There were a couple of very unlikely possibilities that might explain just how something that should be completely out of sight was right there to be seen. On a few occasions, Veltan had encountered mirages, those inverted reflections of far distant things, but always in the past, they’d been limited to water.
“It would seem that Longbow’s friend is very creative,” Veltan mused. “Good, though,” he added with a grin.
“I really wish you wouldn’t do that, Veltan,” Sorgan Hook-Beak complained when Veltan’s pet deposited him no more than a few feet away from the pirate. “It almost scares me out of my skin.”
“I’ll mention that to my pet, Sorgan,” Veltan promised, “but I don’t think she’ll listen. She loves to startle people.” He looked down into Sorgan’s third trench. “I see that you’re still planting stakes,” he noted.
“It works out pretty well, Veltan,” Sorgan said. “The whole idea here is to slow down the Church Trogs, and it takes them quite a while to dig the stakes up.” Then he chuckled. “We’ve been cheating just a bit, though.”
“Cheating?”
“We don’t waste venom anymore. The Church Trogs creep across the trenches on their hands and knees, very carefully digging up stakes that aren’t really anything but bare wood sticks. As long as they believe that the stakes will kill them, their advance is dead slow.”
“I think we might want to change the rules, Sorgan,” Veltan suggested. “The last Church army has finally made it up to the rim. Now that they’re all up here where they’re supposed to be, it’s time for us to get out of their way so that they can go say hello to the bug-people.”
“I hope Longbow knows what he’s talking about,” Sorgan said a bit dubiously. “Are you certain sure that those Church Trogs will do what they’re supposed to do?”
Veltan nodded. “Longbow’s friend pulled off another of her deceptions. There were a few crags sticking up out of the Wasteland, but when the bulk of that last Church army reached the rim, she gave them something much prettier to look at. They saw the entire Wasteland—and all the pretty sand she’d put out there for their entertainment. Now they’re just dying to get out there and claim it.”
“How did she do that?”
“How would I know? She’s so far ahead of me that I can’t really understand anything she does. Pull back, Sorgan. It’s time for us to get out of the way.”
“It’s going to take a while, Veltan,” Sorgan said. “My men are going to have to pull those stakes if we want the Trogs to move any faster than a slow crawl.”
“Why don’t you let me take care of that, Sorgan?” Veltan asked with a broad grin. “My pet needs a little entertainment anyway. I’m fairly sure she’ll enjoy blasting all your stakes into splinters, so why don’t we let her have all the fun?”
“What’s happening on down there, Veltan?” Commander Narasan asked when Veltan’s pet deposited him on the central tower of Gunda’s wall.
“Everything’s going like it’s supposed to, my friend. Lillabeth’s sandstorm made things much easier for us. That fifth Church army has finally reached the rim, so they’re all up here now. I just advised Sorgan that it’s time for him to get out of the way and let those greedy churchies come on up here.”
“Padan passed through Sorgan’s barricades and trenches when he pulled his men back after the churchies started building that bridge,” Narasan said then. “From what he told me, the River Vash will have Sorgan and his men blocked off if they decide to go east. He’ll have to go on up that west ridge, won’t he?”
Veltan shook his head. “He told me that he’d leave a small force behind his last barricade to delay the Church armies, and then his main force will come north to the geyser and then go on off to the east.”
“What’s going to happen to those men he’ll leave behind?”
Veltan smiled. “Sorgan told me that those men are the fastest runners in his entire army. He’s quite positive that they’ll be able to outrun the churchies without even working up a sweat.” He paused. “I almost forgot something that might brighten your day.”
“Oh?”
“Scrawny Jalkan—along with a very fat Estarg—are coming to call. It’s a shame that we won’t be here to greet them, but we’ll be terribly busy getting out of their way.”
“I don’t suppose you’d consider a brief delay, would you, Veltan?” Narasan asked.
“What did you have in mind, Narasan?”
“Something sort of slow—and extremely painful.”
“Why don’t we let the servants of the Vlagh have him, Narasan?” Veltan suggested. “They have ways of inflicting pain that go far, far beyond anything you could possibly dream up.” Veltan paused. “This is suddenly turning into a very unusual sort of war, wouldn’t you say? We’re just standing off to one side cheering enthusiastically while our two deadliest enemies exterminate each other.”
“I have it on the very best authority that wars like that are the very, very best that any army ever has,” Narasan replied.
2
Red-Beard was quite pleased with the way things were going here in the Domain of Zelana’s brother. He’d rather hoped that things might move more slowly, but winning was the goal, after all, and fast or slow was secondary. As soon as this war ended, it was almost certain that a new one would begin, and, of course, he’d be obliged to take part in that one as well. Out beyond that one, there’d be yet another. Red-Beard was almost positive that these wars would plod on along until the people of his tribe decided that somebody else might be more suitable to take up the burden of being the chief, and right now that was Red-Beard’s main goal in life.
