Catechist - A Triumph Of Souls Part 22

A disbelieving Simna's expression darkened. "I wouldn't have thought you a coward, Etjole."

The herdsman was not moved. "Or a fool either, I hope." Walking past the swordsman, Ehomba started up a narrow side canyon that led, if not due west, at only a modest inclination northward. Without a word between them, Hunkapa Aub and Ahlitah followed.

With his eyes Simna implored the others as they trooped past. When he found himself contemplating the last of the big cat's tail, he abruptly drew his sword. Waving it over his head and howling a defiant war cry, he spun and charged directly down toward the village and its ponderous, methodical enemy.

"Simna, no!" Ehomba's entreaties were ignored. Gritting his teeth, he started after his friend, hurdling gra.s.s and small rocks with long, lithe strides, holding his spear parallel to the ground beside him.

Exchanging a glance, Hunkapa Aub and the black litah followed-at a sensible and leisurely pace.

Simna had already dashed in behind the giant to take a swipe at his ankles. The blow missed the main tendon but left a significant gash in the side of the left foot. Letting out a howl, the giant turned and brought his enormous hammer around in a sweeping, descending arc that would have smashed every bone in the swordsman's body-if he had remained standing where it was aimed. Quick as a jerboa, he'd darted out of its way. The wind of its pa.s.sing ruffled his hair.

"Hoy, you great towheaded sack of pig p.i.s.s! It's a little different when we fight back, isn't it? Come on, come on!" He proceeded to taunt the giant with gestures as well as words. "Surely you can handle one tiny fella like me!"

Grimacing, the giant brought an enormous foot up and stamped down, only to find that once again Simna ibn Sind had skipped nimbly out of the way. Not by the margin the swordsman had intended, however.

The giant was clumsy, it was true, but he was not as slow as Simna had first supposed. His defiant smirk began to develop a nervous twitch.

Ehomba arrived with sword in hand. He was furious, but not at the giant.

"What do you think you are doing?" he snapped at his imprudently energetic friend.

"Saving what's left of a village for the good of its innocent inhabitants." Panting, Simna stood close to the herdsman. "You pick your n.o.ble causes, I'll pick mine."

"There is nothing n.o.ble in a senseless death." Ehomba noted that the giant was watching them warily, trying to determine the orientation of its next blow.

"I don't plan on dying."

"No one does, but it happens just the same." Taking a deep breath, Ehomba addressed the giant. No matter who, or what, his adversary, he firmly believed in trying reason before the sword. "Greetings, imposing one! Why are you destroying the village Khorixas?"

Red eyebrows dense and tangled as berry thickets drew together. "What 'village' Khorixas? There is no village by that name." Callused and scored, a free hand indicated the ruins among which the oversized speaker was standing. "This miserable blot on the earth is Feo-Nottoa." The hand rose to smack sonorously against the broad chest. "Iam the Berserker Khorixas!" The great hammer started to rise threateningly. "You should know the name of the one who is about to kill you."

"Why kill us?" Ehomba wondered aloud. "Why destroy this simple town?"

The head of the hammer lowered slightly, hovering. "I am a Berserker, and this is what Berserkers do."

White teeth showed unpleasantly. "I am happy to be a Berserker. I like to destroy, and mangle, and exterminate. If I am fortunate, before I expire I will be able to eradicate every town and village in the southern part of the Curridgians." With his free hand he wiped his ma.s.sive brow. "Annihilation, it is hard work."

"Hoy, it stops here!" Sneering, Simna gestured at his tall, laconic companion. "This is Etjole Ehomba of the Naumkib. Master of magic and all the necromantic arts, conjurer supreme, wizard of wizards, defender of the enfeebled and all who are preyed upon by bullies and ruffians!"

"I am not a bully," the Berserker Khorixas countered stiffly. "I am a professional." He squinted down at the two men. "And he doesn't look like much to me."

"Leave now." Simna took a challenging step forward. "Depart, flee, run away, before you are reduced to oblivion or slaughtered where you stand!"

"I'll take my chances," the Berserker Khorixas declared confidently, "but first I will make a paste of your bones to spread upon my bread for tomorrow morning's breakfast."

Simna stood his ground-making certain it was proximate to Ehomba's. As the stern-faced herdsman unsheathed the sky-metal sword and prepared to defend the two of them, the Berserker could be seen fumbling with the head of the majestic mallet. The coa.r.s.e cord that secured the protective leather cover was untied and the tough brown casing removed. Exposed to the clear mountain air, the silver-gray hammerhead gleamed metallically. Extensive crystalline striations caught the sunlight and held it. The swordsman's jaw dropped.

