“Aren’t we wandering just a bit?” Zelana suggested. “We won’t know which way the bugs will move until one of the Dreamers gives us that information. I’d say let’s wait. In the light of what happened in my Domain and Veltan’s, we just don’t have enough information to lock anything in stone yet.”
“Zelana’s right, you know,” Veltan agreed. “We can’t be sure of anything until one of the children has one of ‘those’ dreams.”
“May I make a suggestion?” the silver-haired Trogite Narasan asked.
“I’ll listen to anything right now,” Dahlaine replied.
“I’m unfamiliar with the lands of the north and the east, but wouldn’t it make sense to alert the local population to the possibility of an incipient invasion? If the people of both regions know that there’s a distinct possibility that the bug-men will attack, they’ll be able to make some preparations.”
“That makes sense, Aracia,” Dahlaine conceded. “If what happened here and off to the west is any indication of what’s likely to happen in your Domain or mine, the local population will probably play a large part in giving us another victory.”
Aracia glared at her older brother, but she didn’t respond.
Longbow tapped Red-Beard’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go get a breath of fresh air,” he quietly suggested.
“It is just a bit stuffy in here,” Red-Beard agreed. “Lead on, friend Longbow.”
They went on out of the map-room and then some distance along the dimly lit hallway.
“Is it just my imagination or is Zelana’s older sister behaving a bit childishly?” Longbow asked.
“I don’t really know her all that well,” Red-Beard said, “and I think I’d like to keep it that way. It seems to me that she’s got an attitude problem.”
“Or maybe even something worse. Remember what happened back in the ravine? Suddenly, for no reason at all, Zelana jumped up, grabbed Eleria, and flew on back to her grotto on the Isle of Thurn.”
“Oh, yes,” Red-Beard said. “Sorgan almost had a fit when she ran off like that without giving him all that gold she’d promised him. If I remember right, it finally took a bit of bullying by Eleria to bring her back to her senses.”
“I don’t know very much about Aracia,” Longbow admitted, “but I’m starting to catch a strong odor of irrationality in her vicinity. Her mind doesn’t seem to work anymore.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Longbow,” Red-Beard disagreed. “It might just be working very well. From what I’ve heard, anybody in her Domain who doesn’t want to do honest work joins the priesthood and spends all his time adoring her.”
“That’s what I’ve heard too.”
“Soldiering is one kind of honest work, isn’t it?”
“Not as hard as farming is, maybe, but it’s still harder than adoring somebody.”
“If that’s the way things are in her Domain, doesn’t that sort of suggest that she doesn’t have anything at all like an army over there? Wouldn’t that explain why she wants all the soldiers Zelana and Veltan hired to come on over to her territory to protect her if the bug-people decide to come her way?”
“Very good, Red-Beard,” Longbow said. “Maybe she’s not quite as irrational as it might seem. If her Domain is totally undefended, she’ll need just about everybody with a sword or a bow to come there to protect her. It’s very selfish, of course, but I don’t think that would bother her. She seems to believe that she’s the most important thing in the whole world, so from her way of looking at things, we’re all obliged to rush to her defense.”
“There’s not much that we can do about it right now, friend Longbow—except possibly to suggest to Zelana that she’d better keep a close eye on her big sister.”
“I’m sure that Zelana already knows about her sister’s peculiarities, but we might want to caution Sorgan and Narasan about this.”
“You’re probably right. Should we go on back and listen to the screaming? Or would you rather go fishing?”
The squabbling of Dahlaine and Aracia continued for another half hour or so, and then Ara, Omago’s beautiful wife, joined them on the balcony of the map-room. “Supper’s ready,” she announced.
“That’s just about the best news I’ve heard all day,” Sorgan Hook-Beak declared. “Let’s go eat before everything gets cold.”
