by David Mason
On the hill, the earthquake in the night had awakened Ulff and his men. In the darkness, they had fumbled about, cursing; it was not long before they knew the girl was gone. Ulff’s rage made his usual explosions seem mild by comparison, especially when he discovered his sword was missing too. He completely forgot his prohibition of fires, earlier; he kicked and thrust men down the slope to gather suitable lengths of pine for torches, and lit a blaze with which to ignite them.
The men of Esmare were still terrified of the darkness, and of the fabled little men; but Ulff was much more to be feared, being present. Before the torches were ready, one man’s arm had been broken, and a second lay groaning with a broken head.
And then, supporting their two wounded, the party began to follow the girl’s trail, downward. It was plain enough at first, even by torchlight, since she had been unable to take time to avoid breaking branches. The ominous red sky-glow helped too, though it did not make any of the Esmare men feel better.
They followed, down along the pass, and then southward. Her trail was less certain now, but Ulff felt sure she would have headed back toward the sea. It was the only place where she could seek help, he reasoned. Therefore, her pursuers passed the point at which Ammi had swung westward, and they continued to stumble through the darkness, south.
The men were strung into a long line now, Ulff at the head, their torches flickering in the still air. He bent low, to look at what seemed to be bent grass. Then, behind him, there was an odd strangled cry.
“What…” Ulff snarled, straightening. He could see nothing except bobbing torches; the men were bunching up, muttering in terror.
“Lord, something’s happened to Luffik!” one of them said.
“Luffik?” Ulff said, staring around. There was no answer, and the man was definitely gone.
“Damned pissing coward!” Ulff growled. “Ducked, has he?” He glared at the others. “Call yourselves warriors? Prickless mealworms! Too damned lazy to set watch, and afraid of your own shadows! Luffik’s hiding out there. Probably hears me well enough, too.” Ulff stared into the dark and raised his voice. “Now, then, you diseased son of a shiprat, if you’ll stop your game and come back here, I’ll…” He choked on the necessity for forbearance, but succeeded somehow, “I’ll forget your foolishness, for this time, and break none of your bones. Do you hear?”
Ulff waited, but there was no sound.
“If we leave you here,” he roared, “and you live, cockroach, be certain I’ll find you again, and when I do, I’ll feed you on your own liver!”
There was still no sound.
“Run away, then,” Ulff growled, and turned to the cowering men. “Well, spread out, let’s go on. We’ll have the girl before…”
There had been an odd sound, as if a large bee had gone by. One of the men suddenly collapsed, his torch falling to the ground. He made a queer kicking movement, as if trying to swim, and was still.
“The little people!” somebody said in a shaking voice.
Possibly it was those fearful beings, Ulff thought, surprised to discover his own guts beginning to knot with terror. He stared into the darkness and brought his shield round to his front.
“Shields together, you fools!” He moved in close, forcing the others to hold their shields in the defensive ring, though they had no idea of what they defended themselves against. Ulff pointed to a shadowy tree. “There! Backs against it, shields up!”
They stood in a circle, elbow to elbow; the torches out now. There was just enough light for Ulff to see a little; he reasoned that here it would be difficult for an enemy to approach.
In a few moments, one of the men cried out and fell, his shield over him. The circle closed tighter.
Then another fell, but this one screamed abominably for minutes. The remainder were quaking visibly.
A man broke loose suddenly, and gasping in terror, ran. They heard him crashing through the bushes for minutes; then, at a considerable distance, they heard him cry out.
Two more, believing from their comrade’s death that the enemy must lie in that direction, ran the other way. They did not get as far as he had, and one of them screamed as the other had done.
It was quite simple, Ulff thought as he knelt beside the body of the next one. He had found the little arrow, no bigger than a hand’s length, a mere dart, only an inch into the dead man’s forearm. They’re in the darkness, and they will kill all of us, one after another, with these things. He grunted and grasped a fallen shield, drawing it toward himself; then another, and a third.
