“By Heryx’s iron yard, I think you’ve broken my arm!” he groaned. “You there, run fetch a chirurgeon! Wine, somebody!”
He emitted a yell as the chirurgeon set his cracked bone. To me he said: “You idiot, now I shall have to fight with my arm in a sling for a month!”
I said: “I am sorry, sir; I did but strive to follow your commands. As we demons say, to err is the common lot of sentient beings.”
Chavral sighed. “I suppose I should not be wroth with you for that. But hereafter, O Zdim, methinks you had better practice by yourself, lest you lay all our warriors low with your lovetaps. You need not concern yourself overmuch with the niceties of fence, for one stout blow apiece ought to do for any foeman you encounter!”
The next cloudy night, the storming party stole down the spiral ramp outside the tower. We wore soft slippers to move silently, and leathern defenses only, because of the noise of metal armor. We bore our weapons in our hands, without scabbards, lest they rattle.
Arrived at the Paaluan ditch, we tossed mattresses, confiscated from the citizens of Ir, into the ditch and had it well-nigh filled ere the foe discovered us. Then we placed a score of short ladders against their stockade and swarmed over while they were still scattered, running hither and thither and shouting the alarm.
Once over the stockade, we rushed the new catapult and piled oil-soaked fascines upon and around it. Some had brought covered buckets filled with hot coals which they now uncovered and emptied on the fascines. In a trice the thing was blazing merrily.
Meanwhile, the Paaluans rallied. Several knots of them, each led by an officer, rushed at us out of the dark. I followed Chavral’s advice, confronting one cannibal after another. As each came at me, I caught his first blow or thrust on my shield and hit him a solid smack with my mace. Sometimes, but not often, a second blow was needed.
Between the feebleness of the Prime Planers and the fact that they are half-blind at night, they presented no tough problem, so long as I took care that one did not come at me from the side or rear while I was engaged with another in front. I was blithely smashing skulls and staving in ribs when I heard a trumpet blow the recall. One of my fellow Irians pulled me by the arm.
“Come on, Zdim!” he shrieked over the hubbub. “You can’t fight the whole army by yourself!”
I ran after the rest. At the stockade, a few Paaluans strove to keep us from recrossing. I ran down the line and smashed them one by one. Then we were running back to the tower and up the spiral stair.
When Segovian lined us up and called the roll, six or seven were missing. They told me that this was not a severe loss, considering the size of the force opposed to us; but we could ill spare any man.
The Paaluans tried to put out the fire, but the effort was hopeless. After the ashes had cooled, they began a third catapult. This time, however, they surrounded the site with a trench, a stockade, and a line of “antlers,” made by whittling tree branches to many points and sinking their butts in the earth. They also mounted a heavy guard over their engine.
###
If none could get out of Ir, one natheless got in. The guard was aroused one dawn by pounding on the small upper portal. Looking over the battlement, they saw a stocky, hairy, naked figure, obviously not a Paaluan. They let him in and brought him before the Syndicate. I was at Roska’s, preparing to go forth on my daily duty with the catapults, when a messenger came for me.
When I entered the Guildhall, a hoarse voice cried: “Zdim!” and I was hugged and pounded by my old friend, the apeman Ungah from Bagardo’s carnival.
“By all the gods of Ning, what do you here?” I asked.
“Was telling these men. When we were auctioned, yeoman named Olvis bought me. Was swinking for him when word came of the invasion. Master Olvis loaded family and self into his cart and set off for Metouro. Told me to save myself; no room in carriage.
“Set out on the same path, but along came troop of Paaluan scouts on bouncers. Ran, but not fast enough, and they caught me with whirl-balls. Threw net over me. Dragged me over stones and through mud to their camp. Would have salted me away, but their wise men had never seen a person like me. Decided to keep me alive to learn what they could.”
“How got you loose?”
Ungah bared his huge yellow teeth. “Chewed my bonds. You hairless ones—not you, Zdim, but these others—have weak jaws and teeth. Strangled guard outside the tent and came away. Wasn’t hard. Was brought up on hunting.
