Icerigger

by Foster, Alan Dean;

  "Elfa," he said haltingly, "I don't find this a bit funny. How did you talk your father into letting you on board ship?"

  She walked out of the hatch, stood on deck. "I didn't ask him. I hid on board til I thought it was too late for you to turn. It is too late for you to turn, isn't it?"

  "You didn't ask him? How the hell did you sneak on?"

  "I hid in an empty crate and the sailors brought me on with the other stores. Only it wasn't empty." She smiled prettily. "It was full of me."

  Hunnar had joined them as soon as he'd recognized Elfa. If anything, he was more stunned than ,Ethan.

  "Elfa!"

  "Really, the powers of observation of this expedition's leaders amaze me. You are the second person, Sir Hunnar, to identify me right away."

  "What," continued Ethan doggedly, ignoring the sarcasm, "is the Landgrave going to say when he finds out you're missing?"

  She looked thoughtful. "I expect he'll be furious. He'll rave and curse and threaten and break things and turn Wannome upside down. Eventually he'll find my note-"

  "Note?"

  "-and know I've gone with you. Then he'll really get mad."

  Ethan turned to September. "What are we going to do with her, Skua?"

  "Well, we could turn tack," he considered, admiring the fur-clad Elfa openly. "With the wind behind us it wouldn't take that long. But I hate like hell to give up the time and distance we've already made just to return this hot adolescent to her daddy, what? And there'd be all sorts of awkward recriminations and explanations aced such ... more time gore. No, tell the steward there'll be another for supper and let's keep on our merry way, hey? We can always find a place for her ... eh, Hunnar?"

  "What?" replied the startled knight. He looked at the big man unsurely.

  They were a 'thousand kilometers out of Wannome. Even as they breathed, another few meters of ice slid beneath the duralloy runners and vanished astern. Now they were gliding over strange ice that none of Hunnar's men or Ta-hoding's sailors had ever traversed before.

  They'd passed few islands during the last hundred kilom­eters, none of them inhabited. The sense of desolation touched everyone.

  "An empty land," Hunnar commented quietly, subdued.

  "Yes," agreed Ta-boding. "Tis plain to see there'll be no trading here. Yet, some of the land we passed looked hospitable."

  "The volcano might have something to do with it," said September. "I shouldn't wonder that at this distance these islands might receive periodic rains of hot ash and pumice."

  "Even so," mused Ethan idly, "the possibility of establishing a few trading centers with an eye towards expanding inter­surface commerce might-" He paused at a cry from the mainmast that froze both tram as thoroughly as a hundred below.

  "Gutorrbyn! Nor'east!" Hunnar, Ta-hoeing, and dozens of sailors and soldiers rushed for the rail.

  "What's happening?" yelled Colette from a hatchway. Hunnor beat Ethan to the answer.

  "Get thee below, lady du Kane!" It was uttered as an order, not a suggestion. Colette bristled.

  "Now, wait a minute-" she began hotly.

  September's tone was menacing and devoid of humor. -'Do just as he says, Miss du Kane."

  She hesitated, looked at him uncertainly. Still muttering, she disappeared belowdecks.

  "I see 'em," the big man mumbled, shielding his eyes with a hand.

  "So do I," concurred Ethan,

  Far off to the northeast, a small cloud of tiny brown specks had come into view. The cloud of gnats grew to fly­size, changed into a mass of dark T-shapes.

  "Can we outrun them?" asked September. Hunnar's reply was terse.

  "No, my friend. Perhaps with the wind behind us .. . but they would still have the angle. Tis certain they've seen us. We may have to fight, though there is always the chance they will not be interested in us."

  There was a querulous bellow from across deck. Ethan recognized the voice of General Balavere.

  "Dragons, sir!" Runner called back.

  "How close?" barked the general, buckling an his sword.

  "Five, maybe six kijat, and closing on us."

  Balavere cursed, strode to the forehatch, and absently yelled into it. Almost immediately, soldiers came gushing out of the hole as though it was a disturbed. anthill. Meanwhile, the general hurried to join them astern.

  "We'll never keep them out with this rigging," observed Hunnar, staring worriedly aloft. "We'll put the archers in the center in a group, and spearmen along the rails."

  Ethan watched the flock grow larger. "Flow smart are these things?"

