by Gray Prince
If he survived the visit to Al Fador…Elvo examined Moffamides, wondering as to his mental condition. Hypnotic suggestion, so he had been given to understand, could not be relied upon to persist. A clever ill-intentioned man like Moffamides might feign subservience, the more effectively to work an act of treachery. He voiced none of his suspicions to Jemasze or Kurgech who presumably knew as much about the matter as he did.
The Volwodes reached high into the pink-blue sky: barren crags marked with black thorn-bush and a few stunted sere-trees. When the yawl halted for the night, an erjin came to watch from a distance of about fifty yards. It slowly raised its massive arms and extended its talons to attack position; the ruff at its neck began to bristle. Jemasze brought forth his gun, but the erjin suddenly abandoned its aggressive posture. Its ruff subsided and after watching another minute it trotted off to the west.
“Curious conduct,” mused Jemasze. Through his binoculars he watched the creature lope away. Elvo turned to find Moffamides staring after the erjin, and his posture was not that of a man dazed and subservient.
A few minutes later Elvo voiced his apprehensions to Gerd Jemasze.
“So far he’s still under control,” said Jemasze. “Kurgech has tested him. What may happen I don’t know. If he wants to live he won’t betray us.”
“What of erjins? Won’t they attack us tonight?”
“Erjins don’t see well in the dark. They’re not likely to attack by night.”
Elvo nevertheless went to his bed in a state of uneasiness. Far into the night he lay awake listening to the sounds of the sarai: a low moaning from the direction of the foothills which presently faded into silence; a chittering close at hand; an angry whirring at various pitches; from far away a throbbing gong-like sound so exquisite that something strange rose up within Elvo’s mind to terrify him. Kurgech had tied a steel cord from Moffamides’ ankle to his own, then had rubbed it with a dry rag until it squeaked and set Elvo’s nerves on edge; whether for this reason or from the effect of the crazy-box, Moffamides lay inert the whole of the night.
Elvo awoke to find dawn-light burning the upper crags of the Volwodes.
Breakfast was brief and meager. Moffamides seemed more glum than ever and sat to the edge of the deck staring north, away from the mountains.
Jemasze went to squat beside him. “How far now to the training area?”
Moffamides looked up with a start, and the expressions of his face underwent a set of quicksilver changes: from abstraction to surly contempt, to affability and candor, to something swift and wild, like desperation. Elvo, watching, suspected that Kurgech’s suggestions had ceased to exert an absolute influence over Moffamides.
Jemasze patiently repeated his question. Moffamides rose to his feet and pointed. “It lies somewhere beyond that ridge, toward the grim Volwodes. I have never been there. I can guide you no further.”
Kurgech spoke in a mild voice: “I notice tracks yonder: perhaps they were laid by Uther Madduc.”
Jemasze asked Moffamides, “Is this the case?”
“I suppose it is possible.”
Hard on a breeze from the west, the yawl followed the tracks presumably laid by Uther Madduc’s skimmer. A second set of tracks joined those which guided them, to Elvo’s mystification. “It looks as if Uther Madduc had been followed!”
“More probably they are the tracks of Uther Madduc coming and Uther Madduc going,” said Jemasze.
“I suppose you’re right.”
Below a bluff of red and gray sandstone Uther Madduc’s trail came to an end. Jemasze dropped the sails and secured the brakes. Moffamides climbed laboriously to the ground and stood with shoulders hunched. “You need me no more,” said Moffamides. “I have done my best for you; I will now take my leave.”
“Here?” asked Jemasze. “In the wilderness? How will you survive?”
“I can reach the Depot in three or four days. There is food and water to be had along the way.”
“What of the erjins? They infest the region.”
“I fear no erjins; I am a priest of Ahariszeio.”
Kurgech came forward and touched Moffamides on the shoulder; Moffamides leaned away quivering but seemed unable to detach himself. Kurgech said: “Totulis Amedio Falle, you may now forget your worries; you are with your friends whom you wish to help and protect.”
