Beneath the Eye of God (The Commodore Ardcasl Space Adventures Book 1) (4 page)

"But it's not the end of the month yet." A dried, bent little man in a long, dark coat and carpet slippers came shuffling toward them. "You've come too soon, Princess. I haven't time today. I'm much too busy."

"This isn't my day off, Mr. Mumphrey," Leahn said. "I'm leaving town. I've come to collect."

"Leaving? Oh dear." The little man seemed truly stricken. "I did so look forward to our monthly assignations." He winked from behind bent glasses at Ohan. "I couldn't possibly be seen going into her place of business. My position in the community, you know." Ohan wondered what position the proprietor of this dusty junkheap could possibly hold.

"This fine young gentleman," Leahn indicated Ohan, "has bought out my contract. I am to serve him as bodyguard. I shall need arms."

"But to go away?" The little man stroked Leahn's hand. There was the suggestion of a tear in his ancient eye. At her side, he seemed no larger than a child. He suddenly brightened. "This is the last time then?" He looked around and sighed. "But it's the wrong day and I've no time." As near as Ohan could determine, they were alone in the labyrinthine shop. What pressing engagement awaited the little man, he could not guess.

"I have been building up a monthly credit with Mr. Mumphrey," Leahn explained. "On my days off. No cash changed hands for that fat cow to get hold of."

"She was saving to buy this." Mr. Mumphrey emerged from the shadows bearing a nasty-looking cutlass. Leahn took the weapon and swung it over her head in, to Ohan's eye, a disconcertingly skillful and deadly fashion.

"Another three months and it would have been paid for," Mr. Mumphrey sighed admiringly. "Then she would have killed them all."

Ohan started. "All who?"

"The fat cow." Leahn returned the sword to the little man. "The men with the sweaty hands. A couple of the girls . . . though maybe not. Most of them were nice. We hadn't worked out the details yet. And then myself."

"On market day," Mr. Mumphrey beamed. "When a big crowd was in town. It was a good plan."

"It's a terrible plan," Ohan said indignantly.

"Actually it was only a fair plan," Leahn admitted. "It lacked focus."

"It was vengeance and that's always satisfying," Mr. Mumphrey said. "But it was vengeance on most of the wrong people."

"That was a flaw," Leahn said.

"Except for that, it was a good plan," the little man cackled. "And vengeance on the wrong people is better than no vengeance at all."

"It was the best we could think of," Leahn said.

"Actually," Mr. Mumphrey said, "it was an alternate plan. My favorite was the one where the prince rides in and carries you off to his castle." He peered over his dusty glasses at Ohan. "I don't suppose this is he?"

Leahn too, was surveying Ohan critically. "No," she said. "Not exactly. This is another alternate plan, I think."

"So how may I help you?" the little man asked. "You do have credit, even if it's not enough to buy the cutlass."

"I'll want two of the throwing knives in leather gauntlets and that big old sword in the next to last room."

"Which sword is that?"

"The big one. It's been there gathering dust for years. You said yourself you'd probably never sell it as there's no one around here tall and strong enough to swing it anymore."

Mr. Mumphrey was not enthusiastic. "Maybe we can work a deal on the cutlass. Your young friend will doubtless lend you a few . . ."

"We have five coppers between us." Leahn laid them out on the counter. "That's all. You and I chose the cutlass because it was short enough to work well in close quarters back at the brothel. Now the plan is changed. I want the sword." She ran her fingers through the little man's sparse white hair. "Hugo," she cooed, "this is Leahn. After all we've meant to one another, you are the only one I can turn to. You must help me."

"You take unfair advantage, Princess," Mr. Mumphrey grumped as he scooped up the five coppers. Leahn kissed the top of his head and disappeared into a back room. "Never mix lust with love, young man," he said to Ohan. "And keep both separate from business." Then he smiled absently. "But there are, rarely, bargains that just don't fit on the balance sheet."

Leahn emerged from the other room with a dagger gauntlet strapped to her wrist, another at her ankle. She was lacing an intricate leather belt around her waist. It held a long scabbard at an angle across her back from which protruded, a foot above her right shoulder, the hilt of a giant sword.

