Time's Dark Laughter Part 23

"Ah, Beaute Centauri, I am late, too late." He growled a keening moan.

"You could have done nothing to help, in this carnage, D'Ursu Magna. All creatures lost this battle. They only won who were not here."

"My King, my King," he rattled.

"Go seek him now," urged the Centaur. "We will wait."

The great Bear loped into the city, as if shouldering a great weight.

Ollie, Beauty, David, Ellen, and Michael waited tensely on the pier without speaking, trying to insulate themselves against the gasps and sc.r.a.pings of the near-dead all around. D'Ursu returned an hour later.

"Gone. All gone," he whined.

"Gone to the Heart of the Forest," said Beauty.

"Beaute, my captain," D'Ursu said abjectly, "what shall I do?"

"Come with us on our journey, old Bear. There is nothing for you here-and we can sorely use an animal as n.o.ble as you."

D'Ursu looked around him, but his eyes were barren. Without enthusiasm, he nodded and without comment stepped back in the little plastic ship. The others rapidly followed suit-none wanted to stay on such b.l.o.o.d.y soil longer than necessary-and soon they were off again.

Michael found a northerly current and made good time riding it until evening. He hugged the coast until, just before nightfall, they arrived at the mouth of the Venus River. Docking the boat wasn't easy, but a series of ice caves just south of the delta provided wind and wave protection; so there the travelers secured the vessel.

The four Humans wore Wolf-skin jackets. They all carried dehydrated food, Dragon-tooth flints, dry tinder, knives, Bear-paw shoes, ropes, some of Jasmine's finger-flares, and a compa.s.s. Ollie kept the vial of cells in his belt. Beauty carried a quiver of arrows and his Dragon-rib bow. D'Ursu carried only his grief.

So provisioned, the six climbed up the ice rocks that blistered the sh.o.r.e, and began to walk northeast along the banks of the frozen Venus River, in the direction of the Mosian Firecaves below Mount Venus.

The entire area was then just within the penumbra of the Ice-so that once the journeyers were a little bit inland, away from the warming effects of the ocean, they were beset by cold worse than they had ever imagined.

They made a forced march through a stinging blizzard for hours, then finally rested and slept before dawn, by the light of a single candle, in the belly of a well-used cave near Southmarsh. Ollie and Beauty were having a bad enough time of it; Michael and Ellen looked ready to fold. In all their lives, they had never known cold or snow-or any true, prolonged privation, for that matter. Now their teeth chattered, their lips were thin blue lines, and only their hearts kept the strength of their intention. David was doing somewhat better, seeming almost to draw his animation from Michael's failure to thrive. D'Ursu seemed to have lost his heart; he moved only because the others did, and when they rested, his inertia kept him in place.

It was a long time before any of them realized there was someone else in the cave. Ollie detected it first: as the wind outside subsided a little, the hushed respirations emanated from a dark corner of the shelter. Nearly an hour had pa.s.sed by the time he realized that the pattern of quiet breathing that filled the s.p.a.ce they occupied was the syn- copation not of six creatures but of seven: an invisible seventh party shared the cavern with them.

The three Books were sound asleep. D'Ursu, wide awake, sat staring out the cave mouth. Ollie nudged Beauty, and silently placed his hand behind his ear. Beauty looked around in all directions, sniffing, suddenly alert to the presence of an interloper. After a minute of head-tilting and nostril-flaring, the Centaur pointed to the light-less hollow where the soft inspirations paused before expiring. Ollie nodded; the two of them stood, separated, and approached the dark corner from opposite directions. Beauty readied his bow.

When he was twenty feet away, Ollie lit one of Jasmine's flares and tossed it toward the breathing. The dazzling red glow illuminated the entire back of the cavern, including the secret sharer: a small, white s.h.a.ggy Pony stood shivering in the recess, its giant shadow dancing on the back wall in the smoky light.

Beauty lowered his bow and arrow. "A Pony," he murmured. "What is your name, Pony?"

