by Paula Guran
The Herald just gave him a sobering look, and he shut his mouth on any objections.
:Let’s go,: Vedalia said. :If we push, we can make the next village by sundown.:
They pushed—and found that place in as much of an uproar as the first, and having had a full day to stew over the warnings, people were ready to greet anything that looked like help with full cooperation. Either they were not necessarily expecting Stedrel, or they were so grateful to see the uniform that they were willing to overlook the youthful face. In either case, no one objected to a single aspect of the plan.
The water-caves here were nearer and larger; evacuation of goods and stores took place by torch- and moonlight, and this village had a leader in the form of one indomitable old woman. Once given a plan, she was perfectly prepared to see it carried out. Conscious of the passing of time, Alain decided to move on that very night. He’d always understood that it was possible for a Herald to sleep in the saddle; now he found out the truth of it. It wasn’t exactly sleep, but it was no worse than his night beside the kettle. He reached the third village at dawn, finding it in as desperate a state as the previous two.
And in coming closer to hysteria. So much so that he decided to organize the coast-watchers first. And it was a good thing that he did.
For it was no more than a candlemark after the youngsters had set off than wild horn-calls sounded in the middle distance, and all the careful plans fell to pieces.
After the first moment of blank incomprehension, while people, interrupted in mid-task, stared silently at the west, someone screamed.
Then all hell broke loose. No one seemed to know where to go, or what to do, despite Alain’s instructions only two candlemarks ago. They dashed in all directions, some to their homes, some to the woods, some to snatch up belongings, and some dropping them. Five people managed to keep their heads: Alain, Vedalia, and three of the village elders.
“Get them to the caves!” Alain shouted over the screaming, the weeping, as people milled in panic around him. “We have to get them to the caves!”
The elders began picking up children, shoving them into random arms, shouting at those who had frozen with fear to rouse them, and shoving them in the right direction. Once little groups were moving towards safety, Vedalia encouraged them by charging at them with lashing hooves and bared teeth, looking utterly demonic.
Alain headed off those going in the opposite direction, screaming at them, even going so far as to swat a couple of those lagging behind with the flat of his blade until they disappeared into the trees in the direction of the caves—
Then he returned to chivvy another group into safety.
He had not a moment to spare to look for the enemy—as they sailed swiftly into the harbor he got nothing more than a glimpse of ships, long, lean, fast-looking to his land-accustomed eyes. He sensed, more than heard or saw, the moment when the raiders came ashore. Vedalia was hot on the heels of another group of stragglers; he went back to chase a few more away from a chest they were trying to haul off.
He never realized how close the raiders were, that they were charging up the street at a run, until it was too late. He never even got a chance to defend himself. There was just a shout behind him, and he half-turned, and then—
—he woke in darkness, head reeling, stomach heaving, pain shooting through his skull; his hands were tied in front of him, and his ankles bound together. He’d been tossed on a pile of what felt like rope, and he was just about to lose what little he had in his stomach. He managed to roll over to the side before throwing up, and managed to roll away from the mess he’d made. The floor beneath the ropes on which he lay was moving.
From the way his head hurt, someone had coshed him, and done so with enthusiasm and some expertise. Enthusiasm, because they’d given him a concussion for certain—given the way that his stomach churned and the deck (it must be a ship’s deck) beneath him felt as if it was spinning as well as rising and falling. Expertise, because he wasn’t dead.
He was trussed up, but hastily; evidently his captors trusted to the hit on the head to keep him quiet. And he was in darkness, because it was night, but he was also under a tarp draped between two bulky objects. Around him were foreign noises, the rushing and splashing of water, sounds of creaking, the groaning of wood, men shouting. The air was damp and cool and smelled of open water.
At least they hadn’t shoved him into the hold.
Well, perhaps there wasn’t any room in the hold. He was probably the least valuable object the raiders had taken.
Right. I’m on a ship, a captive, and—
Only then did he realize that there was a conspicuous absence in his thoughts.
