by David Drake
The voyage should have been a perfect time to sleep, and it wasn’t the risk of danger that kept Varus awake. On consideration, he decided that he would rather be asleep as he slipped down the throat of a gigantic seagull than awake to savor every excruciating moment of that final experience. The thought made him smile again.
But Varus wasn’t being given a choice. He felt the same sort of nagging discomfort that he once had after he cracked a tooth. He was somehow involved with the effort of driving the boat, and it kept him from sleeping.
He remembered the gaunt, ravenous wraiths that he had seen taking up the oars in Sulla’s garden. If those creatures are feeding on me …
His smile returned, but with a wry quirk. If the wraiths were feeding on him—and certainly something was draining his energy—then he could only hope that he was fit enough to permit them to row until the boat reached Zabulon’s Isle. Desiccating here at sea because the crew had starved was not the end that Varus hoped for himself.
Though I’ll try to be philosophical about it if that should eventuate.
Something moved in the sea, a shadow paralleling the boat’s course but a furlong to the left. Varus squinted, but he was unable to see any details in the long blur.
Abruptly a lizard-like head as long as a man’s body lifted and turned toward the boat. The eyes faced forward, the gaze of a hunter which focuses on its victim not prey which searches for threats in all directions; powerful teeth were set in the long jaws.
The creature dived. Varus caught a glimpse of paddles like a turtle’s and a heavy, turtle-like body as well. It had no shell, just tiger stripes on a dark gray base, and those teeth were meant for tougher victims than the jellyfish that sea turtles dismembered with their beaks.
The boat’s hull had been pegged together from billets of soft sycomore wood. The creature’s teeth could crunch through it easily.
Varus caught movement forward in the corner of his eye; he glanced over the bow. There was an island dead ahead, the first that he had seen since they set off that morning. It was barely midday, rather than sunset when they normally landed, but the boat would run aground if they didn’t change course abruptly.
The sea lizard edged closer, effortlessly pacing the boat. It was watching them intently. Though Varus couldn’t pretend to read the mind of the silent creature, he was willing to bet that it was about to attack.
Vegetation covered the island to the shoreline. From the present distance—about a quarter mile—it looked like giant grass. Either the tide didn’t rise here or the plants were resistant to salt water.
“Lucinus!” Varus called. It was the first time he had tried to rouse his companion while on shipboard. Viewing the magician’s corpse-like appearance was less troubling than the imminent threat of being devoured.
Lucinus ignored the summons. He didn’t seem to be aware of the world around him, though his eyes were open and his lips were miming the words of his chant.
“Lucinus, the lizard is going to—”
The lizard drove toward them in churning foam. Its forepaddles moved in paired figure eights, and its deep breastbone raised a spray of mist. The hind paddles acted as steering oars, guiding the creature toward an intersection with the boat.
“—catch us before we reach the shore!”
Varus thought of grabbing an oar to thrust at the lizard, but its teeth would splinter the pine as quickly as they would human bones. Better to keep his dignity.
Reaching the shore wouldn’t mean safety. Though the lizard was well adapted to swimming, its powerful paddles would allow it to lurch some distance on land. It could hop along faster than Varus could run in his present condition, certainly.
Lucinus continued to mouth inaudible words. He didn’t turn his head toward the lizard.
Varus crossed his arms, then regretted his Stoic pose as the boat rocked in the swell of the lizard’s approach. Toppling into the water on my back would not be a heroic way to meet death.
The lizard’s jaws opened, expelling a miasma of decayed fish. Its bite would shear the hull to well beyond midpoint. Varus braced himself mentally.
The lizard crackled bright blue. The air bit the inside of Varus’ nostrils and rasped the back of his throat. The lizard blackened and shrank; bits flaked away like ashes blowing from a funeral pyre.
The boat ran up on the shore, throwing Varus sideways into the bow. He grabbed a thwart with one hand and managed not to knock himself silly on the gunwale, but that was more luck than skill. He’d been so focused on doom rushing toward him that he’d forgotten about the island.
Varus rose and helped Lucinus to sit up. The magician looked at him with dead eyes and said, “We’ve arrived. This is Zabulon’s Isle.”
Then he collapsed again into Varus’ arms.
* * *
THE BRIDGE LOOKED EXTREMELY FLIMSY. In fact, Hedia didn’t realize it was a bridge until the demon stepped onto it.
Canes four inches in diameter and thirty feet long were fitted into one another end to end to walk on. Pairs of similar canes were tied in X patterns, with the lower ends thrust into the bed of the river. The floor pole was supported in the upper angle of the frames.
There were dozens of frames to cross the furlongs of flowing water. The downstream leg of each was splayed out much more than the upstream legs. Thinner canes tied to the tops of the upstream members formed a handrail.
The demon stepped onto the central cane and began to cross, ignoring the railing. Though her feet appeared to touch the pole, Hedia wasn’t sure that the glowing body was truly material.
“This isn’t safe!” Hedia said. What she really meant was, I can’t walk on that!
Melino turned his head. “Of course it’s safe,” he said in a tone of irritation. “The bamboo would support the weight of an ox.”
