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FSFNET BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine Volume 03 Number 04
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+-+--+-+--+-+ VOLUME THREE NUMBER FOUR
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| | BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine
___|___________|___ X-Edited by 'Orny' Liscomb <CSDAVE@MAINE>
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CONTENTS
X-Editorial Orny
Narret Chronicles, Book 3 Mari A. Paulsen
The Acquisition, Part 3 Roman Olynyk
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X-Editorial
Well, I had this issue all set to go out before Christmas, and
then Yale went down for vacation. Sigh. Well, I guess late is better
than never. In this issue we continue with both the Acquisition and
the Narret Chronicles, thanks to Mari's staying up until 3am to type
it in. I hope you enjoy them. There will be one more issue in Volume
3, which will follow on the heels of this issue, before we start
Volume 4 and the Dargon writing project. By the way, I've rewritten
the FSFnet sending program again. Anyone who wants to change the
program I use to send their issues please mail me. You may choose
from: DISK DUMP (class N), PUNCH (noheader class m), and SENDFILE
(netdata). If anyone is really into CARD DUMP, I'll even use that!
For those of you who haven't heard, and didn't notice, FSFnet is
being sent out from a new id - CSDAVE at MAINE. Due to the work I do
on CSNEWS, NMCS025 has been changed to CSDAVE. FSFnets will continue
coming out, but from CSDAVE. NMCS025 is no longer in the CP
directory, so please forward any mail or messages to either CSDAVE
or LISCOMB at MAINE.
Finally, just when you thought it was safe to write a Thieves'
World review, TW 8 has just been released. More details (and a
review) as soon as possible!
-Orny <CSDAVE @ MAINE>
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The Narret Chronicles
Book the Third
"Dr. Ht this is Dr. Terrence Seni of the Armed Forces Institute
of Pathology at Sir Walter Reed Medical Center, and Dr. Adam Tristy
of the American College of Surgeons. They will be examining you,
with your permission of course."
"Surely." said Samo
"Dr Seni is the nation's foremost pathologist, and Dr. Tristy is
one our most prominent bio-physicists."
"Really, well this is quite a reception... Pleased to meet both
of you gentlemen. You can examine me if you wish, but I'd rather
provide you with the data myself. You see, I have all the pertinent
information on our physiology stored on tape in my craft. Allow me a
moment will you and I'll be back with the data you wish for in
several of your languages.
"Here you are, 'Yarg's Complete Physiology of the Narretan' a
Narret classic physiology text. The best ever produced! That should
answer all your questions concerning our physiology, but I'll bet
you still want to know about my AND molecular structure. That I'll
leave up to you."
"Could we take a small blood sample to help us study the makeup
of your circulatory, respiratory, lymphatic, and immune systems?
Such a sample would provide us with the AND molecular structure data
we also desire." asked Dr. Seni.
"Sure." said Samo "I'd be glad to help in any way I can. I'm a
scientist myself. I was only kidding when I said I hate needles. I
was just trying to get a laugh."
"Make a fist," said Seni as he searched Samo's arm's densly
packed molecules for a vein. "This may pinch a little."
"No sweat," said Samo. "What you gentlemen will really be
interested in though, is the fact that in the counter-universe, we
are not solid creatures at all, as you know it."
"Really?" queried Tristy as he took notes.
"Yes, really." said Samo. "At home, on Amrif Arret, we are by
our own nature of a gaseous form. As your molecular forces are
attractive here, ours are repulsive, thus, we are all perfectly
non-solid, as opposed to your solidity."
"How extraordinarily fascinating!" exclaimed Tristy.
"In fact all our worlds, stars, everything is unbound but space,
which is the solid through which we all pass. That is why I can get
here so much faster in our system of time, our entire concept of
time is based on density of our solid space, rather than the
vacuousness of yours. It is far easier, I assure you, for a plasma to
pass through a solid than a solid to pass through a vacuum."
"Ahh, I got all but that last bit then I lost you, could you
clarify the part about easier..." started Dr. Tristy.
