The Far Kingdoms

by Allan Cole

  I waited until Janos was separated from the others, then fell back to walk beside him. I chose my words carefully: "You told me once you had a small knowledge of wizardry," I began. "If I come up with a scheme to occupy Cassini, perhaps send him off with a soldier to scout in front of us on some pretext--" I broke off, as he looked at me, and I saw his expression was as drawn as Cassini's.

  "I too, my friend," he said. "I too have lost what little words I might have known. But I said nothing. Not only because of the laws, but..."

  He was silent, not needing to say more. If the men knew that both Janos and Cassini had lost their "powers" at the same time, they would know the loss could come from only one thing - another Evocator; a wizard who must be our enemy and was even now casting about this wasteland to find and destroy us. I saw 'Lione was looking at us with suspicion, and forced a bright expression and a laugh I knew was hollow. Janos did the same.

  It was as Cassini had feared; without protection a myriad of annoyances came on us: Deoce and I found ourselves snarling at one another over nothing, and making up became words forced and unfelt. I caught myself making a list of everyone in the expedition, and just how incompetent, evil and malicious each of them was, and how none of them belonged on my Finding. Then my loathing turned inward: how dare I have the temerity to seek the Far Kingdoms? Did I not think that better men had already tried and died? Did I not think that anything as powerful as the Far Kingdoms would also have powerful enemies, enemies we must pass through to reach the realm? If the Far Kingdoms existed at all, which my self-demon told me was a ludicrous thought at best. We should turn back, turn back now.

  Perhaps we could return to the river, and to our friends the Shore People. Or... But what would it matter if we were captured by slavers in the desert? At least we would still be alive, wouldn't we? And if they chose to kill us, why would that matter? Our scatter of filthy, reeking bodies was best suited for the dungheap, anyway. The thoughts wound on and on, head swallowing tail, and the circle continuing. But we continued on... or rather I should say that Janos, with my assistance, forced us to keep marching, promising, threatening, cajoling for another step, another league, another day. Deoce proved that she was the daughter of a strong queen, and took as great a hand in driving the men by any means conceivable as Janos or I.

  Sickness came next: a lethargy, a fever, an ache in the limbs, a weakness. Two men - Sylvn and Yelsom - became so sick we had to make sledges for them from blankets and spears and let them be dragged by the asses. Yelsom died a day afterward. Now we were all sick to a greater or lesser degree. At least, I told myself wryly, no one now has enough energy to plan mutiny. But that spell remained over us - neither Cassini nor Janos could recollect the slightest detail of wizardry - their implements, tools and herbs remained unknown curiosities to them.

  Two days travel after we buried Yelsom, the land around us changed. Instead of being almost flat and stony, it became sandy. We saw a touch of green from time to time, low scrub bushes. I thought I saw an animal - a tiny antelope, perhaps - dart from cover to cover. I would never have dreamed I would be glad to enter a desert, but I was. I hoped that we had been through the worst, and the desert would become greener would become watered lands and finally we would see the ground start to rise toward the mountains.

  Our route was a bit more circuitous - the land was deeply pitted. Now I learned more about how to navigate on land. We would approach such a pit, trying to keep to the compass heading Janos had determined to follow. Then we would strike a course 90 degrees away from our intended heading, keeping track of our paces. Once we were clear of the pit we would resume the original course until past the hole, turn another 90 degrees, and walk back the same number of paces, and then take up the correct direction once again. It was quite maddening.

  Some of these depressions were shallow, others were as deep as fifty feet. I wondered what could have made them? Perhaps what I'd heard was true - the shooting stars that brightened Orissan summer nights were not signals from the gods, but rocks from beyond; real rocks that might have fallen from Godhome onto Earth. But why should there be so many of them, here in this desolation?