If you could get an ox to walk on it, perhaps, Hedia thought. But she had control of her emotions again, or her tongue, at any rate. She nodded curtly. She allowed the magician to get ten feet ahead of her, then followed him.
I wonder if I could walk it without the railing, she thought. The only reason to attempt that would be to prove that she was just as capable as the demon leading them. The demon presumably couldn’t drown, so it wouldn’t be a fair test.
Hedia smiled wryly. She had just tricked herself into a justification of sensible behavior … and not for the first time. Nevertheless, if she hadn’t been willing to push boundaries, she would have had a much more boring life.
The narrowness of the path wasn’t as much of a problem as she had expected. The cane had been worn—and by what feet?—rough if not flat, and Hedia had been trained to walk with grace from the time she took her first steps.
She hadn’t been trained to walk on a length of bamboo that gave under her foot and bounced upward as her foot rose after each step; there were continuing shudders from Melino’s steps as well. This is a task for a ropedancer!
Hedia grinned as the thought brought up memories. Ropedancers, like mimes and flute girls, often performed at dinner parties. They were all generally expected to provide additional services later in the evening.
At least I can handle that as well as any professional. Touching the flimsy railing with the tips of her fingers, Hedia walked forward at a stately, regal pace.
The demon didn’t weigh down the springy cane, but her feet seemed to move with it as though they had real substance. Varus and his teacher would doubtless have made learned observations about what was happening, and perhaps Publius Corylus would as well.
Hedia wished Corylus were here, though his strength and sword wouldn’t be of any obvious benefit in the present situation. The young man was a comforting presence; someone who she could believe could handle anything fate threw at him … even if she couldn’t imagine how, and probably he couldn’t imagine how, either.
Hedia glanced down into the water, a sign to herself that she was feeling more relaxed. She expected it to be muddy brown; instead, the stream was faintly blue and as cl
ear as good glass.
A crowd of little men and women—two or three feet tall, had they been standing—with fish tails instead of legs were peering up from the water. When they saw Hedia look at them, they pointed, giggled, and began to chatter among themselves. She didn’t recognize their language.
Nor did she care to be mocked by dwarfs with tails. She considered spitting, then reconsidered. Facing forward, she walked on—she smiled coldly—at a stately, even regal pace.
She and Melino had fallen into a rhythm, their steps syncopating each another. It wasn’t comfortable, but at least it didn’t change and throw her off-balance.
The river’s far bank sloped steeply upward for twenty feet, then became sheer bluffs that shot up hundreds of feet—close to a furlong, Hedia thought, though she had never been skilled at estimating distance. “Melino?” she said. “Are we to climb the cliff?”
The alternative was to walk left or right along the side of the river. The slope rose a foot for every foot inward from the river and was sprinkled with brush growing among the coarse scree that had flaked from the bluffs. Hedia wasn’t sure that was the less appealing alternative, particularly since the brush appeared to be thorny.
“The Book is leading us,” said the magician. He glanced over his shoulder and added, “If you don’t want to go on, then stay. Otherwise, don’t disturb me. I have the Book now.”
“I see,” Hedia said without inflection. Her lips wore a faint smile.
In her experience, men thought in the short term. They generally had the physical power, so perhaps they could afford to. Women had to take a longer view or they would find themselves discarded as soon as they lost their youthful bloom.
Hedia had a very good memory. More than one man had found that Hedia wasn’t disposable after all, and then had repented something he had said while momentarily sated.
Bees rose from the bamboo. One circled close to Hedia’s face. She felt a flash of anger at the servants whose job it was to keep insects away from her. She didn’t try to control the absurd reaction, because it prevented her from thinking too much about the bee, which she now saw had a woman’s head.
“You are discourteous!” Hedia snapped to the insect. It moved off to a less pressing distance, though it and its fellows continued to watch her.
Hedia hadn’t swatted at the bee because inexperience would have made her awkward. Irritation was better than looking silly.
There were holes in the canes, though they looked like dark blemishes except when a bee was crawling in or out of one. The insects had human—female—heads. She wondered whether they stung, though they seemed inoffensive except in the social sense.
She was used to boorish behavior. There was no lack of humans who wanted to be closer to her than she wished to be to them.
Bees followed Hedia briefly, then curved back to where they had first appeared. More bees flew up from the framework, however, and followed her for another ten feet or so before returning to their holes.
After the first, none came too close to her. Had they understood her objection? She wondered if what she had taken for buzzing was really the sound of high-pitched voices.
Twenty feet ahead, the demon stepped onto solid ground at the far end of the bridge and began to climb the slope. Her glowing body pushed aside branches, but the thorns didn’t seem to affect her. Hedia grimaced, well aware that her skin would not prove as durable.
She briefly considered wearing leather breeches like a Celtic cowherd. If I went about it the right way, I could turn it into a fashion statement.…
On the other hand, breeches would be uncomfortable any time Hedia wasn’t traipsing through brush, which she hoped would be the whole remainder of her life. And breeches would be ugly even when they were useful. Tunics were a better choice.
The demon was walking straight up the slope. Melino followed her as best he could. The Book in his left hand was a serious handicap, but he was often able to use the staff in his right for support.