When Padan pulled his men back away from the Falls of Vash after the Church armies had completed the bridge that linked their ramp to the rim of the basin, Red-Beard had decided to stay behind. Things were more interesting here in the grassy basin, and friend Longbow might need some help.
The two of them joined up with Sorgan Hook-Beak as the Maags pulled back from the series of barricades on the west side of the upper River Vash.
“Veltan seems quite happy about the way things are going,” Sorgan told them as they went upstream toward that colossal geyser that was the source of the River Vash.
“We haven’t made too many mistakes yet,” Longbow observed.
“Do you always have to look on the dark side, Longbow?” Sorgan demanded.
Longbow shrugged. “Habit, I suppose,” he said. “If you expect the worst, anything that’s not terrible comes as a pleasant surprise.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Longbow,” Sorgan said. “As far as I can tell, you haven’t had the time to train Rabbit with that bow of his, but suddenly he’s an archer who’s almost as good as you are. How did you manage that?”
“I didn’t,” Longbow replied. “Apparently, he picked it up on his own.”
“Rabbit’s clever enough, I suppose,” Sorgan said skeptically, “but doesn’t it take a lot of training and years of practice to get that good with a bow?”
Longbow squinted at the horizon. “When he was spending most of his time hammering out those iron arrowheads for me, he and I talked about putting arrows where you want them to go. I suppose it’s possible that he remembered some of the things I told him.”
“All that mysticism about ‘unification’?” Red-Beard asked. “I never did get your point when you told me about it.”
“I don’t really think it’s all that complicated, Red-Beard,” Longbow said. “I’ve given it some thought, and I’m almost sure that the idea of being unified with the target has to be there when the bowman unlooses his first arrow. If it’s there right then, it’ll always be there. If it isn’t, it’ll never show up.”
“Thanks a lot, Longbow,” Red-Beard said sarcastically.
“I wasn’t trying to offend you, friend Red-Beard,” Longbow said. “I was probably just lucky the first time I drew my bow. Our shaman, One-Who-Heals, used to talk about the unification of the bowman, his ar
row, and the target quite often when the boys of our tribe began practicing with their bows, and some of us tried it to see if it worked the way he’d told us it would. As it turned out, it did, and the other boys got all sulky about it, because they’d never be able to do it after they’d shot off their first arrow. If Rabbit just happened to be thinking along those lines when he tried his bow the first time, it’s there, and he’ll never lose it.”
“That sounds just a bit far-fetched to me, Longbow,” Sorgan said. “The thing that puzzles me even more, though, is what was it that got Rabbit all steamed up about that fellow called Konag? He went wild about that fellow for some reason.”
“I’m not really sure, Sorgan,” Longbow said. “It might just have been a decision by that unknown lady who’s helping us. If Konag was disrupting her plan, she needed to get rid of him. Since Rabbit was right there, she used him to dispose of an inconvenience.”
Then, even as they marched north toward the geyser, Red-Beard heard a deep rumble coming up from far below, and he looked around with a certain apprehension as he vividly remembered the twin fire-mountains that had ultimately destroyed the village of Lattash and clamped the unwanted chieftainship around his neck.
Red-Beard and Longbow were somewhat behind Sorgan’s men as they moved quite rapidly up the west side of the River Vash toward the geyser. The Church soldiers had moved north rather cautiously at first, but when they realized that the trenches were no longer filled with poisoned stakes, they began to move more rapidly, tearing down the barricades as they came.
“How much farther north do Sorgan’s men have to go to reach the geyser?” Red-Beard asked his friend.
“A couple miles is about all,” Longbow replied.
“Maybe we should tell them to hustle right along,” Red-Beard suggested. “Those red-suited soldiers will be climbing up their backs if they just dawdle along.”
“Sorgan’s going to turn toward the east after he passes the geyser,” Longbow said. “He’s far enough ahead of those Trogites to get clear before they catch up with him.”
Then there came another of those rumbles from deep below, and the ground trembled under their feet.
“That’s starting to make me just a bit edgy,” Red-Beard said. “It’s not a good sign when the earth starts to wobble like that.”
“You could ask it to quit, I suppose,” Longbow replied. “I don’t know if it’ll listen, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
“Very funny, Longbow,” Red-Beard said.
Then there came a sudden flash of light, a sharp crack of thunder, and grey-bearded Dahlaine was there. “You’d better tell sister Zelana’s Maags to get out of this basin as fast as they can,” he said. “Ashad just had another one of those dreams, and I’m almost certain that something fairly awful is about to happen in this area.”
“Fire-mountains again?” Red-Beard asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“I’m not completely sure,” Dahlaine replied. “Ashad wasn’t very specific. Something’s going on down below, but that’s about all we can say for sure. Tell Sorgan to hustle right along, and I’ll go warn Narasan.”
