Chapter 15: Battle at the Village Ul

Dawn was breaking as Ardle's boat grounded at the base of the ridge. It was a gentle dawn, heralded by a slow lightening of the fog and gradually increasing sounds of activity among the denizens of the Great Swamp.

"Pete. Amy." Ardle's deep voice called them back from the depths of sleep. "Wake up, now. We're here, and your friends are waiting.

Pete was already halfawake, disturbed by the grating of the boat's keel on gritty mud, but even so Amy was out of the boat before him. While Ardle secured the boat to a convenient tree, the two humans quickly climbed the steep bank. They reached the broad ledge that had so easily accommodated General Trading Company's advance base, finding that the small camp was already stirring to life.

"Who is there?"

The deep voice of a Thantan sentry challenged them, and the unmistakable bulk of Prince Dron emerged from a gaily patterned tent that had his standard dangling limply from a tall staff before it.

"Amy! Pete!" His even deeper voice brought the encampment the rest of the way to wakefulness. "Ardle found you? Wonderful! Nancy! Pete's here!"

The flap of a nearby tent burst open, and Pete found himself being hugged and kissed by a laughing, crying armful of scantilyclad woman. Moments later, Amy was being almost as warmly greeted by Lyssa and Charlie, whose clothes were in little better condition.

"Pete! Oh, Pete. We thought..." Her words choked off, and she blotted the tears from her eyes with the tatters of his shirt, never loosing her arms from about his neck.

"And we thought that you... Never mind that, now. We're together, and we're both alive. How'd you escape? You're limping! Are you sure you're all right? You're so thin! What all's been happening? You'd better get some more clothes on, too."

"I hurt my leg when the fort caved in." She laughed softly at his concerned expression. "See my bruises? Yes, it still hurts, but that isn't important now. Nothing's broken, but Dron and Vult had to take turns carrying me here. We got out, along with a few of Dron's soldiers, through a tunnel with only what we could carry, just ahead of the flood waters. We haven't had much of anything to eat, since. Clothes? What you see is what we've got. Lyssa and I have been trying to make some new clothes from Thantan cloth, but all we have is old scraps of blankets and uniforms that are too stiff and heavy. Your clothes certainly aren't in much better shape than ours, if any."

"Come into my tent," Dron suggested. "I'll have one of my men bring hot water and towels. We can exchange information while you get cleaned up."

"You've been in touch with the Planners?" Pete asked, when the highlights of their adventures had been touched on. "What has been their reaction to our presence?"

"We've not gone into it," Dron admitted. "It seemed well to keep a few things back from them. And, no, we haven't been in touch with the Council itself. We've just talked with the commander of their troops in this area, General Ha'athon. As far as he knows, you and your friends are merely members of a strange tribe that lives deep within the swamps. Neither he nor his men have seen one of you, since they are still camped above the remains of the fort. Now, you say that you were not pursued, traveling through the swamps after your escape?"

"No, we weren't," Amy told him. "It could be that Pleorran was injured when the portal was activated. He was standing quite close to it, but I couldn't see what happened to him. The roof beams caved in about then, anyway. I was knocked down, and Pete had to drag me to safety."

"We didn't hear his voice any more, either," Pete added. "Though we might not have been able to, with all of the uproar that was going on."

"We'll have to assume that he is still alive, until we find out differently. All right, that brings us up to date. Oh, and I'll have my men bring in some of those reeds. We have none of your food left, and that'll keep you going for a while. Horrible smelling stuff, that juice. KeeBar showed us how to gather the reeds and use the juice to keep off swamp lizards." Dron nodded to Nancy, and she quickly wrote something in Thantan script on a piece of smooth leather. "Nancy has been most useful to me. She has been filling in for my lost secretary, since she learned to write our words. Now, what do you think that our next moves should be?"

"We must recapture the portal." Amy frowned thoughtfully as she spoke. "That juice will keep us going for a while, all right, but we'll still starve to death sooner or later, or fall ill for lack of things we need that it doesn't have. How many soldiers do you command?"

"Not enough. There are only about a dozen of my men left. We'll have to get the help of General Ha'athon."

"That's no good." Amy shook her head decisively. "Too much chance that he'd take control of the portal for the Council of Planners, and not let us use it. And, once he has us in his hands, he might not want to let us go. Where's KeeBar?"

"Away for the night. He and Thanna have been spending a part of their time at Village Kee, acting as gobetweens for me with Chief Kee."

"How good are your relations with Kee?"

"Very good. He and his advisors were horrified, of course, by the war with Pleorran. It posed some very nice questions for them, of whom to follow. It was KeeBar who tipped the decision in our direction, telling Chief Kee that we were the true Great Ones of their legends."

"How about other tribes in the area," Amy persisted. "How do you get along with them?"

"Almost equally well. If Pleorran had won, of course, it would be different. But he lost, or at least was driven back. It isn't important that we also lost. We did what we had to do, preventing his army from leaving the swamps. The fact that most of us were killed, and our fort destroyed, simply doesn't matter to them. We are the heroes. Their storytellers are chanting our praises from one end of the swamp to the other."

