by Andre Norton
Her hands were stilled and I thought I could sense wariness, a hesitation. But I also knew approval from those of my own company.
Then the cowled one nodded. She made another gesture which was plainly an invitation to follow her and she went to the right and the building there which flanked the temple in which we had visited.
There was a ponderous door which might have been built up with layer upon layer of thick glass, the whole infused with a silvery light. That was drawn back at our coming, though there was no sign within of any who Welcomed us. Once more we faced a columned hall but all the decoration Was of the same clouded glass vined with a silver brilliance like the shine of the moon at full—giving good light to a circle of high-backed chairs established in what looked to be the exact Center of that space.
The cowled one fitted herself arid the width of her robe into one and signaled again for us to choose our own, to be seated. While from the back of the hall there came three of the city men much like the others, only with gemlike stones on the peaks of their headgear. This trio took their place in the circle facing the robed one. As usual they turned set, expressionless faces to us.
Once we were settled the cowled head turned a fraction to face the Lady Jaelithe and, even as heir hands had moved earlier, so now did those long fingers rise to write upon the air. There were three signs so made and that in the middle I knew though I had ho Witch training. It was the signal which appeared on the door of Gunnora's shrine. The Witches in their proud ranking of Power had never called upon the Ever Nourishing One. She was of another time, one which, even with the opening of Escore, the knowledge of Arvon, they refused to acknowledge. Too far had they journeyed apart during the unnumbered years.
Only the Lady Jaelithe, no longer bound by their, prejudices, replied to that with a like pattern. Though I was the more amazed for I had always believed that Gunnora's rule was largely for the Dales and Arvon, with only traces remembered perhaps in Escore and among the humbler folk in Estcarp.
“We have hungered,” the cowled one spoke to our mind. “There has been dire troubling and we have beseeched a sign. This is the second year time when the rains have not come and in the fields seeds dry or their sprouting withers. To the will of the Great Ones we have appealed. But always there has come only a greater burden. Were it not for the bounty of the sea Varn might be shattered and we all be as dust.”
“From where has spread this troubling—from the east?”
Could it be true in the south Escore curved around the coastal lands a part of the proper coastline? Certainly there had been “troubling” in a plenty in that riven land.
“To the east there is nothing but the mountains. No, what threatens lies south. There have been many signs and portents of shadow. We have dreamed ill dreams. Those grow longer and touch more of us each nightfall until some who have been greatly afflicted are brought into the Place of Light that they may have renewing sleep outside the Shadow. The food from the sea which holds us to life since our fields do not yield, is sometimes gone, and our boats return with empty nets, or within those strange monsters which can deal death with claw or tooth.
“Those who had sought farther for food have seen afar the light of fire rising from the sea. While all men know that neither water nor fire can hold together, that one must always conquer the other. There have been no traders in our bay. Six moons ago the fishing boat of Zizzar Can was passed by a great ship, wind in its spread sails to carry it on but no man tending those sails, nor standing vigilant at the steering—a lost ship with none aboard. He and his men would have boarded it to seek out the meaning of such a mystery, but they had no way of climbing aloft. Soon the winds had driven it on. But it came from the south.”
“Was this the first ship you have seen so?” asked Lady Jaelithe.
There was a moment of silence and then the cowled one answered.
“In the Founding Years of Varn 6783 there was a similar time and then there came a wind from the south, searing with a heat which lay waste all the fields just before the harvest. Then four of the fishing craft were lost and the crew of the single one of that fleet which returned swore before the Waiter that all steersmen save their own, for they had followed some distance behind the other vessels, had set a southward course. Though they shouted and signaled no one on board those gave them need. Nor did they return. Far off, against a dark sky as if some storm broke there but did not reach to Varn, there was a fiery light.”
“And how long was that since?”
“This is the settlements year 6810. But this time there is that added to the ill which was not reported then—the dreams, and five or six days ago the Mirror of Keffin Du, set to guard the south wall, cracked and fell in shards when the guards, who answered the alarm, strove: to dismount it for mending.” Now the Cowl indicated with a nod One of the Varsmen and he went swiftly toward the back of the hall to disappear through another doorway.
“What do you seek south? Are fields over which you look also blasted? Are your ships taken?”
“Our fields are fertile still,” Lady Jaelithe made answer, “but to the west there has been a mighty war of the Light against the Dark, and recently we have been told that here southward are strange acts which may mean more trouble—”
The man who had left the room returned. He was bearing before him a thick slab which he bent over to place on the floor so that all of us seated there could see that. The oblong was of glass, the underside of it murky, the upper part clear. While embedded between those two—
I have seen some of the horrors of the Shadow as run in Escore and Arvon—or representations of such. But this was enough to bring a gasp out of me. It was surely not a bird—though it lay in its transparent prison with wings outstretched. But those pinions were not feathered, rather they had the look of leather. The body was neither feathered nor furred, but thickly overgrown with stubby upstanding points like greatly thickened hairs. However, it was the head which was the worst. That had the likeness of a demonic-faced, miniature human. The mouth gaped a little—there seemed to be no visible lips—showing four large fangs, two up and two down, in the jaws. The nose was almost as prominent as a beak and slightly hooked.
