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1206 lines
76 KiB
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+-+--+-+--+-+ VOLUME ELEVEN NUMBER ONE
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+___________+ FFFFF SSS FFFFF N N EEEEE TTTTT
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| ++ | F S F NN N E T
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| ++ | FFF SSS FFF N N N EEE T
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| | F S F N NN E T
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|_________| F SSS F N N EEEEE T
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/___________\ ==========================================
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| | BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine
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___|___________|___ X-Edited by 'Orny' Liscomb <CSDAVE@MAINE>
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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CONTENTS
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X-Editorial 'Orny' Liscomb
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For the Umpteenth Time James G. Thayer
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*Stranger in the Mist Jeff Lee
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Review: Hart's Hope 'Orny' Liscomb
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*A Scent in the Air Becki Tants
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Necrolepsy Bob Aspel
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Review: A Man Rides Through M. Wendy Hennequin
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*Spirit of the Wood: 7 Rich Jervis
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Date: 051288 Dist: 641
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An "*" indicates story is part of the Dargon Project
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All original materials copyrighted by the author(s)
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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X-Editorial
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To begin the issue on a serious note, on the morning of Sunday
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May 8th, Robert A. Heinlein died. At age 80, Heinlein had been
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suffering with emphysema and heart disease, and although the news is
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not unexpected, it does not lessen the impact of his death upon his
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fans. Heinlein's works span a period of fifty years, from the early
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days of science fiction to the present. He won four Hugo awards and
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has written such classic SF works as "Stranger in a Strange Land",
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"Starship Troopers", "Time Enough for Love", "The Moon is a Harsh
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Mistress" and many, many others. His writing has touched many of our
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lives, and there is no doubt that his works will continue to be
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regarded as classic science fiction for years to come.
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In this issue you'll find a little of everything. We've got two
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SF shorts which I'm sure you'll enjoy, two short reviews, and three
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Dargon Project stories. We have Becki Tants' second Dargon story,
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and Rich Jervis' continuation of the 'Spirit of the Wood' storyline.
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We also have the first submission from the newest member of the
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Dargon Project, Jeff Lee. I was thoroughly impressed with the story,
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and I hope you enjoy it equally.
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As this is the first issue of the summer volume, I find many of
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the people who regularly contribute articles and stories to FSFnet
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leaving the network for the summer. This means that unless some new
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people decide to submit items, the number of issues you receive this
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summer will be minimal. I'd like to strongly urge anyone who can
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write to consider submitting a story, or possibly writing an
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article, review, or even a featured author column. If you are
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interested, please get in touch with me, and I'll let you know what
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the basic requirements are. Remember, I can only print what you
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submit, so if you want to see something different in the zine, feel
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free to contribute something, and I'll work it in.
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With that, and a welcome to the new readers, I leave you to
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enjoy this excellent issue. Regards, all, and enjoy your summer...
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-'Orny' Liscomb <CSDAVE@MAINE>
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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For the Umpteenth Time
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Dr. Sherman Anderson adjusted his device for the umpteenth time.
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He almost had it now; with just a few final adjustments, his time
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machine would be ready to be shown to the world. The press
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conference was scheduled to begin in fifteen minutes, and the
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reporters were already getting anxious in the auditorium.
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With the help of an assistant, Dr. Anderson pushed the device out
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onto the stage, behind the curtain. Then, shooing off the assistant,
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he stepped out from behind the curtain and stood at the podium.
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"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, may I have your attention
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please?" Dr. Anderson said into the microphones. Slowly, everyone
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grew silent out of respect to this great man.
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"I have called you here today to announce the greatest discovery
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of my career -- indeed, perhaps the greatest discovery in all human
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history. For centuries, Man was limited to travel in two dimensions.
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We could travel the length and the breadth of the Earth, but it was
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only less than one hundred years ago that Orville and Wilbur Wright
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breached the third dimension and allowed Man to fly.
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"Today, yet another dimension has been pierced and opened for
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Man to explore. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am here to announce
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that I have assembled the first device that will allow Man to move
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through the fourth dimension of time as easily as we currently
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travel through three.
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"Rather than giving you all the boring technical details now, my
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staff has prepared a pamphlet explaining how this works. Instead, I
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offer you a demonstration, actual proof that this device is capable of
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doing what I have promised. In fact, so confident am I of this
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device, I have not even tested it yet. Right now, you all shall
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witness the miracle I have discovered as I turn time back 15 minutes!"
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A hush fell over the crowd as Dr. Anderson threw a switch on the
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device. Then, in literally no time at all, a single impulse expanded
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from deep within the device to encompass the entire universe as time
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moved backwards precisely fifteen minutes.
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Dr. Sherman Anderson adjusted his device for the umpteenth time...
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-James G. Thayer <unh!psc90!pyr290@uunet.UU.NET>
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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Stranger in the Mist
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The cool white shroud lay like a benison over the sweltering
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city of Dargon. Though the fog seemed to crouch in every corner, as
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a hungry beast would lie in wait for its prey, the mist was welcomed
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by the inhabitants; it was gladly received as an interlude in the
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incessant heat of this long, unusually hot summer.
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As the people relaxed in the early evening, a darker shadow
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clung to the wall encircling the city. Slowly -- for the wall
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glistened with the moisture of the mist -- this shadow crept yet
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closer to the top of the wall. It had almost reached the top when
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its hand, probing for a minute crack with which to pull the shadow
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further up, encountered an outthrusting of stone, placed there for
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the very purpose of deterring intruders.
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The shadow hung there for a moment, head bowed, then reached its
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hand up once more. Its fingers pushed into the stone as though it
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were potter's clay, and the shadow pulled itself around the stone
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barricade in this manner. When it had reached the top, the figure
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emitted a soft keening of shame.
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A dog looked up curiously from the street, saw a human sitting
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atop the city wall, knees tucked under its chin. It wore little
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clothing, noted the dog, who never had understood why humans clothed
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themselves anyway. A cat's piercing miaow drew the dog's attention
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away, however, and it trotted off in the direction of the sound.
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Drawing a slim cord from a pouch, the slender figure slipped out
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from the embrasure between two merlons and crouched on the archers'
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platform. It waited until the moon was hidden behind a thick bank of
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clouds before descending, bracing itself against the support beam
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with the cord. At the bottom, the glow from a nearby window revealed
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the figure to be that of a young woman, barely clad in leather. Her
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long black hair shimmered in the yellow light, and her dark eyes
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gleamed as she scanned the streets and alleys.
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She started as the sound of footsteps sounded at the door of the
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nearby house. As there was no cover near, she threw herself to the
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ground and rolled up against the city wall. As the chill stone
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pressed against her flesh, she prayed that the fog would offer her
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enough cover to escape detection. She shivered as the footsteps came
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closer, relaxed a bit as they went off to one side. They stopped,
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not ten feet from her head, and she heard the sound of fabric
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rustling. Something began splattering against the wall where the
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walker was, and an acrid stench wafted her way. Trying to keep from
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gagging, she held her breath and prayed that he would finish
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quickly. After a while, the splashing faded, and the walker breathed
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a heavy sigh of relief. He turned, finished refastening his clothes,
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and walked back to his house.
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She released her pent-up breath, took three shaky, deep breaths,
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then stood and crept quickly and silently away. By following the
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alleyways and searching all of the trash heaps she could find, she
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procured enough clothing to cover herself in the manner of the
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people she had observed from the alleys. Noting the glow over one
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part of the city, and hearing the noises from that direction, she
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surmised that there she would find a market.
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As she entered the market, she straightened up, seemed bolder in
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visage, and attempted to look nonchalant as she gathered in her
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surroundings. The babble going on around her was incomprehensible;
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among the aspirants and palatal consonants of her own language were
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harsher glottal and labial sounds.
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Nevertheless, she could understand only too well the rumblings
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of her stomach, which worsened as she neared a baker's stall. He was
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a big, burly man, face and neck bright red from long hours in the
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summer sun. At the moment, he was haggling with two young boys over
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the price of a sweetmeat. She could see that she would receive no
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help from him; from the looks of things, the boys had not eaten much
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recently, and had collected all of the money they could beg. It was
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apparently not enough to satisfy the vendor. As the man turned to a
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wealthier client, one of the boys stole a small loaf of bread.
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Her eyes widened; she emitted a gasp of disbelief. She was not
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naive, and she had seen thieves before, but she was still
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unaccustomed to the idea of taking what one did not own.
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As the vendor shouted for the guards, the two urchins sped from
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the booth -- moving straight towards her. Still shocked, she did not
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think to move until it was too late. The first boy, still clutching
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the purloined bread, crashed into her. The back of her head hit
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something, and she lost consciousness.
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When she awoke, she found herself in strange surroundings: a
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soft bed with a comfortable pillow under her throbbing head. The
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grey stone walls about her held no threat, and a washbasin was
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filled with inviting water. Her clothes were gone, but finer
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garments than she'd had were laid out on a chair against the far
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wall. A heavy oak door, closed, stood next to the chair. Sunlight
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streamed through a high window, bathing the room in a comfortable
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glow. Although the day outside was hot, and there was no air flow in
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the room, the staid stone walls kept the chamber comfortable.
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When she had taken in all of her surroundings, she rose quickly
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and went to the door. The sudden motion brought a stab of pain to
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her head. Wishing that she had the healing talent like her brother
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had had, she opened the door a crack and peered out. She was at the
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end of a well-furnished hall with many other doors, most of which
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stood open. She closed her door again and moved -- more slowly this
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time -- back to her bed.
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For a moment she felt fear: although she was not a prisoner, her
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surroundings reminded her all too much of her brother's fate for her
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to relax. Almost without thinking, she caressed the cool stone wall
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by her bed, and began to apply the "dielaim". Her grief expressed
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itself through her fingers, and she molded a small section of the
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wall into a sculpture of her brother's face.
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She studied it for a moment, adjusted a few rough edges,
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re-hardened the stone, then softened the section of wall directly
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below the face. Swiftly she molded his neck, paying careful
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attention to his marvelous throat, which had been the pride of her
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people. A wave of melancholy hit her; never again would she hear him
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sing in three voices at once. Before she could add the one feature
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lacking -- the manner of his death -- she heard someone approaching.
