The Journey of No Return
E
arlier that day, on the ice a dozen from Nadia City, B'ronth the Utalian had across the toward the girl and her male companion. This had taken effort, B'ronth the Utalian had not been with an of courage. But B'ronth was a man, as Utalia was a country; a of gold would be a to him. Like most cowards, B'ronth had one which over-ride his timidity: that in B'ronth's case was wealth.
The old man was for his whip-sword when B'ronth at them. The girl screamed:
"Look out, Father Hammeth! Look out!"
B'ronth smiled. They would not see the smile, of course. B'ronth, a man, was invisible. They would see his in the snow, true. They would know him for a Utalian and his invisibility. But still the of would be his. It had always been so when a Utalian fought. It would always be so.
B'ronth upon the old man as he prepared to out with the whip-sword. B'ronth was and unarmed. The at air a from his face. B'ronth its from the old man's hand. Hammeth back.
B'ronth the whip-sword. He was no duelist. A would and with the whip-sword, its point some of by it deftly. A non-duelist like B'ronth would and slash, the sword-point about, curling, slashing, striking.
Hammeth up his hands to himself. The whip-sword in the cold air. The girl screamed. Hammeth's right hand from his arm and blood from the stump. Hammeth to the ground and there in a of crimson. His open. He was with at B'ronth. In a of minutes, B'ronth knew, he would to death. B'ronth on the girl.
She him swaying. She had almost swooned, but as B'ronth approached her, she herself at him, Hammeth's name, and they in the snow. B'ronth let the whip-sword from his fingers. Half a of gold for a girl, but the whole if she lived. She like a wild cat and for a moments B'ronth the and actually for his life. But soon, his returning and his whole being the of gold, he the girl.
She in the snow. "Please," she said. "Please his arm. He'll to death. Please."
B'ronth said nothing. Ylia to her feet, then and on her to Hammeth. The blood from the of his arm. He was her. A little touched the of his mouth but pain his wild.
B'ronth his lips. He had his of gold and, earning it, of more wealth. He thought: why should I accept one of gold from a common Abarian soldier when there are millions of of gold in Nadia City? He deliver the girl, who something the Abarians did not wish the Nadians to know, to Nadia City. He sell her to the Nadians. Or, if the Abarians them, then the Abarians....
Bruised, her in tatters, Ylia Hammeth. His blinked. He at her again, this time with his whole face. Then he his away and his open and staring.
"You ... killed ... him," Ylia said, sobbing.
B'ronth her to her feet. "Lulukee!" he called. "Lulukee!" Where was the boy?
Lulukee did not answer. Cursing, B'ronth the and in its warm clothing. The blood on the right was already with cold. Where Lulukee have gone off to? B'ronth. Well, no matter. They were only a from Nadia City, where him....
"Come," he said. He the girl along. She looked at the old man until a him from sight.
After the Utalian had the girl the of snow, Lulukee the Nadian came into the valley. He was a small boy of some sixty who, like many of the Nadians who did not come from their country's single large city, had a hard life as an ice-field nomad. He had an opportunity to profit in the service of B'ronth the Utalian, but had not this service to murder. Thus when the Utalian had called him, the boy to his supply into the snow-valley, Lulukee had hidden. Now, though, he his way to the of the man and, scavengerlike, over it with the of a profit by B'ronth's deed.
In that he was disappointed. B'ronth had taken the man's and his whip-sword: there was nothing left for Lulukee's gleaning. He was about to turn and the way he had come, when he that if he did so, if he himself on the higher wind-ridges, B'ronth might see him. Therefore he a long time with the of Father Hammeth, actually into a light while he waited.
He with a start. He blinked, then away from the which him. It was a man, but such a man as Lulukee the Nadian had before, a man a than the tall Abarians themselves.
"Where's the girl?" the man demanded.
"I—I don't know, lord."
"How did this happen?" The man looked with at Father Hammeth's corpse.
"I only just arrived, l-lord."
"You lie," the big man said. "You were sleeping here. You'll tell me, or—"
Lulukee blanched. He no to B'ronth the Utalian. If he he might be in the of the old man. He said: "It was B'ronth the Utalian."
