Free Hunt the Space-Witch! by Robert Silverberg Page B

the dripping, shivering, utterly miserable Levrod.
    Dovirr tightened his grip. Strike an unarmed man? Why —
    He banished the thought. Levrod would have killed him unhesitatingly; besides, Gowyn’s orders were orders. He lunged; the stroke was true. Levrod crumpled. Gowyn kicked the corpse over the side of the pier. Slowly, a red stain seeped out over the oily harbor water.
    Instantly there was a flutter of fins, and the body disappeared. The Seaborn , Dovirr thought moodily. Feeding on their landborn brother .
    â€œWe now have one vacancy aboard the Garyun . Your name, youngster?”
    â€œDovirr Stargan,” he stammered. Could it be possible? Was it really happening?
    â€œWelcome to the Garyun , Dovirr Stargan. You’re young, but I like your spirit. Besides, I long suspected Levrod’s loyalty.”

Chapter Two
    The wide, uneasy sweep of the sea spread out before Dovirr as he stood near the prow of the Garyun , feeling the salty tang blow sharply against him. The sky was dark; overburdened clouds hung low, threatening cold rain, and the golden-brown fins of the Seaborn broke the surface here, there, cleaving the sea at random.
    Looking outward, Dovirr thought of the Seaborn—those strange once-human things man had created centuries ago in a fruitless attempt to halt the onslaught of the unstoppable Dhuchay’y .
    â€œThinking, Dovirr?” a deep voice said.
    He turned. Gowyn stood beside him. In the six months he had been aboard the ship, Dovirr had won a firm place in the grizzled Thalassarch’s affections. Gowyn was near middle age; he had held dominance on the Western Sea more than twenty years. Time ran against him. He sought a successor—and, Dovirr hoped, he had found one at last.
    â€œThinking, sire. Of the Seaborn.”
    Gowyn squinted at the flashing fins. “Our brethren of the deep? Someday you’ll taste their teeth, young one.”
    â€œIs it true, sire? That they eat humans who fall below?”
    Gowyn shrugged heavy shoulders. “You will find that out the day you topple overboard. I’ve never had cause to know—but a dying seaman will draw their fins within an instant.”
    â€œStrange,” Dovirr said, “that they should prey on us. They were men once themselves, weren’t they?”
    â€œThe sons of men only.” Shadows swept the Thalassarch’s face. “Years past—when the Earth was dry land, when the Dhuchay’y first came—man created the Seaborn to fight the alien conquerors.” He chuckled sardonically. “It was hopeless. The Dhuchay’y defeated the Seaborn legions with ease, set a mighty rod in the ocean—and the spreading seas covered the land.”
    â€œWhat were they like, the Dhuchay’y? ”
    â€œAmphibians! They lived on sea, on land. They flooded our world to provide breeding ground for their spawn, who live in the sea until grown—and also to rid themselves of the troublesome beings who lived on the land. It was the Dhuchay’y that built the floating cities, and kept a few of us alive to serve them.” Moodily, Gowyn clenched his fists. “Oh, had I been alive then, when they trampled us! But there was no stopping them. The sea covered all of Earth, save only for the cities they built. The world of our fathers lies a thousand fathoms down. The Seaborn sport in the drowned cities.”
    â€œAnd they left,” said Dovirr. “Every Dhuchay’y on Earth suddenly left one day. They gave no reason?”
    â€œNone.”
    Harsh clouds seemed to bunch on the horizon. Dovirr shivered as the chill, moisture-laden wind filled the sails. The rhythmical grunting of the oarsmen on the four decks below formed a regular pattern of sound that blended with the beating of the sea against the Garyun ’s hull.
    â€œSome day the Dhuchay’y will return,” Gowyn said suddenly. “Some day—as unexpected as their first coming, and as