"All right, then." Amy leaned forward intently, and Pete had to smile at the contrast between her slender beauty and Dron's reptilian bulk. "We don't have much time, since we have to strike before Pleorran is ready for us. Here's what we have to do..."

"You must be the one to address the council of Village Kee, friend Pete," Chief Kee had insisted. "And no, Dron cannot do so. Great Ones are to be revered from afar. Seen up too close, too often, they are only larger Chosen Ones. You must be the one to speak to them, to convince them of what must be done, and to lead them on this quest. If Dron, or even one of his Thantans were to be injured in the battle, my villagers would be all too likely to panic and run. For one to be actually killed, well, there's simply no telling what might happen. They might very well turn on you, and slay you all as agents of blasphemy."

So it was that Pete once more faced the Council of Kee. The cycle of storms seemed to be over for a time. The night was almost clear, and EssChad's two moons made the night mists glow with soft radiance beyond the circle of light from the council fire. The slitpupiled eyes of his audience flickered in time with the dancing flames, watching him intently, and he had to draw a deep breath to steady his voice before he spoke.

"My friends of the Council of Kee," he finally began. "Once more I appear before you with a request. Not, this time, a simple plea for trade, but an invitation to join in a great adventure, a chance to bring glory to the name of Village Kee! A chance to wipe out the stain of their disgrace from the very souls of the Chosen Ones. You have all heard the tales, all listened to the songs of the storytellers, chanting of the great battle between the leader of the Great Ones and his Mad Emperor. You have heard how the Ancient One, along with the army of Chosen Ones he had deluded, was driven back, defeated by the aid of the Six Elder Gods. Yet, he was not wholly defeated. He still lives, still leads your brothers among the Chosen Ones down the pathways of shame and evil."

The villagers were silent, hanging on his every word. There was not a one of them but who had shivered in his very bones at the thought of Chosen Ones lifting weapons against Great Ones, who had felt the horror of the thought that they might indeed have been among that inglorious army, defeated by the stormdriven waters sent by the Six Elder Gods.

"And now," Pete continued, "The Great Ones are gathering an army to punish this Mad Emperor. They will come into the Great Swamp, spreading death and destruction among those who stand in their way. They do not know of the tribe of Kee. They do not know of the many tribes who did not aid their enemy. They only know that their holy meeting place was smashed, destroyed by an army of Chosen Ones, led by their ancient enemy.

"When they come, many Chosen Ones will die. With them will die countless Great Ones, joining in death the heroes who fell at the time of the storm. Yet, there is a way that these deaths can be prevented. This evil can be avoided, if only enough Chosen Ones will band together to root out this evil from the Great Swamp before the Great Ones arrive.

"This is the request I make. This is the invitation extended to you. I offer you the chance to be the ones to avert this evil!" Pete's voice rose, as he chanted the hissing syllables of the Chosen Ones' language. "The followers of the Mad One must be defeated. For the honor of all of you, this must be done by their fellows, by the other tribes of the Great Swamp. Follow me, and I will lead you and your fellow tribes in this glorious task! Follow me, and be the heroes that the storytellers will sing of for countless generations!"

Pete's ringing cry broke off short, and he stood waiting in the fire's flickering light, his arms outstretched as though beckoning them to his side. For a long moment, there was silence. Then, with a single great cry, the Council of Village Kee shouted its assent!

Back in Dron's tent, later that night, Pete sat with his head cradled in his hands. When Nancy moved to sit close by his side, he ignored her, lost so deeply in his thoughts that she might almost not have been there. He didn't look up until Amy spoke to him a second time.

"Hail to our leader." The words seemed loud in the silence. "They will follow you now, no matter where you may lead them."

"Follow me to their deaths!" Pete's voice was bitter, his face twisted with selfloathing. "How am I any better than Pleorran, or any other selfappointed leader who whips the ignorant on to their doom? Sure, I know. I'm a great leader. If we don't get control of the portal, we'll die here. I'm still leading them to their deaths so that we may live."

"You are." Amy's voice was flat, revealing nothing of the emotions behind them, and Nancy drew in a quick breath, almost lashing out at her in rebuttal. "Many of them will die. Almost as many as if the Council's armies invade the swamps. Which ones do you want to die? What do you want them to die for? They have no such questions."

"They don't know what questions to ask! I don't know what questions to ask! And how many men will die, because of my ignorance and pride?"

"Everybody dies," Dron broke in. "The only questions are: When will they die? How will they die? What will they die for? Will they die fleeing in terror, before a force they do not understand? Or will they die fighting, in a cause they understand almost as little? Will they die, believing that what they do is right? Believing that their names will be remembered? You can give them that much. If they win, you may be able to bring them the spoils of that victory. You have it in your power to open up whole new worlds to them, but first they must win this battle."