The Hunter Victorious Page 24

  The sky was black and terrible, the clouds churning and rolling with fearsome turbulence. Everything was darkness, one could scarcely tell where the clouds left off and the dark seas began. Only the bright spot of crimson gold flames served as the ship’s beacon.

  Then an amazing thing happened. The skies parted as though separated by hands and a clear blue patch of sky emerged. Sunlight, warm and golden such as they had not felt since leaving their own worlds, streamed down upon the blazing ship—beams of light that Carn and Keri had always called God Rays—enveloping the burning ship. Then, in the empty sky, as barren of life as the planet, two winged figures were seen. A cry went up from the crowd as disbelieving eyes fixed upon the sight. A third winged figure joined the two, and then one more. Higher and higher they circled above the blazing ship, their joyous cries echoing across the thin, cold air. They were bathed in the rays of light, their broad, strong wings outspread, catching the sun and the wind. Higher and higher they circled until they were no more than specks in the bright light.

  Then, as they entered the hole in the clouds, the clouds closed around them, shutting out the light, and then they were gone. Only the ship remained. There was a brief burst of flames which flared against the dark, seething sea and then it was gone and a hard, cold rain began to fall.

  23

  The insanity began almost upon the instant that the clouds came together. A terrible, cold rain began to fall, pelting down upon them with a vengeance. As soon as it touched them, it turned to ice which coated flesh as well as clothing. Every step, every motion, was accompanied by the tinkling of ice breaking and falling to the ground. The rain turned to sleet and struck them like tiny pellets that stung painfully when they landed on exposed flesh. Not even their clothing was adequate protection from the constant bombardment.

  The musicians threw down their instruments, the guards tossed aside their weapons, even the priests abandoned their accoutrements of office, and as one, regardless of rank, the crowd raced for shelter.

  There was no shelter to be found close to the shore, which was exposed to the full brunt of the wind and the elements. As they hurried toward the path which would lead them into the foothills and thence through the mountains, it seemed to Braldt that the ground felt uncertain beneath his feet. It was solid, that was not the problem, but somehow it seemed not to be where it should be when his feet came down. He felt as though hè were walking on a quaking swamp. But that could not be, for the ground was frozen solid. He became aware of other people having similar difficulties around him. Everywhere people were stumbling and falling off balance. Braldt halted his flight and clutched Keri close to his chest. Beast hung at his heels and crouched low, growling and snapping his jaws, searching for the source of the danger which he too sensed.

  Once they were still, the danger was immediately apparent. It was the ground itself which appeared to be trembling, vibrating just enough to cause the earth to move underfoot.

  The advance wave of the crowd had reached the top of the first of the foothills, a small rise from which it was possible to see the spread of mountains that lay beyond. They began to scream. Many of them covered their eyes; some of the women began to cry. Braldt hurried forward, his heart hammering in his chest, suddenly afraid of what he would find.

  It was an impossible sight, one which his mind and eyes had difficulty accepting. The mountains were moving. As far as the eye could see, the mountains appeared to be shaking from side to side as well as moving up and down. The entire landscape was in a state of upheaval. As Braldt watched in disbelief, the entire side of a mountain seemed to break away and fall into the valley below with a roar that was clearly audible despite the distance that separated them. That was merely the opening salvo. A peak that was much closer to them seemed to tear itself in half, one section falling slowly toward them, the other vanishing in a cloud of dust.

  The remainder of the crowd had joined them on the small summit and together they watched as the entire mountain range crumbled and shook itself into ruin. It was no longer possible to stand. The violence beneath their feet was too great. The great mass of people, all that remained of the once mighty Scandi empire, huddled together and watched their world destroy itself. There was no longer any thought of returning to the mountain they had named Aasgard. Even if they could have reached it without losing their lives, there was no longer any point in doing so. Anyone who had been inside the mountain when the quake struck was no longer alive.

