by Allan Cole
The man gabbled understanding. Janos took a small eating knife from his pouch and imbedded it in the sand about three feet in front of the tied man. "I shall leave one horse tethered, and one waterbag. If you can stretch far enough, you can reach this knife and cut yourself free. Then ride off... and carry the word."
He motioned and we left the camp, after ensuring one mount was securely tied, the others driven into the night, and all the food and water, except for one skin, taken for our own use. No one spoke - less from a desire to impress the slaver than horror of what we had done. No doubt Janos would have some rationale for what had happened, but this, to me, was sorcery of the blackest sort and there would be a stain on all our souls for this night.
By the time the counterspell was cast that returned our knives and the remaining arrows to normal, it was close to dawn. We forced food down, packed the asses, and started off. We had gone but a sixth of a league when we heard the screams. Screams of a horse, and then a man. We saw great scavengers dropping into the oasis out of nowhere. They were huge, but from this distance no one could tell if they were vultures, eagles or huge kites. The screams of the horse and slaver rose, then were cut off. This desert was nothing but death, I thought, never having heard of any carrion-eater attacking a healthy man or horse. Janos swore - his example would not be as effective as he wished; and he muttered that the final words of his spell might have even brought these creatures on. This was the first time he had tried that casting.
A bit later we saw a black cloud rise out of the oasis as the scavengers finished their meal. They flew toward us, then veered away. I squinted, trying to see what these monstrous birds were, and gasped as if I'd once more been plunged into that winter millpond in Orissa. Others shouted or swore in horror as well. The carrion-eaters were a distance away, but we could see they were not birds, nor even some kind of bat who flew in the daytime. They were human; or, at any rate, of human form: each had a manlike torso, legs, and I thought I could discern arms and a head. Their wings were not as large as they should have been, and I wondered if sorcery helped them keep aloft. Maeen strung his bow and sent a war-arrow lofting at them. It was a fair shot, into the center of the flock, and they broke formation as doves do when hit by the shafts of hunters. But Maeen's arrow did not appear to have struck their mark. A soldier with eyes keener than mine saw something fall, which I thought to be Maeen's arrow, as the nightmare fliers disappeared into the distance. Some minutes later we came to where the object had come to rest, and one of the men ran over and brought it back, face pale. It was a human hand. I picked up a bit of sand and sprinkled it as we marched away. Not even a slaver deserved to wander as a ghost in this desolate region.
Days later we saw the rise of the butte that had been our brief paradise on my Finding. We did not approach, holding to our plan of never repeating our track, but kept it in sight as an aid of navigation. Janos was trying to use magick as little as possible in this area to avoid detection. All of us still felt those watchful presences... but no one felt directly threatened as yet. We found the creek that ran from the magickal crater and refilled our waterskins.
Janos cast another spell over the party. He used two boughs from the creekside willows to make an arch. He made his evocation, and a small whirlwind spun up in the center of that arch just to its peak. He ordered each of us to pass through the whirlwind. He chortled as the sand got in our eyes, ears and hair. He also had our animals led through in the same fashion. They hated it, as much for the sorcery they felt around them as for the dust. When we were done, he explained: the wasteland we were entering was magick-blasted. This was where we would be most likely to be spotted. Anyone looking for us by sorcerous means would, he was sure, now see nothing but a not particularly-striking sandstorm or just a succession of whirling dust devils.
Maeen had a question - "What, sir, if some of The Watchers are in our path? Will they see us?"
"I do not know, Sergeant," Janos said. "I am certain my spell will blind any sorcerous vision, but I do not know if The Watchers are physical beings or not; nor even how they `see.' If we spot any of them, my advice is to make the asses kneel, and cover yourselves and them with your robes. Then attempt to think like a sand dune."
Another question came, this from Hebrus, our music teacher: "Sir Greycloak, have you still no idea who or what is looking for us? I would have hoped by this time you might have found some clues - just as I can tell which of my dullard students is approaching by the tuneless way he thumps his lyre."
