Книга: The Treasured One

DAVID AND LEIGH EDDINGS

THE TREASURED ONE

Book Two of The Dreamers

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PREFACE

It was a time of uncertainty in the nest of the Vlagh, for no word of success had yet reached the nest from the warrior-servants which had followed the burrows below the face of the ground toward the broad water which lies beneath the sunset.

All had gone as it should at first as the warrior-servants had moved down through the burrows toward the land of the sunset, killing the man-things of that land as they went, and the joy of our dear Vlagh had known no bounds, for once the land of the sunset was ours, there would be much to eat, and the Vlagh which had spawned us all could spawn still more, and our numbers would grow to beyond counting, and the overmind of which we are all a part would expand, for it grows larger and more complex with each new hatch.

Impatient was our Vlagh, for none of its servants of whatever form had yet brought word of victory, and without that assurance, our Vlagh could not spawn. Though our Vlagh reached out with its senses toward the land of the sunset to question the overmind about the success of the warriors of strange form, the overmind did not respond, and that was most unusual.

And as the days came and went, our Vlagh grew more and more irritable as the need to spawn was frustrated by the lack of certainty. ‘Go!’ our Vlagh commanded the warrior-servants which protect the hidden nest. ‘Go and look, and then return and tell me that which I must know.’

Many warrior-servants of venomous fangs hurried away, and those of us which are the true servants who care for our Vlagh and the newborns sought to assure our dear Vlagh that all was as it should be.

But it was not so.

The venomous warriors of strange form returned to report that they could not find even one of those of our number which had followed the burrows beneath the face of the ground toward the broad water which lies beneath the sunset, nor had they even been able to find any trace of those burrows. More horrible still, they had felt no sense of the overmind in that region.

And the pain of our dear Vlagh knew no bounds, for the over-mind had been greatly diminished, and it would remain so until the burrowers and the warriors with venomous fangs were found and their awareness was rejoined with the overmind.

Then there came to the nest of the Vlagh a burrower with missing limbs and deep burns in its shell, and the burrower spoke of hot light spewing up from the mountains and red liquid hotter than fire running down through the burrows below the face of the ground, consuming all that was in its path. And then the burrower said that which should never be said. ‘They are no more. The many which went through our hidden burrows toward the land of the sunset have all been consumed by the red liquid hotter than fire, and we are all made less because they are gone.’

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And then the burrower’s task was complete, and it died.

And our beloved Vlagh shrieked in agony, for the word of the burrower had torn away the urge to spawn. And all of us were made less by those words, for the many were now fewer, and the lands beneath the sunset were now and forever beyond our reach. The grief of our Vlagh was beyond our understanding, and that grief brought us rage.

Now it came to pass that the servants with strange forms and venomous fangs which had gone forth to seek knowledge in the lands of the man-things conferred with one another. The seekers of knowledge are unlike the true servants, for their task has altered them. The seekers of knowledge go beyond our Vlagh’s immediate commands, and they consider the knowledge which they have found and even sometimes offer alternatives when they carry the knowledge which they have found back to the nest.

And so it was that the seekers of knowledge agreed, each with the others, that the lands of the sunset were now and forever beyond the grasp of the burrowers and the warriors by reason of the liquid fire which was coming forth from the mountains, and they offered the alternative which the knowledge they had found had suggested to them. Might it not be better, they said, to expand toward a different direction than we had before? The mountains above the land of longer summers are quiet, and the need to spew forth liquid fire is not stirring in those mountains, and there are many more things to eat in the land of longer summers than there had been in the land of the sunset. Since the presence of things to eat arouses our Vlagh’s urge to spawn, should we not seek out a land where there is much to eat? Should we do so, the urge to spawn will grow much greater, and there will soon be even more of us than there had been when the burrowers had opened the passages below the face of the ground which had led down to the land of the sunset. And thereby the awareness of the overmind which we all share will be increased, lifting it to heights which it has never reached before.

And our beloved Vlagh communed with the overmind concerning the virtue of the alternative offered by the seekers of knowledge, and the overmind found much that was good in that alternative, for it had learned much during our attempt to occupy the land of the sunset. The warriors of strange form had encountered many different creatures as they had moved toward the sunset, and the overmind perceived that those different forms might prove to be most useful in our encounters with the man-things in the land of longer summers, for the man-things are most tenacious and difficult to push aside as we move toward that which is our goal. Then, however, the overmind warned our beloved Vlagh that the greatest danger we would face in the land of longer summers would be - even as it had in the land of the sunset - not the man-things who stood in our path, but would rather be sleeping infants and peculiar stones.

And so it was that we turned aside from the lands of the sunset and fixed our attention on the land of longer summers where the two-legged ones produce food from the ground and where there is much room, for food and space will surely once again stir our Vlagh’s urge to spawn, and the overmind will grow, even surpassing what it had been before the mountains of the land of the sunset had reduced it, and that will bring joy to all of us, for we all share the benefits of the increase of the overmind.

And surely the time will come when all the lands of the man-things shall be ours, and we shall grow to numbers beyond counting, and our overmind shall expand until all knowledge is ours - and the world as well.

And only then will we be content.

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The Dream Of Ashad

During the course of my many cycles I’ve grown very fond of the mountains of my Domain. There’s a beauty in the mountains that no other kind of country can possibly match. My sister Zelana loves the sea in much the same way, I suppose, but I don’t think the sea can ever match mountain country. Mountain air is clean and pure, and the eternal snow on the peaks seems to increase that purity.

Over the endless eons I’ve discovered that a mountain sunrise gives me the most delicious light I’ve ever tasted, so whenever possible I go up to the shoulder of Mount Shrak at first light to drink in the beauty of the sunrise. No matter what happens later in the day, the taste of a mountain sunrise gives me a serenity that nothing else can provide.

It was on a day in the late spring of the year when the creatures of the Wasteland had made their futile attempt to seize sister Zelana’s Domain and had been met by Eleria’s flood and Yaltar’s twin volcanos that I went out of my cave under Mount Shrak to greet the morning sun.

When I reached my customary feasting place, I saw that there was a cloud bank off to the east, and that always makes the sunrise even more glorious.

I looked around at the nearby mountains, and it seemed that summer was moving up into my Domain a bit more slowly than usual, and last winter’s snow was still stubbornly clinging to the lower ridges. It occurred to me that this might be a sign of one of those periodic climate changes which appear much more frequently than the people who serve us seem to realize. The temperatures on the face of Father Earth are never really constant. They’re subject almost entirely to the whims of Mother Sea, and if Mother’s feeling chilly, Father will get a lot of snow. That can go on for centuries.

After I’d considered the possibility, though, I dismissed the notion. Zelana had tampered with the weather extensively during the past winter to delay the invasion of her Domain by the servants of the Vlagh until her hired army arrived from the land of Maag, and it might take a while for things to go back to normal.

All in all, though, things had gone rather well this past spring. The more I considered the matter, the more certain I became that my decision to rouse the younger gods from their sleep cycle prematurely and to cause them to regress to infancy in the process had , in fact, fulfilled that ancient prophecy. Eleria’s flood and Yaltar’s twin volcanos had forever sealed off Zelana’s Domain from any more incursions by the creatures of the Wasteland.

The morning sun rose in all her splendor, painting that eastern cloud-bank a glorious crimson, and I feasted on her light. I’ve always found early summer light to be more invigorating than the pale light of winter or the dusty light of autumn, and there was a certain spring to my step as I walked on back down the mountain to the mouth of my cave.

My little toy sun was waiting for me at the cave-mouth, and she flickered her customary question at me.

‘Just taking a look at the weather, little one,’ I lied. She always seems to get all pouty and sullen if she Page 4

thinks that I prefer the light of the real sun to hers. Pets can be very strange sometimes. ‘Is Ashad still sleeping?’ I asked her.

She bobbed up and down slightly in answer.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘He hasn’t been sleeping too well here lately. I think he was badly frightened by what happened down in Zelana’s Domain. Maybe you should keep your light a bit subdued so that he can sleep longer. He needs the rest.’

She bobbed her agreement, and her light dimmed. She had been just a bit sulky when I’d first brought Ashad into our cave, but that had passed, and she was now very fond of my yellow-haired little boy.

She’d never fully understood Ashad’s need for solid food rather than light alone, so she habitually hovered near him, spilling light down on him - just in case he happened to need some.

I went on down through the twisting passageway that led to my cave, ducking under the icicle-like stalactites hanging down from the ceiling. They were much thicker and longer than they’d been at the beginning of my current cycle, and they were starting to get in my way. They were the result of the mineral-rich water that came seeping down through Mount Shrak, and they grew perceptibly longer every century. I made a mental note to take a club to them some day, when I had a little more time.

Ashad, covered with his fur robe, was still sleeping when I came out of the passageway into the large open chamber that was our home, so I thought it best not to disturb him.

I was still convinced that my decision to bring our alternates into the tag-end of our cycle had been the right one, but it was growing increasingly obvious that they’d brought some of their previous memories with them. I sat down in my chair near the table where Ashad ate his meals of what he called ‘real food’

to consider some things I hadn’t anticipated. I rather ruefully admitted to myself that I probably should have examined our alternates a bit more closely before I’d awakened them, but it was a little late now.

I’d assumed that the children would respond to any dangers in the Domains of their own surrogate parents, so I’d been more than a little startled when Veltan had told me that Yaltar’s dream had predicted the war in Zelana’s Domain. I’d assumed that it’d be Eleria who’d warn us. Then when the real crisis arose, Yaltar had shoved prediction aside and had gone straight into action with those twin volcanos. That strongly suggested that Yaltar and Eleria had been very close during their previous cycle -

a suggestion confirmed by the fact that Yaltar had occasionally referred to Eleria by her true name,

‘Balacenia’, and Eleria in like manner had spoken of ‘Vash’ -Yaltar’s true name.

‘I think there might just be a few holes in this “grand plan” of mine,’ I ruefully admitted.

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed that the core of our problem lay in the fact that the Vlagh had been consciously modifying its servants over the past hundred or so eons. The modification of various life forms goes on all the time, usually in response to changes in the environment. Sometimes these modifications work, and sometimes they don’t. The species that makes the right choice survives, but the wrong choice leads to extinction. In most cases, survival depends on sheer luck.

Before the arrival of the hairy predecessors of the creatures we now call men, vast numbers of creatures had arisen in the Land of Dhrall, but at some point most of them had made a wrong turn and had died out.

The Vlagh, unfortunately, had been among the survivors.

Originally, the Vlagh had been little more than a somewhat exotic insect which had nested near the shore Page 5

of that inland sea which in the far distant past had covered what is now the Wasteland. A gradual climate change had evaporated that sea, and the Vlagh, driven by necessity, had begun to modify its servants.

The change of climate had made avoiding the broiling sunlight a matter of absolute necessity, but as closely as I’ve been able to determine, the Vlagh had not simply groped around in search of a solution, but had relied on observation instead. I’m almost positive that it had been at this point that ‘the overmind’

had appeared. The ability to share information had given the servants of the Vlagh an enormous advantage over their neighbors. What any single one of them had seen, they all had seen. The Vlagh’s species at that time had lived above the ground - most probably up in the trees. Several other species, however, had lived beneath the surface of the ground, and ‘the seekers of knowledge’ - spies, if you wish - had observed those neighbors and had provided very accurate descriptions of the appendages the neighbors used to burrow below the surface. Then ‘the overmind’ had filched the design, the Vlagh had duplicated it, and the next hatch had all been burrowers.

The extensive tunnels had kept the servants of the Vlagh out of the blazing sunlight, but that had only been the first problem they had been forced to solve. As the centuries had passed, the changed climate had gradually killed all the vegetation in that previously lush region, so there was no longer sufficient food to support a growing population.

