Riverwind

Chapter Ten

Once when he was a boy, Rivenwind witnessed the passing of a company of mercenaries through the forest south of Que-Shu. His father had warned him from the earliest age to beware of such marauders, so when the boy heard the menacing, unmistakable clatter of steel in the woods, he climbed a tall maple and hid among the dense leaves. The soldiers passed directly beneath him.

First came the horsemen. Fifty pairs of men on big animals, they wore rusty, dented breastplates and carried long lances. He could not see their faces, but coarse, dark hair hung down from beneath their helmets. The horsemen rode slowly and silently, eyes always scanning the trees for signs of movement.

On the riders' heels came a marching contingent of foot soldiers. Riverwind saw them better because they had doffed their helmets and went bareheaded. They were great, burly fellows with yellow or red hair plaited in long braids. Fearsome, broad-bladed axes rested on their shoulders. They paid little attention to the woods on each side, instead laughing and talking among themselves in a language the boy did not understand.

After the hundred or so axemen there came a band of archers. They wore leather armor only, and their step was light and springy. Their longbows were fastened on their backs, and each man carried a spike-headed maul. They spoke in quiet, clipped sentences, a fashion Riverwind well knew. It was the way of the huntsman, who spoke only enough to communicate with his fellows and not enough to scare off game.

As these wondrous and frightening sights moved below him, Riverwind felt his grasp on a slender branch give way. The twig snapped. He saved himself from falling, but the twig fluttered down to the road. An archer saw it fall and retrieved it. Riverwind held his breath, but the man merely walked along, twirling the leafy stick between his fingers. Just before the archer had passed out of sight, and just as Riverwind had begun to sigh with relief, the man swiftly drew an arrow from his quiver, nocked, pulled, and released it in one smooth motion. The iron-tipped shaft struck the tree just beside Riverwind's head. The shock and vibration shivered through the tree.

The boy nearly fainted with fright. The archer called out in clear Que-Shu: “Mind yourself, friend; a twig can kill as surely as an arrow.” And with that, the archer walked on. No one else had seen.

Strange that this old recollection should come to him now. Or not so strange; Riverwind's mind was lost, wandering through deep corridors of memory. He encountered many phantoms there: childhood friends and foes, his father, his lost brother, Windwalker, as well as Loreman, Hollow-sky, Arrowthorn… but not Goldmoon. Where she should have been in his memory, bright and beautiful, he saw only shadows, heard only muffled voices. Where was Goldmoon?

“What are you muttering about?” asked Karn.

“Where is Goldmoon?” Riverwind said.

“You know very well she's in the city. She's waiting for us to root out and destroy these rebels.” Karn was weary of this stupid charade. He and his warriors had marched almost forty miles back and forth across the cavern.

“What city is that?” Riverwind said. The shadows in his mind were spreading, obscuring even the most recent parts of his memory.

“Vartoom,” Karn snapped. “Stupid barbarian.”

Vartoom. Riverwind sorted his motley recollections. 'The underground city?”

The elf warrior did not bother to reply. The end of the orchard was in sight. There was a rocky gully to cross and, on the other side, the pit and workings of a deep gold mine. From where he was, Karn could see that the mine was empty. No diggers bustled about, pushing carts of gold ore to the smelter. The whole excavation was vacant. That was not right. Li El had ordered the gold mines to be worked continuously.

“Halt,” Karn said, raising his hand. Behind him, four hundred soldiers slowed and stopped in a long, straggling column. Riverwind swayed a little on his feet. He was so terribly confused. Around him were the fields of his homeland, green grass undulating in the breeze. But ahead, in the midst of the green, was a gaping hole. A rock-filled gaping hole. There seemed to be mine carts around it. He shook his head. Li El's distance from the plainsman and her increasing preoccupation with the myriad problems caused by the spreading digger revolt were weakening her hold on Riverwind. Each small, conflicting bit of reality that managed to penetrate his befuddled mind only served to undermine her spells further.

“I don't like this,” Karn muttered. “Where are the workers?”

Just then, a lone figure appeared on the other side of the gully. A warrior, wearing the armor of the Garnet Division. The figure raised a hand high in greeting.

“Ho-la!” Karn shouted, grinning. “It's a scout from the Garnets!”

“A twig can kill as surely as an arrow,” Riverwind murmured.

