Hiero Desteen: 01 - Hiero's Journey (24 page)

The bear awoke suddenly and sniffed the breeze.
Wind, stronger, Girl
(identity Luchare symbol).
The sky is dark. Hiero may have good luck (?).
He lay back and shut his eyes again.

But he's in prison!
she thought. The Metz priest himself would have been surprised at how well Luchare had learned to use her mind. She and Gorm could conduct a regular conversation with very few breaks now, and she could even give the big morse intelligible orders, although she usually asked Gorm to do this for her. Klootz accepted Gorm's commands completely, as he would have Hiero's, another thing the priest would have found worth pondering. The bear had been very careful, too, when planning their next moves.

Do not try
(negative emphatic)
to talk to Hiero!
He had made the order plain.
Talk only to me or Klootz and when we are close together.
Being clever herself, she realized that he knew what the dangers were far better than she. She ought not to try and locate Hiero mentally, lest she unwittingly draw the enemy down upon them instead.

But damn this waiting and wondering!

An hour or so later, she felt the bear rouse himself again. This time he rose and stood, dark, pointed head erect, as if trying to see through the racing clouds about them. Somehow, she now was attuned enough to know, he was in communication with the priest again. If only she could understand and were not so stupid! There must be some way she could help, if she could only think of it! Then she realized with a thrill, that Gorm was now talking to her.

I
cannot describe this place properly. You must tell him what it looks like. He cannot see well with my eyes.

Then, into her mind like a flood, came Hiero! But there was no greeting, no warmth, only commands!

Quick, girl, where are you? Try to tell me what this place looks like from the sea, if you can imagine it. And hurry!
' There was a pause.
I am pursued; I cannot keep this mind path open for long. Hurry!

Luchare was terrified. She had wanted so much to help, but now she was unable even to think. Anything she thought might kill Hiero, if the information were incorrect. But she came of fighting stock and managed to rally.

Wait,
she sent clumsily.
I will try. We are less than a day's
j
ourney east from where you were taken. Offshore is a lone rock with two palms growing at the east end. The rock is high in the
west, low to the east. Behind it is a small cove with a beach. We are there.

That's enough!
Hiero snapped.
No more until you see me, or they will use you. Don't send any more messages until you actually see me, understand! Now wait!
There was a sudden blankness, a "silence." Luchare burst Into tears. Here he was, in deadly danger, maybe about to be killed, and not one kind word for her, not even a "hello" or "how are you"! The next moment her tears increased at the thought of her own selfishness. Even as she stormed at his coldness, he might be dead!

Wait, be calm,
came the thought in her mind. Looking down through her tears, she saw that Gorm lay on his stomach, head on his furry paws, looking up at her.

He will come back,
the thought continued.
And he thinks of you too. Only now he must fight for his life. Be patient.

Luchare blinked back the tears and then reached down and hugged the bear. How had he known what she was feeling?

Your mind was open to me,
he sent.
When Hiero spoke to you, it was through me. Your own mind is not yet strong enough for such a task. Now sleep while I keep watch.

Soothed, but still apprehensive, she lay down on her waterproof cloak, staring at the black sky above and listening to the small breakers hitting the beach and the rattle of the wind in the palmettos. She was sure she could not possibly sleep, and the bear observed with satisfaction that she was asleep in hardly any time at all.

These humans,
he thought.
They take their affections so hard!
Then he resumed listening to the night.

His face calm, but his mind racing, Hiero watched the coil of the great water worm disappear below the surface. He was braced against the lee side, gripping his steering oar in one hand and the sheet, the line holding the sail, in the other. The little craft was tearing along the rocky coast of Manoon, the wind on her quarter, and he was keeping her as close to the cliffs as he dared. Something told him that the danger would be greater out on the open water. Soon, however, he would have to leave the shelter of the isle and strike out for the mainland. He knew by his Internal "compass" and the glimpse of the land at sunset where he wanted to head, but keeping an unfamiliar small boat on course in this stiff breeze was something else again. And now the haunters of the depths were being loosed upon him. He could still feel the vibration in his mind which he had decided was the hunting call sent out from the Dead Isle to the monster worms. He strained his eyes through the black night to see if a worm or a sharp rock would appear first in the murk and destroy him.