The colossal hammer of the Berserker Khorixas was forged of the same sky metal as Etjole Ehomba's ensorcelled sword. And there was a lot more of it.

Without preamble or warning from its owner, it was promptly brought around in a vast, sweeping arc, its pa.s.sage through the clear mountain air generating a deep, reverberant humming. Simna leaped one way and Ehomba the other. The hammerhead struck the ground between them, ringing all the way to the center of the Earth and setting up subtle vibrations in the lush mudcress fields of Pridon on the opposite side. It was a blow that would have crushed lesser men to a damp pulp-or men less attuned to the behavior of creatures such as giants.

Despite the fact that his heart had sunk somewhere to the vicinity of his ankles at the sight of the unveiled hammer, Simna did not flee. Having precipitated the confrontation, against Ehomba's wishes, he was honor-bound to stay and fight. But not to stand and fight. That way lay rapid demise. Instead, he darted and dodged, making sure first of the location and direction of that deadly maul before dashing in close to strike at the giant's legs with his own sword. His exceptional agility and skill allowed him to deliver several stabs and cuts, but the wounds were shallow and only succeeded in further enraging the already incensed Berserker.

From a nearby slope, the black litah and Hunkapa Aub observed the battle. "Hunkapa not want Etjole to die," the s.h.a.ggy hulk commented mournfully. "Hunkapa go and help!"

"You'll only get in the way." Ahlitah moved to intercept his ineloquent companion. "Leave it to the herdsman. Many's the time I've seen him extract himself from desperate situations." Fiery yellow eyes surveyed the arena of conflict. "He'll do the same here."

"And if he not?" Hunkapa Aub observed the flow of battle dubiously.

"Then he will die, and that prattling monkey with him. And I will try to find my way back to the veldt, and you to your mountains, and the sun will set tonight and rise tomorrow and the world take not the slightest notice of his strivings or ours. That is how it has always been and that is how it will always be."

A muted snarl sent every small rodent within hearing scurrying for their burrows.

"Ehomba will find a way to win, or he will not. If he cannot defeat the giant, it's certain you can't."

"You could help too," Hunkapa Aub pointed out guilelessly.

"I have sworn to support him." The majestic ebony cat hesitated. "But I'd be in the way as well. There is a time to stalk, a time to pounce-and a time to wait. I think this is a time to wait. If you're sensible, you'll do the same."

So Ahlitah and Hunkapa held back and watched. Hammer blow after hammer blow descended, cleaving the air with monstrous streaks of its etched metal head. Each time, its intended targets jumped or twisted out of the way. But avoidance, too, demands effort, and both men were growing tired.

"Do something, Etjole!" Breathing harder and faster than was rea.s.suring, Simna ibn Sind wielded his sword as he yelled to his companion. "Blow him into a mountain, bring down a piece of sky on his head!"

Even as he shouted this advice, the increasingly desperate swordsman knew he was suggesting the impractical. With he and Ehomba forced to dodge as often as they were, any wind the herdsman called up was as likely to blow them off the mountain as it was the giant, while anything falling from the heavens would smash into the ruins of the village with an unearthly indifference to whoever happened to be standing there.

Astoundingly, instead of striking at the Berserker, instead of cutting at his legs and feet and trying to bring him down, Ehomba was doing his utmost to taunt him further.

"Bruther, what are you doing?" Simna was badly confused. "The one thing we don't need to do is make him any madder!"

But the herdsman seemed not to hear his friend as again and again he darted dangerously close to the giant before skipping spryly out of his way.

"Ai,you doddering dolt, you clumsy buffoon! Is this the best you can do? I am smaller, but too quick for you. No wonder you beat up on houses. Buildings cannot run away, or they too would make you look silly and laugh at you!"

Infuriated, the Berserker swung the great hammer in swifter and swifter arcs, until the air howled and shrieked in the grip of the artificial storm created by its wake. Unlike the tiny humans who were tormenting him, he did not tire, but appeared to grow stronger and more determined with each swing.

The hammerhead hummed, whistling through the air like the piece of burning sky Ehomba's sword had called down to annihilate the imperious Chlengguu. Soon it was a terrible silver-gray streak, a blur that obscured everything behind it. Not even a swordsman as skilled as the redoubtable Simna ibn Sind could avoid it forever.