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She began pressing the sculpture back into the wall, for she had
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not allowed the neck to re-harden. She hadn't finished "erasing" his
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throat when she remembered her lack of clothing. Torn between the
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desire to cover herself and the need to hide her abilities, she
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wrapped the sheet around her torso and set her back against the
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sculpture. The nose pressed unforgivingly into her back.
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When the door opened, she was surprised to see a young girl,
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perhaps seventeen or eighteen summers of age. Strawberry-blonde
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curls cascaded around the newcomer's shoulders.
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"I'm Tara," stated the girl.
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"I'm Sharin," she responded, surprised. This girl, Tara, had an
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amazingly open mind. Among Sharin's talents was the ability to learn
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language from those who were "open". If Sharin heard a word, she
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could glean its meaning if the other person had a strong mind. That
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had been one talent which she and Relann -- Oh, my brother! she
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thought -- had shared.
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"I saw what happened in the market," commented Tara. "At first,
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the vendor wanted you arrested, but I convinced the guards that you
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had nothing to do with it. I think having an important uncle helps
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sometimes. No, Zed! Get out of here!"
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Sharin looked at what Tara was talking to: a Shivaree with a
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torn ear. Sharin spoke to it: "Zed, lhi nielann yonne." The Shivaree
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couldn't understand the Lanoam tongue, of course, but it heard the
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meanings. It looked quizzically at Sharin, barked an apology, then
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started trotting out of the room.
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"No, that's all right, Zed, if she doesn't mind you I guess you
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can stay. What language was that? You're not from Dargon, are you?"
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"No. That language was Lanoami." Sharin wished she knew more of
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this language, but she was grateful that Tara was an easy talker. In
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an effort to learn more, she asked, "Zed?"
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"Oh, he's been my friend for years. I found him," she said, and
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now her voice took on a tinge of ire, "in a hunter's trap." Her
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voice softened again. "I took him home and fed him, and he's been
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with me ever since. He's not really tame," said Tara, obviously
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remembering a past event. Tara fondled the torn ear fondly. "He'll
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give his life for me if I'm threatened, I know that. I really love
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him, at times he's been my only friend."
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"He love you," said Sharin, who knew that it was true. She felt
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a bond with this Tara, who also loved animals. Sharin wondered if
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any Lanoam blood was in Tara, for she obviously had a talent.
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"Why do you say that?" asked Tara. "I mean, I know it, but how
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can you tell?"
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Sharin didn't know the words to express what she wanted to say,
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but she didn't want to songweave, not until she knew this girl
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better. Songweave wouldn't work on most non-Lanoam, but Sharin had a
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feeling that this girl could receive -- after all, her bonding with
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a Shivaree was incredible. So she had to indicate with her hands and
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eyes that she didn't know the words.
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Frowning, Tara ventured, "You can't speak my language, can you?
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You're only using the words that I've said!"
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Sadly, Sharin replied, "No, I can't speak the language. You
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speak the words, I..." she pointed to her head.
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"Learn?" asked Tara.
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"I learn the words," finished Sharin gratefully. Trying to glean
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the most important information as inconspicuously as possible, she
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asked, "Uncle?"
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"This is my Uncle Glenn's house. He's known here as Adrunian
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Koren, the Captain of the Guards. I had to come here when my... when
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my parents were killed by bandits." Zed nuzzled Tara's hand,
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reacting to the strong emotions she was projecting. Sharin felt
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closer to Tara; she understood the loss of family. "Since then, I've
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begun learning how to defend myself. I've had cause to do so,
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though. I met a woman who looked exactly like me, but that's where
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the resemblance ended. She was going to kill me, but Zed saved me.
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That's how his ear got torn -- she tried to kill him, but luckily
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she missed. I'm sorry, I'm just rambling."
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"No," protested Sharin. "I learn."
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"No, I've completely forgotten my manners. Here you are, wrapped
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up in a sheet! Oh, I cleaned your wound -- you took a nasty knock --
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then I gave you a bath. I hope you don't mind."
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"I don't mind," said Sharin. She looked towards the clothes.
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Tara took the hint. "All right, let me know when you're dressed,
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I'll be outside." She went out the door, closed it behind her.
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Quickly Sharin turned and finished removing the traces of her
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brother's throat. She was just ready to re-soften the face when the
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door opened again.
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|
|
"Sorry, Zed's still in here... How did you DO that?" Tara stood
|
|||
|
|
gaping at the sculpture.
|
|||
|
|
Sharin was frozen in horror. For a fleeting moment she was angry
|
|||
|
|
at Tara for coming in without knocking, but it was overwhelmed at
|
|||
|
|
the fact that one of her talents had been discovered.
|
|||
|
|
Tara came into the room. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten
|
|||
|
|
you! How did you do that? It's beautiful! Please, I'm sorry for
|
|||
|
|
barging in here. Why are you afraid?"
|
|||
|
|
Sharin could feel that Tara really was sorry for what she had
|
|||
|
|
caused, so she decided to take a chance and trust Tara. She motioned
|
|||
|
|
for Tara to close the door and sit down, and sat on the bed herself.
|
|||
|
|
When Tara was sitting, Sharin began the Songweave. Her throat
|
|||
|
|
opened, and the music of her story poured forth. Tara, already
|
|||
|
|
conditioned to be receptive to animals, heard the words of the
|
|||
|
|
Songweave as though they had been sung aloud, and to her surprise,
|
|||
|
|
she could understand them perfectly.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
I am Sharin, daughter of Oriann and Niarda, of the Lanoam
|
|||
|
|
people. The song I weave is of my brother, Relann. He was beloved of
|
|||
|
|
the Lanoam, and with the voice of three Winds could he weave his
|
|||
|
|
tales. He was a healer, a master of the dielaim, and was born whole!
|
|||
|
|
None were needed at his birthing to assist his life, and all who saw
|
|||
|
|
him proclaimed that his place on the cliffs would be high!
|
|||
|
|
For nineteen summers he grew, and with each passing summer he
|
|||
|
|
grew sadder. For among my people rare is the whole child. At the
|
|||
|
|
birthings are all too often needed the strongest healers, to correct
|
|||
|
|
the children's bodies.
|
|||
|
|
Relann said to the elders of my people, Alas! for we are too
|
|||
|
|
few, and with each generation the children grow weaker! We must find
|
|||
|
|
help, and others who will share our lives, that we pass not from the
|
|||
|
|
sight of the Sun!
|
|||
|
|
But the elders listened not, for he was but a child then. On his
|
|||
|
|
eighteenth summer, he again petitioned them, saying, Alas! for now
|
|||
|
|
fewer are born alive than dead! We must have help, or perish utterly!
|
|||
|
|
Yet again the elders would not hear him, and in the next summer
|
|||
|
|
he tried once more, saying, Alas! if you do nothing for the love of
|
|||
|
|
your children, grant to me at least the right of Quest! For other
|
|||
|
|
people have magics, which we cannot use, and mayhap I might find one
|
|||
|
|
who can aid us!
|
|||
|
|
And to this the elders consented, for the children who had lived
|
|||
|
|
had been terrible to behold. All were now unblemished, but their
|
|||
|
|
visages at birth could rend the heart!
|
|||
|
|
Thus in that summer he began his Quest. To far lands he
|
|||
|
|
ventured, finding none who would help him. Then, in the next spring,
|
|||
|
|
he found a noble who was willing to help my people, if he would
|
|||
|
|
receive aid in return. Relann showed him what he could do: sculpt
|
|||
|
|
beautiful works in stone; strengthen wooden bridges to the hardness
|
|||
|
|
of metals, so that they would not break; heal the sick and dying.
|
|||
|
|
But the noble was black of heart, and forced Relann to use his
|
|||
|
|
talents in other ways. At first Relann refused, for to use talents
|
|||
|
|
for ill is contrary to all of the laws of my people! But the noble
|
|||
|
|
had naught but scorn for morals, and maimed Relann until he agreed
|
|||
|
|
to do the noble's bidding.
|
|||
|
|
Relann's wonderful talents were used to work woe: rather than
|
|||
|
|
sculpt, he had to soften the stone defenses of the noble's enemies;
|
|||
|
|
he was made to harden wooden weapons, that the noble could conquer
|
|||
|
|
less expensively; he was forced to heal only the noble's soldiers.
|
|||
|
|
Yet Relann could do nothing; he had to keep his life. One day he
|
|||
|
|
coaxed a sparrow to him, and told it to find me. When the sparrow
|
|||
|
|
found me, I left at once. Relann would not touch me, for he had
|
|||
|
|
become corrupt. He sang for me his Lifesong, as I watched him at his
|
|||
|
|
window. Then was the last of his three Winds sounded, for with a
|
|||
|
|
piece of glass he released them.
|
|||
|
|
With a heavy heart I returned to my people, and sang his
|
|||
|
|
Lifesong. With only one voice, I could not express it as he did, and
|
|||
|
|
my heart nearly burst with grief. High on the cliffs I sculpted his
|
|||
|
|
death-mask. In the chasm that had been his throat nests now the
|
|||
|
|
sparrow, for it grieves with me.
|
|||
|
|
When I had carved the mask, I continued his Quest. None yet have
|
|||
|
|
I found who could aid me, but I will not ask the nobles. I have used
|
|||
|
|
my talents shamefully -- with dielaim have I entered cities unnoticed.
|
|||
|
|
I have corrupted myself, but I shall finish Relann's Quest ere I sing
|
|||
|
|
my Lifesong. I thank you, my spirit-sister, for your hospitality, but
|
|||
|
|
now must I move on. May your Song be sung for Eternity!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
When the song was ended, both had tears in their eyes. Rising,
|
|||
|
|
Sharin kissed Tara in the manner of her people. Startled, Tara
|
|||
|
|
resisted, but it was over. Quickly, Sharin dressed. Wordlessly, Tara
|
|||
|
|
showed her to the door, then hugged Sharin tightly. When Sharin had
|
|||
|
|
disappeared from view, Tara closed the door and went back to the
|
|||
|
|
guest room. She caressed the face in the stone for a long while,
|
|||
|
|
then went back to her own room.
