Villains by Necessity (45 page)

"Here! What's this then?" he asked. Kaylana sat down.

"It is a wreath that Sam made," she explained. The cutpurse looked at the wreath, then at Kaylana, then his face split in a wide leer.

"Oho, he did, did he? Aye, I might have been guessing!

All the gossip in Bistort says how fair skilled he is with his hands." Arcie yelped as a dirt-clod struck him in the middle of the back. Sam was awake, eyes open and glaring. Arcie rubbed his back, still smirking. "Aye, yon's the man as never misses ... heard of that before too! Izzit pretty-pansy fwuppy flowers, Sam? Ouch!" he cried again, as a hail of dirt-clods pelted him. Laughing, he hid behind the Druid, forcing the fuming assassin to hold fire and with a final glare curl up again with his back to the party. Kaylana shook her head in puzzlement.

%%%"It is your watch, Arcie," she informed the Barigan.

"Aye, well enough ... Be seeing ye in the gloaming, then," he said with a grin.

When evening fell, they consumed a quick breakfast and consulted Valerie's notes.

Walk the line twixt Mula's sign, And the path her tears define.

Here fate will take you like a wave The hardest Test of all to brave.

"The blasted riddles be harder than yer Tests," complained Arcie, scratching his head.

"There are few landmarks in this wild land," commented Kaylana. "The gods, in these puzzles, have always referred either to landmarks or historical events."

"So it must be a historical event?" hazarded Sam. "I'm afraid I don't know much history ..."

"Well, that's what the minstrel is for," said Valerie, with an evil smile. "It's about time the four-legged fumble started earning his keep."

"I-I-I," stammered Robin, his mind racing. He hadn't yet had time to report the villains' new location to Mizzamir and was almost afraid to ... the Arch-Mage was probably very upset by all the chaos the evildoers had wrought in his own home. Now it seemed he might have to aid them still further, in order to save his mission and possibly his life.

"That's not a bad idea, Valerie... Robin lad, have you any ballads of Mula's tears or the suchlike?" Arcie looked up at him from where he sat on a hillock. Blackmail sat nearby, his dark brooding presence seeming larger by the dim shadows of night.

"No ..." he said miserably, "I can't think of any really good ones ... religion wasn't one of my main fields of study ..." That at least was true.

"However," Kaylana put in, "we still sit here discussing this within dim sight of civilized land. It would be %%%wise, I feel, to move farther inland, away from those who might pursue us."

"I suppose," agreed Valerie. "If the Test is anywhere on Sei'cks it is probably inland ... or at least not here."

So, the renegades set out, with the objective of putting some distance between them and the potential enemy.

The moon hung high in a wide clear sky, and the prairie was full of sounds.

Above them, clearly visible here with no clouds or city lights to dim or obscure, the stars shone brilliantly. The long veil-like river of stars and shining dust stretched overhead from west to east. The shining band, that Sam and Arcie knew as the Scarf, Valerie would have called Moonblood. Kaylana's ancestors had named it Fors Mor, the Great Waterfall, and Robin's childhood teachings marked it as Selkin's Tail. None of them knew what Ki'kartha believed: the shimmering band was formed from the free-flowing tears of the Goddess of Healing and Fresh Water at the creation of the world, when she wept for the sorrows of pain and wars to come.

What luck or gods could ever have guided the group of five villains and their uneasy spy? What allies might darkness have, in the world so overflowing with light that the stars themselves could fill the sky with a light that rivalled the moon? None, surely ... the ragtag band wandered under the infinite sky, their path heading between the shining avenue of stars and the course of the constellation the Water-Giver, representative of and sacred to the worship of Mula. The people of Sei'cks had landmarks ... they were just placed higher and farther than most.

When dawn finally broke, the company were all footsore and exhausted, and it was all they could do to scramble to the top of a small bluff. The raised ground would make a good vantage point. The horizon was now obscured in a shimmering mist, the last traces of dew-bearing fog settling down onto the plains for the morning. Birds were already caroling in the silver light. Kaylana watched the

%%%lightening sky with unease; surely night should have gone on for a few hours longer?

"Why, why, why did we nay buy horses in Thaulara?" groaned Arcie, as he flopped over onto his back in the short grass.

"We were going to," sighed Sam, sinking down beside him, "but you said not to."