  "Less so than a k'nith," Hunnar replied. "They hunt by vision, sound, and smell, not their brains."

  "Here's a thought," began September. "We night try this ... "

  No one moved on board the _Slanderscree_. Everyone tried to dig himself into the rail or one of the makeshift barrel-and­ crate barricades. Tot even the bravest of the ship's pilots could be persuaded to stand at the wheel while tine dragons at­tacked and neither Hunnar nor Balavere would farce anyone. So steering was being handled from below decks with a crude tug-and-pull system of ropes,

  The flack came on, gaining steadily on the big ship.

  "Mast be close to a hundred of 'em," whispered September conversationally. "Ugly looking devils, aren't they, young Teller?"

  There was the twang of a bow and Balavere's voice reached them from up near' he bow.

  "Hold your fire, there! Make these arrows count, idiot!"

  The gutarrbyn did not attack. The leader veered off at the last moment and began to circle the raft. The _S1anderscree_ continued to plow wind, abet decks devoid of motion, while a halo of squealing, squawking monstrosities danced round her masts.

  Broad and bat-Like, the leathery wings were attached to furry, streamlined bodies which ended in long, forked tails. There were claws halfway up each wing and great taloned feet coiled like springs under soft bellies. Each head was a nightmare cross between crocodile and wolf, with a tong, wrinkled snout scoffed with double rows of razor-sharp triangular teeth. Huge tarsier-Like eyes glared down with blank, mindless malevolence.

  "Watch the leaders," warned Balavere. "If they come it'll be in a curve."

  There was no point in holding your breath. Might freeze if you didn't keep it moving. The ship moved on, quiet, with the nestle of a hundred pairs of wings drumming against the wind and the creak of spars and sail.

  A hatch opened. Colette du Kane walked halfway out.

  "When is something going to hip-?" She happened to look skyward, saw the mass of circling demons. One hysterical scream.

  "_Trinska!"_ cursed Hunnar. "They _might_ have lost interest!" Colette screamed again.

  September suddenly shouted, "Ware zenithl" in Terranglo, hurriedly translated it into Trannish as a single line of gutorr­byn folded their wings, dipped to their right, and dove for the isolated frozen figure on deck.

  " Loose, looses" screamed Hunnar at the archers. Bows be­gan to sputter.

  Nearly as big as a man and twice as powerful, one of the monsters crumpled to the deck not a meter from Ethan. He thought he heard the neck snap when the creature hit the planking. It had three arrows imbedded in its chest.

  Colette had apparently recovered her senses. Ethan heard the hatch cover darn shut. He didn't see it because teeth dashed suddenly in front of his face and there was a clack like a bear trap. He slashed half-blindly with his sword, felt it bite something soft. There was a hoarse giant-rat scream and a sticky substance covered his bare wrist. A foul, fetid odor as­sailed his nostrils. Then it was gone and his sword was free.

  It was hard to tell the screams of tran from dragon. He swam through an alien nightmare of blood and teeth. He saw one dragon skimming low over the ice, the limp corpse of a sailor firmly caught in its talons. Once the toothed maw dipped low, slashed almost indifferently at the lolling head.

  Dead gutorrbyn bodies matted the clean wood. Small bunches of spearmen kept the attackers away while protected archers took a
terrible toll among them.

  A wounded dragon flashed by, screaming, and smashed into the ice below. It was feathered with arrows. Ethan spun, cut at a spinning, snapping horror that dove at his back. He ducked, and another pair of claws missed his head by centi­meters, their owner shrieking in frustration. It backed air, started to pull up for a turn over the deck.

  Something slammed it violently sideways and it crashed into a mast. Ethan nova could see that a fair proportion of the mounting pile of dragon-corpses on deck were studded with short, thick darts. He spared a glance upward.

  Wicker cages were bound at the top of each towering mast to protect lookouts from the wind. Now the, served a pair of crossbowmen in each. 'they'd kept still until the fight was joined. Now they were beginning to make their presence felt, picking off the gutorrbyn below and those crawling in the rigging. In the confusion, none of the dragons looked to find where the stubby, deadly bolts were coming from. They dropped in pairs and threes, now.

  Ethan thrust his sword forward again, but by now there was little to strike at. Screeching defiance, the remnant of the fatally mauled flock abruptly lifted with the wind and shot away to the westward.