—in trouble. I can’t hear Vedalia.
He must be leagues away from the village, if he couldn’t hear his Companion. Leagues away, and no way for anyone to track him.
“—and I don’ know what th’ hell ye wanted with the Herald!” someone said, just coming into earshot. “He’s no good to us—a woman or a kiddie we could use, but him?”
“Look, if we kill him, we get more trouble than we can handle,” said a second voice. “Kill one of them white-coats, and the rest never give up comin’ after you!”
You’ve got that right, Alain thought—though what good that would do him if he was dead—
“If we left him, gods only know what he’d manage to do—him or that horse. And gods know how close their people are. I thought, we take him, though, they won’t dare come after us with everything they’ve got. Even if they got ships ready to sail, you bet they’d hang back. They won’t risk our killing him. If we held him till we were safe out of reach, I figured we stayed safe.”
His heart plummeted and his spirit went cold. Gods help me. Bandits who think.
“So now what?” asked the first voice, sounding a little mollified.
“We sail a little farther, we make sure there’s nothing chasing us, then we dump him.” The second voice sounded utterly indifferent. “We could probably get a ransom for him, but that’d put us in their reach again.”
Alain felt his heart falter, and the panic he had been holding off until that moment rise up and seize him. He wanted to scream, but he could only whimper a little, a pathetic whine lost in the sounds the ship made. And inside, he began screaming silently—and futilely—for help. He couldn’t help himself—it was an automatic reaction.
But even as he shrieked at the top of his mental voice, some part of him despaired and knew it was useless. Maybe in the woods, even if there was no human with Mindspeech near enough to help, he could have summoned elk, a mountain-cat, wolves to his aid. But this was the vast water, with nothing in it but fish. Still his mind yammered as if anything that could help him was likely to hear him . . .
:?:
The response, faint as it was, stopped his mental gibbering in its tracks. :What?: he called back.
:??: came the return—stronger! There was a sense of something he hadn’t expected; behind that startled query was intelligence. Maybe enough to help him?
He fought back pain and nausea and focused all of his strength behind something more coherent.
:Help me! Please!: he Sent, and added overtones of his situation; easy enough to do since it was all very physical.
The response was not a single voice, but a chorus.
:Landwalker? Yes, Landwalker!:
:Landwalker. Net-bound.:
:Brother to Weeps-On-Shore.:
:Captive to——: What followed was emotion, and senses, rather than words—a sense of something destructive, a taste of blood, and anger on the part of the speaker. Whatever these creatures were, they knew his captors, and they had no love for them.
:Yes. They must not have him.:
:Enough. They must be stopped.:
:Call the Deep One.:
:Yes! The Deep One will know! The Deep One will rid the face of the waters of them!:
:Call the Deep One!:
Well, it was very nice that they saw his enemies as their own,
but they hadn’t answered him. He chose this moment to insert his own plea.
:Please? Help me?:
But at that moment, the tarp was ripped aside. He blinked up at four shadowed faces interposed between him and a star-filled sky.
Someone else, just out of sight, spoke. “Right. We’re safe enough. Over the side with him.”
Fear and nausea warred within him, but he had no time to react—four sets of hands seized shoulders and ankles, there was a moment of futile struggle as they heaved him up—
Then flying weightless through the air—just enough time for a last gulp of air—
Then he hit the water like a stone.
He managed to keep his breath, and he sank for a moment, the cold water hitting him a blow that made him choke back a gasp that would have lost him that precious breath. With bound hands and feet, disoriented in the black water, he thrashed, trying to find the surface, the air, the precious air, and not knowing where it was.
:We come, Walker!:
Miraculously he was surrounded by large, fleshy bodies, warm, slick bodies that bore him suddenly up to the surface and held him there as he gasped for breath.
