Orjan Westin <nospam@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
> wrote:
> Orjan Westin wrote:
>> Orjan Westin wrote:
>
> Good morning, everyone. Sorry I slept late, but I did feel a bit
> worn after yesterday's long session.
Indeed. So did I; as tired as I was all day yesterday, I don't
now why I didn't turn in early. I mean, I know the story. After
all, I w-- I've heard it before.
And I still can't believe we talked our way through both lunch
*and* dinner proper. Good job I remembered to get a bite to eat
while you told the story.
> Now let's see. As you know, I'm not much of a breakfast eater,
> so perhaps just a pot of coffee.
>
> <drinks appreciatively>
Oh dear, we're in for another long session. Better ask for a
plate of cold cuts right away, then. Please?
> And a pile of pancakes.
>
> Thank you.
> * * *
>
> So, the fellow****p was broken into three parties. I'll let my
> good friend Marco here continue the story.
>
> <takes out pipe, stuffs, lights and puffs>
>
> Go on, you've been silent long enough, man.
Well, you seemed to be on a roll, and I didn't want to interrupt
you. <g>
Hmmm... Yes, that's a good place to leave off. Could take a
while to get there, though, so you'd better get something to
nibble on in the meantime.
* * *
Lowmar looked at the remains of the bridge and pulled his beard
anxiously.
"Well, that's just great! That's sweet, that is! We're in some
pretty trouble now, I tell you! This game is already over!"
Autopet grabbed him by the collar. The Varing didn't often get
annoyed -- about as often as Lowmar was distraught -- but he was
now. "Are you finished?"
"What are we going to do now?" wailed the innkeeper. "What are
we going to do?!"
"Well, if you want to get across the gorge, I can always toss
you. Hm? How about that?"
"Let him go, Goth", Villtin called across the river. "This isn't
getting us anywhere."
"Any suggestions?" asked Newra, leaving Autopet glaring at the
sobbing Lowmar.
Villtin thought about it for a while, looking upstream and
downstream along the river every so often. "Unless anyone has a
better idea -- in which case I want you to speak now or forever
hold your peace -- I'll go back upstream with this damn dragon
and see if the gorge doesn't get more shallow. Maybe the river
is fordable somewhere. You three go on downstream, there might
be another bridge, or the river might calm down and form a pool
that you could raft across, or whatever." He squinted along the
gorge again. "I can't see anything near here, but it's getting
too dark to see properly anyway. Let's say that if we don't find
anything within the next two days, we come back here and think of
some thing else. How's that sound?"
She nodded. "Reasonable. Oh, and if I happen to stumble over
any stupid slaves, can I capture them?" she grinned.
"You do that. We'd better get going as soon as possible, I don't
want to stare into the abyss for too long."
"Right. 'Ill departed by twilight', or something."
"Oh, do shut up. 'See you later, love!'"
"Oi!"
*
Capulette was just about to stop for the night and strike camp,
and reined in her horse. She had chased after Tessan's captors
all day, the only notable event of which had been running into
three of Affor's henchmen. Presumably, they were still lying in
a pained heap on the ground, and would possibly never recover
fully.
She dismounted and lifted the saddlebags off, and was more than a
little surprised to turn and find the man with the black clothes
and leather coat standing nonchalantly ten yards away from her.
"Oh, look, it's the sad bastard again. When did you overtake
me?"
"I didn't. I was here all the time."
Capulette put the bags on the ground, and rested her hand on the
hilt of her weapon. "But I last saw you a day's journey back."
"As well."
"Huh. What, you have a twin brother?"
"No, but distance is just an illusion, like everything else.
When I came to after our last meeting" -- the man had the decency
to look embarassed -- "I decided to wait for you here instead."
Capulette shook her head. "Who are you, anyway?"
The pale man drew his ivory-handled katana. "Well, those who try
to get past me generally know me as 'the barrier'."
Capulette nodded thoughtfully. Then she dived for her pistol
bows and shot at him again. She didn't expect to hit, but
planned to rush him while he dodged the bolts.
He didn't dodge the bolts. Time slowed down as it had before,
but the "Barrier" didn't swerve out of the way. Instead he put
up a hand, like a halting signal.
