Sterling E. Lanier - Hiero Desteen.pdf - NEW EBOOKS - Bartuch310

Table of Contents

Hiero's Journey

The Unforsaken Hiero

Prologue

III

VII

VIII

XII

Epilogue

Glossary

About the Author

HIERO'S JOURNEY

THE UNFORSAKEN HIERO

Page 1

HIERO DESTEEN

Sterling E. Lanier

Synopsis

Per Hiero Desteen was a priest, a telepath—and a highly trained killer. Together with his great riding

moose and the young bear who was his friend, he was on an extraordinary mission. For this was five

thousand years after the holocaust known as The Death. Now the evil Brotherhood of the Unclean was

waging all-out war against the few remnants of normal humanity, determined to wipe out all traces of its

emerging civilization. Hiero's task was to bring back a lost secret of the ancients that might save the

humans. But his path lay through the very heart of the territory ruled by the Unclean and their hordes of

mutated, intelligent, savage beast followers. And the Unclean were waiting for him!

Contents

Hiero's Journey

Page 2

The Unforsaken Hiero

Prologue

III

VII

VIII

XII

Epilogue

Glossary

About the Author

Hiero's Journey

A Romance of the Future

To Lester and Judy-Lynn del Rey, who did all the new work.

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The Sign of the Fishhook

The Computer Man, thought Hiero. That sounds crisp, efficient, and what's more, important. Also, his

negative side added, mainly meaningless as yet.

Under his calloused buttocks, the bull morse, whose name was Klootz, ambled slowly along the dirt

track, trying to snatch a mouthful of browse from neighboring trees whenever possible. His protruding

blubber lips were as good as a hand for this purpose.

Per Hiero Desteen, Secondary Priest-Exorcist, Primary Rover, and Senior Killman, abandoned his

brooding and straightened in the high-cantled saddle. The morse also stopped his leaf-snatching and

came alert, rack of forward-pointing, palmate antlers lifting. Although the wide-spread beams were in the

velvet and soft now, the great black beast, larger than any long-extinct draft horse, was an even more

murderous fighter with his sharp, splayed hooves.

Hiero listened intently and reined Klootz to a halt. A dim uproar was growing increasingly louder ahead,

a swell of bawling and aaahing noises, and the ground began to tremble. Hiero knew the sound well and

so did the morse. Although it was late August here in the far North, the buffer were already moving south

in their autumn migration, as they had for uncounted thousands of years.

Morse and rider tried to peer through the road's border of larch or alder. The deeper gloom of the big

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pines and scrub palmetto beyond prevented any sight going further, but the noise was getting steadily

louder.

Hiero tried a mind probe on Klootz, to see if he was getting a fix on the herd's position. The greatest

danger lay in being trapped in front of a wide-ranging herd, with the concomitant inability to get away to

either side. The buffer were not particularly mean, but they weren't especially bright either, and they

slowed down for almost nothing except fire.

The morse's mind conveyed uneasiness. He felt that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Hiero decided not to delay any longer and turned south off the trail, allowing Klootz to pick a way, and

hopefully letting them get off at an angle to the oncoming buffer.

Just as they left the last sight of the road, Hiero looked back. A line of great, brown, rounded heads,

some of them carrying six-foot, polished, yellow horns, broke through the undergrowth onto the road as

he watched. The grunting and bawling was now very loud indeed. An apparently endless supply of buffer

followed the huge herd bulls.

Hiero kicked the morse hard and also applied the goad of his mind.

Come on, stupid, he urged. Find a place where they'll have to split, or we've had it.

Klootz broke into a shambling trot, which moved the great body along at a surprising rate. Avoiding

trees and crashing bushes aside, the huge animal paced along through the forest, looking deceptively

slow. Hiero rode easily, watching for overhanging branches, even though the morse was trained to avoid

them.

The man's leather boots, deer-hide breeches, and jacket gave him a good deal of protection from the

smaller branches which whipped him as they tore along. He wore nothing on his head but a leather skull

cap, his copper helmet being kept in one of the saddlebags. He kept one hand raised to guard his face

and mentally flogged the morse again. The big beast responded with increased speed and also rising

irritation, which Hiero felt as a wave of mental heat.

Sorry, I'll let you do your own job, he sent, and tried to relax. No one was exactly sure just how

intelligent a morse really was. Bred from the mutated giant moose many generations before, although well

after The Death, they were marvelous draft and riding animals. The Abbeys protected their herds

carefully and sold their prized breeding stock with great reluctance. But there was a stubborn core of

independence which no one had been able to breed out, and allied to it, an uncertain but high degree of

intelligence.

The Abbey psykes were still testing their morses and would continue to do so.

Hiero swore suddenly and slapped at his forehead. The mosquitoes and black flies were attacking, and

the splash of water below indicated Klootz was aiming for a swamp. Behind them, the uproar of the herd

was growing muted. The buffer did not like swamps, although quite capable of swimming for miles at

need.

Hiero did not like swamps either. He signaled "halt" with his legs and body, and Klootz stopped. The

bull broke wind explosively. "Naughty," Hiero said, looking carefully about.

Pools of dark water lay about them. Just ahead, the water broadened into a still pond of considerable

size. They had stopped on an island of rock, liberally piled with broken logs, no doubt by the past

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