The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

puzzled over that, with a growing uneasiness which was not quite fear, not yet, anyway.
    Thorvald moved. The raft tilted and the wolverines became growly. Shann sat down, one hand out to the officer’s shoulder in warning. Feeling that touch Thorvald shifted, one hand striking out blindly in a blow which Shann was just able to avoid while with the other he pinned the map case yet tighter to him.
    “Take it easy!” Shann urged.
    The other’s eyelids flicked. He looked up, but not as if he saw Shann at all.
    “The Cavern of the Veil—” he muttered. “Utgard.…” Then his eyes did focus and he sat up, gazing around him with a frown.
    “We’re in the desert,” Shann announced.
    Thorvald got up, balancing on feet planted a little apart, looking to the faded expanse of the waste spreading from the river cut. He stared at the mountains before he squatted down to fumble with the lock of the map case.
    The wolverines were growing restless, though they still did not try to move about too freely on the raft, greeting Shann with vocal complaint. He and Thorvald could satisfy their hunger with a handful of concentrates from the survival kit. But those dry tablets could not serve the animals. Shann studied the terrain with more knowledge than he had possessed a week earlier. This was not hunting land, but there remained the bounty of the river.
    “We’ll have to feed Taggi and Togi,” he broke the silence abruptly. “If we don’t, they’ll be into the river and off on their own.”
    Thorvald glanced up from one of the tough, thin sheets of map skin, again as if he had been drawn back from some distance. His eyes moved from Shann to the unpromising shore.
    “How? With what?” he wanted to know. Then the real urgency of the situation must have penetrated his mental isolation. “You have an idea—?”
    “There’s those fish we found them eating back by the mountain stream,” Shann said, recalling an incident of a few days earlier. “Rocks here, too, like those the fish were hiding under. Maybe we can locate some of them here.”
    He knew that Thorvald would be reluctant to work the raft in shore, to spare time for such hunting. But there would be no arguing with hungry wolverines, and he did not propose to lose the animals for the officer’s whim.
    However, Thorvald did not protest. They poled the raft out of the main pull of the current, sending it in toward the southern shore in the lee of a clump of light-willows. Shann scrambled ashore, the wolverines after him, sniffling along at his heels while he overturned likely looking rocks to unroof some odd underwater dwellings. The fish with the rudimentary legs were present and not agile enough even in their native element to avoid well-clawed paws which scooped them neatly out of the river shallows. There was also a sleek furred creature with a broad flat head and paddle-equipped forepaws, rather like a miniature seal, which Taggi appropriated before Shann had a chance to examine it closely. In fact, the wolverines wrought havoc along a half-mile section of bank before the Terran could coax them back to the raft.
    As they hunted, Shann got a better idea of the land about the river. It was sere, the vegetation dwindling except for some rough spikes of things pushing through the parched ground like flayed fingers, their puffed redness in contrast to the usual amethystine coloring of Warlock’s growing things. Under the climbing sun that whole stretch of country was revealed in a stark bareness which at first repelled, and then began to interest him.
    He discovered Thorvald standing on the upper bluff, looking out toward the waiting mountains. The officer turned as Shann urged the wolverines to the raft, and when he jumped down the drop to join them, Shann saw he carried a map strip unrolled in his hand.
    “The situation is not as good as we hoped,” he told the younger man. “Well have to leave the river to cross the heights.”
    “Why?”
    “There’re rapids—bending in a falls.” The officer squatted down, spreading out the strip and making stabs at it with a nervous finger tip. “Here we have to leave. This is all rough ground. But lying to the south there’s a gap which may be a pass. This was made from an aerial survey.”
    Shann knew enough to realize to what extent such a guide could go wrong. Main features of the landscape would be clear enough from aloft, but there might be unsurmountable difficulties at ground level which were not