Heights of the Depths (3 page)

Is this how desperate you’ve become? Karsen thought. That you would grasp at the flimsiest of possibilities? Karsen Foux, the grand adventurer, embarking on a journey to save his lady love, reduced to praying for intervention and hoping that someone who is clearly in even worse shape than you are might be of some aid. You’ve been stinking of the road and your exertions for some time, but now you’re beginning to stink of desperation as well. And at what point did you suddenly start sounding like your mother?

He approached the boulders, not liking the fact that his hooves were clacking on the ground. It was impossible for him to make any sort of stealthy approach. Nor did he know for sure who or what he was going to be encountering on the other side. He could well be walking straight into some sort of ambush. At that moment, however, he really didn’t care all that much. His concern was so focused upon Jepp and his inability to find her that his own fate was of no relevance to him.

Whoever was on the other side of the rocks must have heard his approach, because the moaning abruptly ceased. When it did, Karsen froze in his tracks. He was unsure of what to do next. The entire concept of it being a trap returned to him once more. On the other hand, it was possible that whoever was there, presuming they were as injured as their pained voice made it sound, had lapsed into unconsciousness.

To hell with it, thought Karsen. He straightened up and boldly strode toward the boulders, no longer caring how much noise his hooves made.

Just before he reached them, an uneven voice came from behind the boulders. It sounded as if was trying to be threatening but didn’t come close to succeeding. “You just…just stay back,” it said with a growl. “Or I’ll kill you.”

Karsen hesitated. There was something about that voice that was extraordinarily familiar. He’d heard it not all that long ago, in fact. That voice, like several small rocks being rubbed together and slowly being crushed—

“Gods almighty,” he said with a gasp. “Eutok?”

“What?” The voice changed, sounding startled. The belligerence had vanished almost immediately. It even sounded a bit afraid, as if the mere mention of the name had robbed him of his power somehow. “That…who…?”

“It is!” Then he grew abruptly cautious. “Throw your axe out where I can see it!”

There was a pause and then the voice came with a great deal less belligerence. “You are an idiot,” it said. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m hardly in a position to hurt anyone.”

There was every reason for Eutok to be lying about it, but Karsen decided to take the chance. He vaulted the remaining distance, his powerful legs propelling him through the air like coiled springs. He landed atop the boulders, prepared to leap back instantly if the situation required it.

He looked down.

“I’ll be damned,” he said.

Looking back up at him was Eutok of the Trulls. “I can only hope, Bottom Feeder.”

The short, barrel-chested, hirsute underground denizen looked as if he had been battered nearly to death. His beard was stained with what Karsen was quite sure was blood, although whether it was his own or someone else’s was impossible to determine. His already squat nose had been broken. One eye was swollen shut, while the other was halfway closed, although his pupil was visible through it, gazing hatefully at Karsen. His swollen lips pulled back in a sneer and several teeth was visibly missing.

“You’ve never looked better, Trull,” Karsen said with excessive cheer.

“Shut up.”

“As you wish,” said Karsen with a shrug, and he turned to leave.

Before he could do so, however, Eutok suddenly growled, “Wait.”

There was no reason for Karsen to obey him, and yet he did. He turned back to the Trull and regarded him with open curiosity. “What am I waiting for?” he said when Eutok did not speak immediately.

“I am…injured.”

“No! Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“This would be a great deal easier,” he said, his breath rattling in his ribcage, “if you could spare me what passes for wit in a Laocoon.”

“Spare you? Your people wanted to kill me and my clan.”

“And then I was the one who got you out of the Underground! My mother and brother would have annihilated you for your trespassing and your theft if it hadn’t been for me!”

“You are rewriting an interesting version of history, Trull,” Karsen said. He wasn’t angry. He was having far too good a time staring down at the helpless creature. “You helped us because you wanted us to slay your mother, the queen, so that you could take over as ruler of the Trulls. A fascinating little plan. The last I saw of you, your brother, Ulurac, was endeavoring to kill you. I see he did not succeed.”

“Not for want of trying.” Eutok tried to sit up but then winced, grabbed his chest and slumped back again.