  Panting heavily, he walked over to where Hunnar was trying to bind up the arm of a badly gashed spearman.

  "Well, we beat them. off, Sir. How are our casualties?"

  "There might be more, but we seem to have lost only one Man and have few enough wounded. Again the wizard's magic has served well."

  "That, and perhaps another," said 'pa-hoeing. Their cap­tain had spent the battle huddled alongside Hunnar, jabbing occasionally with his sword while expending most of his energy in imprecating his ancestors for getting him into this trouble. As a result, only his ego was scratched.

  Now he was standing at the rail, staring at the northern horizon. "Tis long til night, yet darkness comes. Have you noticed, sirs?" Ethan hadn't. Frankly, he couldn't see much difference in the light even now.

  But Hunnar apparently saw, as had Ta-hoeing. "You are right, captain."

  September came over. "What's all this about, now? An­other attack? Good thing those beasties aren't very bright. They could have picked us off neatly with a little thought."

  "I don't know, Skua," Ethan confessed. "Ta-hoding and Hunnar seem concerned about something in the light."

  "Not the light, noble sirs," said Ta-hoding. "Look there, to the west a little more." The two humans did so. "There, the Rifs!"

  Now Ethan saw. A, great dark cloud was just barely begin­ning to crawl over the stark horizon. Its front sparkled and flashed like. the visible pulse of some huge animal. And the sky did seem to dim slightly.

  "It comes early," intoned Hunnar. "I wondered at seeing gutorrbyn come out of the north. Usually they move with the wind or into it. Clearly our flock was driven south."

  "Meaning we didn't beat there off, there?" asked September.

  "No, Sir Skua. I suspect they fought as long as they did only out of strong hunger. They've probably been running be­fore _that_ for some time. Now they are forced to try and cross to the west before the Rif's reaches them."

  Above, sails snapped and buffeted the masts, flailed uncer­tainly against spars in the unfamiliar cross-winds.

  "We'll have to turn further south and run before it as much as we can," said Hunnar. "If we can stay well enough west it might even be a help ... if everything holds together."

  "Good sir," began 'Ta-hoding nervously, "I would recom­mend instead-"

  "And we'll reef in as much sail as you deem wise, good captain ...

  Ta-hoding relaxed slightly.

  "... less ten percent additional which I will order on, for I suspect you array value your hide above the swiftest com­pletion of our journey."

  " You do me a terrible disrespect, noble sir, for in truth I would gladly sacrifice my poor self to insure that the honored and glorious friends of-"

  "Enough, enough!" said Hunnar disgustedly, but without malice. "See to your sails and not platitudes, captain, and quickly!"

  Ethan looked back at the cloud. It had doubled in size and was rapidly dominating the entire horizon, swallowing light and blue sky at a furious rate. a started forward.

  "Going below, young feller-me-lad?"

  "No!" Ethan was shocked at the vehemence of his response. Put the big man's words had been just a mite patronizing. Maybe he wasn't ready for dancing atop the mainmast, but by Rothschild, he could damn well stay topside and take a little storm!

  Hellespont du Kane surveyed the deck, left the hatchway, and strolled over. Ethan didn't much feel like talking to the financier, but courtesy was part of his character. Besides, he might have a chance to make use of his famous acquaintance one day-if he ever thawed out.

  Du Kane nudged one of the dragon-corpses that hadn't yet been reached by the clean-up crew. Probably estimating its potential price per kilo on the interstellar marketplace, thought Ethan drily.

  "Is it over, then, Mr. Fortune?"

  "'That much of it is," Ethan replied, trying hard not to be brusque. "However, it appears that we are in for a mild blow. I suggest you go below and tie down anything you don't want banged about."

  "Only my daughter, and she can take care of herself." Vas that line for real, or was du Kane playing straight? The perpetual poker face gave no clue. "The Rifs, then."

  "You know about them?" said Ethan, a little surprised.

  "Oh yes, I shall remain on deck to absorb the experience. If you've no objection?"

  "I? Object?" He'd enjoy seeing this stuffed shirt scramble for safety when the first strong gust struck. "Be glad of your company."

  Hellespont du Kane looked at him squarely. "There is no need to play irony, Mr. Fortune. I know what you think of me."

