Marion Zimmer Bradley Super Pack

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  But he was already deep in thought again. He freed her arms without impatience. “We’ll meet that when the time comes, little sister. So Karamy and Evarin ride hunting. Who else. Idris?” At her nod, his brows contracted. “All of them—but Gamine,” he mused, and turned to me. “Could you conceivably get through to Rhys? I don’t dare—not with that—that stirring.”

  I understood, Narayan was still attuned to the terrible need of the sleeping Dreamers in the Keep. But I reminded him that only Gamine could control old Rhys. He looked at me with a strange curious question in his eyes, but made no comment. My own mind was working strong. I was unsure how I had gotten here in the house of the freed Dreamer. Just what had happened last night? I had thought Narayan would never trust me again; but now, when I needed it most, I seemed to be in his complete confidence. Damn Karamy anyhow, meddling with my memory! And she had the audacity to fly Evarin’s devil-birds after me—Adric, lord of the Crimson Tower! She should have a lesson she would not forget—and so should the presumptuous Gamine—and so should this walking zombie who was staring at me stupidly, as if I were his equal! I said with a slow savagery “I think I can manage Gamine!”

  Narayan was watching me anxiously. Gods of the Rainbow, what preposterous things had I said and done last night? I said “We’ll take them at the Dreamer’s Keep,” and saw his face clear.

  But what you do not know, Narayan, I added to myself with a secret satisfaction, is that you will join them there!

  It never occurred to them to question, to wonder if Adric today were the Adric of last night. We went downstairs and snatched a quick breakfast; Cynara tore off her winged flame-color cloak and stuffed it wrathfully into the fireplace. Her coarse grey dress beneath it made her shy prettiness more striking than ever; Cynara was not Karamy, but she was a pretty thing; and Narayan could hardly fail to trust me when Cynara perched on the arm of my chair and ran her dainty fingers over the bruises on my face. “Your roughs nearly killed him!” she pouted at her brother.

  “Oh, I’m not hurt,” I smiled at her, making my voice gentle for her ear alone. But I scowled darkly into my plate; pushed the food away and strode out into the camp. Narayan shouted quickly, jumping up, sending his chair crashing to the floor, and he ran after me so that we went down the steps together. “Wait,” he commanded in my ear, softly, “Don’t forget, to them you’re still a traitor!” He took my arm, and we walked through every row of tents together, Narayan’s expression almost belligerent. I saw the faces of the men as they came from their improvised shelter, saw suspicion gradually give way to tolerance and then casual acceptance. Finally Narayan called to Raif. “Stick to him, will you, Raif? He’s all right, but the men don’t know it yet.”

  I glanced at Narayan. “Raif,” I said tentatively, “Can you find me twelve men who know the way to Rainbow City and aren’t afraid to come close to it?”

  “I can,” Raif said, and went to do it. I had to hide a smile. Before long I would win back the place my foolishness had lost. The idiot whose body I had shared briefly had almost put it beyond recovery, but in a way he had helped, too. His weakness had won Narayan’s confidence. Well, one thing I knew, that futile idiot should not share the coming triumph. Nor should Narayan.

  Narayan—fumbling in my pocket, I touched something smooth and hard. Evarin’s mirror. Narayan, looking over my shoulder as I dragged it out, asked curiously “What’s that?”

  I pulled it out with a secret smile. “One of Evarin’s toys. Look at it, if you like.”

  Narayan took it in his hand for a moment, without, however, untwisting the silk. “Go ahead,” I urged, “Unwrap it.” I might have sounded too eager. Abruptly Narayan handed it back. “Here. I don’t know anything about Evarin.”

  I had to conceal my disappointment. With a feigned indifference I thrust it back into the pocket. It did not matter. One way or another, Narayan would lose. For Evarin and Karamy rode a-hunting today—and I knew what their game would be!

  Falcons of Evarin

  I pulled my cloak closer about me, prickling with excitement, as I knelt between Raif and Kerrel in the tree-platform. Just beneath me, Narayan clung to a lower branch. My ears picked up the ring of distant hooves on frozen ground, and I smiled; I knew every nuance of this hunt, and Evarin might find his deadly birds not so obedient to his call today. Not a scrap of me remembered another world where a dazed and bewildered man had flown at a living bird with his pocketknife.

