Lyonesse II - The Green Pear and Madouc (57 page)

Entering Pude, the wole cantered down the center of the main street, while folk peered down through the windows of their tall crabbed houses. No one came out to challenge their passage, and they crossed the bridge without a thought for the payment of toll.

With the River Haroo safely to the rear, Glyneth gave a nervous laugh. “We are not popular in Pude. The children did not bring us flowers and there was no trace of a celebration. Even the dogs refused to bark and the mayor hid under his bed.”

Kul looked back with a grim smile. “To my great relief, since I too would like to hide and skulk. If the children struck me with a single flower petal I would fall flat; I lean on this sword to hold myself erect; I doubt if I could lift it to strike a blow if Visbhume’s neck itself were the target.”

“Why stand there then? Sit down and rest! Think strong and hopeful thoughts and soon you will be as healthy as ever!” Kul limped back to the low bench. “We shall see.”

Ahead lay the trackless Tang-Tang Steppe, and Glyneth began to fear that they might deviate from their course and so lose their way. The only dependable landmark was the pink star in the east, but to keep this star directly astern was a difficult task, and the two continually searched for landmarks along the way. They passed through the region of vast trees; as before the half-human tree-dwellers issued hysterical threats and made offensive signs. Kul steered the wole so as to veer around the trees and took refuge in the pergola. “I wish to provoke no one, not even these miserable creatures.”

“Poor Kul!” said Glyneth. “But do not fret; soon you will grow strong again, and you will no longer take such frights. Meanwhile you may rely on me, since I have Visbhume’s wallet ready to hand.”

Kul made a growling noise in his throat. “It has not quite come to that yet. Though, for a fact, I am of little value.”

Glyneth indignantly contradicted him. “Of course you are of value, especially to me! We shall go slowly and give you time to rest.”

“Not so! Have you watched the black moon? It is moving around the sky! When we get to the hut, my work is done, and then I can rest.”

Glyneth sighed. Such talk oppressed her. If she survived, she would never forget these strange journeys across the world Tanjecterly, and perhaps the dreadful events would lose their force, while Kul’s companionship, the rests at the pleasant little cottage and the wonderful landscapes of Tanjecterly would assert their charm, to which for the time being she was numb… . Could it be possible that she would leave Tanjecterly with regret? Assuming, of course, that she were to leave… . Glyneth sighed again and gave her attention to the countryside.

Travel, then rest, and travel again, and each cycle brought new events. On one occasion the wole barely evaded a stampede of eight-legged ruminants, the size of large boars, dappled red and white with long tusks and tails ending in spiked knobs. Squealing, screaming, emitting a vile odor, the column of beasts a quarter-mile wide rushed past, from north to south, and finally disappeared.

Another time they passed by an encampment of swarthy human nomads, dressed in gaudy garments of black, yellow and red. Instantly scores of children ran out to beg, and the sight of Kul deterred them not at all. Glyneth had nothing to give them and they tore tassels from the wole’s rug until Glyneth caused the wole to accelerate its pace and leave the encampment behind.

At this point Glyneth began to suspect that they had strayed from the most direct route across the steppe, and her suspicions were confirmed by the sight of two knolls, each crowned by a fortified castle, and, beyond, a crag of rock surmounted by a castle, even larger and more dire. As the wole ran past, a pair of enormous knights, each taller and more massive than Kul, rode down from the first two castles. One knight wore splendid purple armour with a crest of green plumes, while the other wore blue armour and orange plumes. They halted their steeds in front of the wole, and held up their arms in apparently amicable salute.

The purple knight asked: “Good gentlefolk, we extend our greetings and ask as to how and in what style you name yourselves?”

Glyneth responded from the top seat of the pergola. “I am, the Princess Glyneth of Troicinet, and this is my paladin Sir Kul.”

The blue knight said: “The place ‘Troicinet’ is unknown to us. Sir Kul, if I may say so, somewhat resembles a syaspic feroce, though his face, manner, and nobility of bearing, suggest the status you have ascribed to him.”

“You show discernment,” said Glyneth. “Sir Kul is under an enchantment and must use his present guise for a certain period.”

“Aha!” declared the purple knight. “You have explained much.”

The blue knight said: “We also note that Sir Kul stands with hands enclasping a great sword of uncommon fabric. It is much like the sword Zil, carried by the murderer Zaxa of Pude Town.”

