Shardik by Richard Adams
There was, however, no silencing Shouter as he flung himself to the ground in superstitious terror. Genshed, coming up, with Radu chained to his belt, could hardly drag him to his feet.
"Mucking hell," wept the boy, struggling, "I told you, didn't I? It's the devil, Genshed, come for the lot of us! I saw it, I tell you, I saw it in the dark--"
Genshed slapped him across the face and he fell against Radu, who stood still as a post, staring sightlessly before him as Shouter blubbered and clutched at his hands. Kelderek, who felt it more than likely that Shardik was within hearing, watched Genshed to see whether he would pay any attention to the tracks or recognize them for what they were. He expected that he would not, and Genshed's first words proved him right.
"Looks like some animal got him," said Genshed. "Serves him right, eh, hiding and then trying to bugger off before daylight? Here, pull yourself together, Shouter; I'm giving you a chance. I'm being good to you, Shouter. There's no devil, you're just a silly little bastard, it's Ikats you've got to look out for. We got to be quick now, see? You get out there to the left, far as you can go, that's where they'll be coming from. If you spot any coming, get back to that rock down there on the bank--the one with the crack in it, see?--I'll be there. If you feel like giving yourself up to the Ikats, don't try it. They'll hang you off a tree before you can squeal. Understand?"
Shouter nodded and at another push from Genshed slipped away to the left, taking a line parallel to the bank of the Telthearna, which was now in sight below them, the inshore water green with reflections of the overhanging trees.
Downhill, each throb of the pulse a stab of pain behind the eyeballs, hand pressed over one eye, links of chain cutting into the wrist, vision blurred, so hard the effort to focus sight. Stumbling downhill; a sound of weeping, like a girl's; that must be an illusion. Don't weep, Melathys; dear love, don't weep for my death. Where will you go now, what will become of you? And did the soldiers ever reach Zeray? A message--but he'll never leave me to the soldiers, he'll kill me himself. Lord Shardik--after all, I shall die before Lord Shardik--I shall never know the great purpose for which God required his death. I betrayed him--I meant to kill him. Melathys on Quiso, Melathys playing with the Baron's sword. We couldn't expect mercy, a common man and a girl thrust into things too high for them. If only I'd listened to the Tuginda on the road to Gelt. Saiyett, forgive me now; I shall be dead within the hour. If the little girl could die, then so can I. This cruel man, it was I that made his work possible, it was I that brought Lalloc and his like to Bekla.
Downhill, don't slip, don't drag on the chain. The sun must have risen, dazzling down there on the inshore water, glinting under the trees. How the pain runs up my hand from the wounded finger. I misled hundreds to misery and death; and the Tuginda could have saved them all. I was afraid of Ta-Kominion; but it's too late now. It's Radu, it's Radu weeping, Genshed's broken him in the end. He'll live to murder other children, he'll be across the river when the soldiers find the little girl in the pool. Did you see it, God? Do you see what children suffer? They used to call me Kelderek Play-with-the-Children. Why did You manifest Lord Shardik to a man like me, who only betrayed him and defeated Your purpose?
The undergrowth grew thicker near the river. As Kelderek stopped, hesitating, Genshed overtook him, his bow held in one hand while with the other he gripped Radu by the shoulder. He had gagged the boy with a piece of rope. Radu's head had fallen forward on his chest and his arms were hanging at his sides. Genshed began moving through the undergrowth toward the river bank, gesturing to Kelderek and the children to follow him in silence.
Kelderek stepped out upon the bank. The sun glittered in his eyes across the water. He found himself immediately above a little bay, a half-circular inlet surrounded by a steep bank perhaps twice as high as a man. All round the verge, to a breadth of two or three paces, the undergrowth had been cut back to make a path which, on either side of the bay, led down to the water's edge. A few yards to their right, squarely across this path and half-blocking it, stood the tall, cloven rock which Genshed had observed from the forest above. On their left, moored to the bank at the upstream corner of the inlet, lay a canoe, with nets, spears and other tackle strewn aboard. There was not a soul to be seen, but some distance beyond the canoe could be glimpsed, through the trees, a cluster of huts, from some of which smoke was already rising.
"Mucking hell!" whispered Genshed, casting a quick glance around among the trees. "Easy as that!"
