"Lanier, Sterling E - Hiero 01 - Hiero's Journey UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lanier Sterling E)

Hiero had thought he was familiar with many types of Lee-mute, the Man-rats and Hairy Howlers, the Were-bears (which were not bears at all), the Slimers, and several others besides. But these were new and, like all Leemutes, unpleasant to look at. They were short, no more than four feet tall on the average but very broad and squat, and walked erect on their hind legs, their bushy tails dragging behind. They were completely covered with long, dripping, oily-looking fur of a yellow-brown hue, and their beady-eyed faces were pointed and evil. It would have been hard to trace their ancestry back to a genetic accident in a wolverine family after The Death, even for a contemporary expert, and Hiero simply catalogued them as a new and dangerous breed. For they had actual hands, and their rounded heads and gleaming eyes indicated intelligence of a high if nasty order. They wore no clothing, but each carried a long-handled wooden club, in the head of which was set glittering fragments of obsidian. A wave of evil purpose went before them like a cloud of gas as they moved one behind the other, in a curious hopping gait, which still covered the ground at a
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HlERO'S lOURNEY
good speed. Every few feet, the leader stopped to sniff the air and then dropped to all fours to check the earth, while the others peered about on every side. The three on the knoll above them froze into immobility, trying not to breathe. The evil Furhoppers, as Hiero promptly named them, were perhaps two hundred yards off and, if they continued their present course, would pass down over the shallow slope of the bowl and up the other side, moving off to the left of the three's position. But when the line of crouching figures reached the center of the depression, it halted. Hiero tensed, one hand instinctively reaching for his reliquary and the poison it contained. For another figure had appeared and was advancing on the Fur-hoppers.
It was apparently a tall man, garbed in a long cloak of a dark gray, which was closely wrapped around him and showed only his sandaled feet. His hood was thrown back, and his naked, hairless head was revealed in the rays of the evening sun. His skin was so pale as to appear deadwhite, and his eyes were a shifting color, impossible to see at this distance. On the right breast of his cloak was a spiral symbol, also difficult to see, etched in a dark scarlet, of interwoven lines and circles. He seemed to carry no visible weapons, but an aura of both spiritual power and cold menace radiated from him, as the chill of a great iceberg goes out from it to warn seafarers.
This was an extraordinary chance, for good or ill, and Hiero knew it. The Unclean had been rumored and more than rumored for centuries to have human directors, a race of men totally given over to evil and wizardry. On several occasions such people had been reportedly glimpsed directing attacks on Abbey convoys or settlements, but the information was vague and contradictory. On two occasions, however, men had been killed trying to penetrate the secret training rooms and guarded files of Abbey Central in Sask. Each time, the bodies of the slain had almost instantly dissolved into piles of corruption, leaving nothing to be investigated, save for ordinary clothing, which might have been acquired anywhere. But in each case, the Abbey guardians and priests had been warned by mental alarms of the spirit, not of the flesh, and in each case the manЧor entityЧhad penetrated through many men on guard who recalled seeing nothing. This creature before him now could only be one of these mysterious men who were thought to rule the
THE SIGN OF THE FISHHOOK 17
Unclean. No normal man, not even an outlaw, would or could associate with a foul pack such as this, and yet, as the man strode to them, the savage creatures cringed aside in evident fear.
The leader of the Fur creatures, crouching low, came up to the man and the two moved a little apart, while the others milled restlessly about, grunting and whining in low tones. Hiero could see that man's lips move and the yellow fangs of the Furhopper chief flash in answer. They were actually talking, not using mind speech, one to the other! Even as he inwardly shrank in loathing from the whole gang, the scientist in Hiero could not help applauding the feat. With normal speech, there would be no betraying mental currents, such as made him afraid to address Klootz more than was absolutely necessary and had caused the bear to impress mental silence upon them.
Now, the conversation apparently over, the man seemed to dismiss the pack of hideous creatures and, turning about, simply walked away in the direction from which he had come. This was to the south and east. The Furhoppers surrounded their leader, who snarled something out which silenced them. In a moment they had formed their line again and were tramping the dead leaves back on the way they had come, which was from the west.
As the gray-cloaked man disappeared in one direction and the Furhoppermutes in the other, all three creatures on the edge of the bowl relaxed a little. But no one used mind speech; they simply sat quietly and waited.
After what must have been a good half hour, Gorm the bear slowly rose and stretched. He looked around at Klootz and his rider, sending no message, but his meaning was plain. The big morse arose as silently as he had lain down, and from his vantage high on the great back, Hiero surveyed the silent forest before them.
The setting sun slanted down through the pines and maples and lit the patchy undergrowth in flashes of vivid green, turning various piles of dead leaves into russet and gold. Ancient logs glowed with color as green moss and gray lichen were caught in the last patches of sunlight. How beautiful the land is, the priest reflected, and yet how full of evil under its loveliness.
But Gorm was all business, and as he lurched down into the hollow, Klootz followed him, his great forked hooves mak-
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HlERO'S JOURNEY
ing no more sound in the leaves than a mouse would have.
