The River of Dancing Gods (14 page)

Huspeth now showed the only real emotion of the day, hugging Marge and holding her close. "I know thou wilt. Now— go. 'Tis time..

Marge went with the utmost reluctance but knowing her duty. She was supremely confident now, both of herself and Page 67 Chalker, Jack L - The River of the Dancing Gods of her abilities, and ready to prove that she had, at last, found her place. Nothing would ever surprise her again.

But she was not only surprised but almost shocked to find an impassive Poquah waiting atop the hill with the same two horses they'd ridden when coming here.

Poquah did not greet her, but his red eyes looked her over critically for a moment, and then he said, "Ah, yes. A proper heroine indeed. It is well. Come. We must make the castle by dinner..

This time she led him—at a gallop.

CHAPTER 6 BEING A BARBARIAN TAKES PRACTICE No physical art may be achieved by magic, nor magical art by physical means.

—VI, 79, 101 (b) GORODO PROVED TO BE ABOUT NINE FEET TALL AND MUST have weighed five hundred pounds, with lots of hair and absolutely no fat. He also happened to be a bright blue color with dark blue hair and had a nose that looked like a blue grapefruit, not to mention a pair of very nasty-looking fangs that stuck out of both sides of his mouth. He grinned when he first caught sight of Joe, and the effect was less a real grin than the kind of playful look a cat would give a mouse just before pouncing.

Joe, who was just beginning to feel really macho in his new muscles, stopped, stared, and gulped.

"So this is the big, bad barbarian they want to train to be a big-shot hero," Gorodo said sarcastically, looking down at his new charge. "Boy! They really demand miracles of a tired, weak old man..

Joe tried to find the tired, weak old man he was talking about.

"What's your name, boy?" the blue giant asked.

He gulped slightly. "Joe..

"Joe? That's a pretty stupid name for a barbarian. Barbarians 80 THE RIVER OF DANCING GODS should have fancy names, or funny-sounding ones, like Conan or Cormac, things like that. Usually with a 'C' sound to start..

He sighed. "Well, there's nothin' in the Rules about that, I don't think. Not yet, anyway. Still, a name like Joe doesn't exactly inspire fear and respect. We got to get you a second name, one with real command..

"I already have a second name," Joe told him, confidence Page 68 Chalker, Jack L - The River of the Dancing Gods coming back slowly with the reasonableness of the giant's tone.

"In fact, I have lots of names..

"Indeed. Like what?.

"Jose San Pedro Antonio Luis Francisco Joaquin Esteban Martinez de Oro, if you must know," Joe responded a bit glumly.

Gorodo whistled. "How in the Nine Hells do you remember all that? Anyway, that sounds just as ridiculous. I mean something strong, like Joe Thunderer or Joe Stonnhold or something like that. Well, we'll leave that for now. The Master wants us to get a start today, even though there's little left of it. I'd rather just tell you what we're gonna do and let you get one last night's decent sleep..

"Fine with me," Joe agreed. "I'm not exactly a volunteer.

More like a draftee..

Gorodo laughed. "Listen, boy. In the days and weeks to come, I'm gonna put you through a living hell. Bet on it. You're gonna curse me and yell at me and you're gonna hurt something awful. But when I get through with you, ain't nothin' made of solid stuff gonna give you trouble. You're gonna be prepared like nobody's ever been prepared. Know why? Not because I was ordered to, and not because I like it, but I would consider your death a personal insult after all I'm gonna do. Understand.

You're gonna be the best damned barbarian in this whole crazy world because my honor depends on it. Now, go eat decent and get your beauty sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be one busy day..

Joe gladly went and discovered the main dining room almost by accident. The food was good, although the only utensils they seemed to use here were a sharp knife and a wooden spoon.

Few gave him much. of a glance at dinner or after, but some elves in plain livery did tell him where he was to stay within the outer castle. The room turned out to be of bare stone, 81 JACK L. CHALKER furnished with a straw mattress, a single candle, and not much else.

