Krull. Part 8

The boy glanced away, embarra.s.sed. "I am t.i.tch."

"So you said. Not impressive, but adequate." The boy looked pleased and Ergo beamed at him. He was thoroughly enjoying his favorite role-that of the powerful but benign dispenser of small favors.

Being somewhat less than interested in this wordplay, Torquil had moved off to one side. He'd set his cup on the floor and checked to make certain no one was watching him. Now was the time to check out something that had intrigued him since they'd first entered the seer's cave.

He still was not certain of the composition of the ma.s.sive green object that spun in the air before the seer, but as to the nature of many similar small shapes lining the walls he was more confident. He pried at them with his knife and was gratified to find that they came free of their binding matrix with ease. Ignoring the magic the old men played at he pleasured himself by filling his pockets with the long, vitreous emerald crystals.

Now the seer seemed to be staring intensely at nothingness. The great emerald was a wild blur in the center of the chamber, its outlines no longer distinct, its substance malleable. Sparks shot between the old man's fingers and the rotating ma.s.s. Colwyn watched in awe and thought of small lightning. His vocabulary did not contain the words necessary to describe what he was seeing, but he was certain of one thing: there was great power at work here, ancient power, power of the sort Ynyr had casually alluded to during their journey. Power enough, perhaps, to surprise even the Beast at rest in his Fortress.

An image began to form above the explosively rotating green ma.s.s, changing and contorting as it began to coalesce, gathering strength and outline. Colwyn watched as walls and towers of alien design began to take shape. They had not been designed by human hands, to please human eyes. They were constructed of the maybe-stone that teased the senses.

As the seer leaned toward the emerald blur, it seemed certain that the lightning must consume his hands. Suddenly an inhuman scream of rage erupted from within the green. A black claw emerged from nowhere to shatter emerald and image alike. It followed both into oblivion.

The violence of the confrontation had sent the seer tumbling backward.

Fragments of green-tinged electricity hung for long seconds in the air. Colwyn ignored the sharp fragments of green that had gone flying as he rushed to help the old man.

"Are you hurt?"

"No." The seer reached up and accepted the leverage of Colwyn's arm. His smile was grim. "Am I cut or otherwise injured where I cannot see?"

Colwyn looked him over. "No. By some miracle the splinters missed us all." Ynyr's smile told him that the fact they had not been cut to ribbons had nothing to do with any imagined miracle.

The seer dusted himself off as he spoke. "The Beast does not like curious humans poking into his private affairs. This in itself is a challenge to his mortality and the veil of omnipotence he chooses to wear. I was not quite able to pinpoint the location of the Fortress, I am sorry to say, but at least we have managed to upset his day. That alone was worth the intervention."

"His power is too great for you to overcome?" Ynyr asked.

"Yes. Here." The seer gestured toward the center of the chamber and the remnants of the emerald ma.s.s. "This was but a poor device, incapable of sharp focus over a long distance. There is better, and it reposes in a place where his power cannot reach, where old s.h.i.+elds still function."

"The Emerald Temple," Ynyr murmured, nodding knowingly. "I was told when still young that it had been reduced to the status of a myth."34 "No. It exists still, the best protected relic of our golden age, my friend.

In that place he cannot oppose my vision."

"By going there we risk exposing its location to him."

"I think it worth the risk," the seer replied, "if this young man is truly the one king you speak of."

"He is that," said Ynyr, "and more. We go to rescue his bride-to-be."

"Ah, that would be the Lady Lyssa. Yes, that is worth the risk."

Colwyn listened carefully to this elderly dialogue. There was much hidden meaning here, if only one possessed the wits to unlock the secrets these old men discussed. Alas, real knowledge lay buried beneath a flurry of half-truths and partial revelations.

"Will you travel there with us. then?" Ynyr inquired "It lies deep within the Wyn-nah-Mabrug, the Great Swamp, where the earth itself consumes unlucky travelers. It is a long time since I trod the way."

"Our need is great. You have already acknowledged that it is worth the risk," Colwyn said, pressing for a decision.

"No need to fret, my young king." The seer rose from his seat. "Having agreed with your purpose, I must fit my own feelings to your needs. Of course I will accompany you." He turned. "t.i.tch, prepare my things." The boy nodded and disappeared into a side tunnel. The seer listened to his haste and smiled.

"A quiet boy, an orphan I took in when no others would. He is fleet of foot and mind and has the sense to listen when most his age do naught but chatter incessantly. He has been useful to me. In return, I care for his needs and do my poor best to educate him." He turned away from his guests, murmuring softly.

"Education escapes those who are not of a mind to listen. Such see only what they wish to see."

Torquil nodded dutifully at this wisdom while making certain his recent crystalline acquisitions remained hidden behind his back.

Bare mountainsides and dead woods, cloying fog and valleys aflame, and now this, Colwyn mused as they approached the edge of the Wyn-nah-Mabrug. Surely somewhere on Krull there was a land of soft green hills and clear skies, where the people went about their daily tasks contentedly and tragedy did not mar their every thought. He longed for such a sanctuary even as he knew such restfulness was not for him. Not while Lyssa remained a prisoner and bands of Slayers roamed the land with impunity. Someone had to do something. He had not chosen this path. It had chosen him.

