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FSFNET BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine Volume 03 Number 03
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+-+--+-+--+-+ VOLUME THREE NUMBER THREE
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| | BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine
___|___________|___ X-Edited by 'Orny' Liscomb <NMCS025@MAINE>
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CONTENTS
X-Editorial Orny
The Acquisition, Part Two Roman Olynyk
Review: THE DEAD OF WINTER - TW7 Orny
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X-Editorial
Well, folks, again I find myself apologizing for the lateness of
this issue. Unfortuantely I have been busy with my new job. For
those of you who are not already aware, I now have a new id, LISCOMB
at MAINE, as well as NMCS025. Should NMCS025 be unavailable, I may
be reached at LISCOMB, but for the time being FSFnet will continue
to be sent from NMCS025. Other news is that the most recent issue of
FSFnet can be found on CSNEWS at MAINE's ComDisk and can be
requested using TELL CSNEWS AT MAINE SENDME FSFNET VOLxNxx FROM COMDISK.
Also in the works is a new project for all people interested in
writing amateur fantasy fiction. A group of FSFnet contributors and
myself have begun a writers' workshop very similar in structure to
the Thieves' World project undertaken by Robert Aspirin. Several
authors have begun developing characters and stories, all based in
an area known as Dargon. FSFnet VOL4N01 should contain the first
written results of this project, and will be in your reader in
mid-January. If any of you budding authors are interested in joining
the effort, send me a mail file and I'll be glad to fill you in.
Unfortunately, there is no Narret Chronicle in this issue due to
the fact that I cannot get in touch with the author. Hopefully we
will get Narret back before volume 4 starts.
Finally, I'd like to remind you all that it's the holiday
season, and everyone's got a new book out. New McCaffrey, Anthony,
Tolkien, Adams, Daley, Asimov, Stasheff, and anyone else you can
think of. No time to review them all right now. Next issue the
Acquisition will continue, and I'll review M.A.R. Barker's new
Tekumel book, Flamesong, and, if I get it read, Norman Spinrad's
Star Spangled Future. Until then!
-Orny <NMCS025 @ MAINE>
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THE ACQUISITION
Part Two: The Forest
Beyond the short expanse of cultivated fields, the two travelers
soon crossed the boundary of scrub that marked the edge of the
forest. At first, the woods were characterized by light beeches,
birches and poplars. The leaves of the poplars were waxy and rustled
crisply in the soft breeze.
Banewood recalled his early childhood when he would venture into
the light woods in search of edible mushrooms, a favored delicacy of
the local people. With his sharp and experienced vision he could
still pick out his favorites protruding through the fallen leaves.
It was here, while gathering mushrooms that Banewood heard many of
the childhood tales and legends passed to him by his parents: tales
of the Ludki, those mischievous little people who lived deep within
the forest and tales of Lessy, the Silvan Lord, who made strange
animal sounds and led lost children astray. Banewood remembered how
his father would then make animal sounds and frighten him for the
rest of the day. Stories of Baba Yaga, embellished over the years,
would cause tears of fright to well up into young Banewood's eyes.
Now, years older, Banewood still felt the burning in his face as he
realized that Baba Yaga might be real and that he might meet face to
face with the blistering eyes of Kathryn.
As the two journeyed onward, the character of the forest
changed. Dark oaks and towering elms now lined their path. The
leaves of years lay upon the ground, crackling with every step.
Animal sounds diminished.
Banewood and Sod picked their way uphill, climbing an overgrown
path which led to an uncertain fate. Throughout the day, Banewood
and Sod walked the leagues of dark forest, constantly catching
cobwebs in the face and beleaguered by blood-thirsty deer flies
scenting their first human.
At the top of the rise, the two travelers paused to rest. Sod
sat still in the hope of delivering a killing blow to the ravenous
deer fly which had doggedly followed him during most of the climb.
"I think we should make our first camp here," said Banewood.
"We're on the nearest hilltop and we'll have ample warning of
anything approaching."
