The deadly barbs glinted as the archers notched and drew, seeking an aim in the uncertain light; the watchers quivered tense and taut as the bowstrings. At this gold there might well be no second shot.
But when they saw their mark clear, no arrow flew. With the rest the hunters stared dumbfounded at the monstrous shape the growing sunlight gilded among the leaves. Elof knew no beast like it, and neither, by their gasps, did the others. "Kerys, is that a bear?" whispered Roc.
"Then it could breakfast on any I've seen," hissed Ils. "Even the giant cavern-dwellers…" Slowly, almost painfully it seemed, the great beast lumbered down the bank. Its long lank hair, reddish with a strange green cast, hung from limbs bowed but as thick about as a man's body. Abruptly it reared up; all flinched, the bows jerked ready as it rose on its haunches and spread its vast forelegs in menacing embrace. "That's no bear!" breathed Ils. "It has a tail, see! And that long head? And by the Shaper's grace, see the paws on it!"
Elof s mouth dried as he saw a single hooked claw unfold from each massive inturned forepaw, huge black sickles open to hook and slash. Then, quite unconcernedly, it grasped the overhanging limb of a linden and bent it down to its open mouth: a long red tongue unreeled to curl greedily about the heart-shaped leaves and the sweet flowers between, plucking them into the grip of the narrow horselike jaw. The shift from menace to bovine placidity was almost hilarious; Ils smothered a breathless giggle. But then a single humming note sounded, a harpstring plucked, and two arrows soared up over the shimmering water and plunged like bright-beaked hawks upon their prey. The dead snap of the arbalest sounded, and the quarrel, flatter in its flight, hissed low and fast across the bank. They saw the broad back flinch at the first impact, then stared as one arrow glanced across the rough hairs and vanished at a tangent among the leaves, and the other spun off into the bushes. The quarrel struck with the ringing bite of axe in wood, hung a moment and then fell slithering through the fur. With a high bleating cry the beast whirled about and went lumbering and crashing away through the undergrowth, still shrilling in panic.
"It's a demon!" yelled Borhi, and threw himself flat upon the logs.
Ils pulled him up by his tunic. "Don't be a great fool! It must have tough hide, that's all. Or even bone within the skin, like those little grassland creatures you have in the south."
Elof snapped his fingers. "That harness the Forest folk wore! It might have been made from such a hide. We could land and go after it…"
Kermorvan stared after the disappearing beast, and shook his head. "We could only hope to slay it at close quarters. We might go far astray before cornering such a brute; it moves fast enough now. And what then? Spear and blade against those sickle claws, on limbs that can bend a tree so lightly. Scarce worth the risk, I fear. But Kasse," he added, turning to the hunter, "I see Borhi was bitten deeper than he allowed by your bogeys. But can you explain why such a curse cannot stop us catching fish? When next you hold forth on hedgecraft, do you also trail some fishlines! You may find the fish more gullible."
Elof joined in the general laughter, and was glad to see that Borhi did also. Kasse glared at the young corsair a moment, then very carefully laid down his arbalest and returned to his seat by the steering oar. But Borhi did not join him; instead, he rummaged among the baggage for the fishing lines. Kermorvan and Gise unstrung their bows, and the others not on watch returned to their blankets to snatch what little sleep they could in the growing light. Elof stood for a moment, undecided, and then he caught Kermorvan's eye. The warrior nodded, and sprang effortlessly across onto his raft. He looked around, and spoke low. "So something still concerns you. Something worse than a diet offish?"
"I fared little better in the Marshlands, and was content. No, it is simply that… well, field lore such as Kasse's is one sign of our decline. Scraps of true smithcraft debased, mean and slight, with power only to work petty ill. And that only for those who have a touch of the true craft in their blood."
Kermorvan's eyes widened. "And Kasse has? Why did you not tell me?"
"I did not see it in his eye till now. It is not strong in him, it shows only in his anger. Nevertheless, it is there— not to fear, only to be wary of. And I also find it strange that the whole life of this Forest shuns us so thoroughly."
Kermorvan nodded. "Do you, indeed? And have you considered that the cause might be more natural than bewitchment?"
"Of course! But I cannot think what!"
The warrior smiled without mirth. "Why, that it is not us the beasts shun. We know that others hunt here; might it not then be them the beasts fear?"
