Carnivores of Light and Darkness (31 page)
“I have business in the west.”
“The west?” Agrath snickered slightly to his associates. “I thought you told us your destination lies to the north.”
“I have to go north,” Ehomba informed him, patient as he would have been with a child, “in order to find a ship willing to take me west.”
“Across the Semordria?” The Chlengg did not laugh so much as hiss breathily. “Now you try my intelligence.”
“It’s true.” Simna jerked his head sharply in his friend’s direction. “He’s deranged, he is.”
“Yet you follow him?”
The swordsman dropped his gaze and his voice. “What can I say? I have perverse tastes. Who can explain it?”
“Who indeed? When we are finished here we will remand you to the custody of specialists whose work is famed even among the Chlengguu. Perhaps they will get the real explanation out of you.”
“Hoy, now wait a minute, you—”
The mace that descended struck only a glancing blow to the back of the swordsman’s skull or he surely would have died on the spot. As it was, he only crumpled to the carpeted floor, where he lay motionless and bleeding. Ehomba glanced wordlessly in the direction of his friend’s unmoving body, then returned his attention to the three Chlengguu nobles. They were watching him expectantly.
“You are not angry at this treatment meted out to your friend?”
Ehomba’s voice was entirely unchanged. “Of what use would it be? You want to test us. You might as well have struck me to provoke him. It makes no difference.”
“None whatsoever,” Agrath agreed, “except that you are standing and he is unconscious.” The noble shrugged. “As you say, it could as easily have been done the other way. But I am more curious about you than him. Contrariety is a welcome diversion from the boredom of our inexorable advance.”
“We were told it was not always so.”
“No.” The other male’s voice darkened. “Before the Wall it was very different. Now”—he did not grin so much as sneer—“after the Wall, it will be more different still.”
“I really don’t care whether our specialists work on you or not.” Agrath ran the edge of the stiletto along his elongated palm, drawing a thin line of his own blood. His expression never changed. “But I do so enjoy the occasional uncommon curiosity.” Removing the blade from his skin, he flicked the point to indicate something behind Ehomba.
Moments later, two soldiers came forward. They were carrying the weapons confiscated from the travelers. These they placed on the already crowded table. After genuflecting twice to the nobles, they carefully backed away and rejoined their comrades.
While the skeletal oldsters continued to bicker and squabble in the background, the nobles proceeded to inspect the outwardly unimpressive weapons. The woman hefted Ehomba’s spear, sniffed contemptuously, and dumped it back on the table. Agrath picked up the tooth-studded bone sword, having to use both hands to finesse the weight, and whipped it back and forth a few times. One swipe passed very close to the herdsman’s face, but Ehomba did not flinch. If his captors were struck by his stoicism, none of them remarked upon it.
“Bone and teeth.” Agrath was singularly unimpressed. “A suitable device for a primitive tribesman.”
Sliding the pale white weapon back into its goatskin sheath, Agrath then drew the sky-metal blade from its protective covering. His angled eyes could not widen, but he nodded appreciatively. As he had with its weighty predecessor, he required the use of both strong but thin wrists to support the weapon parallel to the floor. Maintaining this grip, he swung it slowly back and forth. Diffuse sunlight filtering through the fine material of the tent glinted off the exotically forged iron.
“This is more like it.” Bringing the flat side of the blade up to his face, he eyed the peculiar lines etched into the metal. “Whoever worked this design into the blade is a master armorer.”
“The design was not worked,” Ehomba told him. “The lines are inherent in the metal, but must be brought out by dipping the finished blade in acid.”
The noble’s face squinched up tight as a snake trying to slip into a too-small hole in pursuit of prey. “Nonsense. No such metal shows such lines naturally.” Using both hands, he held the sword high, admiring the play of light on the internal crystalline structure. “Perhaps when we have conquered the south I will bring this marvelous armorer into my own service.” Lowering the point abruptly, he swung it around until it was dimpling the reawakened Simna’s chest. The swordsman tensed, but held his ground.
“Tell me, southerner. How sharp is the edge? How strong the alloy? What could one do with such a blade?”
