+-+ +-+ +-+ +-+--+-+--+-+ VOLUME THREE NUMBER FOUR | | ========================================== +___________+ FFFFF SSS FFFFF N N EEEEE TTTTT | ++ | F S F NN N E T | ++ | FFF SSS FFF N N N EEE T | | F S F N NN E T |_________| F SSS F N N EEEEE T /___________\ ========================================== | | BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine ___|___________|___ X-Edited by 'Orny' Liscomb <>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<> CONTENTS X-Editorial Orny Narret Chronicles, Book 3 Mari A. Paulsen The Acquisition, Part 3 Roman Olynyk <>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<> X-Editorial Well, I had this issue all set to go out before Christmas, and then Yale went down for vacation. Sigh. Well, I guess late is better than never. In this issue we continue with both the Acquisition and the Narret Chronicles, thanks to Mari's staying up until 3am to type it in. I hope you enjoy them. There will be one more issue in Volume 3, which will follow on the heels of this issue, before we start Volume 4 and the Dargon writing project. By the way, I've rewritten the FSFnet sending program again. Anyone who wants to change the program I use to send their issues please mail me. You may choose from: DISK DUMP (class N), PUNCH (noheader class m), and SENDFILE (netdata). If anyone is really into CARD DUMP, I'll even use that! For those of you who haven't heard, and didn't notice, FSFnet is being sent out from a new id - CSDAVE at MAINE. Due to the work I do on CSNEWS, NMCS025 has been changed to CSDAVE. FSFnets will continue coming out, but from CSDAVE. NMCS025 is no longer in the CP directory, so please forward any mail or messages to either CSDAVE or LISCOMB at MAINE. Finally, just when you thought it was safe to write a Thieves' World review, TW 8 has just been released. More details (and a review) as soon as possible! -Orny <>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<> The Narret Chronicles Book the Third "Dr. Ht this is Dr. Terrence Seni of the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology at Sir Walter Reed Medical Center, and Dr. Adam Tristy of the American College of Surgeons. They will be examining you, with your permission of course." "Surely." said Samo "Dr Seni is the nation's foremost pathologist, and Dr. Tristy is one our most prominent bio-physicists." "Really, well this is quite a reception... Pleased to meet both of you gentlemen. You can examine me if you wish, but I'd rather provide you with the data myself. You see, I have all the pertinent information on our physiology stored on tape in my craft. Allow me a moment will you and I'll be back with the data you wish for in several of your languages. "Here you are, 'Yarg's Complete Physiology of the Narretan' a Narret classic physiology text. The best ever produced! That should answer all your questions concerning our physiology, but I'll bet you still want to know about my AND molecular structure. That I'll leave up to you." "Could we take a small blood sample to help us study the makeup of your circulatory, respiratory, lymphatic, and immune systems? Such a sample would provide us with the AND molecular structure data we also desire." asked Dr. Seni. "Sure." said Samo "I'd be glad to help in any way I can. I'm a scientist myself. I was only kidding when I said I hate needles. I was just trying to get a laugh." "Make a fist," said Seni as he searched Samo's arm's densly packed molecules for a vein. "This may pinch a little." "No sweat," said Samo. "What you gentlemen will really be interested in though, is the fact that in the counter-universe, we are not solid creatures at all, as you know it." "Really?" queried Tristy as he took notes. "Yes, really." said Samo. "At home, on Amrif Arret, we are by our own nature of a gaseous form. As your molecular forces are attractive here, ours are repulsive, thus, we are all perfectly non-solid, as opposed to your solidity." "How extraordinarily fascinating!" exclaimed Tristy. "In fact all our worlds, stars, everything is unbound but space, which is the solid through which we all pass. That is why I can get here so much faster in our system of time, our entire concept of time is based on density of our solid space, rather than the vacuousness of yours. It is far easier, I assure you, for a plasma to pass through a solid than a solid to pass through a vacuum." "Ahh, I got all but that last bit then I lost you, could you clarify the part about easier..." started Dr. Tristy. "Surely," Samo interrupted "You see, when we pass through the solid form of our space, we use the actual binding forces of the particles in motion of the spatial-solid in order to propel ourselves. Thus we can utilize the very nature of our 'space' itself, as a means, or force of propulsion. Do you understand that better, doctor?" "Much better, thank you. I must say this is all quite astounding.." "Not at all, simply the state of nature doctor. Which reminds me, I wish to make a statement on the wisdom of our physicians in the Narret System. If you would be so kind as to record it doctor, I'm sure all of humanity will find it of great use." "Surely, any advice you can give would be held in highest regard by our scientific communities." said Dr. Tristy "It came to pass, through the thousands of Losar Cycles (what you call years) of our existence, that our physicians began to use the fundamental laws of nature in their favor. Rather than fight the immune system for example, they found ways of strengthening it, bolstering its abilities. Cancer, as another example was found to contain cells of a much stronger variety than those said to be normal. What our physicians did was to retrain the immune system to work on the AND structure within the Cancerous cells, so that the dominant Cancer cells were effectively "programmed" to conduct the function of the tissue it replaced. And this new, Cancerous super-cell was stronger and better than the original cell it replaced, because it lives longer and is less suceptable to other diseases. Therefore your physicians should also learn to work with and not against nature." "Thats absolutely astounding. You've just helped us realize how far we've set back Cancer research in the last 50 years. We've been trying to eradicate it for so long we completely overlooked the possibility of trying to turn it into something useful. Incredible!" "I see you're rather enthused at the prospect." said Samo. "Enthused? I'm simply overjoyed at the possibility that there's a cure for our worst killer. Cancer claims millions of lives here each year." "Yes, I know..." stated Samo. "Dr Ht. you have no idea how much just that little information you just shared with us means, how many millions of peoples lives this few minutes you've shared with us will save. Mankind shall be forever in your debt." "Oh, I think I do." said Samo "Remember, peace and understanding throughout these universes is what I came here for. And sharing a little scientific knowledge in the process is the least I can do. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I see the colonel at the door. I have another speech to give, and I hope if everything goes well, you gentlemen may get a little more time to work on your medical problems." -Mari A. Paulson <>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<> The Acquisition The Hut In the morning, bright and early, Banewood and Sod were woken by the sound of little marching feet. A troop of gaily dressed Ludki in tall, feathered hats approached them. "Hey Hyssop! Hey Burdock!" shouted Stickleburr as he clapped his hands. Immediately, two little people ran forward. Stickleburr addressed Banewood and Sod. "Good morning, unless it's already mid-day. My two sons and myself will accompany you to the borders of our realm unless you don't wish to be accompanied. First, though, you must have breakfast." Stickleburr clapped his hands again and several Ludki approached with steaming plates of food. The travelers ate with relish, though there wasn't any. From a nearby keg they filled their flasks with a light mead and they were ready to depart. Banewood and Sod followed the Ludki as they marched off, their pace marked by the rhythm of the Ludki's singing. Hyssop and Burdock marched ahead while Stickleburr walked and chatted with Banewood and Sod. He told them about the paths ahead and how they must not stray, lest they tread paths unknown. He told them to be on their guard for the Silvan Lord, for these were his woods. The Silvan Lord, or Lessy as he was better known, would lead them astray with his lies. Lessy was a liar at heart and he delighted in deluding the hopelessly lost. He would draw them to one point and then to another, then to another and yet another. However, there was one way of outsmarting the Lessy. It was a method known only to the Ludki, and it was Stickleburr's parting gift to the travelers. "Lessy is a liar," said Stickleburr, "for he can't tell the truth. To get to the truth, if it's lies you don't want, you must wear your clothes