“I will decide when—and how much,” Aracia declared. She was obviously trying to regain control in this situation.
“That might be very true, Lady Aracia,” Sorgan said, “but I’m the one who’ll say yes or no. Be nice to me, lady, because I’m the only one willing to protect you. You’ve offended your big brother and your sister, so they won’t have anything to do with you. That sort of says that I’m the most important person in the whole wide world, wouldn’t you say?”
Aracia gave him a cold, superior sort of look. “How much do you want?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Sorgan replied. “How does one hundred blocks of pure gold sound to you?”
“That’s absurd!”
“It is, isn’t it? Let’s make it two hundred, then.”
She stared at him, her eyes suddenly gone wide.
“It’s entirely up to you, lady. That’s the price. Take it or leave it.” Then he turned and walked toward the door, not even bothering to look back.
“I’ll pay! I’ll pay!” Aracia almost screamed.
“That’s more like it,” Sorgan said. “Now you can see just how easy I am to get along with.”
“He leaned on her, Padan,” Veltan told their friend the next morning. “Very, very hard.”
“I wish I’d been there to see that,” Padan said with an evil sort of grin.
“Your whiskers aren’t quite long enough to make it safe for you to roam around in the temple, Padan,” Sorgan told the Trogite. “Give them another week before you visit that holy absurdity. You’re not wearing your Trogite uniform, and that might be enough, but let’s not take any chances yet. We want you to look entirely different before you start making any public appearances.” He scratched his cheek. “I think maybe you and Rabbit should talk this over. Rabbit’s got a fair idea of the horror stories he’s going to tell Veltan’s sister, but I think you might want to add a few other stories as well. We’ve seen quite a few different varieties of the bug-people, and we’ll want to throw them all in Aracia’s face—in bits and pieces, of course. Let’s say that the first time you’ll sorta concentrate on the snake-bugs that we encountered in Zelana’s Domain. Then move on to the bug-bats and the turtle-shell bugs. Hold off on the spider-bugs for quite some time. That’s the really scary one. I still have nightmares about people having their insides turned into a liquid that the spider drinks right out of them.”
“It did eliminate Jalkan and Adnari Estarg, Captain Hook-Beak,” Padan said. “A lot of us in Commander Narasan’s army are quite sure that was the nicest thing anybody—or anything—could have done for us.”
Sorgan smiled. “If I remember right, Gunda wanted to make that a national holiday down in Trog-land. I’ll be sending Ox, Ham-Hand, and Torl out as well. Maybe you should all get together and decide which awful each one of you should present to Aracia and her assorted priests. Each one of you should have a different story to wave in Aracia’s face. Remember that she was down in Veltan’s Domain, so she knows about most of the varieties of bugs. Let’s add a few new ones, though—bird-bugs, maybe, or wolf-bugs and lion-bugs. Maybe the group of you should get together and decide how you’re going to spread these stories out and make them sound real. The whole idea is to give them new awfuls every so often, and each awful should be worse than the previous ones. We want to make Aracia’s priests so terrified that they’ll be afraid to come out of the temple to see the awfuls themselves.” Then he had a sudden idea, and he looked at Veltan. “You know how to make images of things that aren’t really there, don’t you?”
“More or less,” Veltan admitted. “Where are we going here?”
“Let’s say that our scouts come back with stories about some terrifying varieties of bugs. Then, maybe a day or so later, the priests and other servants actually see those very same bugs.”
“I can do that, yes,” Veltan admitted. “I’ll need to stay quite a ways away from Aracia when I do it, though. If I’m too close to her, she’ll be able to feel what I’m doing.”
“We’ll probably be out along the west side of her temple. That’s quite some distance from the main temple here. The higher-ranking priests will probably be hiding out in cellars and what-not, but I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with some reason for a few of the lower-ranking priests to be out there with us. If you whip up some nasty images, they’ll probably run back to Aracia yelping and squealing. Let’s keep your sister so terrified that she can’t think straight. We want her to order all of her priests to come home to the temple to join up with the ones already here. We don’t want any of her priests out there catching whiffs of the invasion of Long-Pass. Let’s make sure that Narasan can get his job done without any interference from your sister or her overweight priests.”
