But something was not right. A gradual mounting sense of unease afflicted Utnapishtim. Something was wrong, but he could not quite put a finger on it.
They came to the stone staircase, a place where the trail narrowed and doubled back on itself as it descended a steep slope and Utnapishtim stopped them with a wave of his hand, suddenly looking grim.
"My friends, I'm afraid we have enemies on this hill. I sense pyluk."
Thru and Meu stared at him for a moment while his words sank in.
"They will know we are here," said Thru, hurrying to the donkeys to pull his bow and quiver from the baggage. Meu retrieved his as well, an older bow that had been in his family for many years and in truth was in need of replacement.
Thru had twenty shafts, but only six of them had steel bodkins; the rest were hunting arrows with little flint broadheads meant for rabbits and pigeon. He strapped the quiver to his shoulder and slung his bow over the other one.
Utnapishtim had put himself into a meditative trance for a few moments as he allowed his consciousness to reach out to the surrounding hillside. He opened his eyes after a half minute.
"They are nearby, but I do not think they hunt us. We must move with caution, but with all possible speed. We need to get the word to White Deer so that a posse can be raised to hunt them down."
"Why would they risk coming so close to White Deer?" wondered Thru, who was not so sanguine about the situation.
"I have not heard of trouble from pyluk up here in many years," said Utnapishtim. "There must be war in the Barataks. Their hordes clash over the breeding sands every so often."
"This is a long way from the Barataks," said Meu, wonderingly.
They made haste down the trail, pressing the donkeys forward, which for once was not difficult. An hour passed in quick downward progress, and they came out on High Meadow, just a few miles from the first habitations of mots on the outskirts of White Deer.
Utnapishtim cast about himself once more and detected nothing. He remained uneasy, however. His ability to detect the lizard men was restricted. He knew they were on the mountain, but not exactly where. He hoped they had stayed behind on the high ground.
"They are far behind," he announced finally. "They must not have found our trail yet."
They relaxed just a little and continued on their way across the meadow, which was dotted with small copses of alder and spruce. Around the massive Gorn Crag, the path plunged downhill again with occasional openings onto narrow stream gorges. Some of these were bridged, others had to be crossed by stepping-stones. The donkeys were always recalcitrant about using the stones.
On the western side of the crag was a band of rock in which the immense spirals of ancient fossils stood out in rows. Thru had noticed them on the way up and been awed by their size and number.
"What are these things, Utnapishtim?" Thru asked, looking for something to take his mind off the pyluk.
"They are the shells of ancient squid, young Thru. Long ago they swam in the oceans in such abundance that their remains can be found all over the world, just like this."
"Squid don't have coiled shells."
"These were an ancient kind of squid. They long ago gave way to the shining little squid of today."
"And all this was at the bottom of the ocean?" said Meu with wonder in his voice.
"Yes, young Meu, all these rocks were formed from the seabed long ago. There is a great deal that we discern from the nature of the rocks. You shall study this, if you stay at Highnoth one more year."
Most of the small streams were dry, but the last one, the Exwem, was fed by a spring. The stream was low, but there was water enough for the donkeys to take a drink. This would be the last opportunity before they got back to White Deer, which was still a couple of hours farther on.
Thru took the opportunity to go off a short distance to relieve himself. The stream ran down the bottom of the rock strewn canyon between dense thickets of alder. He was soon completely alone. While he was there he watched an eagle in the distance, circling above the hill scanning the slopes below for rabbits. His father had told him how keen was the eagle's vision, and he chuckled at the thought that the eagle had probably seen him just as clearly as he had seen the eagle.
He hurried back and was working through the last stand of alders when he stopped with one foot still raised. A chill descended through him as he heard the harsh hisses and grunts of the pyluk tongue.
