STORM OVER WORLOCK by Andre Norton Chapter 6 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by RJ Davis. STORM OVER WORLOCK by Andre Norton Chapter 6 The Hound The sun was a harsh ball of heat baking the ground and then, in some on manner, drawing back that same fire in us. In the coolness of the eastern mountains, Shan would not have believed that warlock could hold such heat. The men discarded their jackets early as they swung to dip the poles. But they dared not strip off the rest of their clothing, least their skin burnt. And again, gust of wind now drove sand over the edge of the cut to blanket the water. Shan wiped his eyes, pausing in his eternal poosh-poosh, to look at the rocks which they were passing in threatening proximity. For the slash which held the river had narrowed, and the rock of its walls would neck of earth save for sheltered pockets holding the drift of sand dust. While boulders of all sizes cut into the path of the flowing water. He had not been mistaken. They were going faster, faster even than their efforts with the poles would account for. With the narrowing of the bed of the stream, the current was taking on a new swiftness. Shan said as much, and Thorbald nodded. We're approaching the first of the rapids. Where we get off and walk around, Shan croaked weirdly. The dust gritted between his teeth irritated his eyes. Do we stay beside the river? As long as we can, Thorbald replied somberly, we have no way of transporting water. Yes, a man could live on very slim rations of food, continued to beat his way over a bad trail if he had to concentrate tablets they carried. But there was no going without water, and in this heat such an effort would finish them quickly. Always they both listened for another cry from behind. A cry to tell them just how near the Throgh hunting party had come. No Throgh flyers yet, Shan observed. He had expected one of those black plates to come cruising the moment the hound had pointed the direction for their pursuers. Not in a storm such as this, Thorbald, without releasing his hold on the ramp pole, pointed with his chin to the swirling haze, poking the air above the cut walls. Here the river dug yet deeper into the beginning of a canyon. They could breathe better. The dust still sifted down, but not as thickly as a half hour earlier. Though over their heads the sky was now a gray slid, shutting out the sun, bringing a portion of coolness to the travelers. The survey offered glance from side to side, watching the banks at this hunting for some special mark or sign. At last he used his pole as a pointer to indicate a rough pile of boulders ahead. Some former landslide had quartered down the river at that point, and the drift of seasonal floods was caught in and among the rocky pile to form a prickly peninsula. In there they brought the raft to shore, fighting the faster currents. The Wolverines, who had been subdued by the heat and the dust, flung themselves to the rocks with the eagerness of passengers deserting a sinking ship for certain rescue. Thorbald settled the map case more securely between his arm and side before he took the same leap. When they were all ashore he prodded the raft out into the stream again, pushing the platform along until it was sucked by the current past the line of boulders. Listen, but Shawn had already caught that distant rubble of sound. It was steady, beating like some giant drum. Certainly it did not herald a throbbed ship in flight, and it came from ahead, not from their back trail. Rapids, perhaps even falls. Thorbald interpreted that fate thunder. Now, let's see what kind of a road we can find here. The tongue of boulders spiked with driftwood was firmly based against the wall of the cut, but it sloped up to within a few feet of the top of that gap. More than one landside having contributed to its fashioning. The landing stage paralleled the river for perhaps some 50 feet. Beyond it, water splashed a straight wall. They would have to climb and follow the stream along the top of the embankment, maybe being forced well away from the source of the water. By unspoken consent, they both knelt and drank deeply from their cupped hands, splicing more of the liquid over their heads, forcing the dust from their skins. Then they began to climb the rough asset, up which the Wolverines had already vanished. The murk above them was less solid, but again the fine grit streaked their faces, embedding itself in their hair. Shan paused to scrape a film of mud from his lips and chin. Then he made the last pull, brushing his slight body against the pooch of the wind he met there. A palm struck hard between his shoulders, nearly sending him sprawling. He had only with enough left to recognize that as an order to get on, and he staggered the head until rock arched over him and the sand drift was shut off. His shoulder met solid stone, and having rubbed the sand from his eyes, Shan realized he was in a pocket in the cliff wall. Well overhead, he copped a glimpse of natural amber sky through a slit, but here was a twilight which thickened into complete darkness. There was no sign of Wolverines. Thorvald moved along the pocket southward, and Shan followed him. Once more they faced a dead end, for the crevice with the sheer descent to the river on the right, the cliff wall at his back, came to an abrupt stop in a drop which caught at Shan's stomach when he ventured to look down. If some battleship of the interstellar fleet had aimed a force beam across the mountains of Warlock, cutting down to what lay under the first envelope of planet skin, perhaps the resulting moon might have resembled that slash. What had caused such a break between the height on which they stood and the must taller peak beyond, Shan could not guess. But it must have been a cataclysm of spectacular dimensions. There was certainly no descending to the bottom of that cut, and reclining the rock face on the other side. The fugitives would either have to return to the river with all this ominous warnings of trouble to come, or find some of the past across that gap which now provided such an effective barrier to the west. Down, just as Thorvald had pushed him out of the murk of the dust storm into the crevice, so now did that officer jerk Shan from his feet, forcing him to the floor of the half cave from which they had partially emerged. A shadow moved across a bright band of sunlit sky. Back, Thorvald caught at Shan again, his greater strength prevailing as he literally dragged the young man into the dust of the crevice. And he did not pause, nor allow Shan to do so, even when they were well under cover again. At last they reached a dark hole in the southern wall which they had passed earlier, and a push from Thorvald sent his companion into that. Then a blow greater than any of the survey officer had aimed at him struck Shan. He was hurled against a rough wall with impetus enough to explode the air from his lungs. The ensuing pain so great that he feared his ribs had given under that thrust. Before his eyes, fire lashed down the slit, shearing him into temporary blindness. That flash was the last thing he remembered as thick darkness closed in, shutting him into the nothingness of unconsciousness. It hurt to breathe. He was slowly aware first of that pain and then the fact that he was breathing, that he had to endure the pain for the sake of breath. His whole body was jarred into a dull torment as a weight crested upon his twisted legs. Then strong animal breath puffed into his face. Shan lifted one hand by willpower, touched thick fur, felt the rasp of a tongue laid wetly across his fingers. Something close to tear engulfed him for a second or two when he knew that he could not see.  He groped through that fire-fishing darkness. An animal whimper from the throat of the shaggy body pressed against him. He answered that movement. Taggy? The shove against him was almost enough to pin him once more to the wall.  That second nudge from the other side must be Taggy's bid for attention. But what had happened? Thorvault had hurled him back just after that shadow had swung over the ledge. That shadow, Shan's wits quickened as he tried to make sense of what he could remember. A throgs ship. Then that fiery lash, which he cut after them, could only have resulted from one of those energy bolts since he had wiped out the others of his kind at the camp. But he was still alive. Thorvault, he called through his personal darkness. When there was no answer, Shan called again more urgently. Then he hunched forward on his hands and knees, pushing Taggy gently aside, running his hands over projecting rocks uneven flooring. His fingers touched what could only be clothed before they met the warmth of flesh, and he half drew himself across the sapine body of the survey officer, groping awkwardly for heartbeat, for some sign that the other was still living. Why? The one word came thickly, but Shan gave something close to his solid relief as he caught the faint mutter. He squatted back on his heels, pressed his forearm against his aching eyes in a kind of fierce will to see. Perhaps that pressure did release some of the blackout, for when he blinked again, the complete dark and the fiery trails had faded to gray, and he was sure he saw dimly a source of light to his left. The Throgs' ship had fired upon them, but the aliens could not have used the foreforth of their weapon, or neither of the Terrans would still be alive. Which meant Shan's thoughts began to make sense, sense which brought apprehension. The Throgs probably intended to disable rather than kill. They wanted prisoners just that Thorvault had warned. How long did the Terrans have before the aliens would come to collect them? There was no fit landing place hereabouts for their flier. The beetle heads would have to sit down on the edge of the desert land and climb the mountains on foot, and the Throgs were not good at that, so the fugitives still had a measure of time. Time to do what? The country itself held them securely captive. That drop to the southwest was one barrier. To retreat eastward would mean running straight into the hands of the hunters. To descend again to the river, the raft gone was worse than useless. There was only this side pocket in which they sheltered, and once the Throgs arrived, they could scoop the Terrans out at their leisure, perhaps whilst stunned by a controlling energy beam. Taggy, Toggy, Shan was suddenly aware that he had not heard the whiffle rings for some time. He was answered by a weirdly muffled call from the south. Had the animals found a new exit? Was this niche more than just a niche? A cave with some length, or even a passage running back into the interior of the peaks? With that faint hope spurring him, Shan bent again over Thorvault, able now to make out the other's huddle form. Then he drew the torch from the inner loop of his coat and pressed the lowest stud. His eyes smarted and entered to that light, watered until tears pattered the grime and dust on his feet. But he could make out what lay before them, a hole leading into the cliff face, the hole which might furnish the door to escape. The survey officer moved, levering himself up, his eyes screwed tightly shut. Land tea? Here, and there's a tunnel right behind you. The Wolverines went that way. To his surprise, there was a thin ghost of a smile on Thorvault's usually straight-lip mouth, and we'd better be away before visitors arrived. So he too must have thought his way through the sequence of past action to the same conclusion concerning the Throve movements. Can you see, Land tea? The question was painfully casual, but a note in it, almost a reaching for reassurance, cut for the first time through the walls which had stood between them from their chance meeting by the wrecked ship. Better now, I couldn't when I first came to, Shan answered quickly. Thorvault opened his eyes, but Shan guessed that he was as blind as he himself had been. He caught at