The Book of the Ler

by M. A. Foster

  She came within arm’s-reach before she seemed to be aware of him. Meure stood absolutely still, afraid to move. He had no idea what these wild Haydars might do, oracle or no. Besides, she might be immune from her own words, might be under another oracle. This was a mythic figure before him, not a person he could comprehend, easily.

  Tenguft was tall, about half a head taller or more than him; and at that she was slightly slumped, not at her full height. Meure could not make out any details of her, close as she was, for the darkness obscured everything.

  She seemed to become aware of him slowly, as if still in the oracular trance. He could sense she was, however, staring at him intently. Meure wanted to turn and run, but he knew he had better not.

  She studied him for a long moment, then said, in a soft, breathy voice, “You, it is to be.” Meure heard the words, strange, but he thought he understood her. She continued, “Come with me. Now, fly. Tonight.” She said something else, wearily, but Meure didn’t understand the words. Only something about “Incana.” Where they were going?

  Tenguft extended her hand, took Meure’s arm to guide him. The contact was light, the feel of the hand unexpectedly soft, but he could sense steel under the softness, and impulses held rigidly in check. What? He was sure of it. Did she want to hunt him, and was restraining herself? She started him off, with her, repeating the word again. “Come.” They walked around the wagon.

  Meure now saw that there was a different air to the place they had been: the Haydar and the two Spsom were in one group, all staring at the girl and himself with opaque, flinty stares that he found intensely uncomfortable. . . . The Ler elders were standing disconsolately with Morgin and his associates, to the side. Other Haydar were walking among the flying creatures, prodding them with the butts of their spears, speaking to them in harsh, peremptory tones.

  From the group close by the eratzenasters, Flerdistar hurried to meet Meure and the Haydar seeress. She spoke quickly, breathlessly, “We are being split up! Morgin is sending the Elders with his servants! He is turning over his function here to one among the Haydar who is also of that office, and going with us. We two, and you four Humans, plus Morgin and the Vfzyekhr will fly . . . northeast, to another land, Incana. A place they call ‘Cucany.’ It’s a fortress, or a castle.”

  Meure asked, “Fly? In what? Do we whistle up an aircraft?”

  “No,” she said. “On those things.” A tug on his elbow reminded Meure that someone was guiding him. Other Haydar were gesturing at the grounded Eratzenasters, moving Audiart, Halander, Ingraine. It was clear they did not wish to go.

  Flerdistar and Clellendol were unceremoniously hustled off toward the beasts, now grumbling and making jerky, awkward motions as they were abused into wakefulness by the suddenly impatient Haydars. Flerdistar had time to say one more thing before they were separated, “Schasny, be careful. I think you have become part of some kind of rite . . .” Her voice trailed off. Meure and Tenguft were now beside the large one she had ridden in the evening.

  The tall girl gestured. “Up.” Meure reached to the semirigid surface, the leading edge of the aft wing, touched it. It was covered in a microfine fuzz, and felt cool to the touch. It, the skin, moved slightly, as if sliding over a harder structure beneath. On all fours, moving with extreme care, he negotiated the slope to the spine of the creature, which was slightly depressed, and bare of all coverings. The skin felt looser. Tenguft bounded onto the Eratzenaster, and mounted with an odd spanning locomotion, graceful from much practice, but also gawky and awkward. She settled herself just aft of the narrowest part of the creature, moving experimentally up and down, bouncing to find the right place. Her motions were transmitted through the creature’s members, making it rock and vibrate slightly. Now she tossed her hood back with an abrupt motion of her head, and turned to glare at Meure. She made a peremptory gesture with her right hand, to a spot behind her. “Here.”

  Meure clambered forward along the spine to the girl, and settled himself close behind her, not touching her. She reached behind herself with one of her long arms, and pulled Meure up against her; then she reached with the other arm, took his hands and placed them across her thighs to the Eratzenaster’s skin in front of her. She bent his fingers into the cool, flexible surface. She said, “Hold here.” She did not wait to see that he had done so, but released her grip on him and slapped the creature hard across the spine.

