The rest of Lardis’s men had joined him; Nathan knew one or two of them; he clasped forearms with them Szgany style but was too choked up to speak. After that, until they were underway for Sanctuary Rock, it was all business again for Lardis.
“You men, get out into the woods and hunt,” he told them. “Food for the people, and for the fire.”
“The fire?” Kirk Lisescu looked at him.
Lardis nodded. “This place looks like a trap pretending to be an encampment. But if we leave some portions of meat to be thrown on the fires, then it will smell like an encampment! Should any Wamphyri or the like happen this way, they’ll know there’s food down here. And where there’s food there’s always … food. They won’t look too close before coming in for the kill.”
As Lardis’s men dispersed into the woods, he called after them, “As soon as you’re finished here, make for the Rock and get your heads down. We’ll be at it again this afternoon.” He turned to one who stood apart. “You, Janos Raccas: you volunteered to stay back and see to the lure. Well, I won’t wish you luck, for I’m sure we’ll be having a drink together tonight at Sanctuary Rock, or tomorrow morning at latest.” He clasped the other’s forearm. And finally, to Nathan, Kirk, and his watchmen: “Right then, let’s be off. There’s never enough sunlight, and it’s too precious to waste just standing around in it…”
Nathan told his story, only holding back when it came to his mainly subterranean journey along the course of the Great Dark River. His debt to the Thyre was beyond value, and he wouldn’t repay it in treachery. But in any case Lardis made no comment; obviously a man can travel a long way in three years; Nathan had simply skipped his uneventful trek across the desert.
Still, while Nathan talked, he did feel Lardis’s eyes on him from time to time: frowning, wondering, speculating? But about what? He suspected that he would be able to read the older man’s mind quite easily … but he wouldn’t. He’d learned from the Thyre how it was as well to respect the private thoughts of others.
And indeed Lardis was thinking strange and speculative thoughts: about Nana, and a man called Harry Hell-lander out of another world, and about Nathan: about his origins. The son of Hzak Kiklu? Not this one. Lardis should have seen it before. But if not Hzak’s son, whose? Harry’s? Nathan had always been the strange one. But how strange? He had lived with vampires, and returned …
Then, feeling the lad’s eyes upon him for a change, Lardis had snapped out of it. It was all speculation anyway, and only Nana would know the truth of it. Nana, aye. And now there were other things which Lardis remembered … but he must put them aside, for the moment at least.
Far more important was Nathan’s warning of the bloodwar to come: the news that the Wamphyri of Turgosheim planned an invasion of Wratha and her colleagues in Starside, which they would launch just four months from now. In the aftermath of that war, no matter what the outcome, the shadow over Sunside must surely be that much darker, and the final dissolution of the Szgany as a free people so much more certain. For the vampires would be depleted, and could only replenish themselves in Sunside.
Then for a time Lardis was quiet, his thoughts shrouded, his mood gloomy where they strode out along a woodland trail. But in a while: “Only if we’re weak enough to let it happen,” he growled. “In which case we would deserve it. But we’re not weak, lad—far from it—and forewarned is forearmed. Now, let me tell you how it’s been for us while you were away …
“The Wamphyri have raided Settlement eight times since then, but never so effectively as that first time and always to their cost. Does it surprise you that we’re still around, still fighting back? It shouldn’t.
“Wratha and her bullies are a handful, it’s true, but they’re still only a handful. Me, I remember when I was your age, when the vampires were a plague! We fought back then, and we always will. And never forget, we have two great allies: the barrier range and the golden sun.
“Eight times they’ve been back, but a while now since the last time. That was when Misha lost her second brother, Nicolae. But as for the Wamphyri, they lost a great deal more. We have weapons, Nathan, and intelligence, and humanity! But all they have is their lust for blood and their mutual hatred. The first time they came—that night they took your brother, Nestor, and my own son, Jason—they were organized under Wratha; since when, they’ve become a rabble! They’ve split up and gone their own ways; they have no single leader as such but squabble with each other as in the old days, and with much the same result: vampire anarchy, disorder, fragmentation. Recently there have been rumours that they’re working together again, some of them, but I doubt it.
