by Allan Cole
I thanked him. Once again, my life had been saved. Janos smiled, and tried to break the tension with a jest. "Actually, the reason I threw that blade was to have the opportunity to discuss that wonderful lunge with which you impaled that first swordsman. It would have scored you a great victory... on the mats. If we were in barracks, I would make an example of you for stupid derring-do and put you on the kitchen detail for a week."
"Thank you, Sir Antero," I laughed. "You sound like one of my old tutors. Although, come to think of it, he was one of the few who had anything of value to say.
I turned my attention to bowman and then the swordsman I had killed. I too, had been hardened by experience, able to evaluate a corpse rather than turn green and then away. "They were well-armored, and -armed," I said. "All in uniform attire. So they are not bandits. And I don't believe they were the footsoldier's equivalent of our Watchers."
Janos was pale. "I can tell you who they are," he said. "Lycanthians. Look at that man's boots. Or the style of his armor... or the hilt on that blade over there. I carried such a sword myself when I first served them."
"But what are they doing here? They couldn't have followed us," I said. "They could not have passed us in our journey. Or I do not think so, anyway."
Janos knelt over the swordsman's body and searched it. There were a few coins - Lycanthian - in the man's pouch. "Did you notice," he began, "that even though these men were all Lycanthian, they bore no banner or standard? Nor are there markings on their breastplates." He got up. "Sergeant Maeen!"
"Sir!"
"Have all the bodies stripped. Pile the carcasses. Search their possessions, and bring what you find to me."
"Yes, sir!"
While we awaited the results of Maeen's search, we began the grisly afterwork of a battle. Amazingly, we had lost no one. The first two men struck by arrows would not only live, but quickly heal; although one bled greatly from a wound in his thigh that required several of Janos's spells before it sealed itself, and was then poulticed and bandaged. The other man's wound was less severe - the arrow had struck completely through his arm, but then blunted itself on his breastplate. The other men who had suffered wounds appeared gory sights, but the sword-slashes and a single dagger-thrust would quickly heal, especially with Janos's magickal art to help speed recovery. The man wounded in the thigh and one other would ride for some days, but everyone else was but walking wounded. The Watchers' appearance had inadvertently prepared us for this ambush. If, indeed, it was inadvertent.
My bemused wonderings about the ghostly riders' intent, in spite of Janos's caution against trying to prognosticate a prognosticator was broken. Sergeant Maeen had found something: it was a small emblem that had been worn on a neckchain. Wordlessly, Janos held it out. I did not need any explanation. I had seen that emblem on the breastplates of soldiers, quartering the country outside Lycanth for us. I had also seen it worked in marble in the courtyard of a great estate in the center of that evil city.
It was the house emblem of Nisou Symeon.
* * *
The road led back to the river and stopped at a series of stone docks intended for small rivercraft. There were no boats moored there. Janos found a piece of rope hanging from an iron bitt; it was gray and old. It had been a long time since watercraft had harbored in this place. From here we would travel in a manner more familiar to me than this incessant mountain-trekking. I was about to order camp set and a working party to go out and cut lumber for rafts when I recollected the splinters of the sunken craft Janos had found where the Shore People had once lived.
He was already taking the bits of wood out, and preparing his spell. "This is simple," he said as he chalked arcane symbols on the stone landing and drew six closed ellipses next to them. "It is hardly revolutionary to realize anything once part of a whole may become that whole itself. I suppose this is a material version of the law of sympathy. And if the gods smile on my efforts, I shall add a spell of renewal to this casting."
He put a bit of wood into each ellipse and began his spell. I knew what would come next, and should have found Janos's skills commonplace by now. But such was not the case. I gave orders to break the animals' packs down into six equal packs, each to contain the same items as much as possible to lessen the catastrophe should a canoe capsize; then returned to the landing to gape like a gossoon. The casting took only a few minutes, then the air shimmered, became hard to look at, and there were six canoes on the dock. But instead of being exact replicas of the gray waterlogged wreck we'd pulled from the river, these were shiny and new, as if each had just been shaped, sanded, pegged together and oiled.