|
|||
|
|
That night, as the mist crept back into the streets of Dargon
|
|||
|
|
City, Tara n'ha Sansela began to sing.
|
|||
|
|
-Jeffrey S. Lee <LEE_JES@CTSTATEU>
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Review: "Hart's Hope"
|
|||
|
|
This recently-released TOR reprint was originally published in
|
|||
|
|
1983, but received only passing attention. Card has received acclaim
|
|||
|
|
for several well-known works, including "Speaker for the Dead",
|
|||
|
|
"Songmaster", "Ender's Game", "Wyrms", and "Seventh Son" and its
|
|||
|
|
sequel "Red Prophet". There has recently been some discussion of
|
|||
|
|
Card in SF-LOVERS, as well. Although not a member of Card's other
|
|||
|
|
collections, "Hart's Hope" is definitely a worthwhile read.
|
|||
|
|
"Hart's Hope" is a tale of the cruelty of mercy, and its
|
|||
|
|
vengeance. The story opens with a count named Paliocrovol leading a
|
|||
|
|
successful uprising against the current king. To legitimize his
|
|||
|
|
power, he kills the old king and forces his daughter to marry him,
|
|||
|
|
publicly raping and shaming her (a necessary act to legitimize his
|
|||
|
|
assumption of the throne). Against his advisors' warnings he permits
|
|||
|
|
the woman to live in exile, under the guard of a trusted wizard,
|
|||
|
|
thinking the woman powerless. However, the queen secretly studies
|
|||
|
|
the arcane books of the wizard, and when she bears the child of the
|
|||
|
|
new king, she sacrifices it to give herself immense magical power.
|
|||
|
|
She then enslaves her guardian and returns to the city where her
|
|||
|
|
king is about to wed a second time. She interrupts the cermony and
|
|||
|
|
through her magic enslaves Paliocrovol's advisors and his bride and
|
|||
|
|
curses and banishes him from the city, ruling in his stead. Her
|
|||
|
|
magic makes even the gods powerless, and her reign endures for
|
|||
|
|
centuries as she keeps Paliocrovol and his cursed advisors alive
|
|||
|
|
through her powers. The book is the story of her rise to power and
|
|||
|
|
how her power is challenged as it weakens after three hundred years
|
|||
|
|
of absolute power.
|
|||
|
|
The book is very well-written, and definitely an
|
|||
|
|
attention-holder. The magic used is complex and well-characterized,
|
|||
|
|
and it is neither simple nor overused. The characters are deep and
|
|||
|
|
intelligent and very well-developed. The book is written in a unique
|
|||
|
|
style, being an open letter to Paliocrovol, raconting the story of
|
|||
|
|
Queen Beauty's rule, and it is very easy to read. One of the most
|
|||
|
|
admirable aspects of the book is Card's ability to characterize
|
|||
|
|
several different religions which have followings in the region. The
|
|||
|
|
religion of the Hart is a male-oriented belief in the mystical power
|
|||
|
|
of the living blood; the Sweet Sisters, a matriarchy deriving their
|
|||
|
|
power from the secrets of womanhood; and God, a new religion based
|
|||
|
|
on a monotheistic pretext. Card's use of these religions is very
|
|||
|
|
sophisticated, and the conflict between the queen and the gods is
|
|||
|
|
the underlying story within the book.
|
|||
|
|
"Hart's Hope" is a fascinating book, both for the casual reader
|
|||
|
|
and the astute fan. Not only is it an enjoyable and provocative
|
|||
|
|
read, but its style is refreshingly different without giving up any
|
|||
|
|
of its power to take the reader away to a very different world. Even
|
|||
|
|
if your reading list is limited by time, as mine is, I reccommend it.
|
|||
|
|
-'Orny' Liscomb <CSDAVE@MAINE>
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A Scent in the Air
|
|||
|
|
Summary - Since it has been so long since 'Winds of Change' was
|
|||
|
|
put out, I am going to summarize what happened.
|
|||
|
|
When we left Ariel, she had just left the tavern in search of a
|
|||
|
|
job. She had arrived in Dargon the night before, exhausted from a
|
|||
|
|
long journey, during which her lover, Stefan, had been killed. Stefan
|
|||
|
|
had been an Air Mage, under the goddess Iliara. He had been killed
|
|||
|
|
because of a blood feud between the worshipers of Iliara and the
|
|||
|
|
worshipers of the earth god, Haargon. They have been following Ariel
|
|||
|
|
ever since, because Stefan had been teaching her prior to his death.
|
|||
|
|
They do not know how far her powers have gone yet, so they have yet to
|
|||
|
|
take action against her. Just prior to leaving the Inn in search of a
|
|||
|
|
job, Ariel received a note from a priest of Iliara along with a ring
|
|||
|
|
that had belonged to Stefan. The note merely told her that she was on
|
|||
|
|
her own for now.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
"Following this little wench is getting to be a pain!", Alec
|
|||
|
|
said as he walked into the back room of the chapel. "She has shown
|
|||
|
|
no sign of regaining her powers enough to fight us off, or even be
|
|||
|
|
considered an Air mage anymore. Why do we continue to bother?"
|
|||
|
|
"Patience, Alec. Haargon has shown me signs that this one is
|
|||
|
|
dangerous, but I don't want to kill her until I find out in what
|
|||
|
|
way. I don't want this danger to present itself again. What have you
|
|||
|
|
learned?".
|
|||
|
|
Alec looked at the old priest. He was dressed in the simple
|
|||
|
|
robes that any of the priests in this city might wear, identified as
|
|||
|
|
one of Haargon's followers only by the holy symbol hanging around
|
|||
|
|
his neck. It was the only symbol of any of the Gods that had any
|
|||
|
|
value in and of itself. The piece of crystal clear quartz, encircled
|
|||
|
|
by silver in such a way as to allow a chain of silver to be hooked
|
|||
|
|
through, was worth quite a bit of money to a jeweler or noble, and
|
|||
|
|
this specimen was extraordinarily beautiful. The priest had had all
|
|||
|
|
sort of intricate carving done on the medallion and had gone out of
|
|||
|
|
his way to find the most beautiful, double terminated piece of
|
|||
|
|
quartz seen in Dargon in years. Alec didn't know if the medallion
|
|||
|
|
was magical (although he assumed it was), but he did know that the
|
|||
|
|
priest would protect it to the death.
|
|||
|
|
"She is staying at the Inn of the Golden Lion, up in the rich
|
|||
|
|
section of town. She went out this morning, wandered around for some
|
|||
|
|
time going from shop to shop in the market area, as well as the
|
|||
|
|
business district and never came out of Camron's Shipping. When she
|
|||
|
|
had been in there for about 3 hours I decided it was a good time to
|
|||
|
|
come report to you." Alec said.
|
|||
|
|
"Reasonable. Camron has been looking for a good bookkeeper and
|
|||
|
|
from what I'm told of her history, she would fit that description.
|
|||
|
|
She needs a job to pay rent here. That will work out nicely......."
|
|||
|
|
"Sir, then would it be possible for me to get paid?" Alec asked,
|
|||
|
|
a bit afraid of the answer. This particular sect had a reputation
|
|||
|
|
for trying to get you to convert and donate your earnings as opposed
|
|||
|
|
to paying for services. They were rumored to be VERY effective.
|
|||
|
|
"Hmm, uh, What? Oh yes, your pay. Certainly." Reaching under the
|
|||
|
|
desk, he pulled out a couple of large denomination coins and tossed
|
|||
|
|
them to Alec. "If you are interested in more of that, I would like
|
|||
|
|
you to follow her for the next couple of weeks. Just keep an eye on
|
|||
|
|
what she does, who she sees, and if she goes anywhere out of the
|
|||
|
|
ordinary. Also if she moves out of that expensive Inn. Report in
|
|||
|
|
once a week, or whenever there is something I should know about
|
|||
|
|
immediately. Interested?"
|
|||
|
|
Thinking how easy the payment had been to get, and assuming that
|
|||
|
|
the rumors were wrong, Alec said "Certainly, sir. I will report back
|
|||
|
|
to you in one week."
|
|||
|
|
"Wonderful" the old priest said. As Alec was walking out the
|
|||
|
|
door, almost as an afterthought, the priest added "Oh, by the way,
|
|||
|
|
are you interested in converting?"