From the forest there sounded suddenly a loud, fluting call, almost human in its consonantal clarity. A moment afterward a swift flash of purple and gold darted through the trees. It was a bird, so vivid in the sunlight that even the famished, feverish children stared in wonder.
"Kynat!" called the bird, "Kynat chrrrr-ak! Kynat, Kynat will tell!"
Glowing like an alchemist's fire, the saffron undersides of its wings alternately revealed and hidden as it flew, it circled the little bay, hovered a moment, spreading the flanged gold of its tail, and then alighted on the stern of the moored canoe.
"Kynat will tell!" it called, looking, alert and bright-eyed, toward the emaciated wretches on the bank as though it had indeed come with intent to carry its message to them and to none else.
Kelderek, hearing the call, looked about for the bird, but could make out nothing but swirling grays and greens, stabbed through with the golden shafts of the sunlight. Then, as it called again, he saw the courtyard in Zeray, and Melathys leaning out between the shutters. Even as he watched, she faded, and he seemed to see himself shuffling away through the dark woods, while his tears, falling as though from cliff to cliff, disappeared at last into an extreme darkness older than the world.
"Kynat will tell!" called the bird, and Kelderek, coming to himself, saw it perched close above the water and Genshed standing with bow bent and arrow drawn to the head. Sudden and clumsy as a charred log falling in the fire, he lunged forward: the chain tautened and he fell against Genshed in the act of loosing. The deflected arrow slammed into the stern of the canoe, causing it to rock and turn at its mooring, so that ripples followed one another across the pool. The bird, opening its amazing wings, rose into the air and flew away down the river.
"Four hundred meld they fetch!" cried Genshed. Then, rubbing his left wrist where the loosed bowstring had whipped it, he said very quietly, "Oh, Mister Crendrik, I must keep a little time for you, mustn't I? I must do that."
There was now about him a confident elation more terrible even than his cruelty--the elation of the thief who realizes that there is none in the house but a helpless woman, whom he can therefore rape as well as rob; of the murderer watching as his over-trusting companion is led away to face the charge which, thanks to his supposed friend's cunning, he cannot now disprove. He had indeed the devil's own luck but, as he well knew, luck comes to the sharp man--to the man of ability and style. The craft lay ready to his hand, the morning was windless, the water smooth. Lalloc's money was secure in his belt and chained to his wrist was a hostage worth more than the proceeds of ten slaving expeditions. At his feet, helpless but happily not senseless, lay the man who had once refused him a Beklan trading license.
With the speed and dexterity of long use, Genshed loosed both Kelderek and Radu and, extending their chains with another which he passed through their pierced ears, secured them to a tree. Kelderek crouched, staring at the water and giving no sign that he knew what was being done. Then the slave dealer, snapping his fingers for the last time, led the children along the path to his left and down to the upstream extremity of the inlet.
The canoe lay against the bank, moored to a heavy stone with a hole through it--the kind often used by fishermen as an anchor. Genshed, stooping down, put aboard first his pack and after that two paddles lying close by on the shore. Finally, he passed a chain through the anchor stone and back to the wrist of the nearest child. His preparations now complete, he left the children and returned quickly up the slope.
At the moment whe
"The Ikats, Genshed, the Ikats! Spread out in a line they are, coming through the woods! Must have started looking for us soon as it got light!"
"How soon will they be here?" asked Genshed coolly.
"Taking their time, searching the whole mucking place, beating the bushes; but they'll be here soon enough, don't worry!"
Genshed made no reply but, turning back to Kelderek and Radu, released them, at the same time unslinging the fire pot, which he still carried in one hand, and blowing its smoldering sticks and moss to a glow. Into this he thrust the point of his knife.
"Now, Radu," he said, "listen to me. First you're going to put this knife into Mister Crendrik's eyes--both of them. If you don't, I'll do the same for you, understand? After that, you'll go down there with me, unfasten the mooring rope and then pitch that stone into the water. That'll take care of the stock we've got to leave behind. After that you and me, and perhaps Shouter, if I don't change my mind, can make a start. Time's short, so hurry up."
