The tip of the island moved north of them. Still no Charni. They turned east and tacked in a zigzag pattern, progress now slower. Michael went to the bow with Nimri, watched for the deep blue of a trench, or a canyon, where the killer fish might be awaiting them.
The tip of the island drew nearer. White cliffs dropped to the sea. A kilometer away, perhaps closer, and Michael pointed, shouted to the other boats; “Straight in! Head for the cliffs!” Standing on the bow, he could see a strip of white, a small, narrow beach straight ahead. Looking outwards he did not see the water beneath him turn suddenly dark blue, did not see the trench there, or the silver sides of countless, living torpedoes rising from the deep.
The Charni hit all boats simultaneously, and men screamed.
“CHARNI!”
Nimri swept the water with his staff as the boat shuddered again and again with the impact of bone and tooth. Darting shapes in the deep, and then dorsal fins homed in. There was a sight of a horrible head, jaws snapping, and an eye exploded in gore at the roar of an assault rifle. The body was ripped to pieces in seconds in a boiling mass of attackers. The other boats were dropping masses of bloody fish into the sea, rocked by the swarm of attracted killers. Men shouted, and one boat was already listing dangerously and sinking rapidly. Men leapt from one boat to another in panic, only to fight a new battle. A thousand shapes rushed to the sinking boat, penetrating it to the tanks of butchered Yellowfin, and pulled the entire craft under the waves. Another boat sank on their port side, men in the water, shrieking, two pulled under with a single tug, another cut in half by one monstrous bite, and a barrage of rifle fire as a boat slowed and jerked the six survivors on board. One man was pulled right out of the mouth of a Charni, only to find his foot missing, a stump spurting blood.
The beach was two hundred meters away; the water boiled around them, but the phalanx was working, the Charni going for the Yellowfin chum.
A huge head rose from the sea only meters away, and Michael shot it seven times in head and eye, watched it roll over on its side, floating.
Floating. Nothing came to claim it.
The Charni were suddenly gone.
Five sailboats were coming around from the north side of the island and heading straight towards them.
“Prepare to fire!” screamed Krisha, and her men turned, aiming their weapons.
Davos screamed with her, pointing to the bow. “Shorten sail, shorten sail! He pulled hard on the tiller, the boat turning sharply.
Twenty meters ahead, something was raising from the depths, sparkling in sunlight, then popping to the surface like a cork, a thing ungainly yet beautiful, a thing of glass, two pontoons and a geodesic dome, inside of which was a man staring at them in amazement and fear, peddling furiously to move the little craft out of their way.
“Drop sail!” screamed Davos. “Drop anchor! We’re nearly aground!”
Boats spun, running into each other, anchors splashing. Krisha yelled at villagers to drop down on deck and get out of the line of her fire.
A hatch popped open on the little glass boat, and its occupant stood up, shaking his fist at them. “Get out of here!” he screamed. “You’re on the rocks and wreaking my beds! Get your anchors up! You, Counselor! Get your people out of here! We don’t want any of your kind here, and I’m not afraid of your guns, either! Get out! Help! Helllp!” He was looking at the on-coming sailboats and waving his arms.
“Please!” shouted Michael. “We’ve escaped from the mainland. Toth has taken one of our people, and we’ve come to get her!”
“Go away! Toth isn’t here; you’re too far west, way too far. Now go! My Lonia will choke in all the sand you’ve stirred up!”
“Ready!” screamed Krisha. “At my command!” Twenty-one guns were aimed at the charging sailboats, close enough now to see they were filled with angry men brandishing knives and harpoons.
“Wait—wait,” said the glass boat man, waving his arms over his head. “Heave to! Stop! They are not from Toth!”
The sailboats stopped with amazing quickness, sails coming down, anchors splashing.
“Oh, NO!” screamed the man, red-faced. “More anchors! My Lonia will crawl under the rocks and I’ll never get them out! You’re all ruining my livelihood! I have children to feed!”
