Zarsthor's Bane

9

“Lord Marbon!”

He looked around, his dark head bare, his face once more with the life of intelligence to bring back that aspect of youth. So he was able to understand her summons. Brixia pointed to the wall he assaulted. His efforts there were already being rewarded, for water oozed through between the stones in patches of wet.

“You pull those free without more thought,” the girl observed, “and it will be as taking a stopper from a filled water-skin. A whole flood will rush forth against you.”

Marbon glanced back at the wall, raised his arm to draw across over a face streaked with the sweat summoned by his efforts. Then he studied the dam with narrowed eyes. Now he had the appearance of a man who might be moved by sorcery, but one who could also think for himself in some things and with judgment.

“It is true, Lord,” Dwed jumped down into that same long dry channel to stand beside him. “Break that through and you may be swept away.”

“Perhaps—” there was force in Marbon’s answer. He tapped the spear butt hard against the stones.

By Brixia’s guess there were already more patches of moisture than there had been even seconds ago.

“Lord Marbon—Dwed—get out—!” she cried. “It is beginning to give!”

Hardly knowing what she did, the girl went to her knees, leaned down to catch at Marbon’s arm—since he was the nearer—snatching her spear from him. Then, throwing the weapon behind her, she tightened her hold on the man himself. Dwed moved in on his other side, exerting his strength to urge his lord towards the bank.

For a moment Marbon resisted them both. His attention was all for the wall. Then he shook free of Dwed, pulled himself up beside the kneeling girl.

“Up with you!” Marbon, too, was on his knees, reaching out to catch at Dwed’s mail shirt near the neck. Setting his hold firmly, he jerked the boy towards them both. Together they pulled Dwed out of the channel just in time.

The patches on the stones thickened to trickles of water. Then one, and a second, spouted out as pressured streams to shoot beyond the foot of the dam, dashing on into the channel.

“Away—!” Marbon’s arms swept out, sweeping both Brixia and Dwed with him, back from the lip of the cut. They stumbled, dragged themselves farther off. There was a sound—Brixia, edging around without getting to her feet, saw water fountain up above the banks. The whole dam must have given away suddenly.

Lord Marbon was on his feet, striding back toward the foaming river he had unloosed, Dwed close behind him. Even Uta crouched near the rim of the channel, peering down at the rushing waters.

That flood did not go far, Brixia saw as she joined the rest of the party. The rise in the slope of the valley might well have sent the draining water back towards the lake. Instead the new stream disappeared not far away. Lord Marbon had moved to that point, was looking down at the swirling, foam topped whirl pond.

“Underground,” he murmured—“a river underground.”

However, he spared but little attention to that. Rather he hurried back to the lake itself.

The water poured away in a steady, rushing outflow. Already a pinnacle arose out of the lake. The top of a dome showed, then another.

“An-Yak, the long-hidden—” Lord Marbon’s loud cry of triumph arose above the rushing of the water. “Three and one—we have come to find what has long been lost and vainly sought!”

Still the water drained. Walls rose clear and dripping. Brixia could see that what stood here was unlike any other structure she had ever seen. Those walls now coming into view enclosed spaces for which there was no indication roofs had ever existed. There were two domes at the heart of that maze of walls, between them a slender tower, standing not very tall—perhaps less than the height of a manor watchtower. As the waters fell to disclose more and more, Brixia blinked and rubbed her eyes.

There was something very curious about what Lord Marbon named An-Yak. The sprawling structures were small—they might have been viewing it from a distance so perspective reduced the normal size. She could not explain this strangeness—only she herself felt large—too large—a giant near buildings devised for a much shorter race.

The toad people had been small—and a statue of their kind had guarded the way to An-Yak. Was this some ancient dwelling of theirs—a temple perhaps? Brixia half expected to see one of those warty, tendril haired heads break above the surface of the rapidly dwindling water.

Matching the color of flood itself, the hues of those buildings were both green and blue. Nor were those colors constant in shade. Rather, across the wet surfaces those rippled, light and dark, dark and light.

Wide bands of metal of a deep green encircled the domes. Those were set with what might be gem stones; for, catching the sun’s full light, they flashed with fire. It would seem that long immersion had in no way either eroded or encrusted what had been built here.

The flood dwindled at long last. There was still a cupping of water in the middle of the lake, washing about the foundations of the walls, but no more fed on into the channel.

“An-Yak’s heart—!!” Marbon leaped from the rim of the lake. As he moved purposefully forward water washed about his ankles, then arose half way to his knees.

Brixia cried out. Claws struck her shoulders, pierced her shirt, to catch in her flesh. She put up her hands to grasp Uta, settling the cat into her arms. Dwed was already splashing after his lord and it seemed that Uta urged her to follow, perhaps looking to Brixia to provide a way for the cat to reach the once drowned building dry footed.

