Through the Ice (3 page)

Before resuming his walk, he took inventory. All of his clothes appeared to be on him, except for his scarf, which must have fallen into the lake. Or the sea. He still had no idea how he had come from one to the other. Maybe he had floated down and down through the lake, and somehow that water opened into this other sea in this strange land, and he had washed ashore and lain there, recovering. Certainly he was lucky to be alive, and if the loss of his scarf was all it had cost him, it was a bargain!

He had a few dollars in his wallet, which he suspected would be worthless here. What use would money be to talking trees? Still, he saved them; one never could tell. There was also a pocket knife, which contained a flint and a magnesium rod for starting fires. Seth was no arsonist, but he felt a lot more secure knowing that he could start a fire if he needed to. Finally, there were a few coins: a dime and three pennies. Not much, certainly, but a tangible reminder of home. Somehow he thought it would be long before he saw that home again.

How was his mother doing? His sister? Did they think him dead in the lake? That hurt! He pictured Ferne crying for him, her cheery nature abolished, her brown eyes turning red, and that hurt worse. No more tickle fights! He wished he could tell them that he was all right, in a land that seemed a good deal friendlier than the one he had left. No punkers here! But the image of men dredging the lake came to his mind, breaking the ice to search for his body. They wouldn't find it, but would that give them hope? How could they possibly guess the truth? He hardly believed it himself! Yet maybe, somehow, they would know...

Seth resumed his trek, paying careful attention to the scenery around him. A short distance from the path some trees were bending to the sides, as if something were pushing them. He saw no animal, and there was not enough breeze to account for it. What did it mean?

Then he realized that there was a pattern to the motion: the path of moving trees was going to intercept Seth's trail, not far from where he was now.

He thought quickly, then did what came naturally: he climbed the nearest large tree. This one was like a bull spruce, but with a blue trunk and red needles, and the branches were triangular in cross section. He was able to stair-step up them readily enough, and to gain a fair concealment because of their thickness and number. He could peer down, but probably would not be noticed unless whatever it was below looked directly at him.

He saw the creature. It appeared to be a huge purple snake, with a diameter of about two feet. It slithered out of the forest and across the path. It stopped under Seth's tree and opened its mouth—which appeared to be at its tail end. It swung its neck in every direction, then closed its mouth and slithered back into the forest on the other side. The thing was traveling backwards, with the mouth behind and no apparent eyes!

The snake safely past, Seth started his descent. He had remained absolutely still, so as not to attract attention; that serpent might be able to climb! But when he tried to move, he discovered that he could not. He seemed to be glued to the tree.

He controlled his panic reaction; that had gotten him into too much trouble before! Maybe there was sap or something, that adhered to his clothing, fastening it to the trunk. If so, he should be able to work himself free without making a commotion.

He examined himself—and found that little branches or rootlets had grown around him and attached themselves to his clothing. He tried to tear himself free, but could not; the cloth was so closely bound that it seemed to have become part of the tree.

Seth was able to get his right arm free of the sleeve, and to reach into his pocket for the knife. With that he tried to cut the rootlets, but they were tough, and he ended up cutting more cloth than root. He had to climb out of his shirt and Levis and leave them behind, after saving his few other belongings. He did salvage his sneakers, though; apparently the tree could not burrow through their rubber soles or tough upper canvas. He still had his winter jacket, and the fruit that he had been carrying in it. He added his wallet, pen knife and coins to the fruit, as he no longer had regular pockets.

He was alone, and it was warm, but he didn't feel easy about traveling on in his underwear. This wasn't just modesty; there could be predatory insects, though he hadn't been bothered so far. Certainly there were scratchy branches. There was also sunshine in the glades; he could get burned if he was in it too long. He wanted enough body cover to protect him from possibly unpleasant surprises.