With his heart hammering in his chest he peered out through the stems of the alder. Four pyluk were pulling the gear off the donkeys, which were plainly terrified. But bucking and plunging did them no good. The pyluk had hold of their reins and were capable of holding them. Long spears were thrust into the ground nearby. There was no sign of the Assenzi, but Meu was visible, lying on the ground beyond the donkeys. He was not moving.
Another pyluk came into view from farther down the trail. He called to the four by the donkeys, who answered with hisses and guttural noises.
Thru stepped carefully back into the alders and crouched while he pulled his bow off his shoulder and nocked an arrow.
Five pyluk and six arrows with steel heads. It would be close work with little room for error. He wasn't even sure if a single arrow would be enough for pyluk. They were said to be hard to kill. He pulled the quiver around to rest on his hip and checked that his sword was loose in the scabbard. Then he moved forward again. He had to admit that he was afraid. One young mot against five grown pyluk was long odds. He took a deep breath, gathered himself, and looked out through the alder screen again. To his surprise the pyluk had gone off, taking the donkeys and Meu.
He followed along carefully behind them. There was no sign of any blood at the stream crossing. Nor was Utnapishtim's body visible. He checked for the slim, short tracks of the Assenzi but could not spot them in the churned dust left by donkeys and pyluk.
He could not tell if the Assenzi had gone ahead or gone back. There was no blood on the ground, so the pyluk had not speared either Meu or Utnapishtim, and Meu had not fired his bow, which had been discarded by the pyluk, who disdained the bow and arrow in favor of their long spears and throwing sticks.
The surprise must have been complete, he concluded. Somehow the Assenzi had failed to detect them in the twisted terrain of ridges and canyons.
Thru followed them back up the trail. He could not leave poor Meu in their hands. There was no time to go down to White Deer and rouse a posse. It was up to him.
Keeping a wary eye ahead and pausing frequently to scan the trail above for any sign of ambush, Thru stalked the pyluk. For the most part he kept to the sides of the trail, moving beneath the eaves of trees or in the shadow of rocks, but he needed to keep up a good speed so he had to use the trail.
Above the meadow, below the switchback, he sensed something was different. There was no birdsong from the slope above.
He moved off the bare rocky trail and into the heather. Scrambling up the slope he left fur and even some skin on the heather, but he kept going and climbed the slope above the trail. From the top he could survey the trail all the way to the crest.
He spotted them after a few moments, three pyluk crouched below in ambush. They were spaced along the trail, hidden in the heather at a place where the trail turned up toward the switchback. The other pyluk were not to be seen, nor were the donkeys and Meu.
Thru considered shooting the three in ambush for a moment, but they were just a little too far for a good shot, and he could not afford to miss. Besides, they would warn the others up the trail, who might kill Meu, if he still lived, just to be sure of him before confronting Thru.
He crouched in the heather and watched until the pyluk stirred themselves from cover and loped up the trail in search of their fellows. They wouldn't want to miss the meat.
Thru climbed down to the trail again and followed with cautious steps while trying to think of a way to equalize the odds a bit. The pyluk were justly famous for their prowess with their long throwing spears.
The pyluk drove the donkeys back up to the top of the hill and halted just outside the temple. They were joined by two more members of their sept. Immediately all seven began the slavering ululations of the pyluk hunting call.
Thru heard the terrible sound as he approached the top of the trail, and tried to distinguish the number of voices making the ululations, in case all the pyluk were at their meat and they had left no sentry. It sounded as if all of them were calling, but he could not be certain. Caution kept him from charging ahead and attacking directly.
With great care he climbed up a steep rocky slope well away from the trailhead, then eased himself through the brush until he had a view of the temple precinct.
The pyluk had knocked one of the donkeys down and crushed its skull with a rock. They were tearing it open with their hands and teeth. The other donkey was raving on the end of its tether, bucking and braying as it saw its herd-mate devoured.
Meu was lying nearby faceup. Thru saw his friend's chest rise and fall. Meu was alive! Thru took heart from that, but then he realized there were now seven pyluk and his hopes sank again.