“Overgrown idiot,” Karn rasped. “Her Highness has saddled me with an idiot.” He waved vigorously at the Hestite across the gully. Cupping his hands to his mouth, Karn called, “How far away is the rest of your company?”

“Half a mile,” said the distant warrior.

“Go back and tell them to stop where they are and be on watch for the rebels,” Karn shouted. “We will cross and join you.”

The figure waved a hand.

“That's not a good idea,” Riverwind said.

“Shut up.” Karn turned to his tired troops and told them they would soon be joining the last of their comrades in safety on the other side of the ravine. The Hestites raised a cheer.

Riverwind clamped a strong hand on Karn's shoulder. “It's a trap,” he insisted.

“Get your dirty hands off me!” Karn snarled. When Riverwind was slow to comply, he broke the plainsman's grip and stepped back. “I think Her Highness miscalculated. You've been as useful on this march as an ore cart. When I tell the queen how worthless you are, maybe then she'll get rid of you once and for all.”

“Goldmoon will not listen to you,” Riverwind said. A trace of true emotion crept into his voice. “You're being tricked into dividing your force. The rebels are near, and they will attack.”

“How do you know this? How? Do you have magical sight? What is the source of this penetrating wisdom?” Karn said sarcastically. “Eh, giant? What do you say?”

“The one you hailed was not a flesh and blood person, but a shadow. I could see through him,” Riverwind said. “I could see-I saw through him.”

Karn snorted. “I'll not waste any chance to crush the rebels. If they are near, it is my duty to give them the sword.” He waved his soldiers forward. The warriors made four single-file lines and started into the gully.

The elves scrambled down the loose gravel slope, skidding on their heels, sprawling in the trickle of water that flowed down the center of the gully's bottom. Smeared with black mud, their armor dented by stones, the warriors reached the other face and started up. When about fifty warriors had gained the far side, Karn went down himself. Red boulders rose out of the mud like berries in a bowl of gruel.

Karn slipped and slid like his troops, but he climbed to the far side and yelled back, “Come on, giant! Or are you watching for people who aren't there again?”

Riverwind dropped heavily down the slope. The rocks were rolling under his feet; he lost his footing and fell back. The polished helmet came off and clattered to the ground.

“Ha-ha-ha! The great warrior!” Karn sneered. “I've seen old crones who could walk better than you, ha-ha!” He was still laughing when the arrow hit him in the back.

Karn stumbled forward a step or two. He could feel the shaft in his back, feel the heat of his blood flowing out, but he could not accept what had happened. The giant's shocked gaze was on him, then it slid past his shoulder to stare at something behind him. Karn tried to turn around, to see what was there, but a red haze filmed his eyes and he suddenly felt the rocky ground bang the back of his head. The brazen sun filled his eyes.

The Blue Sky People set up a concerted cry of fierce joy and fell upon the divided bands of warriors. True to their heritage and training, the Hestite soldiers formed ranks as best they could and presented shields and swords to the rebels. Several hundred Blue Sky People swarmed out of the rocks surrounding the gold mine. Those not armed with stolen weapons threw stones. The seventy-odd warriors on Karn's side of the gully locked their shields together and hacked down any digger brave enough to close within sword's reach. The warriors on the opposite bank shouted encouragement to their comrades and crowded forward to enter the gully, eager to join the fight.

Riverwind stood amid a shower of fist-sized rocks. The gully was full of milling Hestites, yelling and waving swords. The soldiers packed in tightly, trying to scale the slope exactly behind the small circle of their brothers on the far bank. Bodies began to roll down the slope, knocking down other warriors who were trying to reach the battle.

Amid all this chaos, the plainsman strode head and shoulders above the rest. He fended off rocks with his shield. He shoved aside the turmoil and confusion in his mind. The enemy had shown himself. Now was the time to end the threat to Goldmoon once and forever.

“Form ranks-don't crowd!” he cried. The Hestite soldiers paid him no heed. The whole of Karn's force was now either in the gully or on the far bank. Senseless, wounded, and dead warriors were piling up at the foot of the slope.

A deep, rushing sound filled Riverwind's ears. It was like the wind. The soldiers around the plainsman began to scream and claw at their faces. Riverwind couldn't tell where the rushing sound came from. It was a steady whoosh-whoosh, not really like the wind, more like a great beast breathing.

