Dilvish, The Damned Read online

  He remained in sight. He continued waving.

  Soon Black's silhouette became clear through the swirling snow. He advanced steadily. He passed the halfway point, continued on.

  As he came up beside him, Black pulsed heat for several moments and the snow melted upon him, trickling off down his sides.

  "There are some amazing sorceries going on above," he stated, "well worth observing."

  "Far better we do it from a distance," Dilvish said. "This whole mountain may be coming down."

  "Yes, it will," Black said. "Something up there is drawing upon some very elemental, ancient spells woven all through here. It is most instructive. Get on my back and I'll take you down."

  "It is not that simple."

  "Oh?"

  "There is a girl—and a sled—in the cave behind me."

  Black placed his forefeet upon the ledge and heaved himself up to stand beside Dilvish.

  "Then I had better have a look," he stated. "How did you fare up on top?"

  Dilvish shrugged.

  "All of that would most likely have happened without me," he said, "but at least I've the pleasure of seeing someone giving Jelerak a hard time."

  "That's him up there?"

  They started back into the cave.

  "His body is elsewhere, but the part that bites has paid a visit."

  "Who is he fighting?"

  "The brother of the lady you are about to meet. This way."

  They took the turn and headed back in the larger cave. Reena still stood beside the sled. She had wrapped herself in a fur. Black's metal hooves clicked upon the rock.

  "You wanted a demon beast?" Dilvish said to her. "Black, this is Reena. Reena, meet Black."

  Black bowed his head.

  "I am pleased," he said. "Your brother has been providing me with considerable amusement while I waited without."

  Reena smiled and reached out to touch his neck.

  "Thank you," she said. "I am delighted to know you. Can you help us?"

  Black turned and regarded the sled.

  "Backward," he said after a time. Then: "If I were hitched facing it, I could draw back slightly and let it precede me down the mountain. You would both have to walk, though—beside me, holding on. I don't believe I could do it with you in the thing. Even this way it will be difficult, but I see it to be the only way."

  "Then we'd better push it out and get started," Dilvish said, as the mountain shook again.

  Reena and Dilvish each took hold of a side of the vehicle. Black leaned against its rear. It began to move.

  Once they reached the snow on the cave floor, it proceeded more easily. Finally they turned it about at the cave mouth and hitched Black between its traces.

  Carefully, gently then, they edged its rear end over the ledge at the low place to the left as Black advanced slowly, maintaining tension on the traces.

  Its runners struck the snow of the slope, and Black eased it down until it rested full length upon it. Gingerly he followed it then, jerking stiffly upright to anchor it after he had jumped the last few feet.

  "All right," he said. "Come down now and take hold of me on either side."

  They followed him and took up their positions. Slowly he began to advance.

  "Tricky," he said as they moved. "One day they will invent names for the properties of objects, such as the tendency of a thing to move once it is placed in motion."

  "Of what use would that be?" Reena asked. "Everybody already knows that that's what happens."

  "Ah! But one might put numbers to the amount of material involved and the amount of pushing required, and come up with wondrous and useful calculations."

  "Sounds like a lot of trouble for a small return," she said. "Magic's a lot easier to figure."

  "Perhaps you're right."

  Steadily they descended, Black's hooves crunching through the icy crust. Later, when they finally reached a place from which they could view the castle, they saw that the highest tower and several low ones had fallen. Even as they watched, a section of wall collapsed. Fragments of it fell over the edge, fortunately descending the slope far to their right.

  Beneath the snow the mountain itself was shaking steadily now, and had been for some time. Rocks and chunks of ice occasionally bounded past them.

  They continued for what seemed an interminable time, Black edging the sled lower and lower with each step, Reena and Dilvish plodding numb-footed beside him.

  As they neared the foot of the slope, a terrific crash echoed about them. Looking up, they saw the remains of the castle crumbling, shrinking, falling in upon itself.

  Black increased his pace dangerously as small bits of debris began to rain about them.

  "When we reach bottom," he said, "unhitch me immediately, but stay on the far side of the sled while you're doing it. I would be able to turn its side to the slope as we get there. Then, if you can hitch me properly in a hurry, do it. If the falling stuff becomes too severe, though, just crouch down on the far side and I will stand on the near one to help shield you. But if you can rehitch me, get in quickly and stay low."

  They slid most of the final distance, and for a moment it seemed that the sled would turn over as Black maneuvered it. Picking himself up, Dilvish immediately set to work upon the harness.

  Reena got behind the sled and looked upward.

  "Dilvish! Look!" she cried.

  Dilvish glanced upward as he finished the unfastening and Black backed out from between the traces.

  The castle had completely vanished and large fissures had appeared in the slope. Above the summit of the mountain, two columns of smoke now stood—a dark one and a light one—motionless despite the winds that must be lashing at them.

  Black turned and backed in between the traces. Dilvish began harnessing him again. More debris was now descending the slope, off to their right.

  "What is it?" Dilvish said.

  "The dark column is Jelerak," Black replied.

  Dilvish looked back periodically as he worked, seeing that the two columns had begun to move, slowly, toward one another. Soon they were intertwined., though not merging, twisting and knotting about one another like a pair of struggling serpents.

