Vin of Venus (8 page)

For his own reasons, Siroth had shared the secret of constructing radium cannons with the wise men of the Sea Clans. Without this fantastic weapon, the assault on Gann Lorci's fortress would have failed utterly. Siroth's price for this knowledge was Lorci's head. I had come to deliver, but also beg a question of the old wizard. A question that had been troubling the Sea Clan's wise men in recent years.

A question concerning the fate of Venus itself.

But my trip across the Singular Sea was not without danger. After avoiding leviathan monsters and stretches of boiling ocean, our ship was caught by a water-spout and flung against a reef. The keel split like old bone. Fortunately, the shores of the Southern Continent hove close. Unfortunately, giant lampreys seethed among the intervening waters, and the crew and I were forced to fight as we made for land, clinging to crude rafts fashioned from the ship's wreckage. Only a handful of us made the beach. Those few remaining were quickly taken by the jungle's loathsome predators, until only I remained.

And I doubted I would last much longer.

If only I had some way of taking my bearings! A map, or a lodestone dial. But those had been lost in the ship's wreckage. We had been close to Siroth's tower before the waterspout struck. I knew it had to be somewhere not far from where we first came ashore, but the damnable jungle foliage choked all visibility. I had spent the last few days trying to find a hill, a clearing, or even a climbable tree. No luck.

What I could see of the daylight above was growing dark. Either another storm approached, or nightfall would soon be here. The idea of lying half-awake, listening to the stealthy tread of passing horrors held no appeal to me. Still, if such was the case I would have to find a defensible position.

Not far away, I spied what looked like a structure erected against the sturdy bole of a frame tree. Habitation? The thought stirred faint hope. A friendly tribe could point me in the direction of Siroth's tower. How any human beings could thrive in this lavender hell was beyond me, but the prospect was the first positive news I'd had in days.

Sword in hand, I crept over to the structure. My heart sank when I realized what it was. A simple lean-to, covered with sturdy fronds to keep out the rain. I had built it myself, the evening before.

My day's wandering had been a complete circle.

Even as I watched, jungle growth reclaimed my little shelter. Creeper-vines had already reached across the fronds, seeking to bury them. Mold clung to the sides in russet patches. In a few days it would be just another lump, rotting amidst the dampness.

A glance overhead told me night was indeed coming. The lean-to had served its purpose well enough before, and I did not have time to build another one. Close to exhaustion, I crouched down and prepared to crawl inside.

The ruby bracelet warned me just as I heard the hiss. A purple spider, its bloated abdomen the size of a human head, reared up on six spindly legs. The creature must've made a den of the lean-to in my absence, and showed every sign of wanting to fight for the territory.

I backed away. The prospect of resting in that shadowed space had lost its appeal. I'd find somewhere else, or I'd spend the night with my back propped against a tree, waiting for the bracelet to rouse me when danger made its inevitable approach.

A voice howled through the dimness. For a moment I thought it was another monster, but I caught what sounded like a string of human consonants. A second voice shrieked in reply.

Someone was communicating, and not far away. Again, the prospect of finding friendly intelligence heartened me. I started forward in the direction of the noise, moving warily as the jungle demanded.

It was hard to see more than ten yards in any direction, but I thought I glimpsed a cleared space of reflective surface off to my left. Could it be a lake?

A few more paces confirmed my question. The reflective surface was water. I caught the scent of something sour wafting over the general smells of rot and humidity, but couldn't identify it.

Without warning, the loamy ground beneath my boots gave way. I dropped the Sword of the Sea Clans trying to grab ahold of something as I fell. A resilient mass seemed to reach up and seize me. There was little light to see by, but I caught the outline of silken strands. The material had enfolded me while absorbing my fall, and I was now held fast. The sword lay ensnared nearby, out of reach.

I reasoned I'd just dropped into the pit of a spider. A big one. Any moment its furred body would come scuttling along the web, chelicerae clicking. But why hadn't the ruby bracelet warned me? One of its properties was to tingle or throb whenever hostiles drew near. The warnings had saved my life countless times.