Once a great swell broke two boat lengths to seaward of his little craft, but he could not see whether something was lurking below or a wave crest had simply toppled over naturally.

A vagrant fleck of moonlight pierced the wind-driven banks of clouds and helped give the
priest his new bearings. He was leaving Manoon at last. The farthest, most eastern headland, gaunt and windswept, towered up to his right, blacker than the clouds, and beyond its point lay nothing but windswept open sea. Somewhere off there, how far it was hopeless to guess, must lie the mainland and his friends.

At this point, in order to head the boat around the island, he was forced to jibe and cross the sail over to the other side. This meant raising one leeboard, securing it, and lowering the other. Somehow it got done. Fortunately, the standing lug is one of the simplest rigs ever devised, which may account for its continual rediscovery throughout history. Bringing her around on the new course, Hiero looked back and instantly stiffened.

Out of the tossing sea, three waves back, caught in a ray of the fitful moonlight, the hideous round mouth, pulsing in horrid motion, of a giant worm appeared. To the priest, then and later, these dreadful brutes were "worms," but in actuality, their origin, like much else, dated back to The Death. In the past only foot-long sea lampreys, the scourge of the local whitefish and trout, forced mutation had turned them into mindless, ravening colossi, capable of overwhelming a small boat. The Unclean wizards of Manoon had found a mental wavelength which stimulated the hideous things into a simultaneous rise to the surface and quest for food. Only the adepts could then control them enough to keep them away from their own vessels, and they thus formed a most effective guard around the island, many of them always lying on the bottom near it.

As the creature bore down on him, clear in the persistent moonlight, the neck arched and cut through the water like that of a giant snake. The small, round eyes, set on the sides of the head, were visible as it swayed from side to side, following each movement of the boat. Almost, it seemed to Hiero, the thing was toying with him, for it advanced at a very slow rate, far slower than if it had been coming in earnest. Probably it was only instinctive caution, for the tiny brain was incapable of any thought. At length it seemed to decide this thing was prey. The motion through the water suddenly increased tenfold, and the head-mouth, barbed fangs all palpitating, struck down at Hiero as he sat in the stern.

The priest had never felt he had a chance, once he saw the worm come, and he was very, very angry. To have come through so much, only to be dragged down by a hideous, mindless thing like this! But he was trained to battle, and the first rule was never to give up.

He had taken a turn with the sheet to a rude wooden cleat, and as the horror struck down at him, he in turn stood up, the tiller-oar held between his knees. At the same time, he thrust stoutly into the yard-wide, sucker mouth above him. He used the butt end of one of the spare oars, snatched off the boat's bottom, and he drove it home down the foul gullet as strongly as he could.

There was a shock which threw him to his knees, but he never lost control of the steering oar and he saw the great worm fling back its head in agony at the hard morsel so suddenly jammed in its throat. The wash of its recoil helped drive the boat forward a trifle faster. As he watched in fascination, the monster churned the water to foam in its efforts to expel the unwanted tidbit. Soon it was out of sight in the murk, but he dared not relax his vigil. There were assuredly many more of the things, and he could not always count on such luck. Besides, he was fast approaching exhaustion. The strain of the two recent combats and the necessity of keeping a constant watch on
the mental airwaves had worn him down to a shred of his normal vitality. He had not had anything like a rest since his capture and he was not sure how much longer he could go on.

The island had long since been lost to view, and the now increasing gleams of the moon's rays on the dancing wave tops showed nothing but empty water as far as the eye could reach.