  Dilvish completed the harnessing.

  "Get in!" he cried to Reena, as another part of the mountain fell away.

  "You, too!" said Black, and Dilvish climbed in with her.

  Soon they were moving, gathering speed. The top of the ice mass came apart as they watched, and still the billowing combatants rolled above it.

  "Oh, no! Ridley seems to be weakening!" she said, as they raced away.

  Dilvish watched as the dark column seemed to bear the lighter one downward into the heart of the falling mountain.

  Black's pace increased, though chunks of rubble still skidded and raced about them. Soon both smoky combatants were gone from sight, high above them. Black moved faster yet, heading south.

  Perhaps a quarter of an hour passed with no change in the prospect behind them, save for its dwindling. But crouched beneath the furs, Dilvish and Reena still watched. An air of anticipation seemed to grow over the entire landscape.

  When it came, it rocked the ground, bouncing the sled from side to side, and its tremors continued for a long while after.

  The top of the mountain blew off, peppering the sky with an expanding, dark cloud. Then the dusky smear was streaked, spread by the winds, sections of it reaching like slowly extending fingers to the west. After a time a mighty shock wave rolled over them.

  Much later, a single, attenuated, rough-edged cloud —the dark one—separated itself from the haze. Trailing ragged plumes, jounced by the winds, it moved like an old man stumbling, fleeing southward. It passed far to the right of them and did not pause.

  "That's Jelerak," Black said. "He's hurt."

  They watched the rough column until it jerked out of sight far to the south. Then they turned again toward the ruin in the north. They watched until it faded from view, but the white column
did not rise again.

  Finally Reena lowered her head. Dilvish put his arm about her shoulders. The runners of the sled sang softly on their way across the snow.

  Devil And The Dancer

  THE moon hung round and the cold winds blew when Oele danced for Devil, her footmarks traced in fire before the empty stone-faced altar. In the lands below it was already spring, but here in the mountains the night spoke of winter. Still, she danced barefooted, wearing but a flimsy gray garment belted with silver, more revealing than concealing her lithe figure as she raised the fires in ancient patterns, her long blond hair streaming about her.

  The ground became a flickering tapestry, yet she was not burned. Far below on the northern slope, a ghostly palace quivered in the moonlight, towers fading to the point of transparency and regaining partial solidity moments later, walls moving to join with shadow and fleeing from it, lights waxing and waning behind high windows. The voice of the wind was a raw, shrieking thing, but neither did Oele feel the cold.

  The darkness grew more dense above the altar until finally it blotted out stars. As this occurred, the wind died down and ceased. The flames sprang higher then, but the great blot above the stone was not illuminated thereby. It was a massive, rough-winged outline, great-headed and rippling. It seemed almost a hole in space itself, and she received the impression of enormous depths within it whenever her eyes passed that way.

  She had danced thus, at certain seasons, down the years, beyond the memories of any who dwelled in the vicinity. All of these called her witch, and she, too, thought of herself in this fashion. The only one who knew more called her by a different title, though the distinction had become considerably frayed in the years since a dancing girl had slain her lover upon this spot to gain the powers he alone of all men had possessed. A priest he had been, the last surviving worshipper of an old god who, as a result, had valued him highly. Now Oele was the last worshipper, and she did not even know the god's name. She called him Devil and he granted her wishes in response to her choreographed acts of devotion, which she considered spells. A witch invoking a devil, a god responding to a worshipper, then—it was partly a matter of perspective, but only partly. For the things she asked of him were more in keeping with her own notions, and their relations were far removed from what his had been with his original worshippers long ago.

  Yet between them the bond was strong. He drew strength from her dancing, from this final contact with the earth. And she also gained, many things.

  At last her movements ceased and she stood amidst her design, facing the dark shape above the altar stone. For long moments a heavy stillness hung between them, until finally she spoke:

  "Devil, I bring you my dance."

  The figure seemed to nod, then to grow slightly. Finally, in a voice deep and slow, it replied:

  "It is pleasing to me."

  She waited, a ritualistically prolonged silence, then spoke again:

  "My palace fades."

  Again the pause, then the words "I know," followed by the gesture of a jagged, winglike member from the bottomless shadow, toward the place down the slope occupied by the wavering structure.

  "Behold, priestess, it is firm once again."

  She looked and saw that this was true. Now, in the moonlight, the palace stood still and substantial, its lights gleaming steadily, its ramparts thrusting prow-like against the night and the stars.

  "I see," she finally replied. "But for how long will it remain thus? One by one my servants vanish, returning to the earth from which they sprang."

  "They are with you once more."

  "But for how long?" she repeated. "This is the third time I have had to call upon you to restore order— in less than a year."

  The figure was silent much longer than the customary period.

  "Tell me, Devil!"

  "I cannot say for certain, priestess," it answered at last. "I have been growing weaker. Considerable energy is required to support yourself and your establishment for long periods—more than I can transform from your dance."

  "What then is to be done?"

  "You could choose a simpler way of life."

  "I must have magnificence!"

  "Soon I will lack the force to sustain it."

  "Then you shall again have something stronger than my dancing!"