“How did you get here? In one of your handy underground cars?”

Slowly he managed a nod. Even that action seemed to cause him pain. “Barely. I got away from my brother…barely.”

“And not without cost.” He craned his neck to get a better look. “I believe you’ve lost part of your right ear.”

“It’s not lost. I know exactly where it is. It’s inside Ulurac’s stomach.”

“I doubt that it was your brother’s intention to swallow it.”

“Ah. Well, that makes everything all right then, doesn’t it.”

Karsen put his hands on his hips. “What would you of me, Trull? We have no business ‘tween each other. You aided our escape in the hopes that we would dispose of your mother for you, you power-grabbing wretch. We left you and your cursed brother to your mutual attempts at destruction. You’re lying there in your sweat and blood and stink, and it couldn’t happen to a more deserving individual as far as I’m concerned. Why are you even up here on the surface? Your kind abominates the light.”

“Because if I’d stayed below, they would have found me. Found me and…” His voice caught for a moment and then he simply repeated, “They would have found me.” He paused and then added, “And it would not have gone well for me.”

“An attempted fratricide, matricide and regicide all rolled into one? Hard to believe you wouldn’t have been the most popular Trull in the Underground. You still haven’t told me what you would have of me.”

“Your aid.”

Karsen laughed curtly. “Good luck with that.”

“I’m serious.”

“As am I.”

“It is said that Laocoon have…” He coughed violently for a few moments. It didn’t sound good. Karsen suspected that there might be some fluid in the Trull’s lungs. When he recovered himself enough to speak, Eutok said, “…have a certain talent for the healing arts. Is it true?”

“It can be,” Karsen said judiciously. Unconsciously his hand strayed to the sack he had slung over his shoulder.

“Do you possess this knowledge?”

“What if I do?”

“Thunderation!” bellowed Eutok and then he started coughing again, this time even more violently than before. Karsen felt as if there was no reason for him to be standing around watching Eutok suffer, as enjoyable as the experience might have been. Ultimately he decided there was no reason not to stand around watching Eutok suffer. “Stop giving me vague questions in response to my questions! Can you—?”

“I have some knowledge of it, yes,” said Karsen. It was true; he had some. As was usually the case, he was not quite as proficient in such things as his mother. But he had basic healing knowledge, and an assortment of medicines and powders derived from certain plants were in his bag. However, he had brought them along to tend to whatever wounds he might sustain during travel and, if necessary, in combat. He had no reason or desire to waste his supplies on a Trull. “What of it?”

“You can help me.”

“I can minister to your wounds. Facilitate and expedite the healing process. But why would I want to do that?”

“Because I can help you.”

“Oh really.” Karsen made no effort to hide his skepticism. “First, I assume that you are lying. And second, I don’t need your help.” This time he turned away, determined to waste no more time on an encounter that was accomplishing nothing.

He froze, though, when Eutok said, “You seek the girl, do you not?”

Very slowly, deliberately, he turned back and stared at Eutok with open suspicion. “What do you know of these matters?”

A smile spread across Eutok’s face slowly. It was the single most unpleasant smile Karsen had ever seen on any being, ever. “I have your interest now, do I?”

“I said—”

“I heard you.” He took a deep breath and let it out to steady himself. “I have been here for quite some time. I saw a pack of Travelers go past. The girl was with them. The one that fought like no human I’ve ever seen. Like no person I’ve ever seen. They had her. They went past here. I saw which direction.”

“I lost their scent,” Karsen said. “I thought perhaps a Zeffer had…”

Eutok waved off the notion dismissively. “There was no Zeffer, you idiot. They flew.”

“Flew? Who flew? What are you talking about?”

“The Travelers on their draquons. Draquons can fly.”

“What? Since when?”

“Since always, I would surmise.”

“Then why don’t they fly all the time?”

Eutok shrugged. “I imagine conditions aren’t always optimal.”

“I don’t understand—”

Grunting, Eutok said, “Actually I suppose that ‘glide’ is the more accurate term. They have great flaps of skin between their arms and legs. If a sufficient wind arises, they are able to take to the air and glide distances. How far I could not say. I saw them take off and they were still airborne when they went beyond my sight line.”

