Shadow World (33 page)

Eerin sighed heavily. "Hin must sleep again now." The Elpind looked up at the moons and shivered, feeling the strange and heavy fatigue again. "Mark should sleep again, also."

The next morning Mark awakened to sprinkles of rain that soon became a downpour. Even with wet socks rubbing new blisters on his feet, he set a fast pace for the group. If they could maintain it, they would reach the nahah on the following day.

As he had yesterday, Mark watched his pair partner intently. His hope that the cooling rain might revive Eerin somewhat went unrealized. Eerin's voracious eating persisted, and the Elpind appeared very worn. Hin's golden eyes were dull, and hin seemed totally self-absorbed.

"Okay, Mark," Cara had said to him when she'd awakened and seen the Elpind this morning, "something is obviously wrong with Eerin. What's going on?"

"I was going to tell you," Mark assured her. They were alone save for Terris; the other members of their party had gone off for what they euphemistically referred to as their morning "constitutionals." Mark went on to explain as he sat cross- legged on the grassy ground, the warm rain dripping off his nose and hair, and feeding Terris.

Cara had listened in silence, then nodded thoughtfully. "That's too bad," she said. "But as long as Eerin isn't sorry about it,

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I guess it would be silly for me to get upset."

Envying Cara her quiet tolerance, Mark had sighed.
If only I could feel that
kind of acceptance ...
"There's more," he'd added. "We were right about Hrrakk' keeping secrets ..." He went on to tell her all that Eerin had revealed about the Simiu. "Do you think I should ask him about it?" he concluded. "Let him know that I know?"

"I don't know," Cara said. "He's perfectly capable of just ignoring you, he's good at that. But if you sense that the moment is right ... maybe you should try it."

Just then Hrrakk' and R'Thessra returned, and, by mutual unspoken

agreement, they dropped the subject.

Late afternoon found them wending their sodden way through a thick stand of tal , interlacing, heavily needled trees. Suddenly Eerin began making sounds that, in a human, would have been deep gasps.

Mark halted immediately. "Eerin, what is it?"

"Hin miscalculated the time until Enelwo." Eerin panted, swaying slightly.

"Nine of hin's slisrin are now open."

Mark's heart was pounding. "Should we stop?"

The Elpind nodded. "But not here. Hin must still dance the Mortenwol for the last time as a neuter, and hin wishes that to be under the sky." While it was a bit drier under the canopy of intertwining branches, it was also quite gloomy.

"Eerin, maybe it's not a good idea for you to dance the Mortenwol," Mark protested. The Elpind appeared ready to collapse at his feet.

"It is tradition. The one-who-is-to-Change dances only once after the slisrin begin to open, and that is at the last moment before all strength is gone. Hin must be prepared for a new life or for death. Whichever Enelwo is to bring, hin
must
be prepared!" Exhausted, Eerin plopped down on the wet ground, but the golden eyes were full of determination.

Seeing his premonition fulfil ed when Eerin could no longer stand, Mark crouched down next to the Elpind. "I understand the importance," he said.

"But are you physically capable of it? If you fell and injured yourself ..."

"Hin will be able," insisted Eerin, bracing hinself with hin's hands to stay upright.

"But you can't even walk!"

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Hrrakk' spoke up in Mizari. "I will carry the Elpind. Place hin on my back."

Eerin gave the Simiu a grateful look. Mark gently took hold of the Elpind's bony arm, feeling the slickness of the water- soaked down, then helped Eerin up. He lifted the alien onto Hrrakk's broad back, the way he would have placed a human child on a pony, watching as hin twisted hin's fingers in the rippling bronze mane.

Even Terris, from hinsi's clinging point just below Mark's left collarbone, squawked with interest at the proceedings.

They walked on, continuing past sunset. At some point the rain stopped, though it was hard to tell when, because water continued to drip steadily from the leaves.

Another hour brought them out from under the trees and to the base of a huge vertical cliff. The wind had risen, sending the cloud cover scudding away in ragged clumps, and they could see that the first two moons were already up. Shifting striations moved across the face of the cliff as the moonlight picked out crevice after crevice. The only sound was the soughing of the trees in the wind that had sprung up.