This bit of magic, which Janos had dubbed "simple," seemed to awe the soldiers more than other spells had. Janos smiled at this: "Now you see why Evocators perform much of their work their work in darkness and secrecy. Each witness to my canoe-building, once he recovers from seeing the mystic become physical, will wonder why such an event, or others like it, should not be commonplace. Why should his wife, for instance, have to pay a tinsmith to hammer out a new pot when the neighborhood sage could reshape the old one, or even a fragment thereof, with a few words for a copper or two?"
"An excellent question," I said. "Why not, indeed?"
"If you made your living as a tinsmith, or a miner, or a smelter, or a boatbuilder in this instance, you would certainly know the answer. This might be the conundrum our age may pose - at what point could sorcery, freely available to all, become a force for ill instead of good?"
"Easy answer, sir," Sergeant Maeen said, having approached us quietly. "When we all have magical mansions and live like we're in the Far Kingdoms, we can sit back, order our sprites to open another hogshead of wine, and then debate the matter at length."
"At that time," Janos said, amused, "It will be too late."
"Well, sir, then we'll have the answer, won't we? Meantime, we have the loads ready, if you two philosophers are ready to travel."
The canoes were launched, loaded, and we made up crews - making certain someone with water experience was on each craft. The hardest thing was leaving our faithful animals behind. There was provenance enough, and one of the drovers said many of the plants around favored mild weather, so he doubted winter would turn the valley into a frozen wasteland. We had seen no predators that might batten off the animals, and I knew few hunting beasts are stupid or hungry enough to attack the wily ass.
Our journey had brought our asses nothing but exhaustion, thirst, pain and even death. Here, they could grow fat, and breed and even bray, as Janos lifted the spell of silence they had been burdened with. But still, when we cast off, and four of the beasts stood on the dockside, gray liquid eyes sorrowing after us, and we heard one great bleat as we floated out of sight, we were silent with guilt.
* * *
The river grew mightily, as other streams foamed down from their own birthplaces and joined it. Our boats flew downstream, tossing and pitching, spray cascading until sometimes we could not make out our proper course. Again, our speed was both fast and slow. We hurtled down cascades, desperately fending the boats away from knife-edge boulders with our paddles, or sliding down league-long chutes like otters down mudslides. Twice boats capsized and we spent hours fishing packs and men from the churning waters. By Te-Date's grace, no one drowned.
Sometimes we were forced to beach our craft, and laboriously portage them and the packs around rapids or falls too dangerous to chance. Three or four times we had to leave the river entirely, and use ropes to haul our craft up and down cliffs to navigable waters. Despite these difficulties, we not only suffered no new injuries, but our wounded men were becoming as good as new. Then, slowly, as the river grew broader and deeper, it became calmer. Strangely, we still saw no sign of life - not even abandoned villages. Here and there were granite docks such as the one we'd begun this part of our journey from, but the stone roads leading away from these landings were overgrown and forgotten. The country was green and appeared fertile. We could not understand why men
had abandoned this land. Then we found both man, and a suggested reason for the desolation.
Our ears made the first discovery: first came great booms, as of low thunder. Then crashes, as if we were about to come on a great foundry. Finally, we heard shouts and screams. We rounded a bend... and the river turned to blood. A causeway stretched from one bank of the river to a small islet about three quarters of the way across. From the islet a wide bridge arched to the shore. The current quickened, pulling us to that shore; in moments we would be swept under that bridge.
But that was not what we noticed first. First came the bodies. We had happened on the final moments of a battle - a battle that was being waged without any of its combatants taking notice of our six tiny canoes. There were bodies all along the causeway, stacked on the islet and then high-piled on the bridge itself. Bloody war had been waged across this river. On the far shore, backs against a cliff, the last defenders - or attackers as they may have begun - were going down into death. I saw a banner, so bloody I could not make out its device. There were warriors in a deathstand around it. I saw a huge man, hewing with a two-handed sword. He had lost his helm, or scorned its use, and I could see the white gold of his hair and beard gleam in the sun. A king? A nobleman? Around him were what I imagined the last of his housecarls, and their attackers swept against them again and again, like stormwaves on a shore. Then the blond man fell, and his banner swayed and went down, and there were shouts of victory.