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Getting a job in Dargon turned out to be easier than Ariel had
|
|||
|
|
thought it would be. She stopped at several places, and had a job as
|
|||
|
|
a bookkeeper for a nice, older man by noon. She worked until late
|
|||
|
|
that night getting herself familiarized with his system, then had a
|
|||
|
|
quick dinner at the inn before turning in.
|
|||
|
|
The next morning, she moved to a cheaper place. Her new boss,
|
|||
|
|
Camron had a cousin who wanted to rent a room in his house to
|
|||
|
|
someone, and the arrangements for Ariel to move in had been
|
|||
|
|
completed the day before. She was shown to a nice room, relatively
|
|||
|
|
large, with a bed and a dresser in it and told that she was welcome
|
|||
|
|
to eat with the family. The rent was 1/5 that of the inn she'd been
|
|||
|
|
staying at and the atmosphere much nicer. Camron's cousin Karina and
|
|||
|
|
her husband Marcus were immediately friendly towards her. As they
|
|||
|
|
were eating dinner that night, they got to know each other and by
|
|||
|
|
the time they were done, she had both their friendship and their
|
|||
|
|
sympathy. Ariel did, however, leave out the details of the magic.
|
|||
|
|
Karina and Marcus struck her as very down-to-earth people who felt
|
|||
|
|
that magic was a bunch of rubbish, so when Stefan's death came up,
|
|||
|
|
she told them that it had been merely bandits in the forest and that
|
|||
|
|
they had not noticed her sleeping nearby because she was so rolled
|
|||
|
|
up in her blankets.
|
|||
|
|
"You were very lucky, you realize. Surviving that little episode
|
|||
|
|
as well as getting through all the intervening distance alone,
|
|||
|
|
through some rough territory, is quite a feat for one as yourself.
|
|||
|
|
You should thank the gods for your life. Perhaps they have something
|
|||
|
|
in mind for you." Marcus said, as they were all clearing the table.
|
|||
|
|
"I have thanked them over and over, but if they have something
|
|||
|
|
in mind for me, they have not yet deigned to tell me of it." Ariel
|
|||
|
|
replied. She liked Marcus. He was a very caring person who had done
|
|||
|
|
all but adopt her in the short time they had known each other.
|
|||
|
|
"Well, that little adventure over, you should find yourself a
|
|||
|
|
good husband, settle down, and marry. My cousin Camron hired you
|
|||
|
|
because he has a soft spot for ladies in distress, but a young woman
|
|||
|
|
such as yourself should not be working, but be married and with a
|
|||
|
|
home and family of her own." Karina said. She was definitely the
|
|||
|
|
practical one in the family. Loving, good, and practical. Her house
|
|||
|
|
reflected this. Everything was spotless, the food was fresh, good,
|
|||
|
|
and prepared with all the love she could come up with.
|
|||
|
|
"Perhaps someday, but right now my loss of Stefan is too new. I
|
|||
|
|
doubt I could love anyone the way I loved Stefan right now. Maybe
|
|||
|
|
someday.... Now if you'll excuse me, I should get to bed. Today was
|
|||
|
|
a long day and tomorrow will be no shorter." Ariel said, heading for
|
|||
|
|
the stairs.
|
|||
|
|
"Certainly, dear. Sleep well." Karina said as Ariel walked up
|
|||
|
|
the stairs.
|
|||
|
|
Up in her room, Ariel pondered her new-found friends. Marcus and
|
|||
|
|
Karina were both young, hardly more than a couple of years older
|
|||
|
|
then herself, yet they had been married for almost four years and
|
|||
|
|
there were no children yet. "That's why they are renting this room"
|
|||
|
|
she thought. No children to put in it. Unfortunate. Karina would
|
|||
|
|
make a good mother.
|
|||
|
|
With thoughts of Stefan, children, and homes running through her
|
|||
|
|
mind, Ariel drifted off to sleep.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The next day was indeed a long one and Ariel worked until well
|
|||
|
|
after dark trying to balance The Dolphin Queen's cargo sheets.
|
|||
|
|
Finally finished, and highly pleased with the work she had done that
|
|||
|
|
day, Ariel headed out, not really even considering the danger of a
|
|||
|
|
female walking alone at night. As she came around the corner onto a
|
|||
|
|
side street a few blocks from home, she began to get an odd feeling
|
|||
|
|
that she was being watched. Glancing behind her and seeing no one,
|
|||
|
|
she dismissed it as merely paranoia, but began to walk a bit faster.
|
|||
|
|
The street was deserted, and not very well lit, so when the
|
|||
|
|
bright light hit her in the face, she was momentarily blinded. When
|
|||
|
|
her vision came back, there were three robbers with torches
|
|||
|
|
surrounding her, looking at her with a terribly malicious look in
|
|||
|
|
their eyes. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a small man in
|
|||
|
|
priestly robes and Haargon's holy symbol watching with an even more
|
|||
|
|
murderous look in his.
|
|||
|
|
As they approached her, she realized the danger she would be in
|
|||
|
|
if she even tried to call upon her powers, and did the only sensible
|
|||
|
|
thing; She charged at the ones in front of her, at the last minute
|
|||
|
|
ducking left and around them both. Free, she began to run as fast as
|
|||
|
|
she could. The ruffians were not far behind her as she ran, but as
|
|||
|
|
she passed the priest, he merely smiled and began walking in the
|
|||
|
|
other direction.
|
|||
|
|
They were catching up on her. She was very slowly running out of
|
|||
|
|
breath to run any further, and losing this race anyway. Without even
|
|||
|
|
thinking, she began to draw the wind to her, to move her along
|
|||
|
|
faster and to strengthen her. Feeling little response, she attempted
|
|||
|
|
to concentrate on Stefan's ring and do the same thing. This time,
|
|||
|
|
there was some help. With the wind at her back and in her lungs,
|
|||
|
|
strengthening her and speeding her along, she gradually outdistanced
|
|||
|
|
the ruffians and eventually they stopped chasing her. She didn't
|
|||
|
|
stop running though. The earth mage knew that she had called upon
|
|||
|
|
power...he had to have known.... She was once again in danger from
|
|||
|
|
the cult. This thought alone sped her along the rest of the way home.
|
|||
|
|
"At least they don't know where I live," she thought as she came
|
|||
|
|
through the door, huffing and puffing, and almost completely
|
|||
|
|
exhausted. Marcus and Karina were waiting for her, looking worried.
|
|||
|
|
Karina's face became even more concerned when she saw how heavily
|
|||
|
|
Ariel was breathing.
|
|||
|
|
"Good Gods, what happened? Where have you been? We've been so
|
|||
|
|
worried! Are you all right??? " Karina said. Marcus's face echoed
|
|||
|
|
the questions, although all he did was lead her over to a chair and
|
|||
|
|
get her a glass of water.
|
|||
|
|
When she finally regained her breath, Ariel said "I was working
|
|||
|
|
late on a problem I had all but solved. As I was walking home, I was
|
|||
|
|
attacked by three muggers about five blocks from here. I ran. They
|
|||
|
|
followed for a while, but I outran them and they gave up soon after
|
|||
|
|
they realized that. I'm OK. Really. Just a bit out of breath. I'll
|
|||
|
|
be fine."
|
|||
|
|
"Let me get you a some dinner and then you should go right to
|
|||
|
|
bed. You know, this area isn't highly prone to muggers, but I guess
|
|||
|
|
a single female walking anywhere alone at night is in danger. Please
|
|||
|
|
be careful. Perhaps you can get someone from work to walk you home?"
|
|||
|
|
Karina said as she brought a plate of bread and cheese and a bowl of
|
|||
|
|
soup out.
|
|||
|
|
"From now on I will. Either that or not stay as late. I'm so
|
|||
|
|
exhausted." Ariel said, immediately diving into the stew.
|
|||
|
|
They sat in silence while she ate, until Marcus finally spoke
|
|||
|
|
up. "Ariel, is there someone after you? This is the second time
|
|||
|
|
you've been attacked recently, and I've seen this man hanging around
|
|||
|
|
outside quite a bit lately. Are you in some kind of trouble?"
|
|||
|
|
"No," Ariel said hurriedly, "but thank you for caring. Now if
|
|||
|
|
you'll excuse me, I really need to get to sleep. G'night."
|
|||
|
|
As she walked up the stairs, Karina and Marcus exchanged
|
|||
|
|
glances. Neither believed her.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
"So she does have some of her power back. Interesting. Keep an
|
|||
|
|
eye on her and report back if she does anything further." the old
|
|||
|
|
priest said. "We may have to take care of her soon. Permanently."
|
|||
|
|
Alec shivered at that last word and walked out of the room.
|
|||
|
|
-Becki Tants <RETANTS@SUVM>
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Necrolepsy
|
|||
|
|
Gregory Schaeffer refused to believe what his associate, Martin
|
|||
|
|
Johnson, had just told him. "There is no such thing as necrolepsy.
|
|||
|
|
Someone cannot simply die and be revived without medical
|
|||
|
|
intervention; it's just not possible."
|
|||
|
|
"I am a doctor, Greg. I know what I saw. This man just dropped
|
|||
|
|
dead over in Felder Park. I checked him out personally: he had no
|
|||
|
|
pulse, no breathing--nothing. CPR had no effect on him and when the
|
|||
|
|
emergency squad came, their shock pads didn't phase him either. When
|
|||
|
|
we reached the hospital and checked him out further, I had to report
|
|||
|
|
him DOA. But when the men from the morgue came up and started to
|
|||
|
|
take him away, he sat up and said, 'Hey, where we going?'" Martin
|
|||
|
|
glared at Greg as if daring him to say he was lying.
|
|||
|
|
"Maybe the instruments are on the fritz," Greg said. "Or maybe
|
|||
|
|
Franklin's been screwing with the settings again."
|
|||
|
|
"No," Martin said, "Franklin hasn't been around the last couple
|
|||
|
|
of days, and everything has been checked out thoroughly. Nothing is
|
|||
|
|
wrong with any of the instruments. Face it, Greg; we've got a new
|
|||
|
|
disease on our hands, and the only name that fits is 'necrolepsy'."
|
|||
|
|
Martin made sure Greg was looking at him before he went on. "He says
|
|||
|
|
this has happened to him before."
|
|||
|
|
Greg wasn't convinced. "I still say there is something wrong
|
|||
|
|
with our monitors. The tests these people run on machinery around
|
|||
|
|
here would say that a blood pressure cuff with a hole in it was
|
|||
|
|
working perfectly. Is there any evidence that it has happened before?"
|
|||
|
|
Martin sighed. "No. He says he was always alone when it happened
|
|||
|
|
before. But he claims to have blank spaces in his memory where all
|
|||
|
|
he remembers is standing one instant and the next he is picking
|
|||
|
|
himself up off the floor with the clock telling him it's several
|
|||
|
|
hours later."
|
|||
|
|
"And you believe him?"
|
|||
|
|
Martin looked up at Greg. "I have no reason not to--I've seen it
|
|||
|
|
happen once myself."
|
|||
|
|
"Marty, do you realize that if something like necrolepsy does
|
|||
|
|
exist, as you claim, there are hundreds of people that this hospital
|
|||
|
|
alone has sent to the morgue who may have really been alive? For the
|
|||
|
|
sake of my own sanity, I can't accept that such a disease exists."
|
|||
|
|
Martin suddenly understood why Greg wouldn't believe him. "Yes,
|
|||
|
|
I realize that, Greg. But if it does exist, I have to know. It's the
|
|||
|
|
only way I'll ever be able to do my job effectively. If there's a
|
|||
|
|
possibility that a disease like this exists, I have to know one way
|
|||
|
|
or the other. I've requested three nurses to be assigned to watch
|
|||
|
|
him at all times. I want to know immediately if he drops dead again."