The pyluk swarmed over the donkey with their usual avidity. They were smeared in blood and offal. One pulled its head out of the donkey's body cavity with a large piece of liver in its jaws. A gulp, a flash of bright sharp teeth, and it was gone.
The rib cage was disassembled between three others, who growled and snarled as the bones cracked and popped. Jaws ripped and tore at the meat while the remaining donkey continued to tug frantically at the tether that bound it to the hitching rail.
The dead donkey's legs were torn away with loud cracking and snapping. The pyluk ate quickly, as was their wont. Occasionally a long barking belch would be released, followed usually by grunts from the others and the sound of pyluk laughter.
Thru edged around the clearing, looking for the best possible spot from which to launch his attack. He had noticed a thick-boled ancient oak that was barely twelve feet high, but almost five feet thick. Behind that would be a good spot to shoot from.
He had also noticed that the pyluk spears had been set beside this tree. If he was stationed there he would be in command of their weapons. They would have to come at him to get them, and that should give him the chance to shoot them.
He reached the tree after a few minutes of careful movement. The donkey was little more now than a pile of bones. They had sucked out the brain and eaten the tongue, gobbled the eyes and gnawed down the ears. Five of the pyluk lay down where they'd eaten and began to drowse. Soon there were loud snores from their direction.
The two remaining, chosen as the watch by some process invisible to Thru, rummaged through the bones for a while, gnawing and sucking on them for any last scraps of the donkey. Soon they tired of this increasingly futile exercise, and turned their attention to Meu.
Thru already had his bow ready and an arrow nocked. He drew and took aim and was interrupted by a gentle tap on the shoulder. He almost released by accident, but looked back and found Utnapishtim there, a finger pressed to his lips in the universal signal for silence.
"Do not shoot," said the Assenzi in a tiny whisper. "Better to free Meu and make a run for it."
Thru's heart was still palpitating in his chest, but he slid back behind the tree where the Assenzi was waiting.
"Free Meu?"
"First, we must take their spears."
Thru nodded. He had considered that, but taking the spears without attracting notice had seemed impossible.
"How?"
The Assenzi waved a hand gently and closed his eyes.
Thru tried to still his heart. In the temple precinct, Meu gave a gasp and then a scream. The other pyluk shifted in their sleep and one of them growled something. The pyluk with Meu growled back. Meu was still sobbing and gasping.
Utnapishtim had gone into a trance state, with one slim hand held out in front of him and the other crossed upon his chest.
A sense of slow-rising tension had developed, as if a storm was gathering. Thru thought he heard odd little sounds, squeaks and cries as if mice were arguing in the undergrowth.
The cries from Meu had ceased. Did he still live? Thru peered around the trunk of the tree. The two pyluk that had been torturing him had nodded off. They were sitting with their backs to the temple, heads on their chests, snoring like the others.
Meu, abandoned once more, was now lying on his front, with his arms pulled behind his back. Thru glanced back at the Assenzi. Utnapishtim's eyes opened, and he gave Thru a nod.
Taking a deep breath Thru stepped out into plain view and took hold of four of the spears. They were even heavier than he had expected, and he almost dropped them, recovering at the last moment. He moved them behind the oak and took them back to the edge of a cliff and tossed them down.
They fell into darkness far below.
Thru was already back at the tree. The pyluk still slept. He seized the other three spears and stepped around the tree, where he tripped on a root and almost fell over. He spun around, wobbled, and felt a small hand grip his shoulder and steady him at the critical moment.
He stood there, breathing hard; the Assenzi was looking back at him with wide-open eyes. Then Utnapishtim cracked a thin smile.
The pyluk continued to snore. Thru swallowed, took a breath, and carefully made his way to the cliff, where he threw the long spears away.
Back behind the old oak tree, the Assenzi was in meditation again.
Thru peered around the tree. The pyluk still slept, gorged on meat, with a little help from the magic of the Assenzi.