Ohan had been wondering about Leahn's attire. Her short tunic seemed wildly inappropriate for general outdoor wear, even in this warm climate. He had not thought of a way to tactfully broach the subject. Now the scabbard harness did much to solve the problem. Its straps over her shoulders and between her legs met and cinched tightly into the belt at her waist. Her long legs, he noted appreciatively, remained bare.

Mr. Mumphrey was equally taken by the spectacle. "Oh my," he murmured, "it does fit nicely. Perhaps it has waited all these years just for you, Princess."

Leahn pressed the hilt downward and to one side. The scabbard snapped open. She drew the dull silver blade, the longest Ohan had ever seen, slowly over her right shoulder, taking care not to bring down a stack of crates.

"It rests lightly in your hands, Princess. Do you know the weapon's secrets?"

"I practiced with it sometimes while you slept, Hugo. I played with similar blades as a child, though not as long and fine as this. Properly wielded, the edge will cleave a man. The dull side will break his back." She set the blade carefully back in the scabbard which snapped shut around it. "You do not regret our bargain, Hugo?"

"No, Princess." He reached up to take her hand as they walked to the door. "There are many ways to count up value. Coin is earned and spent. A pleasant memory is more rare and lasts the longer for it." He opened the door for them, then straightened and kissed Leahn's hand. "I shall always remember you, Princess." He smiled sadly. "Always."

***

The tavern was one of several, neither the largest nor the closest to the market square. Those other establishments were frequented by the farmers and traders who came to buy and sell. This tavern, farther from the center of town, attracted both townspeople and those who had come greater distances, often on darker errands than the trading of fowl and cabbages.

Ohan peered through the open doorway into the darkened interior, half hoping the Commodore might be gone, already hearing his hearty laughter coming from the far end of the bar. Ohan swallowed with difficulty. Only a few hours earlier he had been entrusted with 80 coppers for safekeeping and had been sent to buy provisions. He was returning with no money, no provisions and a young woman armed with a very large sword who insisted she was his bodyguard. Worst of all, he was not at all sure how it had happened. Where was he to begin his explanation?

As his eyes adjusted to the darkened interior, he saw the Commodore holding forth at one end of the half-filled bar. The twins sat chatting with some men at a table against the wall.

"Ah, there's my lad," the Commodore shouted across the room, "returned from the market. Come let me buy you a beer to wash the dust from your pipes."

"Thank you, sir. But first I have to explain how I . . ."

"No, lad. First you must introduce us to the young woman who seems to be following you around."

With a start Ohan realized that Leahn had come with him into the tavern and now stood directly behind him. "Oh yes, of course," he stammered. "This is the Princess Leahn. She uh . . ."

"I serve master Ohan as bodyguard," Leahn said.

Even the Commodore was taken aback. "By Odin's beard," he said. "You have had a busy morning. But I don't see that the purchase of a few loaves of bread requires an armed escort, even one so fair as this. Allow me to buy you both a drink."

"Folks may not be particular wherever you come from, stranger," a dark man halfway down the bar snarled at the Commodore. "We don't drink with whores around here."

Ohan was aghast. "Oh, sir," he said to the Commodore. "She is truly a princess."

"I'm sure she is. It's been my experience that well over half the fallen flowers I have encountered in my travels have been of royal blood. We'll have two beers for my friends, innkeeper."

"You must be hard of hearing, fatso," the dark man said as he advanced toward them along the bar. "Your 'fallen flower' is more like a blueapple. The skin looks smooth and sweet but the inside is all fiber and thorn."

"I know you," Leahn said to the dark man. "Have a care for I like you not."

"Fiber and thorn beneath that smooth skin. It takes a good deal of beating to squeeze even a drop of sweetness out. She belongs in a house down by the square, not here with honest men."

"Let's all have a drink and discuss this," the Commodore said. "My treat."

"Sure. I'll drink with you," the dark man snarled, "right after I drag this whore back to where she belongs."

"Don't touch her!" Ohan found himself shouting. "I've bought her contract. She's mine."

"Then you've made a bad investment, furball." The dark man had a knife at Ohan's throat. "I've a lot more sweetening to do on this one. And I've yet to teach her to cry."

