52: ORDEAL BY WATER

The moment that Maia had dived into the river she felt certain of her own death. She had never known any water like this. She was powerless in it. This was not water as she had always known and understood it. It was as though she had put a taper to a fire laid on a hearth, to see it instantly leap out and blaze about the room. In panic she tried to struggle back to the bank; but in this current there could be no reaching it. In the moment that she desisted she was spun round, her body vertical in the water, arms flailing as she tried to raise herself sufficiently to breathe, to swim at all, anywhere, in any direction.

She was, she now realized, no more than a fragment in a torrent like a vast mill-race. If only she had been able to see it clearly, by day, she would never have attempted to cross it; would have turned tail and made the best of her way back to Melvda. But now there could be no going back. She was fighting for her life—or for a few more minutes of life— in a current malignant as a demon. This was a demon's domain: Lespa herself was powerless here.

Always, before, she had thought of water as her own, kindly element. The tutelary spirits moving in water had known and loved her, their infant splashing about the shallows, their pretty lass half a mile from shore, lazing home-ward under a red sky. And yet she had intuitively known-had known three hours ago, when Lespa first spoke in her heart—that to try to swim the lower Valderra would most likely prove her death. If it were not so, Karnat would have found some way to cross it long before this.

The swirling, broken current changed to a strong, steady flow. It seemed now that she was being carried down a great pool in the dark. The river had not yet succeeded in killing her: she had a respite while it prepared for a second attempt. A particle of courage returned to her. She was Maia of Serrelind, not a drowning goat. If Lespa had lost sight of her, if the water had betrayed her, if the demon was going to kill her, at least she would make it as hard for him as she could. In her first panic she had thought of nothing but keeping afloat. Now, in this breathing space, she was able to recall that however dark and wide the river, the opposite bank must lie somewhere to her left.

She turned on her belly and as best she could began to swim in that direction.

Yet in such a current her strongest efforts were puny and futile. Each stroke with her left hand seemed all-consumingly arduous, like trying to hoist herself up a rope with one arm. Each stroke with her right hand instantly swung her downstream, struggling to turn and commence the whole weary task again.

She felt herself beginning to fail. Already in the forest and the swamp she had been tired, before ever she began this losing fight with the water; and even had she not been tired it would still have been beyond her.

As the force of the current strengthened again she abandoned all attempt to swim steadily across it, merely drifting passively and then suddenly snatching a quick stroke or two, for all the world as though hoping that the demon might not catch sight of her in time. She must be in midstream—now—of that much she felt sure—but still her half-blinded, water-filled eyes could make out no trace of the opposite bank.

Suddenly pain ripped down the length of her right thigh. Something jagged had pierced her, torn her.

Clutching at the place, she was instantly pulled under, mouth and throat full of water, choking; kicking to get her head above the surface. She came up to find herself drifting backwards, and as her eyes cleared saw flash past her in the gloom a glistening, humped, irregular shape, solid amid spatterings of gray foam.

An instant later it was followed by another. She was among rocks. It must have been a sharp rock which had gashed her.

Even as she realized her danger the shape of another rock as big as herself came rushing towards her out of the blackness of the river. There was turbulent noise all around her now—a jagged expanse of broken water, roaring and booming. It was like being among a herd of stampeding beasts.

Thrusting out both hands, she clutched at a pointed, uneven projection of rock and clung to it amid the tumult, seeking no more than to hold herself where she was. Now that the demon had driven her into a trap from which all her strength and skill as a swimmer could not save her, now that her death was certain, her only thought was simply to survive the next moment. Soon she would not have the strength even to retain her hold on the smooth, wet stone. There was no pain along her thigh now, but the water, in the gash, felt very cold: she must be losing blood fast.

It was then, as she hung swaying to and fro at the end of her clenched fingers, that she suddenly glimpsed a glow of fire in the dark. Far off—what did "far off" mean, in this welter where she could move no way but deathward?— yet it was real, it was not her fancy. It was downstream of her and on her right. It was not a lamp or torch, but the redness of a burning fire; and for an instant—or so it seemed to her—she could hear voices. With all her remaining strength she shouted; listened, then shouted again.

