Across the Face of the World (15 page)

'Yes, but in the winter? Surely the Westway, though the shorter, will prove the slower?'

'I'm sure you are right. But do they know that? They are foreigners in this land. Might they not simply retrace their steps to Bhrudwo, not knowing any other route?'

'That is far more likely,' the headman admitted.

'It is my hope that they are forcing Mahnum to act as their guide. He may have chosen the Westway for them, knowing it will slow them down. The horsemen will not know about winters behind the Fells, a fact that may be our first piece of good fortune.'

It was time to leave. Stella emerged from another room, her arm firmly held by Merin. Leith felt light-headed; whether from fear of the unknown, the excitement of imminent departure, worry about his parents, or sheer nervous exhaustion, he could not tell.

A hand ruffled his hair. 'Best we get moving,' Kurr said. 'You'll be all right, boy. Plenty of your father in you.'

As they filed out the back door of the headman's house and strode off into the night, Leith looked within himself for what¬ever bravery his father might have passed on to him. He found only fear.

UNDER WATCH HILL

FURTIVE SHADOWS FLICKERED ACROSS the flank of the ridge overlooking Loulea.

Below them the night lights went out one by one, and slowly the village sank into sleep. The moon picked out the figures - one, two, three, four, five, all but the last leading a horse - as they paused to look across the small northern valley that contained their lives. Tree groves were dark smudges on the shimmering snow-dappled valley bottom ground, silver where the snow lay on last year's fields, charcoal-grey over scrubby hillslopes. Through the valley wound the gossamer thread of Lime Brook, which flowed into the Vale from under the Great North Woods in the far distance, then turned west just short of Loulea and funnelled between Swill Down and Bream Hill to the sea.

As beguiling as this midwinter view was, the eyes of those on the ridge were drawn to the east. There they could see the line of Brookside Road, marked by the shadows of tall hedges.

Beyond the road the ground rose into Garrison Hill, around and behind which snaked the Westway on its journey inland from Loulea and the sea. Only three leagues away, hidden by the bulk of the hill, lay Vapnatak, the largest town in the North March of Firanes. On the far side of the Westway they could make out the upper slopes of Watch Hill, the highest point in the region. A single point of light burned near its summit.

Stella desperately wanted to leave this valley tonight. The men had made her follow them out of the village, and the path they chose had taken them so close to her own house she felt sure that a shout would have brought her father running. But she had not shouted. Even though they were going into danger and perhaps death, she had decided to follow. Better death than a life with Druin.

Kurr pointed to the light atop Watch Hill. 'There are our beds,' he commented. 'Now I have settled my mind that the farm is secure, we can go on to Kroptur's house. Two hours and we can rest!'

'I hope Kroptur is ready for us,' the Haufuth breathed ner¬vously. 'I've never met the man.'

'He will be ready. Do you think he keeps his lamp burning this late every night? And don't worry. Legend and rumour make a man more than he is in reality.'

The Haufuth grunted, then turned and walked away. They were off down the hill, away from the moonlit vista, heading towards the Westway, away from Loulea.

As they walked, Leith ran the last few hours through his mind. They had embarked on a journey that might well change their lives. They were headed into Fell country, through Breidhan Moor and maybe beyond, travelling at the wrong time of year. Of the five, only Stella and he could be described as young, fit and healthy. Kurr looked old and thin, walking there up the front with the aid of his stick; the Haufuth puffed behind him in a sort of shuffling waddle, though he had left his walking stick behind; and Hal - well, Hal had perfected a spidery walk that saw his good left leg shoot out and his withered leg trail behind, acting only as a balance. It was almost comical to look at, but Leith didn't laugh. His older brother was nothing if not cour¬ageous, and had spent years learning to adapt to his disability.

Leith grunted inwardly. I haven't adapted to being normal, he thought wryly.

He adjusted his pack. 'Sit your pack high up on your shoulders,' Kurr had said. 'Do the belt up tight around your waist. Lean forward - let the weight sit above you, not behind you. Let it push you forward, not pull you back!' Fortunately, he reflected, they were going to load most of this stuff on to the horses once they arrived at Watch Hill.