“Made one mistake. Got turned around and found self inside ring of besiegers. The camp was stirring, so I dared not try to get back out. Was telling boss men here why their spies are always caught.”
“Why?”
“Smell. Paaluans have dragon-lizards trained to pick up smells. A smaller land, and guards march about the camp with ’em on a leash, waggling long tongues they smell with.” A strange look came into Ungah’s face, and his little, deep-set eyes opened wide. “By Zevatas’ golden whiskers, just thought of something. Remember how the dragon-lizard in the carnival loved you? I think, because you smell like reptile yourself.”
“Oh, come!” I protested. “I see not why. I keep myself scrupulously clean—”
“Natheless, can smell you a dozen paces away. Novarians can’t smell or else are too polite to say you stink. But you do.”
“So do all Prime Planers,” I said, “but I haven’t complained.”
“No offense,” said Ungah. “Just pointed out, one creature’s perfume is another’s stink. Yours like lizards’.”
“Well, so what? I could hardly charm all the dragons in the Paaluan army.”
“No, but can wriggle through camp and away. If a lizard smelt you, he’d think you were lizard, too.”
The Syndicate argued the proposal for hours. These Prime Planers are the greatest talkers in a hundred universes. Some embraced Ungah’s proposal, but one protested: “Nay; the demon owes us no loyalty. Hell abscond as soon as he gets through the besiegers. That is what I should do.”
“Or,” said another, “he may even go over to the foe.”
“Speak for yourselves,” said Jimmon. “As for his loyalty, have you so soon forgotten the night of the raid on the catapult, when Zdim smote down more cannibals than all the rest of our party together, eh?”
“Without questioning Master Zdim’s character,” said another, “meseems that Master Ungah were a worthier messenger, what of his youth as a wild hunter. Besides, he’s been through the camp once and knows it better than any other wight in Ir.”
“We should have to make it worth his while to carry a message,” said another.
“In any case,” said another, “we must not shillyshally for ay. The supply of food and water will not suffice so long as we had hoped, for the influx of refugees has put an unwonted burthen upon it . . .”
In the end, they voted to ask Madam Roska to command me to undertake a mission to Solymbria, and to ask Ungah at the same time to depart on one to Metouro. They promised him not only freedom but also a generous fee, if he and they both survived.
“I always strive to give satisfaction, gentlemen,” I said. “When do we depart? Tonight? Soonest begun, soonest done, as we demons express it.”
“Not quite yet,” said Jimmon. “We must decide how much to offer the other Novarians and the barbarians for their help. Let’s see, how many of the foe face us?”
“About seven thousand, as nearly as I can estimate,” said Laroldo.
“Then we should ask a relief force of at least equal strength . . .” said another Syndic. Thus began an argument that raged for hours, touching upon such matters as the number of troops required, the proper daily pay for a mercenary, and the probable length of the campaign. Some Syndics were ever trying to trim the amount to be offered, on the ground that they must think of the prosperity of Ir after the defeat of the invaders; others, to raise it, on the ground that the money would do them no good if help could not be had.
At last a compromise was reached. I was to offer
one Irian mark per man per day, plus sixpence a day for each mammoth, with a maximum of a quarter-million marks.
VI
AITHOR OF THE WOODS
The night was as dark as the underside of a boulder—as we say in Ning—when Ungah and I were lowered in slings from the battlements of Ardyman’s Tower in a drizzling rain. Segovian did not wish to open even the small upper portal, lest sound and movement draw the foe’s regard. To be less visible, I turned from my normal slate-gray to black.
At the base of the tower, Ungah gave my arm a hasty squeeze and melted into the night to southward. I skulked around the tower and reached the ditch on the northern side. I sprang down into the fosse and up the far side, such a leap being nothing to a Twelfth Planer.
I paused with my ear to the stockade until I heard the tramp of a Paaluan sentry. Waiting until this sound had died away, I dug my claws into the wood of the palings and crept up and over, moving slowly like some sluggish insect.
