D & D - Tale of the Comet

by Roland Green

  At this moment the Ha-Gelhers themselves strode in—or, rather, Elda strode, and Brinus walked briskly. He would never have his sister's gift of making herself noticed. Ohlt sometimes wondered if they had deliberately chosen to be that way, so that everyone would underestimate Brinus, while their attention

  was on his splendid sister.

  Hard on the heels of the Ha-Gelhers was a party of four adventurers—big men, of the sort who wore an entire cow's worth of leather armor and a small armory simply to visit the market. Tonight they were wearing so much steel they clanked as they walked.

  They took the last large alcove, and it was only when the leader, the biggest of all, leaned back, that Ohlt saw that the party had a fifth member. She was seated in the far corner of the alcove, looking rather as if she had been pushed there. Her hair was auburn, her features of an elven cast, and her dark eyes very wide.

  The companions' search for M'lenda was over.

  • • ■

  Hellandros contented himself with a place on the fringe of the crowd, in front of the stage and temple. He was much too old to push through such a mob. The more so, in that many of them had not come as folk were commonly admonished to come to temples: sober, reverent, and discreet.

  Some of them reminded Hellandros more of the patrons of a house of ill-fame.

  The last torch was in place and so, very nearly, was the last monk. The faithful were of all ages and shapes, and Hellandros would have sworn that some of them were women, although the cowled robes hid bodies and shadowed faces too thoroughly to be sure.

  The wizard now rather wished that he had studied the teachings of Aston Tanak, and the ways of his followers, more thoroughly. He had been too intent on judging Drenin Longstaff. Had he studied more widely, he might have learned more from tonight's gathering.

  Hellandros had just vowed to visit the temple when a tall monk stepped out onto the stage. The monk kept walking until he loomed over the crowd from the very forward edge of the stage. His robes had the pallid, threadbare look that comes from many washings on stones, but his face was ruddy and calm, and his silver-shot, dark beard made up for the near-baldness of his head.

  "Rejoice!" several eager folk shouted. "Brother Naestir is among us! Give him heed."

  Hellandros studied the monk more closely. It was open knowledge that Naestir was now all but master of the temple. It was also generally believed that he was a loyal and trustworthy steward of his inheritance, and that the temple would be in good hands when at last the tomb swallowed Aston Tanak.

  Certainly Naestir radiated dignity, calm, and goodwill toward all—even toward a certain drunken sellsword who had lurched to the edge of the crowd, and was now losing his supper. Women drew their children and skirts back from him, but at a gesture from Naestir, a monk stepped down from the stage to kneel beside the sellsword with a clean cloth.

  "In the name of the Simple One, I give you greetings," Naestir said. His voice carried effortlessly over the dying rumble of the crowd.

  "We greet you in his name!" shouted more than half the crowd. Hellandros even joined in, though quietly. It was against the custom of his school for a wizard to invoke a god's name, except in the performance of a spell that required it. But another custom of the school was politeness to one's hosts—in this case, the servants of the Simple One—and besides, this hardly seemed an invocation.

  "Behold, the gods descend upon us, to judge the good and the evil, and divide the one from the other," Naestir continued. "For the good among you have kept to the ways of work and virtue as the Simple One commanded, through the blessed Aston. But others among you have lost sight of the winding path upward, and trod it tonight with lust and greed in your spirits. I command those among you to fear the Fire to Come."

  Naestir threw his hands in the air in a gesture that at once conveyed horror at the wicked, blessed the virtuous, and pointed to the Fire to Come. The comet was still growing larger, still a disc, but that solid core seemed to Hellandros, more certainly than ever, to be something real.

  What were the gods of the sky sending down upon the world?

  It was only a moderate consolation to Hellandros that he would not have to wait long for the answer.

  "Yet, there is still time to return to the commanded ways. Let the warrior-brother who worshiped his belly take heed, and eat of light and wholesome food. Let those who have come swollen with wine, think upon water. Let those who have worn jewels, make of them an offering, where there are the hungry and the naked to be fed and clothed. Let those who—"

  Hellandros never learned what the next band of sinners would be admonished to do, or leave undone. A monk scurried out on to the platform and whispered in Naestir's ear. Naestir's raised arms faltered, and even from the rear of the crowd Hellandros could see a pang of fear and grief twist the monk's face.

