UTGARD
A wind from the west up an hour sunset, until their was a salt in the air, a to clothing, plaster to the skull, a across the skin. Yet Thorvald no shelter, in of the promise in the at their backs. The in which their and was stuff, than gravel, with of drift—bone-white or or lavender—smoothed and by the of low and high, and hurricanes. A wild and a one, to Shann's distrust, a for that disk's guiding.
Shann had in the mountains, the world of the river at night by the of and plants, the of the heights. Yet there had been through all that a to his own past on other worlds. A tree was a tree, it or was red-veined. A was a rock, a river a river. They were hard and wet on Warlock or Tyr.
But now a he not describe, in his own thoughts, him and the over which he walked, him and the sea which sent to wet his clothing, him and that wild of long-ago storms. He put out his hand and touch sand, drift, spray; yet they were a setting where something that setting—something watched, calculatingly, with intelligence, and a set of and he did not, not share.
"... coming." Thorvald paused in the of wind and spray, the of the sea. The sun was still a just above the horizon. And it gave light to make out that of melting out to obscurity.
"Utgard——"
"Utgard?" Shann repeated, the word no meaning for him.
"Legend of my people." Thorvald from his with one hand. "Utgard, those where the who are the of the old gods."
Those dark lumps, most of them rock, only a with vegetation, might well anything, Shann decided, or the of any race. Perhaps the Throgs had their of in the night, to people wild, unknown lands. He at Thorvald's arm and a practical of action.
"We'll need the strikes." To Shann's the other nodded.
They across the beach, their now to the sea and Utgard. That harsh-sounding name did so well fit the line of and islets, Shann it to himself. Here the beach was narrow, a of sand-gravel by wave-worn boulders. And from that of into a by chance, with bone-bare drift, the of the cliffs. Shann the with uneasiness. To be a sea, by a wind, and that would be a he did not like to consider, as of as he was. They must some nearer than the fiord, which they had come. And they must it soon, the was gone and the full of weather struck.
In the end the an exit, just as they had the passage through the mountain. Taggi into a line the of the and disappeared, Togi that feat. Shann them, the opening a tight squeeze.
He into dimness, his hands meeting a surface upward. After a point about eight above the beach he was able to look and through the slit. Open to the sky the proved a to a narrow valley, not those which the fiords, but provided with a thick of well protected by the high walls.
Working as a now well-rehearsed team, the men set up a of and brush, the to the through which wind was still able to tear a way. Walled in by and that no Throg would attempt to in the of the storm, they make a fire. The was a to their bodies, just as the light of the flames, men's age-old companion, was a to the fugitives' spirits. Those dancing of red, for Shann at least, away that of other-worldliness which had the beach, providing in the night an of the home he had known.
But the wind and the weather did not keep very long. A blast around the upper produced a to equal the voices of a dozen Throg hounds. And in their the Terrans not only the of surf, but the of that through the very ground on which they lay. The sea must have long since the beach over which they had come and was now trying its against the of the barrier. They not talk to each other over that din, although touched shoulder.
The last of from the sky with the speed of a curtain. Tonight no period of night from day, but their of Warlock was into darkness. The into their small haven, in their throats. Shann ran his hands along their bodies, trying to give them a he himself did not feel. Never when on land had he been so aware of the terrors nature exert, the against which all mankind's were as nothing.
Time no longer be by any set of minutes or hours. There was only darkness, the winds, and the rain which must be in part the of the sea in upon them. The fire vanished, and up to their bodies, so that now and again they were to their feet, to arms, stamp, drive the blood into circulation.
Later came a time when the wind died, no longer the rain bullet-hard against and through their shelter. Then they slept in the thick of exhaustion.
A red-purple skull—and from its the things—kept ... going.... Shann on an which under his weight as had the of the river voyage. He was nearer to that great head, see now how about the of the jaw, of missing teeth—which were of rock—as if the now and then from the water. The marking the nose was closer to a snout, and the was dark, dark as the empty sockets. Yet that was him past any to he summon. And then that on which he so was by the waves, against the jawbone, while against his own will his hands above his head, for a to his up the surface to that snout-passage.
"Lantee!" A hand him back, that compulsion—and the dream. Shann opened his with difficulty, his to his cheeks.
He might have been a world. Thin of up from the earth as if they from planted by the storm. But there was no wind, no from the peaks. Only under his Shann still that which was the sea against the wall.
Thorvald was him, his hand still urgent on the man's shoulder. The officer's was so that his features, under the skin, were to the Shann still saw among the of fog.
"Storm's over."
Shann as he sat up, his arms to his chest, his under that pressure. He as if he would be warm again. When he moved to the where they had their of fire the night he that the were missing.
"Taggi——?" His voice in his own ears, as if some of the thick in the air about them had his cords.
"Hunting." Thorvald's answer was clipped. He was a of from the of their lean-to, where the protection of their own had that dry. Shann a length his hands, it into the pit.
When they did a into being they stripped, out their clothing, it piece by piece on by the of the flames. The air at their and they moved briskly, to keep warm by exercise. Still the curled, by any of sun.
"Did you dream?" Thorvald asked abruptly.
"Yes." Shann did not elaborate. Disturbing as his had been, the that it was not to be was also strong, as as some order.
"And so did I," Thorvald said bleakly. "You saw your skull-mountain?"