Ehomba deliberately avoided his companion’s face lest the look frozen there cause him to hurry his response. “It can cut through any bone, even that of an elephant or mastodon. The point will penetrate most armors, be they metal or fabric. Striking it with a flint will make a quick fire. And,” he concluded, “if held high enough for long enough, I am told by the old women of the Naumkib that it will draw down the moon.”
XXX
T
HE SOFTLY CONVULSED MODULATED EXHALATION THAT PASSED
for laughter among the Chlengguu filled the tent. “Does he take us for idiots?” the other male declared sharply. “Or does he think to play with our minds and thereby somehow deflect his unavoidable fate?”
HE SOFTLY CONVULSED MODULATED EXHALATION THAT PASSED
for laughter among the Chlengguu filled the tent. “Does he take us for idiots?” the other male declared sharply. “Or does he think to play with our minds and thereby somehow deflect his unavoidable fate?”
“If he says it’s so, then you’d better watch out.” Simna struggled with his restraints. “He’s a mighty sorcerer.”
Plainly amused, Agrath turned back to the stolid herdsman. “Well, southerner? Does your friend speak true? Are you a ‘mighty sorcerer’?”
“Note his clothing,” opined the female disdainfully. “He doesn’t even look like a mighty breeder of rabbits.”
Keeping an eye on Ehomba, Agrath raised the sword high, as high as he could manage, aiming the point at the ceiling. Straining with the effort it required, he let go with one palm and maintained the difficult pose, balancing the weapon in a one-handed grip. A couple of the guards commented approvingly.
“There!” The wicked slash of a mouth parted to reveal white teeth. “What now, southerner?” Still holding the blade aloft, he turned toward the command tent’s entrance. “It is early enough and the sky clear enough that I can still see a bit of the moon. Though it is more difficult to tell during the day, it looks unchanged to me, and certainly unmoved. Behgron! Please be so good as to check on the position of the moon for me.”
One of the officers among the company that had brought in the three prisoners executed a quick, sharp half bow, whirled, and darted outside. His voice came back to those inside clear and crisp.
“It looks the same to me, Your Overlordship. The same color, and it surely has not moved.”
“There now.” Still holding the weapon aloft, greatly pleased with himself, Agrath eyed his tallest prisoner coldly. “What have you say to that, ‘sorcerer’?”
“
I
did not say that it would bring down the moon,” Ehomba responded humbly. “I repeat only what the old women of the village have told me.”
I
did not say that it would bring down the moon,” Ehomba responded humbly. “I repeat only what the old women of the village have told me.”
The Chlengguu noble gave a curt nod. “Well then, it would appear that we have proof that the old women of your village are a bunch of prating, ignorant whores.” He waited for the herdsman to say something, but Ehomba kept silent.
“Your pardon, Overlordship.” It was the voice of the officer who had gone to stand just outside the entrance to the tent.
“Yes, what is it?” Agrath snapped off the response impatiently. The officer was interrupting his fun.
“It is true that the moon is unchanged, noble Agrath—but there is something else.”
“Something else?” The Chlengg’s expression twisted uncertainly. “What ‘something else’? Explain yourself, soldier.”
“I can’t, Overlordship. Perhaps you should come and see for yourself.”
“We’ll do that, and if there is no good reason for this interruption . . .” He left the promise of unpleasantness hanging in the air.
Accompanied by Ehomba and the groaning, recently awakened Simna, the three Chlengguu nobles strode to the entrance of the tent. The senior officer Behgron proceeded to indicate a point in the sky. An irritated Agrath followed the line formed by the slim arm.
“What ails you? I see nothing.”
“There, Overlordship.” The officer pointed again. “To the left and below the curve of the moon.”
“I see a bright star.” His anger was growing. “You called us out here for that? As the sun rises it will soon be gone.”
“Watch the star, noble Agrath. It’s not fading with the rising sun. It is getting bigger.”
“Don’t be a
noukin
! Stars do not—”
noukin
! Stars do not—”
The female noble stepped forward, her head tilted back, her narrow, slanted gaze inclined upward. “Behgron is right. Look at it!”
Not only was the glowing spot in the sky growing steadily larger even as they stared in its direction, but a small streak of light had begun to appear in its wake, like the feathery tail of the splendid white macaw.