The bolts slowed down, and stopped. Time got back to normal
speed, but the bolts hung motionless in the air. The Barrier
picked up the frontmost one and studied it breifly, before
dropping it to the ground. He issued a little wave and the other
bolt dropped too.
Capulette glared at him. Then she drew her cavalry sabre and
rushed him anyway.
It was like moving through thick syrup. Her perception of time
felt quite normal, but everything moved ten times slower than
they should, if not more. Except for the Barrier, who moved
unhindered at what Capulette perceived as "normal speed".
Their blades met, and skidded along eachother edge-on as the man
stepped out of the way. Sparks cascaded off the edges. And then
Capulette fell flat to the ground.
The Barrier circled around her. "Want to try that again? You
know, giving up and going back is the only way you'll survive
this."
She got up and attacked him again, this time with less force, not
ru****ng blindly. Sparks flew each time the blades crossed.
Despite all her skills with the sabre, as quickly as he moved --
or, from her viewpoint, as slowly as *she* moved -- he had no
trouble fending her off.
On the other hand, she found that while she couldn't move very
fast, since her perception of events was unaffected she could
plan her strikes quite well, as well as parry or avoid his blows.
But it was a tiring fight.
She brought her blade around in a fierce swing. The Barrier
swerved out of the way, of course, but it gave her the chance
she'd been waiting for. There was a broken-off tree branch just
next to her.
So while the strange man was still straightening up, Capulette
fought the slow momentum, dropped her weapon, picked up the
branch and swept out the Barrier's feet from under him.
"Dodge this", she grunted.
The man fell on his back, and when the wind was knocked out of
him, time got back to normal. Another whack with the branch sent
him off to dreamland.
*
Villtin could have punched the dragon for being so short-
sightedly stupid back at the bridge, but it had given him a
double hiss -- with one mouth inside the other -- and he'd
thought better of it.
He had to admit, though, that it had been very handy for
splitting logs to make firewood. He now sat tending to a roaring
campfire, the dragon curled up asleep some way away.
Villtin put another log on the fire, and sighed. For all his
assertions to the rest of the fellow****p, reality was beginning
to set in. He'd seen for himself how deep the ravine under the
bridge had been, and there was simply no way that anyone could
survive such a fall. Except possibly if there was a deep pool of
water down below, but what were the chances of that?
Still, he simply would not accept that Westala was dead with any
less that being presented with a corpse. What he really wanted
to do was go back inside the caves and search for his friend,
even if he had to turn the mountain upside-down and tear the
place to pieces in the process. But he knew that it was a
practical impossibility, especially right now.
He looked up at the dark shape of the mountain. He glared at it.
And put another log on the fire.
*
Another roaring campfire.
Newra didn't have a dragon to prepare firewood, but she had a
warrior from the North and an innkeeper and that worked quite as
well.
"What a gods-forsaken place", she muttered, mostly to the air.
"I've crossed parts of these lands before, and never seen any
reason to go slow."
"I can't understand why it's so empty", said Lowmar. "There's
healthy grass and shrubbery everywhere I look, you'd think
there'd be something living of it."
"Oh, there is game, just not much of it. And mostly it's small,
I haven't seen tracks of anything bigger than a hare. I guess
the animals share my sentiment about this place; it's bloody
depressing."
"Well, we could do with coming across something soon, we're
running a bit low on supplies. We had to leave too much behind
with the cart, and then we lost more in the caves."
"Yes, but we shouldn't be very far from the fort now", said the
Varing. "We'll raid the larder on the way out."
"How far, do you think?" asked Newra.
"Can't be much more than twelve, thirteen miles, as the crow
flies. If only we can cross the river, we should be there before
the end of tomorrow, I think."
"Good. Gah! All this talk about food has made me more hungry.
I'd kill for a chocolate cake right now."
"Funny you should say that", said Lowmar, "because I had actually
brought a couple of bars of chocolate. I don't think I could
whip up a cake out here, but chocolate is always chocolate."
"That it is. So where is it now?"
"In the stuff we left with the cart."
"What?! You brought along rotten herring but no chocolate? What
the hell kind of prioritising is that?"
