Vault of the Ages (22 page)

They surged uneasily, muttering, rolling wild eyes. Had the
boy’s victory proved that he was a powerful witch, or did it mean nothing? But Lenard lay beaten, Lenard the bold who had egged them on in the teeth of angry gods. Their courage waned. There were so few Dalesmen to stand them off—but who knew what powers those few had ready to loosen?

Carl sat up, holding his aching head in both hands. The darkness was fading now, swirling from his eyes, but the thuttering and booming still went on. There were faint shouts and—

And they weren’t within himself!

Carl staggered erect, not daring to believe. Above the Lann host, suddenly shrieking in alarm, there was the blowing of horns, the drumming of hoofs, the deep-voiced shouts of men. Far down the street, Carl saw a green and yellow banner advancing, floating against heaven. The noise of battle lifted as the newcomers fell on the Lann from the rear.

Dalesmen!

Carl reeled away from the sudden, trampling horde of spectators. Almost without thinking, he grasped Lenard by the hair and pulled the unconscious prince away from those frantic feet. Owl and Ezzef sprang out to help him back.

“Our people!” gibbered Owl. “Our people! I can’t believe it!”

“Let me see—” New strength flowed back into Carl. Aided by his friends, he climbed up on the top of a wall from which he could see what was happening.

He recognized his father, mounted in the van of a Dale force that must have numbered some four hundred men. They were dusty, weary, their armor and bodies scarred with recent combat, their horses staggering in exhaustion, but they were hurling themselves against the enemy with a fierceness that rang between the ancient buildings.

The Lann at that end of the avenue had kept to their horses and were meeting the attack with the vigor of freshness. Behind them, their fellows rallied, pressing forward against this new menace and raising their own war shouts. Carl’s new-found gladness turned to dismay.

The Dalesmen had come, yes—but they were tired, outnumbered two to one, moving against the most terrible foe of their history. Could they win? Would this prove only a trap?

F
ROM
his post on the wall, Carl saw Ralph plainly now. The Dale Chief was still mounted, a tall and terrible figure in travel-stained armor, hair flashing gold in the late sun. His standard-bearer rode beside him, but the rest of his army were leaping from their animals and thrusting ahead on foot.

A Lann cavalryman swung mightily at Ralph, sword whistling to clang against the Dalesman’s blade. That steel seemed to come alive, howling and roaring, smashing down the northerner’s guard and sending him to earth. A lancer thrust at Ralph. The Chief chopped out, hewing the shaft in two, and pressed against the man.

The Lann horseman edged back from the grimly advancing wall of pikes. In this narrow space, they had no chance against such an assault. Their comrades on foot yelled at them to get out of the way, and they too dismounted.

Now arrows began to fly over the heads of the front-rank Dalesmen, sleeting down among the Lann. A rattle of swords and axes lifted as the two lines met. The rearward Lann whooped, pushing forward, adding their own weight to the thrust against the Dalesmen. Their advance halted, the warriors of Ralph opened their ranks to let a line of their own swordsmen and axmen through the pikes.

Metal banged on metal and sheared in flesh. Ralph’s horse neighed, rearing and trampling, while its rider’s blade swung like a
reaping scythe. The Lann attacked with steadily rising bravery, leaping over the bodies of the fallen, smashing against the Dale weapons, and slowly, step by step, they drove the newcomers back.

Ezzef groaned. “They’re too many for us,” he said. “Too many—it’s all been for nothing, Carl.”

“No—wait—what’s this?” The boy peered down the street, shading his eyes against the western sun. “What are they doing?”

The double front rank of the Dalesmen stood firm, trading blow for blow, but their comrades behind them were withdrawing, racing down the street. Ralph himself pushed through his human wall to join those pulling back.

“Are they beaten already?” whispered Owl. “No, they can’t be!”

Many yards of empty distance from the battle, the Dalesmen halted and wheeled about. Pikes reached through their massed lines, swords and axes swung free and bowmen and slingers loped in the rear. Ralph lifted his sword and plunged forward. His men poured after him, yelling.

The Dalesmen who had been standing off the foe suddenly sprang aside, crowding against the walls on either hand. Carl saw what his father’s idea was, and he shouted with the men as that massed charge struck the Lann.