Gripping Kelderek's shoulder, he forced him to his knees at Radu's feet. Radu, still gagged with the rope, dropped the knife which Genshed thrust into his hand. It stuck in the ground, sending up a wisp of smoke from some transfixed and smoldering fragment. Genshed, having retrieved and again heated it, once more gave it to Radu, at the same time twisting his left arm behind his back, pulling out his gag and tossing it down into the water below.
"For God's sake!" cried Shouter desperately, "I tell you there's no time for this kind of sport, Genshed! Can't you wait for a bit of fun till we get back to Terekenalt? The Ikats, the mucking Ikats are coming! Kill the bastard if you're going to, only let's get on!"
"Kill the mucking lot!" whispered Genshed ecstatically. "Come on, Radu, do it. Do it, Radu. I'll guide your hand if you want, but you're going to do it."
As though entranced and bereft of will, Radu had already raised the knife, when suddenly, with a convulsive movement, he twisted himself out of Genshed's grasp.
"No!" he cried. "Kelderek!"
As though wakened by the cry, Kelderek rose slowly to his feet. His mouth hung open and one hand, the split fingernail covered with a bulbous, dirty scab, was held before him in a feeble posture of defense. After a moment, looking at Genshed but speaking uncertainly and as though to someone else, he said, "It must be as God wills, my lord. The matter is greater even than your knife."
Snatching the knife from Radu, Genshed struck at him, and the blow opened a long gash in his forearm. He uttered no sound, but remained standing where he was.
"Oh, Crendrik," said Genshed, gripping his wrist and raising the knife again, "Crendrik of Bekla--"
"My name is not Crendrik, but Kelderek Play-with-the-Children. Let the boy alone."
Genshed struck him a second time. The point of the knife penetrated between the small bones of the elbow and dragged him once more to his knees, beating ineffectually at Genshed as he fell. At the same moment Shouter, with a cry, pointed back along the verge.
Halfway between the children chained to the stone and the higher point where Genshed stood above the center of the inlet, the undergrowth parted and a great branch fell forward across the path, overbalanced and slid slowly into the water. A moment afterward the gap, open still wider, disclosed the body of some enormous, shaggy creature. Then Shardik was standing on the bank, peering up at the four human beings above him.
Ah, Lord Shardik: supreme, divine, sent by God out of fire and water: Lord Shardik of the Ledges! Thou who didst wake among the trepsis in the woods of Ortelga, to fall prey to the greed and evil in the heart of Man! Shardik the victor, the prisoner of Bekla, lord of the bloody wounds: thou who didst cross the plain, who didst come alive from the Streel, Lord Shardik of forest and mountain, Shardik of the Telthearna! Hast thou, too, suffered unto death, like a child helpless in the hands of cruel men, and will death not come? Lord Shardik, save us! By thy fiery and putrescent wounds, by thy swimming of the deep river, by thy drugged trance and savage victory, by thy long imprisonment and weary journey in vain, by thy misery, pain and loss and the bitterness of thy sacred death; save thy children, who fear and know thee not! By fern and rock and river, by the beauty of the kynat and the wisdom of the Ledges, O hear us, defiled and lost, we who wasted thy life and call upon thee! Let us die, Lord Shardik, let us die with thee, only save thy children from this wicked man!
That the bear was close to death was plain enough. Its huge frame, deformed and lank with privation, was nothing but staring bones and mangy fur. One claw hung split and broken, and this evidently formed part of some larger wound in the foot, for the paw was held awkwardly and lifted from the ground. The dry muzzle and lips were cracked and the face misshapen, suggesting a kind of melting or disintegration of the features. The gigantic frame, from which the life was so clearly ebbing, was like a ruined aviary from which the bright birds have flown, those few that remain serving only to heighten the sense of loss and grief in the hearts of those that see them.
The bear appeared to have been startled by some alarm in the forest behind it; for after turning its head this way and that, it limped along the verge of the pool, as though to continue what had evidently been a flight from intruders. As it approached the children they cowered away, wailing in terror, and at this it stopped, turned back, passed the spot where it had emerged and took a few hesitant, prowling steps up the slope. Shouter, frenzied with fear, began tearing at the thick creepers and thorns beside him, failed to force his way in and fell to the ground.
"Bloody thing!" said Genshed between his teeth. "It's half-dead already, that is. Go on!" he shouted, waving his arms as though driving cattle. "Go on! Get out of it!" He took a step forward, but at this the bear snarled and rose falteringly on its hind legs. Genshed fell back.