  Coldly I found myself considering possibilities. A snare there must be; but who: Narayan himself? No; he was my only protection until I got clear of this riffraff. Besides, if he ever unsheathed his power, unguarded like this, he could drain me as a spider sucks a trapped fly. No; it would have to be Raif. I had a grudge against the fat man, anyway. I pulled at his sleeve. “Wait here for me,” I said cunningly, and made as if to leave the platform. Raif walked smiling into the trap. “Here, Adric! Narayan gave orders you weren’t to run into any danger!”

  Good, good! I didn’t even have to order the man to his death; he volunteered. “Well,” I protested, “We want a scout out, to carry word when they come.” As if we wouldn’t know!

  “I’ll go,” Raif said laconically, and leaned past me, touching Narayan’s shoulder. He explained in a whisper—we were all whispering, although there was no reason for it—and Narayan nodded. “Good idea. Don’t show yourself.”

  I held back laughter. As if that would matter!

  The man swung down into the road. I heard his footsteps ring on the rock; heard them diminish, die in distance. Then—

  A clamoring, bestial cry ripped the air; a cry that seemed to ring and echo up out of hell, a cry no human throat could compass—but I knew who had screamed. That settled the fat man. Narayan jerked around, his blonde face whiter. “Raif!” The word was a prayer.

  We half-scrambled, half-leaped into the road. Side by side, we ran down the road together.

  The screaming of a bird warned me. I looked up—dodged quickly—over my head a huge scarlet falcon, wide-winged, wheeled and darted in at me. Narayan’s yell cut the air and I ducked, flinging a fold of cloak over my head. I ripped a knife from my belt; slashed upward, ducking my head, keeping one arm before my eyes. The bird wavered away, hung in the air, watching me with live green eyes that shifted with my every movement. The falcon’s trappings were green, bright against the scarlet wings.

  I knew who had flown this bird.

  The falcon wheeled, banking like a plane, and rushed in again. No egg had hatched these birds! I knew who had shaped these slapping pinions! Over one corner of my cloak I saw Narayan pull his pistol-like electro-rod, and screamed warning. “Drop it—quick!” The birds could turn gunfire as easily as could Evarin himself, and if the falcon drew one drop of my blood, then I was lost forever, slave to whoever had flown the bird. I thrust upward with the knife, dodging between the bird’s wings. Men leaped toward us, knives out and ready. The bird screamed wildly, flew upward a little ways, and hung watching us with those curiously intelligent eyes. Another falcon and another winged across the road, and a thin, uncanny screeching echoed in the icy air. I heard the jingle of little bells. Three birds, golden-trapped and green-trapped and harnessed in royal purple, swung above us; three pairs of unwinking jewel-eyes hung motionless in a row. Beyond them the darkening red sun made a line of blackening trees and silhouetted three figures, ahorse, motionless against the background of red sky. Evarin—Idris—and Karamy, intent on the falcon-play, three traitors baiting the one who had escaped their hands.

  The falcons poised—swept inward in massed attack. They darted between my knife and Narayan’s. Behind me a bestial scream rang out and I knew one of the falcons, at least, had drawn blood—that one of the men behind us was not—ours! Turning and stumbling, the stricken man ran blindly through the clearing, down the road—halfway to those silhouetted figures he reeled, tripping across the body of a man who lay beneath his feet. Narayan gave a gasping, retching sound, and I whirled in time to see him jerk
out his electro-rod, spasmodically, and fire shot after wild shot at the stumbling figure that had been our man. “Fire—” he panted to me, “Don’t let him—he wouldn’t want to get to—them—”

  I struck the weapon down. “Idiot!” I said savagely, “Some hunting they must have!” Narayan began protesting, and I wrenched the rod from his hand. The man was far beyond firing range now. At Narayan’s convulsed face I nearly swore aloud. This weak fool would ruin everything! I said hastily “Don’t waste your fire! We can take care of them later—” I waved a quick hand at the three on the ridge. “There is no help for those caught by Evarin’s birds.”