After searching the area, he found a tree with extremely large and tough leaves of a funny color. Oh—they were green! He cut off several with his knife. How glad he was that he had not lost this one tool! He fastened the leaves together with brown vines from another tree, fashioning a crude skirt. Then he made an even cruder shawl to protect his shoulders. As an afterthought he found a suitable stick and whittled one end into a sharp point. Now he had a serviceable spear. After seeing the monstrous snake, he knew that this land was not necessarily friendly, and he wanted more protection than bare hands and a pocket knife.

He knew that he looked somewhat outrageous, but he ventured bravely forth. Twenty kilometers was a long hike, about twelve miles, and it was apparent that he would not cover it on this day. He would have to spend a night in this strange wilderness. The thought hardly pleased him, but it appeared unavoidable.

Seth traveled what he figured to be about eleven kilometers, or a generous six miles in the more familiar measure, and decided to set up camp. It was more important to have a safe haven for the night than to make extra distance. With about an hour and a half left before dusk, assuming that the pattern of the day here was similar to that of home, he should have time to build a shelter. Certainly he wasn't going to try to sleep in a tree! Without his regular clothing on, it would be his flesh the rootlets found, and they might like it all too well.

Methodically, he searched the area. He found a fallen tree of suitable size, and dragged it back to the path, laying it at a low angle wedged in a V of another tree. Next he found medium-sized branches which he angled against the tree on both sides. He found a plant with leaves similar to the ones he had made his kilt from, and intertwined the leaves between the branches.

Satisfied, he checked the little hut. An opening at one side was where he would build a fire. If any big snakes came, that should discourage them, he hoped! Seth collected twigs, sticks and branches, making sure to have enough for the entire night.

The fire started in no time, which was good because it was rapidly growing dark. He ate a few more fruits, glad that they were juicy because he had no other source of liquid, then submitted to an urgent call of nature. He picked up his makeshift spear and sat in the shelter, watching the fire. He intended to remain awake all night, so as not to be caught off guard. He had had no experience with the creatures of the night here, and he wanted to see them before they saw him.

He sat silently, feeling more and more tired. His eyes drifted upward, and he watched the sparks from the fire reaching for the sky like aspiring stars.

Suddenly, Seth was no longer sitting in the warm hut, but racing through the snow. He ran through the forest, hearing the punkers laugh. In a fit of rage he turned around. Eight of them appeared, and Rian was on the ground, trembling in pain.

Seth charged the enemy. The first one swung a pipe at his head. He ducked and delivered a front snap kick to the enemy's groin. He inverted his foot and sent a roundhouse kick to the man's face. There was a loud thud as the punker hit the ground, motionless.

Whirling on the next attacker, Seth saw the glint of a knife. The punker slashed at Seth's face, and he jumped back.

He was not in time. The knife left a stinging gash on his cheek. Rage building with the pain, Seth spun in the air and made a devastating reverse kick, crushing the punker's rib cage.

Three more charged Seth. He moved with blinding speed. The first aggressor met a reverse punch which broke his nose. The second fell to the ground after receiving a side-foot kick that snapped his knee backwards. The third met with a drop-axe kick that broke his shoulder blade and his collarbone.

The remaining two punkers, seeing the way of it, hopped into the van and sped away.

Seth ran to Rian, taking off his scarf and tying it around Rian's wound. He ran out to flag down a car driving down the road. Naturally several cars sped right on by, not wanting to get involved, but then the police arrived. Thank God!

Seth woke, sweating and shivering. He realized that he was in his crude hut, keeping watch against the potential threats of the night. What a weird vision he had had.

The strangest thing about it was the seeming sense it made. That slash on the face—that accounted for the one he had found when he woke on the beach. His lost scarf—he had given it to Rian. In the dream.

Against his best intention, he drifted back to sleep. Now, however, he dreamed of pleasant fragrances, flowers, and the wind playing beautiful music as it whistled through reeds.

When he woke again it was morning. The sun was out and mist was rising off the ground. His fire had burned out. Some alert watcher he had been! He was lucky he hadn't been gobbled by a giant snake.

But there was something strange. He had dreamed of music. Now he was wide awake—but he still heard that music.

