The Wanderer's Tale

by David Bilsborough

  Word spread like wildfire, and soon crowds of onlookers were thronging the narrow streets and marketplaces. Faces peered out of windows, gliders swooped low, and before long there was a steady stream of traffic moving along ledges, walkways and bridges at every level. Those on the ground, though, kept a respectful but obvious distance, which though at first was welcome to Gapp, soon, oddly enough, he began to find slightly irksome.

  During his progress through their town Gapp was able to get a better look at the Vetterym. (He had already become used to their scent, a musty, meaty odour that seemed both human and animal at the same time.) Now that he could see so many of them all together, he began to notice differences. The ones that had brought him here were mostly fully grown adults and probably all male, but there were clearly as many types of Vetter as there were types of human. Clothing clearly defined one’s standing in this society; some wore short fur capes, with perhaps a belt or pouch; others were almost fully clothed; others still were naked, displaying a full coat of body hair in an infinite variety of colour, length, thickness and style.

  (It came as little surprise to Gapp to see that the ones that appeared to be held in the lowest esteem of all were those with patchy curls of red hair. Some things, it seemed, were the same the world over.)

  There were even one or two heavier ones wearing a variety of light armour consisting of a leather tabard embellished with crudely fashioned rings and plates of bronze.

  He was just starting to get used to the idea of Vetters themselves when Gapp realized that these exotic creatures shared their world with other outlandish races. A group of much taller figures now came pushing through the crowds, bobbing strangely as they proceeded. At first he did not know what he was seeing, but as they drew nearer he could see that these newcomers made the Vetters look almost normal by comparison.

  What were they? Gapp screwed up his eyes and halted his escort. What by Jugg’s Udders were those things?

  Taller than any man, these creatures looked more and yet at the same time less like humans than did the Vetterym. From the neck upwards they were more or less man-like; like a cross between a long-faced Polg and a rat-faced human, they had light-brown, hairless skin that was finely needled with tattoos, long, straight black hair and a fine goatee-beard. In addition they had a growth of curly brown hair encircling neck and throat and, strikingly, a single black ivory horn, as long and sharp as a scimitar, protruding straight up from the forehead.

  Below the neck, though, was where it all started to get really weird. The torso was basically like that of a man, but it sloped out forward from the hips and started to look like some kind of herd animal. Though with only two legs, these resembled closely the hind legs of a deer, long and powerful, with three velvet toes on great splayed feet. The arms were more human-looking but terminated in only three big clumsy fingers, as if they could double up as an extra pair of legs when greater speed was needed.

  Finally, they possessed huge, muscular, rodent-like tails that looked as if they could break a man’s spine with one flick.

  Those creatures peered down upon both the boy and his dog companion through slitted eyes, and began gabbling amongst themselves like asses. They pounded the ends of their spears upon the ground in agitation, and one or two of them began to push a little too close for comfort.

  Gapp was becoming decidedly fraught. He had barely had time to get over his horrifying experience with the Jordiske, and all the weirdness since then, together with this undercurrent of pointy-spear violence, had brought him close to the end of his tether. Within the first few minutes of entering this town, his mind had gradually retreated into some kind of dream-like state from which he could observe everything in detached safety, as though reading a storybook. But the crowds and the mood were becoming too intense, bringing his real world sharply back into focus. He put a reassuring hand upon the shoulder of the forest hound at his side, but that reassured neither himself nor Shlepp. The hound, even less used to crowds than he was, and who clearly hated all the lights, smoke and congestion, made a few defensive lunges at the onlookers. It was all snarls, bared teeth and raised hackles really, intended only to keep them at arm’s length, but it immediately invoked a flurry of hostility, especially amongst the horn-heads. It was all the boy could do to restrain the animal before they attacked him.

  More than anything, Gapp now wished he had the meditation-wheel with him rather than this great snarling beast.

  Just as things were getting ugly, Gapp and Shlepp were hurried away, and after much jostling and growling from their escorts, finally left the ground – and the bulk of the crowd – below. A narrow, creaking staircase wound up and around the trunk of a huge tree and took them high up amid its boughs.

