Quest for the Well of Souls

showed the temperature to be extremely low, as cold as eighty below, Celsius. Only the internal heaters of the suits kept the travelers comfortable.

They descended a little to land on a small plateau. Opposite, Oyakot presented a chilling vista: the snow was oddly colored and definitely not water of any sort, the rocks eroded into strange shapes.

The set-down was gentle, the unloading easy and quick. They watched them as a new ballet was performed; reversing the original dance the large Masjenadans produced smaller creatures, gathering up the net into their bodies.

All but two of the creatures immediately flew in the direction from which they had come.

The remaining swans floated near, and one turned its internal yellow light on again.

“We wish you good fortune. Oyakot borders the far edge of this small plateau. Someone should meet you there in a few hours.”

The group thanked the strange creatures, and watched them take off and turn, flying back into the colorful glow to the east.

Suddenly they felt terribly alone.

Oyakot, Nearing the Pugeesh Border

The Oyakot continued the relatively swift and comfortable passage the group had thus far experienced. The creatures resembled olive-green canvas bags with small, sharp spikes all over. They had hundreds of tiny legs beneath and a central network of long tentacles atop. The location of their eyes, ears, nose, or mouth was not apparent, and the mountainous landscape with its strong cold winds didn’t seem to faze them.

But they had roads, and vehicles that traveled swiftly along single lines of light. The hex was crisscrossed with a tremendous transportation network, and the journey took them over massive bridges and through tunnels many kilometers long. Speed was constant and control automated; drivers only monitored progress and took over in an emergency.

The Oyakot were also talkative; a friendly, practical people, they had made the most of a harsh land. That oxygen was a solid to the Oyakot didn’t dim the mental kinship the travelers felt for these clever, industrious people.

Wooley was worried, though. Word had come through the dispatching network that Trelig and his party were also well into Oyakot, and only a few hours behind them. Too, her party was already approaching Pugeesh, and information was still sparse.

“Can’t tell much on them,” their Oyakot driver admitted. “Much too hot over there. Sure death just to cross the line. Ugly-lookin’ place, though, all boilin’ and hissin’. I’m told they don’t have anybody at Zone, neither—so your guess is as good as anybody’s. There—you can see it ahead. Gives me the creeps just to look at it.”

It was a jungle, that was for sure. A solid wall of purple plants rose before them, and tremendous vapor veils drifted here and there, between the leaves of thick growths.

As they unloaded, Wooley warned them, “The Sea of Borgun is just to the north of Pugeesh, and it’s primarily liquid chlorine, so that will give you an idea of the place. The Oyakot think of it as hot, but it’s still extremely cold to any of us.”

Mavra Chang and Joshi surveyed the scene uneasily. “No sign of roads, either,” she pointed out. “How are we going to get through that crap?”

“There’s flat land slightly to the north,” the Yaxa replied, looking at a topographic map. We can get around the mountains that way. As to crossing the jungle, well, we might have to cut a pathway.”

Ben Yulin was uneasy. “Suppose the plants are the Pugeesh?” he said worriedly. “We start chopping through them and zap! And we’ve got a long way to go to fight our way through.”

“I am fairly certain that they are not plants,” the Torshind put in. “Exactly what they are I do not know—but we’ll find out. In the meantime, we have the means to be pretty effective through there.” The tendrils of the crystal creature it inhabited fumbled in the heavy packs on Joshi’s back, finally coming up with several odd-shaped metallic parts. Assembled, these made a rifle with a long stock and a huge low-slung cylinder.

Mavra looked at the curious weapon with wonder. “What’s it shoot?”

“Napalm,” the Torshind replied.

To Mavra and Joshi, they rigged long flats that balanced on a single broad, spiked roller. On these the supplies could be carried. The travois were perhaps two meters wide, but balanced properly, they worked very well.

Mavra in particular resented the hookup, especially the halter bit, but the others were sharp with her. “It’s why you’re along at all,” Yulin snapped irritably. “If you don’t pull your weight, you’re no good to us.”

She finally relented, although she was always conscious of the contraption. A beast she might be, but a beast of burden was almost too much.

There were wide spaces once they reached the plain, and the going was relatively easy for a while. The ground was hard and covered with long razor-sharp purple stalks that reacted much like grass when walked on and offered no resistance to the rollers.

Maintaining the proper heading was often difficult, and Wooley frequently had to consult a compass when they had to detour from a straight-line route. The needle always pointed to the Equator, which was sufficient.

As to what kind of being the Pugeesh were, there wasn’t a clue. No visible trails, no evidence of moving things. This made them nervous; they would have preferred vicious predators to something they could neither see nor identify until, perhaps, it was too late.

They had traveled a good distance by sundown, and they had to stop and rest. Yulin and Wooley agreed that the inhabitants had to be nocturnal, which meant posting a guard at all times. It was decided to stand in twos: Wooley and Mavra the first shift, Yulin and Joshi the second, with the Torshind—who did not need sleep but could selectively turn off parts of its brain for rest—as a backup.

Wooley and Mavra switched their suit radios to a different frequency—the Yaxa had to do it for the handless horse—so as not to disturb the others.

For a while there was silence between them, and of course little noise penetrated the suits, either. Finally Wooley said, “Sure is still around here.”

Mavra nodded. “It’s completely dark now. You can see some stars up there—and nothing down here but the plants. Of course, I don’t have much vision now, but I haven’t seen anything. You?”

“Nothing,” the Yaxa admitted. “Perhaps we’ll get lucky and it’ll stay this way. There seems to be nothing at all alive here except the plants. The only things moving are those wisps of gas—I think they’re chlorine from their color, but I can’t be sure,”

Mavra strained and did manage to make out cloudy patches here and there. “You don’t suppose…?”

“The clouds? I’ve been thinking the same thing. They don’t seem to drift in any particular direction, as with a wind. But they’re just wispy puffs. Even if they are the Pugeesh, they can’t harm us much. Even the worst of these suits could take a bath in pure sulfuric acid without harm.”

Mavra considered it. “But napalm wouldn’t be very effective against them, would it?”

There wasn’t much to say.

“You’re an Entry, aren’t you?” Mavra asked the Yaxa. “I can tell by some of your expressions.”

The Yaxa nodded slowly. “Oh, yes. Not from any place you’ve ever heard of, though. I’ve been a little of everything—farmer, politician, cop. Finally I just got old, and rejuves take something out of you mentally each time, so we—I—decided the hell with it, I’d done all I could, more than most people ever do. I went out with that frame of mind, and wound up getting suckered by a Markovian gate. They’re triggered by that, you know—a desire to end it all, despondency, all the things the Markovians would feel when they used it to come here. But it’s been a good life since, too. I don’t regret much of my past or present. You?”

Mavra was surprised at the Yaxa’s candor; some genuine emotion came through, at least in intent, despite the ice-cold monotone. It was because she was an Entry, Mavra decided.

The once human horse chuckled dryly. “Me? Nothing much to tell that you wouldn’t already know. As for regret—I don’t know, really. Some individual things I would like to do differently. Stop my husband from that meet