Hugh Cook - The Walrus and the Warwolf

Both Thole and Drake knew the easy motion of the ship was taking them steadily toward the horrors of the terror-lands beyond the protection of the flame trench. Shortly, the ship changed course. Near Drangsturm, the coast made an elbow and ran west. Ling lay some seventy-five leagues (as bird-flight measures distance) along that coast. So west ran the Warwolf.

That night, in his dreams, Drake did battle with the monsters of the Swarms, which he knew well enough from songs and legends common on Stokos. He dreamed that the awesome might of the flame trench failed; that the fantastic wizard-castles fell to ruin in war; that the Swarms came north; that the ancient enemy marched on Narba, on Veda, even on the towers of Selzirk the fair.

Drake woke when Shewel Lokenshield thumped him in the face with a dead fish.'Grumph!' snorted Drake, waking in a great hurry.

'Keep the noise down,' growled Lokenshield. 'You were groaning like a sow in heat.''Nightmares,' said Drake, by way of explanation.

'Man,' said Lokenshield, in disgust, 'if you're having bad dreams already, you'll be sleeping screaming by the time we get to Ling!'

Moments later, Lokenshield was asleep again. But Drake lay sleepless, sweating in the hot, dank fug of the fo'c'sle. Worrying about Ling. Now it was so close, he was truly beginning to realize the risks they were running.

By dawn, theNvind had died away to almost nothing. The Warwolf floated in sunlit seas with only the lightest of airs to gentle her sails. They were running – well, idling – some twenty leagues north of the coast, a featureless blue-green line on the horizon.

'The terror-lands,' said Jon Disaster grandly, indicating the coast to the south. 'Home of the Swarms.'

T suppose,' said Drake hopefully, 'that the Swarms couldn't get to us from the shore.'

'Oh, the greatest of them,' said Disaster, 'they could fly, well, they could damn-near fly from here to Stokos.'

'Oh,' said Drake, feeling younger and less certain than he had for years, and hurried down below to the comparative security of the galley.

The Warwolf cruised along the coast to Peninsular Quanat. She rounded Cape Songala then dared the narrow strait between Quanat and Island Va. Then ran by night for Ling. Drake was up bright and early, curiosity defying fear.

'What's that island?' he said, pointing to a considerable chunk of offshore rock.

'That's Ko,' said Jon Disaster. 'That's where the pearls are.'

'If we know where they are,' said Drake, 'why do we trade for them? Why don't we go get some for ourselves?'Jon Disaster laughed, and made no answer.

Shortly, the anchor slid away to the sandy bottom of Ling Bay. Drake scanned the daunting cliffs, which were punctured with holes, caves, tunnels, shafts, windows, embrasures and vents.

'What's that which glitters?' he said, shading his eyes against the sun.'Quartz in the rock,' said Jon Disaster.

'Quartz?' said Drake, who knew nothing of any geology saving certain iron-yielding ores and the coal-strata near his parents' home.

'Quartz is cheap crystal,' said Disaster. 'Aye, you'll see soon enough.'

Looking down into the cool, clear water, Drake saw great globular crabs picking their way across the sands like so many crawling skulls. Skylarking pirates dived to the sea, ducked each other under and wagered as to how far down the anchor cable they could swim. Drake was not tempted to join them. He was far too tense to play idle water-games.'Shouldn't we be keeping a watch?' he said.'A watch?' said Disaster. 'Whatever for?''The Swarms, of course.'

'Boy, like as not they'll never come. Inland, water's scarce, and little water means few of them. It's only the flying ones to fear. If those come – well, it'll be a hundred as like as one.'

Drake shuddered. What on earth was he doing here? He should be back on Stokos, yes. Stokos where he would one day be king. Or would he? Would Drake's theft of a mastersword and his subsequent disappearance prejudice King Tor against him? Well, just possibly . . .

But he had a legitimate excuse! If Muck had taught him properly, he would have endured everything, anything. Surely Tor would understand that. Wouldn't he?

Drake thought; Well, even if I don't get to marry Tor's daughter, I could always become a priest.

Yes. That would suit him right down to the ground. If he couldn't be king, he'd be a priest instead, devoting his life entirely to religion. Yes. He'd teach his temple's women himself, personally, one by one, to ensure quality control. He was surprised he'd never thought of the idea before.

'What you thinking about?' said Disaster, seeing Drake's abstracted expression.'Screwing,' said Drake.

He stared again at the cliffs. There was still no sign of the natives of the place. Were they dead? Killed out by the Swarms, perhaps?

'Why doesn't Arabin send a longboat ashore?' said Drake.

'It's best to let the Ling take their own good time,' explained Disaster. 'They're not much used to strangers, for few come south by sea.''And by land?' said Drake.Disaster laughed.

'It's fearful rough country inland,' he said. 'As far as I know, even Southsearchers venture here near to never. You know Southsearchers, boy?'

'Aye,' said'Drake knowledgeably, though most of what he knew was vague.

At last, late in the afternoon, the Ling did venture out. They came in small outrigger canoes cobbled together from scraps of driftwood. They were a strange breed of tall, lean people with golden skins: not the glossy golden brown of an oiled suntan, but the high-pitched glittering sheen of the noble metal itself.'Have they painted themselves?' said Drake.

'Nay,' said Disaster. 'That's their natural colour. They're a strange folk, as I've said. Their eyes are milk-white entirely, but for the black of the pupil.''You've seen?' said Drake.

'I've seen many things. Including the Ling stained red with blood, aye, blood from some poor fool they'd ripped asunder. They did it with fish-hooks.'

Drake, fascinated, listened to the gory details of the outre tortures Disaster proceeded to describe.

The Ling hailed the Warwolf, but not in Galish. Jon Arabin shouted back to them, and a regular palaver began in some lingo utterly alien to Drake – and, indeed, to most of the crew.

'The females would fetch a good woman-price,' said

Drake sagely, eyeing the distant bodies and wondering if their eyes really were all white.

'Aye, and it'd be worth our lives to take them,' said Disaster.

'They don't look very dangerous to me,' said Drake, with the sense of superiority which comes naturally to a big ship's sailor looking down on some little canoes.

'Oh, they're regular fierce!' exclaimed Disaster. 'Haven't you been listening to what I've been saying?'

'Oh, it made a nice story,' said Drake, 'but no people could really be as cruel as you've said. Surely.'

'Believe me!' said Disaster. 'They're straight out of a nightmare, this lot. Aye, and when it comes to women, that's when they're worst. Why, if you so much as look at one of their females, they'll cut your eyes out.''In truth?'

'Aye, I've seen it myself. Fearfully bad it was. Our last trip, our bosun raped a lass in that sea-cave there, the big one where that canoe's just coming out. Well, he thought himself safe enough once back aboard, but they took him by night, believe me. We found him come morning, floating face-down in the water just off the stern. He'd been skinned alive, to start with. His prick had been – eh, look, they're coming in.'

An agreement must have been reached, for the Ling canoes were closing with the ship. Drake saw Jon Arabin striding down the deck, smiling as he came.

'Drake!' shouted Arabin. 'Good news! The Ling will trade with us, taking only one hostage.''And who's that?' called Drake.