  As I was musing over this, we found the first body. It took a moment for our lead man to determine what it was, and then he shouted for Sergeant Maeen. It hurt every bone, but I managed to stumble to the front of the column, as did Janos. We gathered around what had been an antelope, or so I guessed. It was not a complete body, but the sunblackened skin of some sort of four-legged creature. It was about ten feet from another pit. Maeen saw another skin, further on. It looked as if it had been torn apart. By a hunting cat, perhaps? But the cat would have devoured the skin, and left bones, I thought. We went on. At least this meant there would be more water now, and fresh meat if we could net or trap one of these creatures. We found other pits, and other animal skins. I remembered what they reminded me of - grapeskins tossed aside after their juices were sucked out.

  The next body we saw was that of a man; he too, had been killed in the same manner: there was no sign of any bones, but the man's skin lay mummified on the ground, skin from mid-chest to the feet; his head was also missing. The man would have been about my size, and of normal shape; so much for the tales of men with heads in their stomachs - or perhaps we had not traveled far enough to meet them. There were no traces of clothing or weaponry, so we could not tell if we were looking at the body of a savage or a savant. Janos suggested we close up the marching order and move carefully past brushy areas. Again, perhaps a great cat had seized the man and ripped off his head. No one had a better theory.

  We were skirting another pit when the suddenly ground gave away beneath us; then we were sliding, scrabbling frantically in the collapsing sand, but sliding toward to the bottom of the pit. I saw one of the asses... one that carried one of our treasure chests... tumble, braying in panic, gold coins spilling, cascading down... a soldier floundering, trying to climb back to solid land... Cassini shouting in panic...

  Something came out of the bottom of that pit. A black nightmare. I never saw... or my mind refused to admit it had seen... all of the creature. There was a huge pulsing abdomen... a wedge-shaped head on a turreted neck... jaws that were razor scimitars flashing on either side of a pursed mouth... claws scrabbling at the sand, digging, digging, digging away, making the sand slide us down, down toward death. Cassini lost his footing, fell, and began to roll. The ass's' bray became a scream became silent, and Cassini stopped himself, legs splayed wide on the sand, then he began sliding again, very slowly. He was shouting for help, screaming.

  Janos, too, had slipped into the creature's trap, and was sprawled a few feet above the Evocator. He fought himself up, to his knees... Cassini's hand implored him, stretched out... Janos started to move... and then stopped. We all became part of some horrible tableau, frozen in this bit of time. Then I was leaping, once, twice, my feet digging in, and I was below Cassini, and buried to the knees in the sand, his slide broken against me, and then both of us were tottering. Somehow I steadied myself... standing... afraid to look back, afraid to see how close to the terrible thing we were, not balanced enough to draw my sword, shouting to Cassini to crawl, man, crawl, and he was scrabbling upward,

  I wading after him, and I thought I heard a great hiss from behind me, like the creature was being cheated, and from the lip of the hole spears came down, arcing just over my shoulder, and the hiss became a shrill, and I was staggering up, sliding back down... and Janos was beside us, somehow able to walk in this dry mire, and then we were out of the creature's den, diving away from its edge. Deoce and Maeen ran up, stringing bows, each of them holding arrows in their bowhands. But there was nothing to shoot at.

  The sides of the pit were still sliding, as the sand resought the cone's natural perfection. There was nothing at the bottom of the pit. No creature, no ass, no treasure chest. I thought I could see a gleam which might have been a few of the coins. Unless the creature had power to make itself invisible, or was a demon from s
ome unknown hell, it must have reburied itself. I had time to think of each of the pits we had passed, each housing such a monster, and refused the abominable thought. Then we realized one of the soldiers - Aron - was missing. We never saw his body, and I ordered our party to march on before the creature in the pit had time to drain his juices and cast his body among us. Cassini was glowering at Janos, who avoided his gaze; but still we marched, on and on.

  That night I woke and saw a bulky form that could only be Janos sitting just beyond our party. I rose silently, and joined him. "By rights," he said softly, "you should reduce me to the ranks and put Sergeant Maeen in charge. I failed today."

  I had just about enough of what I perceived to be Janos's complete inability to recognize his own humanity and flaws. "The mighty Greycloak, afraid," I said as sarcastically as I could manage. "The stars fall from their courses, the earth shudders, and there is blood on the moon. As if a damned great monster like that would not have sent shudders through any of the heroes of old."

