Riddle of the Seven Realms

by Lyndon Hardy

“It is a test of luck, to be sure,” Milligan said. “The spinning top caroms through the compartments in a manner that no one can predict, scattering pins at random. The count of how many are felled is the measure we wish to monitor. If all the pins are toppled before the one attached to the blade, then the game is stopped and you are lucky indeed.”

  “And if the blade topples,” Kestrel said. “What does that prove?”

  “The finger you place in the hole will be severed, a most unlucky outcome,” Milligan said. He looked quickly back at the maze on the table and then smiled at Kestrel. “The beauty of it is that you all have ten. We will be able to run some forty trials before we are done.”

  Kestrel decided he had heard enough. It did not matter if the others were fully alert or not. With or without oars, they must be away. “Astron,” he yelled, “unlash the dory. Get it back over the side.” With a grunt he twisted the ladder from its resting place and crashed it downward on the middle of the table, hoping that the force of the blow would break it apart.

  The ladder bounced harmlessly off of the horizontal surface, however, the bottom end kicking up painfully into Kestrel’s thigh. He staggered a single step and then sagged to one knee, his leg refusing to give him support. As he fell, he pushed at Phoebe, propelling her forward toward the gunwale where the dory was lashed. He rolled over on his back, expecting to see Milligan spring at him with some weapon, but he saw instead the little man feverishly fingering the brightest talisman which hung from his neck.

  “Jelilac, Jelilac,” Milligan screamed. “They are followers of Byron. Despite the great auras they once possessed, they follow Byron, to be sure.”

  Kestrel rose to kneeling and grabbed Nimbia about the shoulder. Crawling with one hand on the deck, he urged her in the direction he had pushed Phoebe. Looking forward, he saw Astron fumbling with the mooring knots, apparently not making any progress in getting them untied.

  Two seamen cautiously came forward, their fingers outflexed and reaching for the thongs of leather about Nimbia’s neck. Kestrel staggered erect and pointed wildly into the sky. “Look,” he shouted. “Not one shooting star, but two. Not to witness it is a great misfortune.”

  He held his breath for an instant, but the two sailors were totally unaccustomed to such a blatant deception. As one, they turned and began searching the clouds. Kestrel limped forward a single step. As he felt his leg again give way, he staggered against the nearest of the seamen. A ring on the sailor’s hand scratched his cheek as he fell. Concentrating as hard as he could, he managed to grab hold of the loops and chains about his neck and pull the man to the ground.

  Kestrel gathered up as many talismans in his hands as he could manage. With a back-wrenching yank, he snapped them from the seaman’s neck. The sailor screamed. With an almost animal fury, he began clawing at Kestrel’s arms to get them back.

  Kestrel flung them in the direction of the dory; although several went over the gunwale, two landed at Astron’s feet. Almost immediately the knot on the last fetter unraveled. The demon quickly reached down and grasped the bow in the cradle of his arms and hoisted it up over the low railing. Phoebe and Nimbia reached the stern and lifted it up as well. In an instant, the small boat splashed down onto the waves.

  Kestrel crawled forward to the gunwale, blocking out the seaman who scrambled on the deck with him to retrieve the two talismans that remained. Kestrel reached to scoop them up a second time but grimaced as sharp splinters from the deck dug into his palm.

  Astron bent down, grasped the talismans tightly in one hand, and then grabbed Kestrel by the arm with the other. Kestrel reached out for Phoebe and Nimbia. Without thinking further, they jumped together over the side.

  The salt water stung Kestrel’s cheek when he hit, but he paid it no heed. Lashing out blindly, he felt the side of the dory and grasped for a hold. Through sea-spattered hair, he saw Milligan leaning over the rail, cupping his hands to his mouth.

  “There is little enough gain in what you have stolen,” he yelled. “Basic enhancers and navigator’s fetishes are all. They are organic and soon will decay. About enough to see you safely to the island in the distance and survive a wave or two, but little more. And there, if you stay out of the clutches of doubting Myra and her arcane devices, you will learn well enough the difficulty of finding food and drink with what little auras you now possess.”

