Across the Face of the World (10 page)

'By degrees I made my way to a village high in the coastal moun¬tains to the south. 1 felt certain I would not be recognised here, expecting pursuit, if it came, to focus on the direct trading routes westward. I sought refuge in order to recover fully from my ordeal, and I intended to use the time to uncover the extent of the prepa¬rations for war.

'Up in the high, snowless mountains live people who try to maintain a fierce independence.

Yet after living with them for a few weeks I learned that many of their sons had been conscripted into the army. The village was busy producing weaponry - to be used in a local conflict, they assured me - for which they were paid handsomely by Traders of the lowlands.

Believing me to be a barbarian from the northern parts of Bhrudwo, with whom they were presently at peace, they were open and honest in their deal¬ings with me, so I can only assume they believed what they told me. None of them had ever heard of Faltha, but it seems that local teachers and officials had recently begun warning about an "enemy afar off' that threatened even their little highland province. I listened to one of these officials pouring out invective against this unnamed enemy, and guessed that serious recruitment was under way. I had by then learned all these good-natured people could tell me, and prepared to make the risky journey home.'

Mahnum looked into the shocked, disbelieving eyes of his family. 'The armies of Bhrudwo will be some time in the prepar-ation. Even were they to be readied within the year, their officers still must determine the best route for the long march. They will obviously attack Faltha through The Gap, just as they did a thou¬sand years ago, but getting there might be difficult. No people will put up with such a huge and hungry army cutting a path across their land, and the Bhrudwan warriors may be forced to fight even before they reach Faltha. Thus it may be a year or even more before the eastern army stands at the portals of the west. But how long will it take us to prepare a response?

'The day before 1 was to leave, Vaniyo the Trader arrived unlooked for in the village. He told me that he had arranged for me to be followed from the time I had left the ship at Malayu. He reminded me of all that he had done for me, and pointed out how his care for me had cost him much money and the loss of possible earnings. Then he asked for a share of the fabulous wealth I had carried with me from Faltha. 1 was grateful for all he had done, I told him, and I would gladly give him any possessions I could spare, but there was no wealth.

'"You are lying to me!" he hissed through his teeth. "All the villages in the north spoke of your wealth."

'I argued with him. "A necessary deceit. 1 pretended to be wealthy in order to learn from the villagers," I said. "Really, I have very little."

'I could not convince him of the truth, and he left me in anger. In a short while he returned, bringing with him two grey-cloaked men. Maghdi Dasht, they were, Lords of Fear. As they approached the house where I was staying, I made my escape from the back window. I stole a horse - the least of my crimes, yet in itself punish¬able by death - and began the long journey back to Faltha and home.

'It was a journey filled with adventures, for I could not risk trav¬elling the main trading routes. I assumed Vaniyo had betrayed me to the authorities, and I was anxious to avoid another interroga¬tion on Andratan. Twice I became lost, once in the wide inland steppes of Kanabar and once searching for the headwaters of the Aleinus. But well before I reached the borders of the westlands I became aware that I was being pursued. Four Bhrudwan warriors disguised as Traders followed me on horseback, asking for news of me in villages and trailing me on the open road. I tried every ruse I knew to shake them off - and sometimes thought I had succeeded - but somehow they always regained my trail.

'Once through The Gap and into Faltha, I was convinced my superior knowledge of the land would enable me to be rid of my unwanted fellow travellers, but again 1 was mistaken. I took the disused East Bank Road and followed the Aleinus into Piskasia, and my pursuers gained on me. Even through the trackless paths of the Wodranian Mountains they were never more than a day behind. I set traps for them; they avoided every one. Finally, in Favony, I stopped at a small village and bartered everything I had for a fresh horse, in the hope that I could outrun them. It was a tragic mistake. While I watched from the trees, the warriors destroyed the village in search of me, and took four fresh horses. I watched the inhuman things they did to the inhabitants in their quest for knowledge of me. I would have given myself up to stop those horrible scenes, yet I left that charred village behind and pressed on, knowing that only the knowledge I possessed could possibly prevent that scene being repeated in every village throughout Faltha.'

