Norton, Andre - Chapbook 04 (9 page)

And
he had heard of this guide who knew the desert so well and would provide him
with the means of coming.... Ah,
brothern
, rejoice
that I was strong, that though I was what men called dead, I was not, only abiding
deep within another body waiting.

"Did
I not grow the stronger even as the chosen one began to come nearer?
 
Did I not bid him send those fool beasts who
followed him ahead that they might be harvested?
 
Yes, the doing was mine ... and now I shall
be even as he who once wore this body ... Lord of the world ... a world!"

Again
he screeched with laughter, and now he beckoned to
Rentam
"Come here,
Betweener
... look at
Farguel
who is what our voice called from the
swamp!"
 
He gestured to the thing
which drank.

"Once
all you and your kin were as he.
 
That
day shall come again.
 
For it is my will
and desire, and only what I wish shall ever more happen here.
 
Look you ... and die!"

Rentam
had seen men before who came raving from the wasteland.

This
talk of bodies and of kingdoms yet to come ... those were only the dreams of a
broken-headed man.
 
Yet when he watched
the sureness of
Modic's
fingers on the board he had
taken from the dead there was something in the man as well as in this place
which no
Betweener
had

ever
mentioned, which no legend enshrined from other years.
 
Who were those from the past who
Modic
called upon?
 
And this thing which had now lifted its head again from the deep red
flood and stood, its jaws dripping red?
 
The thing which had no life, or never had had, but which moved even as
he watched, teetering a little with its forepaws near into the flood.

Farguel
,
Modic
had named it.
 
There was no such name in
Betweener
clans nor did any of his kin walk upon all fours.
 
That huge head swung a little toward him, the
mouth gaped as if the thing could wish him to it for feasting.

But
there was something wrong with that mouth!
 
Great fore fangs promised death ... in the strange light they changed in
color with waves of blue, green, yellow, red running up and down.
 
Yes, he could see now ... one of these was
missing.
 
Without conscious thought
Rentam
swung up the broken knife he had brought out of the
ruins, comparing that to the dread fangs which the creature wore.
 
It was certainly the truth ... what he had
must be a fang ... but from what jaw had it been taken?
 
This beast?
 
Surely it depended too much on luck for that to be the truth and
Rentam's
kind were suspicious of such a thing as luck.

"
SSaaa
.. ."
 
The
sound was a hissing mighty enough to be from the throat of a king serpent
himself, another traveler's tale the core of which perhaps to be found
here.
 
Rentam
blinked and blinked again.

That
thing was changing form before his eyes.
 
In the desert wind devils could raise whole phantom cities to delude a
traveler.

Yet
never had they called her a
Betweener
.
 
Guides were immune to that troubling of
sight.

The
legs of the thing were being drawn back into its bloated body.
 
It now rested its belly flat.

"No!"
 
Where
Modic
had sat
voicing insane laughter, he now arose in the chair, clasping the board before
him, his fingers thudding home with force on the buttons.

"
Farguel
!"
 
he
screamed at the hunched shape of that thing.

"
Farguel
, down with you to the battle even as we set
together in thoughts of what must be done.

Was
it not I,
Thebar
, who drew you from the swamp to this
city, who delivered to you those who were as the beasts, only food to nourish you?
 
Remember, once you fought before and there
were those who did not run and scream and strive to hide against that which
allowed no hiding.
Farguel
, this two-legged meat
standing here is such a one as those who drove you back, who starved you of
food and drink, who made you what you are ... for I think,
Farguel
,
you are no longer the death hunter you were when we sealed our bargain.
 
Kill this one,
Farguel
,
and prove that you are again great and awesome, so that those sent to bear you down
shall themselves die between your fangs.
 
Kill,
Farguel
!"

Surely
this thing, for all its alteration of shape, was not alive as he sensed
life!
 
Rentam
watched it coil its serpent shape and lift high that head now losing all
resemblance to his own.
 
It opened wide
its mouth and a broken line of fangs was fully bared.
 
Not alive, not alive...
Rentam
held to that thought with all his strength of will.

Yet
he could not judge whether it would answer
Modic's
order or not. His right hand still held in sight the fang, while the fingers of
the other moved, writing on the air an unseen pattern.
 
He had believed that such learning was a
legend mumbled over by the old ones of the clans, and when he had been set to
learning all that finger play he had done so believing it was only a part of
his training.