The diminutive horse remained speechless, breathing quietly, staring straight ahead. Beauty and Ollie walked up to it. Ollie pa.s.sed his hand over the animal's face and petted its head, but it neither blinked nor moved.

"She's blind," whispered Ollie.

"Are you cold?" Beauty asked, and the Pony extended her nose to him, sniffed his hand.

"What's your name, girl?" asked Ollie.

She licked Beauty's hand twice. Her eyes were like cracked quartz, translucent, slightly strabismic. They walked her back to where the Books still slept, and the seven of them huddled together for warmth the remaining hours until dawn.

In the morning when they resumed the trek, the blind Pony joined them. n.o.body asked her to, or asked her not to-she simply came along, following two steps behind Beauty wherever he walked.

They struck out due east at first-no longer adhering to the river bank-toward their destination. The wind stayed low for a while, and the sun bright. There were Tortoise trails that could be followed, and the scattered fir trees gave the company markers to pa.s.s time. On the Plains of Babar-Diin, the weather got much worse.

Long acres of flat gra.s.sland, with nothing to break the wind but an occasional ice-rimed tree, tinkled madly in the blow. The ground was frozen, making every step slippery. And the snow was so thick that they had to check their compa.s.ses every hundred yards to make certain they were still walking east.

Occasionally the blind Pony would pause, break the icy snow with her front hooves, and nibble at the moss that grew on the ground below, then catch up with the others and walk, once more, behind Beauty.

Steadily, over the course of the day, the wind pressed its advantage. Ellen was so cold she began to cry; never had she known such frigid pain. Beauty told her to concentrate on something else-"Think of your footsteps. Focus on a pleasant memory." But she couldn't. She was too cold to think of anything but of how cold she was, how bitterly the freezing air tore her lungs and shook her bones. The wind bellowed the dry snow across the plains in powdery waves a foot deep: it looked like a ghost ocean on a lost planet, light-years from the nearest star. Cold, impossibly cold; impossibly.

And still it grew colder. Trees and shrubs disappeared altogether. Michael was no longer able to feel his arms or his legs. He wondered if this was absolute zero. The ground had become a flat white sheet that extended in all directions, glaring diffusely to the sky, without horizon. The sky itself was so bright that not even the sun was clearly visible. And what could be discerned of the sun looked and felt like dry ice.

Minute pa.s.sed minute slower and slower, as if Time itself were slowly being frozen by the elements. Gradually, even their sluggish thoughts came to an icy halt; but still they continued walking, numb to every sense.

After several hours of this, some of the travelers were approaching an end to their inner reserves. Ollie held his arms wrapped around his body and in his pockets- uncharacteristically defenseless, should he be attacked.

Even so, he kept shivering. The three Books could barely walk, and straggled farther behind with every step. Even Beauty stumbled from time to time, his feet insensate, legs stiff. D'Ursu seemed largely unaffected-moving slowly, one step at a time; relentless, though unusually devoid of energy. Only the blind Pony showed no signs of fatigue; doggedly, she pushed Beauty on from the rear with her stoic plodding.

Night finally came, and with it the storm seemed to diminish somewhat. They slid, more than walked, into a giant circular scree-strewn depression, which further removed them from the raw wind. They lit no fire but crowded together for warmth. It was in this huddle that D'Ursu Magna spoke for the first time.

"Here on these plains Beaute Centauri first saved my life," he rumbled, a deep smile in his voice.

"During the Race War," nodded Beauty.

"There was no Ice then," the Bear continued. "Only these great craters we sit in now, where the Humans exploded their bombs."

"You would think we had done with battle by now," Beauty rasped wearily.

"I have done," whispered D'Ursu, barely audible in the gale.

They slept poorly, and rose at first light, having maintained just enough body heat, cl.u.s.tered together as they were, to feel somewhat rekindled. This small flame was snuffed when they tried to leave, though, for they couldn't climb out of the crater they had camped in; it was covered with ice.

