ONE

 

 

When I was younger, I thought there was little to see past my own doorstep. One day was much like another in the broad, flat land of the Eubirones, and if things changed at all, they changed slowly, and without great alarm. It was a solid, dependable world, bolstered by truth and unshakable tradition.

As I grew older, I learned that not all these truths held up to the light of day. Thus, a snake will not turn into a stick if you spit upon its dung. A boil on the snout does not go away if you rub it with a radish. Indeed, it festers all the more. Later, when I began a’venturing, I discovered the Misty Sea does not drop off into the void past Albion Isle. Instead, it leads to strange and terrible lands long forgotten by the rest of the world.

So, in a few short years, I have seen reason topple and truth turn into a lie a dozen times over. I have seen beauty blossom in the ashes of destruction. I have learned that nothing stays the same.

—Except Rhalgorn.

Stygiann warriors are incapable of change. It matters little whether they are jerked abruptly through time and space, from one world to another. They remain as stubborn and unreasonable as ever, as if they had never left the deep forests of the Lauvectii.

I watched Rhalgorn, squatting on his haunches a few yards away. Dark red eyes stared at nothing over the length of his muzzle, and the sharp, pointed ears lay flat against his head. His fur was shadow-gray in the strange half-light, and I could see the tight bands of muscle corded just beneath his pelt.

It is not hard to guess what a Lord of the Lauvectii is thinking. Since Stygianns are the quickest and most cunning killers anywhere, they sometimes think about death.

Never theirs, of course. Often they ponder some deep philosophical question for days on end. What would a toad look like if it could fly? Does an ant pee every day, and how much?

For the most part, however, Stygianns think about food. From the way Rhalgorn’s great bushy tail flicked nervously against the ground, I guessed that subject was uppermost in his mind. Sure enough, a few moments later, he brought himself erect, stretched his gaunt frame, and stared sullenly at the far horizon.

“Aldair,” he announced, “I am hungry. Since there is no way to tell the hour in this peculiar place, I can’t imagine how long it’s been since food touched my belly. Close to a month, I would imagine.”

“You would know if it was a month,” I assured him.

“Oh, really?” He raised his muzzle and sniffed disdainfully in my direction. “Well, then I am greatly relieved, of course.”

“Rhalgorn—”

“No, Aldair. You see, I had the foolish notion we were hungry, and hopelessly lost. Just because we’ve floated forever between the stars, landed on a world where the trees grow upside down….”

“I don’t think they are exactly upside down,” I told him. “I imagine that’s the way they’re supposed to be.”

“Certainly. And the sky is supposed to be yellow and pink. Like the inside of a chicken.” Rhalgorn made a rude noise, picked up his swordbelt, and buckled it around his waist.

“Where are you going?”

“I told you I was hungry, Aldair.” He raised a corner of his muzzle and showed me sharp teeth and a red tongue. “When the Lords of the Lauvectii are hungry, they eat. They do not sit around pulling bristles out of their snouts like some people I know.”

I had no idea I was doing that, and promptly stopped. “Good luck,” I said. “It will be interesting to see what you catch, and what color it is.”

Rhalgorn eyed me curiously. “I know what color it will be. It will be brown, with a short tail and long ears. That is what hares look like, if you’ll recall.”

I stared at him. “You are going hunting for hares?”

“Of course.”

“On this world. . . .”

“Certainly on this world. Where else would. I go? Aidair, I admit the colors and smells in this place are most unseemly. It is not a proper place for Stygiann warriors, but it is a world, nevertheless. The Creator erred slightly in the color of the sky and the placement of trees but I am sure He did not forget to make a few fat hares. That would be ridiculous.”

“Yes,” I said wearily, knowing better than to argue. “I am certain you’re right.”

Rhalgorn grinned. “Perhaps I will also find bean-things and ugly roots along the way. If so, I will bring you some.”

“Those are called vegetables, as you very well know. As long as you’re looking, carrots, turnips and a few fat potatoes will do nicely. And some vine-ripe tomatoes. Red ones, please. I don’t much care for the polka-dot varieties.”

