“I guess we’d better get started,” Zelana said. “Perhaps I should apologize, but I’m not really very good at that, so I don’t think I’ll bother. The spring flood that’s going to come down the ravine almost any day now will probably take the servants of That-Called-the-Vlagh completely by surprise, and most of them in the ravine right now aren’t very likely to survive. That-Called-the-Vlagh has many, many servants, though, so after the flood subsides, the Vlagh will just send more. Sooner or later, our friends from the Land of Maag and the Trogite Empire will begin to encounter the creatures of the Wasteland, and those creatures have certain peculiarities that our friends need to be aware of, and that’s why we’re here today.”
“Get to the point, Zelana,” her bearded older brother told her.
“Do you want to do this, Dahlaine?” she asked tartly.
“It’s your Domain, Zelana,” he gave up. “Do it any way you want to.”
“Thank you.” Her tone was flat, even unfriendly. There seemed to be quite a few tensions in Zelana’s family. “Now, then,” she continued, “when Veltan and I first spoke with our outlander friends, we may have glossed over a few things they should probably know about now that they’re here.”
“Oh?” Sorgan said. “We know that the enemies are fairly primitive, but it won’t hurt if we know a little bit more about them. Do they happen to have some sort of exotic weapons or something?”
“Well . . . sort of,” Zelana replied. She looked at Longbow. “Perhaps you should introduce them to One-Who-Heals,” she suggested.
He shrugged. “If you wish,” he replied. He gestured at the thin old Dhrall standing near Chief Old-Bear. “That is our shaman, One-Who-Heals,” he told them. “As some of you know, I’ve been hunting and killing the servants of the Vlagh for twenty years now, but before I began, One-Who-Heals told me many things about those I wanted to kill.” There was a flat, unemotional quality to Longbow’s voice that sent chills through Rabbit. “I have spoken with our shaman, and he has agreed to tell you things you should know before you meet our enemies.”
“I will do the best I can, Longbow,” the old man replied. He squinted at the Maags and Trogites a bit dubiously. “What I am about to tell you may seem quite strange and unlikely,” he told them, “but it would be wise of you to take what I say very seriously. That-Called-the-Vlagh holds dominion over the Wasteland, and it tampers with its servants in many peculiar ways so that they may better serve it. They who rightfully hold dominion over the Land of Dhrall—East and West, North and South—do not tamper with living creatures as does That-Called-the-Vlagh, so we have become what we are in response to the world around us. Life has many forms, and each form remains true to its origins. That-Called-the-Vlagh, however, crosses the boundaries between the various forms of life, mingling characteristics to build creatures which often have most unnatural capabilities. When you see one, it will look very much like a small man wearing a hooded garment made of cloth. That is not what it is, however. It is only partially a man, and its garment is spun out from its own body, even as the web of a spider is.”
“Are you saying that they’re part bug?” Gunda exclaimed.
One-Who-Heals nodded. “But they are also part man and part reptile. That-Called-the-Vlagh, it would seem, ignores the boundaries which separate the various creatures in the Wasteland, and it joins them in ways which are most unnatural, to make them more suitable for their tasks. Those which we have seen here in the Domain of Zelana have snakelike fangs in their mouths and insectlike stingers above their wrists. They have no weapons of the kinds we carry, because they have no need for them. Their weapons are a part of their own bodies, because their fangs and stingers are venomous, and their venom kills almost instantly.”
“You seem to have neglected to tell us about this, Veltan,” the Trogite commander observed in a cool, unfriendly voice.
“If you take some care, it’s not really a serious problem,” Longbow said calmly. “I’ve been killing them by the hundreds for twenty years now.”
“Naturally,” Sorgan said, “but not too many of us are good enough with a bow to stick arrows into somebody who’s a half mile away.”
Longbow shrugged. “It’s not that big a problem, Sorgan. The venom in their fangs and stings will kill anything—even others of their own kind. I’ve had quite a bit of success by simply sticking my arrowheads into the venom sacks of those I’ve already killed. The enemy has to be close enough to bite or sting you. A long spear with its point dipped in venom should keep you fairly safe.”
“That’s very interesting, Longbow,” Sorgan said, “but just where are we going to be able to get our hands on that much poison?”
“In just a few days a flood should be coming down the ravine, Sorgan,” Longbow reminded Rabbit’s captain. “It’ll carry all sorts of things down the river: trees, branches, old logs, dead enemies, bushes, and twigs. If we fish the dead enemies out of the river and drain their venom sacks, we should have more than enough poison to treat every spear, sword, and arrowhead we’ll be using to kill the servants of the Vlagh.”
“Well, maybe,” Sorgan said dubiously.
Rabbit suddenly remembered something. “That strange-looking little fellow you killed with one of your old stone arrows back in Kweta was one of the things we’re going to have to fight, wasn’t it?”
“Of course,” Longbow replied. “That’s why I used one of my old arrows. They’d already been dipped in poison.”
“I think we’ll have to fort up, Commander,” Gunda suggested. “We don’t want to get too close to those things, do we? If they have to climb a wall to get to us, we should be able to poke them off that wall with poisoned spears, and after a while they’ll get the point and go play someplace else.”
“They will not do that,” One-Who-Heals disagreed. “Once they have been told to attack, they will keep coming at you until they swarm over you or until the last one has been killed—and they will come at you in numbers beyond counting. They are not intelligent enough to be afraid.”
Narasan was frowning. “I think this changes quite a few things, Sorgan. We’d better take a long, hard look at our plans. If this spring flood clears the ravine of all the enemies, we should probably hurry right along and get to the head of the ravine just as quickly as we can and build a strong fort up there to hold the rest back.”