Savage Scorpio dp-16

by Alan Burt Akers

  Chapter Eleven

  Of Weapons and Colors — and the Scorpion

  “In Aphrasoe you will find only death!”

  Threats of that kind had little effect on our company — By Krun! they had no effect whatsoever. We were a roughneck, reckless, harebrained bunch, and with the end of our long journey in sight, any tension that might have been expected did not show itself as these tough warriors — old and young — skylarked and joked, treating the whole expedition as a giant escapade put on for their especial benefit. Concern over the life of the emperor had sensibly diminished now we were so close to the Pool of Baptism where he would be cured.

  No doubts or thoughts of failure entered anyone’s head.

  The laggard burs flew past. The large island on which Aphrasoe was situated rose out of the sea before us as the Suns of Scorpio rose, blinding in their opaz radiance, streaming their mingled lights of jade and ruby across the sea and the black mass ahead. What perils awaited us there, in that mysterious island?

  No sense in anticipating problems; they would find us quickly enough. So, thoughtfully, competently, like the old professional fighting hands we were, we prepared for what the future might bring. Over the coast we soared. The sea and the land looked like any sea and land ought to look — and yet, and yet this was the island of the Savanti!

  Somewhere on this island I had for the very first time been dumped down on Kregen. Floating along the Sacred River Aph in a leaf boat, with only an enormous scorpion for crew. That was long and long ago, by Zair — before I even knew of Zair, or the Krozairs — or Delia.

  The powers of the superhuman Savanti were immense, unknown, frightening. I made up my mind for the umpteenth time that we must fly straight for the Pool, following the course of the River Zelph rather than the Aph, cure the emperor, and then high tail it out of Aphrasoe, if we could. There would be no hanging about, no stopping for Lahals with the Savanti. I would not go swinging in the Swinging City. There was too much at stake — and, anyway, I had found my paradise elsewhere. Well, men grow corn for Zair to reap, as they say. Again and again I went over the plan. Delia knew what it was necessary to do at the Pool itself. All my magnificent fighting men — aye! and their ladies also — knew what must be done. So we flew through the brightening morning air and the red and the green mingled and fused into that glorious opaline radiance, streaming golden and clean from Antares through the sweet air of Kregen. The coastline itself trended away and showed no sign that we could see of life or habitation, and we saw not one sail. But, as we flew inland, the ground swarmed with life. I own I felt amazement. Down there, as we flew over, huge herds of animals in myriad forms of animal life grazed and ran and heaved in a long rolling sea of heaving rumps and wicked upflung horns. We hung over the rails and watched the hunters, leem and graint, chavonth and strigicaw, a whole mad medley of the savage animals of Kregen, all roaming the plains and valleys and jungly defiles below. Just about every kind of animal I had encountered on Kregen passed below, and many more that I saw there for the first time. Kregen is so marvelous a world and so populated with wonders that it is sometimes difficult to remember that this incredible Earth of ours has probably almost as vast a range of different forms. But on Kregen the varieties have been wildly intermingled, and the artful hand of artificial genetic breeding has been at work, and the combinations of animals — and humans — appear much more startling. Wild animals would from time to time cross the high passes of the craggy mountain ring that surrounds and protects the Swinging City. I had hunted graint with the Savanti, carefully packing them up and sending them back over the mountains unharmed. Now I saw the reality of the enormous profusion of life. It seemed that examples of every kind of animal sported below.

  Oby licked his lips. “What a sight!” he stared down, hungrily.

  “We shall not starve, that is sure,” said Turko. “Seg with his great bow could feed us single handed.”

  Vegetarianism is known and practiced on Kregen; but if a man is starving and a fat deer passes by -

  well, a man must live unless he wishes to surrender to the fate high ideals may bring. It is an argument that continues.

  “Look!” yelled Oby. And then, as I had taught him, amplifying any sighting report: “Rapas! A whole village of ’em!”