To Micro's alarm, the small bear was headed for the exact spot on the far side of the depression into which the sinister person in the cloak had gone. While desperately anxious to know more about this dark being and his purposes, Hiero did not want a direct encounter with him. His mission, far to the East, came first above all else. He dared not send a mental message, not with the enemy so close about them that the sense of mental oppression was still a weight on his spirit, and he could think of no way to halt, or redirect, the bear except by physical means.
"Pssst," he hissed, and again.
Gorm looked back and saw the man gesturing violently to stop. He halted on a patch of leaves and let Klootz catch up.
Hiero, looking down at the bear, could think of nothing to do which would explain what he wanted. He was keeping a rigid mindblock on, and he had a more than strong feeling that loosing it would bring a pack of devils down upon them from every point of the compass. But Gorm saved him the trouble. Looking shrewdly up at Hiero for a moment, the bear bent down and swept aside some leaves with his curiously delicate paws. Exposing smooth earth, with one long claw he made a line and pointed it with an arrow, just as a man might. The line led on the way they were going. On both sides of the line and behind it, Gorm carefully scratched numerous small circles or spirals. Irresistibly, the priest was reminded of the spiral, interwoven symbol on the cloak of the enemy. The message was plain. Peril lay behind them and on either side, but despite the fact that they were following the sinister figure of the bald man, less danger lay on that route than on any other. The bear looked up and Hiero nodded. Gorm swept leaves over his artwork and started off again with no more ado. The man nudged his great mount, and Klootz followed obediently in the bear's wake.
On his back, the rider turned over in his mind the way the bear had reacted, ever since he had first appeared. Why, the creature was human! The Dam People were thought to be as intelligent as people, although with a different outlook on life. Many of the Leemutes, of course, were as clever as men, although altogether malign and dangerous to life and spirit. But here was another animal species rising to humanity. This
THE SIGN OF THE FISHHOOK 19
would make a fine problem for the Abbey theologians, Hiero thought wryly. They still could not agree on the spiritual status of the Dam People, and a fresh species of creature for whom there was no scriptural precedent would start the doctrinal pot boiling all over again.
The sunlight under the big trees was fading fast, but Klootz could see in full dark like a cat, and presumably the bear could also, so that Hiero felt no particular concern. He himself could see as well as many of the wild things when the light was dim, a result of a childhood spent in the forest as well as the cultivated ability of a trained woodsman. He was in no hurry to make camp, not being particularly tired, and he badly wanted to get away from the artificial silence of the wood, the zone of mental oppression which he felt so strongly.
For a mile or two, the little party moved under a pure forest of the great pines, the faint crackle of the deep-banked needles the only sign that bear and morse were passing. The light was very dim now, but an occasional ray of sunshine still broke through a gap in the foliage far above and illumined a patch of forest floor or a small clump of fern.
Suddenly, with no warning, Gorm was gone. One moment, he had been padding ten feet in front, the next he vanished. Klootz checked, his big ears lifting and his great nostrils flaring as he sought for a scent of some kind. His rider reached smoothly for the bolstered thrower strapped to his saddle, at the same time looking keenly about. Is this treachery? His mind raced. The bearЧhad he been a friend, or was this the sign of the Fishhook being revealed, a false friend and a traitorous guide? The thrower was halfway from its scabbard and lying across the pommel of the saddle when the silence was broken by a voice.
Musical and deep, the note of a trained doctor, it rang under the arched branches from their left, speaking in perfect Metz.
"An ugly beast and a still uglier rider. Who follows on the tracks of S'nerg? Is this the prey we have sought all day?"
One of the rare beams of last sunlight streamed down onto a flat boulder perhaps twenty feet from the morse's left side. Upon it, arms crossed on his breast and a thoroughly nasty smile on his face, stood the man of the gray cloak, looking coldly at Hiero. Of the bear, there was no trace. Apparently the two men and the morse were alone.
20 HIERO'S JOURNEY
"A priest, and one of some rank in your absurd hierarchy, I see," the cloaked man, whose name was apparently S'nerg, went on. "We have seen few priests in these parts, having a dislike for such vermin. When I have made an example of you, little priest, we shall see fewer yet!"
As he listened, Hiero had been slowly tightening his hold on the thrower, which lay across the saddle, facing the other way from his enemy. He was under no illusions about his own safety despite the fact that S'nerg appeared unarmed. From the almost visible aura the man radiated, the electric sense of power, the Metz warrior-cleric knew he was in the presence of a great adept, a mental master, who in his dark way was perhaps the equal of a Council member or Grand Abbot. Against such, any physical weapons were a matter of luck.
