Switches will whistle and welts will appear!
"That is all I wish to say, but I will gladly answer questions."
No one spoke, though a morose thought passed through Dhrun's mind: seven years had barely started, but already bad luck had struck with vindictive force.
"Then take your places at the cart!"
"Today we move fast; our style is brisk! Not like yesterday when you eased and ambled." Nerulf climbed aboard the cart and made himself comfortable. "Be away! Smartly! Heads back, heels in the air!" He cracked the whip. "Pode! Less pumping of the elbows.
Daffin! Open your eyes; you'll have us all in the ditch! Dhrun, more gracefully, show us a fine smart stride! And off we go through the beautiful morning, and it's a happy time for all!...
Here now! Why the slackening? You girls especially, you're running like hens!"
"We're tired," gasped Glyneth.
"So soon? Well, perhaps I overestimated your strength, as it seems so easy from here. And you in particular; I don't want you too limp, as tonight I shall put you to another kind of exertion. Ha ha! Pleasure for him who holds the whip! Forward once more, at half-speed."
Dhrun took occasion to whisper to Glyneth: "Don't worry; he won't harm you. Mine is a magic sword and comes to my command. At the proper time I will call it to my hand and hold him helpless."
Glyneth nodded despondently.
During the middle afternoon the road rose into a line of low hills and the children failed against the weight of cart, treasure and Nerulf. First using his whip, then dismounting, and finally helping to push, Nerulf assisted in bringing the cart to the high ridge. A short but steep stretch of road intervened between the cart and the shores of Lake Lingolen. Nerulf cut down a forty-foot pine tree with Dhrun's sword and tied it as a drag to the rear of the cart and the slope was negotiated safely.
They found themselves on a marshy margin between lake and the dark hills, upon which the sun was declining.
Up from the marsh thrust a number of islands; one of them served as refuge for a gang of bandits. Their lookouts had already taken note of the cart; now they sprang from ambush. The children, for an instant paralyzed, fled in all directions. As soon as the bandits discovered the nature of their booty they gave up all thought of pursuit.
Dhrun and Glyneth fled together, along the road to the east. They ran until their chests hurt and cramps bound their legs; then they threw themselves into the tall grass beside the road to rest.
An instant later another fugitive flung himself down beside them: Nerulf.
Dhrun sighed. "Seven years bad luck: will it always be this bad?"
"Stop that insolence!" hissed Nerulf. "I am still in command, in case you are uncertain. Now stand up!"
"What for? I'm tired."
"No matter. My great treasure has been lost; still, it's just possible that a few gems are hidden about your person. On your feet! You too, Glyneth!"
Dhrun and Glyneth rose slowly. In Dhrun's pouch Nerulf discovered the old purse and turned it out into his hand. He grunted in disgust. "A crown, a florin, a penny: just barely better than nothing." He cast the old purse to the ground. With quiet dignity Dhrun picked it up and restored it to his pouch.
Nerulf searched Glyneth's person, his hands lingering along the contours of her fresh young body, but he found no objects of value. "Well, let's go on for a bit; perhaps we'll find shelter for the night."
The three walked along the road, watching over their shoulders for signs of pursuit, but none appeared. The woodland became extremely heavy and dark; the three, despite fatigue, moved along the road at good speed, and presently emerged once again on open lands beside the marsh.
The setting sun shone from beyond the hills along the underside of clouds sailing across the lake; they cast an unreal dark golden light over the marsh.
Nerulf noticed a small promontory, almost an island, protruding fifty yards into the marsh, with a weeping-willow tree at its highest point. Nerulf turned upon Dhrun a look of lowering menace.
"Glyneth and I will spend the night here," he announced. "You go elsewhere, starting now, and never come back. And consider yourself lucky, since I have you to thank for my beatings. Go!"
With that he went to the edge of the marsh and using Dhrun's sword began to cut rushes for a bed.
Dhrun went off a few yards, and stopped to think. He could recover Dassenach at any time, but to no great effect. Nerulf could run away until he found a weapon: large stones, a long cudgel, or he could merely step behind a tree and challenge Dhrun to come at him. In all cases Nerulf, with his size and strength could overpower Dhrun and kill him if so he chose.
Nerulf, looking up, saw Dhrun and cried out: "Did I not order you to go?" He made a run at Dhrun, who quickly retreated into the dense woods. Here he found a dead branch and broke it to make a stout cudgel four feet long. Then he returned to the marsh.
Nerulf had waded out to where the reeds grew thick and soft. Dhrun signaled to Glyneth. She ran to join him and Dhrun gave her quick instructions.
Nerulf looked up and saw the two standing together. He called out to Dhrun: "What are you doing here? I told you to leave and never return! You disobeyed me and I now sentence you to death."
Glyneth saw something rise from the marsh behind Nerulf. She shrieked and pointed her finger.
Nerulf uttered a scornful laugh. "Do you think you can fool me with that old trick? I am somewhat more—" He felt a soft touch on his arm and looking down saw a long-fingered gray hand with knobby knuckles and a clammy skin. Nerulf stood rigid; then, as if forced against his will, he looked around, to discover himself face to face with a heceptor. He uttered a strangled yell and staggering backward flourished the sword Dassenach, with which he had been cutting reeds.
Dhrun and Glyneth fled away from the lakeshore to the road, where they halted and looked back.
Out on the marsh Nerulf backed slowly away from the advancing heceptor who menaced him with arms on high, hands and fingers angled downwards. Nerulf tried to make play with the sword and pierced the heceptor's shoulder, to elicit a hiss of sad reproach.
The time had come. Dhrun called: "Dassenach! To me!"
The sword jerked from Nerulf's fingers and flew across the marsh to Dhrun's hand. Somberly he tucked it into its scabbard. The heceptor lurched forward, enfolded Nerulf and bore him screaming down into the muck.
With darkness upon them and the stars appearing in profusion, Dhrun and Glyneth climbed to the top of a grassy knoll a few yards from the road. They gathered armfuls of grass, made a pleasant bed and stretched out their weary bodies. For half an hour they watched the stars, big and softly white. Presently they became drowsy and, huddled together, slept soundly until morning.
After two comparatively uneventful days of travel, Dhrun and Glyneth arrived at a broad river, which Glyneth felt must surely be the Murmeil itself. A massive stone bridge spanned the river and here the ancient brick road came to an end.
Before setting foot on the bridge Dhrun called out three times for the toll-taker, but none showed himself and they crossed the bridge unchallenged.
Now there were three roads from which to choose. One led east along the river bank; another proceeded upstream beside the river; a third wandered away to the north, as if it had no particular destination in mind.
Dhrun and Glyneth set off to the east, and for two days followed the river through landscapes and riverscapes of wonderful beauty.
Glyneth rejoiced at the fine weather. "Think, Dhrun! If you were truly cursed with bad luck, the rain would drench our skins and there would be snow to freeze our bones!"
"I wish I could believe so."
"There's no doubt at all. And look yonder at the beautiful berries! Just in time for our lunch! Isn't that good luck?"
Dhrun was willing to be convinced. "It would seem so."
"Of course! We'll talk no more of curses." Glyneth ran to the thicket which bordered a small stream near where it tumbled down a declivity into the Murmeil.