“You’re getting very good at this sort of thing, Sorgan.”
“Practice, Veltan, practice. And if worse comes to worse, we can borrow a few of the children. I’m almost positive that Eleria could scare your older sister into convulsions, if that’s what we really need. We’re pulling off a hoax here, but let’s make it seem so real that nobody who works for your sister will even dare to come out of the temple to have a look for themselves.”
UP
FROM
THE
BEACH
1
It was late afternoon on a cold, grey winter day when the Victory hauled into a narrow bay where a sluggish-looking river came down through a range of low, rounded mountains.
“This must be the place, Andar,” Gunda said to his friend as the sailors lowered the sails of the Victory and dropped the anchor. “Lord Dahlaine’s map only showed one river coming down out of the mountains along this stretch of the east coast.”
“It looks to be quite a bit wider than the streams and rivers we encountered off to the west,” Andar observed.
“And fairly quiet as well,” Gunda added. “That doesn’t particularly hurt my feelings, though. Waterfalls and rapids are pretty to look at, but trying to get around them isn’t much fun at all.”
“I knew it,” Andar said.
“Knew what?”
“Longbow said he’d be waiting for us here, and there he is.”
“I don’t—” Gunda started, but then he too saw the leather-clad archer sitting on a log not far from the river mouth. “That’s Longbow, all right,” he said. “If he says he’s going to do something or be someplace, you might as well believe him. I learned never to argue with him during that first war in Lady Zelana’s Domain.”
“If I was reading Lord Dahlaine’s map right, he had hundreds of miles ahead of him when he led the Malavi and those natives down along that mountain range,” Andar said, sounding more than a little baffled.
“The first rule when you’re dealing with Longbow is always to believe him when he tells you something,” Gunda said with a slight smile. “It may not be true when he says it, but it will turn out to be true in the long run. If Lady Zelana doesn’t wiggle her fingers to make things happen, Longbow’s other friend—the one who conjures up tidal waves on dry land or sets fire to a mountain range when she gets irritated—will. Don’t ever cross Longbow if you can possibly avoid it. That’s the best way I know of to stay alive.”
Narasan and the overly clever Keselo came out of the cabin at the stern of the Victory, and they joined Gunda and Andar at the starboard rail. “I’d say that we made good time,” Narasan observed.
“Not too bad,” Gunda agreed, “but Longbow outdid us. He’s camped on the beach, and he’s probably been waiting for us for a month or so at least.”
“I see that you’re filling in for Padan in the funny remarks department,” Narasan said in a sour tone. “If you are, you’d better practice just a bit. Padan would have added all sorts of irritating comments to that one.”
“Give me a little time, Narasan,” Gunda replied. “My sense of humor’s sort of rusty—the weather, no doubt.”
“Longbow should be able to tell us if the bug-people are coming up out of the Wast
eland,” Keselo said. “That’s what we really need to know.”
Gunda squinted at the narrow bay. “I was sort of hoping that we’d be able to get closer to the beach,” he said. “If the men have to row ashore from this far out, it’ll take us several days to get everybody on shore.”
“We won’t be going anywhere for several days anyway, Gunda,” Narasan said. “Half of the army’s still camped on that beach up in Dahlaine country. Sorgan’s scheme should keep Aracia out of my hair, but when he borrowed half of the fleet, he slowed things down for us quite a bit. Let’s go ashore and have a little chat with Longbow. We really need to know if the bugs are moving yet.”
“How far would you say it is to the top of Long-Pass from here?” Narasan asked when several Trogites met with the archer.
“About a hundred and twenty miles, Narasan,” Longbow replied. “Dahlaine’s map was fairly accurate.”
