Into the Second World Page 16

  The professor rolled his eyes like some exasperated youth.

  “I waited before I disturbed the site,” he said, “but even beneath the undergrowth you all ought to be able to recognize what lies here.”

  I looked more closely and saw bits of white, chalky shapes that spoke their name plainly.

  “Skeletons,” I said.

  “Elves,” Beso said.

  I had never seen Professor Queller more triumphant than in that moment. His excitement led him almost to jabber as he and I worked carefully to pull back the foliage and reveal all that lay beneath.

  “First dwarves, now elves. There can be no doubt now, no doubt at all. We stand,” he waved an arm over his head, “in the very birthplace of the Folk. Carefully, there.”

  This, as he himself jostled an arm, causing a hand to fall away at the wrist.

  “Look there, Uncle,” Nik said. “Is that some sort of weapon?”

  He pointed to a purplish rod that at first looked like it was merely another vine, but on second look was clearly too straight and symmetrical. It was, in fact, more like a pipe, about three feet long, with a kind of grip at one end, hollow inside.

  “Not a walking stick,” Henrik said thoughtfully. “Too short and no one would make a hollow walking stick.”

  “Unless there was a sword inside,” Nik said with a quick smile.

  “You really must stop reading those novels,” Henrik replied.

  Nik ignored him. “Not a gun, at least not of any sort I understand. There’s no chamber, no trigger.” He pointed it as he would a gun.

  “Careful!” I cried.

  “No sight either.” He ignored me as he had his uncle. “Maybe a kind of baton, though I would have weighted one end.” He slashed with it as if it were a club.

  “Well,” Henrik said, “they each had one. Here’s the other.”

  “I think they were weapons,” I said, “because they tried to defend themselves.”

  “What now?”

  “Bite marks, I think. Or claws.” I paused for effect, then added, “Or worse.”

  “No need for dramatics, Miss Lauten,” Henrik scolded. “The reality is grim enough. Look at this one; his femur is broken.”

  “The other’s skull is crushed,” Cosmas said.

  “Ye gods,” Henrik said.

  Henrik stood up. “Cosmas, grab the unbroken skull, won’t you? Put it somewhere safe.”

  Cosmas picked it up. The skull came away from the spine readily. In his broad hand it looked like a child’s skull, empty eyes staring into an empty sky. He put it into his trägersack. I knew better than to ask how he knew it would not get broken in there. Everything in that magical bag was in its proper place and secure.

  “Why were these two here?” Henrik wondered aloud.

  “The ruins are very old,” I offered, “but the skeletons might be only a few years gone.”

  “Exactly,” the professor confirmed. “What we have here are hunters or scouts. They were attacked, fled into the safest place they could find, and here perished. Lost and missing to their friends and families back home.”

  “Ah,” I said.

  “Indeed. There are more. We have added another chapter to the story of Urland. The dwarves left, but elves stayed.”

  “Some,” Nik said. “Plenty of elves on the Surface.”

  “Yes. We have added a chapter, as I said, but we’re far from completing the story. Tell us, what did you find on your foray?”

  “No cities,” Nik said, “but a couple of clearings that look promising, and some forest in between. If we’re quiet, and lucky, we may yet have roast . . . something or other.”

  With that we took our leave of the dead elves, walking in thoughtful silence back through the ruins. So much of the Second World was ancient, deceased, vanishing into obscurity. It felt like we walked in an abandoned library, all its books come apart, kicking through random pages and trying to assemble even a fragment of what had been. The melancholy image weighed on me.

  As we followed Nik down the hill, we began to see an unmistakable sign of animal life: droppings. Nik pointed these out wordlessly, but we all went on a greater alert, each of us putting shape and face to the things that had killed the elves.

  We came at last to a clearing, which we approached cautiously, for the plain evidence of animal life had put us all on our guard. The clearing was large, the size of a goodly Brandenburg hamlet, save there were no huts or structures of any kind. Instead, a carpet of grubby-looking mushrooms stretched in a kind of gray road before us. At the edges rose the rust-colored plants we’d seen all along our way, humming flies darting in and out. Beyond these stood more lantern trees.