  Milligan looked back over his shoulder and laughed. “Followers of Byron,” he said. “With the spintop, at least one of you might have had a chance.”

  Kestrel saw the distance between the dory and the sloop begin to widen. From somewhere, a fresh breeze had begun to blow them apart. He tried to hoist himself a little higher to see the direction they should begin to paddle. Despite the aches and pains, he felt the cold of the sea and the renewed gnawing of his hunger. Basic enhancers and navigator’s fetishes, he thought. Even if they were lucky, would so little be enough?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The Darling of Destiny

  ASTRON stirred with discomfort. He watched Kestrel clutch the tripstring firmly in his grasp, preparing for the moment that he would jerk away the twig that propped the splintered beam from the sandy beach. The small quail was just partway into the trap. It would be the dozenth try, and Astron doubted it would be any more successful than the rest.

  He looked at Phoebe and Nimbia, huddled motionlessly near the wreckage of the dory. The heavy wave that had dashed them against the beach had destroyed their only means to travel elsewhere with any speed. The small, reddish sun was almost to the crest of the hill spine that hid the interior of the island. A heavy copse of trees covered the entire slope. Only the sandy beach that curved out of sight in both directions was devoid of the thick vegetation. Perhaps in the interior, they would find bigger game or even someone more sympathetic to their plight. But nightfall was coming too soon. For the moment, they had to hope for a single meal and find what cover they could in the wreckage of the boat.

  Astron twisted his shoulders, ignoring Kestrel’s sharp glance to be still. He wished he could be more sure of the path they were taking, seeking out anvilwood rather than letting Phoebe summon Camonel to their aid. But which was truly the lesser risk he could not decide. The uncertainty stirred his stembrain, forcing him to tighten his control.

  He looked again at Nimbia, trying to recapture the pounding emotion that had gripped him when it was Kestrel’s body he had possessed. It was not the same now, of course, but the experience had touched his rational centers as well. He remembered their closeness when hiding from Prydwin’s pursuit, the piercing inner sadness that she exposed to him more than any other, the strength of duty she felt to her hill dwellers that was stronger than that of any prince. Even in abstraction, sharing more of her thoughts would bring a great pleasure, perhaps as keen as the discovery of new facts from beyond the flame. What would it be like, he wondered, if their relationship went deeper than that of a broodmother and sire?

  Astron stopped the direction of his thoughts short and wrinkled his nose. He shook his head in the manner of men. She was no less than a queen and regarded him in quite a different light. At no time, he recalled, had she even bothered to call him by name. She spoke with kindness and praise, but always as she would to a servant, one perhaps to be her single loyal retainer when the quest was finally done.

  If only it were finally done, he thought ruefully. He had been away from Elezar far longer than he had intended. Could there still be any hope that his prince was alive? And with Gaspar triumphant, his own grisly fate would only be a matter of time. Somehow, he must get the harebell pollen back to Palodad and trust that whatever he had learned would provide a sufficient clue to solve the riddle. Without that, then anything else did not really matter.

  Astron pushed away the reverie. He turned his attention back to the immediacy of their problems. He watched the quail take another timid step under the overhang of the beam. Its tiny head twitched from side to side, looking for predators. Then, in two quick thrusts
of its bill, it poked at the seeds that Nimbia had gathered along the beach. Kestrel yanked on the string unraveled from Phoebe’s cape and wrenched the twig free. The beam seemed to hover for a moment in midair and then crashed to the ground, shearing away a few feathers from the quail as it ran clear.

  Kestrel pounded his fist into his hand. “So close,” he spat. “I should have waited a second more until the bird was more centered under the beam.”

  “Such is not our luck,” Astron said. “And if the words of that Milligan are true, never will it be. It was only the lifetimes of unspent luck that we brought with us upon entry to the realm that ensured our rescue from the sea and a language that you and Phoebe understand as well as I. But Jelilac and Milligan evidently have drained all of that away. The ordinary trapping skills from the realm of men will do us little good here. We must approach the cause of our problem, rather than deal with its symptoms.”