The Vlagh had continued to lay eggs, of course, but each hatch had produced fewer and fewer offspring, and the Vlagh had come face to face with the distinct possibility of the extinction of its species.

When the burrowing insects had reached the mountains, they’d encountered solid stone, and their progress had stopped at that point. Not long after that, however, they’d discovered the caves lying beneath those mountains, and the species which should have gone extinct lived on.

I’m of two minds about caves. I love mine, but I hate theirs.

Anyway, the servants of the Vlagh had encountered other creatures in the caves and mountains, and evidently the overmind had realized that some of those creatures had characteristics which might prove to be very useful, and it had begun to experiment - or tamper - producing peculiar and highly unnatural variations.

I rather ruefully conceded that the experiment which had produced what Sorgan Hook-Beak of the Land of Maag colorfully called ‘the snake-men’ had been extremely successful, though I can’t for the life of me understand exactly how the Vlagh had produced a creature that was part bug, part reptile, and part warmblooded mammal that closely resembled a human being.

Biological impossibilities irritate me to no end.

I will admit, though, that had it not been for the near genius of the Shaman One-Who-Heals, the creatures of the Wasteland would probably have won the war in my sister’s Domain.

Ashad made a peculiar little sound, and I got up from my chair and crossed in the dim light of our cavern to the stone bench that served as his bed to make sure that he was all right. He was nestled down under his fur robe with his eyes closed, though, so I was sure that he wasn’t having any problems. Our discovery that our Dreamer-children weren’t able to live on light alone had made us all a little jumpy. It wasn’t the sort of thing we wanted to gamble with. Then we came face to face with the question of Page 6

breathing. Veltan’s ten eons on the face of the moon had been a clear demonstration of the fact that we didn’t really need to breathe. Many of our pet people were fishermen, though, and drowning happens quite often. Even though our Dreamer-children were actually gods, their present condition strongly suggested that they needed air to breathe and food to eat, and none of us was in the mood to take any chances.

Ashad was still breathing in and out, though, so I went on back to my chair. I let my mind drift back to Ashad’s first few hours here in my cave. If anybody with a cruel mind would like to see a god in a state of pure panic, I think he missed his chance. Panic had run rampant in my family that day. As soon as Ashad started screaming at me, I went all to pieces. Eventually, though, I remembered a peculiarity of the bears which share my Domain with deer, people and wild cows. She-bears give birth to their cubs during their yearly hibernation cycle, and their cubs attend to the business of nursing all on their own. Then I remembered that a she-bear called Broken-Tooth customarily hibernated in a cave that was no more than a mile away.

Still caught up in sheer panic, I grabbed up my howling Dreamer and ran to Mama Broken-Tooth’s cave. She’d already given birth to the cub Long-Claw, and he was contentedly nursing when I entered the cave. Fortunately, I didn’t have to argue with him. He was nice enough to move aside just a bit, and I introduced Ashad to bear’s milk.

His crying stopped immediately.

Peculiarly - or maybe not - Ashad and Long-Claw were absolutely positive that they were brothers, and after they’d both nursed their fill of Mama Broken-Tooth’s milk, they began to play with each other.

I remained in the cave until Mama Broken-Tooth awakened. She sniffed briefly at her two cubs - totally ignoring the fact that one of them didn’t look at all like a bear - and then she gently nestled them against her bearish bosom as if there was nothing at all peculiar taking place. Of course, bears don’t really see very well, so they rely instead on their sense of smell and after two weeks of rolling around on the dirt floor of the cave, Ashad had most definitely had a bearish fragrance about him.

Ashad slept until almost noon, but my flaxen-haired little boy still seemed exhausted when he rose, pulled on his tan leather smock and joined me at our table. ‘Good morning, uncle,’ he greeted me as he sank wearily into his chair. Almost absently, he pulled the large bowl full of red berries he’d brought home the previous evening in front of him and began to eat them one at a time. His appetite didn’t seem quite normal, for some reason.

‘Is something bothering you, Ashad?’ I asked him.

‘I had a nightmare last night, uncle,’ the boy replied, absently fondling a shiny black stone that was about twice the size of an eagle’s egg. ‘It seemed that I was standing on nothing but air, and I was way up in the sky looking down at the Domain of Vash. The country down there in the South doesn’t look at all like our country up here, does it?’

There it was again. Ashad obviously knew Yaltar’s true name, even as Eleria did. ‘The people of the South are farmers, Ashad,’ I explained. ‘They grow much of their food in the ground instead of concentrating on hunting the way our people do. They had to cut down the trees to give themselves open ground for planting, so the land down there doesn’t look at all like the land up here. What else happened in your dream?’

Ashad pushed his yellow hair out of his eyes. ‘Well,’ he continued, ‘it seemed that there were a whole Page 7

lot of those nasty things coming into the Domain of Vash - sort of like the things that crawled down into Balacenia’s Domain a little while ago.’ The boy put the shiny black stone down on the table and ate more of the red berries.

There it was again. It was obvious now that the Dreamers were, perhaps unconsciously, stepping over the barrier I’d so carefully set up between them and their past.

‘Anyway,’ Ashad continued, ‘there were outlanders there, and they were fighting the nasty things just like they did in Balacenia’s Domain, but then things got very confusing. A whole lot of other outlanders came up across Mother Sea from the South, but it didn’t seem like they were interested in the war very much, because they spent all their time talking to the farmers about somebody called Amar. The ones who were doing all the talking were wearing black robes, but there were some others who wore red clothes, and they were pushing the farmers around and making them listen while the ones in black talked.

That went on for quite a while, and then the outlanders in the South got all excited, and they started to run north toward a great big waterfall, and the other outlanders - the ones who got there first - sort of got out of their way for while, and then when everybody got to that waterfall, it looked to me like everybody was trying to kill everybody else, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t understand exactly what was going on.’

‘I’ve heard that dreams are like that, Ashad. I don’t need to sleep, so I don’t really know what dreams are all about.’ I hesitated. ‘Where did you find that shiny black rock?’ I asked, more to change the subject than out of any real curiosity.

‘It was in the back of the cave where Mama Broken-Tooth sleeps in the winter,’ Ashad replied. ‘She had three cubs while she was sleeping this past winter, and while you were busy helping your sister Zelana, I went to her cave to see them. They’re sort of the brothers of me and Long-Claw, aren’t they? I mean, Mama Broken-Tooth nursed me and Long-Claw when we were just cubs, and now she’s nursing the three new ones. That sort of makes us relatives of some kind, doesn’t it?’

‘I suppose so, yes.’

‘Anyway, the three new cubs were making those funny little sounds bear-cubs always make when they’re nursing, and Mama Broken-Tooth was cuddling them like she used to cuddle Long-Claw and me when we were just cubs.’ He picked up the shiny stone. ‘This is an agate, isn’t it?’ he asked, holding it out to me.

I took the stone, but almost dropped it when I sensed the enormous power emanating from it. ‘I think you’re right, Ashad. Black agates are very rare, though.’

‘It’s pretty, and I really liked it when I first saw it. I asked Mama Broken-Tooth if I could have it, and she told me to go ahead and take it. I used to carry it with me wherever I went, but then I mislaid it, I guess, but when I woke up this morning, there it was right in my bed with me. Isn’t that odd?’

I laughed. ‘I think this might just be the year of “odd”, Ashad,’ I said. ‘It seems like every time I turn around there are piles and piles of “odd” staring me in the face. How did the rest of your bears come through this past winter?’

‘Just fine, uncle,’ Ashad replied. ‘There are lots and lots of new cubs.’ He suddenly grinned broadly, shaking off his gloomy expression. ‘Baby bears are so much fun. They do all sorts of funny things that make their mothers terribly grouchy. Just last week Mama Broken-Tooth was scooping fish out of a stream - you know, throwing them up on the riverbank the way bears always do - but her three cubs Page 8

thought she was playing, so they were swatting the fish back into the stream. When she saw what they were doing, she came running out of the water, gave them a few swats, and then chased them up a tree and made them stay up there for the rest of the day. I laughed, but she growled at me. She didn’t seem to think it was funny at all.’

‘Will you be all right here by yourself for a few days, Ashad? I need to go talk with my brother and my sisters. There are some things they need to know about.’

‘I’ll be fine, uncle. I was over in the village of Asmie the other day, and Tlingar promised to teach me how to use a spear-thrower - that long, limber stick the man-things around here use to whip their spears out there a long, long way. Tlingar’s just about the best there is with the spear-thrower, isn’t he?’

‘He keeps the people of Asmie eating regularly, that much is certain,’ I agreed. ‘I shouldn’t be too long, Ashad. If you get tired of throwing spears, you might want to go play with Mama Broken-Tooth’s three cubs. If they’re as frisky as you suggested, poor Mama Broken-Tooth’s probably exhausted by now.

Give her a little time to rest up. Like they always say, “Be nice to the neighbors, and they’ll be nice to you.” I’d better get started. I’d like to talk with Aracia before her priests get her involved in all those silly ceremonies.’

‘Say hello to Enalla for me, uncle.’

There it was again. Ashad had just used Aracia’s Dreamer Lillabeth’s real name. Despite all my careful manipulation, the Dreamers kept pulling bits and pieces of reality up through the barriers I’d put between them and the past. I shuddered to think of what might happen if the Dreamers stumbled across some things far more significant than just their names.

I told my tiny, glowing sun to stay behind, and then I went to the long, twisting passageway that led out to the open air.

The morning light of early summer was golden as I came up out of my cave under Mount Shrak. I summoned my thunderbolt and rode on down toward the south-east to the Domain of my elder sister Aracia.

Aracia’s Domain is much like the Domain of our baby brother Veltan, with vast wheat fields stretching from horizon to horizon like some enormous green carpet in the early summer sun. I hate to admit it, but the introduction of wheat farming and bread has brought much more stability to the Domains of Aracia and Veltan than the sometimes catch-as-catch-can quality of life in my Domain and Zelana’s, where the land is primarily devoted to hunting and fishing. There has to be more to life than just munching on a piece of half-moldy bread, though. I’m fairly sure that Aracia and Veltan view me as some sort of primitive antique, but I know better. The people of their Domains are little more than cattle. They move around in herds, and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to discover that ‘moo’ crops up in their dialect quite frequently.

The people of my Domain - and of Zelana’s - are fiercely independent. Nobody - not even me or Zelana

- tells them what they must do. To my way of looking at things, those farmers more closely resemble the mindless servants of the Vlagh than they do real people.

You don’t necessarily need to tell Aracia or Veltan that I just said that.

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Where was I? Oh, yes, now I remember. I’m fairly certain that it was farming that ultimately led to religion in Aracia’s Domain. Once the spring planting is finished, a farmer really has nothing significant to do until harvesting in the autumn, and that gives him far too much time for speculation. As long as people concentrate on such things as what they are going to eat tomorrow or how they’re going to avoid freezing to death when winter rolls around again, there’s a certain practicality in their lives. It’s when the people have enough free time to begin asking such questions as ‘Who am I?’ or ‘How did I get here?’ that things start getting wormy.

I’ve periodically ranged out beyond the Land of Dhrall to observe the progress of the outlanders, and I’ve noticed that the more intelligent ones spend a lot of their time brooding about mysterious gods. That isn’t necessary here in the Land of Dhrall, of course, since it’s very likely that the god of any particular region lives just over the hill or down the street.

Some of the people of Aracia’s Domain saw a glorious opportunity there. Aracia could tamper with the weather, if she chose to, and that produced abundant crops, and the displays of gratitude of her subject people were usually grossly overdone. Had one of my people gone to such extremes, I’d have laughed in the fool’s face.