Narasan winced. “That’s not exactly good news, Longbow,” he said. “At ten miles a day, that’s twelve days at least.”
“Is ten miles a day some sort of religious obligation?” Longbow asked the commander.
“No, not really,” Narasan replied. “It’s based on reality. One man alone can cover much more ground, but when you’re dealing with an army of a hundred thousand, ten miles a day is about the best you can hope for.”
“But your fort-builders wouldn’t really have to move that slowly, Narasan,” Longbow declared. “Friend Gunda here is the expert, so he’ll know how many of your men we’ll need to get the job done. If I were to guide—or maybe lead—your fort-builders up the pass, I’m sure that I’d have them up there in four days, and they could have most of the work finished by the time you and the rest of your army reached the top.”
“It’s just not done like that, Longbow,” Gunda protested. “An army’s not an army if it gets all split up like that.”
“Don’t be in such a rush, Gunda,” Andar suggested. “It’s very likely that we’re going to need those forts and we’ll definitely need them before the bug-people come charging across the Wasteland. I suppose we could give some thought to blocking them off somewhere about halfway down the pass, but I’d say that blocking them right up at the top of the pass would work better.”
“He’s got a point there, Gunda,” Narasan agreed. “We’re not fighting an ordinary enemy, and we don’t want them to get into the pass if we can possibly come up with a way to keep them out.” Then he looked at Longbow. “Can you really get the fort crew to the head of the pass in just four days?” he asked.
“Not all of them maybe,” Longbow replied, “but enough of them to get started. The Tonthakans, Matans, and the Malavi can hold our enemies back for a while, but I’m sure that forts are absolutely essential.”
“I see your point,” Narasan agreed. “All right, then, take the fort crews on up to the head of the pass as quickly as you possibly can. If we don’t block off Long-Pass, there’s a fair chance that poor old Sorgan will be facing real bug-people instead of assorted imaginary ones.”
Gunda shrugged. “If that’s the way you want it, glorious leader, that’s the way we’ll do it.” Then he squinted at Andar. “Are you feeling up to a long hike in short time?” he asked.
“That’s up to the commander, Gunda,” Andar replied. “If he wants me to go along, I’ll go, and we could turn it into a race, if you’d like. I can probably run at least as fast as you can.”
Gunda was seriously discontented by Longbow’s scheme to rush the building crews up to the head of the pass. Spreading the army out in potentially hostile territory wasn’t a good idea at all, and he was highly skeptical when Longbow announced that he could march the construction gangs to the top of the pass in a mere four days. Longbow himself probably wouldn’t have any trouble covering that much ground in four days, but Longbow wasn’t familiar with all the delays that can crop up when several thousand men are moving in the same direction. Gunda’s years in Narasan’s army had taught him a fairly simple rule—“Always expect the worst, and you’ll seldom be disappointed.”
The grumbling and complaining began before they even started up the pass the following morning. When Longbow said “at first light” he meant it, and that didn’t sit too well with most of the men in the construction crews.
It didn’t take Gunda very long to put his finger on the source of much of their problem. Longbow was a tall man, and Trogites, for the most part, were significantly shorter. Gunda didn’t bother to keep count, but he was almost positive that he had to take two steps for every one of Longbow’s. Most Trogites, it appeared, almost had to run to keep up with the archer.
“He moves very fast, doesn’t he?” the farmer Omago suggested.
Gunda wasn’t sure just why Omago had joined them, but he decided not to ask any questions just now. “He steps right along,” he agreed. “If somebody happened to take six or eight inches off each one of his legs, things might be a lot more pleasant for the rest of us.”
“I think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s a hunter,” Omago said. “From what I’ve heard, all hunters move fast, because they don’t eat if they just plod along.”
“That probably has a lot to do with it,” Gunda agreed.
“Hunting might be exciting,” Omago said, “but turnips don’t run away, so we don’t have to chase them.”
