The Cataclysm (13 page)

When Darll understood, he shook both fists at the kender and swore until he was panting
like a runner.

*****

Darll and Graym started off again. They grabbed the crosspiece of the wagon tongue, braced
their feet in the dirt, and pulled. The wagon rolled forward quickly. Graym dropped the
crosspiece.

“That was too easy. Jarek?”

Jarek hopped into the cart and counted loudly. “One, two, three, four - ”

After a pause, Graym said, “And?” “That's all,” Jarek said. Graym stared, disbelieving, at
the distant dust cloud of the departing kender. “They walked off with a BARREL?” “Cunning little things,” Fenris
said. “Industrious, too,” Fanris said. Jarek finished the inventory. Finally he hopped down and announced, “They got the barrel of Throat's Ease lager, our spare clothes - ”

Graym laughed. “Picture one of those little fellows trying to wear my canvas breeches 1”

“And most of the food.” Graym fell silent. “So we make it to Krinneor in one night or go
hungry,”

Darll said.

“We can do it,” Graym said confidently. Landmarks weren't hard to read, but he had often
discussed the road - wistfully - with merchants buying barrels and casks. “There's this
hill, and one little town, and a valley, then, and a downhill run from there to Krinneor.”

“And prison for me. and a forced march to get there,” Darll said gruffly. “I'd be running
away free, and you'd be - ” He looked at Graym sharply. “I'd be gone if it weren't for
those nasty, little, pointy-eared thieves.”

Graym said gruffly, “You ought not to criticize others, sir. Not to drag up the past, but
you've done worse.”

Darll glared at him. “That wasn't a fair trial. The bailey wanted blood, and he got it.”

“Of course, he wanted blood. You hurt his dignity. You had only a sword, and you
half-killed ten soldiers armed with spears, maces, and swords.”

Darll objected. “When I half-kill ten men, I leave only five left alive. I beat them
badly, but that wasn't the charge against me, anyway, unless you count resisting arrest.”

“True enough, sir,” Graym said agreeably. “You scarpered the town treasury and then nicked
a hay wagon.”

“Nice way to put it. A real sophisticate, you are.”

“Assault, theft, intoxication, breaking and entering, reckless endangerment, incitement to
stampede, vandalism, arson.” He paused. “That's the lot, isn't it, sir?”

“Still and all,” Darll said stubbornly, “it WAS a first offense.” “First offense?” Graym
gaped. “From you, sir?” “Well, for this sort of crime.” Graym shook his head. “You tell
your side of it well sir, but I have a contract.“ ”It's the money, then.“ ”No, sir.“ Graym shook his head
violently. ”I gave a promise. Even if I persuaded the others to agree to forfeit the twentypiece we have
coming, I'd still be unable - outstanding warrant and all - to go back to Sarem and return
the ten - ” He felt in his pocket. . . .

He sighed, didn't bother feeling in his other pockets.

Darll, watching his face, smiled. “Cunning little things.”

“Thrifty, too,” Graym muttered. *****

By midday, they had reached the top of the first large hill - low and rocky, with a fault
crack running across it. Jarek, scouting ahead for the easiest route for the cart on the
broken road, returned, announcing, “People coming.” Fen said fearfully, “What if they're
robbers?” Fan added, “Or maybe they're the bounty hunters.” The Wolf brothers edged toward
the back of the cart. Graym grabbed their shirts, pulled them back. He then wiped his
hands on his own shirt. “Wait till we've seen them, at least.”

He edged to the top of the hill and peered over the top. A group of humans was walking
toward them - townsfolk, seemingly, coming from the small knot of cottages standing on the
road.

Graym retreated below the crest of the hill, reported what he'd seen. “We can't run, and
there's no place to hide. Best we go forward and be friendly. Folks like that.”

Jarek looked dubious. “They might rob us.” “Not of much.” “Or we might rob them. Are they
rich?” “I didn't grow up with 'em,” Graym retorted. “How should I know?“ Jarek dug in the dirt with his boot. ”Well, if they are and we robbed them, then we'd be better off, right?“ Graym considered. ”Now that's an
idea. We rob from the rich. And then . . .“ ”And then what?“ Jarek asked. ”Can't rob from the poor,“ Fenris
said. ”No future in it,“ Fanris agreed. Jarek objected, ”There's more poor people than rich people. Easier to find.“ ”Ah, but they don't have as much, do they?“ ”Now that's telling
him what, Fen.“ ”Thank you, Fan.“ Darll said firmly, ”You're not robbing these people.”
Graym wasn't too keen on robbing, but he thought Darll was being a bit bossy, for a prisoner, even if he was a mercenary. “And why not, sir?”