Aracia, however really enjoyed all the groveling and excessive displays of gratitude. Deep down, Aracia adores being adored. I’d been the first of our family to awaken during this cycle, so I was nominally in charge of things this time. Aracia had been the second to awaken, but deep in her heart she yearns to be first, so she encourages her people to continue their overdone displays of gratitude, and the more clever among them, sensing that need, exaggerate their thanks to the level of absurdity, erecting temples and altars, and prostrating themselves each time she passes.

Aracia thinks that’s awfully nice of them.

Aracia’s need for adoration has attracted many of the less industrious men of her domain, and over the years this has produced a sizeable town, and that in turn has brought assorted tradesmen to the place.

I’m sure that Aracia’s temple-town is the closest thing to a city in the entire Land of Dhrall. The large stone buildings are covered with a white plaster and their roofs are made of red tile. The narrow streets have been paved over with large flagstones, and the town is at least a mile wide.

At the very center, of course, is Aracia’s enormous temple with gleaming white spires reaching up toward the sky. To be perfectly honest, the whole place seems just a little silly to me.

When my thunderbolt deposited me in Aracia’s marble-pillared throne-room, her overfed sycophants either fainted dead away or fled in terror. I smiled faintly. Nothing in the world seems to get everybody’s immediate attention more quickly than a thunderbolt.

Aracia’s golden throne stood on a marble pedestal, and there were red drapes behind it. ‘Have you ever considered letting me know when you’re coming, Dahlaine?’ my splendidly dressed sister demanded in an icy tone of voice.

‘I just did,’ I replied bluntly. ‘Are your ears starting to fail, Aracia? Any time you hear thunder, it’s probably me.’ I looked around my sister’s throne-room and saw a fair number of wide-eyed clergymen trying to conceal themselves behind the marble pillars at the sides of the vast chamber. ‘Let’s go find someplace private, dear sister. There are some things you should know about, and I don’t have all that much time.’

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‘You’re very rude, Dahlaine. Did you know that?’

‘It’s a failing of mine. Over the years, I’ve found that “polite” is a waste of time, and I’m just a bit busy right now. Shall we go?’ I’ve long since discovered that abruptness is the best way to get Aracia’s immediate attention. Any time I give her the least bit of slack, she’ll lapse into ‘ceremonial’, and that usually takes at least half a day.

Aracia looked more than a little offended, but she did rise up from her golden throne and step down off the pedestal to lead the way out of her ornate throne-room.

‘What’s got you so stirred up today, big brother?’ Aracia asked as we proceeded down a long, deserted hallway.

‘Let’s hold off until we get to some private place,’ I suggested. ‘There’s trouble in the wind, and I don’t think we should alarm the people of your Domain just yet.’

Aracia led the way into a rather plain room and closed the door behind us. We sat down in large wooden chairs on opposite sides of an ornately carved table.

‘Are you sure that none of your people can hear us here?’

‘Of course they can’t, Dahlaine,’ she replied. ‘This room’s one of those “special” places. Nobody’ll be able to hear us, because the room isn’t really here.’

‘How did you manage that?’

She shrugged. ‘A slight adjustment of time is all it takes. This room is two days older than the rest of the temple, so we’re talking to each other two days ago.’

‘Clever,’ I said admiringly.

‘I’m glad you like it. What’s happening that’s got you so stirred up, Dahlaine?’

‘Ashad had one of those dreams last night, dear sister. Evidently the Vlagh didn’t learn too much in Zelana’s Domain, so it’s sending its servants South toward Veltan’s Domain - or it will before much longer. Ashad’s dream was a bit more complicated than Yaltar’s was when he saw the invasion of Zelana’s Domain though, and some things were cropping up that I didn’t quite understand. He told me about two separate - and evidently unrelated -invasions and a very complex war near the Falls of Vash.

That’s another thing that kept cropping up as well. Ashad referred to Yaltar by his real name - in much the same way that Yaltar kept referring to Eleria as “Balacenia”. I almost choked the first time Ashad said “Vash” when he spoke of Yaltar.’

‘I told you that bringing in our alternates was a mistake, Dahlaine. If our Dreamers wake up and come to their senses, the whole world might collapse in on itself.’

‘They do seem to be stepping around some of the barriers I put in place, Aracia,’ I admitted, ‘but it’s too late to do anything about it now. The Vlagh’s evidently going to keep trying to overrun us, and we don’t have time to raise a new group of Dreamers. Has Lillabeth had any of those dreams yet?’

‘Not that she’s told me about,’ Aracia replied. ‘I’ve been a bit busy here lately, though.’

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‘Does being worshiped and adored really take that much time, Aracia?’

‘No, but running back and forth to the Isle of Akalla to negotiate with Trenicia does. She’s not really interested in gold, so I’ve had to find something else to get her interest.’

‘Who’s Trenicia?’ I asked curiously.

‘She’s the queen of the warrior women of Akalla.’

‘Do women really make very good warriors?’

‘If they’re big enough, they do. Trenicia’s almost as big as Sorgan Hook-Beak, and she’s probably more skilled with a sword than he’ll ever be.’

‘Impressive,’ I conceded, ‘but if she doesn’t want gold, how are you paying her?’

‘With diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires,’ Aracia replied. ‘They’re warriors, but they’re still women, so they love adornment. For a good diamond necklace, a woman from Akalla will kill anybody -

or anything - that gets in her way.’

‘If the women rule the Isle of Akalla, what are the men doing?’

‘They’re something on the order of house pets, Dahlaine. If I understood what Trenicia told me correctly, the men of the Isle of Akalla have raised indolence to an art form. On Akalla, everything is women’s work.’

‘Even war?’ That startled me.

‘Especially war. The men of Akalla are lazy and timid and generally useless - except as breeding stock.’

I chose not to pursue that particular comment. ‘It just occurs to me that maybe you and I might want to consider taking Queen Trenicia and the horse soldier Ekial with us to the war in Veltan’s Domain,’ I said.

‘They’ll probably be fighting the servants of the Vkgh before much longer, it wouldn’t hurt for them to see what they’ll be coming up against.’

‘You might be right, Dahlaine,’ Aracia agreed. ‘As I recall, the Maags and Trogites weren’t too happy when Zelana finally got around to telling them about some of the peculiarities of the enemy. Maybe you and I should try honesty rather than deception.’

‘What an unnatural thing to suggest, Aracia,’ I joked. ‘I’m shocked at you. Shocked!’

‘Oh, quit!’ she said.

And then we both laughed.

My thunderbolt took me across the lower edge of the Wasteland, and I peered down at the sand and rocks rather closely on the off-chance that I might see the servants of the Vlagh moving toward our young brother’s Domain, but as far as I could tell, the desert below was void of any kind of life.

Page 12

The twin volcanos at the head of the ravine above Lattash were still belching fire as I rode my thunderbolt into Zelana’s Domain, and I was quite certain the eruption would continue for years. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed that perhaps I should have put some limitations on the capabilities of the Dreamers. They were children, after all, and children sometimes get carried away and overly enthusiastic. The only problem I saw with that notion was how. Despite their immaturity, the Dreamers had virtually unlimited power over the forces of nature, and I ruefully conceded that they could quite probably step over any barrier I might have tried to put in their way. My original idea had seemed to be a perfect solution to a serious problem, but perhaps I should have given it just a bit more thought.

I cast out a searching thought and sensed Zelana’s presence about halfway down the north side of the bay, and I directed my thunderbolt to that spot.

Zelana was talking with Red-Beard and Longbow in what appeared to be a village in the final stages of construction some distance down the bay from Lattash. The rounded hills behind that new village had gentler slopes than the steep peaks somewhat to the east of Lattash, there was a patch of woods just to the north of the new village, and a meadow that stretched for miles beyond those woods.

‘Do you have to do that, Dahlaine?’ Zelana demanded peevishly when I suddenly joined them. ‘Isn’t there some way you can muffle that awful noise?’

‘I don’t think so, Zelana. Lightning is the fastest way to travel, but you have to put up with the noise.

Ashad’s been dreaming, and it seems that our speculation came pretty close to the mark. Ashad’s dream confirmed the fact that the creatures of the Wasteland will attack Veltan’s Domain next.’

‘Did your boy’s dream give you any specifics about just where we’ll encounter the servants of the Vlagh?’ the archer Longbow asked.

‘Somewhere in the vicinity of the Falls of Vash,’ I replied. I looked curiously at Zelana. ‘I gather that you’ve changed your mind and decided to help the rest of us defend our Domains,’ I suggested.

‘The Land of Dhrall is all one piece, brother mine. If the Vlagh wins any part of it, we’ll all be in danger.’

I hesitated. ‘Are you feeling better now, dear sister?’ I asked. ‘We were all very worried when you suddenly decided to go home to your grotto.’

‘No, Dahlaine,’ she replied tartly, ‘I’m not feeling better, but Eleria bullied me into coming back out into the world of chaos.’

‘Bullied? She’s just a little girl, Zelana. How could she bully you?’

‘She told me that if I didn’t want to help Veltan, she’d take over and do it herself. Once she takes off that sweet mask she wears all the time, she can be very cruel. She didn’t leave me any choice at all. I think that pearl of hers might have something to do with that.’

‘It’s possible, I suppose,’ I agreed. ‘Those jewels seem to be deeply involved in the children’s dreams.

Ashad has one too, and I think it had something to do with that dream of his.’

‘What sort of jewel is it?’ Zelana asked curiously.

Page 13

‘A black agate. It’s really rather pretty, and Ashad seems quite attached to it.’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a black agate. Where did he find it?’

‘It was in the back of Mama Broken-Tooth’s cave.’

‘Who’s Mama Broken-Tooth?’

‘The she-bear who nursed him when he was a baby.’

‘Wasn’t it a little dangerous to hand your little boy over to a bear?’

I shook my head. ‘Not really,’ I replied. ‘She-bears give birth to their cubs while they’re hibernating, and when they wake up, the cubs are nursing or playing in the cave. They automatically bond with the cubs they nurse, so Ashad wasn’t in any danger. Mama Broken-Tooth had already given birth to her cub Long-Claw when I took Ashad to her cave, and Ashad and Long-Claw think of themselves as brothers.’

I looked around. ‘Where’s Eleria right now?’ I asked quietly.

‘She and Yaltar are out in that meadow just beyond the trees,’ Red-Beard told me. ‘Planter’s looking after them.’

‘Who’s Planter?’

‘She’s the one who teaches the women of the tribe how to grow food,’ Red-Beard explained, ‘and the one the women go to when they have problems. She can be a little blunt sometimes, but she knows what she’s doing.’

‘You’re keeping something from me, aren’t you, Dahlaine?’ Zelana asked pointedly.

‘I was just getting to that, dear sister. Ashad’s dream was fairly specific about the invasion of Veltan’s Domain by the creatures of the Wasteland, but he mentioned a second invasion that won’t come from the Wasteland. It’s going to come from the sea.’

‘That’s ridiculous, Dahlaine,’ Zelana scoffed. ‘Has the Vlagh allied itself with the queen of the fish now?’

‘I’m just passing on what Ashad told me, Zelana. Where’s Veltan? We’d better go tell him what’s afoot.’

‘He’s out in the bay on the Trogite ship of Commander Narasan,’ Red-Beard replied. ‘Longbow can take you out there in his canoe, if you’d like. I’d do it myself, but I’m just a little busy right now.’

‘Is there trouble of some kind?’

‘Sort of. The fire-mountains destroyed Lattash, so the tribe’s busy setting up a new village out here. It might not be as pretty, but it’s safer.’

I looked at the partially-completed lodges near the beach. ‘Those don’t look at all like the ones back in Lattash,’ I observed, ‘but they seem sort of familiar, for some reason.’