As Hedia had expected, thorns gouged her bare legs and gripped her tunic. She had chosen a sturdy fabric when she dressed to visit Melino this morning, and it didn’t tear badly when she tugged it loose. As for her skin, well, it couldn’t be helped.
She wondered if it still was morning, then wondered if the concept of time had any meaning in this Otherworld. But those were questions for Pandareus and his learned pupils.
What are Varus and Corylus doing now? And Alphena, who needs a mother’s guidance more now than ever before … and I am not there?
Hedia had been concentrating so completely on her footing that it wasn’t until Melino cried, “What?” that she looked up. At the top of the slope, their demon guide was vanishing into the vertical basalt cliff. The heel of her trailing foot was a rosy glow as it disappeared into the stone.
Melino stepped forward and rapped the basalt with the end of his staff. He must have been expecting the cliff to be an illusion, because his smug expression blanched. He reached out with the tip of his index finger to no better effect: the black stone was just as solid as it appeared to be.
Hedia hid her amusement, but she was pleased to see the magician discomfited. In the longer term, it wasn’t a good result for her; but in the longer term, she would die of old age unless something took her away more quickly. Something quicker looked probable at the moment.
Hedia stopped beside Melino, then moved a bit to the side for better footing. Rock had scaled from the cliff in irregular chunks. Even the larger slabs were apt to shift when she put her weight on them, so she had learned to be careful.
She didn’t comment on the situation, since she had nothing useful to say. She hadn’t forgotten the magician’s dismissive response to her recent question, but she suspected that her faintly supercilious smile was as cutting as any verbal insult she might offer.
Melino looked at her; for want of any other companion, Hedia suspected. “I’ll have to use the Book,” he said miserably.
She raised an eyebrow slightly higher. “Well?” she said. “That was why you got it, wasn’t it?”
Hedia smiled. “As I recall…,” she added, stretching. “I carried out my part of the business.”
“Nodens bugger you!” the magician said in sudden anger. “Do you think that magic of this level comes without cost?”
Hedia let her smile broaden. “I’ve never met Nodens,” she said. She was speaking for effect; in fact, she had heard her son and Pandareus discussing that British god, along with his Thracian, Carian, and Galician equivalents. “If you’ll introduce us, though, we’ll see how things develop.”
Melino started to raise his staff with an expression of fury. Hedia said, “Don’t,” and gripped the hilt of the dagger hidden in her sash.
If he lifts that thing higher, I’ll grab his arm with my left hand and keep stabbing until he goes down.…
The magician swallowed and turned to face the cliff again. He used the short end of his staff—the portion above his grip—to flick the Book open. Hedia relaxed, but she didn’t remove her hand from the dagger for the moment.
The Book boomed a syllable. It wasn’t a word in any language Hedia knew, and her mind wasn’t even sure in retrospect that it had been a sound that her ears heard.
The world shivered. For a moment there were a hundred separate Hedias, occupied in a hundred different fashions. Then the Cosmos was whole again, and Hedia stood in front of an entrance whose framing pilasters and pediment were carved from the living rock.
Melino staggered. Hedia supported him and didn’t even smile with satisfaction. She was so relieved at the renewed chance of escape that she was able to forgive the magician’s contemptuous dismissal as they crossed the bridge.
The demon waited ten feet ahead of them in a square-sided tunnel. Her glowing figure was the only light. She looked over her shoulder at the humans, smiled, and walked on as she had ever since they entered the Otherworld.
The demon’s smile reminded Hedia of the one she had given Melino
when he realized that the basalt would resist anything but the Book’s powerful spell. She wondered if the magician had the same knack for irritating other men as he did the females who had come in contact with him.
Although the demon walked at her previous measured pace, she was clearly drawing ahead. The tunnel’s floor felt slippery despite seeming solid enough.
Hedia gestured. “There’s something wrong with the ground,” she said.
She glanced to the side. The coarse black stone was barely visible in this light, so she touched the wall with her fingers. “Melino,” she said. “We’re moving backward.”
“This isn’t right!” the magician said—or moaned, better. It was a foolish statement unless you thought that whoever was punishing you might be moved by pity. In the present case, Hedia wouldn’t have wasted her breath.
Melino opened the Book as before. This time the word no mortal lips shouted made colors reverse themselves: the demon became a deep indigo and the tunnel walls were a white as opaque and featureless as the blackness of an instant before.
The light returned to normal, what Hedia supposed was normal when one was being guided through a tunnel by a glowing demon. The temperature dropped abruptly, making the floor feel cold even through the soles of Hedia’s heavy sandals.
Melino was wobbling again. Hedia caught him.
“Come,” she said, putting her right arm around his torso. She tried to lift his left arm over her shoulders, but the magician clamped the Book to his chest. She wasn’t sure he was aware of her presence.
“Come,” she repeated more urgently. The demon wasn’t waiting as she had when they were blocked by the sheer cliff. The glow of her flesh would be visible for a very long distance, but the details of her figure were already blurring.
Hedia began walking with quick, short steps, half-pushing and half-dragging Melino. She wouldn’t be able to carry him, at least not for long, but he fell into step after a period of stumbling and grunts.