Malachan was less terrified than horrified at what he had become. Death he could accept, and had been willing to, but he had not died. He had become some son of monster.
The changewind was past now, and proceeding far up the valley, losing force as it did so. It was already rising, and losing some of its consistency. It would not travel on much farther. Malachan stood there, stunned, as the torrential rain came down upon him, masking and taking with them his very real tears.
The backwash of the storm was quickly through, though, and the clouds grew thinner and then began to break up. Sunlight dared peer down on a vastly different scene. It would be quite some time, perhaps months, before the climatoiogical changes stabilized and it was possible to really see what the changewind had made of this wonderful place, but it certainly was no longer the paradise that a previous changewind helped create.
The Golden Castle still stood, its golden sheen now a metallic blue-black, but it would be quite some time, perhaps days, before the assembled populace could free itself from the Refuge the way they got in. The great doors had held, but in the process they had melted a bit and been fused into a solid metallic wall.
The place was not without some familiarity. The Two Brothers no longer stood out in the distance, but the vast wall of the Mountains of Morning otherwise remained pretty much as it was. There was now a vast lake leading from just in front of the village back almost as far as the eye could see, yet it was not wide; patches of real green could be seen in the distance.
This side, however, had not fared so well. The soil was sandy, and rocky as well, and the vegetation was wild grasses, some waist high, and nasty and twisted plants unlike any known here before. Over where the grape vines were, intermixed with the trees, were strange looking bushes bearing large and beautiful pink and crimson flowers that looked like giant roses.
Hesitantly, Malachan moved toward them, and as he got within five or six feet of the first it barked at him. All of the flowers barked at him, and snarled, like a pack of angry dogs, and the beautiful bushes shook and flailed out blindly. He backed off quickly, very confused.
He looked down at himself and then at the vicious plants and shook his now massive head. He simply did not know what to do. He was still Malachan-at least, he thought that at least that part of him remained unchanged. Changewinds could alter anything, inside and out, even the very soul, but this one seemed to have limited itself to the physical.
He looked at the lake, and the menacing plants, and knew he could not go there. He looked back at the transformed village, so alien now, and beyond it. The last of the storm was leaving, but where the two lines of hills had once come together there was now unbroken plain littered with tall grasses and equally tall bright, huge flowers. Everything had changed, everything but the castle itself, and it would never be the same again any more than he would. He just wished he knew what to do.
He was still trying to determine this when the laborers and cutters up at the castle broke through and managed to peel away the remains of the armored doors at the top. Within minutes, a large troop of cavalry rode out, stopping just outside to survey the new scene and take it all in. The real survey, however, had to come later. Theirs was a different mission that had to come first.
The leader peered through field glasses, panning the scene, looking for what his duty required, and he finally found it. It wasn't hard, not against this new landscape and being the size and shape it was. He put down his glasses and pointed. "Down there, to the left and behind the village. See it?"
His sergeant squinted, then nodded. "Yes, sir. I had hoped we had gotten them all this time. Pray the gods this is the only one."
"We don't know if it was human or animal," the lieutenant shouted to his men, "or whether it will attack or flee. Weapons ready, then move down. Shoot first and study the thing later!"
Malachan saw and heard them, too, and for a moment didn't know whether to stand there or flee. When he saw that they had their weapons out, though, he turned and began to run at full speed through the tall grass.
He was fast, very fast, as if made for this sort of country, but the skilled men and superbly trained horses were faster and smarter and more experienced. He quickly realized that he could not outrun them and stopped, marveling that he was hardly breathing hard at all, and waited, his massive hands raised in a gesture of surrender. They were all around him in a minute, but none too close.
"Please!" he bellowed as they stared nervously and uncomfortably at him. "I am Malachan of the old village! The doors closed on me just a few steps before I could enter! Have mercy! I am hideous, but I am just a fourteen-year-old peasant boy!"
That startled some of the newer men, but not the officer and the sergeant who were morex experienced. It was usually kids.