"I was it when you me," Shann returned unwillingly.
"And I was going through my green when Taggi took off and me. You are sure your exists?"
"Yes."
"And so am I that the of the is on this world. But why?" Thorvald up, the marking the lines his arms, his and throat, and the of his body. "Why do we those particular dreams?"
Shann the of a shirt. He had no to try and the of those dreams, only was he that he would sometime, somewhere, that skull, and that when he did he would climb to the of the snout, pass to where the might nest—not he wanted to make such an expedition, but he must.
He his hands across his ribs, where pressure still an of the of the energy the Throgs had wielded. There was no on his body, yet easily under the skin, a skin than Thorvald's, to a warm where it had been weathered. His hair, now for a month, was to about his in tight dark rings. Since he had always been the or the smallest or the in the world of the Dumps, of the Service, of the Team, Shann had very little personal vanity. He did a different type of pride, of his own in out over a long of discouragements, failures, and odds.
"Why do we dream?" he Thorvald's question. "No answer, sir." He gave the reply of the Service recruit. And a little to his Thorvald laughed with a of amusement.
"Where do you come from, Lantee?" He asked as if he were interested.
"Tyr."
"Caldon mines." The Survey officer matched to product. "How did you come into Survey?"
Shann on his shirt. "Signed on as labor," he returned with a of defiance. Thorvald had joined the Service the right way as a cadet, then a Team man, an officer, that with every for him when he was prepared to it. What did his know about the labor Barracks where the dull-minded, the failures, the on the run, hard under a social of their own? It had taken every of physical and energy, every of will Shann summon, for him to his three months in those barracks—unbroken and still to be Survey. He still wonder at the which had him from that Training Center had needed another odd hand to clean and for the animals.
And from the center he a Team, when in a smaller group his push and attention to had been noticed and had paid off. Three years it had taken, but he had Team stature. Not that that meant anything now. Shann his on over the of and up, to Thorvald him with a new, the man not understand.
Shann sealed his and up, the bite of hunger, but persistent. It was a he had had so many times in the past that now he gave it a second thought.
"Supplies?" He the to the present and the practical. What did it why or how one Shann Lantee had come to Warlock in the place?
"What we have left of the we had keep for emergencies." Thorvald no move to open the very he had from the scoutship.
He walked over to a and a of plant, neither but of both. Shann it without as one of the of native produce which be safely by Terran stomachs. The was almost and a odor. Consumed in it would satisfy for a time. Shann that with the to they go to soon.
However, Thorvald no to where they might to game. He with Shann's for Taggi and Togi when those two from the well and after their early activity.
When Shann with some heat, the other countered: "Didn't you of fish, Lantee? After a such as last night's, we ought to good along the shore."
But Shann was also sure that it was not only the of food which Thorvald to the sea.
They through the hole. The beach of gravel-sand had save for a narrow of land just at the of the cliffs, where the water in white about the of boulders. There was no in the of the sky; no sun through the thick of clouds. And the green of the sea was to which matched that until one one's trying to the horizon, unable to mark the line here air and water.
Utgard was a necklace, the island-beads lost, the ones more by the in water, more forbidding. Shann let out a of breath.
The top of a near-by itself, up into a thing of armor-plated and wide-jawed head. A into the air; a into equal for half-way its length. A leg as a forefoot, webbed, for a new hold. This sea was the most native thing he had on Warlock, in its the of the Throgs.
Breathing in gusts, the thing its on the with a which that the of that had its limited supply of strength. The forward, across one of the forelimbs. Then Shann the in the just one of the larger legs, a through which with every one of those a dark stream, away by the as it the rock.
"What is that?"
Thorvald his head. "Not on our records," he absently, studying the with attention. "Must have been in by the storm. This proves there is more in the sea then we knew!"
Again the and fell, the head, from the forelimb, up and until the white of the were as the pointed almost to the sky. The opened and from them came a whistle, a which was out by the wash of the waves. Then, as if that was the last effort, the webbed, their of the and the sidewise, out of their sight, into the water. There was a of to mark the and nothing else.
Shann, to see if the would surface again, another object, a shape on the sea, as had their river raft.
"Look!"
Thorvald's his pointing and then Shann protest, the officer from their on the to the where the sea had moments earlier. He there, that object with the attention, as Shann the same in his wake.
The thing was oval, some six long and three wide, the point in a from the water's edge. As as Shann make out in the half-light the color was a reddish-brown, the surface rough. And he by the way that it moved that it must be of the storm, to the with close to resiliency. To Shann's his to strip.
"What are you going to do?"
"Get that."
Shann the water about the rock. The had just there. Was the Survey officer to think he swim through a sea which might be with more such creatures? It that he was, for Thorvald's white out in a dive. Shann waited, and tense, as though he in some way attack anything from the to at his companion.
A arm above the surface. Thorvald toward the object. He it, his hand across the surface. And it so to that touch that Shann it was and to than he had thought.
Thorvald back, the thing him. And when he out on the rock, Shann was up his trophy. They the over, to it hollow. They had, in effect, a ready-made not a with bows. But the was surely organic: Was it shell? Shann speculated, his over the surface.
The Survey officer dressed. "We have our boat," he commented. "Now for Utgard——"
Use this thing to the to the islands? But Shann did not protest. If the officer to try such a voyage, he would do it. And neither did the man that he would Thorvald.