  Everywhere around him Gapp could see ledges and platforms, some ringing the entire trunk, others merely jutting out like giant fungal growths. Rope bridges connected every bough, fragile-looking things that hung precariously. Huts nestled in the crook of the major boughs, squatted upon sturdy platforms or hung suspended from ‘living ropes’. There seemed to be no end to the ways in which the Vetterym had endeavoured to create the most ingenious, elaborate town that their cunning little minds could conceive.

  They came eventually to a herbalist’s stall located on a small platform, but hurried on without delay, for its occupants drooled and grinned too widely, and kept trying to touch not only the newcomers but their escort too. Gapp was reminded of the more imbecilic Peladanes seen on weekend nights at Wintus Hall.

  Out onto a rope bridge they came. Swaying alarmingly, they were led up and along this towards the top of a conical termite-mound pinnacle, where the other end of the bridge was anchored. This pinnacle was clearly the hub of a concourse of walkways, ledges and other rope bridges that radiated out from it like strands of silk. It was also taking them, Gapp could not help but notice, rather high up and, as his weak eyes gazed at the many pathways that fanned out from its centre, all hung with twinkling lamps and torches, it seemed to him that he was entering an impossible spider’s web of dazzling light, while he, the fly, was plucking its strings upon this bouncing bridge.

  The remaining crowd were, as ever, right behind him.

  From this focal concourse they continued along a new bridge, this time a construction of timber suspended on thick ropes. This rickety and swaying thoroughfare climbed up to a lip-like promontory of rock halfway up the cliff-face of an enormous karst, and straight into the cave mouth beyond. Deep into the karst their route continued, into a labyrinth of passages all brightly lit, lined with homes and workshops, and thronged with yet more staring Vetters.

  Ever upwards they went, until finally they came out onto the table-top plateau crowning the summit of the karst. Gapp breathed in the fresh, fragrant air deeply, and looked around. And stopped breathing.

  No, he thought in slow awe, that pinnacle-concourse is not the centre of this world at all . . .

  He could see that little anthill way below, now no more than a nub of rock amid a web of lights. This had to be the centre of all things in Vetterhome, and he stared all around him at the most surreal and wonderful place that any man would ever see.

  Right at the bottom and encircling the entire town he could just about make out the great dark line of the tree-and-fence barricade. Beyond that all was darkness, but within light shone from every house, hut and highway within the stockade, not just at ground level or from the trees and knolls rising above them – though still far below – but from the karsts that rose far above even these, and from all around him, and then further up still towards the enormous trees that grew upon this lofty plateau; and amidst these, soaring up to heights that craned the neck painfully, was a single pinnacle of rock that struck upwards into the heavens like a spike in a crown: the highest point in Vetterhome.

  Though no book had ever mentioned any place like this, nor any skald or traveller spoken of it, had they tried to do so their words would have failed utterly to do it justice.

  Compared with this
fabulous place, Gapp’s hometown of Nordwas looked very flat and mundane indeed.

  Far above the roof of the forest, the plateau seemed a lonely and verdant garden of celestial tranquillity, a world set apart from anything else. Through those enormous trees, the like of which grew nowhere else in Lindormyn, the hunters guided their two charges. Ancient moss hung from gnarled bark pocked with thousands of holes, the homes of squirrels, tree-frogs, snakes, and even a black, long-tailed primate that could be seen scuttling all over the higher places of this lofty domain.

  The bulk of the crowds had fallen behind them now, or had simply drifted off. The small party was left to continue through the trees, passing under arches formed by huge external roots, until they finally came to the central pinnacle.

  There was only one doorway, a great tunnel carved into the base of the rock. Suspended above it was a half-open portcullis-like gate, fabricated from some kind of immensely hard ironwood and overgrown with tough, fibrous creepers sprouting little pink flowers. A stone ramp led up to it, and there were a few lightly armoured hunters sitting around nearby. These all stopped their game of pine-rods when the party approached, and stared at them as they went past, but made no attempt to stop them.