the officers nearer hand, drawing it to rest on his own belt. Grab hold. Shan was giving orders now. By the look of that opening, we'd better try crawling. I have a torch on at low. Good enough. The others fingers fumbled on the band about Shan's slim waist until they gripped tight at his back. He started on into the opening, drawing Thorvault by that hold with him. Luckily, they did not have to crawl far. For shortly past the entrance, the faults or vein they were following became a passage high enough for even the tall Thorvault to travel without stooping. And then, only a little later, he released his hold on Shan, reporting he could now see well enough to manage on his own. The torch beam caught on a wall and awoke from there a glitter which hurt their eyes. A green gold cluster of crystals. Several feet on, there was another flash of embedded crystals. These might promise priceless will, but neither Charon paused to examine them more closely or touched their surfaces. From time to time Shan whistled, and always he was entered by the Wolverines. Their calls coming from ahead, so the men continued to hope that they were not walking into a trap from which the Throws could extract them. Snap off your torch for a moment, Thorvault ordered. Shan obeyed. The subdued light vanished, yet there is still light to be seen ahead and above. Front door, Thorvault observed. How do we get up? The torch showed him that a narrow ladder of ledges branching off when the passage they followed took a turn to the left and east. Afterwards, Shan remembered that climb with wonder that they had actually made it, though their advance had been slow, passing the torch from one to another to make sure they're footing. Shan was top man when a last bird of effort enabled him to draw himself out into the open. His hands raw, his nails broken and torn, he sat there, stupefied with his own weariness to stare about. Thorvault called impatiently, and Shan reached for the torch to hold it for the officer. Then Thorvault crawled out. He too looked around in dull surprise. On either side, peaks cut high into the amber of the sky, but this bowl in which the men had found refuge was rich in growing things. Though the trees were stunted, the grass grew almost as high here as it did on the meadows of the lowlands. Quartering the pocket valley, gallop the Wolverines, expressing in that wild activity their delight in this freedom. Good campsite. Thorvault shook his head. We can't stay here. And to underline that gloomy prophecy, they're issued from that hole through which they had just come, muffled and broken, but still threatening the howl of the throg's howl. The survey officer caught the torch from Shan's hold and knelt to flash it into the interior of the passage. As the beam slowly circled that opening, he held out his other arm, measuring the size of the aperture. When that thing gets on a hot scent, he snapped off the beam. The beetle heads won't be able to control it. There will be no reason for them to attempt to.  And I think this one operates on capture, so they'll lose it to run ahead of the party. And we moved to knock it out. Shan relied now on the other's experience. Thorvault rose. It would need a blaster on full power to finish off a hound. No, we can't kill it, but we can make it a doorkeeper to our advantage. He trotted down into the valley. Shan beside him without understanding in the least, but aware that Thorvault did have some plan. The officer bent, searched the ground, and began to pull from under the loose surface dirt one of those nets of tough vines, which they had used for corpse. He thrust a double handful of this hasty harvest into Shan's hold with a single curved order. Twist these together and make as thick a rope as you can. Shan twisted, discovering to his pleased surprise that under pressure, the vines excluded a sticky purple sap which not only coated his hands, but also acted as an adhesive for the vines themselves so that he's tasked with something nearly as formidable as it had first seen. With these force acts, Thorvault cut down two of the stunted trees and stripped them of branches, wedging the poles into the rocks about the entrance of the hole. They were working against time, but on Thorvault's part with practice sufficiency. Twice more of that cry of the hunter arose from the depths behind him. As the westerly sun, almost down now, shone into the valley hollow, Thorvault set up the frame of his trap. We can't knock it out any more than we could knock out a throat, but a beam from a stunner ought to slow it up long enough for this to work. Taggy burst out of the grass, approaching the hole with purpose, and Toggy was right at his heels. Both of them stared into that opening, drooling a little, the same eagerness in their pose as they had displayed when hunting. Shan remembered how that first howl of the Throghound had drawn both animals to the edge of the occupied camp in spite of their markedest taste for its alien masters. They're after it too. He told Thorvault what he had noted on the night of their sortie. Maybe they can keep it occupied, the other commented, but we don't want them to actually mix with it. That might be fatal. A clamor broke out in the interior passage. Taggy snarled, backing away a few steps before he uttered his own war cry. Ready. Thorvault jumped to the net slung from the poles. Shan raged his stunner. Toggy underlined her makeshift challenge with a series of snarls rising in volume. There is a tearing, scrambling sound from within. Then Shan fired at the jack-in-the-box appearance of a monstrous head, and Thorvault released a deadfall. The thing squalled. Rokes beat growing tide. The Wolverines backed from jaws which snapped fruitlessly. To Shan's relief, the tearing animals appeared content to make the now imprisoned or collared horror without venturing to make any close attack. But he reckoned that too soon. Perhaps the stunner had slowed up the hound's reflexes, for those jaws stilled with a last-shuttering snap. The tug-lizard mask, a head which was against all nature as the Terrans knew it, was quiet in the struggle lease of the road. The rest of the body served as a cork to fill the exit hole. Taggy had been waiting only for such a chance. He sprang, claws ready, and Toggy went in after her mate to share the battle. This concludes Chapter 6. Storm Over Warlock by Andre Norton, Chapter 7. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by RJ Davis. Storm Over Warlock by Andre Norton, Chapter 7. Unwelcome Guide. There was a small eruption of earth and stone as a hound came alive, fighting to reach its tormentors. The resulting din was deafening. Shan, avoiding by a hand's breath a snap of jaws with power to crush his leg into bone powder and mango flesh, cuffed Toggy across her nose and buried his hands in the fur about Taggy's throat as he heaved a male war-waring back from the struggling monster. He shouted orders, and to his surprise, Toggy did a base. Leaving him freed, he yanked Taggy away. Perhaps neither Wolverine had expected the full fury of the hound. Though he suffered a slash across the back of one hand, delivered by the over-excited Taggy, in the end, Shan was able to get both animals away from the hole, now caught so effectively by the slavering thing. Thorvault was actually laughing as he watched his younger companion in action. This ought to slow up the beetles. If they haul their little Toggy back, it's apt to take out some of its rage on them, and I'd like to see them dig around it. Considering that the monster's head was swinging from side to side in a color of what seemed to be immovable rocks, Shan thought Thorvault right. He went down on his knees beside the Wolverines, soothing them with a hand and voice, trying to get them to obey his orders willingly. Ha! Thorvault brought his mud-stained hands together with a clap, the sharp sound attracting the attention of both animals. Shan scrambled up, swung out his bleeding hand in the simple motion which meant the hunt, being careful to signal down the valley westward. Toggy gave the last reluctant growl at the hound to be answered by one of his ear-torturing hounds, and then trotted off, Toggy tagging behind. Thorvault cut Shan's fleshed hand, inspecting the bleeding cup. From the aid packet at his belt, he brought out powder and a strip of protecting plastic flesh to clean and bind the wound. You'll do, he commented, but we'd better get out of here before full dark. The small paradise of the valley was no safe campsite. It could not be as long as that monstrosity on the hillside behind them roared and held its rage to the darkening sky. Trailing the Wolverines, the men caught up with the animals drinking from a small stream and thankfully shared that water. Then they pushed off, not able to forget that somewhere in the peaks about must alert the throng flier ready to attack on sight. Only darkness could not be held off by the will of men. Here in the open, there was no chance to use the torch. As long as they were within the valley boundaries, the phosphorescent bushes marked the path. But by the coming of complete darkness, they were once more out in a region of bare rocks. The Wolverines had killed a brace of skitters, consuming hide and soft bones as well as a meager flesh which was not enough to satisfy their hunger. However, to Shan's relief, they did not wander too far ahead. And as the men stopped at last on a ledge where a fall of rock gave them some limited shelter, both animals crowded in against the humans. Adding the heat of their bodies to the slight comfort of that cramped resting place. From time to time, Shan was startled out of a troubled house sleep by the howl of the howl. Luckily, that sound never seemed any louder. If the throbs had caught up with their hunter, and certainly they must have done so by now, they either could not or would not free it from the trap. Shan dozed again, untroubled by any dreams, to awake hearing the shrieks of clack-clacks. But when he studied the sky, he was able to sight none of the clips dwelling for lock-in bats. More likely they are paying attention to our friend back in the valley. Thorvald said dryly, rightly reading Shan's glance to the clouds overhead, ought to keep them busy. Clack-clacks were meat-eaters, only they preferred their chosen prey weak and easy to attack. The imprisoned howl would certainly attract their kind, and those shrill cries now belling through the mountain heights, ought to draw every one of their species within miles. There it is, Thorvald pulling himself to his feet by a rock handhold, gazed westward, his gaunt face eager. Shan, expecting no less than a cruising-thrown ship, searched for cover on their perch. Perhaps if they flattened themselves behind the fallen stones, they might be able to escape attention. Yet Thorvald made no move into hiding, and so Shan followed the line of the others fixed there. Before and below them lay a maze of heights and valleys, sharp drops, and saw-tooth risers. But on the far rim of that section of landland, shown the green of the Warlockian Sea, rippling on to the only dimwit seen horizon. They were now within sight of their goal. Had they had one of the exploration sky flitters from the overrun camp, they could have walked its beach sands within the hour. Instead they fought their way through a devil-designed country for the next two days. Twice they had narrow escapes from the Throne ship or ships, which continued to sweep across the rugged line of the coast, and only a quick dive to cover, wasting precious time cowering like trapped animals, saved them from discovery. But at least the Hound did not beg again on the tangled trail they left, and they hoped that the trap and the clack-clacks had put that monster permanently out of service. On the third day they came down to one of those fjords which tones inland, fringing the coast. There had been no lack of hunting in the narrow valleys through