Chapter-1-2

⁠—⁠—⁠— II ⁠—⁠—⁠—

Istavan, and even Siba and the Raku warriors, stood staring at Guin, speechless.

The mercenary finally wrung the words out of his dry throat. “Wh-What did you say?” He coughed. “We cut through? Yidoh?!”

“Yes,” Guin said sternly. He repeated himself in the language of the Sem, and there was a commotion among the ape-men.

“You jest,” protested the mercenary, “and poorly at that!”

“I make no jest.”

“Then you’re mad, by the twin faces of Janos that rule the holy light and the darkness,” Istavan declared with a cold finality.

“Crimson Mercenary,” Guin said, his voice rising a little, “we’re running out of time.” He then turned to Siba and spoke with him a while in the language of the Sem.

“What was that about?”

“They make their home here in Nospherus, so I asked them if they know of any scents or herbs the yidoh dislike. Perhaps we could rub something on our skin to repel them.”

“Har! If it were that easy, then—” Istavan proceeded to mock, but Guin raised his hand to quiet him.

With a serious look, Siba turned to speak to his fellows. They conferred briefly, but when he turned back to Guin, his eyes were clouded with disappointment.

“Perhaps our elders know some secret, Riyaad, but we are young…”

“I see.” Guin did not sound particularly surprised.

“Wait!” said one of the younger Raku, shuffling out from behind Siba.

“You are?”

“Salai, Riyaad. I, too, have not heard of such an herb, but I did hear something from my father’s father once, long ago. He said that the Sem of Nospherus once used to tame the yidoh, the riyolaat, and the mouth-of-the-desert to do our will. We used magic, and the creatures listened, and obeyed.”

Guin growled and his eyes took on a thoughtful look. It was an interesting story, but not one that seemed of much use to them at present. In response to Istavan’s pestering, Guin translated the words of the young Sem.

“Bwah hah! Magic?” the mercenary snorted. “If I had magic, the last thing I’d be doing is hanging out here with night coming on, teaching the yidoh tricks! If we can use magic, let’s just fly over that cursed valley and be done with it!” He chortled bitterly, but suddenly his eyebrows furrowed. “What is it, Guin?”

“If that’s what we must do, then do it we shall,” the leopard-headed warrior stated calmly.

Istavan looked at him with eyes round as saucers. “Do… what?”

“What you just said we ought to do: fly over the valley and be on our way.”

The mercenary shook his head in disgust.

“Istavan Spellsword, I am not saying we should sprout wings and fly across as though we were balto birds,” the leopard-man explained. “Nor could we leap over the valley, it’s at least a tad in length. But no such feats are demanded of us. All we need do is keep above the yidoh.”

Guin repeated himself in the Sem tongue, and then gave a number of instructions to the Raku, leaving Istavan wondering what plan there could be. The Sem bowed their heads attentively and listened. Then, as one, they looked up and leapt into action.

“Wait, wait, what’s going on here? Would it kill you to let me in on things for once?” Istavan complained. A clump of angel hair slapped across his mouth just then, and he had to brush the stuff away with his hand.

Guin peered at the silken white wisps with interest. “Might it be that angel hair always appear where there are yidoh? Much like the tiny fish that always gather around the shark in the sea.”

“A fine time for natural history, my leopard-headed friend!”

“At ease, mercenary. We have not yet seen the pattern that Jarn’s spinning wheel weaves for us tonight.”

Istavan stared at Guin, who stood with arms crossed, his mask as always expressionless. The mercenary declared, in the petulant tone of an upset child, “How you can act as though you’re lying by your own hearth, when we’re in Nospherus, I have no idea—unless you really do hail from this no-man’s-land!”

Just as Guin was about to respond, Siba and several of the other Sem came running up to him with clinking loads of gleaming things between them.

“You found some?”

“Yes, Riyaad!” The Raku dropped their precious cargo before him.

Leaning in curiously, Istavan knit his brow and said, “Crystal? What for?”

It was a pile of strange, elongated rocks, crystalline in structure, which the Sem could find protruding from the bare slopes because the valley was far enough in the north. The slabs of crystal had been broken off with great care.

Guin had asked the Sem to bring the clear but hard stone, in as long and slender a form as could be found. The Sem had split into several groups, each group bringing back a load of slender fragments, many longer than the Sem themselves were tall.

Testing the strength of the crystal-rocks in his hands, Guin noted, “This would be easier if there were some tall, sturdy trees about, but Nospherus isn’t kind to anything that grows much higher than our Raku friends here.”

“What exactly do you have in mind?” Istavan’s black eyes were wide as a child’s as he stared, nearly in pain with curiosity, at the rocks in Guin’s hands.

Guin’s answer was simple: “Stilts.”

“Stilts?”

“Yes, though I do not pretend that crossing the valley on these will be easy. Even with the crystal veins giving them strength, these rocks are thin and brittle, and cannot be cut too long. Also, I fear that, thin as they are, they may yet be too heavy for the Sem to use with any ease. They may also be too fragile to support you or me.”