  They could not remain where they were; they would freeze to death before the quake could kill them if they did not find shelter. Braldt covered Keri’s face with a corner of his polyskin cloak, shielding her from the wind and sleet as well as the horrible sight and wracked his brain for a place of safety. And then it came to him: the great sky craft, the ship that flew through the heavens! Barat Krol had damaged it, prevented it from rising. It might never sail the skies again but it might provide some form of safety from the elements.

  He voiced his thoughts to Uba Mintch and Barat Krol, who had made their way through the crowd and crouched at Braldt’s side. Braldt never knew what ignited the crowd. Perhaps he had spoken too loudly; perhaps he was not the only one who thought of the great ship. Whatever the reason, almost immediately the entire mob reversed itself, flowing down the foothill like a surge of tidewater, and raced along the shore toward the plain where the spacecraft was moored.

  Carrying Keri, who hung limp and uncaring in his arms, Braldt was overtaken and passed by the majority of the panic-stricken crowd. Only Barat Krol and Uba Mintch stayed at his side. Barat Krol gave him a lopsided grin. “Do you think they will attempt to fly the ship?”

  “How could they?” asked Braldt, stumbling along the ice-coated rocks. “You have made certain that it will not fly true.”

  “They do not know this,” Barat Krol pointed out.

  “They cannot fly it; they do not possess the necessary skills. Nor is there enough room. Surely they would not attempt to leave if all could not go.”

  Barat Krol shook his head and grinned at Braldt wryly. “Ah, my friend, I am glad that I do not have the same dumb trust that you enjoy. I would have been a rug before some Scandi’s fireplace had I been so naïve.”

  Braldt was unable to concentrate on discussions of man’s nature. Other thoughts were demanding to be heard.

  “What about Septua and Mirna and the old ones, Brandtson and Saxo? Do you think that they might have gotten out?”

  Barat Krol shook his head. “Septua and Mirna, perhaps. Those two are survivors; if there was a way, they would find it. But Saxo and Brandtson…” Barat Krol shook his head. “I do not see how, my friend. Those mountains…”

  They were making their way along the shore. Talk became impossible as the footing became more treacherous. The rocks were tilted at awkward angles and coated with ice and moved continuously in jittery, unpredictable ways. Braldt was consumed with worry for himself and Keri, and with grief for those who had died. He felt numbed by the painful memory of Carn’s death. Even the treachery he had committed could not erase the love that had bound them together for so many years. To Braldt, he would always be a brother. Braldt could easily understand the depth of Keri’s grief. But now it was necessary for them to concentrate on their own problems, their own lives, or they would be joining the dead themselves.

  Braldt stopped for a moment to catch his breath as well as his footing before attempting a dangerous stretch of broken shoreline. Beast whined and pressed himself against Braldt. Braldt looked up and his breath caught in his throat. Coming in from the sea, heading directly for the shore, was an immense, towering wave, far taller than any normal wave, a solid wall of icy gray water.

  Braldt yelled out a warning, but no one could hear him—his voice was lost in the tumult of wind, rain, sleet, and waves. Far ahead of him, the mass of people and Madrelli clawed their way along the storm-wracked shore. Chivalry and nobility were foreign concepts now; it was every man, woman, child, and beast for himself. They f
ought and shoved and hurled each other aside to gain mere inches. None of them seemed aware of the giant wave that was moving toward them at a terrifying rate of speed.

  Braldt and the Madrelli took shelter, such as it was, behind an upthrust slab of granite. Braldt wedged Keri up against the rock and dragged Beast in as close as he could go. Beast needed no urging and wormed forward, wriggling into a tiny space at Keri’s feet. He was panting and his amber eyes were wide and ringed with white. The animal was clearly terrified. Braldt was no less frightened. Never had he seen such a thing. He chanced one last look and was held in a deadly fascination, watching the vast mountain of water as it slid over the crest of other, lesser waves, absorbing them, growing larger still as it moved majestically toward the land. A huge paw grabbed the back of his neck and forced his head down, pushed him into a crouch on top of Keri and beast. He could smell the wet fur of the Madrelli and felt the heavy bulk of the others pressing him painfully against the rock.