which they had treaded. Both men and wolverines were well fed, though animal fur wore better than the now tattered uniforms of the men. Now where, Shan asked, would he now learn the purpose driving Thorvald onto this coast land? Certainly since broken country afforded good hiding, but no better concealment than the mountains of the interior. The survey officer turned slowly around on the shingle, studying the heights behind them, as well as the angle of the inlet where the Waveless flapped almost at their battered boot tips. Opening his treasured map case, he began a patient checking of landmarks against several of the strips he carried. We'll have to get on down to the true coast. Shan leaned against a truck of a conical branched mountain tree, pulling aptly at the shreds of wine-colored bark being shed in seasonal change. The tulle they had known in the upper valleys was succeeded here by a humid wall. Spring was becoming a summer such as this northern continent knew. Even the fresh wind blowing in from the outer sea had already lost some of the bite they had felt two days before when a salt-laden misty nut had first struck them. Then what do we do there, Shan participant? Thorvald brought over the map, hit black rims' nail tracing a route down one of the fords, slanting out to indicate a lace of islands, extended in a beaded line across the sea. We end for these. To Shan that made no sense at all. Those islands, why they would offer less chance of establishing a safe base than the broken land in which they now stood. Even the survey scouts had given those spots of seas encircled earth the most cursory examination from the air. Why, he asked bluntly. So far he had followed orders because they had for the most part made sense, but he was not giving obedience to Thorvald as a matter of rank alone. Because there is something out there, something which may make all the difference now. Warlock isn't an empty world. Shan jerked free a long strung of loose bark, throwing it between his fingers. Had Thorvald cracked? He knew that the officer had disagreed with the findings of the team and had been an unconvinced minority of one who had refused to subscribe to the report that Warlock had no native intelligent mind and therefore was ready and waiting for human settlement because it was technically an empty world. But to continue to cling to that belief without a single concrete proof was certainly a sign of mental imbalance. And Thorvald was regarding him now with frowning impatience. You were supposed to humor delusions, weren't you? Only could you surrender and humor a wild idea which might mean your death. If Thorvald wanted to go island hopping in chance of discovering what never had existed, Shan needed not accompany him. And if the officer tried to use force, well, Shan was armed with a stunner and had, he believed, more control over the Wolverines. Perhaps if he merely give lip agreement to this project, only he didn't believe, noting the light deep in those gray eyes holding on him that anybody could talk Thorvald out of this particular obsession. You don't believe me, do you? The impatient arose hotly in that demand. Why shouldn't I? Shan tried to temporize. You've had a lot of exploration experience. You should know about Shan's things. I don't pretend to be any authority. Thorvald refolded the map and placed it in the case. Then he pulled at the ceiling of his louse, groping in an inner secret pocket. He uncurled his fingers to display his treasure. On his palm lay a coin shaped medallion. Bone white, but possessing an odd luster which bone would not normally show. And it was carved. Shan put out a finger, though he had a strange reluctance to touch the object. When he did, he experienced a sensation close to the tingle of a mild electric shock. And once he had made that contact, he was also impelled to pick up that disc and examine it more closely. The carved pattern was very intricate and had been done with great delicacy and skill. Though the world's oddly shaped knobs, ribbon tracing, made no connected design, he could determine. After a moment or two of study, Shan became aware that his eyes, following those twists and whirls, were fixed. That it required a distinct effort to look away from the thing. Feeling some of that same alarm, as he had known when he first heard the whaling of the Throbhald house. He let the disc fall back into Throbhald's hold. Even more disturbed when he discovered that to relinquish his grasp, required some exercise of will. What is it? Throbhald restored the coin to his hiding place. You tell me. I can say this much. There is no listing for anything even remotely akin to this in the archives. Shan's eyes wagged. He absolutely rubbed the fingers which had held the bone coin, if it was a coin.  Did he still feel it? Or was his imagination at work again? But an object not listed in the exhaustive survey archives would mean most totally new civilization. A new stellar race. It is definitely a created article, the survey officer continued, and it was found on the beach at one of those sea islands. Throbhald, but Shan already knew the answer to that. Throbhald worked this. Throbhald was openly scornful. Throbhalds have no conception of such art. You must have seen their metal plates. Those are the Beatles head's idea of beauty. Have those the slightest resemblance to this? Then who made it? Either Warlock has, or once had, a native race advanced enough in a well-established form of civilization to develop such a sophisticated type of art. Or there have been other visitors from space here before us and the Throes. And the latter possibility I don't believe. Why? Because this was carved a bone or an allied substance. We haven't been able to identify it in the lamps, but it is basically organic material. It was found exposed to the weather, and yet it is in perfect condition. Could have been carved any time within the past five years. It has been handled, yes, but not roughly. And we have come across evidence of no other star cruising races or species save ourselves and the Throes. No, I say this was made here on Warlock not too long ago, and by intelligent means of a very high grade of civilization. But they would have cities, protested Sham. We've been here for months, explored all over this continent. We would have seen them or some traces of them. An old race, maybe? Four of all muses, a very old race, perhaps in decline, reduced to a remnant in numbers with good reason to retire into hiding. No, we discovered no cities, no evidence of a native culture past or present. But this, he touched the front of his blouse, was found on the shore of an island. We may have been looking in the wrong place for our natives. The sea, shan, glanced with new interest at the green water surging in waylets along the edge of the fjord. Just so, the sea. But scouts have been here for more than a year, one team or another, and nobody saw anything or found any traces. All four of our base camps were set inland. Our explorations along the coast were mainly carried out by flitter, except for one party, the one which found this. And there may be excellent local reasons why any native never showed himself to us. For that matter, they may not be able to exist on land at all, any more than we could live without artificial aids in the sea. Now, now we must make a real attempt to find them if they do exist anywhere near here. A friendly native race could make all the difference in the world in any struggle with the throbs. Then you did have more than the dreams to back you when you argued with Finniston, shan cut him. Four walls eyes were on him again. When did you hear that, land team? To his great embarrassment, shan found himself flushing. I heard you the day you left for headquarters, he admitted, and then added in his own defense, probably half the camp did too. Four walls gathering frown flickered away. He gave each door to laughter. Yes, I guess we did rather get to the bellowing point that morning. The dreams, he came back to the subject. Yes, the dreams were are important. We had their warning from the start. Lori was the first in scout who charted warlock and he is a good man. I guess I can break secret now to tell you that his ship was equipped with a new experimental device which recorded. Well, you might call it emulation. A radiation so faint its source could not be traced. And it registered whenever Lori had one of those drinks. Unfortunately, the machine was very new, very much in the intestine stage, and its performance when checked later in the lab was erratic enough. So the powers that be questioned all this reading. They produced a half dozen answers to a count for that tape, and Lori only caught the recording as long as he was on a high bay to the south. Then when two check flights came in later, carrying perfected machines and getting no recording, it was all written off as a mistake in the first experiment. A planet such as warlock is too big a fine to throw away when there was no proof of occupancy. And the settlement boys rushed matters right along. Sham required his own vivid dream of the Skull Rock set in the lap of water. The sea, and another small point fell into place to furnish the beginning of a pattern. I was asleep on the raft when I dreamed about that Skull Mountain, he said slowly, wondering if he were making sense. Thorvald's head came up with the alert stance of Taggy on a strong game sense. Yes, on the raft, you dreamed of a Skull Rock, and I of a cavern with a green veil. Both of us were on water, water which had an eventual connection with the sea. Could water be a conductor? I wonder. Once again, his hand went into his blouse. He crossed a strip of gravel beach and dipped fingers into the water, letting the drops fall on the carved disk he now held in his other hand. What are you doing, Sham could see no purpose in that. Thorvald did not answer. He had pressed wet hand to dry now, palm to palm. The coin cupped tightly between them. He turned a quarter circle to face the still distance open sea. That way, he spoke with a new odd tonelessness. Sham stared into the other space. All the eager alertness of only a moment earlier had been wiped away. Thorvald was no longer the man he had known, but in some frightening way a husk holding a quite different personality. The younger Terran answered his fear with an attack from the old days of rough-in fighting in the Ducks of Tyre. He brought his right hand down hard in a sharp chop across the officer's wrist. The bone coins spun to the sand and Thorvald stumbled, staggering forward a step or two. Before he could recover balance, Sham had stamped on the medallion. Thorvald furl his stunner drawn with a speed for which Sham gave him high march. But the younger man's own weapon was already out and ready, and he taught fast. That thing's dangerous. What did you do? What did it do to you? His demand got through to a Thorvald who was himself again. What was I doing, came a counter-demand.  