There was no reply. Yet the fire burned on. And if she could reach it she would live and not die.

She let go of the rock, giving a strong push with her legs, lunging away, thrusting herself as hard as she could across the current in the direction of the fire. Instantly there appeared another rock, low in the stream, almost level with the surface, split and fissured. The water poured over and through it. Trying to cling to it, she could find no hold and was swept onward.

Then began a nightmare of scraping and jarring, of grabbing, of seizing and losing hold, of gasping and choking and an endless succession of heavy, horribly painful blows, as though she were being beaten with stone hammers. Sometimes she clung, sometimes she knelt, sometimes she fell. Once, in struggling, she kicked a rock and screamed with pain, sure that she must have broken her toes. Yet surely the fire was nearer?

As often as her head went under the water resounded far and near with the chattering of stones. She was bemused now, no longer capable of thought, mindless of past or future or of where she had come from. She had never done anything in her life but struggle and writhe in this howling, rock-strewn darkness, the fanged mouth of the water demon, to be bitten small and gulped down into the Valderra.

A voice was shouting: her own voice or another's? In her own mind, or the voice of some bygone victim, some water-ghost wailing in the cataract? Why must she go on suffering, why could she not submit herself to the river and drown? Yet she could not, but still gulped and fought for air, no longer swimming, becoming nothing but flotsam tossed and battered from rock to rock. Looking up suddenly, she saw the fire quite plainly. It was level with her; and it must be close, for she could actually make out the shape of a blazing log. There were—O Lespa!—there were men beside it; men standing secure on dry land, not thirty yards away!

Next moment her head struck heavily against a rock. For a moment she felt a dizzy, sickening pain, and then nothing more.

At first she was aware of nothing but pain. She did not wonder whether she was dead or alive, whether she was on dry land or still in the river, whether she was alone or with others. Pain, lying over her body like thick mist, blotted out all else. She knew only that she was covered in pain from head to foot. She could feel, like a kind of spring from which one particular pain was welling up and flowing out, a great contusion, tender and throbbing, across her right temple. One forearm, too, was horribly painful, as though it had been scraped and torn up and down with a grater. She could feel the wound in her thigh throbbing and as she moved that leg, a sudden agony from her toes shot up it, making her cry out.

There were voices near-by, but it was as though she were hearing them through the thickness of a wall.

They were Tonildan voices, but she could not make out what they were saying. How could she be in Tonilda? A voice spoke close to her ear, and as it did so she remembered the river, the rocks, the fire. A moist finger was rubbing her lips with something bitter and strong. She recognized it: it was djebbah, the raw spirit the peasants distilled from corn. Tharrin had once given her some, and had laughed when she choked on it.

She opened her eyes. She was beside a fire—that very fire—yes, it could only be—which she had seen from the river. She was wrapped in a cloak and lying on a rough blanket. Her thigh was tightly bound up—rather too tightly. A soldier was kneeling beside her, supporting her head on his arm. Three or four more soldiers were looking down at her.

So she had crossed the river! An enormous sense of achievement and satisfaction rose up in her. The pain was still very bad—the worst she had ever known—but now she could endure it. She was among friends: she was not going to die in the river.

"Lespa be praised!" she whispered aloud.

The soldier supporting her, a big, burly fellow, said, "How you feeling, lass?"

"Bad," she moaned. "Reckon I'm bad!"

"Have a drop more of this. It'll kill the pain—deaden it, like."

Little by little Maia's circle of awareness was growing. The light of the fire made it difficult to see much beyond, but she could hear the river close by, while on her other side stood two or three huts, one with a stack' of spears piled against the wall. The man supporting her head was wearing the badges of a tryzatt.

"All right, lass," said the tryzatt. "Just try'n take it easy, now."

"What—what happened?" she asked, "You pulled me out?"

