Star Axe Read online

  “I must have some,” the Hermit said. “You must tell me now where you got it!” But the sick man was once again slipping into a stupor and his weight was finally causing Kenlahar’s arms to grow weary.

  At last, on one more of the endless ridges, and as the light was failing almost totally, Kenlahar spotted a small cabin nestled at the bottom of the valley. He had reached Swamp’s End at last!

  CHAPTER VIII

  Balor watched his friend cast a bewildered glance over his shoulder, and then Kenlahar’s form melted completely into the mists. Asking himself why he did not follow, he turned away. He suddenly had a sinking feeling that he would not soon see Kenlahar again. One other in the party was also looking off into the mists after Kenlahar with a worried face. Sanra sent Balor a frightened look and he tried to smile back reassuringly.

  Suddenly, the Lashitu—who had been watching quietly alone as the rear of the company—burst free and vanished into the fog after Kenlahar. Balor cried out to let him go, and the astonished swampmen lowered their bows. Balor hoped the shaman would catch up with Kenlahar. He did not like the Lashitu, but he liked even less the thought of his friend alone in the Tream.

  Captain Jonla’s tall frame moved among the Companions in an effort to create some order, his long dark face grim and resigned. The eerie shouts of the Qreq were approaching steadily the small, muddy clearing in which the Companions were hesitating. The People of the Cormat and the men of the Watch were separating quickly into two bands, now that danger threatened. Each man seemed to wish to die with his own kind. Balor started to move away from the swampmen and toward the gathering, arming men of the House of Lahar. From the sounds of their inhuman cries, the Qreq were closing rapidly, but Balor had yet to catch sight of any of them.

  Then he felt a small, hard hand pull at his arm, and looked down to see the young swampgirl examining him with piercing eyes. “We shall lead them away with us!” she said, with only a hint of a question in her tone.

  Balor nodded—it was a good strategy. “Yes, we will lead them away from the Axe-bearer.” He shouted hasty farewells to -Sanra and Jonla, whom he never expected to see again, and set off at a quick run. the girl stayed on his footsteps, never lagging, however much he increased the pace. Their escort of swampmen panted, their breaths muffled in the silent swamp. Soon they had left the small clearing behind. The muddy path leading into the Tream, bounded by heavy mists, narrowed and then disappeared, and they splashed through the clinging mud of the bog. Balor abandoned all caution in picking his path, instinctively reacting to the lay of the next few yards. He only hoped that the surviving men of the House of Lahar had time to get away, and had the sense to flee rather than stay and fight.

  From behind and around him, came the dreaded cries of “Qreq!” and he knew that Captain Jonla and his men had not run—and that Kenlahar and his single escort had not been left alone. He abruptly slowed his flight.

  “Why do you stop?” the girl demanded, breathing hard. She pulled at his arm insistently. “They will overtake us!”

  “The Qreq are not following us,” Balor contradicted. He looked back down their escape route with a worried frown. “There is no purpose in running on.”

  “The Qreq will slay them all,” the swampgirl said. “If we strive to aid them, we shall die as well. You must give up your foolish loyalties! Don’t you understand that your life has been saved?”

  Balor’s pale face showed that he did indeed understand at last. For whatever reason, the swampgirl and Captain Jonla had conspired to save him. While he thought he was filling the role of decoy, the men of the House of Lahar had stayed to fight and delay the Qreq warriors.

  Balor did not really hear the rest of her protests, but had already turned back toward the battleground. The girl watched him leave with baffled anger showing in her flushed face. The men of the swamp looked at her questioningly, for none of them had understood the argument. She motioned curtly, and they set off after him, though at a slower, more cautious pace. Unlike the men of the House of Lahar, the people of the Tream had survived not by confronting the Qreq, but by shunning their enemies.

  Balor plunged forward, heedless of any danger, and was surprised by the distance he had covered in his few minutes of flight. He began to fear that he would be too late. Praying that he would not be denied revenge, he roared out his eagerness to confront the Qreq—hoping to startle them into believing a host of warriors were descending upon them.

