Norton, Andre - Chapbook 04 (3 page)

"Such
are cursed," he replied shortly.

"The
abodes of demons, eh?"
 
Once again
Modic
showed his teeth in a grin.

"How
know you that it is not the dead themselves who rise to defend what they once
held?
 
What tales do your Speakers tell
of these lands? That they were conquered one by one by a fearsome enemy?
 
If that be so where is that enemy now?
 
No tale of such an invasion has ever been told.
 
Why strike your people at one portion of the
land only?"

"These
be the riddles all share, Seeker," answered
Rentam
.
 
He was on his feet, testing the cord of the
net which held his supplies.

"Legend
says the death rode from the sky on a forked flame and where that touched the
ground there was ruin and nothingness..
 
..

The
dead do not live to fight for what was once theirs.
 
But the breath of the dying clings to the
cities.
 
A man breathes in that which
will shrivel his lungs, and stands against the unseen which will eat the flesh
from his bones.
 
Some times even now a
reckless far rover dies

so."

Modic
fingered his bristled chin with two grimy fingers, staring after
the disappearing men of his party.

"Breath
of death..."
 
he repeated slowly.

"Then
we shall at least prove that right or wrong."
 
From one of his saddle bags he pulled two
cloths, the metallic smell of
leif
about them both.
 
One he tossed to
Rentam
who automatically caught it.
 
He watched
Modic
hang his cap on the saddle horn of his horse, shake
out the material to pull it like a bag over his head.
 
There were holes for eyes, and where the
mouth would be a slit covered by a mesh woven of shining threads.
 
Somewhat clumsily the guide followed the
Seeker's action.

The
heavy odor which appeared to waft from the material was so pungent that he
began to cough and would have taken off the thing if
Modic
had not caught him by the wrist.

"Leave
be,
Betweener
.
 
That which you smell is a mighty spell against all which fills the
air.
 
I paid a full year of
swording
caravans to get those ... and had a heavy argument
into the bargain.
 
There only lives one
in the river land who makes such now.
 
He
works from a very old picture and notes of how it is done .. . and those he
will share with none.
 
Still
Amers
of
Klydul
, wearing one of
these, did ride the streets of
Maksheeff
and returned
alone of his company."

"To
die ten days later screaming that a demon within him gnawed at his heart,"
replied
Rentam
.

"Yes,
we have heard the full of that tale."

"Only
his demon was a potion brewed by his own second wife, that she might set hand
on what he had brought back but would show to no one, saying that it was worth
the war ransom of at least five lords.
 
Also he intended to take it to the Fire of
Venex
for an auction,"
Modic
returned coolly.

"It
was not his travels which killed him ... only his own foolish tongue for he
told wide and far just what he had gained."

The
last of the riders disappeared around an upstanding rock spur, and now
Modic
swung into the saddle and flicked his riding lash at
Rentam
as a sharp-edged order to move.
 
The guide was well able to match the ambling
gait
Modic's
horse approved, it seemed that the
Seeker must

still
be in quest of landmarks.
 
However he and
Rentam
followed the same path as those others.

Yet
their rest had lasted longer than even
Rentam
had
noted.

Now
shadows crept out from the rocks and the chill of the open night, as the baking
sun set, loosing winds which carried cold out of the western unknown.
 
The far mountains were only distant blots
against a graying sky.
 
No guide had ever
struck as far as to climb those.
 
If

ever
a Seeker had gone there he had not returned.
 
Rentam
pulled his cloak tidily about him and
thought of the Seeker again and the tale which threatened all who were with
him.

If
Modic
had even been to
Maksheeff
that was on a dream supplied by a night demon.
 
Rentam
padded on tirelessly and thought of
demons. During his own few years and his strikes into the Dry Country he had
never seen a demon.
 
Nor had anyone in
his village back to the first foray

accounts
of their clan's coming, which
Jawser
the Blind kept
counted in his bundle of remembering knots.
 
Demons were talked of often ... but they were never seen.

Rentam
had come to think that they must be totally invisible.
 
Yet the Speakers who had the freedom of Above
and Below had not reported them either.
 
Thus they indeed might... if they still existed ... be able to shelter
themselves on more than one level of dream seeing.
 
That such would lurk in the dire, broken
cities moldered half away by time was reasonable enough.

He
felt a sickness gathering at the back of his mouth, born of the stuff in which
his mask was steeped.
 
Now he tried to
raise the banding from his throat and spat a glob of greenish phlegm to the
rock beside him.

"Keep
that mask on, you young fool!"
 
Modic's
words were muffled but could be heard.

