The Deep Gods (10 page)

He who is lost thinks only of the breaking of the sea wall, and cannot see what other crossings exist in the web of time. He knows what forces can be brought to press upon you, that you may do his work, man. But we cannot do as he does. We can only show you what we have shown you, so that you may remember, when the time comes…

Then the sound came, the deep vibration in the water, as it had been at the dancing under the sea, a rising and falling music, penetrating through Daniel’s body as he floated there. Sea birds wheeled overhead and called raucously… but they seemed to have taken a part in the pattern of the sea music too. Their cries came into the beating of the music, and as Daniel flung back his head, he saw that the birds themselves had formed a wheeling pattern that spun in time with the sound. All around the lagoon, he could sense the sound coming from the beings
who
swam and crawled there. He could almost identify each singer, the eerie whistle of a crustacean and the violin note of the otters, and a dozen other less identifiable sounds.

But the whales themselves sang; their enormous voices gathered all the other sounds into one, and deepened into an incredible organ. It was ecstasy and pain at once; Daniel’s body felt as though the notes tore and shook each cell, twisting the flesh from his bones. His vision blurred and he gasped for breath, sinking down into the water helplessly.

He was drawn into the spiral dance, like a dustmote in a blast of wind. The gigantic shadows of the whales, moving now, sailed downward and around and up, in the same movement as a flowing crowd of smaller creatures. Rising to the surface for a moment, Daniel gulped air… and saw the giant shapes leap like flying fish—into the air and splash back again, into a white mountain of foam.

It was like that other dancing, but immensely more than that dolphin song had been. The music said that time had no beginning and no end, and that there was something too huge and beautiful to understand… but the music showed that incomprehensible beauty to Daniel, and to itself.

It spoke of other things, too. The music said that all living things died, and suffered, that all life lived on other life, tearing and killing… and the pain of that was immediately swallowed up in a counterpoint of immense joy. Life, pain, death, ecstasy, thundered back and forth, rising into a single pattern at last.

The galleys plunged and rolled, oars out once more; the wind had shifted to the lee quarter and their clumsy sails were not much use at such an angle. But Ulff was in great haste. He did not care if the rowers grumbled, nor if a few of them died at their oars, in fact.

An hour passed—dolphins had surfaced, pacing the galleys, and one huge black one ran close to the plunging bows of Ulff’s ship, calling out. He himself could not tell one dolphin from another, but the sea beast knew him, plainly enough.

“You must hurry, man!” it piped up, grinning broadly. “Go fast, fast!”

Ulff called out to Rorin, who came at a run. With Rorin there came one of the blue-robed witchmen, of the Brothers, the man called Oggayr. There were three of them aboard, but they generally kept out of sight because the warriors grew nervous and fearful if such men were seen about too often. Now, however, Oggayr’s wisdom might be needed.

Oggayr came to the rail, beside Ulff; he stared down into the sea, at the sleek black dolphin.

“I am one of those who serve the Great One, as you do,” Oggayr called. “Tell me, what message do you bring?”

The dolphin’s giggling laugh was unnerving; Ulff grimaced, scowling.

“The Great
One
does not know how you were beaten,” the dolphin called back. “He will be very angry. You did not bring him the man Daniel!” It burst into another wild laugh, and Ulff cursed under his breath.

“Tell him we have a female who belongs to the man Daniel,” Oggayr said. “Tell that this Daniel will follow her, and we will have him, or we will find out where he now is and take many ships to capture him.”

“Not if you die, men,” the dolphin said. It leaped and splashed back into the water, still pacing the ship. “There are sea folk, coming. We can hear them—many, many, swift. Not far. They are of those who obey the Morra-ayar, they come from the Great Place, many! They will pull your ships down into the sea, and you will be eaten!”

Oggayr stared, his face pale with terror. Rorin gripped his sword hilt, shuddering, and Ulff muttered a curse.

“The Morra-ayar will not attack ships!” Oggayr cried out. “The Great
One
himself told us that they would not harm us!”

“You have taken prisoners,” the dolphin answered. “They are friends of the Morra-ayar. Row hard, men, we can hear the others coming! We cannot stay, there are only a few of us, and we do not like dying.” The black dolphin leaped again and streaked away. Behind him, a dozen other white lines of foam cut across the sea, diagonally away from the rolling galleys; their guides were fleeing.