He couldn’t see them—the moon must have set—so he had only the sense that they were larger than he was, slick and not scaly like a fish. As they thrust under his arms with oblong heads and long snouts, they used those rounded, bulbous heads to keep him afloat. Others went to work on the ropes tying his hands and feet. They had sharp teeth, too, in those snouts—they took it in turns to slice at his bonds, slicing into his hands, though he sensed apology every time tooth met flesh and he gasped with pain.
:It’s all right,: he managed, and conveyed the sense that he would rather be free and wounded than bound and whole. He got amused concurrence and a renewed assault on his bonds. They must be the terror of the fish, these creatures; veritable wolves of the water.
Just as the final rope parted on his hands, there was a stirring among his rescuers, a rush of excitement.
:The Deep One comes!: cried one voice, and then another—
And suddenly he was alone in the water, paddling frantically. :Wait!: he called after them. :Wait, I don’t—I can’t—:
:Peace, little Walker.:
The Mindvoice was like none he had ever heard before; huge, deep, with a kind of echo. It swept through his mind and made him shiver and catch his breath, knowing in his bones he was in the presence of something—monumental.
:Peace. Be still. I come.: He felt something, a pressure in the water beneath him, and then—
Then something bigger than the biggest ship he had ever seen rose up beneath him like a floor. And he felt himself in a Presence.
:Yes, little Walker. I uphold you. Well for you that you cannot see me, else your fear would make a dumb beast of you, and render you lawful prey . . .
It had the same sort of slick, resilient hide as the others had, this creature whose back held him, supported him, in just a few thumb-breadths of water. He couldn’t see anything of it, but the sense of something so huge he couldn’t even imagine it held him silent.
:So, tell me, Walker-On-Land, what is it that should cause the Bright Leapers to come to your aid and call upon me?:
:I don’t know, my lord,: Alain said humbly. :I just—asked for help.:
:Just asked for help. Never has a Walker asked help of us. Perhaps that is reason enough. But what of these others?: The Mindvoice lost its sense of amusement, and Alain shivered again. :The Leapers say that they must be stopped. Their tree-float tastes of blood and pain, their minds of ravening. I know what they have done to the Leapers—but what else have they done to their own kind?:*
As briefly as possible, Alain outlined to the vast creature beneath his hands just what it was that the raiders had done, and he felt an anger as enormous as creature itself slowly rousing.
:So. Bad enough to make war, but those who make it upon the infant and the aged . . . the wisdom of the people and the hope . . . : A pause. :Yes. I can see. But this is between you and your kind, and although I wish to follow the wishes of the Leapers, I must have a price from you.:
:A price?: It didn’t matter; whatever it wanted, it could have, if it would put an end to these marauding bandits. :Is it—: he gulped. :—me you want, oh Lord of the Deep?:
The surface beneath his hands vibrated; in a moment, he recognized it as laughter. :No, little Walker, be you ever so tasty, you are too noble for my eating. Besides, I would not cause the Weeper-On-The-Shore, your White Spirit-Brother, to dissolve in grief. No. Before I act in the affairs of Walkers . . . a vow from you, Walker, brother to the White Spirit. That you reveal me to no one. Ever.:
:You have it,: he promised, not entirely sure why this creature wanted it, nor what he was exchanging the vow for, but willing enough to give it. :None shall know. Not even my Companion.:
:Then I shall act.:
He felt the great bulk beneath him begin to move, felt it rise until he was completely out of the water. He balanced on this hill of flesh, and the air of its passing flowed around him, chilling him so that he shivered. The resilient flesh beneath him undulated slowly.
Lights appeared on the horizon, lights too yellow and unwinking to be stars.
They were lanterns, lanterns hung on the rail of the ship that had taken him and on its sister-ships in the raiding fleet. Swiftly as these ships sailed, the creature beneath Alain was faster.
Now he sensed other minds around him, the minds of the smaller creatures that had initially been his rescuers. They exchanged no words, only feelings of excitement and some of the same anger that the greater creature felt. And with that came glimpses of the cause of that anger—the wanton slaughter of these creatures by the men of the swift, agile ships.