Janos shook his head. "I still don't know. Perhaps one, perhaps many. Of course the Archons of Lycanth are our enemies, and have almost certainly set out wards. Nisou Symeon of Lycanth can well afford to send the best Evocators after us. Perhaps, even, someone from Orissa. Not all the Evocators in our city accepted the change." He shrugged. "Mayhap the gods themselves. Or the wizards of the Far Kingdoms."
"I thought th' Far Kingdoms was holy," 'Lione said. "Not holy, mebbe, but, well, like I grew up bein' taught th' Evocators was. Good. Wantin' to make th' world better. Helpin' folk."
"So the tale is told," Janos said, "and I have no reason to doubt it. But if you were as powerful as the Far Kingdoms is, would you not post the finest sentries around your riches, and investigate closely any who approached you?" 'Lione's expression, which had resembled a child who's about to be told fairies do not live at the bottom of the garden, changed, and his relief showed plain.
So shielded, we set out across the blasted land. We encountered no troubles beyond those of a physical nature. The creatures of the pit, now that we were aware of them, were no threat, and I was pleased at our progress. I found myself once becoming just a bit jealous of Janos. He was behaving as if he was the sole commander of this expedition. I stopped myself, and turned my mind away - scolding it for giving in to fatigue. This belonged to none of us yet to all of us. If he preferred to walk in front, he had at least as much right as I did. Possibly more, since my rank was hereditary and his, even though it was lesser, hard-earned. The mind, when tired, falls prey to many such dark thoughts.
Our intent had been to make a stop at the Rift valley, and rebuild our strength for a few days. But either our positioning or our maps were in error. We reached the area of low rolling hills where we should have caught sight of the cleft, but saw nothing. We checked our navigation, both against the stars that night, and the sun's position in the morning, and even recounted the knotted strings used to keep track of the number of paces travelled each day. We should have been within a dozen spearcasts of our friends. But there was nothing.
I checked the map I had made on our Finding, and it verified our locations. But there was simply nothing there. Janos and I agreed we must be south of the valley, so scouting to the north would be a waste of time. We chanced two days travel to the south, found nothing, and returned to our former track. The men were displeased - both Maeen and 'Lione had told them of the valley and its pliant women. But they were near as dedicated as Janos and I, and we continued on - with no more than wistful thoughts of what we'd missed.
But then all thoughts of disappointment dissolved in excitement when the first man spotted the great mountain range. It was the Fist of The Gods, the closest even Janos and I had come to the Far Kingdoms. Even I felt wonder stir when I saw the pass between the "thumb" and "forefinger" that led through that black range. But caution soon overtook wonder: we were in the dangerous territory; doubly so, since we also knew the city of Wehumwa lay in front of us. We moved most carefully, taking as long as four hours to travel a single league, even though the ground was fairly open. We avoided all ruins, fearing they could be guarded by spells or men.
I called a halt for a council of war when Janos estimated we were a half day's travel from Wehumwa. We had still seen no sign of their cavalry or scouts or even citizens. The problem was the treacherous city sat athwart the only approach to the pass. After some thought, we determined to get as close to the city as possible during daylight, then go to ground. We would wait a
nd watch, then use darkness to slip around the city's walls and into the mountains. If the approach was that tightly patrolled we would break the party into four groups, as we'd practiced, and each group would have an entire night to make passage. Janos added I should go with the first group, and set up a forward post. He would go back and forth each night, and guide each of the groups. I thought again of my egoism back in the wasteland, and was ashamed to have allowed jealousy of a man volunteering to shuttle like this just to ensure the safety of others.
We journeyed onward, and at last we climbed the last foothill. Beyond lay Wehumwa, Janos said. He went forward with Sergeant Maeen. Maeen would return if the rest of us needed to come up. He should have been back within minutes, but almost an entire glass passed. I could wait no longer; drawing my sword, I went in the direction they had taken, dodging from cover to cover. Perhaps my friends had been captured. I came out of a thick brush and saw them. They stood on the edge of a crest, in plain sight of anyone in the valley - and city - below. I feared they had been caught in a spell. I hastened forward, not sure what I would do if they were ensorcelled and turned on me. I came closer - and then saw what had paralyzed them.
