Knight's Dawn (18 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Soldier rode out across the snow with bitter feelings in his heart. It was a winter world outside and a winter world within. He set his face against the freezing wind. So, he had been nothing but a plaything to her! Well, he could be strong, he could withstand rejection and go on. One day she would suffer as he was suffering now he hoped and have her heart broken like a glass bowl. Right at this moment, he hated her. If she had been within swords length, he told himself, he would have no hesitation in running her through with Xanandra. Then he let out a terrible sigh. His heart fell like a heavy stone into some deep, deep well-shaft within him, to which there seemed no bottom. Of course he could not hurt her. Of course he loved her. How could he deny these feelings by trying to coat them with a shell of hate? He knew, deep down, that he would always love her. If youre not going to use that enchanted brigandine, why dont you let me have it, said Spagg. I couldnt care less whether you get killed, but Im a bit more particlar about . . . Soldier flung the parcel at his companion. Here, take it. Its tainted. Spagg caught the bundle, which nearly took him off his saddle with its weight. Cor, you really have got it bad, aint you? Soldier did not reply. He walked his horse on, the sound of the hooves muffled by the thick snow. This was still falling in large, soft flakes, drifting down from some cold heaven no longer visible to the riders. Aloft the sky was a low, hazy slab of marble. Beneath the landscape had been covered by white calico, had hidden its face as if it had something of which to be ashamed. They rode all day, without a break, much to Spaggs disgust. He kept complaining that he was hungry, but Soldier took no notice of him at first. Finally, after many protestations, Soldier shouted at him, Youll eat when youre told you can. All right, all right, I didnt realise I was riding with an emperor. In the evening they stopped at a wood, finding shelter amongst the trees. Soldier made a bivouac for the pair of the them, laid birch twigs over the snow beneath until they were protected from the cold ground. In the meantime Spagg cleared a patch in the meadow opposite the wood, so that the horses could graze on the grass beneath. When that was done he made a fire and put some water on to boil. All the while he was looking around him, nervously, as if he expected an attack. Then he began searching amongst the rotten logs which lay on the greenwood floor, beneath the trees. Whats the matter with you? asked Soldier, with some irritation. Therere no Hannacks in this direction, are there? What are you looking for? Hannacks is everywhere, but Im not worried about them. What then? Drots, answered Spagg. I hate em. Theres a fungus you can rub on your skin, to repel em, but I cant find none. Then none we shall have and the drots will come. And come they did, after the darkness fell, and the fire had died to embers. Soldier swatted the tiny winged creatures with his hands, trying to knock them off his shoulders. He kept hearing crunching sounds, followed by a crackle and hiss from the fire. He looked to where Spagg was fighting his own battle with the parasites. He was disgusted to see that Spagg was snatching the miniature human-shaped creatures from his body and biting off their heads, throwing the f luttering-winged bodies into the glowing logs. The fire grew brilliant as the gossamer wings flared. Spagg spat the heads into the coals too. He seemed to gain great satisfaction from his efforts. Thats repulsive, said Soldier. No more repulsive than blood-suckin, argued his companion with some rationality. You see, theyre not on me no more. Theyre all on you. It was true, Soldier was crawling with the creatures. He grabbed one and held it close to view it. In the light of the flames from the fire he could see a little human face with burning eyes like fiery pinpricks. The creature looked quite charming, just as a fairy should, until it opened its mouth and revealed the triple row of tiny sharp teeth. Soldier threw it away, quickly, and it took to the air, flying back immediately to sink its teeth in his neck. Damn it! cried Soldier. He began biting the heads off the creatures now, realising it was the only way to deter them. Mind they dont bite your tongue, when theyre in your gob, advised Spagg. Youll never get em off. When Soldier had disposed of a dozen of them, the others left. As with the last time Soldier had encountered the small creatures, there were one or two bloated ones which could not fly because they were so distended with blood. Spagg stepped on