  "I do not ask this."

  "Yet you accept it when it becomes necessary."

  "I accept it."

  "Then you shall have sufficient man's blood to restore your powers, and to enhance my own."

  There was silence.

  "I begin now the closing dance," she stated, and as she commenced moving once again the flames died with each step that she retraced, the wind grew up about her, and the figure above the altar thinned and faded, giving back a fistful of stars.

  When she had finished, she turned away and walked toward the palace without looking back. It was time to prepare for a journey, through the land below, to a seacoast town where it was said that anything one wanted could always be found.

  The lady on the black-maned gray mare wore tan leather breeches and jacket and a brown and red cloak. Her hair and long-lashed eyes were dark and her wide mouth appeared to be faintly, perhaps unconsciously, working its way toward a smile. She wore a jade ring upon the middle finger of her left hand, an onyx one upon her right. A short sword hung from her belt.

  Her companion wore black breeches and green jacket and boots. His cloak was black, lined with green, and he wore a sword and dagger at his waist. He sat astride a black, horse-shaped creature whose body appeared to be of metal.

  The two of them led three pack horses up the mountain trails through the brisk, clear afternoon air. The sound of running water came to their ears from somewhere ahead.

  "The weather improves daily," the lady remarked. "After the regions we've traveled through, this seems almost summerish."

  "Once we've quitted these heights," the man replied, "things should be even more comfortable. And when we reach the coast it could almost be balmy. We'll get you to Tooma at a good time of year."

  The lady looked away.

  "I am no longer so eager to reach the place…"

  Bearing to the right, they rounded a rocky promontory. The man's mount made a strange noise. Turning his head, the rider scanned the trail.

  "We are not alone," he observed.

  She followed his gaze to where a man was seated upon a rock ahead and to the right. His hair and beard were pure white and he was dressed in animal skins. As they watched him, he stood, leaning upon a staff that was taller than himself.

  "Hello," he hailed.

  "Greetings," said the green-booted rider, coming to a halt before him. "How fare you?"

  "Well enough," the man replied. "Do you travel far?"

  "Yes. Down to Tooma, at least."

  The man nodded.

  "You'll not be out of these hills tonight."

  "I know. I glimpsed a castle far ahead. Perhaps they'll let us sleep within its walls."

  "Mayhap they will. For its mistress, Oele, has always been kindly disposed toward travelers, with a liking for whatever tales they bring. I am, as a fact, headed that way myself, to partake of the place's hospitality—though I've heard the lady is traveling at the moment. That beast you ride has a most unusual appearance, sir."

  "He has indeed."

  "… And you've a somewhat familiar look, if I may say it. May I ask your name?"

  "I am Dilvish, and this is Reena."

  The lady nodded and smiled.

  "Not a common name, yours. There was a Dilvish, long ago…"

  "I do not believe that castle stood in those days."

  "To be sure, it did not. This was then the home of a hill tribe, reasonably content with its flocks and its god—whose name has since been forgotten. But the cities grew up below and—"

  "Taksh'mael," Dilvish said.

  "What?"

  "Taksh'mael was their god," Dilvish answered, "keeper of the flocks. A friend and I
once laid an offering on his altar when we passed this way—long ago. I wonder whether the altar still stands."

  "Oh, it does, where it has always stood… You are definitely a member of a minority to have it in mind at all. Perhaps 'twere better you did not stop at the castle… Seeing the area come upon such bad times could not but depress one such as yourself. On second thinking, I'd say ride on and clear this poor place from your mind. Remember it as once it was."

  "Thank you, but we have traveled a great distance," Dilvish replied. "It does not seem worth the extra effort merely to preserve a few sensibilities. We will go to the castle."

  The man's large, pale eyes fixed him, then jerked away. With one hand he groped beneath his shaggy garments, then he limped forward, extending that hand toward Dilvish.

  "Take this," he muttered. "You should have it."

  "What is it?" Dilvish asked, automatically reaching down.

  "A trifle," said the other. "An old thing I've had a long while, a mark of the god's favor and protection. One who remembers Taksh'mael ought to have such hereabouts."

  Dilvish examined it, a fragment of gray stone veined with pink, into which the image of a ram had been scratched. It was pierced on one end and a worn woolen strand passed through this aperture.

  "Thank you," he said, reaching for his bag. "I'd like to give you something in return."

  "No," said the old man, turning away. '"Tis a freely given gift, and I've no use for citified geegaws. And 'tis not much for all that. The newer gods can afford much fancier, I'm certain."

  "Well, may he guard your footsteps."

  "At my age, I doubt it matters. Fare thee well."

  He hiked off among the rocks and was soon gone from sight.

  "Black, what do you make of it?" Dilvish asked, leaning forward to dangle the charm before his mount.

  "There is some power in it," Black replied, "but it is of a tainted magic. I am not at all sure that I would trust anyone who bestows such a thing."

  "First he told us to stop at the castle, then he told us to pass it by. On which piece of advice shall we mistrust him?"

  "Let me see it, Dilvish," Reena said.

  He dropped it into her hands and she studied it for a long while.

  "True, it is as Black says…" she finally began.