by David Mason
He was leaning over, staring.
“Where’s Ammi?” he shouted. “The other galley… ashore, over there!” He pointed to the distant shore. “Didn’t you find her?”
Lali could not see Galta among the sullen men huddling on the deck behind Daniel, and her face went white.
“Put some of your men aboard this ship,” Daniel called again. “You can take it back to the river, repair it! Use it.” He was flinging down a rope as he spoke, and now he scrambled down into a canoe.
Lali, unmindful of the danger of upsetting the craft, thrust her way to Daniel, her eyes wild with terror.
“Galta!” she cried. “Was he there, on that other ship?”
Daniel nodded, sitting down on a bench. The other canoes were against the galley’s sides now, and warriors were climbing up into the ship. As they herded the remaining Esmare men to the oarbenches, the river men shouted with vengeful glee, prodding the others along.
Lali saw that Daniel had a long sword belted to his waist, and had donned one of the leather cuirasses that the Esmare men had worn. The canoe moved away, and oars were moving on the galley now in a ragged rhythm. All the canoes but two were empty, lashed to the galley as it moved off.
“That way,” Daniel barked, indicating the shore. “And hurry!”
The paddlers began and the canoe picked up speed; the other canoe came around, following.
“The sea folk were sent to take the galleys,” Daniel explained, watching the distant shore as he spoke. His face was set in a grim look. “They attacked one, that one. Killed many…”
“Good!” Lali said. “Why did they spare any of them?”
“Because I asked them to,” Daniel said, his voice harsh. “Enough were killed as it was. There was no need. The prisoners were on the other ship, anyway. I don’t know what happened, but it went straight for the shore, those rocks… you’ll see, if you look there.”
Lali looked, and saw the shark-toothed shoreline, closer now. She gasped and then went paler still. The broken ribs of the other ship were visible now, beating back and forth in the surf.
Daniel saw it too, and groaned aloud. He thrust a man from a paddler’s seat, grasped the blade, and thrust furiously at the water.
The swell was rougher now, responding to the shallower depth as they came closer. Now the canoe rose, driving forward on a combing wave, and the paddlers shouted, bending hard. The wave rose higher, breaking; the canoe nearly flew, slashing through the breakers, past the wreck. Under a new wave that broke over them, the canoe grounded on the black gravel of the beach, and men spilled from it, yelling. Close behind, the second canoe was coming as Daniel waded toward the beach.
There were dead men, grotesquely sprawling in the sea pools and on the black beach. Beams and planks lay scattered along a wide stretch, and floating in the tide but there was no sign of anyone alive.
Daniel moved from one corpse to another, Lali following. Once she cried out and turned a man over; she stared down at him, wide-eyed, and shook her head. It was not Galta.
The warriors had spread out across the beach and the canoes were drawn well up above the tide line. Now, they began to move up toward the scrubby pines and bushes that edged the shore. They moved cautiously, javelins ready and bows taut; there was no telling what might lie in wait.
Daniel moved up ahead, sword in hand; he went in among the trees, scanning the ground for any signs. Ahead, the forest was thicker, and beyond it he could see low hills. But there was still no sign of any survivor. The thought came to him with sickening force: no more than half the number on that galley now lay on the beach. Many must have been drawn out, into the sea… and Ammi among them, perhaps. She was a strong swimmer, he told himself fiercely, she need not have drowned. And then he remembered that the men on the galley might have killed their captives, at the last.
And then, out of the trees, a figure came, running and shouting.
“Banar!” Daniel cried out. Behind him, Lali shrieked Galta’s name as he came out behind Banar, more slowly. He supported a third man, who walked with difficulty, Shorr-emak.
“We were hiding in the forest,” Banar panted as he came up. “Daniel, there are nine or ten of them… and their chief, a man called Ulff…” He stopped, gasping for breath. Galta came with the injured river man, who sat down on the ground with a grunt of pain. Lali flung herself on Galta, weeping noisily with joy, and he patted her shoulders.