Darll shook his head wearily. “Because they have us surrounded.”

While they had been talking, the townspeople had encircled the hill and closed ranks. They
approached silently. There were thirty or forty of them, dressed in ragged, ill-fitting
clothes. Several wore robes.

Graym looked around at the circle of men and women. “Good to sec so many of you here to
greet us.” He waved an arm. “I'd offer a drink, but we're running short.”

A robed and hooded figure came forward. The robe was too long, clearly borrowed, and had
been dyed a neutral color. “I am Rhael,” said the person. “I am the elder.”

The voice was strong and dear, strangely high. Graym said dubiously, “Are you sure? You
sound kinda young for an elder.”

“Quite sure.” The woman pulled back her hood and shook her hair free of it.

Darll snorted. “Who are you all?”

“I am Rhael. These are my people. We come from the village of Graveside.”

Darll asked, “A law-abiding village?” She nodded. “Good.” He raised his manacled hands.
“Arrest these fools and free me.“ ”Arrest them? Why?“ ”Because they're crooks.“ ”What have they done?“
”What haven't they? Theft, resisting arrest, drunk and disorderly plenty of times, drunk but not disorderly at least once, sober and disorderly a
few times - ”

Rhael seemed impressed. “What are they like as fighters?”

Terrible,“ Darll said truthfully. ”Awful to watch. You can't imagine."

“Brutal?”

“That man - ” Darll pointed to Graym - “drove off a band of bounty hunters, with only me
in chains to help him.”

“That one . . .” He pointed to Jarek. “He nearly killed a man with one blow.” More or less
true, counting a thrown rock as a blow.

“And those two . . . ?”

Darll glanced at the Wolf brothers, who waited eagerly to hear what he could say about
them.

“Well, just look at them,” Darll said.

The folk of Graveside looked them up and down. The Wolf brothers did look dangerous, both
as criminals and as a health risk.

Darll held out his arms, waiting for his release.

Rhael walked straight up to Graym. “Would you be willing to lead an army?”

Darll choked. Graym's mouth sagged open.

“We need brave men like you,” Rhael said. “We're facing a scourge.”

One of the elders quavered, “A terrible scourge!” “I didn't think it would be a nice
scourge,” Darll muttered. “His name,” Rhael lowered her voice, "is Skorm Bone-

lover.“ ”Not his given name, I take it, Miss?“ Graym said. ”He is also called the Sorrow
of Huma, the Dark Lady's Liege Man, the Teeth of Death, the Grave of Hope - “ ”I've always wanted a nickname,“ Fen
said wistfully. ”We've had some,“ Fan reminded him. ”Not ones we've always wanted, Fan."

“True enough, Fen.” He sighed.

Darll said, suddenly interested, “Don't you people have any fighters, or a bailey or
something?”

They all looked sorrowful. “Gone, gone,” one said. “Killed?” Graym said sympathetically.
Rhael shook her head. “The Protector came to me one morning and warned me about the coming of Skorm. A stranger had come in the night and told
him, said that he had already fled before Skorm's army. The Protector said the only
sensible thing to do was flee, leaving all our things behind, so that Skorm would stay and
plunder instead of pursuing us.”

Graym frowned. “This Protector wasn't much of an optimist.”

“He was terrified,” Rhael said. “He said that Skorm would drink the blood of one victim,
only to spit it in the face of another. He said Skorm once bit through the arm of a
warrior and stood chewing on it in front of him. He said - ”

“Never mind,” Graym said hastily. His stomach had been wobbly all day. “Where is this
scourge?” He looked around fearfully. “Not with you, I take it.”

“He and his troops are camped in the bone yard - ” “Picturesque,” Graym murmured,
approving. “In the Valley of Death, beyond Graveside. There are more than a hundred of them now. Every dawn,“ Rhael said with a voice like death, ”we see
more warriors standing by Skorm's tents. Every day his troops increase.”

Graym turned to his companions. “And you all told me no one was hiring. It was nothing but
a necessary market downturn, and you call it a Catechism.”

“Cataclysm,” Darll hissed.

“Right you are, sir.” Graym turned to Rhael. “And, now, young elder ... I can't get used
to that, by the way. Why are you an elder, Miss?”

“Elders aren't chosen because they are old,” a man next to her, quite old himself,
explained. “We are chosen because each of us represents one of the elder virtues.”