them and popped them, the blood showering the snow. We must get some of that fungus, said Soldier. We cant have this every time we want to sleep in a woodland. When they were bedded down for the night, Soldier found he was uncomfortably close to the hand-seller, who stank of stale sweat and whose breath was rank. Still, there was nothing else for it, if they were to stay warm. He realised he was going to have to put up with these inconveniences. Arent there any good fairies in Guthrum? asked Soldier, irritably. Are these drots the only ones? Why, no, theres good tins too, but you dont see em very often. Why should you? Theres nothin weve got that they want. Fairies is essentially selfish creatures. They aint interested in anythin thats not to their advantage. A bit like market sellers, eh? Uncalled for, Soldier. Uncalled for. In the middle of the night the darkness was the deepest. Soldier found some comfort in this. He had never been afraid of the dark as some people were. He found its velvety cloak warm and comforting. He was safer in the blackness than he was in the light or twilight, when monsters were abroad. Black was good. Black was not just one colour, it was all the colours of an artists paintbox mixed together. He knew this, having tried it once when he was a child, stirring up red, blue, yellow, green, pink, mauve, brown, purple, to a thick paste. Black. Black had always given good service, was dependable, reliable. Sometime, while he was half-awake, half-asleep, Soldier heard the wolves howling a word. The sound was distorted by the distance and the echoing hills, but somehow he knew they were calling his real name. Sadly, and painfully, their hollow cries mingled with the sound of the wind in the trees, and he could not quite understand what they were saying. In the morning it was Soldier who woke first, the heavy lumpy form of Spagg still snoring into the dawn. Soldier rose, and in his underwear (though wearing his sword) went in search of water. He trod through the snow, his clothed feet getting wetter and wetter. His breath came out as sprigs of steam. Overhead the branches of the trees were heavily-laden with last nights snowfall, ready to drop on his shoulders. Deer tracks were everywhere. He actually saw one, skipping between tree trunks, and wished he had brought a weapon with him. Spagg would not have complained at venison for breakfast. Soldier found a pond deep in a thicket not far from their bivouac. It was beset with dwarf elders standing like crooked old men around the edge of the ice. The ice layer was not especially thick. There were white air pockets in it, along with clusters of twigs and leaves which had fallen from above. Soldier smashed the ice with a broken branch, only to find the water unsuitable to drink. It would do for the horses though. As he broke more of the surface ice with his makeshift club, Soldier thought he saw something at the bottom of the green water beneath. It looked like two gold coins shining. Fascinated, as any man is with finding gold, he began poking about with the branch. It was not long enough, so he found a willow pole and began stirring with that. He thought, still in his underwear and shivering hard, if there were two gold coins, there might be more. What he did not wonder about was the fact that the two coins remained the same distance apart, no matter how he churned up the bottom of that pond. Suddenly, something massive and squamous rose roaring from the depths of the pond. It was a monster which seemed all mouth and teeth. It smashed through the remainder of the ice like a whale crashing through the ice of northern seas. Water streamed from its bulbous form. Weed hung from its cavernous nostrils and from the many rod-like feelers which protruded from its brow. Two great speckled gold eyes shone amidst the warty greyness of its slimy head. There was a stink of primeval mud accompanying its ascent into the world of air and light. Before Soldier could leap out of its reach, the monster had his foot and was dragging him down to the icy depths of the pond. Soldier had managed to take a single breath before he was pulled into the water. The icy coldness of the pond gripped his chest like a giant hand and squeezed that breath from him. With his foot caught in the corner of the monsters mouth he went down, down, down, until the monster reached its cave at the bottom of the pond. Soldier was then swept along this passage. All the while he fought to unsheathe his sword. Finally, when the cave opened up into a cavern, Soldier had his sword in his hand. At his first thrust he managed to plunge the blade between those golden eyes he had first mistaken for coins. These