"You put your life at peril ere you threaten my master," Leahn said quietly, her hand steady near her right ear.

"Are you sure I can't buy anyone a drink?" the Commodore asked.

"First I'll skin your fuzzy little friend, then I'll have his whore right here on the bar. No sense wasting two coppers when I can . . . " The dark man stopped talking as his head thumped onto the floor. His body slowly collapsed into a heap beside it.

Leahn wrenched her sword from the wine cask where it was imbedded and leaped onto the bar. "With whom have I bloodfeud in this scum's death?" she shouted.

The innkeeper, a round bald man, shook his head and laid his club back under the bar. "I think none will claim bloodkin to that one," he said. "But that was a good wine cask."

"I'm sure suitable payment can be arranged," the Commodore said. "Allow me to help you down from there, my dear." He extended a hand to Leahn. "I'm seldom one to criticize and I hope you won't be offended if I offer a suggestion purely in the spirit of constructive criticism. I believe you would have decapitated that cask as cleanly as you did our late friend if you had not lowered your elbow at the end of your swing."

"It looked more like her left hand to me," a man sitting with the twins volunteered. "Too far over on the hilt."

"Stance was wrong, too," a man at the bar said. "Feet should be at 45 degrees to your foe."

"You may be right," the Commodore said. "Ohan, you look a bit pale and I don't suppose you have enough left of my 80 coppers to settle for the damage to the wine cask? No? I thought not. No provisions either? You do need a drink, lad. Erol, will you please settle up and buy us all another round."

"And now, my dear," he said turning to Leahn, "do take another swing at that cask and this time, check your feet, watch your grip and don't raise your elbow quite so high."

Chapter 4

Ohan had seen horses before. But never this close. They were larger than he expected, and less friendly.

There had been a herd of mares near the school. He had often seen them pulling wagons along the road. The stallions, with their overlapping scales and clawed feet, were far less cooperative. They never consented to be hitched to anything. He had marveled at the drawings of mounted white warriors in his history books but those were tales of long ago in lands far from the forest.

He knew that the great beasts roamed the rocky plains in large herds and that, while they could certainly forage into the forest if they chose to, the cats prevented them from gaining a permanent foothold there, not by attacking the adults who were far too large, but by sneaking in and carrying off the foals soon after they were born. There was, in fact, a whole series of children's stories handed down among his people, which featured the clever forest cats continually outwitting the fierce but dim horses.

That was all textbook and legend, however. What he faced now was a very large creature that eyed him suspiciously from beneath an armored brow. And Ohan wasn't feeling too well to begin with. There had been a farewell party at the tavern last night. It had left him, as close as he could tell, near death.

"They sense fear," the Commodore said as he heaved himself aboard his own mount. "Look him square in the eye and pretend you know what you're doing."

Their equipment had been separated into small packs and stowed carefully behind the saddles of the five beasts that had been brought out from town by an old man Ohan recognized from the tavern. On seeing the horses, Leahn had shouted with joy, leaped aboard and ridden off across the fields with the skill of a practiced rider.

Ohan feared the Commodore would be furious at the loss of his 80 coppers. To his surprise, he had received nothing more painful than a sharp nudge in the ribs, a wink and a mumbled comment about good value for the money.

For her part, Leahn seemed determined to continue in her self-appointed position as his bodyguard. After her bloodcurdling performance in the tavern, Ohan was more apprehensive about his protectress than about any potential danger. Even the twins seemed to welcome her into their little group. One had ordered a new pair of boots for her while the other arranged to have her sword sharpened.

Both Leahn and the sword had become objects of considerable interest to everyone in the tavern. The innkeeper left a couple of scullions to clean up the mess and took them to a nearby smithy. A great deal of discussion was ended by the smith himself, who firmly declared that since he was going to do the work, he would do what needed to be done and nobody else knew what they were talking about anyway.

Whatever he did proved effective. Leahn was able to split several substantial fence posts both through the middle and lengthwise with what appeared to be little effort on her part. The crowd was pleased. Several of its older members declared that they hadn't seen such a weapon since their boyhoods.