He lay there for some time, feeling more and more depressed and moody. Barbarian hero, he thought sourly. I'm Joe, from South Philly, that's all, lost somewhere in a land of freaks. He thought of his ex-wife and his young son, who now had even less chance of ever knowing his real papa. He thought, too, of that girl who was more of a loser than he was. Marge. He'd known her only a short time, and now she was God knew where. He couldn't even really get a clear picture of her in his mind just now, which bothered him, but, though it was crazy, he missed her. She was his one link with what was real and comfortable.

He was lonely as hell, and it took a long time for him to slip into a fitful doze.

Page 69 Chalker, Jack L - The River of the Dancing Gods The routine didn't vary much. Gorodo got him up at dawn; and he began running—first a mile, increasing as his muscles built up to two, then three. Only then did Gorodo permit a large breakfast, after which Joe was expected to run one more mile just to work it down. Next came weight training, along with general physical exercise to tone up a few muscles.

These extensive workouts hurt a lot, and early one morning he'd protested and refused to do more. That was when Gorodo had exploded, growling and snarling, his veneer of civilization dropping instantly.

Very early in the training, Joe discovered that the blue giant was an expert at beating the living daylights out of one without doing any permanent damage whatsoever. The early choice was pretty simple: it was painful torture to do what Gorodo demanded, but it was even more painful to refuse.

It didn't take long for Joe to get both frustrated with and hateful of the huge blue man, whose only redeeming feature was that he did everything he asked Joe to do. Even that was infuriating, though, since Gorodo showed absolutely no stress, strain, or pain doing what was really awful to Joe.

After a big midday dinner, they would go down to a great stone hall where a number of muscular types, human, nonhuman, semihuman, and a few inhuman, were practicing with one or another weapon. Here instructors in various types of weaponry worked with him, and at least from them he felt he 82 THE RIVER OF DANCING GODS was getting something useful. Broadsword use. Balance. Timing.

Dagger and spear-throwing. Mace and pike. All different, all requiring a special set of skills and a lot of practice. Some were also frustrating in their own right. The broadsword seemed to weigh a ton when he was first introduced to it, and he particularly resented the fact that the instructor was a thin, wiry human a head smaller and a hundred pounds lighter than he— who wielded the sword as if it were made of paper.

But he paid attention, and he did seem to have a natural flair for it.

After a heavy supper, he was back to running and weights once more and, by the time Gorodo gave him his freedom for the night, he was so hurting and so tired he could do nothing but head for bed.

Day after day, almost without a break, this schedule was kept, varying only in that, as he seemed really to get the hang of one weapon, a new one was introduced.

After a few weeks of this, the pain lessened but never really went away, though he found himself able to lift increasingly greater weights and run longer distances. The broadsword, which had seemed so leaden at first, now felt as light as a rapier. His body was becoming hard, lean, and even more tremendously muscular from the regular hard workouts, which never let up.

Still, a month or so into the course, the weaponry was relegated to the evenings, and the afternoons were taken up Page 70 Chalker, Jack L - The River of the Dancing Gods with more practical classes by a variety of humans and creatures.

Weeks were spent on horsemanship, and there were even lectures and problems on warfare with the weaponry at hand, and also a good deal of hand-to-hand combat. How to disable.

How to kill. Where the nerves were, those critical pressure points. There were classes, too, in primitive first aid—what roots and herbs did what, as well as the basics of tourniquets, setting broken bones, and the like. He was acutely aware, thanks to Gorodo's less than subtle methods of persuasion, of the lack of any decent medical care in Husaquahr, and so he paid particular attention to these practical lessons.

As he progressed in skills, particularly with the sword, he was forced into fighting left-handed with it. It was tough going, and for a while Gorodo gnashed and foamed and growled; but JACK L. CHALKER 83 while Joe never quite got as good with the left as with the right, he became at least adequate.

The horsemanship also came very hard; even though he got pretty good at it, he felt he would never be a hundred percent comfortable with any animals. For a man who believed firmly that steaks and milk were created magically at the chain stores, he wasn't as bad as he thought he was.