Thorvald stared at him incredulously, then with a growing spark of interest. The minute you dripped water on that thing, you changed, Sham continued. Thorvald re-hosted his stunner. Yes, he mused. Why did I want to drip water on him? Something prompted me. He ran his still damp hand at the angle of his jaw across his forehead as if to relieve some pain there. What else did I do? Faced to the sea and said, That way, Sham replied properly. And why did you move in to stop me? Sham shrugged. When I first touched that thing, I felt a shock. And I've seen mind control. He could have bitten his tongue for betraying that. The world of the mind control was very far from the life of Thorvald, and his kind knew. Very interesting commented the other. For one or so few years, you seem to have seen a lot, Lanty, and apparently remembered most of it. But I would agree that you are right about this little plaything. It carries a danger with it, being far less innocent than it looks. He tore off one of the flittering scraps of rag, which now made up a lot of things. He tore off one of the flittering scraps of rag, which now made up his sleeve. If you'll just remove your foot, we'll put it out of business for now. He proceeded to wrap the disc well in his vetted cloth, taking care not to touch it again with his bare fingers while he stowed it away. I don't know what we have in this. A key to unlock a door, a trap to catch the unwary. I can't guess how or why it works. But we can be reasonably sure it's not just some carefree major's locket nor the equivalent of a credit to spend in the nearest bar. So it pointed me to the sea, did it? Well, that much I am willing to allow. Maybe we'll be able to return it to the owner after we learn who or what that owner is. Sand gazed down at the green water, opaque, not to be pierced to the depths by human sight. Anything might lurk there. Suddenly the throgs became normal, went balanced against an unknown living in the murky depths of an aquatic world. Another tack on the throg-held camp would be well preferred to set the exploration as four bolts had in mind. Yet Shan did not voice any protest as a survey officer faced again in the same direction as the disc had pointed him much before. This concludes the reading of Chapter 7. Storm Over Warlock by Andre Norton. Chapter 8. This is a lever box recording. All lever box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit leverbox.org. Recording by RJ Davis. Storm Over Warlock by Andre Norton. Chapter 8. Butt Garden. A wind from the west sprung up an hour before sunset, flashing waves inland until the spray was a salt mist in the air. A mist to sodden clothing flashed her hair to the skull, leaving a brine slime across the skin. Yet Thorwald hunted no shelter in spite of the promise in the rough shoreline at their backs. The sand in which their boots slipped and slid was coarse stuff, hardly finer than gravel, studded with nest of drift, bone white, or grade, or pale lavender, smooth and stored by the seasons of low tides and high, seasonal storms and hurricanes, a wild shore and a forbidding one. To arouse Shan's distrust, perhaps a fitting goal for that disc guiding. Shan had tasted loneliness in the mountains, experienced a strange world of the river at night lighted by a wane radiance of glowing shrubs and plants, forced the starkness of the heights. Yet there had been through all that journeying a general resemblance to his own past on other worlds. A tree is a tree, whether it bore purple foliage or was red veins. A rock was a rock, a river, a river. They were equally hard and wet on warlock or tire. But now a veil he could not describe, even in his own thoughts, hung between him and the sand over which he walked, between him and the sea, which sent spray to wet his torn clothing, between him and that wild rack of long ago storms. He could put out his hand and touch sand, drift, spray, yet they were a setting or something lay hidden behind that setting. Something watched, calculatingly, with intelligence and a set of emotions and values he did not, could not share. Storm coming, Thorwell paused in the bubbing of wind and spray, watching the fury of the touching sea. The sun was still a pale smear just above the horizon and it gave light enough to make out that trickle of violence melting out to obscurity. Utgard. Utgard? Sean repeated the strange world holding no meaning for him. Legend of my people. Thorwell smeared sprays from his face with one hand. Utgard, those outermost islands, hordwell the giants who are the mortal enemies of the old gods. Those dark lumps, most of them bare rock, only a few crowned with stunted vegetation might well harbor anything, Shane decided. Giants or the malignant spirits of any race. Perhaps even the throbs had their tales of evil things in the night. Beetle monsters to people, wild, unknown lands. He caught at Thorwell's arm and suggested a practical course of action. We'll need shelter before the storm strikes. To change relief, the other nodded. They trailed back across the beach. They're back now to the sea and Utgard. That harsh-sounding name did so well fit the line of islands and islets. Shane repeated it to himself. Here the beach was narrow. A strip of blue sand ravel, walled by wave-worn boulders. And from that barrier of stone, piled into a breastwork by chance, interwoven with bone-bare drip, arose the first of the cliffs. Shane studied the terrain with increasing uneasiness. To be caught between a sea whipped inland by a storm wind, and that cliff would be a risk he did not like to consider, as ignorant of field lore as he was. They must locate some break nearer than the fjord, down which they had come. And they must find it soon, before the daylight was gone and the full fury of bad weather struck. In the end the Wolverines discovered an action, just as they had found the passage through the mountain. Taggy nosed into a darker line down the face of the cliff and disappeared. Toggy duplicating that feat. Shane trailed him, finding the opening a tight squeeze. He squirmed into diddiness, his outstretched hands meeting a rough stone surface sloping upward. After gaining a point about eight feet above the beach, he was able to look back and down through the seaward slit. Open to the sky, the crevice proved a doorway to a narrow valley, not unlike those which house the fjords, but provided with a thick grove of vegetation well protected by the high walls. Working as a now well-rehearsed team, the men set up a shelter of saplings and brush. The back to the slit through which wind was still able to tear away. Walled in by stone and knowing that no thronged flier would attempt to fly in the face of the coming storm, they dared make a fire. The warmth was a comfort to their bodies, just as the light of the flames, men's age-old Hearst companion, was a comfort to the fugitive spirits. Those dancing spears of red, for Shan, at least, burned away the veil of other worldliness which had enrapt the beach, providing in the night an illusion of the home he had never really known. But the wind and the weather did not keep true sparing long. A wailing blast around the upper peaks produced a catter-walling to equal the voices of half a dozen thronged hounds. And in their poor shelter, the Terrence not only heard the thunderous boom of surf, but felt the vibration of that beat pounding through the very ground on which they lay. The sea must have long since covered the beach over which they had come, and was now trying its strength against the rock of the cliff barrier. They could not talk to each other over that din, although shoulder touched shoulder. The last flush of amber vanished from the sky with the speed of a dropped curtain. Tonight, no period of twilight divided night from day, but their portion of warlock was plunged abruptly into darkness. The Wolverines crowded into their small haven, whining deep in their throats. Shan ran his hands along their furred bodies, trying to give them a reassurance he himself did not feel. Never before went on stable land, had he been so aware of the unleashed tears nature could exert. The forces against which all mankind's controls were as nothing. Time could no longer be measured by any set of minutes or hours. There was only darkness. The howling winds and the salty rain, which must be in part the breath of the sea driven in upon them. The comforting fire vanished. Chill and darkness crept up to cramp their bodies, so that now and again they were forced to their feet to swing arms, stamp, drive the blood into faster circulation. Later came a time when the wind died, no longer driving the wind bullet hard against and through their flimsy shelter. Then they slept in the thick unconsciousness of exhaustion. A red purple skull and from its eye sockets the flying things kept coming, going. Shan trod on an unsteady foundation, which dipped under his weight, as had the raft of the river voyage. He was drawing near to that great head. Could see now how waves curled about the angle of the lower jaw, slapping inwards between gaps of missing teeth, which were really broken fangs of rock, as if the skull now a men's suck, reviving moisture from the water. The aperture marking the nose was closer to a step than a step. And the hole was dark, dark as the empty eye sockets. Yet that darkness was drawing him past any effort to escape he could summon. And then, that on which he rode, so perishly, was carried forward by the waves. Graded against the jaw bone, while against his own fighting will, his hand arose above his head, reaching for a hole to draw his shrinking body and the body of the body of the man. And the body of the man, reaching for a hole to draw his shrinking body up the stark surface to that snout passage. Land team, a hand jerked him back, broke that compulsion and the dream. Shan opened his eyes with difficulty. His lashes seemed glued to his cheeks. He might have been surveying a submerged world. Then streamers of fog twined up from the earth, as if they grew from seeds planted by the storm. But there was no wind. No sound from the peaks. Only under his stiff body, Shan could still feel that vibration, which was the sea battering against the cliff wall. Thorvald was crouching beside him. His hand still urgent on the younger man's shoulder. The officer's face was drawn so finely that his features, sharp under the tan skin, were akin to the skull Shan still half saw among the ascending pillars of fog. Storms over. Shan shivered as he set up, hugging his arms to his chest. His tattered uniformed soggy under that pressure. He felt as if he would never be warm again. Then he moved sluggishly to the pit where they had kindled their handful of fire the night before. He realized that the Wolverines were missing. Toggy, his voice sounded rusty in his own ears, as if the storm was still there. Some of the moisture thick in the air about them had affected his vocal cords. Hunting. Thorvald's answer was clipped. He was gathering a handful of sticks from the back of their lean tube where the protection of their own bodies had kept that kindling dry. Shan snapped a link between his hands, dropped it into the pit. When they did coax a glaze into being, they stripped, ringing out their clothing, propping it piece by steaming piece by the warmth of the flames. The moisture bit at their bodies and they moved briskly, striving to keep warm by exercise. Still the fog curled, undisturbed by any shaft of sun. Did you dream, Thorvald asked abruptly, Yes, Shan did not elaborate. Disturbing as his dream had been, the feeling that it was not to be shared was also strong, as strong as some ordered. And so did I, Thorvald said briefly. You saw your skull mountain? I was climbing it when you awoke me, Shan returned unwillingly. And I was going through my green veil when Toggy took off and awakened me. You're sure your skull exists? Yes. And so am I that the cavern of the veil is somewhere on this world. But why? Thorvald stood up, the firelight marking plainly the lines between his tanned arms, his round face and throat, and the paleness of his lean body. Why do we dream these particular dreams? Shan, testing the dryness of a shirt, he had no reason to try and explain the wherefore of those dreams. Only was he certain that he would sometime, somewhere, find that skull that then when he did, he would climb to the doorway of a snail, past behind to depths where the flying things might nest, not because he wanted to make such an expedition, but because he must. He drew his hands across his ribs, where pressure still brought in aching reminder of the crushing force of the energy whip that throbs had yielded. There was no extra flesh on his body, yet muscle split easily under the skin. A darker skin than Thorvald's, deepening to a warm brown, where he had been weathered. His hair and clip now for a month was beginning to curl about his head in tight dark rings. Since