Sometime late in the evening the Bhrudwans reined in their steeds and made camp. Rough hands jerked Mahnum from his horse and he fell to the ground, the fall serving to wake him.

Still bound hand and foot, he was dragged across bare ground and propped, half dazed, in a sitting position against the rough trunk-of a pine tree. He cast frantic glances around the little wooded corpse until finally he saw what he most wanted to see. There, across the small clearing, set against a Y-shaped tree and with a broken limb over¬shadowing her, was Indrett.

He looked more closely, and he was cut to the quick. Her face was caked with blood, her eyes were swollen shut, her face a mass of welts and her hair straggled lank and filthy over her bent shoul¬ders. Bent but not broken, Mahnum thought. They would kill her before they broke her spirit. Fear rose within him at the thought. Was she still alive? The flush of her cheeks, the rise and fall of her breast - she lived yet. Oh Most High! He sat against the base of the tree, unable to do more than watch her from afar, while around him the Bhrudwans set up camp. They pitched a curious, round-shaped tent, tethered their horses next to Mahnum's pine tree and set about cooking a meal, but the Trader hardly noticed. He was heartsick with longing for his Indrett, he was frustrated with his inability to help her, and stricken by the certain know¬ledge of what these murderers could and would do to her.

Later that night hunger awoke him from a fitful dozing that had been filled with dark shapes, questions, threats and blows. The Bhrudwans had not fed their captives, nor had they been given anything to drink. It is unlikely anything could have gotten past these swollen lips, though Mahnum bitterly. Next to him a horse nick¬ered softly, then nuzzled him. These beasts were not evil like their masters. Such evil! He had learned much about these Bhrudwans in the last year; how they combined a frightening singleminded-ness with great strength and discipline; their absolute obedience to their leader; their lack of any moral inhibition; their love of violence. How could he have led them home to Loulea? What was he thinking? He felt the horse nuzzle him again, half-apologetically, as if concerned for his wellbeing.

Then the germ of an idea began to take shape in his mind. Farfetched, but possible. Right out of the legend of Cowyn the Hunter it came. Nothing to lose. Why not? But would he have the strength? No time to wonder, he thought. Do it now! He rolled to the right and fell away from the tree to lie prone on the bare, stony ground. The breath was knocked out of him and he lay there for a long time, exhausted. Then slowly, painfully, he forced his stiff body around in circles as his hands scrabbled behind his back for the stone he was looking for. There were a few stones loosely embedded in the soil, but after feeling them he discarded them one at a time. Be patient, he told himself. You've got all night. Stay awake. Wait for the right one. His fingernails filled with dirt as he scrabbled sightlessly in the soil.

Finally he found what he was looking for: a perfect sliver of stone, small but razor-sharp. For a moment he thought of trying to cut his bonds, of freeing Indrett, of escaping these cruel men. How far would we get? he mocked himself. Probably not even out of these woods. He sighed. His first idea was probably his best - and if it didn't work, probably his last.

Slowly, carefully, he wriggled back to the tree trunk. Now he made low murmuring noises, sounds he hoped were reassuring to the animals nearby. Again he had to find something, and again he would have to use his hands, bound tightly behind him. The moonlight shone through the trees, but was of little use. He groped until he found it: a horse's leg. Now sure of himself, he deftly pulled the leg up, speaking soothingly to the horse as its breath ruffled his hair. He held the sliver of stone between thumb and forefinger, took a deep breath - he would have only one chance - then felt for that dull, gristly spot between hoof and shoe. With all the strength he could muster, he drove the stone shard up into the gristle. The horse neighed and shook his head, that was all, at the slight pain in its hoof. But it was enough. Immediately those in the tent stirred, and someone came out to see what the matter was. Mahnum had only a moment. With all his remaining strength he twisted across the ground until he felt the tree behind him, then pulled himself against it. The horse neighed again and stamped its leg, forcing the sliver deeper into the hoof. It will be only an annoyance at first, Mahnum thought absently as he slumped against the trunk, trying to quieten his ragged breathing. Now one of the Bhrudwans strode across the open space to check on the horses. Surely he would see that his captive had been up to some¬thing? A wave of pain and nausea washed over Mahnum. I must not be sick, he thought. Where was the Bhrudwan? Would he notice the disturbed ground? Light-headed and giddy, Mahnum had lapsed into unconsciousness by the time the warrior got to him.