“They have Ammi!” Shorr-emak said from his sitting position. His mouth was tight with pain, but he struggled to rise. “She saved my life, there on the galley. Aie, but my leg’s snapped, and I cannot… Lord Daniel, go after them, quickly!”
“It’s true,” Galta said grimly. “I curse myself… but we had no weapons and they are all armed. We hid, planning to follow. With luck, and a stout club… but you have weapons. Hurry!”
He pointed at a gap to the forest. “They seemed to know this land, and from their talk, they fear it… I don’t know why. They went toward the hills, nearly running. But it wasn’t long ago, Daniel. They did not start till dawn; they’re afraid of darkness, here.”
Within minutes the party of warriors was trotting at a swift steady pace, the leading men bending low as they ran to watch for signs of the trail. Five of them remained behind with the canoes, and Shorr-emak, who lay cursing his broken leg. But forty of the best fighters of all the river tribes now ran on the Esmarians track—men who could keep their pace from dawn to sunset, without tiring.
The sun rose higher as they trotted, but oddly red in a misty sky. It was a curious kind of mist, Daniel thought as he went. The pine forest seemed dry, as though little rain fell, yet the mist hung across the sky and did not burn away as the sun rose higher. With such a mist, it should be warmer, too, Daniel thought; but it was not.
The trees grew sparsely and the ground was thickly carpeted with pine needles that hid the tracks of their quarry. But there was much underbrush, broken by the recent passage of men’s bodies, and sometimes other signs.
Now the pines began to give place to a heavy growth of some sort of huge tree-fern; the pursuers were forced to a slower pace. But the signs of the trail were also clearer here. Their quarry was clearly heading for the low hills, in the direction of a pass that was visible far ahead.
Daniel threw back his head and sniffed thoughtfully. Behind him, one of the river men sniffed too, and grunted.
“There is fire, somewhere,” he said, puzzled. “But… Lord Daniel, it smells like one of your fireballs.”
It was true, Daniel realized; the smell was sulphurous.
He slowed to study the misty sky ahead. There was a definitely orange glow at the rim of the highland on one side of their course. It seemed to flicker, and rise and fall regularly, like a fire. But there was none of the smoke that would come from a forest blaze… and the smell was stronger.
“A volcano, I think,” Daniel said. At the river men’s puzzled look, he added, “Earth fires.”
“Like those in Alvanir,” Lali said. She shrugged. “What does it matter? We must find Ammi.” She broke into a steady trot again and the rest followed.
The Esmare men were very frightened and very tired; even Ulff was grey-faced with weariness. Ammi was also exhausted, but she had made up her mind to show it as little as possible, and her will succeeded to some extent. The men would overtire themselves, she reasoned, if they saw that she did not weaken; they would drive themselves all the harder, out of jealousy. Then they would sleep, she thought. But she would not. There was a knife in Ulff’s belt, for one thing, and if she could not reach that… well, there were fine hand-size stones here and there.
The pleasant thought of cracking Ulff’s skull as he slept kept Ammi preternaturally cheerful, and her cheerfulness infuriated Ulff. As they moved single-file up the narrow hill-path, he was close behind her, his red-rimmed eyes fixed on her back. From time to time he licked his dry, cracked lips, silently.
“Why hurry so fast?” Ammi asked, glancing back at
Ulff with an infuriatingly calm look. “You look very tired, slave-catcher.”
“I am not tired,” Ulff snapped. “We of Esmare are not landsmen, we dislike walking. But it is a long way to the border country.”
“How long?” Ammi asked interestedly.
“Oh, five or six days, if we make haste,” Ulff grunted. He grinned evilly. “Morig Thun, on Esmare’s own sea… and there will be boats there. We may be in Asabog, the King’s town, in two more days after that. Then we shall wait till your man hears that we hold you, and comes to us… or perhaps you will tell us how to find him, once we’ve time to ask properly.”
She laughed and turned her head forward, away from him.
“Lord Ulff,” a man said, behind him. “It grows darker.”
He glared back at the fellow, but only grunted, and kept on. After a minute, he said, “We will reach the hilltop, yonder, in a little while. We camp there.”