They all trooped on down the hallway to Veltan’s impromptu dining-room. That was one of the characteristics of the elder gods that Red-Beard had never fully understood. There was a certain practicality involved in their lack of a need for sleep, for if some kind of emergency came up, a sleeping god might not be able to deal with it. But Red-Beard couldn’t for the life of him see why they didn’t eat. They didn’t need nourishment, of course, but there was more to eating food than just satisfying the grumbling in the belly. Dinners in particular were generally a social event that brought people closer together and smoothed over various disagreements. Red-Beard was almost positive that the elaborate dining-room in Veltan’s house hadn’t even been there before the outlanders had arrived, and he was fairly sure that the dining-room Veltan had added to his house had originally been Ara’s idea. Omago’s wife was quite probably the best cook in the entire world, but she was wise enough to know that getting people together and establishing friendships was even more important than eating. There were several peculiarities about Ara that Red-Beard didn’t fully understand—yet.
He was still working on it, though.
Oddly, Veltan and Zelana were accompanying them to the dining-room. Since they didn’t need—or want—food, they obviously had something else on their minds.
The conversation at the dinner table was fairly general, but after they’d all eaten—more than they really needed, of course—Zelana and Veltan took Sorgan and Commander Narasan aside and spoke with them at some length.
Red-Beard nudged his friend Longbow after supper. “I could be wrong about this, I suppose, but I think Zelana and Veltan might have come up with a way to make peace in their family, and it’s probably going to involve Sorgan and Narasan.”
“What a peculiar sort of idea,” Longbow murmured.
“You saw it too, didn’t you?”
“It was just a bit obvious, friend Red-Beard. I think it might disappoint Holy Aracia a little, though.”
“What a shame,” Red-Beard said with a broad grin.
“That’s a nasty sort of thing to say.”
“So beat me.”
When they returned to the map-room, Sorgan Hook-Beak cleared his throat as a sort of indication that he was about to make a speech. “Narasan and I talked this over, and I think we might have come up with a way to deal with the problem that’s been nagging at us here lately,” he announced. “Since we can’t be certain exactly where the bug-people will strike next, we’ll have to cover both possibilities. Since Lord Dahlaine’s territory is farther away than his sister’s is, Narasan and I pretty much agreed that I should cover that part of the Land of Dhrall—not because my men are better warriors, but because our ships move faster than Narasan’s can. Of course, that’s why we built them that way. Chasing down Trogite ships and robbing them is the main business in the Land of Maag, but we can talk about that some other time. Since my people will cover the north, Narasan’s will cover the east.” He gestured down toward Veltan’s “lumpy map.” “If that map’s anywhere at all close to being accurate, it’ll only take Narasan’s fleet a few days to reach Lady Aracia’s territory, and he can protect that region. That means that we’ll have people in place to hold the bug-people back in either the east or the north, and our employers can zip from here to there in no time at all. If the attack strikes the east, I’ll sail on down around the south end and join up with Narasan in just a couple of weeks. But, if the bug-people come north, my people will be able to hold them back until Narasan arrives to help me. When we add the horse soldiers in the north and the women warriors in the east, we’ll have enough people to bring any bug invasion to a stop. Then, when
the rest of our friends arrive, we’ll be able to stomp all over the invaders and win the third war here in the Land of Dhrall.”
“It’ll be something on the order of the way we handled things before the war in Lady Zelana’s Domain,” Narasan added. “There’ll be enough of our people in either region to hold off the invasion until our friends can join us. Then we’ll move directly on to stomp-stomp.”
“What a clever way to put it, Narasan,” Sorgan observed.
“I’ve always had this way with words,” Narasan replied modestly.
“I don’t want to intrude here,” the scar-faced Ekial said, “but how are we going to get my people—and their horses—up to Lord Dahlaine’s territory? Horses can run fast, but probably not quite fast enough to gallop across the top of the sea.”
“I think I know how we can do that,” Narasan said. “Gunda’s got that little fishing yawl that almost knows how to fly. He can take you on down to Castano and hire ships. Then the two of you can sail on over to Malavi and pick up your men and horses. Then you’ll go north to Lord Dahlaine’s territory.”
“I think that maybe I should go with them, Commander,” Veltan added. “When you hire Trogite ships, you need gold, and I know of a few ways to keep that much gold from sinking Gunda’s yawl.”