Glistening, new ice, an inch thick, completely blanketed every stone, scrub, and foothold that had pocked the surface of the incline the night before. Every step they took up the slope, they slid back two. There was simply no traction.

Except in one place.

"Here's a spot!" shouted Michael. "Goes straight up, lots of gra.s.s, no ice." He started walking up what seemed to be the only ice-free path out of the crater.

"Wait!" yelled Ollie, stopping Michael where he stood. "This shouldn't be."

Beauty walked over, nodding. "I agree. Something is amiss." The others collected here. Ollie stood on Beauty's back to try to see up over the edge of the rise; but couldn't.

"What's wrong?" asked Ellen. "What is it?"

Beauty shook his head. "I know not. But this is not natural."

"Ready yourselves," said Ollie. "I'll look." With his dagger in his gloved right hand, he began crawling up the gra.s.sy slope on his belly, while the wind howled all around. Michael's teeth began to chatter. Beauty drew an arrow, and laid it on his bow. David reached into his pocket, put on his gla.s.ses.

They watched Ollie inch his way up the ravine, then peer out over the edge when he had gone as high as he dared. After a minute, he ducked down and scrambled back to the bottom. "About a dozen men, dressed in white furs," he panted. "Among them is a cart with a pile of burning coals, and over the coals is a big cauldron, steaming-one of the men is stirring it. The cart is pulled by Caribou. They wait, twenty yards beyond the crater. I could see no weapons . . ."

He paused, for all to consider.

Finally, Beauty spoke. "I like it not."

"Maybe they don't even know we're here," Ellen suggested hopefully. The cold was already settling in her bones again; she wanted to get moving.

"In any case," said Ollie, "we can't stay here."

Beauty spoke with authority. "Ollie and I will go up. The rest of you stay behind, but close. And stay ready."

Knives hi their sleeves, Beauty and Ollie walked straight up the path. When they reached the top, they stopped. One of the men was pointing a nozzle directly at them.

"Come ahead, but come slow," the man said. The nozzle he pointed was at the end of a ten-yard length of hose. The hose was connected to the steaming cauldron that sat atop a large four-wheeled cart. Ten or twelve other men stood around, watching.

"We're friends," called Ollie, forcing a smile.

"You're food this morning, chum," laughed the one holding the hose. "Now come ahead quiet or we'll water you where you stand, just like we did the sides of your little cubbyhole last night." They all had a good laugh at that one. Slowly, Ollie and Beauty began walking to the right and a little forward.

Twenty Caribou were harnessed to the cart. Beauty saw that hitched to the back of the wide-wheeled rig was a sled, piled high with coal, furs . . . and frozen meat.

"No, no, you yummy critters," the man on the hose snickered, "not that way. Over here. Maybe we won't eat ya at all-maybe just hitch ya up to the team here. 'Specially you, there, big boy," he winked at Beauty. This got another big laugh from the group. Beauty and Ollie kept walking to the right, toward the back of the cart. Ollie noticed two men standing poised at a hand pump near the point where the hose entered the cauldron. A third snapped a lid on the big tub. "Hold up, there, I said!" the man with the hose yelled, suddenly angry.

At that, D'Ursu Magna leapt out of the pit like a rampaging giant. He was halfway to the cart by the time the leader swung the hose around and sprayed him full in the chest with a long gush of water. Meanwhile, Beauty and Ollie charged ahead; Michael and Ellen splayed off to the left flank; and the fight was on. Only the blind Pony stayed behind, unmoving at the bottom of the crater.

Ollie jumped on the nearest outlaw, and the two of them rolled clumsily around in the snow. Beauty got off one knife throw, hitting a man in the side, then reared up and trampled another. D'Ursu, drenched with water, had just s.n.a.t.c.hed the hose from the leader's hand when he slipped on the ice. The man was on him in a second, struggling for the hose as it sprayed everyone within range. The Caribou shuffled, nervously pawing the ground.

David, soaking wet, grappled with one of the bandits. Michael and Ellen jointly attacked a group of three men who were trying to hold quiet the lead Caribou. These men turned out not to be armed, though, and the five of them rolled, brawling, at the feet of the animals.