  Across this landscape multiple trails ran. Upon the trails walked dozens of creatures of two types. One was about the size of a badger, but in form like a crab. It had eight legs and eyes that rested atop stalks. Each eye operated independently, like the antennae of an insect. These creatures were positioned around the periphery, for all the world like sentries at their post. They looked alien and disgusting, but not especially dangerous, for they lacked the claws of a crab.

  Toward the center grazed a herd of pigs, or what would have been pigs if such animals were bred with dogs. Their bodies and legs were porcine, so fat their bellies sagged close to the ground, swaying to and fro as they moved. Their heads were canine, except they wielded enormous tusks, larger than a boar’s. They used these tusks to overturn stones and dig up earth. I never saw what they found there—some subterranean insect or worm, I supposed—but some of their victims must have escaped, for every so often a crab creature ducked down to catch and consume something. The relationship was clear. The crabs stood sentry while the dog-pigs uprooted food for the both of them.

  Which left the question: against what threat did the sentries guard?

  As I engaged in my silent zoology, Nik and Bessarion focused on matters more immediately practical. Communicating entirely by hand gestures, they arranged for Beso to ready his sling. Nik waved us down until we lay flat on our bellies. The ground smelled of rotting plants. At least, I hoped it was only plants.

  A sudden movement, then an eruption of sound, and I had to look up. The dwarf had made his shot—one of the dog-pigs lay on its side, quite still. The crab creatures were all raised up on two legs, a most startling sight, and using all their other appendages to set up a loud rattling sound, like a hundred dice shaken in a metal barrel. The other dog-pigs scattered in every direction, vanishing into the forest with surprising speed. One of them raced right past us. I caught a glimpse of yellow teeth, brown tusks, and small eyes nearly white with a tiny dot of black rolling wildly. It uttered guttural sounds as it ran.

  Nik ignored it all. He leaped over a sentry crab, dodged the dog-pigs as they ran, and fell upon his victim. His knife flashed once.

  All this in the space of a few heartbeats. Beso ran close behind Nik, while Cosmas and Queller advanced at a cautious walk. I followed.

  “Give the crab things a wide berth, Miss Lauten,” Professor Queller said. He pointed to one side. A sentry crab, returned to all its legs, was walking backward, away from us. One eye looked behind while the other regarded me. Over its mottled shell curved a long tail that ended in a wicked-looking barb.

  “Purely defensive,” Queller said. “It’s frightened and only wants you to keep walking. That tail, however, is undoubtedly poisonous.”

  I agreed with his assessment and kept walking. That tail looked too much like a scorpion’s tail. It never advanced on me, but as I stood next to our kill, I wished I had eyes that could look behind as well as ahead. Then Nik and Beso began to gut the creature, and I turned away, for the blood was copious and noisome. I do not faint at the sight of blood; I hunted with my parents as a child and ran a goshawk for one memorable summer. Being a Mecklenburg girl, I have always fished. Entrails are no great matter to me. But that scorpion tail made me prefer to stand my own sentry.

  We all stood to post, waiting for the carcass to drai
n. It was only for an hour, but when that time is spent peering into an alien forest, listening for any strange sound when every sound is strange, one’s mind can wander down dark paths. I will not try even to recall that hour, much less recount it.

  In the end, nothing at all happened, of the hundred things I’d imagined might. Cosmas cut down the carcass and shouldered it. Nik took up the skin and folded the hooves into it.

  “Time to go.”

  Nik faced the forest, but spoke to us. He had pulled out his gun.

  “Cosmas, get the meat. I’ll go in front, you behind me. Then Gabi, then my uncle. Beso, you take the rear. Keep a rock or two handy.”

  “What have you seen, Niki?” Professor Queller asked. We both were turning in place, trying to spot the threat.

  “Nothing, Uncle. It’s just time to go.”

  I don’t think any of us believed him.

  We gathered ourselves and proceeded in an irregular square until we reached the path, then each fell into his place, like soldiers on the march. No one had to tell us to keep quiet; we were all listening for sounds. Especially a growl.

