The Tritonian Ring and Other Pasudian Tales (25 page)

             
"I can't imagine," said Fual, "but I wish you'd never brought me to these dreadful lands of violence and sorcery. Ah, could I but see the gray towers of Kerys and the silver beaches of Aremoria once again before I die!"

             
The valet wept great tears. Vakar, with a snort of impatience said:

             
"Do you think I revel in sleeping on the ground and dodging death from wild beasts and wilder men? I'd rather settle down in some civilized city to the study of literature and philosophy, but I don't complain at every step. Having put our hands to the plow we must finish the furrow." He paused. "However, in view of Belem's unsavory reputation, you'd better get out my shield."

             
With the bronze buckler slung against his back Vakar felt better, though the sparse inhabitants of this barren land continued to flee from the sight of him.

             
"Why no houses?" he said. "I never heard the Belemians lived in the open like wild beasts."

             
Fual shrugged, but when Vakar began another song the Aremorian pointed and said: "Isn't that a house, sir?"

             
Vakar guided his horse in the direction indicated. The structure was a round hut of stones, roughly clunked with mud, which blended into the stony landscape. It had once possessed a roof of wood and thatch, but this had been burned off.

             
Vakar dismounted and kicked a skull that lay near the threshold of the hut, saying: "That was a child. There must have been war hereabouts. Since we can't get to Niowat tonight, this place will do."

             
As Fual set up the cooking-pot he said: "We haven't seen any of Awoqqas's headless servants, my lord. Let's hope we never do." He struck sparks from his flint and pyrites to start the fire. "Material dangers we've surmounted, but this is the home of the blackest magic in the world."

             
All was peaceful as they ate their frugal meal, watching the long shadows climb up those cliff-faces that were still
ill
uminated. A hyena gave its gruesome laugh somewhere in the hills. Vakar said:

             
"Look at the horses."

             
The four animals were tugging at their tethers, rolling their eyes, and swinging their ears this way and that. Both men peered about and up and down, and Vakar's uneasy gaze caught a movement among the rocks. There was
a
shrill yell and—

             
"Great gods!" yelped Fual. "Look at them!"

             
Scores of men popped into view and rushed down the steep slopes, bounding from rock to rock and screeching. Some wore goat-skins, some were naked, and all were hairy and filthy. They carried clubs, stones, and boomerangs, and as they came closer the stones and throw-sticks began to whizz through the air.

             
"To horse!" cried Vakar, vaulting on to his own animal.

             
A stone clanged against the shield at Vakar's back as Fual scrambled on to
his
own mount with his usual awkwardness. A thump behind Vakar and
a
neigh told him that another missile had struck one of the horses. With
a
quick glance to see that his cavalcade was in order, Vakar set off at
a
canter along the winding track to the south, hoping that his beast would not stumble in the twilight.

             
"Now," said Fual mournfully, "we have lost not only that good meal I was preparing for you, my lord, but also our only cooking-pot."

             
Vakar shrugged. "You can steal another."

             
"Why did they attack us?"

             
"I don't know; maybe they're cannibals. They kept yelling a word like
'Ullimen, ullimen'
which as I remember means 'lords' or 'gent
l
emen.' But if they considered us aristocrats, why should they mob us? This part of the world must be stark mad."

             
Vakar led the way southward until darkness forced them to halt again. They snatched a cold meal and an uneasy
sleep, watching alternately as usual, and took off before dawn.

             
The mountains became ever steeper and rockier and grimmer-looking. The morning was we
ll
advanced when they entered a prodigiously long, deep, and narrow defile that wound south and up into the very heart of the Belemian Mountains. They rode on and on, winding between the rough steep skirts of the slopes on either side, the rocks sometimes brushing against their legs, the hoof-falls echoing loudly. After a long ride they pulled up for a breather.

             
"This seems to go on forev—
What's
that?" said Vakar, whose ears had picked up the echo of the sound of many men moving. "Are some more of our unwashed friends coming to greet us?"

             
He set his horse in motion at a walk, peering ahead. The sounds grew louder. After an interminable time the source of the sounds came in sight, and both Vakar and Fual gave an involuntary cry of astonishment and horror.

             
The noise came from a group of twenty-odd izzuneg— the headless zombies that served Lord Awoqqas. These were dog-trotting three abreast down the road, carrying copper-headed spears. Behind them a pair of men rode small horses, like sheep-dogs herding their flock. These men shouted and pointed at the travellers, and the izzuneg broke into a run, their spears raised and their single pectoral eyes staring blankly ahead.

