by David Mason
“Some will wish to stay,” I said. “But I shall go on, till I find the three.”
“Then you will wish to see what you hunt,” Arastap said. He pointed at the window again. “Our vision goes to the border of their place… no farther, for their power holds it back. Here is the path you will take.”
The window’s view seemed to move, swift as a bird, across the forest of Koremon land. The sun flashed on snow peaks ahead.
The view seemed to follow a traced path, gray against the green of grass, another such road as we had followed in Koremon. At times, traces of paving were visible, as the road wound up and through a mountain pass. Over a tumbling brook, there were the remnants of a stone bridge, and the road was cut into the edges of cliffs here and there.
“Who built that road?” I asked.
“Oh, that was long ago,” Arastap said. “Even before we ourselves began, when this island rock was only part of a greater land. This is the oldest of worlds, Prince of Dorada. Many folk were here before you. Many rose from savagery, pranced awhile in the sun, and fell again to darkness.”
Now the road in the window-image fell downward along a rocky slope and through a second high pass. And there, the image slowed, and stopped its movement, the pass framed in it, and the valley that lay beyond was visible, dimly and distantly.
It was like a vision of the place that some believe in as a place of torture after death.
A pall of greasy smoke drifted in the air, almost as high as the surrounding mountains. It seemed to be very cold; a thin snow fell, misting the view, and lay gray instead of white on the road ahead. Below, on the valley floor, there was a gleam of water, possibly a river, but there was no greenery near it. Instead, a mass of monstrous buildings, jumbled together like bricks, stood centered in the valley. And around this structure the earth lay bare and empty, except for two or three paths across this desert.
The buildings themselves were angular and ugly, all of a blackish color like river mud; it was too far to see if they possessed any windows at all, but even at such a distance their ugliness was plain enough. Here and there smoke poured out, as though they were on fire; but it seemed to be only a great chimney. The whole place was almost as large as a small city, from the look of it, but there was no look of a city of men about it.
Nearby, on the blackened earth, a queer thread of some glittering stuff lay, stretching like a road toward the farther hills and disappearing into them. As I studied this, a thing that seemed at first to be a black caterpillar of enormous size came running along the shining thread. I peered harder, and saw that the caterpillar was a line of huge carts, following the metal lines as if guided thereby, and apparently tied to each other. This procession vanished into a door of the building.
I could see tiny specks on a path, which might be human forms, walking somewhere on some unknown errand. Periodically, blue lights flashed above the building, like mast-top lightning; but there was no other sign of who or what lived there.
“This is what we see, now,” Arastap said. “They know of us, and block our vision. And I think they know we hate them, and why. When they first came… wait, I will show you a recorded image of this.”
The valley faded, and changed. Now, it was only an empty, snow-veiled valley, with an icy stream meandering through it. The view moved, and faces appeared. First, men dressed in furs, dragging burdens of sledges; then other men, driving the first.
The image drew closer still, to the face of one man; a tall man, shaven on chin and head, carrying a long black staff. His rock-hard face was the face of one who rules, and ruthlessly, a face of power and evil. Yet, at the same time, there was a queer weakness about it; the quick lower lip had a look of petulance and anger.
“The first of the three kings,” Arastap said. “He is called Karn. He comes here, fleeing those he once ruled, with his guards and possessions… here, where he can flee no farther, where the road between worlds ends.”
The screen flickered, and a second face appeared; and at this one, a strange chill touched me. It was… like her face. And yet, it was not. This was the face of a young man…or one who seemed young. Yet the eyes were old, horribly old; and here and there, like flakes in a perfect marble statue, there were odd wrinklings and marks of marring. But it was the resemblance that made me shudder; for if Isa had been a young man instead of a girl, that would have been her face.
“Yes,” Arastap said, softly. “That is the face of Hawi, Sorcerer and Ruler of the Seventh World… which he laid waste in his greed. The woman Isa, on your ship, is… distantly related to him. She is his great-seventy-times daughter. Be assured, Prince; your woman carries nothing of his evil. Seventy generations is long enough to cleanse even the blood of Hawi.”