"This, you see," said Kaylana, who did not seem to be affected at all by the long march and was observing Arcie's panting with thin scorn, "this is what comes of the continual consumption of red meat."

"Food!" whimpered Arcie. "Don't be speakin' of food less you intend to serve some straight quick. I'm not half perished and famined!"

The fog had climbed taller as it warmed, obscuring visibility past fifty yards. "Much as I hate to admit it," said Valerie, sitting down on the soft turf, "The short one has a point. Why don't you cook this time, Barigan?"

"Och, if only so can I be fed ... I'll be at finishing me dying first, tho," wheezed the cutpurse.

"Also, that filthy pipe of yours," added Kaylana sternly. "You are a liability to us all if you insist upon weakening yourself with these bad habits."

"Och, lassie, I'm just a Barigan, not a babbit," chuffed Arcie, unable to resist the old joke.

"I don't like the looks of all this mist," Sam said, looking about. Beside him, Blackmail nodded solemnly, his gauntleted hand on the pommel of his sword. "Is this sort of thing normal, Kaylana?"

"Perhaps not a daily occurrence, but well within the range of climactic variations for this ecosystem, I believe," came the calm reply.

"That means yes, fool," snapped Valerie, noticing Arcie's puzzled expression. He shook his head and held up a hand.

"Na, curb tha tongue, vixen."Tis something other I'm hearing... Robin? Can ye hear it, laddie?"

Robin's ears flicked and turned as his eyes widened.

"Hoofbeats? But... wrong ... and ..." %%%Sam suddenly jumped forward, pushing Arcie out of the way and knocking Kaylana to the ground, as a spattering of arrows flew out of the fog and rattled around them. Simultaneously, a disembodied voice, accented as rich and dark as cake, seemed to come from somewhere high in the air, spoke stern words.

"Stay where you are. You are surrounded, and our arrows have missed only by our choice."

The villains froze, staring, as out of the fog great looming shapes appeared. Dark angular shapes, moving with a strange stepping grace, shapes that seemed born of the fog and the green-gold grasses. As they approached, they resolved themselves into beasts; three times as tall as a man at their shoulders, "with long, thin necks stretching yet again as high into the fog. Their legs were strong yet graceful, their bodies not much larger than a warhorse's and sloped to balance the weight. Their heads were like those of the Shadrezarian creature called "camels."

There were six of these Tantelopes, in soft shades of greeny-gold and shadow-brown, rippled and striped with pale white and cream like sunlight on water, and they had riders. To each sloping back was fastened a leather saddle bedecked with tassels and fringe and strings of beads, matching the elaborate pulley system that formed bridle and reins. Reins that lay loose on the knees of six fierce warrior scouts of the plains, strong, noble savages suntanned and muscled by the wild life, bundled in leather and furs and each prominently displaying a string of beads woven round and through hair-braids. The last bead of each string was a round stone of pure turquoise, symbolizing that they were of the truest Clan of the Healing Blue Water, the clan from which, so long ago, the Healer Ki'kartha had ventured out into the world to fight the War in the service to her goddess, Mula.

The apparent leader, a dark-haired man with eaglesharp eyes and a series of red, orange, and blue beads, nudged his Tantelope forward as his companions stood back, powerful longbows drawn and ready. Sam sized up as he approached; he might make an attack, and %%%even succeed, but he knew that before the dead barbarian toppled off his high mount that he and his companions would be shot through. The barbarian stopped and inspected the villains scornfully from the top of his high vantage point.

"You wander into the sacred lands without permission of my Clan," he intoned. "You are fortunate. In years past you would have been put to death instantly. Now, we are a kinder and gentler nation. You shall be taken captive and remain thus until your people make claim for your release."

"Wha ... what people?" Robin asked nervously. The bowmen, never having seen a centaur before, were keeping an especially cautious eye on him. His voice seemed to surprise them; possibly they had thought him to be some unusual beast of burden.

"The folk of Pila'mab will be notified; they shall know who to contact. Only fools or criminals would dare to wander into our sacred lands uninvited. We shall soon learn which you are." The barbarian made some gesture behind him, and one of the other riders gave some complicated signal to his mount.