“I’ve never been involved in farming or hunting,” Gunda said. “Down in the Empire, we just buy our food. We don’t have to grow it or chase it down to shoot it full of arrows.”
“Did I hear correctly?” Omago asked then. “Somebody told me that Trogite soldiers are born and raised in those forts down there.”
“Not quite all of us,” Gunda replied. “It’s mostly just the officers. We start out playing soldier, but then we move on to being real ones.”
“Isn’t it sort of dangerous to hand real weapons to little children?”
Gunda smiled. “We don’t get real weapons until we’re older,” he replied. “We start out with wooden swords, and there are quite a few old veterans keeping an eye on us. Then, when the weather’s bad, they tell us war stories. There was an old sergeant named Wilmer who could spend hours telling us stories about wars the army had fought in the past. I’d say he was probably one of the greatest storytellers who’ve ever lived. He could keep us sitting on the edge of our chairs for hours.”
“The stories the older farmers tell us when we’re little boys aren’t really very exciting,” Omago said. “Stories about bugs eating our crops used to show up quite often.”
“That’s what this war is all about, though, wouldn’t you say? Of course, this one’s just a little different. This time, the bugs are eating people, not just crops.” Then he saw something quite interesting. “Excuse me a minute, Omago,” he said. “I need to mark something.” He went to a fair-sized oak tree and tied a length of red string around it. “A good spot for a fort,” he explained. “Narasan told me to keep my eyes open while we’re going through the pass and mark any place that might be a good spot for a fort.”
“Are you saying that you’re going to build forts this far down the pass?”
“Only if the bug-people give us enough time, Omago. If things work out right, we’ll build a fort every mile or so. If the bug-people do decide to come down this way, we’ll be able to make it very expensive for them.”
“You Trogites are most certainly the finest soldiers in the world,” Omago declared. “We’re very lucky that Veltan was able to persuade Commander Narasan to come here and help us. I keep hearing stories that your commander had given up soldiering and had taken up begging instead.”
Gunda shrugged. “He made a blunder in a war, and his nephew was killed. Narasan couldn’t live with that—until Veltan came along and told him that it was time to go to work again.”
Omago smiled. “Veltan can be very persuasive when he needs to be.”
“He is indeed,” Gunda agreed. “He threw some things at Narasan that jerked our commander o
ut of his gloom, that’s for sure. Narasan was sure that the world was coming to an end, and time would stop. Veltan told him that time didn’t, and never would, have an end—or a beginning either.”
“He was wrong there,” Omago said. “Time may never have an end, but it definitely had a beginning. There was a time when the universe wasn’t, but it suddenly appeared. That was when time began.”
“Just when did that happen?” Gunda asked curiously.
“It’s very hard to say,” Omago replied. “It was before the world—or the sun—came into existence, so Veltan wasn’t around.”
“Where did you pick up this story, Omago?”
Omago frowned. “I’m not really sure,” he admitted. “I just somehow know that it happened that way. Isn’t that odd?”
“This Land of Dhrall is the native home of odd, Omago,” Gunda said. “We’d better pick up our pace, my friend,” he suggested. “Longbow’s getting a fair distance ahead of us, and if we don’t keep up, he’ll get very grouchy. If we keep strolling along like this, he might send us to bed without supper.”
Omago laughed, and they both began to walk faster.
The sun was setting off to the west when Longbow decided that they’d gone far enough. Gunda breathed a sigh of relief at that point. He was fairly sure that he didn’t have another mile left in him.
“We’ll need to go a little farther tomorrow,” Longbow said.
“Farther?” Gunda protested. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand up tomorrow morning, much less walk more than a mile.”
“You spend too much time lying around when you’re riding on boats, Gunda,” Longbow replied. “You’ll be in much better shape when we reach the head of the pass.” Then he looked back down the pass where the last of the Trogites were stumbling up toward where they’d soon be setting up their night’s camp. “Did Narasan happen to tell you why he sent so many men?” he asked.
The Younger Gods Page 7