"But why should such hunters always be near us… oh." A sudden understanding grew in Elof, and he raised his eyes to the Forest above them, a shadow against brightening dawn, a lowering cliff face of trees. He realized then how much they had changed, day by day, as the company sailed by. Rare now were the redwoods of the coastlands, and rarer all the great evergreens. Lindens stood high and shady among their ranks, the honey fragrance of their flowers drifting down to him, and massive sycamores. The solid masses of green and grayish brown were broken by the bright leaves of many maples and red oaks, and by silver birch trunks and blue-gray beeches. Yellow birch leaves shone golden in the misty dawn against the somber black hunks of walnuts. Fair and rich was the canopy of the Forest in the hues of early summer; but the fairest garments might conceal a blade. "You mean… we are watched?"
Kermorvan nodded. "I do. By those who normally hunt the Forest beasts. They hide from us, but not from the beasts because hunting is not their present purpose. So wherever we pass, they do also, and the beasts flee or fall silent in their lairs. And as to who they might be, these hunters, I believe you guess now as I do."
"The… Children," said Elof uneasily. "Watchers who can travel among the trees, and so pace the rafts. But why have you not told the others?"
"Dare I? How will they behave, if I tell them the trees may be full of unseen eyes? You and I and Ils know they need not be hostile, but the others? The corsairs especially, after what happened to Ermahal? I do not wish our hotheads loosing bolts at every bough that quivers; one strike might draw a rain of spears from the Forest folk. Thus far they seem content only to watch. That is why I was so reluctant to let us stray far into the Forest; it might be what they await."
Elof was still scanning the trees, though he knew he need expect to see nothing. "If we could evade them somehow…"
"Aye, that would be different. But we cannot, for now. When we reach the lake we may contrive a chance. Until then, do you keep silent about this. Save to Ils, perhaps."
Over the next day or so even Elof grew weary of fish. In these lower, deeper stretches of the stream the fish grew large, but the flavor of their flesh seemed muddier. The commonest catches were monstrous catfish of a kind not seen in the coastal rivers, fierce fighters and often too heavy for one man to land unaided. The sight of their immense toadlike mouths, leering and barbel-hung, as they snapped and thrashed at the line, was disturbing in itself. And since Kermorvan still would not allow the company ashore, they had to await suitable islands to cook and smoke their catch. It meant that often they had to do without a hot meal after a difficult day's rafting, or dry clothes after rain, and there were many grumbles. But Elof was relieved that none sought to gainsay Kermorvan's word.
He and Ils took care now to watch the trees in twilight and the dark. More than once they believed they spied foliage jerk and quiver as if some large creature swung between trees, and once Ils was sure that she had seen a hand and a face emerge. Kermorvan was pleased. "They do not guess we have good night eyes among us, then, and grow careless. Now we must seek and seize a moment when we can travel faster and further than they. If only we could come to that lake soon!" He pounded the logs impatiently. "If only!"
By all the accounts it was indeed no very great time before their voyage met its unlooked-for end; it may even have been that same night. It is sure that the first warnings came while Elof still had his friend's words ver
y much in mind.
He was on night-watch with Dervhas and Tenvar when Roc hailed him from the first raft; a wide bend in the river was approaching, and they must stand ready with their poles lest the current swing them aground on land or sandbank. But as they probed cautiously for the depth they felt the stream pluck at their poles, eddies seek to twist them under the logs, and they heard the rush and chuckle of the water against the blunt bows grow suddenly louder.
"There's no bottom with this pole!" called Bure. "Not even mud!"
"By Amicac, the lad's right!" muttered Dervhas to Elof. "It grows wider and deeper all of a sudden, and yet flows faster—now what's that mean, on a piddling little inland flood like this? Rapids? If only the skipper were here, he'd know! His lordship might, or the lass? Do you give her a shake…"
But then Roc hailed them again, and pointed, and they knew some change must be near. They were rounding the curve now, swinging wide across the rushing waters, and for the first time in many long and weary nights the dark trees no longer narrowed to nothingness ahead of them. Instead a bright gap opened, widened as if the trees were curtains drawn slowly apart, layers of curtains and each thinner than the last. For through them, between the trees, shone glimmers of the same silvery light, ever broader and brighter. From out of a cloudy sky the white moon blazed down upon an expanse of water wide and calm, silvering it like a mirror save where the wooded hills beyond cast their shadows.