eyes had of course been the bait, to draw unwary travellers closer to the edge of the stagnant waters of the magic pool. The monsters flesh yielded to the sword, but it seemed to have no effect. There did not seem to be a vital organ beneath that fleshy-fat brow. Certainly no heart or liver, but no brain either. It was a spongy mass of cells and nothing more. Soldier might as well have thrust the blade through the creatures tail fin, for all the harm it did. Withdrawing his weapon, Soldier stabbed again, and again, all to no avail. His chest was ready to explode now. There was pain rushing from his lungs to his limbs. In his head there were bright, white, dancing lights, which he knew were the harbingers of unconsciousness. Finally, and mercifully - for the pain had reached an unbearable level he blacked out. Soldier woke just a few minutes later. He was lying on the rocky side of an underground lake. In fact he was still in the cavern at the end of the cave, but this was no watery world. He had been taken to the surface and deposited on the stone shore. There was a dim green light to this place. It shone on the stone walls, on the stalactites and stalagmites. The source of this light was a mystery, for it seemed to throw shadows in every direction. Turning his head, Soldier saw a horrible sight, which chilled him to the very core of his being. The ceiling and walls of the cavern looked like that of a butchers shop, with poles and lines covered in hanging hooks. Dangling from the hooks were joints of meat in various cuts. The more Soldier studied these lumps of meat the more he was convinced they were all from human beings. Indeed there were whole arms and legs, still with the hands and feet attached. Sides of torso hung in slabs, the red raw flesh exposed to the air. There were human entrails swinging from some of the hooks, and on rock shelves around the cavern were hearts, livers, kidneys, and other offal. Worse still, heads were hanging pierced through with a hook by their ears, as if they had once belonged to pigs, the eyes milky and glazed, the tongues lolling long and floppy or snipped at the root. The horrifying part of it all was that most of the body parts he was looking at had once belonged to children. Soldier heard a thump and spun round, to see the ugliest hag he had ever beheld. She was in the act of raising a meat cleaver to chop an arm into small rolling joints. By her side was a large knife and what appeared to be buttocks, from which rashers had been cut and laid neatly in a pile. Thwack, the chopper came down again and a piece of arm flew towards Soldier. The hag turned to watch it and saw that he was awake. With us again, eh? she cackled. Not for long. Soldiers sword lay just a few feet away. He tried to get up but found he was tied hand and foot. The freezing water had numbed his limbs and he had not felt the ropes until now. This horrible crone had bound him to render him helpless. What are you? he croaked. Some sort of witch? She laughed again. The sound was like feet sliding on gravel. A witch? Yes, a witch. My little hound brought you to me. Hes a good pointer, that hound. Fetches in the game every time. Thought youd found riches at the bottom of the pond, did you? Shiny gold. Stupid mortal. Youre the riches. You make me a fortune, you greedy travellers. Hound? Oh, the monster. You call that a hound, do you? Hes a good hunting dog, that one. Soldier watched as the witch began cutting up some guts and lights and placing the bits in muslin. She chatted as she worked, just as any butcher might. Strangely, there was a buzzing sound in the cavern. It seemed to be coming from the witch, though Soldier could not be sure. The noise interfered with his ability to think straight. It was as if the sound was there deliberately to interrupt his thought patterns. I like little boys and girls, really. Theyre my best sellers. Plump children. Easy to cut up and they taste delicious. Didnt your grandmother ever warn you not to go near stagnant ponds? Most grandmas do. So they should, because we drag em down and cut em up. Lovely chubby little waifs, sent into the forest to look for firewood, or mushrooms, or blackberries, or wild herbs. Drowned, they say. Gone to their green watery death at the bottom of the pond. Later, I send em back to their mums and dads - at a price of course. The children return to the place from whence they came, along with a few truffles, into the bodies of their parents. Soldier felt he had to ask, though he believed he already knew the answer. How how do they get them back? She looked up, her grisly face breaking into a grin. There was hair spouting like water from her nostrils