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
During the next two months, Mr. Bowen had no more seizures. The
|
|||
|
|
nurses worked in shifts, watching him and taking his blood pressure
|
|||
|
|
and pulse every twelve hours. Nothing abnormal was found.
|
|||
|
|
After two months, the hospital's Chief of Staff approached Dr.
|
|||
|
|
Johnson. "I can't authorize three nurses to babysit a perfectly
|
|||
|
|
healthy man any longer, Martin."
|
|||
|
|
"Luke, you have to. If this man isn't monitored regularly, we'll
|
|||
|
|
never find a way to diagnose necrolepsy."
|
|||
|
|
"Martin, I have to run this hospital according to a budget and a
|
|||
|
|
board of directors that gets very upset when I take money out of
|
|||
|
|
that budget and don't tell them exactly what it's for. They bring
|
|||
|
|
this up at every meeting. I can't avoid the issue any longer and I'm
|
|||
|
|
not about to tell them what's really going on. If they were to find
|
|||
|
|
out we were just waiting for a man to die again so we could prove
|
|||
|
|
that a disease, which half of my staff is afraid to even admit is
|
|||
|
|
possible, exists, I don't know how they'd react. I'm sorry, Martin,
|
|||
|
|
but I've got to recall those nurses."
|
|||
|
|
Martin knew what Luke had said was true and that there was no
|
|||
|
|
way to convince him to keep a nurse assigned to Mr. Bowen. So,
|
|||
|
|
rather than trying to argue, he left the Chief of Staff's office and
|
|||
|
|
started on his rounds.
|
|||
|
|
Meanwhile, all around the city, the necrolepsy spread.
|
|||
|
|
-Bob Aspel <ALDSTF16@OUACCVMB>
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Review: "A Man Rides Through"
|
|||
|
|
Mordant's Need Volume 2: "A Man Rides Through", by Stephen R.
|
|||
|
|
Donaldson. Del Rey Books, 1987.
|
|||
|
|
In summer of 1987, Stephen Donaldson released the first part of
|
|||
|
|
Mordant's Need: "The Mirror of Her Dreams". It was a book that
|
|||
|
|
realized that medieval societies have government intrigue,
|
|||
|
|
corruption, and war strategies alongside the knights and magicians.
|
|||
|
|
"The Mirror of Her Dreams" spun a magic spell and involved the
|
|||
|
|
reader in the various plots of the imaginary kingdom of Mordant,
|
|||
|
|
where Earthling Terisa Morgan was miraculously transported via
|
|||
|
|
Mordant's peculiar breed of magic, which involves mirrors.
|
|||
|
|
"The Mirror of Her Dreams" ended in a cliff-hanger: our hero,
|
|||
|
|
Geraden, who hopes to become an Imager (a Mordant magic-user who
|
|||
|
|
uses only mirrors), is framed for the murder of his brother and
|
|||
|
|
disappears into his own mirror. Lady Terisa is left alone to face
|
|||
|
|
the ire of the crusty Castellan and the machinations of the two
|
|||
|
|
traitors within the castle.
|
|||
|
|
"A Man Rides Through" opens with Terisa in the dungeon being
|
|||
|
|
threatened by the slightly psychotic Castellan Lebbick. There still
|
|||
|
|
are traitors loose in the castle, and an enemy army stands outside
|
|||
|
|
the walls in an attempt at siege. One of the princesses is with the
|
|||
|
|
enemy, the other is missing. The King refuses to take any action
|
|||
|
|
against the siege. Many try to make Terisa betray Geraden's
|
|||
|
|
whereabouts (which, incidentally, she does know): the Castellan, the
|
|||
|
|
King's Chancellor, one of Geraden's brothers, and one Master Eremis,
|
|||
|
|
a slick, lecherous, and totally unlikeable Imager. The country of
|
|||
|
|
Mordant is being attacked on all sides by dangerous, magical
|
|||
|
|
monsters. Things progress from there.
|
|||
|
|
Donaldson's style, as always, is captivating, varied, and easy
|
|||
|
|
to read. The story itself is hard to get away from; I dreamt of
|
|||
|
|
Terisa and Geraden for two nights. The plot (or should I say plots)
|
|||
|
|
of Mordant is well worked-out, and, in the end, it all makes perfect
|
|||
|
|
sense.
|
|||
|
|
Of course, this is a Donaldson book, and one must expect certain
|
|||
|
|
things. There are no lepers in this book, but as usual, Donaldson's
|
|||
|
|
usual cast of neurotics are out in full force. There is Adept
|
|||
|
|
Havelock, one of the most likeable loonies in literature, for one.
|
|||
|
|
Castellan Lebbick impresses me as a sado-masochist. About one
|
|||
|
|
character in three has a superiority or inferiority complex. Yet the
|
|||
|
|
mild insanities serve to make the characters more realistic; these
|
|||
|
|
are not token insanities.
|
|||
|
|
One word of warning: reading "A Man Rides Through" without
|
|||
|
|
having read "The Mirror of Her Dreams" can be hazardous to the
|
|||
|
|
reader's sanity. There are so many plots and counterplots in King
|
|||
|
|
Joyse's realm that without prior knowledge, the reader will become
|
|||
|
|
quite confused. But "The Mirror of Her Dreams" is as well written
|
|||
|
|
and entertaining as its sequel, and the only criticism I can make of
|
|||
|
|
either book is that they end too soon.
|
|||
|
|
-M. Wendy Hennequin <HENNEQUI@CTSTATEU>
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Spirit of the Wood: 7
|
|||
|
|
Loric's first sight as a man was the sun pearling through the
|
|||
|
|
caul that surrounded him.
|
|||
|
|
For a moment he didn't recognize where he was and struggled with
|
|||
|
|
the thin membrane of skin, flopping onto the forest floor like a
|
|||
|
|
ungainly hatching.
|
|||
|
|
It was late afternoon by the look of it and the air smelled of
|
|||
|
|
impending rain. He took a clean lungfull and puzzled over why he
|
|||
|
|
felt that it had been ages since he had done so.
|
|||
|
|
"OH" said Loric as he looked down at the caul. "I suppose I
|
|||
|
|
should eat you now. I am hungry but not really that hungry." He bent
|
|||
|
|
down and tore loose a dry piece of skin. He smelled it thoughtfully
|
|||
|
|
and started to put it in his mouth when he caught a movement out of
|
|||
|
|
the corner of his eye.
|
|||
|
|
Loric whirled and dropped into a crouch. He felt for the press
|
|||
|
|
of his kesh-blade and was relieved to find it tied with gut to his
|
|||
|
|
side. At first he saw nothing, only shadow, then he saw a shadow
|
|||
|
|
darker than the others. A moment more and he could see a man
|
|||
|
|
standing next to a tree dressed like no other he had ever seen.
|
|||
|
|
He wore an outer piece of cloth draped over his shoulders and
|
|||
|
|
his legs clad in high soft boots. His right hand cradled a short
|
|||
|
|
staff and the left was open and held out from his body. He wore a
|
|||
|
|
dusky hat that covered thick curled locks. Long sleeved tunic and
|
|||
|
|
breeches the color of wet tree bark blended so closely to the woods
|
|||
|
|
around him that Loric was unsure where the man ended and the tree
|
|||
|
|
began. The man's face held no menace, though what inner emotion it
|
|||
|
|
did reflect, Loric could not guess. Loric noticed he had hair on his
|
|||
|
|
face and wondered if his tribe had marked him as an outcast or
|
|||
|
|
whether he had never passed his Shreaving.
|
|||
|
|
"You're not going to eat that?" The stranger's voice was deep
|
|||
|
|
and accented but slow enough for Loric to understand. He looked away
|
|||
|
|
for a moment to glance at the caul and then back to the stranger.
|
|||
|
|
"I'm supposed to. Part of my song will remain in it and if an
|
|||
|
|
animal eats it I'll become a shapechanger under the moon's full face."
|
|||
|
|
"Has that happened to anyone alive, or is that just what your
|
|||
|
|
Histories say will happen?"
|
|||
|
|
"I have no doubt in the Histories! They are the blood of my
|
|||
|
|
tribe and my song is strong!" Loric rose slowly to his full height
|
|||
|
|
and tried to look menacing. He didn't like this stranger and knew he
|
|||
|
|
should not be here. "What tribe are you? And why have you
|
|||
|
|
interrupted my Shreaving? If you know of the Histories, then you
|
|||
|
|
know I am to avoid contact with anyone, the Shreaving is a test of
|
|||
|
|
my ability to survive on my own. Go away."
|
|||
|
|
"Do your Histories tell you to eat that goatskin by itself boy,
|
|||
|
|
or can you make it part of other foods?"
|
|||
|
|
Loric picked up the caul and stepped back. "It's not a goatskin,
|
|||
|
|
it's my caul! If you will not leave, then I must! He turned and
|
|||
|
|
walked stiffly into the forest trusting his hearing to tell of any
|
|||
|
|
pursuit. When no sound of the stranger followed him he turned and
|
|||
|
|
circled back to the clearing. He searched but found no sign of
|
|||
|
|
anyone ever having been there except his own tracks and those of
|
|||
|
|
some Downlanders six days stale.
|
|||
|
|
Satisfied that he had traveled far enough to avoid the stranger,
|
|||
|
|
Loric set about building a shelter. He wove a short length of rope
|
|||
|
|
stout enough to hold his weight and used it to anchor one end of a
|
|||
|
|
limb to a tree trunk while wedging the other in a fork high enough
|
|||
|
|
to discourage all but the most persistent of hunters. A roof of
|
|||
|
|
broad leaves from a fustian bush made a good cover from the rain
|
|||
|
|
which had already begun to fall in loud plops around him. He took a
|
|||
|
|
moment to gather some dry wood to start a fire after the shower,
|
|||
|
|
then climbed to the top of the trees and sang his song to the Spirit.
