Lawrence Watt-Evans: The Lure of the Basilisk

"Does your leg still hurt?"

"Yes." The man made a half-hearted attempt to get to his feet and failed. The overman stooped, and felt the damaged leg.

"It's broken; lie still."

It took the overman some time to locate a usable splint, but eventually he broke the haft from an axe he found among the scattered debris of the battle and bound it in place with leather from the reins of the man's mount. As he checked the bindings, the man said, "I am Elmil of Derbarok."

"I am Garth of Ordunin."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"I have not decided."

"What about"

"Wait." Garth did not want to answer questions; he had not yet finished his self-imposed task of cleaning up after the battle. Ignoring Elmil temporarily, he systematically stripped the seven dead warriors, leaving them lying naked in the icy mud, then sorted through their belongings, and added those items he thought might prove useful or valuable to his own pack. The remainder he dumped in a heap beside the unconscious man he had earlier bandaged. Elmil watched these actions in confused silence, then demanded, "Why do you leave them naked?"

"As easier prey for carrion-eaters, so that your living companion will have more time to recover."

Elmil made no answer.

"Are the men of Derbarok honorable?" Garth inquired.

Elmil was astonished. "We are bandits and thieves who use magic trickery. How can you even ask?"

"It is said there is honor amongst thieves. I want to know whether I may take your word of honor rather than tying you up while I sleep."

"My word of honor?"

"Your word of honor that you will not escape, nor harm me nor my warbeast."

"But you have no way of knowing whether my word is good or not, save my word."

"This is true. But if you break it, you will die. If you escape, I will hunt you down. If you harm me, my warbeast will hunt you down."

"Then why do you ask?"

"I would have your word so that you will not feel compelled to attempt escape despite the consequences."

"I don't understand."

"It is not necessary that you understand, merely that you either give your word of honor that you will neither escape nor attempt to harm me, or permit me to bind you." The overman's faint tone of annoyance failed to register with the barbarian, but he had exhausted his objections.

"I could not escape with a broken leg in any case; I will give you my word."

"Very good. Then we will rest." It was scarcely sunset, but the overman's loss of blood had tired him. As he was preparing to bed down, himself on his bedroll and Elmil a few feet away on furs that had once belonged to his fellow bandits, the warbeast growled hungrily. Garth called to it, and it began contentedly eating what remained of Elmil's dead mount.

The action reminded Garth of a question. "What do you call those animals?"

"Do you mean the horses?"

"Horses?" Garth had heard the word before; to the inhabitants of the Northern Waste, horses were a vague legend. They were not suited to the climate and had long since died out in the northern lands, but they apparently still throve further south.

Elmil paused, then asked a question of his own. "What is your beast's name?"

"Name?"

"What do you call him?"

"Nothing. It is my beast. It needs no name of its own.

Elmil paused again, musing, then said, "I will call him Koros, for the Arkhein god of war."

Garth remarked absently, "It is a neuter, not a male." He considered briefly, then said, "It is a good name. Hear you, beast? Your name is Koros." The beast growled in answer as Garth rolled over and went to sleep.

Garth awoke at the first light of dawn, and was gratified to see Elmil still asleep nearby. Had the man fled during the night, Garth's quest to Mormoreth might have been delayed for as much as a week in tracking him down and killing him.

Although it was not yet light enough to travel, the overman began packing and loading. There was not much to be done, and he finished in less than ten minutes. The sound was enough to waken Elmil, however, and the bandit lent what aid he could in tying the furs he had slept in over the immense pack on the warbeast's back. As he did, Garth noticed him glancing frequently at the creature's monstrous head and at the scanty remains of his horse. When the loading was complete, Garth said, "You never saw a warbeast before."

"No."

"Nor an overman?"

"No; I had heard tales of overmen, but never have I heard of such a beast."

"They are bred by my people in the valley of Kirpa. The first were an admixture of, panther, dog, and ass used in the Racial Wars three hundreds years ago:"

Elmil studied the beast. It was plainly descended from some great cat, and its disproportionately long legs could be from its donkey ancestry, but he could see no trace of the canine. Its huge, sleek black body bore not the slightest resemblance to the scruffy wild dogs he was familiar with. But then, overmen were said to be derived from humanity, and the seven-foot horror he had fought the previous day had not seemed in any way human.

His thoughts were interrupted by the overman's voice. "How did your band appear so abruptly yesterday?"

"By magic; we approached you while invisible."

"How was this magic worked?"

"Khand, our chieftain, had a talisman called the Jewel of Blindness. I do not know how it worked, save that it turned us all invisible, inaudible, and intangible when we touched it."

"Where did your chieftain get this? It would take a mighty wizard to make such a thing, and such a wizard would not be leading bandits."

"He got it from Shang."

"Who is Shang?"

"Have you never heard of him?" Elmil was plainly surprised.

"You had not heard of warbeasts," Garth reminded him.

"He is the mightiest wizard in Orыn. He came from the far south, and took Mormoreth for his own. All Orыn fears him."

"Why did he give Khand this talisman?"

"We had a bargain with him; in exchange for the talisman, we were to stay out of the valley Mormoreth lies in, and slay any who tried to approach it."

"Khand still has the talisman, then."

"What?" Again, Elmil's surprise was obvious. "Khand lies dead, where you slew him."

Garth looked where the bandit pointed; the corpse indicated was one of the men Koros had killed. Without further comment, the overman strode to where the unconscious barbarian he had bandaged the preceding day lay, and retrieved one of the furs he had been wrapped in; in doing so, Garth noticed that the man had died during the night.

The fur he had recovered was a bloodstained vest, which the overman remembered as coming from Khand's body. A quick investigation located a concealed inner pocket, which held a hard object perhaps the size of a walnut. Being careful not to touch the object. Garth opened the pocket and peered inside. It contained a pure-white gem that glittered in the dim morning light. Without comment, he carefully dumped the jewel into his own cloak pocket, still without touching it, and tossed the vest aside. Then, turning back to where Elmil stood dwarfed by the warbeast, he announced, "We go."

"Where?"

"To Mormoreth." He grinned as Elmil started to protest. "I intend to give Shang back his trinket."

The bandit thought better of further objections and permitted the overman to lift him, broken leg dragging awkwardly, onto Koros' broad back, like a child being placed astride a pony. Garth himself remained afoot, not wishing to overload the beast, and thus they set out along the muddy path that was euphemistically called a road.

Perhaps a quarter of an hour passed before either spoke; then Garth inquired, "Does Shang live in the crypts?"

Startled, Elmil asked, "What crypts?"

"You said that Shang dwells in Mormoreth. Does he live in the crypts beneath the city?"