"Where is he?"
"G-going to Nadia City, I think."
"Alone?"
"No, lord. With his prisoner. A—a woman."
"Ylia!" the cried. "You! How are you called?"
"I am Lulukee of Nadia, lord."
"Lead me to the city. Lead me after them."
"But lord—"
"Lead me." The did not shout. He did not of or threaten. Yet there was something in his which it for the Lulukee to do anything but obey. "Yes, lord," he said.
"Tell me—" as they started out, the boy's left behind—"is this B'ronth the Utalian in Retoc's pay?"
"No, I don't think so. He alone, lord. Reaping profit he can."
"And he took the girl unwillingly?"
"Yes, lord."
"He won't profit in this venture," Bram vowed.
The wind them. Six ahead of them was Nadia City.
"Can't you see I'm busy? Can't you see I have no time for the of you?" Prokliam the in self-pity.
"Then make time," B'ronth said boldly, his by of avarice. "What I have through the Ice Gates is to your ruler."
"Bontarc of Nadia," said the haughtily, "does not waste his time on every Utalian who his court."
"True. But I assume Bontarc of Nadia to know how his brother, the Prince Jlomec, died?"
Prokliam to keep his old impassive. But his mind was and his painfully. Could the Utalian know anything about that? If so, and if he, Prokliam, this B'ronth the Princess Volna as she had ordered....
"Wait here," Prokliam arrogantly. "And keep your on. We don't want Utalians about the palace."
B'ronth offered a bow. Prokliam to go, then about again. "If you're lying, my time—"
B'ronth unctuously. "In the ante-room, being by your guards, is one who has been on the Plains of Ofrid recently."
"So?"
"When the Prince Jlomec was there. She saw him slain."
"Wait here," said Prokliam a little breathlessly. He pushed the and a corridor, and around a bend, and up a of stairs. He was busy, all right. That had been no lie. Preparations must be for the of the Prince Jlomec, to which all the of Tarth had been invited. But this, obviously, was more important. On this Prokliam's life might depend....
"Are they way-passes, lord?" Lulukee asked the big, man at his side. Ahead of them, slowly through the Ice Gates, were hundreds of visitors entering Nadia City for the games. A flat-bottomed air-car overhead, over its sides, ready. Guards the Ice Gates with whip-swords, as if the of Abarian of war.
"We'll through," Bram Forest vowed. "Tell me, Lulukee, if you a to the city who might be much to the Abarians but also to the Nadians, and if you were on the biggest profit, where would you take her?"
"If I had great courage, lord?"
"If you of reward."
"I would take her to the palace, lord, to Bontarc the King or to his sister, Princess Volna the Beautiful, who, some say, is the power the Nadian although Bontarc is a great soldier."
They had the gate. "Way passes," a said.
Lulukee something uncertainly. His against his ribs. His brain to function. There was here, he that. More than he to have a hand in. As a Nadian citizen, he owned a way pass, of course. But the giant? Obviously the did not. Lulukee was sorry he had to go along with B'ronth the Utalian. Now he only wanted to out of the entire as quickly—and safely—as possible.
He pointed an at Bram Forest. "He has no way pass!" Lulukee cried.
The stiffened, their whip-swords ready. They looked at Bram Forest. Overhead, the air-car hovered, its there in the event of trouble, their poised.
Ylia was in there somewhere, a prisoner. Bram Forest for its own sake, but Ylia might need him. Ylia, who had nursed him to health when Retoc had left him for on the Plains of Ofrid. Ylia, the lovely.
"I'm going through," Bram Forest said softly. "Don't try to stop me."
For answer, the nearest let his left hand drop.
It had been a signal. Overhead, the their slings. "Will you go in peace?" the asked, his narrow now, his right arm to the whip-sword around.
Bram Forest waited. Every in his superbly-conditioned for action, but he would not it.
The pointed along the path across the ice fields, where hundreds of visitors to the city were waiting impatiently. "Then go," he said harshly, "before your the stilt-birds on the banks of the River of Ice."
