Quest of the Golden Ape Page 13

  CHAPTER XIII

  _The Journey of No Return_

  Earlier that day, on the ice fields half a dozen jeks from Nadia City,B'ronth the Utalian had sprinted boldly across the snow toward thegirl and her elderly male companion. This had taken considerableeffort, because B'ronth the Utalian had not been endowed with anabundance of courage. But B'ronth was a poor man, as Utalia was a poorcountry; a bag of gold would be a veritable fortune to him. Like mostcowards, B'ronth had one passion which could over-ride his timidity:that passion in B'ronth's case was wealth.

  The old man was fumbling clumsily for his whip-sword when B'ronthhurtled at them. The girl screamed:

  "Look out, Father Hammeth! Look out!"

  B'ronth smiled. They would not see the smile, of course. B'ronth, achameleon man, was invisible. They would see his footprints in thesnow, true. They would know him for a Utalian and understand hisinvisibility. But still the advantage of invisibility would be his. Ithad always been so when a Utalian fought. It would always be so.

  B'ronth leaped upon the old man even as he prepared to strike out withthe whip-sword. B'ronth was both naked and unarmed. The sword lashedwhining at air a foot from his face. B'ronth wrenched its haft fromthe old man's hand. Hammeth stumbled back.

  B'ronth swung the whip-sword. He was no duelist. A duelist would lungeand thrust with the whip-sword, allowing its mobile point some degreeof freedom by controlling it deftly. A non-duelist like B'ronth wouldhack and slash, the deadly sword-point whipping about, curling,slashing, striking.

  Hammeth held up his hands to defend himself. The whip-sword whined inthe cold air. The girl screamed. Hammeth's right hand flew from hisarm and blood jetted from the stump. Hammeth sank to the ground andlay there in a spreading pool of crimson. His eyes remained open. Hewas staring with hatred at B'ronth. In a matter of minutes, B'ronthknew, he would bleed to death. B'ronth turned on the girl.

  She stood before him swaying. She had almost swooned, but as B'ronthapproached her, she flung herself at him, crying Hammeth's name, andthey both fell down in the snow. B'ronth let the whip-sword fall fromhis fingers. Half a bag of gold for a dead girl, but the whole bag ifshe lived. She fought like a wild cat and for a few moments B'ronthregretted dropping the weapon and actually feared for his life. Butsoon, his courage returning and his whole being contemplating the bagof gold, he subdued the girl.

  She lay back exhausted in the snow. "Please," she said. "Please bindhis arm. He'll bleed to death. Please."

  B'ronth said nothing. Ylia staggered to her feet, then collapsed andcrawled on her knees to Hammeth. The blood jetted from the stump ofhis arm. He was watching her. A little smile touched the corners ofhis mouth but pain made his eyes wild.

  B'ronth licked his lips. He had earned his bag of gold and, earningit, thought of more wealth. He thought: _why should I accept one bagof gold from a common Abarian soldier when there are millions of bagsof gold in Nadia City_? He could deliver the girl, who obviously knewsomething the Abarians did not wish the Nadians to know, to NadiaCity. He could sell her to the Nadians. Or, if the Abarians outbidthem, then the Abarians....

  Bruised, her cloak in tatters, Ylia reached Hammeth. His eyes blinked.He smiled at her again, smiling this time with his whole face. Then heturned his head away and his eyes remained open and staring.

  "You ... killed ... him," Ylia said, sobbing.

  B'ronth dragged her to her feet. "Lulukee!" he called. "Lulukee!"Where was the boy?

  Lulukee did not answer. Cursing, B'ronth stripped the corpse anddressed in its warm clothing. The blood on the right sleeve wasalready stiff with cold. Where could Lulukee have gone off to?wondered B'ronth. Well, no matter. They were only a few jeks fromNadia City, where wealth awaited him....

  "Come," he said. He dragged the girl along. She looked back at thedead old man until a snow drift hid him from sight.

  * * * * *

  After the Utalian had dragged the beautiful girl beyond the ridges ofsnow, Lulukee the Nadian came down into the valley. He was a small boyof some sixty winters who, like many of the Nadians who did not comefrom their country's single large city, had lived a hard life as anice-field nomad. He had seen an opportunity to profit in the serviceof B'ronth the Utalian, but had not expected this service to includemurder. Thus when the Utalian had called him, expecting the boy todrag his supply sled down into the snow-valley, Lulukee had remainedhidden. Now, though, he made his way to the body of the dead man and,scavengerlike, went over it with the hope of turning a profit byB'ronth's deed.