"Surely," Samo interrupted "You see, when we pass through the
solid form of our space, we use the actual binding forces of the
particles in motion of the spatial-solid in order to propel
ourselves. Thus we can utilize the very nature of our 'space'
itself, as a means, or force of propulsion. Do you understand that
better, doctor?"
"Much better, thank you. I must say this is all quite astounding.."
"Not at all, simply the state of nature doctor. Which reminds
me, I wish to make a statement on the wisdom of our physicians in
the Narret System. If you would be so kind as to record it doctor,
I'm sure all of humanity will find it of great use."
"Surely, any advice you can give would be held in highest regard
by our scientific communities." said Dr. Tristy
"It came to pass, through the thousands of Losar Cycles (what
you call years) of our existence, that our physicians began to use
the fundamental laws of nature in their favor. Rather than fight the
immune system for example, they found ways of strengthening it,
bolstering its abilities. Cancer, as another example was found to
contain cells of a much stronger variety than those said to be
normal. What our physicians did was to retrain the immune system to
work on the AND structure within the Cancerous cells, so that the
dominant Cancer cells were effectively "programmed" to conduct the
function of the tissue it replaced. And this new, Cancerous
super-cell was stronger and better than the original cell it
replaced, because it lives longer and is less suceptable to other
diseases. Therefore your physicians should also learn to work with
and not against nature."
"Thats absolutely astounding. You've just helped us realize how
far we've set back Cancer research in the last 50 years. We've been
trying to eradicate it for so long we completely overlooked the
possibility of trying to turn it into something useful. Incredible!"
"I see you're rather enthused at the prospect." said Samo.
"Enthused? I'm simply overjoyed at the possibility that there's
a cure for our worst killer. Cancer claims millions of lives here
each year."
"Yes, I know..." stated Samo.
"Dr Ht. you have no idea how much just that little information
you just shared with us means, how many millions of peoples lives
this few minutes you've shared with us will save. Mankind shall be
forever in your debt."
"Oh, I think I do." said Samo "Remember, peace and understanding
throughout these universes is what I came here for. And sharing a
little scientific knowledge in the process is the least I can do. If
you gentlemen will excuse me, I see the colonel at the door. I have
another speech to give, and I hope if everything goes well, you
gentlemen may get a little more time to work on your medical problems."
-Mari A. Paulson
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The Acquisition
The Hut
In the morning, bright and early, Banewood and Sod were woken by
the sound of little marching feet. A troop of gaily dressed Ludki in
tall, feathered hats approached them.
"Hey Hyssop! Hey Burdock!" shouted Stickleburr as he clapped his
hands. Immediately, two little people ran forward. Stickleburr
addressed Banewood and Sod.
"Good morning, unless it's already mid-day. My two sons and
myself will accompany you to the borders of our realm unless you
don't wish to be accompanied. First, though, you must have breakfast."
Stickleburr clapped his hands again and several Ludki approached
with steaming plates of food. The travelers ate with relish, though
there wasn't any. From a nearby keg they filled their flasks with a
light mead and they were ready to depart.
Banewood and Sod followed the Ludki as they marched off, their
pace marked by the rhythm of the Ludki's singing. Hyssop and Burdock
marched ahead while Stickleburr walked and chatted with Banewood and
Sod. He told them about the paths ahead and how they must not stray,
lest they tread paths unknown. He told them to be on their guard for
the Silvan Lord, for these were his woods. The Silvan Lord, or Lessy
as he was better known, would lead them astray with his lies. Lessy
was a liar at heart and he delighted in deluding the hopelessly
lost. He would draw them to one point and then to another, then to
another and yet another. However, there was one way of outsmarting
the Lessy. It was a method known only to the Ludki, and it was
Stickleburr's parting gift to the travelers.
"Lessy is a liar," said Stickleburr, "for he can't tell the
truth. To get to the truth, if it's lies you don't want, you must
wear your clothes inside-out or outside-in if they're already
inside-out. Your shoes you must wear on the opposite feet unless, of
course, your feet are already opposite. Then you just wear your feet
opposite."
Banewood and Sod laughed aloud at Stickleburr's foolish words.
