Andre Norton - Web of the Witch World

• Название: Web of the Witch World
• Автор: Andre Norton
• Жанр: Фэнтези

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“No outer one,” she agreed. “The marsh drains under ground. They have found that way to us, they have already visited us by it before.”

By submarine down an underground river, Simon faced that. Even if the promised message reached Es in time to send a small force to the rescue, they could not ferret out the enemies’ pathway, or help the prisoners borne so along it. The Guard of Estcarp would not be the answer.

“If you would truly favor us to the point of sending any message,” Simon told her, “then send it not to Es but to the Lady Jaelithe.”

“If she is your wife, then she is no witch, nor can she do aught to aid you.” The Torwoman stared at him again with curiosity which Simon thought dangerous.

“Nevertheless, if you favor us in so much—then send.”

“I have said that I will send, if you wish it. To the Lady Jaelithe it shall be. Now, they come to take you hence, March Lord. If you survive this captivity, remember that Tormarsh is old, there is that within it which has stood long without being stamped into the bog with those who know its ways. Do not think that what is here can be easily swept aside.”

“Say that rather to Volt’s gift and he who bears it, lady. From Kolder’s fingers few escape. But Koris lives, and rides, and hates—”

“Let him ride and hate and show Volt’s gift to Alizon. There is the need for action there. Odd, March Warder, there is that in you which does not align itself with your words. You speak as one who resigns himself to fate, yet I do not believe that is so. Now—” Once again she sketched a sign in the air. “The gate is open and it is time you go.”

What happened then was beyond any description Simon was ever able to give. He only knew that one moment he was in the doorless cell, and the next, still helpless in whatever hold they had upon him, he was in the open on the bank of a dark lake where the water was thick and murky, with a threatening look to it.

There was the murmur of voices about and behind him, the Torfolk were gathered there, men and women. And a little apart the smaller group of which Simon was an unwilling part.

Aldis, a look of confidence and expectancy on her face, Loyse, standing so stiffly that Simon guessed she was held in the same immobile spell as himself, and two of the Tormen. There was also a fifth from beyond the marsh boundaries.

No Kolder—at least not the Kolder such as he had seen in Gorm. Of middle size, face round and dark of skin, a kind of tan-yellow unlike any Simon had seen in this world, though they had found representatives of unknown races among the dead slaves in Gorm. He wore a tight-fitting one-piece garment of gray, like the Kolder dress, but his head was bare of any cap though he had a silvery disk resting under the fringe of his thin, reddish hair at the temple.

And the stranger was weaponless. However on the breast of his suit there was one of those intertwined knots fashioned of green metal, such as had been on Fulk’s swordbelt and Aldis carried.

The murmur from the Tormen grew louder, so that individual beepings carried to Simon. For the first time he wondered, with a small surge of hope, if the bargain the woman had told him about had been so widely accepted as she would have him believe. Could an appeal from him now split the ranks, give the prisoners a chance? But, even as Simon thought that, one of the marsh natives, standing with Aldis, raised his arm in a lashing motion. There was a ring of bells, the first really melodious sound Simon had heard in this half-drowned country. As the chain bearing those fell again to the Torman’s side there was quiet, instant and absolute.

Quiet enough so that the disturbance in the murky water of the lake broke in an audible bubble on the surface. Then the water poured away as out of the depths arose the mud-streaked surface of a Kolder underwater vessel. There were scars and scrapes along its sides as if it had found whatever passage ran this way a difficult one. It moved without sound closer to shore.

An opening in the rounded upper surface flipped to shore to form a platform bridge uniting land and ship.

Aldis, her eager expression now an open smile, started along that pathway. Then Loyse, as if Aldis pulled her by cords, followed, walking stiffly, her whole body expressing her fear and repulsion. Simon’s turn—his muscles, his bones, his flesh, were no longer his own. Only his mind imprisoned in that helpless body struggled for freedom, with defeat for the end.

He walked to that opening in the Kolder ship. Then, still by another’s will, his hands and feet found holds on a ladder, and he descended into the space below. But not to freedom. Loyse moved ahead and he after, into a small cabin bare of any furnishings. They stood, he slightly behind the girl, and heard the door clang shut. Then and then only, did the compulsion cease to hold him.

