Sky Trillium

by Julian May

  “Glismak!” Jagun cried. No sooner had he spoken than the creatures flung their weapons. The spears, aimed at the Lady of the Eyes, went toward the viaduct; but the black disk winked out of existence and most of the blades soared harmlessly across the cascade pool. One spear fortuitously caught Sir Bafrik in his unarmored throat. He staggered backward, blood pouring onto his chest, and fell from the riverbank into the water, which turned scarlet.

  The crowd of cannibals halted momentarily, bellowing in disappointment at the unexpected loss of their prey. Then some drew Varonian short-swords while their comrades hefted flint maces and other weapons. They advanced upon Jagun and the four surviving knights, intending to make short work of them.

  After that, they would prepare a consolation feast.

  15

  Going invisible has its problems. When Prince Tolivar and Ralabun left the flatboat and began to follow Kadiya and the others through the river bottomland in thick fog, they soon discovered that the vapors did not penetrate the space occupied by their unseen bodies. If one looked carefully, a human form might be perceived, outlined by swirling mist. The Prince was baffled. No command that he could think to give the talismans would alleviate the predicament. In the end, he and Ralabun simply kept far behind the others, hoping that they would remain unnoticed.

  When the worst of the fog finally dissipated and the pair became truly invisible again, another difficulty presented itself. Neither the Prince nor Ralabun knew where the other was at any given moment. Once, when the boy paused to answer a call of nature, the Nyssomu continued on oblivious—only to panic as he realized that his own footsteps were the only ones to be heard. Ralabun then dashed back along the trail, frantically crying out the Prince’s name.

  Tolivar tongue-lashed the old stablemaster roundly. “You blockhead! What good is it to be invisible if you betray our presence with your big mouth? I should never have brought you with me!”

  “Then, Hiddenheart, you would have had to carry the star-box yourself,” Ralabun retorted with injured dignity, “as well as our food and other supplies. Besides, without my knowledge of wilderness ways, a young lad like you would surely become lost or suffer some mortal misadventure before traveling half a league.”

  But that was not true. The Prince had learned a good deal from his clandestine excursions into the Mazy Mire, while Ralabun had for over forty years spent most of his days in the royal stables, enjoying civilized human comforts, and had forgotten most of the mirecraft learned in his youth. In truth, he was worse than useless as a guide.

  He made a great fuss warning the Prince not to touch goblet-trees or tanglefoot or other obviously hazardous flora, while neglecting to point out more subtle dangers such as the deadly suni-bugs that dangled on a thread of slime among the bushes, or the snafi, which resembled fallen leaves but were actually small animals that crept along on multitudinous fingerlike feet, capable of injecting poison if they got into the clothing and touched one’s bare skin. Ralabun also vexed Tolivar by stopping again and again to survey the forest, swiveling his long upstanding ears, sniffing the rainy air, and cautioning against the stealthy approach of ravening beasts that never actually appeared.

  Eventually the Prince became quite out of patience and took the lead himself, after which they made more steady progress. From then on, if a stream had to be forded, it was the boy who chose the place where they would wade or hop across on stones. Tolivar also decided how they would negotiate washed-out places on the trail, picking the way with care so that their passage would not set the unstable earth moving again. And when the path now and again seemed to vanish amidst downed trees or dripping underbrush, Tolivar was the one who would find the route again, even though Ralabun would bluster and profess to have known the way all the time.

  Pressing on through the rain, they reached the spot where Kadiya and the Oathed Companions had eaten their midday meal, and there they found a nasty surprise. The Prince pointed out numbers of large, three-clawed tracks in the soupy mud.

  “These were not made by animals,” he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. “They must be Glismak. See how the prints overlie the ones made by Aunt Kadi and her companions? The brutes are following them.”

  “Oh, Holy Flower forfend!” Ralabun moaned. “We must find some way to warn the Lady’s party of the cannibals’ presence!”

  “Perhaps I can whisper in her ear, and she will think that her Black Trillium amulet speaks. Or even one of the Lords of the Air.” The Prince laughed nervously, rather liking the idea of being mistaken for a heavenly guardian. He pressed his fingers to the sides of the coronet, closed his eyes, and bade it give him Sight of Kadiya. This was a kind of magic he had often practiced, becoming fairly proficient.

