Riverwind p2-1

by Paul B. Thompson

  “No, Highness; that is, yes-”

  “Hold your tongue. Karn, you are a brave and steadfast captain, but a poor leader. For not seeing your task clearly, I consign you to the High Spires for three days, where you may meditate on your lack of clarity.”

  “That isn't fair! Your Highness knows how hard I strive for her-”

  Li El's glare stopped him cold. “Are you disputing my order?”

  Karn got very red in the face, but he replied stiffly, “Your Highness's will shall be done.” He turned on one heel and marched away. The soldier shoved his way through the golden curtains, muttering. His footsteps faded rapidly.

  Li El rose from her seat. The pleasant, soothing sounds returned to the chamber. Water splashed softly and chimes tinkled. The smell of bitter incense was replaced by the clean tang of rain-washed air. “Come closer, strangers,” Li El said. “I would know more about you.”

  Without really meaning to comply, both plainsmen took a step forward. When they did, they revealed Di An, still crumpled on the floor. She huddled behind Riverwind's leg, trying to avoid the queen's eye. She didn't succeed.

  Li El swept a hand through the empty air. A distinct bell-like sound rang out, and two soldiers appeared. “Remove the digger,” she said.

  The guards closed in. Riverwind stood in their way. “She is no danger to anyone,” he said.

  Li El regarded the match of the tall plainsman and two Hestite warriors with evident interest. “She must tell what she knows,” she said. “Give no more thought to the digger, giant. After all, she is a thief.”

  The guards moved hesitantly to seize Di An. Riverwind tensed. Catchflea tugged on the back of the tall man's shirt, warning him to be calm.

  “Sister, if it will prevent bloodshed, I will take the girl myself and question her,” Vvelz said placidly. Riverwind and the Hestite soldiers looked to the queen for her answer.

  “You are too soft-hearted,” Li El said after a long pause. “Are you sure you can get at the truth?”

  “If I fail, I will send for your experts,” Vvelz promised. Li El relented, and her silver-haired brother gathered the girl up from the floor. He hustled Di An from the room, and the guards stood back, awaiting new orders.

  Riverwind's large hands were closed into fists as he watched Vvelz take Di An away. Gently, Catchflea said, “She will be all right. I know it.”

  Riverwind cast a skeptical look at the old man. “Do your acorns tell you so?”

  “No,” Catchflea said, entirely serious. “But I believe that Vvelz will not harm her.”

  “Come, come,” the queen said. Bells chimed. “I would know more about your world and ways. Tell me, old giant, of your country and its people.”

  Catchflea launched into a discourse on Que-Shu, its people and its customs. While he was engaged, Riverwind found he could not take his eyes off Li El-though she never once returned his gaze. Sweat broke out on his brow as he tried to divert his eyes to the golden curtains, the ceiling, anything. He succeeded only in lowering his gaze to her hands. Li El's right hand was at rest, but the fingers of her left moved in slow, intricate patterns against the armrest of her couch. The movement ceased abruptly.

  “And that, Highness, is how we came to be here,” Catchflea finished with a flourish. “May I ask how it is that your people come to be living so deep underground?”

  Li El's arched brows flexed over her jet-colored eyes.

  “What? Has the Empty World so soon forgotten the Great Hest and his people?”

  “We are a different race,” Catchflea said diplomatically. “Not well schooled in history.”

  Li El swept down from the couch. Once she was off the platform, it was easier to see how small she was. The top of her head scarcely reached Riverwind's chest. But neither man could take his eyes off her, so compelling was her presence.

  “Two thousand, five hundred years ago, the inhabitants of Silvanesti and the humans of Ergoth fell into war. For fifty years and two they fought and ambushed and massacred, until the plains and forest fringes of Silvan were desolate, lifeless regions. The warlord Kith-Kanan kept the hordes of Ergoth at bay by skillful strategy, but dissension in the capital prevented him from taking the war to the humans and gaining the final victory. So the Kinslayer War sputtered on without resolution.

  “Our great ancestor, Hest, or in the old tongue, Hestanta-falas, was a general in the Host of Silvanesti. He wanted to carry the fighting to the human city of Caergoth itself, to extinguish the barbarian masses of humankind from the western plains-” Here she paused, aware once more to whom she was speaking. “The passions of the ancient past live with us still. Do not be offended.”

