The Lure of the Basilisk

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  When the overman sent the warbeast off to hunt its twice-weekly meal on the third night following the battle, it returned shortly after midnight, well fed, as it had not in the forests west of Derbarok. Garth was pleased by this, as he was rather fond of the monster as well as impressed by it. Elmil, however, reacted with revulsion the following morning when he woke to find the only physical evidence of the hunt a pool of drying blood that had dripped from the animal’s jaws during the night. Despite the bandit’s admiration of Koros’ power and grace, the beast both frightened and horrified him.

  It was on the fourth day, shortly before sunset, with the eastern hills — which were actually good-sized mountains, in Garth’s opinion — looming before them, and Garth riding and musing on his mount’s virtues, that Elmil let out a sudden cry.

  “Look! On the hilltop!”

  Garth turned his gaze to follow the man’s pointing finger, but saw nothing. He looked at him questioningly.

  “I thought I saw a man.”

  “Was he of your band?”

  “I think he may have been. I’m not sure.”

  With a wordless noise, Garth sat back in the saddle, scanning the horizon and ignoring Elmil’s worried expression as the bandit twisted around to look at him. Seeing nothing, he glanced at the ground; seeing that they were past the pool of mud that had driven him to mount, he swung himself off Koros’ back to resume his weary walking. Elmil continued to watch him worriedly for several minutes, but said nothing, and finally turned his attention back to the approaching mountains.

  To Garth, the sighting plainly indicated that he was indeed walking into an ambush in the Annamar Pass; but, having already decided his course of action, he merely continued on as before. His only concession was to stand watch half that night while Elmil slept, then sleep whilst Elmil watched. Garth would have waited up much of the night in any case, as once again he let Koros hunt, rather than risk being unable to find game in the mountains. By referring to it as “standing guard” he allayed much of Elmil’s growing uneasiness. He used Koros’ return, shortly after midnight, as the signal to change the watch, and was mildly amused to see, as he dropped off to sleep, Elmil watching in horror as the warbeast licked blood from its curving front claws, claws that glittered red and bone-white in the moonlight.

  It was still an hour before dawn when Garth awoke again, his light slumber broken by Elmil’s first snore; despite his fears, the bandit had dozed off. No harm was done, though; rather, it merely meant the day would have an early start. After burying the ashes of their campfire and repacking their supplies, the overman woke his captive just long enough to get him perched firmly astride the warbeast, and set out toward the hills as the barbarian fell asleep again, bobbing gently in the saddle.

  By the time Elmil woke fully the sun was visible above the mountains and the road was slanting upward enough to make walking difficult. By noon the party was well into the mountains, and the road was again level. This was the Annamar Pass, several hundred feet above the level of the plain, but thousands of feet below the peaks on either side.

  It was here that Garth fully expected an ambush to occur, and his wary alertness gradually changed to a growing apprehension as no attack came; why were the bandits so slow to make their move? Was there, perhaps, something up here that had slain them and now lay lurking somewhere, ready to kill him as well? Or were they merely biding their time, to relax his vigilance?

  Elmil, in the meantime, seemed utterly unworried. He had little to fear from any possible ambush, since the ambushers were his own tribesmen; although he felt no particular need of rescue from his inhuman captor, he had no objection to such an event. Garth had not mentioned the possibility of an ambush to him, but Elmil was not so blind as to miss the significance of sighting one of his comrades apparently standing lookout the preceding day. In fact, since it provided an acceptable explanation of why the bandits had taken this route, it relieved much of his earlier uneasiness. Thus he was highly amused by Garth’s reaction when some small animal cracked a nut somewhere behind them. Far more nervous than he would ever have willingly admitted, the overman whirled at the sharp sound and stood with drawn sword at ready, glaring back down the road. Relaxing slowly, he turned forward once more and carefully sheathed his blade to find Elmil attempting to smother a grin and Karos waiting impatiently. Embarrassed, he said nothing, but merely marched on.

  When sunset arrived they were perhaps two-thirds of the way through the pass, and the road had begun to slope downward. Garth had finally decided that there would be no ambush and relaxed somewhat, though he was still worried by the mystery of why the bandits had taken this road. He considered discussing the matter with Elmil, but decided against it.

  Elmil, meanwhile, had decided that his tribesmen were planning a midnight assault, the standard method for dealing with well-armed caravans; he debated mentioning this to the overman, but decided against it. Despite Garth’s mercy in letting him live and even bandaging his leg, he was still at least nominally an enemy. Besides, the idea was so obvious that he was sure the overman had already thought of it.