"So beautiful," breathed Cara.

Mark shivered, hating the feel of his wet clothing in the cool breeze, but he was as awed by the sight as Cara. He understood why Eerin wanted to get out under open sky to dance the Mortenwol.

He looked over at Hrrakk' and his rider. Eerin had sagged a little more with each passing hour until, now, hin did not so much sit as sprawl across the Simiu's powerful back, eyes closed. Hin's creamy fluff was slicked down in bedraggled whorls.

"Let's hurry and find a place to stop where Eerin can dance," said Mark.

Privately he felt sure that even with Hrrakk's help these last three hours Eerin had miscalculated; hin's strength was already gone.

Going over the top of the rocky cliff was unthinkable, but the map showed a way around in either direction. The group walked for fifteen minutes parallel to the rock face and past tumbled heaps of boulders along its base. One boulder stood out larger than the others in front of them. Mark rounded it first.

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"This is it," he said immediately. "If Eerin's going to dance the Mortenwol, this is the place."

The small meadow hung on the very side of the mountain. Here and there, scattered in the thick, springy grass, were clumps of time-smoothed rocks, but there was plenty of open space. The third moon had joined the first two now, and in the increased light Mark could see wildflowers on skinny stalks.

They swayed gracefully in the breeze and cast dancing, multiple shadows across the grass.

From its high perch the meadow commanded a spectacular view of valleys and mountains rolling away as far as could be seen. Their color was lost in the black and white contrast of Elseemar's night, but the hard, radiant clarity of the scene, then a sensation of blurriness as shadows shifted, and then another freeze into clarity gave a surrealistic beauty to the whole that day could never have matched.

Hrrakk' stopped, then, with Cara's help, slid the limp Elpind off his back.

Mark took the kareen out of his knapsack. "We're here, Eerin," he said, reaching for the Elpind's shoulder, "time to dance the--"

"Mark, listen!" Cara broke in. "Do you hear something?"

"Like what?"

Without replying, she crossed the little meadow to the edge where it seemed to drop off into the air. "Hey, there's a path over here. It comes right up the side of the mountain."

Mark joined her. It was true. What looked like a sheer drop from the other side was actually a steep, but passable, series of slopes down to a valley floor. A narrow, switchback trail snaked up them.

"We're fairly close to the nahah now. I'll bet the Elspind roam all over these mountains looking for those mreto nuts Eerin told me grow at this altitude,"

he said. "It's possible that we won't have to walk all the way to the nahah to find help; it might find us."

Mark peered down the trail. "What did you think--Cara!" He jumped back from the edge, pulling her with him. "Somebody's coming up the path!"

"I knew I heard something!" Cara said excitedly. "Here's the help you were talking about!"

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"Let's make sure that's what it is, first," Mark cautioned.

He hustled the group back to the boulder at the far edge of the meadow, and they hid behind it. Eerin had no trouble keeping up. Oddly, hin had come out of sleep almost like hin's old, energetic self.

It's the determination to dance the Mortenwol,
decided Mark, noting a feverish light in the huge eyes.

"There may be some hin to dance with," Eerin said hopefully.

A round, creamy head rose up into view over the edge of the meadow, and then the body, and then another head behind it, and then a whole file of aliens climbed steadily up and into the meadow.

Mark counted twelve. The downy, unclothed bodies of nine marked them as hin. The other three, clad in loose, long tunics, were heen.

One of the heen turned so that he faced their hidden watching group, and in the bright moonlight Mark saw clearly the emblem on his tunic.

"Oh, shit ..." he breathed.

They were Wospind.

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Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17

The Change

Voices speaking Elspindlor carried distinctly through the still night as Mark and his companions crouched, hidden, and listened. "The time has come,"

said one of the Wospind. "Hin must dance now."

"The search can wait a few hours," said another. "There is only the one group left to find."

Mark shivered, and sudden fear made him faintly sick.
Oh, God, they've
captured the two other teams! And now they're looking for us! The other
parties must have told them we were headed for the nahah. Are they going
after the Asimov, too?