Next to him, the three survivors peered into the dark, but could not understand what their chief did. He felt no need to explain. The clods would be dead soon, in any case, and why waste wisdom on a corpse?
He leaned one shield against his legs, held another on each hand, and crouched; a moment later, he heard the deadly bee-buzz note, and a tiny arrow broke on one of his shields. Then the buzz came again, and a man dropped. Ulff collected his shield too, and waited.
The dawn came much to slowly to suit him; but at least, he thought, he was still alive. Under his shield rim, he stared into the growing light. There was nothing. Not even a body, he suddenly realized, except for the two beside him.
Then they do use man’s meat, Ulff thought, grinding his teeth.
Not mine, damn them, he told himself.
The tales were all true, then. Maybe the tale that they moved only at night was true, as well. Ulff straightened up and slung a pair of the shields across his shoulders, grasped a sword and moved out, watchfully.
They were gone, then, he thought. Good enough; he’d catch the wench himself, unless the mysterious little folk had already dined on her flesh… and if not, well, Ulff could think of what to do with that flesh. He smacked his lips and grinned. Why, he needed no warriors to help him; the fools had only entangled his feet. Deserved what they got, he thought, and may the little people enjoy their dinner.
Ulff’s thoughts had grown lighter for several minutes. And he was beginning to feel fine when the earth gave way under him with dreadful suddenness. He fell with a clatter of iron, landing on his back, and looking upward, he perceived several small black heads at the lighted entrance to the pit in which he lay.
“Be quiet, hairy man,” a voice called down. And there was an unnerving sound of high-pitched laughter.
When night had come, the party of river men had reached the first stages of the rising pass. The trail of their enemy was clear, but they could easily lose it in the darkness. More than that, they had come a long way, very fast; they were exhausted. As it grew darker, the group sat down and waited.
Daniel could not sleep; he sat, his back against a tree, looking wide-eyed into the dark, resting his chin on his sword hilt.
Out of the darkness, next to him, Lali’s voice came softly.
“Ammi lives, Daniel,” she said. “I am a woman. We know such things.”
“Thank you,” Daniel said in a low voice.
“You are a strange man, Daniel,” Lali said. “It was my thought that… you did not care for Ammi.”
“Did she think so, too?”
“No,” Lali said. Then, “I… do not know. She said to me once that she did not know any longer if you were truly Daniel, or that earlier one, Egon. And she could not understand… about the strange world you came from, or what it is you must do here.”
Daniel chuckled wearily. “Do you understand, Lali?”
“I don’t need to,” she said. “You are our chief. But… Galta wished to live in the river country, and be happy. Why can you not do the same? We need not fear these raiders any longer, they’ll stay at home now. Daniel… when we find Ammi, can we not all return, and remain in a country of peace?” Her voice was very low now. “I have seen too many die,” she whispered. “I have killed a man. It is… not good.”
Daniel remembered yesterday’s Valkyrie, Lali in the boat’s prow with her bow… and he laughed, quietly.
“Lali, we are free people,” he s
aid. “You and Galta owe me no services; you need not come with me when I go elsewhere.”
She was silent.
The earthquake that had come to Ammi, in her flight, had so confused her that she had turned at right angles to her prior path. So, as the earthquake shook Daniel’s party awake, Ammi was no more than half a mile away.
Daniel’s party huddled together as the rumbling and shaking stopped; the men gripped their weapons and braced themselves for they knew not what. But Daniel, in the darkness, laughed shortly.
“The earth shakes,” he said. “It’s nothing; there are places in the world where it happens every day. There’s no danger, unless a tree should fall.”
They were a little reassured by his confident tone.
Daniel was not as confident as he made himself sound. The shock had been a heavy one and the volcano glow was brighter. He remembered that the earth had once been much more active in such matters than it had been in his time; and even then, he remembered that earthquakes had not been matters to take too lightly. But even the science of his time had not been able to do anything about them, he remembered. So nobody could expect him to attempt earthquake prevention, he thought with a wry grin. He lay down and tried to sleep again.