  In that he was disappointed. B'ronth had taken the dead man's snowcloak and his whip-sword: there was nothing left for Lulukee'sgleaning. He was about to turn and trudge back the way he had come,when he realized that if he did so, if he exposed himself on thehigher wind-ridges, B'ronth might see him. Therefore he remained along time with the frozen body of Father Hammeth, actually fallinginto a light slumber while he waited.

  He awoke with a start. He blinked, then cowered away from theapparition which confronted him. It was a man, but such a man asLulukee the Nadian had never seen before, a superbly muscled man ahead taller than the tall Abarians themselves.

  "Where's the girl?" the man demanded.

  "I--I don't know, lord."

  "How did this happen?" The man looked down with compassion at FatherHammeth's corpse.

  "I only just arrived, l-lord."

  "You lie," the big man said. "You were sleeping here. You'll tell me,or--"

  Lulukee blanched. He owed no loyalty to B'ronth the Utalian. If indeedhe remained loyal he might be implicated in the murder of the old man.He said: "It was B'ronth the Utalian."

  * * * * *

  "Where is he?"

  "G-going to Nadia City, I think."

  "Alone?"

  "No, lord. With his prisoner. A--a lovely woman."

  "Ylia!" the giant cried. "You! How are you called?"

  "I am Lulukee of Nadia, lord."

  "Lead me to the city. Lead me after them."

  "But lord--"

  "Lead me." The giant did not shout. He did not menace of glower orthreaten. Yet there was something in his bearing which made itimpossible for the frightened Lulukee to do anything but obey. "Yes,lord," he said.

  "Tell me--" as they started out, the boy's sled reluctantly leftbehind--"is this B'ronth the Utalian in Retoc's pay?"

  "No, I don't think so. He works alone, lord. Reaping profit whereverhe can."

  "And he took the girl unwillingly?"

  "Yes, lord."

  "He won't profit in this venture," Bram vowed.

  The wind howled behind them. Six jeks ahead of them was Nadia City.

  * * * * *

  "Can't you see I'm busy? Can't you see I have no time for the likes ofyou?" Prokliam the seneschal whined in self-pity.

  "Then make time," B'ronth said boldly, his cowardice obscured bydreams of avarice. "What I have brought through the Ice Gates isimportant to your ruler."

  "Bontarc of Nadia," said the seneschal haughtily, "does not waste histime on every Utalian vagabond who reaches his court."

  "True. But I assume Bontarc of Nadia wishes to know exactly how hisbrother, the Prince Jlomec, died?"

  Prokliam fought to keep his puckered old face impassive. But his mindwas racing and his heart throbbed painfully. Could the Utalian knowanything about that? If so, and if he, Prokliam, brought this B'ronthbefore the Princess Volna as she had ordered....

  "Wait here," Prokliam snapped arrogantly. "And keep your cloak on. Wedon't want invisible Utalians floating about the palace."

  B'ronth offered a mock bow. Prokliam turned to go, then whirled aboutagain. "If you're lying, wasting my time--"

  B'ronth smiled unctuously. "In the ante-room, being amused by yourpalace guards, is one who has been on the Plains of Ofrid quiterecently."

  "So?"

  "When the Prince Jlomec was there. She saw him slain."

  "Wait here,"
said Prokliam a little breathlessly. He pushed thehanging aside and stalked down a corridor, and around a bend, and up aflight of stone stairs. He was busy, all right. That had been no lie.Preparations must be made for the funeral games of the Prince Jlomec,to which all the nobility of Tarth had been invited. But this,obviously, was more important. On this Prokliam's life mightdepend....

  "Are they checking way-passes, lord?" Lulukee asked the big, silentman at his side. Ahead of them, filing slowly through the Ice Gates,were hundreds of visitors entering Nadia City for the funeral games. Aflat-bottomed air-car hovered overhead, peltasts leaning over itssides, ready. Guards flanked the Ice Gates with drawn whip-swords, asif admitting the superiority of Abarian weapons of war.

