Read Princess of Amathar Online

Authors: Wesley Allison

Tags: #Science fiction, #General, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fiction, #Fiction - Science Fiction, #Science Fiction - General, #Adventure

Princess of Amathar (28 page)

When Noriandara Remontar and I finally felt we were well provisioned enough for a relatively long sea voyage, we pulled the raft down to the water and placed all of our supplies on it. Then we climbed on. There was just barely enough room for us and our things, and it was impossible for both of us to lie down and sleep at the same time. It was planned that we would take turns paddling and resting. At first we both paddled to get away from the shore, and it was only after the edge of the water was only a dim line in the distance that we settled into our rotation.

The reflected sun on the water made the air a little warmer than it had been for us on the shore. At least that is my explanation for it, not being a meteorologist myself. It was by no means uncomfortable though. Indeed, if it had been a more comfortable vessel in which we found ourselves, I would have thought this the most pleasant of vacations. The water was cool but it was difficult to see down into it more than a foot or so. Perhaps this had something to do with the salt content. When the job of rowing became overtaxing, the Princess would remove her tabard and boots, and slide over the side of the raft into the water to cool off. I did this too on occasion, though more often I would simply scoop out a basket full of water to poor over my head. There was something unwholesome about an ocean with no fish. I had little problem swimming around in the Pacific Ocean near Catalina Island on Earth despite the fact that it is the summer feeding grounds for the Great White Shark--not that I didn't think about them. At least there, they had plenty of sea lions and fish to choose from. Here in the fishless water, if some great voracious creature decided it was hungry, it didn't have much from which to choose. The Princess and I were, not respectively, the main course and desert.

"How large do you suppose this sea to be?" I asked my companion.

"I do not believe it is much more than one hundred kentads (about two hundred miles)," she replied.

"We should be across it before our food runs low."

"How can you be sure?"

"I am not sure. But I have a sense for these things."

After we had been into our crossing about two days, I was lying on my side looking into the water, preparing for my turn at sleep. Just as I was about to close my eyes, I saw a shape pass below me. It was not a large shape, but it was startling to me because of the heretofore absence of any swimming animals. For several moments I tried to picture in my mind what I had seen, for the shape had passed by me quickly. It was not a fish shape, nor was it as lightning quick as a fish might be expected to be. It resembled a frog and was about the size of both my hands together. I dozed off moments later, but remembered to tell Noriandara Remontar of my observation when I woke.

"Are you sure it wasn't just something you dreamed?" asked my companion.

"Pretty sure."

"Hmm. This may be a problem."

"Why would it be a problem?" I asked. "I just saw one creature and it wasn't very big. It's not like I saw a crocodile or a shark."

"Crocodile or shark?" she wondered.

"Man-eating beasts," I explained.

She nodded and continued. "This could be worse. When I was a child, I went on a biological expedition with my aunt Mindana Remontar. We encountered an area of many great lakes. Each one was devoid of any but the most primitive aquatic life, with the exception of the Bloobnoob."

"Bloobnoob?"

"That is what the Preemor call them. It is an onomatopoeic word, derived from the sound they make. The Bloobnoob are a race of beings that live below the waves when they are young, and which upon adulthood invade surrounding regions and expand to other bodies of water. They are openly hostile and capture other beings for slaves and for food. They defile their own waterways, and devour all fish and aquatic life. Their very presence spelled demise for any other creatures nearby."

"Lovely," I replied. "And you think this might be one of these Bloobnoob that I saw."

"The description sounds right for one of their spawn. The Bloobnoob who we encountered lived in fresh-water lakes though, and not salty seas like this one."

This did not make me feel much better. I felt as though I was losing a paranoid fear of something grabbing me from below the water, and gaining a quite reasonable fear of something grabbing me from below the water. It did not seem to be a fair trade. We continued on, though. There was little else we could do, being in the center of an ocean. We persevered in our efforts with the paddles, and though nothing grabbed either of us from below the waves, I never stopped considering the possibility that something might.

