Vale of the Vole Read online

  “You were about to tell us what happened to the Vale of the Vole,” Chex said.

  “Ah, yev, and a vad vtory it iv,” Volney said sadly. He went on to describe how the foul demons, who had previously shared the Vale almost unnoticed, decided to destroy the friendly Kiss-Mee River. Apparently its meandering contours displeased them, so they invoked monstrous magic and pulled the river straight.

  “No more curves?” Chex asked, shocked. She was, of course, a creature of many esthetic curves.

  “Does it matter?” Esk asked, somewhat duller about the esthetics. He was a creature of irregular lines and bumps.

  “Of course it matters!” Chex exclaimed, her eyes almost flashing. “Just how friendly do you suppose a straightline river is?”

  “It iv unfriendly to the land, too,” Volney said. He explained how the water now coursed directly down the straight channel, not pausing to support the fish isolated by its loss of loops and eddies, and was leaving many waterloving plants dry. The lush vale was becoming a barren valley. The lovely moist soil that the voles had dug in was now turning to dry sand and dust, and their tunnels were eroding. Paradise was converting to wasteland. Indeed, the remnant of the waterway was now known as the Kill-Mee.

  “But can’t you dig out new curves for the river to kiss?” Chex asked. “Can’t you restore it to its natural state?”

  It turned out that the voles could not, because the demons maintained guard and harassed anyone who tried to tamper with their inimical design. The voles were diggers, not fighters, and were helpless before the violence of the demons. If they could not restore the river, they would have to leave—but they knew there was no other region of Xanth as good as the Vale of the Vole had been. So Volney was now coming to ask the Good Magician for the answer to their problem: how to stop the demons from interfering with the restoration of the Kiss-Mee River.

  “That’s funny,” Esk said.

  Chex stared at him. “I find nothing humorous about the situation,” she said severely.

  “I mean, I’m looking for the Good Magician to learn how to stop another demon,” he explained. “She came to take my hideout because things weren’t so nice back where she came from. If the demons live in the Vale of the Vole, and they have fixed it up to suit themselves, why did she have to leave?”

  “Maybe she came from some other area,” Chex said.

  “No, she mentioned the Vale, or maybe the Kiss-Mee, I’m sure of that. I remember it clearly because she—” But he didn’t want to talk about the kisses the demoness had offered him. Because it hadn’t been exactly kisses proffered.

  “Perhapv vhe iv an unlovely demonevv,” Volney said.

  “Vo the otherv vent her away.”

  “No, she’s a lovely creature,” Esk said. “That is, I mean, she can assume any form she wants, and that includes luscious—I mean sexy—uh, that is—”

  “We are getting a notion what that is,” Chex remarked dryly. “She did vamp you, didn’t she!”

  “Well, she offered, but—but I—I am trying to get rid of her. Anyway, what would be ugly to a demon, who can assume any shape? I don’t think she would have left for that reason. Actually, she said it was the hummers that drove her away.”

  “Hummingbirds?” Chex asked, perplexed.

  “No, these are something that mortals can’t hear, but that drive demons crazy. So she left. So maybe it’s ironic, that they straightened out the river but still aren’t satisfied.”

  “Hummerv,” Volney repeated musingly. “We may have heard of them. One of us overheard a demon say it was to get rid of them that they straightened the river. But we don’t know what they are.”

  “Well, it seems to me that if you could just find out what they are,” Chex said, “you might use them to make all the demons move out. Then you could restore the river, and the Vale of the Vole would be friendly again.”

  “Yev. Maybe the Good Magivian will tell uv that.”

  They moved on south along the path, through the big trees. But they had used up time resting and talking, and darkness was looming up from the gloom below the forest. “We had better make a good camp for the night,” Esk said. “Maybe we can set up some stakes to hinder the dragons.”

  There was a crack of thunder. “We’ll need more than that to keep from getting soaked,” Chex said.

  Esk squinted at the looming clouds. “We won’t get soaked. That’s a color hailstorm!”