|
|||
|
|
After that there was nothing to do but wriggle into his shelter,
|
|||
|
|
pushing the bundle of wood ahead of him, and wait out the storm. It
|
|||
|
|
was a tight fit, but it was dry and he could see the forest rolling
|
|||
|
|
away from him in a dense canopy of muted greens, the sun a white
|
|||
|
|
disk behind the clouds. There would be time to build a better
|
|||
|
|
shelter later, if the Spirit so desired. He thought of the stranger
|
|||
|
|
and what he had said about the histories, silently admonishing
|
|||
|
|
himself for summing up the Shreaving in such a small way. Was that
|
|||
|
|
really all the Shreaving was to be, a test to see if I can survive
|
|||
|
|
alone? The stranger had disturbed something deep within in Loric and
|
|||
|
|
he found it difficult to turn his thoughts to the tasks ahead.
|
|||
|
|
The sun crouched low on the horizon when the rain ended and
|
|||
|
|
Loric emerged from his 'home'. By now he was ravenous and he went to
|
|||
|
|
the limb where he had hung his caul to catch the rain water. He drank
|
|||
|
|
deeply and then cut a piece to chew on while he hunted.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Histories clearly spoke of what Loric could and could not
|
|||
|
|
eat during his Shreaving--especially since he had not yet eaten his
|
|||
|
|
caul. The easiest prey being snail and tree-crab, both of which
|
|||
|
|
became active after rainfall, and then certain of the larger animals
|
|||
|
|
that fed on them.
|
|||
|
|
Loric climbed from tree to tree looking for signs that a river
|
|||
|
|
or stream was near. He followed the lay of the land and found not
|
|||
|
|
just a stream but several small streams that ran together in mad
|
|||
|
|
confusion before falling into a gorge and out of sight.
|
|||
|
|
He approached slowly,hoping to find howlers there that had
|
|||
|
|
caught crab or snail in the trees and brought them to the water's
|
|||
|
|
edge to crack on the rocks. He stopped a short distance from the
|
|||
|
|
forest's edge and listened intently. He heard the water dripping
|
|||
|
|
from the trees and the rub of bark and limb and the voice of the
|
|||
|
|
Spirit moving among the trees; sighing a song about rain and the
|
|||
|
|
life it brought. Then he heard the telltale clack and scrape of
|
|||
|
|
feeding howlers. With a smile Loric moved slowly forward, knowing
|
|||
|
|
that one sound out of place and the howlers would set up an alarm
|
|||
|
|
that would send the pack racing for the safety of the trees.
|
|||
|
|
He began to weave the wood-song about him, slowly like the web
|
|||
|
|
of a spider, a strand at a time. I am the wind, Oh Spirit, I am the
|
|||
|
|
limb that speaks loudly to the leaf, nothing more. A howler would
|
|||
|
|
not be alarmed by the sound of a limb mumbling in the shadow of its
|
|||
|
|
brothers. Of course not, how silly it seems, when there are so many
|
|||
|
|
other things think about howler. The sun is still out the pack is
|
|||
|
|
feeding and there are meat-nuts to crack.
|
|||
|
|
Loric kept thinking one such thought after another, never
|
|||
|
|
stopping the flow of thought and never stopping his progress
|
|||
|
|
forward. This was the first time Loric had put the wood-song to use
|
|||
|
|
on his own. In times before he had his grandfather to keep the
|
|||
|
|
cadence and flow of thought clear. He never realized how hard it had
|
|||
|
|
been for Oldsir to carry the theme of the song for so long. Oldsir!
|
|||
|
|
Loric cursed himself for the drifting thought. The howlers were
|
|||
|
|
sitting in a circle and the one closest to him an older female,
|
|||
|
|
stopped picking at the shell she had in hand and looked right at
|
|||
|
|
him. OH Spirit! Thought Loric furiously. I am a log. Many times you
|
|||
|
|
have passed me on your way to this spot she-howler. I remember your
|
|||
|
|
first time here after I had fallen. You carried your young one on
|
|||
|
|
your back. How he cried! Where is he now, She-howler?
|
|||
|
|
The howler blinked and coughed once. The pack turned and became
|
|||
|
|
instantly alert. A young male walked out of the circle and sniffled
|
|||
|
|
in Loric's direction. It seemed confused for it could not see the
|
|||
|
|
source of the images it heard, it could not see anything where the
|
|||
|
|
she-howler looked, nothing but the forest and a pile of dead wood at
|
|||
|
|
the forest's edge. Loric turned his attention to the young howler.
|
|||
|
|
'You are so strong! Why do you not lead the pack? Your fur is thick
|
|||
|
|
and your limbs are clean and strong. Surely there is none to
|
|||
|
|
challenge you. You should have your choice of females.' Loric
|
|||
|
|
thought as hard and sincerely as he could. The male was pacing back
|
|||
|
|
and forth in short tight turns. Weaving in rhythm with Loric's
|
|||
|
|
thoughts. Suddenly he turned and barked at an older male. A shouting
|
|||
|
|
match began and the young male was chased up a tree by the leader.
|
|||
|
|
**The pack-male is jealous of your son She-howler, and he is
|
|||
|
|
hungry. He eats too much! He will eat all the meat-nuts and you will
|
|||
|
|
have none. He can see the shells you have. He will take them and you
|
|||
|
|
will not eat. Hide them! Put the biggest ones where he can not take
|
|||
|
|
them. Look around, where can you put them, clever She-howler? Bring
|
|||
|
|
them here. Put them beneath me. I am a log. I do not eat meat-nuts.
|
|||
|
|
You can eat them when Pack-male is drinking. **
|
|||
|
|
The howler looked back and forth from Loric to the Pack-male.
|
|||
|
|
She leaned forward and sat on the snails. **No. He will see them
|
|||
|
|
when the pack moves. You are clever She-howler, hide them under me.
|
|||
|
|
You can eat them and pack-male will not take them. Look! Already he
|
|||
|
|
has chased your son up a tree. Your son will not get any meat-nuts
|
|||
|
|
to eat. Pack-male is eating his nuts. He will come for your
|
|||
|
|
meat-nuts...what can you do She-howler? **
|
|||
|
|
Loric blinked sweat out of his eyes and took a long silent
|
|||
|
|
breath. The she-howler looked around and walked over to Loric' prone
|
|||
|
|
body. She felt under Loric's arm with a thin, clawed hand. Her nails
|
|||
|
|
scraped him several times but he put the pain behind the wood-song.
|
|||
|
|
There is plenty of room She-howler, and I am soft and rotten. The
|
|||
|
|
meat-nuts will get fat and juicy here. And pack-male won't eat them.
|
|||
|
|
The She-howler put three snails in the hollow of Loric's arm and
|
|||
|
|
went back to her pile of shells. She looked at the pack-male and
|
|||
|
|
then back to Loric. Several times she moved toward Loric and he
|
|||
|
|
stopped her with a strong thought about Pack-male. Now all he had to
|
|||
|
|
do was get the pack to move away so he could get up and stretch his
|
|||
|
|
protesting muscles.
|
|||
|
|
It would have been easy to just get up and scare the pack away
|
|||
|
|
or to have killed She-howler when she was in blade-reach, but Loric
|
|||
|
|
knew that the Spirit was listening to his wood-song and gave it the
|
|||
|
|
ability to be understood by the forest. If he ended his song now,
|
|||
|
|
with death, it could sever the bond between his people and the
|
|||
|
|
Spirit of the Wood. And they would be lost.
|
|||
|
|
Loric watched the pack move from tree to tree searching for more
|
|||
|
|
snails. They would move away and drift back. Never going too far
|
|||
|
|
from the forests' edge. He continued his wood-song trying to get the
|
|||
|
|
she-howler to forget about the snails. But she would always come
|
|||
|
|
back and feel under his arm for the snails.
|
|||
|
|
'I am weak Spirit, I want to eat these snails, but I will not
|
|||
|
|
take them while She-howler can still claim them.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Show me a way to end the song.'
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The howlers turned as one and moved in his direction, having
|
|||
|
|
scented him and saw him for what he really was during the short
|
|||
|
|
moment he was distracted. The pack-male barked a challenge and Loric
|
|||
|
|
hurriedly picked up the strands of the wood-song. He did not have
|
|||
|
|
time to try and spell the pack-male, so he concentrated on the
|
|||
|
|
she-howler, convincing her that the pack-male had seen her snails.
|
|||
|
|
She ran ahead of the male trying to beat him to Loric, but he turned
|
|||
|
|
instead to chase her. The respite was all Loric needed to re-affirm
|
|||
|
|
the illusion of a log. But the Pack-male was agitated and walked
|
|||
|
|
around Loric, sniffing and biting at his head. The pain was sharp
|
|||
|
|
and bright in his mind, but desperation drove him even deeper into
|
|||
|
|
the wood-song. If he flinched now the powerful male would rend him
|
|||
|
|
into pieces smaller than meat-nuts. The male could not decide what
|
|||
|
|
Loric smelled like so he marked Loric with a spray from his musk
|
|||
|
|
pouch, kicked a bit of dirt onto Loric's back and then walked down
|
|||
|
|
the river bank. His actions made it clear to the pack that the
|
|||
|
|
mystery of the log was over and off limits. In a moment or two the
|
|||
|
|
pack would follow him to the water's edge and they would not return
|
|||
|
|
to this spot. It was then that the chee'tar leapt into the clearing.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
For more times than there are rings in a tree, Silsia Tolorion
|
|||
|
|
cursed the recklessness that made her leave the Village-beneath-the
|
|||
|
|
-Trees without preparations. To avoid arousing suspicion, she had
|
|||
|
|
taken only a few ornaments of mourning; A broadweave dyed dark with
|
|||
|
|
clay, a few beads made of Keshwood, and the wooden whistle Oldsir
|
|||
|
|
had made her.