"Well I didn't *know* the herring had gone bad, did I? And
herring is more nutritious than chocolate."
Newra looked like she could have killed even without a cake, but
restrained herself. Lowmar quickly changed the subject.
"Any bets on who'll find a way to cross the river first, us or
Villtin?"
"Unless we're closer to something, my money's on Villtin", said
Autopet. "Man walks pretty fast."
Lowmar grinned. "I've noticed. Is he in a permanent hurry, or
what is it?"
"And how do you think he's holding up?" asked Newra. "Maybe it
wasn't such a good idea to leave him alone."
"Why, are you worried?"
She nodded. "Bit concerned, yeah. I know what you told us
before, but still. I wouldn't want anyone to be alone after
their best friend just died."
"Oh, he'll be all right", said the Varing brightly. "He's doing
just fine."
*
The Dog trotted down an empty alley close to the Cult of Me's
quarters. Like most of the streets in the city, it was devoid of
movement at this time of night. Uncharacteristic for this
usually lively city, and so Dog, who quite liked the bustling of
the place, was glad to take part in an attempt to get rid of the
cause.
Not entirely devoid of movement.
Out of a side alley padded a grey cat. It stopped dead in its
tracks when it saw the huge dog.
There was one of those wonderful moments when cat and dog just
notice one another, are forced to acknowledge that what's in
front of them actually exists, and size each other up. It's
somewhat similar to a time-freeze picture, only in real time.
Dog took a leap forward. Intelligence had taken a back seat to
instinct on this one.
"Mreeoww!" the grey cat screeched, and took off along the
streets.
The Marina Dog bounded after it. The chase took the barking mad
canine following the startled monochrome feline halfway across
town, in and out of alleys, up and down stairways, dodging the
occasional stroller who had braved the city's mood -- and who
threw themselves flat against the walls as the pair thundered
past.
In the end the grey cat took a wrong turn into a dead end. But
although it was left lost for escape routes, it wasn't left lost
for options. As Dog closed in, it clambered up a drainpipe,
jumped off and made a backflip. Two and a half backwards
somersaults, one and a half spin, pike formation.
It landed on the dog's back, and, with a speed that would have
put a s**** to shame, reached down below with a set of claws.
Dog froze up instantly. And that's the great thing about
intelligence: when instinct fails, it's there to catch you. Very
slowly, he turned his head and looked at the cat glaring back at
him. He whined softly, as if to say, "Ah. Yes, I get your
point. All five of them, in fact. Well put."
Carefully, she slipped down to the ground with a soft mewling:
"So long as we understand each other."
*
Westala woke up, and did the bodily check-up your sub-conscious
does every morning:[1] all limbs and extremities present and
accounted for, although most of them extremely sore. One head,
albeit with a splitting headache. Throat and skin very dry, eyes
irritated.
Not the best of mornings, then.
Mind unpleasantly slow, memory a gaping hole. He didn't know
where he was or what he was doing there; he could only just
remember who he was.
Definitely a bad start of the day.
He sat up, slowly and with much effort, and was surprised to find
the softness of a blanket around him. He blinked a few times,
which seemed to help his eyes.
He was as white as a ghost. Hadn't expected that. He certainly
didn't think he was dead, and his aching body agreed with him.
Further investigation showed that he was covered in chalk, but he
was at a loss to find a good reason for this state of affairs.
He took in his surroundings, which seemed to consist of a small
clearing in a dense forest and the remains of a campfire. He
could hear the trickling of a stream quite nearby, and indeed,
through a gap between the trees he could see it coming down the
mountain, far away in the distance. Right on the edge of hearing
he thought he could make out the roar of a river.
The mountain seemed to spark off a memory, although he wasn't
sure what of. But when he saw the Dancing Rodent, sitting asleep
with her back against a tree, his recollections of the previous
night began to trickle back.
What was a Dancing Rodent? He didn't know, but apparently this
girl was one. A cult... a female death-cult, yes, reputed for
killing men in sensually inventive ways. And now they were out
to kill him and... He hesitated. His friends?
Who had been with him?
But this girl had tended to him, last night. Cared for him,
given him water, kept the fire going.
