by James Kahn
The sun dipped its last light under the crest of the nearest hills, putting everything in a somber cast: the first intimations of the evening chill. In the quiet of the moment, Isis suddenly half stood, cocked her ears, jerked her head to the left, and froze. The others looked in the same direction, but saw nothing. Suddenly the black Cat sped off to the top of a long rise of rocks to the west. In a few seconds she raced back to where the others stood.
“Yarrrrl,” she growled.
Josh ran silently with Isis to a niche in the rock pile, and peered over it across the western plain.
Walking slowly toward them, a quarter-mile distant, were ten of Jarl’s soldiers on their trail. Five appeared to be Bears, two were Ursumen; the other three Joshua couldn’t discern. He ran back to the others.
“JEGS,” he panted. “Too many to fight. We’ll have to run.”
“I dislike this running from,” Beauty said distinctly.
Jasmine looked from face to face; finally at Beauty. “When I was young, two hundred fifty years ago, there was a truth well known. It was said that for every thing, there is a season. Your fight, I think, isn’t with these soldiers.”
Josh and Beauty looked back toward the rise, where Jarl’s Elite Guard would be tracking in a few minutes; and then ahead, at the Forest of Accidents looming in the near east.
Jasmine spoke again. “I know a place to wait and think. A sanctuary, a friend’s hideaway. In the Forest.”
She held their faces in hers. They looked at each other. She turned and began to run toward the Forest. “Come on, then,” she called quietly over her shoulder. They all followed her at a trot, and by the time they reached the edge of the wood a few minutes later, night had fallen flat.
The Forest. A blackness filled the air, deeper than any thought, a blackness without form. Shapes could be imagined in the night, differentiated from the night only by subtle, textural variations—here, a glossier black; there, more flat; there, a thickening in the blackness: wet rocks in a stream, a cluster of young trees, an animal.
Occasionally through the matte of clouds that was the sky, a fleck of starlight escaped; but was caught immediately in the web of vines and branches that canopied the forest. No light this night.
And it was cold. As the heart of a fish. As the color of snow in shadow.
And quiet, still. No sound rattled the leaves, clicked the stones. No rodent skittered, no tail slapped, no thing moved; except once, perhaps, the flapping of a great bird could be heard high above the fringe of the farthest trees—but this noise, if it even existed, was quickly absorbed by the faint stale wind, and carried into the depths of the wood.
So. Black, cold, quiet, still. A sense of breath lost or held, of a momentary pause in the flow of things, of…
A pure, low demented cry tore the fabric of this weave. It was a blind, inhuman sound, terrible and brief.
The five animals stopped; listened; held their breaths. This wood concealed Accidents.
“It’s not far,” whispered Jasmine. Beauty held an arrow drawn.
They tiptoed across a game path, into a thicket. The night and the smell of moist earth surrounded them, like different kinds of overgrowth. Another noise, in another direction, made them all turn their heads at once. Something rustled. There was a click.
A blast of light flooded to the left. Josh involuntarily brought his arm up to shield his face. Beauty raised his bow. It looked like a shaft of light breaking, de novo, out of the substance of the night; and then like a door of light opening in the face of rock Josh now saw standing straight as a wall a few feet into the undergrowth. And then he realized it was a door being opened in the rock there, and a light shining out from inside the rock. And now a figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the lamps in the room beyond. Jasmine walked up to the dark figure in the rock.
“Is Lon here?” she asked in a hush.
“Whom shall I say is calling?” said the form in the doorway He ushered the five fugitives in quickly, and closed the door behind them. Outside, no trace of door remained. Only a large boulder, one side flat and mossy, half buried in the jungle-thick forest.
CHAPTER 5: In Which The Travelers Learn Of A New Animal In The South
INSIDE, a small room had been hollowed out of the center of the rock, so its walls and floor were of stone; with a stairway descending immediately into the earth. As soon as the hunters entered, they were led by the doorman down two long flights of these turning stone steps. So steep was the descent that Beauty almost fell twice, and had to keep balancing himself with his hands on the walls.