Tired as he was, Hiero decided it was time to try and get more information. He had no belief in the powers of good triumphing so easily. S'duna's rage alone had come clearly to his mind as he was leaving the harbor, and the other adepts could hardly be less furious. S'duna had said himself that no one had ever yet escaped the Dead Isle. Pursuit would be coming, and the sooner Hiero contacted his friends the better.

It was then that he called Gorm. If Luchare could have known his thought when he broke the mental contact with her, she would have slept with a smile on her face. Slowly, reluctantly, the priest was finding that her dark face and dancing, corkscrew ringlets were somehow always coming between him and any other work or thought, even in times of crisis. Almost physically, he shook off such feelings.
If he got out of this mess ...

His brain was now tuned to the island behind him again, and using his new wavelength, he was able to separate several sets of minds from what must be the main group back at the fortress. Using his newfound powers, he was able to locate no less than three separate "groups" of mind pulses, apart from the central one which had to be Manoon itself. These three pulse groups were stronger than the other, and that meant closer! They lay, physically, that is, in an arc, between the island and himself. The pursuit could thus be pinpointed as being in three vessels, all more or less on his track. The Unclean lords had quickly guessed which course he would take, that was obvious. Now, how far away was the mainland?

The priest strained his eyes, staring ahead through the night, but the fleeting moon gleams, though they came at closer intervals, revealed nothing but more of the great freshwater sea. He turned his mental energies to the subband again, God Almighty, the shore could not be too far distant, from the strength of the signals he had caught from his own friends. He must have come five miles at least since leaving the Dead Isle. On and on he sailed, up one wave and down the next, the wind steadily from the quarter, the little boat's best point of sailing. But she was not designed with speed in mind, and behind him, the three clumps of mental force which he knew represented three enemy craft grew remorselessly more powerful. He knew too that they were seeking his mind and not finding it, which was his sole consolation.

As the night drew on, the light grew better. The clouds began to thin out and the moon and stars appeared in greater and greater frequency. This was bad, but there was nothing the priest could do except hold his course and pray.

What was that?
A dark line ahead, glimpsed in the waning moonlight? There, it came again, and yet again as he rose to a wave top. It was land, a little to the left of his bearing. He trimmed the small sail and the boat bore up, while his heart pounded. Once again there was a chance, and he was going to take it. Now once more he reached out for the bear's mind.

Wake up, break camp, and wait! Be ready and don't answer, or you'll be detected.
Three times Hiero sent this on his new low-level wavelength and then ceased. He had done all he could.

The wind still drove him on with the same strength. But the clouds were almost gone now, and even his small sail must be visible for some distance in the moonlight, he knew. He sought the enemy minds and marveled at how close their "images" were. Yet when he looked back, he could not see them.

He could begin to make out details of the land now, but to his disappointment saw nothing but a line of light-colored beach and dark scrub and whiter dunes behind it. No island such as Luchare had described appeared, indeed no islands of any sort. Had he overshot them? No matter; getting ashore was the first step, away from those pursuing boats. He aimed directly for the nearest stretch of beach, now no more than a half mile away.

As he did, he sensed the sudden surge of emotion in the minds of his nearest foes as they glimpsed him for the first time. Alerted, he looked back and saw them. Two dark triangles rose from the shining waters, rose and fell back, then rose again. The sails of the pursuing vessel were about the same distance from Hiero that he himself was from the beach and safety. It would be a close race. But he had been lucky and he knew it. He had struck the westernmost boat, the one at the left end of the line of three, and it was not one with an engine. But he could feel the thrilling of the communication bands as the Unclean sent out word that he was in sight, and sure enough, he felt the other two mind "clumps" begin to close up toward his position. He readied the long knife in his lap, this time for himself. He would receive no second chance to escape, he knew, and the enemy was going to get no live prisoner this time. He looked back, calculating his chances, estimating the speed of the two-masted vessel. It was gaining on him fast, and he could see the black outline of its hull now and even a twinkle of light as some edged weapon caught the moon.