  That Garth had not in fact thought of it was a sign of his inexperience; in the past his only battles had been by sea, against pirates unfamiliar with Ordunin’s waters, who dared not move at night for fear of ramming one another or running aground on reefs and rocks. He had not yet adjusted his thinking to allow for a new enemy, despite his presence in a new land; in truth, he had done very little real thinking of any sort since his decision to seek out the Wise Women of Ordunin, but had been allowing himself to be swept along by his determination to fulfill his quest for immortal fame.

  Thus when they made camp Elmil carefully arranged his sleeping-furs well away from the fire, and well away from both overman and warbeast, so as to avoid being accidentally caught up in the melee. Garth noticed this, but guessed it to be merely a result of Elmil’s distrust of Koros and failed to see its true significance. He had no objection, especially since it put the bandit further downwind. He sat up for a few hours but decided that a proper watch was unnecessary, particularly in view of how little sleep he had managed the preceding night, and went to sleep shortly before midnight.

  It was three hours later that he was awakened by a growl from his beast. He was instantly alert, reaching for his battle-axe, which lay in its accustomed place close by his side. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw three men on horseback, armed with lances, standing on the road perhaps fifty feet away.

  Koros was awake and wary, standing over the supplies and growling; Elmil was still asleep, and a fourth rider had dismounted to stand over him with a spear at his throat.

  “I’ll watch this traitor. You three kill the animal, and then we’ll handle the overman.” It was the man on foot who spoke.

  Not wishing to lose either mount or captive, Garth leapt to his feet, axe in hand, and charged toward the intruders. To his astonishment, he was stopped short perhaps two yards from his bed, rebounding as if from an unseen wall. One of the horsemen laughed nastily, and all grinned as Garth groped his way along the barrier, to find that it extended in a full circle some eight or ten yards in diameter, bringing him back to where he began, facing the bandits. It extended to the ground throughout, regardless of the irregular terrain, and higher than he could reach, though when he leapt with one arm extended upward his hand met no resistance. When he tried to pull himself up the invisible wall, he could get no grip. It was as if the barrier slid out from under his fingers, dumping him rudely, still trapped inside. He dismissed any thought of jumping free; he could not possibly clear the mysterious barrier without a running start, for which he had insufficient room. He glared impotently at the bandits, who sneered back.

  “All right, enough fun. Kill the beast.” Once again it was the man on foot who spoke, apparently the group’s leader.

  The trio moved to obey, but reluctantly; Koros was fully as formidable an enemy as i
ts master. The first raised his lance and urged his horse to a gallop. The warbeast batted aside his charge as a kitten bats a ball, of yarn, flinging the man screaming from his horse, his lance snapping against the beast’s flank without leaving more than a scratch.

  Elmil was awake now, watching helplessly as the other two approached more cautiously, looking for an opportunity to plunge their weapons into the warbeast’s vitals. They separated, circling the monster in opposite directions, making it impossible for Koros to face them both; realizing what was happening, the beast went on the offensive and sprang at one of them, claws out, smashing the man off his horse against a rocky hillside. The other flung his spear; it stuck in Koros’ shoulder, but failed to slow the beast as it ripped the throat out of the fallen bandit.

  “Stop!” cried the apparent leader. “Overman, call off your beast, or I’ll kill Elmil!” Elmil looked pleadingly at his quondam captor as the bandit’s spear hovered over his heart.

  Garth took perhaps half a second to consider, in which time Koros had pounced again, slashing at its remaining attacker without unhorsing him, leaving a bloody corpse to slip slowly from the saddle.

  “Down!” Garth roared, and the warbeast suddenly stopped, as docile as a housecat, to tend to its wounded shoulder as best it could, licking at the oozing blood and brushing at the shaft of the spear while keeping a wary eye on the bandit leader.

  “Why should I care if Elmil dies?” Both bandit and overman ignored the panic that appeared on Elmil’s face as a slight jab kept him from protesting.

  “You apparently have some use for a captive.”

  “No more. I kept him as hostage, but it appears you care as little for him as I do.”

  The bandit was disconcerted, and hesitated before saying, “Let us negotiate. Perhaps we can avoid further bloodshed.”

  “As you wish.”

  Unsure of himself, the bandit went on, “I fear we have made a mistake in attacking you.”

  Garth said nothing.

  “Therefore, although we have wronged you, we ask that you pardon us, and we will go in peace.”

  Garth waited before replying, but the bandit could think of nothing further to add; so, finally, the overman said, “You will not bother me again, nor harm my beast.”

  “You have my word.”

  “You will leave Elmil alive and in my custody, and receive him back willingly when I free him.”

  “As you wish.”

  “You will remove this obstruction, and answer my questions.”

  “Very well.”

  “Should you renege on any of these promises, I shall track you down and kill you.”

  It was the bandit’s turn to say nothing.

  “Remove this barrier.”

  Hesitantly, the bandit said, “I must first have your word for my life, and for the lives of my companions . . . if any still survive.”

  “I give you my word that neither I nor my beast shall slay any of you without further provocation.”