They toiled on upward through thinner growth, pushing through the fern forest. The hilltop was nearly bare, covered with mossy rock; below, northward, the forest stretched to the horizon. But Ulff could see the dim blue forms of the next range, where the people called Nochim roved. Hunters and woodsrunners, most of them, but their chiefs gave some allegiance to the King of Esmare, and valued the weapons he sent them. They would help, bringing the party to the border fort of Morig Thun.
Ulff flung himself down on the moss with a great groan. He saw a man begin to scratch his flint over a pile of twigs, and Ulff called out a sharp word.
“No fire, you witless fool!” Ulff sat up painfully. “Eat your rations cold. And keep one man on watch, you understand?”
Damn it, he thought, if Rorin had not vanished in the surf back there… a man with wit enough to do what must be done, not like these clods who must be guided in everything. Though Rorin was also a treacherous dog, Ulff reflected. He’d have lied to the King’s Council, blamed it all on Ulff, yes. Paid by those Iskarth people, probably. Allies, ha. Worse than enemies, sometimes.
He took a long drink from his waterskin and rubbed his wet hand across his mouth. The girl sat, still as calm-faced as a damned statue, opposite him, looking at the horizon.
Looks like that ivory statue of the moon-goddess, Apra, in the temple at Iskarth town, Ulff thought, licking his lips. I’ve always had this taste for pale ones, be thought It would be fine to futter this one, and he resolved to do it, sooner or later. But not just now, he thought. I’m almost too weary to do my best, and the wench has a nasty way of pointing out a man’s weaknesses, I’ve noticed already. Then, the warriors would insist on a share, too; and there’d be the chance of damaging the bitch. No, Ulff thought, not now.
He extended the waterskin. The girl took it and drank, handed it back without a word.
“You needn’t think of escape, girl,” Ulff told her. “These are dangerous lands, hereabouts.”
She looked at him. “I noticed how you seem to fear something, here,” she said. “But I see nothing to fear, except yourselves.”
Ulff chuckled. “There’s danger. Believe me.” He sat up. “They call this the Land of Fires, because of the volcanoes.”
“In my own land there were such fires,” Ammi said. “We did not fear them. But then, we were not cowards or slavers, either.”
“Did the earth shake, and gape open, spitting poison?” Ulff asked. “Here, it does, often. Sometimes the very hills change, and walk about. Also, there are beasts, like nothing elsewhere, huge and evil. And there are spirits, too, I have heard.”
Ammi shrugged. It was growing darker, but she saw the red glows in the sky and did not feel pleased at that. That light might prevent her plan to escape.
“But that’s not the worst,” Ulff said with a grim smile. “There are the little folk. No taller than a child, black, and…”
“You are afraid of children, too?” Ammi inquired sympathetically.
Ulff’s teeth gleamed. “If you met those, you’d fear them. They hunt men for meat. They are too swift to be seen; they know much magic. And their arrows are as small as my finger, yet when a man’s struck by one, he dies screaming. Or worse, he doesn’t die, and they take him into the forest.” Ulff stopped, barely managing to hide his shudder.
“We know all this, in Esmare,” he said after a while. “We have wise men who know all the world’s shapes. Great houses, and wealth, and many ships and slaves, too.” He watched her. “I am cousin to the King himself, do you know?”
The girl’s face was nearly invisible in the dimness, now. But somehow, Ulff did not think her expression had changed. She was not impressed at all.
“We of Esmare know how to live well,” he said, yawning.
He grows very weary, Ammi thought. And the fools had tied my hands, but in front, her mind said.
“So, Esmare is a great and wonderful place, then?” she asked. “But that other land, Iskarth, is greater of course?”
“Ah, no,” Ulff said indignantly. “Iskarth lies in the mountains, west of Esmare. They’ve few ships because there is but one way to the western sea from that place… and nowhere to sail to, once out. You see, there’s only wide sea from the western shore to the edge of the world, so the people of Iskarth must send their goods to us to take to market.” He chuckled. “Or trade with the lands in the low country, which they can no longer do.”
“Why not?”