"I know, son," sighed the lieutenant in a sad, almost tragic-sounding voice. "I just hope you're old enough to understand. Understand that what we must-do-now is out of mercy."
"No!" wailed Malachan as the missiles struck and penetrated even his powerful body, again and again, with great pain, until he was so helpless that the officer had no problem administering the coup de grace.
Up on the charred battlements, the sorcerer Boolean examined his old area. The telescope was gone, of course-sort of. What stood in its place was a very odd sort of weapon mounted on a similar tripod, a weapon not known in this land before, but one the Akhbreed sorcerer understood full well.
"Well I'll be damned," the wizard said under his breath. "Have to melt that one down for scrap pretty damned fast. Can't have 'em getting too many ideas of that sort around here. Things are rotten enough already." He turned and looked out at the changed landscape, the new lake, the missing hills, the strange trees and grass, and shook his head.
"Well," he sighed, again talking to himself, "there goes the neighborhood."
Sam awoke, sweat dripping from her, the scene fading gradually and being replaced by fuzzy images that resolved into the concerned faces of Charley and Zenchur.
"They killed him!" she shouted, slightly in shock. "They hunted him down and killed him! Just a kid who got caught in some bad luck! The bastards! The dirty bastards!"
"What did you see?" Zenchur asked curtly. "Tell me all of it-now!"
Ladai spoke to him a bit sharply and then brought some dry wine for Sam to drink. Once she had a bit of it down, she felt more and more in control of herself, and with a little prompting she told them the entire story.
Zenchur nodded. "It sounds right, although I can't understand how or why you would have such a vision, particularly of Malabar where neither of the ones involved in your own affairs here have much interest or influence. The Akhbreed tolerate no one not of their own kind to live in any of the kingdoms, and none may remain overnight except right on the edge, as we are here."
"But-but it changed everything! The houses, the plants, the dirt, the water, even that poor boy. Even if he was a victim, why'd they hav'ta kill him? Why not just send him off someplace?"
Zenchur sighed. "It is complicated. The Akhbreed believe themselves the superior race to all others. Therefore, it is unthinkable to them that any of their kind would even wish to live as some sort of-well, monster. They killed him as a mercy-to keep him from suffering in an inferior form. He was also probably one of a kind in Akahlar-that happens a lot with the big ones. He would be a freak, an outcast, and none would take him or accept him."
That was not an answer either girl could accept, and they were beginning to like this place less and less with each passing discovery. Still, Sam wanted to understand. "Where did those changes come from? His form, the houses, the barking bushes . . . ?"
Zenchur shrugged. "Practically everything is possible, you know. If one little thing went differently, if your ancestors had arisen from different stock than they did, our whole race might have looked like mat. The houses, the land, everything was probably consistent with beings of his kind. They may even exist somewhere on an Outplane-there are far too many to know. They ca
ll it probability theory. Sorcerer's mathematics. Ask one sometime about it if you get the chance-and somehow I suspect you will meet one or more sooner or later. More to the point now is why you had this spell, this vision, and how."
She shrugged helplessly. "In my dreams-back home. The dreams always brought visions-I guess of this place-and always when it stormed. I guess even this far away and buried this deep a storm like that triggered it off again."
Zenchur rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then muttered to himself in the singsong tongue of the Akhbreed, "The Horned One, and a girl from the Outplane who is linked to storms. Of course! Why did I not think of this from the start? By the gods-what do I do now?" He paused a moment more, then sighed.
"All right," he said in English. "You saw the Chief Sorcerer of Malabar there. Did he seem to be aware of you? Did anyone give the slightest hint that they were aware of your presence? Any? Think! It is important!"
"It was like I was a ghost, not seen and not being able to say or do anything. I was just there, that's all. Besides, they were a little too busy to bother much with me."
"And you sensed no one else there? No other presence, or guiding force?"
She shook her head. "Nope. It just-happened, is all."