"It is worthy of a children's rhyme even though it doesn't
rhyme," Banewood said.
They all laughed again at the strange paradox of Ludki speech.
After their having walked away the longest part of the day, and
after their having heard innumerable anecdotes from Stickleburr, the
two travelers parted company with the Ludki. Banewood and Sod
marched on at a much faster pace, since they needn't keep time with
the short-legged Ludki. Once again, the brightness of sunlight and
companionship dimmed as the travelers departed the realm of
civilization. The dark forest seemed darker without the chatter of
the little people.
A dark, sinuous path pointed out by Stickleburr led in the
direction of the setting sun. The roots of gnarled oaks lay twisted
across the path, occasionally catching the carefully placed feet of
the plowman. Spider webs built across the gaps of branches often
ended up in the faces of Banewood and Sod, tickling their noses and
generally making their way unpleasant. Pale mushrooms of the deadly
varieties could sometimes be seen lining the edge of the path.
Strange animal sounds echoed through the trees.
After hours of walking, the travelers still had not found a
resting place suitable for a night's encampment. Though the sun was
possibly an hour away from setting, the way had become dark and
difficult to navigate because of the forest canopy. At length,
Banewood and Sod stopped to decide which way the path was supposed
to lead. The forest seemed more alive at this dusky hour than it had
earlier in the day. Birds chirped and strange animals chattered
beyond the distant trees.
"I don't know," said Sod, "maybe we should stop right here and
wait until morning. I just can't be sure of keeping on the right
path if we go on."
"Oh, don't worry, I'll show you the way to go from here," a
strange voice answered.
Banewood and Sod quickly drew their weapons and stood ready.
Wolksmert glowed reddish from the light of the evening sun. Before
them stood an eerie sight. A greenish man, or something resembling a
man, though much taller, stood a dozen paces before them. His eyes
had an orange, malevolent glow. They appeared cat-like. Banewood
feared the worst, for to his inexperienced knowledge, the eyes
reminded him of Baba Yaga's. The apparition was dressed in what
appeared to be leaves. A bird nest was perched upon the shoulder.
Sod felt the hilt of his sword slide through the sweaty grip of
his fingers. His hand clenched Wolksmert tighter. He wondered about
what action he should take. Quickly, he decided that it would be
safest to let the creature make the first move.
The green figure stood before them and made a chirping sound
like a bird. He clapped his hands and then smiled. It was a
friendly, disarming smile.
"Take the path straight ahead until you come to a fork," said
the strange apparition. "Then, bear left until you come to a large
boulder and proceed to your right until you come to an old tree.
>From the tree, go left until you meet the next tree, then take a
sharp right to the first stream. You can't miss it."
"Uh, excuse us for a moment, if you please, sir." Banewood
tugged at Sod's shoulder and pulled him away.
"Oh yes, most certainly, yes, yes." The green man laughed,
clapped his hands and chattered like a tree rat.
"What's the matter? Who's that? What are we doing?" Sod's
questions came quickly and nervously.
"Shhhh!" hissed Banewood as he led Sod out of sight of the green
man. When they were safely out of sight, Banewood said, "That must
be Lessy, the Silvan Lord. Stickleburr warned us of him. Remember,
he'll lie to get us lost. Let's hurry and turn our clothes inside out."
As quickly as they could, Banewood and Sod pulled their clothes
off and reversed them. They turned the insides outside and helped
each other button-up from the back. They did the same with their
britches. Then, they pulled off their boots and placed them
opposite: left boot on right foot and right boot on left foot. When
they had finished, they smiled sheepishly and stepped back out into
the open. Lessy was patiently waiting, whistling to himself and smiling.
When the Silvan Lord saw how Banewood and Sod appeared, his
orange eyes opened wide and bulged. He stood stiff with his fingers
out-stretched.
"Eeaarrgh! Owwww!" Screamed Lessy. He jumped around and emitted
more strange sounds.
Sod stood nonplussed, unable to move during the exhibition.
Banewood took the initiative and said aloud: "Tell us, Silvan
Lord, which is the way to the hut of Baba Yaga."