Westala found that an odd way of trying to kill someone. Of
course, it was entirely possible that she was just waiting for
him to regain his full mental acuity to make the kill more of a
challenge, but he deemed it unlikely.
She stirred and woke up. As soon as her sub-conscious had
finished its start-up body audit, she opened her eyes and looked
around.
"Oh. You're up."
"On... only just now." Westala's voice was still hoarse from his
dry throat. Her initial nervousness calmed, the girl offered him
her water bottle. He drank gratefully.
"How do you feel?"
"Better now. But I don't remember much of anything beyond last
night."
Her mouth dropped open. "You've lost your memory?!" It came out
as a whisper.
His brow furrowed with thought. "No", he said eventually, "not
lost. Not exactly. Feels more like it's... misplaced. It's
like..." He waved his hands vaguely in the air. "... it's all
out there, but I can't find it. I can feel the shape of it, but
I can't reach it."
He looked her in the eyes. "Like you, for instance. I can't
help thinking that you're supposed to be trying to kill me.
Instead, you nursed me, last night. You probably saved my life.
Why?"
She sighed, wondering where to start.
"How much *do* you remember?"
"I remember finding you. I remember walking towards the light of
your campfire. Not in great detail, though, because I was a bit
dazed."
"You looked as much."
"Thank you", he smiled wryly. His gaze fell on the staff he
still held tightly in his hand. "I remember the elfin man who
gave this to me, and finding my way out of the mountain. And
before that, a sensation of... falling...?"
Only a slight change in the tone of voice suggested that the
latter was a question, but he looked at her inquiringly. And now
she had a place to start.
"You did fall. You were up on a narrow bridge in a great cave in
the mountain. My Mistress chose that place to kill you all, but
instead you killed..." She stopped. "No, actually you didn't.
I have to be honest at least with myself. You *stood up to* my
Mistress with such might that she could not control herself, and
she fell into the chasm. Then Sherilob came, and dragged you
down too."
"The false straw-man collar. I shouldn't have taken it off."
"What?"
He stared ahead of him. "I'm not sure. It... tricks Sherilob
somehow, but I can't remember why."
He took a deep breath. "Even on the way down, the spider tried
to kill me. It hauled me in on its line, like a fisherman. But
I managed to break some of its legs and its jaws, and tear free
from the web. Then I... I caught a reflection in something
further down, something lighter against the deep dark. I think I
*jumped off* the spider, towards that lighter spot."
He looked at his white-covered person. "Turned out to be water.
I nearly lost consciousness when I hit it, I guess I'm lucky I
didn't break my neck. After that, everything became a bit hazy.
I don't know how long I fought to get back to the surface, or how
long it was until I met the elvish man."
The Dancing Rodent stared at him, her mouth ajar. His relating
of the events had been dead calm, with a hint of fascination at
how much he could remember of them. She was awe-struck at this
display of composure, and sought in vain for a suitable comment.
"Oh!" didn't quite seem to cut it.
"They're all right. Your friends, they're all right." She grew
anxious by his blank look. "Don't you remember them?"
He didn't answer immediately, and it worried her. "I remember
that there were people with me", he said eventually. "And I
remember that they are good friends of mine. But I don't
remember anything about them."
She was pinned down by those pale blue eyes. "But you say that
they're all right?"
"Yes." She realised she was whispering. "Yes, they got out of
the mountain and came into the forest here, they're all right. I
saw them camp by the stream you hear now, and I followed them
into the woods."
"To kill them?"
She couldn't look him in the eyes. "Up until yesterday, yes.
That was my intention. But I couldn't have done it without my
Mistress, and even before meeting you last night... I don't
think I have it in me."
"That's good enough for now." He reached out and put a hand on
her shoulder. "What's your name, by the way?"
This time it was her brow that furrowed. "I haven't been called
by my real name for a long time. They give you a new name when
you join the Conga Rats, see, to show that you have moved beyond
your old life."
"Seems like I'm not the only one here who has memory problems,
then." He smiled faintly. "Well, what did they call you, then?"
"Mega Vole", she said with a hint of defiance, as if daring him
to make a mockery of it. But he just smiled wider, and kindly.
"I like it. It's a name with potential. I'm Westala."