-

             
Vakar wheeled his horse and started back down the defile. As he turned he saw that Fual had already done so, and was going at a reckless gallop, though the little Aremorian was usually afraid of anything faster than an easy canter. Vakar could hear the slap of the bare feet of the izzuneg on the trail behind him. A glance back showed that he was gaining on the pursuers, and after a few more bends in the defile they were out of sight. Vakar kept on at an easier pace as Fual called back:

             
"Do they wish to kill us too, sir?"

             
"I know not. How can you judge the expression on a man's face when he has no face? But that charge looked hostile. It seems we are not welcome in Belem."

             
"What shall we do now, sir? Try to find another road to Niowat?"

             
"I'm cursed if I know. If somebody in this accursed land would only stand still long enough to talk to him
...
"

             
They rode on until Vakar began to look for the lower end of the defile. And then—

             
They came around a bend in the road and almost ran headlong into another group of izzuneg with a single mounted man behind them. Again the horseman pointed and shouted, and the headless ones rushed.

             
Vakar and Fual whirled again and galloped up the trail down which they had just come. Behind him Vakar heard Fual's wail:

             
"We're lost! We're caught between two armies!"

             
"Not yet lost," grunted Vakar. "Keep your eye peeled for a place to climb."

             
He remembered Kurtevan's remark that the izzuneg could not look around or up, and the sides of the defile, while steep, were not unscalable. After several minutes of hard riding he sighted a suitable place. With a warning cry
to Fual he thrust down upon his horse's back with his hands and threw himself into a crouch, his feet on the saddle-pad. Then before he could lose his balance he leaped up and to the side:

             
He landed on a ledge six feet above the roadway, skinned a knee, and then went bounding and scrambling up the hillside, sending down a small landslide of rocks and pebbles. Fual panted and clawed after him. Below them the horses trotted a few paces further,
then
stopped to eat the scanty herbage.

             
"Hurry up there," gritted Vakar.
"And no noise!"

             
They clambered on up but had not yet reached the top of the slope when Vakar heard the sound of the approaching enemy. The horses snorted and ran off to southward, but in a few minutes were back again. Vakar said:

             
"Flatten out on this ledge and keep still."

             
The horses snorted and whinnied as the two groups of izzuneg converged. The animals collected in a solid group, rolling their eyes and showing their teeth. The headless ones trotted from either hand and met right below Vakar, milling witlessly and accidentally pricking each other with their pikes. As they brushed against the horses, these lashed out with teeth and hooves. One headless one was hurled flat and lay still.

             
The horsemen shouted back and forth over the neck-stumps of their strange force, carrying on a conversation in which Vakar could sense astonishment and frustration. Finally one of them dismounted, gave his bridle to an izzuni to hold, and pushed through the crowd toward the horses. He reached for the bridle of Vakar's own horse.

             
Watching from his ledge, Vakar felt red rage rise within him. It was bad enough to be attacked and chased by everybody whom one saw in this wretched country; to be stranded afoot and destitute would be worse. And the disparity in numbers would not much matter if he made use of his
altitude
...

             
"Come on," he muttered and rose to his feet. He seized the nearest stone of convenient size and sent it crashing down the slope; then another and another. Fual joined him.

             
The rocks bounded and plowed into the milling mass below. Some struck other rocks and started them too rolling down. Horses screamed; the three men with heads yelled and pointed to where Vakar and Fual, working like demons, were hurling every stone within reach. The bigger stones plunged in among the izzuneg, who did nothing to avoid them, with a sound of snapping spear-shafts and breaking bones. Several of the creatures were down. The man who had tried to take Vakar's horses in tow started to push his way back out of the crowd towards his own horse.

             
Vakar found a precariously perched boulder as tall as himself. He called to Fual, and both put their shoulders against it and heaved. It gave a Utile with a deep grinding sound,
then
rolled down the hill after the others. The ground shook with the vibration of its passage, and as it went it started more stones rolling until the entire hillside below Vakar and Fual came loose with a thunderous roar and slid down upon the enemy. Vakar was reminded of a pailful of gravel being poured upon a disturbed anthill.

             
When the slide stopped, the mass of izzuneg was nearly buried along with the officer who had dismounted. Limbs and spears stuck up here and there among the rocks, and all four of Vakar's horses were more or less buried. At the north end of the slide the izzuni to whom the dead officer had given his reins still stood holding the horse, while at the other end the remaining two mounted men still sat their horses.

             
As Vakar started down the hill, these two leaped off their animals and began climbing up towards him.

             
"Come on, Fual, your sword!" said Vakar, unslinging his buckler.

             
He leaped down upon the first of the two. The man bore a small shield of hide and brandished a copper battle-adze, while his fellow swarmed up behind him with a stone-headed casse-t
ê
te.