  Meure gripped instinctively and the Eratzenaster lurched forward, getting its drooping wingtips clear of the ground, then using them to help it along.

  Tenguft was still sitting upright, looking back to see that the others were up and moving; Meure ventured a quick look. He saw others, precariously mounted, alone, holding on for their lives, while the Haydar stood aside and hooted encouragement and instructions to them. All the larger beasts had riders, but the smaller ones were up and moving, too. Apparently the whole flock flew together.

  The girl tensed her body, dug her heels into the stretched membrane connecting the wings, and leaned forward. Meure moved with her, feeling the thing beneath him begin increasing its speed, turning slightly to find the correct azimuth, then heading into the wind. There was a breeze, he realized, and he felt it increase. He was also acutely conscious of the girl’s body he was pressed against; he could feel the muscles beneath the thin cloak she wore, feel the heat of the wiry body. Her scent was sun warmed, oily, aromatic and very slightly sweet at the same time.

  Tenguft looked back at her passenger over her shoulder, a broad grin opening her lips to reveal white teeth that gleamed in the starlight. She slapped the Eratzenaster again and its awkward, loping pace increased, and Meure could hear a rhythmic, dry sound from underneath. He felt now tendons beginning to move in the creature’s structure. It felt as if more than four limbs were moving, but he couldn’t be certain. Now it began to bound, making a rocking motion, springing along. The wings began making synchronized motions; the wind now became uncomfortable. Meure could see little directly forward, for the girl was in the way, but it seemed as if they were approaching a rise, a low ridgeline. The Eratzenaster now began working its body violently, struggling for speed; they seemed to leap forward, the ground rose to the ridgeline, the wings beating violently, grabbing at air, a thrust, a lurch, a falling sensation, and Meure, from his vantage point near the thin middle of the creature, saw the ground sliding away underneath him.

  The motions of the Eratzenaster were labored, carrying two as it was, and it gained altitude slowly, beating its wings in their odd syncopated rhythm. The wind in Meure’s face became cold. It seemed they were moving to the east. He held on tightly. He felt muscles move in the hard body against him, shoulder and arm, buttock and leg. Now they began a slow, shallow turn to the north with almost no bank. He could feel Tenguft still pounding the creature’s spine, urging it to greater speed. The flexing motions increased, and the wind hurt. He averted his face, and leaned closer to the girl. The motions became more violent, then the rhythm changed abruptly. Meure risked a glance ahead into the slipstream and saw the forward wings now set, opened wide in a shallow dihedral, the tips opened to wring the last gram of lift, while behind and under him, the rear wings thrust powerfully. The motion was violent, and he pressed as close to the girl as he could, feeling the contours of her body. She pressed herself down, almost prone. She moved, adjusting to him. Meure pressed himself against her, and felt a strong visceral pleasure in the motion. Tenguft turned slightly, although she could no longer turn enough to see him, and squeezed with the muscles of her hips. The message was direct and unmistakable, and required no words, which would have been torn away in the blast of the slipstream anyway. Then she returned her attention to guiding the Eratzenaster.

  In the night of Monsalvat they flew, apparently not at any great altitude, although the speed with which the creatures flew seemed very great, judging by the blast of the slipstream and the violent motions of the aft wings, which made his perch feel unbalanced and precarious. He dared not look around t
o see if the others were keeping up, although now and again Tenguft would steer their mount from side to side so that she could see behind her. Meure guessed they were keeping up, for she did not divert from their northward course.

  He sensed a darkened, empty land, the swales and rolling prairies of Ombur, passing beneath them. There was an area that seemed jumbled and rugged, canyons and gullies, and the land fell away and a great darkness spread beneath them. There was a chill dampness in the air, and the odor of a river; a large one, apparently, for these sensations continued for some time. Then the dampness faded, and a resinous scent replaced it. Meure could not make out any details in the country beneath, but it seemed more irregular than Ombur. They increased their altitude, and made slow detours around hills. The land seemed to be rising. Now they were passing over an inhabited land, for occasionally Meure could see yellowish lights, which were invariably extinguished as they passed overhead; but these were few, and scattered.