The his menacingly. Standing still and no warning, Bram Forest out with his left fist, the in the mouth. Lips split, teeth flew, blood the guard's face. Someone screamed. The fell, but his out with his own whip-sword. Bram Forest to one and the sword-arm, it. The howled, his weapon. Lulukee a for it. But the guard, his still free, Lulukee in the face. As he fell, his blurring, Lulukee why he had that desperate, attempt to help the big, man. He not answer the question in words. But there was something about him, something about Bram Forest, which from you as the sun from the ground....
Bram Forest the second by sword-girdle and of and him aloft. The guard's arms and frantically. "No!" he up at the peltasts. "No...."
But they had already their of stones, the until he consciousness. Bram Forest him aside, over the guard's body, and into the just the Ice Gates.
"He that way!" a voice screamed.
"That way!"
"Over there!"
"There he is!"
It was an city, with narrow, and and little-used passageways. The wide streets—the there were—mobbed with people.
For all his size, the had disappeared.
Lulukee himself up, himself off, and his way pass to the guard. The said nothing. He had three teeth and his mouth was swollen, painful. Lulukee that somehow the little he had done to help Bram Forest was all he would do for him. Yet he with a he did not that although his role in the of the had come to an end, it was the most event in his life and would so if he to be six-hundred. He somehow—and not why he this—as if in his small way he had done something to make the world Tarth a place in which to live.
Whistling, he pushed his way through the and was to just as the who him.
"B'ronth of Utalia!" Prokliam the proclaimed. Volna the Beautiful nodded. The old had already told her about the Utalian. She was prepared to him now. If he what he to know, if he the true of the death of Prince Jlomec, then he must be silenced. Naturally, he wanted gold. They always wanted gold. But gold was not the way to them. Gold worked. It only them for more.
With Volna were, of her ladies in waiting, two guards. Grinning, she looked at their whip-swords. That was the way to one such as B'ronth the Utalian.
"He may enter," Volna told the seneschal. Prokliam out, saying:
"And Princess, you will not forget—"
"No, Prokliam, I won't forget. You the Prince Jlomec at all, did you? You couldn't have been his favorite."
"Princess," the as he withdrew.
A moment later, B'ronth the Utalian entered the chamber. He a snow-cloak. He was all but for the snow-cloak. He was, eerily, a through air. Although, noticed Volna, if you looked closely you see the of a man's above the cloak, as if you saw the rich of the room through a transparent, head-shaped glass. Likewise, the of arms and legs....
"You are B'ronth?" An question, but Volna had not yet up her mind what must be done.
"Yes, majesty," the said in a different but somehow voice.
"You are alone?"
"No, majesty," said the cloak.
"Then—?"
"A girl. A of the Plains of Ofrid. I her."
"And the you have to tell?"
"I realize, majesty, how the Princess must at the of her brother, the Prince. I realize...."
"To the point, man. Get to the point. Are you trying to say you know how Prince Jlomec was slain? You know who killed him?"
"Yes," said the boldly, eagerly.
Princess Volna smiled. Perhaps something in that B'ronth the Utalian. But of course, the came too late. In a quick motion, the toward the doorway. "Princess...." B'ronth said.
Princess Volna told her guards: "Kill him."
B'ronth the Utalian had time for one which, if a could, to all his of wealth. Then one of the moved swiftly, his arm out. The whip-sword in his hand lashed, blurring, toward the cloak. Bright red blood welled, jetted.
B'ronth the Utalian's head, no longer invisible, rolled on the at Volna's feet. "Clean that up," she told one of the guards. To the other she said: "Now the girl."
"Mind, lord, I don't question you," Hultax the Abarian said. "But it's just—"
"Did you send the message?" Retoc cut him off.
"As you ordered, sire. Yes."
"Good."
"Sire, I inactivity. I it. I am a soldier."
"As I am," said Retoc slowly, his hard at something Hultax not—and would be able to—see.
"So we just here in this rented house in Nadia City, our heels. It doesn't make sense, sire."
"Sense?" Retoc. "What is sense? Is it victory and power for the strongest? Well, is it?"
"Yes, lord," Hultax responded. "But—"
"And you sent the message? Our will come?"
"Yes, lord. Two days hence they'll be on the ice three from the city gates. But I don't see—"
"You obey, Hultax. I see. I do the seeing."