he had always been the youngest or the smallest or the weakest in the world of the dumps of the service of the team, Shan had very little personal vanity. He did possess a different type of pride, born of his own stubborn achievement in winning out over a long roster of discouragements, failures and adverse odds. Why do we dream? He repeated Thorvald's question. No answer, sir. He gave the traditional reply of the service recruits. And a little to his surprise, Thorvald left with a tinge of real amusement. Where do you come from, Lanty? He asked because if he were honestly interested, Tyre, Cauldron Mines, the survey officer was a product. How did you come into survey? Shan drew on his shirt, signed on as casual labor. He returned with a spark of defiance. Thorvald had joined the service the right way as a cadet, then a team man, finally an officer, climbing that nice even ladder with every run ready for him when he was prepared to mount him. What did his kind know about the labor barracks and the failures the petty criminals on a run lives hard under a secret social system of their own. He had taken every bit of physical endurance and energy. Every fraction of stubborn will Shan could summon for him to survive his first three months in those barracks unbroken and still eager to be surveyed. He could still wonder at the unbelievable chance which had rescued him from that merely because he had been a major and feed troughs for the experimental animals. And from the center he made a team because when working in a smaller group his push and attention to duty had been noticed and had paid off. Three years it had taken but he had made team structure. Not that that meant anything now. Shan pulled his moves on over the legs of rough dried overhauls and glanced up to find Thorvald watching him running directness the younger man could not understand. Shan sealed his blouse and stood up knowing the bite of hunger dull but persistent. It was a feeling he had had so many times in the past that now he hardly gave it a second thought. Supplies he brought the subject back to the present and the practical. What did it matter why or how one Shan lance team had come to warlock in the first place. What we have left of the concentrate we had better keep for emergencies. Thorvald made no move to open the very shrunken bag he had brought from the scout ship. He walked over to a rocky outcrop and tug loose a yellowish tough plant neither moss nor fungi but sharing attributes of both. Shan recognized it without enthusiasm as one of the varieties of native produce which could be safely digested in the stomachs. The stuff was almost tasteless and possessed a rather unpleasant odor. Consumed in bulk he would satisfy hunger for a time. Shan hoped that with the Wolverines to aid they would go back to hunting soon. However Thorvald showed no desire to hit inland or they might expect to locate game. He disagreed with Shan's suggestion for tracking taggy and togy when those two emerged with a brush obviously well fed and contended after the early morning activity. When Shan protested with some heat the other countered. Didn't you ever hear a feast plenty? After a storm such as last night we ought to discover good pickings along the shore. But Shan was also sure that it was not only the thought of food which drew Thorvald back to the sea. They crawled back through the bold hole the beach gravel sand had vanished safer in their ribbon land just at the foot of the cliffs where the water curled at white lace about the barrier of boulders. There is no change in the dullness of the sky no sun broke through the thick lid of clouds and a green of the sea was ashen to gray which matched that overcast until one constrained one's eyes trying to find their horizon unable to mark the dividing line here between air and water. Uthgard was a broken necklace the outermost island beads lost the inner ones more isolated by the rise in water more preventing. Shan let out a startled hiss of breath the top of a nearby rock detached itself drew up into a hunched thing of armor plated scales and heavy wide jawed head a tail cracked into the air a double tail split into equal fork for halfway down its length a leg lifted as a four foot web clawed for a new hole this sea beast was the most formidable native thing he had sighted on Warlock approaching in its ugliness the hound of the throats breathing in labored gusts the thing slapped its tail down on the stones with a limpness which suggested that the rising of that appendage had overtaxed its limited supply of strength the head sank forward resting across one of the four limbs then Shan sighted the fearsome wound in the side just before one of the larger hind legs a ragged hole through which pumped with every one of those breaths a dark purple string licked away by the waves as it trickled slickly down the rock what is that? Thorvald shook his head not on our records he replied absently studying the dying creature with avid attention must have been driven in by the storm this proves there is more in the sea than we knew again the forked tail lifted and fell the head raised from the four limbs stretching up and back until the white underfalls of the throats were exposed as a snap pointed almost vertically the jaws opened and from between them came a moaning whistle a complaint which was grounded out by the wash of the waves then as if that was the last effort the web clawed feet relaxed the grip of the rock and the scale body slid sideways out of their sight into the water there was a feather of sprooom to mark the plunge and nothing else Shan watching to see if the reptile would surface again sighted another object a rounded shape floating on the sea bobbing lightly as had the river wrapped look Thorvald's gaze followed his pointing finger and then before Shan could protest the officer leaped outward from their perch on the cliff to the broad rock where the scale sea-dweller had lain moments earlier he said there watching that drifting object in his wake the drifting thing was oval perhaps some six foot long and three wide the midpoint rising in a curve from the water's edge as far as Shan could make out in the half light the color was a reddish brown the surface rough and he thought by the way that it moved that it must be float some of the storm buoyant enough to ride the waves was close to cork resiliency and then began to strip what are you going to do get that Shan surveyed the water about the rock the forked tail had sunk just there was the survey officer mad enough to think he could swim unmanaged through a sea which might be infested with more such creatures it seemed that he was with Thorvald's white body arched out in a dive Shan waited half crouched and rising from the depths to strike at his companion a brown arm flashed above the surface Thorvald swam strongly towards the floating object he reached it his outstretched hand rasping across the surface and it responded so quickly to that touch that Shan guessed it was even lighter and easier to handle than he had first thought Thorvald headed back and climbed out on the rock Shan was pulling up his trophy they flipped the find over to discover it hollow they had in effect a ready-made craft not unlike a canoe with blunted bowels but the substance was surely organic was it shell Shan speculated running his fingertips over the irregular surface the survey officer dressed we have our boat used this frail thing to dare the trip to the islands but Shan did not protest if the officer determined to try such a voyage he would do it and neither did the younger man doubt that he would accompany Thorvald this concludes a reading of chapter 8 Storn Over Warlock by Andre Norton Chapter 9 this is a leverbox recording all leverbox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit leverbox.org recording by R.J. Davis Storn Over Warlock by Andre Norton Chapter 9 One Alone once again the beach was a wide expanse of shingle drying fast under a sun hotter than any Shan Warlock summer had taken a big leap forward the Terrans worked in partial shade below a cliffed overhang not only for the protection against the sun's rays but also as a precaution against any roving throat air patrol under Thorvald's direction the curious shell dragged from the sea if it were a shell and the texture as well as the general shape suggested that was equipped with the framework what resulted was certainly an odd looking craft but one which obeyed the paddles and rode the waves easily in the full sunlight the outline of islands was clear cut red and gray rock above an aquamarine sea the Terrans had sighted no more of the sea monsters and the major evidence of native life along the shore was a new series of clack clacks roosting in cliff holes and scavenging along the sands with the shell things stranded in small tide pools to the delight of the Wolverines who pieced eagerly up and down the beach ready to investigate all debris of the storm that should serve Thorvald tightened the last lishing straightening up his fist resting on his hips to regard the craft with a major apprise Shan was not quite so content he had mastered survey officer but the need for a haste still eluded him so the ship such as it was was ready now they would be off to explore Thorvald's gut but a small and nagging doubt inside the younger man restrained his enthusiasm over such a voyage Forktale had come out of the section of ocean which they must navigate in this very crude transport and Shan had no desire to meet an uninjured father's own territory which island do we head for Shan kept private his personal doubts of their success the outmost tip to that Shan was only a distant smudge lying low on the water the largest that one was trees Shan whistled since the night of the storm the Wolverines were again more amiable to the very light discipline he tried to keep first had tightened the bond between men and animals both alien to this world now Taggy and his mates padded toward him in answer to his summits but would the Wolverines trust the boat Shan dared not risk their swimming nor would he agree to leaving them behind Thorvald had already stored their few provisions on board and now Shan steadied the craft against a rock which served them as a warp which Taggy gently though the Wolverine protested he at last scrambled in to hunch at the bottom of the shell the picture of apprehension Taggy took longer to make up her mind and at length Shan picked her up bodily soothing her with white speech and stroking hands to put her beside her mate the shell settled under the weight of the passengers but Thorvald's foresight concerning the use of the outrigger it answered readily to the dip of their paddle as they headed in a curve keeping the first of the islands between them and the open sea for a breakwater from the air Thorvald's course would have been a crooked one for he wove back and forth between the scattered islands of the chain using their lead calm for the protection of the canoe about two thirds of the group were barren rock inhabited only by clack clacks and creatures closer to truth and birds in that they wore a body plumage which resembled feathers though their heads were naked and leathery and Shan noted the clack clacks and the birds did not roost on the same islands each choosing their particular home while the other species did not invade that territory the first large sized island the approach was crowned by trees but it had no beach perhaps it would be possible to climb to the top of the cliff walls but Thorvald did not suggest that they try it hitting on towards the next large outcroft of land and rock here white lace patterned in a ring well out from the shore to mark a circle of reefs they nosed their way patiently around the outer circumference of that threatening barrier hunting the entrance to the lagoon within there were at least climbable assets to the upper reaches in land though Shan noted that the vegetation