  Despite the strength of this place (or perhaps because of it) it was with a definite sense of relief that Gapp passed into the cool, dark sanctuary of the gatehouse. He entered also with that strange feeling of humility and expectancy as one might feel when entering the temple of a foreign god. For this was sacred ground he was on, he could tell – the very heart of Vetterdom. Without needing to be asked, he removed his boots as soon as he entered.

  The tunnel sloped gradually upwards and echoed pleasantly to the slap of their feet upon the cold, smooth stone. Along its length it was lit by burning stones, little pale-green pebbles that floated in bowls of a sappy liquid and purred contentedly as they gave off their weird, elder-scented flame. Placed in niches set at intervals along the length of the passage, they illuminated the benches lined against the walls. These settles were of an intricate design that looked totally alien to the southerner. Above each of them was a kind of living tapestry, woven from the multicoloured tendrils of the plants that grew out of cracks in the walls into images both wonderful and bizarre. Some depicted the Vetters and their ‘deer’ friends, others showed different creatures of the forest, some looking more like demons, or lizards that had died out aeons before the awakening of Man. Gapp quailed just looking at them.

  Engravings and statues of wood and stone there were too, further along the tunnel. Two in particular stood out amongst the others, positioned on either side of the large doorway to which he was now being directed. They were big, bigger than the largest horse Gapp had ever seen, and stood proudly like guardians at their posts. The detail was incredible, the colouring so life-like. They appeared as some mythical, fabulous beast that possessed the head, torso and arms of a Gyger joined onto the main body of a huge and heavy-set stag. Stag-like too were the antlers sprouting from each head, their forward-pointing tines sharp for ripping, the back ones curving down to protect the back of the neck. Each long tail ended in a mace-like cluster of bony spikes.

  Gapp gazed in fascination at these effigies and marvelled at the creative imagination of Vetter artists. But as he was conducted between them into the room beyond, he noticed how both glared at him and flicked their tails menacingly.

  Quickly he darted on, his heart hammering. Shlepp followed more slowly, hackles raised but his eyes focused dead ahead.

  This room beyond was an enormous stairwell, with steps cut into the wall that wound up to a distant pool of light far above. The treads were broad and, by the light of the burning green stones, Gapp could see how polished and indented they had become under the passing of millions of feet over the centuries.

  During the long climb upwards Gapp studied the strange collection of objects fixed with brackets onto the walls. There were ancient iron helmets, possibly even human ones, antique halberds, collections of coins from lands unknown to the Aescal, several enormous skulls of unknowable lizards and, rather more grimly, a few skins old and brittle as parchment and decorated with Polg war-tattoos.

  Trophies, he concluded, museum pieces that form the Vetters’ only knowledge of the outside world . . .

  Landings and chambers branched off the staircase at frequent intervals, but still they climbed and climbed until finally, slick with a fresh coating of sweat, Gapp emerged from the stairwell and stood blinking in the evening light.

  They had arrived at the very top of the Vetters’ world, on a vast wooden platform built around the conical tip of the pinnacle. Here, it seemed miles up in the sky, all was light and breezy. Gentle, beguiling music, in the songs of countless birds. Colour, beauty and enchantment. The sky so close Gapp felt that he could simply reach out and touch it.

  The platform itself was supported by the trees immediately surrounding the pinnacle, and the crowns of these trees thrust up through holes in the floor to give the whole platform the appearance of a beautiful park. Scattered all around the main expanse were sun-platforms, crystal-hung gazebos and belvederes of polished, inlaid wood.

  Through the veil of golden-green leaves on the uppermost boughs shone the dwindling rays of a glorious sunset, bathing everything in a soft, cleansing light fragmented in myriad crystals that hung from every branch. Gapp’s knees wobbled as powerful but unidentified emotions began to well up from the prisons where they had been held within him. Willingly now he allowed himself to be guided through this enchanted treetop paradise, marvelling at all he saw. The stresses of that terrible day – a day in which he had almost met his death deep inside the earth – blew away upon the soft wind and were forgotten.