"Very well. That is some consolation, anyway. Just relax here. I must discuss this with Ladai." He walked over to the centauress who was relaxing by the pool. The distance between them and Sam was a good twenty feet or more but the cave made it fairly easy to hear everything in the mercenary's low conversation with his strange companion.
"I don't like this," Charley commented sourly. "I wish I could make out that language of theirs."
"Shhhh . . . ," Sam responded. When Charley seemed not inclined to shut up, her friend mouthed, I can understand it.
And she could, just as she had understood the comments in the Akhbreed tongue that Zenchur had muttered to himself. She had not understood many of the conversations between Zenchur and Ladai before, since they had been in some other, less formal, tongue, but now the mercenary was using Akhbreed, the same language of Sam's dreams of the past, the language which, somehow, she instantly understood.
"We cannot go on with this," Zenchur told Ladai. "Our distrust for that horned bastard kept us neutral in this so far, but we no longer have that luxury. If we deliver her to Boolean it is more than possible that the entire rebellion will be crushed and Akhbreed dominance assured for another thousand years or more. We-you and I-will be the instruments of perpetuating this foulness! This I cannot accept!"
Ladai understood him, apparently used to him speaking in his native tongue when he was angry or upset, but she answered in their common speech and Sam could not make out any of it.
Zenchur nodded. "I agree. We cannot just kill them- Boolean would know and there would be no place to hide from his wrath, for one thing. And, no, I can't have either of us leaking the facts to others because that would destroy our reputations for never betraying a commission. We would be finished. Yet, somehow, they must die."
Again Ladai said something unintelligible.
"Yes," he responded, sounding somewhat pleased by whatever suggestion she'd given. "You're right. If they are placed in a position where they are certain to be exposed, and the odds are overwhelming, then what can we do? Besides, they are ignorant of all of this. If the name Klittichom should be spoken rather regularly it might well attract just the wrong attention on its own." He kissed her. "My dear, I believe we will have another of our honorable failures."
Charley thought the unintelligible scene a bit charming if very kinky, but Sam's expression told her that it was far more than that. Still, she knew better than to press it right now; if the odd couple's conversation could carry, so could any other.
Zenchur came back over to them, ever the friendly protector. "I will have to leave here for a while in order to make arrangements for mounts and the like to get us into Tubikosa, the capital city of this hub. Because of the changewind we will need up-to-date information on just what damage it did and where. I am a competent navigator but we will have to engage a trustworthy pilot who is also up-to-date. That means the city, although I detest it and had hoped we would not have to travel there. The changewind makes it essential that we do so. Ladai will stand guard and you will be all right. Take some time to look through the trunks and choose a selection that could fit in no more than two of the saddlebags in my tent. Um-you can both ride horses, can't you?"
"Never been on one in my life," Sam responded, " 'cept the pony rides at the fair when I was little. But I'll make do."
"I'm a pretty good horsewoman," Charley told him. "We'll have to teach Sam what she needs to know."
Zenchur shrugged. "Very well. I will secure a particularly gentle horse for Sam, a first rider type. Now-farewell." And, with that, he walked to the cave entrance and was gone.
"I don't like that," Sam muttered, almost to herself. "Come on-let's go look through the trunks."
Charley frowned. "But it's okay. He's gone, and she don't speak English."
"Yeah, maybe, but I'm not about to make the same mistake he did. Come on."
They walked into the tent and Sam stood there for a minute or so, as Charley watched in frustration. Then Sam peered out of the tent flap and looked back. "It's okay," she whispered, "so long as we keep our voices down. She's still just lyin' there playin' with her reflection in the water." Quickly she told Charley of the conversation in low tones.
"Damn! What the hell do we do now? I mean, if you're new on a horse you're a sittin' duck and you know it. All he has to do is get one that's got a mean streak or is easily spooked and it can look real natural. Horse bolts or panics, you fall and break your neck, and he's off the hook, right? And I'm all alone and stuck here as witness to the terrible accident." Charley sighed. "But how come you understood him at all?"