  Then a gaunt someone in a patched and filthy robe, with beard and hair sprouting in all directions like straw from an aged sleeping pallet, leaped onto the stage.

  "Aston Tanak is gone! He who saw the way is vanished! The enemies of the gods have taken him! Find the enemies of the gods! Offer their blood in sacrifice! Hunt them down! Kill them."

  "Kill! Kill! Kil'l'l'l!"

  • • •

  The question that came next to Fedor Ohlt's mind was whether or not M'lenda wished to be found. She seemed ill-at-ease in her present company, but that proved little. Nothing in her study as a cleric, and little in her solitary life as a ranger, would have taught her about such folk as the four huge adventurers.

  He did not trust that breed of adventurer even when he saw a woman enjoying their company. M'lenda looked at Ohlt again, and the shipwright knew that he saw pleading in her eyes. He nodded.

  Wasting no more time in thought, Ohlt rose, noted the location of Elda and Brinus, and crossed the room toward the adventurer's alcove. He began the journey amid the usual tavern din, but ended it in a silence that he knew would let every word he said—and every tremor in his voice—be heard by a hundred pairs of ears.

  "Your pardon, worthy adventurers," Ohlt said. "The lady is a friend of mine who seems to wish to speak to me."

  "Suppose we don't wish her to do so?" the leader said.

  "Suppose that she is not your slave?" Ohlt replied. "Otherwise, I doubt that anyone would uphold your right to silence her." He grinned. "After all, the lady may only wish to ask me, as one who has been here before, which is the best wine. Would any of us trust Cumbry Stoos's word in that matter?"

  The light tone failed to ease the tension. One of the adventurers piped up, "Oh, be easy, Randu. I can't see any harm—"

  "You be silent," the big man said, and turned to Ohlt. He had a wedge-shaped face, with a hideous scar across the left cheek, and a mouth twisted into a smile quite as ugly as the scar. Further scars showed across his scalp, under close-cropped, fair hair.

  "The lady has promised to guide us inland, to where the comet falls. If she keeps her promise, she is free once we are done with her, and may even have her own bit of treasure. Until then, however—"

  "Randu Dahan! I call challenge!"

  The shout—rather, the screaming of the man's name as if it were a curse—came from Elda. The big man turned farther, rising as he did. He rose too far, and his head cracked against the ceiling of the alcove.

  At the same moment, M'lenda sprang onto the table, upsetting mugs, jugs, plates, and a candle, then somersaulted off the table into Ohlt's arms. The other man on the outside of the alcove drew a short cudgel and swung down at Ohlt. The shipwright ducked under the blow, dropped M'lenda, and slammed his head up under the man's chin. The man jerked backward, half-dazed.

  Randu Dahan had half a dozen weapons in plain sight, and the only thing that saved Ohlt from all of them was the time Dahan took in deciding which to draw. By the time he had a long dagger in hand, M'lenda had rolled over and kicked upward with both feet, aiming for the obvious target.

  Dahan was clearly wearing some sort of protection there, but the
blow jarred him, and he banged his head on the ceiling again. Then the dagger thrust like a striking viper, but found only the empty air where M'lenda and Ohlt had been a heartbeat before.

  Ohlt's side vision told him of a blur of movement to his right, and in front of him he saw Dahan drawing his broadsword. One adventurer, still half-dazed, and the two within the alcove, struggled to climb over their comrades or under the table, any road to get into the fight in time.

  If Dalian's comrades had moved by magic, they would still have been too slow. Elda became a single entity with her rapier. Legs, torso, arm, and steel all formed a single, perfect line that ended where an ill-sewn seam in the big man's leather armor left a gap over his chest.

  Ohlt saw the rapier slide in, a whole hand's breadth. He saw it come out again, red and dripping. He saw Dahan stare at Elda, as if trying to persuade himself that what he saw before him was truly there.

