Doom's Break

by Christopher Rowley

  "I see some big stands of banyam trees down there," said Thru.

  "Yes," said Simona. "It's just like that first island, where we found so much. The same flowers are blooming."

  "If we can get enough here, this will be our last stop. We'll go on to the Land."

  Simona nodded. "It's a long way across the ocean."

  "That's why your people never found us before."

  "Do you think we can do it? In our little ship?"

  "The Sea Wasp survived the storm."

  They were so close together they were almost touching. Their eyes met. They had known the deepest levels of intimacy and remained friends. But there would always be something slightly more than friendship between them.

  "What do you think will happen to us?" she said.

  "You mean you, Mentu, and Janbur?"

  She nodded.

  "I don't know. The Assenzi will help you."

  He could tell that this wasn't what she wanted to hear.

  "I think I would like to live in a village."

  Thru chuckled. "Simona, my friend, you are not a farmer. The work never ends, you know."

  "I can work hard!" Her face was flushed with indignation.

  "I know, but Highnoth will be much more interesting than a village."

  "You think the villagers won't accept us, don't you?"

  Thru shrugged and took her hand in his.

  "Whatever happens, you will always have at least one friend in the Land." Simona squeezed his hand back. If there was one person to have as a friend in this world, Thru Gillo was a very good choice. When she considered what Thru had brought the two of them through during that long winter in Shasht, she was left amazed. The mot had an unquenchable fire in his heart.

  —|—

  The mots were knowledgeable about different kinds of wood, but the trees they knew grew in the Land, thousands of miles northeast of the Marukas. Mentu was their only guide, therefore, and they clambered all over the rugged slopes seeking a particular pine tree that Mentu knew was sometimes used for masts. The wood of this tree was not brittle like most tropical conifers. After surveying the scene carefully, they decided on a specimen growing in a patch of deep soil close to the edge of the cliff.

  "Once we have it down, we can pretty much lower it all the way to the water," said Mentu, pointing below to the various stages in the fall of the cliff. That notion confirmed the decision.

  Soon they'd brought up ropes and line and began to construct an intricate set of ropeworks that would allow them to lever the fallen tree into the air and then drop it down the steep slope in a controlled manner. Blocks and tackle, pulleys and guy ropes were all eventually used.

  Next they took up the saws and began the process of carefully felling the tree. It had to be cut so that it came down close to the cable but not on top of it. They had two saws, one six feet long and made primarily of wood edged with steel and a smaller one made entirely of metal.

  By careful work they brought the tree down to within a foot of where they wanted it. Then they set to cutting off the branches, removing the bark, and trimming away imperfections with the adze.

  They had been at work like this for only a few minutes when Juf Goost gave a howl of pain. He jumped up and ran around slapping at his skin.

  "The ants, the damned ants!"

  Soon they were all busy killing the little red pests, which had swarmed out of a small nest at the foot of the tree. It took perhaps half an hour, but eventually the ants were suppressed, and work was resumed.

  At ten-foot intervals along the tree, they attached a cuff of rope around the trunk. Other ropes were then relayed through the cuffs and pulled up over the cable that was stretched down the cliff. At every point in the chain of ropes were blocks of pulleys employed to increase the efficiency of the line. To gain extra braking power, they set a cradle of wood on the main line, just ahead of the tree. When they pulled down on a line leading to this wooden cradle, they jammed the tree downward toward the ground and halted its movement along the big cable.

  They took up the rope and raised the tree well off the ground. Ter-Saab, Juf, and Thru seized hold of cuffs along the trunk and with considerable effort got the tree moving and out to the point where it hung over the edge of the cliff. They slowly lowered the tree down along the guiding cable some thirty-five feet to the next stage. Then they dismantled the cable and blocks from the top of the mountain and carried it all down the cliff and set it up for the next stage, a more or less vertical drop of fifty feet.