And now the image darkened, steadily, until it was nearly black. Nearly… but not quite. A dim redness, like the light of a nearly dead fire, filled the space… and something else was there too.
Whatever it was, it was in no way human. Its edges seemed to waver and blend with the darkness around it, as a drop of ink might mix with water. It floated, huge and silently swimming in the red darkness; and an eye, a single great crystalline globe, hung centered in its black shape, glowing.
“This is as much as any human eye could bear to see of the third of the three,” Arastap said. “Nor can he bear light of any kind for long, to be seen by. He is called Ess Issiassi, if you would attempt his full name; though human tongues can seldom hiss so, and his fellows call him the third, or Ess. He alone may succeed in defeating us all. The other two are human, and though evil, we share their natures; we can deal with such. But this one… a snake, a sea-worm, anything of flesh has more in common with man’s ways than this one does.”
“Whence came that… thing?” Thuramon asked, as the image faded away, to a white blankness.
“We have learned only this much… bad enough to know,” Arastap said. “He… or it… comes from another time, as well as another world. In his time, the universe itself was… will be… dying of old age, an unthinkable time away. He fled, back through time, for reasons I cannot guess. But what we fear is simple enough. He has gained such trust as the other two may give, enough to convince them that he merely shares their own desires for power and their greed. But, once this world is in their grip… he may want more. He may wish to change the very pattern of the future, to bring his kind to life, too soon.”
I shook my head, sweating. “Arastap… I cannot understand some of these things. How time itself may be crossed… no. Oh, I believe you. But my mind cannot hold this. All I know is that these three set in motion the forces that destroyed my land. I hold blood feud with all three. Two of them, it would seem, have blood, which I’ll see the color of. That third… can he be slain at all?”
“Easily,” said Arastap, with a grim smile. “Strong light will slay him. But… how may a man come near him, without being seen by him? He can slay with his eye alone, or with a thrust from his voice. This I cannot explain, but believe me, it is true. Do not approach him; no man may do that and live. As to how you may let light upon him, I do not know that either. He dwells now in a lightless chamber, within that building you saw. There, he works and schemes with the other two, while their slaves toil and build the foundations of their power. And while their agents move out, across the world, working to destroy. In that black room, Ess pleasures himself at times, in ways I could not speak of without becoming sick.”
I scratched my beard. “It seems Thuramon was right,” I said. “The gods seem to have given me a heavy task.”
“You may fail,” Arastap said. “Remember that. We cannot tell if you will succeed. But you are our only hope.” By his look, he had not too much of that hope, either. His lack of confidence was all too apparent, and it annoyed me so much that I began to forget my own fears.
“Pah,” I said. “They’re but two men, and a smoke ghost, those three. Against the invincible prince of Dorada and his practically all-knowing wizard. Why, they’re beaten already, poor cr
eatures.”
Arastap chuckled dryly.
“It’s good that you can still laugh,” he said. “But there’s an enemy on the mainland for you, before the three. Our dragons will fly out, and hunt; but only you can seek the Brotherhood in their lair. Their monastery walls protect them from us.”
“We’ll find a way to pluck them out,” I said confidently. “By some trick or other, I think. I find I’m developing a taste for treacherous tricks, as I grow older.”
And the point of that jest was, I thought, that it was true.
Eleven
The time had moved more swiftly than I had thought. When Arastap led us at last down to the hall through which we had entered, we had laid well-detailed plans. The boat lay ready, and whatever drew it took hold of the line at once. Once more we sped out, passing through what seemed solid rock, and out into the sea. The stars were growing pale, dawn was nearing.
The Luck was gone, as I’d ordered; and the black shell in which we rode swung swiftly around the island’s end and down toward our anchorage. On one side, the black crags of the Dragon Isle drew farther away, and on the other, the blackness of the nighted forest of Koremon lined the shore. Against the sky, I saw the mast lights of the fleet, riding at their lines.