“Do you remember Vratza Wransthrall, the night we burned him? I’m sure you do: how could you forget the things he said, when you thought that Canker Canison had taken Misha? Well, he as good as admitted that Wratha’s plan was to build herself an army, with which to fight off the rest of them when they followed her out of Turgosheim. Or she might even use it to invade Turgosheim in her own right. Except it hasn’t worked out that way.
“For now, as individual Lords—and “Lady”, of course—they are lessened. Their raiding parties consist of a leader, two or three lieutenants, three flyers at most, and a warrior or two. They daren’t keep more than a handful of lieutenants each for fear of treachery, of being usurped! Which has been to our advantage.
“I say again, they’ve raided Settlement just eight times since that first time, and each raid has cost them dearly! Do you remember the shotgun shells, the tubes of silver shot and black powder which provide the energy and killing substance of our guns? We exhausted them eighteen months ago, fighting off an attack. But then—a miracle! I sent a party of men across the mountains into The Dweller’s garden, his armoury. The whole place has fallen into ruins; but in one of the little houses backed up to the wall of the saddle—in a cave at the back, snug and dry under dust and old leathers they found a box of shells. A whole box! Perhaps it was handed out to someone at the time of the battle for the garden, someone who never got the chance to use it. But it was an important find for two good reasons.
“One: we had one hundred and sixty good shells for use as early warning devices—not to mention lethal weapons—against the Wamphyri and their lieutenants. Two: ever since I saw The Dweller’s weapons in action, I knew that we must have them. Which is why I’ve kept old Dimi Petrescu hard at it all these years trying to duplicate that black powder. Now that we had these shells, I could give Dimi a little more of the original stuff to work with. Until finally he succeeded!
“… Or almost. Dimi’s stuff isn’t as good and it doesn’t make effective cartridges, but it does make a bang! You remember the giant crossbows in Settlement? We still have them. But we also have rockets, and a lot of them! But dangerous? I’ve had a man blind himself, and another who blew an arm off. Ah, but on the other hand, when these things work properly, then they really do work! During one raid a year ago—Gorvi the Guile, it was, with a small handful of his lads and a warrior—didn’t we make him pay? You can bet your life we did! Just you wait, Nathan, and you’ll see! You’ll see!
“And we’ve learned, lad, we’ve really learned. More than we ever knew before, and faster. Do you know what a flyer is? Certainly, for you flew one here out of Turgosheim. But do you know what a flyer in a pit is? No? Then I’ll tell you: a flyer in a pit is a dead thing! Stick a flyer in a hole in the ground and it’s useless; it can’t launch itself, and has to be dragged free before it can get airborne again. So we dug pits in strategic positions in and around Settlement, with spikes in the bottom to impale their ugly bellies. That worked for a while, until the Wamphyri got the idea. Then they began crashing their beasts onto our houses, and launching them from the rubble. So we made dummy houses, fragile frameworks, with pits underneath! What’s more, we left barrels of Petrescu’s powder down there, all fused-up and ready to detonate! We’ve learned how to blast those wormy launching limbs right off them, melt “em down hissing in their pits, and bury “em
for good when the stink has blown away!” Lardis smacked his lips, found relish in detailing the more gruesome aspects of his defensive systems.
“Their warriors are the worst, of course,” he eventually continued, “but even they are not invulnerable. We used to run from them once, but not any more. If you can get an explosive device into a warrior’s gasbag, that’s half the battle. And if you can explode oil of kneblasch in there, that’s even better! You see, warriors manufacture gas for lift, buoyancy, but when they’re on the ground the gas soaks back into their systems and the bladders are retracted. So, if you doctor a warrior’s bladders with kneblasch just as he’s coming in to land—he’s done for, poisoned! Oh, they thrash around a bit and they’re noisy about it, but they quiet down after they’ve burned a while …” He gave a sharp, vicious nod.