There was nowhere to hide. The stone structures of doomed Feo-Nottoa were as cardboard beneath that irresistible chunk of sky metal. Even a cave, had one been close at hand, would have been an insufficient refuge, for in the hands of the Berserker Khorixas even a mountain could be pounded to rubble.

An exhausted, tiring Simna, lungs heaving and legs aching, was bemoaning his likely fate even as he cursed his rash impetuousness, when Ehomba suddenly darted forward at what appeared to be the absolutely worst possible moment. The swordsman screamed a hoa.r.s.e warning, but his tall friend did not hear. Or he heard, and chose to ignore it. Simna froze as the hammer descended, describing an arc that looked certain to impact the charging herdsman fully.

At the last instant, Ehomba dodged. Not back, away from the falling hammerhead, nor forward as a wrestler might have done in an attempt to slip beneath his adversary's guard, but sideways. As he did so he ducked just enough, brought around his own weapon, and with both hands swung it as hard as he could, forward and up. To Simna's experienced eyes it looked like a futile gesture. The sword was bound to shatter against the much larger, infinitely heavier hammerhead.

It did not. Too fast even for the swordsman to see, the edge of the herdsman's blade struck the backside of the swooping hammer. In so doing it imparted to that tremendous swing all the additional momentum of which its master was capable. Impelled forward and upward by the force of its own rising on the backside of the swing and boosted by Ehomba's unexpected strike, instead of slowing down, the immense hammer continued to rise. Instinctively maintaining his grip, the startled Berserker Khorixas rose with it.

When he realized what was happening he contemplated letting go, even if it meant abandoning forever the incomparable tool. But by the time understanding penetrated that thick, unkempt skull, it was too late.

The hammer had carried him too high. If he released his grip now he would fall long and far enough to break his neck, for even the spines of giants are made of flesh and bone.

So not only was he forced to maintain his grip, but he was compelled to strengthen it with the addition of his free hand. Berserker and hammer together, the one whistling and the other howling imprecations, rose into the cloud-free sky. Ehomba watched until giant and giant's weapon were a blot, then a dot, and finally a speck of indeterminate dust soaring over the southern horizon. Then he took a deep breath and started to shake.

"By Gowerben's footsteps, that's putting the arrogant a.s.sa.s.sin in his place!" A sweaty but elated Simna ibn Sind bounded down from the rock on which he had been standing and rushed to congratulate his companion. "Maybe it's as you say that you're no sorcerer, long bruther, but it's a master of unexpected gifts you are! I only wish that-"

The herdsman whirled on his friend with a fire in his eyes that for the barest, most intangible of instants exceeded that of the black litah. Rising and descending, his closed fist caught the swordsman flush on the side of the face. The report was loud enough to reach Hunkapa Aub and Ahlitah, who with the battle won were descending to rejoin their human companions.

Reflexively, Simna started to bring up his weapon even as he fell backward. Despite his shock, he caught himself halfway through the gesture. He landed hard on his thighs and backside. Not content with having delivered the blow, Ehomba strode forward until he was standing over the fallen swordsman.

Glaring down, he shook a long finger in his friend's face. The hallucinatory blaze that had momentarily flared behind his eyes had vanished, but he was so furious that he trembled as he spoke.

"Never, ever, do anything like that again, Simna! Not in my presence or before my eyes, or I swear by all that the Naumkib respect and honor that I will abandon you to your infantile foolishness and let you perish!"

Stunned, Simna lay on the ground, gaping up at his enraged friend. From the first moment of their relationship there had been disagreements, debates, and disputations. But always words, words. Never blows. The only violence had been verbal. Clenching his teeth, he sprang to his feet, the bloodied sword dangling from his right hand. In an instant he was standing with head tilted slightly back, chest-to-chest with his companion, his unwavering gaze burning into that of the herdsman. Seeing this, Ahlitah growled and prepared to spring forward, but Hunkapa Aub reached down to put a ma.s.sive hand on the big cat's rippling shoulder and restrain him.

The confrontation lasted only a moment, but to the tense pair of onlookers, one feline and the other only part human, it seemed the longest moment imaginable. Then Simna ibn Sind stepped back and, with slow deliberation, returned his reddened blade back to the scabbard on his back.