He watched, his mouth dry with fear, as the Wospind piled their weapons at the base of one of the large boulders. They were armed as Eerin had described to him once, with weapons the Wospind had revived. They were ancient weapons from days long ago when Elspind had fought over territory and even mates: short, jagged-toothed steel spears, slings, and long steel knives that reminded Mark of an ancient Roman
gladius.

One modern weapon lay gleaming anachronistically amid the old-fashioned arsenal: a repulsor gun. Standard issue to CLS sociological teams, repulsor guns were designed to deliver a

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stunning shock, but not injure a target seriously. They were used on primal worlds to protect researchers against wildlife.

Suddenly the distinctive sound of a kareen shrilled forth, and Mark looked back at the meadow. The male Wospind were now seated, but all nine of the neuters, with feathers on their heads, stood in a loose circle.

"Don't tell me they're all going to dance the Mortenwol!" whispered Cara. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw her activate her camera.

"Only the hin are going to dance," Eerin told them in a hushed voice. "That means that one of them nears Enelwo. Hin sees! There is the one who begins the Change." Eerin pointed, just as each dancer erupted into that first, soaring leap.

The Wospind danced with the same grace and ease that Eerin always did, and the energy of the Mortenwol poured off them with an intensity that was nine times multiplied. The sweet, high music of the kareen echoed and reechoed off the rocky mountainside, floating away on the breeze like a chorus of ghostly voices.

Which one did Eerin say is beginning the Change?
It was hard to watch any individual as the dancers wove in and out of their patterns, but Mark tried.

Finally he saw one that was different from the rest. Hin still glistened from the afternoon rain, while the others appeared to be dry.

No, not rain,
Mark realized.
That's the fluid that comes out of the slisrin. It's
all over hin!

Reflexively, he glanced at Eerin, and saw that his pair partner also glistened in the moonlight. Clear drops of liquid slicked Eerin's down.

Mark's throat tightened as he watched Eerin, who was observing the dance with a sad, hungry yearning in hin's eyes. He knew why. By the time they were safely away from the Wospind, it would probably be too late for his friend. Eerin would enter Enelwo without having danced the last Mortenwol as a hin.

And if hin dies during the Change,
he realized,
hin will have met death
without being prepared.

"Eerin, I'm sorry," Mark whispered. "We can try going back into the woods.

Can you dance without the music?"

"Do not worry. Hin is watching the Mortenwol and dancing

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in hin's heart," Eerin said. The Elpind's courage touched Mark. Clumsily he patted the alien's shoulder.

Hearing the change of melody that signified the end of the Mortenwol, Mark looked back at the dancers. In unison, the circle made that final leap and wafted back to the ground. One, the glistening one, sagged to hin's knees.

That's right,
Mark thought,
Eerin said they wait until the last minutes to dance
their last Mortenwol as neuters.
In response to an imperious gesture from a large, darkish-colored neuter, several Wospind dashed over to the fallen Wopind and lifted hin. In seconds, carrying the one-who-was-to-Change, the group was heading away, out the other end of the meadow.

"Hin is the leader of the group," Eerin said, indicating the one who'd made the commanding gesture and who now walked alone at the head of the disappearing column. Then the Elpind gasped and sagged against the rock.

"It is time," hin whispered.

"Thank God the Wospind are going to be stopping for the same reason we are," said Mark. "At least it gives us time to plan. Let's go back a little way. I want to be damn sure this mountain is between us and them tonight."

Cara looked at him sharply. "You think they're looking for us?" She hadn't understood the overheard Elspindlor, of course.

"I know they are," Mark said grimly, and explained.

"Damn! Mark, we can't hole up and hide from them, we have to keep going! If everyone else has been captured, that means it's
really
up to us to notify the CLS about the
Asimov!
They're depending on us!"

Mark indicated Eerin, who was gasping shallowly, hin's golden eyes glassy with shock or pain. "We've got to stop for a while, Cara," he said.

Looking somewhat abashed, she nodded. "You're right. Maybe by tomorrow they'll be gone."

Mark nodded and helped Eerin stand. "Eerin, do you want to ride on Hrrakk's--"