  "We'll get through," Bram Forest vowed. "Tell me, Lulukee, if youbrought a prisoner to the city who might be worth much to the Abariansbut also to the Nadians, and if you were intent on getting the biggestprofit, where would you take her?"

  "If I had great courage, lord?"

  "If you dreamed of reward."

  "I would take her to the royal palace, lord, to Bontarc the King or tohis sister, Princess Volna the Beautiful, who, some say, is the realpower behind the Nadian throne although Bontarc is a great soldier."

  * * * * *

  They had reached the gate. "Way passes," a bored guard said.

  Lulukee mumbled something uncertainly. His heart beat painfullyagainst his ribs. His brain refused to function. There was intriguehere, he could sense that. More intrigue than he cared to have a handin. As a Nadian citizen, he owned a way pass, of course. But thegiant? Obviously the giant did not. Lulukee was sorry he had everagreed to go along with B'ronth the Utalian. Now he only wanted to getout of the entire situation as quickly--and safely--as possible.

  He pointed an accusing finger at Bram Forest. "_He_ has no way pass!"Lulukee cried.

  The guards stiffened, their whip-swords ready. They looked at BramForest. Overhead, the air-car hovered, its peltasts stationed there inthe event of trouble, their slings poised.

  Ylia was in there somewhere, a prisoner. Bram Forest spurned violencefor its own sake, but Ylia might need him. Ylia, who had nursed himback to health when Retoc had left him for dead on the parched Plainsof Ofrid. Ylia, the lovely.

  "I'm going through," Bram Forest said softly. "Don't try to stop me."

  For answer, the nearest guard let his left hand drop.

  It had been a signal. Overhead, the peltasts drew back their slings."Will you go in peace?" the guard asked, his eyes narrow slits now,his right arm tensed to bring the whip-sword around.

  Bram Forest waited. Every muscle in his superbly-conditioned bodycried for action, but he would not initiate it.

  The guard pointed back along the path across the ice fields, wherehundreds of visitors to the city were waiting impatiently. "Then go,"he said harshly, "before your flesh feeds the stilt-birds on the banksof the River of Ice."

  The guard raised his sword menacingly. Standing rigidly still andgiving no warning, Bram Forest lashed out with his left fist, hittingthe guard in the mouth. Lips split, teeth flew, blood covered theguard's face. Someone screamed. The guard fell, but his companionlashed out with his own whip-sword. Bram Forest lunged to one side andgrabbed the sword-arm, twisting it. The guard howled, dropping hisweapon. Lulukee made a dive for it. But the guard, his legs stillfree, kicked Lulukee in the face. As he fell, his senses blurring,Lulukee wondered why he had made that desperate, foolish attempt tohelp the big, silent man. He could not answer the question in merewords. But there was something about him, something about Bram Forest,which drew loyalty from you even as the sun drew dew from theground....

  * * * * *

  Bram Forest lifted the second guard by sword-girdle and scruff of neckand held him aloft. The guard's arms and legs flailed frantically."No!" he screamed up at the peltasts. "No...."

  But they had already unleashed their first volley of stones, peltingthe helpless guard until he lost consciousness. Bram Forest flung himaside, leaped over the first fallen guard's supine body, and plungedrecklessly into the crowds milling just inside the Ice Gates.

  "He went that way!" a voice screamed.

  "That way!"

  "Over there!"

  "There he is!"

  It was an ancient city, with narrow, tortuous alleyways andoverhanging buildings and little-used passageways. The widestreets--the few there were--mobbed with people.

  For all his size, the giant had disappeared.

  Lulukee picked himself up, dusted himself off, and showed his way passto the guard. The guard said nothing. He had lost three teeth and hismouth was swollen, painful. Lulukee sensed that somehow the little hehad done to help Bram Forest was all he would ever do for him. Yet hefelt with a strange pride he did not fathom that although his role inthe saga of the mysterious giant had come to an end, it was the mostimportant event in his life and would remain so if he lived to besix-hundred. He felt somehow--and could not explain why he feltthis--as if in his small way he had done something to make the worldTarth a better place in which to live.

  Whistling, he pushed his way through the crowds and was lost to sightjust as the giant who went before him.