"You're a brave man, Etjole Ehomba. Brave and bold and maybe, just maybe, even wise. I've seen you do remarkable, astonishing things. But if you think that makes me afraid of you, you're wrong. Simna ibn Sind fears nothing living. Not soldiers, not giants, not even mystic and powerful sorcerers. And certainly not cattle farmers." Reaching up, he touched the place on his cheek where the herdsman's blow had landed. There would be a bruise there.

"I consider myself a fair and reasonable man, bruther. You don't want me to stand up for the evicted and downtrodden? Fine! I hereby relegate all my altruistic impulses to the bottom of my priorities for the duration of our partnership. In return, you'll keep your hands to yourself. I swear, I might allow one such blow to pa.s.s without redress, but I'll never let two."

Ehomba's voice had returned to normal. He looked away. "There is more at stake here, friend Simna, than your precious pride. Remember that I have a family I have not seen in far, far too long anxiously awaiting my return, and a home to go back to. You are burdened by no such responsibilities. You carry your home with you."

"Hoy, and after seeing these past many months how heavily such duties weigh on you, long bruther, I know for a certainty that it was I who made the right choice in deciding how best to contrive a journey through life. Homes!" His tone grew bitter and contemptuous. "They burn down or are pillaged, or storms and Earth-shakings destroy what a man takes years to build. Children die young, and wives grow bored and find excitement in unfaithfulness." He slapped himself on the chest. "I am a free man, Etjole!

The whole world is my home, and everyone I choose to embrace is my family."

Ehomba's gaze was inclined westward, down the canyon that led to a no-longer-so-distant sea men called Aurreal. It stayed focused in that direction-as well as on other things. "The world may be your house, Simna. It is not your home. As for family, I wish you a real one someday." With a casual wave of one hand as he sheathed the apparently undamaged sky-metal sword with the other, he beckoned for his companions to follow. Hunkapa Aub fell into step on his right while the black litah ranged farther afield off to his left.

Simna dropped into his usual place close by the herdsman's side. He was smiling once again, his mercurial nature having returned to the fore, the disagreeable incident of moments ago seemingly completely forgotten.

"Tell me, bruther: What would you have done if the Berserker had let loose of his hammer as soon as it started to fly away with him?"

Ehomba smiled reflectively. It took a little longer than usual for the slight upward curve of his mouth to manifest itself, but he smiled. "Why then, my friend, we would have had to slay him before he could recover from his fall. Beyond that I did not have time to think. What the wise men and women of the Naumkib have given me does not allow me to perform more than one miracle at a time."

Simna scratched at the slightly sore spot on his face where Ehomba had struck him. "For a man who spends his days shooing along sheep and cows, you pack a virtuous punch."

"It is harder to knock down a steer than a man." Ehomba declaimed this without so much as a smile. His attention remained concentrated on the path ahead.

The swordsman chuckled. "I only had a quick glimpse of his face before the Berserker sailed off into the sky. I wish I could be there when he finally comes down!"

Ehomba's tone was preoccupied, his gaze set. He strode rhythmically, easily, over the stony, pebble-strewn ground.Not far now, he told himself. It could not be much farther now. A part of him was aware that Simna had spoken, and was expecting a reply.

"Who said anything about him coming down?"

XXII.

The view from the sun-swept ridge was breathtaking. Below, between the mountains and the sea, a lush plain dotted with small clumps of forest and the occasional gently rising hill ran from north to south as far as the eye could see. Homes and farms filled the land in between, forming neat patterns. Fronting a broad, sand-fringed bay was a denser concentration of streets and structures, of apartment blocks and businesses, warehouses and amphitheaters, schools and parks. Like the mandibles of a beetle, coralstone breakwaters enclosed the outer bay, creating shelter and a safe harbor for dozens of incoming and outgoing ships. Their sails spotted the water like the gulls that shadowed them.

Etjole Ehomba stood with one foot resting on a rock, leaning forward, his right arm resting on his thigh.

From the semitropical plain and sea below, a warm, slightly moistened breeze rose upward into his face, making him blink and ruffling his braids. There were times these past many months, more times than he cared to remember, when he doubted whether he would ever stand in such a spot, inhaling such a view.

Yet there it was, spread out below him, benignly welcoming his arrival.

Ehl-Larimar.

A voice, high-spirited and characteristically confident beyond reason, sounded next to him. "Hoy, long bruther-there it is." As the swordsman contemplated the breathtaking panorama, a flock of opalescent macaws flew past below them, cawing a raucous welcome, their wings glistening in the subdued sunlight as if coated with powdered gems. "Goyvank knows until now I was never really sure it existed."