"Why don't we run?" moaned Shouter. "Get us out of here, Genshed, for God's sake!"
"What, for that thing?" said Genshed. "And leave the boat and any chance we've got? we've run straight into the Ikats. We're not going to be buggered up by that bloody thing, not at this time of day. I tell you, it's half-dead now. We just got to kill it, that's all."
His bow still lay where he had put it down after shooting at the kynat and, picking it up, he drew an arrow from his belt. Kelderek, still on his knees, his arm streaming blood, caught him by the ankle.
"Don't!" he gasped. "It'll charge--it'll tear us all to pieces, believe me!"
Genshed struck him in the face and he fell on his side. At this moment there was a distant sound of voices in the forest--a man called an order and another answered.
"Don't be afraid," said Genshed. "Don't worry, my lad, I'll have three arrows in him before he can even think of charging. I know a trick or two, I'll tell you. He won't try to charge me."
Without taking his eyes from the bear, he groped backward and ripped a long strip from Radu's rags. This he quickly knotted around the shaft of the heavy arrow a little above the head, leaving the two ends hanging like those of a garland or a ribbon in a girl's hair.
At the sound of the voices the bear had dropped on all fours. For a few moments it ramped from side to side, but then, as though from weakness, ceased and once more stood still, facing the slave trader on the path.
"Shouter," said Genshed, "blow up that fire pot."
Shouter, realizing what he intended, blew the pot into a glow and held it up with trembling hands.
"Keep it still," whispered Genshed.
The arrow was already fitted to the string and he lowered the bow so that one end of the rag fell across and into the open fire pot. It took instantly; and as the flame burned up, Genshed bent the bow and loosed. The flame streamed backward and the whole shaft appeared to be burning as it flew.
The arrow pierced the bear deeply beneath the left eye, pinning the burning rag to its face. With an unnatural, wailing cry, it started back, clawing at
As though in a trance, Kelderek again rose to his feet. Once more, as it seemed to him, he was standing on the battlefield of the Foothills, surrounded by the shouting of soldiers, the trampling of the fugitives, the smell of the trodden ground. Indeed, he could now plainly see before him the Beklan soldiers, and in his ears sounded the roaring of Shardik as he burst out from among the trees. Shardik was a blazing torch which would consume them all, a charging fire from which there was no escape. The wrath of Shardik filled the earth and sky, the revenge of Shardik would burn the enemy up and trample him down. He saw Genshed turn, run back down the path and force his body into the cleft of the rock. He saw Shouter hurled to one side and Radu flung on top of him. Leaping forward, he shouted,
"Shardik! Shardik the Power of God!"
Shardik, the arrow jutting from his face, came to the rock into which Genshed had squeezed for refuge. Standing erect, he thrust one blackened paw into the cleft. Genshed stabbed it and the bear, roaring, drew it back. Then he struck and split the rock itself.
The top of the rock cracked across like a nutshell and then, as Shardik struck it again, broke into three great fragments, which toppled and fell into the deep water below. Once more he struck--a dying blow, his claws raking his enemy's head and shoulders. Then he faltered, clutching, shuddering, at the rock, and slowly collapsed across its splintered, broken base.
Watching, Kelderek and Radu saw a figure crawl out from the base of the cleft. Radu screamed, and for a moment the figure turned toward him, as though it could hear. Perhaps it could: yet it had no eyes, no face--only a great wound, a pulp of bloody flesh, stuck here and there with teeth and splinters of bone, in which no human features could be discerned. Thin, wailing cries came from it, like la cat's, yet no words, for it had no mouth, no lips. It stumbled into a tree and shrieked aloud, recoiling with fragments of bark and twigs embedded in its soft, red mask. Blindly, it raised both hands before it, as though to ward off the blows of some cruel tormentor; yet there was no one near it. Then it took three blundering steps, tripped, and without a sound pitched over the verge. The splash of the fall came up from below. Radu crawled forward and looked over the edge, but nothing rose to the surface. The scabbard of his knife floating in blood on the water, and the flytrap lying smashed beside the broken rock--these were all that remained of the wicked, cruel slave trader, who had boasted that he could drive a child mad with fear worse than blows.