  Then it was on them. There was a curious hush in the air as though the moving water had pushed a wave of air ahead of itself to announce its passage. The wind and rain and sleet were blotted out, gone. The air was almost calm, though filled with a sense of expectancy. He could even hear the tiny lappings of water upon the edge of the shore, hear the most minute sands and stones grating against one another. It was an eerie experience and the tension was almost overwhelming.

  They did not have long to wait. The wave struck them with such force that the huge rock they had chosen to protect them moved in the ground, shifted like a loose tooth. For a moment Braldt was afraid that the rock would fall back upon them, crushing them with its great weight, but it did not give way. The water surged around and over it, pounding down upon them with a force that could not be believed. The water was frigid, filled with bits of ice, and it sluiced into every crevice of their bodies and took hold with an icy grasp as it tried to wrench them free.

  Braldt felt the water lift him up, tug at his fingers, pull at his clothes. He felt Keri and Beast dragged against his legs and dug his heels into the shifting sands, searching for a firm hold. The water streamed through his hair and stung his eyes, plucked at his nostrils and mouth, attempting to gain access to his body.

  He did not know how long the wave lasted, how long they were submerged. It felt like a lifetime. Two lifetimes. As the water began to recede, it was even worse than the influx. Their lungs were already straining, burning from lack of oxygen, and now the water was forcing against them in the opposite direction, trying to drag them out to sea.

  When it passed, surging around their ankles as though unwilling to admit defeat, they were battered and drenched to the skin. And Uba Mintch was gone.

  None of them had felt him go. Barat Krol was wild with grief, beating himself upon the chest and running along the streaming shore, crying out the old Madrelli’s name. Braldt wrapped his arms around him, restraining him, although the Madrelli’s strength was much greater than his own, for he feared at one point that Barat Krol meant to fling himself into the sea and swim out in search of his lost leader.

  Braldt tried to reason with him. “You are chief now. You must lead them. What will become of them if you die too?” But it did not seem as though the Madrelli heard his words. His great brown eyes were filled with tears and his huge frame shook as he stared out to sea.

  The great wave was gone, but, familiar with the nature of waves, Braldt knew that it would return. He must see to it that the survivors too were gone before it returned. They would not live through a second such inundation.

  Keri was breathing but appeared to be in shock. Her lips were blue and her skin was mottled with pasty white patches and veins of red lines. Beast was shivering and miserable, but he was alive.

  The shore ahead of them was devoid of life. Exposed and defenseless as the others were, the wave had carried them all away.

  It was late afternoon before they reached the plain where the ship was moored. There no longer seemed to be the same driving force to get there. A numb, unthinking, mechanical type of mentality had taken over. They were cold, colder than they had ever been. Only the action of walking saved them from freezing, and even so, their extremities were numb and unfeeling. Their hair and Barat Krol’s fur were caked with tangles of icicles, and Beast’s tail clinked as he walked.

  When the ship came into sight, its bright silver nose cone reflecting dully in the sheets of endless lightning that lit up the nightmare sky, they were astonished to discover that they were not the only survivors. A large number of others had reached the ship as well. Perhaps they had been out of reach of the wave or, like Braldt and his companions, had managed to hold on to something and save themselves.

  As they hurried toward the ship, overjoyed to find that they were not alone, they slowly realized that some sort of conflict was taking place at the base of the great ship. Alarms began to go off in Braldt’s head and he held out an arm to stop Barat Krol from going any farther. The Madrelli looked up at him with dull, grief-stricken eyes, uncomprehending of anything except his own pain, all too willing to allow him to take the lead.