  * * * * *

  "B'ronth of Utalia!" Prokliam the seneschal proclaimed. Volna theBeautiful nodded. The doddering old seneschal had already told herabout the Utalian. She was prepared to receive him now. If he knewwhat he claimed to know, if he knew the true details of the death ofPrince Jlomec, then he must be silenced. Naturally, he wanted gold.They always wanted gold. But gold was not the way to silence them.Gold never worked. It only made them greedy for more.

  With Volna were, instead of her usual ladies in waiting, two discreetpalace guards. Grinning, she looked at their whip-swords. That was theway to silence one such as B'ronth the Utalian.

  "He may enter," Volna told the seneschal. Prokliam bowed out, saying:

  "And Princess, you will not forget--"

  "No, Prokliam, I won't forget. You hardly knew the Prince Jlomec atall, did you? You certainly couldn't have been his favorite."

  "Princess," breathed the seneschal tremulously as he withdrew.

  A moment later, B'ronth the Utalian entered the royal chamber. He worea snow-cloak. He was all but invisible except for the snow-cloak. Hewas, eerily, a disembodied cloak floating through air. Although,noticed Volna, if you looked closely you could see the faintestsuggestion of a man's head above the cloak, as if you saw the richwall tapestries of the room through a transparent, head-shaped glass.Likewise, the suggestion of arms and legs....

  "You are B'ronth?" An unnecessary question, but Volna had not yet madeup her mind what must be done.

  "Yes, majesty," the cloak said in a different but somehow unctuousvoice.

  "You are alone?"

  "No, majesty," said the cloak.

  "Then--?"

  "A girl. A wayfarer of the Plains of Ofrid. I accompany her."

  "And the story you have to tell?"

  "I realize, majesty, how the royal Princess must grieve at the loss ofher royal brother, the Prince. I realize...."

  "To the point, man. Get to the point. Are you trying to say you knowhow Prince Jlomec was slain? You know who killed him?"

  "Yes," said the cloak boldly, eagerly.

  Princess Volna smiled. Perhaps something in that smile warned B'ronththe Utalian. But of course, the warning came too late. In a quickjerky motion, the cloak retreated toward the doorway. "Princess...."B'ronth said.

  Princess Volna told her guards: "Kill him."

  B'ronth the Utalian had time for one brief scream which, if a soundcould, seemed to embody all his frustrated dreams of wealth. Then oneof the guards moved swiftly, his arm streaking out. The whip-sword inhis hand lashed, blurring, toward the cloak. Bright red blood welled,jetted.

  B'ronth the Utalian's head, no longer invisible, rolled on the floorat Volna's lovely feet. "Clean that up," she told one of
the guards.To the other she said: "Now fetch the girl."

  * * * * *

  "Mind, lord, I don't question you," Hultax the Abarian said. "But it'sjust--"

  "Did you send the message?" Retoc cut him off.

  "As you ordered, sire. Yes."

  "Good."

  "Sire, I hate inactivity. I loathe it. I am a soldier."

  "As I am," said Retoc slowly, his hard cruel eyes staring at somethingHultax could not--and would never be able to--see.

  "So we just sit here in this rented house in Nadia City, cooling ourheels. It doesn't make sense, sire."

  "Sense?" mused Retoc. "What is sense? Is it victory and power for thestrongest? Well, is it?"

  "Yes, lord," Hultax responded. "But--"

  "And you sent the message? Our legions will come?"

  "Yes, lord. Two days hence they'll be encamped on the ice fields threejeks march from the city gates. But I don't see--"

  "You obey, Hultax. I see. I do the seeing."

  "But I thought you ... the Princess Volna ... together...."

  "The Princess can serve me, now. If she can deliver Nadia without afight, then Tarth is mine, Hultax, don't you see? In two days all theroyal blood of all the royal families of Tarth will be assembled herein Nadia for the funeral games. If Bontarc's army doesn't interfere,then I will be master of Tarth."

  "But if Bontarc finds out--"

  "That, Hultax," said Retoc with a smile, "is why you sent themessage."

  "My sire," said the proud soldier Hultax humbly.

  Soon, thought Retoc, all Tarth would call him that. _My sire...._

  * * * * *

  Ahead of Bram Forest loomed the ramparts of the palace. He must hurry.He knew he had to hurry. He pushed impatiently through the crowd.Several times men looked up angrily, and would have said something.But when they saw his face, they turned away.

  What they saw in Bram Forest's face made them afraid.