  She looked more carefully. “Why so it is! We had better get under cover. There’s no telling how large those hailstones will be. And of course we’ll still get wet when they melt.”

  “A storm iv bad?” Volney asked.

  “It can be bad,” Chex agreed. “It is best to play safe, and find suitable cover. But there seems to be little loose wood here to fashion a shelter; we may have to lean against the lee side of trees.”

  “Why not go under?”

  “Under what?” Esk asked.

  “Underground. We never vtay up when it iv uncomfortable above. In fact, we veldom vtay long above anyway.”

  “I can’t go underground!” Chex protested.

  Indeed, it would take a giant tunnel to get her below! But the storm was looming closer, and a veil of pastel colors was drawing down. They were certainly in for it.

  Esk spied a fallen trunk. Abruptly he strode over to it, his ogre strength surging. He picked it up and swung it against the trunk of a giant standing tree. It splintered. He picked up the largest fragment and broke it against the tree, then took several of the remaining pieces and wove them together, forming a crude platform. He jammed the stoutest fragments into the ground vertically, then heaved the platform onto them.

  Then his strength receded, and he was normal again, and tired. “You’ll have to finish it,” he gasped. “That’s just the frame.”

  “That is good enough!” Chex exclaimed. She swept up an armful of brush and heaved it onto the platform. “That should stop the hailstones,” she said as she gathered more. “When they melt, it will drip though, but I can stand getting wet. Thank you, Esk.”

  Meanwhile, Volney was digging. Where he had been there was now a mound of dirt and a hole in the ground. He was fast, all right!

  The storm struck. Yellow hailstones crashed down through the foliage and bounced on the ground, leaving little dents.

  Chex got under her shelter. She had to duck her head and finally lie down, because it wasn’t high enough, but it did provide protection.

  Volney’s snout appeared in the hole. “Evk!” he squeaked. “Here! There iv room!”

  Esk scrambled for the hole as the hailstones bounced around him. They were becoming blue, now, and he knew that those were colder and therefore harder than the yellow ones. They would hurt!

  He half slid into the hole. It descended for a body length, then curved, descended some more, and curved again. Hailstones were following him, rolling down. Then it rose, and debouched into a larger section; he could tell by the widening of the walls, but could not see anything in the dark. He moved into this, and came up against warm fur.

  “There iv room for both,” Volney said. “The stonev and water vtay below.”

  This was a nice, cozy design! The vole had hollowed out a den that was bound to remain dry, unless there got to be so much melt that it filled the whole tunnel.

  “But suppose a dragon comes?” he asked.

  “Then I vtrike the vupport, and the tunnel collapvev,” the vole replied confidently. “No predator ever caught a vole in a hole.”

  And of course the dragons would not be foraging far during the storm, Esk realized. They didn’t like getting battered any more than other creatures did. That meant that Chex should be safe enough too.

  After a brief time the storm passed on. Esk sought to return to the surface, but the tunnel was entirely blocked by hailstones.

  “Have no convern,” Volney said. “I will make a new ekvit.” In moments he did so, tunneling down, then around and up. The excavated dirt piled into one side
of the main chamber, evidently intended for such storage.

  Esk followed the vole, amazed by the velocity of the digging. “How do you do it so fast?” he asked.

  Volney paused in the darkness, turning within the tunnel though it was only his own body width in diameter. “My vilver talonv,” he explained. “Feel.”

  Esk felt, cautiously, and found cold metal. It seemed that the vole donned the talons as a man would gauntlets. “Where do you carry such things? I never saw them before.”

  “I have a pouch for nevevvary toolv,” Volney explained. Then he turned again and resumed his digging. Esk had to crowd to the left to avoid the dirt flying on the right.

  Soon they broke surface. A shower of melting hailstones came down. They scrambled up through them, and stood knee-deep on Esk, waist-deep on Volney, in the forming, colored slush. Much had fallen in that brief span!

  Chex was under her shelter, almost hidden, for the stones were mounded above and around it. “I was worried you would drown down there!” she called.