D'Ursu knocked the hose man senseless, and stood up again-but with difficulty, for he was already beginning to freeze. The water saturating his fur was quickly turning white, cracking with each movement, slowing the Bear down. But the same thing was happening to all who had been soaked, too, so that in a few more moments, most of them were lying on the ground, stiff and blue. Of the gang members not frozen, two were wounded, 'and the rest, seeing the tables had rapidly turned, suddenly surrendered.

Beauty and Ollie stood, a.s.sessing the situation; Michael and Ellen quickly joined them. D'Ursu sat, shivering, against the cart, covered head to foot with tiny white icicles. Six scruffy men-two of them wounded-stood huddled by the burning coals in the wagon. Seven more men lay strewn over the ground, still and frosted as ice statues. One of them was David, a knife in his chest, his cracked rimless gla.s.ses frozen to his face.

Beauty pulled the lid off the cauldron and peered inside: water, steaming but not boiling. He reached up and dabbed a finger into it-barely warm, though it felt stinging hot to his frostbitten finger. He looked down at D'Ursu again: the Bear was freezing to death.

"All right, you there," Beauty gruffed sternly to his prisoners. "Put this Bear in that pot."

Ollie and the Books helped. With all of them pushing and pulling, they managed somehow to dump D'Ursu in the steaming, tepid water. It overflowed, almost putting out the coals; but D'Ursu came around almost immediately. He sat up in the water, his great paws on the edge of the tub, looked around, and smiled grimly. "Well, Beaute Centauri, have I saved your life again?" he roared.

"Indeed you have, D'Ursu Magna!" The Centaur smiled with great relief. "And once again on the Plains of Babar-Diin."

"If I were Human, I would call it destiny," the Bear pontificated from his elevated cauldron. "But, thank the Forest, I am not."

"No, but you are in a predicament nonetheless, old Bear. If you leave that pot of warm water, you will surely freeze to death."

D'Ursu considered the problem, but his powers of logic were, sadly, as bad as his memory. Fortunately, he was aware of this. "Then what shall I do, Beaute Centauri?"

"These four who can walk, we will bind their hands and harness them to the lead Caribou, to help pull. These two with wounds, we will tie to the sled, so they can put new coals on the fire. You, D'Ursu Magna, will stay where you are until this bunch pulls you far enough south that you will not freeze. When you are there, you can set them all free, and return to your forest. What say you?"

"The best trick ever!" D'Ursu barked, and began immediately shouting orders to everyone.

In short time, the four able Humans were bound and hitched to the Caribou team; the other two were strapped onto the sled, from which the furs, goods, and meat had first been removed.

"Start stoking!" he finally roared to the men feeding the coals. "And you'd better not try to make Bear soup, either. Away, you lovely Caribou, we're going home! And another thing ..."

And on he shouted, as the long team slowly headed south in the swirling winds, pulling the cart and sled and the great stewing pot full of roiling Bear.

Beauty and the others watched a moment; then gathered their things and headed east. The blind Pony joined them as soon as they started off. In less than a minute, the seven frozen bodies on the ground were lost behind them in the blowing snow.

They walked in silence for an hour before Michael finally stopped them. "I'll die if I go any farther," he yelled into the wind. David's death had taken Michael's last strength-he suddenly felt numb to the very soul.

Beauty chose his words carefully. "Can you make it back yourself?" They all had to shout to be heard.

Ellen interjected. "I'll go with him. We'll make it together . . . unless you need me here?"

Beauty shook his head. "No. Go back. Go, both of you. Wait for us at the boat. If we have not returned in two weeks, go back to camp without us." He paused, looked at the blind Pony, who stood there, waiting patiently, then looked back at the Books. "Take the Pony with you," he went on. "She will give you support."

The Pony tilted her head in question, or in consterna- tion; then unhurriedly turned around and stood facing west. Michael and Ellen stood on either side of the Pony, each grabbing a handful of its long, snowy fur. Then without another word, the three of them started walking away from Olh'e and Beauty, heading west, back for the coast.