“I don’t get it,” Istavan confessed.

Taking great care not to shatter them any further, Guin selected two sections of crystal-rock, one very long and one very short, and, taking a length of the sturdy vine-rope that the Raku used to bind their bows and arrows, proceeded to tie them together so that the shorter one stuck out perpendicular from the larger one about one-third of the length from its top. His large hands moved with surprising dexterity as he made one and then another of the contraptions.

Guin tested his improvised stilts to make sure they were sturdily fixed, then he waved to the tallest of the Raku, the one called Salai who had spoken earlier. Guin instructed him in the language of the Sem: “Salai, place your foot here at the cross-piece and try to stand. I’ll hold you.”

“Yes, Riyaad.” Salai sprang up with agility and stood on the poles, making him taller even than Guin who stood supporting the slender sticks of stone.

“What do you think, Salai? Can you walk with these?”

“I will try, Riyaad,” said the young Raku warrior. As soon as Guin released his hands, Salai began to walk, holding the tops of the two stilts one in each hand. He lifted each leg slowly and swung it carefully forward, taking one small step at a time.

Immediately the other Raku gathered around, finally understanding Guin’s plan. It seemed that Salai was naturally very agile, even for a Sem, for after falling once or twice, he appeared to get the hang of it.

“Can you walk through the valley like that?”

“I can try, Riyaad. Yes, I think so. But these pole-legs are very heavy.” Salai jumped down from his stilts and caught his breath. “Siba and I will be able to use these, but I fear that Mano and Cai and others do not have the strength…”

“I will not be able to use them either, Salai. Nor Istavan here. If we tried, those brittle poles would surely break,” Guin replied. “But all of us need not go. That would take too much time, and besides, we do not have enough of these crystal-rocks to make pole-legs for all of us. One or two of the bravest Raku will go.” This last part Guin repeated in human speech for Istavan’s benefit.

“So they’ll run ahead to the village, while we just wait here?” Istavan interceded.

Guin shook his head. “No, I have another plan for the rest of us.”

“By your leopard-headed god-sire Cirenos, you’ve gone and figured out a way for us heavier folk to cross, too, haven’t you?”

“I… think so. It involves some danger, though.”

“Well, I’m beginning to think that you’d have something up your sleeve even were you to face Doal himself.” Istavan said this coolly, but a sparkle of admiration danced in his black eyes.

“Riyaad?” Salai had approached slowly, and now stood by Guin, waiting for instructions.

“It will not be easy,” Guin told him, looking down at the small, hirsute face. It shone with determination. “Have you the courage, Salai, to cross the valley of yidoh?”

“Yes… Riyaad, yes!”

“Should you lose your balance, let a tired leg slip—or should this valley be much longer than we guess it to be—you will fall head first into the yidoh.”

“I-I understand.” Salai shivered, but it was with anticipation, not fear.

“The fate of the Raku—no, of all the Sem—rests on your making it across that valley alive,” Guin added softly.

Then he gave a signal, and two of the Raku brought a long rope that they had made by linking bow-strings, carrying cords, and belts. Guin tied one end of the rope around Salai’s waist and held the rest looped in a long coil in his hand.

“You will carry your end thus to the other side. Let us also tie your feet loosely to the pole-legs so you do not slip… Ah, and one more thing…” Here, Guin pulled out a torch. “Bring this. I know not how long it will keep you safe, but should you slip and fall, you can use this to burn away the yidoh.”

“It is fine, Riyaad.” Salai flashed Guin a toothy grin. “If I fall, Siba will make it across in my place.”

Guin silently placed his hand on the little Raku warrior’s shoulder.

Salai was ready to go. It was something of a suicide mission.

To make himself lighter he had left his bow, arrows, and stone axe behind, along with most of his clothing. The rope that the Sem had prepared was tied about his waist, both his feet rested securely on the footrests of the stilts that Guin held steady, and the torch was affixed to the top of one of the crystal-rock poles. Salai looked back at Guin and his companions, gave another bold grin, and signaled that he was ready to depart.

“Let us go. I will carry Salai up to the edge so he will not tire before he begins.”

Guin made sure the other Sem were prepared for their tasks. Then he picked up Salai, pole-legs and all. Watching his steps carefully, Guin headed down into the valley of the yidoh, carrying Salai cradled in his right arm. Behind him, Siba, Istavan, and about half of the Raku followed at a distance, stopping to watch where the last bend in the path concealed them from the widening valley—the exact place where they had begun their dash to escape not long before.

Guin moved slowly to the edge of the expanse of swarming yidoh, set Salai down gently, and looked out over the squirming mass.