  “That is easy enough for you to say,” Phoebe growled irritably. “You do not need food and water as do the rest of us.”

  “I am well aware of the metabolic needs of men,” Astron said. He waved his arm toward the treeline in the distance. “Despite the peril, we must leave the sterile surroundings of this beach.”

  “Or perhaps we should all clutch these talismans and hope that a gamefowl walks out of the forest and lies down at our feet,” Phoebe said.

  “That is the essence of the solution,” Astron agreed. “In this realm, we must strive to increase our luck and raise it to the point that the improbable happens as a matter of course. Then whatever we need will immediately follow.”

  “Yes, Astron is right.” Nimbia pulled at the chains about her neck. “We have only survived as well as we have because of whatever minimal protection these necklaces provide.”

  “And how does one go about effecting this increase?” Kestrel said. “We have no masts or ladders here, and even Milligan was unsure of what would be the result.”

  “That is only one way,” Astron said. “Surely the aleators have many other means. We must approach them again, only this time much better prepared.”

  “I do not care for the likes of Jelilac.” Phoebe shook her head. “Perhaps others will be the same. We must instead act on our own. Despite your misgivings, Astron, contacting Camonel is our best chance.”

  Before Astron could reply, he heard a deep sighing noise from the direction of the water. He looked seaward and saw the foaming crestline of waves begin a rapid retreat, exposing the slope of land far beneath the extent of the lowest tide. Astron looked farther out over the ocean. Although he could not be sure, the line between the water and the sky seemed much higher than he had remembered it before.

  “What is it?” Kestrel asked.

  “A wall of moving water,” Astron said. “Just as Milligan hinted—a tidal wave, some among your realm call it. Quickly, there is little time. Run for higher ground and climb into the trees.” He raced over to where Nimbia sat and pulled her to her feet. Spinning her about, he shoved her in the direction of the slope rising from the beach.

  Kestrel pounded his fist into his hands. “What rotten luck,” he growled. In apparent frustration, he reached up to pull the talismans from his neck, but then thought better of it. He lifted Phoebe from the ground. In imitation of Astron and Nimbia, they began running hillward on a slightly different path.

  Astron and Nimbia sprinted up over the sandy ground into the darkness of the forest without speaking. Nimbia paused a moment at the base of the first climbable tree she found, but Astron motioned her onward. Stumbling into darkness, they picked their way farther into the dense canopy. Behind him, Astron could hear a muted roar drawing closer. Kestrel and Phoebe were nowhere to be seen.

  Finally Astron stopped and pointed at a low-hanging branch. Together he and Nimbia scrambled up from limb to limb into the foliage. Despite his scales, rough branches scraped against his hands and snagged his leggings, but he did not pause to pick at the splinters. His head poked through to sunlight as he pulled himself to a slender, swaying branch that barely held his weight. Looking seaward, he saw the huge wave crest and topple over upon itself. With a booming crash, a wall of foaming water pounded onto the beach and began racing uphill.

  The sandy slope was covered in an instant. Like popping embers in a fire, the trunks of the closest trees snapped from the impact and then were buried under the waterline. The dense grove of timber slowed the rush, but still it roared up the hillside. Astron flicked down his membranes, hoping that the fury of the onrush would be spent before it reached them. He saw row after row of treetops disappear beneath the churning sea and huge trunks bobbing up behind, completely stripped of foliage. The cool sea-green muted into muddy browns, and a web of debris formed on the once clear surface of the water.

  The wave front surged closer, slowing as it came. Midway up the slope, the breathtaking speed seemed to be blunted. Then the wave top crashed, to rise no more. But still the water level climbed higher in a relentless swell. Astron saw the first tendrils snake about the base of the tree in which he had climbed and then the water level rise above the ground. Swiftly, the lower branches were submerged. Astron tested what remained of the trunk above his head but he already knew he could climb no more.