"Gotcha!" Sod finally killed the deer fly which had settle in
his hair for a fateful supper. Sod picked the scrawny insect from
his hair. "If we build a smoldering fire we might be able to spend a
night without these cursed flies." Sod gathered some dead twigs that
still hung on the tree. After arranging them carefully, he reached
into his bag and brought out his flint and steel. Within minutes a
small fire was being tended. Banewood walked the perimeter of their
encampment and stopped occasionally to pick at some plants growing
scattered on the ground. He returned and gave them to Sod.
"Here, use these on the fire. They'll keep away the flies better
than the smoke."
"Thank you," said Sod. He threw them on the small fire and
whiffed the fragrant aroma created by the consumed leaves. "How did
you learn so much about herbs?" asked Sod, who already knew the
answer. He was fighting his nervousness with small talk.
"Most of what I know comes from the Shaman," said Banewood
obligingly. "Now I have to learn from his books, but the details are
really meager. Most of the Shaman's knowledge was in his vast
memory. He said that certain books did exist. The Shaman said the
books were dangerous because they could fall into the wrong hands."
Banewood and Sod ate a meal of wafer bread and dried meat and
then slept lightly upon cushions of leaves and boughs laid upon the
ground. Shallow holes were dug out to provide recesses for their
hips. Smoldering coals kept away the night flies, but they didn't
ward off Banewood's evil dreams; the crimson eyes still haunted him.
Dawn came with the cry of a horned owl.
The dying coals were fed a breakfast of fresh tinder.
Hard-boiled eggs and a little herb tea saw the worried travelers on
their way. Revitalized by the rest, Banewood and Sod trekked down
the slope, meandering ever deeper into the dark forest. Soon
Banewood's sharp eye caught the first impression of the large cloven
hoofs that were to show them the way. The tracks were too large to
belong to anything else except Kathryn. Broken branches and an
uprooted tree lent credence to the supposition. To Sod's relief, the
tracks were fairly old.
Sod fretted about his decision to hunt the sow. The mysterious
sword whose hilt he often fondled didn't seem like a weapon that
could stop a charging sow. Funny how he thought that if he set his
mind to killing Kathryn, he would find a way. Could they do it by
craft and artifice? Maybe by setting up a dead fall or some other
booby trap? Funnier still was the feeling that it was the sword
which seemed to whisper that, given the resolve, Sod would be able
to meet the challenge.
Banewood and Sod journeyed down the slope, up the next hill and
down another slope. Leagues passed beneath their feet. They skipped
lunch and walked under the power of their stored energy. They
continued on slight paths which joined and separated through the
forest. Occasionally, Sod would stop to mark a tree at eye level,
entertaining the hope that they would somehow return by this route.
Banewood now walked with his bow in hand, ever keeping a watchful
eye on the path behind them.
The Shaman's longbow proved its value later in the day when
Banewood knocked down a squirrel with a special blunt-tipped arrow.
They carried the black squirrel with them after quickly field
dressing it. The little tree rat, as Banewood called it, had set up
a frightful chattering before it met its final doom. Sod and
Banewood both agreed that it would be a good idea to cover some more
distance before feasting on the tree rat. There was no telling what
attention was called by the noisy animal and, besides, they didn't
want to prepare the tree rat until they were ready to make camp.
The two journeymen walked with greater care after killing the
squirrel. Banewood regretted his slaying of the little tree rat. He
now had the uneasy feeling that the forest knew of their presence,
that they were somehow being watched. Sod sensed Banewood's distress
or maybe he, too, felt the paranoia. He tightened his grip on the
sword. Banewood now walked with an arrow nocked. His fingers
whitened from their tight grip.
Every minute sound that the two seekers made was amplified by
the forest. Once, when Banewood turned quickly around, he thought he
noticed a pair of amber eyes watching them, but they disappeared
quickly and he was no longer sure. Tension increased with every
step. Both travelers began to perspire. Suddenly, the explosion of a
dry twig snapping sent Banewood and Sod into a back-to-back
position, their weapons drawn and poised. An electric tension pulsed
within them, begging to surge, asking for release. But nothing happened.
No other sound was heard throughout the forest. After
excruciating minutes of silence, Banewood and Sod voted to resume
their walk. Several more hours of travel brought them to a small
stream in the forest. The water looked wholesome, affording the two
an opportunity to refill their flasks and to bathe. This looked like
the ideal place to pitch camp and prepare a welcome supper.