“And what,” Graym asked, feeling his ears turning red, “is Miss Rhael's virtue?”

“Elder Rhael embodies fearlessness.”

“No wonder she's so young,” Darll said dryly. “Fearlessness never reaches old age. What
about you?” He pointed with both chained hands at the elder who had spoken. “Who are you?”

The old man stepped back from Darll. “I am Werlow,” he said. “I embody caution.”

“Good for you,” said Darll. “And what did you do about Skorm?”

“I convinced the rest of the people to evacuate,” Werlow said. “We elders have stayed, to
pray for the coming of heroes.”

“We're here,” Jarek said happily. “We're heroes, aren't we?” He looked to Graym for
support.

Graym cleared his throat. “I don't like to boast. We're desperate men . . . and bold
warriors, but we've left our robbing ways behind us. We have trade goods” - he didn't want
to say 'ale,' though the barrels made it obvious - “that we're taking all the way to
Krinneor, where our fortunes will be made and our lives will be good, in the richest city
in the world.” His voice went husky. “The golden towers, the marble doors, the excellent
drains.”

The elders exchanged glances. They were silent.

Finally Rhael said, “The road to Krinneor winds around the Valley of Tombs. There is no
way there, except through Skorm's army.”

The Wolf brothers made most unwarlike whimpering sounds. Darll edged over and kicked them
each, hard.

Graym frowned. “Don't they ever move out of the cemetery, Miss? Parade, or bivouac, or do
any of those nice martial things that make armies so popular with politicians?“ Rhael shook her head. ”They have no need to,” she said sadly. “They just grow strong and plan to attack us.” “How much, to fight them?” Darll
asked suddenly. The elders looked at each other. “Nothing,” a reed-slender old woman said.
“We heard of your fight with the bounty hunters. That is why we sought you. If you refuse to fight,
we'll inform every hunter we can find, and you'll be taken or killed.”

“That seems harsh, Ma'am,” Graym said. “Fight or die? For nothing?”

“And what elder virtue are you?” Darll asked. The old woman smiled thinly. Thrift." Graym
made up his mind, turned, and addressed his companions. “These pick-me-up armies are all bluff. Farm boys and fishermen, not one real
soldier in twenty.”

Jarek was counting on his fingers. “How many real soldiers does that make against each of
us?”

“One,” Fenris said flatly. “Maybe even two,” Farms added. Graym waved his hand. “What's
that to us? Nothing at all. They're just trainees. We're road-tested. Months of hardship, baking sun, blinding
rain - ”

“Great ale - ” Jarek said, caught up in the enthusiasm.

Graym interrupted hurriedly. “And there you are. We'll frighten off this lot in no time
and be back on the road.” He raised a fist and shouted, “To Krinneor!”

“To Krinneor!” Jarek shouted. Darll said nothing. The Wolf brothers looked worried.

The elders had tears in their eyes. Graym was pleased to think he had moved them. He held
out his hands. “As long as we're fighting the good fight for you, so to speak, can you
lend us your swords?”

The elders stared at him. “We didn't bring any,” he added. “It's not as if we needed
them,” Jarek said. The elders were suitably impressed. “The Protector fled with most of
our good weapons. We still have a few.“ Rhael lifted a rag-wrapped bundle and gave it to Graym. ”This is
Galeanor, the Axe of the Just.”

“Just what?” Jarek asked. Graym took the axe, eyed it dubiously. “Just kidding.” Darll
muttered in his ear. “Perfect. The fat man fights and dies with the Axe of the Just Kidding.” Rhael handed the others dented weapons, the
few the Protector had left behind. Darll examined his sword with distaste. Jarek looked at his
with delight. The Wolf brothers picked up two badly corroded maces, after touching them
gingerly to be sure they weren't dangerous. They stood there, then, staring at one another.

“Don't you think you'd better take up positions opposite the enemy?” Rhael suggested.

“You're absolutely right, Miss,” Graym said firmly. “Move out.” With only a small twinge
of guilt, he added, “And we'll take the cart with us - for supplies . . . and . . .
strategy.”

They traipsed down the hill, walked through Graveside. It was, Graym noted, a pleasant
enough place, not much bigger than Sarem. There were cart tracks in front of the homes and
manure piles in the tilled fields. It obviously was a farm-to-market town for a larger
city. “Krinneor isn't far now,” Graym said to the others. “We're closer to the city
itself. I know it. Now, if we can just shake this lot. . .”

Graym glanced behind him. Werlow began organizing the elders for a safe retreat down the
road. Rhael had gone into one of the cottages.