Finally they reached level ground. A spacious tunnel led them, wormlike, many paces to a great gothic archway, which opened upon a wood-paneled room, thirty by fifty feet long, fifteen feet high, decked with rough-hewn cedar. Paintings lined the walls, illuminated by golden candelabra. Velvet overstuffed chairs proliferated; oriental carpets, crystal chandeliers.
“Wowww,” meowed Isis.
The doorman left. Suddenly in walked a singularly handsome man with short, straight hair; deep sensitive eyes; skin of reddish hue; long, powerful fingers, and the secure smile of a civilized patron, his mouth parenthetically punctuated by a gently curving fang at each corner. He was a Vampire.
He spread his wings when he saw Jasmine, and his smile widened. As she ran up to him with her arms out, he encircled her, warmly touching his lips to her neck.
“Lon,” she murmured.
“Jasmine,” he replied. He pronounced her name “Yahzmeen.” His voice was deep as the grotto.
“Whoa,” cautioned Isis. Josh and Beauty were tense, confused, ready to bolt. Josh cursed himself for falling into such an easy trap, and wondered if he could kill a Vampire at close range. Beauty measured the distance to the door, the distance to the creature. He would not make the first move. Treachery must always lose strength when it must declare itself. Hum-belly fluttered around the room, mindlessly upset.
Jasmine finally broke her embrace with the Vampire and turned back to the others. “This is my friend, Lon,” she said. “We’re safe here. Lon, these are my friends … but I don’t know your names,” she realized in midsentence.
“Josh, Beauty, Isis, and Humbelly,” said Joshua, indicating with his hand. His voice was thick with coiled energy.
Lon bowed from the waist, so low that his forehead almost touched the floor. “It is my deepest honor to welcome the friends of my friend,” he intoned. Draping his body were sheer silks of deep orange and chocolate brown, which flowed like flames through the ether when he moved. He rose from the bow to his full height, with the words, “Please accept my hospitality.”
Neither Beauty nor Isis moved. Josh bobbed his head, tentative, uncertain. “Thanks,” he said.
Lon smiled beneficently. “Come, we shall eat.” He put his robed arm around Jasmine’s shoulder and escorted her out the door, talking continuously of old times, new times. The others looked at each other, shrugged, and followed.
They went down twisting passages, some lit, some dark; through a large natural cave, dripping with stalactites; past an underground spring, cool and still; along another carpeted room, filled with antique musical instruments of every variety—clavichords, pianos, French horns, oboes, dulcimers; and finally into-the dining room.
It was enormous. Jeweled sculptures held court over one end of the room, their intentions made shadowy by the glow of ancient lamps. Gilt objects adorned every surface, some powerfully magical, some merely exquisite. Scattered around the floor were scented animal skins: sheep, tiger, bear. Against one entire wall an enormous fireplace crackled brightly with burning cedar. A long, low central table of two-inch oak, which looked like it could easily accommodate a banquet, sat stoutly on the floor, surrounded by dozens of pillows, large and small, multicolored in soft exotic fabrics.
“Please, sit,” said Lon with an expansive sweep. He reclined on a pillow at the head of the table; Jasmine sat cross-legged on his right. The others sat comfortably on the floor around the
table, propping themselves against the luxury of the down cushions. Humbelly, settling near the fireplace, immediately fell asleep.
A man surreptitiously ran in, whispered something into the Vampire’s ear, received a long, whispered reply, then ran out again. Lon said something to Jasmine; she laughed. He turned, finally, to the others, an apologetic grimace on his face. “First, we shall drink,” he said.
He picked a small glass bell off the table and jingled it softly. Instantly a beautiful, pale young boy came silently into the room, naked but for his jewelry, carrying a tray of liqueurs. He padded around the table, stopping to offer each guest a glass, placing a small bowl in front of Isis, coming finally to the Vampire host, who took the remaining glass and raised it. “A toast,” said Lon. The young boy scurried from the room.
Lon went on. “Jasmine has just been telling me you saved her life. For this act you may consider me your most loyal servant.” He bowed his head half an inch. “So, a toast. May servant and master find each other worthy.” He drank from his glass. The others raised their goblets in the amber half-light, like torchbearers at a secret ceremony. Isis sniffed her bowl.