The priest’s head jerked back; his eyes took on a flinty glaze. “You are my friends,” he declared without conviction. “This I know; hence, by corollary, I would grieve to see your corpses. So I must state that even now an erjin prince watches you. He has been talking to my mind; he wonders if he should attack.”
“Tell him no,” said Kurgech. “Explain that we are your friends.”
“Yes, I have already done so, although my thoughts are somewhat confused.”
Jemasze asked, “Where is the erjin?”
“He stands among the rocks.”
“Invite him to come forth,” said Jemasze. “I prefer erjins in full view to those skulking among the rocks.”
“He is fearful of your guns.”
“We will do him no harm if he restrains his own hostility.”
Moffamides looked toward the rocks, and the erjin came forward: a magnificent creature as large as any Jemasze had ever seen; mustard-yellow on chest and belly, brown-black on back and legs. A russet ruff, starting between the ridges of cartilage shielding the optical processes, hung down across the bone-plated shoulders. It approached without haste, apparently neither fearful nor hostile, and halted at a distance of fifty feet.
Moffamides spoke to Jemasze: “It wants to know why we are here, instead of elsewhere.”
“Explain that we are travelers from the Alouan, interested in the scenery.”
Facing the erjin, Moffamides flourished his arms and uttered a set of hissing vocables. The erjin stood immobile except for a jerking of its ruff.
Kurgech instructed the priest: “Inquire the easiest route to the training station.”
Moffamides performed new flourishes and uttered another set of sounds. The erjin responded as a man might, by turning and raising one of its massive arms, to indicate the southwest.
“Ask how far,” said Jemasze.
Moffamides put the question; the erjin responded with a set of soft sibilants. “No great distance,” said Moffamides. “Two hours more or less.”
Jemasze looked skeptically sidewise at the erjin. “Why is it here to meet us?”
Kurgech interposed a gentle remark: “Perhaps our friend Moffamides sent a mind-message ahead.”
Moffamides said weakly: “Sheer chance, undoubtedly.”
“Does it plan to attack us?”
“I can declare nothing with assurance.”
Jemasze grunted. “I have never before seen a wild erjin so mild.”
“The Volwode erjin is different from the wild erjin of the Alouan,” said Moffamides. “It is a different race, so to speak.”
Kurgech walked off in the direction the erjin had indicated and scrutinized the ground. He called back to Jemasze: “The trail is here.”
Jemasze looked at the yawl, then glanced at Elvo, who divined that Jemasze was about to require that he remain to guard the vehicle. Jemasze however turned to Moffamides. “We need a fiap to guard the wagon: of better quality than you provided before.”
“The vehicle is safe,” said Moffamides bluffly, “unless a band of Srenki pass by, which is hardly likely.”
“Nevertheless, I would prefer to hang a strong fiap on the yawl.”
With poor grace Moffamides took bangles and ribbons from the previous fiaps and contrived a new device. “It lacks magic; it is only an admonitory fiap but it will serve adequately.”
The four men set forth up a barren gully, with Kurgech leading the way. Moffamides walked second, then Elvo, and Gerd Jemasze brought up the rear. The erjin followed at a discreet distance.
The way became steep; the gully caught and reflected the sun’s pink heat; when the group reached the
ridge they stood panting and sweating. The erjin came up to join them, standing so close to Elvo that his skin prickled. From the corner of his eye he glanced along the creature’s arm, with its curious black talons and the finger-like palps sprouting from the base of the talons. With a single quick motion, thought Elvo, the erjin could rip him to ribbons. Elvo gingerly sidled two or three steps away. He asked Moffamides: “Why is this creature so different from the Alouan erjins?”
Moffamides showed no interest in the subject. “There is no great difference.”
“I notice considerable difference,” said Elvo. “This creature is docile. Has it been tamed or trained?”
Moffamides put a question to the erjin, then replied to Elvo: “Kurgech is what it calls the ‘ancient enemy’ who displays a ‘green soul’ and hence the erjin’s kill-fury*<
Jemasze asked: “So why does it follow us?”