That single hail had aroused Kermorvan, and even as he bounced to his feet he was calling the others. They too came suddenly awake at the sight of the breach in the walls they had come to hate. Some even whooped and pranced with delight on the uneven logs, till Kermorvan's hissed command called them to heel. "Do you dream yet, that you think us free of danger? Perhaps it only begins! All of you, gather up your gear and all the supplies you can carry! Be alert, be ready to abandon the rafts if need be and spring or swim for shore!" His sword flashed in the moonlight. "If danger threatens I will part the rafts; one may survive, if the other is overset." He scooped up his own pack and a heavy foodsack, and turned to Elof, standing on the bow of the rear raft. "Now, how fares the current?"
"Faster still, and neither Dervhas nor Ils can explain it."
"Nor I," muttered Kermorvan, gazing about the widening channel. "I did fear some hazard between us and that lake, at worst falls or rapids. But I can see nothing to cause this strange current. Ils, what of your sight?"
She scrambled onto the oar mounting, one plump hand shielding her eyes from the moon; Elof steadied her as the raft surged anew beneath them. "Little enough! A small turmoil in the water, around slender things upthrust, like reeds or twigs—"
"In water this deep?" cried Kermorvan, and threw his weight upon the steering oar that thrummed now like a gale-struck sail. "Down, all of you! Hold as you can! There is some hidden barrier!" And as the oar rose creaking from the water he drew his sword and hewed down at the stern. The taut cord sang apart, and the first raft sprang forward as the glittering water opened out around them.
Face down on the planks with pack and foodsack on his back, frantically clutching the stout crosspiece under his chest, Elof felt the weight of the sodden logs lift and buck under him, as if some immense hand took hold and hurled it like a javelin at the unknown target. And has not all my life been thus? In a moment of futile rebellion he glared up at the sky beyond the treetops whipping by, half expecting to see something there, for good or ill. But the stars blazed ice-cold in blackness, remote, indifferent, bit-
terly alone. A sudden shout came from the raft ahead, then with a deep grinding crunch its bow heaved upward like a drawbridge, and split; the scream and crackle of stressed wood dwarfed the petty voices of men. Spray rose and spattered him, he gritted his teeth, and then the shock shivered through him, shook and slammed him violently against the wood, the rough bark scouring skin. The logs rolled and flexed under him, the stout bough that was the crosspiece writhed and twisted like a living serpent in his grip. Despite Kermorvan's swift action, the current crashed the second raft sidewise against the first, driving it as hammer on chisel against the unseen obstacle. The churning surface erupted, mud and filth sprayed skyward, and a wave of creamy water washed over the second raft. Elof clutched wildly at his handhold as it dragged at him and plucked and twisted at his pack. The raft lurched forward, bucked, twisted crazily sideways and tilted, sweeping him across the logs at a wrist-wrenching angle. Mud spurted up between the logs and was whipped away into the foaming maelstrom. He heard Ils cry out, but could see neither her nor any other in the spray. Something lashed stinging across his face and clung. Then it seemed that the obstacle beneath the logs gave way, and the raft was shot forward, whirling about in the current. The looming trees fell away, the wheeling stars overhead slowed and steadied, the log beneath him settled and rode level.
For a moment he could only lie there gasping, the thing that had hit him a curtain of stinking slime across his eyes. He sought to brush it free, and found his fingers entangled; he panicked, and tore at it, and grew more entangled. Then his fingers touched another's amid its tangles, that pulled it away from his face. His heart leaped as he saw whose hand it was; Ils at least was safe. He caught her hand and raised himself on one numbed elbow; there were the others, as dazed as he felt. Dervhas and Tenvar still clung to the steering oar, spitting out water and weed; Arvhes was covered in fragments of the ruined canopy. The raft was clear now, drifting out across the calm silver of the lake waters. A faint current seemed to be carrying them into a little bay ahead. Elof looked about urgently for the first raft, and found instead a loosening tangle of timbers astern, wheeling slowly in the current, a sorry sight. The collision had sheared off two logs and by the look of it the steering gear, and broken the for'ard cross-members. But he could see figures picking themselves up and sliding swiftly along the logs, striving to make them secure. He scanned the water quickly for floating heads, found none, and glanced back to see what had so nearly destroyed them.