But a pit with a web at the bottom had no hostile intent. It was just an object. And therefore, the bracelet had nothing to sense.

Did that mean I was alone?

For several long moments I strained to hear any sounds coming from the pit. There was only the jungle's din outside. Panic seeped through my nerves. I was trapped, without recourse to a weapon. Any creature that happened along could make a free meal of me. I struggled against the clinging silk, and succeeded in getting further entangled. The bracelet must've sensed my mood, because it pulsed and filled my limbs with hysterical strength. I thrashed again, renewed. But the webbing held tight.

The light above continued to fade. Soon, the pit had gone dark as a mausoleum. Fear gave way to stoic acceptance. Whatever happened now was beyond my control. I felt brief pangs I would never hold my beloved Rhadma again, or see the beneficence of her reign over the Sea Clans. She'd whispered to me she was with child, the morning I left for the Southern Continent. Our child. During the voyage I'd spent many hours contemplating the prospect of fatherhood.

But I am a warrior foremost, with death my only surety. When Gann Lorci had drawn his heavy Mainlander's blade, I'd faced him expecting to perish. Vengeance for Jaryk Coln had been my only concern.

And strange as it may seem, the webbing felt comfortable. I had slept poorly before, stretched out on jungle soil. Now, suspended, I recalled the swaying hammocks of the Sea Clans. I closed my eyes and blackness took me.

Swiftly as I'd shut my eyes, it seemed, they were snapping open again. Light flooded the pit. The same guttural cries I'd heard the evening before echoed down. Human silhouettes leaned over the edge to get a look at me. My captors muttered amongst themselves and lowered ropes set with bone hooks, which they used to snare the web and haul me to the surface.

That's when I got a good look at them.

They were pale skinned and hairless, like myself. But they were also covered with patches of brown mold. The bristling growths even clung to their faces, obscuring an eye or a mouth.

Their bodies gave off the sour reek I had smelled the evening before.

They wrestled me upright, leaving the binding webs in place. One of them cut the Sword of the Sea Clans free and thrust it through the straps of his harness, made from strips of warty-looking hide. They gestured at the box secured to my thigh, but made no move to open it.

I counted six. A hunting party, judging from their obsidian-tipped spears. The weapon's shafts were double their own height. At their sides they also carried a number of barbed javelins, and a bone spear-thrower of a type I'd seen used by Mainlander tribes. I could not tell who among them acted as leader. They spoke very little, relying mostly on hand gestures and nods.

"Who are you?" I asked repeatedly, using all the regional dialects I knew.

The creatures ignored my questions. The same one who'd taken my sword slashed the webbing between my legs, allowing me to walk while keeping my upper body bound. I felt a spear-tip prod my back, followed by an imperative grunt.

The implication was clear enough. I started walking. The rest of the group fanned out to either side, and we marched for the water-filled clearing I'd glimpsed the night before. Any desires I might have had to slake my hunger or thirst were allayed by that horrible smell.

After several more minutes I could see the clearing was not something as wholesome as a freshwater lake, but a swamp. Reeds jutted from the emerald-pale surface. My captors skirted around the edge, until we came to a stretch of sand lowering into the shallow water. There I saw my first signs of real habitation; circular huts, made from lashed reeds, arranged in a ring around a common area. Fungus-dotted women and children milled. Some dragged nets farther out into the swamp, while others skinned eel-like creatures hanging from wooden racks. Not a single cook-fire or column of smoke rose from any of the huts, and for good reason. Instead of being built atop poles to keep them dry, they were partially submerged. The settlement was
in
the swamp, not above or around it.

A spear-prick told me that I, too, was supposed to join the inhabitants wading around in the scummy water. I took a hesitant step forward.

The ruby bracelet burned red-hot.

Ululating cries sounded behind us. I turned and saw something go blurring by my head, making a buzzing noise. The fist-sized object struck a nearby captor. He went down, flailing. A second missile came winging in to strike the creature who had taken my sword. He dropped as well. This time I could see why. A fanged beetle had alighted on his chest, its scarlet carapace split and wings thrumming.