“True. Zaxa at one time wielded this sword, but he gave offense, and Sir Kul took both his life and his sword. It was a tedious exercise since Zaxa roared a great deal during his dying.”

The two knights examined Kul askance. They conferred together, then the blue knight, moving to the side, blew a great blast on his horn.

The purple knight meanwhile came to address Glyneth and Kul: “In view of your victory over Zaxa, we implore you to kill his father, Sir Lulie, as well. Lulie is stronger by far than Zaxa and we feel no shame in admitting our own fear of him. Lulie is guilty of a thousand horrid deeds, with never so much as a wince of remorse, much less an apology.”

Glyneth said hastily: “We deplore such misdeeds, but now we have no time to take action; in fact, we are already late for very important business.”

“Is that truly the case?” asked the purple knight. “Then it seems that my brother was premature in sounding the challenge.”

“Absolutely! We are now departing and you must explain to Sir Lulie as best you can. Kul, stir the wole to his best speed.”

“Too late,” called the purple knight. “I notice Sir Lulie riding down from his castle at this very moment.”

With a sinking heart Glyneth watched the approach of Sir Lulie. He sat in a massive throne-like chair on a wole, and carried a lance forty feet long. He wore half-armour: a cuirass, greaves and a casque in the mold of a demon’s head, with a crest of three black plumes.

Sir Lulie halted his steed at a distance of a hundred feet. He called out: “Who blew so brashly his horn, to disturb my rest? I am quite put out of sorts.”

The blue knight spoke: “The horn was blown to announce the presence of invincible Sir Kul, who has already killed your son Zaxa and now wants to see the colour of your liver.”

“That is a cruel ambition!” cried Lulie. “Sir Kul, why do you pursue such violent aims?”

“It seems to be my destiny,” muttered Kul. “In this case, however, you are a bereaved father and I relent. Go back to your castle with your grief, and we will proceed. Our best wishes to all; goodbye.”

The purple knight cried out: “Sir Kul, evidently you spoke in jest when you described Sir Lulie as ‘the dog of a dog’ and ‘a coward whose deeds stink even worse than Sir Lulie himself!’ “

Sir Lulie said: “I am not a sensitive person, but these remarks carry a sting.”

Kul said: “Sir Lulie, your quarrel lies with yonder two knights, not me. Please excuse us from further conversation, as we are anxious to go our way.”

“Still, you have killed my son Zaxa, and you carry his sword. If nothing else, this deed calls for retribution.”

“I killed him when he attacked me. If you attack me, I will find some way to kill you.”

“Ha ha! I interpret that remark as a challenge.”

“It is not intended to be so. Please allow us to continue.”

“Not until all accounts are settled. Climb from your perch. We will fight afoot, and you shall swing Zaxa’s sword against his father, if you dare.”

Kul turned to Glyneth. “Do not stay for me. Fare west, Glyneth, at all speed, and may good luck go with you.”

Kul jumped down from the wole, carrying not Zaxa’s unwieldy weapon but his own short heavy sword. He advanced toward Sir Lulie with that lurching, forward-leaning gait characteristic to him.

Lulie drew his sword from the scabbard, and flourished it high. “Devil-beast, behold my sword Kahanthus! Your time has come!”

On the top seat of the pergola Glyneth inserted a fire-mite into the tube, aimed carefully and blew. The pellet, spreading and beating its wings, flew through the eye-hole in Lulie’s casque and struck with an explosion of white fire. Lulie gave voice to a wild ululation and, dropping his sword, clawed at his helmet. Kul cut down on Lulie’s elbow, so that the fore-arm dangled loose at the joint. Lulie kicked, more by reflex than intent, and sent Kul hurtling through the air, and when he struck the ground he lay still. Lulie pulled away his casque and blinked here and there through his one remaining eye; he saw Kul and lunged down to choke him. Kul raised his sword and the point penetrated Lulie’s neck under the chin and thrust up into the brain. Lulie slumped down upon Kul and the spike protruding from his cuirass stabbed Kul high in the chest.

