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falling on his face.
"Doctor Davis, I presume?" he mumbled.
The American was going to hurry past him but was restrained by a charitable
impulse. He said, "There's uproar in Acheron, my good fellow. Now is the time to
gain our freedom. Ivar was going to make a sneak attack on Arpad, but Arpad had
the same idea about him. There's the devil to pay, and Thorfinn, Ivar's ally, has
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just shown up. Chaos will reign. We have an excellent chance of getting away
during all the commotion."
Faustroll put a hand on his forehead and groaned. Then he said, "Up the River?
Our quests for the probably nonexistent?"
"Think, man! Do you want to remain a slave? Now's the time, the only chance we
may ever have!"
Faustroll bent to pick up his grail and fishing pole. He groaned again and said,
"La merde primitive! The devil is using our head as an anvil."
"I'm going," Davis said. "You may come with me or not, as you please."
"Your concern for us is touching," the Frenchman said. "But we really don't have
to run. Though we've been in lifelong bondage, we have never been a slave.
Unlike the billions of the conventional and the swine-minded, we have been free."
A distant flash faintly illumined Faustroll. His eyes
CROSSING THE DARK RIVER
49
were rolling as if he were trying to see something elusive.
"Stay here, then, and be free in your miserable bonds!" Davis shouted. "I felt it
was my duty to tell you what is going on!"
"If it had been love compelling you, it would be different."
"You're the most exasperating man I've ever met!"
"The gadfly has its uses, especially if it is equipped not only with a fore sting but
an aft sting."
Davis snorted and walked away. But, by the time he had started down the hill
from the tower, he heard Faustroll call out to him.
"Wait for us, my friend, if, indeed, you are that!"
Davis halted. He could not say that he liked the grotesque fellow. But...something
in the absurd Frenchman appealed to him. Perhaps, Davis thought, it's the
physician in me. The man's mad, and I should take care of him. I might be able to
cure him someday.
More likely, it's just that I don't want to be alone. Crazed company is better than
none. Sometimes.
The thunder and lightning had rolled on down the Valley. In a few minutes, the
bright zigzags and the vast bowling-pin noises would be out of sight and out of
ear. Then, as almost always, the downpour would stop as if a valve had been shut.
The clouds would disappear within thirty minutes or so after that. And the star-
filled sky would shed its pale fire on the pale weapons of the warriors and their
dark blood. It would also make it easier for Faustroll and him to be seen.
Now he could faintly hear the frightening sounds of the clash. Shrill screams,
deep cries, swords clanging, drums beating, and, now and then, the bellowing of a
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50
Philip Jos6 Farmer
gunpowder bomb as it destroyed itself in a burst of light. He also became aware
that the tower, in which he had thought was no living soul, was as busy as a
disturbed anthill. He turned to look back. Faustroll, panting, was just about to
catch up with him. He was silhouetted by the many torches of the many people
streaming from the tower.
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Among them was Ann Pullen. She had put a heavy towel over her shoulders and a
long one around her waist. But her white face and streaming blond hair were
vivid under the flaming brand she held high.
And there was Sharkko walking as fast as his dragging leg would permit him. He
carried a grail in one hand, a sword in the other, and a large bag was strapped to
his back.
The others passed Davis on their way down the hill. Apparently, they were going
either to join Ivar in the battle or to find a place where they could more closely
observe it. The latter, more likely. If they thought that things were going against
Ivar, they would be running, too.
Davis grabbed a torch from a slave woman as she passed him. She protested but
did not fight him. He held it up and pointed up-River. "Let's go!"
Easier said than done. Just as they reached the edge of the plain, they were forced
to stop. A large body of men, many of them holding torches, jogged by. Davis
looked at the round, wooden, leather-covered helmets, the broad dark faces, and
the eyes with prominent epicanthic folds. He groaned. Then he said, "More of
Arpad's men! They must be a second flanking force! These were not Magyars but
soldiers from Arpad's
CROSSING THE DARK RIVER
51
ancient Siberian citizens, forming ten percent of the kingdom's population. They
looked much more like the American Indians than Eskimos or Chuk-chuks. A
group of six or seven men broke off from the mass and trotted toward them.
Davis yelled, "Run!" and he fled back up the hill. Behind came the sound of bare
feet on the wet grass and wet mud under it. But it was Faustroll.
When he was halfway up the hill, Davis looked behind him. The invaders were no
longer in pursuit. Finding that they could not kill the two men easily, they had
rejoined the army.
After a while, he and Faustroll quit climbing along the sides of the hill and went
down to the edge of the plain. Within ten minutes the starblaze was undimmed
by clouds.
"Time to look for a boat," Davis said.
They went slowly and stealthily among the huts. Now and then, they had to go
around corpses. Most of these were women, but some had managed to kill
invaders before they had been cut down.'"The never-ending story," Davis said.
"When will they learn to stop killing and raping and looting? Can't they see that it
does nothing to advance them? Can't..."
"They didn't see on Earth, why should they here?" Faustroll said. "But perhaps
it's a weeding-out process here. We get not just a second chance but many
chances. Then, one day, poof! The evils ones and the petty, the malicious, and the
hypocritical are gone! Let's hope that that does not mean that nobody is left here.
Or, perhaps, that's the way it's going to work out."
He stopped, pointed, and said, "Eureka!"
There were many boats along here, beached or riding at anchor a few feet from
the short. They chose a dugout canoe with a small mast. But, just as they were
pushing
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Philip Jose Farmer
it off the grass into the water, they were startled by a yell behind them.
"Wait! For God's sake, wait! I want to go with you!"
They turned and saw Sharkko hobbling toward them. He was dragging another
bag, a large one, behind him. No doubt, Davis thought, it was filled with loot
Sharkko had picked up on the way. Despite his fear, his predatory nature had
kept the upper hand.
Davis said, "There's not enough room for three."
Panting, Sharkko stopped a few feet from them. "We can take a larger boat."
Then he turned quickly to look down-River. The distant clamor had suddenly
become closer. The starlight fell over a dark and indistinct mass advancing from
the south. Shouts and clanging of bronze on bronze swelled from it. It stopped
moving toward Davis for several minutes. Then the sounds ceased, and the group
moved again, more swiftly now.
Whoever the men chasing after those who fled were, they had been killed. But
another hue and cry rose from behind the survivors. The men coming toward
Davis began to run.
"Get in one of the boats!" Sharkko squalled. "They'll grab them, and we won't
have any!"
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