Though it must certainly be dead the open eyes appeared to still hold life, as if it was staring at us all, marking each as future prey. On the head was an upstanding comb growth of the same bristles as clothed the body, but longer, like a ragged fringe.
There appeared to be no arms, unless those were marked by the bones which stretched the wings, but the legs and feet were again obscenely human in contour, though there was a tail wrapped loosely about the knees.
“This"—the cowled one nodded to the exhibit—"was one of a flock of such. They came, as if hurled by the savagery of a storm, from the south and they attacked the harbor birds, tearing them to pieces, so that blood and flesh fell from the skies.
“Having so wrought that there was nothing flying aloft save those of its own kind, they dropped landward—and they can walk. Into Varn they came and our kin died, for it seems that, savage as their bites are, they also carry poison at the roots of those fangs. People of the city died before we could net and kill. And these we have never seen before—have you?”
It was I who answered her and it was with a name I had always thought part of legend: “The Theffan.”
I looked up from that small monster to find the others all staring at me.
“Where?” Lord Simon's single word was a command for enlightenment.
“Nowhere,” I was forced to return, “save in legends—in stories which children use for a-frightening one another. There were guardians—One we have already met in the sea. The second was described as this thing before us, save that it was alone and only one. It is out of Sulcar tales, but very ancient—near forgotten. And there was also a third—”
My eyes had dropped once more to the small horror imprisoned for all time. To me it seemed more than ever that those red eyes held life. Now they centered directly on me
, as if the thing wished so to set me in its mind that I would never be forgot when a time came for a reckoning.
8
We stayed a full ten days in the harbor of Varn. Three times we spoke with the cowled one whose face we never saw and with the trio who seemed to be the lawgivers of this city. Meanwhile Captain Sigmun and Captain Harwic had the cargoes of wood brought out and there was brisk bidding among the shore merchants for what was to them rare and precious wares. Only what we took in return were stores rather than the precious glasswork. There were dried, gnarled roots which certainly did not resemble food but which the Sulcars ground and made into a lumpy meal which in turn was again dried into journey cakes. But there was little else in the way of food, for the people of Varn were on short rations for another year.
There were coils of rope, supple and yet very strong, and the smiths of the city went quickly to work to cast bolts for dart guns, beat out long knives with cutting edges so keen that these might split a hair dropped from above. Also each ship had a second and a third row of containers added to the water storage and filled from the streams in the valley. For as fierce as the crop-parching winds from the south might be there was no lack of water which, poured from springs in the mountain walls about.
All this preparation had little to do with us. Rather we gathered with both the officers of the city and with the fishermen who still went forth, to draw nets and do their part for the very life of Varn. What we labored on were charts taken from our ships—those charts which were so empty to the south.
Captain Sigmun sat in on one such conference and he asked a question that seemed born of all the puzzlement of the Sulcars who were such super seamen:
“Lord, what of the ship at Gorm, how can such travel without either sails or oars?” “Because it comes from a world like unto the Kolders’ home in this much, them who are native there had machines of metal to serve their people—”
“And you, Lord Simon, coming from this world, would those machines obey you?”
“No, for it is necessary to feed the machine with a certain liquid which is like oil to a lamp. Without full tanks of that it cannot run. And such tanks within that vessel brought to Gorm were totally empty. It might well have been that, Once brought through the gate, the ship ran on until it had used all that which made it mobile and then it drifted until Captain Harwic chanced upon it: We have not the means of bringing it to life again.”
“Then it was like those great ground crushers the ones brought to break the walls of keeps which Alizon took to High Hallack. It was proven then that, while the Dalesmen could find nothing which would stop them, after a time they halted of themselves and did not move again. So that those of Alizon needs must fight hand-to-hand in regular battle.” Captain Sigmun nodded. “Things which are of the Kolder are evil. I trust that that ship at Gorm be taken to sea and sunk. Whether it lives or not if may have other hidden dangers.”
As if he had called some peril by his words there was a sudden movement in the room about us. Two windows crashed back against the wall, showering dangerous shards of glass around about. There came another blow which set the floor rocking under us. Kemoc threw out an arm and swept his lady away from the table, even as the rest of us withdrew in a hurry from our stools. The ceiling was shaking from side to side, even as did the floor under us. Above our heads solid surface cracked and debris rained down. I saw a pillar actually bend as if some unendurable weight had been pressed down upon it before it broke.
Two of the Vars had blood streaming from face cuts. The glass, which was so much a part of their life, now shattered to bring injury and death. Then the shuddering under us grew still and for a moment only there was utter silence. Breaking that came cries of pain, horror, rage. I edged to the now open window and looked out.
It might have been that Sigmun's words had roused up those long-dead devices of the kolder. Houses had toppled; Varn could now be a city taken after a long siege. I looked to the bay and I knew I cried aloud.
A hand fell upon my shoulder, jerking me back and away so that Sigmun could stand in my place. He in turn cried out. A wave was coming across the bay, such a wave that I believe the most fierce of storms could not have raised. The Sulcar ships were in its path; they would indeed be lost.