Men in my boat were gaping, swearing, groaning and one or two puking. The water around us was dark, and crimson stained the stonework before us. "Eyes in the boat and on your paddling," I ordered. "Pay heed, or we'll be swept into the abutments. Those with gods, pray we remain unnoticed."
Janos's boat swept up beside mine as the current raced us under the bridge. Above me a man dangled over the parapet, and I saw his eyes stare beyond and his spirit leave just in my single glance. Then we were past. I thought I heard shouts from the bridge, and someone said later an arrow had been sent after us, but the river slipped around yet another bend, and trees reached up on its banks and we were safely away.
We sailed on until nearly dark before beaching our craft on a small island in midstream, dragging the canoes well into the brush and out of sight. All of us were fearful and wondering - to see no living sign for so long, and then come on such a savage scene.
"Savages is right," `Lione put in. "P'raps y' din't see, but there was squads of them, goin' right a'ter th' soldiers, workin' wi' long daggers t' make sure none a th' wounded might want doctorin'. Movin' from one t' another, like they'd been dutied off for th' job."
"Soldiers loot," Maeen said.
"They weren't lootin'," `Lione said stubbornly. "Just killin'."
"The end of a feud," I suggested.
"Or maybe," Janos said darkly, "these Disputed Lands are well and truly named, if the only victory which counts is that of the worm."
"At any rate," I said, trying to put as cheery a note on the day as I could, "now we know why the Far Kingdoms have not sent out emissaries or traders, if they must travel through lands ruled by butchers like those."
Men brightened at this.
"And now we are reaching some form of civilization, barbaric though it appears," I went on. "The mouth of this river, and the Far Kingdoms themselves must be very close." I was, of course, guessing at this last.
But a day and a half later, we did find civilization. Or rather, civilization found us. Four long wargalleys swept out from an inlet. I counted twenty oars on each side of the green craft, and on their foredecks stood armed men. The prow of each craft had two ballistae mounted, and they were aiming directly at our canoes. We were well and truly trapped. A spade-bearded man wearing armor and helmet hailed us.
"Welcome, travelers," he shouted. "Welcome, guests." His smile was not only mirthless, but quite unwelcoming as well.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
THE WIZARD OF SOULS
It was a city like no other: all sound muted; all color unnaturally bright. The dwellings were of pale stone, with only small black holes for doors to mar their faceless features. Red streamers, entrailing down from green-lacquered posts, lined both sides of the eerie avenue.
Our "hosts" had refused to answer any questions as we sailed to the city's port. In fact, they made no comment of any kind and looked away when we addressed them as if we did not exist. At the port we were handed over to a troop of waiting soldiers, commanded by a dark-visaged captain. Our weapons and other belongings were put on a cart, which followed as they marched us down the city's main thoroughfare. We led the small parade, twenty anxious companions of the road knotted together for strength of spirit. The soldiers flanked around, herding us to our fates. Our new hosts were as silent as the others; except for the drum of their bootsteps, dull clank of armor, and the prickles at our necks, you would not have known they were present.
There were few people about, and those men and women we saw moved with no apparent purpose; or stood motionless as stones, staring as we went past. There was no logic to their costumes: some wore rough common togas; others white silk of the rich; mixed in were men in partial soldier's harness; farmers dressed for the field and beggars in rags. A child looked at me as we went by. I smiled and she smiled back; my stomach gave a wrench for this innocent had no nose. I began to notice many others were maimed in some way, an arm missing, or wooden blocks for feet.
I heard Maeen whisper: "There goes an unlucky lot."
Janos leaned close and said, low: "When we reach our destination, follow my lead."