He was more right than he knew.

The seer raised a hand for the party to halt. "We must dismount here, at the edge of the Great Swamp. The ground is too treacherous to support the weight of horses."

Hands helped him down, moved to a.s.sist the somber t.i.tch. As the horses were being tethered, a brooding Kegan walked over to whisper to Torquil.

"We went to a lot of trouble to get those horses. Ten to one they won't be here when we get out of that." He nodded sharply toward the swamp ahead, "If we get out."

"Come now, my friend," Torquil murmured softly, "do you think old Torquil would lead you on a journey without profit? Don't worry about the horses. We can buy more if necessary."

"There has been much talk of driving off the Slayers and of saving the land, of destinies and duties. I agreed to come along with that 'king' because it seemed meet to do so at the time, and because you made the decision. But in my heart I long for a visit to some city where we may again lighten the purses of those fat citizens who would keep our faces in the dirt."

"Those days will come again, my friend, if we lose our promised pardon.

Meanwhile take heart. All is not as bleak as it may appear."

"Is it not?" Kegan let out a derisive snort. "So far all I see are losses and the potential of more."

Torquil slipped a hand into one back pocket and felt of the slim, cool shapes lying there. "Patience, Kegan, patience."

The other thief noted Torquil's tone as well as the movement of his hand.

"Now, what secret would you be toying with there, good Torquil?"

"Not one to reveal here and now," came the reply. He nodded over to where Colwyn was in discussion with the two wise men. "There are eyes here that might frown on a little harmless work." With that he moved away, leaving a frustrat-35 ed but intrigued Kegan to wonder what his chief was talking about.

"Ah, my friends," Torquil said pleasantly as he approached the triumvirate, "how are we to proceed? The day will not wait on us and I'd as soon spend as few nights as possible in such a place."

The seer raised a hand and pointed into the mora.s.s. "The temple lies near the center of the swamp, which comes very near dry land here. The place we seek is marked by three trees that grow as one." He reached out and placed a hand on t.i.tch's shoulders. "Many's the time I've instructed the boy on its location, so it should not be lost should anything happen to me. He knows the way as well as I."

"You ask us to follow the lead of a blind man and a boy," Torquil muttered to Colwyn. "You ask much."

"I promise much. In any case we have no choice, my friend. This is no time for hesitation." He nodded toward the swamp. " 'Tis a wonder that even bog plants can grow in such a place. It smells of death."

"Power and death are cousins," Ynyr offered. "They have much in common."

"Not to me they don't." Torquil found the a.n.a.logy displeasing. "I don't much like your relatives, old man."

"As the gentleman has pointed out," the seer murmured, "we waste the daylight." Steadying himself with t.i.tch he started confidently forward into the swamp. Muck sucked at his boots and leggings but did not drag him down. Colwyn and Ynyr followed while Ergo boldly preceded the disgruntled but resigned thieves.

At least it wasn't raining, Colwyn thought. They were not as miserable as they might have been. He recalled the last time they'd traversed such a place and wondered if similar thoughts had occurred to Torquil. If so, they did not show on the bandit chief's face. Colwyn lengthened his stride until he was walking alongside the boy. t.i.tch watched the ground carefully, leading the seer by the hand.

"Is this the only route?"

t.i.tch nodded. "The only one I was taught, sir."

"There is only the one way," the seer added. "If we deviate from it even slightly, we will find ourselves swallowed by the quicksands that abound here. What troubles you about our path?"

"I dislike traveling any terrain where the air itself gives cover to potential a.s.sailants." He nodded toward the lake off to their left. "Follow the sh.o.r.eline as closely as possible, boy. That way we'll only have to watch one side."

"I will try to do so, sir."

"Awkward country." Colwyn unconsciously fingered the hilt of his sword. "Not even a safe line of retreat. Keep a sharp lookout. If we can penetrate this swamp, so can our enemies."

"The-same thought had already occurred to me. I have already warned the others to be on the alert," said Torquil.

Colwyn clapped him on the back and moved down the line to chat with the rest of his men, rea.s.suring himself even as he rea.s.sured them.

Ergo slipped an errant gooseberry, one of several he had acquired earlier, from one pocket and popped it quickly into his mouth... but not quite quickly enough.

"I smell gooseberries," said t.i.tch excitedly. He hesitated, sniffing the moist air, then glanced wide-eyed at Ergo.

"Ah well, share and share alike. It seems I've found some I'd forgotten, just in time to part with them. Your nose is as big as your eyes, boy."

"The seer says that a man should not be guided by any one sense but should learn to utilize all at his command. He says that in this way we may better master our surroundings."

"Even to including gooseberries, it would seem." Ereo fished through one voluminous pocket, brought out one last handful, and pa.s.sed them to the boy.

"Thank you, magnificence!"

His master has taught him courtesy, Ergo mused. Not to mention the ability to estimate the stature of those around him.

"Don't mention it."