  He looked across to Nimbia, hanging awkwardly on the branch across from his own. Before he could speak, the cold water reached his feet and then surged over his head. With an irresistible pull, he was yanked from his perch and then struck in the side by an uprooted trunk. Astron thrust his hands into the thick and deeply grooved bark and grabbed hold of the log as it passed. He scrambled around the side and thrust his head into the air, just in time to see Nimbia floating past. Releasing part of his grip, he grabbed and pulled her to the trunk. Dimly, he was aware of passing over a crest and then tipping downward to cascade into an interior valley below.

  The next few moments were a blur of splashing spray and jarring caroms off of the trees on the downslope side. Somehow, Astron and Nimbia managed to hang on to the trunk that bore them and at the same time avoid being caught between it and the other trees into which it crashed.

  They reached the bottom of the small valley and then hurled partway up the other side. The water slowed gradually to a halt. With a slow ponderous motion, it reversed direction and began to move back down toward the valley floor. But its momentum was nearly spent. The trunk moved sluggishly with the flow. With one final bone-jarring jolt, it crashed to the ground, letting the burbling water race ahead.

  Astron held on to his grip for a few moments more, listening to the hiss and gurgle receding into silence. Slowly he dismounted and slid his feet to the ground. In a moment, Nimbia joined him, her face blanked in a daze. Oblivious to their deliverance, she looked at the wet clothing that sagged about the curve of her body.

  “If you had the power of weaving, you could dry these instantly,” Nimbia said. She fussed a moment at her tunic, still not mended from the battles in the realm of reticulates. “But since you do not, demon, turn your head while I disrobe.”

  Mixing with the dizziness of their ride, Astron felt a subtle stirring in his stembrain, a tantalizing feeling from before, which he could not quite recognize. They should immediately begin searching for Kestrel and Phoebe, but something else tugged at him.

  Astron started to answer, then halted. A flicker of movement up the interior slope above the high-water mark had caught his eye. Almost thankful for the distraction, he touched Nimbia’s shoulder and pointed at what he saw. A small tendril of smoke struggled skyward from the foliage.

  “Perhaps another aleator,” he whispered. “One evidently with luck to burn. Keep on your clothing. This time we will be more forewarned.”

  Astron led Nimbia up the hillside. The ground became far more rocky and the canopy of trees gave way to scrubbier underbrush and finally an open clearing. Astron strode forward boldly, mustering as much dignity as he could in his soggy clothing. He saw a single figure sitting on a rock beside a small fire, over which was ro
asting some sort of pig. A horse was hobbled nearby. Next to it, a large pack was propped against a small tent of bright blue.

  Upon the noise of their approach, the man looked up slowly from his contemplation, but no expression of surprise crossed his face. Cold blue eyes stared out under a head of golden blond hair, cut shoulder length and straight, with no curl. The face held the smoothness of youth, unwrinkled and without trouble—almost that of a child just aroused from sleep. Broad shoulders, heavily muscled, flexed under a thin, sleeveless shirt that sparkled with an iridescence in the last rays of sunlight filtering into the clearing. The throat of the shirt was thrown open; not a single talisman dangled about the sinewy neck.

  “Whom do you seek?” A measured voice cut across the distance, each word unhurried and more of a command than a question.

  “Did you not hear the crash of the wave?” Astron walked forward, motioning Nimbia to follow. “I would expect to find anyone who was able to hear its warning cautiously returning to ground from the safety of a high tree, rather than calmly fixing a meal.”

  “The wave would have reached Byron or it would not.” The man shrugged. “There is no need to prepare for what is meant to be.”

  Astron hesitated a moment and searched about wildly for one of the spheres that Milligan had used to capture his and the others’ luck. He saw no signs of one and took another step forward. After his experience with the reflectives, it seemed far easier than before. “You are one of exceedingly good fortune,” he said. “I have heard that even the smallest fire dissipates what one has accumulated back into the ether.”

  Byron looked at Astron sharply. “Are you here to tempt me?” he said. “To test and see if I am worthy?” He stopped and darted his eyes to Nimbia as she approached. Astron watched Byron’s nostrils flare and his hands suddenly coil into fists. The warrior’s eyes ran slowly over her body and torn tunic. The beat of his pulse stood out strongly on his neck.