"Jolan here got you out," he said. "We heard you shouting in the river, and he went in after you. It was a miracle you weren't swept away, only you were jammed in between two rocks out there, see?"

"Thank you," she said, trying to smile at the man towards whom the tryzatt was pointing. "I can't say n'more. Hope you're not hurt." The man grinned and shook his head. His forehead was bleeding.

"How did you come to be in the river?" asked the tryzatt. " 'Twasn't no accident, was it? You in trouble? Tryin' to make away with yourself, were you?"

Now, and only now, Maia remembered everything— Zenka, the Terekenalt night attack, her own desperate resolve. She tried to stand up, but at once fell back with an appalling spasm of pain up her leg.

The tryzatt caught her.

"Easy, now, girl! Nothing's that bad. You're not the first and you won't be the last." Suddenly he paused, looking at her sharply as a fresh thought struck him. "Did you throw yourself in—or did someone push you? Come on, now—what happened? Just tell us the truth of it."

"Easy, tryze," said one of the men. "The poor banzi's all in. Why not leave it till morning?"

"Ay, maybe you're right," answered the tryzatt. "Then we can—"

Maia clutched his arm. "Tryzatt, listen! You must take me to Rallur at once—"

"No, not tonight!" he said. "You just forget your troubles for a bit, lass, and go to sleep. We'll look after you, don't worry."

"No! No!" She was frantic. "They're your troubles! Lis-ten—"

"She's off her head," said the man called Man. " Tain't surprisin', considerin'—"

"Listen! You must listen to me!" But now her head and every part of her was hurting so badly that she could not even collect her thoughts, let alone talk. At last she managed to say, "I've swum the river from Suba." And then "King Karnat—"

"Steady, girl," said the tryzatt again. "No use tellin' us a lot of old nonsense, now. That's not goin' to make your troubles any lighter."

"Oh, please listen to me! I tell you, the Beklan army's in terrible danger! Those Tonildans south of Rallur—"

"Why, what do you know about Tonildans south of Rallur?" asked the tryzatt sharply.

Maia was trying to gather strength to reply when suddenly Jolan came forward, stooped and looked closely into her face.

"Hold on, tryze," he said. "Wait a minute. You're from Tonilda, aren't you?" he asked Maia.

"Yes."

"Whereabouts?"

"Near Meerzat."

"Well, if you know Meerzat," he asked her quietly and in no tone of disbelief, "what's the name of the inn by the harbor?"

" 'The Safe Moorings.' It's kept by a woman called Frarnli, with a cast in her eye."

"I've seen you there," he said. "I knew I'd seen you somewhere. Who were you with?"

"Tharrin. He's my stepfather."

He nodded. "That's right enough, tryze. I have seen her in Meerzat and I know Tharrin, too."

"Well, but if you're from Meerzat, what are you doing here?" asked the tryzatt.

"General Kembri—an agent. I crossed—into Suba—three nights ago." Then, seeing his look of unbelief, she clutched his wrist. "It's the truth! I've come from a place called Melvda. I swam the river—"

"Listen," said the tryzatt, "we're two miles down from Melvda, d'you know that? Anyway no one could swim across the river here."

"I tell you Karnat's crossing the river tonight! How far are we from Rallur?"

All the soldiers were gathered round her now. " 'Bout a mile, near enough," answered one of the men.

"Ah, bit less, maybe."

"You must take me to the commander in Rallur. Karnat's crossing now, I tell you!"

"What's his name, then, the commander?" asked the tryzatt. "You say General Kembri sent you—"

"Sendekar of Ikat."

There was a pause. "Reckon we'd best take her, tryze," said Jolan at length. "Only if what she's saying's the truth, see, and it comes out later as we didn't—"

There were mutters of agreement from the other men.

"Reckon she's hardly in no state to go, though," said the tryzatt uncertainly. "Are you?" he asked Maia.

"And as for saying she's swum across the river, that's just plain ridiculous—"

"Carry me!" said Maia. "You must!" The thought of being jolted a mile to Rallur was almost unbearable, but even worse was the prospect of failing now, at the end; of all she had done and endured going for nothing.