inside-out or outside-in if they're already inside-out. Your shoes you must wear on the opposite feet unless, of course, your feet are already opposite. Then you just wear your feet opposite." Banewood and Sod laughed aloud at Stickleburr's foolish words. "It is worthy of a children's rhyme even though it doesn't rhyme," Banewood said. They all laughed again at the strange paradox of Ludki speech. After their having walked away the longest part of the day, and after their having heard innumerable anecdotes from Stickleburr, the two travelers parted company with the Ludki. Banewood and Sod marched on at a much faster pace, since they needn't keep time with the short-legged Ludki. Once again, the brightness of sunlight and companionship dimmed as the travelers departed the realm of civilization. The dark forest seemed darker without the chatter of the little people. A dark, sinuous path pointed out by Stickleburr led in the direction of the setting sun. The roots of gnarled oaks lay twisted across the path, occasionally catching the carefully placed feet of the plowman. Spider webs built across the gaps of branches often ended up in the faces of Banewood and Sod, tickling their noses and generally making their way unpleasant. Pale mushrooms of the deadly varieties could sometimes be seen lining the edge of the path. Strange animal sounds echoed through the trees. After hours of walking, the travelers still had not found a resting place suitable for a night's encampment. Though the sun was possibly an hour away from setting, the way had become dark and difficult to navigate because of the forest canopy. At length, Banewood and Sod stopped to decide which way the path was supposed to lead. The forest seemed more alive at this dusky hour than it had earlier in the day. Birds chirped and strange animals chattered beyond the distant trees. "I don't know," said Sod, "maybe we should stop right here and wait until morning. I just can't be sure of keeping on the right path if we go on." "Oh, don't worry, I'll show you the way to go from here," a strange voice answered. Banewood and Sod quickly drew their weapons and stood ready. Wolksmert glowed reddish from the light of the evening sun. Before them stood an eerie sight. A greenish man, or something resembling a man, though much taller, stood a dozen paces before them. His eyes had an orange, malevolent glow. They appeared cat-like. Banewood feared the worst, for to his inexperienced knowledge, the eyes reminded him of Baba Yaga's. The apparition was dressed in what appeared to be leaves. A bird nest was perched upon the shoulder. Sod felt the hilt of his sword slide through the sweaty grip of his fingers. His hand clenched Wolksmert tighter. He wondered about what action he should take. Quickly, he decided that it would be safest to let the creature make the first move. The green figure stood before them and made a chirping sound like a bird. He clapped his hands and then smiled. It was a friendly, disarming smile. "Take the path straight ahead until you come to a fork," said the strange apparition. "Then, bear left until you come to a large boulder and proceed to your right until you come to an old tree. >From the tree, go left until you meet the next tree, then take a sharp right to the first stream. You can't miss it." "Uh, excuse us for a moment, if you please, sir." Banewood tugged at Sod's shoulder and pulled him away. "Oh yes, most certainly, yes, yes." The green man laughed, clapped his hands and chattered like a tree rat. "What's the matter? Who's that? What are we doing?" Sod's questions came quickly and nervously. "Shhhh!" hissed Banewood as he led Sod out of sight of the green man. When they were safely out of sight, Banewood said, "That must be Lessy, the Silvan Lord. Stickleburr warned us of him. Remember, he'll lie to get us lost. Let's hurry and turn our clothes inside out." As quickly as they could, Banewood and Sod pulled their clothes off and reversed them. They turned the insides outside and helped each other button-up from the back. They did the same with their britches. Then, they pulled off their boots and placed them opposite: left boot on right foot and right boot on left foot. When they had finished, they smiled sheepishly and stepped back out into the open. Lessy was patiently waiting, whistling to himself and smiling. When the Silvan Lord saw how Banewood and Sod appeared, his orange eyes opened wide and bulged. He stood stiff with his fingers out-stretched. "Eeaarrgh! Owwww!" Screamed Lessy. He