  When he burst into the clearing, he found only a small party of Qreq warriors, still hacking, without purpose, on the bodies of the dead men of the Watch. Their ghostly, unnatural skin glowed in the dim light, and their faces—showing the outlines of their skulls through the stretched skin—showed astonishment that a single warrior would dare attack them. Exhilarated by his chance to confront the enemy, Balor slashed into the defilers. One Qreq fell backward, clutching his throat, and one other was unable to avoid his sweeping strokes. The survivors turned to run from the whirlwind in their midst. Many went no farther than the border of the clearing before they dropped flat with dark shafts piercing their backs.

  Balor had begun to chase them, but he heard himself hailed by the young swampgirl. The swampmen rushed by him. He realized that his blood thirst had been slaked. Chasing the Qreq with berserk abandon would not bring back his friends. Like a stabbing pain, Balor remembered Sanra and Captain Jonla.

  He desperately searched the gruesome bodies, but though they were horribly damaged, he was soon able to discover that neither Sanra nor Jonla were among the dead. He counted the bodies—three others were missing. He began to calm, and even to reflect with resignation on the disaster that had overtaken the Companions.

  Balor was confronted with the greatest dilemma he had ever faced. Kenlahar, his friend and bearer of the Star Axe, was somewhere in the Tream, lost and all but alone. Sanra and the missing men of the Watch were in the hands of the Qreq—he was just as certain of that.

  He could wander through the Tream for a year and not pick up Kenlahar’s trail. The quest of the Companions had always really been Kenlahar’s alone, he thought. Suddenly, he remembered his promise to look after Sanra. He knew then that he would find her. So it was that Balor was not to soon see the glorious Outside. Instead, he was to travel toward what he dreaded most—the Warlord’s Haven.

  The men of the swamp were beginning to drift back into the clearing, some of them shaking their heads gloomily, and others excitedly telling of a successful chase. The swampgirl watched Balor warily as he made his painful decision. “You are not going after them?” she exclaimed.

  Balor nodded absently, unconcerned now with what the girl might think. He stood off to one side looking down the trail, deep in thought. The swampmen surrounded the girl and she translated his words. A sharp debate broke out among them, and their angry tones broke Balor’s reverie.

  “The men of the Cormat do not wish to pursue the Qreq any farther,” she said. “They say that there are too many Qreq to fight. I agree. They want either to return home; or find the Cormatine and escort him to Swamp’s End as they were sent to do. But they will not follow you.”

  Balor shrugged, and began to draw up his packs and weapons for the long pursuit. It was just as well, he thought. He had not intended to openly fight the Qreq anyway. One man could remain concealed much better than a troop of men. He walked away, following the muddy footprints and flattened grass. Therefore, he was surprised to hear the sound of another set of footsteps falling behind him. He turned warily, and then smiled broadly at the girl. She frowned back. “I did not say that I would not follow you. Someone with caution must go with you, for stealth is what we shall need most if we are to rescue your friends.”

  “I will not ask you why you are willing to risk your life for us, but I accept your help with thanks,” Balor said, as they set off again at a brisk walk. “Tell me your name…”

  The swampgirl just stared back at first, until Balor turned his eyes. He could sense her attraction for him,
but had not yet identified it for what it was. “I am called Kalese. I am the daughter of the Cormatine—the old Cormatine. Women are not accepted as leaders among the men of the Cormat. Perhaps Outside I shall find what I am seeking.”

  Balor looked back at her in astonishment. Truly, no woman of the House of Lahar would have ever uttered such words, not even Sanra. He began to regard her with a grudging admiration, and admitted to himself that she was worthy of leading men into battle—she had proven that by now. And, he discovered with surprise, he was glad to have her along with him. “We are not likely to come close to the kingdoms of Outside, if we follow the Qreq. We may find ourselves in the Warlord’s Haven—but I doubt he will want a woman chieftain either!”