  Once more they lowered the log slowly and carefully down to the next stage. The following stages were on less vertical slopes, where the vegetation grew thickly. The difficulty here was passing the log down between the tree trunks. They slung their cable, tree to tree, on relatively short hops as they juggled the trimmed tree along. It was hard work, and they were sweaty and dusty when they paused on a rocky ledge.

  They hadn't sat down more than a minute or two before the first ants found them. Simona gave a squeal and slapped at her calf. Janbur followed suit.

  "Oh, not again," groaned Jevvi.

  This time they found the entire hillside around covered in ants.

  "Look at them!" said Simona in a trembling voice.

  There were millions.

  "What we could do with a dozen chooks around here!" said Juf.

  "Chooks?" gasped Pern Glazen, slapping at ants on his ankles. "Chooks would have run to the hills by now."

  The trees, the ground, the rocks—all were deep, dark red with ants, a red that moved and shifted constantly. An angry roaring sound came up from this vast army's mandibles.

  It became a race with death. While four of them fanned out with branches and brush pulled together into crude brooms, the others worked frantically to set up the tackle, lift the tree, and slide it over the cliff for the next stage, about forty feet down to a spot that overlooked the lagoon below.

  The ants were very determined. The work was punctuated with a roar of oaths and shrieks of pain until they were able to get the log over the edge where it rattled down through the underbrush to the next stage. Then they ran, crawled, flopped, and slid to get down the slope as quickly as possible and distance themselves from the red horde.

  Everyone was feeling the effect of so much venom. Poor Ter-Saab actually fainted at one point. They had to pick him up and carry him, or the ants would have killed him. If you stayed still too long, they went for the eyes.

  At last they had the tree positioned at the top of a sandy slope that went straight down to the water.

  "To hell with the ropes," snarled Mentu. "Let it roll the rest of the way."

  No one cared to argue with that idea. They lined up along the tree trunk, gave it a heave over the top of the slope, and then stood back while it rumbled down the sand and splashed into the water.

  They noticed that ant scouts were starting to appear around them. The whole island was alive with excited colonies.

  "I'm getting off this damned island," roared Mentu, running down the slope and throwing himself into the lagoon.

  Juf was the last to follow him, but only by a few seconds.

  By the time the sun was beginning to set, they had hauled the log out to float alongside the Sea Wasp.

  With considerable discomfort, they washed off the grease, dirt, and dust and gathered to eat a somber little meal by the light of a single lamp.

  Even in that dim light Thru could see that they were all sporting dozens of hot blisters.

  "Well, at least they didn't get onboard this time," said Juf.

  "I hope that's true. I really do," replied Pern.

  "I can sure understand why nobody ever settled on these islands," muttered Mentu.

  "Anyone for a round of 'The Jolly Beekeeper'?" said Juf in a lame attempt at humor.

  "Oh, shut up!" said half a dozen voices.

  —|—

  The next day they moved around a little slowly, gingerly. They worked with saws and drills, hammers and wooden spikes
to outfit the mast before they raised it over the side and then, with a line from the top of the mizzenmast, lifted it slowly and carefully, and planted it in the mast hole.

  They used the remains of the old mast to help buttress the new one, which was slightly narrower than the old. Spars were attached, block and tackle added, and soon they were fitting the mast into the rigging of the ship, with lines fore and aft and a pair of spars.

  In the meantime, Simona and Janbur went ashore and searched the island for food. They found two big stands of ripening banyam. In addition, thick-stemmed sugar grass was growing densely by the lagoon. It could be harvested and dried. It was poor quality food, but it would keep them alive if necessary.

  They began harvesting banyam and sugar grass that same day. By then, Thru had another project to keep him busy. While they were carrying banyam back to the ship, Mentu had pointed out a klimm tree.

  "Such wood is used for making bows. It's very springy, very strong. Has to be cut along the grain. Takes a fine hand and a good saw."