They seemed much the same as they had been before, yet they were constantly changing. The fearsome, shapeless creatures continued their eternal undulation, the vast, nightmarish pool that they formed heaving with discontent, moving and rippling like the surface of a windy lake. Again and again, each individual yidoh stretched questingly outwards, only to retract and meld in with the others once more. A careful observer might have noted that these sickeningly pallid jellies were not consistent throughout. Spherical shapes were visible within each, and convulsing crescents, thicker and more opaque than the rest of the mass—the yidoh’s barely developed organs. It was impossible to tell from the endless swirling and twisting whether the foul things had noticed the intruders. Impossible, too, it was not to sense hunger from them, an insatiable hunger.

Salai stood looking over the eerie living sea that he would soon cross, his eyes betraying no sign of fear. He took a few steps on the stilts to test out his fittings one last time.

“Make it to the other side,” Guin commanded simply.

Salai nodded. “Yes, Riyaad.”

Then, moving on the crystal stilts with skill, as if they were a natural extension of his own legs, he ventured out into the valley of the yidoh.

At some point, Siba had come up behind Guin, who stood staring grimly out at the yidoh. “You should not stand so close, Riyaad. Dangerous.” He tugged urgently on Guin’s arm with a small furry hand.

“Hmm? Yes,” Guin murmured, moving back a short ways, but not as far as the safety of the canyon-corner, where a dozen round furry faces watched from behind the wall of reddish stone.

The valley was now quite dark, and at the bottom of that darkness the innumerable pale bulbous shapes continued to writhe and grope. It appeared that the yidoh could be faintly luminescent—and yet, evidently, they were capable too of blending in with their surroundings. The yidoh that had attacked Istavan during their first night in the wildlands had been as dark as the nighttime rocks.

“Dangerous, Riyaad,” Siba warned again, tugging on Guin’s arm.

Guin did not move. His leopard face was an expressionless mask as he stood watching Salai’s progress. The brave Raku was like a tiny boat adrift on a pale luminescent sea. The lone torch struggled against the pressing darkness, blinking like the eastern star that guides men’s travels. The elite Sem warrior moved slowly and deliberately, choosing each step with care as he passed through the very middle of the yidoh colony.

Salai’s feet were less than two Sem’s height above the top-most of the yidoh. Every time one of his stilts came down, the yidoh around its base would squirm in search for the intruder in their midst. But they found no living thing, and because the creatures were not particularly viscous, Salai had little difficulty freeing his other pole in turn and lowering it anew into the writhing mass, each step bringing him that much closer to the unseen far side of the valley. As he made his way, the cord tied around his waist stretched out farther between him and Guin. With great care Guin paid out more rope from the coil around his arm, neither letting it draw too tight nor sag down and touch the yidoh. At times this was the only proof of Salai’s progress, which was painstakingly slow. It seemed like he would never be free of the deadly sea.

Suddenly, a gasp went up from the watchers. Salai wobbled—he had lost his balance.

“Ah!” even Istavan let out a cry, fearing the worst. But the agile wildling somehow managed to get the stilts back under him and regained his delicate poise.

“Riyaad,” Siba stretched up and whispered to Guin. “Riyaad, I will practice so that I may go, too.”

“Do so,” said Guin, never taking his eyes off Salai. The leopard-headed warrior seemed calm, but the sharp-eyed would have caught the trembling of tensed muscles under his bronze, sunburnt skin. His clenched fists, too, contradicted his aura of composure. “Yes, prepare yourself. I only hope you will not have to go,” said Guin, so softly that none—not even Siba, who was already heading back to practice—heard him. If we fail once, then fail again, we are finished. Even if we could gather more crystals, we are fast running out of rope, and only a few torches remain. Even if we unstrung all the bows, we’d only get one more chance at best… Not voicing this, instead he stood watching Salai’s perilous trek with all the confidence of one who has a solution for any problem, a plan for overcoming any difficulty.

“He’s not through them yet?” swore Istavan behind him. “In the name of Doal, how far does this blasted swarm stretch?”

Guin looked down at the rope in his hands, the lifeline connecting them to Salai, and saw that it was running out. If the yidoh colony extended for any more than a tad, the rope would not span it, and Guin’s plan would fail.

He shook his leopard head, trying to clear it of dark thoughts. It was when he trained his eyes on Salai again that he heard the Raku’s wildly joyous shout. “The other side! I see it!”

“Guin!”

“Riyaad!”

A cheer rose up from Istavan and the Raku warriors. A growl of relief came from Guin’s throat, and he went into a half-crouch, squinting to see across the sea of yidoh. Some time before, Salai and the torch he held had disappeared over a low rise midway along the valley floor.

“You’re almost there, Salai!” Guin called out into the darkness. They had nearly run out of rope, but apparently there was just enough.

“Keep alert!” Those were the exact words Guin was about to add when a scream echoed across the valley, a spine-chilling scream.

It was Salai, and the horrid cry could only mean one thing.

“Salai!” Guin shouted. But the rope had gone slack in his hands.

Salai had fallen.