  “Do you see the Lady?” Ralabun whispered anxiously.

  “Yes.” In Tolivar’s mind was a clear picture of her and the others, tramping along the steepening trail with tendrils of mist swirling around them.

  He heard Ralabun’s voice say, “Tell her of the danger, Hiddenheart. Quickly!”

  “Aunt! Can you hear me?” But Kadiya moved on heedlessly, even though Tolivar called out again and again, keeping his eyes shut to maintain the Sight. “It’s useless,” the boy said at last. “There must be a knack to bespeaking that I do not yet grasp.”

  “Very likely. You’d better find out what the cannibals are up to.”

  Tolivar commanded the coronet to show him the Glismak. It promptly complied, and the Prince beheld a vision of very tall, fearsome aborigines trotting single-file along a narrow path choked with tall ferns and other undergrowth.

  “Where are the Glismak in relation to me?” the boy whispered to the talisman.

  They are approximately a league south of the river trail, moving away from you.

  “Are they pursuing my Aunt Kadiya?”

  They are moving away from her also. It is impossible to ascertain their intentions, since they do not speak of it and are beings with free will.

  Tolivar told Ralabun what the talisman had said, and the Nyssomu was much encouraged. “Perhaps the cannibals have decided that the Lady’s party is too formidable to attack. After all, they are only simpleminded savages. You must check up on the brutes from time to time with your talisman, to be certain that they don’t return. But now we had better move on. It would be unwise for us to fall too far behind the Lady of the Eyes if we hope to pass through the viaduct immediately after her.”

  They set off again at as rapid a pace as they could manage, but neither of them had long legs. To make matters worse, the trail now trended mostly uphill and they were often forced to halt, gasping for breath and with stitches in their sides.

  Then it began to get dark.

  Tolivar turned them visible once more, fearing that they might be accidentally separated in the deepening gloom. “It’s time that we thought about stopping for the night, anyway. Shall I ask the Three-Headed Monster to find a dry cave or hollow tree? Or shall I try to use the Burning Eye’s magic to cut down wood for a lean-to shelter?”

  “I care not.” The old Nyssomu was now very downhearted. “I would settle here and now for a pair of dry boots—and relief for the blister on my right heel.”

  “Let me try to help you,” Tolivar said. He pulled the dark broken sword from his belt and held it by the blade, as he had seen Orogastus do. “Three-Lobed Burning Eye! I command you to restore Ralabun’s feet to health, and render his boots dry.” At the same time that he spoke, the Prince visualized what he wished to accomplish.

  The lobes forming the sword pommel split open, and three magical Eyes stared at Ralabun’s feet.

  “Oh! Oh! It’s hot! It’s hot!” Clouds of steam suddenly poured from the boots and Ralabun danced about in a frenzy, yammering aboriginal oaths.

  The Prince made haste to apologize. “Forgive me! I didn’t realize that would happen. Perhaps I should have used the coronet instead. I had forgotten that Aunt Kadi’s talismanic sword is more of a weapon than a magical wand. Um �
� is your blister healed?”

  “How can I tell,” the old man wailed piteously, “with my feet afire? Next time, let me at least take the boots off before you experiment. Better yet, practice your amateur sorcery on someone else—like the Glismak cannibals!”

  “I hope that I will not have to,” the boy said in a low voice, “and you would do well to hope so, too.”

  Ralabun sighed. His feet had cooled rapidly and the blister was indeed healed. “I’m sorry, Hiddenheart. I know you only wanted to help. But I am so very weary and wet …”

  Tolivar pressed his fingers to the coronet. “Talisman—can you lead us to a dry place where we might safely spend the night?”

  Yes. There is a sizable niche among the rocks on the hillside to your right. Follow the green spark.

  A tiny emerald light sprang forth from the open mouth of the middle head on the coronet and began to drift slowly off the trail. Tolivar took Ralabun’s hand.

  “Come. It’s time for us to rest and eat. With luck, I will find a way to dry the rest of our clothes with magic. But have no fear, old friend. This time I will practice first on myself.”

