Lord of the Libraries (40 page)
“How many, do ye think?” Raisho asked.
“Six. Maybe seven.”
Juhg silently agreed. “Maybe it’s a trade caravan.”
“A trade caravan out here?” Jassamyn asked.
“A few run through here,” Juhg said, but he felt that the sandsails he was staring at weren’t a trade caravan either.
“Not this late at night. We were looking for a place to put down for the night ourselves.”
“At least we got the wind,” Raisho said. “Can we put up any more sail?”
“That’s all of it,” Juhg said. Sailcloth was hard to get in Fringe. The materials to make the canvas weren’t indigenous to a stingy land that bore few crops, and packing sailcloth out by trade caravan was only done by special order for an expensive price.
“Then we’ve got a problem,” Jassamyn said grimly. “Because they’ve put up more sails than we have. They’re overtaking us.”
The sun continued to sink and the unidentified sandsails sped closer and closer, throwing out great clouds of dust behind them. Juhg reached into his pack and took out his spyglass. He steadied the glass and peered at their pursuers as Raisho jockeyed the sandsail across the barren expanse of the Drylands.
Through the spyglass, Juhg spotted the creatures that manned the other craft. Although one of them was a fat human male, the rest were goblinkin. He recognized the odd-shaped heads that looked like upsidedown triangles, the broad shoulders that rivaled a dwarf’s, and the splotchy gray-green skin. Their spiky black hair waved in the breeze, as did their long, wilted ears that hung down much like a dog’s ears and framed their ugly features. They wore red cloth, too, making it harder to distinguish them from the sunset.
“Goblinkin,” Juhg announced.
Jassamyn shouted the news to Craugh.
Watching the speeding sandsails close on them, Juhg’s throat grew dry. He remembered well the long hard years he’d spent in the goblinkin mines. And the images of his parents and siblings’ deaths at the hands of goblinkin were fresh, raw wounds.
“All the desert to go,” Raisho lamented, “an’ nowhere to run.”
“They’ll pay dearly,” Jassamyn said as she rose to her knees and drew an arrow back. She released a measured half-breath and released the string.
The arrow left the bow and smashed into the prow of the lead sandsail, quivering when it stuck.
Immediately, as though they had practiced the maneuver for years, the goblins split up. Three sandsails went to the left and three to the right. Like wolves taking a helpless doe, they closed in.
Jassamyn rose again. This time when she released the arrow, it sped true and slammed into the face of one of the goblinkin. The stricken creature jumped in its seat for a moment, bleeding and shrieking, then quickly went still. The other goblinkin sitting up front took over the vehicle’s reins while the two in the back dragged their dead comrade out of his seat and tossed him out into the desert.
The body hit the sand and skidded and rolled several feet before coming to rest like a child’s broken doll.
Lightening the load,
Juhg realized.
Juhg realized.
Then Jassamyn’s hand was on his head and she pushed him down into his seat. “Duck!” she ordered.
Propelled by her sudden move, Juhg went down into the seat. He ended up looking up out of the seat.
Goblinkin arrows slapped the canvas overhead and dug into the sand
just below his rump and ahead of his feet. When Jassamyn’s hand was removed, he sat up cautiously. Gazing up at the sails, he saw that several of the arrows had found a new home in their sailcloth.
just below his rump and ahead of his feet. When Jassamyn’s hand was removed, he sat up cautiously. Gazing up at the sails, he saw that several of the arrows had found a new home in their sailcloth.
Jassamyn raised and shot again, putting an arrow through the new driver of the same sandsail she’d targeted before. The arrow pierced the goblin’s neck and he reached up to tear the missile from his flesh. Unfortunately, handling a sandsail at top speed with a vigorous wind lying full on it was tricky business.
The sandsail with the dead man in it turned sharply and rammed the one next to it. Both craft—tangled by their rigging, masts, and sails—suddenly spilled over and rolled, breaking up and scattering across the desert.
Craugh stood in the craft next to Cobner and drew his hand back. A whirling green fireball filled the wizard’s hand and it threw it at the lead craft closing in on them from thirty feet out.