  We soared over the Rapa village, and the vulture-headed diffs barely bothered to glance up at our vollers. We passed over other communities of diffs: Chuliks, and Ochs, Brokelsh, Khibils, Fristles, of Blegs and Numims, of Pachaks and Undurkers. As we sailed on over the vastly extensive expanses below we passed many and many a village and town inhabited by one or another of the races of Kregen. Now this, as you will surmise, puzzled me mightily. I also noticed, and thought I was not mistaken, that the people down there would not look up at us, were frightened to look up, as though the sight of a flying craft in the sky would damn and doom them.

  But nothing must stand in our way. Nothing. We flew on.

  Mountains rose in a white dazzlement ahead.

  I shook my head as Delia glanced at me.

  “I think not. They do not wear the same appearance as the mountains ringing the Swinging City.”

  Vangar spread out the maps. He sucked in his cheeks.

  “I would suggest, my prince, that in those mountains yonder rises this fabulous River Zelph.”

  I felt very conscious that we were a band exploring unknown territory. But I agreed with Vangar. “And we follow that river down. We do not deviate.”

  Then it was time for those closest, who would be in command, as it were, to come across from their own fliers and to sit with us to a sumptuous meal in Delia’s voller. We looked after ourselves, for we had brought the minimum number of servants; of slaves, of course, there was no sign. When the palines in their silver dishes were being passed around Nath the Needle came in. He looked grave. We quieted our quick talk at once.

  “My prince!” he began. “My princess!” My heart sank. “The emperor is sinking. All my art-” He spread his hands in self-disgust at his own lack of skill.

  At once, bravely, Delia said: “You have done all you can, Nath. How soon — is it — can you tell?”

  Before Nath could answer, I, foolish and loving, burst in with: “Sink me! We’ll reach the Pool before your father is any worse. He will be well again and then we’ll fly back to Vondium. I’m waiting to see the faces of those rasts who tried to poison him.”

  “Aye!” said Seg, forcefully. “That Ashti Melekhi will get one almighty shock, as Erthyr the Bow is my witness.”

  I took comfort from Seg’s words. He does not often swear on the name of the Supreme Being of Erthyrdrin.

  The others broke in, also, roundly declaring we’d reach the Pool well in time. I warmed to them. Comrades, all! If any power of mortal man or woman could get the Emperor of Vallia to the Pool of Baptism, then, surely, that power flew here with me!

  Nath nodded, saying: “I think there will be time. .”

  I stood up, crushing down a last paline and I looked around the table on my comrades. I felt the silly, choked up feeling that betrays me for a weakling. But I spoke up harshly enough, grating the words out. Believe me, I did not overlook the fact that the emperor could easily die before we could save him. Then I would have to return to Vallia and take charge. I fancied I would have to do that, although detesting the work. Some men I knew would be amazed that I did not throw the emperor overboard at once and sail back to claim the throne. And, there was no guarantee in this bitter life that any rescue could succeed. Had I not raced to save my daughter Velia? Had I not failed?

  So I spoke pungently to the assembled company, knowing they would pass my words onto everyone in the expedition.

  “Remember. Nothing must stop us from winning through to the Pool. Once the emperor is cured, we may return. No casualty must deter us. Let no man, beast, god or wizard stand in our way. Nothing!”

  They roared at this, determined, dedicated, and Nath the Needle, looking at me, nodded as if to say that, wel
l, perhaps his hopes were strong enough, the Emperor would live. And, as for me — brave bluff words from an inspired leader? Onkerish words from an onker of onkers, a get onker? Reaction to my own dark thoughts? But, all in the fullness of time, I suppose, every man gets his comeuppance. I am not too sure about women, though. .

  Of only one thing I remained sure. These my comrades would get through to the Pool of Baptism if it was humanly possible. No matter what happened, they’d go on. After the emperor was cured the Savanti might rail — the deed would be done.

  With a few final words that reinforced my orders — for, make no mistake, what I told this roaring reckless rout of ruffians to do was an order, hard and incisive — we parted to kit up for the final run in to the Pool.