They shook hands. Then they looked at the white smears Westala
left on everything he touched.
"You should be called Grease", Mega Vole teased.
"Argh, please don't."
"Why not?"
"I don't know why, but I remember being utterly fed up with it.
Look, I need to have a wash. We'll have to get the fire going
again, so I can dry my clothes."
"I can take care of that. But are you sure you want to wash in
the stream? The water is cold!"
Westala grinned widely.
"*Not* a problem!"
*
Capulette was quite sure that she had tightened the ropes quite
securely. She had tied the Barrier up very well. Nevertheless,
he was gone, and the ropes lay on the ground as if he'd just
eva****ated out of them.
Something Capulette found just as odd was that he hadn't killed
her in her sleep. If he had been able to get loose, he'd have
had every op****tunity, and if he worked for Affor, he'd have
every motive. Of course, she knew that there were warriors who
wouldn't kill someone who couldn't fight back, but she hadn't
expected it from one of Affor's henchmen. If that's what he was.
Whatever his reason was, though, she didn't worry too much about
it. She doubted she'd seen the last of him, if she continued
hunting Tessan's captors. Which she intended to.
"Another time, Barrier", she muttered.
*
Villtin had walked for about three hours, come midday. He'd
found what he'd been hoping for.
The forest had ended after only about five miles, he guessed,
just over a third of the way he figured he'd covered so far.
After a few twists and turns of the river he had emerged onto a
plain. He'd passed a few rapids, above which the water had been
ever closer to the level of the plain, and here finally he'd
found a ford.
The river was much wider here, and quite fast-running, but only a
few feet deep. Villtin looked back along it, down towards the
distant suggestion of the forest, then across it towards the
opposite bank, and addressed the dragon but mostly the world at
large.
"Right, I guess we have to decide which way to go now. I think
we can manage to catch up with the others if we move fast enough,
assuming they haven't already found a way of crossing downstream.
If they have, though, then we'll have ended up on opposite sides
of the river again, and mighty silly we would look then, wouldn't
we? Then again, they can go ahead to the fort and do a lot more
than we can. But of course it would be good if we could...
regroup, be together."
He surveyed the landscape again. It was a boring landscape, but
the only available one.
"Oh, sod it. Come on." And with much swearing at the contact
with the cold stream, he walked down into the river.
When the splish-splash of the dragon behind him stopped, he
turned to find it looking intently into the water, the end of its
tail hovering a few feet above the surface. Suddenly it shot
down with barely a ripple, and when it came up again there was a
wriggling fish skewered on it. The dragon caught it quickly and
started munching away.
"Oh, you like fish, don't you? Certainly looks like it's very
precious to you."
The dragon tilted its head towards him.
"And you can stop staring at me like that. Do you know how
unnerving it is to be stared at by someone who has no eyes? Now
catch a few more for supper, and then get a move on."
He started walking again, and to a random observer he looked as
composed and casual as he always was. Until you realised that he
carefully avoided setting his eyes on the mountain in front of
him.
*
Westala and Mega Vole made their way between the trees. The cold
bath had brought back more memories, mainly from his childhood in
the North. His spirits rose at the same pace as his
recollections returned, and moreover this forest was quite light
and pleasant, unlike the dark woods he could vaguely remember
from just a few days ago. Presently he leaned on the walking
staff and looked up at the tree-top city.
"For some reason, I keep expecting to see Peterwok up there."
"Pete... what, the mad doctor on Chopping Street?"
"Yes. I think I know him, at least I've met him a couple of
times. Um... you said he lives on Chopping Street, right?"
"Yes."
"That's the one off Simple Street, isn't it?"
"No, it's off Affordable Street."
"Ah, right. It runs in *parallell* with with Simple Street, and
crosses New Pounders, correct?"
"Yes, now you're right."
"Good. Me and street names..." He shook his head.
"Do you want to stop here to eat?"
"No, let's get down to the river first. It can't be far now."
He ****fted his weight off the staff and resumed walking. Not
long ago, he knew, he had leaned in the same way on a spear of
fine quality. Well, **** happens.
