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2 - The Ruby Knight

Page 24

by The Ruby Knight [lit]


  The Domi wiped his ~greasy fingers on his leather

  breaches. well, I suppose we should be on our way, friend

  Tynian,' he said. 'Slow riding earns no bountty.' He

  paused. 'Are you sure you don't want to sell that boy?'

  'He's the son of a friend of mine,' Tynian said. "I

  wouldn't mind getting rid of the boy, but the friendship's

  valuable to me.'

  "I understand perfectly, friend Tynian.' Kring bowed.

  'Commend me to God next time you talk with Him.' He

  vaulted into his saddle from a standing start, and his

  horse was running before he was even settled.

  Ulath walked up to Tynian and gravely shook hiS

  hand. 'You're fast on your feet,' he observed. 'That was

  absolutely brilliant.'

  "It was a fair trade,' Tynian said modestly. 'We get the

  Zemochs off our backs, and Kring gets the ears. No

  bargain between friends is fair unless both sides get

  something they want.'

  'Very, very true, ulath agreed. "I've never heard of

  selling ears before, though. Usually it's heads.'

  'Ears are lighter,' Tynian said professionally, 'and they

  don't stare at you every time you open your saddlebags.'

  'Would you gentlemen mind?' Sephrenia said tartly.

  'We have children with us, after all.'

  'Sorry, little mother,' Ulath apologized easily. 'Just

  talking shop.'

  She stalked back to the wagon, muttering. Sparhawk

  was fairly certain that some of the Styric words she was

  saying under her breath were never used in polite

  society. Who were they?' Bevier asked, looking at the warriors

  who were rapidly disappearing towards the south.

  They're of the Peloi,' Tynian replied, 'nomadic horse

  herders. They were the first Elenes in this region. The

  kingdom of Pelosia is named after them.'

  'Are they as fierce as they look?'

  'Even fiercer. Their presence on the border was probably

  why Otha invaded Lamorkand instead of Pelosia.

  No one in his right mind attacks the Peloi.'

  They reached Lake Venne late the following day. It

  was a large, shallow body of water into which nearby

  peat-bogs continually drained, making the water turbid

  and brown-stained. flute seemed strangely agitated as

  they made camp some distance back from the marshy

  lakeshore, and as soon as Sephrenia's tent was erected,

  she darted inside and refused to come out.

  'What's the matter with her?' Sparhawk asked

  Sephrenia, absently rubbing the ring finger on his left

  hand. It seemed to be throbbing for some reason.

  "I really don't know,' Sephrenia frowned. "It's almost

  as if she's afraid of something.'

  After they had eaten and Sephrenia had carried Flute's

  supper in to her, Sparhawk closely questioned each of his

  injurd companions. They all claimed perfect health, a

  claim he was sure was spurious. 'All right, then.' He gave

  up finally. 'We'll go back to doing it the old way. You

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  gentlemen can have your armour back, and we'll try a

  canter tomorrow. No galloping, no running and if we run

  into any trouble, try to hold back unless things get serious.'

  "He's just like an old mother hen, isn't he?' Kalten

  observed to Tynian.

  'if he scratches up a worm, you get to eat it,' Tynian

  replied.

  'Thanks all the same, Tynian,' Kalten declined, But

  I've already had my supper.'

  Sparhawk went to bed.

  It was about midnight, and the moon was very bright

  outside the tent. Sparhawk sat bolt upright in his

  blankets, jolted awake by a hideous, roaring bellow.

  'Sparhawk!' Ulath said sharply from outside the tent.

  'Rouse the others, fast!'

  Sparhawk shook Kalten awake and pulled on his

  mail-shirt. He grabbed up his sword and ducked out of

  the tent. He looked around quickly and saw that the

  others needed no rousing. They were already struggling

  into their mail and were taking up weapons. ulath stood

  at the edge of camp, his round shield in place and his axe

  in his hand. He was looking off intently into the

  darkness. Sparhawk joined him.

  'What is it?' he asked quietly.

  'What makes a noise like that?'

  'Troll,' ulath replied shortly.

  'Here? In Pelosia? Ulath, that's impossible. There

  aren't any Trolls in Pelosia.'

  'Why don't you go out there and explain that to him?'

  'Are you absolutely sure it's a Troll?'

  "I've heard that sound too many times to miss it. It's a

  Troll, all right, and he's absolutely enraged about something.'

  'Maybe we should build up the fire,' Sparhawk suggested

  as the others joined them.

  "It wouldn't do any good,' Ulath said. 'Trolls aren't

  afraid of fire.'

  'You know their language, don't you?'

  Ulath grunted.

  'Why don't you call to'him and tell him that we mean

  him no harm?'

  'Sparhawk,' Ulath said with a pained look, 'in this

  situation, it's the other way around. If he attacks, try to

  strike at his legs,' he warned them all. 'if you swing at hiS

  body, he'll jerk your weapons out of your hands and feed

  them to you. All right, I'll try to talk with him.' He lifted

  his head and bellowed something in a horrid, guttural

  language.