“We’ll be aboard in a few minutes, at this rate…” I began, and then I started up, rocking the light craft, and staring ahead. “Thuramon!”
“I see it!” he said, squinting into the blackness.
Flashes of light, and a distant sound of shouting, and then a bright orange flash… a cannon shot! More torches flared up, as we drew closer yet, and now we could hear the confused roar of many voices. A second cannon bellowed forth, this from another ship near the Luck; and the ball screamed over our heads, to crash among the trees on the near shore.
I cursed, and drew my blade, clutching the boat’s rail, and watching the black sides of my Luck draw closer.
“Ho, up there!” I shouted. “Ahoy, Luck!”
Then the boat scraped alongside, and with one leap I scrambled up the lines and over.
Men were milling on the deck, and weapons glittered; a boat swung, ready to go overside, and smoke still eddied about one cannon’s breech. I saw Caltus, half-armored, his eyes wild, shouting orders at his armsmen near the boat, and I leaped to his side.
“Lord Kavin…” he croaked, staring at me with a strange look. He dropped to his knees. “Slay me, Lord Prince. I have betrayed you.”
“Get up, you muleheaded tin soldier.” I shouted down at him. “I’ll kill you soon enough, but not till I know what’s happened here.”
“The Lady Isa…” he gasped. “Lord, I slept. I confess it, I slept, and… the guard’s throat was torn out. Something crept into the cabin. The Lady Samala is hurt… and the Lady Isa… stolen!”
I stared about the deck, a roaring of blood in my ears. I clutched at my sword hilt, and released it again, helplessly; there was no foe left to strike. I turned and strode toward the cabin, where men crowded near the companionway. I thrust my way through, and in.
Samala sat, half-lying, on a bunk. One of the women worked over her, bandaging a scarlet gash along her shoulder and arm. Blood spattered the deck, and I stopped, with a groan, staring at her. But she looked up at me, and tried to smile.
“I am only hurt a little, Prince,” Samala said in a low voice. “A claw… waste no time here. Seek the Lady Isa.”
“What happened?” I said hoarsely.
“One of them…” Samala said. “In man’s shape, first, so that he could reach the ship… then, he changed.”
She paused, and made a wry face as the women pulled the bandage tight
“I think they wish to hold her hostage, to insure your aid.” Samala went on. “I think they know you went to the Dragon island. They fear.”
“They’ll have cause to fear,” I said. “I’ll carve every damned skin-changing rat’s son of them. I’ll throttle that Abbott with my own hands and hang both his skins to dry…”
“They may slay the Lady Isa if you…”
“Gods,” I said. “They have her.”
Thuramon, at my elbow, was white with as great a fury as my own, but controlled his rage as he spoke.
“Lord Prince, make no agreement with them,” he said, in a low voice. “Our only hope is to pursue and seize her from them. They will keep no bargain they make.”
Samala paled, as she sat before us two. Her eyes flashed to the wizard’s face, no longer the fat and jolly face of Thuramon, but the harsh mask of fury.
“Kavin!” she cried out. “She… they will slay her if you pursue them! She carries your child!”
“Exactly, my lady Samala,” Thuramon said, staring at her meaningfully. “She carries a child. And that, they do not yet know. But, if they know it… and they will, when they see her in full light… remember what they are. Do you not know to what use such demons may put an unborn child?”
“They… practice the Black Sacrifice,” Samala said, in sudden understanding. “And Isa is one of the ancient blood. Her child would be what they have always needed… for that.”
I stared at both of them in turn, terror and rage struggling in me.
“I live among too many damned secrets.” I snarled. “By the Nine Gods, if I don’t learn what you both mean… what ancient blood is Isa’s? What Sacrifice?”