and ears, grey and grizzled, curled like a beard. Bristles covered her chin and upper cheeks. Her skin was like a wart-hogs, grey and wrinkled. There were no eyebrows or eyelashes, just half-moon creased lids that closed with a single reptilian shutter coming up from below. Most shocking, though, were her eyes. They were clear and beautiful, like that of a baby: a deep, enchanting green. She raised a bony hand and pointed, at the same time the buzzing increased in volume. Youve already guessed, havent you? I sell my meat to human butchers, who in turn sell in the market-place. Of course, I have to render it unrecognisable. Dont want anyone identifying their son or daughter. Got to watch for fingernails and teeth. Mustnt get tempted to sell the heads, though theyd look fine coming out of the roasting oven with a crab-apple in their mouths, wouldnt they? A few cuts here, a few snips there, and they look like animal carcasses. Lots of nice
chopped liver. Kidneys resembling goats. Who looks too close anyway? Stick a sprig of parsley between some podgy little fingers snipped off at the second joint and youve got an animals paw. Soldier felt sick. Perhaps he had unwittingly eaten one of these children himself at one time? The thought was so horrible to him he actually wretched. The witch tutted. The thought of cannibalism a little too strong to stomach? Never mind, youre next Sundays joint, so you wont ever have to worry about it after that. Soldier saw no reason to argue with the witch, but he wanted to become more than just a Sunday joint to her, so he engaged her in conversation. I dont understand, he said, how you manage to get all that meat from one pond. Surely visitors to that particular woodland backwater are few? I cant imagine that youd get anything but the odd goatherd or child collecting firewood. The witch laughed. Oh, theres a whole network of ponds, the caves from them all leading here. The buzzing noise was driving Soldier crazy. He wanted to scream. He had to force himself to think clearly, Thats clever. And you have a monster in each? The monsters come from my imagination. I create them from nothing. Im no ordinary witch. I have special powers. I can see that. I might even feel honoured if I were not in the position of prey. The hare can admire the intricate mechanism of the gin trap, I suppose, once hes been caught and is at leisure to do so. Once all hope is gone a kind of peaceful acceptance settles in. No more earthly worries. Simply sit and wait for the inevitable. You will make it quick? The meat cleaver came down on leg-bone and chopped it clean through to the block underneath. As quick as that! said the witch. Ill do you in a minute. You dont mind me talking so much? Its refreshing. Usually theres just wailing or screaming. People dont seem to realise I have need for society too. I get lonely down here. Its pleasant to have a conversation with someone from the outside world. Whats your name? She continued hacking away as Soldier told her. They call me, Soldier, but I dont know who or what I am, or where Ive come from. Im on a quest to find a wizard wholl cure my wife of her madness. Im not interested. You wont be set free on that account. Now if you said you were a barbarian out to slaughter innocents, then you might stand the faintest chance of being let loose. So, youre an outlander are you? Come from the outside? I might have guessed by the blue eyes. There have been one or two like you, in the past. They usually die very quickly ... As the witch was speaking Soldier saw an insect crawl drunkenly out of her hairy left nostril like a winter wasp overfed on honey. It was long but bulbous, of a dull yellow colour, and it had transluscent wings folded down its back. Its head, however, was a pale white. It took off and buzzed into the air but the witchs neck stretched as long as one of her arms. Her head shot out with open mouth. She snapped at the escaping insect and swallowed it quickly. Then retracted her head. During this eerie episode the witch had not once paused in her chopping or her conversation. She did so now, awaiting an answer. Soldier gave her one. Ive managed to stay alive all right. She snorted. Until today, that is. Now youre in the deepest trouble youve ever known. Youre going to end up in the gut of your mad wife, if I have anything to do with it, and I seem to have everything to do with it at the moment. You knight errants. You think youre chosen of the gods, dont you? Well down here theres nothing can help you. I rule under the roots of the trees. Theres no one down here who can stop me, mole, badger or snake. This is the last youll see of this world, you poor lost soul, before