"Lucky break. He don't speak it like I know it but it was close enough. Sort'a like hearin' an English fanner instead of American. It's the same language I heard in my dreams and I understood it then. I guess I still do. Maybe I can talk it, too, but I ain't gonna try until I hav'ta give away the fact I know it. Couldn't make out Ladai's speech for nothin', though."
Charley sighed. "Well, that's a break, sort of, for what it's worth. Too bad we can't talk to Ladai. I know they're partners and all, but she seems so sweet and understanding. . . ."'
"Bullshit! She was givin' him the ideas on how to knock us off without gettin' caught at it. Look, I was out there talkin' to Zenchur long before you got there. The guy's weird. Got some sort'a guilt complex or somethin'. His family's rich-maybe nobles, I dunno. Lots of money and power, though, that they got partly from the sweat of labor by the nonhumans. He got to know and like some of 'em, found out they was regular folks and all, and got a real heavy conscience. When he could he just ran away rather than keep livin' under that system. Tried to live with some of the other races but they didn't trust him none, run him out. He was on the run when he nearly died and got rescued by the-whatchamacallit?-horse people?"
"Centaurs."
"Yeah, that's right. They took him in 'cause they can look deep inside you and read your feelin's. Not your mind, but whether you're happy or sad, in love or whatever, that kind of shit. They just know, somehow, who their friends are. He lived with 'em a long time and just real flipped out. Went native. Ladai-she ain't his business partner. She's his wife."
"Wow! Kinkee ..."
"You bet. He thinks he's one of them. They believe in that reincarnation stuff, and he thinks he's one of them horse types reborn by accident or whatever as a human. He believes it so strong I think she believes it, too. She's got a few screws loose herself 'cause she went for him in a big way, too, but their marriage wasn't all that popular with her folks or tribe or whatever it is. So they got kicked out, and they been workin' the dirty job and mercenary racket all over ever since. So now they got in over their head and they're gonna try and shake it so's they can get back to ignorin' the world and its problems. And I'm what
they gotta shake."
Charley sat down on top of the trunk and tried to think. "So what can we do? We stay with them, we're dead. We sneak out , and, like, we're alone and friendless in some crazy worfd where we don't know a damned thing and where I can't even speak nobody's language, we don't know the rules, and everybody wants our heads."
"Yeah, well, maybe so, but I got to figure we got a better chance on our own, small as it is, than we do stickin' with this pair. At least we're Akhbreed-the bosses-and we're in a land of Akhbreed where I can probably get by in the language and we won't get tossed out or strung up 'cause we ain't got four legs or six arms or whatever. Trouble is, our disguises ain't gonna help much if these two know about them. Damn it!"
Charley looked suddenly horror-struck. "Sam! I-I couldn't kill them! Even if I thought we could get away with it, and they're pros, I just couldn't!"
It was Sam's turn to sigh. "Yeah, I know. I mean, maybe if he was in the act of try in' to kill me and I had a gun or somethin' maybe I could, but not cold."
"Not at all! I just don't think I could kill another human being, or even one with a horse's body."
"Then we're gonna hav'ta run from them all the time, too. That's just the way it's gotta be."
"Yeah, but-where to? We can't run forever without gettin' in real trouble and you know it. This ain't Texas or Denver, you know."
"I know. The only thing we got is that we know the names of both the one who wants us live and the one who wants me dead." She suddenly stopped, an idea coming into her head. "Say! It's crazy but it don't cost nothin'!"
"Huh? What?"
"Well-Zenchur said that if he could get us and maybe him, too, say in' the name of Old Horny that somehow that crud would hear his name and maybe find us."
"Yeah. I remember him tellin' us not to even talk about that
guy."
"Uh-huh. Don't you see? Maybe it works for the other one, too. The green guy. Zenchur called him Boolean. Maybe if we say it enough times he'll hear us and figure somethin's wrong."
When The Changewinds Blow Page 11