The four hundred men running together struck a terrible blow whose hammer-noise trembled in the earth and lifted up to heaven. Pikes were driven like battering-rams, smashing through all defenses to shatter the first barbarian lines. Those behind reeled from the shock, forcing their own rearward men farther back. A gray storm of arrows rained on the suddenly confused Lann army, and the hewers of the Dales thundered against them and hurled them into each other.

For long moments, the struggle went on; the Lann in retreat before the smashing, sundering Dalesmen, their ranks crumpled, panic running blindly among them. They had been shaken by powers of magic; they had been made leaderless; they had been assailed by an enemy they thought safely bottled up. It was too much!

With a single mob howl of utter dismay, the Lann turned and fled. The Dalesmen pursued them, smiting without mercy, taking revenge for all the bitterness they had suffered. Battle snarled past
the time vault, turning to butchery, and went on down the street and lost itself in the forest as the Lann scattered.

Carl sprang from the wall into Ralph’s path. “Father!” heeded. “Father, you came!”

“Oh, Carl, my son, my son—” The Chief dismounted and embraced him in trembling arms.

Night came, with stars and moon and a singing darkness. Men pitched camp in the ruins and slept for utter exhaustion. To the “wounded, Lann and Dale alike, the gentle night gave rest and forgetfulness; over the dead it drew a shroud. The moon swam high in a winking sea of stars, touching leaves and old walls with a ghostly silver.

Peace—

Some were still awake, sitting about the hearth in Ronwy’s home. A fire crackled before them, the light of candles touched their faces and shone in their eyes. Ralph was there, sprawled in a seat of honor with his sword across his knees. Carl sat by him, holding one of Ronwy’s books in his lap and stroking its faded cover with shy fingers. Tom and Owl, the former insisting that his wounds were mere scratches, lay on the rug. Lenard, his head swathed in bandages, sat gloomily in a corner. The little witch-man, Gervish, who had followed Ralph to the City, hovered about trying to be of service to someone.

Ralph was telling the story of his arrival. “Even if you haven’t won anything else, boys, you saved us by drawing off a thousand of the best Lann,” he told them. “When I saw them go away, I was sure they were bound for the City. I waited till they were safely distant, then led all our men out against those who remained. And this time we won! We broke them in the field. When their Chief fell, they scattered before us. Now they’re streaming homeward, beaten, harried by our forces just so they won’t get ideas about turning back. We’ve won!”

“My father,” said Lenard dully. “He’s dead?”

“Yes,” said Ralph.

“I—I’m sorry,” whispered Carl.

“I’ll—I’ll see him again—in Sky-Home after I die.” Lenard tried to smile. “That makes me Chief of the Lann, doesn’t it? A prisoner Chief—” He bowed his head, then looked up with a sigh.
“But I may be better off this way. This defeat may well break up the confederation…”

Ralph went on: “Well, our folk were naturally full of glee and ready to lick the world. I took advantage of that—made them a speech pointing out that a thousand warriors were still loose up in the City, perhaps brewing magic against us and in any case nothing we wanted running free in the Dales. I got enough lads to follow me so I thought we’d have a chance. We hurried, I can tell you! We killed horses and nearly killed ourselves, but it was worth it.”

“The taboo?” breathed Carl.

“Donn came with us. I thought you knew that.” Ralph looked keenly at his son. “Never thought the old fellow could match the pace we were setting, but he did. I left him talking to your friend Ronwy, and—” He looked at the door. “And here they are!”

The two old men entered, side by side. Donn paused in the doorway, looking beyond the chamber to a dream. An almost holy light shone in his eyes.

“I have been in the vault,” he whispered. “I have seen the treasure there, looked at the high-piled wisdom of the books. I have read the words of that unknown who gave it to us, and I have talked with this wise one here—” He shook his head, and a smile hovered about his thin lips. “There is no evil in the vault. There is only evil in the hearts of men. Knowledge, all knowledge, is good.”

“Then you’ll lift the taboo?” cried Carl joyously.

“I shall urge the Council to do so, and I know they will. Afterward, Carl, you shall have whatever help the Doctors can give out of their little wisdom, to rebuild the old world as you have longed.” Donn’s smile became almost a grin. “Even if I myself wouldn’t admit my error, which I freely do, four hundred lusty Dalesmen who’ve been to this place of wonder and come to no harm would have something to say about it!”