  Kalese only smiled briefly, and shrugged. They continued in silence, concentrating on pursuit. The Qreq were moving fast, as if all the men of the Cormat were pursuing them. They must have been carrying their captives; for neither Balor nor the more experienced tracker Kalese, could discover signs of any prints but the splayed feet of the Qreq.

  Slowly, the dogged pursuers began to gain on the Qreq. But they were fast approaching the River Danjar, and Balor grew afraid that once on the river, the Qreq would evade them forever. He strained to hear the roar of the river. Surely it could not be that far away!

  Instead he heard the violent rustling in some of the tall ferns in their path. He stopped, and pressed a restraining hand on Kalese’s shoulder. Turning warily, he tried to pinpoint the source of the scurrying. He drew his sword in readiness. When Kalese suddenly pointed, he jumped off the path into the heavy undergrowth and vanished from her view. There were a few minutes of tense silence, and then she heard Balor’s heavy laughter. Forgetting her caution, she bounded into the jungle of growth.

  Balor was standing at the edge of a harmless appearing pool of water. But a thick layer of silt carpeted the pool. In the middle of this dangerous quagmire, the Lashitu stood, trapped to his waist, and flailing his arms. “You seem to have lost your way, Lashitu!” Balor said, seeing that there was no danger of the shaman sinking any deeper.

  Kalese did not deem it so humorous, and leaned out over the pool, trying to reach the terror-stricken Lashitu’s hands. She fell short by over a foot. Balor, however, reached him easily. He dragged the speechless shaman onto dry land. “He will be more trouble than he’s worth,” he warned Kalese, but she was already calming the terrified shaman with soothing words.

  “This man is too frightened of the Tream to ever wander far. He will have to go with us,” she answered firmly.

  “I say we should leave him,” Balor insisted. “Let him keep looking for his master.”

  The Lashitu violently objected that he could go on, and would not cause them any trouble. But then he heard the pair’s goal and protested with fanatical loyalty. “Kenlahar and the Star Axe are all that matter! The others are of little importance.” Still, when they turned without a word toward the river, he followed them.

  Balor rushed down the slight sloping bluffs above the river, not caring if the Lashitu would be able to keep up or not. He feared now that they would be too late. If the Qreq had boats moored on the river, which he did not doubt, they could have embarked and even left the line of sight altogether.

  Suddenly, Balor was swaying over the steep banks of the river. The Danjar was free of rapids at that point, and the pounding roar Balor had been expecting to hear from a distance did not exist. Light was failing quickly, and he anxiously tried to find a vantage point on the banks. Finally he caught a glimpse of a dark sail disappearing upriver. The Qreq warship was in full sail, racing toward the Warlord’s Havens. His heart sank as he saw the last of the Qreq ship vanish. They had debated and dawdled and delayed too long! he thought angrily.

  Dispirited by the closeness of his race and its hopeless ending, he crouched and bent his head in dejection. Kalese stood beside him and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. It seemed to Balor at that moment, that every choice he had made had turned terribly amiss. From behind him he heard the Lashitu’s taunting laugh.

  “For this hollow venture you forsook the bearer of the Star Axe! Give up this futile chase now, and search for Kenlahar before it is too late.”

  “Don’t you understand—it is already too late! Kenlahar is gone and we cannot help him.” Balor found it hard to control his anger at the Lashitu’s carping. He feared that he would strike the shaman, but Kalese’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Instead he said, “The Tream is wide, and Kenlahar could be far from here by now. I do not intend to become as lost as we found you!”

  The Lashitu remained unaware of the danger he was putting himself in by his quarrelling. “But you do not even know if there are any Qreq on board that ship.”

  Balor rose and approached the Lashitu, who finally realized his peril and retreated, cringing. But Balor merely shouted down the smaller man.

  “Have you considered that Kenlahar may also be their captive?”

  The surprise and dismay that registered in the shaman’s face revealed that he had not thought of that possibility. He closed his mouth and did no more complaining.

  Balor thought the chance of Kenlahar being on board the Qreq ship was slim, and he regretted shouting down the loyal, if annoying, Lashitu. The shaman’s objections were uncomfortably close to what Balor was thinking as well.

