John Dalmas - The Lion Returns

"Vulkan? Is that his name?"

"Yep."

"How do you know?"

"He told me."

"He talks?"

"Not with his mouth. With his mind. He talks directly into my head. I could be deaf as a stone, it wouldn't make any difference. I'd hear him."

For a moment the innkeeper stood silently, digesting what he'd heard. "You've been to Farside and back," he said. "Then you must be Macurdy, right?"

"Yep."

"An innkeeper hears a lot of stories, and learns not to believe most of them. Tell you the truth, I didn't believe half of what they say about you. Some of it, yes. I know damn well what you did in Gormin Town, and later with Wollerda, but…" He glanced toward the door. "Seeing you with him, a lot else starts looking believable." He paused. "Could he talk to me?"

"If he took a notion to. He doesn't make friends easily."

"Where are you going now?"

"To Teklapori, to see Wollerda. Vulkan sees the future a lot better than I do, though a lot of times it's foggy to him, too. He says it looks bad. Threatening. Wollerda needs to know."

The beefy face frowned with concern. "Huh! Another ylvin invasion?"

From outside the inn, Vulkan's mind spoke to Macurdy's. ‹Not ylvin,› it told him.

"Not ylvin," Macurdy said. "Beyond that we don't know yet. But we will."

"Huh! Well, if it's not ylvin, I'm not going to worry about it."

"Good idea. There are times for worrying, and there are times to eat. Your boiled cabbage smells pretty good. With a couple thick slabs of roast beef, and a mug of beer. And four inches of a loaf soaked with beef drippings. And for my friend, five teklotas worth of raw beef. That way he won't need to-ah, kill anything till we get away from here."

His money was shrinking, and he decided to skip Gormin Town. That way they'd reach Teklapori that evening, and Wollerda would fix him up.

As Macurdy had expected, the innkeeper provided Vulkan with more like ten teklotas worth of beef. Probably "kill anything" had been the key phrase. Macurdy felt quite good about his performance. As they started east again down the Valley Highway, the two companions talked.

"I've got to admit, I enjoyed that little game back there," he said to Vulkan, and paused. "Tell me again why we need to make a big impression-make people think I'm more than I am."

He could sense the giant boar's mental frown. ‹My friend,› Vulkan said, ‹appropriate modesty is honesty about one's abilities and accomplishments, and the absence of swagger. As for 'making people think you're more than you are'…

‹When you first arrived in Yuulith, you were made a slave. Then, by talent and force of character, you were accepted into the Wolf Springs militia, something nearly unheard of for a slave. As a trainee you excelled so remarkably, you were sent to Oztown, and accepted in the Heroes-which was quite unprecedented. There, again by talent and strength of character, you rendered your sergeant so jealous…›

"Wait a minute! I didn't tell you all that. Some of it, but…"

Vulkan cut him short. ‹You are not my only source of information. I overhear thoughts not even spoken. I have even eavesdropped on the Dynast; listened to the ravings of unhappy Keltorus; and conversed openly with a friend of yours named Blue Wing.› He paused, allowing Macurdy time to assimilate. ‹Who was it that freed Tekalos, my friend? Admittedly Wollerda deserves at least as much of the credit as you, but he started with a following. You started with two runaway Ozians, three dwarves, and a great raven.

‹And when you'd freed Tekalos, you and Wollerda, you personally forged a league of allies who previously had seldom agreed on anything. Allies who even included Sarkia! You raised and led an army of contentious, sometimes truculent cohorts from throughout the Rude Lands and beyond. I am not sufficiently informed to evaluate your accomplishments in the great war on Farside, but I suspect they too were exceptional.

‹So do not disparage yourself to me. 'More than you are'? Not at all!›

He paused. ‹Meanwhile I have not responded to your question: 'Why must we make a big impression?' First, over the years since your victories against the ylvin Empire of the West, the bonds among the kingdoms and tribes of the Rude Lands have loosened again, despite increasing commerce and the influence of the Sisterhood. They have loosened because of rivalries old and new, and because they no longer perceive a common threat.›

Macurdy's wide mouth pursed in thought. "Before when we talked about this, you said we needed to beef up my reputation because of my task. But you didn't know what my task was."

‹Only that you must meet a threat. A threat more serious than an ylvin army, even if the elder Quaie were still alive to lead it. I sense the vector, but lack the specifics.›

Macurdy looked at the creature beside him, its pace ill-matched with Piglet's. The big gelding's walk was faster than Vulkan's, who trotted to keep up. But so far Vulkan had seemed tireless. "Is there anything," Macurdy asked, "that you can tell me about this threat? Beyond it being big?"

‹I suspect the cause, but with limited confidence. An infinite number of event vectors exist in the physical realm. Series of events having direction, force and duration. Some are driven by humans, others are influenced by humans, and some are beyond human influence. Some can be extended into the future with significant probabilities, others cannot. And while I have the gift of perceiving and predicting vectors to a degree well beyond the human, it is a gift with definite limitations. I am, after all, incarnate.

‹Thus I cannot define the threat.› With his mind he peered intently at Macurdy. ‹However, I believe it was no accident that I visited the Scrub Lands when I did. For it was there I sensed the problem vector. It is focused on the coast. As if from the Ocean Sea, or across it.›

The statement struck Macurdy like a punch in the gut. Across the Ocean Sea! He remembered the dream he'd had, just before leaving Wolf Springs-a dream of Crown Prince Kurqosz of the Voitusotar, and "his army of monsters."

Vulkan allowed excitement to color his next thought-words. ‹That is it!› he said. ‹It verifies my suspicion. The Voitusotar are the root and energy of the vector!›

"What are you talking about?"

‹The dream you just remembered! It brought the vector into focus for me, and verified the cause, the sorcerers you told me of, who visited Farside. The Voitusotar.› He examined Macurdy thoughtfully. ‹Your warrior muse is an excellent dream maker.›

Warrior muse? Dream maker? Macurdy examined the words warily, then set them aside. "Vulkan," he said, "I've got another question."

‹Ask it.›

"You read my mind. You already know the question."

‹Do I now?›

"Don't you?"

‹Ask.›

Macurdy shrugged. "It seems you know my role in this. If it doesn't turn out to be a false alarm. But what's your role?"

Vulkan answered reflectively. ‹For a long time my broad role has been to observe Yuulith and its sentient beings-dwarves, humans, the great ravens, the tomttu, and the ylver. And to surround myself with a mystique. Eavesdropping while invisible is a specialty of mine. All in preparation for my new role-to support you in your efforts to save Yuulith from the Voitusotar.›

"Why can't we switch roles? You save Yuulith, and I back you up. I could be your spokesman."

‹Ah! But that is not what the Tao intends. Humankind is responsible for humankind, and the ylver for the ylver. And you are of both. It-the Tao, that is-may provide them with such as I, but our powers are limited. It is rare that the Tao intervenes directly, and then only to provide an autonomous agent. Or in this case two: you and me. The Tao does not part the waters of the sea, nor destroy the enemies of some chosen people.›