Riverwind the Plainsman

by Paul B. Thompson

  “Come along,” Vvelz urged. Catchflea took his hand away.

  Stacked at the rear of the room were all sorts of things. Catchflea saw a stand of longbows, with only frayed bits of bowstring clinging to them.

  “Those could be very useful,” he said, pointing to the bows. “If you had strings—and arrows to shoot.”

  “What are arrows?” Vvelz asked. Catchflea blinked. He told Vvelz, with many hand gestures, the parts and practice of archery. The sorcerer was amazed.

  “In the old chronicles, it was written that warriors could slay enemies at two hundred paces, but I always thought they threw spikes or daggers at each other!” He picked up a longbow of seasoned yew. “How could we make strings for them?” he asked.

  “Well, I’m no bowyer, but I’ve seen men weave strong twine into bowstrings, then seal them with beeswax.”

  “Twine? Beeswax?”

  Catchflea mopped his brow. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Twine is string, combed out of fibers like cotton or flax.” Vvelz had no idea what he meant. Catchflea kicked about in the assorted goods and found a hank of rope. He showed this to the sorcerer. “Twine is thin, tough rope.”

  “Can you make this twine from rope?” the elf asked.

  “I might, yes, though I’m no craftsman.”

  Farther along they found a few quivers full of arrows, though the feather fletching had rotted off most of them. Catchflea gave the quivers to Vvelz to hold, and they continued to poke among the piles of surface world goods.

  Most of it was trash: leather shoes and belts so old they’d dried out and curled up into tight rolls, an assortment of rusty woodworking tools the Hestites had taken for exotic weapons.

  “What is this?” Vvelz held up a nasty-looking device.

  “A brace and bit. It bores holes, yes.”

  “Pah, that’s ghastly!”

  “In wood, Master Vvelz, only in wood,” Catchflea assured him.

  Then they came to a great selection of jars and pots. Catchflea squatted down and lifted one lid after another. Spices. Moldy nuts. Wooden buttons.

  “Your scouts must have waylaid every traveler in Ansalon to gather this assortment,” Catchflea muttered.

  “They had strict orders,” Vvelz said. “Never to take large items or those things that are highly valued above. There’s enough gold and gems in Hest already.”

  The old man found a jar full of chestnuts. They had dried, splitting their skins. He peeled one and ate it. It was so good, he grabbed a handful and nibbled them as he crept from pot to jar to pot.

  “Tell me, Master Vvelz, who is Di An? She seems very close to Mors.”

  “Just a digger girl, a barren child. She’s quite adept at prowling tunnels and stealing small items. As for Mors’s affection, I believe they have known each other a long time. There’s a rumor that it was Di An who first found Mors after he was blinded and driven out of Vartoom. She took care of him until he was strong again.”

  Catchflea spat out a chestnut shell. “And you, when did you join Mors?”

  Vvelz dipped a finger in a pot of cracked pepper. He tasted the black powder and coughed violently. “Poison!” he gasped.

  “No. Pepper.” Catchflea put a pinch in his mouth. It burned, but not very much. “We use to flavor food.”

  Vvelz’s eyes were watering. “You Empty Worlders must have iron stomachs!”

  Catchflea chewed and swallowed the last of his chestnuts. “Master Vvelz, would you tell me how it came to be that you chose to work against your sister?”

  “Ha-ha-shoo!” Vvelz sneezed and rubbed his nose. “Does it matter?” he sniffed. “Is it not enough that I risk my life to help Mors’s cause?”

  “It matters, yes. It occurs to me that if Li El wanted a spy close to Mors, you would be an excellent choice.” He folded his arms across his chest. “A spy, or even an assassin.”

  Vvelz turned his left hand palm up. His eyes widened, and he uttered a short, archaic spell. Catchflea quickly stepped back from him. A spark glowed in the sorcerer’s upturned palm. The spark grew into a small flame.

