By midnight they sensed that more than a river lay ahead; there was a lake. Withered gullets contracted when trees appeared like black battlements over a ridge they mounted. Wildwood barred off the water. Strengthless as they now were, few of them could face another struggle through thickets: certainly not at night, when beings that wished them no good were likely a-prowl. Unnutar, whose nose was the keenest in the tribe, said that he snuffed wrongness in the lake itself; something huge lurked there.
“We must soon drink, or we die,” Rinna whimpered.
“Be still,” snarled a mother whose babe lay fainted in her arms.
“Food also,” Meiiva said. Though her race needed much less,
nourishment on land than at home, none were used to going this many hours hungry. Scores of the group were reeling in weakness; children had drained away their tears pleading for any mouthful.
Vanimen strove to clear his mind. “Farmstead,” he croaked.
“A well. Larder, granary, cows, pigs. We . . . outnumber the own-
ers . . . scare them off. . . help ourselves, and quickly double back
to the coast-“
“Aye!” rang Meiiva’s voice. “Think, all of you. If we’ve seen no homes, then these acres belong to a large household, rich, well-fed; it can’t be much farther off.” She took them on around the forest border.
After a couple of hours, they did smell water closer by, plus man and cattle. They had rounded the lake and reached the upper river that empti~d into it. Indeed, two streams were flowing to-gether, with settlement near that point. The merfolk broke into a shambling run. Eastward, false dawn tinged the sky.
Again ignorance ruined their cause. They knew so little of humankind, and that only in a corner of the North. Theyiook it for given that cultivation would center on a single estate or, at most, a hamlet-not a sizeable village of serfs guarded by a cas-tleful of men-at-arms. Some among them noticed, but had no chance to warn before madness laid hold of the rest. Like lem-mings, the Liri people sought to the water and cast themselves in.
Dogs did not clamor, but showed instant fear. Soldiers yawning away the tail end of a night watch, came alert and shouted for comrades who were beginning to grumble out of the blankets. Even this early, it was possible to see what a wild gang were at the ford-but unclad and mostly unarmed. Ivan Subitj, zhupan at Skradin, kept his forces always on the ready. In minutes they were out of the gates. Pulsebeats later, horsemen had crossed a bridge, surrounded the strangers, urged back at lance point those who attempted flight. The riders were not many, but foot were on the way too.
Vanimen raised both hands. “Do likewise,” he told his folk, with the last remnants of intelligence that he could summon. “Yield. We are taken.”
V
NOT far north of Als, forest gave way to marsh. This ran for two or three leagues behind a road that was a mere track along the strand and little used, as much from fear of halfworld creatures as because habitation was sparse between here and the Skaw. Archdeacon Magnus had not been afraid to ride past with his entourage, but he was a crusader whom God made invincible against demons. Common folk had no such comfort.
There Herning dropped anchor, one chilly eventide. Eastward the Kattegat glimmered away till it lost itself in dusk. Westward the shore lay darkling. A last smear of sunset cast red across the water, broken by reeds, hummocks, gnarly willows. The land breeze smelled of mire and damp. A bittern boomed, a lapwing shrieked, an owl hooted, lonesome noises.
“Strange to end our quest here,” Ingeborg murmured.
“No, we do not,” Eyjan said. “Here we begin.”
Niels blessed himself, for the place was eerie in truth, and like
every dweller thereabouts he had heard stories. . . nicors, elves? . . . did he truly see a will-o ‘-the-wisp dance blue yonder, for luring men to doom? He wondered if the holy sign would avail him, after all his heathen doings. His hand groped for Eyjan’s, but she had moved aside, starting work.