  "It wasn't fear," Janos said, and I knew he spoke the truth. "No one who is a soldier can allow his fear of death, which we all share, to paralyze him as I was."

  "So you let yourself to wish Cassini dead. Dammit, I have no idea what sent me after him, considering the number of times I've wished him to contract some dread plague."

  "My feelings for Cassini also had nothing to do with it. And I will add now that no matter how much we dislike him, we cannot do without him. We will need all of his Evocatorial skills to enter the Far Kingdoms, and I feel we are very, very close now."

  "Then what?" I asked, impatient.

  "As I said, the Far Kingdoms," Janos went on. "The thought came on me, just as I saw Cassini floundering like some beached carp, how imbecilic it would be for me to die... here... now... within reach of my life's dream. To achieve that dream, I would have let Cassini be sucked of his juices."

  I should not have asked, but I did: "Suppose, Janos, that it had been me, there? Slipping into those jaws. Would you have still played statue?"

  A long silence, and I began to grow angry. Then: "I do not think so, my friend. Or, perhaps, I hope I would not have. No. I would have helped." But the questioning note remained.

  I returned to my blankets and Deoce, and tossed and fretted over what had happened. As my memory flees back to that night to coax words for the lines required to describe my youthful thoughts, I realize now that I felt hurt - betrayed by my friend. But I can also see from this great distance what I could not understand then. For I can look ahead, whereas the young Amalric could not. In the days that followed, Janos's attitude toward me made a subtle shift. He seemed... easier in my company, somehow. As if a barrier had been lifted, and a strong bond formed. And that bond was this: until that day I had been Janos's friend, there was no questioning that; but he had not really been mine. After the pit Janos Greycloak was truly my friend - or, as much a friend as he could be to any man or woman.

  The next morning Janos showed me the figurine of the dancing girl; I gasped at the sight of it: she gleamed as if a silversmith had been working long hours with his polishing rouge, and even more startling, the figurine had partially reformed. Before, it had been broken off at the hips, and now it was complete down to the ankles. The woman's hand now held a silvery feather, and the scarf I'd thought to be part of the original casting was gossamer and... alive. At that moment I had no doubt we were closing on the Far Kingdoms!

  A day later Deoce was first to notice the horizon was a darker blue. We prayed that blue meant we were approaching mountains. If that is what they were, they seemed to be many leagues and days distant from us. The question was whether we had the strength to reach them. I thought we did not. The best I could imagine is we might find another oasis, one with game and fish. We must rest and recover - the sickness was getting worse. Perhaps, if we could stop moving, the curse that dogged us might pass on, and Cassini's powers would return.

  'Lione was walking at the head of the column, I was about a spearcast behind him. The ground had become low rolling hills. I came over one crest - just ahead of us, no more than a few minutes' walk, opened a narrow valley: a great cleft in the ground that looked as if a giant had dug both hands into the soil and pulled them apart. I saw, just below the vertical rim, deep green that could only mean well-watered trees. I shouted to 'Lione, who was pacing on straight for the cleft, as if he intended to walk into it. He looked at me, puzzled, then came back.

  I asked him: "Why didn't you shout when you saw it?"

  "Saw what?"

  I thought the soldier was being obstinate, or perhaps he, too, was coming down with the sickness, then realized he was. I motioned...He turned, and it was if a veil was lifted. "It... it... wasn't there. I... just saw... hills," he managed. "I was about to come back and say I thought we should take another heading."

  Maybe someone intended him to think that, I considered. Trying not to look like a war party, but with bows and spears ready for use, we moved slowly toward the cliff edge. By the time we reached it, two men and a woman were waiting. Since the woman was in front, I thought her to be their leader. They held out empty hands, palms up. All three of them were dressed as if for a festival, in colorful, loose silk-looking garments. None of them appeared to be armed. The woman spoke a sentence. I did not understand it - but yet I did, much like one half-remembers a familiar face or a dream on sudden wakening. Deoce drew her breath in surprise. "They are speaking my tongue," she said. Then, in her own language: "Are you of my people?"