Straining greatly, Glyneth rolled Lulie’s corpse to the side. To staunch the red blood spurting from Kul’s wound, she wadded a kerchief into the puncture, then ran to find Visbhume’s wallet. She brought out the cake of wax and applied it in desperate haste. With the wound in Kul’s chest finally staunched, Glyneth found to her dismay that blood welled from the wound in his back where the point of the spike had emerged. The wounds in Kul’s chest and back at last ceased to flow, but for a period Kul knelt with hanging head, coughing and spitting red foam from his lungs. At last he turned Glyneth a ghastly grin. “Once more I am well! Back to the wole; the black moon rolls!”

Kul rose swaying to his feet; with Glyneth’s help he managed to clamber into the pergola, where he slumped heavily upon the bench.

The purple knight and the blue knight had long since departed, and now Glyneth saw them riding up the road to Sir Lulie’s castle, whether to claim Sir Lulie’s treasures or to liberate his captives she could not guess.

Now Glyneth steeled herself and, gritting her teeth, she pulled Kul’s sword from the corpse, and, after wiping it clean on Sir Lulie’s garments, she carried it to the wole.

Sir Lulie’s sword, Kahanthus, lay on the turf: a blade of pale blue metal and a handle fitted with plaques of carved ebony and terminating in a glowing red ruby cabochon. The sword was heavy; with an effort Glyneth lifted it to the wole’s back. Glyneth climbed aboard and once again the wole coursed into the west.

Kul slumped back with his eyes closed, his face pallid, his breath shallow and rasping from the blood still caught in his throat. Glyneth tried to make him comfortable, and sat close beside him, watching the flicker of expressions crossing his face. They became gradually more marked and more definite, and Glyneth began to feel eery chills at what she imagined she saw. At last she touched the gaunt cheek. “Kul! Wake up! You are dreaming bad dreams!”

Kul stirred. He groaned and drew himself up into a sitting position. Glyneth anxiously searched his face; to her relief she saw only the Kul whom she loved and trusted.

Glyneth asked: “Do you remember your dreams?”

After a moment Kul said: “They are gone now. I do not want to remember them.”

“Perhaps we should stop to rest, until you feel stronger.”

“I need no rest. We must travel as far and as fast as we can.”

The wole ran on: league after league, across the blue grass. To the south a few two-legged wolves appeared from time to time, to appraise the wole and consult wisely among themselves, then to bound away through the trees.

Travel, rest, travel: across the Tang-Tang Steppe, a landscape whose aspect at last began to seem familiar. They passed the tall manse of the robber knight, whom Visbhume had tricked with his mirror; on this occasion no one came forth from the manse. Over the western horizon appeared the shadowy loom of mountains, and presently the River Mys swept down from the north to flow parallel to their course. The two-legged wolves, which had kept warily apart, became joined by a new troop whose elders, gesturing toward the wole, seemed to counsel bolder tactics. The band gradually closed in to run on either side of the wole, and also at the rear. One darted close and tried to gnaw at one of the wole’s legs; the wole kicked the creature forward and trampled it without losing the rhythm of its stride.

Wearily Kul rose to his feet and took up his sword, and for a space the wolves drew back. Then, deciding that Kul posed no instant menace, they returned to bound close alongside, while two jumped up on the rug behind the pergola. Glyneth was ready with the tube and blew a fire-mite at the closest. It struck the creature’s chest in a flash of blue and orange flame; the creature howled loud, and tumbled from the wole, to bounce here and there in wild convulsions. Glyneth aimed the tube at the second wolf, but it sagely hopped to the ground and ran skipping to the side.

After a few minutes the wolves loped off to the south and gathering in a circle discussed tactics, with much nodding of long-nosed faces and snapping in and out of thin black tongues. Meanwhile, Kul urged the wole to its best speed, and ahead, where the mountains began to swell up from beside the river, stood the hut.

The wolves loped once again to the attack. In accordance with their plan, they came up on both sides of the wole and jumped up to throw themselves on Kul. He chopped with his sword, hacking at reaching sucker-arms and heads, and cleared the space to the right, only to find the wolves surging upon his back from the left. Glyneth sent down fire-mite after fire-mite, until over the top of the pergola came a hairy arm to seize her around the neck, and a grinning long-nosed face looked closely into hers. She gasped and tore herself free and blew a fire-mite into the black mouth, and the creature departed, now concerned only with its own woeful destiny.

The hut was only a hundred yards distant, but the wolves had pulled Kul from the wole, which came to a confused and trembling halt while the wolves crowded in upon Kul. Finally, they carried him down and seethed over him in a yelping furry mass.