They were relaxing somewhat, but still uncertain. Joshua’s hand was never far from his knife. He was about to speak some of his thoughts, when Lon raised a staying hand. “Please,” said the Vampire. “I can see you are suspicious, and uncertain of my intent; but I assure you, I am sincere. Jasmine has told me what little she knows of your plight, but we can discuss this further after the meal. In the meantime, since you are apparently being pursued by Jarl’s Guard, let me tell you what I have done.” Josh and Beauty watched their host closely. He smiled and went on.
“My spies tell me the JEGS were hard on your sign, inside the forest, still half a mile from the entrance of my cave. I have dispatched two of my fastest Humans, my prize palomino, and my cleverest Cat to continue your trail where you left it, flee north, and lead Jarl’s soldiers a merry chase through the forest. For a week, or until Jarl’s hired assassins are eaten by Accidents, whichever comes first.” He laughed heartily. “No, don’t protest. My people love a good chase, and in any case, they’ve been idle too long.” He drank again. Jasmine leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
Josh closed his eyes. Beneath the fog of suspicion that filled him, a feeling glowed viscerally. It wasn’t rational, but it was real—like the sudden intuition of cool rain welling at the pit of a hot summer day. In a single motion, Josh raised his eyelids with his glass. “To our host,” he said, and drank. Isis nodded, lapped from her bowl. Even Beauty relaxed.
“Then let the meal begin,” answered Lon, ringing his little glass bell.
Two boys and two girls entered, bearing appetizers on trays of silver—wine-soaked fruits, spiced morsels of fish, breaded game hearts, sweetmeats, and pickled lizard tails.
The servants wore nothing, or shifts of rare silk. One brought Jasmine a linen caftan to wear. It was only after the beautiful Neuroman had put it on, when she was suddenly no longer naked, that Joshua was aware of her sexuality, of something like ungrounded electricity, or like a hot spring pressing to explode through her cool exterior. Beauty noticed it too; but ever the gentleman, he looked away.
Another round of drinks.
The next course was soups: robin’s-egg soup, dove-liver soup, honey-grass soup. Every dish was a creation, visual as well as gustatory; every creation a masterpiece. Joshua sucked up the new sensations like a baked sponge in water.
Next began the music. The chamber quartet, too, dressed in oranges and browns, the colors of the house. Instrumentation consisted of a flute, a harp, a lyre, a cello. The lyric strains seemed to haunt the room, subtle as memory, recurrent as the waves of a hidden lagoon. Josh had the peculiar sense, suddenly, that all this had happened before—that he’d been here, in this scene: these ornate decorations, this melodious hall, that pillow—the way it leaned, the fragrance of these oiled servants: thought he’d been here; but, of course, he hadn’t.
More wine. The main courses appeared: stuffed geese, fried squid; sauteed fetal cow meat, tender enough to dissolve on the tongue; succulent rarebit, candied oysters, lamb tartare. The music changed to something lighter, the table conversation wandered gaily from bass to treble; the evening warmed. Presently, the dancing began.
Seven delectable young veiled men and women danced, as if possessed, among the sculptures at the far end of the room. Lon mentioned proudly that they were his favorite concubines. He called one, named Lissa. She ran over to him, rubbed his back, sat beside him, shared his meal for a while as he fondled her. Another—a young boy named Peter—seemed jealous of the attentions Lissa was getting; so he came over to Lon’s other side, trying to press his favors on the Vampire. Lon grew distant, though, and dismissed them both back to the dance. Josh watched the two concubines return to the rest of the harem: as they passed, he saw their necks were bruised black and blue along the jugular tracks.
Desserts. Pies, custards, fruits, cheeses. Brandies. Coffees. Smokes. A ferret-faced man came out and did sleight-of-hand tricks for a short time, then left. The fire simmered, the music calmed. Humbelly woke up, fluttered around the room a few times, sipped some mulled fruit wine from a dish, fell back asleep. The night had become mellow. Puffing on a long-stemmed pipe, Lon settled back.
Layers of smoke laced the room like thick, sleepy air. Previously exuberant figures began to curl in the corners. “And now,” said Lon, “the troubles.”