“The sword!” Taking a step away from Agrath, the other male pointed a shaky finger in the direction of the weapon. Natural physiological constraints aside, it was possible that his eyes did widen slightly.
“Look at the sword.”
“Look at the sword.”
An ethereal blue-black light now bathed the weapon, engulfing it in an unearthly halo. This put forth no heat. In fact, if anything, the startled Agrath found the sword suddenly ice cold to the touch. Dropping it as quickly as if he had found himself clutching a cobra, he retreated backwards, pressing up against a knot of nervous, wide-eyed guards.
As soon as the blade struck the ground it sprang upward. As everyone present watched in awe and amazement, it rose slowly until it was hovering at chest level above the ground. Still interred in the stunning steely effulgence, it adjusted its position slightly until the sharp terminus was pointing directly at the dilating orb overhead.
By now that fierce ghostly globe had swollen to dominate the sky, having grown larger even than the sun. The tail that trailed behind it was a streak of stark incandescence against the cobalt blue of the heavens. Among the assembled Chlengguu, troops and nobles alike, the first traces of panic had begun to surface.
“What is this, southerner?” Droplets of brown sweat had begun to bead on the noble Agrath’s forehead. “I can still see the rim of the moon, so that is not the moon. What is happening?”
Squinting at the sky, Ehomba contemplated the onrushing orb. “I do not know,” he informed his interrogator candidly. “I am only a simple herdsman.” Lowering his gaze deferentially, he turned back to gaze down at the now highly agitated Chlengg. “To know the answer you would have to ask the prating, ignorant whores of the Naumkib.”
The atmosphere was infused with a dull thunder. Unlike ordinary thunder, it did not announce itself and then steal away into the clouds in a series of gradually diminishing echoes. Despite the efforts of their officers to maintain discipline, a number of the guards had broken ranks and were running wildly in several directions. A number of their superiors looked as if they wanted to follow them.
Overhead, the steady thunder had become a screaming, a piercing shrillness that sounded as if the sky itself was coming apart. Hovering in midair, the sky-metal blade continued to emit the same spectral shine, a deep blue light that was almost black. As he eyed it interestedly, Ehomba found himself wondering how something could glow black.
Alarm was now endemic among the Chlengguu. Not only were the guards panicking in the face of the collapsing firmament, so was the rest of the army. Kicked aside in the mad rush to escape, cook fires latched on to tents. Soon, flames from numerous blazes were licking at the sky as if eager to greet their falling sibling. Soldiers clutched and clawed at one another in mad panic, and their massed screaming nearly rose above that of the descending colossus.
Watching the flawlessly organized bivouac plunge into madness and chaos, Ehomba wondered what the reaction was among the Queppa. Powerless to stop what Agrath had set in motion, he could only hope the thousands of refugees were managing their hysteria better than their tormentors.
“Do something!” A trembling Agrath had finally sunk to the level of his terrorized troops. “Turn it from us, make it go away!”
“Free me,” Ehomba ordered him.
“Yes, yes, immediately!” With his own gold damascened sickle the noble cut the herdsman’s bonds. As he stepped back, his terrified, tapering face was drawn inexorably to the lunatic sky. “Now do something!”
“I will.” As mounting hysteria raged around him, Ehomba calmly walked over, stretched out one hand, and reached through the dark aurora to take hold of the radiant sword. The haft was cold, colder than he had ever felt it, but it seemed to warm a little at his touch. Or it might just have been the air itself, which was growing very warm indeed as the onrushing monolith approached the Earth.
Gripping the sword tightly in his fist, he turned around to face the shaken, fearful Agrath. The noble’s two companions had vanished back into the tent, as though the sheer magnificence of its decoration might somehow impress the fiery plunging immensity and save them from destruction. Putting his left hand below his right, the herdsman drew back the blade and brought it around in a single swift, sweeping arc.
The expression on Agrath’s face did not change even as his head was neatly severed from his shoulders and sent flying toward the entrance to the tent. It bounced a couple of times before coming to rest in the dirt. To their credit, a couple of the guards overcame their panic long enough to draw their weapons and rush toward Ehomba. Pirouetting as nimbly as if he were the lead dancer in a traditional Naumkib ceremony, the herdsman showed them the sword. That was enough. The pair promptly joined their comrades in hysterical flight.