“We have been warring with the lowland kingdoms for these last few years,” Ulff said, and yawned once more. His voice was growing slow with sleep and he had not noticed that none of the men stood guard. “It’s about the kingdom of Numith, of course… but we’ll take it, soon. And that will be the end of the lowlanders, rot them. With the Great One’s help… ah, but you’ve never heard of him, have you, girl? He’s a god, some think, or maybe a great demon. Lives in the Locked Sea, east, with all the demons around him… that witchman who’s drowned now, Oggayr, he’s one of the Great One’s servants. They…” Another huge yawn. “… talk to the creature, bring his commands…” Ulff’s voice trailed off.
Ammi listened quietly to his snoring. She waited, her strong teeth working steadily on the cords, her mind recalling exactly where each man in the party had lain down to sleep.
The red glow in the sky seemed to lessen at times, Ammi noticed. When it was brightest she could barely make out the rocks and the dim sleeping shapes; she decided to wait till it went down.
Her wrists were free now and Ulff’s snores were deep and regular. Listening, it seemed to Ammi that the snores were actually causing the solid ground under her to vibrate, like a sounding board. Then, with a chill of fear, she discovered that the ground was, in fact, doing just that She could feel a quiver under her hand; a steady thudding like the pulse of an incredibly huge beast
There would be no chance to flee if the sound awoke the warriors. Ammi moved very quietly.
But she could not resist Ulff’s weapon, lying next to him, the sheathed broadsword; the knife was unreachable, underneath him, but the sword was free. She slid it slowly out of the sheath that was strapped to Ulff’s belt, and balanced it in her hand. It was monstrously heavy, but it was the only weapon she could reach.
She could feel the thudding sound now, through her sandals; it seemed to have grown louder. She slipped quickly to the pathway and ran downhill, the way they had come.
It was difficult to make swift progress in the darkness, though the red light seemed to have grown much brighter. Ammi hacked at the stouter brush with the sword, pressing on as quickly as she could. They would certainly follow, she knew, but they feared the darkness, too. She feared it herself, but she preferred it to the men of Esmare.
The curious noises in the ground changed now; there was a shock, and then a new, harder shock.
Suddenly the ground seemed to heave as though it were water; Ammi found herself flung headlong, still clutching the sword. The earth rolled and plunged and an enormous noise came from all around. The strange smell in the air grew chokingly thick, too.
&
nbsp; Then it was quiet again.
Ammi scrambled cautiously to her feet and went on. That must have been the earth-shake that Ulff had mentioned, she thought. Well, it had been nothing so fearful, after all; she chuckled as she ran.
She went on and on, hoping that her sense of direction was carrying her in the right line, toward the distant coast. Once, she encountered trees with a familiar fruit on them, the same small brown fruit she had eaten in the river country. She paused, unable to stand her hunger any longer, and ate some of them. Then she went on.
The sky was faintly grey in the east; Ammi stopped, panicked. The east lay behind her! She had been moving west, away from the coast. She felt a momentary weakness, but she gripped the sword harder and turned south again, dizzy with weariness.
She went much more slowly now, and at last she could move no further. She stood still and looked around; if she could manage to hide herself, perhaps…
The forest here was denser—tall bushy-topped trees and deep brush, and Ammi heard the sound of water, a brook. She was thirsty, too; she plunged into the bushes, heading for the sound.
Then she emerged on the bank of a wide creek, and knelt, drinking greedily.
There was a reflection in the ripples, Ammi saw. And whatever it was, it wasn’t herself. She picked up the blade that she had dropped beside her as she drank, rose, and turned to face it
It was a living mountain, she thought dizzily; a monster taller than two men, grey and towering. It stood only yards away, watching her out of tiny sharp eyes. The creature had sweeping horns that were planted in its mouth, oddly; and even more oddly, a long tentacle that curled up and came inquisitively toward her.
Ammi gasped and swung her sword at the tentacle, missing it. The living mountain uttered a tremendous toot. Then, suddenly, the sword was dragged from her hand and small hands were clutching at her; around her, there were a dozen tiny black men, grinning and gesturing ferociously. The man-eaters, she thought, and the world spun dizzily as she fell.