  “We understand,” said Riverwind. The wall of gold drapery suddenly seemed more threatening than before. He couldn't see any exits from the domed room, or even where the door they entered by was located. There were no guards, and that made him nervous as well.

  “-a serious clash at court,” Li El was saying. “Great Hest refused to endorse the truce. King Sithas's guards seized him and threw him in prison.

  “When the king's brother, Kith-Kanan, heard what had happened to his lieutenant, he returned to Silvanost to win freedom for Hest. King Sithas refused. Hest was too dangerous, he said. His actions were treason, and he had to perish for his insolence.

  “A scaffold was built, but Hest's head never rolled into Sithas's basket. Nine soldiers broke into the dungeon and freed the hero. Together they fought their way out of the city. What a struggle it was!” Li El raised a phantom sword. The room filled with shouts and the clang of blade on blade. Her voice echoed through the domed room. “The ten of them slew sixty-three of the king's bodyguards. Sixty-three! Hest went to his fortress town of Bordon-Hest and prepared for a siege. Sure enough, Sithas sent his most loyal general, the dreaded Kencathedrus, to capture and destroy Hest and all his people.”

  Li El lowered her arm. The sounds of combat faded slowly. Catchflea trembled, and Riverwind looked uneasily over each shoulder. He could smell blood freshly shed. The room was as clean and empty as it ever had been.

  Li El hugged herself as if she were chilled, and returned to her couch. Eyes averted, she sank onto the seat.

  “The situation grew desperate. Hest was not equipped for a long siege by trained warriors. There were hundreds of women and children in Bordon-Hest, and only four hundred fighters. A terrible slaughter seemed only days away.”

  She lifted her head. A thin, wide smile shone from Li El's face. Her eyes were fierce with triumph. “In his most critical hour, Hest approached his chief sorcerer, the great Vedved-sica. There is a way to escape, my lord,' he told Hest. The great lord asked how, since neither he nor his people had wings with which to fly away from the host of Kencathedrus. 'It is not wings that are needed, great master, but lamps.' Why lamps? Hest wanted to know. 'Because it is very dark in the world below,' Vedvedsica replied.

  “The wizard explained his plan, and Hest approved. All the people in Bordon-Hest were cautioned, and Vedvedsica made his preparations. On the twenty-fourth day of the siege, in the year two thousand, one hundred and forty, a mighty earthquake struck Silvanesti. The disturbance centered at Bordon-Hest, and the town's ruination was complete. The walls and buildings fell in upon themselves, burying everyone in the rubble. Or so it seemed. What Vedvedsica had done was open a crack in the ground through which all the people of Hest, from the highest born to lowest, escaped. Then Vedvedsica's magic brought the city down, filling the hole and preventing anyone from discovering what became of the great lord and his followers.” Li El rested her sharp chin on the back of her right hand. “Until now.”

  The vast rotunda was silent for several heartbeats. River-wind tried to gauge how best to answer Li El. The tale of the impudent lord who wanted so badly to exterminate humans won little sympathy in his heart. He could not say as much to the Hestites' queen.

  Hesitantly, he said, “Much has happened since your ancestors went underground. Krynn is not as it was twenty-five hundred
years ago.”

  “Do the green halls of Silvanost still stand?”

  “It is said they do.”

  “And do the sons of Sithas still reign there?”

  “I don't know-”

  “We are all under sentence of death for treason, every generation born since Hest brought us here. When the great lord himself died a thousand years ago, his last words were: 'Beware the Empty World above.' Hest's dying command has become our most sacred law,” said Li El.

  “Others have gone to the surface, yes? Like the girl we followed?” asked Catchflea.

  The proud serenity on Li El's face vanished. Anger replaced it, anger so tangible it struck the men like a blow.

  'There are fools who try! I have been lenient with them too long. Now I see that I shall have to root them out, once and for all. When I catch them, they will die.” Again she gestured, and a gong they could not see was sounded. More soldiers appeared. “Muster a full cohort of the Host,” Li El said. “Have Karn's escort show them where the digger girl and the giants were found. I want the location of the slow passage, and all contraband brought down from the surface.”

