It nearly fell through her nerveless fingers, but she managed to saw away at the thongs. As soon as those parted she edged warily around to see what she could do for Stans. Sitting up in the boat she had a better view of the river. Here it was much narrower than it had been ha the valley, which might well add to the speed of the current.
The boat itself was blunt bowed, rising high on the sides. It appeared to be made of a wooden frame over which was tight stretched hide so thick it must come from some beast beyond Yurth knowledge. That was also scaled on the outside as she could see where it had been brought over at the edge and laced down. And she did not doubt that it was perhaps far tougher than any wood.
There was a feeling of age about it, as if not of her time at all. And she marveled at how buoyantly it rode.
Using both hands she shifted Stans a little, with a catch of breath as the boat dipped ominously. But at least she was able to saw at the cords near buried in the flesh of his wrists where they had been drawn so cruelly tight.
His ankles had fared better than hers for he wore the boots of a hunter. And there was more give to the bonds there. Once he was free she settled him as best she could to steady the boat. The blood stains from his shoulder had not spread, she could hope that the wound had stopped bleeding.
Now-without any oar, paddle, or means of controlling their craft-what could be done to better their present state? Elossa drew a deep breath as she turned her attention back to the river.
16.
She did not have long to so wonder for the end of their wild voyage was very near. The higher walls about them sank swiftly, until they came out of the canyon into another valley-if valley it was and not a plains country beyond the mountains. At least this level land, clothed in the autumn hued grass, spread like a sea as far on out as Elossa could distinguish ahead.
The river which carried them did not flow so swiftly here, and its way across the plain was marked by stands of water-nourished brush and small trees which were the only vegetation to rise above the level of the thick grass. For the rest this seemed a deserted land. It was close to sunset as far as Elossa could judge and there was not a bird to be seen, no grazing animals in sight.
While the dull hue of the grass and the faded colors of the tree leaves gave a forbidding cast to the whole of this land, it appeared as if all vibrant life had been drawn out of it, and only withered remnants left. Looking around she shivered, more from inner than outer chill.
A groan from Stans drew her attention back to her companion. His eyes were open and he had shifted his position a little. When his gaze met hers his eyes were still open. It was plain he realized at least some of what had happened.
With his hand he touched his shoulder carefully and winced. But at least he was fully conscious. Now he looked out at the plain into which the river was carrying them.
“We are beyond the heights.” It was more a statement than a question.
“Yes,” Elossa answered. “Though where we may be I have no idea.”
He was frowning and now he rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Was it a dream-or did we see Karn back there?”
Elossa chose her words. “We saw a man. . . he had a face like the Mouth of Atturn. . . you called him Karn.”
“Then it was not just a dream.” Stans spoke heavily. “But Karn is long dead. Though, yes, he was priest as well as king and in his own time men whispered behind their hands-a dark legend but one even I have heard remnants of. Karn dealt with forces most men did not even believe existed. Or so they say-and said. It is true I cannot remember clearly.” Now he shook his head. “I feel that I should, but that some wall stands between me and the truth. Karn. . . .” his voice trailed away.
“If that was your long dead king,” Elossa cut in sharply, “he has taken to himself some evil followers. The monsters who brought us down were no true blood of men.”
“Yes. And them, of them I have no knowledge at all. But why they loosed us to the mercy of the river and this boat. . . .” He moved again and his face twisted with what must have been a grievous twinge of pain. But he had hitched up farther and was gazing around as if now intent upon assessing their situation clearly.
“No oars,” he commented, “It is plain we are not meant to command any part of the future. But. . .”
Elossa, who had looked back at the river and what lay ahead, gave an exclamation. There seemed to be a wall of brush now directly above the water, though that flowed unimpeded beneath it. It was evident that bearing down upon the barrier as they were, there was no other chance but that the boat would be brought up against it.
Carefully she got to her knees, balancing with difficulty as the boat bobbed and moved under her weight. Even if she stood, Elossa guessed, she could not have reached the top of that obstruction across the water.
The boat rocked again as Stans raised himself higher. He gestured to the river itself.
“Swim for it?” he suggested.
Though Elossa had splashed about in mountain pools she knew that she would be at a loss in this current-driven river. She hesitated. Perhaps, were they to bring up against the mass of the barrier, that could be better climbed. Yet the presence of the barrier itself was an implied threat. It had not simply appeared there as some freak of nature, of that she was sure. Made-it brought to mind the question of its makers and the purpose for which they might have erected it.
In the end they were given no choice at all. For even as the boat neared the barrier, there dropped, seemingly from the very air over their heads (though Elossa knew it must be the result of some well trained casting) a net which entangled both the boat and its occupants.
She and Stans were fighting that entrapment when those who had so arranged their capture appeared out of the brush and trees on either side of the stream. Unlike the misshapen monsters of their first encounter with the mountain dwellers, these were straight of body, well formed. And-they were Yurth!
Elossa cried out for help. These were kin, her own blood. But-were they. Some wore the coarse clothing of the mountain clans, enough like her own to have come from the same looms. Others had on the tight-fitting body suits she had seen in the pictures the ship had shown her, the same that Yurth who had aimed the ancient weapon at them scarce a day ago had appeared in.
Elossa sent out an imperative mind-call. To be so startled in return that she cried out. These were closed-tight guarded against her touch. Yurth they might appear in body-they were not Yurth in mind.
Also she saw now their faces more clearly-they were blank eyed, without expression. Nor did they speak to one another in any words as these on the left bank drew the net and so the boat and its two occupants toward them.
“Yurth,” Stans said. “Your people-what would they do with us?”
Elossa shook her head. She felt so strange and at a loss-meeting closed minds, blank faces where she had the right to expect something far different-that she now had the sensation of being caught tight in some nightmare, or else laid under so strong a hallucination that it endured in spite of any attempt on her part to break it.
“They look Yurth-” She spoke her bewilderment aloud. “But they are not, not the Yurth I know.”
If they were not her people, they were well used to handling prisoners taken in their odd net and water trap. And there were too many of them for either Elossa or Stans, weakened as he was by the reopening of his wound, to put up any defense. Even though her first attempt at communication had failed, the girl tried twice again to launch mind-send at their captors. But it would seem that none were receptive.
In the end, their hands once more bound behind them, she and Stans were marched away from the river and the boat, now tied at the bank, striking out across the dull emptiness of the plain. At sunset they camped where a circle of stones set to confine fire to a much blackened and ash-piled piece of ground suggested that this was a well used halting place.