Thuramon shrugged. “It would seem the Lady Isa kept a few things from you, as is a woman’s right,” he said. “Her race is of a very special kind, with powers that lie dormant unless… certain things happen. If a child of such a kind is…” he stopped, and set his mouth in a tight line. “It is an evil thing, Lord. The child would be taken from Isa, and she would die, of course. But the child would live, not as a human, but as a monster. It would be put into a jar, floating in a strange half-death… and it would be powerful, yet a servant to those who made it. I fear the Brothers of Wisdom, there ashore, may know how to do this thing.”
Samala nodded. “If they can do it, they will have a weapon for the future, to make themselves secure in Koremon.” She gripped her wounded arm with her other hand, and groaned, slumping a little. “And I am too weakened to help.”
“Come, Thuramon,” I said, and to Samala, “My lady, you were wounded in my cause, and you had little reason to give me such a gift. I will not forget.” And I went out of the cabin, quickly.
My rage had turned cold, now, but was stronger than ever. I called Caltus and the others to me, and gave swift orders; they were to follow me, but only at the time and in the way I outlined. Then, I dropped down into the ship’s boat lying below, followed by Thuramon, and by Kakk Marag, the graybeard with his silver-tipped arrows.
As we scrambled ashore, Kakk Marag grunted.
“We go die,” he said, in a noncommittal way. “But we kill some skin-changers first. Many.”
Thuramon shook his head. “No, hairy one. We aren’t going to die if we can help it.” He paused on the beach, scanning the blackness of the forest. The sky was pearl-colored now, but the forest was very dark even in the dawn.
Kakk Marag lifted his head, and sniffed with his huge nose, turning his head.
“Skin-changers are men now,” he said. “Smell. And look.”
There were beast prints in the sand, and sandal marks too; and the marks of something dragged. One man had taken Isa, and the others had waited here. Then they had hurried into the forest, probably carrying her. They would have expected pursuit, I was sure; and if a fleeing party expects pursuit… why, they lay an ambush.
“The long way around,” I said aloud.
“Exactly,” Thuramon said. “Even I, unskilled in warlike matters…” He studied the line of the beach, then knelt, and scratched a few lines in the sand. “See. When we went into the land yesterday, we came to that road—their road, I’d say. Our path then was nearly straight, as theirs is now. They will expect a large party, to follow straight after.”
I nodded. “Then, they’d leave some to quarrel with that party. The
y might hope to take me also, so as to have a new hold on my people. So I thought on the ship… reason for my orders to Caltus. We’ll flank them. Come.”
We went down the long beach, pounding along on the sand as fast as Thuramon’s legs could go, myself almost dragging the other two.
Now the sun was fully up, and we sweated in it on that long march. But at last we came to where a brook’s mouth entered the sea, and turned up its bank, Thuramon watching the sun as we went.
“We will come within a mile of that monastery house,” Thuramon puffed, “but behind it. Unless they’ve scattered warders through the whole forest, they cannot guess we’re near.”
“Nah.” Kakk Marag shook his head. “I smell none. They make strong smell, change skins. None near.” He twanged his bowstring with his crooked thumb, and glanced at me. “We kill when we get there?”
“Not till we know where they have her,” I said. “Then…”
On we went, Thuramon keeping up bravely. Once or twice I stopped, pretending breathlessness, but mostly to let him rest.
The brook became smaller now, and finally, merely a trickle, winding down from a ridge. We climbed the ridge, thrusting through brush, to the top… and there it was.
Just beyond, a little below us, the blank wall of the west side of the monastery stretched out. It was within arrowshot, and Kakk Marag stared at it hungrily. But, watching, I could see strange things happening; and I gripped Kakk Marag’s arm, stopping him.
“The peasants,” I said. “Going away. See that?”
Groups of them were trailing away from the building, all in some haste, moving close together fearfully as they went. Two or three of the black-robed men were near the distant gateway, busy at some mysterious task.
There was a group of black-robes now, coming quickly toward the building, and then another after them.
“Calling them in from the outlying places,” Thuramon said with a strange look.