  They were heading towards a giant tree that protruded through the platform’s western edge. One of its massive branches sloped up and away from the platform and a stairway, with handrails fitted, was carved into the bark of its upper side, leading to some place that he could not yet see.

  By now they were so high up that Gapp had the impression he was walking out into space. As he leaned over the railing to take a look down, his stomach heaved when he saw just how high up they were. Gleds and gyrs glided above the treetops underneath, yet so far below that they appeared as mere specks. Even further beneath them the leaves of the forest roof shimmered constantly in the late evening breeze like an unquiet sea.

  It was only the railing that kept him safe, and he thrust himself away from it in panic. This whole place suddenly seemed insane, impossible, ready to topple at any minute. Every creak and scrape of ancient wood seemed to presage imminent disaster.

  On his hands and knees now, his fingers gripped the wood of the stairway like the toepads of a gecko. It felt firm, and had the smoothness of antiquity. Breathing deeply, he slowly got a grip on himself and forced down his panic.

  The hunters halted and stood regarding him quizzically, unable to understand what ailed him.

  Unimaginative beggars! He thought resentfully, and rose to his feet again.

  Now that they were near the end of the branch, he saw there was a kind of pavilion up here. Another of the huge Gyger-Stags stood guarding the door, but it let them through with only a slight glimmer of hostility in its eyes.

  Inside, though hardly palatial, the pavilion gave the undeniable impression that here lived some kind of royalty. The extensive variety of furs and pelts hanging from every wall, door and furnishing demonstrated without doubt that this was the abode of, as Gapp put it, ‘someone very high up’.

  They passed through to a large room at the back of the structure. Here light streamed in from the open balcony, silhouetting the shape of a solitary Vetter leaning against the balustrade. It was staring out at the magnificent view, as a red sun cast its last light over the great forest of Fron-Wudu. With reluctance, it tore itself away from this vista of unimaginable beauty and turned to face its guests.

  Gapp was surprised to discover that this important Vetter looked just like any oth
er. It was slightly taller than most, with a relaxed and confident bearing, but it did not differ in any drastic way from the rank and file. There was no sign of disdain or arrogance, none of the irony or superciliousness that the young esquire had come to associate with social leaders. Neither were there any outward indications of exceptional wisdom or intellect. The thing Gapp noticed most was the eyes: there was an openness, even friendliness in them that he instantly warmed to.

  ‘R’rrahdh-Kyinne, aanyo!’ it gurgled at the leader of the hunters, then turned to Gapp. ‘Hal, Mycel-Haug!’ it rasped, extending its hand in greeting, ‘Hal dhu Vetterheime ut Cyne-Tregva!’

  It enunciated the words carefully, in a way that made Gapp wonder; either it was not sure the boy would understand, or itself did not speak this language fluently. But it was clear to him that this was a greeting of sorts, so he held his hand out in a similar fashion and, smiling broadly, replied:

  ‘Hal Vetter. Me Gapp Radnar. This Shlepp.’ He next pointed to his mouth, then to the Vetter, and shook his head as if to say: I don’t speak the language.

  A high-pitched laugh escaped the Vetter’s lips, and this was echoed by the hunters (a little more gutturally). The leader repeated Gapp’s gestures in reverse in a resigned way, as though saying, Neither do I very well. He stepped forward and clasped Gapp’s hand warmly. Clearly the boy had made a favourable first impression.

  It seemed that this was not the Vetters’ tongue after all. Gapp thought it sounded vaguely familiar, though he could not think where he had heard it before. Some trading language employed by the Vetterym, perhaps?

  The leader, still clasping Gapp’s hand, dragged him out of the pavilion and back down the length of the branch stairway to the platform below. The hunters followed, and Shlepp kept close. Gapp was hoping that after this initial friendly encounter he and his companion would receive some hospitality in the form of food and drink. But clearly there were more pressing matters at hand. Gapp could only wonder.