‘They should,’ Longbow told me. ‘They’re copies of the lodges up in the north of your Domain.’

Page 14

‘It’s part of a fairly elaborate deception, big brother,’ Zelana said with a faint smile. ‘The men of Chief Red-Beard’s tribe believe that growing food is “women’s work”, and that it’s beneath them. The women needed help in preparing the ground for planting, and Longbow’s chief, Old-Bear, told these two that some tribes in your Domain live in a vast grassland where there aren’t any trees, and they build their lodges out of sod instead of tree branches. The men of Red-Beard’s tribe built the usual lodges out of tree limbs and then sat around loafing and telling each other war stories. But one windy night these two slipped around pulling down the new lodges. When the sun came up, they walked around with sombre faces telling the men of the tribe that tree limbs weren’t sturdy enough for lodges out here, and that they were going to need something more solid. They suggested sod, and the men of the tribe are out in that meadow cutting sod for all they’re worth. The women of the tribe are coming along behind them planting seeds. Red-Beard’s tribe will have nice sturdy lodges and plenty to eat when winter arrives, and nobody was offended.’

‘Clever,’ I said admiringly. Then I frowned. ‘Has something happened to old Chief White-Braid?’ I asked.

‘The destruction of Lattash was more than he could bear,’ Red-Beard explained sadly. ‘He knew that the tribe was going to have to find a new place to live, but he didn’t feel up to doing it himself because his sorrow - or maybe even grief- had disabled him to the point that he couldn’t make decisions any more.

He realized that, so he laid the chore on my shoulders. I didn’t really want any part of it, but he didn’t give me any choice.’

‘You’ll probably do quite well, Chief Red-Beard,’ I told him. ‘I’ve noticed that men who don’t really want authority and responsibility make better leaders than men who yearn for the position. Let’s go talk with our baby brother, Zelana. There are things he needs to know, and I’m not sure how much time he has left.’

Longbow led my sister and me down to the beach where his canoe was resting on the sand. There’s a quality about Zelana’s archer that I find more than a little awesome. He’s a bleak-faced man whose war with the creatures of the Wasteland had begun when he’d been hardly more than a child, and killing the servants of the Vlagh had been his only purpose in life. He was a grim man with very few friends and an almost inhuman level of self-control.

It occurred to me that we might all want to keep this man around. If all went well, we’d turn back the servants of the Vlagh wherever and whenever they attempted to invade our individual Domains, but in all probability, the Vlagh would still be there. Longbow might very well be the answer to that problem. A single venom-tipped arrow would send the creatures of the Wasteland down the road to extinction, and that, of course, was our ultimate goal.

Longbow pulled his canoe down to the water and held it in place while Zelana and I climbed into it, and then he pushed it clear and stepped into the stern all in one motion.

‘I think our baby brother’s on board Narasan’s ship, Longbow,’ Zelana suggested.

‘Probably so,’ Longbow agreed. He paddled us out across the bay to the oversized Trogite ship of Commander Narasan, where the young soldier called Keselo stood waiting for us at the rail. ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked as Longbow smoothly pulled his canoe in alongside the ship.

‘Not really,’ Zelana replied. ‘We just came by to tell our baby brother that it’s time to go to work.’

Page 15

‘Has Eleria been dreaming again?’

‘No, young man,’ I told him. ‘It was my little boy, Ashad, this time, and there were some very peculiar things involved. We’re hoping that Veltan might be able to explain them for us.’ I paused for a moment.

‘Now that I think about it, though, you can probably explain them even better than Veltan. Why don’t you come along?’

‘Of course. Your brother’s back in Commander Narasan’s cabin at the stern.’

‘Is Narasan with him?’ Zelana asked.

‘No, Lady Zelana. The commander’s over on the Seagull conferring with Captain Sorgan.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure that Narasan’s going to be very happy about some of the peculiarities that showed up in Ashad’s dream. Is your commander particularly religious?’

‘Not noticeably,’ Keselo replied. ‘Is that likely to be very significant?’

‘We’ll get to that in just a few minutes. Let’s go talk with Veltan.’

‘All right,’ the young man replied, turning and leading us back toward the ornate, almost house-like structure at the aft end of the ship. He rapped politely on the door.

‘Come in,’ Veltan’s voice came from inside.

Keselo opened the door and stood aside to let us go on in ahead of him.

The cabin was much more ornate than I’d really expected. In some ways it resembled a room in a house rather than part of a ship. The ceiling wasn’t very high, and, since the sailors used the cabin’s roof as a deck, there were substantial beams to keep the ceiling from tumbling down on those who slept there.

There was also a large window across the back of the cabin to give the people inside the cabin something to look at. All in all, I thought the whole thing was just a bit silly, but I decided not to make an issue of that.

Veltan was seated at a large table examining a map. ‘Is something amiss?’

‘Not really,’ I told him. ‘At least not yet. My little boy Ashad had one of those dreams last night, and we were right about one thing, at least. The servants of the Vlagh will be coming your way soon.’

‘Did he tell you exactly when?’

‘ “When” never comes up in these dreams, Veltan,’ I told him. ‘You should know that by now. Now we come to the complicated part. Ashad told me that there was a second invasion in his dream, and those particular invaders had absolutely no connection with the servants of the Vlagh.’

‘Who were they, then?’

‘As closely as I was able to determine, they were Trogites, and they wanted to talk to your people about their gods. How much were you able to discover about somebody called Amar?’

Page 16

‘Not too much, big brother,’ Veltan replied. ‘Narasan has nothing but contempt for the clergy of the Amarite faith.’

‘He’s not alone there, Veltan,’ Keselo said. ‘Anyone in the Trogite Empire with the least bit of decency or intelligence despises the Amarite church. The clergy is corrupt, greedy beyond belief, and totally without honor. It’s common knowledge that the “church” is nothing more than an invention of the priesthood designed to swindle the ordinary people of the empire out of just about everything they own.’

‘That has a familiar ring, doesn’t it?’ Zelana observed. ‘Our dear sister has a priesthood that behaves in much the same way’

I shrugged. ‘It makes her happy, I suppose.’ I looked at Veltan. ‘Where’s the rest of Narasan’s army?’

I asked. ‘If I understood correctly, the men he brought to Lattash were just an advance force.’

‘The bulk of Narasan’s army’s still in the port of Castano on the north shore of the Empire. Why do you ask, big brother?’

‘The second invasion in Ashad’s dream almost bad to involve Trogites, since this “Amar” is a Trogite invention.’

‘That’s true, I suppose,’ Veltan conceded. ‘Where are we going with this, Dahlaine?’

I looked inquiringly at Keselo. ‘I gather that most of the men in Narasan’s army share your feelings about this so-called religion,’ I suggested. ‘Is it at all possible that some of them feel differently, but they’re keeping it to themselves?’

‘Not after what happened in the southern part of the empire last year,’ he replied. ‘We lost twelve cohorts as a direct result of a deception that we tracked back to a high-ranking clergyman in the Amarite church. That’s why Commander Narasan threw his sword away and went into business as a beggar. If any man in the army even suggested that the Amarite church had anything even remotely resembling decency, his comrades would kick the living daylights out of him.’

‘Let’s not dismiss the possibility entirely, Keselo,’ Veltan said with a troubled look on his face. ‘From what I’ve heard, the word “gold” sends the Amarite church into a feeding frenzy, and if I remember correctly, there was some extended discussion of gold in the army compound back in Kaldacin. Just for the sake of argument, let’s say that some soldier in your army happened to visit a tavern in Castano, and the word “gold” came up during a casual conversation, and somebody affiliated with the Amarite Church happened to overhear the conversation. Wouldn’t that sort of explain the second invasion in Ashad’s dream?’

‘It doesn’t really fit,’ Keselo disagreed. ‘The Amarite church might want to come here to the Land of Dhrall to harvest gold and slaves, but they’d need to know exactly how to get through all that floating ice, and Gunda and Padan have the only maps.’

‘That’s true, I suppose,’ Veltan conceded, ‘but Narasan told me that he could field a hundred thousand soldiers. It’d only take one opportunist to blow away any chance of secrecy. I think that’s the answer to the origins of that second invasion in your little boy’s dream, Dahlaine.’

‘It would explain it, I guess,’ I agreed. Then I looked at Keselo again. ‘Just exactly what are “slaves”?’

I asked him. ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that word before.’

Page 17

‘You’ve been very lucky, then. It was a fairly standard custom back in the early days of the Empire for the Imperial armies to capture people of more primitive cultures and then sell them to the landowners of the Empire itself, almost as if they were cattle. Then the landowners would hire men with whips to drive the unfortunates to do the actual farming. The practice fell into disuse a hundred or so years ago, but a few decades back the Church realized the she’d been passing up a wonderful opportunity to make money, so the slavers are back in business again, and at least half of them are members of the clergy.’

Veltan’s face went dead white. ‘If those monsters even come close to the shores of my Domain, I’ll destroy them!’

‘No, Veltan,’ I told him quite firmly, ‘you won’t. Killing anything is absolutely forbidden, and you know it. If you tried something like that, you’d be banished forever, and it wouldn’t be to the moon this time.

You’d spend the rest of eternity in a place of absolute darkness where the only sounds you’d hear would be your own screams of endless despair. I’m sure we’ll be able to find some suitable alternatives, but if you even try to kill anything, I’ll tie you up in a knot so tight that it’ll take you about four cycles just to unlace your fingers from your toes.’

‘So that’s why you people had to rush around hiring armies!’ Keselo exclaimed. ‘I’ve never really understood why you didn’t just obliterate the enemies with a wave of your hand. It was because you’re not permitted to kill anything , isn’t it?’

‘I want you to forget what you just heard, young man,’ I told him firmly. ‘Do you understand me?’

‘Why, yes, I believe I do.’

‘Good.’ I looked over at my brother, ‘You’d better tell Narasan to start moving his fleet, Veltan,’ I suggested. ‘We’ve finished everything here in Zelana’s Domain, so it’s time to move on. Ashad’s dream wasn’t too specific about time. That seems to be one of the characteristics of these dreams. Our Dreamers can give us all kinds of details about what’s going to happen, but “when” always seems a little vague.’

‘Did Ashad happen to mention where the main battle’s likely to take place?’ Veltan asked.

‘He said that it would be in the general vicinity of the Falls of Vash, little brother. He wasn’t too specific, and I didn’t want to push him.’

Veltan winced. ‘That’s very rugged country up there, big brother. I don’t think the Trogites will like the idea of fighting on ground like that.’

‘It can’t be much worse than the ravine above Lattash was, can it?’ Zelana asked.

‘It makes that ravine look like a gentle meadow, sister mine,’ Veltan replied glumly. ‘It wasn’t even there at the end of my last cycle. When I woke up, the man-things of my Domain seemed to be very excited about it. I’m not sure exactly why Vash created the falls, but they are spectacular to look at.

Looking is one thing, but walking around up there’s something entirely different. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Yaltar’s twin volcanos are an outgrowth of what he’d done when his name was Vash. The river that tumbles over the falls originates in a geyser that spouts up about a hundred feet into the air, and that’s got a fairly strong odor of earthquakes and eruptions. There’s a fault line just south of that geyser, and it left a sheer face about two hundred feet high a mile or so downstream from the geyser. With all that water tumbling over the edge, it’s impossible to climb up that cliff, so anybody who wants to get up there has to take a different route.’ Veltan stopped and suddenly snapped his fingers. ‘I should have Page 18

known that this was coming!’ he exclaimed. ‘Last spring Omago told me that some strangers had been asking questions about the Falls of Vash. I had my mind on other things at the time, so I didn’t pursue it.

