For Love and Glory

VI

The thunder shocked Lissa out of sleep. She squirmed from her bag, crawled from the tent, and jumped to her feet. In horror and instant understanding, she knew.

Karl was headed for the gorge. His legs scissored. She ran after him, unable to match that stride. He stopped on the rim, wheeled around, gestured and shrilled at her. The translator lay amidst other gear, but there was no mistaking what he cried. “Go back! This can kill you!”

She recoiled. He turned again to the river. Over the brink he went.

“No, Karl!” she yelled. “You can’t either! Don’t do it! Please!”

He didn’t heed. Nor could he have heard through the roar. She looked, helpless.

Hebo and Dzesi were in their boat. The flood engulfed it. Water swept onto the ground above. Lissa stood fast. It swirled about her feet and drained away. The surge sped on. Behind it, the river level fell, with a hollow sucking sound. She saw the wave damp down too, as it climbed to higher levels. But that mass must pour back here from a narrower channel upstream. The bottom of the canyon went aboil.

The boat bobbed into sight, down again, up again, tossed to and fro. It had capsized. Through the foam she glimpsed Dzesi. The Rikhan must have clung to a thwart, then gotten hold of the rudder. She clasped herself to it, catching breath at every moment her face was in the air.

Where was Torben?

Karl hove into view. His legs kicked, his tail threshed. Crosscurrents raged around him. He battled through them. His head stayed well aloft. Thus he spied Hebo when Lissa did. Torn loose, the man was, somehow, desperately swimming. She could barely make out the distance-dwarfed form amidst the violence. He vanished, drawn down. He emerged, he went back under. No human, however strong, could live.

No human.

Karl reached him, caught him, started for shore. The man kept his wits, didn’t struggle, let his rescuer carry him along. Well, he was a natural survivor, Lissa thought crazily.

They vanished under the canyonside. Karl doubtless left him on the boulders, for in a minute or two the Gargantuan reappeared, bound for Dzesi.

The water and the turmoil were slowly, raggedly dropping. Lissa ran back to the tent and slipped on shoes. Otherwise still in pajamas, she returned and picked her way down the steepness.

She found that Hebo had begun to crawl up. “Thanks,” he gasped when she came to help. By the time they reached the top, Karl was bringing Dzesi ashore.

Hebo collapsed. Lissa slumped beside him and panted. It had been a tough climb.

Hebo struggled to his knees. “Holy Mother of God,” he stammered, “I, I thank you for your mercy. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you—”

Lissa watched, astonished. She dimly recalled the prayer from one or two historical documentaries. Who would have expected anything like this from anybody like him?