  “You want to know, do you? Can you understand if I tell you? I have spent my entire life under the thumb of my heartless, ambitious sibling, who always considered me more servant than kinsman.” Vvelz spoke slowly and softly. “She crushed good and wise sorcerers, whose only fault was not realizing the power of their opponent. She took the love of a brave warrior, bore his son, and then raised that son to hate his father. Her crowning achievement was using Karn to betray Mors. She gave the diggers an entire half-day of rest so that they could attend the ceremony she had prepared for Mors’s blinding. That day was—that ceremony was …”

  Words failed Vvelz, and he squeezed the flame tightly in his fist. Sparks and droplets of fire splashed to the floor. “I am ashamed she calls me brother. I will see the end of Li El, no matter who I have to side with.”

  Both men were silent. Vvelz was lost in dark thoughts of his sister, and Catchflea, discomfited by the tragic tale, looked beyond the elf’s shoulder at the pots. There were so many. Pots and pots of—

  “Pepper!” cried Catchflea.

  “What?” said Vvelz. “Are you stricken?”

  The old soothsayer rushed by Vvelz. “No! No, pepper is the answer!”

  Catchflea swept an arm around in a half-circle. “There must be fifty pounds of pepper here,” he said. “If all Hestites are as sensitive to it as you are—”

  Vvelz’s expression had brightened. “I begin to see! You mean to put this pepper in the warriors’ food?”

  “No, better! Throw it in their faces! They’ll be so smitten with sneezing and weeping, your Blue Sky People will be able to disarm them easily. Riverwind can be rescued that way, too.”

  “Why won’t our people be sneezing?” Vvelz asked.

  The old man froze, his enthusiastic expression giving way to consternation. Then, his face brightened once more. “Why, give them kerchiefs to wear!” he exclaimed. “It will work! Let’s tell Mors right away!”

  But Mors was not impressed; “I’d rather see you repair these bow-things you found,” he said with annoyance. “I would rather strike the Host from long range than close in with unskilled fighters and toss dust in their faces.”

  “Master Mors, even if I could fix all the bows, you would not have enough to make a difference against the entire Host. And archery is not a skill easily learned; it takes much practice, yes.”

  “How much practice?” Mors said.

  “In Que-Shu, boys are taught archery not long after they learn to walk. A lifetime’s practice makes them peerless archers.”

  “My people have only to hit close ranks of warriors,” Mors insisted.

  Vvelz intervened. “Perhaps we could adopt both plans. The bows will cause great harm to the warriors’ spirits, and the pepper will send them to defeat.”

  “I don’t like it,” Mors grumbled. “True warriors do not fight by throwing dirt in their enemy’s eyes. It’s not honorable.”

  “Is it honorable to blind their captain and chase him from the city like a worthless beggar?” Vvelz said, knocking Mors’s rod from his hand. The blind elf leaped to his feet.

  “You gutless hand-waver! I may be blind, but I can break your neck with one hand—”

  Di An, who had been listening quietly to all this, grasped Mors’s leg and said, “Good Mors, don’t hurt him. Master Vvelz seeks only to counsel you.” She retrieved Mors’s staff and placed it in his hands. The blind warrior’s rough hand gripped her small one.

  Mors relaxed. “What is your point?”

  Di An looked at Vvelz. The latter said, “You do not owe Li El honorable combat. She is the one you are fighting. The Host is merely her instrument.”

  The scarred eyes turned to the sound of Vvelz’s voice. “And Karn? What do I owe him? Stinging powder? Darts flung from two hundred paces?”

  “You could forgive him,” Catchflea said softly. “He has served Li El all these years, and that
should be punishment enough.”

  “It was his choice,” Mors said, sitting back down. “Bring the bows and the pepper from the hiding place. We will scourge Li El with flowers if that’s what it takes. As for my son, if he will follow us to the world of blue sky and sunlight, I will try to forgive him.”

  “And if he won’t?” asked Vvelz.

  “Then he can lie in the tomb next to his mother.”

  Two cohorts, almost a thousand warriors, tramped in ragged lines across the floor of the great cavern. Karn had divided them into four units called Diamond, Ruby, Emerald, and Garnet. He commanded the Ruby Division, and Riverwind was with him, under one of Li El’s illusions. He thought he was tracking Loreman and Hollow-sky after their attempt to kill Goldmoon.

  “I’ve not been in these mountains before,” Riverwind said. The wheat field they were crossing was tall and sparse. Wind was uncommon in Hest, but a slight, swirling breeze stirred the weak stands of grain.