The great Tantelope began to sink down, its legs slowly folding up in a complex arrangement of joints, until it was kneeling on the grass. The leader's did likewise, and the two men dismounted and approached the silent renegades. The villains did not dare to move; perhaps if they all scattered in opposite directions, one or two of them might escape into the fog; but none wanted to be one of the unlucky four or five. And how long could they hope to elude the pursuit of these skilled plainsmen and their stealthy mounts, who had crept up on them so unseen and unheard? Though they had fought and fled before rather than face capture, here they had no choice-surprised, tired, surrounded, and outnumbered, any villain could see the time for violence was later, and now was the time for plotting.

They remained still and allowed themselves to be briefly checked for weapons; Blackmail's and Robin's %%%swords were taken, as were the more obvious of Sam's daggers and Arcie's morning star. A few attempts to remove Blackmail's helmet were quickly abandoned as futile, despite the knight's lack of resistance. Valerie attempted a last flash of rebellion; a quick spell sent a black explosive bolt towards one of the men, but he knocked the energy away scornfully with a flick of a strange wand he carried, and ordered the sorceress to be gagged as well.

He then approached her, his wand held aloft, and murmured strange chants under his breath. His eyes suddenly widened, and his hand jerked out to grab Valerie's Darkportal pendant. There was an explosive flash, and the two flew apart, landing heavily on the grass. Snarling and flexing his scorched fingers, the shaman looked up to the leader for guidance, who made a dismissive gesture. Apparently, as long as Valerie stayed gagged and bound, he felt she was no threat. The shaman's powerful goodness, channeled through a divine force, made even the touch of the Darkportal anathema to him. Nightshade fluttered about, too concerned for the safety of his mistress to attack those who had her in their power.

Kaylana leaned heavily on her staff and backed away with a limp when the men approached; they thus assumed the staff to be a support, rather than a weapon.

Finally, they bound the villains together, hands tied, with a long rope, leaving their feet free to walk. Kaylana they left unbound, and unhindered; obviously she must be a captive of these criminals, and barely able to march as it was.

And march they did. It was exhausting, after having traveled all night, and now in the growing light and heat of the day. The Tantelopes kept up a quick pace, fast as a man might walk briskly, and the villains stumbled from time to time. Requests for rest and food were ignored; the villains were prisoners, trespassers, and criminals-and criminals were to be punished.

When Valerie and Arcie began to stagger, Blackmail made a hand signal to Robin, in the lead, and the centaur, uncertain, stopped in his tracks at the same time the %%%knight set his feet in and halted. The rope jerked, but held, and reluctantly the barbarians granted them time to sit and rest, and eat a miserable meal of dry rations and stale water. Arcie fell into a deep sleep, and when they awoke him about a half hour later to move on he awoke coughing and complaining bitterly. Yet no rest was further forthcoming, so he squared his small shoulders and trudged on, like a pit-pony so long away from the sun of freedom that it is past caring. When he finally collapsed they stopped long enough to drape him over Robin's withers and secure him, then moved on.

How long or far they traveled was uncertain, but the sun had not dipped far past its zenith, when they stopped at a section of plain not obviously different from any other. Here one of the riders dismounted, the one who had earlier defied Valerie's magic so easily. Among his leathers and beads was a necklace of turquoise and his wand, a twisted, Y-shaped stick decorated with feathers and shells and more turquoise. He held this by the forks and wandered about, chanting to himself, while the other riders watched, occasionally echoing a particularly emphasized phrase in the barbarian language.

Finally the shaman rapped the ground sharply with the stick, and a fountain of clear water burst up from the ground, swiftly flowing and pooling in a small hollow.

The barbarians intoned a last set of phrases and swiftly dismounted, leading their Tantelopes to drink. The animals bent their long necks down, legs spread wide, and lapped at the water, while the exhausted and thirsty villains watched. The pool continued to flow. When the Tantelopes were finished, the barbarians moved in to drink their fill as the flow slowed to a trickle and stopped.

Finally, the villains were shoved forward to drink of the shallow, muddy remains, well-mixed with Tantelope slobber.

Valerie watched the procedure of the water-summoning with interest, despite her exhaustion. "A High Priest of Mula," she grumbled, her gag unbound just long %%%enough to let her drink. "I should have known. Powerful healing magic could easily beat my harming magic in this world ... curse the imbalance!"