Riverwind p2-1

by Paul B. Thompson

  Riverwind introduced himself and Catchflea. Kirinthastarus said, “And the renegade?”

  The elf girl hid behind Riverwind, until the latter pulled her into the open. “This is our friend, Di An, no renegade. It is because of her we found you.”

  Kirinthastarus's eyes narrowed. “Did she turn against Hest?” he asked. “Does she know where Vedvedsica and the rebels have gone?” As he spoke, he bent to free his own feet, using his sword.

  Riverwind was about to answer these odd questions when. Catchflea interrupted. “Captain,” he said, “do you know how long you were imprisoned in the topaz?”

  The captain straightened and answered at once. “A day or two perhaps.” Catchflea and Riverwind exchanged astonished looks.

  “What?” said Kirinthastarus. “Have you news of Hest? You must tell me. My warriors and I must complete the task given us by our great king.”

  “Ah, what task is that?” asked Catchflea.

  “To locate the hiding place of the rebels led by Hestantaf a-las and bring them to King Sithas's justice.”

  Di An uttered a cry and tried to flee. Riverwind caught her around the waist and lifted her off her feet.

  “Let me go! Let me go!” she said, running in midair. “These warriors will kill my people!”

  “Be at peace, little one.” To Kirinthastarus, Riverwind said, “I don't know an easy way to tell you this, Captain. You have been entombed in that crystal shell for two and a half millennia. The monarch you serve has long since gone to his rest, as has Hest himself. Di An's people are only the children and grandchildren of the people who followed him into the cavern.”

  For an instant, shock registered on the warrior's face. His jaw hung slack and his eyes widened. He stared at the three of them, his gaze finally coming to rest on Di An. Staring at her, he said firmly, “Lies. You are agents of Vedvedsica. I should have known it. Did you free me from the topaz in order to kill me?”

  Riverwind shook his head. “No, Captain. We tell you the truth. King Sithas sent you out over twenty-five hundred years ago. Your mission is pointless.”

  The elf warrior removed his helmet and emptied it of topaz dust. He shook more dust from his dark hair. “I have no orders from anyone to forget my task. If we had not been magicked by Vedvedsica, the rebellion of Hestantafalas would have been crushed.” Kirinthastarus replaced his helmet. “I will complete my task.”

  He presented sword and shield to them. The sword point wavered a bit. Riverwind saw nothing to be gained by fighting, but he kept his saber up until he, Catchflea, and Di An could safely retreat.

  “He will free his comrades,” Di An said.

  “We'll be long gone before that happens,” Riverwind said.

  “But what of Hest? They might sack Vartoom!”

  “If they can find it. There are no signposts down here.”

  They hurried to the foot of the overhanging ledge. Di An slung the heavy loops of chain over her shoulder and started up the wall. Catchflea kept glancing over his shoulder in the direction the warriors would come.

  Di An climbed badly, slipping and losing easy handholds. “Slow down!” Riverwind called. “You'll hurt yourself!”

  If she heard him, she paid his advice little heed. Di An scrambled to the midway point and looked down. From her high perch she could see what Riverwind could not. “Warriors coming!” she cried.

  “Get behind me, old man,” Riverwind said. Catchflea flattened himself to the base of the overhang.

  Kirinthastarus appeared with two soldiers. He'd not taken the time to free all of his company. Like the warriors of Hest, the elves were greatly overmatched by Riverwind's superior height and length of reach, but three of them could get around the plainsman and take him if they were at all skilled. And history recorded that Sithas's warriors were skilled indeed.

  They moved in halting fashion, and Riverwind thought they must be stiff from their magical imprisonment. As they drew nearer, he saw that a dramatic change had visited the elves. Kirinthastarus's hair and eyebrows had whitened, his skin grayed, and his limbs had become shrunken and palsied. The other elves were in similar straits.

  “Look, Catchflea,” he said. “Time has not forgotten them after all!”

  “Surrender!” Kirinthastarus croaked. He could barely walk now, and his short sword's tip dragged on the ground. “For-ward for the glor-y of Sith-as,” the captain hissed.