  “What of us?” Riverwind asked.

  “You? You shall remain in the High Spires until I decide what is to be done with you,” she declared. Half a dozen Hestite warriors closed in on the two men. Riverwind turned suddenly to them, and they stopped, awed by his commanding height. Catchflea instinctively drew closer to the plainsman.

  Instead of admonishing Riverwind to go quietly, Li El simply reclined on her couch and said nothing. A small smile quirked her lips.

  The guards mustered their resolve and moved in. “You've no right to keep us prisoners!” Riverwind shouted. An elf slammed his shield against Riverwind's back. The plainsman's outrage, so long held in check, boiled over. He seized the edges of the warrior's shield and thrust him away. The lightweight Hestite sprawled on the gem-filled mosaic floor.

  – ”What are you waiting for?” Li El asked mildly. “Take them away.”

  “We are peaceful men,” Catchflea pleaded. “Innocent, yes!” He got bashed in the head with a bronze shield for his words. Riverwind grabbed the two nearest elves each by the neck and dashed their heads together. The guards menacing Catchflea turned away from him and drew their swords. Riverwind yanked a sword from the belt of one of the unconscious Hestites.

  “Get behind me, old man!” Riverwind cried.

  Two elves attacked. Riverwind parried their short blades and forced them back with quick jabs at their unprotected faces. How he wished he had his saber! These Hestite weapons were too small for him. It was like fighting with a boy's practice sword.

  His long reach enabled Riverwind to meet both elves even when they spread apart. One's sword jarred hard against the crossguard of Riverwind's stolen blade. The thick brass held, so he turned his wrist out, driving the elf's point away and his own point in. The blunt sword skidded off the warrior's shield. Riverwind slashed hard to his left to ward off the other soldier. The elf backed into one of his fallen comrades and tripped.

  Catchflea scrambled out of the way of the fight. Li El swept her arm and sounded her magic bell once more. Soldiers flooded the throne room.

  “Twenty more at your back!” Catchflea warned.

  “Well?” Riverwind said hastily. “Are you only a herald of bad tidings? Do something!”

  The old soothsayer was no fighter. With a sword in his hand, he was more likely to cut himself than any foe he faced. The only other thing he possessed was his gourd and three dried acorns.

  Acorns!

  He dug the gourd and nuts out of his ragged clothing and brandished them over his head. “Stop where you are!” he shouted. “In these small seeds I have confined the power of a thunderbolt! Stay back, yes, and hinder us not, or I shall hurl them at you!”

  The soldiers froze. Riverwind's opponent paused to listen to Catchflea's tirade, and the plainsman whacked him smartly on the head with the flat of his blade. Down he went. Riverwind whirled to the old man.

  “This is inspired,” he whispered.

  “I am gifted with terrible powers,” Catchflea intoned. “One toss, and you will all be reduced to ashes!”

  Li El alone was not impressed. Leaning back on one elbow, she said, “What are you waiting for? Subdue them.” The guards showed a distinct lack of enthusiasm for the task.

  “You cannot escape,” Li El said, reasonably. “Not the palace, much less Vartoom.”

  Riverwind believed her, but he wouldn't admit it. “We'll go back the way we came,” he said, putting on a bold front. “No one had better interfere.”

  Li El sighed. A trilling note sounded. The ranks of sword-armed elves parted. Four soldiers, dressed in light mail, came forward whirling strange-looking devices over their heads-three metal balls joined by a length of chain. Catchflea menaced them with his harmless gourd, but the elves were not bluffed. They flung the bolos at the old man. Two wrapped up his arms and legs. The gourd hit the mosaic floor. The guards flinched. When nothing else happened, they gave a concerted cry of anger and swarmed over the plainsmen. The sword was snatched from Riverwind, and both men were carried bodily from the room.

  Li El stepped lightly down from her throne. She picked up Catchflea's gourd. The acorns rattled within. She turned the gourd over, and one by one shook the acorns out into her hand. No emotion at all showed on her beautiful, still face.

