“Something, yes, or someone. We are under close observation. But I can feel no mind touch at all, which is strange and, frankly, makes me nervous. Even the Unclean mind shields are detectable as an impression or shape, though the thoughts they hide are not. But here…”
As he tried to explain the picture he had received, he saw a storm of fury begin in his love’s eyes and instantly stopped the narrative to take hold of her shoulders and shake her gently.
“Now look, foolish one, a female seen once is no cause for jealousy. I said she was lovely in a way, yes; but, I feel, not altogether human either. So stop the female anger, eh, and let me go on?” His clear gaze met her eyes, and at length she smiled.
“All right, I guess I am jealous. But I don’t like beautiful green women, whom I can’t even see, looking at my man!”
“Quite so,” Brother Aldo said impatiently, “but we have other concerns, princess. Hiero, does this strange creature, who must be one of a group, seem dangerous?”
“I don’t know, frankly. But I do feel there is power there, and power of a kind I can’t even grasp, behind that face. That in itself is quite enough to make me nervous.”
“But what are we to do? Shouldn’t we go back, before this invisible witch or whatever casts a spell on us?” What little he could grasp of Hiero’s tale made Captain Gimp very nervous. He was a man who could face any physical danger with a bold face, but unseen (to him) green faces and mental warfare were something else again.
You know, he may have a point. This was Aldo’s mind speaking directly to Hiero. Maybe we are being warned and should go back, retrace our path, and take the other trail. But he was interrupted from a strange source.
You cannot go back, came the bear’s calm message. The way is guarded now. You can only go forward, where the—(his thought was untranslatable, but conveyed an impression of great power) wish you to. His mind said nothing more, and he simply sat up on his haunches and sniffed the damp airs drifting down the trail.
Can you hear—whoever is watching—us? Do they, or she, talk to you? Do you know their purposes?
I cannot tell you how I know, Hiero, was the answer, I was told to say what I said, but not by the way you use your mind. It is the same way I know which is the way home. I just KNOW, that’s all. Gorm’s thought conveyed the idea that the process he was talking about was quite inexplicable in human terms. As a matter of fact, he was partly wrong, for Hiero’s own sense of direction was almost as good as the bear’s. But the sub-mental communication wave or channel being used was certainly nothing either the old Elevener or the Metz priest had ever dreamed of.
What blocks the return path? was Hiero’s next question.
Listen, came the answer.
From far back up the long, gradual slope down which they had lately come, there echoed a cry. The rippling calls of the strange birds above them were hushed, and only the cry could be heard, though it came from a long, long way. It was hard to describe. Luchare called it a “cross between a moan and a growl.” Hiero thought it sounded more like the howl of an inconceivable wolf in great pain. Brother Aldo kept his own counsel. Whatever it was, it had to be very large, and the note of savagery in its voice was unmistakable. One word that subsumed all others in describing the sound might have been “disquieting.”
It is a great beast, greater than anything I have ever seen. And it guards the back trail for those who sent it. We must go on. The bear’s message was unequivocal.
Hiero looked at Brother Aldo, who shrugged. For the first time since they had met, the priest thought the old fellow looked tired. Again he wondered how old Aldo was.
“Let’s get the men moving, Gimp,” Hiero said. “Tell them a big animal’s behind us, that’s all.”
“They know that all right, Master. They can hear that much as good as you!” He turned away and barked an order.
As they marched on, the great clumps of green and brown moss, some of it lovely, others simply grotesque, increased in number. The area to the right and left of the path became obscured, both by the mosses and huge ferns but also by a greenish haze, not a fog, Hiero thought, but more as if the light off the trail had some different properties, which ordinary eyes could not penetrate. He tried probing with his mind, at random intervals, both forward on their route and back, as well as to both sides, but gained no knowledge. He could not even tap the mind of whatever horrific beast waited behind them. Those who controlled it also shielded its thoughts. A great feat, he thought glumly. His own. hard-won powers seemed those of a child by comparison.
You are needed, suddenly came a thought from Gorm.
Who—me? Hiero was startled.
Yes. I don’t know why. Those who speak to me are not clear, perhaps do not wish to be. But you, and no one else in the party, have a task to do. Or else we all are trapped.
Hiero kept marching, crossbow slung loosely over one arm, his spear over his shoulder. Only his helmet was missing, too heavy for long marches for him to be instantly battle-worthy. Needed for a task? This grew stranger and stranger. He was wanted, personally, and if he failed, why, the whole party perished! He said a few soldiery words into his mustache, then crossed himself and automatically asked God’s pardon for blasphemy. Neither attitude struck him as contradictory. On they went, accompanied only by rippling bird song.
Just as the light faded, they emerged into a large, moss-floored clearing. The men suddenly shouted as they saw what stood there, but Hiero, Gimp and the one-eyed mate beat them back, cursing and shoving until some semblance of discipline was restored. Still, it was hard to blame them, as Gimp said.
In the center of the clearing were three long, wooden tables. There were not seats, but none were needed. The tables were laden with steaming earthenware platters, all carefully covered against the evening damp, and on them too, at regular intervals, great clay flagons reared up, stoppered in a suggestive manner.
After almost a week of constant danger and a diet of hardtack and tough, wild game, it was an incredibly seductive display.
“Wait a minute!” Gimp screamed, waving about the heavy staff he had been carrying. “Suppose it’s been dosed, you sorry catamite bastards! D’you all want to choke on poisoned grub, you miserable, mother-delighters?”
Eventually, with even Brother Aldo and Luchare, of both of whom the men were in great awe, helping, things quieted down. When they did, and he got a chance to look more closely at the food, Hiero received another message, again from Gorm.
The food is safe. We can all eat. I tell you, Hiero, the Old One says you are needed! From the bear’s mind came a picture of the strange female face! So this was the Old One of whoever held them, the leader of the unknown forest creatures whom they could not even sense!
With Hiero’s assurance passed on, all fell to, the majority cautiously at first, but after Hiero had tasted each dish, with more confidence. Indeed, the food was delicious, mostly strange, cooked vegetables and tubers, but also piles of some sweet bread, all very subtly flavored. There was no meat. And the clay flagons contained an odd, herb-flavored wine which managed to grow upon the palate as one drank.
“There’s no poison,” he told Aldo. “I’m trained to detect it. There’s nothing to harm anyone, I’m sure of that. We’re being helped, that’s all, but why?” He had told the old man of Gorm’s message, but it meant nothing to him or to Luchare either, except that she refused to move more than a foot from his side, determined that he was not going anywhere to see anyone without her.