Evidently, the Vlagh’s been sending scouts out into our Domains for quite a while now.’

‘Who’s Omago?’ Zelana asked.

‘He’s a very solid, dependable fellow with an extensive orchard near my house. He knows more about farming than anybody else in my Domain does, and he’s a very good listener. Other farmers come to him for advice, and they tell him about any unusual things that are happening. Then he passes them onto me.’

‘He’s the chief, then?’ Longbow asked.

‘I wouldn’t go quite that far, Longbow. He gives advice, not orders.’

‘It sort of amounts to the same thing, wouldn’t you say? A good chief does things that way. Only bad chieftains order their men around. Fortunately, they don’t usually last very long.’

‘He’s got a point there, Veltan,’ I agreed. ‘You might want to consider getting word to this Omago fellow. Let him know what’s in the wind, and have him pass the word along. Your people should know that the creatures of the Wasteland are coming, and they need to start getting ready for war.’

‘That’s absurd, Dahlaine,’ Veltan scoffed. ‘My people don’t even know what the word “war” means.

That’s why I had to hire Narasan’s army. Omago can probably make certain that the hired soldiers get plenty to eat, but that’s likely to be his only contribution during the war.’ He smiled faintly. ‘Of course, if we can persuade Ara to do the cooking, we might have some trouble persuading the outlanders to go home after the war’s over.’

‘Who’s Ara?’ Zelana asked.

‘Omago’s wife. She’s a beautiful lady and quite probably the best cook in the world. The smells that come from her kitchen even tempt me sometimes.’

‘Oh, incidentally, Veltan,’ I cut in, ‘Aracia and I’d like to bring the commanders of the armies we’ve been hiring down to your Domain to observe. I’m sure they’ll be coming up against the servants of the Vlagh sometime soon, and it might not be a bad idea for them to see what they’ll encounter.’

‘No problem, big brother,’ Veltan said with an impudent sort of grin. ‘I’ll go tell Narasan and Sorgan that it’s time to go South, and then I’ll have my pet take me home so that I can have a talk with Omago.

For right now, that’s about as far as we can go. Everything’s sort of up in the air at this point, so we might have to make things up as we go along.’

‘What else is new and different?’ I said sourly. ‘Looking back, I’d say that we’ve been doing that since the very beginning.’

‘Of this war, you mean?’ Zelana suggested.

‘I wouldn’t limit it to that, my sister. We’ve been making things up as we went along since the beginning of time, haven’t we?’

‘It makes life much more interesting, big brother,’ she said with an impish sort of grin. ‘Things always seem to get so boring if you know exactly what’s going to happen, don’t they?’

Page 19

I chose not to answer that particular question.

The SouthLand

1

Omago’s father owned the fields and orchards lying just to the north of Veltan’s huge house, and that proximity had made Omago look upon Veltan more as a neighbor than a ruler - or a god. Veltan didn’t make a big issue of his divinity, and so Omago had always felt comfortable in his presence.

As a child, Omago had much preferred working in his father’s orchard rather than in the open fields, mostly because it was shady in the orchard, but in the springtime when the fruit trees bloomed, the beauty of the blossoms almost took his breath away.

He soon discovered that he was not alone in that appreciation. When the fruit trees were in bloom Veltan almost lived in the orchard, and as the two of them came to know each other better, they spent many hours talking. Their discussions were wide-ranging, and almost without realizing it, the boy Omago was receiving an education that went far beyond the tedious business of digging, planting, and harvesting.

Veltan’s Domain here in the South of the Land of Dhrall, for example, was only a part of the entire continent. There were three others that were owned by Veltan’s brother and his two sisters. Veltan’s descriptions of his kin were so amusing that Omago frequently burst out laughing. He found Veltan’s description of the people of the West and North somewhat tantalizing, though. He simply could not imagine a life spent hunting. Some times he’d tried his hand at fishing, but he wasn’t really very good at it, and it seemed that hunting and fishing might be a very chancy sort of thing to depend on if somebody wanted to keep eating regularly. Veltan’s descriptions of the deep primeval forests, noble deer crowned with antlers, and buckskin-clad hunters stirred some longings in young Omago, though. There wasn’t really much in the way of adventure here in the farmland of the South where the primary desire of the inhabitants was stability. Stability was good for farming, but it wasn’t really very exciting.

Veltan didn’t go into too many details about his own peculiarities during those extended springtime conversations, but Omago had already heard about most of them. At first, the stories other farmers passed on had seemed wildly exaggerated to young Omago, but as he came to know Veltan better, he’d been reluctantly forced to accept them. He’d never seen Veltan so much as taste any food, and not once had he even seen him close his eyes.

It was shortly after Omago’s ninth birthday when the question of alternate gods came up. The two of them were sitting in the orchard, and a strong breeze was showering them with a near blizzard of apple-blossom petals.

‘You don’t have to answer this if you’d rather not, Veltan,’ Omago said a bit hesitantly, ‘but old man Enkar told me that you haven’t always been the god of this part of the Land of Dhrall. He said that Page 20

somebody else used to take care of things around here. Is that really true, or was he just making it up to fool me?’

Veltan shrugged. ‘It’s fairly close to what really happens, Omago,’ he replied. ‘It might seem that we never sleep, but that’s not entirely true. We have cycles of sleep and wakefulness, and after we’ve been awake for a long time, we start to get a little fuzzy in our minds. We can’t remember things, and we start behaving just a bit strange. That’s a clear sign that it’s time for us to get some sleep - and it’s just about at that time that the other branch of the family wakes up. Then they take care of things while we sleep.’

‘I guess that makes sense - sort of,’ Omago admitted. ‘How well do you know these cousins of yours?’

‘Cousins?’

‘Cousins are the children of your parents’ brothers and sisters,’ Omago explained. ‘Wasn’t that what you meant when you said “branch of the family”?’

‘It does sort of fit, now that you mention it. I’ll have to remember that.’

‘Do you ever have a chance to talk with them?’

‘I don’t talk in my sleep, Omago. Actually, about the only thing I know about my cousin is his name -

and that’s probably only because there’s a waterfall up in the mountains that’s named after him. You have heard of “the Falls of Vash”, haven’t you?’

‘I’ve heard about them, but I’ve never seen them. Did your cousin make them, maybe?’

‘I couldn’t really say, boy. When I woke up this last time, the people around here didn’t speak any too well, so about all I could get from them was the name.’ Veltan paused and looked speculatively into Omago’s young face. ‘I think maybe that’s about as much as I should tell you for right now. After you’ve had some time to get used to what I’ve told you today, you can come by and ask more questions if you really want to.’

‘It might take a little while,’ Omago admitted. ‘Maybe I should be a little more careful with these questions of mine. The answers are kind of scary.’

‘You’ll get used to them in time, boy. Curiosity’s a good thing, really, but you have to be a little careful when you turn it loose.’

‘I noticed that,’ Omago agreed.

‘I thought I noticed you noticing,’ Veltan said with no hint of a smile.

As Omago matured, the local farmers became aware of his familiarity with Veltan, and they thought that it might just be sort of convenient. It was much easier for them to look Omago up and tell him about things than it would be to go up to Veltan’s house on the hill and tell him in person. Veltan didn’t really wave his divinity around, but still—

In time, it became almost like a tradition. During the course of almost every day, two or three local farmers would approach Omago and tell him things they thought Veltan should know about, and as Page 21

evening approached, Omago would trudge up the hill to Veltan’s peculiar house and pass those things on to the local god.

Omago didn’t really think of Veltan as a god. It seemed that he was more a friend than some distant divinity. In time, he even came to enjey those daily conversations. It was a rather nice way to conclude each day, and he’d stop by Veltan’s house every evening, even when he had nothing to report.

The seasons turned in their stately march, and it seemed to Omago that the farmland near Veltan’s grand house moved in rhythm with those seasons. He’d heard that there were towns and villages farther to the south, but it had always seemed to him that cramming people together all in one place was just a bit ridiculous. His father’s farm covered many acres of land spread out over the gently rolling hills, and every crop had its proper place - wheat to the west and south, vegetables to the north, and the orchard close in just to the east of the well-shaded house. Some of the neighboring farmers seemed to think that shade-trees were just a waste of time and space - up until about midsummer, when it turned hot and the sun beat down on them.

The houses stood far apart in this region, each of the thatch-roofed homes standing in the approximate center of each farmer’s land. That seemed most practical to Omago. Daylight was a time for work, not for walking.

By the time he’d reached his twenty-first birthday, Omago had come to know all the local farmers very well, and he passed his assessments on to Veltan along with whatever those farmers had told him.

‘I wouldn’t really take anything Selga comes up with too seriously, Veltan,’ he said one evening.

‘Oh?’

‘Selga’s got a sort of a problem. He isn’t very tall, and people tend to overlook him. He really wants to be noticed, so he comes by almost every day to tell me about something - anything - that he wants me to pass on to you. All I have to do to make him feel good is to pretend that I think what he just said was terribly important and that I’ll pass it on to you the first chance I get, and assure him that I’ll tell you that he was the one who brought it to my attention.’

‘That’s sad,’ Veltan sighed.

Omago shrugged. ‘Everybody’s got problems of some kind, Veltan. It’s nothing to get all weepy about.

People come, and then they go. You know that, don’t you?’

‘You can be a very cruel person sometimes, Omago.’

‘I don’t make the rules, Veltan. All I do is follow them.’

‘How’s your father been lately?’

That startled Omago. No matter how hard he tried to conceal things from Veltan, his friend always saw right through him. ‘He’s not getting any better, I’m afraid,’ he replied sadly. ‘Sometimes he can’t even remember his own name. He keeps asking for mother, though. I don’t think he remembers that she died last year.’

‘I’m sorry, Omago,’ Veltan said with great sincerity. ‘I wish there was something I could do to help him.’

Page 22

‘I don’t really think you should, Veltan. I think father’s getting very tired, and if we keep him here, it’ll just make him more sad. Why don’t we just let him go? I think that might be the kindest thing we can do for him.’

The following spring Omago was in his orchard when a vibrant woman’s voice came from just behind him. ‘Why are you doing that?’

Omago, startled, spun around quickly.

‘I’m sorry,’ the woman apologized. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you. Why are you picking all those little green apples?’ She was quite tall, she had long, dark auburn hair, soft green eyes, and she wore a blue linen dress.

Omago smiled. ‘Apple trees always seem to get carried away in the spring,’ he explained. ‘They want to have lots and lots of puppies. If I don’t thin out the baby apples in the spring, there won’t be any of them much bigger than acorns when they ripen. I’ve tried to explain that to my trees, but they just won’t listen.

It’s awfully hard to get a tree’s attention, particularly in the spring-time.’

‘You’re Omago, aren’t you?’

‘That’s what they call me.’

‘You’re quite a bit younger than I thought you’d be. You are the same Omago people come to when they want to let Veltan know what’s happening, aren’t you?’

Omago nodded. ‘Was there something you wanted me to tell him?’

‘Not right now, no. I just wanted to be sure that I’d recognize you in case something came up that I needed to let him know about.’

‘You could always go on up to his house and tell him yourself, you know.’

‘Maybe, but people tell me that he’d rather hear you tell him these things. How did you get to know him so well?’

‘He used to come here to this orchard when the trees were blooming. An orchard in bloom is prettier than any flower-garden. This was my father’s orchard back then, and I was only a little boy. Veltan and I used to talk for hours and hours, so I probably know him better than anybody else around here. That’s most likely why the local farmers decided to use me as their messenger boy. You don’t live around here, do you?’

She shook her head. ‘No. I live quite a ways away. I was very sorry to hear that your father died recently.’