"But I you ... the Princess Volna ... together...."
"The Princess can me, now. If she can deliver Nadia without a fight, then Tarth is mine, Hultax, don't you see? In two days all the blood of all the families of Tarth will be assembled here in Nadia for the games. If Bontarc's army doesn't interfere, then I will be master of Tarth."
"But if Bontarc out—"
"That, Hultax," said Retoc with a smile, "is why you sent the message."
"My sire," said the proud soldier Hultax humbly.
Soon, Retoc, all Tarth would call him that. My sire....
Ahead of Bram Forest the of the palace. He must hurry. He he had to hurry. He pushed through the crowd. Several times men looked up angrily, and would have said something. But when they saw his face, they away.
What they saw in Bram Forest's them afraid.
"Majesty?" Prokliam the said.
"Well?" Volna demanded. "Didn't the send you for the girl?"
"Majesty, I was thinking...."
"Well, Prokliam, what is it? Didn't you go for the girl?"
"Not yet, majesty, your pardon...."
"If you have something to say, then say it. And the girl."
"Majesty, a the palace. It is his job...."
"I you, Prokliam, I have little patience today." Her was evident.
"No one to be chosen," Prokliam quickly, boldly, "even as I did not wish to be to the of Prince Jlomec on the Journey of No Return. Now that you have me, in your benevolence, I I might in turn you...."
"Yes, what is it, man?"
"You should not have killed the Utalian, majesty. If it is that a man and a woman the Prince's to the Place of the Dead, to die there with him, their him in death, why choose from among the staff? We all have family, we all have friends, we all something to lose. But majesty, if you were to with tradition, if you were to send two meant nothing to the palace, the staff would love and you more than they already do."
Volna's at him. He did not know what she was thinking. He knew. No one did. She might him or have him on the spot. "Why do you tell me this, Prokliam?" she asked.
"For saving me when it was I would accompany—"
"No. There must be another reason."
"If you do this and if the and the people love you for it, and if the of power should from Bontarc's hand to yours, and if, when it came time to select your minister...."
"Ha! Ha! Ha! We have an butler."
"But surely you—"
"Yes, Prokliam. I understand. I won't it. Perhaps I had the Utalian impetuously. But there's still the girl."
"I'll her at once, majesty."
"And if," Volna, no longer aware of the seneschal's presence, "we another stranger, a man, to the of Prince Jlomec on the Journey of No Return, not only the palace, but the people as well would love me. A stranger...."
"Take me to your King," Bram Forest told the guard.
The smirked. "Do you think any in the is an audience with King Bontarc, fool?"
"It is a of life and death."
"But life and death?" the guard, with laughter. "Yours, idiot?"
"It is about Ylia the Wayfarer."
"I know of no Ylia the Wayfarer. Begone, dolt!"
"It is about Prince Jlomec."
The guard's narrowed. The word had been passed by no less a person than Prokliam the that anyone with the death of the Prince should be at once not to Bontarc but to Princess Volna. Could the guard, he, Porfis, do less?
"Very well," he said. "Come with me."
Unarmed, but aware of his giant's and the mission which had him the hundred years of his life in a on Earth, Bram Forest with the guard.
The way was long, through in which hung, through narrow, into which the light of day penetrated, through rooms in which ladies in waiting and talked and joked, up stairs and through doors which Porfis the opened with a key which at his belt. The doors opened slowly.
Bram Forest entered a large room. It was, he see at a glance, a woman's bower. Someone was at the end of the room, in shadow. He squinted. He took two slow steps into the room. He to run.
"Ylia! Ylia!" he cried.
Too late he saw the her arms. Too late he saw her bite at something and her and the from her mouth. Too late he her cry:
"Bram! Bram Forest! Behind you!"
He in time to see Porfis the guard, his whip-sword overhead hilt-first. He his arm, but it was in the of the sword. Something his and all to open his feet. He into with Ylia's name on his lips.
Unconscious, he was taken with Ylia through passages to the Royal Dock on the River of Ice. The with Jlomec's waited. It was very cold on the river. The Place of the Dead from the end of the Journey of No Return.