As they slept, Ulff’s men died, one by one, no more than a short distance away; only far enough so the sounds were unheard.
With dawn, they were up and moving again. They went only a short distance, before Galta, in the lead, cried out He held up a broken, charred length of pine-wood.
“Torches!” Banar said. “There’ve been men here, in the night!”
Daniel cursed his night’s sleep, silently, as they searched further. The traces of Ulff’s party were plain, and they followed downslope.
The unfortunate Esmare warrior who had been first to fall was still where he had met his end. But he was incomplete. A number of portions had been removed, with skill and neatness; but the result was not pleasant to look at. The river men regarded the object as they passed; their faces showed what they felt.
A little farther on, they found a leg, evidently carelessly dropped by the departing surgeons, whoever they had been. Lali cried out and burst into weeping.
The party was moving very slowly now, weapons ready, eyes peering into every shadow. The ground quivered sometimes; the quake was not yet over, Daniel thought But the others terror was so great that they did not even notice the shaking.
Then they came into a broad clearing, and stopped.
On the other side, a half dozen men stood; tall, hawk-faced, wearing long white cloaks and pointed helmets. They watched silently as Daniel’s men emerged into the clearing.
On every side of the clearing there was a faint rustling; and now, tiny black men were suddenly visible in every direction. Each naked black man held a long tube, and grinned, watching the river men. No one spoke.
Chapter VII
A single man of the party of cloaked men stepped forward and came across the clearing toward Daniel. He was dark-faced, with black hair that hung in curious curls; but beardless. To Daniel’s eyes, the pointed steel cap he wore looked vaguely Assyrian, combined with other features of his appearance. But Daniel knew too that Assyria lay in the still unformed future.
The dark man paused and lifted his hand in a gesture of peace. Then he spoke, understandably, though with a curious accent.
“We are men of peace,” he said. “Be not afraid, the forest people will not attack you.”
“Good,” Daniel said with a smile. He glanced around. “I think we might have very little chance, if they did.”
The dark man looked a little surprised, studying Daniel’s face. “You…” he said slowly, “you are not one of the river tribes, as your followers are?”
“No,” Daniel said. “We followed a party of raiders, men of a western kingdom; they have a prisoner of our people. These others are our friends, helping us to follow.”
The dark man grinned. “We may have found your enemies already, I think. Who are you, then?”
“My name is Daniel, and…”
The dark man’s eyes widened. He dropped on one knee and bowed his head, suddenly extending his hands upward.
“You are he whom we have sought!” the man exclaimed. “Lord Daniel, who holds the key!” Behind him, the others bowed low, too; there was an excited murmur among them. The first man rose and said, very respectfully, “My name is Zadosh, of the sons of Ebrak, and I am a trader, of Numith.” He pointed to the others. “These are also traders. Avrad, Benash,” he beckoned them, and they began to come toward Daniel, looking awed.
“We come to the Land of Fire to seek certain things which the small people sell us,” Zadosh explained. “We are their friends, and they greatly value what we bring them. But they fear others, because of what is done sometimes, by such men as those you followed. They were men of Esmare, were they not?”
“Were?” Daniel said.
Zadosh shrugged expressively. “All but one… and the woman, of course. She was the prisoner you searched for, no?”
“Where is she?” Daniel demanded.
“In a village, not far from here,” Zadosh said. “A messenger came to us, and said that there were sea-raiders of Esmare, here; and strangers pursued them. He asked if we wished to see these, any of them, before they were… ah, eaten.”
“Eaten?” Daniel stared at him.
“The little folk like such meat, I fear,” Zadosh said apologetically. “We do not speak against it, to them. A man’s preferences are his own, and they don’t tell us what we may eat or drink, after all.” He grinned broadly. “Well, they kept the largest and hairiest of the corsairs, but all the rest are… gone. Him, they have in a pit such as they use to catch beasts. It seems that some of their women wish to keep him, as a pet, as I understand the matter.”