I could try to place a measurement of time on our voyage across the small sea, but there is really no reason for me to do so. Suffice it to say that we arrived before we had completely used all of our provisions. At least we still had some food left. We had been forced to go the last several shifts rowing without fresh water. While this was not a true hardship, in that it did not cause us any permanent injury, it was nonetheless unpleasant. When we had at last stepped off the side of the raft and into the relatively shallow water near the far shore, the first thing that I wanted to do was to find a river, stream, or creek. This side of the little sea was very similar in temperature to our previous location--if anything a little lusher and a little more heavily forested. We both reasoned that it would be an easy matter to find a river, and we were correct. A slow flowing river about one hundred fifty feet across was draining its slightly muddy but unsalted cargo into the broad blue expanse less than a mile from where we had put ashore. I took a long drought and filled all of our water containers.

"Let us rest for a while nearby," said the beautiful Amatharian woman.

"Fine," I replied, looking around. "Why don't we make a temporary camp upon that hill?" Reaching up above a slight bend in the river was a small hill topped by five or six large, bushy trees. From the top, one could look around in all directions, with a great view of the river, and with the exception of some of the heavily wooded areas, a good view of everything else. Once at the top of the hill, we found a great spot to lie down upon, with the shade of the largest of the trees to protect us from the eternal noon-day sun. Though we were both tired, I volunteered to take the first watch. Even in a garden, one could never be too careful.

While Noriandara Remontar quietly dozed beneath the shady tree, I strolled around the base of the hill, scouting the area and looking for any possible sources of food. It may seem as I relate this story, that we spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about, looking for, or thinking about food, but anyone who has been alone in the wilderness, forced to live by their wits or by the hand of providence will agree that things like food, water, and shelter take on an importance that at other times seems out of proportion. This new land in which we found ourselves was not so well stocked as the one from which we had come, though I found some fruit on a tree which had been slightly nibbled at by some animal or other. When I returned to the hilltop, the Princess was still sleeping, so I sat and watched her for a while. I had little opportunity to do so while paddling along in the water, and I had missed it, for you see, I cannot stress enough what an incredibly beautiful woman she was. This time though, as I looked at her, I couldn't help but daydream about her cousin. If only I could see my very good friend Vena Remontar again, all the adventures through which I had passed would seem trivial. Shortly, the Princess returned to the world of the living and sat up. She inquired if anything unusual had happened during her nap. I related the details of my observation of the surrounding countryside, and I gave her half of the fruit which I had acquired.

"You may take your turn sleeping now," said the Amatharian woman.

"I don't know that I'm really sleepy yet," I replied, laying down and using a partially exposed tree root for a pillow. "Maybe you could talk a bit, and help me to go to sleep."

"What do you want me to talk about?" she asked in a tone that only confirmed my belief that she did not particularly enjoy casual conversation.

"Tell me about your visit to the garden of souls."

"I was already a grown woman, and an accomplished swordsman. I had been on many expeditions and seen many things in the world. I had many adventures. In fact, my cousin Vena Remontar had already received her soul, even though I was walking upright when she was born. My brother had gone to the garden to find his soul, and I was tempted to do the same, but I was also... hesitant. I went to reflect in the Temple of Amath, but it didn't seem to provide answers that I needed.

"I walked back to the garden entrance to see if Norar Remontar had returned. He had not, but a young swordsman from the Tree Clan emerged from the garden just then. He had been in the garden for a long time, but had not received his soul. Instead of dying as he should have, he had come out. His family and his clan were greatly dishonored. Every member of Tree Clan who was present in the courtyard, lowered their heads and walked away.

"I decided right then that I would not seek a soul. I would live my life as a swordsman and a scientist as my aunt did. I started to walk away. For some reason though, I could not control my direction, and I walked right into the garden. It was my soul calling me, but I didn't know that at the time. Once inside the gates, I knew that I could not come back out. There was no going back. I went deeper into the garden until I found my soul. Only then did I return."