|
|||
|
|
She was supposedly only going as far as Wood's End, so she
|
|||
|
|
couldn't justify the provisions for a long-walk to Eadyie or even
|
|||
|
|
ask for a Keshwood knife to protect herself with. Eadyie would have
|
|||
|
|
sent one of the men in the village to escort her--no doubt one she
|
|||
|
|
wanted Silsia to dance for. The green-root she had stuffed in the
|
|||
|
|
bottom of her slouchbag was long gone as well as the two quomo fruit
|
|||
|
|
hidden away during the preparations for the next day's Shreaving.
|
|||
|
|
She took refuge in the trees and avoided the paths traveled by
|
|||
|
|
the larger animals, moving slowly in the direction Oldsir's star had
|
|||
|
|
gone. It was also the direction that held Wood's End, where the
|
|||
|
|
druid Carson Feldspar held sway over Wildwood. The thought of a
|
|||
|
|
single man guiding the will of a forest frightened her. Did it serve
|
|||
|
|
him or he serve it? What noisy deaths did it sing? How many
|
|||
|
|
struggled and withered while his thoughts were elsewhere? How could
|
|||
|
|
a person's spirit stand against a land where everything had a voice
|
|||
|
|
of its own and gave heed or creedence to none?
|
|||
|
|
Here in Silsia's forest the Spirit of the Wood provided the
|
|||
|
|
harmony and the song that all creatures sang. It had been the rhythm
|
|||
|
|
and reason behind everything, and for as long as man could remember,
|
|||
|
|
it had fed her people and kept them safe. Nothing was asked of them,
|
|||
|
|
save that they also care in return. It was a circle as the priests
|
|||
|
|
explained it; the Spirit cared for and guided the Upstem village,
|
|||
|
|
and the Upstem village cared for and guided the Downland village and
|
|||
|
|
they as a whole cared for the forest. You sprang from the forest and
|
|||
|
|
lived in harmony with it and, when your song was sung, you returned
|
|||
|
|
to the forest.
|
|||
|
|
There had been better times for the forest, and what should have
|
|||
|
|
been easy traveling and foraging was time-consuming and often
|
|||
|
|
fruitless. Her slouch-bag bulged with the fleshy heads of
|
|||
|
|
bread-plant; a filling if not very healthy-looking fungus that grew
|
|||
|
|
in the shadows of silent trees.
|
|||
|
|
Silsia didn't care for their gritty taste, and they provided
|
|||
|
|
little in the way of nourishment, but the alternative was even more
|
|||
|
|
distasteful; an empty stomach.
|
|||
|
|
At least the bread-plant was proliferating, there seemed to
|
|||
|
|
Silisa to be more dead trees than she could remember ever seeing
|
|||
|
|
near the village. They were either lying across her path or leaning
|
|||
|
|
heavily on their brothers, no longer able to sing for themselves.
|
|||
|
|
In places it was like walking in the wake of a Djervish, seeing
|
|||
|
|
the results of its destruction, but never the destructor. Silsia
|
|||
|
|
could not think of anything that happened in the season past to
|
|||
|
|
cause so many silent trees. The winter had been exceptionally cold,
|
|||
|
|
but that should not have killed the fully grown trees. Perhaps a
|
|||
|
|
Djervish did walk these woods. A shiver of premonition brought her
|
|||
|
|
suddenly back to her surroundings. She looked about and found she
|
|||
|
|
had almost stumbled into a devatha.
|
|||
|
|
Child! she admonished herself, Stumphead! The only reason you're
|
|||
|
|
alive is that it amuses the Spirit to observe your folly.
|
|||
|
|
The odor of wet mould that always accompanied living devathas
|
|||
|
|
had alerted her when she was daydreaming. Looking closely she could
|
|||
|
|
see the ropey tendrils hanging from the canopy of leaves high above
|
|||
|
|
her. The devatha would have been easy to escape with a kesh-knife,
|
|||
|
|
she thought bitterly, but un-armed as she was she could not have
|
|||
|
|
broken free at all.
|
|||
|
|
She had seen the devatha's cruel attentions once and knew
|
|||
|
|
exactly what happened to anything or anyone unaware enough to come
|
|||
|
|
within its reach. Its victims would be bound and stung repeatedly by
|
|||
|
|
one tentacle while held fast with the others. Then they were drawn
|
|||
|
|
slowly upward to the waiting beak; a bite on the back of the neck
|
|||
|
|
ended any further struggling, but did not kill. The devatha left its
|
|||
|
|
prey hanging like quomo fruit, full of the juices it could not get
|
|||
|
|
from its host-tree. The death would be as slow as it would be certain.
|
|||
|
|
Thinking that she would feel better with something for
|
|||
|
|
protection, Silsia looked around for a weapon. The keshwood is
|
|||
|
|
forbidden me, and I do not know the song for keening its edge
|
|||
|
|
anyway. But there must be something else as good, or close that I
|
|||
|
|
can use? I could try making a spear, but I do not have a way to
|
|||
|
|
shape the tip. Sighing, she picked up a limb that was not too
|
|||
|
|
rotted, and hefted it meaningfully.
|
|||
|
|
With a new sense of awareness she moved in a wide circle around
|
|||
|
|
the devatha and into the lowlands beyond.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Silisa was deep into a wooded valley when it began to rain and
|
|||
|
|
she moved into the protection of a half-felled tree. Parting the
|
|||
|
|
clinging vines that covered it like a curtain, she entered the
|
|||
|
|
relative dryness underneath. The rain made its own random music on
|
|||
|
|
the trees above her and was echoed when it made it to the ground
|
|||
|
|
below. She folded a fusia leaf and watched as it gradually filled
|
|||
|
|
with water. Slowly her attention pulled close about her, and she let
|
|||
|
|
herself be taken away by the reflections of the beads of water. It
|
|||
|
|
brought her memories...memories of fire.
|
|||
|
|
Her friend Yoni was looking at her from across the flames in
|
|||
|
|
surprise and shock. "Silisa! You don't really mean to take one of
|
|||
|
|
the cauls?" "Yess!" She whispered back. Silsia felt deliciously
|
|||
|
|
sneaky and daring, both by shocking her friend and by doing
|
|||
|
|
something forbidden by man. She and Yoni had spent the whole morning
|
|||
|
|
peeking into Eadyie's hut where the secret part of the Shreaving
|
|||
|
|
preparations were hidden from all but the Upstem priests and Eadyie,
|
|||
|
|
of course.
|
|||
|
|
After what seemed ages of waiting within earshot of Eadyie's
|
|||
|
|
hut, Silsia and Yoni slipped in when Eadyie had left with something
|
|||
|
|
wrapped in fur. The single large room looked the same, but for a
|
|||
|
|
pile of goatskin and a large black-wood bowl near the cooking fire.
|
|||
|
|
In the bowl was a thin material, all wrinkled and folded over on
|
|||
|
|
itself. It looked like the goatskin, or goat brains, but stretched
|
|||
|
|
impossibly thin, and coated with an oily layer that gave it the look
|
|||
|
|
of being fresh from the animal. Another skin was hanging from the
|
|||
|
|
roof, drying in the heat from the cooking fire.
|
|||
|
|
Silsia reached out and touched the drying skin, it felt warm and
|
|||
|
|
alive to her touch, it was like the skin of a lizard, only pliant
|
|||
|
|
and warm. She saw her shadow dance on the pearl-like surface, and
|
|||
|
|
looking through it she could she Yoni's nervous outline.
|
|||
|
|
Suddenly she was moved to action and she pulled the caul from
|
|||
|
|
the beam and folded it into a small bundle. She tucked it into the
|
|||
|
|
top of her sarong, locking eyes with Yoni as if daring her to say
|
|||
|
|
anything. It still felt warm and alive, like a hand between her
|
|||
|
|
breasts, a man's hand. With a blush at her thoughts she quickly
|
|||
|
|
checked outside the hut and then dashed for the riverbank, the
|
|||
|
|
astonished Yoni still in tow.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
It was a stiffness in her neck and the gradual stopping of the
|
|||
|
|
rain's patter around her that brought her back to herself this time.
|
|||
|
|
She smiled at the memory of Yoni's face and unconsciously clutched
|
|||
|
|
the lump between her breasts. "Oh Yoni, How your eyes would widen
|
|||
|
|
now if you knew what I was about." Silsia stretched out one leg and
|
|||
|
|
then the other and stood up, pulling free handfuls of vines as she
|
|||
|
|
went. It seemed to her that no time had passsed at all, but she
|
|||
|
|
could tell by the slanting rays of the evening sun that she had
|
|||
|
|
spent a good long time crouched beneath that tree.
|
|||
|
|
Almost at once two sounds came to her, the distant cry of a
|
|||
|
|
Chee'tar and the very near guttural challenge of a wood-pig. Across
|
|||
|
|
the small clearing she could see the outline of a creature full
|
|||
|
|
eight times her weight, its snout lifted to show its serrated tusks,
|
|||
|
|
its red-pink eyes enflamed with rage.
|
|||
|
|
At first fear did not come to her and she stepped forward and
|
|||
|
|
said "Kom-beh, tay-chee chee hai!" The wood-pig snorted and kneaded
|
|||
|
|
the ground with its forepaws. The words of warding rolled over it,
|
|||
|
|
but it did not flee.
|
|||
|
|
Wide-eyed, Silsia tried to look up at the trees and around her
|
|||
|
|
feet for signs that the Spirit was here. but there was no song on
|
|||
|
|
the wind, no constant flittering at the back of her mind. Somehow
|
|||
|
|
she had passed beyond the forest--her forest, and into the Wildwood.
|
|||
|
|
Fear grabbed her heart and squeezed it tightly. She felt around
|
|||
|
|
her for the forgotten club she had picked up earlier but couldn't
|
|||
|
|
find it within reach. The wood-pig took one step, then another then
|
|||
|
|
charged her. It held its porcine head low and emitted a high-pitched
|
|||
|
|
cry from deep within it like that of a woman in pain. Silsia reacted
|
|||
|
|
blindly and leaped backward and up onto the fallen tree. The
|
|||
|
|
wood-pig passed beneath it, shreding the vines like spider's web as
|
|||
|
|
it shook free and turned to attack again.