It was as if a great brooding presence were suddenly gone, as if the wandering night breeze sobbed in a new loneliness. The gods were doomed—the cruel, old pagan gods of human fear and human ignorance felt their twilight upon them. And the darkness which dwells in every mortal heart cried out to the dying gods.

Gervish was kneeling at Ronwy’s feet. “Forgive us,” he murmured brokenly. “We were wrong, all of us were wrong. The Lann from whom we sought aid would have ruined us. The Dalesmen,
your friends, saved us; and the magic is not evil. Be our Chief again!”

Ronwy lifted him. “Let there be no talk of forgiveness,” he smiled. “We’ve too much to do even to remember the past, let alone judge it. But bear this in mind, Gervish, and tell it to the people: We of the City will be among the first to benefit from the released powers. Above all, the lifting of the taboo makes us a tribe like any other, who can walk like men instead of shunned and hated outcasts.”

Lenard spoke with sadness. “It seems that everyone but my poor Lann will gain from this.” A dark flash of menace: “They’ll come back someday!”

Ralph shook his head. “I don’t know what to do about you people,” he said. “It’s true, I suppose, that you were driven by great need to attack us. But the same force will drive you against the south once more, and once again after that. If we are not to be plagued by endless wars—what can we do?”

“The vault is the answer!” cried Carl eagerly. “Look, Lenard, there are plans and models in it designed for the use of people like ourselves, people who can’t hope to master the greatest of the ancient powers for many years yet. There are things we can do and build right now!”

“Such as what?” challenged Lenard. Despite himself, there was a quickening in his own voice.

“Oh, many things. For example, there’s something called a schooner, which can sail against the wind—yes, I know it sounds fantastic, but I’m willing to try! They’ll at least sail rings around the clumsy luggers the coastal tribes use today. Make them big enough, and you Lann can open trade, fisheries—why, even new lands to colonize! Then there are ways to use wind power for grinding grain, when you don’t happen to have water power handy; and the rules by which you can breed better plants and animals; and means to prevent some of the diseases that now scourge us all. Oh, it’s a long list, and I’ll bet we find a lot more in that vault when we get it really well explored.

“Give us a chance, Lenard.” Carl’s tones beat urgently against the barbarian, who sat with lowered head. “You’re Chief up there, now that your father’s gone; they’ll listen to you. Swear a truce with us. Swear it now and then go back and make your people keep it!”

“We may be able to hold out for three years—” said Lenard doubtfully.

“That’s fine,” said Carl. “Oh, that’ll do! We’ll have
something
to show you by that time, something to share with you, that you can use to better your own lot without taking from anyone else.”

“I’ll arrange for food to be sent to you during the truce,” said Ralph. “You can pay us back later, when these old things make you better able to afford it. Peace,” he added, “is kept by the good will and strength of the peaceful.”

“I’ll do it!” exclaimed Lenard. He thrust his hand out. “By Jenzik, you’ve been brave enemies and I think you’ll be good friends!”

Carl and Ralph clasped hands with him. Gladness filled the boy’s heart.

It would be a mighty task, this rebuilding. Lifetimes must pass before it was completed. But what better work could anyone ask for?

Carl went softly to the door and opened it and looked out into the summer night. It was dark now, but dawn was not far off.

About the Author

Poul Anderson (1926–2001) grew up bilingual in a Danish American family. After discovering science fiction fandom and earning a physics degree at the University of Minnesota, he found writing science fiction more satisfactory. Admired for his “hard” science fiction, mysteries, historical novels, and “fantasy with rivets,” he also excelled in humor. He was the guest of honor at the 1959 World Science Fiction Convention and at many similar events, including the 1998 Contact Japan 3 and the 1999 Strannik Conference in Saint Petersburg, Russia. Besides winning the Hugo and Nebula Awards, he has received the Gandalf, Seiun, and Strannik, or “Wanderer,” Awards. A founder of the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, he became a Grand Master, and was inducted into the Science Fiction and Fantasy Hall of Fame.

In 1952 he met Karen Kruse; they married in Berkeley, California, where their daughter, Astrid, was born, and they later lived in Orinda, California. Astrid and her husband, science fiction author Greg Bear, now live with their family outside Seattle.