  “The wretches have hidden from us for years,” Karn said, eyeing the plainsman uncertainly. Talking to the bewitched giant was like talking to a sleepwalker. Karn wasn’t sure what the outlander saw or heard in his present state. Shame burned deep in his heart at having to employ this overgrown lout. Karn believed that he was good enough to crush the rebels; he didn’t need a befuddled giant to assist him.

  Riverwind felt the circling wind and smelled the ever-present smoke in the air. Yet he saw the plain of his homeland under a golden yellow sun. His heart beat fast. Goldmoon was safe only if he could catch and slay the evil men who wanted her dead. His long legs covered the ground in great strides, and his escort was strung out in a long line, trying to keep up.

  “Slow down,” Karn said irritably. “Infernal giant,” he added under his breath.

  Riverwind did more than slow, he stopped. His keen eyes caught a glint of steel on the slope of the mountain ahead.

  “There,” he said, pointing.

  “What?” said Karn, shading his eyes from the brazen sun.

  “Someone is up there. Carrying a sword. It must be them,” Riverwind said. His pulse quickened in his chest.

  Karn saw, not the illusion of mountains, but the abandoned temple where his ancestors had once worshiped. “You’re wrong. We checked there already. The diggers must be dispersed in small bands throughout the caverns.”

  “They are there,” Riverwind insisted. He started off at a fast lope.

  “Wait! Halt! I command here!” Karn shouted. Riverwind slowed. Goldmoon had told him to obey this short fellow. Karn hustled up. “Remember, you do as I say!” he said hoarsely. “That, ah, mountain is infested with evil spirits. Our quarry would not be hiding up there.”

  “Why not? If I wanted to hide, I’d go where evil spirits were rumored to live. Ghosts would keep visitors away.”

  The other soldiers had caught up and were listening with evident interest. The giant’s words made sense to them.

  “Goldmoon said to search the tunnels in the south wall—I mean, mountain range. An army of rebels could hide there.” Those were Li El’s orders. Besides, Karn reasoned, nobody would dare hide in the ancient temple.

  Riverwind did not advance toward the temple, nor did he turn. The rest of Ruby Division slouched to a halt behind the plainsman. “The enemy is there.” He raised a long arm and pointed again at the distant temple.

  Karn had had enough of the outlander’s arrogance. “Form a line of march!” Karn raged. He cursed at the Hestite soldiers until they formed two parallel lines. “Now stand there until I order you to move!” To Riverwind, he said, “You will obey my orders without question, understand? Her Highness—Goldmoon—expects you to do as I say.”

  Riverwind looked down at the man. “Yes, Captain.”

  The Ruby Division made off for the south wall. Riverwind walked slowly alongside the column, his gaze still fixed on the abandoned temple, which he saw as a mountain. He had seen the glint of steel there. He really had.

  Chapter 9

  Lost Diamonds

  Karn, Riverwind, and the Ruby Division reached the south wall many hours later. As Karn had said, the cave wall was honeycombed with holes and tunnels, many of which had been carved out of the limestone by early Hestites and used as homes. The soldiers went in by twos and threes, rooting through the rubbish collected at the mouth of the caves, searching for signs of recent habitation. They found none.

  “They could be deeper in the wall,” Karn mused. One of his subordinates said timidly that it did not seem likely. “Oh? Why so?” Karn asked.

  The filthy, mud-coated Hestite replied, “Water has trickled down through the walls, my captain. In most of the caves a foot of water has collected at the back. There’s nothing else in them but mud and broken pottery.”

  Karn sat on a round boulder and said, “Well, keep looking. The scum are likely to be in the last place you think to search.” The weary soldier saluted and returned to the hunt.

  “Shall I go, too?” Riverwind asked.

  “No, I don’t want you to get wedged in some tight spot,” Karn answered absently. “Those holes weren’t made by giants.”

  All through the day Karn had been receiving messages from Li El in the city. Messages from the other divisions of the Host also arrived, brought by runners. While his troops ransacked the south wall caves, runners from Emerald Division and Garnet Division arrived from the mining district, with news that no Blue Sky rebels had been found. Karn scratched his hollow cheek and pondered what to do next. The queen’s grand design was bearing little fruit so far.