jumped around and emitted more strange sounds. Sod stood nonplussed, unable to move during the exhibition. Banewood took the initiative and said aloud: "Tell us, Silvan Lord, which is the way to the hut of Baba Yaga." "Eeaarrgh! Owwww! I'll talk, I'll tell you the truth, I promise! I'll tell you anything, but pulleese! Straighten-out your clothes!" Banewood and Sod felt sorry for the Silvan Lord. Evidently, the truth was so foreign to Lessy that it caused him great discomfort. When Banewood and Sod had put their clothes back on outside-outside, they returned to Lessy. The Silvan Lord was now docile, almost subdued; he was saddened by his loss of victims to his trickery. "Yes, most certainly," said Lessy, "I will show you the way to Baba Yaga's hut. Yes, then you'll wish you were lost! Follow me." Banewood and Sod walked behind Lessy as he led them through the dark forest night. Since they had first met the Silvan Lord, the sun had set, changing the long shadows to a solid smear of blackness. The two travelers were both stabbed by the sharp pang of doubt as to whether Lessy could be held to his word. Whatever the status of Lessy's honor, Banewood and Sod realized that they were both in the hands of the Lord of the Forest. Lessy strode before them, mumbling to himself and emitting more strange sounds. More than once, Banewood and Sod had tripped on tree roots and stumbled to the ground. Low branches snapped back by Lessy often caught Sod in the face and chest, leaving him sore and scored. The long hours of night were unbearably drawn out in this manner. When the slender rays of first morning light pierced through the trees, the three travelers found themselves on the edge of the forest. Sod felt a heaviness in his stomach when the first realization of their plight hit him: How were they to return? Neither of them had thought of marking their way. Lessy turned to face the exhausted travelers. The faint light barely illuminated his gnarled and worn face. Banewood and Sod could only concentrate on the eyes-- those strange cat-like slits surrounded by an orange glow. "Here is where I'll leave you," said Lessy. "The rest of the way is before you. You'll probably reach the hut by mid-day." Lessy chuckled as he pointed to the path before them. As quickly as when they had found him, the Silvan Lord disappeared into the green growth of the forest. The path lay before them. Banewood and Sod stood on the edge of the dark forest and before a vast expanse of scrub. Sod preferred the darkness of the forest to what he now saw: a thin path leading through a tangle of long-thorned trees which were so closely interwoven that they seemed inpenetrable. "Why don't you try Wolksmert on those branches," offered Banewood. Sod drew his sword and swung lightly against the tangle that lay before him. Sod was glad for the chance to draw his sword and test its edge. The massive, thorny growth fell to their feet. "Only Kathryn could walk a path like this," commented Sod as he continued to slice his way through. "These branches are so sharp and tightly interwoven that only the sow could manage to walk through unscathed." The plowman and the Shaman, however, could not pass through unharmed. Even though the path was partially cleared by Sod's sword, some branches remained to tear at their clothing and puncture their skin. Punished and brutalized by the last leg of their journey, Banewood and Sod proceeded slowly, their hearts heavy with fear and anticipation. By noon, they had passed through the forest of thorns and had entered into a wide perimeter of tall grasses and occasional trees. Banewood sniffed the air and winced. "Look," he said, pointing to a large copse of assorted and vile smelling weeds. "This must have once been Baba Yaga's herb garden." The expanse of foul-smelling weeds grew unbounded. They had probably been untended for many decades, but they still held firm against the encroaching forest and field. One fell weed pitted itself against the other for dominance of space. It was an evil looking tangle. Banewood hoped he could return by this path and gather some of the herbs. A few were familiar to him; they were shaman's herbs. Some plants had divinatory purposes, some had medicinal uses. Other plants were total strangers to Banewood's herbal. These were the most curious to the novice. Reluctantly, the two pressed on. Because of the tall grass, Banewood and Sod didn't see the hut until they were almost in front of it. The hut of Baba Yaga loomed dark before them. Centuries