Higher than the tip of the tallest mast was the sea. A hammer of water, it fell. We could see nothing but spray and ravening smaller waves. At the mouth of the bay a second wave was lifting—
Thus the terror of the sea fell also on the city, the water rising above the first two tiers of buildings to smash down. How many driven from shaking homes had been caught and swept away? When the wash of water retreated it must have pulled with it many of those who had been alive only seconds earlier.
I think we were all frozen by the very horror of what we witnessed. One of the Vars wailed, throwing his arms wide, rushing for the window next to the one where Sigmun stood. It was Kemoc who caught him and held fast against the blows rained, upon him by a man who could well now be mad.
Sigmun held to the window frame, leaning forward, peering out towards that welter of water, now slipping back into the sea and taking with it much from the city.
Against what had once been the quay at which we landed there was dark wreckage, larger than any of the fishing boats that had been tied up there. And nosing against that, as if the two ships had sought each other when they had been overwhelmed by the water, was the second.
Neither had been drawn back by the rush of the returning water, nor were they sinking. The masts which had brought them, with wide canvas spread flying south were snapped, huge splinters arising from their decks to mark where those had stood. That any aboard them could still live was unbelievable.
Now from the city itself swelled wailing cries which carried all the sorrow of a stricken people. We went forth to see what could be done, Captain Sigmun to hurry down to his Far Rover if she were not now sinking where she clung against the wreckage of the quay.
That the worst of nature was not yet through with us was made clear when there came two after disturbances of the land, bringing more buildings, already weakened, cascading down, until to walk any street was peril. Yet all those who were not caught by death in Varn were already striving to discover the full extent of the damage, to rescue and get into the safety of the plain to the east of the city all who could be carried, or could walk on their trembling feet.
We went to help as we could and became separated in the throng as we strove to bring entrapped living out of tangled masonry, call and hunt for any who might answer.
The sky, which had been open and blue before this evil struck, was darkening and there began to fall from it a shifting of grey-brown dust becoming so thick it threatened to smother us. We tied cloths wet in pools of the seawater over our mouths and noses. Those masks had to be constantly shaken free of the mud which resulted and wet again. And we carried more strips at our belts to be used by any of the survivors we found. Many such clawed at the ruins, trying to dig free some kin or friend.
Many of the dead and the badly injured were women trapped in the houses, for the Vars isolated their women folk in inner rooms and they had not been able to get out of their quarters in time.
I worked with a group of men, two of whom wore the tight silver suits, now encased in the falling ash, of authorities. They had ripped apart their head coverings, using the bandings to make the masks we wore.
The fall of ash grew deeper. Where the waves had licked it formed a firm cover in which we had to dig using shards for shovels. Only too often those we uncovered were already dead.
There was no end to what we did. As the darkness gathered someone brought a lantern burning oil and this was our only light. I grew weary so that my hands shook as I helped shove stones to one side, or used my own fingers to dig away the ashes so we might find someone entrapped. My nails were torn and the seawater in which I wet my breathing mask from time to time settled into cuts in fiery torment.
We were on the first level
just above the sea when I leaned against a half-tumbled wall to catch my breath, so faint that l could hardly keep my feet. For the first time I looked up and around, not keeping all attention only for what was immediately before me.
There were other lights visible, pools of fire here and there. We had by chance come near to where the quay had once stood. I looked out over water which I could not see, only hear in the slurp of waves against the wreckage. More, lights showed not too far away—the ships!
That they could be still above water I could not really believe. Surely the wave had crushed them like eggs in a careless hand. Still those lanterns were clustered and swayed in the dark as if they were mounted on some standard which was unquiet.
“Destree!”
I blinked. The mind call had somehow broken through that shell of concentration on what we did, as if someone had grasped my arm and supported my aching body.
I was dazed enough to wonder if my talent had wakened only to deceive me when the call came once more:
“Destree!”
As one could recognize an audible voice so did I recognize the Lady Jaelithe. I pulled around a little to face squarely those lights bobbing above the water which was full of now waterlogged debris and I blinked as my eyes teared to wash away the still-falling dust.
I made my way in a swaying shuffle toward those bobbing lights. This was one of those nightmare dreams in which one is under some compulsion and yet one's body refuses to answer one's mind. Coming to the end of what was left of the quay, tumbled rocks and the wreckage of two fishing boats, I clung to a pile of stone and tried to see through the falling dust what lay beyond. A form rose out of the murk, climbing out of the filthy water at my very feet. A hand caught at mine where it dangled limply at my side and gave a gentle tug.
“Destree!” Not Lady Jaelithe this time but Orsya. And she was willing me to come with her.
I did not have energy enough to refuse so found myself floundering in water. Though I feared to be struck by some floating debris, a hand locked in the collar of my shirt brought me forward. With the ash so thick upon the surface it was like swimming through stew. Then a hand took one of mine and lifted it so that my fingers could find and curl around a rung of a rope ladder, as choking and coughing from my dip into the mud, I managed somehow to climb. Then other hands closed on me and I was drawn inward to sprawl upon ah ash-dusted surface.