  One of his fighters collapsed and didn't get up. Kirinthastarus closed to within a sword's reach of Riverwind. By then he was a horror to see: eye sockets hollow, lips curled back, teeth exposed. The proud warrior was a walking corpse.

  The short sword thrust weakly at Riverwind. The plainsman parried with no difficulty. It was Kirinthastarus's last gesture. He sagged to the gem-covered ground. His followers were already bleached bones and scattered armor.

  “I don't believe it,” Catchflea said, awed.

  “They aged two thousand years in the few minutes of freedom they had,” Riverwind said. He looked away to where the thundering falls hid the rest of the warrior band. “We shouldn't tamper with the others.”

  “Yes,” Di An said with great relief. “Let's leave here. Quickly.”

  As Riverwind began the ascent, Catchflea turned over an elven shield with his toe and said, “I wonder who is better off: Kirinthastarus, or his still captive company?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Creeping Death

  It was warm in the passage at the top of the ledqe. Mold and dirty gray fungus hung in sticky strips from the ceiling. Damp collected on the walls and ran down to a pool on the tunnel floor.

  Catchflea sneezed. “This is an unhealthy place,” he said.

  “Courage, old man,” said Riverwind. “We won't be here long.” But the tall warrior found himself shivering in spite of the warmth.

  Di An crouched on the wet floor and fiddled with the only oil lamp they'd saved after their fall into the mineral lake. She struck her flint and steel expertly and soon had the lamp producing a feeble, flickering light.

  She moved ahead, weaving from one side of the tunnel to the other. Riverwind followed cautiously down the center of the tunnel, eyeing the lower quarter of the walls and floor. Catchflea zigzagged behind him. The passage ran as straight and level as an arrow for miles. There was nothing much in it but stinking mold and stagnant water.

  Something crunched under Riverwind's foot. His moccasin boot was little more than a thick sole held on by straps, but when he raised his foot he saw a gleam of white embedded in the leather. He called Di An, and she wove her way back to him.

  “Throw some light this way,” he said. She pushed the lantern down.

  Bones. Riverwind had trodden on the skeleton of some small animal. He picked the bones out with his fingers and examined the fragments by lamplight. “Rat,” he declared. “A large one.”

  “This deep underground?”

  “Rats aren't noted for their sense of direction,” Riverwind said, dropping the fragments.

  “How did it die?” asked Di An, staring at the small bones.

  “Who can say?” Riverwind remarked. “It might have starved. There is little for it to eat down here.”

  The elf girl continued to gaze at the shattered skeleton. “It was killed. Devoured. Nothing left but hard bones.” She held the light in front of her and stared down the dark passage. “In these regions, be careful where you step,” she said gravely. “There are things in the ooze that do not take kindly to being trod upon.”

  Before either man could raise a question, Di An strode quickly away.

  “What did she mean, 'things'?” asked Catchflea, hushed.

  “You ask me? Be careful where you step,” Riverwind said.

  Di An moved so rapidly that she was leaving them behind. “Di An!” Riverwind called. “Slow down! Wait for us!” He shook his head and muttered, “What's gotten into her?”

  “If she is so afraid, then I am also, tall man.”

  They jogged after Di An, splattering bla
ck water with each step. The lamp was all they could see, about one hundred feet ahead. Once more, Riverwind called out to Di An to stop. All of a sudden, the back-and-forth motion of the light ceased, and they heard Di An give a short, sharp cry.

  Riverwind broke into a run. The older Catchflea could not keep pace with him and dropped back, complaining. Riverwind ran on, the motionless lamp his goal. As he got closer, however, he could tell the lamp was lying on the tunnel floor, unattended. Of Di An there was no sign.

  He drew his saber. “Di An!” he shouted. “Can you hear me?”

  Catchflea wheezed to a halt beside him. “Where is she?” he panted.

  “I don't know. Something took her.” He probed the walls with his sword. Solid rock. He could see ahead for a hundred feet or more and there was no indication that Di An was still in the tunnel. In fact, the lamp showed that her footprints ended just about where Riverwind stood.

  He tried to sort it out. A drop of water splashed on his toe. Two more drops hit Riverwind's face. They ran down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. Salty. Why should dew be salty? Dew was fresh, sea water was salty.