The day ended with a party. The, by then, considerable crowd returned to the scrubbed-down tavern. There the cobbler made the final fitting on Leahn's boots and the liquor flowed freely. Even Ohan was allowed to drink more than he ought—three beers. He counted them several times before giggling off into an alcoholic slumber.

***

Morning dawned early indeed. Ohan's head and stomach felt very odd, far worse than he thought possible. The Commodore's guaranteed hangover remedy made him throw up. That helped a little. Death seemed a far more practical solution.

Now he faced a legendary beast several times his size who was obviously not being deceived by his attempt to conceal a great deal of well-founded fear and a throbbing head. Nor was Ohan deceived by the old horse trader's contention that this was "the gentlest of the lot". He clearly saw the twinkle in the old man's eye as he said it. That twinkle turned to awe as Leahn thundered up and reined to a halt in a cloud of dust. The bargain was sealed. The old man went his way shaking his head and muttering about forest tree climbers, white warriors and foreign serpents all going off to play among the giants' cities.

Now it was Ohan's turn. One twin held the horse's great armored head, stroking it with his long fingers and speaking softly in a sibilant whisper. Ohan could feel the beast going quiet as the other twin boosted him into the saddle and adjusted the footholds to his short legs.

They were well into the coolness beyond the dusty edge of the trees before his mount seemed to shake off its drowsiness and began to argue about who was in charge. By then Ohan had started to get the hang of it and was willing to put up a fight. The horse's three-toed gait was surprisingly smooth though Ohan knew he would be sore for days to come.

The first trees offered some relief from the morning sun. By mid-afternoon a leafy canopy had formed overhead and the ever-present dust of the outlands was left behind. With his head still throbbing, his stomach churning and every muscle in his body protesting, Ohan was in no condition to hunt for supper that evening. This had apparently been anticipated. Though the Commodore proclaimed loudly his joy at once again being one with nature on the open road, he and everyone else soon followed Ohan into exhausted sleep.

***

He awoke startled to find the sun high above the treetops. His headache was gone, his stomach seemed interested in food again and his muscles were sorer than he had ever suspected they could be. The others were already up. The Commodore and Leahn seemed to be moving rather more slowly and carefully than usual.

"Are you still alive?" Leahn asked solicitously as she brought him a cup of hot tea. "That's a good sign. The Commodore says that was probably your first hangover. It's best not to do that on the same day you go for your first horseback ride. I think everybody's a little stiff."

Ohan sat up and drank.

"There you go," she said. "You may survive."

She looked up at the leaves, bright in the morning sunlight. "God, I love it out here. I think you saved my life, sport."

She took his empty cup, gave him a large kiss on the forehead and left him feeling much better.

The others greeted him heartily as he slowly made his way toward the fire. The Commodore forced another potion on him, this for "strengthening the blood and relieving undue commotion in the alimentary canal." At least it wasn't as bad as the big man's hangover remedy.

"The great secret of travel, my boy, is to survive the farewell party. Once that hurdle is surmounted, the rest is downhill."

The Commodore glanced over to where the twins were removing the horses' hobbles and adjusting their packs. "Even I find that riding these armor-plated rocking chairs requires getting used to. We'll take it slower today. Now that we're away from the corrupting influence of civilization—if that's what you call that dingy dustbowl back there—you'll begin to feel better. Men against nature. That's the ticket, eh lad?

"It will also be easier to operate without a pack of slack-jawed locals getting in our way."

As they rode through that day and into the next, Ohan noted with pleasure the thickening of the branches overhead and the lifting of the forest canopy. True forest giants began to make their appearance. The thicket of bushes and young trees that had hindered their progress on the first day disappeared. There was little direct sunlight here to nourish undergrowth, only a cool gloom. It brightened to deep shade at midday then trailed off imperceptibly to night.

The underbrush was replaced by a thick leaf mold and the far-reaching roots of the great trees. Each thick wide-buttressed trunk stood apart from its fellows. The intervening spaces were filled with long parasite vines. They hung from the branches high overhead groping tentatively for the ground and their chance to root and grow as trees. The party rode silently, single file, winding among the root systems. Ohan breathed deeply of the rich warm scent of life and decay and knew he was home.