  Thru visited the tree the same afternoon and came away with a pair of nice-sized branches. He cut and trimmed them, removed the bark, treated the wood with spirits, and began honing it down with a plane and a sharp knife. Since the wood could not be treated at length, or even dried out, he cut the bows deliberately large, almost bulky to the hand. They would have seemed heavy, even ugly, to his father, Ware, he thought, but Ware always used well-aged yew with its great strength and resilience. All that mattered to Thru was that these bows would drive a heavy arrow a good distance.

  As the afternoon lengthened, he turned aside from the bows and prepared some stout lines for use as bow strings. He cut them precisely, worked the nocking loops up, and sewed them tight. Then he greased the string lightly and rubbed it through a cloth.

  By the time the sun was dropping toward the western horizon, Thru had finished one bow and was close to being done with the other.

  He had a handful of arrows, small ones designed for the little bow he'd brought all the way from Shesh Zob. Now he strung the bow and practiced with these light arrows. The bow worked well, perhaps a little clumsy in feel, but it was strong. Barely pulled halfway back, it drove one of his hunting arrows deep into the mast. Thru set it aside for the day, pleased with his efforts.

  The sun slid toward the horizon. Simona and Jevvi had not returned from an expedition to the southern part of the island. Thru became concerned.

  When the moon rose, Thru and Juf lowered a boat, pushed off, and rowed out toward the channel. The winds were light, and the lagoon was as calm as a lily pond. To their left loomed a continuous wall of white coral, marking the reef. To their right the land was a dark mass, fringed at the base by a strip of pale sand.

  As they rowed, they discussed the likely fate of their mission.

  "Well, you know what will have happened," said Juf. "They'll have got back not ten minutes after we left. That's the way it always goes."

  "I know what you mean," agreed Thru.

  Fool's errand or not, the night was beautiful, the rowing was not difficult, and they continued to slide south across the smooth sheet of dark water. Ahead loomed the high south point, part of an extended ridge from the central volcanic core of the island. Beyond the point, the lagoon opened out into the wider water of the channel. A slight breeze stirred the air here, and on the farther banks of coral they could see the phosphorescent glow of surf.

  They came around the point and almost immediately shipped their oars.

  Inside the point, anchored under the headland, was a single-masted fishing schooner. The same sort of craft that had been chasing the Sea Wasp.

  "I don't like the look of that," muttered Thru.

  "I think I know where Jevvi and Simona are," replied Juf in a somber voice.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Thru unshipped the oars and had Juf hold them while he wrapped rags around the oarlocks. When he was sure they wouldn't betray them, he rowed carefully to the ship.

  There was no one visible on the deck. Thru thought it unlikely that no one was keeping watch, so he continued to approach cautiously. He slowed their approach with cautious dips of the oars. As they got closer, they caught the reek of rotten fish.

  They slid in close beneath the stern of the fishing ship until they were able to actually touch the hull and hold the boat steady against it. The light was coming from a half-open port on the right side. Gruff voices were arguing up there.

  Listening carefully, Thru began to make sense of the argument. His heart sank when he heard a particularly loud, deep voice break in: "Witch mark! All over her tits!"

  They had captured Simona.

  He made a sign to Juf and continued listening.

  "Well, you fellows may do what you want," the big voice continued, "but I say she's bad luck, and we're better off selling her as untouched as possible. Take her right back to Shasht now and put her into the market. Make up for the lousy fishing we've had."

  "What? And leave that barky out here? She's from that ship, what else do you think?"

  "As well as the thing, the monster?"

  "Well, who knows what the hell it is, but we'll cook it tomorrow and get some use out of it, eh? Haven't had meat in I don't know how long."

  "Hope it's not too tough a chew," said someone.

  "Heh, heh, we tenderized it pretty well, I'd say."

  "Enough! What if we can find that barky? We could be selling a barky and a few more slaves."

  "So we'll look around tomorrow. But I don't see any harm in poking the girl. That's all that's coming for her anyway, once she's sold."

  "Look, if we all use her every day from now until when we get her to the market, she's going to be worn out. If you want good gold for her, then we have to agree to leave her alone."

  "Ach, how often do we get a chance to poke something this good?"