They reached the river, quite near the remains of an old rickety
bridge, and like the fellow****p before them they wondered how to
get across. The sides of the were too deep and steep to climb,
Mega Vole pointed out, and even if they hadn't been, the river
ran too fast.
"Eep!" said Westala.
"Yes, that's my reac--" She stopped as her brain replayed the
alliteration at her. "Now, don't be naughty", she grinned.
"Or what, you'll make me go to sleep?"
"Without dessert!" She waved a finger sternly at him, before
turning back to the river. "I think there is a quay some way
upstream. Or perhaps *was* is more correct to say. The ferrying
must have ceased long ago, so they couldn't have crossed there.
Do you think they went upstream or downstream?"
But Westala wasn't listening.
He was sniffing the air.
"I *know* this smell!" he said, and stalked off upstream.
Mega Vole almost had to run to keep up. In the weak wind,
following the flow of the river, she picked up a faint but bad
smell. Her nose wrinkled.
"Where *ever* do you know this from? It's awful!"
"I know! I never thought I'd actually be glad to smell it!"
The Northman stopped, sniffed around carefully, corrected his
direction and set off again. Eventually, he slowed to a halt and
kneeled down by a piece of rock. It had a bleached scorch mark
on it.
"It's corroded!" the girl behind him exclaimed. "What in the
name of Sume Anders corrodes rock like that?"
Westala took a deep sniff. "Surströmming", he said absently.
"What?"
"Sorry, that's 'sour herring', insufficently preserved herring
that has fermented and gone rotten. There's a tribe of people up
north, the Dalamas, who regard it a delicacy."
"I can't say I understand them. I maintain that it's awful."
"It's absolutely foul." He smelled the stone again. "The
innkeeper who was with us had brought a few kegs of herring.
We're on the right track."
"The innkeeper?"
"Yes. We weren't too keen on letting him come, but he insisted.
If only I could remember his name! He's not a tall person, I
know that much. But he's not precisely short, either -- he's
more sort of low... Low..."
Mega Vole looked helplessly at him. Then a name she'd overheard
in the Magdala caves drifted through her mind and waved for
attention.
"Lowmar?"
"Yes! Yes, Lowmar. We rescued his daughter from a slaver once.
Oh, and Goth, Autopet, was with us also. I'd be damned if I
don't remember him, we grew up together. And then... uh... the
woman... and my brother in arms, who has been my companion in
more battles than I care to remember... than I *can* remember,
right now..."
He snapped his fingers irritably, and Mega Vole gave him a sad,
pitiful look. Carefully, the girl put a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm afraid I can't help you with the woman. The only name I
know for sure is that of the young man, since he was our other...
um."
She trailed off. With some degree of sarcasm, he gestured for
her to continue, which of course only made her more embarrassed.
"... intended target."
"So-o-o? What is his name, then?"
"Villtin."
"Villtin", Westala repeated flatly. "Right."
"You don't remember him?"
"Not a lot of bells ringing yet, no. Ironic, isn't it? The one
person I feel I really should remember, apart from Goth, I can't.
Go figure."
"How can you be so calm about it?"
"Well, at least I know that my memories *are* returning.
Hopefully it's only a matter of time before they're all back."
The Conga-Rat shrugged. "If you say so. I wish I could be as
philosophical about it if I were in your place."
"Anyway, with a bit of luck we'll soon catch up with them, and
then I can ask them about anything I can't remember."
"That's true. Well, then I ask you again: should we go upstream
or downstream? Your guess is probably better than mine."
Westala looked up and down the river, stroking his beard. "I
really have no idea. But they couldn't have used that bridge,
and we know they came through here. Let's go on upstream."
"All right. We should stop to eat soon, too, but I'd prefer
somewhere less... whiffy."
"Good point. I wonder why they threw away a herring keg there."
"To get rid of the smell?"
"No-- well, *yes*, but why smash it against a rock first, in that
case? They could have just dropped it in the river, or left it
behind in some place."
"Well, I don't know. I guess they had their reasons."
*
"I swear", said Gideoallet, "sometimes Peterwok just gets *too*
weird."
"Why, what did he do now?" said Tily. They were out on one of
their many walks around the city to see to that the fear and
distrust didn't get entirely out of hand. It didn't right now,
the visit of the High Priest of the Temple of Afpdor had livened
up the atmosphere somewhat.