Simna was hopping backwards toward his friend. “Cut me loose, bruther! We’ve got to get out of here.” Lowering the blade, Ehomba swiftly sliced through the swordsman’s restraints. “By Golontai’s gonads, that’s icy!” He rubbed at his emancipated wrists. “How do you hold on to it?”
Ehomba was running back into the tent. “In the winter, the nights in my country can get very cold. A man still has to stand watch over his herd.”
“Cold, is it? Hoy, but you’ve sure given these pinch-faced bastards a chill!” Grinning wolfishly, Simna followed him into the tent.
If not for the naked fear rampant on their faces, the demeanor of the two nobles huddled and trembling beneath one of the carved tables would have been comical. On the opposite side of the tent, the four elder Chlengguu sat with eyes closed, lips moving silently as they recited whatever personal mantras they felt would best prepare them for Death. Nearby, Ahlitah fought futilely against the steel net.
“Lie still!” Ehomba barked as he brought the sword down. Simna looked on respectfully as the blade sliced through segment after segment of the tough metal mesh.
Once his front paws were free, the great black predator was able to push hard enough to snap numerous links and lengths of chain and give the herdsman some help. With Ehomba working his way down to the cat’s hind legs, Ahlitah was soon free. He stretched magnificently, fighting to loosen cramped muscles.
“No time for that!” Simna yelled as he recovered the rest of their weapons from the table. The Chlengguu cowering beneath made no move to stop him. “We’ve got to get away from here. The sky is falling!”
“What is the hairless ape prattling about?” Ahlitah followed the herdsman as they hurried out of the tent.
“You will see,” Ehomba assured the litah. And as soon as they were outside, he did.
The piece of sky was close enough now for the scrambling travelers to see that only its nucleus was solid. The remainder of the globe was composed of gases and vapors that were boiling off its surface and streaming back behind to form the now immense but nebulous tail. Actually, the solid portion of the sphere was not very large at all. They did not have time to ascertain exactly how big it might be because it was very near and coming toward them very fast.
It shrieked over their heads, passing just behind them, and hit with a sound like a million banshees all sobbing at once.
“Get down!” Even as he was shouting the warning to his friends, Ehomba was diving into a cramped irrigation ditch. Simna and even Ahlitah imitated his headlong leap without question. He felt the overheated mass of the big cat slam up against him.
Then the sky erupted. Howling winds tore at his body and clothing but largely shrieked past overhead. Out of one eye he could see tents and Chlengguu caught up by the detonation being scattered like toys in every direction. Many of the invaders were screaming, though they could not be heard over the force of the concussion.
As rapidly as it struck, the great wind passed. Rising tentatively from their providential if muddy refuge, Ehomba looked back the way they had come. All around them was desolation. The Chlengguu bivouac, much of the assembled army itself, its murderous equipment and lodgings, trees and surrounding vegetation, had been blown away or in many instances humbled beyond recognition.
Rising from the ditch, the travelers gathered themselves as they gazed southward. An enormous hole had been blasted in the Wall where the falling piece of sky had struck. Thousands of moaning, whimpering Chlengguu soldiers still clung to the untouched portions of the Wall that stretched away unbroken to east and west. The barrier was quivering, trembling slightly from the force and extent of the great wound it had incurred.
Then, to the accompaniment of hundreds of hopeless screams from as many hoarse and hysterical throats, the mortally injured Wall toppled slowly forward and fell, perishing with a reverberant crash and ensuing upheaval of dust, dirt, and Death. Dozens upon dozens of gigantic, gleaming hooves protruded from its upturned underside, stationary and unmoving. Among the cloud of debris that was raised by its collapse was a cloud. Not a dark cloud, but a cloud of darkness. This quickly dissipated into the sky, the wind whisking it northward. A tight-lipped Ehomba followed it with his eyes until it was lost from view.
As the echo of the Wall’s fall faded, a new sound could be heard: the cries of thousands of displaced Queppa as they gathered themselves to swarm down upon the dazed and demoralized Chlengguu who had survived. Battle quickly became butchery. Ehomba turned away, disinterested in the outcome. As he had tried to tell representatives of both sides, theirs was not his fight. But no one had listened to him.
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