“I think we’ve pretty much solved all the problems now,” Narasan said, looking around at the others. “When do you think we should start?”
“Have you got anything on the fire for tomorrow?” Sorgan asked him.
“Not that I can think of,” Narasan replied.
“Tomorrow it is, then,” Sorgan announced.
Red-Beard had been watching Zelana’s sister rather closely as Sorgan and Narasan smoothly cut the ground out from under her. It was quite clear that she wanted to protest, but the two clever outlanders hadn’t left her much to complain about. She obviously still wanted all of the outlanders to go east to protect her Domain, but Sorgan and Narasan—at Zelana’s and Veltan’s suggestion, evidently—had dismissed any protest she could raise.
“I don’t know if you’ve been watching, friend Red-Beard,” Longbow said quietly, “but doesn’t it seem to you that the warrior queen called Trenicia is staying very close to Commander Narasan, and she appears to be very impressed by him.”
“Do you think it’s possible that she’s having those kind of thoughts about dear old Narasan?” Red-Beard asked.
“I couldn’t say for sure,” Longbow replied, “but that would be a very interesting sort of thing to crop up along about now, wouldn’t you say?”
“Not as long as my head was on straight, I wouldn’t.”
2
At first light the following morning, the farmers of Veltan’s Domain began carrying large amounts of food down to the beach to stock the ships of the two fleets. There was a steely quality about that early-morning light that always made Red-Beard’s instincts seem more intense. “This might be a good day for hunting,” he said to Longbow as they watched the farmers come down the hill.
“I don’t think Veltan would like it much if you started shooting arrows at his farmers,” Longbow replied.
“Funny, Longbow, very funny,” Red-Beard said. “There’s something about this first light before the sun comes up that always makes me feel that this might be one of those perfect days—you know, a day when nothing can go wrong.”
Longbow looked up at the still colorless sky. “You might be right, friend Red-Beard,” he agreed, “and if you’re very lucky, things won’t start to fall apart until midmorning.” He looked out at the ships of the Trogites and Maags. “It’s likely to take them most of the morning to load all that food on their ships,” he said. “Let’s go talk with Zelana and find out if there’s something she wants us to do before we leave Veltan’s territory.”
Zelana and her two brothers were watching the farmers from a hilltop some distance back from the beach when Red-Beard and Longbow joined them.
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, baby brother,” Zelana told Veltan, “but I think you might want to consider a bit of ‘tampering’ to get Gunda and Ekial down to Castano as quickly as possible. We won’t know for sure exactly where the creatures of the Wasteland will mount their next attack until one of the children starts dreaming. It’s only a short distance from here to Aracia’s Domain; so Narasan should arrive there in just a few days, and it’s just a short voyage from Aracia’s temple to the Isle of Akalla where Trenicia’s warriors live. It’s much farther from here to Dahlaine’s Domain. Sorgan’s ships are fast enough to reach that part of the Land of Dhrall in plenty of time, but you’ll be spending quite a few days in Castano hiring Trogite ships and more days sailing on down to the land of the Malavi. Then you’ll have the long voyage from there to Dahlaine’s country on those wallowing Trogite ships.”
“I’m very good at tampering, dear sister,” Veltan told her with a faint smile. “Mother Sea is lovely at this time of the year, and I’m sure that the Malavi will enjoy their voyage enormously, but sightseeing isn’t really all that important right now, so we’ll hit a few high spots and hustle right along. It’s going to seem to Ekial’s Malavi that big brother’s Domain isn’t really all that far north when they get there, but that’s not particularly important.” Then he turned to look at his older brother. “Will the local people in your Domain be at all useful if the creatures of the Wasteland decide to go north?”
“The natives of the Tonthakan region are fairly good archers,” Dahlaine replied. “Their territory’s very much like sister Zelana’s Domain, so the Tonthakans are primarily hunters. The central region, Matakan, is open grassland and the game animals there are bison. They’re quite a bit larger than the deer in the forest, and their fur’s a lot thicker. Arrows wouldn’t be too effective against animals like that, so the Matans use spears rather than bows and arrows.”