  “The Qreq will have to disembark at the rapids,” he pondered aloud. “Once past they will not find it easy to bypass the House of Lahar. They will need to wait for a favorable time to slip by. Nor will they be expecting pursuit. There is only a wisp of wind. The Qreq will not be moving fast, but will be depending on their oars.”

  Even the Lashitu was eager for pursuit now that the idea that Kenlahar might be with the Qreq had been planted in his mind. Agreed, they spent no more time in discussion. They set a swift and grim pace along the narrow banks of the river. Before he would have thought possible, Balor recognized the area of river where they had left the boat.

  The three of them scrambled among the reeds, frantically searching for the sunken craft. Balor stripped and dived into the river, hunting underwater for some sign of the boat. He finally gave up his search, and returned to dry land. He saw that the Lashitu had also given up his exploration, and was sitting on the beach, glumly picking at the soil.

  Kalese was walking back toward the river, her head bent down in the dimming light, and following a trail only she could see. She stopped at the river’s edge. “There!” she said, pointing into the dark flow. “You will find it there.”

  Balor waded in and reached down. His hand immediately encountered the boat’s wooden sides. He began pulling out the rocks, which had served as ballast keeping the boat under. Kalese hurried over to help him and between them, they were soon able to drag the boat onto shore. They retrieved the small sail from the bow—drenched, but still in good condition. Balor insisted on immediately setting off after the Qreq, though Kalese pointed out that it would soon be too dark to see anything but the expanse of the river and the prominent banks:

  “The winds are strong to the south,” Balor argued. “They will shift in the morning, and if the Qreq have reached the landings we will never catch them!”

  And, indeed, it was only the hindrances of the Lashitu’s inept sailing, and the inexperience of the swampgirl, that kept them from attaining the Qreq camp that night. As Balor had predicted, the winds began working against them just before dawn. The River Danjar was steadily narrowing, constricting the little ship’s room to maneuver. The current working against them also grew steadily swifter.

  Balor felt like railing at the Lashitu in frustration as their progress slowed, and then stopped. He was finally forced to admit defeat. The Qreq, he knew, would soon be reaching the portage causeways, if they had not already. Once on the river above the rapids they would have clear passage. Balor struck the side of the boat, and Kalese asked in sympathy, “How much farther?” “Not far,” Balor said. “But it may as well be a day’s distance, if we have to w
ait for the wind to change.” “Then we will not wait,” Kalese said firmly. “We have not come this far to stop now.”

  The Lashitu, now convinced that Kenlahar was a prisoner, tiredly agreed. Again, they started to trudge up the muddy banks of the River Danjar. Occasionally, Balor was forced to draw his sword and hack a path through the undergrowth. It began to rain again, and this time it did not stop. Their clothes became quickly soaked and then, after a few days, a sour mildew sank into the fibers. Balor thought wryly that they never need worry about losing one another—all they need do is follow the stinking rot; or if that did not work, the tattered fragments of their clothes.

  Their progress seemed maddeningly slow to Balor. He was convinced that the Qreq had already reached the Warlord’s Haven, while he was still struggling and straining against the clinging reeds below the rapids. He battled to maintain his original fast pace, often forgetting to consider if the other two could keep up. Fortunately for the Lashitu and even Kalese, Balor did slow down—unwillingly. Leading the way and creating paths for the two followers had weakened Balor enough for them to cope with his long strides.

  As they neared the portage, Balor left the other two behind with orders to follow as quickly as they could. He crept up on the causeway, but he almost stumbled unaware into the Qreq camp nevertheless. The roar of the falls and the sun’s light shimmering on the horizon had almost concealed the Qreq.

  They moved noiselessly, and the rumble of the rapids would have smothered any escaping sounds. Balor threw himself down behind a tall clump of reeds, and unmoving, watched the Qreq. The fires were almost burned out, but still glowed as the night approached. Only a few Qreq warriors seemed to be guarding the huge camp.