that short flat answer leaped to my tongue without prodding.

  "Then tha's probably who it probably is, then," Carale said. 'Take yer first guess and stick with her is my advice, me lady. Works as well as any thin' else."

  "Yes, but why hasn't he returned?" I asked.

  "Who knows, me lady?" Carale said. " 'N' does it really matter that much? We'll find out by and by."

  "There's another thing," I said. "It's nearly winter. Yet the weather still seems mild for these parts." I gave a rueful laugh. "The cold and gloomy skies we see about us are fair weather down here. More like spring."

  Carale grimaced. "Why look for trouble, me lady?" he asked. "Why dare the gods with such questions? Winter'll be on us soon enough. And if it's late this year, why, let's bless the gods for favoring us."

  "Somehow," I grumbled, "I don't think it's got anything to do with favors, especially from the gods."

  Carale's eyebrows shot up. "Yer think there's magic behind that as well, me lady?" he asked, worried.

  I shook my head, exasperated. "I don't know. And that's what's troubling me the most I just plain don't know."

  Carale clapped my shoulder. "Cheer up, me lady. We'll find out soon enough ... one way or the other."

  He poked at the fire with a twig, suddenly gloomy. "Still," he said, "I'd feel much better if I had a deck under me feet. I'd not be revealin' a deep personal secret to yer, me lady, if I told yuz I don't much like walkin'."

  I smiled. It was the old argument between sailors and soldiers.

  "I admit I've grown to love the sea," I said. "But I was a soldier too long to trust my fate to a small enclosed space."

  "Aye, yer've said that afore, me lady," Carale said. "But yer'11 have to admit we can't walk home."

  "No," I said, "that's true. But think what would have happened if we'd have remained on the Tern instead of being on land. We'd have been dead along with the others. No ship could have survived that storm."

  Carale pursed his lips, considering. Then he said, "Tha' may be true. But we'll never know, will we, me lady? I've always trusted in me seaman's skills, and they've never failed me yet."

  He rubbed one of his feet, wincing when he hit a sore spot. 'The gods had a most evil sense of humor when they gave us these, me lady," he said. "Clubby, ugly things. Nothin' so ugly as a foot, if yer thinks on it. 'N' yer toes are so tender, like twigs. Yer can break 'em. Yer can freeze 'em. Yer can plain wear 'em out.

  "If a deck timber goes bad, yer can just patch it up with a piece of good wood. Can't do that with toes."

  "No, you can't," I agreed. "But you can put your shoes on and run like the hells," I said.

  Carale nodded. "Yer right, me lady," he said. "But yer can't run very far. The hells catch up to yuz quick enough when yer afoot."

  SEVERAL WEEKS OUT we came upon a frozen oasis.

  There was nothing to mark it at first. A storm seemed to be brewing beyond the horizon, and the sky was an eerie swirl of thick gray and black clouds, making visibility difficult. All color had been reduced to bleak whites and grays and blacks, making us feel like insects crawling across a page of ink-blotched parchment. We'd been marching for hours and were looking for a place to rest our weary bones.

  We came upon a valley sheltered by broad-shouldered hills of volcanic rock. The caravan track led through a parting between two of those hills, and we followed it to a place where another trail intersected and seemed to blend in. From all signs, the second trail seemed to have been made by another caravan. The track was fresher than the first but not by much. Although we entered me valley with caution, it was only good habit that bade us to do so, for there was no sign of life.

  If it weren't for the trail, we might have missed the squat building in the center of the valley. It was covered with snow and looked like just another small hill to pass by. The caravan track led
directly to the building, curving around to the south side, where we found an entrance, more of a broad tunnel than a door or gate. The archway was of dark, hand-hewn stone blocks.

  We chipped away ice and snow and found that the rest of the building seemed to be made of the same material. We went inside, threading our way through a series of cantilevered walls that I guessed had been thrown up to block winds coming from that direction. The deeper we went, the stronger became the stale smell of animals and the more sour odor of unwashed humans.

  About halfway down the passage dim lights winked on. The light came from little piles of crystals heaped in small stone cups set in niches in the tunnel walls. After inspecting them, I saw the crystals were similar to the stuff we make our fire-beads from. Only our presence was needed to set them alight, much like the way we light the gloomier recesses of our own public buildings in Orissa.