“As for the Lords themselves, silver shot is the best bet. If you could hit one in the eyes he’d be finished. We’ve taken out lieutenants that way, with our shotguns, no trouble at all. But a lieutenant isn’t a Lord. They’re just too damned clever, the Lords, and we haven’t managed to stop a one of them as yet. It’s their Wamphyri senses. With more than the five we’ve got, they can sense trouble coming. They send their troops in first to clear the way, and as often as not to die for them. But a Lord is different. He can breathe a mist and melt right into it …” Lardis paused to get his breath, then said:
“Aye, and I’ve gone on a bit, haven’t I? But I wanted you to understand. We haven’t given in to them, and we’re not about to.”
Finally the old Lidesci fell silent, which gave Nathan the opportunity to say: “But you’ve done so well! It’s all … wonderful! And is it like this for all of the Szgany? Right across Sunside?”
Lardis glanced at him, shook his shaggy head and looked away. “How can it be? Charity begins at home, son, and as far as I know it’s only like this for the Szgany Lidesci. What do you expect? How far do you think we can stretch ourselves?”
“And the people of Twin Fords, Tireni Scarp, Mirlu Township and all the other towns and tribes?” Nathan’s excitement was swiftly ebbing.
Lardis shrugged, but not callously. “Should I give them gunpowder, so that they in turn may give it to the Wamphyri? How long before supplicant tribes started making it for them, eh? Or are you asking why I haven’t gathered all of the tribes together? I’ll tell you: because I’ve been through all of this before, Nathan, and small is safe. Now listen, Sanctuary Rock is only so big. Its caverns will take my people, but barely. And only my people know its secrets! Lad, why do you think I built Settlement where it stands, or leans, now? Because it was close to Sanctuary Rock, that’s why! I never did trust my luck all that much, and as it happens I was right not to. No, for I knew that if there was a way back, the Wamphyri would find it. You know how a lichen clings to a rock? Well, that’s nothing, compared to the way they cling to their filthy, miserable existence!”
“And Travellers when they pass through?” Nathan’s voice was much quieter. “Do you still give them shelter?”
“If they come in daylight, and if I know them, aye. But in the evening, or the night … you’re making jokes, Nathan! Think, man! Things aren’t like that any more. Would you harbour a leper in your camp? Of course not. Well, then, how much more virulent is a vampire?”
Nathan nodded. “You’re right, of course …” And after a moment’s silence: “What about the other townships? How have they fared?”
“Badly!” Lardis answered at once. “Karl Zestos leads the people of Twin Fords, what’s left of them. They’re Travellers now, a small band torn to pieces in the raids. Karl’s no fool, though. He’s learning, just like I had to learn when I was his age. They have caverns in the cliffs east of here; not as good as Sanctuary Rock and not so easily defended, but they’re working on it.”
Nathan nodded. “He asked me to join him that time when I passed through Twin Fords. I liked him well enough, but I was still looking for Nestor. What about Mirlu Township?”
“Swept away!” said Lardis. “Scattered, gone! Four or five sunups after Settlement, then it was Mirlu Township’s turn. We expected them to come back here, if only to punish us for what we did to Vratza. But they fell on Mirlu instead. The brothers Wran and Spiro. They must be madmen!” (And Nathan thought: they are!) “Sent in a warrior to wreck the place, and waited outside for the people as they fled. Aye, and the bastards recruited a few that night! The survivors are Travellers now, like all the rest. Only me and mine, and the folk of Tireni Scarp, have managed to hang on to what was theirs. And then by the skin of our teeth.”
Through the trees Nathan could see the foothills and the dome of Sanctuary Rock. The morning was only a third done and he was almost home. Or if not home exactly, back among his own people at least. He felt his heart leap inside him. His mother was alive and well… and Misha! All weariness fled, he felt he must run the rest of the way; and Lardis sensed it in him.
“Can’t let you go, lad,” he said. “There’ll be some who know you, but others who don’t. And there’s not much of trust in men these days. You go in there bragging how you flew home on a vampire thing …” He shook his head. “Anyway, I’m just as eager as you, if only to see your mother’s face.” He glanced at Nathan and grinned. “Not to mention Misha’s.”
Nathan grabbed his arm. “Is she … is she …?”