"That," I said, incredulous, "is Wehumwa?"
Both men spun - they'd not heard me approach, and Janos' hand was on his sword hilt. They relaxed then. "It is," he managed.
"Or was, anyway," Maeen put in.
There was a city below us, but it was in ruins; its great wall had crumbled in many places. Trees grew up, blocking roads both inside and outside the city. There had been tall, monolithic buildings, as great as any in Lycanth inside the walls. Time and the weather had broken them, and the roofless buildings stretched stone fingers at the heavens.
I started to stammer questions, but Janos just shook his head, very grim. "There was a spell cast," Janos said, almost in a whisper. "A Great Spell, indeed. Call the men up. I will... I must enter the city."
Sergeant Maeen recovered and ran back for the rest of the party. They too, stood in amazement, until Janos ordered us to march, and for everyone to keep his weapon ready. We went through the gates at dusk. Wehumwa had been great once - the gates themselves were iron-bound solid marble slabs, now broken and hanging from rusted hinges The cobblestones themselves were monstrous, the size of a charabanc. Now, grass, low bushes and even some trees grew between them. The buildings would have been lofty and the avenues broad. Now... nothing but ruins. A few hundred years more, and there would be nothing but rubble. Janos led the way, seeming to know where he was heading. We left the central thoroughfare and went up an overgrown roadway, toward a huge shattered building on a hilltop. Maeen was pale - he knew, and I sensed, where Janos was taking us; but the grip on his blade was steady.
We entered the hall and men cried out. I had known what to expect, but it was still grisly. The chamber was full of the bones of men, lying amid the rotten ruins of furniture. Skulls were broken, and the bones were scattered, with not a single skeleton being whole. "Vultures, and wild dogs, must have come... afterward," Janos said. He picked up a leg bone and showed it to me. It had been neatly split open by a gourmet and sucked for the marrow. "But no wild dog can do this." He threw the bone away, and it clattered on stone. "As I said on the hill beyond, a Great Spell was cast. Cast before the expedition reached the city."
"Everyone we encountered, everyone we lived with," Maeen said hoarsely, "was... what?"
Janos shrugged. "Ghosts?. Demons, even. Perhaps less than that; perhaps just the details a great sorcerer would add to an enchantment - like an artist would put details in a painting to convince you he really had sat at a banquet of the gods."
"But... but you've th' Talent," Maeen managed. "How could they hoodwink you, too?" Janos had no answer to that, either. I had never heard of wizardry this strong. Compared to this, Orissa's feat of magically tearing down Lycanth's wall was a marketplace curiosity. To first make more than a thousand hardbitten soldiers see a city where there were ruins... to fill those ruins with people and animals... and for each of those illusions to walk, talk, drink and even make love... and then, in a night of blood, to kill and then eat? Especially when that deathmeal was nightmare, not illusion? This was an impossibility. But it was.
I shuddered. "We shall not sleep in this city, Janos, nor spend any more minutes than it takes us to flee," I said firmly. "We are leaving immediately. No man is to touch anything he does not have to, nor is he to take anything, not bone, not branch, not rock, not stone, from this cursed place."
No one argued. Trying not to bolt in terror, we struck straight through the city to its outer gate, to where the road began climbing to the pass through the Fist above us. None of us, not the soldiers, not me, not Sergeant Maeen nor Janos Greycloak dared look back.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE DISPUTED LANDS
The pass through the Fist of The Gods was nearly as smooth as it had looked when Janos and I had first seen it from many leagues. It climbed around the "knuckle" of the forefinger, into the heart of the mountains. As before, and unlike the vision, the Fist was snowless. Remembering Janos had attempted several reconnaissances before, when the Second Expedition was wintering below in Wehumwa, I asked how far he had gotten before being driven back; by snowstorms, I assumed.
"I did not reach this point," Janos said. "Not by far. However, it was not snow that blocked my way, but gales and driven icestorms. In the winter, hard winds blew across these peaks, so snow didn't cling to the rocks for long."