  As we entered the low-vaulted central chamber, light bloomed from overhead. The chamber was about the size of a dockside warehouse. The walls and floors were all of dark stone, but the stone had been stained and badly worn from many years of use—centuries was my guess. The ceiling fun-neled upward into what I assumed was an elaborate chimney that would draw out any smoke, yet wouldn't allow the raw elements to get in.

  On one side was a large stone corral where the caravan animals had been kept. I noted there were plenty of old droppings littering the corral, assuring us of fuel. There were two main sleeping areas evident, with raised stone pallets for perhaps a hundred or more people. Many of the pallets had little warming ovens built into them. All you had to do was heap your bedclothes on top, stuff in the fuel, set it alight, wait until the pallet got nice and warm, then crawl into your blankets for a blissful sleep.

  All of us immediately saw their purpose. We were drawn to them greatly, as if by a spell, but we pressed on in our exploration, although for a time there was so much yawning and gaping that Donarius said we all looked like "a great lot of lazy camels."

  There were alcoves of various sizes opening into the chamber, with raised stone platforms set inside. We guessed they were used to store caravan goods in, although all we could find were a few broken leather harnesses and a frayed belt with its buckle removed. In one chamber we found a split sack of grain. Lizard immediately started scooping the grain up and we all had visions of hot porridge for dinner.

  We kept circling, spying out this sign and that. When we'd nearly completed the circle, I caught a sudden whiff of sorcery. I waved the others back and moved forward, all my senses alert.

  I came upon a room with an odd-shaped entrance easily twice my height and breadth. I stood back from the entrance a moment, puzzling at the shape. Then I realized that it was formed like a rearing bear with outstretched claws.

  I entered, wary and sniffing about for a wizard's trap.

  The room was empty.

  Then on the far wall I saw chains. Hanging from those chains was a corpse. I looked closer, trying to ignore the gross mutilations that had been inflicted on the body. Tears welled up when I saw the familiar clothes.

  They were Orissan.

  I WAS SADDENED but hardly shocked. I'd been worried that we'd encounter such a thing ever since we'd left Antero Bay.

  The only surprise was that Searbe seemed to have put up a struggle before he'd been killed. I was angry at myself for misjudging the Evocator. He'd been tortured by our enemies, but had apparently refused to aid them.

  The others helped me get the body down and respectfully laid out. The men muttered at the treatment Searbe had suffered, and I knew if we caught up to the guilty party, there'd be more than professional enthusiasm in the fight I sent them all away to make camp, except for Carale, who stayed behind to help me get the body ready for burial.

  We worked at this grisly task in silence for a time. Then Carale scratched his head and murmured, "Seems t' have shrunk a bit"

  "What did you say?" I asked.

  Carale gestured at the body. "Wasn't Lord Searbe taller, me lady?" he said. "Had a potbelly on him, too. Liked his dram 'n' a brew, he did. Don't mean t' be disrespectful of the dead, but he bent his elbow more like an old tavern lush 'stead of a wizard."

  I smiled forgiveness. "He likely lost the gut to exercise and short rations," I said.

  "Tha's true, me lady," Carale said. "But he wouldn't a gotten shorter, would he, now?"

  I looked at the corpse's features again. Although mutilated, they still looked familiar. Then I checked the rest of the body. Gradually it began to dawn on me that Carale was right. Searbe had been a little over six feet, although he had a silly little lie he told that claimed he was taller still. He also had a long trunk and short stubby legs with feet so small that he seemed to stagger when he walked—sort of a mincing stagger, actually, like a blowzy washerwoman trying to act like a delicate milkmaid.

  The body I was studying was a good two hands shorter, was split high, and the feet were proportional to his size.

  Still, he looked familiar. Just as the few remnants of magical energy lingering about the corpse were familiar. This was definitely the corpse of an Orissan Evocator.

  It was then that the delayed shock hit.

  "It ain't Lord Searbe, is it, me lady?" Carale growled.

  "No," I said, low.

  "It's the Evocator from the other outpost, ain't it?" he said. "I was there when yer dropped him off. Lord Serano, was his name. Little feller. Bold he was. Heart like a lion."