  "Just a second, now, du Kane," said Ethan, turning from the rail. He'd been caught badly off-balance. "What makes you think--"

  "Never mind, never mind." The financier waved a hand negligently. "It does not matter. Some of us, Mr. Fortune, are not born to the comradely, easygoing, instant-intimate man­ner. I have friends, but they are relationships based on mutual respect and, in some cases, mutual fear. I should like to be more.. . more.. . "

  "Human?" supplied Ethan, and instantly regretted it. Du Kane looked his age, then. The glance he gave Ethan was almost-almost but not quite-pitiable.

  "I would not venture to express it quite so strongly, Mr. Fortune, but we cannot help the way we are, can we?"

  "I don't know, Hellespont." lie clutched a strand of the rigging to steady himself in the rising wind. Sailors were

  beginning to string safety lines across the deck. "Is that a question or a declaration?"

  Ethan stood at the stern. 'ha-hoding manned one side of the huge wheel and his helmsman the other. "It will take two of us to manage her-for the first hour, at least," he'd ex­plained. All but a few of the top sails had been taken in. "The raft skimmed smoothly toward the northwest. Ta-hoding was trying to make as much distance that way before the front struck and forced him. to swing south with the wind.

  By now the stygian nimbus blotted out most of the north­ern sky. Lightning crackled like a mad composer's composi­tion on three sides of the ship.

  "Soon," moaned Ta-hoding. "Soon. I can smell it coming."

  "Hold fast, friends," warned Hunnar. "The first moments are the worst. Tis a live thing." He moved off forward to double-check the safety lines.

  "According to the captain," said September, having to shout to make himself heard over the wind, "it's kind of like an atmospheric tidal bore. You know what a tidal bore is?"

  No one did. Before the big man had a chance to explain, the Rifs struck.

  Ethan was prepared .for anything, and that's exactly what happened. He was knocked free of the rail and blown several meters across the deck before he rolled up against the feet of a sailor. The trann iceman was hugging one of the safety lines like a mistress. Somehow he maintained his hold, reached down a massive hairy paw, and grabbed Ethan by the scruff of his jacke
t. Ethan practically climbed his leg until he could get a grip of his own on the line.

  The concussion from that first hammer-like gust had gifted him with a bruised cheek and a cut lip-worse than he'd suffered in the gutorrbyn assault. Slowly, carefully, he dragged his way back toward the rail.

  Somehow, Ta-hoding and his helmsman were holding the ship on course. Hunnar had suggested lashing the wheel; and it had been a surprise when the captain refused.

  "A rope has no brains, noble sir, and the Rifs is an angry great cub. You cannot trust it with a lashed wheel." Put he'd agreed to have the two alien airfoils. locked in position.

  The Slanderscree suddenly tilted and Ethan made a dive for* *the rail. Up and over the wind heeled the flying raft, until she was hurtling along on her port runners alone. Then Ta-­hoding slammed the wheel over; she turned south, and crunched back to the horizontal with a violent crash. But she continued to run easily and nothing appeared to have broken or buckled.

  September pulled himself up to where Ethan clung. " Held her heading a little long, there. Got plenty of guts, our fat captain. You okay?"

  Ethan carefully extended a gloved hand and moved an­other step closer. "One of these days I'm going to tell you I'm dying, just for the hell of it," he shouted back.

  The wind flailed at them, intent on smashing the unyielding raft to kindling. Now that they were in the storm proper and moving with it, the raft ran easier. Fury pushed then but the initial insanity was gone south.

  "How fast do you reckon we're going, young feller?" Ethan didn't have the damndest idea, but a barely audible voice from behind him apparently did.

  "I should estimate the initial front at well over 150 kph. Now I perceive we are riding a wind of slightly more than a hundred. Invigorating, is it not?"

  Moving hand over hand on the safety lines, Hellespont du Kane pulled himself to where Ta-hoding and his helmsman fought with the wheel.

  "Old man or not," began September, blatantly disregarding the fact that he was no swaddling babe himself, "I'm going to put a fist in that snug puss one of these days."

  "I don't think it's smugness so much," replied Ethan, won­dering that the aged industrialist was still on deck at all. "It's just that whether it's a million credits or the proper setting of silver at the table that's in question, du Kane is very matter­ of-fact about things."