"Eeaarrgh! Owwww! I'll talk, I'll tell you the truth, I promise!
I'll tell you anything, but pulleese! Straighten-out your clothes!"
Banewood and Sod felt sorry for the Silvan Lord. Evidently, the
truth was so foreign to Lessy that it caused him great discomfort.
When Banewood and Sod had put their clothes back on outside-outside,
they returned to Lessy. The Silvan Lord was now docile, almost
subdued; he was saddened by his loss of victims to his trickery.
"Yes, most certainly," said Lessy, "I will show you the way to
Baba Yaga's hut. Yes, then you'll wish you were lost! Follow me."
Banewood and Sod walked behind Lessy as he led them through the dark
forest night.
Since they had first met the Silvan Lord, the sun had set,
changing the long shadows to a solid smear of blackness. The two
travelers were both stabbed by the sharp pang of doubt as to whether
Lessy could be held to his word. Whatever the status of Lessy's
honor, Banewood and Sod realized that they were both in the hands of
the Lord of the Forest.
Lessy strode before them, mumbling to himself and emitting more
strange sounds. More than once, Banewood and Sod had tripped on tree
roots and stumbled to the ground. Low branches snapped back by Lessy
often caught Sod in the face and chest, leaving him sore and scored.
The long hours of night were unbearably drawn out in this manner.
When the slender rays of first morning light pierced through the
trees, the three travelers found themselves on the edge of the
forest. Sod felt a heaviness in his stomach when the first
realization of their plight hit him: How were they to return?
Neither of them had thought of marking their way.
Lessy turned to face the exhausted travelers. The faint light
barely illuminated his gnarled and worn face. Banewood and Sod could
only concentrate on the eyes-- those strange cat-like slits
surrounded by an orange glow.
"Here is where I'll leave you," said Lessy. "The rest of the way
is before you. You'll probably reach the hut by mid-day." Lessy
chuckled as he pointed to the path before them. As quickly as when
they had found him, the Silvan Lord disappeared into the green
growth of the forest.
The path lay before them. Banewood and Sod stood on the edge of
the dark forest and before a vast expanse of scrub. Sod preferred
the darkness of the forest to what he now saw: a thin path leading
through a tangle of long-thorned trees which were so closely
interwoven that they seemed inpenetrable.
"Why don't you try Wolksmert on those branches," offered Banewood.
Sod drew his sword and swung lightly against the tangle that lay
before him. Sod was glad for the chance to draw his sword and test
its edge. The massive, thorny growth fell to their feet.
"Only Kathryn could walk a path like this," commented Sod as he
continued to slice his way through. "These branches are so sharp and
tightly interwoven that only the sow could manage to walk through
unscathed."
The plowman and the Shaman, however, could not pass through
unharmed. Even though the path was partially cleared by Sod's sword,
some branches remained to tear at their clothing and puncture their
skin. Punished and brutalized by the last leg of their journey,
Banewood and Sod proceeded slowly, their hearts heavy with fear and
anticipation. By noon, they had passed through the forest of thorns
and had entered into a wide perimeter of tall grasses and occasional
trees. Banewood sniffed the air and winced.
"Look," he said, pointing to a large copse of assorted and vile
smelling weeds. "This must have once been Baba Yaga's herb garden."
The expanse of foul-smelling weeds grew unbounded. They had
probably been untended for many decades, but they still held firm
against the encroaching forest and field. One fell weed pitted
itself against the other for dominance of space. It was an evil
looking tangle. Banewood hoped he could return by this path and
gather some of the herbs. A few were familiar to him; they were
shaman's herbs. Some plants had divinatory purposes, some had
medicinal uses. Other plants were total strangers to Banewood's
herbal. These were the most curious to the novice.