Her tale told she slowly walked away down the hill. I thought about the fact that everyone has their own story and that what might seem so strange to one of us, would be so ordinary to another, and that what was an every day event for one, my be a traumatic event in the life of another. Then there were those events which would affect anyone, and affect them forever --like the young swordsman from the Tree Clan. My mind told me that this was the one thing in which the Amatharians were cruel and unnecessarily so. Yet another part of my body, some part which I could not quite identify, seemed to tell me that it was just and right that the Amatharians should spurn and cast out anyone who dared to return from the Garden of Souls without a soul of his own.

Thinking such thoughts, with two different parts of my body it seemed, I dozed off. I had become adept at falling asleep during the daylight hours, since that is all that there were in the world of Ecos, something that would have been, if not impossible, then at least unusual for me when I lived on Earth. I recalled that long ago I wondered if Amatharians closed their drapes before sleeping, and realized that I had not really paid much attention when I was in the city --but as it turned out Amatharians had no drapes. Bedrooms usually possessed no windows. Falling asleep was not really that difficult a task, as I am sure that many afternoon nap-takers can attest. I was beneath a shady tree, and the clouds above shaded the land around me with dappled sunlight.

I was startled awake by that unpleasant feeling of someone or some thing hovering over me. I opened my eyes to find that this was the case. A black dripping form stood over me. It had a rounded mushy body with a decidedly frog-like shape. If was difficult to tell where the head ended and the body began, but upon its head was a great drooping mouth and two huge googly eyes. While its body was pudgy, its arms were long and spindly with webbed hands. Its legs by contrast, were thick and powerful. It wore no clothing, and the only article of equipment which it carried was a long bone dagger. My mind had just enough time to register these facts, when the repulsive thing jumped on me.
Chapter Twenty Eight: The Bloobnoob

The thing lunged down at me, intent on grabbing me with its long and relatively spindly, but no doubt strong, arms. I rolled back onto my shoulders and planted both my feet in the creature's chest, and giving it a great shove, I sent it flying ten feet into the air. With a single swift motion, I came to my feet, and was standing upright with glowing sword in hand when the grotesque amphibian came crashing back to the ground with a dull thud.

There were six more of the monsters standing around me, and they lunged for me as a group. I swung my sword through the body of the closest, while pushing the next back with my left hand. I recoiled as I felt the thick coating of slime which covered the thing's body. At that moment, three others rushed forward and I was knocked back against the tree. I began hacking with abandon, chopping here and there into the bodies of my attackers. This caused them to step back a few feet. At least those who were still able to step back did so. One was lying on the ground unmoving, and two others were flopping around as they tried to get back to their feet.

While they took a moment to decide who would be the first among them to die, I prepared myself for their next assault. When they lunged forward, I jump up, tucking and rolling forward, to land behind them. Then with a spinning cut, I decapitated two in one blow. When I say decapitated, I mean that I sliced off at least the top half of what I would call the head, for I repeat it was difficult to say just where the body ended and the head began. There was no neck. The single remaining unscathed amphibian turned toward the river, and it was with fierce satisfaction that I noted none of those who remained would ever swim again. I ran after the last remaining man-frog, the anger born of being taken from peaceful sleep into bloody battle hazing over my better judgment. I could have easily overtaken the flopping limping gate of the slimy entity, even with out my gravity enhanced speed. Before I had gone more than two steps, I stopped in my tracks. Stuck into the ground was Noriandara Remontar's sword. I pulled it out of the ground and looked at it. It was quiet. There was no sign of the soul within, and I felt my heart ache, even though I knew this really signified nothing. The soul would have been quiet even if I had been using it in battle. The soul only awaked when used by its chosen knight. I put the Princess's sword in my sheath, and continued.

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