“I’ll remember,” he said, and stalked off toward the west.

 

At least, I assume it was west. Earlier, the sulphur colored clouds that covered this world had been brighter overhead. Now, that brightness was closer to the horizon. I guessed this meant there was a sun of some sort up there, and that it was setting in Rhalgorn’s path. For all I knew, it set in the east on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

Clearly, it was a waste of time to compare this bizarre world with the one we’d left behind. The broad, grassy plain where the golden sphere had left us wasn’t truly grassy at all. The ground was covered with plants, but they were pale, fleshy growths the size of my finger, colored a sickly shade of brown. Occasionally, a cluster of bulbous rocks the size of small houses extruded from the land. These ugly mounds matched the color of the plants, and looked for all the world like the droppings of some enormous beast.

The trees, though, were the most fascinating features of all. As tall as oaks, they were the color of rusty iron and looked exactly as Rhalgorn described them. Upside down. If these rooty giants had leaves of some sort, I could not make them out.

A lovely pastoral setting then—for someone. For a person used to the lush greens and blues of Earth it was unsettling, to say the least.

I think no more than an hour passed before Rhalgorn appeared again. It was darker, but I could plainly see he was not burdened with hares.

“Don’t say it,” he growled before I could speak. “I am in no mood for the renowned wit of the Venicii.”

“I had not intended to say a thing,” I lied.

“Good. Then don’t.” He sank down on a round stone and looked at me. “Aldair, we are in a great deal of trouble. As near as I can tell, there is nothing whatever to eat on this entire world.”

“You can hardly have covered it all.”

He glared and showed his teeth. “I don’t have to cover it all. On the other side of these ridiculous trees is another stretch of land like this. And past that, more trees, then another dismal plain. There are no birds, no bugs—nothing. Except this.” He stood, reached inside his cloak, and drew out a folded scrap of cloth.

“What’s that?”

“Hold out your hand and I’ll show you.”

I gave him a long, wary look and kept my hand to myself. “Rhalgorn, we have a saying in the Eubirones. Lift up your palms to the gods, and a bird will leave you a present.”

Rhalgorn looked pained. “We are far from the Eubirones, and this is hardly a bird.”

Reluctantly, I opened my hand. Rhalgorn dropped something into it. I stared at the thing in the half-light. It looked like nothing more than a mushroom though I’ve seldom seen those plants covered with scraggly, dun-colored hair. As I watched, two tiny stalks grew from the thing’s back. On the end of each stalk was a black and lustrous eye. The eyes peered about, found me, and stared back. Then the creature raised itself half an inch on spidery legs, hopped to the ground and scuttled away. I looked at my palm. In the center lay a small gray pile of odious matter.

“Very amusing,” I said, wiping the stuff on a nearby rock.

“Isn’t it?” Rhalgorn grinned foolishly. “That’s exactly what it did to me.”

“You could have simply told me about it.”

“I could. But you miss the full effect that way. There is a difference between hearing about something, and actually—”

Rhalgorn stopped. His jaw fell and he stared past my shoulder. I jerked around, saw the thing coming.

“Get down!” yelled Rhalgorn, and shoved me roughly to the ground. His words were barely out before it roared overhead, blotting out the sky. Thunder shook the earth, and I felt the great heat of its passing.

Shaken, I stood quickly and turned. The monstrous thing was in the north, now, less than a quarter mile across the plain. It hovered there, a dark, warty slag of iron belching blue fire from its belly. Then it dropped slowly to the earth, disappearing past a high mound of stone.

“Creator’s eyes,” breathed Rhalgorn, “what in all the hells was that?” His voice seemed overly loud in the sudden quiet.

“I suppose we had best find out,” I said. “Though there are a number of things I’d rather do at the moment.”

“They might have something to eat,” Rhalgorn said hopefully. “There’s that.”

I turned and glared at him. “That’s true. Then again, perhaps they’re looking for dinner, and not dinner companions.”

Rhalgorn showed his teeth. “At this point, that’s perfectly all right with me. We will see who sits down to supper first. . . .”