  "Yes," I answered. "It's Serano, all right."

  "Now we know for sure," Carale continued, "tha' the other outpost was hit. 'N' mos' probably destroyed. Not only tha', but everybody was killed, 'cept for the Evocator. Just like at Antero Bay. An' him they took captive."

  I made no reply. Carale tenderly tucked the ragged parka around Serano's brutalized features. "Poor bastard," he said. "He was a brave one, he was."

  We gave him the best rites we could under the circumstances. I led the others in prayer that Serano's ghost would find peace in the afterlife, if such a thing exists. And we heaped rocks over his body since it was impossible to dig a grave.

  Then we withdrew to a campfire Lizard had built near the sleeping platforms. He was making dinner, and the area was filled with the rich odor of porridge made from the grain the previous occupants had left behind. It was bran, might have even been meant to feed the animals, but it tasted like nectar to us. While we ate I conferred with each of the men, adding what they had found to my own discoveries.

  Then I said, "Here's what I believe happened, and please feel free to stop me if you think I have something wrong."

  The men nodded, so I continued.

  "Both of our trading posts were attacked and wiped out. In each case the attack came from the sea. But we know they were probably carefully timed because caravans soon came on the scene. The attackers captured and then handed over both of our Evocators, Lord Searbe and Lord Serano.

  "The two caravans then struck out for this oasis. From all evidence, the one carrying Lord Searbe reached here first, with the other caravan arriving no more than a day or so later.

  "Is that the way you two see it?" I asked the twins.

  They both agreed, adding that the two groups had camped here for some time. At least a month.

  "Which means," I said, "they were waiting out the storm. If it were only one group, I'd say they were lucky to reach here in time. But since there were two, and the timing of the attack and the journey was so close, I'd suspect they knew the storm was coming and made for this place as fast as they could. If this is true, it was a prearranged meeting at a predetermined time.

  "When the storm was over, they moved on as a single, enlarged group. I can only speculate that they're headed for the same place, but I think it's as good a guess as any."

  Carale broke in. "If they went t' so much trouble t' capture our Evocators, me lady," he said, "why'd they end up killin' one of them?"

  "I don't know," I said. "Not for certain, anyway. But I'd say it was a fair guess
that they wanted some magical feat performed."

  " 'N' Lord Serano refused?" Carale said. "Yes," I said. "He refused."

  Left unsaid was that Searbe must've complied. Otherwise we would have found his corpse here, too.

  "But why'd they go t' so much trouble, lady?" Donarius asked. "I can understand wantin't' wipe out our tradin' posts. But why go t' all the trouble to catch our Evocators 'n' carry 'em away?"

  "The same reason the giants attacked Pisidia," I said. "And the sole purpose for that, unless I'm wrong, was to carry off the Oracle Mother, Lady Daciar."

  "But tha' don't answer the why of it, if yer'll be beggin' me pardon, me lady," Carale said.

  "No, it doesn't," I said. "But it does show a pattern. These pirates want much more than booty—at least the kind that you can spend. Someone is going to no end of trouble to get their hands on as many wizards as they can get. For what purpose, I can't say. If it were only to weaken their opponents, why, they'd just kill them. But each time it seems they are most anxious to keep the wizard alive."

  Everyone's eyes glanced over to the other side of the chamber at the rock heap that was Serano's grave.

  "Didn't do too good a job keepin' him alive," Lizard muttered.

  'That was probably a mistake," I said. "They got their blood up and tried to force the issue. Whatever that issue was. Unless I'm very wrong, they'll be the hells to pay when they get where they're going and are one Evocator short."

  "Shows to go ya," Donarius said, "tha' it's savages we're up against, lady. They can fight I'll give 'em tha'. But they ain't so good at followin' strict orders."

  "I hadn't thought of that," I said. 'That might be a weakness we can exploit"

  "Aye, we'll be doin' tha', lady," Donarius growled. 'Tell the truth, I figger we ain't got much hope a gettin' home. 'N' if that be the case, I'd like to get a few good exploitin' type sword strokes in."

  "Let's not be foolhardy," I said. "We've all been in fixes before. We'll get out of this one."