Omago shrugged. ‘It didn’t really come as a surprise. His health hadn’t been too good for the past several years.’

‘You’re busy,’ she said, ‘and I’m just underfoot. It was nice meeting you.’ She turned to walk away.

Page 23

‘What’s your name?’ he called after her.

‘Ara,’ she replied back over her shoulder.

For some reason, Omago couldn’t get the strange girl out of his mind. He realized that he didn’t know very much about her. She hadn’t even volunteered to tell him her name until he’d come right out and asked her.

She was obviously several years younger than he was, but her manner of speaking was hardly adolescent. She’d managed to get a great deal of information from him, but she hadn’t given him very much in return.

He tried to just shrug her off, but the memory of their brief conversation kept coming back, and it wasn’t only the conversation. She was far and away the prettiest girl he’d ever met. Her lush auburn hair reminded him of autumn, and the memory of her vibrant voice sang in his ears. He felt an almost desperate need to find out more about her.

It was spring, and there were all kinds of things he should be doing right now, but he just couldn’t keep his mind on his work.

‘I can’t seem to think about anything else, Veltan,’ he confessed a few days later.

Veltan smiled. ‘Is she still in the general vicinity?’ he asked.

‘That’s what people tell me,’ Omago replied. ‘I haven’t seen her myself, but several other farmers have.

They all tell me that she’s been asking a lot of questions - most of them about me. You don’t suppose she’ll just turn around and go on back home again, do you? She didn’t even tell me the name of the village where she lives. How in the world am I ever going to find her again?’

‘I wouldn’t really worry too much about that, Omago. She isn’t going anywhere.’

‘How do you know that for sure?’

Veltan grinned broadly, but he didn’t answer.

‘I think its time for us to do something about this, Omago,’ that vibrant voice said quite firmly.

Omago dropped his hoe and spun around. ‘Where have you been , Ara?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’

‘Yes, I know. Neither one of us is going to get anything done until we settle this. My name is Ara, I’m sixteen years old, and I want you.’

Omago almost choked. ‘Is everybody in your village this blunt, Ara?’ he asked her.

‘Probably not,’ she replied, ‘but I hate to waste time. Are you interested?’

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‘I can’t really think about anything else,’ he confessed.

‘Good. Is there anything we have to go through before I come to live with you?’

‘I’m not really sure. I’ve never been very curious about this sort of thing before.’

‘That’s nice,’ she said with a sly little smile. ‘Let’s go talk with Veltan. If there’s supposed to be a ceremony of some kind, let’s get it out of the way. I’ll need some time to prepare supper for you.’

And so it was that Omago and Ara were wed that spring, and Omago’s life wasn’t ever the same after that. He never actually found out very much about her, but as the seasons passed that became less and less relevant. The wonderful smells coming from her kitchen seemed to put his curiosity to sleep, but they definitely woke up his appetite.

2

It was on a blustery spring night about ten years after the joining of Omago and Ara when Veltan came to the door. It seemed to Omago that his friend was almost in a state of panic. ‘I need help,’ he said desperately.

‘What’s the problem?’ Omago asked.

‘This is,’ Veltan replied, holding out a fur-wrapped bundle. ‘My big brother came by and foisted this off on me, and I haven’t the faintest idea of what I’m supposed to do about it.’ He turned back a corner of the robe to reveal a very small infant. ‘I think he’s going to need food, and I don’t know the first thing about that.’

Ara firmly took the baby away from the distraught god and cuddled it to her. ‘I’ll take care of him, Veltan,’ she told him.

‘He doesn’t seem to have any teeth, Ara,’ Veltan said. ‘How can he eat without teeth?’

‘I’ll take care of him,’ she said again. ‘There are several women nearby who are nursing. I’m sure I can persuade them to feed your little boy.’

‘Nursing?’ Veltan asked curiously. ‘What’s nursing?’

‘Oh, dear,’ Ara said, rolling her eyes upward. ‘Just go back home, Veltan. I’ll see to everything.’

‘Are they always this small?’ Veltan asked. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen one at this stage before.’

‘Just go home, dear Veltan. Everything will be just fine.’

‘I feel like such an idiot,’ Veltan confessed. ‘My brother knocked on my door, told me that this little boy Page 25

would be one of the Dreamers, and then he left without saying very much more. I’ve never really paid much attention to infants, so I don’t know the first thing about them. He will grow some teeth before very much longer, won’t he?’

‘He’ll be just fine, Veltan. Go home - now .’ Ara imperiously pointed at the door.

Omago didn’t get too much sleep for the next month or so. Babies tend to be very noisy, he discovered, and Veltan seemed to be underfoot every time Omago turned around. It occurred to him that it was probably time to add a room to his cottage - or maybe two or three. He began mixing clay and straw to make the sun-dried bricks that were customary here in Veltan’s Domain. He realized that he was going to have to extend the roof, but that wouldn’t be too much of a problem. He had fairly extensive wheat fields to the west and south of his orchard, so he’d have plenty of straw for thatching after harvest-time.

Veltan conferred with Ara, and between them they decided that Yaltar might be an appropriate name for the young Dreamer. Omago wasn’t really sure just exactly where the term ‘Dreamer’ had originated, but he had too many other things on his mind just then to sit around brooding about it.

Yaltar began toddling about Omago’s cottage when he was not even a year old, but he didn’t talk yet. It took Ara quite some time to explain this to Veltan. ‘Learning how to speak is probably the most important thing a baby does during his first few years,’ she told him.

‘I thought it was just there,’ Veltan protested. ‘Are you saying that every baby in the world has to learn how to talk?’

‘I’ve never heard of one who was born talking,’ Ara replied.

‘Birds seem to know how to peep and chirp without much help.’

‘The language of people is a little more complicated, dear Veltan,’ Ara reminded him. ‘I don’t think people could explain very much with peeps and chirps, do you?’

‘Well—’ Veltan seemed to be having a lot of problems with his little boy. ‘I don’t know why Dahlaine had to hand Yaltar to me before the boy could even function.’

‘Look upon it as a learning experience, Veltan. You’ll understand people much better after you’ve raised Yaltar from early childhood.’ Ara smiled slyly. ‘Won’t that be fun?’ she asked him.

‘I’m not having all that much fun right now.’

‘That’ll probably come later, dear Veltan. I wouldn’t hold my breath, though.’

When Yaltar was about three years old, Veltan began to take him up the hill to his stone house for several hours each day, but he still depended upon Ara to keep him clean and prepare the little boy’s meals.

‘Is it really necessary for him to eat so often?’ Veltan asked Omago’s wife one evening.

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‘You eat light, don’t you?’ Ara asked him.

‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly say “eat”, Ara,’ Veltan replied.

‘All right, let’s say “absorb”, then. The sun’s up there in the sky for a good part of every day, so you’re soaking up light for much, much longer than Yaltar spends eating, aren’t you?’

‘I guess I hadn’t really thought of it that way,’ Veltan admitted.

‘You might want to consider cutting down on that, dear Veltan. If you keep absorbing light for so much of every day, you’ll start to get fat, and I don’t think the people of your Domain would like that very much. Nobody would take a fat god very seriously, you know.’

Veltan frowned slightly, and he absently ran his hand across his abdomen.

‘I’m just teasing, dear Veltan,’ Ara told him with a fond sort of smile. ‘If you start getting a bit portly, just stay out of direct sunlight for a little while.’ She glanced at Yaltar, who was vigorously concentrating on his supper. ‘Has he had any dreams yet?’ she asked very quietly.

‘Not that he’s mentioned,’ Veltan said. Then he gave Ara a startled look. ‘How did you know about that?’

‘The old stories are still out there, dear Veltan, and old men are very fond of telling old stories. The old men of my village could go on and on about the Dreamers for hours on end. If their stories came anywhere close to what’s really happening, Yaltar should start dreaming before much longer, and that’ll be a sure sign that there’s trouble in the wind. You might want to have a talk with your big brother about that. When Yaltar does start having those significant dreams, I don’t think you should make a big fuss about it. Don’t alarm the boy. If you frighten him, he might have trouble sleeping, and if he doesn’t sleep, he won’t dream. You don’t want that to happen, do you?’

‘Not even a little bit,’ Veltan agreed. ‘You’re very, very good at this sort of thing, aren’t you?’

‘It’s a gift,’ she replied. And then she laughed for no reason that Omago could see.

As the seasons progressed, Yaltar spent more and more of his time with Veltan in the house on the hill, and Ara took to carrying the little boy’s meals up the hill to Veltan’s house.

‘You miss him, don’t you, Ara?’ Omago asked her.

‘Sort of. He’s doing what he’s supposed to be doing, though, so I won’t interfere. What would you like for supper this evening, Omago?’

‘Anything you want to cook, dear,’ Omago replied. ‘Surprise me.’ He grinned at her.

‘Very funny, Omago,’ she said tartly.

It was not long after Yaltar’s sixth birthday when Veltan stopped by one morning to tell Omago and Ara that he’d be gone for several weeks on a matter of some importance.

Page 27

‘Go ahead, Veltan,’ Omago said. ‘We’ll take care of Yaltar while you’re gone.’

‘I knew that I could depend on you two,’ Veltan said. And then he left rather hurriedly.

Ara frowned, but she didn’t say anything.

Nanton was a tall, bearded shepherd who had a large flock that grazed in the meadow above the Falls of Vash. Nanton seldom came down to the farmlands, since the voracious appetite of his sheep made the local farmers very nervous.

‘They’re asking a lot of questions that don’t seem to have anything to do with what they’re supposed to be interested in, Omago,’ Nanton reported in his quiet voice. ‘They claim to be traders from Aracia’s Domain, but as far as I could see, they didn’t have anything with them for trades.’

‘Why would traders be wandering around up in the hills?’ Omago asked with a puzzled frown.

‘Exactly. The only people up there are shepherds like me, and we certainly don’t need any of those trinkets the traders from the East keep trying to foist off on silly farmers and their wives. There’s something else, too.’

‘Oh?’

‘They don’t really look like real people. They’re very short, and they all wear grey clothes - with hoods that cover most of their faces - and they mumble.’

‘Mumble?’

‘They don’t speak clearly, and they all seem to have some kind of lisp.’

‘Peculiar. You said that they were asking questions. What sort of questions?’

‘They wanted to know how many people live in the vicinity of the Falls of Vash. I didn’t really think that was any of their business, so I lied to them.’

‘Nanton!’ Omago exclaimed.

‘Grow up, Omago,’ Nanton said. ‘I was catching a strong smell of “unfriendly”, so I gave them something to worry about. I told them that there were thousands of us wandering around in those hills, and that we are all armed. I was going to give them a quick demonstration with my sling, but I decided to keep it out of sight. If my nose was right about “unfriendly”, the less they know about us, the better.’

‘You could be right, I suppose. Did they ask you any other questions?’

‘None that made very much sense. For some reason, they seemed to think that our Veltan and his sister Zelana hated each other, and that there was a perpetual war going on between her people and us. The answer I gave them was just about as vague as I could make it. I told them that over the years I’ve killed dozens of enemies. Of course, I sort of glossed over the fact that the enemies I’ve killed were wolves, not people, so I think they swallowed it whole. Is Veltan going to be gone for much longer?’

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‘I don’t know for certain, Nanton. He wasn’t too specific when he left.’ Omago frowned. ‘Where’s your flock right now?’

‘Up in the hill-country. My nephew’s watching over them while I’m gone.’

‘You won’t be going back up into the mountains with your sheep very soon, will you?’

‘Not until the snow melts off and I’ve got them sheared. My flock produced a lot of wool this past winter.’

‘Good. You usually graze your flock up near the Falls of Vash, don’t you?’