  They awoke refreshed in the morning, and Tolivar quickly ascertained that Kadiya and her party were less than a quarter of a league ahead of them, eating breakfast down by the Oda River.

  “And are the Glismak following them or us?” the boy asked his coronet.

  No.

  Well satisfied and confident that his bold plan was succeeding so splendidly, the Prince rendered himself and Ralabun invisible once again. They set off at the same time that Kadiya and her companions did and hiked for several hours, growing more and more weary as the sun climbed but managing to stay fairly close behind the others.

  And then they discovered fresh Glismak tracks crossing the trail to the right.

  Tolivar halted and studied the ominous evidence with consternation.

  Ralabun said, “This is strange. I thought your coronet said that the cannibals were not following.”

  The awful truth came to the Prince in a flash. “No—they were circling around us to prepare an ambush! I was too stupid to ask the talisman about that possibility, and it always answers questions literally. Quick! We must try to give warning!” He set off at a run, sometimes falling and scrambling ahead on all fours, for the trail at that point was extremely steep.

  “I cannot keep up with you, Hiddenheart,” the stablemaster gasped. “Go ahead without me and—”

  There was a sudden volley of bestial cries in the distance, followed by the agonized scream of a man.

  Stricken with terror, the invisible friends crept to the top of a rocky ridge. Below lay a small clearing near the paired waterfalls, hedged about by monstrous trees. It seemed crowded with enormous beings who leapt and flailed about with swords, stone-headed maces, and rusty Varonian axes, yelling hideously all the while. They wore no clothing, having plates of shining skin armoring their backs, shoulders, and upper arms. Their bodies were otherwise covered with auburn hair, which grew longer on their heads, forming manes. They possessed muzzled faces like those of their Wyvilo kin, but instead of yellow eyes they had orbs of glaring red. Great white teeth shone in their mouths and both their hands and feet were beclawed.

  The mob of Glismak were engaged in a pitched battle with four vastly outnumbered Oathed Companions. There was no sign of the fifth knight, nor of Jagun, nor of the Lady of the Eyes.

  “What are we to do?” old Ralabun wailed. “Look! One of the Companions has gone down. Oh, no! The savages are hacking him to pieces!”

  “You must do exactly as I say.” The Prince was all at once full of stern resolution. “Go off the trail to the left, creep downhill, and make your way to the crag near the waterfalls. Get up on it, then begin flinging rocks down on the Glismak with all your strength. Screech as though you were a phantom from the Thorny Hell. It will distract the fiends and perhaps help frighten them away. Meanwhile, I will do what I can with the talismans.”

  “But—”

  “Hasten!” the Prince hissed. He set off slipping and sliding down the trail, drawing the Three-Lobed Burning Eye. When he reached the clearing and could see the battle participants distinctly, he halted, dropping to one knee. Holding the talisman by its blunt-edged blade, he pointed the hilt at the tallest of the three Glismak assailing the fallen knight.

  In his mind, the boy saw this heinous creature burnt to ashes. He said: “Burning Eye, slay him.”

  The three orbs forming the sword’s pommel split open, revealing eyes that stared at the giant Glismak. From the human eye shot a golden beam, and from the Folk eye a ray of green, and from the silvery eye of the Vanished Ones a beam of searing white. The body of the savage warrior was enveloped in tricolored radiance. In an instant his flesh was consumed, and then the glowing bones also vanished, leaving only a splash of gray resembling wet ashes on the muddy ground. The other attackers drew back, stunned. Their intended victim still lived, for the knight hauled himself to a sitting position, unrecognizable for the gore that covered him, and regarded the ashes with wonderment.

  The Prince was also amazed that the new talisman had so readily obeyed him. A fierce jubilation welled up in his heart. He pointed the Burning Eye at the other two Glismak, who still stood near the downed Companion as though paralyzed, and incinerated them also with magical lightning.

  The rest of the cannibals set up a furious clamor, shouting one to the other in their guttural language. They began to flee, and inside of a few moments all were gone into the forest. Tolivar, standing invisible at the edge of the clearing, could not help but utter a shout of triumph.