The
great head halted in its reach across the flood.
 
Rentam
felt a blow
on his shoulder hard enough to numb his arm and near send him sprawling forward
into the stream.
 
Modic's
board of control lay but inches away on the very lip of the pool.

"
Farguel
, strike ... there is no way he can ..."

Modic
was out of the seat, had sunk to his knees as he still held one
arm over the chair and was manifestly trying to draw himself up again.

Rentam
watched the creature closely.
 
Its head stretched even higher, supported by a long neck.
 
The open mouth displayed the loss of a front fang.

"
Farguel
..."
 
Modic's
voice was harsh but faint as if that of the dead.
Rentam
fell back a step as he sensed what was happening to
the Seeker. Life was receding.
 
No, now,
returned again in a wave with a desperate surge.
 
Was
Modic
making a
supreme effort against another force?
 
"
SSaaa
..."
 
hissing from the beast.
 
Then a
singsong of words from
Modic
.
 
Only those words were not in any language
that the guide could understand, drilled though as he was in the three major
languages and numerous dialects of Between and River lands.
 
There was an authority in that chant.
 
Instinctively
Rentam
reached for the knife he did not wear.
 
The Seeker huddled again in the chair, his features strangely bloated as
if he put on another type of mask.

Whatever
he said was addressed, not to
Rentam
, but to the
thing by the stream.
 
Modic
raised his hands jerkily and outspread them again as if the button board still
rested on his knees.
 
Then, seeming to understand
dimly that that was gone, he voiced a wailing cry, such a sound as
Rentam
had never heard before, but the peril of which he
could taste with his flickering tongue.

Modic
did not face the guide but, at that moment,
Rentam's
body throbbed as if that sound reached within him to the very bones, took command
of him, flesh and blood.
 
The head of the
creature begun to swing again.
 
Rentam
, in spite of his struggle to command himself, moved
toward the lip of the pool.
 
Also ... his
feet no longer obeyed his will, instead they carried him forward.

Though
the
Betweeners
no longer owned any god or goddess,
they still believed in a force for good and one for evil.
 
The Speakers had told of old days when
certain strong people, both male and female, reached such heights of control
that they could command even stones to move. Those were of yesteryear and few
believed their like might even have lived.
 
Rather most
Betweeners
said inwardly that such
were but creatures of legends cast into words by early Speakers to give the clans
some fear of the unknown and thus limit their wandering.

"
Essar
,
Roqued
,
Alsa
..."
 
To
drown out
Modic's
call or summons without words
Rentam
roared full
throatedly
those names of great bravery and supreme command.
 
He bent his mind toward the battle with raw
fear, worked for the control of his body.
 
To that purpose he repeated the roll of Sacred Dead in a battle
song.
 
The serpent thing was moving. It drew
back its head, tensed muscles, and then ... Like a journey staff used as a
lance, the head flashed toward
Rentam
.
 
By the thickness of a
bavard
leaf only did it miss seizing upon him.

Modic
shrilled that cry a second time.
 
The sound got inside
Rentam's
head to cause a new kind of pain.

"
Essar
!"
 
he
shouted back, or did he?

Was
it true that he was answered, or merely that the tone and pitch of his voice
cut through the sound spell
Modic
was weaving?
 
Rentam
might never
know.
 
Anymore than he could tell why and
how the warmth in the broken length of colored fang ran up his arm, through
him, banishing

Modic's
influence.
 
Out of the far
beginnings of his kind shot a thought that at first was a dim shadow, like a
fear in night time, to set him moving.

"
Alsa
..."
 
he
said to himself.
 
Modic
was being answered by another effort of the serpent creature.
 
Its head launched out a second time across
the stream which divided them.
 
The open
jaws hung poised above him, ready to seize.
 
Rentam
braced himself.

Though
the thing was near enough now that it could breathe upon him, there was no
breath ... but a faint odor he had smelled many time before,
Lacseed
oil such as filled any lamp.

The
jaws closed in as
Rentam
waited.
 
His hand swung up.
 
He thrust the butt end of the rod he had
found into that open hollow in the jaw.
 
It settled there, fastened tightly, now a part of the dreadful set of fangs.

Then
.. . there was a flash of orange and green, followed by streams of light.
 
The
snakey
head
rose high.
 
It twisted.
 
Something shaped like a door broken open in
its side.
 
One of the weighty feet
snapped off.