  He looked up. There, flattened against the ceiling of rock and staring down at him was Di An. Her mouth was covered by a strand of a thick black substance, and her wrists, ankles, and waist were similarly banded. Her tears were the moisture Riverwind had felt. The entire ceiling was thick with tarry black stuff that writhed like a living thing.

  Catchflea saw it, too. “Merciful gods!”

  Horror rooted the two men in place.

  Part of the creeping death released its grip on the ceiling and collapsed over the plainsmen, landing on them like a heavy, wet sheet. It was sticky and drew them in tight. Riverwind felt gluey tendrils cover his eyes, nose, and mouth. All was darkness and silence as the wet, warm mass filled his ears. The black blanket of goo clung to him and squeezed, trying to force all the air out of his lungs.

  He slashed with his saber, awkwardly. The ooze parted easily, but just as easily closed the cuts again. The monster had no blood to spill, no head to lop off. How could he fight it? Fear knotted his stomach and squeezed his heart even as the creeping death crushed his body.

  The amorphous creature knocked Catchflea down and enveloped him up to his waist. He pounded it with his fists, but it was no use. He might as well have punched pudding. The monster wrapped around his legs and squeezed. Catch-flea cried out in shock and pain.

  Di An kicked and struggled. She watched the thing envelop Riverwind. Black tar crept over his face and covered his entire body. The elf girl shrieked, and the sound reverberated through the tunnel.

  Riverwind heard the blood scream in his ears. He had to have air! His head felt as though it would burst any second.

  The thing slowly drew Catchflea into it. The old soothsayer clawed at the slimy floor but found no grip. He had no weapon, either.

  “Old man!” Di An gasped.

  “I hear you!” he replied.

  “Get the lamp. Burn-burn the thing-!” Black goo slid over her mouth once more.

  But he understood. With his right arm Catchflea was able to grasp the lamp. He fumbled the wick holder out and sloshed oil on the black killer. The burning wick hit the iridescent pool of oil, and the pool burst into flame.

  The creeping death went wild. It flopped and rippled as the burning oil boiled its tarry flesh. Bubbles formed and burst in it, making a horrible stench. The creature's clinging, sucking grip on Catchflea slackened, and he scrambled free of the flames. Di An was suddenly released and she fell, landing painfully on the tunnel floor. She rolled away. The two of them stared at the hump of tarry ooze that covered Riverwind. He was not struggling.

  Thunder rolled across a red sky. Riverwind stood in a forest clearing, clad in his ceremonial beaded deerskin trousers. The air was very, very cold. He saw a gleaming light on the other side of the clearing, like a star brought down to the ground. He felt warmth on his face and bare chest, radiating from the star. He walked slowly toward it.

  “Riverwind!” He looked over his shoulder at Goldmoon. His heart beat faster in his chest. Her hair was like silver fire in the light from the star. “Don't go, Riverwind. Come back to me!” she pleaded.

  “Son.” The voice of Wanderer came from the star. “Come to me. Enter the light, and we will be together forever.”

  Riverwind's steps slowed. He was pulled both ways. Goldmoon's eyes were brilliant and shining. He glanced at the star and then back at her. He was so very cold! He held out his hand to Goldmoon.

  “Take my hand,” he said. “Take my hand, beloved…”

  Warm air filled his lungs. Riverwind coughed violently. That hurt; his ribs were bruised. He raised a hand to his face and encountered someone else's. The smooth, sharp chin had to belong to Di An.

  She was bent over him. Catchflea was on the other side. “He breathes!” Di An said.

  “We thought you were dead,” Catchflea said. “Di An breathed life back into you.”

  Riverwind's chest ached and his arms felt like lead as he forced himself to sit up. An unmerciful throbbing pounded his temples, but he embraced Di An. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. Her slender arms went around his neck.

  The creeping death still smoldered several yards away. In a last attempt to save itself from the fire, the creature had let go of Riverwind and had oozed down the tunnel toward the distant waterfall. It had only managed to get ten paces before the fire consumed it. Once the creature was destroyed, the fire had quickly died in the wet, moldy tunnel.

