Chapter Fourteen
THE WASTES OF YEL
THE COUNTESS FLANA'S ornithopter dropped closer and closer to the ground, its belly brushing the tops of tall pines, its wings narrowly missing becoming entangled with the branches of birches, until at last it landed on the wiry heather beyond the forest.
The day was cold and a sharp wind whistled across the heath, biting through their flimsy costumes.
Shivering, they clambered from the flying machine and looked warily about them. No one was in sight.
D'Averc reached into his jerkin and produced a scrap of thin leather on which a map was scrawled.
He pointed. "We go in that direction. Now we must get the ornithopter into the woods and hide it."
"Why cannot we leave it? The chances of anyone finding it for a day or so are slim," Hawkmoon said.
But D'Averc spoke seriously. "I do not wish any harm to come to Countess Flana, Hawkmoon. If the machine were discovered, it could be ill for her. Come."
And so they tugged and shoved at the metal machine until it was in the pinewood and thickly covered with brash. It had borne them as far as it could until its fuel gave out. They had not expected it to carry them the whole way to Yel.
Now they must continue on foot.
For four days they walked through woods and across heaths, the terrain gradually becoming less and less fertile as they neared the borders of Yel.
Then one day Hawkmoon paused and pointed.
"Look, D'Averc-the Mountains of Yel."
And there they were in the distance, their purple peaks in cloud, the plain and the foothills beneath them all tawny yellow rock.
It was a wild, beautiful landscape, such as Hawkmoon had never seen before.
He gasped. "So there are some sights in Granbretan not entirely offensive to the eye, D'Averc."
"Aye, it is pretty," D'Averc agreed. "But daunting also. We have to find Mygan there somewhere. Judging by the map, Llandar is still many miles into those mountains."
"Then let us press on." Hawkmoon adjusted his sword belt. "We had a small advantage over Meliadus to begin with, but it is possible that even now he is on his way to Yel in hot quest of Mygan."
D'Averc stood on one leg and ruefully rubbed his foot. "True, but I fear these boots will not, last the distance. I picked them from pride, for their prettiness, not for their sturdiness. I am learning my mistake."
Hawkmoon clapped him on the shoulder. "I've heard wild ponies roam these parts. Pray we find a couple we can tame."
But no wild ponies could be found and the yellow ground was hard and rocky and the sky above became full of a livid radiance. Hawkmoon and D'Averc began to realise why the folk of Granbretan were so superstitious of this region, for there did seem to be something unnatural about both land and sky.
At last the mountains were entered.
Seen close to, these were also of a yellowish color, though with streaks of dark red and green, all glassy and grim. Strange-looking beasts skittered away from their path as they clambered on over jagged rocks and peculiar man-like creatures, with hairy bodies topped by completely hairless heads, measuring less than a foot high, regarded them from cover.
"They were once men, those creatures," D'Averc said. "Their ancestors dwelt in these parts. But the Tragic Millenium did its work here well."
"How do you know this?" Hawkmoon asked him.
"I have read my books. It was in Yel, worse than any other part of Granbretan, that the Tragic Millennium's effects were felt. That is why it is so desolate, for people will not come here any longer."
"Save Tozer-and the old man, Mygan of Llandar."
"Aye-if Tozer spoke the truth. We could still be on a wild goose chase, Hawkmoon."
"But Meliadus had the same story."
"Perhaps Tozer is merely a consistent liar?"
It was close to nightfall when the mountain creatures came scuttling from their caves high above and attacked Hawkmoon and D'Averc.
They were covered in oily fur, with the beaks of birds and the claws of cats, huge eyes blazing, beaks parting to reveal teeth, emitting a horrible hissing sound. There were three females and about six males as far as they could tell In the semi-darkness.
Hawkmoon drew his sword, adjusting his vulture mask as he would adjust an ordinary helm, and set his back to a wall of rock.
D'Averc took up a position beside him. Then the beasts were on them.
Hawkmoon slashed at the first, carving a long, bloody scar across its chest. It recoiled with a shriek.
A second was taken by D'Averc, stabbed through the heart. Hawkmoon neatly slit the throat of a third, but a fourth's claws were gripping his left arm. He struggled, muscles straining as he tried to turn his dagger upward to stab the creature's wrist, while meanwhile he slashed at one trying to take him from the other side.
Hawkmoon coughed and felt nauseous, for the beasts stank horribly. He at last wrenched his hand round and dug the point of his dagger into its forearm. It grunted and let go.
Instantly Hawkmoon drove the blade of the dagger deep into one staring eye and left the weapon there as he turned to deal with the next creature.
It was dark now and hard to make out how many of the beasts were left. D'Averc was holding his own, shouting filthy insults at the creatures as his blade moved rapidly this way and that.
Hawkmoon's foot slipped on blood and he staggered, catching the small of his back on a spur of rock. With a hiss another beaked beast was on him, clutching him in a bearlike grip, pinning both arms to his sides, the beak snapping at his face and closing with a snap on the vulture visor.
Hawkmoon sweated to break the grip, tore his head from the mask, leaving it in the creature's beak, wrenched the thing's arms apart and punched it heavily in the chest. It staggered in surprise, not realising that the vulture mask had not been part of Hawkmoon's body.
Quickly Hawkmoon drove Ms sword into its heart and turned to assist D'Averc, who had two of the things on him.
Hawkmoon lopped one's head completely from its shoulders and was about to attack the next when it released D'Averc and screamed, rushing off into the night, clutching part of his jerkin.
They had accounted for all but one of their disgusting attackers.
D'Averc was panting, wounded slightly in the chest where the claws had ripped his jerkin away. Hawkmoon ripped up a piece of his cloak and padded the wound.
"No great harm done," said D'Averc. He yanked off his battered vulture mask and flung it away. "Those came in useful, but I'll wear mine no longer since I see you've discarded yours. That jewel in your forehead is unmistakable, so there's no point in my continuing to disguise myself!" He grinned. "I told you the Tragic Millenium had produced some ugly creatures, friend Hawkmoon."
"I believe you," smiled Hawkmoon. "Come, we had best find a place to camp for the night. Tozer marked a safe resting spot on his map. Bring it out into the starlight so we can read it."
D'Averc reached into his jerkin and then his jaw dropped in horror. "Oh, Hawkmoon! We are not so lucky!"
"Why so, my friend?"
"That section of my jerkin the creature carried off contained the pocket in which I had the map supplied by Tozer. We are lost, Hawkmoon!"
Hawkmoon cursed, sheathed his sword and frowned.
"There's nothing for it," he said. "We must trail the beast. It was slightly wounded and might have left a trail of blood. Perhaps it has dropped the map on its way back to its lair. Failing that we shall have to follow it all the way to where it lives and find a means of getting back our map when we arrive!"
D'Averc frowned. "Is it worth it? Can we not remember where we are bound?"
"Not well enough. Come, D'Averc."
Hawkmoon began to clamber over the sharp rocks in the direction in which the creature had disappeared and D'Averc came reluctantly after him.