going to quite a different one. Soldier could see he had not aroused her curiosity in the least with his confession that he had come from somewhere else. Her arrogance was in full flood. She believed herself to be both ingenious and invulnerable. Whats your name? asked Soldier. What do you care? Im interested. Lets say I want to take something new to the afterlife with me. They call me Wwssxxyynn. It was a kind of hissing sound which Soldier did not think he could repeat with any confidence. He was silent for a while and she cackled. Cant say it, eh? Soldier suddenly decided rage might help him. You think youre so clever? I do. I am. How come Im the only one here then, if youre such a brilliant trapper? What about the rest of my party, my pavilion of Carthagan warriors? Im a lieutenant in the Eagle Pavilion, you know. My warriors are all waiting on the edge of the wood and you wont get a single one of them, because when I fail to come out, theyll know theres something magical about the place and leave quickly. Theyll send someone looking for you. Ha! A lot you know about the red pavilions. One lost lieutenant is enough. Why send in precious troops where an officer has vanished off the face of the earth? Its bound to be magic. The army doesnt like magic. The army is very practical and prefers to fight its battles with ordinary men. Soldier didnt elaborate on this, not knowing what to say next. He was making it all up on the spur of the moment and his inventiveness was seriously hampered by the speed at which he was supposed to be thinking. Now, a really clever witch would have caught one fish and used it as bait to draw the others into the net. Wwssxxyynns eyes narrowed and the droning sound grew monstrously loud. Ive done that before. Ive thought of that. I just didnt know there were warriors camped outside the wood. Im still not sure. You could be lying. You could go and look. She nodded slowly, then a crafty expression came over her features. And while Im gone, youll find a way to get out of those bonds? You think Im stupid, Soldier? Anyway, Ill need you for bait. If you call those warriors into the wood, have them search the area around the pond, Ill let you go. With that, she picked up his sword and then grabbed him by the collar. With amazing strength for a frail-looking being, she dragged him to the edge of the underground lake, prodding him with the point of his own weapon. He might have been a cow or a pig considering the way she goaded him. Still gripping him with one hand the witch plunged into the water and went down swimming with her legs and feet, back along the waterways, to the pond. Soldiers brain was working rapidly. He knew there was only the ghost of a chance, the faintest of hopes, that he could still escape Wwssxxyynns clutches. They both emerged dripping and breathless from the stagnant waters of the pond, having passed a rather docile-looking monster resting in the mud at the bottom of the pond. The witch spoke to it as she passed and the monster roused itself to follow her. She dragged the bound Soldier to the far side of the wood. Here she ordered him to call his troops to rescue him from an attack by a bear. In theory, to reach him any searchers would have to pass by the area of the pond, where the monster would be waiting. The monster could then leap and pluck several tangled bodies off the bank with one jump. The wide-mouthed beast was certainly capable of snatching a whole bunch of gesturing people clustered together. Call them, hissed Wwssxxyynn. No tricks, or Ill stab you through the heart with your own sword. Soldier did not know what to do now. He had been playing for time, hoping something would occur to him. Still with his hands tied behind his back and his ankles bound with the same cord, he could not even hope to overpower the witch. Then again, if he called Spagg into the forest, the two of them could end up on butchers hooks. On the other hand, Spagg was his only hope. The market-trader knew this world better than Soldier. Whatever else he was, Spagg was a wily, cunning man, who knew the art of survival in Guthrum as well as anyone. Perhaps he would guess what had happened and come riding in armed and ready to fight? Sergeant Spagg, called Soldier. Can you hear me? Bring some men into the wood. Im Im trapped here. Ive caught my leg in a root and cant free it. The witch hissed, I told you to say it was a bear. You dont know Spagg, murmured Soldier, knowing that if the hand-seller thought there was a savage bear in the forest, hed be halfway back to Zamerkand. They waited but there was no answer from outside the wood. Did you hear me, Spagg? called Soldier. After another short