Moffamides replied in a dispirited voice: “It has nothing better to do; perhaps it intends to be of help.”
Jemasze gave a snort of skepticism and studied the landscape through binoculars, while Kurgech cast about the wind-scoured barrens for the trail of Uther Madduc, without immediate success.
The erjin moved forward past Elvo to attract the attention of Moffamides; a half-telepathic colloquy ensued. Moffamides called to Jemasze: “It says Uther Madduc crossed the plateau and traversed that middle ridge.”
The erjin loped across the flat and stood waiting; when the men failed to respond briskly, it made urgent signals.
Kurgech went to investigate; the others followed more slowly. Kurgech scanned the seared rubble and somewhere saw signs to reassure him. “This is the trail.”
The erjin led the way up a tumble of granite boulders, jumping from surface to surface without effort. At the ridge it paused and seemed almost to strike a conscious pose.
The men reached the ridge and again halted to rest. Beyond, a slope supporting a sparse growth of brown scutch and wire-weed descended to the lip of a great gorge. The erjin started off again, on a long slantwise course, across a field of loose pebbles.
Elvo marveled at the trust Jemasze and Kurgech allowed the creature, which must by any sane reckoning be considered baleful. He put a tentative question to Jemasze: “Where do you think it’s taking us?”
“Along Uther Madduc’s trail.”
“Aren’t you suspicious of its good intentions? Suppose it’s taking us on a wild goose chase?”
“Kurgech isn’t worried. He’s the tracker.”
Elvo went to walk beside Kurgech. “Is this the way Uther Madduc came?”
Kurgech signified assent.
“How can you be sure? These rocks don’t take tracks.”
“The trail is evident. Notice: there a pebble has been disturbed. It shows a side which is not sunburned. See there: the web of dust has been broken. The erjin leads us accurately.”
For a period the course led down-slope; then, where a gully seemed to afford a route to the bottom of the gorge, the erjin veered away. Kurgech stopped short. Jemasze asked: “What’s the trouble?”
“Madduc and Poliamides went down that gully. The trail does not go where he wants to lead us.”
They looked after the erjin, who had paused to make urgent signals. Moffamides said uneasily: “It takes you the way your friends came.”
“Their trail leads down into the gorge.”
“The erjin gives me information. The way is difficult here, but easier ahead.”
Jemasze stood looking first one way, then the other. Elvo thought that he had never before seen Jemasze indecisive. Finally, without enthusiasm, Jemasze said: “Very well, we’ll see where he takes us.”
The erjin took them along a laborious route indeed: up a steep bank of crumbling conglomerate, across a tumble of boulders where small blue lizards basked and glided, up to a ridge and down the slope opposite. The erjin ran at an easy lope; the men strained and panted to maintain the pace. Sunlight glared from the rocks and shimmered in the air across the gorge; the erjin danced ahead like a fire demon.
The erjin halted as if in sudden doubt as to its destination; Jemasze spoke tersely over his shoulder to Moffamides: “Find out where it’s taking us.”
“Where the other Outker went,” said Moffamides hurriedly. “This way is easier than clambering down a cliff. You can see for yourself!” He indicated the terrain ahead, where the walls of the gorge relaxed and fell back. The erjin once more loped ahead, and led the way down to the floor of the valley, a place in dramatic contrast to the stark upper slopes. The air was cool and shadowed; a slow full stream welled quietly from pool to pool under copses of pink and purple fern-trees and dark Uaian cypress.
Kurgech studied the pale sand beside the stream and gave a grunt of grudging surprise: “The creature has not misled us. There are tracks; for a fact, Uther Madduc and Poliamides came this way.”
The erjin moved off down the valley and signaled again, as urgent and impatient as before. The men followed more deliberately than it thought appropriate; it ran ahead, halted to look back, signaled and ran forward again. Kurgech, however, stopped short and bent his head over the tracks. “There is something peculiar here.”