  “No, Volney has a really cozy den below,” Esk said. “He is a truly amazing digger!”

  “No, only average,” the vole demurred. “It is merely my volivh nature.”

  Nevertheless, Esk was discovering Volney to be as interesting and useful a companion as Chex. This group of travelers was random, but seemed about as good as could have been chosen for such a journey.

  They set up a three-way guard roster, with Esk taking the first watch and Chex the last, in deference to the amount of time she had spent the prior night. Esk doubted that any dragons would appear until the slush had subsided, but he didn’t care to gamble, and neither did the others.

  Volney disappeared into his hole, and Chex settled down on a nearby elevation she cleared of slush. The shelter was useless for the time being, because of the mass of dripping slush on top.

  He walked up and down the path, keeping himself alert as long as he could. The stars came out and flickered at him through the waving foliage. It was pleasant, and he was not at all lonely. He knew he would have been, by himself. It was nice making new acquaintances who had a similar mission and dissimilar talents. Too bad they would soon find the Good Magician’s castle and have to separate.

  When sleep threatened to overtake him despite his efforts, he went to the vole hole and called down it. “Volney! Volney! Are you ready for your watch?”

  There was a subterranean snort as the vole woke. “Ready, Evk.” The snout poked into the starlight.

  Esk crawled down and around and into the den and curled up in the warm spot left by the vole. The den was rounded in such a way that the earth tended to support a curled body, and was really quite comfortable. He had hardly completed that realization before he slept.

  When he woke, there was a warm body next to him. Volney was back, and Esk realized that the vole had finished his shift and turned it over to the centaur.

  He crawled out, and discovered it was dawn. Chex was picking fruits and setting them on the platform. “No dragons!” she said briskly as she saw him.

  Esk had a call or two of nature to answer. He nerved himself to do it in her presence, knowing that the sooner he navigated this social hurdle the better it would be. He started to take down his trousers.

  “Don’t do it here,” she said. “We don’t want the smell in our breakfast.”

  Oh. Well, he had made the gesture, such as it was. With relief he retreated to a more distant site and did his business. He didn’t have to actually do it in her presence; he just had to be able to if the need arose.

  They ate, and drank some meltwater Chex had saved in a pair of cups. Then Volney emerged, bringing out some tubers he had found somewhere underground, and they traded some of the remaining fruit for these. It was surprising how good the tubers were; the vole evidently had a fine nose for such things.

  They resumed their walk along the path. When they reached the lake, Volney was taken aback. “I can’t crovv that water!” he protested.

  Obviously he couldn’t. Esk wasn’t certain whether voles could swim, but it hardly mattered; the giant monster out there made swimming hazardous. If the vole tried to splash around the edge, the way Chex had, he would be half floating, because his little legs were too short to achieve good purchase beneath the water. The reeds would eat him alive. If he tried to tunnel under, he would simply encounter muck that filled in as fast as he dug. There was no question: water was a formidable barrier.

  He looked at Chex. No, it didn’t seem feasible for her to carry the vole. Volney was too big, and not constructed for riding. Also, how would he, Esk, get around the lake, if she carried someone else?

  “I think we should construct a raft,” Chex said. “There is driftwood at the shore, some fairly substantial pieces, and if we use vines to bind it together, and long poles to move it, it should serve.”

  “A raft?” Volney asked. “What is thiv?”

  “It’s like a boat, only clumsier,” Esk said.

  “What iv a boat?”

  Chex looked at Esk, then back to Volney. “Your folk aren’t much for water, are they?”

  “We have great revpect for water,” the vole protested. “We drink it, we bathe in it, we guide it into our burrowv for the nourivhment of root farmv. The meandering Kivv-Mee River wav the life-vevvel of our Vale.” His whiskers drooped. “But now, of courve, the Kill-Mee River poivonv uv.”

  “But you don’t go on it?” she persisted. “You don’t swim or sail?”

  “Vail?”