Sorgan, Torl, and Rabbit were standing around the sizeable fissure in the ground where the geyser that had been the source of the River Vash for the past twenty-five eons had been spurting high up into the air, and the three of them seemed to be more than a little astonished by the fact that the geyser wasn’t there anymore.
“What’s going on here?” Sorgan demanded, gesturing at the fissure.
“I wouldn’t stand around waiting to find out if I were you, Sorgan,” Longbow replied. “Dahlaine came by just a while ago and told us to advise you that something fairly awful’s likely to come along soon.”
“Just exactly what do you mean by ‘awful,’ Longbow?” Rabbit asked as the earth began to shudder again.
“Does that answer your question, Rabbit?” Red-Beard asked the little smith. “In this part of the world we’ve learned not to ask questions when the ground starts to wobble. The best thing to do when that happens is to run away.”
“Which way should we go?” Sorgan asked Longbow, his eyes gone wide.
“The east ridge is quite a bit closer, Sorgan,” Longbow replied, “and in this sort of situation, closer is better, and running is much better than walking.”
“Do you think your unknown friend might be playing games again, Longbow?” Torl asked.
“Why don’t we run right now?” Longbow suggested. “We can ask questions later.”
“And running fast is probably much better than running slow,” Red-Beard added. “Real fast, if you get my drift.”
“Pass the word, cousin,” Sorgan told Torl. “Tell the men to run toward the east just as fast as they can—and let them know that their lives probably depend on it.”
3
Ashad had behaved as if his dream that night in the basin above the Falls of Vash had been more than just a little different from the dream he’d had in our cave under Mount Shrak when this had all begun. There was an urgency in his voice that hadn’t been there in our cave. He didn’t give me very many details, but I got the feeling that what was about to happen frightened him more than a little.
I realized that this wasn’t really the time for reflection, so I advised Veltan and my sisters that it was time for us to take our Dreamers and leave this basin. If Ashad had given me more in the way of details I might have been able to be more precise, but after Yaltar’s twin volcanos had engulfed the ravine above Lattash, we’d all learned that getting out of the way in the face of the natural disasters the Dreamers jerked out of nowhere was the best course of action.
Then I rode my thunderbolt on down to warn Sorgan, Longbow, and Red-Beard, and turned to give Narasan a similar warning.
“Are we looking at something on the order of those twin volcanos that saved the day for us back in the ravine?” Narasan asked rather tensely.
“I can’t be entirely sure, Commander,” I admitted. “Let’s stay on the safe side, though. I think it might be best for you to get all of your men clear of this basin. Did your friend Padan join you here after he’d abandoned his position down by the Falls of Vash, or did he go on over to the east rim?”
“He came here. He’s commanding the men off to the west.”
“You’d better get word to him,” I suggested. “Let’s not take any chances right now.” I glanced down the slope at the barricades Narasan’s men had erected to delay the invasion of the servants of the Vlagh. “Have the insect-people shaken off the effects of Lillabeth’s sandstorm yet?” I asked.
“Not entirely, I think. Their attacks on the third breastwork down there have been sort of tenuous. We don’t really know just how many bug-people the Vlagh had at its disposal, but I’m quite sure that a sizeable number of them were suffocated during that storm. It might take the Vlagh quite a while to bring in replacements.”
“I don’t really think the Vlagh has that much time, Narasan,” I told him. “The Church armies are on the move again, and it won’t be long before they’ll reach your wall here. I think you’d better pull your men back from the slope and send them off to the east as well. Let’s get all of our people out of harm’s way.”
“Right,” the commander agreed. Then he turned. “Gunda!” he shouted. “I need you here—right now!”
Narasan’s balding friend came running along the wall. “Have we got trouble of some kind?” he demanded.
“I’m not sure if ‘trouble’ is the right word, Gunda. Send a runner off to the west to tell Padan that I want him and his men to abandon their positions and come here just as fast as they can run. And send word on down to Andar as well. I want his people up here too.”
“We’ll have bug-people all over us before the sun goes down if we do that, Narasan,” Gunda protested.
“Not if we aren’t here anymore, we won’t. Our grand plan has changed just a bit, Gunda. I think we might want to move on to ‘run away.’ Lord Dahlaine just advised
me that the children have been playing again, and we don’t want to get in their way.” Narasan paused, and then he turned back to look at me. “Veltan told us that he and his toy were going to open a passage-way through Gunda’s wall here so that the Church armies would be able to get through to greet the bug-people. Can you get word to him that we’ll need that opening fairly soon?”
I smiled. “My pet’s just as efficient as Veltan’s is, Commander. If Veltan’s busy someplace else, my pet will get to have the fun this time. There will be a highway waiting here when the Church armies arrive.”
The assorted officers in Narasan’s army all seemed to be very fond of the term “logistics,” which I took to mean “getting the right people and the right equipment to the right place at the right time.” Military language tends to be just a bit stuffy at times, I’ve noticed.
The Treasured One: Book Two of The Dreamers Page 44