Just beyond the reeds appeared a group of warriors dressed in gaudily enameled armor: red, yellow, and green hues, flashing in the sun. They were mounted on giant striders. I recognized the war-spiders from by battles with Tarqual Vaz, the despot who had once kidnapped Rhadma. These creatures bore no fur, but were thicker and squatter around the thorax.

The Mold Men fitted javelins to their bone throwers, but another volley of poison beetles struck before they could cast. I threw myself to the sand, unsure whether I was a target or not.

A strider tensed its legs and leapt in a single tremendous hop, to land not five yards from where I lay. I got a good look at the mounted warrior. His armor had not been formed from hammered metal, but large pieces of chitin, arranged in plates and connected by braided cords. He glanced down at me, a frown visible between the cheek-guards of his carapace helmet. On each forearm one of the large scarlet beetles had been lashed. A silken hood covered its head, not unlike the hooded hunting-birds of Mainlander chieftains. As I watched, the warrior pointed his right hand at a Mold Man some ten yards away, running for a hut. His other hand tore the hood free and loosed the insect's bindings in a single movement. The beetle shot from his wrist like an arrow, humming towards its target in a graceful arc. It struck the Mold Man in the back. The mottled creature thrashed and fell into the water.

I had to roll to avoid the strider's scuttling legs. The giant creature tensed again and leapt, this time landing atop a distant hut. I found myself alongside the Mold Man who had taken my sword. His chest was already swollen black from venom, and in his lifeless hands lay the beetle's crushed remains.

Now was as good a time as any to affect an escape. The Sword of the Sea Clans jutted from the dead man's harness. I rolled over and pressed my web bindings against the blade's edge. After a few frantic rubbings, the silk parted. I was able to tear the rest free.

All around me carried guttural shrieks, fierce war-cries, and the humming of poison beetles. The Mold Men were trying to rally at a center point in the village, forming a ring around their women and young. My tactical sense told me they were outclassed. I snatched up the sword and made ready to bolt for a nearby stand of reeds.

"Hold!"

A strider landed in front of me. Atop the beast rode a female warrior, bedecked in plates of iridescent blue-bottle chitin. I could see braids of dark hair falling from beneath her helmet. She still had a beetle lashed along one forearm, which she trained on me. "You're not like the rest of those rotting man-things," she said.

She spoke in a dialect of the southernmost Sea Clans, with a strange accent. But I could understand her well enough. "I was taken captive," I answered. "I am Vin, Champion of the Sea Clans and consort to Queen Rhadma."

That gave her some pause. "You're from across the sea?"

"On an important mission, yes." I thumped the box attached to my thigh. "I have a gift for Siroth Hadz. A repayment, really."

She stiffened at mention of the name. I thought to glimpse her skin going pale underneath all that armor. "You are ... in league with the sorcerer?"

"Just repaying a debt. He helped us to win a great battle."

"I've never heard of Siroth helping anyone," she said. "Your story must be strange, indeed. But this is not the place to discuss it. Surrender your weapon."

"But I just—"

"That wasn't a request." There was iron in her voice. She leaned down from the complex webbing that secured her to the strider's thorax, extending a hand. "Give me that sword."

I was loath to hand my blade over, especially as I'd just gotten it back. But I sensed the woman wouldn't hesitate to send a beetle at me. So I complied. She held the sword aloft for a moment, appearing to admire the play of sunlight along the edge. "An archaic weapon. And so much metal. Very wasteful." She secured the sword and extended her hand again. "Now, up here with me."

"Am I your captive, now?"

"Think of yourself as a guest. And for your sake, don't mention the name Siroth Hadz unless I tell you."

I did not question further, and wasted no time climbing up behind her. She helped secure me to the strider's harness.

"Put your hands around my waist," she instructed. "Or you'll fall off with the first jump."

She breathed a little faster when I did so. The chitin armor was flexible rather than rigid, and I could feel her muscles underneath.

"You're a strong one, I'll say that much for you," she said.

"You didn't give me your name."

"Hajed. I am
Kuar
of the Blue Riders. And rest assured, if you try anything I'll throw you off this mount."