  Then sight left his eyes, as life left his body. He toppled with a crash, and lay still except for a trickle of blood from his mouth.

  Two thoughts came to Fedor Ohlt. One was that a man might watch sword play every day for ten years without seeing a blade wielded as perfectly as Elda had just done. The other was that the Grinning Gar was now even more the wrong place to be than it had been before. He turned to Elda, just as she raised her sword in salute to her fallen opponent. She called out to the whole room: "I, Elda Ha-Gelher, called challenge to Randu Dahan in a lawful matter of honor. The Warrior has judged. Let no one seek to set aside his judgment, save he who knows how Randu Dahan came to face this challenge."

  If anyone in the room was ready to argue with Elda, he was carefully avoiding even the appearance of being so. Brinus tossed the last of the wine on the bread set afire by the overturned candle, then stood by his sister.

  "I bear witness, that the challenge was lawful, and the matter great. Who seeks further judgment with my sister, faces me as well."

  "I, likewise, in the name of the Warrior and the Sea Father," Ohlt said, although he was not sure which "Warrior" Elda might worship.

  "And I, in the name of the Holy Wisdom," M'lenda said, which had her comrades all turning to stare at her so that, for a moment, any attacker might have had an easy path to them.

  Only for a moment, though. Elda drew a piece of silver from her purse and tossed it to Cumbry Stoos. His mouth was gaping so wide that if she had thrown it a trifle more shrewdly, it would have gone down his throat.

  Randu Dahan's three comrades were sitting in the alcove, their hands carefully in plain sight, when the four companions turned, and strode for the door.

  Brother Naestir might have been able to charm the birds out of the air or the fish out of the sea, but he could not charm the crowd out of panic and rage.

  Hellandros saw nothing but disaster. If everyone hared off into the night looking for Aston Tanak's mysterious abductors, people would die from falls, fights—either in earnest or in error—or be torn to pieces on mere suspicion. And all this apart from whatever might happen when the comet came.

  Hellandros looked wildly around as the crowd began to shred around the edges. Individuals and small bands broke off and moved away. He saw nothing to raise him higher than he was, save a stump so rotted that its tree must have been cut for the building of the first monks' shelters.

  It would have to do. Hellandros scrambled up onto the stump, nearly fell down inside it as rotten wood gave way, managed to find solid footing, and cupped his hands.

  "Ho! Friends of Aston Tanak, and lovers of the gods! Hear me!"

  That won him at least a few people's attention, and each of them pointed him out to others. Finally, dozens of heads began to turn his way. The shredding of the crowd ceased, although he did not have everyone's attention yet, and doubted that he could wait until he did, lest he lose those he had already won.

  Hellandros took a deep breath, and began to speak.

  "Brothers and sisters! Hear me, and pray that I speak wisdom.

  "Soon the gods will be among us. They will see us all. Whether we have been good or evil, should they see us skittering about like mice fleeing from the cat? That will not please them, and angry gods are to be feared by all.

  "Moreover, there is Aston Tanak to think of. Can we know whether he has not, perhaps, gone to the gods, to intercede for all of us ? His life and teachings must have pleased them, and they will heed his voice. Should we shame this great teacher before the gods, in the very moment when he pleads with them for us?"

  "But if 'tis no gods, but men who've ta'en 'im . . ." someone yelled. A woman, Hellandros thought.

  "Then they will be armed, in strength, and dedicated to evil. There is no work more certain to please the gods than tracking them down, but that is not work to be done by everyone running off wildly into the night until their legs fail them! Unless some of you need to run off all the wine you've guzzled."

  That drew laughter. Hellandros saw that Naestir now had company on the stage: an officer of the garrison, judging from the armor. The wizard let the laughter die.

  "Let us form ourselves into hands strong enough to search, and to fight. Let rangers, soldiers, and anyone else strong, fit, and knowing the wilderness put themselves at the head of each band. Let the monks ... if they see fit, prepare food and drink, sharpen weapons, and do other work to help us."

  Hellandros had added "if they see fit" at the last moment, not wishing to displease the monks by appearing to take their aid for granted. It seemed that he had guessed aright.