  “If the Diamonds find no sign of the enemy in the orchards, we’ll go back to Vartoom,” Karn said. “Her Highness will have to employ her Art once more to find signs of them.”

  They waited for a runner from the Diamonds to arrive. None did. Riverwind stood off to one side, his mind wrapped in visions the queen conjured for him. Li El exploited all of his emotions: his love for Goldmoon, his fear and distrust of Loreman and Arrowthorn, his guilty exultation over the death of Hollow-sky. His mind was aboil as he relived these events over and over. Outwardly he looked calm, even somnolent. Li El had insisted on fitting him with what bits of Hestite armor would fit him. Greaves and vambraces were laced to his arms and legs. A gorget protected his neck, and an open helmet covered his head. It was Hest’s own helmet, though on Riverwind it fit like a skullcap.

  The plainsman longed to be back with Goldmoon. Danger was all around them. Loreman and his followers would come armed, not with sabers or bows, but with common rocks. Heretics were stoned. Heretics such as Riverwind and his beloved.

  Karn idly chewed a dry biscuit. His troops were slowly filtering back to the plain, having examined every dirty hole in the wall. Soon some two hundred and fifty warriors were sprawled among the mossy stones.

  Vartoom was a pale blue shadow in the floating veil of smoke. Karn squinted at the outline of the city. Should he give the order to return? Should he present himself to Li El empty-handed? She would not be pleased. Perhaps he could blame it on the giant …

  A commotion drew Karn out of his musings and roused Riverwind, too. Two Hestites were carrying a limp body over to a soft patch of moss. Karn leaped to his feet. Riverwind followed him.

  “What is it?” the plainsman asked dully.

  “Stand back, you’re blocking the light,” Karn snapped. He loosened the strap on the warrior’s helmet and pulled it off. The wounded Hestite’s face was red and swollen, particularly his eyes and nose. Karn knew him by the marking on his breastplate. He was with the Diamond Division.

  “What happened?” Karn demanded of the Diamond.

  “Ambush,” the soldier said through inflamed lips. “Our captain—killed. A choking fog spread over the company. We couldn’t see. The warriors—suffocated, sneezing. The division was—wiped out,” he gasped.

  Karn sank back on his haunches. “Wiped out? Wiped out?” He grasped the wounded man by the arms and hauled him to his feet. “Wiped out?” he shouted in the elf’s face.
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  “My captain, look!” said another Hestite. He pointed to the wounded Diamond’s back. The light plate armor had a hole in it. The wounded man bled copiously. The jagged stump of whatever had made the hole protruded.

  “By our lady,” Karn breathed. “What in Hest’s name is that?”

  “Arrow,” Riverwind said. “Broken off.”

  The warriors looked at him without comprehension. “What is ‘arrow’?” Karn asked desperately.

  Riverwind regarded him in puzzlement, but went on to explain what an arrow was, and how it was shot.

  “Do the rebels have such weapons?” asked one of Karn’s soldiers. Others took up the question and its implications. Karn let the wounded warrior go and jumped to his feet.

  “I cannot fight an enemy who hurls darts at us from far away! Her Highness must be told of this at once!

  Trumpeter—where’s that damned trumpeter? Sound the muster call. Call Garnet and Emerald back to us.”

  A slender young elf climbed atop a large boulder and put a brass cornet to his lips. The shrill notes echoed and reechoed across the vast cavern. A few moments later, horns from the other two divisions responded.

  Riverwind knelt by the forgotten, wounded soldier. He was dead. The plainsman closed the elf’s eyes and his fingers came away stained with black powder. He touched his tongue to the stain to clean it away. His tongue burned. Pepper. His dark brows drew together in a frown. That did not make sense.

  “You!” Karn said, poking Riverwind’s shoulder from behind. “Pick him up and carry him.” Riverwind scooped up the dead warrior easily in his arms. The Rubies milled around, worried and uncertain. Karn bullied them into formation, and they set out directly for Vartoom. They hadn’t gone two miles before the Emerald Division appeared, coming toward them through a grove of stunted apple trees. The warriors staggered as they ran. Some had lost their weapons. Many clutched their faces in their hands and sobbed loudly.