:Stay with the Leapers, Walker, and observe.:
The bulk that supported him slipped from beneath him, plunging him into the water again as it disappeared. But before he could panic, the others were around him, one under each outstretched arm. And before the ship sailed away from where they waited in the water, something black and terrible surged up out of the waves beside it—
—and crashed down on it before the few sailors manning the sails and tiller had a chance to do more than register the presence of something beside them.
The ship disintegrated with a horrible sound of shattering timber and the screams of the men aboard.
The men on the other ships had that much warning—enough to know their doom, not enough to avoid it. Again and again, the huge bulk leapt from the waves and smashed down on their ships, splintered them as a wanton child would splinter a toy, but with anger no child could ever feel.
How many died instantly, how many were left to flounder in the water he would never find out, for the smaller swimmers left him again and the huge one rose beneath him and carried him quickly away.
:There are more of them yet, clinging to bits of their tree-floater, but I will hunt tonight, Walker,; said the voice with grim satisfaction. :When you are safe I shall return, and oh, I shall dine well . . . so remember your vow.:
:I will,: he pledged fervently, with a shudder, and felt the creature’s amusement.
:Come. I hunger. The sooner the Leapers can take you ashore, the sooner I may feed.:
Again the huge bulk rose out of the water with him atop it, and sped—in what direction? He could not tell. He could only cling to it as best he could, exhausted, cold, shivering, aching in head and limb, and hope this thing that had spoken of dining on men would take him home.
And yet—and yet—
He was afraid of it—but it was more respect than fear.
:Speak with me, Walker. Tell me of your life. I have never met one who could Speak to my thoughts, and I have lived long . . . long.:
So throughout that long night, that strange journey, he spoke with the unseen creature that bore him. It was not ignorant of the ways of humans, but Heralds and Companions were new and fascinating to it. He came to understand that it was his despised Gift of An
imal Mindspeech that had saved him; the creature could hear the strong thoughts of others, but imperfectly. Only Alain had ever been able to converse with it, and with the ones called the Bright Leapers.
Gradually, respect entirely replaced fear—
Though he did not forget what it intended to do when it returned to the shattered wrecks to hunt. And he was torn; the men were guilty of murder, robbery, rapine—and certainly their lives would have been forfeit had their fate come upon them from the hands of Selenay’s Guard. But to be devoured after candlemarks of terror, floating on the face of the water—
:Their fate is what it will be. Perhaps they will drown before I return; drowned or living, they will serve me well. It is neither you, nor I, to whom they must answer for their deeds. I do but send them quickly to that judgment.:
There was nothing he could say to that; and in the end, perhaps this was no worse than imprisonment, perhaps a trial, and in the end, the axe or rope . . .
:But the dawn is near, and so is the shore,: the creature continued. :No Walker has yet seen me, nor shall they—not those who I let live, at least. I go to hunt; the Leapers will see you to your friends.: There was a sense of a smile in its Mindvoice. :Begin to call when I leave you, so that your Spirit-Brother will cease to lament. His weeping tears at my heart even now.:
The creature slowed and stopped, and slowly submerged, dropping him again into the water. A moment later, it was gone—it could probably swim faster under the water than above it, and had only kept to the surface for his benefit. The water felt warm after the chill of wet garments in rushing air; the Bright Leapers were soon around him, holding him up.
:Move your limb from out the dead-skin you wear, so we can take it in our mouths and pull you,: said one. After a moment he puzzled out that they meant him to pull his hands and arms up into his sleeves so they could take the ends in their mouths. He did as they asked, and soon they were towing him between two of them, with the others swimming alongside, occasionally leaping into the air, apparently just for the sheer exuberance of living. Remembering what the Deep One had said, he began to MindCall Vedalia. And as the sky before them grew light, and the water reflected it back in dull silver, he heard Vedalia answer.