  The woman smiled, and chattered, and then I could pick out a word here, a word there. Deoce was frowning, trying to follow. She held up a hand, and the woman stopped. "The language... is not quite mine," she said, carefully finding the exact phrases. "She speaks like old people... no, that is not the word... like wise men say my people spoke once, long years gone."

  Deoce introduced us: the two men were Morning Fog, their shaman; and Harvester; the woman, Dawnhope, and she was their chieftain. She addressed me, speaking slowly, and I could now pick out the sense of her remarks, so similar was her language to Deoce's : "We have been seeing you for two days. We hoped you would see us." I understood her words, but not their meaning, and begged her to explain further. With Deoce's help, she did, and I learned why 'Lione had not seen the valley. I was told there was a mighty, protective spell cast on the valley. No one intending harm or evil could see the Rift, but would sight only more rolling hills - hills they would be impelled to turn away from without knowing why.

  Cassini heard the translation. "There are indeed great Evocators in this land," he said, half in fright, half mournfully, and I felt a flicker of sympathy. Cassini was like a man whose life and work depended on keen vision, but who'd been suddenly blinded. It was a flicker of compassion, but no more. I still remembered the paradise he'd lost for us. Besides, I was now busy with the standard greetings and small-present-exchanging common to any traveler meeting a new, friendly people. We were invited to share their land and home for as long as we wished, and were asked only to follow their customs and laws, which, Harvester, their Giver of Laws said were no more than common sense and hardly onerous.

  I reserved judgment - the Shore People felt cannibalism was a perfectly natural custom. But I felt no threat nor challenge yet from these friendly people. They led us to the cliff's edge, where a carved stone stairway zigzagged down the rock face, to disappear into the trees below. I could see the gleam of a lake down there, and smell fragrant woodsmoke. Nearby, a small waterfall ran down the rocks to the valley floor. We blindfolded our asses, who found strength to bray protest until they smelled the water, and started down.

  We had gone but a dozen steps when I heard a shout from Cassini, and whirled, hand touching sword. He stood mazed, tottering, as if about to faint. One of the men steadied him, but Cassini seemed not to notice. "My powers... my magick... they have returned!" I looked quickly at Janos, and, from the smile beaming through his beard knew Cassini was not deluding himself. The Rift trib
e had powerful Evocators indeed if their spell could not only blind enemies who were physically present, but mask the eyes of sorcery as well.

  All of the tribe was waiting in the village, which was made up of several central buildings; a feasting area; and cottages flung, seemingly at random, around the main gathering places. There was a feast prepared, but I'm afraid none of us did it service, and might even have shamed our hosts. We were taken to huts and men and women of the tribe offered us fresh clothing. Other members of the tribe helped our sick undress and put them into waiting hammocks. These nurses told us they already had potions and remedies ready to treat them. It was obvious we were not the first to encounter the Rift, nor the first to stumble across that horrible wasteland.

  Deoce and I bathed in the lake, changed, and, feeling like one of the walking dead, forced ourselves to the feast. Only a few of us - Deoce, Janos, Sergeant Maeen and 'Lione among them, were around the great circular table. I ate but little, feeling I might become sick if I stuffed myself. 'Lione and Maeen did get sick, but our hosts paid no mind. Finally, staying awake became too torturous, and we made excuses and tottered to our huts. I remember little of the next few days, beyond waking, eating, bathing, and making sure my men were taken care of.

  But eventually I returned to my usual self, and in a shorter time than I would have thought. Again and again in my life I've been reminded how much punishment this animal body can absorb and recover from, and never cease to marvel how some beings can let life slip away so easily. Here in the Valley was the first time I observed this. One of the men we'd rescued from slavery died, and then a second. In spite of the best incantations and herbs provided by Cassini and Morning Fog, the sickness seemed to cling to our people and keep them enfeebled. Only Janos, Cassini, Deoce, myself and Sergeant Maeen had not fallen ill, and 'Lione refused to admit he had been taken by the disease.