‘Almost always. There’s good grass up there and plenty of water.’

‘Keep an eye out for these strangers, will you? And if they come back again, I’d really appreciate it if you’d send your nephew down here to tell me about it. This is something that Veltan should really know about.’

‘I’ll take care of it, Omago.’ Nanton hitched up his belt. ‘I’d better get on back to my flock,’ he said.

‘There’s a young shepherdess near where my flock’s grazing, and my nephew’s breaking out in that sort of rash, so he’s not paying much attention to the flock.’

‘That’s been going around quite a bit here lately,’ Omago said with no hint of a smile.

‘I think spring has a lot to do with it, and spring isn’t really all that far away.’ Nanton shrugged. ‘It helps to increase the flock, I guess.’

‘Are we talking about people or sheep?’

‘Both flocks, probably. As long as there’s good grazing, it doesn’t really hurt anything, I guess. Babies are almost as pretty as lambs, and once they grow up, we can put them to work. Have a nice day, Omago.’ And then he turned and walked away.

‘I think you’d better tell Veltan about them, Omago,’ the little flax-farmer Selga suggested a week or so later. ‘They don’t really belong around here, and they talk sort of strange.’

‘Oh?’ Omago said. ‘Just exactly what do you mean by “strange”, Selga?’

‘It sort of sounded to me like their teeth were getting in the way of their tongues. I think people call it lisping. Anyway, they’re awfully short. I’m not very tall myself, but their heads didn’t even come up as high as my shoulder, and those grey, hooded smocks they wore weren’t made of linen or wool. It was something else entirely. They were asking all kinds of odd questions, but I saw right off that it wasn’t any of their business, so I didn’t give them any straight answers. You might want to tell Veltan about that. If these dinky little strangers are planning to give us trouble, they didn’t get much help from me.’

‘I’m sure he’ll appreciate that, Selga. Were you able to find out which direction they came from?’

‘As close as I could tell, they came down from out of the mountains near the Falls of Vash. If I happen to come across any more of them, I’ll ask them about that. Tell Veltan that I’m keeping my eyes open, Page 29

and I’ll find out as much as I can about them.’

‘I’m sure he’ll appreciate that, Selga.’

Omago was certain that Veltan should be aware of these strangers, so before supper that evening he went up through the twilight to Veltan’s house to have a word with Yaltar. He went on in, climbed the stone stairway, and rapped on the little boy’s door. ‘It’s only me, Yaltar,’ he called.

Yaltar opened the door. ‘Come inside, Omago,’ he said.

‘Do you have any idea of when he’s coming home?’ Omago asked, looking with a certain disapproval at the boy’s cluttered room and unmade bed.

‘He didn’t say for sure, Omago,’ the boy replied. ‘I guess there are some things going on that need his attention.’

‘As soon as he comes home, tell him that I need to talk with him, Yaltar,’ Omago told the little boy.

‘Some peculiar things have been happening here lately, and I think he should know about them.’

‘I’ll be sure to tell him, Omago,’ the boy replied, fingering the peculiar-looking stone he had hanging on a leather thong around his neck like a pendant.

‘How did you manage to come by that opal, Yaltar?’ Omago asked.

‘I found it just outside the front door,’ Yaltar replied. ‘Isn’t it pretty?’

‘Beautiful,’ Omago agreed. ‘It’s a bit peculiar that you found it, though. As far as I know, there aren’t any opals around here.’

‘Maybe it was wandering around and got lost - or maybe it started feeling lonesome.’

‘Rocks almost never get lonesome, Yaltar. Ara’s cooking supper right now. Come along, and we’ll go eat.’

‘That sounds like a great idea, Omago.’

Veltan came home a week or so later, and he stopped by Omago’s house quite early one morning.

‘Yaltar said that you wanted to tell me something,’ he said. ‘He seemed to think it might be important.’

‘It could be,’ Omago replied and he repeated what Nanton and Selga had told him about the strangers and their questions.

‘I have to go talk with my brother,’ Veltan said. ‘Keep your ears open, and let me know about any more visits when I come back.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Omago promised.

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The spring thaw that year produced a near disaster. The snow pack in the mountains had been much deeper than was usual, and the spring wind that melted off the snow each year wasn’t just warm; it seemed even hot. All the streams coming down out of the mountains overran their banks overnight, and then the floods began. To make things even worse, Veltan and Yaltar were away, so Veltan wasn’t there to control the floods, and the farmers couldn’t do anything except wring their hands as they watched the flood engulf their fields.

The shepherds who customarily grazed their flocks in the region to the west of the Falls of Vash began to bring word of some serious trouble in the Domain of Veltan’s sister Zelana, but the messages were sorely lacking in details.

As the flood began to subside, a few more shepherds stopped by, but their stories about events in Zelana’s Domain were so lurid that Omago viewed them with profound skepticism.

And then one night after the apple trees had begun to bloom, a clap of thunder woke Omago out of a sound sleep.

‘Veltan’s back, love,’ Ara told him. ‘I think we’d better go on up to his house. He’ll be able to tell us what’s really going on in his sister’s Domain.’

‘You’re probably right, Ara,’ Omago agreed. ‘The wild stories we’ve been hearing are starting to make me a little cross.’

‘I’ll go with you, dear heart,’ Ara said briskly. ‘I’m just as curious as you are.’

That struck Omago as a bit strange, but he let it pass.

They rose from their bed, dressed themselves and went on up the hill in the warm spring darkness.

When they reached the house, Veltan was standing in the doorway. ‘I was hoping that you’d stop by,’ he said. ‘Please come in. I have a great deal to tell you, and I don’t have much time.’

‘I’m glad you came home, Veltan,’ Omago said as he and Ara followed Veltan up the stairs to the room where Yaltar spent most of his time. ‘The shepherds up near the border of your sister’s Domain have been telling me all sorts of wild stories, and I’d like to know what’s really going on up there.’

‘You might want to know, Omago,’ Veltan said bleakly, ‘but I don’t think you’re going to like it very much.’

They went into the cluttered room, and Ara looked around. ‘Where’s Yaltar?’ she asked.

‘He’s presently in the care of my sister,’ Veltan replied. ‘I don’t think he’s quite ready to ride my pet just yet.’

‘Good thinking,’ Ara replied.

‘All right, then,’ Veltan said, ‘as it turns out, Yaltar is indeed one of the Dreamers, and his dream gave us a glimpse of the future. The creatures of the Wasteland have invaded Zelana’s Domain, but Yaltar’s dream gave us time to make some preparations. Zelana went off to the west and hired an army of Maag pirates to fight the war in her Domain, and I went south and hired some professional soldiers to help us Page 31

defend this part of the Land of Dhrall. I took an advance party of Trogite soldiers up to Zelana’s Domain to lend her a hand.’

‘Some of the shepherds told me about that,’ Omago said. ‘I thought they were just making it up.’

‘No, Omago, it’s really true. The outlanders are more advanced than we are, and their weapons are made of iron - or bronze in some cases. All of the tools and weapons here in the Land of Dhrall are made of stone or animal bones, but metal weapons are much better.’ Veltan took a knife out from under his belt and handed it to Omago. ‘That’s an iron knife, and I’m sure you can see how much stronger it is than flint or bone could ever be.’

Omago took the peculiar-looking knife and carefully rubbed his thumb across the edge. ‘Extremely sharp, isn’t it?’ he observed.

‘Indeed it is,’ Veltan agreed. ‘Did the flood do much damage down here?’

‘It could have been worse, I suppose,’ Omago reported. ‘A fair number of people lost their houses, and I’ve heard that quite a few on to the south of here were drowned. It’s subsiding now, so I should be able to get some more accurate numbers before too much longer.’

‘The flood was a bit extreme, perhaps, but it was necessary. The bug-like creatures that serve the Vlagh were invading my sister’s Domain, and Zelana’s Dreamer conjured up that flood to stop them until our hired armies were ready to meet them. The flood drowned thousands of them, and the Vlagh had to send new forces out of the Wasteland. The enemy force was using a ravine as their invasion route, and our forces have managed to block it off. We can’t really be sure how long the enemy forces will keep trying to break through. They aren’t really very bright, but sooner or later, I think they’ll give up and change direction. If they come South, we’ll have to be ready to meet them - probably up near the Falls of Vash.’

‘Do you think your hired army will have enough time to get here before we’re overrun?’ Omago asked.

‘I’m sure they will. They have large ships, so they’ll come by sea rather than marching overland. I’m going to try to persuade my sister to send some help as well. Her people are hunters, and they’re excellent archers. The commander of the army I hired is a brilliant strategist, and once he gets his people in place, it’s not very likely that our enemy’s going to be able to get past him.’

‘I don’t think we’ll be of much help, Veltan,’ Omago said dubiously. ‘We should be able to provide food for your outlanders, but we don’t even have anything resembling weapons. The shepherds use slings to protect their flocks from wolves, but other than that—’ Omago left it up in the air.

‘We’ll see, Omago. Talk with the other farmers and see how they feel about this. I think the most important thing right now is to start gathering up supplies. The Trogite army I hired has about a hundred thousand men, so we’ll need a lot of food.’

‘I’ll pass the word along, Veltan, and we’ll get started.’

‘I knew I could count on you,’ Veltan replied. ‘I think I’d better get on back. I wanted to warn you about what’s probably coming, but for right now, the war’s going on in Zelana’s Domain, so I want to be there in case she needs me.’

Omago had a growing sense of apprehension. Nothing in his background had anything to do with war, so he didn’t have the faintest idea of what to expect.

Page 32

‘Don’t worry so much, dear heart,’ Ara told him as they went on back down the hill. ‘Just do the best you can and let Veltan do the worrying.’

‘For the moment, helping him worry is about the only thing I can manage, Ara,’ Omago replied glumly.

3

The metal knife Veltan had given Omago opened some enormous possibilities for him. He immediately saw dozens of ways to improve common tools, but that would probably come later. For the moment he felt obliged to concentrate on weapons. As nearly as he was able to determine, a weapon should serve two functions - hurt your enemy, and prevent your enemy from hurting you.

The metal knife could probably damage any enemy who came too close, but if the enemy had weapons of his own, things might start to get a little sticky.

‘I wish this thing had a longer handle,’ he muttered. Then he suddenly felt just a little foolish. Many of his own tools - particularly in his orchard - consisted of long poles with a cross-piece firmly attached so that he could pull the branches of his fruit trees down and pick the fruit without climbing up the tree. The longer handle he needed was right there in his tool shed.

As a sort of experiment, Omago removed the crosspiece from one of his harvest poles and firmly lashed the knife to the tip. The pole stopped being a tool at that point and became what might be called a weapon. Omago tried a few practice jabs with his modified pole, and it seemed that it definitely had some potential. If his enemy came running at him, a jab in the belly or the face with that sharp knife would most likely hurt the enemy, and it might even kill him. Not only that, the length of the pole would keep his enemy from getting anywhere at all close to him.

‘Well, now,’ he murmured. ‘Isn’t that interesting?’

The notion of deliberately hurting people was completely alien to the farmers of Veltan’s Domain, but if the stories Omago had been hearing lately came anywhere near to the truth, the approaching enemies were not people. A few of them might look like people, but that was probably just a hoax. The term that had sort of drifted down from Zelana’s Domain had been ‘bug-men’, and that might be very useful. If Omago stressed the word ‘bug’ when describing their enemies, the local farmers wouldn’t feel at all guilty about exterminating them. On occasion, swarms of locusts had attacked the fields, and the local farmers had found that grass fires were a fairly effective way to deal with them. It occurred to Omago that the word ‘bug’ might be even more useful than metal weapons. Farmers start feeling belligerent every time they hear that word.