old, the hut was partially collapsed at one end; it appeared like an apparition, grayish and fragile. The grass about the hut was trampled-- signs of a current inhabitant. Banewood was shaken by the sight; it was an eerie recollection of his divinatory dreams, minus the malevolent red eyes. Sod sensed the nervousness of his companion and gripped Wolksmert tightly. He glanced over his shoulder and searched around them. The scene was quiet. Not even a bird song could be heard. Sod turned and shook his companion's hand. It was a farewell to their past and an initiation to whatever would befall them in the moments ahead. Banewood and Sod resolutely approached the hut. It looked weak, but it stood in evidence of craftsmanship from a forgotten century. Patches of straw, now grayish, were still attached to the roof. A few strange weeds had taken residence on the roof in order to catch extra light. On the roof's peak perched a dark bird. It was a raven. It waddled about and croaked a few times, picked at the wood and then silently winged out of sight. Sod held out Wolksmert and walked toward the dimly lit entrance of the ramshackle hut. Fat spiders retreated to the shadows with the approach of the plowman. Sod's heart quickened and his whole body started to tremble slightly. He placed his feet carefully to avoid making any sounds. With Banewood close behind, Sod craned his neck through the doorway. It took an agonizing instant for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dim light. Was there something inside? Had it heard them coming? Where is it? Nothing stirred within. Lying among the cloven tracks and defacation, however, was a flattened pile of leaves-- Kathryn's bed. The stench from inside made Sod gag. Confirming their worst fears, it seemed that Kathryn, the monstrous sow which had rampaged through Gorod, was now living in the hut of Baba Yaga. Signs of the monstrous sow were everywhere. Most of the hut's interior was badly battered and decayed. Scattered debris on the ground may have once stood for a chair. Few furnishings remained distinguishable. In the far corner, though, near the bed of leaves, stood a dark and mouldering chest. The brass straps and brads had long since turned green and disintegrated from the moisture. Banewood saw the chest and could not restrain his curiosity. He entered the hut and opened the chest. Most of the wood was badly decayed, and it fell apart when it was disturbed. Inside the chest, however, the contents were fairly well preserved. Banewood unwrapped a book-sized, oilskin-covered bundle which was on top of other items. It was a book. "I don't believe this," whispered Banewood in awe. "Don't believe what," said Sod, not believing that Banewood dared to utter a sound in the lair of Kathryn. "It looks like Baba Yaga's book of spells. I can't make out some of the writing; it's an old script. This is one of the books my old master told me about. It contains the ancient secrets of sorcery. This is an unbelievable discovery." "Well, pack up your discovery and let's get out of here. This place makes me nervous," said Sod. His hands began to sweat and he could feel the weight of his sword sliding through. Banewood hastily rewrapped the package and stuffed it into his own sack. On an impulse, he picked up another small bundle, which upon inspection, contained what looked like a Shaman's smoke mixture. Banewood lashed the sack to his belt and the two retreated back into the daylight. When Banewood and Sod stepped outside, they saw that the scraggly raven had returned. Seeing the plowman and his companion, it cried out in a raucous frenzy. Through the cacophony, Sod and Banewood heard another sound: a terrifying squealing and trampling sound. Towering above the distant grass was a massive black shape. Thin, gray hair lay matted on its back and around it's notched ears. It was a wonder that such a large beast could have existed unnoticed for so many years, but it is true: The forest hides many secrets. Clouds and fumes emanated from around the creature's snout. It reared its head up and Banewood and Sod could see a pair of blazing red eyes. "It's Kathryn," thought Sod. "It's Baba Yaga," thought Banewood. "We're in trouble," said the two aloud. Sod was possessed by a grave doubt as to his future being. This whole scene was a nightmare and he wished he could wake up. What finally woke Sod up was the one thing which he had most feared. Like a fish, Wolksmert's handle slid through the gripped fingers of the plowman and fell to the