The whole rivermouth had changed. The water level had fallen, and was now even with the lake; a new strip of bank glistened with exposed clumps of weed. The barrier stood revealed now as a thick tangle of stick and bough. The double impact of the rafts had smashed a wide gap in it, through which a muddy torrent poured. "A beaver dam!" gurgled Arvhes. "Biggest that ever I saw! I've heard they have giant beavers in the wilds of Nordeney!"
Ils looked at him acidly, and thrust out what she had taken from Elof's face. "Do they use nets?" The men gaped in horror, for net it surely was, crudely woven of some coarse fiber. They stared again at the channel; on either side of the breach the ragged edges of such a net straggled useless in the current. Then amidst the heaving water Elof saw a sudden arrowing swirl, and another. "What's that?" he demanded of Dervhas.
"Amicac, how'd I know? Eddies, most like. Glad they're nowhere near, though. Sooner we're off this pond the better I'm suited."
Elof nodded, shivering in his soaked clothes. "At least we're not far away from the bay; the water should grow shallower there. If only the others can hold on…" He looked back, and worse than the night breeze chilled him. He cried out, pointed. The swirls had appeared again, dark folds in the calmer water, streaking out against the current. It was the first raft they pursued.
None there had heard. Elof struggled up on shaky legs, but even as he opened his mouth to shout he saw the wrecked raft judder and halt abruptly in its wheeling, and clambering silhouettes stagger and fall. Then, quite slowly as it seemed, its huge logs parted at the bow and spread out wide like the fingers of a giant hand. Helpless, Elof listened in horror to yells and screams, saw two tall figures bestride the logs, haul others out of the water and then begin fastening cords and chains to the logs, meaning to secure them lest the raft break up altogether. But even as they leaped across to the outer logs the water swirled again, and Elof glimpsed a curved bulk that arched up and vanished, the back as it seemed of some fair-sized creature, mottled or dappled like fish or seal, glist
ening under the moon. Then, with that same easy, deceptive slowness that was horrible to watch, the logs jarred and swung together again. The leapers landed, but skidded; one caught himself by the chain he bore and fell along the log, but the other missed his footing and slid down its flank into the water. He caught himself by a branch stump, the other flung himself forward, but even as their hands met the huge logs bounced together. Beneath the dull boom there was a single crunch, a cry cut short. When they bobbed apart again, one figure knelt there, staring down at nothing. "Eysdan!" cried Kermorvan's voice, and then Gise's, but there was no answer.
Elof and the others stared in horror, forgetting for one instant too long that they also might be in peril. A cry from behind was their warning. Whirling about, Elof caught the black sword from its scabbard and threw himself slithering down the logs. Dervhas clung still to the steering oar, but frantically now, for both legs trailed in the water as if some great weight hung from them. Elof threw himself down, clawing at the man's collar, but the oar bent, cracked and splintered. With a despairing cry Dervhas let go and grabbed hold of the outflung hand. The weight on him was appalling; Elof braced his feet against the oar mounting to avoid being dragged in himself. Dervhas gasped in agony; the veins on his brow stood out as if he was on the rack. The mounting snapped then and Elof slid forward. Dervhas sank chest-deep and dragged him out over the black water. But Elof's free hand still held Gorthawer, and he speared it downward, once, twice. It struck, the water convulsed and darkened, and Dervhas was suddenly lighter, sagging in the water. Tenvar and Arvhes reached them and helped Elof haul him in. But as his left leg came over the edge of the log they cried out in horror, for the flesh had been stripped from it and the leg bones laid bare. Ils, shuddering, whipped off Dervhas' heavy belt to loop it round the thigh and stem the spurting blood, but hesitated, let it fall, and shook her head. Dervhas was a limp weight in their hands, and the spurting had stopped. Then she cried out and flung herself forward to the raft's edge. The patterned blade of her axe hewed downward. Elof felt its impact in the sodden wood, and saw a ghastly thing leap like a landed fish and go slithering severed across the logs in a spray of dark liquid. A broad frond of waterweed it might have been, save that thick ridged fingers writhed within the brownish web, tipped each with a short claw, and the dappled coat of it was sleek fur.
The Forge in the Forest Page 12
