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"Yes," he said. "As a boy I climbed the Torvaldsberg."
"You spoke of hand holds," I said.
"I cut them," he said.
It then seemed to me no wonder that he had moved with such confidence on the
escarpment. I had suspected earlier that he knew the mountain, this
facilitating our ascent, and that this explained why the pursuing Kurii,
natively better climbers than men, could do little better than keep our pace,
if that. I had not suspected, however, that the Forkbeard was taking advantage
of a previously wrought path, and one which, in part at least, he had made for
himself in years past.
The Forkbeard leaned back, grinning. He rubbed his hands. His fingers were
cold. We heard, some sixty feet below us, a Kur scraping with its claws on the
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mountain below us, feeling for crevices or chinks.
"This ledge," said the Forkbeard, "is a Kur trap. In my youth I was hunted by
a Kur in this vicinity. It had trailed me for two days. I took to the
mountain. It was sufficiently unwise to follow me. I chose, and cut, a path
which it might follow, to the last twenty feet; for the last twenty feet I cut
shallow holds in the surface, adequate for a man, climbing carefully, but too
shallow for the fingers of a Kur."
Below us I heard a snarl of frustration.
"As a boy, thus," said Ivar, "I slew my first Kur." He rose to his feet. He
went to a corner of the ledge where, heaped, there were several large stones.
"The stones I then gathered are still
file:///F|/rah/John%20Norman/Norman,%20John...20Earth%2009%20-%20Marauders%20o
f%20Gor.txt (103 of 136) [1/20/03 3:30:07 AM]
file:///F|/rah/John%20Norman/Norman,%20John%20-%20Counter%20Earth%2009%20-%20M
arauders%20of%20Gor.txt here," he said. "I found several on the ledge, some I
found higher."
I did not envy the Kur below.
I looked over the edge. "It is still climbing," I whispered. I drew my sword.
It would not be difficult to prevent the animal from reaching the ledge by any
direct route.
"It is stupid," said the Forkbeard.
Behind the first Kur, some feet below, was a second. Two others were far down
the slope, where it was less sheer. The two closest to us had left their
weapons below, with the others.
The first Kur was some eight or ten feet below us when, suddenly, it slipped
on the rock and, with a wild shriek, scratching at the stone, slid some four
feet downward and then plunged backward, turning in the air, howling, and,
some five Ihn later, struck the rocks far below.
"The hand holds," said Ivar, "were not cut to be deep enough to support the
weight of a Kur."
The second Kur was some twenty-five feet below. It looked up, snarling.
The rock hurled by Ivar struck it from the almost vertical wall of stone.
It, like its confrere, fell to the rocks below.
The trap, laid for an enemy by a boy of Torvaldsland many years ago, was still
effective. I
admired Ivar Forkbeard. Even in his youth he had been resourceful, cunning.
Even as a boy he had been a dangerous foe, in guile and wit the match even for
an adult Kur.
The other two Kurii crouched below on the slopes, looking up. They carried
their shields, their axes, on their back
They made no attempt to approach us.
Our position was not, now, a desirable one. We were isolated on a ledge. Here
there was not food nor water. We could, with some climbing, obtain ice or
snow, but there was no food. In time we would weaken, be unable to climb well.
As hunters Kurii were patient beasts. If these had fed well before taking up
our pursuit, they would not need food for days. I had little doubt they had
fed well. There had been much available meat. There was little possibility of
leaving the ledge undetected. Kurii have superb night vision. Furthermore, it
would be extremely dangerous to attempt to move on the Torvaldsberg in the
night; it was extremely dangerous even in full daylight.
I rubbed my hands together, and blew on them. My feet too, were cold. The
sweat in my shirt, now that I was not climbing, was frozen. The shirt was
stiff, cold. In the night on the Torvaldsberg, even in the middle of the
summer, without warm garments, a man might freeze. The wind then began to
rise, sweeping the ledge. From where we stood we could see the black ruins of
Svein Blue
Tooth's hall and holdings, the desolated thing fields, the sea, Thassa, with
the ships at the beach.
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I looked at the Forkbeard.
"Let us continue our journey," he said.
"Let us descend and meet the Kurii, while we still have strength," I said.
"Let us continue our journey," he said.
Moving carefully, he began to climb. I followed him. After perhaps half an
Ahn, I looked back. The two Kurii, by a parallel route, were following.
That night on the Torvaldsberg we did not freeze.
We huddled on a ledge, between rocks, sheltered from the wind, shivering with
cold, miserable, listening for Kurii.
But they did not approach.
We had chosen our ledge well.
Twice rocks rained down to the ledge, but we were protected by an overhang.
"Would you like to hear me sing?" asked Ivar.
"Yes," I said, "it might drive the Kurii away."
Undeterred by my sarcasm, brilliant though it was, Ivar broke into song. He [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]