  Chapter Six

  The High Spires

  Shouting all the while, the soldiers bore Riverwind and Catchflea roughly along a winding passage that ascended through the solid stone of the cave wall. Up and up they went, banging against projecting rocks and the low ceiling. The yelling elves ran faster as the path constricted into a tighter and tighter spiral. Ten elves carried Riverwind and six had Catchflea. A swarm of others followed, all shouting ferociously.

  The spiral passage suddenly ended on an open platform dug out of the cave wall. Riverwind's heart climbed to his throat when he saw where they were: three hundred feet or more above the city, nearly to the roof of the great cavern! For a moment he had the horrible thought that the Hestites were going to hurl him and Catchflea off. They didn't. Butting against the lip of the platform was a span of milk-colored limestone. This dizziest of bridges rose in a gentle arch and disappeared a dozen yards out in the drifting smoke and haze.

  The soldiers set them on their feet. One cried, “To the Spires! To the Spires!” and the rest took up the frenzied cry. They waved their swords and poked the men in the back with the sharp tips to spur them on.

  “Well, old man, what do you think?” Riverwind asked. “We can die fighting, or we can go out on that span and fall.”

  “Those are not the only choices, yes?” Catchflea said desperately. “Ouch!” An elf pricked him on the calf of his leg. “We could go out and not fall off.”

  Riverwind inhaled deeply and bellowed, “Stand back!” His size still impressed the Hestites, and they did stand away. The plainsman walked to the edge of the platform.

  Light from the brazen sun threw weird shadows from the forest of stalactites. Foundry smoke drifted around the hanging spires. Riverwind coughed as sulfurous fumes swept over him. Through watering eyes he could dimly see a dark mass far off in the smoke, at the other end of the bridge.

  “Come along, Catchflea,” he said. “Let's show these cave-folk how Que-Shu men face danger.”

  “On my hands and knees,” the old man muttered, closing in behind Riverwind.

  The bridge was only six inches wide, and rounded. A fine film of soot coated the upper surface; just enough, Riverwind mused, to make it slick. He slid his feet onto the glassy surface. It seemed sturdy enough. He brought his trailing foot up slowly. That was the way to do it. Inch along. No hurry, no sudden stops.

  Catchflea imitated him. Only once did the old man look down. Instantly he regretted it. Vertigo punched him in the stomach; his head spun. So did the concentric streets of Var-toom, far below. Catchflea flailed his arms-
<
br />   'Tall man!” he gasped. “Help me!”

  Riverwind turned in time to see Catchflea topple. The drop beneath him was over a hundred feet. Riverwind threw himself at Catchflea. He hit the bridge chest-first. The impact drove the air from his lungs, but he reached out and grasped Catchflea's arms. The old man slid steadily over the rounded rim of the bridge. Riverwind wrapped his long legs around the limestone span and dug his fingers in Catchflea's rags. The old cloth frayed and ripped, sending up puffs of dust.

  The Hestites, who up till now had been jeering, fell silent. One shouted, “Get a leg up, old giant!” The rest joined in, calling out advice.

  Catchflea tried three times to get his right leg over the bridge, but his heel could find no purchase and skidded off. Tears streaked his dirty face. “I cannot do it,” he groaned.

  Riverwind said, “Try again! This time I'll pull you just as you swing your leg up!”

  Catchflea was old, but wiry. He threw his leg up again. Riverwind's arm muscles knotted, drawing the old man toward him. Catchflea's heel caught. The elves cheered. With much effort, the old man worked his leg over until he was straddling the bridge. He and Riverwind lay nose to nose, panting for breath.

  “Are you set?” asked Riverwind.

  “I think so, yes.”

  Riverwind sat up and swung himself around. He and Catchflea proceeded, sliding along astride the bridge. The soldiers and the cave wall submerged in the smoke and were lost from sight.

  Gradually their destination took shape. A number of especially stout stalactites had been used to support an airy platform. Iron bands circled the spires, securing a floor made of square iron rails. Riverwind grasped a rail and hauled himself onto the platform.

  A dark figure appeared in the smoke. “Who's there?” When neither man replied, the figure came forward. It was Karn. “So, the outlanders were sent to the Spires, too. How fitting.”