Her feeling that the proportions of the building before them (for she had decided that it was indeed joined together to form a single structure) were wrong continued. Its small size seemed to be normal, her own in relation to it, too large and clumsy. Water washed lazily around her feet and—

A small wavelet, set up by the passing of the two ahead, broke against her own legs. In it—Settling Uta more securely in the crook of her left arm, Brixia stooped. She was right! Her fingers closed upon the tight bud which had swept over the lake to reveal what lay under its surface. To hold the enfolded blossom once more was comforting. Under the sun it was tightly shut as if it had never opened. Nor did it feel any more as if it pulsed with some life of its own. Brixia tucked it into her shirt, glad of its cool wetness against her skin.

There appeared to be no gate or other opening to lead through the cluster of walls about the two domes. The three splashed their way completely around the outer edge to discover none such. The road they had seen from the bank came to a dead end against one wall. Those partitions arose in a height slightly above Lord Marbon’s head, well above Dwed’s. Brixia thought she might just be able herself to reach a hand to the top of one while standing on tiptoe.

Marbon was not to be baffled. He had made the complete circlet, now he turned to face the nearest stretch of wall. Reaching, he hooked his hands over the top and pulled himself up. He had not spoken since they had come down into the basin of the lake, nor had he shown any sign of realizing he was not alone.

Though the vacancy in his face had gone, his new expression of deep concentration walled them away as completely, he saw only what lay before him—continued with urgency in every movement.

Up and over he went, to drop from sight.

“Lord—!” Dwed must know the futility of such a call as he voiced it. The boy sprang in turn. His first leap fell short so his crooked fingers only drew lines down the still wet surface of the barrier. Before Brixia came up, he jumped again, and this time caught and held, scrambling to the top by a determined effort.

The girl loosened Uta’s claw grip on her shoulder and held the cat up. Like it or not Uta would have to take to her own feet now, Brixia could not climb one-handed. And it would seem Uta was willing enough to do just that.

She joined cat and boy on the top of the wall. From here the odd architecture of the building was even more clear. The walls enclosed spaces which jutted out from the double domed center like—like the petals of a flower. They tapered somewhat inward, the space each guarded roughly oval, narrower at the dome end. There was nothing within these enclosures save more water, washing higher here since it had been retained by the walls.

Marbon, water waist high about him, had nearly reached the narrowed end of the space into which he had swung. Now Dwed dropped, heading doggedly after his lord. Brixia hesitated.

Curiosity alone, or so she had thought, had brought her this far. Now, as she crouched on the wall top, she was in two minds about continuing. All the old distrust of sorcery and ancient Powers moved in her. Dwed was drawn by his fierce loyalty to his lord—no such tie moved her. While the alien feeling of the place made her more and more uneasy.

Uta ran lightly along the top of the wall. The cat had already caught level with Marbon, now passed him, heading for the double-domes. Brixia shook her head. This venture was none of hers. She remained perched where she was, unwilling to go on, yet somehow also unable to go back.

The water washing about on the section below was dim, murky. Anything might swim below its surface. Marbon and Dwed went with their feet and legs covered, she had no such protection. Go back—

But still Brixia could not bring herself to do that. Rather she arose, to balance carefully on the wall top, following Uta’s example. The wet surface of the stone was slippery and she advanced slowly, having no desire to slide over.

Lord Marbon reached the far end of the walled enclosure and climbed the wall there. She could see him standing before the nearest of the domes. Uta sprang—not for Marbon’s shoulders, but up and out, landing gracefully on the highest point of the dome itself. She leaned over to voice a loud mew as if addressing the man beneath her perch demandingly.

Brixia swayed, fought for her balance. That sound that the cat had made! Her hands flew up to cover her ears. Pain shot through her head like a knife sliding into her flesh. No—!

She could not hear that piercing cry now, she could only feel. While the pain stabs followed near every breath she drew.

There was a mist before her eyes—green-blue. As if the water which had washed here was rising to capture them in a heavy fog of moisture.

“Lord—!”

Dwed’s voice—thin—far away—despairing—

The pain stabs came less hard. Brixia strove to see through the mist—

Uta on the dome—Marbon beneath it—The girl uncovered her ears to rub her eyes. She teetered on the wall but made herself edge forward, one fearful step after another. What had happened? That blast of sound—then pain—

Her sight cleared slowly. She could see the dome. See it—and at its crown a dark spot. Uta was gone. Lord Marbon jumped and reached—leaped again, only to slip back. He was striving to gain the place Uta had stood.

Brixia was dizzy, light headed, a little sick. In order to go on she was forced to seat herself on the wall top, hitch along there. Lord Marbon, with a mighty effort, had somehow reached the top of the dome. Then—he was gone! She saw Dwed now leaping vainly to follow, only to slide back again.