  “A boat is a craft that floats on the surface of the water, carrying folk across it. A raft does this too. A sailboat is propelled by a sheet stretched out against the wind. You do not know of these things?”

  “It voundv like movt intriguing magic.”

  She smiled. “Well, we’ll try to demonstrate this magic for you, so you can tell your folk when you return. It should facilitate your use of the river. But tell me, how do you cross the Kiss-Mee?”

  “We have bridgev over it and tunnelv under it,” Volney explained. “They were much labor to convtruct, but give good vervice. Unfortunately, when the demonv vtraightened it, these crovvingv were left vtranded by vacant channelv, and now are uvelevv. The volev on the far vide are unable to join thove on the near vide.”

  “Couldn’t you make new bridges or tunnels?” Esk asked.

  “Not while the demonv guard the channel. They permit no activity of that nature.”

  Chex sighed. “You need the Good Magician’s counsel, certainly! Well, let’s get to it. We must gather as much wood as we can, as large and dry as we can, and tie it together. We should be able to fashion a raft large enough to support us all.”

  “You wivh dry wood?” Volney asked. “Will it not get wet when it touchev the water?”

  “Dry, so that it isn’t waterlogged, and will float better.” She found a piece and picked it up. “We can make a pile here beside the path.”

  “Now at lavt I comprehend,” Volney said. He set off in search of wood.

  There was more driftwood and fallen wood in the vicinity than had been at first apparent, and before long they had a huge pile. They found strong vines, some of which they used to make a harness so that Chex could haul the largest pieces. Then they used that vine to tie the wood together.

  By noon they had a large, ungainly structure that most resembled a pile of refuse. But when they heaved it into the water and shoved it to the deep region, it floated. They climbed aboard, with Esk and Chex wielding long poles, and by dint of pushing at the nether muck caused it to travel out toward the center of the lake.

  “An island!” Volney exclaimed. “A floating island!”

  “So it seems,” Chex agreed.

  “Shouldn’t that be ‘ivland’?” Esk asked.

  Both stared at him. “Whatever for?” Chex inquired.

  “Uh, no reason,” he said, embarrassed. What could he have been thinking of?

  The monster of the lake coursed close. “Go fry in the sun!” Chex c
alled to it impolitely. “You can’t get near us!”

  The monster, irritated, charged the raft. Its bulk loomed huge. But Chex simply poked at one of its eyestalks with her pole, and it retreated. “Bullies have no courage when they face anything as large as they are,” she remarked with satisfaction.

  “OoOoOo,” Volney moaned.

  “What’s the matter?” Esk asked. “That monster can’t touch us.”

  “I feel ill,” the vole said. Indeed, his fur seemed to be developing a greenish tinge.

  “You’re seasick,” Chex said. “Here, I have a pill for that.” She produced a green tablet from her knapsack.

  Volney swallowed the pill. In a moment his fur turned gray again. “Much better,” he said. “I don’t like being veavick.”

  They continued poling, and made steady, slow progress across the lake. They paused midway for a lunch break; Chex had thoughfully harvested some fruit and put it aboard. Then they completed the voyage, bumping up against the far shore. They splashed to land and hauled the raft as high as they could, so that it would not drift away. They knew that they might need it again.

  They resumed travel along the path, heading for the mountain. But the building of the raft and the voyage across the lake had taken much time and strength, and they decided to spend another night on the road before tackling the mountain. They were now becoming seasoned travelers, and no storm approached, so they had no significant problems this time.

  Chapter 4. Mystery

  They arrived at the mountain. It loomed as massively as before, with its deep dark tunnel through.

  Chex shuddered. “I dislike confessing this, but I am slightly claustrophobic. I don’t think I can walk that passage even if it is guaranteed safe. I’m afraid the mountain will collapse on me.”

  Volney sniffed at the rising bank. “But there iv no mountain,” he protested.

  “You can’t see the mountain?” Esk asked, surprised.

  “I vee it, but it ivn’t there.”

  “You’re not making sense.”

  “I will vhow you.” The vole moved forward, into the bank—literally. His body disappeared into it.