Reluctantly, the two pressed on. Because of the tall grass,
Banewood and Sod didn't see the hut until they were almost in front
of it. The hut of Baba Yaga loomed dark before them. Centuries old,
the hut was partially collapsed at one end; it appeared like an
apparition, grayish and fragile. The grass about the hut was
trampled-- signs of a current inhabitant. Banewood was shaken by the
sight; it was an eerie recollection of his divinatory dreams, minus
the malevolent red eyes. Sod sensed the nervousness of his companion
and gripped Wolksmert tightly. He glanced over his shoulder and
searched around them. The scene was quiet. Not even a bird song
could be heard. Sod turned and shook his companion's hand. It was a
farewell to their past and an initiation to whatever would befall
them in the moments ahead.
Banewood and Sod resolutely approached the hut. It looked weak,
but it stood in evidence of craftsmanship from a forgotten century.
Patches of straw, now grayish, were still attached to the roof. A
few strange weeds had taken residence on the roof in order to catch
extra light. On the roof's peak perched a dark bird. It was a raven.
It waddled about and croaked a few times, picked at the wood and
then silently winged out of sight.
Sod held out Wolksmert and walked toward the dimly lit entrance
of the ramshackle hut. Fat spiders retreated to the shadows with the
approach of the plowman. Sod's heart quickened and his whole body
started to tremble slightly. He placed his feet carefully to avoid
making any sounds. With Banewood close behind, Sod craned his neck
through the doorway. It took an agonizing instant for his eyes to
grow accustomed to the dim light. Was there something inside? Had it
heard them coming? Where is it? Nothing stirred within. Lying among
the cloven tracks and defacation, however, was a flattened pile of
leaves-- Kathryn's bed. The stench from inside made Sod gag.
Confirming their worst fears, it seemed that Kathryn, the monstrous
sow which had rampaged through Gorod, was now living in the hut of
Baba Yaga. Signs of the monstrous sow were everywhere. Most of the
hut's interior was badly battered and decayed. Scattered debris on
the ground may have once stood for a chair. Few furnishings remained
distinguishable. In the far corner, though, near the bed of leaves,
stood a dark and mouldering chest. The brass straps and brads had
long since turned green and disintegrated from the moisture.
Banewood saw the chest and could not restrain his curiosity. He
entered the hut and opened the chest. Most of the wood was badly
decayed, and it fell apart when it was disturbed. Inside the chest,
however, the contents were fairly well preserved. Banewood unwrapped
a book-sized, oilskin-covered bundle which was on top of other
items. It was a book.
"I don't believe this," whispered Banewood in awe.
"Don't believe what," said Sod, not believing that Banewood
dared to utter a sound in the lair of Kathryn.
"It looks like Baba Yaga's book of spells. I can't make out some
of the writing; it's an old script. This is one of the books my old
master told me about. It contains the ancient secrets of sorcery.
This is an unbelievable discovery."
"Well, pack up your discovery and let's get out of here. This
place makes me nervous," said Sod. His hands began to sweat and he
could feel the weight of his sword sliding through.
Banewood hastily rewrapped the package and stuffed it into his
own sack. On an impulse, he picked up another small bundle, which
upon inspection, contained what looked like a Shaman's smoke
mixture. Banewood lashed the sack to his belt and the two retreated
back into the daylight.
When Banewood and Sod stepped outside, they saw that the
scraggly raven had returned. Seeing the plowman and his companion,
it cried out in a raucous frenzy. Through the cacophony, Sod and
Banewood heard another sound: a terrifying squealing and trampling
sound. Towering above the distant grass was a massive black shape.
Thin, gray hair lay matted on its back and around it's notched ears.
It was a wonder that such a large beast could have existed unnoticed
for so many years, but it is true: The forest hides many secrets.
Clouds and fumes emanated from around the creature's snout. It
reared its head up and Banewood and Sod could see a pair of blazing
red eyes.
"It's Kathryn," thought Sod.
"It's Baba Yaga," thought Banewood.
"We're in trouble," said the two aloud.
Sod was possessed by a grave doubt as to his future being. This
whole scene was a nightmare and he wished he could wake up. What
finally woke Sod up was the one thing which he had most feared. Like
a fish, Wolksmert's handle slid through the gripped fingers of the
plowman and fell to the ground. When Sod reached to pick it back up,
it immediately slid out of his grasp. Kathryn was charging and
spewing her fiery froth. Banewood loosed a Ludki arrow at the
charging Kathryn, but it glanced off of the sow's forehead. Sod was
distraught, to say the least. His sword would not remain in his hand.