“Lord—Lord—!” his voice rang out, but this time the sound of his voice brought no after pain such as had answered Uta’s cry.

There was no sight of Marbon or the cat. Brixia reached the end of the wall. Dwed stood against the foot of the dome, his chest heaving. He pounded on the surface before him with his fists. Gingerly Brixia arose to stand upright.

Now she could see more plainly that puzzling alteration in the crest of the dome. There was an opening there! But how to reach it—? She called to Dwed—

“Climb up here. There is a door above there.”

He was not long in joining her, still breathing hard from his attempts to scale the dome.

“He’s gone—!” Dwed gasped.

Brixia seated herself again, her legs dangling over, hands braced in a tight hold on either side of her body.

“We can’t get to him now.”

Dwed turned on her fiercely. “Where he went, I will follow!” he said between set teeth.

Let him solve the problem then, Brixia thought. Dwed kicked at her with one foot.

“Move,” he ordered. “If I take a run and then jump—”

The girl shrugged. Let him try such tricks. Why she had come this far and involved herself in such madness, she could not understand. She hitched away along the wall, rounding the slightly curved end to allow Dwed room to maneuver.

The boy backed up. Hands on hips, he stood a long moment to measure by eye the wall, the space beyond, the rise of the dome. Then he sat down and pulled off his boots, thrusting their tops under his belt. Feet bare he retreated farther back on the wall.

Turning, he ran, and Brixia watched him, caught in spite of herself in a hope that he would succeed. He leaped out and beyond, his body slamming against the side of the dome. One of his hands caught in the hold he sought, the edge of the opening.

Scrambling against the dome with feet and other hand, he fought until he was able to hook a second hold. Then he drew himself up and disappeared in turn. Brixia sat alone.

Her gaze centered on the dome. Well, they had done it—let the broken-witted lord and his stubborn fosterling seek whatever they believed might lie there. It was none of hers to hunt. Her hands moved restlessly on her knees.

What was Uta’s part in all this? That the cat had sought the dome first—had cried out in such a way as to be answered by that frightening sound (or had Uta’s cry itself somehow been expanded into that?) Brixia could not deny. But the purpose—?

“Zarsthor’s Bane—” she spoke the words aloud. They sounded curiously deadened and far away. Even the water had ceased to wash about the walls and lay almost frighteningly mirror still. And there was a feeling of—of loneliness!

Brixia had long known loneliness. She had endured, come to accept that state as not only safe but natural. But this was a loneliness beyond—beyond what? Once more she was aware of that clarity of sight, that feeling of being claimed by something outside—beyond—

She shook her head, striving to shake loose the grasp of those half feelings—half thoughts—make them leave her alone. Alone—Brixia gazed up into the arch of the sky. No bird crossed it. This whole valley seemed a deserted, forsaken place. Silence closed about her.

Against her will she gazed once again at the dome—at that opening in the crest which she saw from there only as a shadow against its surface. It—was—none—of—her—desire—She gripped the wall on either side until her fingers were numb with the force she put upon them.

She fought. No—she would not! It—they—nobody could make her do this! She would turn—go back—this was no trap of her seeking.

Trap! Memory stirred.

Traps which had beckoned or compelled and which the flower had broken for her. Could the blossom work again? The girl loosened one hand, her fingers stiff, to search within her clothing, to bring the closed bud into the light.

It seemed even more tightly furled now than she remembered it. The flower was dead—it must be—nothing could live this long after being picked.

Brixia raised her hand until the dried looking bud rested just below the level of her chin. There was still a faint scent clinging to it. Somehow sniffing that gave her a shadow of hope.

She breathed deeply once, again—Then lifted her head to gaze to the dome and that opening. She could do as well as Dwed in reaching that, perhaps better. And she was going to! She was not one alone—she was a part of three—

Stowing the bud away again, Brixia got confidently to her feet. As Dwed had done she retreated along the wall, measured the distance with care—ran—and jumped!

Her hands caught on the edge of the opening as they had upon the wall top. Then she heaved up and over. Down into the dark she plunged as one might dive into a lake. But she did not fall far and she landed somehow with a roll she had not consciously planned.

Around her was no complete dark. Rather there shone a blueish gleam which her eyes quickly adjusted to. The chamber was bare, but facing her was a doorway which led in the direction of where the outer tower must stand. Towards that she headed as soon as she regained her feet.

There was a passage beyond opened into another room. Here she found those who had come before her. And—

Brixia gave a cry and dashed forward.

Uta crouched on a pillar her mouth half opened, for between her jaws she held a small box. The hair along the cat’s spine stood erect, one forepaw was raised in either threat or warning, while her tail lashed in rage.