Black smoke rolled through the air. It settled more quickly than smoke usually did, enveloping the warriors. Coughing erupted from three hundred throats. The smoke was actually dust. Riverwind's eyes flooded with tears. He blinked them away and drew his sword.

The elves were more affected by the dust than Riverwind was. As he climbed the stony slope, warriors collapsed around him, gasping for breath. Their ranks thinned, and Riverwind was able to make it to the top.

The scene he found was like a dream of the Abyss. Hundreds of black-clad figures surrounded the warriors, all screaming at the top of their lungs. Rocks flew, swords flashed, and blood flowed. Riverwind saw these black-garbed figures and knew they were agents of Loreman.

In the center of the swarm of diggers was a wagon on which a bellowslike contraption puffed gouts of black dust at the Hestite warriors. Diggers pumped away, making the engine spew the noxious stuff from its flared bronze nozzle.

Riverwind shouldered to the line of shields and broke through. The Blue Sky People gave way as the plainsman advanced. A few brave ones thrust swords at him, which he easily parried. A shower of rocks fell on him. They hurt, but they weren't going to stop him.

Black dust flew directly into his face. Riverwind sneezed repeatedly and his eyes watered, but he kept coming. Diggers only half his height tried to stop him with swords they'd picked up only a few hours earlier. The sword of Hest cleaved through them one after another, yet always there was another hate-filled face to replace the one he'd just slashed at.

The plainsman leaped onto the wagon and cut down the diggers manning the bellows. The keen elven steel of Hest's blade split the soft copper and bronze of the bellows, spilling the pepper on the diggers nearest the wagon. They wheezed loudly in spite of their masks and fell over themselves trying to get away from the choking dust.

“Rally to me, men of Que-Shu!” Riverwind roared over the din of battle. But the Hestite soldiers could not hold, much less rally. The last part of Mors's trap had been sprung when two hundred Blue Sky diggers rushed the soldiers in the gully. They'd been hiding around the bend, lying low in the mud. Their black clothes camouflaged them, and when they rose up, it was as if the ground itself were coming to life. Without Karn to keep them in order, the warriors broke. Some fell on their knees and begged for mercy. Others dropped their weapons and ran.

Riverwind raged at them to stand and fight. Then a particularly well-aimed rock hit him above the ear, stunning him. By the time he shook it off, he saw a Que-Shu man standing above the mob of black-clad figures.

“Loreman!” he bellowed. Riverwind waded through the sea of diggers toward the author of all his misery. Loreman, the crafty, plotting serpent… if Riverwind died in the next minute, he knew he would be satisfied if only he could bury his sword in Loreman's heart.

The Que-Shu elder did not attempt to get away. He watched Riverwind cut his way toward him, but he didn't move. Brave old fox, the plainsman grudgingly thought.

The diggers ceased trying to fight Riverwind and merely evaded his slashing blade. A lane opened in the mob, direct from Riverwind to his intended target. The old man waited calmly.

“Loreman, it's time for you to die!” Riverwind declared.

“I'm not Loreman,” the elder said.

“I can see who you are! You can't lie your way out of your fate now!”

“Look again, tall man! You can see who I really am, yes?”

Riverwind raised his sword high. He focused all his rage on the gray-haired figure before him. Nothing would stop him. Nothing. The world could explode in flames, and he would still kill Loreman. And yet-his arm refused to strike. Thrust home! Use the sword! a voice screamed in his head. Here is your enemy helpless-kill him! I demand it!

Goldmoon's face loomed in his mind's eye. Her blue eyes were clouded with hate, her smooth white face contorted by rage. Kill my enemies! her voice shrieked. Kill them all!

Beloved! his heart cried out. Goldmoon would never, could never, say such a thing to him! She had never looked at anyone, not even Loreman, with such ugly, bald hate. Her face began to change, its soft, rounded smoothness becoming thinner, more angular.

Kill them all! the woman's voice screamed again, and Riverwind dropped the sword as his hands clutched his head. He fell to the ground. The distorted, ugly face of Goldmoon ranted and shrieked at him. Her face changed further. The gold hair darkened and thickened. Soon it was a rich red-brown shade. This was not the face of Goldmoon. It was the queen of Hest-Li El!

“Riverwind?” the old man said.