All sorts of possibilities were coming to the surface and Omago went home to supper filled with enthusiasm.

‘What are you grinning about, Omago?’ Ara asked as he sat down at the table.

Page 33

‘I don’t think we farmers are going to be quite as helpless as Veltan seems to believe. Turning tools into weapons isn’t nearly as difficult as I thought it might be, and I think I’ve stumbled across the solution to a much bigger problem.’

‘Oh?’

‘Farmers will go to any lengths to protect their fields from bugs, and if I understood what Veltan was telling us about these invaders correctly, they’re at least part bug. All I’ll have to do is stand on a hill and shout “Bug!” As soon as they hear that word, every farmer in Veltan’s Domain will come running to help me stamp them out.’

‘That’s very interesting, dear heart,’ she said. ‘Now eat your supper before it gets cold.’

Omago sent word to several of his friends, and that evening they came across the fields to his house. He took them out to his tool shed and showed them his improvised weapon. They all seemed quite interested.

‘Do you think Veltan could get any more of these knives for us, Veltan?’ the bulky wheat-farmer Benkar asked. ‘If we all had metal knives like that one of yours, we could tie them to poles like you did, and then we could lend the outlanders a hand when those bug-men come down out of the mountains.’

‘I’m not all that sure, Benkar,’ Omago said a bit dubiously. ‘The outlanders might not want us getting in their way when the fights start, and I don’t really have any idea of just how valuable this knife really is.’

‘It’s something to think about, Omago,’ the bearded shepherd Nanton said. ‘If all of you farmers had sharp poles like that one you’ve got, you could slow the bug-men down, and then me and my shepherds could rain rocks on them with our slings. Not very many of them would come out of a meeting like that alive. Some of the stories that came down from Zelana’s Domain suggested that the outlanders sort of looked down their noses at her people - right up until her bow-and-arrow men started killing bug-people by the hundreds.’

‘If somebody tries to look down his nose at me, I’ll knock his teeth out!’ the small farmer Selga flared.

‘We’d have to practice for a while,’ the farmer Eknor said.

‘How can we practice if Omago’s got the only iron knife in the whole of Veltan’s Domain?’ Benkar demanded.

‘It’s the pole that does most of the work, Benkar,’ Eknor said. ‘We can practice jabbing with just the poles. Then when the outlanders get here, they can give us knives to tie to the end of the poles and we’ll be ready to go to work. It won’t really be too much different from what we do when we harvest wheat.

All we have to do is walk side by side in a straight line - harvesting bug-men instead of wheat.’

Omago managed to conceal his grin. This was turning out even better than he’d hoped it would. The word ‘bug’ had brought all the local farmers to his side almost immediately, and they were obviously feeling very belligerent. It was entirely possible that they weren’t nearly as helpless as Veltan seemed to believe they were. Nanton and Eknor had responded to the threat exactly as Omago had hoped they would. Things were definitely looking up.

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As the days passed, Omago’s ‘bug-men’ warning brought more and more farmers and shepherds in from the surrounding territory to join the impromptu army. Eknor instructed the farmers in the business of holding their still-harmless poles steadily out to the front and keeping their lines straight while Nanton gave the shepherds extensive training in the art of hitting targets with their sling-thrown rocks at increasingly longer distances.

They’d been at it for more than two weeks when on a sunny afternoon a crash of thunder shook the ground and Veltan was there. ‘What are we doing here, Omago?’ he asked.

‘It sort of came to me that my knife needed a longer handle,’ Omago explained, ‘so I tied it to a long pole, and it started to look more like a weapon than just a tool. The other farmers thought that was very interesting, and we’re hoping that the outlanders might give us more of these knives.’ He looked around to make sure that none of the other farmers were close enough to hear him. ‘I cheated just a little,’ he said quietly. ‘After you told me that our enemies were part bug, I started calling them “bug-men”.

Farmers get very belligerent when somebody says “bug”, and when word got out, they all came running to join the fight. Then Nanton and the shepherds joined us with their slings. I think the outlanders might be a little surprised when they find out that we’re not quite as helpless as they might have thought we were.’

‘Very good, Omago,’ Veltan said. ‘As soon as Rabbit gets here, I think I’ll be able to persuade him to make regular spear-points for our farmers. They work better than just tying a knife to the end of a pole.’

‘Who’s Rabbit?’

‘He’s a little Maag who works with metal. Once your men have metal spear-points - and venom - I don’t think any of the enemies will be able to get past you.’

‘What’s venom?’

‘Poison. The creatures of the Wasteland are part snake, and their fangs are venomous. Up in my sister Zelana’s Domain, all her hired soldiers dipped the points of their weapons in that venom. It killed hundreds of the servants of the Vlagh. Anyway, Dahlaine’s Dreamer, Ashad, had one of “those” dreams, and the enemies are definitely coming this way. I don’t think we need to worry much, though. The outlanders will almost certainly be here in time to help us hold off our enemies.’

‘I hope so,’ Omago said. ‘The farmers and shepherds here are getting better, but I don’t think we’re quite ready to fight this war all by ourselves.’

‘We’ll see, Omago,’ Veltan said. ‘I’ll go see if I can hurry the Maags along.’

Now that the planting was done, more and more farmers were drifting in, drawn by the stories that had been going around. As Omago was fairly certain would be the case, the visiting farmers were all extremely curious about the iron knife Veltan had given him, and terribly disappointed when he couldn’t tell them where they could find what Veltan had called ‘metal’. Quite a few of them just turned around and went home at that point, but enough of them remained to expand Omago’s growing army. Training the newcomers was very tedious, but Omago was fairly sure that it’d be worth the trouble, so he stuck with it for the next several weeks.

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Then, early one morning, the familiar crash of thunder announced that Veltan had come home again.

Omago dressed himself, and then he and Ara went up the hill to Veltan’s oversized house to ask him how the war in the West had turned out.

‘Everything turned out even better than we’d expected,’ Veltan told them. ‘We lost the village of Lattash, unfortunately, but I guess that was a small price to pay for our victory. The Maags and Trogites are coming here to help us now. If things turn out as well here in the South as they did in the West, we’ll win this war too, and that might persuade the creatures of the Wasteland to go back where they came from.’

‘Wishful thinking, dear Veltan,’ Ara said. ‘Bugs aren’t really that clever.’

‘When do you think the outlanders will get here?’ Omago asked. He wasn’t very comfortable with the notion of having alien helpers in the upcoming war.

‘Probably within the next day or so,’ Veltan replied. ‘Zelana’s been tampering a bit, so the winds are being very cooperative.’ He frowned slightly. ‘You might want to warn the womenfolk, Ara. Narasan has his soldiers pretty well under control, but Sorgan’s Maags are sort of rowdy, and they get ideas when they see young women.’

‘I’ll pass that along,’ Ara promised.

‘How long do you think it’s going to take for us to get our hands on more of these metal knives?’

Omago asked.

‘We’ll talk with Rabbit as soon as he arrives,’ Veltan replied. ‘Don’t lock the notion of “knife” in stone, though. I’ve noticed that Rabbit can be very creative. If you tell him what you want the weapon to do, he’ll come up with the best form to get the job done. The metal arrowheads he made for Longbow and the other archers were much more advanced than the flint ones they’d used in the past.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Omago said.

4

Did you want me to take my men on down to the beach before the outlanders arrive tomorrow, Veltan?’

Omago asked just a bit dubiously.

‘I gather that you’re not very enthusiastic about it,’ Veltan observed.

‘Well, not really,’ Omago conceded. ‘These strangers are professionals, and when you get right down to it, my men are still stumbling quite a bit. The outlanders might laugh when they see us pretending to be soldiers, and I’d probably lose half of my men right then and there. Wouldn’t it be better if you had a chance to talk this over with the strangers first?’

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‘I see your point, Omago. All right, then. You and I’ll go down to the beach by ourselves.’

‘Ara wants to go, too. She hasn’t seen Yaltar for quite some time, and she misses him.’

‘Good idea. I want her to meet my sister anyway.’

‘When do you think we should leave?’

‘After you’ve had breakfast should be soon enough. Zelana advised me that the fleet won’t arrive until about mid-morning, and it’s only about two miles to the beach.’ Veltan squinted for a moment. ‘Now that I’ve had some time to think my way through this, I’m having some second thoughts about bringing those entire armies here. I’ll need to bring a few of the officers, but I think maybe we should leave the rest of the outlanders on board their ships until we decide to march them on up to the Falls of Vash. Let’s keep the possibility of unpleasant confrontation to a minimum if we can.’

‘Whatever you think best, Veltan,’ Omago agreed.

The first hint of the approaching fleet was the mass of sails along the horizon, and the sheer numbers indicated by those billowing sails stunned Omago. Ara, who stood at his side, however, didn’t appear to be overly impressed. Ara’s reactions to things were sometimes very peculiar.

As the fleet drew closer in the golden summer sunlight, Omago noticed certain differences. Some of the ships appeared to be very fat, while others were as skinny as saplings. ‘They don’t seem very much alike, do they?’ he said to Veltan.

‘They were built with different purposes in mind,’ Veltan explained. ‘The wide, slow ones were built to carry large numbers of people or cargo. The slender ones were built to go fast so that they can catch the slow ones and rob them.’

‘Wouldn’t that make them enemies, dear Veltan?’ Ara asked.

‘They didn’t get along too well right at first,’ Veltan conceded, ‘but the threat of the creatures of the Wasteland sort of united them.’

There was a much smaller boat that was moving rapidly toward the beach, and Veltan looked at it with a certain affection. ‘That’s my sloop,’ he told Omago and Ara. ‘She moves right along, doesn’t she?’

‘What was that one built for, dear Veltan?’ Ara asked. ‘It doesn’t seem to fit in with the others.’

‘She moves very fast,’ Veltan said proudly. ‘I use her when I want to go someplace in a hurry.’

‘Isn’t that what your lightning bolt’s supposed to do?’

‘My pet’s fast, but she’s very noisy. Sometimes quiet is more important than fast.’

There were four men on the sloop. One of them seemed quite small, another was medium-sized, and the last two were fairly tall and were dressed in leather clothes.

‘The little one’s that Maag named Rabbit that I’ve told you about, Omago,’ Veltan said. ‘The young Page 37

fellow’s a Trogite soldier named Keselo, and the two others are Longbow and Red-Beard, archers from Zelana’s domain.’

‘They’re hunters, aren’t they?’ Omago asked.

Veltan nodded. ‘Very good hunters,’ he said. ‘Red-Beard’s not quite as good as Longbow, but then, nobody’s as good as Longbow is. As far as I know, he’s never missed. His arrow always goes where he wants it to go.’

Omago smiled faintly. ‘When I was a boy, I used to dream about being a hunter. It must be a very exciting life.’

‘I suppose it is, Omago, but Longbow isn’t just an ordinary hunter. His war with the creatures of the Wasteland started a long time ago. He hates them, and he kills every one he sees. Technically, I suppose he’s working for my sister Zelana, but he doesn’t take orders very well. Eleria’s about the only one he really listens to, and he’ll even jerk her up short every now and then.’

‘Doesn’t that make your sister angry?’ Ara asked.

‘Not really. Zelana knows that he’s loyal and that he’s doing his best to help her, but he does things his own way.’ Veltan shrugged.

‘It’s the results that really matter. The method isn’t all that important.’

‘Where’s Yaltar?’ Omago asked.

‘He’s traveling with Zelana and Eleria on the Seagull - that’s the ship of Sorgan Hook-Beak, the commander of the Maags,’ Veltan replied. ‘Someday I suppose I’ll take him for a ride on my pet thunderbolt, but he might be a little young for that right now.’

‘{ Much

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Table of Contents

Book Two of The Dreamers