  Now the scale of the hills increased, became low mountains separated by broad, open valleys. Tenguft made no attempt to fly over them, but followed the valleys as the openings presented themselves. The mountains were curiously isolated, in many cases steep and scarped. Meure’s eyes were becoming adjusted to the starlight, and he could see more clearly to the sides. Many of the hills and mountains seemed to be crowned with structures, some large, some small. Castles? Fortresses? Some were nothing more than stone towers, others huts, and some more substantial. There were no lights below.

  Meure sensed the Eratzenaster pitching up slightly, felt their speed decrease a bit; they were climbing, slowing. The forward wings still remained outstretched. Meure ventured a quick look over the girl’s shoulder, and saw a great bulk ahead, surmounted by a dark, blocky mass, with pinpoints of yellow light in it. The mountain seemed to be steeper on the side they were approaching it from, swooping up from the broad valley floor, peaking like a wave, and falling off to the north more gradually.

  The girl turned and shouted over her shoulder, “Cucany!” Now they were just below the mountain peak, turning onto it from the center of the valley, a shallow left turn. Meure’s eyes were now adjusted enough to the darkness to make out the place they were making for; more or less, a fortress atop a long mountain that faced the valley in a steep scarp. He couldn’t make out fine details of the structure, but it seemed to be a blocky castle or fortress that had developed whole families of erratic projecting additions, almost grown on like lichens on a brick: shelves, turrets, towers of several mismatched styles and shapes; apartments, balconies. There was no city or town or anything resembling one about the structure—if there was a town here, the town was the fortress.

  The Eratzenaster continued the long and shallow turn to the left, maintaining its altitude and dropping its pace somewhat. Now they were just below the summit of the mountain, looking up at the fortress; now they were turning back the way they had come, apparently to land somewhere else. Their mount now stopped the beating of its rear wings and set them, like the front pair, for maximum lift, pitching its nose down to keep airspeed up. Meure risked a look behind him, to his left; and there the others were, strung out in a loose line formation, all turning behind them and setting their wings into glide shapes. Meure could see on most of the larger ones irregular protuberances along the spines between the wings: their passengers. The riderless Eratzenasters continued to climb and began making playful, gliding passes beside the burdened ones before following the lead beast down.

  Their speed now lost its driving force and the airblast gave up some of its violence. He felt Tenguft’s body tensing and working again, instructing and guiding the creature they flew on. Now the glide angle pitched down more steeply, but the creature set its wings so that its speed did not build up. Meure sensed a definite holding-back, a pause, before they committed for grounding. The noise of the wind abated, too. Tenguft leaned around and shouted back, “Watch now; then stop!”

  Meure shouted back, “People there?”

  She answered, “No people; Korsors! Dromoni! Maybe a Selander!”

  Meure did not inquire of the nature of the forms she mentioned. He reflected that on Monsalvat, not all Humans were human, and that there were probably stranger shapes on the planet than Haydar and Sumpters.

  Now their mount, still holding back, slowing, made a sweep over the dark ground below, moving subtly from side to side. Apparently satisfied, it made an abrupt series of motions with its rear wings, rocking them from side to side rapidly; then it flattened out its wings and pitched down hard, a motion that almost threw Meure. He grasped tightly, pressed closer to the girl. The dark ground below rushed up at them slantwise, fast. Meure began to see quick flashes of details, bushes, small trees, a watercourse, and the Eratzenaster pitched up and began beating its rear wings rapidly, shallowly. They began to settle, and the front wings started beating, now in an entirely different rhythm from their takeoff beat; the ground rushed up at them as the Eratzenaster made its final approach descent. At the last possible moment, both pairs of wings beating wildly, it broke its fall into an awkward glide, stalled out, and made contact, slowing itself with the unseen limbs of the underside.