The Trader paused to rub callused hands over his tired face. 'So much suffering, so much pain!' he said wearily. 'I've seen so many terrible things, and never once was I able to intervene. In my dark days I began to believe we are all powerless against concerted evil.'

He sighed deeply. 'By the use of a little-known route through Favony I gained enough time to press my case before the King of that country. His name was not one of those seared into my mind as a traitor, but I had not counted on the treachery of his offi¬cials. He would not see me, I was told. I was delayed, and soldiers tried to prevent my departure. There my pursuers caught up with me and almost captured me. It was as though someone in the King's employ had betrayed me to them, and I was reminded of the taunts of the voice of Andratan. I barely escaped with my life. 'They kept close behind me after that, forcing me away from cities and pressing me ever northwards. I played my last trick on the borders of Firanes, as I told you, and it cost me my horse. I toyed with the idea of travelling to Rammr, but your news about the King's death convinces me that I chose correctly in coming home. Mark well! Horrible danger nips at my heels, and we must flee quickly. We must hide in another land, and I must find there some powerful ally or design some sort of plan to convince Falthans of the perils they face. If I do not succeed, there will be nowhere in Faltha for anyone to hide. Bhrudwo has had a thousand years to reflect on the mistakes made in the first Invasion. They are coming, thousands upon thousands of them, armed with steel and worse. If they succeed in occupying Faltha, they will never be driven out.'

In the quietness that followed this narrative Leith could hear a rising breeze rattling tree branches outside. The world seemed to be at peace, at odds with what his father had just finished saying. For a while no one spoke; then Hal stood and hobbled over to his father.

'How long since you slept?' he asked gently.

'Three days,' came the reply.

'Then you need rest. If we are to leave in the morning, we need you to lead us.'

Hal pressed the palm of his crippled right hand against the Trader's throbbing temple, and said, 'Sleep the sleep of a victor tonight. We'll prepare for the morning, and wake you when we're ready to leave.'

Indrett nodded at her son's last words. Anxiety wrestled with joy for mastery of her features: the joy of an unlooked-for Midwinter's gift revealed in the tent at Falthwaite End, the anxiety evoked by this outlandish tale told beside the very bricks of her own hearth, as though the evil power of Andratan loomed just outside the cottage. She looked nervously at the stout oak wood of the front door, as if she expected the Bhrudwan army to come pouring through, then studied the weary face of the one she loved and allowed its familiar lines and contours to smooth away the ripples of alarm within her.

Leith sat to the left of the hearth, not daring to meet his father's gaze, considering whether to pursue the idea lodged firmly in his mind. Hesitantly, as though controlled by some other will, his hand searched pocket after pocket until it located what it sought; then that same will brought Leith to his feet, guided him across the hearth, and opened his palm. In it rested a birch bark carving.

Mahnum reached out a tentative hand. With reverent fingers he turned the carving over until its subject became apparent.

'Thank you, son,' he said simply.

Leith waited for the embrace with which Mahnum invariably favoured him but, perhaps aware of the changes within his son, or maybe a little wary of his reception, Mahnum hesitated a moment too long. He was about to reach out when Leith turned and stumbled back to his place by the hearth.

Hal helped his father to his feet and massaged his injured knee. Father and son moved slowly towards the bedroom, leaving Indrett and Leith looking to each other for reassurance. The decision had been made. This place was no longer home.

Sleep took a long time coming to the troubled youth. He could hear Hal lurching about in his characteristic way, preparing food for the morning's journey. Hal always seemed to have hidden reserves of energy he could call on, while Leith found that a crisis left him drained and defenceless. Tonight, in his bed, Leith felt in danger of falling victim to his overstimulated mind. The world¬wide conspiracy his father had described seemed unreal and, try as he might, Leith could not make his father's return seem real either. The real events of the day, the Midwinter celebrations and the Play, filled his mind.