showing was certainly not luxuriant the few trees within their range of vision being pallid growth rather like those they had sighted on the friends of the desert leather-headed flyers quealed out over their canoe coasting on outspread wings to peer down at the Terran invaders in a manner which suggested intelligent curiosity a full flock gathered to escort them as they continued along the outer line of the reef Thorvald impatiently dug his paddle deeper they had explored more than half of the reef now without chancing on an entrance channel regular fence Shan commented one could begin to believe that the barrier had been deliberately reared to frustrate visitors hot sunshine reflected back from the surface of the waves burned or exposed skin so they dared not discard their ragged clothing and the Wolverines were growing increasingly restless Shan did not know how much longer the animals would consent to their position as passengers without raising active protests how about trying the next one he asked knowing at the same time a suggestion with good will the officer made no reply but continued to use his steer paddle in a fashion which spelled out his stubborn determination to find a passage this was a personal thing now between Ragnar Thorvald of the Terran survey and a wall of rock and the man's will was strongly rooted as those water wars stoned on the southwestern tip of the deep they discovered a possible opening Shan eyed to narrow space between two fang like rocks dubiously to him that with the water lane seemed dangerously limited the sudden slam of a wave could dash him against either of those pillars with disastrous results before they could move to save themselves but Thorvald pointed their bow towards the passage with seeming confidence Shan knew that as far as the officer was concerned this was their door to the lagoon Thorvald might be stubborn but he was not a fool and his training and skill in sit maneuvers was proved when the canoe rode in a rising swell in and by those rocks to gain his safety in seconds of the calm lagoon Shan sighed with relief but ventured no comment now they must paddle back along the inner side of the reef towards the beaches for fronting them on this side of the well protected island were cliffs as formable as those which guarded the first of the chain at which they had aimed Shan glanced now and then over the side of the boat hoping in those shallows to sight the seabed for some of the inhabitants of these waters but there is no piercing that green mark here and there nodules of rock projected inches or feet above the surface avoided by the voyagers Shan's shoulders ached and burned his muscles were unaccustomed to the steady swing of the paddles and the fire of the sun stamped easily through only two layers of ragged cloth to his skimp he ran a dry tongue over drier lips and gazed eagerly ahead in search of the first of the beaches what was so important about this island that Thorvald had to make a landing here the offshore stories of a native race which they might turn against the throgs to their own advantage was thin, very thin indeed especially now as Shan weighed an unsupported theory against that ache in his shoulders the possibility of being marooned on the inhospitable shore ahead against the 50 probable dangers he could total up with very little expenditure of effort a small nagging doubt of Thorvald's obsession began to grow in his mind I could Shan even be sure that the carved disc and Thorvald's hocus pocus with it had been on the level on the other hand what motive would the officer have for trying such an act just to impress Shan the beach at last as they headed the canoe in that direction the Wolverines nearly brought disaster on them the animals restlessness excited and scented the shore and knew that they were close Taggy raired clumped over the side of the craft and Shan had just timed to fling his weight in the opposite direction as a counter balance when Toggy followed they splashed the shore while Thorvald swore fluently and Shan grabbed to save the pressure supply bag in a shower of gravel the animals made land and humped the wheel up on the flat or far and wide the burden of moisture transported by their shaggy fur ashore the canoe became a clumsy burden and light as a craft was both of the men squetted to get it up on the beach without snagging the outrigger against stones and brush with the thought of a throg patrol in mind they worked swiftly to cover it Taggy raised an egg pattern snout from a hollow shell matting his fur the Wolverines had wasted no time in sampling the contents of a wealth of nesting places beginning just above the high water mark cupping two to four tough shell eggs in each threading a path among these clutches the Terrans climbed a red earth slope towards the interior of the island they found water not the clear running of a staley's cool in a stone wall depression on the crest of a rise filled by the bounty of the rain the warm liquid was brackish but satisfied in part their thirst and they drank eagerly the outer cliff wall of the island was just that a wall for there was an inner slope to match the outer and at the bottom of it a showing of purple green living space but there was nothing else though they quartered that growing section with the care of men trying to locate an enemy outpost that night they camped in the hollow roasted eggs on your fire and ate the fecitating contents because it was food not because they relished what they swallowed tonight no cloud bank hung overhead they were over the distance shore of the main land they sided the cruising lights of a drum ship and waited tensely for that circle of small sparkling points to swing out towards their own hiding hole they haven't given up Shan stated what was obvious to them both the settler transport four of all reminded him if they do not take a prisoner to talk her in her tales but quick so just by keeping out of throw range they were in a way still fighting Shan settled back into shoulders resting against a tree hole he tried to count the number of days and nights lying behind him now since that early morning when he had watched a tearing camp die under the aliens weapons but one day fated into the ground the scout ship the sortie they had made in turn on the occupied camp the dust storm on the river the escape from the ship in the mountain crevice and their meeting with the then that storm which had driven them to see cover after their curious experience with the disc and now this day when they had safely reached the island why this island had this valley for all return matter of fact but today we found nothing at all yet this island supplies us with a starting point a starting point for what a detailed search of all the islands great and small in the chain and how did they dare continue to paddle openly from one to the next with a frog sweeping the skies reef for an hour or more rarely shan spread out his hands in the very faint light of their tiny fire poked a fingertip at starting points which would have been blisters had those hands not known a tufting process in the past more paddling tomorrow but that was tomorrow and at least they need not worried tonight about any frog attack once they had doused the fire at Thorwald shan pushed down on the little bed of leaves he had heaped together the night was quiet he could hear only the murmur of the sea a lowling croon of sound to make one sleep deep perhaps dreamlessly sun struck down making a dazzle about him shan turned over drowsily in that welcome heat stretching a little as might a cat at ease then he really awoke under the press of memory and the need for alertness rode to him once more beaten down grass the burnout embers of last night's fire were beside him but at Thorwald and the Wolverine there were no signs not only did he now lie alone but he was possessed by the feeling that he had not been deserted only momentarily that Toggy, Toggy and the survey officer were indeed gone and set up got to his feet breathing faster a prickle of uneasiness spreading in him bringing him to that inner slope up yet to the crest from which he could see that beach for last night they had concealed a canoe those lengths of brush and tusks of grass they had used for a screen were strewn about as if tossed in haste and not too long before for the canoe was out in the calm waters in the reef the paddle blade yielded by its occupant flashing brightly in the sun on the shingle below the Wolverine's proud back and forth whining in bewilderment Thorwald Shan put the full force of his lungs into that hail carrying the name ring from one of the small peaks at his back but the man in the boat did not turn his head there was no change in the speed of the ship Shan leaped down the outer slope to the beach skidding the last few feet saving himself from going head first into the water only by a painful wrench of his body Thorwald he tried calling again but that head right under the sun did not turn there was no answer Shan tore at his clothes and kicked off his boots he did not think of the possibility of his lungs into the water swam for the canoe edging along the reef plainly bound for the sea gate to the southwest Shan was not a powerful swimmer his first impetus gave him a good start but after that he had to fight for each foot he gained and the fear grew in him that the other would reach the reef passage before he could catch up he wasted no more time trying to hail Thorwald for the effort of overtaking the craft and he almost made it his hand actually slipping along the log which furnished the balancing outrigger as his fingers tightened on the slimy wood he looked up and loosed that hole again in time perhaps to save his life for when he ducked to let the water cover his head in an impromptu half dive Shan carried with him a vivid picture Thorwald had stopped paddling at last because that paddle had to be put to another use had Shan not released his hold on the log and gone underwater that crudely fashioned piece of wood might have broken his skull he saw only too clearly the paddle raised in both hands as an ugly weapon and Thorwald's face convolts in a spasm of rage which made it as inhuman as Thorwald's sputtering and choking Shan fought up to the air once more the paddle was back at the task for which he had been carved the canoe was underway again his occupant paying no more attention to what lay behind than if he had successfully disposed of the man in the water to follow would be only to invite another attack and Shan might not be so lucky next time he would not a good enough to do tricks such as over setting the canoe not when Thorwald was an expert who could easily finish off a fumbling opponent Shan swam weirdly to shore where the Wolverines waited unable yet to make sense of that attack in the lagoon what had happened to Thorwald what motive had led the other to leave Shan and the animals on this island the island Thorwald had called a starting point or had every bit of that tall tail been invented by the survey officer for some obscure purpose of his own certainly no sane purpose against that logic Shan could only set the carved desk and he had only Thorwald's word that it had been discovered here he dragged himself out of the water on his hands and knees and lay winded and gasping tagging came to lick his face nuzzle him and all bewildered whimpering while above the leather-headed birds called and swooped fearful and angry for the disturbed nesting place the tearing reached copped up water and then set up to look around the spread of lagoon was bare Thorwald must have rounded the south point of land and be very close to the reef passage perhaps through it by now not stopping for his clothes crawling part of the way on his hands and knees he reached the crest again and got to his feet the sun made an eyed dazzling glitter of the waves but under the shade of his hands Shan saw the canoe again beyond the reef heading