The Bhrudwan gave a grunt. These Falthans were soft, and he felt nothing but contempt for even the best of them. He kicked his captive expertly in the ribs, and heard the satisfying crack of leather against bone. This one is in no condition to cause trouble, he mused. But he will provide us with much entertainment before he tells us what we want to know. He'll tell us, of that there can be no doubt. By the time we've finished, he'll be begging us to listen.

Content, he wandered back to the tent, while behind him one of the horses stamped his right foreleg, trying to rid himself of an irritation in his hoof.

It was well into the early hours when the Company finally tracked under Watch Hill.

Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour, or maybe the excite¬ment and tension of their mission had taken something out of them, but the determination to stride out quickly, to make up time on the Bhrudwans, had somehow dissolved into tired stumbling as they made their way along the Westway towards the outskirts of Vapnatak. At least, Leith hoped there was some sensible reason for their slowness, a reason other than that they were unfit, cruelly unsuited for such a journey. The stony road crunched under their boots, a sound so loud that Leith was sure it would drive away any animals, or lead to their discovery should anyone come looking for them. On either side of the road stood tall hedges, against which were piled high drifts of snow. The moon hovered just above the horizon, and the shadows cast by the hedges made it difficult to see.

Behind the hedges to the left rose the shadowy bulk of Watch Hill, Magic Mountain as the children of Loulea knew it. Every once in a while some child claimed to have climbed Watch Hill, but none could prove it. Watch Hill had always been off limits to the children of Loulea Vale. The Haufuth said it was because a remnant of the Great North Wood covered its slopes, a haven for wild animals, but the children knew better. It was Magic Mountain, the place where the Sorcerer lived. Leith made a point of never looking at it on his way to and from Vapnatak, the few times he had been there. The Westway passed right underneath it.

I don't believe in the Sorcerer, Leith told himself, then grimaced. I didn't believe in Bhruduians, either, until a few days ago.

Over the brow of a low saddle they crunched. Looking back from his position behind Hal, Leith could see a small part of the Vale of Loulea. Ahead, around the next bend, they would see the lights of Vapnatak. The horses began down the slope.

Kurr barked a sudden command. 'Stop!'

Immediately the horses were reined in; and in the cold silence that followed they could all hear the sound of footsteps coming from somewhere ahead of them.

'No sense in hiding,' said the old farmer in a low voice. 'If we can hear him, he can hear us.'

'Why do we need to hide, anyway?' Leith breathed to his brother.

'Night travellers out on midwinter roads would make a great story in these parts,' Hal replied.

'Someone in Loulea might work out who the travellers were, and come out after us.'

'Oh! And what—'

'Shhh!' breathed the Haufuth.

At that moment a tall, stooped figure emerged from between hedges beside the road, some way ahead of the Company. He had a lantern in his hand.

Kurr breathed out his relief as a sigh. 'Master!' he exclaimed. 'What are you doing on the road?'

'More to th' point, what are you people doin' out here so late?' crackled the reply in a voice like fire. 'You should have been here hours since!' He paused, counting the Company. 'Five?

Why five?'

'When I explain why we are late, you will understand why we are five and not four,' said Kurr. 'But why don't we talk inside? It's cold out here, and we're making a lot of noise.'

The shadow in front of them grunted a reply that Leith did not catch.

They picked their way slowly down the stony road, then abruptly turned to the left and ascended a steep and narrow path that edged its way up a bush-clad slope. The higher they climbed, the more Leith could see, until Vapnatak was spread out before him. A few lights flickered insistently behind the city walls, but otherwise that town too was asleep.

Looking back, he imagined he could make out the Vale and the lights of his home village.

One last glimpse and they were gone, swallowed in the dark tree shadows of Watch Hill.

Near the crown of the hill was a large house. Their ascent, by a narrow, winding path through a forest of tall pine trees, had taken the best part of an hour. For a while during the climb Leith had peered uneasily left and right into the darkness under the forest eaves, half expecting the denizens of Magic Mountain to appear -perhaps the Sorcerer himself leading a party of goblins and fairies, all with blazing green eyes and flames coming out of their mouths