A soft, lilting melody was drifting to him. Seth shook his head, realizing that this was no dream. Someone was playing nearby!

"Who's out there?" he shouted—and immediately wished he hadn't. He should have kept quiet until he knew more about the other person. Now he had given himself away.

There was no answer, but the music stopped. This was not a good sign! Cursing his thoughtlessness, Seth reached for his spear. He had been foolish, but he didn't have to make it worse. This was no time to panic!

He assessed his situation. He was in a hut, and there was someone or something somewhere outside. It wasn't necessarily hostile. It had been singing, after all.

The other could have known that Seth was in the hut all along. It could have been watching him all night. Not good—not good at all! Yet it hadn't attacked, so this might not be bad either. There was no way to be sure.

First things first: if he stayed in the hut, he was an easy target. Better to get out quickly. At least he would be ready to defend himself, then.

Seth burst out of the hut, uttering a harsh cry, so as to surprise the other and scare it back. And crashed chest to chest with a gorgeous girl. She screamed and fell on the ground, her bright purple skirt spreading in disarray to show her lovely legs.

Seth, so well braced for trouble, had not been ready for this! Why hadn't he realized that it was a girl playing the music? The tune had been light, after all. He had been so worried about the danger that he hadn't really listened.

He felt terrible. He extended his hand to her, in a gesture of conciliation.

"Aaayyyeeee! Rame, help!" she cried, scooting away in panic.

Startled, Seth retreated. He was embarrassed about almost attacking the girl, but alert for danger. It had been a girl who had gotten him into trouble back where he came from, after all. With his peripheral vision he noticed movement about a hundred feet up the path. He whirled.

He heard a whooshing sound, and another. One arrow flew past his left shoulder, and one past his right. Fortunately both had missed.

Or had that been bad aim? The bracketing was so neat and swift that it could be a warning. Seth hesitated.

Suddenly his neck was caught by a rope. His hands came up reflexively, grabbing it before it tightened further, but the rope was already pulling hard. His head was jerked back, and he was hauled off his feet.

For a moment he swung wildly, his feet pedaling air, his hands trying desperately to keep the noose from becoming a garrote. Then his back smacked into the trunk of a tree.

The arrows reappeared, going in opposite directions, circling him.
Circling him?
Even caught as he was, Seth gaped at that!

Then he realized that they were tethered arrows. In fact, the two were tied together. Like the business end of a bola. They circled around the tree, coming closer with each pass, until each slapped into the bark beside his head.

Seth didn't breathe much of a sigh of relief. Despite his effort to hold it off, the rope was like nylon cord, and was cutting uncomfortably into his neck. He sagged against the tree, and it tightened further, cutting off his breath and blood. He could have held his breath for a time, but when the pressure cut off the blood he blacked out instantly.

Seth woke to the sound of music, again. Cautiously he opened his eyes. He didn't want to knock down any more pretty girls and incite any more devastating attacks!

He was in a cave, lit by torches. He lay on a mat on the floor. Standing beside him was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. The one he had encountered before. Her hair was long and silky blonde, her eyes were stunning green, and her figure made the term "perfect" seem inadequate. She wore the same bright purple skirt and brown blouse, and on her this seemed the ideal decor.

The girl looked at him and saw that he was awake. This time Seth did not extend a hand; he knew better. Instead he slowly shifted his body, rolling toward her. "My name is Seth," he rasped. "What is your—"

"Aaayyyeeee!" she screamed, exactly as before.

Startled, Seth sat up. He shouldn't have. He banged his head into a stalagmite and blacked out again. He seemed to be spending a good deal of time unconscious!

Once more Seth woke. This time there was no music. He cracked open his eyes and saw in front of him a man of about his own age. The man had reddish brown hair, shaggy pants, wooden shoes, pointed ears, and horns.

Seth blinked. Yes, horns. And those shoes weren't wooden after all, and they had no toes. In fact they weren't shoes at all. They were hoofs.