  "Majesty?" Prokliam the seneschal said.

  "Well?" Volna demanded. "Didn't the guards send you for the girl?"

  "Majesty, I was thinking...."

  "Well, Prokliam, what is it? Didn't you go for the girl?"

  "Not yet, majesty, begging your pardon...."

  "If you have something to say, then say it. And get the girl."

  "Majesty, a seneschal knows the palace. It is his job...."

  "I warn you, Prokliam, I have little patience today." Her anxiety wasevident.

  "No one wishes to be chosen," Prokliam blurted quickly, boldly, "evenas I did not wish to be chosen to accompany the body of Prince Jlomecon the Journey of No Return. Now that you have spared me, in yourroyal benevolence, I thought I might in turn advise you...."

  "Yes, what is it, man?"

  "You should not have killed the Utalian, majesty. If it is ordainedthat a living man and a living woman accompany the Prince's body tothe Place of the Dead, to die there with him, their spirits servinghim in death, why choose from among the palace staff? We all havefamily, we all have friends, we all stand something to lose. Butmajesty, if you were to break with tradition, if you were to sendinstead two strangers whose loss meant nothing to the palace, thepalace staff would love and revere you even more than they alreadydo."

  * * * * *

  Volna's beautiful face smiled at him. He did not know what she wasthinking. He never knew. No one did. She might reward him or have himslain on the spot. "Why do you tell me this, Prokliam?" she asked.

  "For saving me when it was thought I would accompany--"

  "No. There must be another reason."

  "If you do this deed and if the palace and the people love you for it,and if the scepter of power should slip from Bontarc's hand to yours,and if, when it came time to select your prime minister...."

  "Ha! Ha! Ha! We have an ambitious palace butler."

  "But surely you--"

  "Yes, Prokliam. I understand. I won't deny it. Perhaps I had theUtalian slain impetuously. But there's still the girl."

  "I'll fetch her at once, majesty."

  "And if," mused Volna, no longer aware of the seneschal's presence,"we could find another stranger, a man, to accompany the body ofPrince Jlomec on the Journey of No Return, not only the palace, butthe people as well would love me. A stranger...."

  "Take me to your King," Bram Forest told the palace guard.

  The guard smirked. "Do you think any stranger in the realm is grantedan audience with King Bontarc, fool?"

  "It is a matter of life and death."

  "But whose life and death?" demanded the guard, roaring with laughter."Yours, idiot?"

  "It is about Ylia the Wayfarer."

  "I know of no Ylia the Wayfarer. Begone, dolt!"

  "It is about Prince Jlomec."

  The guard's eyes narrowed. The word had been passed by no less aperson than Prokliam the seneschal that anyone with informationconcerning the death of the royal Prince should be brought at once notto Bontarc but to Princess Volna. Could the guard, could he, Porfis,do less?

  "Very well," he said. "Come with me."

  Unarmed, but aware of his giant's strength and the mission which hadseen him spend the first hundred years of his life in a crypt onEarth, Bram Forest went with the guard.

  The way was long, through chambers in which priceless tapestrieshung, through narrow, musty corridors into which the light of daybarely penetrated, through rooms in which ladies in waiting andcourtiers talked and joked, up bare stone stairs and through heavywooden doors which Porfis the guard opened with a key which hung athis belt. The doors opened slowly.

  Bram Forest entered a large room. It was, he could see at a glance, awoman's bower. Someone was standing at the far end of the room, inshadow. He squinted. He took two slow steps into the room. He began torun.

  "Ylia! Ylia!" he cried.

  Too late he saw the fetters binding her arms. Too late he saw her bitesavagely at something and twist her neck and spit the gag from hermouth. Too late he heard her cry:

  "Bram! Bram Forest! Behind you!"

  He turned barely in time to see Porfis the guard, his whip-swordraised overhead hilt-first. He lifted his arm, but it was swept asidein the downward rush of the sword. Something exploded behind his eyesand all eternity seemed to open beneath his feet. He plunged intoblackness with Ylia's name on his lips.

  * * * * *

  Unconscious, he was taken with Ylia through subterranean passages tothe Royal Dock on the River of Ice. The barge with Jlomec's embalmedbody waited. It was very cold on the river. The Place of the Deadbeckoned from the unseen end of the Journey of No Return.