“What do you want here?” shouted a tall, sunburned man on one of the newly arrived boats. He carried a long harpoon of black metal, and pointed it at Michael.
“There’s been a battle on the mainland, several people killed and one taken to sea as a hostage. We’ve come after her, expecting to find Toth here, but this man says—”
“Toth’s fortress is in a small island to the east of here. Who are you? You’re not from the village, and I don’t recognize your weapons.”
“We come from the stars,” said Michael, holding his breath, but the man was suddenly calm.
“We saw your ship come over days ago. Have you come to rid us of Toth?”
“That wasn’t our intention, but his people have taken one of ours and we’re not leaving until we have her back.” Michael gave the man a quick summary of where they were from and why they’d come to Tothwelt. Behind him guns were still leveled at the newcomers and there were repeated shouts from the little man in the glass boat demanding that everyone get out of his Lonia beds so he could get on with his work.
“You have a counselor with you, and he has a staff. I see others as well.”
“This man helped us to escape. He’s a friend.”
“Then put down your weapons and follow us. We will show you the way to Toth, but no more than that. He is our enemy, and his forces could easily destroy us if we helped you.”
“Fair enough,” said Michael. He motioned to Krisha, and she ordered her marines to port arms. Sails went up, and anchors hauled. “Follow us in a line,” said the big man, “close to shore. The Charni are nearby, but run deep along here.”
“We have a badly injured man here,” said Michael. “A Charni took off his foot.”
“We can care for him,” said the man. “Follow us.”
“And don’t come back!” shouted the man in the glass boat. He climbed back inside, cranked furiously on a lever, and there was a sucking sound from the glass pontoons on either side of him. The little craft sank like a lead weight, and as they drifted away, Michael could see it crawling among the rocks on the bottom, pinching at them with accordion appendages, and withdrawing to drop what looked like shiny, flat stones into a basket attached forward.
“Isaac is back to his harvesting,” shouted the big man, “and glad to be rid of us. But the shellfish he raises here are an important part of our diet, and we respect his wishes. Be glad he stopped you. The sharp rocks surrounding his beds could have torn the hulls out of your boats.”
“Thanks, we understand!” shouted Michael.
They sailed single file along the northern shore of the island past knobby cliffs of brown and black rock streaked with yellow. There was a rotten smell as they passed a steaming cascade of water issuing from cracks in the rock and ahead of them there was the beginning of a beach. Women and children dug in wet sand at water’s edge. They waved, and then stared as the boats passed them. Ahead of them more people appeared on the beach, half-naked, even the women, and the clothes they wore were tattered. There were two sailboats a hundred meters offshore and people were jumping in the water there, staying under a long time, and coming up to place things in floating baskets before diving again. Realization struck Michael hard. These are the ones who were expelled from the mainland. They’ve survived, and built their own world in the last forty years, and now here they are, maybe relatives, together again. He waited for the villagers on his own boats to show signs of recognition, but there were none.
They dropped anchors in a line, bows pointing to sea where the water was nearly two meters deep, and then swam and waded ashore to the crowd of people gathered there. There were nervous looks at Krisha’s marines and Krisha herself as she ordered her people to sl
ing rifles held overheads on the way in. Many were young, only a few old faces and the first, shy smiles came only from the children. The big man with the harpoon came up to Michael, put out his hand. “I am Eves Ekren,” he said.
“Major Michael Queal of Her Majesty’s Survey Ship Belsus. This is Captain Elg, my second in command, and Davos Grigaytes, a fisherman from the mainland, and—” He looked around; saw Osen knee-deep in surf, talking on the radio. “Got something?” he shouted.
“Talking to Nik, sir. He knows we’re here!”
“That’s private Osen, my orderly.”
Villagers carried the injured man ashore. The stump above his missing foot was wrapped in blood-soaked cloth. His face was ashen, but he was conscious, and moaned in pain. “We’ve got a badly injured man, Eves; can we get some help for him?”
“We have dealt with such things,” said Eves. “Gareth! Hemmo! Help them take him to Timannie, and heat the metal for her!”