"Hunkapa like." The largest member of their party grunted approvingly. "Pretty place."

"Too many people." When Ehomba glanced warningly at the big cat, Ahlitah growled irritably. "I know, I know: I can't eat anyone. At least not until after we've recovered this waylaid female."

"We are conspicuous," the herdsman reminded them unnecessarily, thinking out loud, "but this is another large and cosmopolitan city. A seaport as well. With luck our presence will go unremarked upon by the authorities until we have accomplished what we came for. Time is therefore most important."

"Hoy, since when wasn't it?" Simna commented dryly. "Myself, I'd like to take the time to linger and sample the delights a grand city like this surely has on offer, but after we've taken the treasure-and the lady, of course-I know how vital it'll be for us to depart posthaste." He winked at his lanky companion.

"It was clever of you, bruther, to engage two such big and strong a.s.sociates as the carpet and the cat.

Either of them can haul more gold and jewels than the two of us put together."

"I am certain they have that capability." Ehomba's reply was devoid of sarcasm.

"And after we've made our escape, we'll head back through these same mountains." The swordsman was well satisfied with his imagined plan of action. "Outraged as they'll be, the authorities might pursue us for a while, if they manage to pick up our trail, but I've yet to meet the soldier who'd challenge all the country we've recently traversed, even on pain of lashing." He grinned at the herdsman. "Besides, they'll have no sorcerer along to help them deal with hypnotic, swallowing salts and the eager denizens of places like Skawpane."

Ehomba started down the mountain. The last mountain, he knew. "First there are questions we must ask of the natives. We need to find out where this Hymneth makes his home, what sort of defenses he keeps close around him. We need to see if anyone knows of the Visioness and where she is being held."

"And the treasure," Simna reminded him enthusiastically. "Don't forget to ask about the treasure."

Ehl-Larimar was as attractive within as it had been from a distance, with luxuriant, carefully tended parks, clean streets, and a healthy and attractive populace. Yet beneath the overt prosperity and occasional opulence there was an eerie sense of ill-being, as if everyone, rich and poor alike, were suffering from some nonfatal but persistent malady.

As Ehomba had hoped, while their presence was remarked upon, it caused no unusual stir among the locals. Once they succeeded in wending their way down to the harborfront, the travelers found themselves swept up in the usual swirl of commerce and industry, just another clutch of exotics in a sea of hardworking foreigners and industrious visitors. Other than the occasional curious glance, no one paid them the least heed.

Not only did the harborfront provide the anonymity Ehomba sought, it was also among the best places in any large city to obtain information. But whenever they mentioned Hymneth the Possessed, initially cordial locals shied away in quiet terror, and even wayfarers from distant lands found hasty excuses to take themselves elsewhere.

Eventually and by means of persistence (and the quiet, unspoken threat posed by Hunkapa Aub and Ahlitah's presence), they learned the location of their quarry's fortress home, as well as the knowledge that it was rumored he kept within its walls a woman of surpa.s.sing beauty who hailed from a far land.

They now knew where they had to go. It was, as Ehomba put it in his pragmatically understated fashion, now simply a matter of going there.

They found temporary lodging in a waterfront hostel that catered to visitors from the far reaches of the Aurreal, and there they slept and rested all that night and through the following day, until their second night in Ehl-Larimar brought them the darkness they sought.

High, thin clouds obscured much of the light reflected by a quarter moon. The temperate climate of the coast allowed them to move quickly and effortlessly through the city. Once away from the harbor, urban activity began to decline. Those citizens who happened to chance upon the resolute travelers needed only to catch a glimpse of the ma.s.s of Hunkapa Aub, or the glowing yellow eyes of the black litah, to hurry on their way without pausing to ask questions.

Toward the high, somber castle they climbed: not by the winding, stone-paved road that provided access to conventional visitors, but up a hunters' trail that ascended from the city toward a broken peak lying between fortress and sea. This time Ehomba let the big cat lead the way, its sharper-than-human senses alert for signs of patrolling soldiers or armed citizens. Once, Ahlitah left the path between the brush and trees to pounce. His attention had been momentary diverted by an unlucky rabbit. Having never encountered at any time in its short life on the city's outskirts a predator of the size and aspect of the litah, it was too paralyzed with fear to scream. Swallowing his snack in two bites, the unapologetic big cat resumed the ascent.