Loyse, with a little moan, slumped and Simon caught her. He lowered her gently to the metal flooring but still held her as their bodies tingled with the vibration reaching them through the structure of the ship. Whatever power moved the submarine was now in force; the voyage had begun.

“Simon,” Loyse’s head turned so that he felt her breath come in gasps, not far from sobs, against his cheek. “Where are they taking us?”

This was a time when only the truth would serve. “To where we have wished to be—though not under these circumstances—I think, the Kolder base.”

“But—” her voice quavered to a pause. When she spoke again it was with a measure of self-control, “that—that lies overseas.”

“And we travel under water.” Simon leaned back against the wall. As far as he could see the cabin was bare and they had no weapons. Not only that, but there was that control over them the Kolder appeared able to use at will, leaving all hopes of rebellion doomed. But, perhaps there was one way . . .

“They will never know where we are. Koris cannot—” Loyse was traveling her own path of thought.

“At present Koris is occupied, they have seen to that also.” Simon told her of the invasion from Alizon. “They plan to bay Estcarp around with snarling dogs, letting her wear down her forces with such blows, none of which will yet be fatal, but which will exhaust her manpower and her resources—”

“Letting others do their fighting,” Loyse broke in hotly, “ever the Kolder way.”

“But one which can win for them as time passes,” Simon commented. “They have some plan for us also.”

“What?”

“By right of marriage you are now Duchess of Karsten, and so a piece worth controlling in this devious game they play. I am Border Warder. They can use me as hostage or—” He hated to put into words the other reason which might make him valuable to the enemy, the much more logical one.

“Or they can strive to make you one of them and so a traitor to serve their ends among the ranks of Estcarp!” Loyse stated it for him. “But there is one thing we may do so that we cannot be used so. We can die.” Her eyes were very somber.

“If the need comes,” Simon replied crisply. He was thinking: the site of the Kolder base—that was what they had long wanted to know. Not to snap off the monster’s hands and arms, but destroy the head. Only, the world was wide and Estcarp had no clues as to the direction in which such a base lay. The Kolder use of underwater ships meant that they could not successfully be tracked by the Sulcarmen who counted the ocean their true home.

But suppose that Kolder could be tracked? The Sulcarmen were not truly land fighters. Certainly their raiders would be now harrying the coast of Alizon with the hit and run tactics they had developed to a high art, but that employment would not require the majority of their fleet. And if that fleet were free to track a Kolder ship, find their base—their fighting crews would harass the enemy on their home ground until Estcarp could throw the might of striking power against that hold.

“You have a plan?” The fear which had shadowed Loyse’s features was fading as she watched Simon.

“Not quite a plan,” he said. “Just a small hope. But—”

It was that “but” which was all important now. The Kolder ship would have to be traced. Could that be done by contact such as he and Jaelithe had had in the Tormarsh village? Would the blight of those barriers the Kolder had always been able to use to cloak themselves against the magic of Estcarp sunder them utterly? So many “ifs” and “buts” and only his scrap of hope to answer all of them.

“Listen—” More to clear his own thinking than because he expected any active assistance from Loyse, Simon outlined what that hope might be. She gripped his arm fiercely.

“Try it! Try to reach Jaelithe now! Before they take us so far away that even thought can not span that journey. Try it now!”

In that she could be right. Simon closed his eyes, put his head back against the wall and once more bent his whole desire and will-to-touch on Jaelithe. He had no guide in this seeking, no idea of how it might be done, he had only the will which he used with every scrap of energy he could summon.

“I hear—”

Simon’s heart beat with a heavier thump at that reply.

“We go . . . on Kolder ship . . . perhaps to their base. Can you follow?”

There was no immediate answer, but neither was that snap of breaking contact which he had known twice before. Then came her reply.

“I do not know, but if it is possible, it shall be done!”

Again silence, but abiding with Simon the sense of union. His concentration was broken, not by his will, nor Jaelithe’s, but by a sudden lurch of the ship, sending his body skidding along the cabin wall, Loyse on top of him. The vibration through those walls was stepped up until the vessel quivered.

“What is it?” Loyse’s voice was thin and ragged once again.

The flooring was aslant so that the sub could not be on an even keel. And the vibration had become an actual shaking of its fabric and frame as if it were engaged in some struggle. Simon remembered the scars and mud smudges he had seen on its sides. An underground passage by river might not be too accommodating. They could have nosed into a bank, caught there. He said so.