  “Very well.” The bandit turned away and fumbled with something under his vest; Garth felt the air in front of him, and found that the invisible wall was gone. He strode over to where Elmil lay and the bandit leader stood.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am Dansin of Derbarok.”

  “You are the leader of the bandits?”

  “I was, from the time you slew Khand, our former leader, until now. I do not know if I can be so called any more.”

  “How did you create that barrier?”

  “It is controlled with a talisman given me by the wizard Shang.”

  “Why did the wizard give you this charm?”

  “To subdue you.”

  “How did Shang know of me?”

  “We went to him for aid when you slew our fellows, and told him of the battle, and that you rode toward Mormoreth.”

  “You could not know whither I rode.”

  “The road you followed leads only there; the highways to Lagur and Ilnan have been abandoned, and all traffic thither takes other routes.”

  “So you told Shang of my approach; and then?”

  “We asked him for powerful weapons, for magicks to slay you with to avenge our comrades and protect Mormoreth. He refused, saying that such were not necessary to stop a lone adventurer, and that he could not risk letting such as us use them. Instead, he gave us the charm of the invisible wall.”

  “I would see this charm.”

  “That was no part of our bargain.” The bandit drew back.

  “As you will.” The overman thought briefly without striking upon any other questions, then said, “Let us see to your fellows.” He failed to notice Dansin’s surprise when he so readily abandoned his claim to the magical prison.

  Fitting actions to words, Dansin, Garth, and Elmil found that of the three other bandits the first was unconscious from his fall but appeared otherwise unhurt, while the other two were quite dead. Next Garth removed the spear from the warbeast’s shoulder and treated the wound as best he could. It was not deep, as the point had been embedded in a fold of hide rather than in muscle or bone. The warbeast seemed indifferent to its injuries, save that it licked at each scratch once or twice.

  This done, Garth said, “You may take your comrade and go in peace. I ask, however, that you loan Elmil and myself your two extra horses, since you no longer need them. I will return them in Elmil’s keeping when I release him.”

  “Very well.” Thus it was arranged, and minutes later Dansin vanished into the darkness, riding his own horse while leading another with the unconscious bandit draped across it, and leaving Garth, Elmil, Koros, two horses and two corpses scattered about the faintly glowing remains of a campfire.

  Within minutes, Garth and Elmil were asleep again, while Koros nibbled on one of the corpses.

  Chapter Four

  They awoke late the next day, well after dawn, due to the interruption of their sleep, and were not under way again until almost noon. Now Elmil rode upon one horse, the other carried part of Garth’s supplies, and Garth himself rode in comfort astride Koros once more.

  The day passed without incident, and their next camp was made at sunset on the edge of the valley of Mormoreth. The towers of the city glittered on the horizon, tall spires of white stone bright against the deepening blue of the eastern sky.

  The air was warmer on this side of the mountains, as well, and the valley was green and lush with the spring. There were very few trees, as the entire area was farmland; instead, the crops and grasses lay like a thick green carpet in the shadow of the mountains. Garth had rarely seen farms before, being a city-dweller, and never any so rich; the scene was beautiful in a way he had never known before, for in his homeland the only beauties were those of sleek animals, careen stone, and glittering ice. Even in summer the lands were dull and barren, covered only with sparse grass where the overmen’s diligent efforts could bring forth no wheat; he had never before seen so much green, nor such a rich shade of green.

  However, something looked wrong, even to his untrained eyes; the young corn and wheat did not stand in neat rows, but were scattered about, and grass and weeds grew unchecked amid the crops. These farms were untended and abandoned. He wondered why.

  He wondered also at the towers of Mormoreth. What were they for? Ordunin had a single tower above the harbor, where a perpetual watch was maintained for the benefit of both the trading ships carrying out furs, ice, carved bone and new-mined gold, and the port itself; the pirates in the region had several times assaulted Ordunin when unsatisfied with their take at sea. The port’s other buildings were but one or two stories in height, or at most three; beyond that, stairs became too wearying. But here, amid a vast peaceful valley with land to spare, humans had built a city with a dozen towers, each a good hundred feet in height. Admittedly, the towers were very beautiful as they glowed in the setting sun;
the architects had been excellent indeed. But building for beauty alone was something Ordunin could never dream of; mere survival took too much effort.

  Contemplating beauty and the significance of beauty, and the further significance of abandoned farmlands, Garth fell asleep, to dream uneasily of the desolate beauties of winter in the Northern Waste, where drifting snow and pinnacles of ice would gleam in the setting sun like the towers of Mormoreth.

  The following day Garth awoke once more at dawn, to find Elmil carefully separating his belongings from the overman’s. He watched for a moment, then demanded, “What are you doing?”

  “I am preparing to wait here while you go to Mormoreth.”