Riverwind lay face-down on the ground, sharp rocks nicking his face. Finally, the soft voice of the old man penetrated his throbbing temples. He moved with great care and looked up. “Catchflea,” he said hoarsely.

The old soothsayer smiled. The eyes that looked up at him in exhaustion were his friend's eyes once more. Catchflea had felt his knees turn to sand when he'd first seen Riverwind striding toward him, murder in his eyes. He extended a hand to the large warrior.

Riverwind got to his feet and looked around him like a man seeing home again for the first time. He and Catchflea were in the center of a vast crowd of diggers, standing silently, watching them. The edge of the circle of diggers opened and Di An appeared, leading a blind elf by the hand.

“Is he himself?” asked Mors.

“He is, yes,” said Catchflea.

“Riverwind,” Di An said breathlessly.

He smiled at her, then followed her gaze, looking down at himself. Li El's gift of Hestite armor looked incongruous on his tall, rangy form. He tore the lacings and flung the undersized breastplate away. The diggers seized the engraved armor and began to stomp on it, obliterating the heraldic crest of the great Hest.

Di An led Mors to Riverwind. Catchflea introduced the leader of the Blue Sky People. Conscious of his position, of what he'd done, the plainsman sank down to his knees. “I place myself at your mercy,” he said. “I know I have fought against those I should have helped. Many are dead because of me.”

The elf girl regarded Mors expectantly. Catchflea went to Riverwind's side. He said, “He's not responsible for what he did, Master Mors. You know Li El's power.”

The blind elf cocked his head to one side. “Am I to do nothing to him then? What do you say, Vvelz?”

“Vvelz isn't here,” Di An said.

“No, not when there's fighting, I'm sure. Find Master Vvelz for me.” Mors's command rippled outward through the crowd.

“The warriors are done,” Catchflea said. He surveyed the now quiet battlefield. “Though I fear a good number got away to warn Li El.”

Mors said, “You, giant: I will spare you, as the old barbarian wishes it. He has been of great service to me, so I owe him a boon.”

Riverwind thanked Mors wearily.

Gradually the Blue Sky People returned from chasing the scattered warriors. The dead and injured were separated, and those still living were treated. Catchflea noticed that even as the rebels sorted themselves out, more diggers appeared, joining the ranks. They were fresh runaways, still bearing their tools and still coated with the soot from the foundries. With the newcomers came the word that all of Vartoom was in turmoil. Soldiers ran in the streets, bawling the news. Karn was dead, the Host defeated, and Mors was coming. Li El was making no attempt to calm her people.

She did not appear among them, nor did she use her considerable presence to bolster her flagging troops.

“We have won?” asked Di An.

“Not so easily. She's gathering her strength,” Mors said, “though her witcheries against Riverwind must have drained her considerably. Where is Vvelz? I want to know what she's plotting.”

“We've found him-” Diggers bore their victorious leader along. Catchflea, Riverwind, and Di An followed in Mors's wake. Near the lip of the gully, the crowd parted, revealing Vvelz on his knees in the bloody mud. Beside him was Ro Karn. Vvelz was working a healing spell on him.

“Will he live?” Mors asked once the situation was explained to him.

“Only as long as you wish him to,” Vvelz replied tersely. He tossed the broken arrow into the gully. His hands were covered in blood. “I thought you would want me to aid him, Mors.”

“He knew what he was doing.”

Vvelz glared up at him. “This is your son!”

“He's Li El's creature.”

Catchflea coughed. “Mors, how much does the queen value Karn? Perhaps he would be useful as a hostage, yes?”

Mors hung his head a moment, then replied. “Put him in a wagon under guard. If he causes trouble, kill him. Otherwise, bring Ro Karn with us to Vartoom.” Mors cast a hand about, trying to find Di An. The barren child was usually right at his side. “Where are you, Di An?” he called. Mors could not see that she was with Riverwind some ten yards distant. The exhausted plainsman had finally collapsed and was sitting quietly while the elf girl gently washed the cuts on his face. Catchflea hurried over to them.

The blind elf put out his hands slowly, reluctant to blunder about on his own. He feared he was all alone till he felt another hand grasp his. Mors gripped the hand, though it was sticky and damp.

“I'll lead you,” Vvelz said. The blind elf said nothing, but closed his fingers tightly around Vvelz's hand, smearing himself with Karn's blood.