  Something out there in the darkness replied, snarling

  and spitting.

  "what did it say?' Sparhawk asked. .

  'He's cursing. It may take him an hour or so to get

  finished. Trolls have a lot of swear-words in their

  language.' Ulath frowned. 'He doesn't really sound all

  that sure of himself,' he said, sounding puzzled.

  'Perhaps our numbers are making it cautious,' Bevier

  suggested.

  They don't know what the word means,' Ulath

  disagreed. "I've seen a lone Troll attack a walled city.'

  There was another snarling bellow from out in the

  darkness, this time a little closer.

  'Now, what's that supposed to mean?' Ulath said in

  bafflement.

  'What?' Sparhawk asked.

  'He's demanding that we turn the thief over to him.'

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  'Talen?'

  "I don't know. How could Talen pick a Troll's pocket?

  They don't have pockets.'

  Then they heard the sound of flute's pipes coming from

  Sephrenia's tent. Her melody was stern and vaguely

  threatening. After a moment, the beast out in the darkness

  howled - a sound partially of pain and partially of

  frustration. Then the howling faded off into the distance.

  'Why don't we all go to Sephrenia's tent and kiss that

  little girl about the head and shoulders for a while?' Ulath

  suggested.

  'What happened?' Kalten asked.

  "Somehow she ran him off. I've never seen a Troll run

  from anything. I saw one try to attack an avalanche once.

  I think we'd better talk with Sephrenia. Something's

  going on here that I don't understand.' />
  Sephrenia, however, was as puzzled as they. She was

  holding Flute in her arms, and the little girl was crying.

  'Please, gentlemen,' the Styric woman said softly, 'just

  leave her alone for now. She's very, very upset.'

  "I'll stand watch with you, Ulath,' Tynian said as they

  came out of the tent. 'That bellow froze my blood. I'll

  never get back to sleep now.'

  They reached the city of Venne two days later. Once

  the Troll had been frightened away, they neither saw nor

  heard any further sign of him. VeNNe was not a very

  attractive city. Because local taxes were based on the

  number of square feet on the ground floor of each house,

  the citizens had circumvented the law by building

  overhanging second storeys. In most cases, the overhang

  was so extreme that the streets were like narrow,

  dark tunnels, even at noon. They put up at the cleanest

  inn they could find, and Sparhawk took Kurik and went

  in search of information.

  For some reason, however, the word 'Ghasek' made the

  citizens of Venne very nervous. The answers Sparhawk

  and Kurik received were vague and contradictory, and the

  citizens usually went away from them very fast.

  'Over there,' Kurik said shortly, pointing at a man

  staggering from the door of a tavern. 'He's too drunk to

  run.' Sparhawk looked critically at the reeling man. 'He

  could also be too drunk to talk,' he added.

  Kurik's methods, however, were brutally direct. He

  crossed the street, seized the drunkard by the scruff of

  the neck, dragged him to the end of the street and shoved

  his head into the fountain that stood there. 'Now, then,'

  he said pleasantly, "I think we understand each other.

  I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to

  give me the answers - unless you can figure out a way to

  "sprout gils.'

  The fellow was spluttering and coughing. Kurik

  pounded on his back until the paroxysm passed.

  'All right,' Kurik said, 'the first question is "Where is

  Ghasek?"

  The drunken man's face went pasty white, and his

  eyes bulged in horror.

  Kurik shoved his head under water again. 'This is

  starting to make me very tired,' he said conversationally

  to Sparhawk, looking across the bubbles coming up out

  of the fountain. He pulled the fellow out by the hair. 'This

  isn't going to get any more enjoyable, friend,' he warned.

  "I really think you ought to start to co-operate. Let's try

  again. Where is Ghasek?'

  "-north,' the fellow choked, spewing water all over

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  the street. He seemed to be almost sober now.

  "we know that. Which road do we take?'

  'Go out of the north gate. A mile or so after you get out

  of town, the road branches. Take the left fork.'

  'You're doing fine. See, you're even staying sort of dry.

  How far is it to Ghasek?'

  'A-about forty leagues.' The man writthed in Kurik's

  iron grip.

  'Last question,' Kurik promised. 'Why does everybody

  in Venne wet himself whenever he hears the name

  Ghasek?'

  'I-it's a horrible place. Things happen there that are too

  hideous to describe.'

  "I've got a strong stomach,' Kurik assured him. 'Go

  ahead. Shock me.'

  'They drink blood up there - and bathe in it - and even

  feed on human flesh. It's the most awful place in the

  world. Even to mention its name brings down a curse on

  your head.' The man shuddered and began to weep.

  'There, there,' Kurik said, releasing him and patting

  him gently on the shoulder. He gave the man a coin. 'You

  seem to have got all wet, friend,' he added. 'Why don't

  you go back to the tavern and see if you can get dry?'