The tryzatt pondered with maddening deliberation. "Well," he replied at length, "dare say we can fix up something to carry you on, but it won't be all that comfortable, mind. And you'll have to watch that leg: that's nasty, that is; you've lost a lot of blood. Jolan, boy, you'd better run on ahead—tell them to wake the general and tell him she's coming." He turned back to Maia. "You're sure now? Only you said it, lass, we didn't."

She nodded. "I'm sure enough."

Within the hour General Sendekar, roused from his bed in Rallur, was sitting beside Maia's as she told him of Karnat's crossing and the plan to destroy the Olmen bridge. After about ten minutes she fell back in a faint, but he had already heard enough.

Throughout the early hours of that night—the night of the 15th/16th Azith—King Karnat's army, supported by an auxiliary force of about two thousand Subans, marched in successive companies to the place downstream of Melvda-Rain which, his Suban allies had advised the king, was feasible for a crossing. At this point the river was relatively broad and accordingly somewhat (though not a great deal) less swift and deep. Karnat himself, the strongest and tallest man in his own army, waded into the water with a rope paid out behind him, and carrying a forked pole with which to steady himself against the current. Twice he was swept downstream and pulled back to the western bank. At the third attempt he succeeded in crossing and securing the rope to a tree-trunk on the eastern side. Other ropes were then put across.

The rest of the spearhead force, consisting of about four hundred Terekenalters, two hundred Katrians and as many Subans under the command of Anda-Nokomis, their Ban, crossed in something less than two hours and at once set out upstream to destroy the bridge over the Olmen south of Rallur.

Unexpectedly, they found it defended by two hastily assembled companies of Tonildans, whom they attacked vigorously, the king himself leading the assault. The Tonildans, however, were able to prevent the destruction of the bridge and, as the confused, nocturnal fighting continued, were reinforced by Beklan troops commanded by Sendekar in person. For a matter of some three hours the main Terekenalt army, to the south, continued their crossing of the Valderra in accordance with the king's original plan, he himself trusting that enough men would get over to enable him to drive back the Beklans and destroy the bridge. At length, however, realizing that with the unexpected loss of surprise success had slipped from his grasp, he sent back orders to Lenkrit to halt the crossing and withdraw across the Valderra. He himself, as the Beklans gradually gained the upper hand, defended his contracting bridgehead by a brilliantly-conducted fighting retreat which effectively discouraged the enemy from pressing home then-advantage, mauled as they were by one determined counter-attack after another. During one of these Anda-Nokomis, who in leading his Subans had shown throughout the night a total disregard for his own safety, disappeared among the thick of the enemy, and when Karnat, arrived back at the crossing-point, reformed his depleted force, remained unaccounted for.

The greater part of the Terekenalt army re-crossed to the west bank successfully, and losses among the king's spearhead troops turned out not to have been unduly heavy.

Among them, however, was the Katrian staff officer Zen-Kurel who, smarting under a stern rebuke from the king for having absented himself at Melvda until the army was on the very point of setting out, had been continually and recklessly taking part in one foray after another. Next morning a wounded tryzatt told the king of having seen the young man slip and go down on muddy, trampled ground, but in the half-darkness there had been much disorder and he could not tell what the end of it might have been.

Having grasped that the enemy were in full retreat across the river, Sendekar broke off the fighting, glad to see the back of them so cheaply. About two hours after dawn they cut the ropes, the king himself being the last man to cross.

There could be no doubt—as Sendekar emphasized in reporting to General Kembri—that the failure of the attack had been largely, if not entirely, due to the courage and resourcefulness of the Tonildan slave-girl Maia of Serrelind, who, alone and entirely without help among the en-emy at Melvda-Rain, had not only succeeded in discovering their plans but had thereupon escaped, swum the impassable Valderra by night—an all-but-incredible feat, in the course of which she had sustained severe injuries—and brought warning to Rallur in the nick of time. In the circumstances he had thought it only fitting to order the news of her heroism to be proclaimed throughout the army.