Inside, all was quiet. The sentry had vanished. I threaded my way across the space between the inner and outer defenses, weaving between piles of equipment. The outer defenses were only a shoulder-high embankment, with enough of a ditch before it to provide the earth for the embankment.
I almost stumbled across another Paaluan sentry, sitting asleep with his back to one of the piles. With my superior night vision, I had easily seen him had I not come upon him suddenly on rounding a corner.
I could have slain him with a tap of my mace, but attached by a thong to one wrist was one of the smaller dragon-lizards used to smell out foes. As I checked myself, this reptile raised itself on all fours and shot out a long, forked tongue.
I stood as still as a statue, with my skin as black as I could make it. The lizard took a step towards me and ran the tip of its tongue up the shin of my leg. It did this several times, as if it liked me—or at least my smell.
I could not stand there until dawn, being licked by this affectionate dragon. When the creature failed to subside, I began to steal away. The dragon, however, tried to follow me. Its leash pulled on the wrist of the sleeping sentry and woke him. He stared at me and scrambled to his feet with a wild yell.
I hesitated, wondering whether to spring back and slay him or start running. I was trained in reason and logic on my own plane, but reason and logic are of small avail when one must instantly make up one’s mind.
An answering shout made up my mind for me. If the alarm had already been given, it would do no good to pause to destroy this one sentry. The delay might, in fact, prove fatal to me as well. So I sprang over the embankment, leaped the ditch, and sped north. The camp awoke with an angry buzz, as of the nests of certain stinging Prime Plane insects when disturbed. Presently, several Paaluan scouts rode forth on their bouncers, holding torches aloft. The bounding gait of these mounts caused the torches to leave fiery tracks in the dark, like the arches of a bridge across a river.
Both Prime Planers and bouncers, however, are half-blind at night. With my nocturnal vision, I had little trouble in avoiding their hindering dashes. As we demons put it, well begun is half-done.
The countryside north of Ir City was almost deserted. Most of the countryfolk who had not taken refuge in Ir City had fled to Metouro or to Solymbria. The few who did not get away in time had been caught and salted down for future consumption.
I ran all night and most of the next day. In my wallet I had a small map, showing the main roads between Ir and the Ellorna Mountains. In general, though, I ignored the roads and kept as straight a course to northward as I could. I reasoned that Paaluan scouts were more likely to be met on the roads than in the backlands.
Hence I had to scramble over rocky hills, wade through swamps, and push through thickets. These probably cost me all the time I should otherwise have saved by traveling in a straight line. On the other hand, I did not meet any Paaluans.
The obstacles slowed me far less than they would have hampered one of these feeble Prime Planers, who can scarcely run up a steep hill for a few bowshots without having to halt and gasp for breath. Still, whereas we demons are stronger than Prime Planers, we cannot keep up such a pace forever. We must stop betimes, consume a substantial meal, and go into digestive torpor.
At the end of the second day, I came upon a stray sheep, which had so far eluded the Paaluan foragers. I ran the creature down and spent most of the following night devouring it. When I had finished, there was little left besides its skin and bones. I fear my act violated Hwor’s injunction to obey the rules of the Prime Plane; but, as they say, necessity knows no law.
Then I took my torpor. I slept all that day, and the following night. When I awoke, I was astonished to see that the sun was lower in the east than when I went to sleep, until I realized that a day and a night had elapsed.
Not wishing to be so delayed again and still swag-bellied from eating the sheep, I bethought me of other means of transport. If I could ride a horse, for instance, I could reach Solymbria City in one long ride, pausing only when necessary to rest and graze the beast. According to my map, I should soon cross the Solymbrian border.
I cast my eye over hill and dale for a horse. Sure enough, I found one, a stray like the sheep, cropping grass in a dell. It wore a bridle but no saddle.
Having seen Prime Planers ride, I had some idea of how it was done but no practical experience at equitation. On the Twelfth Plane, the animals used for carrying loads are more like those the Prime Planers call tortoises. They plod sedately along, requiring only a modicum of skill to start, guide, and stop. The Prime Plane horse is something else.