Banewood, seeing Sod's plight, ran forward and shouted at the
charging Kathryn. A spray of singeing fire told Banewood that he
succeeded in getting her attention. He ran around the hut in an
attempt to lead Kathryn away from Sod, who was still pathetically
trying to grip his sword. A bit of Kathryn's breath caught the
corner of Baba Yaga's hut and ignited the tinder-dry structure.
Evidently, however, Kathryn's fiery froth had a limit, for it
quickly decreased in range and intensity to the point of being a
caustic dribble. Banewood took advantage of this and became bolder
in his taunts. He loosed a few Ludki arrows at the enraged sow in
order to further torment her. It worked. Banewood saw a nearby tree
that he thought could hold his weight. He ran to it and limberly
pulled himself up the trunk. He had previously discarded his
backpack and other paraphernalia, but he neglected to untie the tiny
old bag which held the ancient smoking mixture. It ripped open as
Banewood shinned up the trunk, spilling its contents around the base
of the tree.
Kathryn was not an ignorant sow. She saw this grand opportunity
to harvest the tree's single fruit: Banewood. She ran headlong into
the sturdy trunk of the tree and splintered part of the trunk. She
tore at the ground around the tree with her hooves and layed her
forehead against the trunk in an attempt to batter it down. Kathryn
kicked up a cloud of the ancient herbal mixture torn from Banewood's
belt. Her two wide nostrils inhaled part of the cloud and Kathryn no
longer felt any pain. Hitting the tree with her head was easy; in
fact, it was fun.
Sod saw the impending danger that Banewood was in. It was Sod's
fault, he thought, that Banewood even came on this journey. He
couldn't let him die. Sod had decided to go into this quest, and by
his life, he would take it to its completion. He picked up a rock
and threw it squarely at Kathryn's rear. Kathryn turned about and
faced Sod. He taunted her with insults to her genealogy. Sod hardly
noticed that he now gripped Wolksmert firmly in both hands. He
spaced his legs, hurled another insult and waited.
The smoking mixture continued to work on Kathryn's brain. It had
a strange, numbing sensation. Colors burst before her crimson eyes.
Directly in front of her stood a tattered and sweaty plowman-- easy
prey and a quick lunch. Suddenly, though, she was faced by two
plowman-- no problem-- then a third. Three Sod's stood before the
eyes of an enraged and disoriented sow. Baba Yaga's mixture,
whatever it was, buzzed around in Kathryn's head like a swarm of
happy bees. Kathryn decided that the plowman on the left, Sod number
three, was the real one. It didn't really matter; she could always
come back and finish off the other two. She charged with full fury.
Distance between the two retreated with the sound of thundering
cloven hooves. Sod number two, the one in the middle, didn't quite
understand why Kathryn was veering so much to his right. No matter--
Wolksmert, guided by the plowman's strong arm, swung with the ease
of a baton but crashed with the weight of a boulder.
Blood poured from Kathryn's head. Blood ran to the ground in red
rivers and stained the dusty feet of the plowman. Blood dripped from
the shining blade of Wolksmert.
Kathryn was dead.
It was several minutes before either Sod or Banewood moved or
said anything. Sod stood alone with his sword dripping blood to the
ground. Banewood shouted from the tree.
"You killed her. I can't believe that it happened so quickly."
"Quickly?" Sod thought hours passed during Kathryn's charge.
"I owe you my life," said Banewood. "How can I ever repay you?"
"Don't worry," said Sod, who smiled for the first time. "It all
comes out in the wash."
Without having to discuss their next step. The two quietly and
deliberately set about gathering dried brush and grass for a fire.
It took nearly an hour to amass the giant pyre, but it was finally
built and easily set aflame from the embers of Baba Yaga's
smoldering hut. The evening light was brightened by the burning pile
of brush. A night bird sang vespers, and the wind whispered softly
over the plains, gently fanning the blaze.
-Roman Olynyk <VM0BA9 @ WVNVM>
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