Banewood's tree rat no longer looked as appetizing; however, it was
the best food that they had. Throughout the meal and respite they
remained watchful, for the penetrating silence of the forest remained.
Evening had settled rapidly. Sod and Banewood ate near their
fire, slowly finishing their meal and conversing. The fire cast a
bright glow around the immediate circumference, but outside, the
darkness was forbidding. Sod thought again about his quest.
"If I hadn't found this sword, I probably would never have
attempted such a foolish venture," Sod thought to himself. "This
fine looking weapon is of too fine a quality for a man like me. I
wonder if I shouldn't give it to someone worthy of possessing such a weapon."
Aloud, Sod said "We've been in this forest for two days. It
doesn't appear to hold the danger I had anticipated."
"The danger lies in our laxness if we trust in our safety,"
replied Banewood, parrying Sod's wishful thought. "Tonight I am
sleeping with my bow in hand."
Speaking the unspoken, Sod said "Then you also feel like we've
been watched?"
"Ya," replied Banewood. "I thought I saw it once, a pair of
eyes. I've learned to trust my intuition."
Tensing and grabbing for his sword, Sod said "Your intuition was
right! Look! Out there, see those eyes? I don't think they're
friendly." Sod pointed in the direction of the creek.
They both stood up and moved around the fire, placing it between
themselves and the presence. The same amber eyes Banewood had
thought he'd seen earlier were slowly reeling toward them. When
their distance from the eyes was cut in half, Sod threw an armful of
dry tinder upon the fire and threw extra light out into the night.
"It's a wolf." Whispered Banewood.
"It's too big." Answered Sod, who was beginning to quake in his
boots. His sweaty fingers grasped the sword tighter. "How am I going
to kill the wolf if it attacks?" he thought, questioning his ability
to wield the sword.
A deep, gutteral growl emanated from the large slavering beast.
It crept forward with its belly low to the ground, ready to leap at
the instant. Sod raised his sword slightly and then cried out.
"Oh no!"
In the same instant that the fell beast launched itself toward
them, Sod's sword slipped out of his hand and dropped to the ground
at a distance. The lunging hulk darkened his view. Sod heard a
snapping chord like the sound of his heart breaking. The wind rushed
past his left ear.
In a massive thud, a large wolf, larger than any Sod had ever
seen or heard of before, fell at his side. Its eyes were wide open
and its lips were curled in a hideous grimace. A feathered shaft
protruded from its throat.
Banewood's hand rested on Sod's shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"You killed him. I thought I was going to die and, just as
suddenly, this wolf is dead instead. You've saved my life. How can I
repay you?"
"Don't worry; it all comes out in the wash. But what happened at
the last second? Why did you drop your sword?"
"I don't know... I guess my mind went blank. The sword seemed to
slip from my hands," said Sod. "I've never seen such a fine shot. I
think the wolf was dead before it hit the ground!"
"I've tipped some of my arrows with the juice of the aconitum;
it is a deadly poison."
"With such a weapon as yours, you could single-handedly slay Kathryn!"
"It won't work. I've already tried," answered Banewood.
Sod was taken aback by this. "There's certainly more to this
Shaman than meets the eye," he thought. Aloud, "When did you try that?"
"On the last night that Kathryn attacked I hid myself and loosed
my best arrow against her. It shattered as if it had hit a rock."
Sod was incredulous. "How are we ever going to stop her if she
is as you say?"
"I don't know. We'll think of something."
"Ya," Sod said without sincerity.
The wolf was enormous, but Banewood and Sod, after endeavoring
for the better part of an hour, managed to drag the beast away from
the camp. The two found no difficulty in dropping off to sleep, for
though the forest was still dangerous, it now possessed one less threat.
Dawn came without a sound. Banewood and Sod got up and fed the
fire and went to the creek for water. On the way, they looked for
the wolf, but it was gone! They searched around the area in the hope
that they were disoriented last night when they dragged the wolf
out. It was gone. Now a very real fear possessed them; it may have
been Baba Yaga. How else can a dead animal disappear? Sod's empty
stomach felt like it held a rock.
Suddenly, through the trees, they heard a musical voice.