Lowering his arms, S'nerg stepped from his rock and strode toward Hiero. As he did, Hiero whipped the thrower up and tried to fire. His finger could not reach the trigger. He was locked in a muscle spasm, the weapon's barrel halfway aimed, but unable to move further. Despite his best efforts, he could not move. He Ipoked down in agony at S'nerg, who stood calmly by his left leg, serenely looking up at him, the power of his incredible mind alone holding Hiero rigid. And not just Hiero. In a dim way the priest could feel the giant morse straining to break a similar mental compulsion and no more able to do so than his master. The sweat of his effort streaming into his eyes, Hiero fought to break the bonds, using every technique he had been taught to free his own will from the dreadful grip which the wizard had laid upon him. As Hiero glared into the calm eyes of S'nerg, a shudder ran through his frame. The evil master seemed to have no pupils, and his eyes were slanted, grayish pits of emptiness, opening on a nameless void. Despite all his efforts, Hiero felt a compulsion to dismount. He knew somehow that if he did, the control wouid grow even stronger, that the mere fact that he sat high on the saddle helped in a small way to limit S'nerg's power over him. Perhaps, a remote, absent corner of his mind mused, even as he fought, the morse's physical vitality somehow flowed into his master, helping him stay strong. As he stared down into the awful, pale eyes, he noted in the same detached way that, despite the smile on the cruel face, sculptured from sickly marble in appearance, beads of sweat stood out on S'nerg's
THE SIGN OF THE FISHHOOK
21
forehead also. The strain was telling on him too. But Hiero could endure no more. He began to sway in the saddle. "In the name of the Father," he gasped aloud, fighting with his last strength. The Unclean adept's cold smile deepened.
At this point Gorm suddenly returned. Even a smallish bear has very powerful jaws, and they now clamped hard to a most sensitive portion of the sorcerer's anatomy. He screamed in pain and fright, a curiously high tremolo note, and his mental grip dissolved on the instant as he staggered and fell. Hiero's strength surged back and so did all his other faculties. While Klootz still shuddered from the strain, his rider was out of the saddle and on the ground in a second. As the writhing tangle of bear and man rolled over, the priest saw an opportunity, and his long poniard flashed from his belt and was drawn once over the white throat, even as S'nerg tired to rise. A fountain of dark blood obscured the contorted features, and then the cloaked shape iay still.
Hurry, came from the bear's mind. Made (too) much (volume) noise. Go nowЧquick (run/gallop).
Wait, Hiero said to the other's mind. He was busy searching the adept's body. There was a peculiar and heavy, bluish metal rod, over a foot long, a dark-handled knife with what looked like bloodstains on it, and a roll of parchment. Under the cioak, the dead man had worn a soft, woven suit, all one piece of grayish, neutral-colored cloth, with an odd feel to it, almost slippery. In a small belt pouch was a round metal thing which at first glance looked like a small compass. This was all. Hiero tossed the rod, knife, parchment, and compass-thing into a saddlebag and mounted in one easy motion.
Go now, he said. All done here.
The bear set off instantly at a rocking canter, in the same direction in which they had gone before. In long strides the morse moved in his wake, easily maintaining the distance between them.
Looking back, Hiero could no longer see the still form of his enemy in the gloom. At least, he thought, he didn't seem to dissolve like the others had. Maybe they weren't men at all.
For several miles the three moved at high speed, despite the fall of night. Many bright stars provided some diffused light, and a pale crescent moxm promised more later. Also, to Hiero's relief, the terrible mental oppression was gone; the dull feeling
22
HIERO'S JOURNEY
of stifling which had choked him for the last few hours had been lifted. It must, he decided, have emanated from the monster they had overcome. He did not forget to say a soldier's brief prayer of thanks. He was under no illusions as to how close he had come to death and perhaps worse. He had been about to submit to the terrible mind of the thing who called himself S'nerg. Whether he would have been slain on the spot or taken elsewhere to some foul den for torture and questioning, he did not know. But save for the young bear, they all would have been destroyed, he was sure of that. It must have taken great courage, as well as high intelligence, to hide, wait, and attack as Gorm had done, and Hiero felt a powerful sense of respect for his new ally.
Eventually, the bear began to slow down, his faint puffs of breath indicating that he had run about as far as he could. Klootz slowed his own pace, and they now moved at about the speed of a man trotting. The dark was full of sounds, but they were the normal sounds of the Taig, a grunting bellow in the distance, which was the mating call of a monster hog, the Grokon, the faint squall of some cat or other, the chitter-chatter of the night squirrels high in the trees, and the mournful tremolo of small owls. There was nothing about such noises to alarm. Once a large form, pale as a ghost, rose from the earth and flitted away before them in great, silent bounds which soon carried it out of sight. The solitary giant hares were a prey to everything and never left their carefully concealed forms until full dark.
At Hiero's estimation, they had come about five miles, moving steadily south and east, when Gorm signaled a halt. They were in a stand of great, dark firs, and rotting logs lay about them on the carpet of needles. It was very black under the trees, and even the dim starlight was blotted out.
StayЧrestЧnow (safe)Чhere! came from the bear. Hiero dismounted wearily and walked over to where the black form sat in the dark. Squatting on his haunches, he tried to look into the eyes of his friend.