“She’s a beauty!” Lardis stopped him. “Ask any one of the young, single men and they’ll all tell you the same thing: that Misha Zanesti is beautiful.”
Nathan’s face fell. “The young men? But, does she … has she …?”
“Now hold!” said Lardis. “What’s all this? Are we back to stuttering again? And why ask me? I’m an old lad and past that sort of thing—well, almost. Anyway, another hour and you’ll be able to ask the girl herself.”
An hour! It sounded like a lifetime.
But it wasn’t…
On the final approach to Sanctuary Rock along dusty foothill trails, Lardis and the others stepped very carefully. “Pits everywhere,” Lardis informed. “Can you see them?”
“Now that you mention it, yes,” Nathan answered. “A man would have to be a fool to fall into one.”
Lardis gave a grunt and shrugged. “Well, people do forget from time to time, and then we have accidents. But flyers and the like aren’t as bright as men—” (then, remembering Nathan’s story about Karz Biteri) “—well, not usually. And anyway, at night they use their noses as much as their eyes.”
They climbed closer to the Rock, a gigantic outcrop jutting from the wooded hillside, bald and domed on top, but hollow as a rotten tooth in its base. “And do you live here now?” Nathan had been inside the place as a child; it seemed a dire sort of existence, to actually live here.
“We hide here,” Lardis answered, “but we still ‘live’ in Settlement—because I won’t let go! It’s no great distance, and we always come back to the Rock at nights. But the Wamphyri? Territorial? Hah! They don’t know the half of it!”
“But if you still live in town, why have we come up here?”
“Because right now this is where the work is. Enough for everyone. We’re hollowing the place out, making it liveable, and charging the larger outer caves with Dimi’s powder. Yet another way to kill a warrior: flatten the bastard under a hundred tons of rock!”
“Without flattening yourself?”
“We’ve tunnelled our way through to the back and far side. It’s quite a maze in there. So that now the Rock’s a sanctuary, a makeshift home, a lethal trap and an escape route all in one. The Wamphyri haven’t discovered us yet and with luck they never will. If they do…” Again Lardis’s fatalistic shrug, “it will cost them as dearly as it costs us.”
In the main entrance a chain of people, men and women, passed heavy leather buckets laden with dirt and small rocks from the inside to the open, and there tipped them over the rim of a shallow bluff on to the scree slopes below. Sweating and grimy, the people looked much alike. Most of them merely glanced at
Lardis and his party, nodded, and carried on working. But one of them dropped her bucket and the work came to a halt.
Then … it was as if a whirlwind had struck! Nana rushed at Nathan so as to almost knock him down. He wrapped her in his arms, grabbed her up fiercely, kissed her dirty neck and hugged her like a lover. His mother! Alive and well! Finally they held each other at arm’s length, and Nathan’s eyes drank Nana in; he let her aura, her smell—no, her scent—wash over him, and thought, She’s so … small!
“You’re so …big!” she said. There were tears behind her eyes, but she wouldn’t cry in front of people.
Lardis put an arm round each of them. And to Nana: “Take him to your place in the Rock,” he said. “Let the work go. No one here will grudge you that.” His voice was husky, too.
On their way inside, still holding each other, they found their way blocked as a huge, frowning figure stepped out of the line. It was Varna Zanesti, Misha’s father. He clasped forearms with Nathan, nodded and said, “Well, what a sight for sore eyes you are! And do I have a son at last, or what?” As ever, Varna was straight to the point.
At first Nathan didn’t understand, so Varna prompted him, “That conversation we had, in Settlement that morning?”
Then Nathan understood, sighed and said, “I’m honoured.”
“Huh!” Varna grunted. “Damn right you are! Very well then, I’ll see to it—and at once!” Finally he grinned.
“Where is she?” Nathan asked.
“In the woods with the children, teaching, gathering nuts, fruits. Will midday suit you?”
“Eh?”
“To be wed, of course!”
Nathan looked at Nana, who nodded. And: “Yes, whatever you say,” he answered Varna.
“Consider it done then,” said the other. “Now be off, and enjoy what time you have left as a free man.”