  The forest was full of shadows. The light from the lantern trees shone cold and sinister. I looked left to right and back again, as I imagined movement among the trident bushes. I swore I could hear padded footfalls. Blood sounded in my ears. I felt it in my throat and at my wrists. I saw leopards in every shape. The fear of being eaten alive tore at my gut.

  Though eternities elapsed between each heartbeat and I walked on a knife-edge of panic, still I strode on. I was not brave. This was the courage of desperation. I wanted to run and hide, but then I would be alone, and that prospect terrified me even more than fang and claw. The more we walked, the more the forest seemed to lean in upon us, yet I became all the more resolute. A weighty resignation settled on my spirit. It said, Here I am. Here I shall live or die, but meanwhile I’ll put forward this left foot, and then the right.

  How Nik managed to get us back to the beach, I’ll never know. He chose one of a dozen paths without hesitation and set out with such confidence that we followed like ducklings. By the time I thought to question him, we were already beneath lantern trees, on a path that wound through mossy borders. Thinking of the forest of webs, I had no desire to try another direction.

  The forest on the way up had been utterly silent. On the return it was nearly so. The sounds were faint, no more than a half-heard patter, as if I was hearing someone else’s heartbeat. I looked from side to side, but saw nothing.

  The lantern trees played out, replaced by the trident ferns, and we lit our lamps again. Now I was sure I saw movement among the glitter vines, but I kept it to myself. Then we were through, at the beach, and there was the boat.

  “Well done, Niki!” Henrik exclaimed in obvious relief. He must have doubted too. “You’re a champion pathfinder!”

  “I’m as relieved as you, Uncle. Now, let’s cook this thing up.”

  His words were casual, but his voice was low and tense.

  “Cosmas, gather up some tridents. They look like they might burn. Beso and I’ll lend a hand.”

  No one missed the fact that he had pulled out his gun.

  “Professor,” I said, keeping my voice low as well, “did you see movement?”

  He nodded even before I had finished. “Something in the glitter vines,” he said.

  “Did you hear it too?”

  “No. Your ears are better than mine, I should think. What did you hear?”

  “Footsteps.”

  “Both sides?”

  “What? No. Just one side.”

  “I saw movement on either side. They matched our pace.”

  “Why didn’t they attack, do you suppose?”

  “Nik wondered the same. He said they might be waiting for us to sleep. I agree.”

  My heart quailed at the thought. Something was out there, and it was waiting.

  “It’s why Niki wants a fire,” Henrik added. “Let us hope it is a wild animal that stalks us. Intelligent beings do not fear fire.”

  The trident bushes did burn. All five of us cried out in relief when the flames first leaped up.

  “At least there’s no rain or wind here,” Nik said.

  The dog-pig took hours to cook. Our fire was rather small. Nik quartered the carcass and we cooked each part separately. The trident wood burned quickly and we had to keep fetching more. I insisted on taking my turn gathering firewood like the rest. It gratified me that the men argued only a little, but the gathering was a tense business. The bushes formed a kind of wall, with glitter vines snaking through, so that every moment was fraught with imagined movements at the corner of the eye. Every hack of my knife sent shudders rippling through the crystalline lights. One person did the cutting while two others flanked, bearing flaming brands.

  At last the wretched beast was cooked. Only then did we eat, having gathered great piles of trident reeds beforehand. The meat was greasy and mushy and tasted like spoiled pork. We ate it anyway, in small bits at first, then in quantity. Only after an hour or so did we relax. No one got sick, though my stomach rolled alarmingly. I wasn’t used to meat.

  The fire glow, full bellies, and exhaustion from the day began to take their toll. I fell asleep hardly knowing I’d lain down. I awoke at one point to see Professor Queller putting more wood on a fire that had burned low. I rose to one elbow; he put a finger to his lips, and I sank back.

  I woke again when Nik shook my shoulder. Before I could speak, he leaned in close.

  “Get up. Do it quick, but do it quiet.”

  My heart sprang into a full gallop. I got to my feet and at once looked inland, but the danger was closer. Shapes moved in the dim light, three on one side, four on the other. A space between, as if daring us to run for it.