The avenue curved, then ran arrow straight for a tall, blocky building with a huge red chimney on its crown. The chimney belched sparks and black smoke and a nauseating odor greased the air. As we came closer I realized the building was larger than I thought. Another lumped in front of it: a structure curved like a hive and with a circular door. A man stepped out of the entrance. He wore a fine red tunic with a small, black badge of authority on his breast. He lifted a hand in greeting; the hand was thumbless and pebbled with finger stumps.
He spoke in a voice accustomed to command: "Good day, gentle wayfarers. My master bids you welcome and kindly offers his renowned hospitality."
"Thank you," Janos said. "And who might your kind master be?"
"Why his name is known to all," our greeter replied. "It is Lord Mortacious. Ruler of this city, and all the lands of Gomalalee."
"Forgive our ignorance, gentle sir," Janos said. "But we hail from a land so distant not even your exalted master's name has reached our shores. It will be our honor that we shall be the first to speak it to the multitudes when we return safely to our hearths."
The man replied: "It will be your joy, then, to meet him for the first time. Come. My master awaits at table."
We followed: nineteen silent men, praying for all the gods to aid Janos's wit. I heard the hiss of the great chimney overhead, and smelled the foul smoke. Our guide led us to the banquet hall and flung wide the doors. The room was long and narrow and lit so bright my eyes were pained. The only decoration was more of those obscene red streamers mounted on the high walls. From one end of the room to the other ran a heavy blackwood banquet table. The table was heaped with many dishes to tempt the palate: roasts of a variety of flesh; platters of whole baked fish; mounds of rich, dark breads; and large crystal decanters of heavy crystal, filled with a red wine so heady its sweet odor filled the room. The food was upon great platters of gold. Forty men sat at this table, and, near the entrance there were places set for eighteen more.
At the head of the table, in a green, throne-backed chair, sat a man with the features of a fierce scavenger of the air. He rose when he saw us, lifting his hands so his flowing red robe winged out like that great desert bird. It could be no other than the man who had issued the invitation - Lord Mortacious. He spoke first to his companions of the table: "Gentlemen. We have the honor to host distinguished guests this day." There were murmurs all around: dark or joyo
us, I could not tell. "Gentlemen, may I introduce you to Sir Janos Greycloak of Orissa." Janos flinched. I felt my own features twitch in stung surprise. I covered, as did Janos. "I believe the man beside him - he of the glorious red hair - is Lord Antero. Also of Orissa." I bowed low, manner calm, mind swirling with fearful questions: How did he know us? What was his purpose?
"We are the ones to be honored, Lord Mortacious," Janos said. I echoed his response. Behind me I heard one of our men cough nervously and Sergeant Maeen's harsh whisper of warning.
Mortacious adjusted the scarf about his neck; it was made of costly black silk. He smiled a smile of lordly benevolence, but his eyes were so smoky and burning with deadliness I knew him to be a wizard.
"Come sup with us, please," he said, indicating empty seats of honor on either side of his dining throne. "Your men will find places set for them as well by the door." Janos and I walked forward. Behind us, our small party sat where they had been directed. With each step that we took away from our companions, I felt the line of safety stretch thin. Mortacious was most gracious as we took our seats. He fussed with our place settings, and poured us each a glass of wine. I murmured thanks and sipped. The wine was so sweet I nearly gagged, but out of politeness, I forced myself to sip again. This time it was more tolerable; powerful stuff that stoked fires in the belly and smoke in the mind. I vowed caution.
"Tell me, Lord Mortacious," Janos said, "How is it you know of such lowly travelers as ourselves?"
Mortacious chuckled, fingering the black scarf at his neck. "Lowly? I think not. As for my knowledge of you, it is no great trick for a wizard. As ruler of this realm, which many evil men envy, such knowledge is a necessity."
Janos suddenly relaxed; he drank his wine and loudly smacked his lips in pleasure. "To be perfectly frank, my lord, when your men first approached we feared our intentions had been mistook. For we come to these parts by accident, not design. Our purposes are entirely peaceful."