  Narayan breathed hard, bracing himself in the road. I beckoned the others close. “Don’t fire on the birds,” I cautioned, tensely; “It only energizes them; they drain the energy from your fire! Use knives; cut their wings—look out!” The falcons, like chain-lightning, traced thin orbits down in a slapping confusion of wings and darting beaks. I backed away from the purple-harnessed birds, flicking up my cloak, beating at the flapping wings. Our men, standing in a closed circle back to back, fought them off with knives and with the ends of their cloaks thrown up, swatting them off; and three times I heard the inhuman scream, three times I heard the lurching footsteps as a man—not human any more—broke from us and ran blindly to the distant ridge. I heard Narayan shouting, whirled swiftly to face him—he ran to me, beating back the green-trapped bird that darted in and out on swift agile wings. The screeing of the falcons, the flapping of cloaks, the panting of men hard-pressed, gave the whole scene a nightmare unrealness in which the only real thing was Narayan, fighting at my side. His gasp of inhuman effort made me whirl, by instinct, flinging up my cloak to protect my back, my knife thrust out to cover his throat. He raked a long gash across the down-turned head of the falcon, was rewarded with an unbirdlike scream of agony and the spasmodic open-and-shut of the razor talons. They raked out—clawing. They furrowed a slash in the Dreamer’s arm. The razor beak darted in, ready to cut. I threw myself forward, unprotected, off balance, ready to strike.

  At the last minute talons and beak turned aside—drew back—darted swiftly, straight at me. And my knife was turned aside, guarding Narayan!

  But Narayan jerked aside. His knife fell in the road, and his arm shot out— grabbed the bird behind the head, twisting convulsively so the stabbing needle of a beak could not reach him. The darting head lunged, pecking at the cloak that wrapped his forearm; thrown forward, I stumbled against Narayan, carried by my own momentum, and we fell in a tangle of cloaks and knives and thrashing legs and wings, asprawl in the road. The deadly talons raked my face and his, but Narayan hung on grimly, holding the deadly beak away. I thrust with the knife again and again; thin yellow blood spurted in great gushes, splattering us both with burning venom; I snatched the wounded bird from the Dreamer’s weakening hands twisted till I heard the lithe neck snap in my fingers. The bird slumped, whatever had given it life—gone!

  And high on the ridge the dwarfed figure of Idris threw up his hands—fell— collapsed across the pommel of his saddle!

  Narayan’s breath went out limply in a long sigh as we untangled our twisted bodies. Our eyes met as we mopped away the blood. We grinned spontaneously. I liked this man! Almost I wished I need not send him back to tranced dream—what a waste!

  He said, quietly “There is a life between us now.”

  I twisted my face into a smile matching his. “That’s only one,” I said. “The rest—” I turned, watching for a moment as the falcons tore at the ring of men. “Come on,” Narayan shouted, and we flung ourselves into the breach. I flung down my knife, snatched a sword from someone and swung it in great arcs which seemed somehow right and natural to me. The men scattered before the sword like scared chickens, and I went mad with hate, sweeping the sword in vicious semicircles against the lashing birds ... the sword cut empty air, and I realized startlingly that both birds lay cut to ribbons at my feet, their blood staining the dead leaves. Narayan’s eyes swam, through a red haze, into my field of vision. They were watching me, trouble and fright in their greyness. I forced myself to sanity; dropped the sword atop the dead birds. I wiped my forehead.

  “That’s that,” I said banally.

  We took toll of our losses, silently. Narayan, gasping with pain, rubbed a spot of the yellow blood from his face. “That stuff burns!” he grimaced. I laughed tightly; he didn’t have to tell me. We’d both have badly festered burns to deal with tomorrow. But now, there was work—

  “Look!” One of the men stared and pointed upward, his face tense with fright. Another great bird of prey hung on poised pinions above us, sapphire eyes intent; but as we watched, it wheeled and swiftly winged toward the Rainbow City. Not, however, before I had caught the azure shimmer of the bells and harness. A thin, sweet tinkling came from the flying bells, like a mocking echo of the spell-singer’s voice.

  Gamine!

  The Return of Adric

  Back in the windowless house, we snatched a hurried meal, cared for our slashed cuts, and tried to plan further. The others had not been idle while we fought the falcons. All day Narayan’s vaunted army had been accumulating, I could hardly say assembling, in that great bowl of land between Narabedla and the Dreamer’s Keep. There were perhaps four thousand men, armed with clumsy powder weapons, with worn swords that looked as if they had been long buried, with pitchforks, scythes, even with rude clubs viciously knobbed. I had been put to it to conceal my contempt for this ragtag and bobtail of an army. And Narayan proposed to storm Rainbow City—with this! I was flabbergasted at the confidence these men had in their young leader. So much the better, I thought, take him from them and they’ll scatter to their rat-holes and crofts again! I felt my lips twisting in a bitter smile. They trusted Adric, too. When I had shown myself to them, their shouts had made the very trees echo. Well—again the ironic smile came unbidden, that was just as well, too. When Narayan was re-prisoned, I could use the power of their lost leader to tear down what he himself had built. The thought was exquisitely funny.