on out along the island chain not back to shore as he had expected Thorwald was still on the hunt but for what a reality which existed in his own disturbed rain Shan sat down he was very hungry for that adventure in the lagoon had sapped his strength and he was a prisoner along with the Wolverines a prisoner on an island which was half the size of the valley which held the survey camp as far as he knew his only supply of drinkable water was that tank of evil smelling rain which would be speedily evaporated by a sun such as one now beating down on him and between him and the shore was the sea a sea which harbored its creatures as a forktail he had watched die Thorwald was still steadily on course not to the next island in the chain a small bear knob but to the one beyond that he could have been hurrying to a meeting where and with what Shan got to his feet started down to the beach once more sure now that the officer had no intention of returning that he was again on his own with only his wits and strength to keep him alive alive and somehow free of this water-worse prism this concludes the reading of chapter 9 Form Over Warlock by Andre Norton Chapter 10 this is a Lieberbach recording all Lieberbach recordings of the warlock domain for more information or to volunteer please visit Lieberbach.org recording by R.J. Davis Storm Over Warlock by Andre Norton Chapter 10 a trap for a trapper Shan took the piece of soft chocolate stone he had found and drew another short white mark on the rust red of a boulder well above tide level that made three sets marks three days since Thorbald had marooned him and he was no nearer the shore now than he had been on that first morning he sat where he was by the boulder aware that he should be up trying to climb to the last accessible nest of the seabirds the prisoners Mann and Wilburines had cleaned out all those they had discovered on beach and cliffs but at the thought of more eggs Shan's stomach knotted in pain and he began to reach there had been no sign of Thorbald since Shan had watched him steer between the two westward islands and the younger Terrence faint hoped that the officer would return had died on the shore a few feet away lay his own pitiful attempt to solve the problem of escape the force acts had vanished with Thorbald along with all the rest of the troops which had been the officer's original contribution to their joint equipment Shan had used his knife on brush and small trees trying to put together some kind of a raft but he had not been able to discover here any of those vines necessary for binding and his best effort had all come to grief when he tried them in a lagoon launching so far he had achieved no form of raft about longer than five minutes let alone support three of them as far as the next island Shan pulled listlessly at the framework of his latest try fully disheartened he tried not to think of the unescapable fact that the water in the rain crank had sunk to only an inch or so of muddy scum last night he had dug in the heart of the interior valley for the rankness of the vegetation was a promise of moisture to the plate and then a brackish hoos far too little to satisfy both him and the animals there were surely feasts somewhere in the lagoon Shan wondered if the raw flesh of seed dwellers would supply the water they needed but lacking net, line, or hooks how did one feasts yesterday using his stunner he had brought down a bird to discover the carcass so ranked even the Wolverines refused to gnaw it the animals prowled the two beaches and Shan guessed they hunted shell dwellers for at times they dug energetically in the gravel Togi was busied in this way now the sand flowing from under her pumping legs for claws raking in good earnest and it was Togi's excavation which brought Shan a first ray of hope her excitement was so marked that he believed he was in quest to some worthwhile game and he moved across to inspect the pit a patch of brown which had been skimbed bare by one wrecking paw made him shout Togi scrambled down slope going to work beside his mate with an eagerness as open as hers Shan hovered at the edge of the pit they were rapidly emerging the brown patch was larger disclosing itself as a hump doming up from the gravel the Terran did not need to run his hands over that rough surface to recognize the nature of the find this was another shell Sitches had come floating in after the storm to form the raw material of their canoe however as fast as the Wolverine dug they did not appear to make correspondingly swift headway and uncovering their find as might reasonably be expected in fact, a witness could guess that the shell was sinking at a pace only a fraction slower than the burrowers were using to free it intrigued by that Shan went back to the waterline secured one of the lengths he had been trying to weave into his failures and returned to use it as a makeshift shovel now with three of them at the digging the brown hump was uncovered and Shan cried down around its head trying to lever it up and over for his amazement his tool was caught and held nearly jerked from his hands to his retaliating tug the obstruction below ground gave way and the Terran sprawled back the length of wood coming clear to show the other ends smashed and splintered as if it had been caught between meshing years for the first time he understood that they were dealing not with an empty shell casing buried by drift under this small beach but with a shell still inhabited by the Warlock Inn to whom it was a natural covering and that that inhabitant would fight to continue ownership a moment's examination of that squintered wood also suggested that the shells present where appeared well able to defend itself Shan attempted to call off the Wolverines but they were out of control now digging frantically to get at this new prey and he knew that if he pulled them away by force they were apt to turn those punishing claws and snapping jaws on him it was for their protection that he returned to digging though he no longer tried to pry up the shell Taggy leaped on top of that dome sweeping paws downward to clear its surface while Togie prowled around its circumference pausing now and then to send dirt and gravel splattering but treading weirdly as might want to alert and attack they had the creature almost clear now though the shell still rested firmly on the ground and they had no notion of what it might protect it was smaller perhaps two-thirds the size of the one with four vaults had fashioned into a sea-going craft but it could provide them with transportation to the mainland as Shan was able to repeat the feat of turning it into an outrigger canoe Taggy joined his mate on the ground and both Wolverines padded about the dome obviously baffled now and then they assaulted the shell with a testing paw paws raked and did not leave any marks but shallow scratches they could continue that forever as far as Shan could see without solving the problem in the least he sat back on his heels and studied the scene in detail the excavation holding the shell creature was on three yards above the high watermark with a few more feet separating that from the point where lazy waves now warped the finer sand Shan watched the slow inward slip of those waves with growing interest where their combined efforts had failed to win this odd battle perhaps a sea itself could now be pressed into service Shan began his own excavation a trough to lead from the waterline to the pit occupied by the opposite shell of course the thing living in or under that covering might be only too familiar with salt water but he had placed his burrow or hiding place above the reach of the waves and so might be disconcerted by the sudden appearance of water in his bed however the scheme was worth trying and he went to work doggedly wishing he could make the Wolverines understand so they would help him they still prowled about their captain scraping at the sand about the shell casing at least their efforts would keep the half prisoner occupied and prevent its escape Shan put another piece of his raft to work as a shovel throwing up a shower of sand and gravel while sweat dampened his tattered blouse and was salt and sticky on his arms and face he finished his trench one which ran at an angle and the rope would feed water into the pit rapidly once he knocked away the last barrier against the waves and splashing out into the green water he did just that his calculations proved correct waves left then flowed in a rapidly thickening stream puddling out about the shell as the Wolverines drew back snarling Shan laced his knife fast to a stout length of sapling so equipping himself he stood with it ready in his hand not knowing just what to expect and when the answer to his water attack came the move was so sudden that in spite of his preparation he was caught gaping for the shell fairly erupted out of the mess of sand and water a complete brand enjoyed it clawed brown limbs churned in a forward and upward dash but the water worked to frustrate that charge for one of the pit walls crumbled overbalancing the creature so that the fore end of the shell lifted from the ground the legs clawing wildly at the air Shan thrust with the spear feeling the knife point go home so deeply that he could not pull his improvised weapon free a limb snapped claws only inches away from his leg as he pushed down on the half with all his strength that attack the initial upset of balance did the job the shell flopped over it's rounded hump now embedded in the watery sand of the pit while the frantic struggles of the creature to right itself only buried it the deeper the tearing stared down upon a segmented under body where legs were paired in rib like formation Shan could locate no head no good target but he drew his stunner and beamed at either end of the oval in the middle hoping in one of those three general blasts to contact the thing central nervous system he was not to know which of those shots did the trick but the frantic wiggling of the legs slowed and finally ended as a clockwork toy might run down for one of winding and at last projected at crooked angles completely still the shell creature might not be dead but it was tamed for now Taggy had only been waiting for a good chance to do battle he grabbed one of those legs worried it and then leap to tear at the under body unlike the outer shell this portion of the creature had no proper armor and a Wolverine plunge joyfully into the business of the kill his mate following suit the process of butchery was a bloody even beastly job and Shan was shaken before it was complete but he kept at his labor determined to have that shell his one chance of escape from the island the Wolverines feasted on the greenish white flesh but he could not bring himself to sample it climbing to the heights in search of eggs and making a happy find of a niche filled with the edible moss fungi by late afternoon he had the shell scoop fairly clean and the Wolverines had carried away for burial six portions as they had not been able to consume at their first eating meanwhile the leather-headed birds had grown bold enough to snatch up the fragments he tossed out on the water struggling for that bounty against feeders arising from the depths of the lagoon at the coming of dusk Shan hauled a bloodstained grizzly trophy well up the beach and wedged it among the rocks determined not to lose his treasure the drift and worst perched his clothing and then himself rubbing his hands and arms with sand until the skin was tender he was still exuberant at his luck the drift would supply him with materials for an outrigger one more day's work or maybe two and he could leave he rung out his blouse and gazed towards the distant line of the shore once he had his new canoe ready he would try to make the trip while the mist was still on the sea that should give him cover against any throg flight that night Shan slept in the deep fog of bodily