  We must go well-armed and accoutred, for I did not forget the ravening monsters Delia and I had met on the struggle to reach the sacred grove and the rocky overhang and the Pool. In our stateroom Delia pulled out the long length of brilliant scarlet cloth. Well, now. . I made myself smile, and smiling always comes easily for me with my Delia, and I said, lightly: “The scarlet of Strombor and the yellow cross of my Clansmen — yes, my heart, I think it appropriate, for they are the colors of Vallia, also.”

  “And the orange and grey of your fearsome Djangs.”

  “Our fearsome Djangs. Of course. And the red and white of Valka. And, for the place grows dearer to me, the yellow and blue of Zamra. I think,” I said, twisting up the scarlet around my waist and drawing it through my legs and tucking the end securely in, and then picking up the broad lesten-hide belt with the dull silver buckle. “I rather think we look like popinjays, these latter times.”

  She laughed; but she, too, understood the importance of colors and badges and signs. In the midst of the dust and hurly burly of a battle, a man needs a flag to rally to. Colors and badges tell you whom to kill and whom not to kill. That is a matter of importance for anyone, and particularly to anyone who wishes to live for very long on Kregen. So my Delia laughed at my words; but her thoughts were with the sick man, her father. I chided her.

  “Once he is well again we will fly back to Vallia. There all those who sought to profit by his death will receive the nasty shock Seg and the others promise. There are loyal people in Vallia, still-”

  “Oh, yes. But few, I think, very few.”

  “Once the emperor is seen to be fit and well the waverers will suddenly realize what side they are on. Anyway,” I went on with a rush of confidence, “this new Chief Pallan your father has brought forward to such power, this Kov Layco; he will keep things running while we are away. He has shown a misjudgment of character in appointing Ashti Melekhi — but that will be forgiven him, I daresay, if he is as skilled and clever as is said.”

  “He is clever, no doubt of that. I try to like him.”

  “Oh?”

  “You are so often away, Dray. It is difficult. Once it is all settled you will tell me this dread secret that you feel will — will — I tremble to say it — will come to-”

  “Do not say it, my heart. Nothing can destroy our love.” I believed it, passionately. “But I do fear to tell you. I feel — I feel the burden I shall impose on you is-” My thoughts were muddled. I had kept putting off and putting off telling Delia of my origins. To her, I was a savage clansman, with a strange underspirit that did not come from the plains of Segesthes. But — Earth! How could I tell her I came from a star in the sky she could barely make out? How could she possibly believe in a world which possessed only one sun? What sense was there in a world with only one moon! And, how could any sensible person of Kregen believe in a world that contained only apims as men and women, where diffs were unknown? My story would be taken as the ravings of a madman. I ploughed on somehow: “You will find it hard to believe me. But I shall tell the truth. I swear it. I swear it by Zair.”

  “I shall believe-”

  Turning for the arms rack I groped around and took up the scabbarded Krozair longsword with the plain strappings that would secure it to my back, the hilt comfortably jutting over my shoulder by the blue-fletched arrow shafts.

  I remember, through the maze of impending agony through which I would have to go in trying to convince Delia and my family that I was not a raving lunatic, I sought a little tawdry comfort in thinking of ordinary things. I thought I would have to see about a proper supply of the rose-red feathers of the Zim korf for my Archers of Valka, and I also remember thinking I was growing far too accustomed to wearing the longsword sticking up over my back instead of jutting almost parallel with the ground at my left side. I was thinking I would like to see my new aerial cavalry of Valka mounted on flutduins performing against those rascally flutsmen. A torrent of vague thoughts poured through my mind. So I turned again to pick up the superb shortsword Hap Loder had brought me, a present from the Clansmen of Viktrik, the new clan who had given me obi, a blade built in Zenicce to the very highest standards, a blade to shame any Genodder of the Eye of the World, and I took the chunkrah-hide and gold scabbard up into my hand and a red and brown scorpion, glinting, ran from under the arms rack. I felt sick.

  A scorpion!

  Symbol of the forces of the Savanti or the Star Lords, symbol of those powers that could hurl me about Kregen or banish me back to Earth, contemptuously tossing me about like a puppet, that scorpion stood on its eight hairy legs, waving its vicious stinging tail at me in admonishing authority. Not now! Please Zair! Not now!