The fireball flew through the air, expanding in size as it went, and burst across the sandsail. The goblinkin craft came to a stop as if it had slammed into an invisible wall. Green flames covered the sandsail, stretching back and coating the goblinkin aboard. Then the green flames became fire. Burning figures leaped from the fiery craft and went sprawling across the desert floor. Out of control, the burning sandsail caught a banked sand dune, went airborne and came crashing back down, spreading across the desert.
Expertly, the surviving sandsail that chased the craft Juhg was in swooped in behind them and stole their wind in a move that was reminiscent of what Raisho had done to Craugh earlier. The sandsail’s canvas started to sag immediately. Juhg felt the craft slowing in response.
The goblinkin driver cut to the right quickly, narrowly avoiding a collision. The goblinkin warriors hooted and jeered and screamed, rising from their seats with axes. The one in the back lifted a shield to block Jassamyn’s shot, then threw a hand-axe at her.
Moving quickly, the elven maid blocked the flying hand-axe with her bow, sending the weapon ricocheting behind them. The goblinkin in the front seat whirled a grappling hook around its head, then let fly.
The grappling hook shot forward and tangled in the sandsail’s rigging. Cheering their success, the goblinkin veered away. The triumph of one of them was cut immediately short as one of Jassamyn’s violet-and-white-fletched
arrows pierced his heart while it stood to bare its haunches and shake its rump at them. The goblinkin grabbed the arrow in its heart and dropped over the side.
arrows pierced his heart while it stood to bare its haunches and shake its rump at them. The goblinkin grabbed the arrow in its heart and dropped over the side.
Rope paid out from the goblinkin sandsail to the grappling hook tangled in Juhg’s sandsail’s rigging. One of the surviving goblinkin in the back tossed out a curiously shaped three-bladed device. When it struck the sand and immediately dug in, Juhg knew what it was.
“Anchor!” Raisho warned, recognizing what it was as well.
When we hit the end of that rope,
Juhg thought,
we’re going to tear our mast and rigging to pieces.
He pushed himself up out of his seat and walked along the sandsail’s center beam. He grabbed the rope with one hand to steady himself and slipped free his boot knife with the other. He sawed frantically at the rope, knowing he could never hope to untangle the grappling hook.
Juhg thought,
we’re going to tear our mast and rigging to pieces.
He pushed himself up out of his seat and walked along the sandsail’s center beam. He grabbed the rope with one hand to steady himself and slipped free his boot knife with the other. He sawed frantically at the rope, knowing he could never hope to untangle the grappling hook.
The rope jerked in Juhg’s hand as the anchor skipped sand in their wake. Then he felt the hardness inside the rope and knew that the goblinkin had used rope with wire core too think to cut with his knife. At that moment, the sand anchor dug deep and the line went tight for just an instant before the grappling hook snapped the main mast in half and collapsed the front sails and rigging.
Juhg got caught up in the tangle as the rigging snared his foot and yanked him free of the sandsail. A moment of disorientation ended when he smacked into the unforgiving surface of the desert sand. All the air went out of him and blinding pain ripped through his body.
Caught around the ankle, the broken rigging dragged Juhg nearly a hundred yards before the sand anchor—torn free of its hold by the same violence that had ripped the sandsail’s mast to pieces—found a new purchase and dug in again. This time the rigging ripped free of the sandsail.
“Juhg!” Raisho’s agonized cry sounded far away in the steepening darkness of the approaching night.
Out of breath and hurting, his right ankle feeling like it was on fire, Juhg tried to get up. It took three attempts. During that time, Raisho and Jassamyn drew ever farther away, pushed by the surviving rear sail and unable to control their craft.
Juhg tried to run and his ankle buckled and he fell down again. He struggled to get back up immediately, feeling a little hope when Cobner brought the other sandsail back, but he had to tack ferociously to come back around to Juhg’s position.
A whirring
shush
stirred behind Juhg. Knowing what made the sound but hoping that he was wrong, he turned and saw two more goblinkin craft bearing down on him. Evidently they’d followed in waves, planning for the first wave to disable the target vehicles but knowing those craft wouldn’t be able to take advantage of their success very quickly.
shush
stirred behind Juhg. Knowing what made the sound but hoping that he was wrong, he turned and saw two more goblinkin craft bearing down on him. Evidently they’d followed in waves, planning for the first wave to disable the target vehicles but knowing those craft wouldn’t be able to take advantage of their success very quickly.