  The fellow scurried off.

  'Doesn't sound like too pleasant a place, does it?' Kurik

  said.

  'No, not really,' Sparhawk admitted, "but we're going

  there all the same.'

  *Chapter13

  Because the road they proposed to follow was reputed to

  be not very good, they arranged to leave the wagon with

  the innkeeper and rode out on horseback the next

  morning through shadowy streets illuminated by

  torches. Sparhawk had passed on the information Kurik

  had wrung out of the drunken man the day before, and

  they all looked around warily as they passed out through

  the north gate of Venne.

  'it's probably just some local superstition,' Kalten

  scoffed. "I've heard awful stories about places before, and

  they usually turned out to be about things that had

  happened generations before.'

  "It doesn't really make much sense,' Sparhawk agreed.

  'That tanner back in Paler said that Count Ghasek's a

  scholar. That's not usually the sort of man who goes in

  for exotic entertainments. Let's stay alert anyway. We're

  a long way from home, and it might be a little hard to call

  in help.'

  'I'll hold back a bit,' Berit volunteered. "I think we'd all

  feel better if we're sure those Zemochs aren't still trailing

  US.'

  "I think we can count on the Domi's efficiency,' Tynian

  said.

  "Still - ' Berit said.

  'Go ahead, Berit,' Sparhawk agreed. "It's just as well

  not to take chances.'

  They rode at an easy canter, and as the sun was rising

  they reached the fork in the road. The left fork was

  rutted, narrow and poorly maintained. The rain which

  had swept through the area for some days back had left

  muddy and generally unpleasant, and thick brush lined

  both sides of it.

  'it's going to be slow going,' Ulath noted. "I've seen

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  smoother roads, and it's not going to get better once we

  get up into those hills.' He looked toward the low range

  of forested mountains lying just ahead.

  'We'll do the best we can,' Sparhawk said, 'but you're

  right. Forty leagues is quite a distance, and a bad road

  isn't going to make it seem any shorter.'

  They started up the muddy road at a trot. As Ulath had

  predicted, it grew steadily worse. After about an hour,

  they entered the forest. The trees were evergreens, and

  they cast a sombre shade, but the air was cool and damp,

  a welcome relief for the armoured knights. They stopped

  briefly for a meal of bread and cheese at noon and then

  pressed on, climbing higher and higher into the

  mountains.

  The region was ominously deserted, and even most of

  the birds seemed muted, the only exception being the

  sooty ravens, who seemed to croak from every tree. As

  evening began to settle over the gloomy wood, Sparhawk

  led the others some distance away from the road,

  and they made camp for the night.

  The dismal forest had subdued even the irrepressible

  Kalten, and they were all very quiet as they ate their

  evening meal. After they had eaten, they
went to their

  beds.

  It was about midnight when Ulath woke Sparhawk to

  take his turn on watch. 'There seem to be a lot of wolves

  out there,' the big Genidian said quietly. "It might not be

  a bad idea to put your back to a tree.'

  "I've never heard of a wolf attacking a man,' Sparhawk

  replied, also speaking softly to avoid waking the others.

  'They usually don't - unless they're rabid.'

  'That's a cheerful thought.

  "I'm glad you liked it. I'm going to bed. It's been a long

  day.'

  Sparhawk left the circle of firelight and stopped about

  fifty yards back in the forest to allow his eyes to adjust to

  the darkness. He heard the howling of wolves back off in

  the woods. He thought he had found the source of many

  of the stories that had been circulating about Ghasek.

  "this gloomy forest alone would be sufficient to stir up

  fears in superstitious people. Add to that the flocks of

  ravens - always a bird of ill omen - and the chill howling

  of packs of wolves, and it was easy to see how the stories

  had started. Sparhawk carefully circled the camp, his

  eyes and ears alert.

  Forty leagues. Given the worsening condition of the

  road, it would be unlikely that they could cover more

  than ten leagues a day. Sparhawk chafed at their slow

  pace, but there was nothing he could do about it. They

  had to go to Ghasek. The thought came to him that the

  count might very well not have found anyone who knew

  the whereabouts of King Sarak's grave, and that this

  tedious and time-consuming trek might all be for

  nothing. He quickly pushed that thought out of his

  mind.

  Idly, still watching the surrounding woods, he began

  to wonder what his life would be like if they were

  successful in curing Ehlana. He had known her only as a

  child, but she was no longer a little girl. He had received a

  few hints about her adult personality, but nothing

  definite enough to make him feel that he really knew her.

  She would be a good queen, of that he was certain, but

  exactly what kind of a woman was she?

  He saw a movement out in the shadows and stopped,

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  his hand going to his sword as he searched the darkness.

  Then he saw a pair of blazing green eyes that reflected

  back the light of their fire. It was a wolf. The animal

  stared at the flames for a long time, then turned to slink

  silently back into the forest.

  Sparhawk realized that he had been holding his breath,

 

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