“It is there. I think it watches, but I do not know what it may be, save it does not stink like a Dark One.”
What more he might have said was drowned out in a high, carrying sound, which made me shiver. And that clarion call or trumpet summons was answered – from so close by that I thought it might be that shadow beyond the ring wall. The answer came as a low, snarling growl.
Once more the call, surely a summons, a demand, so imperative was it. The growling followed, a protest, a sullen whine. But on the third sounding of that horn, there was no growl, rather a deep, carrying bellow, perhaps the answer demanded.
Oomark squatted down again, his arms about his knees, balling himself as if to make as small a target as possible to escape notice. I saw his shoulders shake in a series of shudders. His head rested now on his knees, so I could not see his face.
Though I searched the wall of the mist, I could no longer sight that dim shadow, nor did the stench of it linger. Off in the gray billows the horn gave another blast. Now there was no questing note in it, rather a gloating, a promise of worse to come. Before its echoes died away, there was a yapping, a noise that sent my hands in an involuntary gesture to cover my ears. I wanted to sink into the earth and pull protecting sods over me.
“What is it?” I asked Oomark, in a half-whisper. He seemed to know so much of this place, and his fear was now so apparent that I thought he could set name to the nameless.
“The hunt! Ahhhh – ” His words lapsed into a moan of pure fear. “He hunts – ”
“Who?” I grasped at Oomark’s shoulder. He aimed a blow at me in return, as if in his present state he did not know friend from enemy. “Who? Tell me!” I shook him.
“The driver of Dark Ones.” Those strange yellow eyes through which Oomark surveyed this alien world were fixed on the mist wall. His tongue licked his Ups. “He calls his pack to a hunting – ”
There was nothing to reassure one. Still holding to Oomark, I listened, straining to pick up any sound in the dank mist. But when the horn pealed again, it was fainter, farther off, and the hideous yapping that answered it was barely audible.
I felt Oomark relax a little. Once more he licked his lips. He sniffed the air.
“The dark hound is gone,” he reported.
I knew that I must have out of Oomark all he knew or suspected about this world. To travel on blindly, not knowing from which side and at what moment danger might leap, was too great a risk. Knowledge was my hope.
“Oomark, you must tell me what you do know of this world – of things such as the Dark Ones and the hunter – ”
Again he looked at me cornerwise, slyly.
“Please, Oomark. If we are to go on, I must know what dangers lurk here.”
He shrugged. “It is of your choosing that you do not understand for yourself. You would be of that other place, not wholly of this.”
I rebelled. “I am not in the least of this place! I would return to my own place.”
“See?” He spread out his hands in a gesture of bafflement. “You choose to be one in the middle. And the hunter of Dark Ones – and such as he – can therefore hunt you. You ask to know – The means are before you, but you will not take them.”
“Oomark!” I drew on all my store of patience. Tell me what you can.”
The boy hesitated. I thought, “If he does refuse, what means have I of forcing him to it?”
Then he said slowly, “I do not know everything, save that when something such as the hunter’s horn sounds, then here’s – he touched his forehead – “there come knowledge. I know what can be eaten and drunk, what we may meet on this road, and whether it be friend or foe. But before it happens, I do not know, truly. It is only when I see or hear-”
The he spoke the truth, I did not doubt. Now before I could urge any more out of him, he raised his head a little and pointed with his chin.
“The One Between, who was by the rocks, he is here.”
“What does he want?” Oomark seemed so certain, as if he could actually see the hairy creature.
“He hungers – ”
My mind made a horrifying guess. Were we the prey the thing trailed? I tightened my hold on the bag and prepared to do my best in our defense.
Oomark touched my arm and shook his head. “Not us. His -is not the way of the hunter. No, he hungers for what you carry – the food from the other place.”
“Why?”
“I do not know, only that it draws him. He wants it so badly that it means the whole world to him. He can think of nothing else, only that. So I can in turn feel his great hunger in me.” Oomark put his hands to his middle, rubbing himself.
But why? Why would a creature of this world want my few supplies? Not that he would get them, I told myself fiercely. I had that bundle safely under my hand, and the bag was also ready for any attack.
“Yes, that is what he wants. He will follow as long as there is strength in him. He is hurt, you know. When you struck him, he was hurt. Here.” Oomark fingered his own shoulder, lightly, as if dreading to put pressure on some wound.
“Still he is very strong – ” I remembered only too well the bulk of the creature, and I had no desire to face new attack.
“He is tired, and he hurts. Now he has found another ring and rests in it. But when we go on, he will follow.” Oomark reported confidently, and I believed him. So it would be up to us to lose or discourage that follower.
Oddly enough, though I had been tired when settling in this ring. I had no desire to sleep. Nor, it seemed, did Oomark. Though we talked but little thereafter, we spent the passing of time (and how much time, I could not calculate) as if we were waiting for some signal. However, it was not a waiting that made me uneasy or impatient. Rather it was a languid, quiet period between two bouts of action.
We heard no more sounds. Nor did any shadows move now in the mist. Finally I became aware that the curtain was lifting, that I was able to see more. Oomark got to his feet, or rather his hoofs.
“It is the period of outgo. Let us be on our way. I am hungry.”
I made as if to open the supply bag. He shook his head. “I want real food – not that which makes one sick to smell! Come on!”
With that he gave a bound that cleared the darker green of the ring rim, his small hoofs clattering on a stretch of rock beyond. I looked at my boots. It was plain I could not put those on again. The bandaging must serve me for foot covering. And there was no reason to burden myself with useless things. So I left them lying as I moved after the boy.
The lifting of the mist came more swiftly. The ground where we had halted was level and had many rings of various sizes across it. Not too far away one of those rings was occupied. The hunched figure now getting awkwardly to its feet was that of the creature who had hunted Oomark. The tatters it wore for clothing fluttered in a breeze. It had turned its head in our direction. One arm hung by its side. But the other moved, and it extended its empty hand, palm up. I could see the mouth working as it had before when the creature tried to speak.
Again that effort was mighty, convulsive, until my fear was touched with a trace of sympathy. Even I could see it meant no harm, at least for now; it was pleading with us for that which I carried. Why would it so want the food Oomark disdained? The slit mouth worked, spatters of spittle showing in the comers. And the hand, trembling as if it were an effort to hold it so, stretched beseechingly to me.
“Come on!” Oomark had drawn ahead. He looked back impatiently. “I want food.”
“Foooood – ” The word was a distorted mockery of the boy’s, but the creature had uttered it.
I held the supplies tight to me in the crook of my arm while I swung the weighted bag with my other hand. Yet still I hesitated. And in that moment I knew that I could not do what all good sense told me was safe. I took the thong of the stone bag between my teeth, holding it ready. Then I thrust my hand in among the supplies. Without looking, I grabbed what I first touched. It was a choc piece.