The boy was downing them one at a time, luxuriating over the flavor and texture of each individual berry. "Truly you are a wizard fit to consort with my master. Only one of true ability could conjure up treats like this."

Yes, most courteous and perceptive, Ergo decided as he fumbled through36 another pocket. "Here, boy," he said magnanimously, "have a few more. Now, tell me that about my ability again?"

Torquil kept silent until Colwyn had concluded his inspection and returned to the forefront of the troupe. Then the bandit leader slowed his walk until he fell in next to Kegan. He reached into a pocket, withdrew a small cloth pouch.

"If you want to see the profit of this journey, take a look in this."

Kegan eyed him uncertainly for a moment, then took the pouch. He extracted a handful of rocks. Dull, gray, featureless pebbles. Crystals of sand and mica and feldspar. He stared intently at them, thinking he might be missing something, before returning his gaze to his chief.

"They're worth a fortune," Torquil was whispering, his gaze still on Colwyn.

"And I memorized the location well. Plenty of time after we finish with this business to return and gather up all we can carry. The smallest alone's worth a king's ransom."

"Maybe," replied Kegan dryly, "to someone who's very nearsighted, or heir to a very poor kingdom."

"What? What are you blathering... ?" He gaped at Kegan's open palm. "Where did you get those rocks?"

"From your pouch full of profit."

"That's not possible! I took only the finest-" He broke off as he dug into his other pockets, pulling out handfuls of narrow gray stones. No green light burned in their depths, no promise of the easy life shone from gla.s.sy surfaces. Numb, he let them fall to the ground. The only light they threw back at him came from bits of quartz embedded in the matrix.

Kegan was shaking his head, his voice pitying. "Poor Torquil, once the finest thief on the north continent, now reduced to this. Remind me to steal you some reading gla.s.ses."

Torquil tore his gaze from the place where he'd dropped the worthless rocks and all but snarled at his companion. "I swear to you, they were emeralds. Emeralds the size of a man's hand!"

"The size of a man's dreams, maybe." Kegan strode out in front, still shaking his head.

"Perhaps the wealth was in your heart and not in the stones."

Torquil looked around sharply. "What? Who said that?" He tried to see who'd spoken but could not. The seer was too far ahead for the bandit to notice the old man's faint smile.

The lake on their left seemed as big as the swamp itself, and Colwyn was grateful for the way it s.h.i.+elded their exposed flank. They were able to concentrate ahead and to their right. All save Torquil, that is. He spent his time staring at the ground and muttering to himself, his brow occasionally twisting with the strain of confused thoughts.

Only one member of the party really let his eyes wander: Ergo the Magnificent. After all, it was hardly his place to one were inclined to more culturally elevating pursuits such as inspecting pa.s.sing bushes for their gooseberry content.

Irony has a way of bestowing responsibilities, however, and it was his roving gaze that happened to fix on the supposedly secure left flank, just as clawed, alien shapes began silently rising from the water, dripping green sc.u.m and camouflaging moss. If not for Ergo's wandering eye, the surprise might have been total.

As it was, his fright was strong enough to stifle the first cries of alarm in his throat. It took his vocal cords another precious minute to engage.

"SLAYERS!"

The little procession whirled. Colwyn spotted the emerging a.s.sailants first.

"There, from the lake! Torquil, get the wise men to safety!" Sword drawn and ready, the bandit leader hurried to comply.

"Oswyn, Darro, you heard the king!" The two men rushed to escort the elderly noncombatants out of range while the rest engaged the Slayers.

Even as the seer and Ynyr were being hustled back down the trail, other Slayers were materializing to block any retreat. A single spear transfixed the unfortunate Darro, who never saw his killer. A bolt of energy sped straight at t.i.tch. Moving like the whirlwind he occasionally became, Ergo leaped forward and knocked the boy to the ground. Later he would swear that the bolt cursed as it exploded over their heads.37 The pair of Slayers pressed Oswyn hard as they attempted to reach the seer, but he kept them off until help arrived in the form of Colwyn and Torquil. The Slayers were large and powerful, but slow to react. In combat with men they relied for success on numbers and their strange energy weapons. In close quarters the two were no match for the tough escapees.

No one saw a third Slayer rise slowly from the bog on the opposite side of the trail to aim his spear at Ynvr's back. The blast of energy never reached its intended target. It fell from the hand that had gripped it as a trident of peculiar design pierced the Slayer's neck.

Other Slayers continued to rise from the lake, but with the element of surprise now fled, they were evenly matched against Torquil's band. Men fighting for freedom always fight harder than those fighting as slaves, and now they confirmed Colwyn's decision to enlist them in his cause.

Soon the murky surface of the lake was clean once more and the air smelled of destroyed Slayers. Colwyn walked over to join Torquil, who was cleaning his muddy ax on a legging.

"How many did we lose? I was too busy to see."

"Only Darro."

Colwyn turned to the now quiescent lake. "I'm sorry. I knew him but briefly.

He struck me as a good man unjustly wronged."

"A very good man." Torquil's tone was somber. "Made a pariah and an outlaw for daring to love the daughter of a powerful n.o.bleman."

"Did she love him back?"