But, as the saying is, we know not what we can do until we try.
I started towards this horse, slowly and quietly so as not to alarm the creature. I changed my color to match that of the grass. The horse, however, saw me coming. It rolled an apprehensive eye and trotted off.
I increased my pace, but the horse only trotted faster. I ran; the horse broke into a canter. I ran faster; the horse galloped. I slowed; the horse slowed and presently returned to its grass.
For hours that day I trailed that wretched beast without getting any closer. I bethought me that at least I ought to herd it north wards, towards my ultimate destination, so that the time should not be utterly wasted.
When the sun was low in the west, the horse at last showed signs of fatigue. It was slower in starting away as I approached. By approaching it downwind so that it should not catch my unfamiliar smell, I got close enough for a sudden dash, while its head was down feeding, and leaped upon its back. I closed my legs about its barrel as I had seen Prime Planers do, grasped two handfuls of mane, and hung on.
The instant I landed upon that horse, the creature went wild. It put its head down and began making short, stiff-legged jumps, bounding alternately to right and to left and circling. At the third jump, my grip was torn loose. I flew through the air and crashed into a shrub, with enough force to have slain a Prime Planer outright.
Freed of its rider, the horse galloped off. I dragged myself out of the bush and ran after it. By the time the sun was low, I had caught up once more with the beast, which stood with hanging head and heaving sides.
It took several stalks to get close enough to essay another leap, but I did it. This time I not only wrapped my legs about the animal’s body but also clung to its neck with both arms. The horse again went into its buck-dance, but I clung with more success. That is to say, I did not lose the grip of my legs until its fifth jump. Although cast loose in that quarter, I still clung to its neck. The result was that, as I was hurled through the air, I gave its neck a terrific twist. Hence it lost its balance and fell, partly on top of me.
I clung to the animal’s neck. As it made gasping efforts to breathe, I realized that my grip was shutting off its windpipe. Soon it became quiet, and I was able to seize the bridle.
Since its ribs still heaved, I knew that I had not choked the horse to death. In fact, it presently rolled to its feet and tried to back away, dragging me through dust
and grass after it. I took several nasty knocks from its fore hooves, and it also bit me in the arm. At that, I slapped it hard enough to jar it.
The struggle continued until darkness fell, albeit both contestants neared the limits of their endurance. In the end, the horse was willing to stand quietly and to follow me when I led it about by its bridle. I tethered the bridle firmly to a stout, low branch of a nearby tree and lay down to rest. The horse, I thought, would also need a rest. Moreover, I did not wish to ride it at night, fearing that it would blunder over a cliff or into a slough in the dark.
###
The next day, I began to see signs of human life: unburnt farmsteads with smoke issuing from their chimneys, and a village or two. When I rode the horse in to a village, however, the first Prime Planer to sight me let out a terrified scream.
“The cannibals! The cannibals are coming!” he shouted, running down the main street and flapping his arms like a bird about to take flight. In a trice, all the other folk were running or riding madly away in all directions. I called after them: “Hold! Come back! Fear not! I am a messenger for the Syndicate!”
But they only ran the harder. When all had vanished, I helped myself to some food I found in a shop and rode on.
Where the road crossed the Solymbrian border, I found a customs house and, on a nearby hill, a watch tower, but both were deserted. I carried ambassadorial credentials to get me past Solymbrian soldiers and officials. I had been told to present these documents to the border post before passing on into the archonate, but there was nobody to present them to.
It took me some time to think this matter out. Should I settle down here to await the return of the missing guardians? No, I thought; Ir might fall whilst I dallied. At last I thought: hearing rumors of the invasion, the guardians may have fled to Solymbria City. The best way to carry out my orders was therefore to follow them thither. So I rode on, troubled natheless because I was not obeying my orders in an exact and literal way. On my home plane, we do not give such slipshod commands.
The Fallable Fiend Page 8