Jemasze bent over the tracks; Elvo looked from the side, while Moffamides stood fretting and nervous. Kurgech pointed down at the sand. “This is the track left by Poliamides. He wears the flat-toed Wind-runner sandal. This, with the hard heel-mark, is the track of Uther Madduc. Before Poliamides walked first; he led the way with a nervous step, as might be expected. Here Uther Madduc walks first; he strides in excitement and haste. Poliamides comes behind, and notice where he pauses to look behind him. They are not approaching their goal; they are leaving, in stealth and haste.”
All turned to look back up the valley, except Moffamides who watched the other three men and made small nervous gestures. The erjin whistled and fluted. Moffamides said fretfully: “Let us not delay; the erjin is becoming captious and may refuse to assist us.”
“We need no more assistance,” said Jemasze. “We’re going back up the valley.”
“Why go to the trouble?” cried Moffamides. “The tracks lead downstream!”
“Nevertheless, this is where we wish to go. Inform the erjin that we no longer need its help.”
Moffamides transmitted the message; the erjin gave a rumble of displeasure. Moffamides turned once more to Jemasze: “There is no need to go into the canyon!” But Jemasze had already started along Uther Madduc’s trail. The erjin approached on long silky strides, then uttered an appalling scream and bounded forward with arms extended and talons spread. Elvo stood paralyzed; Moffamides cowered; Kurgech jerked aside; Jemasze aimed his handgun and destroyed the creature as it sprang through the air.
The four men stood motionless, staring at the corpse. Moffamides began to moan softly under his breath.
“Quiet!” growled Kurgech. Jemasze thrust the gun back into his waistband, then turned and continued up the canyon, the others following. Moffamides came at the rear, walking lethargically. He began to lag behind; Kurgech fixed him with a glare, and Moffamides obediently hurried his steps.
The valley walls, gradually steepening, became sheer precipices, reaching from the valley floor to the brink. In the soil grew copses of trees: jinkos, banglefruit, Uaian willow, blue-baise. Presently patches of cultivation became evident: yams, pulse, yellow-pod, tall white stalks of cereal molk, red pongee bushes burdened with purple-black berries. Here was a secret Arcadia, thought Elvo, still and quiet and solemn. He found himself walking with soft steps and holding his breath to listen. The trail became a narrow road; apparently they were close upon habitation.
The four men went forward even more warily, using the trees for cover, keeping to the shadow of the steep south walls. Underfoot the ground sudde
nly became a pavement of pink marble, cracked and discolored. A great grotto opened into the side of the cliff, sheltering what appeared to be a temple of most intricate construction fabricated from rose quartz and gold.
Entranced, the four men approached the shrine, if such it were, and saw, to their stupefaction, that the entire edifice had been carved from a single mass of pink quartz, heavily shot with gold. The front façade, forty feet high, was disposed into seven tiers, each showing eleven niches. The quartz everywhere glowed with sheets and filaments of gold; with consummate craft the artisans had worked their scenes to the shape of the natural metal, and the carving of each niche seemed immanent to the rock itself, as if it had always existed, as if the scenes and subjects of the carvings were possessed of natural truth.
The subject matter of the carvings was battle, between stylized erjins and morphotes, both caparisoned in a strange and particular kind of armor or battle dress, using what appeared to be energy weapons of sophisticated design.
Elvo, in a rapturous daze, touched a carving, and where his fingertips removed a film of dust the rose quartz glowed with a light so vital that it seemed to pulse like blood.
In the bottom tier, or gallery, six openings penetrated the shrine. Elvo entered the aperture farthest left and found himself in a tall narrow hall curving so as to emerge at the aperture farthest right. The light in the passage, filtered through several panes and screens of rose quartz, seemed almost palpably dark rose-red, heavy as old wine. Every square inch had been carved with microscopic precision; gold shone bright, and every detail was evident. In awe Elvo walked the length of the hall. Emerging, he re-entered the shrine, using the next aperture toward the center; here the light was livelier and rose-coral, like the flesh of a canchineel plum. This passage was two-thirds the length of the first. Upon his exit he turned into the central passage, where the light glowed ardent pink, and the gold plaques and filaments glistened against the outside light.