Banewood and Sod quickly reached for their weapons. Through the tall
trees they could see an approaching figure. It was gaily dressed and
wore a tall, pointed hat with a feather in its band. It sang:
"Hey ho, hey ho,
the wolk's a dead you know.
for if it ain't a dead
then I'm a not alive
and I know I'd better go!"
The two stood with their mouths open. Marching straight up to
them was a short person, a very little person, with large round eyes
and a pudgy little nose.
"Hello, hello, my name is Stickleburr unless I'm not, of course."
Sod and Banewood found themselves face to face with one of the
Ludki. The childhood descriptions were indeed accurate. He looked so odd!
"I want to thank you for killing the great wolk because he's no
longer alive. He has been plaguing my people for years, but not for
years to come. Anyway, they're not really my people, they are their
own people, but I guess you wouldn't call us people, would you?"
Banewood spoke: "I...I thought that the wolf, I mean wolk,
wasn't dead, that maybe it was really Baba Yaga."
Stickleburr jumped. "Oh, no! I mean yes, it was really a wolk.
It's certainly dead now, isn't it? You two are heroes, unless of
course you don't think so. So that's the wolksmert, isn't it?" Said
Stickleburr pointing to Sod's strange sword.
"Wolksmert?" Replied Sod. "Oh, yes. Certainly." He laughed at
the irony, because "wolksmert" meant "wolfslayer" in the eastern tongue.
"Yes, most certainly," laughed Stickleburr. "You two can come
with me unless you can't. We want to thank you properly, and it's
not proper to thank you here."
Banewood and Sod agreed to follow the Ludki back to his home.
They quickly broke camp and gathered their belongings. They
whispered and laughed among themselves, marvelling at the strange
speech pattern of Stickleburr: Ludki always followed the assertion
of a positive statement with it's negative. It was a most curious
pattern of speech, but it wasn't curious at all to the Ludki.
Within a half-hour, the three came in sight of the Ludki
village. It was set in a small dale cleared of trees. Little houses
in the shape of bee hives lay haphazard about the village. Wisps of
smoke curled out of their tops. The Ludki were fond of smithing, as
was evident from the many miniature iron furnaces that sent their
black smoke up over the rooftops. The Ludki village had evidently
been in this location for some time because much of the area was
cleared of the hardwood trees essential for the making of charcoal
needed to smelt the iron.
The little people walked about in gaily colored clothes. The
Ludki men wore high pointed hats dressed up with bright feathers.
They were a happy folk. The air was full of whistling and the songs
of their merriment.
When Stickleburr and the two travelers approached, the village
folk poured out to meet the heros. Stickleburr began introducing his
family and the more prominent of the Ludki to the strangers. The
names came rapidly: Milfoil, Hyssop, Lavender, Mullien, Five
Fingers, Violet, and, well, you get the idea; they were all names of
plants that the Ludki were fond of. At the bark of orders from
Stickleburr, the Ludki busied themselves with preparations for a
great feast. The men set up tables and stools, built fires and
brought out kegs of mead. The Ludki women quickly filled their ovens
with various breads and foods until the heavenly aroma replaced the
acrid smell of smelting iron. The Ludki loved feasting and
merriment, and this occasion, as any other, was an excellent
opportunity to lay aside their work. The fearful wolk which had
terrorized the Ludki for so many years was dead, slain at the hands
of the tall folk and wolksmert.
Among the Ludki, wolksmert was the center of much attention.
Their large eyes beamed with admiration and the little hands
eagerly, but reverently, touched the fine metal. From the Ludki,
Banewood could learn nothing about the sword, but by their evident
joy at seeing it and the two travelers, the Ludki seemed strangely elated.
Even while the preparations were still underway, the eager
little Ludki began to celebrate with joyous abandon. Musicians began
their tunes and the mead was passed around. And such mead! Banewood
and Sod both drank and agreed that it was the best they had ever
tasted. How the Ludki could consume so much of it without the
obvious signs of inebriation, they couldn't guess.
During the feast, Stickleburr talked with the two strangers and
learned the reason for their sojourn into the deep forest. At the
news, Stickleburr balked but then regained his composure.