Knife in hand Marbon circled the cat, while Dwed crept in on the other side, also with a drawn blade. Uta saw the girl. With one of those leaps such as launched her on prey, she cleared Dwed’s shoulder and landed, claws out, against Brixia, ripping the girl’s clothing and scratching the flesh beneath as she fought for a more secure hold.

One arm about the cat, her own knife now in hand, Brixia faced the other two. Their expressions chilled her. In the past Marbon had shown a face without life, then one filled with driving eagerness. What looked out of his eyes now was worse than any toad thing’s malice. For this emotion dwelt within her own kind—or the likeness of her kind. While Dwed’s features had gone slack. He seemed as lacking in consciousness as his lord had earlier been, yet still he moved with cruel purpose. Uta was the quarry for them both.

Brixia backed as Dwed got between her and the door through which she had come. Her shoulders met the wall of the chamber and she slipped along with that at her back even as she had stood at bay before the bird-woman. For some reason they did not rush her. Had they done so they surely could have pulled her down. But, though she was sure they meant to kill her if she did not yield them the cat, they did not yet close in.

The near insane rage in Marbon’s eyes spread to twist his features into a mask of cruel purpose. He took a quick step forward. But the result was as if he had tried to walk through the wall itself. Brixia was startled when the man slammed to a full stop, unable to pass some barrier she could not see. Uta’s head moved against her. The box was still clamped in the cat’s jaws.

But Uta’s attention remained fixed on Marbon.

Dwed lingered before the door, knife in hand, guarding that exit, leaving the active hunt to his lord.

Marbon’s mouth worked, his lips moved. It he spoke Brixia could hear no sound. Only she felt the cat stiffen against her. Into her own head, burst small thrusts of pain, sharp enough to set her gasping, building up strength with every stab. It was as if some spell the man uttered soundlessly was so translated to her torment.

Around the pillar where Uta had crouched curled a gray mist, wreathing up the length of that as a vine might grow. Marbon continued to attempt to reach at Brixia, pressing first this side and then that. The mist about the pillar towered beyond the crest of that aiming towards the roof of the chamber. There it spread out in long wisps—a shadowy tree putting out branches. Those spread evenly, save directly above the girl and there they did not gather. Whatever protection was about her was present there also.

Uta nudged against her demandingly. The box—did Uta want her to take the box? Brixia reached for it—Uta’s head snapped away. What then—?

The cat nosed against the opening of her shirt. Brixia, knife still ready in her hand, pulled open the neck of that. Uta straightway dropped the box within. Now the cat fought against the girl’s hold so ruthlessly Brixia dropped her, blood threading along her scratched hands. A moment after landing on the floor, Uta made another spring—she was back again on her pillar perch.

Marbon wheeled. His attention was still for the cat. His lips moved steadily, Brixia now caught a mutter of words.

“Blood to bind, blood to sow, blood to pay. So is it demanded!”

He reached out his left hand and, with his knife, he scored his own flesh. Without a single wince he waved the wounded hand, flinging a sprinkling of blood drops at the pillar. Dwed walked forward from the door as one walks in a trance.

“Blood to pay—” his lighter, higher voice repeated the words. Now he cut at his hand also and watered the foot of the pillar.

Tendrills of the fog spread out, to fasten on those drops where they had fallen. Brixia could see dark streaks rising from each drop as if the mist drew that into its own substance, fed upon it.

The color of the mist changed. As it darkened it also became more and more opaque. She thought now the illusion was that of stout vines clinging about the pillar, rising to crawl out upon the ceiling. As she raised her eyes, she saw that those were at last moving on over her head, thickening, darkening as they grew. From those stalks above drooped thinner tendrils which swayed, casting back and forth through the air.

She glanced anxiously at Uta, fearing that the cat might have been already netted by the thicker growth about the pillar. But there was a clear space there within which Uta crouched, snarling.

“We are nothing—but the Power lasts forever!” Marbon cried.

“Fate has written,” he continued, “that our kind shall run, has run, beyond all seas. We shall reach earth’s last boundaries and shall end as dust shaken from a traveler’s boot. But ahead in the heavens still lies Power, and those there are the Lords of outer space!”

There were powers and powers, Brixia thought wildly. What gathered here gave off a stench, ever thickening as the evil tree thing took on substance. The same noisome smell she had met with the toad things and the birds filled her nostrils. Her knife fell from her hand. Its too often sharpend blade shattered against the stone floor. But she did not heed those splinters of metal. Rather she groped for the bud dead and brown. When she held that safe within her hand she became only a door, a mouth—a way for another presence to enter her world. It was true, at least she knew what part she had in this—she was a servant and now full service was demanded of her.