There was a hoarse chuckle or two among the river men, as they began to understand Zadosh’s tale; and the other Numith men, now gathered around Daniel, smiled too.
“The women have great power among these little folk,” one of the Numithians said. “They are the only beings that their men fear.”
“The girl,” Daniel said urgently. “Is she hurt?”
“She was very frightened,” the man called Avrad said. “She encountered a haruth, one of ours, and I believe she had never seen one before. But she was not injured at all. Come, we will go to the village.”
They moved into the forest, along a narrow trail that was nearly invisible; on all sides, the little folk were audible, but invisible. Daniel, having seen the blowguns, suspected that it was more than lucky for himself and his party that they had not had to fight. Their darts were almost certainly poisoned, he thought.
They came at last to a narrow defile and emerged into a circle of low, long huts. Hundreds of the pygmies appeared, men, women, and toylike children, all grinning and jumping happily; but eerily silent, even now. They crowded around, touching and looking at Daniel and the others, sometimes whispering to each other and giggling, but never loudly.
“Certainly, the Luck Woman is with you,” one of the Numithians said. “We are the only traders to have come here this year, because of the fighting… ah, there are our haruths.”
Something mountainous and grey moved out from between the huts; it stepped with great care, since its feet were large enough to crush a pygmy if one should get in the way. Behind it, Daniel could see more grey forms just outside the village border; he stared in surprise. “Elephants!”
Zadosh glanced at him. “No, they are called haruth,” he said. “Have you never seen such?” He raised his hand and called out, “Sunflower! Come to me!”
The great grey beast came and stood, looking down at Daniel out of tiny black eyes, swaying as it stood. It curled its trunk, and spoke in a whistling gasp. “Greeting, man,” it said, and trumpeted. “He can speak!” Daniel said, surprised.
“Oh, but not very well,” Zadosh said with a shrug. “They do not speak much; it is a great effort for them. Isn’t it,
my handsome one?” he said affectionately, stroking the creature’s trunk. “But they are very wise, almost as wise as sea folk,” he went on.
Daniel stared at Sunflower, wondering. “In my… country,” he said, “these are called elephants, and they do not speak… or at least, not in our tongue.”
“That’s true of the wild haruths, who live in the forest southward,” Zadosh said. “They speak only in their own language. Ours prefer to speak so, too, but they learn our speech as well.”
And suddenly there was a wild cry, and Ammi came running from the huts; she hurled herself at Daniel and clung to him, weeping. Behind her, several of the pygmy women came, dressed in strings of ornaments, tall feathers in their hair. They stood, smiling as they watched.
“He is not as hairy as the one we have in the pit,” one of the pygmy women said critically.
“He must be of some value to the woman, though,” another said. “She seems very pleased.”
“Let them alone,” one of the others said. “I want to go and throw sticks at the hairy one for a while.” And they all trotted away, giggling again.
“Word came to us, in Numith,” Zadosh said. “We were told of a man who would come, from the old land, named Daniel. The sea folk said that he would be very wise, in many things, like the builders of the ancient time. And that he would carry within himself a key, which would be much needed by sea folk and land folk alike. What is this key?”
Daniel shrugged. “I think I have an idea what’s meant,” he said. “But… I’m not sure.”
Zadosh shrugged. “It matters not. Our friends in the sea told us to guard your life, if we should find you; and to aid you in any way you wished.” He stopped and looked thoughtful. “They also said that there are some among the sea folk who are your enemies. We have known for some time that there is… quarreling among the Sea People, and we know of the lost one, and his messengers.”
They were sitting about a fire in the open space among the huts; the pygmies and the rivermen, warriors, all mingled, eating and drinking. The Numith men sat close around Daniel, listening to Zadosh.