  “Something’s wrong,” Braldt muttered, staring at the scene more closely. There was fighting at the base and sides of the ship. Many had already fallen, their bodies trod upon by others as they attempted to heave themselves up the gantry. Others—the king’s guards, primarily—appeared to be holding them off, using swords and whatever weapons were available to them. One of the guards appeared to be dismantling bits of the gantry network and hurling it down upon those who were attempting to gain access.

  Braldt could not understand what he was seeing. Why was there such conflict? There was more than enough room for all of them to shelter inside the ship, for the majority of their numbers had been killed in the desperate flight to reach the plain.

  But logic did not appear to have any part of the fray and as his eyes traveled up the length of the gleaming vessel, Braldt saw Skirnir perched in the open doorway, gesticulating wildly, giving frantic instructions to the captain of the guards. The man nodded, touched his head in recognition of Skirnir’s right of power, and clambered down the gantry to carry out his orders. Skirnir paused in the open door, looked out across the desolate plain, and seemed to savor what he saw. His eyes met Braldt’s and despite the distance, Braldt saw the jolt of recognition that came into the man’s eyes as he recognized Braldt and his companions. There was fear in those eyes, as well as malevolence and hatred. The eyes held for a long moment, and then Skirnir stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind him.

  The thin screech of the metal as it was dogged shut rang out like a shot in the thin, cold air, echoed in hundreds of desperate ears as the crowd realized instantly what the sound signified. They flung themselves at the ship with renewed desperation, attempting to reverse the action before it was too late.

  But it was already too late. Keri sagged against Braldt, hugged tight inside the curve of his arm as a great whoosh burst from the base of the ship, increasing in volume and pitch until it became necessary to cover one’s ears against the sound. The sound was accompanied by fury as well, a blast of white-hot exhaust that thrust against the frozen earth and melted the basework of the gantry, instantly killing all of those who clung to it and those in the immediate vicinity.

  White flames beat at the ground and licked up the sides of the ship itself. Horns and Klaxons blared and those few who were able staggered away from the ship, putting as much distance between it and themselves as possible, knowing what was to come.

  Barat Krol began to laugh, his red-rimmed eyes squeezed, tightly shut, his long arms and huge black-palmed paws resting upon his knees, his body bent nearly double under the force of his laughter.

  Braldt, who knew what would happen to those in the ship, found Barat Krol’s laughter strangely unsettling. But what Skirnir had done, shutting them out and leaving them all behind to die… was that any better? Braldt realized that the entire question was pointless. The assignation of blame
no longer mattered. People were dying, more people would likely soon die if they did not find shelter, and eventually, sooner rather than later, all of them who remained would die as well.

  Braldt dragged Barat Krol back from the widening circle of flames. The heat was sufficient to melt the ice that clung to them and dry their clothes and hair in less time than it took to reach the perimeter of safety.

  There they, along with those who had survived the quake, the towering wave, the swords of the guards, and the fiery blast of the ship’s engines, watched as the huge ship freed itself of the gantry and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, heaved its bulk free of the earth and then flung itself headlong into the heavens.

  24

  They milled around aimlessly within the small shelter that had once protected the guards from the weather. They had found supplies, medical necessities and foodstuffs adequate for their needs in the attached blockhouse.

  The mood was oppressive. Few of them had failed to grasp the seriousness of their position, even those who did not know of Barat Krol’s sabotage.

  The ground had finally ceased its incessant rumblings and many among them were proposing an expedition back to Aasgard to search for survivors and supplies. Although the situation looked hopeless, few of them had surrendered hope. Many wild and impossible plans had been suggested, and even though they were just that—wild and impossible—Braldt was glad that the people were thinking and acting at all. Perhaps somehow they would discover a way to save themselves yet.

  It was decided that an expedition, a group of twenty-five Scandis and Madrelli, would leave in the morning and attempt to reach Aasgard. The others—247 in all—would remain behind. Braldt and Barat Krol would be among those who led the expedition. They settled themselves down for the night, but few of them slept, lost in their thoughts and personal grieving for those who had died during the disastrous day’s events.