  “Cosmas,” Nik said, “get the food. The rest of you, get the boat into the water.”

  His voice sounded normal, relaxed, but he faced none of us, and his gun was out. It moved steadily from left flank to right and back again, like the motion of a cobra.

  I had no time to examine the creatures, except to note they had too many legs, then I was pushing the boat. We all but ran across the beach. At every step I expected to feel claws at my legs, teeth on my neck. I was up to my knees before I realized I was even in water.

  “Niki,” Henrik called, “get in the boat. Now.” His words trembled.

  I climbed into the boat and turned around just in time to see it happen.

  Nik stood at the water’s edge, his back to us. Beso was already in the boat, but Henrik was still in the water, keeping hold of it lest we drift away. Cosmas stood a few feet behind and to one side of Nik.

  Giant cats were attacking.

  They were about the height of a lion, but longer and slimmer, almost serpentine in the body, with elongated necks and wide mouths. Their six legs moved sinuously, so they seemed to glide over the black sand.

  I cried out, but the sound was lost in the roar of the gun. One of the great cats went tumbling, but a second reached Henrik an instant later. He flung up an arm, the beast struck, and both went down.

  The other cats halted, perhaps frightened by the gunshot.

  Cosmas now charged. With a roar nearly as loud as the gun, he crashed into the creature, lifted and hurled it some feet away. He got Henrik to his feet. I gasped to see he still lived.

  “Go! Go!” Nik shouted, waving an arm. He still held onto the gun. “Everyone into the boat!”

  Beso and I hauled the professor on board, though he protested. Nik staggered and Cosmas lifted him bodily, as easily as he might a bushel of grain, and dumped him into the boat. The cats charged again, this time plunging right into the water.

  “Cosmas, get in the damn boat!”

  Nik shouted this because the ogre had given us a mighty shove, sending us scooting into deep water. He came after us, swimming hard, but the cats pursued. Nik grabbed the tiller, pushed it over.

  Cosmas kept swimming straight away from shore, still p
ursued by the cat creatures, though a few were falling behind. Who knew ogres could swim? And a strange, wild sort of swimming, his feet kicking and sending up plumes of water while his arms rotated like windmills. He made a good deal of noise, but I doubted splashing would keep the cats at bay. Meanwhile, our boat was slowly turning in a wide arc that was plainly going to be too late.

  Nik swore loudly and urged Cosmas to swim faster. Moving like an Egyptian barge, we heeled and began coming around, about a hundred yards from the shore. Two cats were left; the others had turned back.

  Still the ogre swam. His pace had slackened slightly. He was a dozen yards from the cats, but the distance was slowly closing. Our ridiculous boat drew nearer, but if Cosmas faltered, the cats would get to him before we could.

  “Beso, you steer,” Nik said.

  The dwarf scrambled aft and took hold of the tiller.

  “Keep it steady,” Nik said quietly. He was pointing his gun. It spoke. The muzzle flashed red. One cat went under the water and did not come back up.

  The gun spoke a second time. Nik cursed, short and sharp, then fired again. The other cat went down.

  “Let’s go get Cosmas,” Nik said.

  “Cosmas,” Henrik shouted, “over here. The cats are gone. We’ll pick you up.”

  The Moon in the Water

  This proved difficult. Cosmas was so exhausted, he couldn’t haul himself over the gunwale. We couldn’t help much because we had to lean away as far as we could lest the ogre capsize us all. In the end, Nik dove into the water underneath Cosmas and acted as enough of a brace for the ogre to kick himself upward a bit. At the same time, Beso and I grabbed the ogre by his wrists, then his shoulders, then his belt. We shipped water, but were able to bail once we got Nik aboard.

  Cosmas lay in the bottom, breathing hard.

  We took up a third of the boat, and we had to bail around him, but he was too spent to move. I noticed Nik was rubbing at the back of his leg in obvious discomfort.

  “Did they get you, too?” I asked.

  “No. Something else. When I was in the water.”

  “Are you all right, Niki?” Henrik said between buckets.