Josh told him their story. Lon listened, keenly interested, nodding from time to time. When Josh was done, Lon contemplated his fingernails a few moments, then spoke. “Well. Jarl’s soldiers are no longer to be a problem for you, I trust. As for the other … I know this Sire Bal. He is Sangnoir. Bad blood.” Vampires always called other Vampires “Sire,” even when there was little love between them. Lon showed his distaste now by pulling his lips back over his teeth, baring his fangs briefly in the ritual grin of aggression.
“It is not just Bal, though,” said Beauty. “Rumors are alive in the land. Humans are being kidnapped. Vampires are being named.”
“And I’m not so sure we’re rid of the JEGS that easily,” added Joshua. “They found us over a trail I’d have had trouble following myself.”
Lon nodded gravely. “Perhaps. As for the rumors you mention—they are more than rumors. Something is happening.” He paused a moment, staring into his glowing pipe, then went on. “There is a new animal, in the south. So my people tell me. No one knows much about the creature, whether it be fish, fowl, or fiend. But some things are certain.” He relit his pipe, which had gone out. The others studied him attentively. He continued. “This animal is directing these abductions. Sires have been enlisted to organize the raiding parties, and the Humans who are taken alive are all taken to the new animal’s den, somewhere near the Big Sticks River. What happens to them there is unknown. The Sires who participate in this genocide are rewarded—they are allowed to keep their pick of the Humans, to fatten their harems.” He lowered his eyes in shame. “It is loathsome, of course. But what is one to do.”
“And what of the other creatures?” interjected Jasmine. “The Griffins and all.”
“They are all in the pay of the Sires, though I suspect the money and gifts flow north from the new animal. In any case, these creatures all have reason to hate Humans. Accidents, most of all. I think that is why this Forest has become the main rendezvous point in the north.”
“Why do Accidents hate us so much?” Josh wondered, hurt and angry.
Lon raised his eyebrows, as if he’d been asked a simple question by a child, then suddenly realized he didn’t know the answer. Jasmine said, “Humans created Accidents, Joshua. That’s why.” Josh remained unclear. Jasmine added: “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time.”
Lon went ahead. “It may be as simple as slave trade on a large scale: all the marauding groups meet at the southeast of the Forest; the hostages are pooled and taken, en masse, to one of the pirate cities
by a few of the leaders; the rest of the raiders remain up here for continued abductions and general terrorism.”
“Do you know what route they follow south?” asked Beauty.
Lon shook his head. “No, though I have some suspicions. This Sire Bal, I’m certain, is one of the captains. He will be making the journey south with the captives, I can almost guarantee. And I know the trails he is likely to follow. We used to hunt the Rain Forest together. Many years ago.” “The Terrarium?” questioned Jasmine. Lon nodded. “You know the area well, Jasmine.” She squinted her eyes. He went on. “From the North Saddlebacks down to the pirates’ cove.”
Jasmine looked hard into the unblazing fireplace, at an image only she could see. “That was a long tune ago,” her voice echoed from far away.
“As I said, many years,” repeated Lon. “And I ran there with Bal-Sire even before I knew you.”
She looked at him meaningfully, then turned to Josh. “Yes, I know the area,” she said.
“It is difficult terrain to navigate,” commented Beauty. “It would be preferable to catch them before they get that far. We should leave now.”
Lon laughed. “Only a fool would attempt my Forest at night.” Beauty stiffened. Lon caught himself. “My intention was not to imply you a fool, sir. I merely fear for your safety. This wood is black at night, and it is common to underestimate the savvy of these Accidents. A common, fatal mistake. They are cunning, these pauvres bêtes. Ugly brutes, but clever. And they know their woods. Best to stay here tonight, I think, and sally out in the morning.”
“He’s right,” said Josh. Beauty nodded reluctantly.
“We can leave at first light,” added Jasmine.
Beauty frowned. “You have been kind to lead us here,” he said to Jasmine. Then, to Lon: “And you, to shelter us.” Finally, to the floor: “But I hunt alone. This tracking party is getting far out of hand. We might as well hire a trumpeter to announce us. Please, do not think me ungrateful, but this is a thing for two of us, not an army.”