period of silence, there came the answer. Whats all this sergeant business? And what men? Whats to do? Im not comin in there with you actin so strange. Ill wait out here. If youre not out by noon, Im going home. Spagg, I order you ... Save your breath, I aint comin in. Spagg was indeed a survivor, but he stayed alive and well by not getting into situations, rather than fighting his way out of them. Soldier was in despair. He tried to think of something else, but merely ended up wrestling with his bonds. Wwssxxyynn was disgusted with him and herself. She took him by the collar again, ready to drag him back into the water. Theres no warriors out there. Theres only one man. A coward by the sound of him. Youre chopped meat . . . She raised the sword but at the last moment Soldier threw himself to one side, so that only the flat of the blade struck him on the temple. He lost consciousness immediately. Before the witch could finish her work, there came the sound of hooves pounding on the mast of the greenwood floor. She turned her head in time to see a shadowy blue rider coming out of the tangled thicket to the north of the wood. There was the flash of a drawn sword in the shafts from a winter sun. The horse, a piebald, was fleet of foot. Its rider seemed a slight but determined figure in the saddle. Before the witch could cry out, horse and warrior were upon her. A blade whirled and sang in the stillness. It sliced through the witchs neck. Wwssxxyynns head flew off and struck a tree, to burst like a dried, hollow pumpkin. Except that it was not like a pumpkin inside, but honeycombed, like the interior of a wild bee hive. Out of the shattered head flew a swarm of buzzing yellow insects, similar to the insect one that appeared from the witchs nose down in the cavern. Once these detestable creatures hit the freezing air of winter, however, they only managed to fly a few yards before they died, dropping down into the snow. Each of the tiny flying things had its own human head. Their complexions were as white as ants eggs and as wrinkled as the faces of newly-born babes. Brains. Each little piece with a life of its own. An evil swarm of witchs brains. Wwssxxyynns body lay twitching amongst the acorns and leaves churned up from beneath the snow. While Soldier was having his bonds cut by his rescuer, whose face was hidden by a helm, the body of the hag gradually turned into rotten wood. Finally, it lay like an old tree trunk, still with one or two crumbling branches attached, covered in moss and fungi. The rescuer touched the sodden decayed log with his boot and it broke away, revealing nests of woodlice larvae beneath. The rider now mounted and left the forest, charging past a gaping Spagg on the edge of the tree line. What a coward you are, hand-seller! Then he was gone, his mounts hooves pounding on the baked turf of the fields. Soldier came to. He stared around him, realising he was now free. He looked around for the witch, but she was nowhere to be seen. Picking up his sword, Soldier could just see a rider through the trees, disappearing over the next ridge. This must have been his saviour. It certainly hadnt been Spagg. Soldier walked slowly back to the campsite on the edge of the wood, carefully avoiding the bank of the pond. Spagg was there, the horses saddled and ready to leave. He stared at Soldier as if he was the last person he hoped to see. Bad luck, Spagg. I survived. Survived what? Bein eaten by an elm? Soldier remembered he had called out that he was trapped by the roots of a tree. I was in the hands of a witch! I thought you might come and set me free. Spagg let out a hollow laugh. The end of the world would come first. Why should I come and risk my life for you? I didnt ask to be here. You made me come. By the way, we had a visitor, a rider. Wouldnt say his name but he was a stripling. Nothin to him, really. All swathed-up in blue cloth. Weedy sort. Voice not even broke, yet. The hunter! thought Soldier. The blue hunter who had first carried him to the castle? What was he doing, following Soldier and Spagg out into the wilderness? Or was it just coincidence? Once again Soldier was beholden to this young man. Did you send him into the wood after me? I didnt send him, replied Spagg. He heard you callin me and came in by hisself Well, I owe him my life. Thats not much, remarked Spagg. Pocket full of change, really. Now my life, thats worth a quite lot. Gold and jewels wouldnt buy it, nor a grandmothers love. If the stranger had saved me from death, thatd be worth talkin about, but you? Why, its unimportant really ... Sometimes, Spagg, said Soldier, mounting his horse, you just leave me breathless with your rhetoric.