  “Who’s there?” cried Sir Edinar. He and the brothers Kalepo and Melpotis were the only Companions left on their feet. The three of them had many wounds, but none were mortal.

  “It is some sorcerer come to our aid,” said the knight hunched on the ground, who then groaned in agony and fell limp. By his voice the Prince identified Sir Sainlat, bleeding in a dozen places. One of his feet had been hacked from his leg by a Glismak axe, and blood spurted forth like a small scarlet fountain.

  Tolivar hurried to him. Touching the coronet on his head with two fingers, he closed his eyes and saw Sainlat in his imagination, tall and strong as he had been that morning setting off from the flatboat. “Talisman,” he whispered, “let him be so.”

  Sainlat’s body was enveloped in soft green light. The burly knight stirred and sat up. His face was unbloodied and stupefaction caused his mouth to sag, for all traces of his injuries had vanished. Even his armor and garments were clean and undamaged.

  “Sacred Flower!” Edinar cried. He ran to his restored Companion, followed by Melpotis and Kalepo, and the three of them pulled Sainlat to his feet and began to laugh and pound him on the back. As this went on, the Prince commanded the Three-Headed Monster to heal the others. A triple pulse of emerald light announced the accomplishment of the magic, leaving the transformed knights numb with shock and delight.

  “O Wizard, come forth and accept our thanks!” Kalepo managed to say.

  Tolivar spoke in a disguised croak. “Where are the others? Where is the Lady of the Eyes?”

  “Did you hear?” Sainlat exclaimed. “He’s somewhere close by!”

  The Companions began to gabble all at once until Tolivar cried out, “Edinar, answer me!”

  The young knight controlled himself. “Unseen Wizard, the Lady of the Eyes has passed through a viaduct—we hope into the land of the Star Men—and promised to return to us anon. Sir Bafrik fell gravely wounded into yon pool and I fear he is dead. As to the Nyssomu Jagun, I know not where he may be. I have not laid eyes on him since the Glismak savages sprang upon us. But who are you? Are you one of the Vispi servants of the White Lady? The invisible Eyes in the Mist?”

  The Prince silently asked the coronet: Is Bafrik alive?

  No, said the voice in his head. He has passed safely beyond and his body has floated some distance downstream.

  Where is Jagun?

/>   At this moment he stands at the brink of a namp’s pit, halfway up the hill to your left, wondering who it is that the beast has just now devoured.

  “A namp!” the Prince wailed aloud. “No! Oh, no!” And he dashed away, crashing through undergrowth and tripping over concealed rocks. The four knights saw the disturbance he made in the vegetation and followed after, giving voice to their mystification.

  Within a few minutes Tolivar caught sight of Jagun, who was staring somberly into a ragged-edged cavity in the ground that measured some two ells in diameter. Obviously, it had once been roofed over with thin saplings, dead leaves, and other trash from the forest floor to mask its presence. Something—or someone—had broken through the flimsy covering and tumbled in.

  “Burning Eye, bring him out safely!” the Prince shrieked. “Oh, please! Rescue Ralabun!”

  The request is impertinent.

  The invisible boy fell to his knees at the brink of the hole opposite Jagun and looked down. The pit was full of shadows; but there, half buried in soil and duff, was a gigantic shape that almost filled the bottom. It resembled a bloated bald head, having two saucer-sized bright blue eyes that looked up from between wrinkled lids. The namp shifted and seemed to smile, revealing a huge mouth that stretched from one side of its head to the other. Very short limbs with twiglike digits sprang from the place where the creature’s ears might have been.

  “Did—did this vile beast take Ralabun?” the Prince inquired of the talisman in a quavering voice.

  Yes.

  Tolivar burst into tears. “Oh, no! My poor old friend! If only you had been more proficient in wilderness ways … if only I had not sent you off the trail! Now you are gone and no magic can bring you back.”

  Jagun was frowning, his gaze fixed on the place where the unseen lad’s weight had compressed the forest detritus. The Oathed Companions had come up and were casting horrified glances into the pit. The namp licked its purplish lips at the sight of them and scratched at the dirt with its tiny hands.