"When I met with him this morning, he was unloading a cartload of
frogs. Said he needed them for some kind of experiments. I
thought his experiments mainly involved grinding up mice, but he
told me 'Normally, yes, but sometimes frogs are better'."
"What were the experiments about?"
"Look, I didn't have Messy with me to translate his gobbletygook,
so I have no idea. He said something about sticking copper and
zinc rods in a lemon." The swordsman shrugged.
"What's that got to do with frogs?"
"Search me. I'm not sure I *want* to know. Oh, and he mentioned
drying their skin. And when I was leaving, he asked me if I knew
a good toy-clothes maker."
"You mean he wanted dolls' clothes?"
"Small silk trousers. To put on the frogs. I said, 'but frogs
don't normally wear clothes', and he said, 'precisely, that's the
point'."
"Did you smell boiling mercury around the place?"
"It would have been slightly less disturbing if I had."
*
A smirk played on Westala's face while he prepared a meager meal.
"What's so funny?" wondered Mega Vole. The swordsman looked at
her, and the smirk turned into an expression of growing panic.
"Um. I just remembered something about Villtin. Er... I'm
afraid he's a bit of a womaniser."
The girl gave him a look of polite incomprehension.
"Many of the female persons he comes across are subjected to his
attempts of seductions, is what I mean." And now the longness of
worry was developing on her face as well.
"You mean he might..."
"Yes, precisely. Then again, maybe not -- there's another
possibility that you may find even worse. He may try to kill
you. He's never taken very kindly to people who are out to kill
him."
"But I'm not! Not anymore!"
"I doubt he'll stop and listen long enough to find out. And
remember, they saw me fall into that chasm, and I only survived
that out of blind luck. So you might want to stay back a bit
until I've explained the situation."
"But... but... What about that woman? She was trying to kill
him too!"
"Yes, but not very seriously. And we quickly discovered that we
have common ambitions. Now, make no mistake -- Villtin doesn't
trust Newra, even though he's got the hots for her."
"Newra?"
"Yeah, I remember who she is now, I forgot about that. She's
Newra the Moonlight Raider."
"That was the Moonlight Raider?!"
"You know about her?"
"Why, of course! Even though she does not properly hate men, her
displays of female strength have made her well respected among
Rodents. *Everyone* knows about her."
"But no-one told you she was with us?"
"No..." She fell silent. She'd already done the maths, but the
bottom line was not showing her something she really liked to
see.
Westala said nothing. He couldn't think of anything *to* say.
And so the few crumbs of bread and slices of watery sausage
proceeded in silence. Until the Dancing Rodent stopped her hand
halfway to her mouth.
"Westala...?"
"What is it?"
"You're an accustomed outdoors person..." The girl had something
on her mind.
"Yes, that would be fair to say. Guilty as charged."
"How long ago do you think that bridge fell?"
There was a pause.
"Hard to say with rope-and-plank bridges that old, really", he
replied brightly. "Could have fallen any time between twenty
years ago and yesterday."
"Yesterday?"
There was an altogether too long pause.
"No."
"No."
*
The good news was that they'd found a way over the gorge. The
bad news was that it was an arc of rock, which looked anything
but safe.
"I've just about had enough of narrow stone bridges", said
Lowmar. They too had left the forest behind, and reached more
rocky country. Here, as the river had carved its course through
the shale, it had left a natural arc behind.
"I couldn't agree more", said Newra, "but it seems like the only
option we've got."
The Varing was poking at the stone with Westala's spear. Flakes
and crumbs broke off and fell down with every touch.
"I'll go last", he said. "I think it will hold, but I'm afraid
if I go first there'll be tensions in the arc so that it won't
sup****t either of you afterwards."
Newra stepped out on the bridge. She thought she could hear it
creak, but decided it must have been in her imagination. She
walked softly on, shale flaking under her feet, and got herself
across.
Lowmar next. He treaded carefully out, and although flaking
profusely, the shale held. Until he was on top of the arc.
A chunk of rock broke from under his foot. Spilling no time to
think, he lunged himself forward and landed on all fours. His
face chalk white, he tried to spread his weight out while at the
same time not moving a muscle. The bridge creaked and groaned,
but held together. Slowly, he could crawl to safety.