Karsen sank into a crouch, amazement on his face. However much he thought he understood the rules and parameters of the world in which he lived, there always seemed to be something new thrown at him. Draquons could fly? Who knew?

And more importantly: Now what?

He looked toward Eutok, sudden hope on his face. “You saw which way they went?”

“I told you, they went beyond my sight line.”

“Yes, but you know what direction that was.”

Eutok managed a nod, even though he grimaced as he did so.

“Which way did they go?”

“And what possible…?” He stopped, braced himself, and then continued, “…what possible reason is there for me to share that information?”

“All right, fine!” said Karsen in exasperation. He hopped off the rocks and landed next to Eutok. Yanking his bag off his shoulder, he began rummaging through the contents. “Just lie still.”

“Ah. And here I thought you were going to require that I get to my feet and dance for your entertainment.”

Karsen didn’t even glance at him. “You are aiding no one, least of all yourself, wasting breath talking to me. If you have something of use to say, by all means, speak out. But if all you desire to do is enjoy the sound of your own voice, then indulge yourself at the risk of your own health. Or, more accurately, what little of your health remains.”

Eutok’s mouth opened but then snapped shut. He glowered at Karsen, who neither noticed nor cared.

Karsen set about pulling out what he hoped was the right combination of leaves and berries to attend to Eutok’s wounds. He pounded the selected leaves into a paste and the berries into a juice. As Eutok lay there, regarding him with hate-filled suspicion and obvious frustration over his helplessness, Karsen spread the paste on Eutok’s more prominent wounds. Air hissed between the Trull’s teeth. “You bastard…”

“The burning sensation is how you know it is working.”

“Then it must be working beyond your wildest dreams. Gods damn it!”

“It will only last for a few minutes.”

“You had best hope so, or—”

“Or what? You’ll breathe heavily on me and fling drops of sweat at me?”

Eutok didn’t respond save to glower once more. As the minutes passed, though, his breathing regularized as the healing properties of Karsen’s ointments began to take their affect.

Karsen, in the meantime, finished preparing the juice, adding a few more ingredients. He wasn’t thrilled about being in such proximity to the Trull. He’d applied the paste with a brush so as to keep some distance, but Eutok was still too weak to lift his hands. Karsen crouched next to him, his nose wrinkling from the Trull’s pronounced body odor, and brought the juice to Eutok’s lips. “You aren’t going to be happy with the taste, I’m warning you right now.”

“I am a Trull. As a rule, we don’t do particularly well with the concept of ‘happiness’ even on our best days, which are never much in abundance.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?”

“You don’t. Now shut up and drink.” Before Eutok could say anything else, Karsen shoved the juice, which was in a small wooden cup, between Eutok’s thick lips. He poured it down Eutok’s throat, and the Trull coughed violently several times but still managed to keep it all down.

“You were not understating it, Laocoon, I’ll give you that much.” He gasped a few times and then said, “Water.”

Karsen stared at him and then said drily, “You could at least make the most minimal effort to be courteous.”

For a moment Eutok looked as if he hadn’t the slightest idea what Karsen was talking about, and then it dawned on him. With a look of derision, he grudgingly said, “May I please have some water? I have a water skin on my belt; I simply haven’t the strength to reach it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Idiot!” he said with a snarl. “When I say I have not the strength to—”

Even as he spoke, his arm moved as if on its own and brushed against the brown water skin that hung from his waist. He looked down in surprise as if the arm wasn’t his but rather someone else’s. “I’ll be damned.”

“One can only hope,” said Karsen.

Eutok ignored the comment, pulled free the water skin and was about to drink from it when Karsen said, “Take only as much as you need to minimally slake your thirst. If you drink too much, you’ll dilute the juice’s healing properties and make the process take longer.”

He expected Eutok to respond with some dismissive or irritated comment, but instead Eutok simply nodded. In fact, he went him one better. He took a small swig, rolled it around in his mouth, and then spat it out. Karsen hated to see water wasted on principle, but had to admit that Eutok’s way was the most sensible.