  “Was this the danger you tried to warn us about?” Riverwind asked. Di An cast her eyes down.

  “I didn't truly know what it was. Many of my comrades entered the wet tunnels and never came out again. We used to find only their bare bones near the entrance.”

  “Why did you run away from us?”

  “I-” She wiped her sweaty face. “I was too afraid to think clearly. I'm sorry.” Changing the subject quickly, she said, “You've lost your Amulet of True Hearing.”

  Riverwind felt for the necklace. It was gone.

  “Mine is lost also,” Catchflea said. “It's a good thing you learned Common so quickly, yes.”

  Riverwind tried to stand, and they supported him to his feet. “I'm all right,” he said.

  From the wet tunnel they passed into a series of caves that spiraled steadily upward. They moved in darkness now, with only Di An's acute vision to guide them. Once they found patches of the luminous moss, which Catchflea scraped off and spread on his clothes to provide some light. But when the crushed moss dried, the greenish light dissipated, and they were again in darkness.

  Time lost its meaning in the silent night world of the caves. Riverwind and Catchflea stumbled along, steering by touch. Food ran short, then ran out. The caves were dry and devoid of life.

  “The awful fruit of Hest would be delicious now,” Catchflea finally said. “Even the bitter water would be good.”

  “Is there water soon, Di An?” Riverwind asked.

  “Not so long now,” she replied. They continued on a short way, and without a word, Di An passed back her copper bottle to Riverwind. He knew she was offering him her last drops, and he couldn't drink it. He held the bottle for a while and passed it back to her. If she'd noticed he hadn't taken any, she didn't say.

  Strata came and went, some steaming hot and others bone-chillingly cold. At one point they skirted a zone of incandescent magma flowing in a trench, and not an hour later they crossed a subterranean glacier. There was a harrowing moment when Catchflea tried to lick a chunk of ice he broke off the glacier's edge. The old man's tongue stuck fast. Only with judicious applications of their last remaining water were they able to loosen the ice from Catchflea's tongue.

  “You never took the dare, I see,” Riverwind remarked.

  “What dare?”

  “To kiss the river. When I was very young, the boys of Que-Shu used to go to the river in winter and take dares to see who could kiss the frozen surface the l
ongest.”

  “That's silly,” said Di An.

  “The point was, the longer a boy held his lips to the ice, the harder it was to remove them.”

  “I did not play much with the other boys when I was young,” Catchflea said wistfully. “I always regretted that, yes. Until now.”

  On the twentieth day after leaving Vartoom, the trio was resting in a rock niche, hungry and thirsty, when they heard voices and the unmistakable sound of digging. This so galvanized them that Catchflea leaped up and banged his head on an overhanging rock. Riverwind tripped over his friend, and Di An got stepped on.

  The old man and the elf girl complained loudly until Riverwind shushed them. “Quiet!” he hissed. “Who knows who these people might be?”

  They lay silent for a time. Lights showed in the distance. Bobbling, weaving lanterns appeared on the other side of their cavern. The voices grew louder and more distinct.

  “-to find rocks,” said one squeaky voice. “What look like?”

  “You big 'spert! You 'sposed to know!” added another.

  A raspier voice put in, “Mine like stew. Many things in it.”

  “Gully dwarves!” Catchflea whispered. “We must be near the surface!”

  “They think they're in a mine?” Di An muttered. “They're very stupid.”

  “Aghar aren't known as philosophers,” Riverwind said, using the formal name for the gully dwarf race. “But they'll know a quick way out.” He leaned forward on his hands.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Riverwind smiled in the dark. “Introduce myself,” he said.

  On hands and knees, he crossed the cave diagonally to get in front of the gully dwarves. Riverwind's battered moccasins skidded on some loose stones. The four lanterns stopped swaying.

  “You hear?”

  “I hear. Got club?”

  “Uh-huh. Got knife?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  That wasn't reassuring to the plainsman. Gully dwarves were not much respected as fighters, but a club and knife indicated trouble. They might attack first and flee later.

  A shaft of light flashed over his feet. The lantern carrier gave a hoot and swung the lantern back.