“They spoke truth,” Oggayr said, watching the sea tracks diminish in the distance. His trembling hand plucked nervously at his thin beard, and he glanced at Ulff. “Lord, we must let those captives free at once.”

Ulff uttered an explosive sound. “No!” he roared. “What, you, a servant of the Great One, and you’d throw his prizes back into the sea? Did your Brotherhood bring his commands to the King, or not? Did he not send us to seize the man called Daniel?”

“But we don’t have Daniel, only his woman,” Oggayr said. “And the Great One does not know even that, as yet. Only we of the Brotherhood can speak to him, and tell him, and we will make the tale new…”

“Listen to this one, Rorin, and you’ll learn why I worship no gods!” Ulff said, and laughed without humor. “He’s prepared to betray his god, at a moment’s notice!”

“He may be right, though,” Rorin said glumly. “Look you, Lord Ulff; we are two ships, and this is not our own sea. If there are… creatures, coming, think. Can we fight and live against such?” His voice was earnest. “If all that they demand is that we release the captives…”

“And how would we do
that,
wise counselor?” Ulff barked. He flung out his arm at the deck before them.
“In that longboat?
Put them into the sea and hope they’ll come to land, eh? Well, what of those attackers? Do you really think they’d spare us, just for such a kind deed, ha?”

“The other galley’s boat is not fit to launch,” Rorin argued.

Ulff stared at him, thick brows knitted, for a long moment Then he growled, “No. No, burn my ballocks if I’ll let them go! You cowardly pismires! Those four are all we’ve taken, all that can give us a grip on the man Daniel!” His teeth gleamed.
“And especially that pale-haired bitch, his woman!”

“Ah,” Rorin said quietly. “It’s the woman, then.” He stepped back, watching Ulff. “My Lord Ulff, there,” Rorin said to Oggayr, “will let us all be drowned, before he’ll let go his grip.
But not for his oath to the King, nor for his word given to you of the Brothers, no.
For a bit of female flesh.”

Swiftly, Ulff's blade came out, a yard of steel; his eyes glowed like furnaces. But Rorin’s sword was up too, and they stood, crouched, points moving and weaving, like two scorpions. Oggayr, meanwhile, had slipped swiftly around and to the rear; he stood at the quarterdeck’s edge, facing downward toward the rowing benches. There, the faces of warriors and rowers looked up, and a low mutter of fearful voices began to rise.

“You will all die!” Oggayr cried out, his long arm pointing down at the men. “Listen! Your lord is mad! He has been told to release the captives; if he does not, the sea folk are coming to destroy us all!”

There was a clamor of voices now; warriors began to crowd toward the quarterdeck, all speaking at once. Several came up, mounting the ladder; Ulff turned, with a snarl, to face them. Then, suddenly, he stared ahead, eyes narrowing.

Slowly, Ulff's sword lowered; a broad grin spread across his face.

“Eh, now,” he said slowly. He took a step backward, toward the long angle of the steering oars. “It seems you’re all of you sure I’m wrong, then, eh, lads?” He continued to grin. “Well, I’ve no choice, do I? I’d not want to carve any of you, men I’ve sailed with a dozen times, like my own sons. Nor would you want to hack your own blood-oath lord, now, would you?” He had moved back another step as he spoke. The warriors who had come up on deck stood, looking confused, but Oggayr’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, watching the black-bearded Ulff.

Behind Ulff, the steersman leaned on the staff, watching too. He spoke aloud to Ulff.

“Lord? Shall I change course? There’s land, there, ahead.”

Ulff turned his head, grinning at the man.

“Why, no, man,” he said softly. “Look at the sail, it fills. We’ve a fair wind, and the coast ahead. Hold, for that.”

“But we’ll be broken on that shore!” the steersman said, staring. He began to lean on the shaft, to turn it. But Ulff sprang, snatched the man away and flung him sprawling across the deck. In the same tigerish movement, he grasped a shield from the bulwark and put his back against the steering staff. He could be reached only by frontal attack, and his sword guarded that approach, all too well.

A cry from a man in the forward part of the galley warned those who had not already seen the danger. Now, between the tight drawn sail and the prow, the shore was plain, a black-toothed line of rock against a welter of white breakers.