Our passage was easy: it would not take an athlete to negotiate this defile, I noted with pleasure, since few traders maintain their bodies with anything other than roasts and vintage wine. It would also be simple for heavily-burdened beasts, even horses, to cross this range, beasts carrying Orissa's tradegoods to the Far Kingdoms. Rock slides had tumbled from the heights, and boulders littered the ground; but since the pass was almost two spearcasts wide, it was simple to avoid these obstacles. There was a small waterfall splashing down and I saw where someone had laid rocks to make a pool. This route had been travelled before... and would be again.
Our path led up and around the mountain. We could no longer see the valley and the cursed city behind us. The way grew narrower. I began to worry that perhaps we were following a blind alley, in spite of the pool we had seen, but was relieved to see the pass widen up ahead.
Janos was walking in front of the column, and I was just behind him, the rest of the party and the animals strung behind. I spun as gravel clattered from above; one of our archers had a shaft nocked and was looking up. We saw nothing but bare gray rocks. Probably it was nothing, but we became more cautious. Where the pass widened, it also steepened and I found myself breathing hard. The track crested ahead and I resolved we would pause when we reached that crest, where two boulders sat in the center of the passage. Eagerness ran through our veins, but as Maeen had told us over and over, haste produces only "accidents, ambushes and wedlock - all of which are to be avoided." Proof came shortly. Panting, I was paying less attention to anything but my next step when someone shouted a warning. I saw one of those two huge boulders at the crest rolling toward us. It picked up speed, crashing from side to side of the pass, as it hurtled down. But the warning had been timely, and we were able to pull ourselves and our animals out of its way with no damage. The boulder rumbled into the distance, and was gone. I hurried to Janos.
"Boulders," he said, pointing out the obvious, "do not move of themselves."
He ordered all archers to string their bows and put four of them behind me, each with instructions to scan a particular area above us. He also brought 'Lione up, to march as second man in the party. We moved to the crest, hoping to see the land open out and reveal the great cities of the Far Kingdoms. Instead, we saw more mountains and the pass climbing on into the distance.
We examined the ground carefully where that boulder had sat for so many aeons before choosing its moment. There were no scratch marks from a lever or prybar that would indi
cate a human agency had sent it careening down. Perhaps purely coincidence or, I was beginning to suspect, sorcerous. Perhaps we'd been located by our unseen enemies. But none of us, especially Janos, felt any brush of wizardry. We moved cautiously through the gorge. The pass closed once more into a deep-vee choke ahead, then the defile opened - climbing toward another false crest. We were just in the middle of the narrow way when the heavens rumbled. I thought thunder and looked up at the clouded sky. Then I saw its cause: an avalanche was cascading down on us. I shouted, one of a myriad cries, and broke into a run knowing I must escape the trap; I must flee to where the draw opened again as house-size stones and monstrous slabs rumbled down. The last of us - Maeen, bravely bringing up the rear - had just cleared the danger area when the slide crashed across the pass, rocks shattering in demonic cacophony.
Slowly the crashing stopped, the ringing echoes died across the mountains and the dust settled. Ashamed of my moment of fear, I collected myself and did a fast count. Te-Date be praised, and I determined to make real sacrifice once on the other side of these mountains, all of us had survived - as had all our beasts of burden. The avalanche had been launched a little late. No one was willing to believe in two accidents from above just minutes apart. At least we were safe here - the rock walls that gently sloped up on either side of us were scoured clean of boulders. I was about to ask Janos how we would continue - was there a soldierly plan on moving through passes, as there seemed to be for everything else, when there came a bellow like the mountains themselves were shouting.
That is when we saw the giant. It is common for large men to be called giants, and for any tribe whose height exceeds the norm to be called giants. But this was truly such a being. Even allowing for the magnification from the mountain air, he was three times the height of a tall Orissan, and at least as broad as a man was tall across his chest. At first he might have been taken for some enormous ape, since he appeared to be fur-covered. He was a bit more than a spearcast in front of us. Weapons came up and the giant ducked behind a boulder. He shouted once more, in his unknown tongue, and it might have been a lonely mountain wind. As we jumped for cover of our own, I found I had recovered my calm.