There were big cracks in the rock now. Autopet looked at them
with a calculating expression.
"It'll hold!" he called to the others. "Catch this!" He took
off his backpack, swung it over his head, and threw it clean
across the ravine. The spear followed shortly after. "Now get
away from the bridge!"
Newra and Lowmar saw him back off twenty yards to get a good run-
up.
"Hyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!"
He sprinted like a fast-train. The bridge crumbed, then broke,
and started to collapse. Autopet didn't slow down -- if
anything, he ran even faster. He managed to stay ahead of the
crumbling rock until he had five yards left, and made a mad leap.
He landed on the edge of the cliff and rolled forward, just a
moment before the last piece of the arc broke off and fell.
Lowmar and Newra gave him a hand up.
"See? Told you it'd hold."
"Yeah, right", said Newra. "We'll obviously not be coming back
this way. I hope Villtin has found another way to cross."
"Told you it'd hold!" The Varing grinned maniacally. "Prove me
wrong!"
*
Westala and Mega Vole were emphatically not discussing fallen
bridges. Which, since that was nagging on both their minds,
meant that what few safe conversation topics they could come up
with were quickly exhausted.
Not that they didn't try.
"That city in the tree-tops we saw..." said Westala. "I wonder
if the people who lived there were big on s****ts."
"What kind of s****ts could they have done there?"
"Damned if I know, but I do know that people have managed to
think up recreational activities for virtually every habitat.
There's no reason the people that lived here couldn't have had
'Forest Games' to crown a Sylvan Champion, or something."
"Well, I guess not."
Silence. Again.
Westala took in the surroundings. "Looks like were coming out of
the woods. I wonder how long it'll be before we find a way to
cross the river."
Mega Vole was pointing straight ahead. "Westala, look!"
*
Villtin had walked for another two hours, after a quick lunch of
dragon-speared fish. Now he had about three hundred yards left
to enter the forest.
Which someone was coming out of.
Even at this distance, Villtin *knew* who one of them was, and
started running. He could see the person who *must* be Westala,
if there was an ounce of fairness in the world, look around
himself. The female figure next to him looked like a Dancing
Rodent.
Like he cared about *that* right now.
The girl raised her hand and pointed at him. The man followed
her gaze, and started running too.
At fifty yards apart, Villtin slowed to a walk, breathing
heavily. He still didn't dare trust his eyes as he went up to
Westala.
And grabbed him by the collar and waved a finger in his face.
"Don't you *ever* pull a stunt like that again!"
And then he embrace him. When he spoke, it was a whisper. "Damn
it, Joran, you scared me!"
"Gotta keep you on your toes, Ramoc", the Northman smiled.
"I knew you weren't dead", said Villtin, letting go.
"Yeah, right. Like you could tell. What are you now, a lover in
an old romance?"
"Oh, shaddup. Stop mocking me and tell me how you survived
instead, ya big oaf."
"Largely thanks to her", said Westala and indicated the
approaching Rodent. "So I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't kill
her."
"All right. How about--"
"No."
"Aww."
Westala ruffled Villtin's hair. "I'm glad to see you alive too.
You know, there was an old bridge about five or six miles back.
We were worried you might have been on it."
"We were, sort of. It fell thanks to that stupid creature over
there. I'd already gone over, but Autopet, Newra and Lowmar were
on it when it fell. But they're all right, they managed to get
up again."
"Where are they now?"
"They wen't downstream, we split up to look for another way to
cross the river."
"You obviously found one. What are you doing back here?"
"I thought I'd try to catch up with them, in case they didn't
find anything. But screw that now, the four of us can go ahead
and take on Bos and Ballong if need be. There's a ford about two
hour's walk from here."
"Yeah, two hours at your speed."
"Oh, shut up and get moving."
* * *
<takes a large bite>
I'm forry, but I'm hun'ry. I'll jus' have a sammich and 'en I'll
continue.
--------
[1] When you wake up at 4am and forget who you are, it's because
this check-up was never executed.
--
Marco Villalta
Happy Birthday, Örjan!
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