Two young men rushed to help carry the man from the beach and up a gully disappearing into a stand of trees.
“We will do what we can,” said Eves, but then he looked left to where Nimri stood silently a few meters away. “You say this man helped you escape?”
“Yes. Davos here is his father. The man is a counselor.”
“I recognize a counselor and his staff when I see one,” said Eves, eyes narrowing. “I thought we’d seen the last of such people.”
They walked up the gully, at the end of which were stone stairs cut out of a five-meter cliff. “You remember the counselors?”
“I was a little boy when they forced us into boats and made us come here. Have you heard the story?”
“Yes. It’s still a bitter memory for the villagers on the mainland. That, and other things, including our arrival, has led to the fighting and killing.”
“I don’t think that’s our problem, but it is not for me to decide. Derald Hudak is our Elder, and head of The Council of Eight. I’m taking you to him now to discuss your wishes.”
They climbed the steps, walked a worn path through thick trees and came out at the foot of a wide, steep canyon rising to the mountains a thousand meters above them. The canyon was devoid of vegetation. Houses of stone lined it, and at its foot was a circle of buildings surrounding an amphitheatre. Sharp odors assailed Michael, odors of cooking, hot metal, sulfur, something rotten. The houses were similar to those on the mainland, but with one significant difference. The windows. They were covered with panes of glass in every imaginable color: reds, yellows, greens in single color sheets, some with swirls of multiple colors, others with a complex of many smaller panes fastened together to form geometric shapes of great beauty. Michael pointed to a window as they passed it. “That’s lovely. I’ve never seen such wonderful work with glass.”
“It has become a minor industry,” said Eves. “The development of our technology has accelerated in the last ten years, but I expect you will find it crude. Toth has the weapons of our forefathers and even if he continues to leave us alone it will be a long time before we’re capable of opposing him.”
“He knows you’re here?”
“Oh, yes. We see his boats out in the barrier and on the south side quite often, now. The increasing regularity of their appearances is bothersome. Now, have your people seat themselves in the amphitheatre, and we will bring food.”
The group following them nearly filled the amphitheatre, and when they were settled, Eves said, “You and I will eat later. I want you to meet our Elder and explain the situation to him.”
“Of course,” said Michael, but as he turned, Osen was once again at his side. “Yes?”
“Permission to accompany you, sir? Nik will be reporting in, and it could be urgent.”
“Do you mind?”
Eves shook his head. “If you wish. We’re going to the larger building halfway up the right side of the canyon. Please follow me.”
They followed a worn groove of a trail snaking around boulders, then straight up the canyon. Eves was several steps ahead of them when Osen came up to Michael’s side, and spoke in a near-whisper. “All okay at camp, and Nik knows where we’ve come in, but the real news is he thinks he heard something from Belsus!”
“When?”
“Couple of hours ago, just a few words, but he heard your name and by the time he tried to answer the signal was gone.”
“There’s hope, then, more than hope. Keep yourself plugged in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Michael was puffing again, his legs burning when they reached a windowless stone building perched on a shelf high in the canyon. Eves went to the open door, and paused there. “Derald, we have visitors. The ones whose ship flew overhead have arrived, and there are villagers from the mainland with them. There has been fighting, and they are searching for Toth. Will you see them?”
He turned, and gestured for Michael and Osen to enter. The interior was dark, except for a single lamp on a table piled with debris, behind which sat an old man with long, white hair flowing down over his shoulders. He put out a hand and Michael shook it. “I am Derald Hudak,” he said.
Michael formally introduced himself and Osen as representatives of the Rubion Federation, and his eyes moved around the room. Rods and sheets of dark metal leaned against walls, and the model of a ship with multiple balls of blown glass was mounted on a metal framework with pontoons, also of glass. Stacks of thin wooden sheets were covered with diagrams and writing. The man’s table was heaped with such sheets, and a crayon he held between them blackened his hands.