|
|||
|
|
Silsia ran down the path she had been following heedless of the
|
|||
|
|
scratches and gouges from countless branches that sought to hold her
|
|||
|
|
back--to slow her down enough that the wood-pig could catch her.
|
|||
|
|
"Gorund de nee-cha!" She growled wunder her breath--"Get out of
|
|||
|
|
my way!" She could hear the wood-pig pursuing her but dared not
|
|||
|
|
spare a glance behind her. She followed the trail and it seemed to
|
|||
|
|
become even more close and resistant to her advance. She was slapped
|
|||
|
|
in the face by a thick broad leaf that blinded her long enough for
|
|||
|
|
her to run into a low limb. It took the breath from her, but somehow
|
|||
|
|
she stumbled on. "CROM VETH NORLA TOVAY!!" the path beyond seemed
|
|||
|
|
clear and it gave her a moment to wipe the tears from her smarting
|
|||
|
|
eyes. She saw a wider path ahead of her; the trees leaned away on
|
|||
|
|
both sides as if they feared to block the trail.
|
|||
|
|
The crash of underbrush behind her spurred her down the trail
|
|||
|
|
before she could question it, but even with a clear trail she knew
|
|||
|
|
the wood-pig would catch her. Her breath was a fire and her legs
|
|||
|
|
jammed blades of saw-grass into her raw nerves with every step.
|
|||
|
|
"Spirit! "She cried out, "my song has been less than true, judge me
|
|||
|
|
not too harshly for I fear I am about to greet you!"
|
|||
|
|
She charged blindly as sweat blurred her vison, adding a burning
|
|||
|
|
that she hardly noticed. Ahead of her a figure broke free of the
|
|||
|
|
shadows--or perhaps it was a stilla shadow or even a dead tree-- she
|
|||
|
|
couldn't stop herself in time to tell, or even cry out.
|
|||
|
|
Her headlong rush was suddenly cut short by an arm that shot out
|
|||
|
|
and held her fast. She doubled over and blew out a loud breath.
|
|||
|
|
"Shade of the Ancient Oak!" a voice bellowed,"--a child!" Silsia
|
|||
|
|
tried to retort 'I'm not a child!' but could only gasp and mouth her
|
|||
|
|
words. If the man had not been holding her, she would have fallen to
|
|||
|
|
the ground. She tried to twist free and look at her captor but his
|
|||
|
|
grip was like the strongest limbs and she had no energy left to
|
|||
|
|
fight. Suddenly he seemed to become aware of the charge of the
|
|||
|
|
wood-pig towards them. He dropped Silsia without a word and held his
|
|||
|
|
staff over his head. Then slowly he muttered to himself and gestured
|
|||
|
|
at the wood-pig. The pig tripped and slid on its belly, got up and
|
|||
|
|
tried to charge again, but vines and roots held it down. It cried
|
|||
|
|
its outrage and tore at the vines with its tusks. The vines gave
|
|||
|
|
away, but each time it moved closer, more took their place.
|
|||
|
|
"Come on child!" the man said, "We can be far away before he
|
|||
|
|
gets beyond my Circle of Restraint." With that he strode into the
|
|||
|
|
woods with big ground-covering strides. Silsia had hardly gotten her
|
|||
|
|
breath when she found herself laboring to keep up.
|
|||
|
|
"W-wait! Please, I've got to rest!"
|
|||
|
|
"Sorry little one--there's a rouge druid loose in my wood and
|
|||
|
|
this is no place for a girl-child to be playing."
|
|||
|
|
Silsia's response was lost on his rapidly disapearing back. If
|
|||
|
|
she didn't stay close she would lose him in the gathering dusk. So
|
|||
|
|
she followed doggedly and held her tounge. For now.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
It was a tribute to Loric's grandfather, and to Loric himself,
|
|||
|
|
that he did not jump up and try to run the moment the chee'tar
|
|||
|
|
arrived. It would have been the last action he would have ever made.
|
|||
|
|
The chee'tar took no notice of him and chased several of the howlers
|
|||
|
|
to the river's edge cutting off their easy escape to the trees.
|
|||
|
|
Loric saw that it was the female howler and one of the young
|
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|
|
males--perhaps her own, that faced death in the form of the chee'tar.
|
|||
|
|
Loric had a reluctantly clear view of the tableau. He could see
|
|||
|
|
the fear in the howler's eyes, the hungry pacing of the chee'tar,
|
|||
|
|
its very stance implicitly announcing that it knew its prey was
|
|||
|
|
trapped. A deadly game of advance and retreat began as the howlers
|
|||
|
|
would back all the way to the water's edge and then having no where
|
|||
|
|
to go would bluff and charge the chee'tar into backing up a bit. The
|
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|
|
sight would have been thought funny if Loric had not known how the
|
|||
|
|
dance would have to end. Caring little for getting wet, the chee'tar
|
|||
|
|
was only waiting for the howlers to break for the trees. He did not
|
|||
|
|
know a song for taming chee'tars, no one in his village had ever
|
|||
|
|
tried and then returned to tell about it.
|
|||
|
|
A stray movement on his part could send the chee'tar running, or
|
|||
|
|
it could just as easily make it attack him. Loric knew that if the
|
|||
|
|
chee'tar didn't make a decision soon, he would have to. The wave of
|
|||
|
|
energy that flooded his stomach had gone sour, bringing with it the
|
|||
|
|
realization that the howlers would be free if he had not been
|
|||
|
|
weaving his spell at them. It was his responsibilty. Finally his
|
|||
|
|
energy spent and he his legs trembling despite his best efforts, he
|
|||
|
|
decided that bluffing would at least give the howlers a chance to
|
|||
|
|
get away, and with the Spirit's good will, he would make it up a
|
|||
|
|
tree also.
|
|||
|
|
Loric waited until the chee'tar paced directly in front of him
|
|||
|
|
and then sprang up howling and waving his arms wildly about. The
|
|||
|
|
chee'tar whipped around and backed up several feet snarling and
|
|||
|
|
crouching on powerfull hind legs. It bellowed out a challenge and
|
|||
|
|
Loric stomped his feet and shouted "Hi! Go Bomcha Chee'tar! Kei
|
|||
|
|
Kei!" The chee'tar seemed to flinch at the words of warding but did
|
|||
|
|
not run. Instead it un-coiled its lenght in a long arc toward
|
|||
|
|
Loric's head; claws extended and white fangs standing out stark
|
|||
|
|
against its ebony fur.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Loric dropped to his knees and slashed across the chee'tar's
|
|||
|
|
belly as it passed over him. He felt white-hot fire pierce his skull
|
|||
|
|
as the chee'tar kicked down and raked his scalp. Screaming in pain
|
|||
|
|
and outrage it turned to attack again and saw Loric leaping for the
|
|||
|
|
lower branches. It leapt also, but the branch would not hold them
|
|||
|
|
both and they fell together in a flurry of leaves, claws and flesh.
|
|||
|
|
Loric slashed out at the direction of the pain and was unsure if he
|
|||
|
|
had struck the chee'tar or the treelimb. He was pinned to the
|
|||
|
|
treetrunk by a heavy limb and too stunned to even try to break free.
|
|||
|
|
Blood ran into Loric's eyes and he heard more than saw the
|
|||
|
|
chee'tar struggling to get free of the limb as well. It broke free,
|
|||
|
|
then started rolling and rubbing its flank on the ground, trying to
|
|||
|
|
dislodge a short length of limb impaled in its flank.
|
|||
|
|
Quickly Loric wiped his eyes with a leaf and broke off a sharp
|
|||
|
|
stick that was jabbing his chest. He leaned to the side as far as
|
|||
|
|
the limb would allow, took aim and prayed to the Spirit to guide his
|
|||
|
|
hand. He threw in-expertly, and the stick bounced off the enraged
|
|||
|
|
chee'tar's head. It forgot the pain and charged Loric again, who
|
|||
|
|
braced his arm against the trunk and hoped the impact would be
|
|||
|
|
enough to drive the blade home. There was a loud thud as the
|
|||
|
|
feline's hurtling bulk hit Loric full force, and then Loric's scream
|
|||
|
|
of pain joined that of the chee'tar. The kesh-blade was jerked from
|
|||
|
|
his grasp and the breath wheezed out of him in one loud ooff! as the
|
|||
|
|
limb abruptly broke free and dropped him to the ground.
|
|||
|
|
The chee'tar charged into the bush blindly snapping and
|
|||
|
|
screaming whenever the branch in its side would snag on the
|
|||
|
|
undergrowth. Loric slumped and leaned against the tree, trying
|
|||
|
|
desperately to summon enough strenght to follow the chee'tar and to
|
|||
|
|
force air back into his lungs. He heard the chee'tar at some
|
|||
|
|
distance, and by following the sound, he found the dislodged
|
|||
|
|
kesh-blade, and further on the piece of wood. The trail led over the
|
|||
|
|
side of the gorge, and at the bottom Loric found the chee'tar lying
|
|||
|
|
on it's side, it's fur matted and dark with their blood, its yellow
|
|||
|
|
eyes were fierce in the darkness, full of pain, full of hate.
|
|||
|
|
Loric tried to get close enough to the beast to finish it off,
|
|||
|
|
but the chee'tar would rally at his approach, each time roaring with
|
|||
|
|
less ferocity. Loric decided that the chee'tar would die soon enuff
|
|||
|
|
and wearily tried to climb a nearby tree. With his vision blurred
|
|||
|
|
and his footing unsure, he could only brace himself on in the crook
|
|||
|
|
of two lower limbs and wait for the Spirit to claim the chee'tar. He
|
|||
|
|
pulled some leaves to press against his throbbing wounds and was
|
|||
|
|
unconscious before his hand was half-way to his head.
|
|||
|
|
-Rich Jervis <C78KCK@IRISHMVS>
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
|
|||
|
|
ead.
|
|||
|
|
-Rich Jervis <C78KCK@IRISHMVS>
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
|