  “What are you laughing about,” Narayan asked. We were lounging on the steps of the house, watching the men thronging around the camp. His slumbrous grey eyes held deep sparks of fire, and without waiting for my answer he went on “Think of it! The curse of the Dreamer’s magic lifted—what would it mean to this land, Adric? It means life—hope—for millions of people!”

  In a way, Narayan was right. I could remember when I had shared that dream; when it had seemed somehow more worthy than a dream of personal power. Cynara came down the steps, bent and slipped her soft arms around my shoulder, and I drew her down. A volcano of hate so great I must turn my face away burned up in me. This man was my equal—no, I admitted grudgingly, my superior—and I hated him for it. I hated him because I knew that in his dream of power no one must suffer. I hated him because, once, I had been weak enough to share his feelings.

  I said abruptly “Your plans are good, Narayan. There’s just one thing wrong with them; they won’t work. Storming Rainbow City won’t get you anywhere. You could kill Karamy’s slaves by the thousands, or the millions, or the billions. But you couldn’t kill Karamy, and you’d only leave her free to enslave others. You’ve got to strike at them when they’re in the Dreamer’s Keep. When the Dreamers wake is the only moment when they are vulnerable.”

  “But how can we get to the Dreamer’s Keep, Adric? They go guarded a hundred times over, there.”

  “What’s your army for?” I asked him roughly, “To knock down haycocks? Send your men to chase off the guards. I told you I could handle Rhys, if it came to that. He’ll get us through to the Dreamer’s Keep, if need be.”

  “What about Gamine?” Cynara asked practically. Gamine was the least of my worries, but I did not tell Cynara that. I listened to their comments and suggestions a little contemptuously. Didn’t they know that when the Dreamers woke, the Narabedlans were vulnerable—to the Dreamers alone? If I were there with Narayan, there was no question about w
ho would win.

  Cynara scowled at the rip of talons across my face. “You’re hurt and you never told me!” she accused. “Come this minute and let me take care of it!” I almost laughed. Me—Adric of the Crimson Tower—being ordered around by a little country girl! I snorted, but spoke pleasantly. “I’ll live, I expect. Come and sit here with us.” I pulled her down at my side, but she leaned her head on her brother’s knee, an unquietness in her face. She was a pretty thing, although the cause of all my troubles. When I redeemed her from Karamy’s slaves, for a whim, I had not known she was Narayan’s sister—Zandru’s hells, but I had made a ghastly slip! I had told Narayan there was no help for those touched by the birds, when I myself had redeemed his own sister! Had he noticed? Would he attribute it to Karamy’s meddling with my mind? I smothered an exclamation, and Cynara and Narayan looked up anxiously. “You are hurt, Adric!”

  I shook my head. I fancied Narayan looking at me with suspicion, but I controlled myself. I reached out to draw Cynara to me, but she had drawn back, rising lithely to her feet, like a dove poised for flight; only her hands, small darting hands like candle-flames, remained in mine to pull me lightly to my feet. I tried to hold her, but she protested “There is so much to be done—” and I raised the slim hands to my lips before I let her go. The gesture pleased her, I could see; so much that I watched with contempt as she tripped away. Silly, simple girl! It would please her!

  In the end it was only Narayan and Cynara who rode with me to Rainbow City. Kerrel had taken the army, in sections, to set an ambush for Karamy’s guards; we rode in the opposite direction, by a twisting side road. Cynara rode beside me, her dark eyes glowing. There was dainty witchery in Cynara, and a pretty trust that made me smile and promise recklessly “We will win.” It pleased me to think that I could comfort Cynara for her brother’s downfall. Once conditioned to Rainbow City, she would forget her silly fancies and be a fair and lovely comrade. If she continued to please me, it would be amusing to see this unformed country girl wield the power that had belonged to Karamy the Golden!