  Tenguft did not release her hold on the creature until it was almost completely stopped; then she abruptly sat back, throwing one leg over the side. “Off!” And she ran lightly down the leading edge of the right rear wing. Meure followed her, half-falling. All around them the others were landing in their semi-controlled crashes, dropping out of the sky like leaves in the Autumn. Meure saw Morgin the Embasse climbing most ungracefully off his mount, stumbling as his feet hit the ground. He did not wait, but ran to where the others were still huddling on their mounts, and began urging them off. Tenguft was doing the same. Meure followed them and ran to one of the Eratzenasters they had missed, calling, “Get down! They want all of us off!”

  The rider sat up and began clambering down, like someone in a trance. Meure could see from the shape that it was Audiart; the last few steps to the ground, he had to help her. Standing, she was shivering. It was then that he noticed that he was suddenly hot, almost overheated. Of course, the air had cooled him, and he hadn’t noticed.

  Now the others were all off, and Tenguft ran from beast to beast, slapping them on the wingtips, tugging at them, but making as little sound as possible; and one by one, reluctantly, they began scuttling along the ground, climbing awkwardly over irregular places, and one by one, springing into the air, beating the dark night with their leathern wings. Meure watched them depart as they climbed into the night, wheeling back around to the southwest, climbing higher than they had when they had come, noiselessly, then fading dark spots, and then lost in the starry background.

  Tenguft led them to a small, bare knoll, from which they had a good view of the surrounding countryside, and indicated that they should remain where they were. Morgin took Flerdistar aside and spoke earnestly with her. The Ler girl gained her feet and approached Meure.

  “I come to you first. Morgin says that we are to remain here for the night; we will go to the city tomorrow. The Haydar will not approach a strongpoint at night. In those places they shoot first, and Morgin makes me to understand that in Incana, that may be the best policy. Morgin also says for me to tell you that you must do as the girl says, no matter how odd it may seem. . . .”

  At the end, she trailed off suggestively in a manner Meure was not sure he liked. She returned to her place, between Morgin and Clellendol and the Vfzyekhr. Meure stood where he was, uncertainly. Tenguft, satisfied that all were placed as she wanted them, now turned to Meure, coming down the hill to him. He watched the spare, tall figure approaching him, a persona of mystery and power. And violence, he added. But he also remembered the tense feel of her wiry body when they had ridden the wind, and the suggestive motions she had made, once; and when she motioned for him to follow her, away from the knoll, he thought he knew something of what she had in mind, although he could not, for the life of himself, imagine why.

  6


  “There is, of course, extreme danger in coming into contact with a demon of a malignant or unintelligent nature. It should, however, be said that such demons only exist for imperfectly initiated magicians.”

  —A.C.

  TWO SUNS CLEARED the horizon and illuminated the land of Incana, dispelling the dawn twilight, replacing blue shadows with a winy tangerine light; Meure, breakfastless, found himself toiling up a steepening slope toward an enigmatic structure which became more, not less, peculiar as he drew closer to it. The others climbed the slope with zeal or lassitude as befitted their basic dispositions; Clellendol deliberate and careful, Morgin tiredly, Halander and Ingraine awkwardly and reluctantly, Flerdistar quite beyond her limits physically but grimly determined to go upward and see it all. The Vfzyekhr climbed easily, as if on an outing. Tenguft. . . .

  Tenguft moved up the slope warily, always watching, listening; pause: then a step, another, pause, listen, look. She watched the lowlands behind them out of the corner of her eyes, never leaving it entirely, never losing the air of a predator in a strange land. The orange cast to the light seemed to dull her, as it brightened the air, the rocks, the scrubby vegetation, waving slightly in a light, cool breeze. It had not been thus in the night, when she had let her robe fall away from her and calmly walked into the icy stream at the foot of the valley, calmly motioning to Meure that he join her. He had been chilled by the water and intimidated by the half-wild, intense tall girl, more so by her manner, which became surprisingly passive past a point he was not sure had passed. Nor had she spoken any words at all, not since they had dismounted the Eratzenaster, but the sounds she had made deep in her throat would haunt his memory forever.