  Thru listened with deepening foreboding. Then he shifted forward to whisper to Juf.

  Shortly afterward, he left the boat and began to climb up the side of the ship's stern. Over his shoulder he took the new bow, with six shafts in a small quiver tied high on his belt.

  Juf remained where he was, hidden under the stern in case any of the crew came on deck.

  The vessel was somewhat smaller than the Sea Wasp. Once Thru could peer over the top of the gunwale, he sized up the situation. The ship was steered by a tiller that ran out to a cockpit set under the foreside of the sterncastle. The small upper deck was bare except for a rail and lines running up to the mast. In the cockpit was the watch, a single man smoking a pipe.

  Upon closer study, Thru realized the watch at the tiller was far more attuned to the argument going on in the big room behind him than to the ship and its surroundings.

  "Witch mark!" yelled another voice down below.

  There was a loud chorus of groans.

  Thru found a useful seam in the outer hull near the gunwale and slid around from the sterncastle to the waist of the ship. He pulled himself over the gunwale and slipped silently into the foresection. The watch had not seen him.

  The fishing boat was a popular type, with a small hold forward for the catch. The man at the tiller guarded the dark entranceway leading to the interior cabins inside the sterncastle. The men arguing over Simona's fate were somewhere behind him. So, most likely, was Simona herself. Thru cast a prayer to the Spirit that she wasn't able to hear their horrible talk.

  Thru's nose twitched. The foul fishy smell was coming from the bow. He moved silently forward. The mainsail was furled, and a long, dark object was hanging from the mast on a line run to the forespit. He frowned and hoped it was not too late.

  By the side of the ship, near a coil of rope, he found the source of the stink, a chum pot the size of a man's head. Thru peered over the side. The water in this cove was deep, and the fishermen had anchored close to the shore. It was no more than forty feet to the narrow strand of moonlit sand. Thru nodded to himself.

  Then he went back to investigate the hanging
object.

  As he had feared, it turned out to be poor Jevvi Panst, strung up by his heels. However, he was not dead. Thru detected a pulse, faint but steady.

  A glance showed him that the man at the tiller was still engrossed in the argument. Emboldened, Thru hunted along the side of the forward hold. He found a sail cache and pulled out a heavy bundle of spare jib sails. Bound up, he imagined, they were not too different in shape from a badly beaten mot hanging by his heels.

  Thru returned to the mast, selected a line that would normally raise a sail, and tied the bag full of jibs to it. Carefully he hauled it up and swung it close to the hanging shape of poor Jevvi.

  When it was parked next to the mot, he tied the line on a cleat at the side rail. He lowered the line bearing Jevvi and slowly laid him out onto the deck. Jevvi sputtered once, then returned to silence. Thru listened to his breathing, slow, shallow, but steady.

  A sudden noise came from the tiller side, a loud grunt, as of disapproval. Thru froze. Had the watch noticed something at last? Thru peered over the nearside sail cache and was reassured. The man had simply reacted to something said in the backroom. Thru returned to his task.

  With Jevvi lowered to the deck, Thru could see more clearly the extent of his injuries. He had been beaten to a pulp. Staying low, Thru pulled Jevvi across the deck to the side while keeping the mast and the pin rail directly between himself and the man at the tiller. Thru dared a quick look over the side.

  Down below, Juf saw him at once and silently moved the boat over so it was directly beneath.

  Thru took hold of Jevvi and lifted him into his arms, then set him on the rail. Jevvi was a deadweight, but lighter than Thru had expected. Working the line through a cleat on the rail, he carefully lowered the injured mot down the side of the fishing ship until he felt Juf take hold. Thru cut the line and tied it off at the cleat.

  Now he slid back toward the man at the tiller, who was turned halfway into the passage so he could hear more clearly what was being said. They were arguing about who would get the first turn with the girl. They had decided that they would all have a turn with her, but then they would leave her be until she was sold at the slave market. A drawing of straws was proposed, then the throwing of dice. Each concept had its supporters.