Loyse’s hands twisted together. “Can they get us loose?”

Simon saw the wide blankness of her eyes, caught the claustrophobic panic rising in her.

“I would say that whoever captains this vessel would know how to deal with such problems; this is not the first time—by Tormarsh accounts—that they have made the run.” But there was always a first time for disaster. Simon had never believed that he would reach the point of joining the Kolder in any wish, but now he did as he tensed at every movement of the ship. They must be backing water to pull loose. The cabin rocked about the two prisoners, spilling them back and forth across its slick floor.

The rocking stopped and then the ship gave a great jerk. Once more the vibration sank to an even purr, they must be free and on course once again.

“I wonder how far we are from the sea?” Simon had thought about that, too. He did not know where Jaelithe was, how long it would take her to contact any Sulcar ship and send it skulking after them. But Jaelithe would be on that ship—she would have to sail thus in order to hold the tie with him! And they could not assemble a fleet so quickly. Suppose that single Sulcar vessel lurking behind should be sighted, or otherwise detected by the Kolder? An engagement would be no contest at all, the Sulcar ship, and its crew, would be helpless before the weapons of the Kolder. It was rank folly for him to encourage Jaelithe to follow. He must not try to reach her again—let her believe that he could not—

Jaelithe—Kolder. They balanced in his mind. How could he have been so insane as to draw her into such a plan?

“Because it is not rank folly, Simon! We do not yet know the limits of this we hold, what we dare summon by it—”

This time he had not tried to reach her, yet she had read all his forebodings as if he had hurled them at her.

“Remember, I follow! Find this noisome nest—and there shall be a clearing of it!”

Confidence. She was riding high on a wave of confidence. But Simon could not match that, he could only see every pointed reef ahead and no discernible course among them.

12 SHE WHO WILL NOT WAIT

THE ROOM was low and long, dark save where the shutters were well open to the call of the sea, the light which came over those restless waves. And the woman who sat by the table was as turbulent within as those waves, though she showed little outward sign of her concern. She wore leather and mail; the chain-mail-scarfed helm, winged like that of any Borderer, sat on the table board to her right hand. And at her left was a tall cage in which perched a white falcon as silent and yet as aware as she. Between her fingers a small roll of bark rolled back and forth.

One of the witches? The captain of the Sulcar cruiser was still trying to assess her as he came from the door to front her. He had been summoned from the dockside to this tavern by one of the Borderers, for what reason he could not guess.

But when the woman looked at him, he thought that this was no witch. He did not see her gem of power. Only, neither was she any common dame. He sketched a half salute as he would have to any of his fellow captains.

“I am Koityi Stymir, at your summoning, Wise One.” Deliberately he used the witch address to see her reaction.

“And I am Jaelithe Tregarth,” she replied without amplification. “They tell me, Captain, that you are about to put to sea on patrol—”

“Raiding,” he corrected her, “up Alizon way.”

The falcon shifted on its cage perch, its very bright eyes on the man. He had an odd feeling that it was as intelligently interested in his answer as the woman.

“Raiding,” she repeated. “I come to offer you something other than a raid, Captain. Although it may not put loot into your empty hold and it may bring you far greater danger than any Alizon sword or dart you may face in the north.”

Jaelithe studied the seafarer. As all his race he was tall, wide of shoulder, fair of hair. Young as he was, there was a self-confidence in his carriage which spoke of past success and a belief in the future. She had not had time to choose widely, but what she had heard of Stymir along the waterfront made her send for him out of all the captains now in port at the mouth of the River Es.

There was this about the Sulcar breed: adventure and daring had a pull on them, sometimes over that of certain gain in trade, loot in war. It was that strain in their character which made them explorers as well as merchant traders in far seas. And she must depend upon that quality now to attract Stymir to her service.

“And what do you have to offer me, lady?”

“A chance to find the Kolder base,” she told him boldly. This was no time to fence. Time—that inner turmoil boiled in her until she could hardly control it—time was her slave driver in this venture.

For a long moment he stared at her and then he spoke: “For years have we sought that, lady. How comes it now into your hands that you can speak so, as if you held a map to it?”