ground. When Sod reached to pick it back up, it immediately slid out of his grasp. Kathryn was charging and spewing her fiery froth. Banewood loosed a Ludki arrow at the charging Kathryn, but it glanced off of the sow's forehead. Sod was distraught, to say the least. His sword would not remain in his hand. Banewood, seeing Sod's plight, ran forward and shouted at the charging Kathryn. A spray of singeing fire told Banewood that he succeeded in getting her attention. He ran around the hut in an attempt to lead Kathryn away from Sod, who was still pathetically trying to grip his sword. A bit of Kathryn's breath caught the corner of Baba Yaga's hut and ignited the tinder-dry structure. Evidently, however, Kathryn's fiery froth had a limit, for it quickly decreased in range and intensity to the point of being a caustic dribble. Banewood took advantage of this and became bolder in his taunts. He loosed a few Ludki arrows at the enraged sow in order to further torment her. It worked. Banewood saw a nearby tree that he thought could hold his weight. He ran to it and limberly pulled himself up the trunk. He had previously discarded his backpack and other paraphernalia, but he neglected to untie the tiny old bag which held the ancient smoking mixture. It ripped open as Banewood shinned up the trunk, spilling its contents around the base of the tree. Kathryn was not an ignorant sow. She saw this grand opportunity to harvest the tree's single fruit: Banewood. She ran headlong into the sturdy trunk of the tree and splintered part of the trunk. She tore at the ground around the tree with her hooves and layed her forehead against the trunk in an attempt to batter it down. Kathryn kicked up a cloud of the ancient herbal mixture torn from Banewood's belt. Her two wide nostrils inhaled part of the cloud and Kathryn no longer felt any pain. Hitting the tree with her head was easy; in fact, it was fun. Sod saw the impending danger that Banewood was in. It was Sod's fault, he thought, that Banewood even came on this journey. He couldn't let him die. Sod had decided to go into this quest, and by his life, he would take it to its completion. He picked up a rock and threw it squarely at Kathryn's rear. Kathryn turned about and faced Sod. He taunted her with insults to her genealogy. Sod hardly noticed that he now gripped Wolksmert firmly in both hands. He spaced his legs, hurled another insult and waited. The smoking mixture continued to work on Kathryn's brain. It had a strange, numbing sensation. Colors burst before her crimson eyes. Directly in front of her stood a tattered and sweaty plowman-- easy prey and a quick lunch. Suddenly, though, she was faced by two plowman-- no problem-- then a third. Three Sod's stood before the eyes of an enraged and disoriented sow. Baba Yaga's mixture, whatever it was, buzzed around in Kathryn's head like a swarm of happy bees. Kathryn decided that the plowman on the left, Sod number three, was the real one. It didn't really matter; she could always come back and finish off the other two. She charged with full fury. Distance between the two retreated with the sound of thundering cloven hooves. Sod number two, the one in the middle, didn't quite understand why Kathryn was veering so much to his right. No matter-- Wolksmert, guided by the plowman's strong arm, swung with the ease of a baton but crashed with the weight of a boulder. Blood poured from Kathryn's head. Blood ran to the ground in red rivers and stained the dusty feet of the plowman. Blood dripped from the shining blade of Wolksmert. Kathryn was dead. It was several minutes before either Sod or Banewood moved or said anything. Sod stood alone with his sword dripping blood to the ground. Banewood shouted from the tree. "You killed her. I can't believe that it happened so quickly." "Quickly?" Sod thought hours passed during Kathryn's charge. "I owe you my life," said Banewood. "How can I ever repay you?" "Don't worry," said Sod, who smiled for the first time. "It all comes out in the wash." Without having to discuss their next step. The two quietly and deliberately set about gathering dried brush and grass for a fire. It took nearly an hour to amass the giant pyre, but it was finally built and easily set aflame from the embers of Baba Yaga's smoldering hut. The evening light was brightened by the burning pile of brush. A night bird sang vespers, and the wind whispered softly over the plains, gently fanning the blaze. -Roman Olynyk <>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>