"See
where we now stand, and you would give the ill which lies in waiting here a
chance to get at you!"

The
rock against which he spat he could see now through the dulling light of late
afternoon, was not virgin stone but rather a tongue of what might be a buried
building, pointed skyward.
 
It was fashioned
of small stones fitted together so that the cracks of their joining were

difficult
to see.
 
On the other side of the road
was a second such hill; the width between certainly measured a space of
entrance which might once have stood as a gate to a road four or five times as
wide as those which were known outside the Dry Land.

Some
of the sand was disturbed here, moved to show under red earth like unto any
field where the keeps had little access to irrigation.

Where
this appeared it was churned and marked by the horsemen who had proceeded them.

Also
they could hear voices from ahead where the piers of stone grew higher and even
turned into a wall which ran true for more than just a stride or two.
 
Modic's
men were
gathered there, all
ahorse
, gazing about them as if
they were not really prepared for this.

Ahead
of them the walls arose abruptly.
 
While
there were cracks in them, they were not tumbled across the road.
 
Those led to taller walls ... to buildings
like unto towers such as
Rentam
had seen in ruin all along
the border, as if erected hastily to help defend against what might come from
the Dry Lands.
 
These were broken here
and there, after no regular pattern, by narrow slits which must have been
intended to give watch sites for defenders.

Here,
too, there was a difference.
 
The sun had
gone far enough down its sky trail now to lengthen shadows greatly.
 
Only these were no honest shadows such as a
man could trust with his eyes.
 
For from
those wall slots leaked a defused blue light, thin, haze like not unlike, save
in color, to that haze which locked trails in the dawn hours.

The
men had stopped where four roads came together and there was an open space
centered by an oval which was curbed waist high, perhaps in order that none
could fall within its circumference.

From
that also curled, in wisps like the lazy curls of a smoking fire, bluish
swirls.

One
of the troopers had looked back to see the two of them.

Now
he gestured to the Seeker.

"Ho,
Modic
."
 
They were not too far away for such a shout to carry, yet this greeting
sounded as if it came from the other side of the sprawl of ruins, muddled and
fuzzy.

"Ho,
Modici
" It was plain to
Rentam
that the Seeker was hesitating before, at last, he urged his sorry horse to
amble on.
 
Had the man actually sent this
motley crew of his ahead to be picked off by any hidden enemy, thus securing
his own entrance?
 
Rentam
saw him raise his hand as if to pull off the odorous hood but he did not
complete that gesture.

Before
they had yet reached the party there shot, from the heart of the ruins, a shaft
of light, rippling color ... first the scarlet of man-blood, then the blue cast
by the walls around.
 
It reached up to the
heavens, as if to provide a guide to a whole army of men even if

they
did not have the keen sight of the
Betweeners
.
 
Having shot heavenwards, it now twisted to
the left, whirled just above the roofs of the still standing buildings, moving
so fast that it wove a great wheel of light.
 
They might be standing again in full sun, save for the colors that
touched them, first blue and then red and then blue again.

Having
once established this circumference the haze descended again by sharp jerks
until it engulfed the upper floors of the buildings and yet continued to
descend.

Modic
swung from his horse, grabbing hastily at his saddle bags and a
coil of rope around the horn.
 
The horse
had lost its early lethargy. It tossed its head as
Modic
left the reins hanging and retreated before the next circling of the light as
might a man, step by step, keeping its head forward and up, while it whinnied
and snorted and than gave a sharp cry such as
Rentam
had never heard issued from any mount before. Though he had not long to observe
it, for
Modic
had caught his cloak-muffled arm in a
grip which dug painfully into his flesh, and his light body was jerked by that
hold into a pile of stone which was still connected to a standing wall on three
sides.
 
Then
Modic
flung himself down, perforce taking the guide with him, so they lay flattened
on a stony pavement.
 
The eye holes of
the mask so shortened
Rentam's
vision that he could
see nothing but a piece of wall, now red, now blue, and yet always bright at
each viewing.

Perhaps
he could not see, but hearing was not denied him.

Horses
screamed.
 
There were other screams,
too.
 
With the sounding of each of those
he could feel the pressure of
Modic's
hand still
lying heavy upon him keeping him down.
 
The Seeker was mouthing words in his own tongue in a steady litany.
 
Rentam
recognized
the name of one of the river land gods.
 
Was
Modic
striving to make magic in a place already
so ridden by the threat of evil?
 
If so
he was the greater fool, magic drew upon magic for feeding power, and somehow
Rentam
believed that
Modic's
spell speaking would only encourage that which was on guard here.