As he tossed and turned on the borders of sleep, the happen¬ings of this, the shortest of days, passed before him like a Midsummer pageant. The walk to Falthwaite End, the singing, the eating, the dancing, the speeches, the Play, Kurr, Stella; a day filled with long hours that were already dissolving into misty, half-formed memories in Leith's whirling consciousness. Yet as he relived the day a tall, cloaked figure was with him in every activity: walking down a snow-covered road in the soft pre-dawn light; joking with the Haufuth over the laden feast table; applauding proudly as his son defeated the black-masked Snaer and set the land free from the grip of the enemy. Only this time the enemy was not Winter, but was a Bhrudwan warrior cloaked in grey, mounted on horseback and wielding a shining steel blade. And Leith was running, running, with the howling wind at his back and the old farmer ahead of him, shouting encouragement, while his family trailed behind. Ahead, on a moonlit hill in the distance, rose a huge fortress. The wind picked him up and blew him towards it, and he was helpless in its grip.

Leith awoke with a start, drenched with sweat. He could hear a muffled banging. Tension subsided with the realisation that Hal must still be up and about. The banging stopped. As he settled towards sleep he imagined he could hear Hal making his way back Towards the bedroom. No, not Hal: the soft click of booted feet was regular. He looked across the room.

The bed beside his was occupied. Not Hal. His mother, then. Or perhaps his father! For the first time his heart thrilled with the knowledge of his father's unexpected return. Leaving Loulea didn't seem to matter as long as he never lost his father again.

His thoughts were interrupted by more footsteps. More than one pair of feet, padding with a measured, regular tread across the kitchen floor. Leith began to entertain disquieting thoughts.

His father also had a limp. Who, then . . . ?

He held himself rigid and strained his ears to hear more closely. Then, in an instant of terror, sound welled up from somewhere on the other side of the bedroom door - banging and crashing and shouting and screaming. For a moment he froze, then he threw himself out of bed and scrambled towards the door. Hal got there before him and flung the door open.

Dim figures struggled with each other in the hallway. Leith heard his mother shouting his father's name, and hurled himself in the direction of the sound. Strange voices barked things at each other. Again he heard his mother's voice, this time behind him. A dark figure stood in his way and he threw himself at it, only to be brushed off against the wall. Winded, he tried to struggle to his feet.

All was confusion and noise, then light flared inside the house. In a brief second Leith glimpsed Hal with a burning torch confronting a swarthy figure, while a second strange man grap¬pled madly with his father on the floor. His white-faced mother was being pulled outside, through the broken-down front door, by a third figure that had a gloved hand firmly clamped over her mouth. As he watched in horror, a fourth man burst in, armed with a staff.

Leith shouted a warning, but before Hal could react the staff was swung across his brother's legs. Body and torch crashed to the floor. The staff swung again, and his father collapsed limply into the arms of his adversary. They began to drag him away.

'No!' Leith shouted, and flung himself at the invaders. Almost contemptuously, one of the figures drew a curved sword from its scabbard and struck the youth an easy blow across the forehead. The house seemed to collapse inwards at Leith, his eyes rolled back and he sank to the floor beside the inert form of his brother. The figure grunted with satisfaction, then picked up the smoul-dering torch and casually set fire to the thatched roof. Outside he joined his fellows as they mounted their horses smoothly and made off with their captives.

The soft wind coming from the sea bunted at the front door of the house, moving it slightly on broken hinges. It drifted a thin snow a few feet inside the kitchen, and flicked at the sandy hair of the boy lying bleeding on the floor. It sussurrated unimpeded through the whole house, blowing past shattered furniture and scattered possessions. And gently it caressed the tiny red flames as they spread slowly but hungrily across the thatch and down the walls.

THE FARMER

THE MORNING SUN SHONE bright and clear, supervising a roguish westerly breeze. The wind caressed the freshly fallen snow, rattled the bones of the tall poplars and ruffled the dark tunics of the mourners gathered around the two open graves. Around them swirled the glory and bitterness of life: the heartswelling sound of songbirds, the cheeky glint of the sun on the swift-running brook, the crisp wind on downcast faces, the pungent smell of freshly turned earth; the salty taste of sadness and death on such a morning as this filled the hearts of the people grouped together at the grave¬side. The Haufuth spoke deliberately and with restraint, his meas¬ured words reminding the village of the uncertainty of life and the strength of the earth to which they would all one day return. After a time of quiet reflection, four young men stepped up. They lifted and lowered first one casket, then the other into the graves. Then they took up spades and, as the villagers watched, buried their friends.