“Wouldn’t that limit the effective range?” Longbow asked.
“Bison aren’t as timid as deer are,” Dahlaine explained. “They don’t panic the way deer do. The Matans use what they call ‘spear-throwers’ to increase the range.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a ‘spear-thrower,’” Red-Beard admitted. “How does it work?”
“Basically, it’s an extension of the hunter’s arm. It’s a stick with a cup on the end. The hunter sets the butt-end of the spear in that cup, and then he whips the stick forward. The added length increases the leverage, and it nearly doubles the range of the spear. The stone spearhead’s quite a bit heavier than your arrowheads are, so it cuts through the fur and the thick skin of the bison. It sounds just a bit crude and primitive, but it does keep the Matans eating regularly. You’ll probably have an opportunity to see how well it works when we get there.”
“Isn’t there a third region up there as well?” Veltan asked.
Dahlaine made a sour face. “I should have done something about Atazakan quite some time ago, but I’ve been just a bit busy here lately. The Atazaks have an elevated opinion of themselves—which probably derives from what’s referred to in that region as ‘the royal family.’ I’ve never had occasion to study the notion of ‘hereditary insanity,’ but the term seems to fit in the case of Atazakan. The current chief, leader, king—whatever—is totally crazy. He’s absolutely convinced that he’s a god, and that I’m just a usurper, and that I’m trying to steal what’s rightfully his.”
“Oh?” Zelana said. “What is this precious thing you’ve filched, Dahlaine?”
“The world, of course—or possibly the entire universe.”
“Why don’t the citizens just remove him—with knife or axe?” Red-Beard asked.
“Because he has thousands of guards,” Dahlaine replied. “I’d say that every third man in Palandor is a member of what Holy Emperor Azakan calls ‘the Guardians of Divinity’—which gives those ‘guardians’ an easy life. About all they have to do is stand around scowling threateningly at sunrise and sunset.”
“What’s the weather like up there?” Red-Be
ard asked.
“Autumn isn’t too bad,” Dahlaine replied. “There’s a warm stream of water out in Mother Sea that modifies the autumn weather, but it sort of veers off at the end of autumn, and things get very cold. Blizzards go on for weeks at a time, and the spring thaw comes much later there than in the rest of the Land of Dhrall. Summers are fairly nice, but every now and then we get spells of bad weather. Huge storms build up in the sea to the east of my Domain, and they come screaming in to hit the coast of Atazakan.” He smiled faintly. “Holy—or crazy—Azakan always tries to order those storms to go away, but they never seem to listen for some reason.”
“Storms don’t ever seem to listen, big brother,” Zelana said. “When Mother Sea gets grouchy, it’s time to take cover.”
“Fortunately we should be near the end of what the people of Matakan call ‘the whirlwind season.’”
“My people call those storms ‘cyclones,’” Veltan noted, “probably because of the way they spin around.”
“We don’t see those very often in my part of the Land of Dhrall,” Zelana said.
“You’re lucky, then,” Dahlaine replied. “Those spinning windstorms tend to rip things all to pieces. They’re fairly common in Matakan, because that region doesn’t have very many mountainous ridges to disrupt them. The Matans usually take shelter underground.”
“Caves?” Longbow asked.
“Not exactly. The Matans dig deep cellars with thick roofs, and when they see a whirlwind coming, they all go underground to sit it out.”
Rabbit came up from the beach at that point. “The Cap’n told me to tell you that the Seagull’s ready to go whenever you say it’s all right,” the clever little ironsmith said.
“Tell him that we’ll be along in just a few minutes,” Dahlaine said. Then he looked at his brother and sister. “We could probably go on ahead,” he told them, “but it might be better if we stayed with the Maags. They’ll want directions, and we can give them information they’ll probably need before long while we’re sailing on up to my Domain. It’s going to take quite a while to get there—even on those fast Maag longships—so we might as well use that time to our advantage.”
Crystal Gorge: Book Three of the Dreamers Page 2