  But the blue haze dropped upon me, and I felt the coldness, striking through like the clammy hand of Death himself, and the scorpion grew and bloated, radiant with the blue fire, and everything spun away in two worlds, and engulfed in agony I fell into nothingness.

  Chapter Twelve

  Strife Among the Star Lords

  This nothingness differed from those other nauseating nothingnesses in which I had suffered so often before.

  Always, so it seemed to me, I had been snatched away by the blue-limned radiance of the scorpion, caught up, whirled through nothingness, spun through an achingly cold void, smashed down with a hint of the red fire of Antares, slapped head over heels, all naked like a newborn infant, sent toppling helplessly into a new world.

  But, this time. .

  A difference.

  I was stark naked, and that I expected.

  I was no longer in the voller and that, too, I expected.

  I tried to open my eyes and realized they were open. I could see and yet, seeing, see nothing. The hint of echoes, as of the rushing of a distant torrent far below ground, pent between eon-old walls never opened to sunlight. . The whisper of insane voices cackling over the edge of a world, pringling clammily against my skin. . I felt the coldness touch me, and ebb, and return. I saw — I saw blue whorls of light gyrating, and, across them and irradiating them with wheels of crimson, red streaks of fire pulsating. The blue was a pale, luminescent blue, and the sharp blue and the crimson struggled for supremacy. And — green! An ominous tinge of green washed across the lower corner of the firmament, clashing with the struggling blue and crimson.

  Where had I see blue and crimson before, recently? My head rang with soundless echoes. I struggled, and did not move.

  The sky colors fought and writhed, waxed and waned.

  Yellow! Where was the yellow of Zena Iztar?

  I bellowed out: “Zena Iztar!” and only a dolorous croak passed my lips, my corded throat bursting with effort, a croak like a frog with hernia.

  Blue of that brilliant beckoning luminosity was the color used by both the Savanti and the Star Lords when they sent the Scorpion after me. Yellow had been used triumphantly by Zena Iztar, as I believed, to save me. As for that mysterious woman, who on Earth called herself Madam Ivanovna, I knew nothing

  — or practically nothing. She came and went at her own whim. Glorious she was, aye, that is true. She showed no fear of the Star Lords or the Savanti; but if she worked for them or against them, or for one or the other, I did not know.

  I fell.

  As I fe
ll I remembered — remembered Zena Iztar and the Kroveres of Iztar, and the crimson flag and the blue device.

  I fell. All naked and bruised, I fell into a thorn-ivy bush and I cursed by the foul anatomy of Makki-Grodno. What was happening I had no idea; all I wanted to do was get back to the voller and Delia and go cure her father.

  By an effort of will I had succeeded in erecting a kind of structure of deceits so as partially to mollify the anger of the Star Lords. I had managed to convince them I should stay on Kregen and not be dispatched to Earth. I had also, after some success along the way, like an onker resisted them, willfully, and so been banished to Earth for twenty-one horrendous years.

  Resistance might once again cause another banishment.

  What Maspero, my tutor in the Swinging City, had told me did make a kind of sense. He had said:

  “Only by the free exercise of your will can you contrive the journey.” That journey had taken me for the first time from Earth — I was literally up a tree at the time, being chased by savages — to sail my leaf boat down the sacred River Aph and after the welcome departure of the scorpion crew to discover a little of what life on Kregen was like and how I would measure up to it — and at last so reach Aphrasoe. Could the Savanti not draw me at will, then? Their monstrous creature in the sacred Pool of Baptism had flung me back to Earth, and it had been the Everoinye, the Star Lords, who had picked me to labor for them about their mysterious purposes on Kregen.

  So I exerted my will.

  I roared it out, and produced only a croaking sighing like a pair of bellows shot through by musketry. “I will stay on Kregen! I will rejoin my wife in the voller! You have no powers over me, Star Lords! Savanti

  — I would have worked joyously for you; but you disdained me! Why torture me now? Why?”

  And, all the time, I looked for the welcome yellow to gush up among the gyrating colors staining the firmament, and no yellow came.