  "We brothers, pupils, and followers of Aston Tanak see fit to aid in the search for him," Naestir called. "Friends, we have heard wise words. Let us heed them."

  The officer on the stage jumped down and pushed his way through the crowd that was rapidly breaking up once more, but in a more orderly fashion this time. Hellandros saw hands shaken, shoulders clasped, and weapons offered for examination, as the search bands started to form.

  The officer came up to Hellandros, followed by a tall young soldier. The wizard saw that the officer was a woman. She held out a stubby-fingered, sword-hardened hand, and smiled.

  "Well done, stranger, and better spoken. In the name of the Grand Duke, I, Torgia Mel, thank you. His Grace will probably do more thanking when he hears about this.

  "Meanwhile, this is Soldier Erick Trussk. He is an old head on young shoulders. His orders are to not let you out of his sight until dawn."

  "I suppose that I can go to the jakes without his watching—" Hellandros said.

  He never finished. A purple glow washed over the land, as red and blue flames from the comet mingled into a single pulsing hue. The glow turned to a glare, then to something that no human eye could endure.

  At the same time, Hellandros did hear a hiss from the sky, one that turned rapidly into a scream, then into a roar. Ears demanded shelter from the roar, as eyes did from the glare.

  Just before he closed both eyes and ears and flung himself on the ground, Hellandros took a final glance at the comet. It was beyond doubting now, that something solid endured amidst the fire. Something solid, spindle-shaped, and insofar as one could judge of something so incompletely seen, the comet showed a curiously smooth surface.

  Smooth, as if it had been carved, or even wrought. But how could something be carved or wrought as a single piece, when it

  was easily the size of a mountain?

  • • •

  Ohlt led his companions uphill from the waterfront at the fastest pace M'lenda could manage on her own. He would not subject her to the indignity of being hauled like a bale of wool by the Ha-Gelhers.

  As fast as they went, what seemed like a good part of Aston Point's natives and visitors passed them on the way. Whether people were seeking high ground to watch the comet and avoid the waves if it struck the lake, he did not know. Or were they all off to the temple at the last moment to shelter from the wrath of the gods under the monks' prayers.

  Ohlt had sworn as a youth to always live so that at any moment he could face the
gods with a clear conscience. His father had taught him that, although quite without intending to do so. Ohlt doubted that he had been particularly successful in his pursuit. Otherwise, would he not still have a wife and a daughter and a home, instead of his new-found, if worthy, companions, in a town on the edge of nowhere?

  Ohlt realized that he could not think and run at the same time when they reached the base of the slope to Seldra Boatwright's house. He looked for a light in the window, but the blazing fire in the sky made it impossible to tell.

  He rather hoped that Seldra would be home soon, so that he could at least apologize for what had turned into the sort of public desertion of her company that any lady might justly resent. He hoped she would accept that much. She probably would not accept any business connection with him, at least until anyone wishing to avenge Randu Dahan had left Aston Point.

  Ohlt had not been this close to a blood-feud in fifteen years. Unlike wine, the sensation grew no more agreeable with the passing years.

  "Well, m'lady, M'lenda, m'elf," Elda said. "What have you to say for yourself?"

  "I said that I might guide you to Drenin Longstaff. I did not swear it. I have broken no oath binding on elf or man, cleric or ranger."

  Ohlt thought she was telling the truth; he certainly remembered no formal oath. He also thought he heard a quaver in her voice.

  "But what made you take up the company of those louts?" Brinus asked. For once his tone was almost as harsh as his sister's.

  "They did not know what you know about me."

  Elda sighed elaborately. "And what, m'lady, M'lenda—"

  "Stop calling me that! If 1 were—if I deserved your tongue, as you are wagging it, I would still be with Dahan and his men. Mayhap, in a room upstairs."

  That at least silenced Elda long enough for M'lenda to finish. "But I would not consent. They made it plain that I was more than guide, and my consent to—other matters—would not weigh at all with them.

  "So I could not, in honor, stay with them. I did not think they would think so little of my honor, as well as theirs, to do as they did."