"Oh yes, we had most certainly believed that Baba Yaga had died,
for we had not seen her alive. And Kathryn, oh yes, we had heard
whisperings of her rampages, else we were deaf. Kathryn is Baba
Yaga? We most certainly hope she isn't!"
"Yes, most certainly," agreed Banewood.
Sod, careful not to spill a drop of the mead he was drinking,
looked at Stickleburr and asked, "Do you know of the way to the hut
of Baba Yaga?"
Stickleburr replied "No, no...well yes, sort of. I know the way
but I don't know how to get there. It's a long way off, although not
that far to someone as long-legged as you, though for yourselves,
I'm sure you're not all that long-legged."
Stickleburr was beginning to show some signs of inebriation.
Banewood and Sod sat back to enjoy the feast. They watched the
antics of the Ludki as they danced their high-kicking dances and
swung their arms in the air. With a shout, the dancers punctuated
the songs with a "hey!" At length, even the subdued travelers were
on their feet and kicking. The Ludki laughed and clapped to urge on
the long-legged dancers. Sod twirled like a top and bobbed like a
cork. At a feverish pace, he was caught-up in the festive mood.
Moments before he could dance no more, the song stopped with a
rousing "hey!"
Stickleburr was much impressed with the two travelers. After
slapping both of them on the shoulders, the squat little fellow
mounted a stump and cleared his throat.
"Ahem!" The crowd became silent. "I'd like to express the thanks
of all Ludki for what you two have done. We couldn't have done it ourselves."
Stickleburr brought out a long object and handed it to Sod.
"This is for the wolksmert unless it's for something else.
Sod looked at the fine-crafted sheath given to him by the Ludki.
The sword slid silently into it's scabbard. Sod expressed his thanks
with a smile and a nod.
"And these," continued Stickleburr, "are for the Banewood and
they're not for anyone else."
Banewood received a quiver full of fine, Ludki-crafted arrows
with razor-sharp metal heads. The shafts were straighter than any
Banewood had ever seen.
With great bombast, the swaying Stickleburr went on to offer the
friendship of the Ludki to Banewood and Sod. Much to his surprise,
Sod immediately took him up on his offer for assistance. This was a
surprise, because the Ludki had very traditional views of
hospitality. After favors, guests did not customarily ask for more.
But Sod did. He wanted to know the way to Baba Yaga's hut. The Ludki
blanched at such a request. Oh horrors! But it was only a request
for directions; the Ludki need not accompany the travelers. Anyway,
thanks to the mead, Stickleburr was in a jovial mood. He went so far
as to offer guidance to the outside of their realm.
-Roman Olynyk <VM0BA9 @ WVNVM>
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Review: THE DEAD OF WINTER
Thieves' World Book Seven
Robert Lynn Aspirin's Thieves' World series continues in this
new paperback from Ace, and it is, in my opinion, quite a step up.
The most recent TW books have been, to me, a letdown. They were
bogged down with the heavy-handed politics of Sanctuary and were not
interesting to read. Book 7 starts slowly, but soon improves vastly
into what I believe to be the best TW book written to date. The
Veiled Lady, by Andrew Offut, is a very warm and amusing tale of
Ahdio, the keeper of Sly's Place in Downwind. When the Spirit Moves
You, by Aspirin, is also one of the best tales TW has put out, and
nowehere near as heavy-handed as previous efforts. The Color of
Magic by Diana Paxson returns us to the household of Lalo the Limner
and Gilla, who is taken captive by a Roxane who is determined to
sink Santuary in a storm of epic porportions. For me, however, the
most wonderful story was by Diane Duane, called Down by the
Riverside. It is an account of the death of Harran and what happens
when the twin goddesses Sivieni and the once-mute Mriga find out.
They and their dog, Tyr, elicit the aid of Ischade in a
wonderfully-depicted descent to Hell and back, and is filled with
surprises. Buy the book if just for this story!
This book is a must for TW fans, and a wonderful breath of fresh
air after the dry politics of the previous books. You may be
surprised to find that cover art is being done by Gary Ruddell, so
the book looks a little different, but you should have no trouble
finding it. Unless, of course, the bookstore runs out before you get
your copy!
-Orny <NMCS025 @ MAINE>
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