Night fell hard and fast. Ollie and Beauty walked with a slow, grudging determination. Up long slopes, around ravines, across plains. Still, they walked. Walked to reach a spot three feet away, and then three feet again. And always with the wind in their faces, the black and wheezing wind.

On and on they plodded, though with every step the wind was stronger, their resistance weaker. The night drew in around them like the Void. Beauty suggested they rest for a time, but neither could find a shelter where they wouldn't freeze; so on they trudged.

Ollie heard it first: a grating sound above-or rather, below-the wail of the wind. A rhythmic sc.r.a.ping that went on many seconds, then stopped, then started again. From the north. Ollie touched Beauty's side and pointed, and they both listened. Beauty strung an arrow.

Particles of ice cut at their faces as they stood there, motionless, heads c.o.c.ked to the north. Suddenly they were aware of a distant rumbling, which grew louder with each pa.s.sing second. And then the rumbling was on them.

By the time they could see it in the darkness, the beast was less than thirty feet away and charging. A great bull Mammoth, white and woolly and raging. Big as an elephant, its trunk shorter, its tusks meaner. The short trunk gave it a rather Boar-like snout, in fact, and this, coupled with a mouth full of teeth, made it an unequaled adversary. In fact, the species had no natural predators. The only force that kept its growth in check was the howling fierceness of these winters, and the scarcity of food. And this creature-now twenty feet away-was clearly starving.

Beauty had time to loose but a single arrow, hitting the Mammoth square in the snout, causing it to squeal in agony, lose its footing, and come crashing down on top of the Centaur's front legs. In the moment it was down, Ollie scrambled up its back, pulling himself up by the lengths of matted, stringy fleece that covered the animal. The beast quickly rose again, and screaming, tossed its head in fury; but Ollie had a firm grip in the Mammoth's fur, high on its back. He quickly took his long knife and plunged it deep into the creature's neck, at the base of the skull-in, and up, trying to pith it.

The beast bucked spasmodically once, tossing Ollie high in the air, then crumpled to the stony ground and lay there without moving as the snow swirled madly.

Five pieces, a still life: Beauty, unconscious, his legs broken horribly; Ollie, stunned, lying upside down against a large boulder; the Mammoth, an arrow in its proboscis and a knife in its neck, still breathing, lying heavily on its side; the wind, churning the snow into drifts beside each figure; and the night.

Beauty woke first. He tried to move, but the pain in his legs was so excruciating that he pa.s.sed out again. The Mammoth woke next. It tried to move, but could not: it was paralyzed from the neck down by Ollie's knife thrust, which had penetrated far enough to break two cervical vertebrae, but not far enough to reach the brain. The beast opened its mouth to roar, but the arrow hurt so much that the creature only whined a bit, then lay still.

Beauty woke again to see that movement, to see the beast wasn't yet dead; and carefully, gingerly turned himself to fit another arrow in his bow, to finish off the Mammoth from where he lay.

Finally, Ollie came around. He slid off the rock he was on, examined himself briefly for damage, and finding none serious, looked up to see Beauty about to shoot the slowly breathing body of the downed behemoth. He ran over to Beauty and knocked the bow down just in time to send the arrow skittering harmlessly over the ice.

"Why-why did you stop me?" Beauty rasped. "The brute is still alive."

"Don't move," Ollie yelled. "We may need him." He stepped cautiously over to the Mammoth from behind, knife in hand, and deftly prodded the creature at key spots-sometimes with no response, sometimes eliciting wild growling and head-jerking-until he had ascertained that the Mammoth was indeed paralyzed.

He came back to examine Beauty's legs. "This looks bad," he said.

Beauty looked carefully at his own legs for the first time: they were like twigs-all angles, all in the wrong places. He looked up at Ollie, and said, "You must leave me now. Take the vial and go."

Ollie studied his old friend's blue lips and crushed legs, then shook his head.