Utnapishtim's eyes opened once more.
"Now, young Thru, we must free the donkey, load poor Meu on its back, and get away down the trail. The pyluk will sleep for a while."
"Yes, Utnapishtim. Why not kill them while they sleep?"
"My spell is fragile; they would wake up before we could finish them."
Thru steadied his nerves, but kept his bow drawn, arrow ready as he stepped quietly across the plateau, slipped into the temple precinct, and approached the donkey.
The poor animal had exhausted itself. The rope was wet with foam, its jaw and front similarly soaked. It stood there trembling, eyes rolling a little as he approached.
Thru unstrung the arrow, put it in his quiver, and shipped the bow over his shoulder. He cut the rope with his knife and led the donkey past the pyluk. It wanted to bolt, but could not even raise a snort for some reason. More magic, he assumed.
Now they went past the two pyluk who were supposed to be on watch. Meu lay on the ground, wrists and ankles bound, breathing harshly.
Thru stopped the donkey and shook his friend to awareness.
Meu gasped at the touch. He opened his mouth and let his lips slip into a snarl as he struggled to contain any sound.
Thru waited. Meu got himself under control. "They broke my arm," Meu whispered.
Thru winced. "Have to get you on the donkey; can you stand?"
"Don't know. Think so. They didn't break my legs."
Thru cut Meu's bonds. Meu grunted a couple of times as Thru helped him sit up and get to his knees. Standing took another big effort, but at last he was up.
Thru held the donkey's head while Meu used his good arm to help pull himself across the donkey's back. He sobbed from the pain, but managed to get himself in position with one leg on either side. Thru led the donkey back past the two pyluk, out of the temple precinct, and onto the trail off the hilltop. None of the pyluk stirred.
Utnapishtim remained behind, his hand held out before him as if he were blessing the pyluk where they slept.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Utnapishtim sent a prayer after the young mots and the donkey, urging them to their best speed. His spell would hold the pyluk for as long as he remained close by, and for a while afterward, but pyluk were astonishingly sensitive to the presence of prey and would notice its sudden absence and awaken, despite the enchantment under which they lay.
The sound of the donk
ey's hooves faded, and still he held the pyluk fast, though now there were some snorts and mutters from the sleepers.
It was a lonely moment for the ancient being, and one that brought up terrible memories from the long, long ago, when pyluk were far more common in the world, and they and their dread master, Karnemin the Great, were engaged in a war to conquer the Assenzi and expunge them from the world. In that time the Assenzi had developed their sensitivity to the presence of the lizard men. Utnapishtim cursed his own failings; he had sensed them, but had lost them again in those canyons and thus been taken by surprise.
More snorts from the sleepers. He pushed away the regrets and memories and concentrated on maintaining the spell. If he could build up a sufficient lead, then the youngsters would have a good chance of getting clean away. Time passed. High above, hawks circled in the calm air, oblivious to the terrible events on the hilltop below. Some crows flew past and settled in trees farther down the slope.
The moment of decision was come. The pyluk still snored, but fretfully. The spell would hold them for a while longer, but not forever.
Carefully the Assenzi backed away, moving to the top of the trail, then turning and running as fast as his ancient legs could carry him. Sooner or later the pyluk would awake, and it would all become a question of speed. He consoled himself with the thought that at least the lizard men would not have their long spears.
As he ran, struggling for enough breath, he kept seeing the beauty of the land spread out in front of him and marveled at the terrible change that had come over his appreciation of the scene. Whereas before he had seen it as the essence of natural tranquillity under the midday sun, now it was but the backdrop to a nightmarish race against death. He also marveled at the fact that despite having lived a hundred thousand years, he was not yet ready to surrender his life. This was a question to be mulled over with Cutshamakim, if he survived.
He made the first turn on the trail and hurried down the stony track. It was imperative that he not turn his ankle there. It was going to be a close-run thing as it was, without any further difficulties.
The Ancient Enemy Page 5