***

"My father was a scholar and an amateur scientist," Leahn said to the Commodore as they lunched beside a small ruin. "He had a collection of old things he'd found or traded for. My uncle has it now, of course. But he has no interest in it. I'm sure he would be happy to show it to you."

Ohan, sitting nearby, started to speak but Leahn shot him a dark look of such intensity, he choked on the bread he was eating. He fell into a coughing fit and the conversation passed him by.

Later when he tried to tactfully explain to the Commodore that Leahn and her uncle weren't on the best of terms, the big man said, "I make it a rule never to mix in these little family squabbles, my boy. Besides, whoever ends up with the collection she spoke of—either Leahn or her uncle—I'm sure they won't mind if we have a peek at it."

Ohan left the conversation wondering if he had made himself entirely clear. Murder and rape seemed rather more than a "little family squabble".

After lunch the twins set up their machinery and scanned the nearby ruin. It appeared to be little more than a tree-covered mound rising from the forest floor. But the scanner probed the tangled roots and decaying vegetation to find the fallen facade and solid core beneath. Then the computer, noting the position of each fallen stone, traced its probable path back to its original resting place. It reconstructed the original structure based on the data they had gathered in their excavation of the first complex at the edge of the forest. It produced a three-dimensional drawing of the way the little temple looked before it fell into decay. With the drawing as a guide, Erol and Ohan made a narrow laser burn through the structure from top to bottom to establish the time when the temple was built and used.

"This is a relatively new one," Elor reported after analyzing their data. "The organic material beneath the foundation is only 850 years old while the vegetation on top began to be laid down 420 years ago. We may well find that the final construction phase is contemporary with the road."

"Road?" Ohan was startled. "There are no roads here."

"Roads there are, my boy." The Commodore pulled a sheet from Elor's map case and unfolded it. "We're going to show you a few things about your ancestors that may surprise you."

Ohan had studied geography in school. He was familiar with the northern and southern oceans and the four equatorial continents but the Commodore's map was not like any he had seen before. It lacked color and appeared to have been drawn by a machine using only straight lines of varying lengths.

"Naturally we made a complete aerial survey before we landed," the Commodore explained. "We found traces of significant archaeological sites in several places. Most have been badly weathered or are overlaid by modern settlements. But here," his sweeping gesture took in the silent forest around them, "here in this dark and gloomy place, an ancient people decided to create an empire. These trees, the same that sprout as seedlings in the cracks between the stones, then grow until they force the whole building apart, these same trees have protected the temples and pyramids from the wind and rain as well as from inquisitive men and grazing animals. Here is where we think we might find something . . . interesting.

"Unfortunately, the same forest that kept these lost cities safe from farmers and ranchers also did a pretty good job shielding them from our aerial probes. The best we could get was this radar image." He stabbed his finger at the map. "It shows this little temple complex and the road running beside it." He folded the map and handed it to Elor who put it back in his case. "Mount up, children. We have a highway to catch."

***

It's a wall," Ohan exclaimed as his horse picked its way carefully over the tangled roots and fallen stones. "We always called these the giants' walls. I never thought of them as anything else. I know where there are several. They're perfectly straight and . . . "

"And twenty feet wide," the Commodore shouted from the top of the incline. "They're raised four to six feet above the surrounding countryside, level and straight as an arrow. Travel will be easier up here."

Looking anew at the structure he had known since childhood, Ohan was filled with wonder. This was not like the little meandering trails at the edge of the forest. Those were narrow and rutted. They bathed the traveller in a constant cloud of dust. This was built of large stone blocks topped with a smooth layer of crushed rock. The edges had been broken apart by insistent tree roots. But except for some smaller trees that sprouted there, the center remained relatively smooth and intact.

With a firmer surface and fewer roots to maneuver around, the party made better progress. They could ride two and three abreast rather than in single file. They set up camp that evening on the road. Ohan and Leahn went off to hunt for supper.

It had taken three days for Ohan's muscles to adjust to the business of riding. Two more days had been required for his senses to become fully attuned to the life of the forest. As a boy he had hunted for enjoyment as well as necessity. When food was not required, he would stalk small game just to see what they would do, which way they would turn, where they would head for cover. When it was time to hunt in earnest, he knew well the habits and preferences of his prey.