Time ran on without any real feeling. The weeks stretched to months, and he had no true concept of time or even duration any more. Gorodo was his whole life and his whole world.

The blue giant, for his part, seemed to soften up as things went along, though, not being nearly the hot-tempered beast of those first few weeks. Joe never lost his intense dislike of his tormentor, but he nonetheless developed a grudging respect for what was being done—or at least attempted—by the trainer.

He suspected that Gorodo might be a lot smarter and a lot less bestial than the blue man wanted everybody to believe.

Still, Gorodo pushed him and pushed him and pushed some more. Every time Joe felt he had reached his absolute limit in something, the blue man would literally force him to continue.

Finally, one day, his resentment boiled over so much in Joe that he took a swing at Gorodo—and connected.

The blue giant was surprised, and then was the great manbeast once again—but this time Joe didn't back down.

It was one hell of a fight—furniture smashed all over the place as two bodies, one large and one larger, tumbled and tossed each other about. It lasted the better part of an hour and a half, a total brawl that brought just about everybody within earshot to gawk at them—elves ran through the crowd taking bets at one point—but ultimately Gorodo, winded, bruised, and bleeding from a number of cuts and abrasions, won out by knocking Joe cold.

Joe awoke in his room with a really nasty headache and a lot of sore spots and abrasions, but all his wounds had been well tended. Gorodo, looking pretty beat up, was there as well, and he didn't even look that mean.

"How're you feeling?" the giant asked, and if Joe didn't know better, he'd have sworn there was real concern in the Page 71 Chalker, Jack L - The River of the Dancing Gods trainer's voice.

"Lousy," Joe responded.

"Me, too," Gorodo said, sighing and sinking into a chair 84 THE RIVER OF DANCING GODS JACK L. CHALKER 85 he or somebody had brought in. He gave a low whistle. "That was one hell of a fight you put up. I'm proud of you, boy. I think you just graduated..

There was still a little ringing in Joe's head, and he was sure he hadn't heard what he thought he heard. "Graduated.

But—you won..

The giant laughed. "Yeah. And I always will, too, sonny boy. At least for quite a while. You're good, though, boy.

Real good. Best I ever trained, I'll tell you. Don't get too bigheaded, though, 'cause I said that. As I say, I got one thing you ain't got—and it will be a long time comin'..

"Yeah? What?.

"Experience. I been in a couple of armies. I been a pirate, a raider and sacker, you name it. Fifty years' experience, boy, and I'm still here and still in one piece. It's the one thing I can't give you. But I will say that the more experience you get, the better you'll be. There ain't but a few dozen in Husaquahr could a given me the fight you did. What about you.

You think you're ready for the real thing?.

Joe nodded, even though it hurt. "I think so..

"Good. I been talkin' things over with everybody else training you here, and we're pretty well agreed. When you're good enough to take me on and hold your own, it's exam time..

"Exam time?.

"Yep. The acid test. Look, you get some rest. You need anything, you call out and somebody will be here on the double to get it for you. Next day or two, when we're both back up to snuff, we'll go into town and raise a little hell. Drink. Wench, maybe. Then you'll be ready..

The river town of Terdiera was fairly small—perhaps seven or eight hundred people—but it was civilization itself to Joe after so long in Terindell. The buildings were mostly of straw and mud but were well engineered, and here and there were buildings of stone or brick. The main bazaar was a wooden structure half a block long fronting on a square, with merchants displaying their wares in stalls opening onto the street, and all calling out to every passerby.

"Hoi! Love charms and potions! The strongest of the strong!.

"Hoi! The finest in mystic herbs and spices! More pleasurable than a harem without all the talking!.

Page 72 Chalker, Jack L - The River of the Dancing Gods "Hoi! The finest in jewels imported from far-off dwarf mines in the mountains of Corimere! Mystic jade said to belong once to the dwarf king Zakar himself!.