Across the widening gap between the two galleys, a shout came, questioning.

“What’s afoot, there? You’re running for the shore!”

There were splashes as men leaped to swim toward the other galley. On the deck, a couple of the braver warriors edged forward, toward Ulff, while a third fitted an arrow to his bow, bracing himself.

The arrow sang, and broke on Ulff's shield. The warriors, momentarily braver, lunged forward, and blades clanged. One uttered a gurgling shriek and staggered back bleeding; the second lurched and fell over the rail, silently. Ulff’s blade gleamed red and he roared a challenge.

Another arrow, and another, came, but no other man moved to meet the deadly blade. All of them knew Ulff too well for that

Even the bowmen dared not come close enough for a surer aim. They knew that in a moment, like enough, Ulff could spring out like a wild beast and hack a bloody path through all that stood before him. Now that he was blood-mad, he would not be stopped, even though he was shot through with a dozen shafts. And, looking forward at that grim coast, it was clear that there was no time.

More men leaped and swam; the oars dragged as rowers dropped their shafts and climbed over the rails.

“Lord Ulff, you’ll slay us all,” Rorin said in an even tone.

“Aye, I will,” Ulff said. “But I’ll not give back the captives.”

“Enough!” Oggayr cried out, swinging himself over the rail. Rorin waited. He glanced down the length of the ship; there were no more than a half dozen men left now.

“You may not keep them, even so,” Rorin said suddenly. “Look forward, there. Someone has unbound those captives, Lord Ulff.”

The woman and the three men were coming out, stooping as they passed under the low hatchway, into the ship’s waist. They stood together amid the litter of idly swinging oars, and stared toward the scene on the after deck.

Ulff saw them at the same moment, and lunged forward toward them, roaring.

Rorin ran to seize the steering oar, but as he struggled to swing it round, he saw the other galley and froze in cold terror. It was half a mile behind them now; the water near it dotted with swimming heads, men at the rail reaching down to aid those in the water to climb aboard. But just beyond the other galley, something rose, slowly and horribly.

Enormous tentacles, each as thick as a man’s waist, rose on either side of the doomed ship’s bow, curling downward, snatching. There were distant screams and howling; and then those still in the water began to shriek as loudly, as dark shapes struck.

But Ulff saw nothing, blind with rage. He had almost reached the unarmed four, his sword raised for a slashing cut.

Then, the woman Ammi bent and snatched at a broken oar that lay on the deck; she swung it low and hard, as a reaper swings a scythe. It met Ulff’s shin, and the warlord sprawled face-forward, with a tremendous crash. The shield spun away, though he still clutched his longsword.

Rorin, despite his abject terror at the sight of those things which were encircling the other galley, had managed by now to thrust the helm hard over. But it did little good; the galley was already halfway into the surf. The only effect was to bring the vessel broadside on, where it rolled half over as the wind and waves caught it. The deck slanted now like a steep rooftop, and Rorin clung helplessly to the staff.

Ulff, scarlet with fury and pain, managed to get to his feet and crook his left arm around the slanting mainmast to support himself. Two of the male captives were clambering over the bulwark, but the third, the one called Shorr-emak, lay groaning in the scuppers, his leg twisted under him. He had evidently fallen when the ship had rolled.

White foam spouted up and the galley shuddered to a sudden blow, rolling still further. One of the two men was hurled loose and vanished into the surf; the other, still holding on precariously, cried out to the woman Ammi, holding out a hand to assist her. He apparently could not have seen his comrade’s plight.

The woman shook her head and gestured; but another sharp blow shook the galley and the second captive fell, out of sight

Ulff, his shin sending fiery bursts of pain through him, glared at the woman and the prostrate man, and his blade came up.

“Two birds flown, but two I still have!” he roared, his voice loud enough to be heard over the thundering surf. The wounded man would only be troublesome, though, Ulff suddenly realized; the woman was the prize. He could not kill her, though he greatly longed to do so, with each pang from his bruised leg. But, Ulff thought,
somebody
should be killed, to ease his pride.

He snarled and launched himself across the deck.

But Ammi was ready for him, another stick of timber in her free hand. As Ulff plunged at them, swinging his broad blade down toward the man in the scuppers, Ammi thrust her stick, levering the warlord off his feet again.