exhaustion there were no dreams nothing but an unconsciousness which even a throg attack could not appear he roused in the morning with an odd feeling of guilt the water hole he had scooped in the valley yielded him some swallows and a drop of water but he had almost forgotten the flavor of a pure liquid munching on a fistful of moss he hurried down to the shore half fearing to find the shell gone his luck out once again not only was the shell where he had wedged it but he had done better than he knew when he had left it exposed in the night small things scuttled away from it into hiding on the road scavengers had been busy lightening his unwelcome task for that morning and seeing how the cleanup process had gone Shan had a second inspiration pushing the thing down the beach he sank it in the shells with several rocks to anchor it within a few seconds the shell was invaded by a whole school a spiny tailed beast that ate greedily leaving his spine to their cleansing to inspect the pile of raft material choosing pieces which could serve for an outrigger frame he was handicapped as he had been all alone by the absence of the vines one could use for lacing and he had reached the point of considering a drastic sacrifice of his clothing to get the necessary strips when he saw a taggy dragging behind him one of the jointed legs now and again taggy laid his prize on the shingle holding it firmly pinned with his four paws as he tried to worry loose a section of flesh but apparently that feat was lay on even his notable teeth and at length he left it lying there in disgust while he returned to a catch of more palatable fare Shan went to examine more closely the triple jointed limb the casing was not as hard as horn or shell he discovered upon testing it more resembled tough skin laid over bone with a knife he tried to loosen the skin a tedious job requiring a great deal of patience since the tissue tore if pulled way too fast but with care he acquired a few throngs perhaps a foot long using two of these cutting of one stick to another and experimented further soaking the whole construction in seawater and then exposing it to the direct rays of the sun when he examined his test piece an hour later the skin thongs had set into place with success that the one piece of wood might have been firmly glued to the other Shan shuffled his feet in a little dance of triumph as he went on to the lagoon the scavengers had done well one scraping two at the most would have the whole thing cleaned and ready to use but that night Shan dreamed no climbing of a skull shaped mountain this time instead he was again on the beach laboring under an overwhelming compulsion building something for an alien purpose he could not understand and he worked as hopelessly as a beaten slave knowing that what he made was what he was doing yet he could not halt the making because just beyond the limit of his vision there stood a dominant will which held him in bondage and he awoke on the beach in the very early dawn not knowing how he had come there his body was bathed in sweat as it had been during his day's labor under the sun and his muscles ached with fatigue but when he saw what lay at his feet he crouched the framework of the outrigger close to completion the night before was dismantled smashed all those strips of hide he had so laboriously cold were cut into inch long bits which could be of no service Shan hurled ran through the shell he had the night before pulled from the water and stowed in safety its rounded dome was dulled where it had been battered he ran his hands anxiously over the curve to make sure then very slowly he came back to the mess of broken wood and snipped pine and he was sure only too sure of one thing he himself had wrought that destruction in his dream he had built to satisfy the whim of an enemy in reality he had destroyed and that was also he believed to satisfy an enemy the dream was a part of it but who or what could set a man dreaming and so take over his body make him in fact betray himself but then what had made Thorvald maroon him here for the first time Shan guessed a new if wild explanation for the officer's desertion dreams and the disk which had worked so strangely on Thorvald the other had survived was the truth then that disk had been found on this very island and here somewhere must lie a clue to the riddle Shan licked his lips suppose that Thorvald had been set away under just such a strong compulsion as the one which had ruled Shan last night why was he left behind if the other had been moved away to protect some secrets wanted so much that when he at last found a means of escape he was set to destroy it that act might have been forced upon him for two reasons to keep him here and to impress upon him how powerless he was powerless a flick of stubborn will stirred to respond to that implied challenge alright the mysterious they had made him do this underrated him by letting him learn almost contemptuously of their presence by that revelation so worn he was in a manner of arms he could prepare to fight back he squandered by the wreckage as he thought that through turning over broken pieces and Shan realized he must present at the moment a satisfactory picture of despondency to any spy that was it someone or something must have him under observation or his activities of the day before would not have been so summarily countered and if there was a spy then there was his answer to the riddle to trap the trapper succession might be a project beyond his resources but it was his own counter attack so now he had a role to play not only must he search the island for the trace of his spy but he must do it it's a fashion that his purpose would not be plain to the enemy he suspected the Wolverines could help Shan arose allowed his shoulders to droop slouching to the slope with all the air of a beaten man which he could assume quisling for taggy and togy when they came his exploration began obstinously for suitable growing saplings to take the place of those he had destroyed under orders but he kept a careful watch on the animal pair hoping by the reactions to pick up a clue to any hidden watcher the laundry of the two beaches marked the point where the Terence had first landed and where the shell thing had been killed the smaller was more of a narrow tongue thrust out into the lagoon much of it choked with sizable boulders on earlier visits there togy and togy had poked into the hollows among these with their usual curiosity but now both animals remained up slope showing no inclination to descend to the water line Shan caught hold of taggy Scruff pulling him along the Wolverine twisted in wine but he did not fight for freedom as he would have upon sending throng not that the Terence had ever believed one of those aliens was responsible for the happenings on the island Taggy came down under Shan's urging but he was plainly ill at ease and at last he snarled a warning when the man would have drawn him closer to two rocks which met overhead in a crude semblance of an arch there was a stick of drift protruding from that hollow affording Shan a legitimate excuse to venture closer he dropped his hold on the Wolverine stooped together in the length of the wood and at the same time clashed into the pocket water lay just beyond making this a doorway to the lagoon the sun had not yet penetrated into the shadow if it ever did Shan reached for the wood at the same time drawing his finger across the flat rock which would furnish a stepping stone for anything using that door as an entrance to the island wet Shan, who had been living here for a long time had been living here for a long time Shan, who had been living here for a long time had been living here for a long time Shan was convinced that he had found the spy's entrance could he turn it into a trap he added a piece of drift to his bundle and picked up two more before he returned to the cliff ahead Shan already had decided upon the bait his own work and if his plans went through and hoped to not die easily then this time he would not waste his labor either so he went back to the same job he had done the day before making do with skin strips he had considered second best before smoothing, cutting only the trap occupied his mind and close to sunset he knew just what he was going to do and how though the Terran did not know the nature of the unseen opponent he thought he could guess two weaknesses which might deliver the other into his hands first the enemy was entirely confident of success in this venture no being who was able to control Shan as completely and ably as had been done the night before would credit any prey with the power to strike back and forth second such a confident enemy would be unable to resist watching the manipulation of a captive the Terran was certain that his opponent would be on the scene somewhere when he was led dreaming to destroy his work once more he might be wrong on both of those counts but inwardly he didn't believe so however he had to wait until the dart to set up his own answer one so simple the enemy would not suspect it at all this concludes the reading of chapter 10


Okay, so we're gonna watch Tesla and possibly PNC. Okay, 157.50. Let's do 60 by 50, 60 by 50, Tesla. Let's do 70, 70 by 50, Tesla. Wait till it hits, though. The numbers change, I'll let you know. Okay, just wait. No one should be in this set and you gotta wait. It's like a PNC. We'll talk about the market a little bit when we're done. We're nuts out. I think this is just data here taking all the load. Can everybody hear me? Just a internet check there. Okay, okay. Let's do 158.30 is the stop. Let's do 50, let's do 60. 60 by 30, Tesla. There, get it right now. Get the stop in right now, boom. Here we go. The stop is 30. Let's rock and roll, people. Let's double triple check it. Ba-dup, ba-dup, ba-boom. Down and down and down she goes. And where she stops, nobody knows. 155.64, 155. Game, can everybody hear me? I'm talking. Randy says he can't hear me. Here we go, Tesla, Tesla, Tesla, Tesla. Here we go, Tesla. 155 through that 154 dream target today in Tesla. Anybody wanna guess? Anybody wanna guess what it is? Go, Tesla, you go down. 150. Jackie's like 148. Zero. Gonna buy the market today because they can't stop and they never will stop. People will buy every dip from now until the end of time and they'll lose money. And that's what people do. All right, here we are. 154.29. Crap. Thomas, you just take it and get out as soon as it moves. You don't even put the stop in, I think. I'm still in it. Let's get one more push. You shouldn't be back in it. You should've never got out of it. This isn't an entry here, Thomas. And you definitely should use stops. And what is the time that everybody has to enter the room? I'm seeing people in the waiting room now. They missed the trade. It's 9.36. I'm gonna have to send out another email. I'm gonna make the cutoff 9 a.m. And then I guess I'm gonna be by myself. It'll be me and Gerard every day. Just me and Gerard will be here by ourselves every day because he's the only one that actually shows up on time consistently. Here we go, Tesla. Here we go. I mean, it's starting season.  Jennifer, you were late last week. You were late last week. You were. Here we go, Tesla. 154.01, you could be out. Crap, I think it keeps going. Hand of the button here. One more push, one more push, one more push. No one in the world is gonna buy it, except Kathy Woods. Is she on TV today, telling everyone to buy it? There, there we go. Steel. 89. Gerard's out. Boop-a-doo. Here, push, push, push, push. Get out right here. Allison's out. Thomas is out. 34, I'm boozing. There, that's what I wanted. That's what I wanted. Oh, push in there. But if you are still in it, 153, 152, 151, 150. And if you were in the options I called in this, you deserve a round of applause because this is a huge monster, beautiful, wonderful day. And that's that. Allison is out. All right, let's go over it.