“I should not be surprised by your visit,” said Derald. “We saw your ship pass over days ago, and assumed it was a matter of time before you found us. But what is this about fighting on the mainland?”
Michael gave him the whole story: their mission, the hostile reception, the attack on Belsus and resulting firefight, during which Kari had been kidnapped and taken out to sea.
“As much as I regard Toth as an enemy I find it difficult to believe he would sanction overt killing,” said Derald. “It violates his own law and he has always found other ways to eliminate his adversaries. Have you heard the story of how we came to be here?”
“Yes, I have. I think a counselor named Jezrul somehow initiated this whole thing. The first counselor has been overthrown, and since we haven’t found his body I assume he was taken out to sea with Kari as prisoners of Toth.
Derald frowned. “Who is this First Counselor?”
“His name is Diego Segur. I think he’d been First Counselor for many years. Do you remember him?”
“I certainly do. It was he who ordered us into the boats, and sent us here. His own mother died here only five years ago. But it was also Diego who came to us secretly the night before we were thrown away, and he brought four, dismantled staffs, which he taught us how to use. He hid the pieces in the clothing we wore, and the few possessions we were allowed to take with us. Without these staffs all of us would have perished in crossing the barrier, not just the twenty of us who did anyway. He saved our lives.”
“But why?” said Michael. “He is a servant of Toth.”
“He is also my son,” said Derald.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rudy Hoffman stood before the throne of Toth, and he was deeply concerned about the health of His Lord. He’d been summoned once again in the previous night, had administered an ever-increasing dose of Beta-Choline into the life support system while the image of his Master gasped in pain, and struggled to breathe. And when the drug had taken effect, Toth had closed his eyes, leaned back wearily in the throne, and said, “Ah, Rudy, each time I grow wearier and the pain is slower to go away. I think the time draws near when even my transfigurement won’t sustain me. Our present crisis must be resolved, and quickly—before I am gone. Bring Jezrul here in the morning. I must talk to both of you.”
He had obeyed. Jezrul had just arrived, and was standing in the gloom just outside the scattered illumination from the throne. Rudy did not like the man
, did not trust him. He thinks me blind that I don’t know about his politicking among the men, his promises, and his ambition. Given a chance he will set himself above Our Lord, even destroy him by manipulation as he has done with Diego. Dare I say something? Do I dare express my concern to Toth in his present condition? No, I will not. The strain would be too much; better to let Jezrul hang himself with his own rope.
Toth appeared, slumped in his throne like a man asleep. “We are here, Lord, as you requested,” said Rudy.
Toth raised his head, and for a long moment his eyes seemed unfocused. “Come closer, Rudy. Is Jezrul with you?”
“I’m here, Lord,” said Jezrul, and both men stepped up to the apron of light before the throne.
“Ah, good, both of you here, the two who will be my hands in this hour. My blessings on you.”
They received the Gift of Pleasures.
“There are matters to discuss,” said Toth, now focused on them, and resuming his regal posture on the throne. “Can we now assume the starship has been destroyed?”
“There have been no sightings, Lord, either of the ship or any planet-fall vessels. This is not conclusive, of course, but it seems at worst case that the ship is heavily damaged and unable at this point to retrieve the people they sent here. If able, they would surely have done this by now, and might even be attacking us. But there are no signs of activity at sea, and even the usual boats from the island are absent this morning.”
“I hear nothing from the village,” said Toth.
“It has been taken, Lord,” said Jezrul. “I ordered our men to lay down their weapons if the sanctuary was threatened with destruction, but I promised we would return to free them. I spoke as Your Servant, Lord; my instincts told me this would be Your Will.”
“Indeed it is,” said Toth, “and we will return in force when the time is right. But tell me, Jezrul, what would you now do if you were Michael Queal, your ship lost, one of your people taken away, but much of your force intact? How would you proceed?”
Jezrul rubbed his chin reflectively. “The man has not lived under the guidance of The Law, Lord. His moral values are different from ours so I can only guess at what he might do.”
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