Crying out from the pain in his ankle, Juhg hobbled as quickly as he was able. The
shush
ing of the approaching sandsail came closer. Although he didn’t want to, he turned around to face the goblinkin, thinking he could throw himself to the side to avoid getting hit by the craft.
shush
ing of the approaching sandsail came closer. Although he didn’t want to, he turned around to face the goblinkin, thinking he could throw himself to the side to avoid getting hit by the craft.
But it was already too late. One of the goblinkin hung a big arm outside the sandsail and caught Juhg around the middle. He tried to fight his captor, wedging his good leg against the sandsail’s frame to keep from getting dragged in.
Then one of the goblinkin in the back seats leaned forward with a maniacal smile and smashed a club against Juhg’s head. Pain flooded his face and head, but Juhg barely had time to acknowledge it before his senses fled.
“—not dead,” someone was saying in a sullen tone. “I didn’t hit him that hard. An’ if he is dead, why, then it’s his own fault for him having such a thin head. Can’t blame me for not knowin’ that ain’ ever’ dweller got himself a thick head.”
“Our deal was for you to bring the dweller back alive,” a cultured voice said. At least, it sounded cultured in tone because it spoke goblinkin fluently.
Juhg had learned the language down in the goblinkin mines, starting out with swear words and insults. He remained quiet, knowing he was strung up by his wrists by iron manacles from the feel of them, and listened. All he had to do was stay quiet and learn what he could. For sure, he was going to learn he was in a lot of trouble.
“He ain’t dead,” another voice protested. “He’s still breathin’.”
“I’m talking about his mind, you moron,” the cultured voice said, sounding a little less cultured now. “If you’ve killed his mind with that blow, why, then it would be the same as him not breathing.” He cursed vehemently. “Would you look at the cut on the side of his face? That’s going to take a lot of stitches to fix.”
Cut? The announcement caught Juhg by surprise, triggering images of seeing his future self in the In-Betweenness, and he breathed in sharply.
The voices stopped bickering. Someone put a hand under his chin and pulled up. Even that slight pressure made the pain in the side of his face excruciating.
“You’re awake, aren’t you, Juhg?”
That came as a surprise, too. How did the goblinkin know his name? Had he said it while he was unconscious? He immediately doubted that. Judging from the pain in the side of his face and the throbbing in his skull that made even his teeth ache, he’d been quite unconscious.
“Come, come,” the cultured voice said. “Open your eyes and let’s have a look at you.”
Stubbornly, Juhg refused to give up the unconscious ruse.
Petulance entered the cultured voice. “If you don’t acknowledge me, I’ll allow Nhass to slice off one of your ears for his collection.”
Slowly, Juhg opened his eyes. Well, he opened one of them anyway. The other was swollen shut. He swallowed and tasted blood. A brief exploration with his tongue revealed that he had three loose teeth and that touching them sent new explosions of pain cracking through his head.
The fat human he’d seen in the sandsail out on the desert stood before him. His greasy black hair lay tightly against his skull. He wore a thin mustache and a wispy goatee that would have suited a rat better. His clothing indicated wealth, or a predisposition to wearing fashionable attire, although a cape for a shirt and breeches seemed a little overmuch. For a human, he looked to be in his middle years.
Four goblinkin stood behind him. All of the goblinkin carried clubs or swords.
“I am Orgon Tuhl,” the fat man said. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”
Juhg started to shake his head and instantly regretted it. He said, “No.”
That put the fat man off. “No? Well, surely the Grandmagister mentioned me.”
“No,” Juhg repeated. Then he recognized the man. “I’ve seen you before.”
Tuhl preened. “I see my fame precedes me.”
“You were in Fringe this morning,” Juhg said, knowing it was true. “When Craugh had the sandsails delivered.” Thinking about that reminded him of his friends. He looked around the room where he was being held.
The stone room was twenty feet square and seven feet tall. Just tall enough to hang a dweller by his wrists and keep him on his tiptoes. Evidently he wasn’t in the desert any more.
Thankfully, Craugh, Raisho, Cobner, and Jassamyn were not there.
“Your friends got away,” Tuhl said. He waved a perfumed hand. “But that was only because I didn’t tell Nhass to bring them in. We only wanted you, you see.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re Juhg, the handpicked apprentice to the Grandmagister of the Vault of All Known Knowledge.”
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