Across the Face of the World (19 page)

But though it was wild, to these northern dwellers the land¬scape was far from empty. Their passing disturbed a number of creatures, and Leith was delighted to see a covey of ptarmigan rise noisily from a belt of trees to their left. Though there were few other animals to be seen, apart from wheeling gulls off to their right, the marshes harboured a wide variety of wildlife.

Fieldmice, rabbits, weasels, stoats and the beautiful mink, the red fox and maybe the occasional white fox; all would be going about their business unconcerned about a few humans riding down the road.

By late afternoon the countryside had become discernibly wetter, and no more farm gates bordered the Westway. Raised on its own stony bank, the road divided a seemingly endless sea of rushes, still running straight ahead in far too much of a hurry to be mistaken for anything natural. They reined in to let Kurr swap places with Stella, and Hal swap with Leith.

As Leith remounted he could hear the wind in the marsh-grass. From somewhere to his left came the plaintive piping of a bird. Then they were off again, the wind roaring in his ears, and sensation receded save the numbing pain in his buttocks and lower back.

The world had descended into twilight by the time the trav¬ellers stopped for their evening meal. Still the marshes stretched out on both sides of the Westway, though the hills to the left, after having all but petered out during the afternoon, had drawn in closer again.

'We must travel further tonight,' the farmer told them, 'and take advantage of the moon. It has been a long time since I have ridden this far, and distances are difficult to judge in such a feature¬less land, but my guess is that it is still another ten miles before the fens fail and we can leave the road to find a place to spend the night. We cannot sleep here on the road, where the exposure to night winds would freeze us. And we must go more slowly. I do not want to risk injury to any of the horses. They have had a hard day.'

The weary Company walked their mounts for the next four hours. Dusk slowly turned to night, and for an hour or so it was quite dark, the stars giving the only light. Then the moon rose over the reeds to their right, and they could see again. Nothing had changed; the road continued on its course straight for the distant and now invisible Fells. Leith found his eyes growing heavy, and he struggled to stay awake. After a time he noticed that the shadowy ground was slowly rising to left and right, and the marsh-grasses were thinning out. Then, to his relief, he heard Kurr's voice: 'Over to the left, in the shadow of those trees. We'll spend the night there.'

The Company pulled aside from the road into a stand of pines, dismounted and tethered the horses to the trunks of tall trees. The branches, hanging almost to the ground, would provide enough shelter from the wind. Kurr set a fire in an old hearth while the others cleared a space to sleep amongst the pine needles. One by one the five members of the Company wrapped blankets around themselves and settled down to sleep.

As if to help the Company make maximum progress, the next two days dawned fine, windless and frosty, with the warmth of the afternoon sun melting the last of the remaining snow on the road verges. The three horses were ridden steadily during the third day and walked during the moonlit hours. The third night found them sheltering under another stand of trees not more than a mile short of the Troldale Road, marked by a strange Y-shaped pine. In this fashion the Company arrived at the Alvaspan, the last bridge over the Mjolkelva, at dusk on the fourth day since they had left Watch Hill.

The bridge was no more than a series of wide planks set on wooden piles, but it was the one dry crossing of the river between here and its source. The only other safe way of crossing the wide expanse of slow-moving water was by ferry at Windrise, two days further up the road, though crossings could be hazarded at times of low water at a number of places between the Alvaspan and Windrise. The Haufuth let out a shout of joy as they approached the bridge, for beyond the crossing lay the lights of the town of Mjolkbridge, and the possibility of ale and a comfortable lodging. The Company clattered across the bridge at the close of a long, wearying day.

At the far end of the bridge, they were met by a man holding a staff across his chest. He shouted something that Leith did not catch, and motioned for them to dismount. While the rest of the Company did as they were asked, Kurr remained astride his horse.

'What is the problem?' the old farmer asked gruffly.

The man laid down his staff, then drew a gleaming sword. 'Please, sir,' he said politely but firmly, 'get down from your horse.'

'Since when is the Alvaspan held against men of the North March?' Kurr demanded.

The man relaxed visibly at the mention of the March. 'If you will dismount, we might be able to explain ourselves.'

As Kurr dismounted he caught sight of other men in the shadows, armed with axes, staves and knives. He held out his hands, palms up, in the Firanese sign of goodwill.

'Why is our way barred? We mean no harm!'

'What is the nature of your journey?' the man asked in reply.

'We are travelling to Windrise,' Kurr said carefully. 'One of our number is the Haufuth of Loulea, who is taking his niece to visit some of their relations. The others of our Company wish to see the beauty of the Torrelstrommen valley, of which we have heard much.'

Half-suppressed laughter came from the shadows. Evidently the name of the Haufuth of Loulea was known in Mjolkbridge.

'The valley of the Torrelstrommen is indeed beautiful, but you have chosen the wrong time of year to see it.' The man sheathed his sword, but still barred their path. 'That valley is an autumn wonder, but will now be locked up in the winter snows.' He looked at the Company with suspicion. 'This is not the season for trav-elling on the Westway!'

The situation was beginning to get out of hand. 'We agree with you!' Kurr replied, with an attempt at heartiness. 'However, we have heard that the uncle of our Haufuth is very ill, perhaps near to death, and we cannot wait until spring. We have ridden hard these last four days, and will continue to do so until we arrive in Windrise - if we are allowed to pass this bridge!'

'Wait there a moment!' the man commanded, then withdrew to talk with the other men in the shadows. A few moments later he stepped forward again. 'You may pass,' he said, 'and then you must come with us.'

'Must?' muttered the Haufuth. I wonder what has gotten into these people? He shuffled after the small knot of men towards a lightless lodge at the far end of the bridge. Whatever it is, I hope it hasn't affected the quality of their ale.

Shutters were drawn, lamps were lit and chairs were pulled up for the five travellers. Leith found himself sitting behind the bulk of his village headman. Across a bare table sat a youngish man with greying hair and a worried frown, his companions hidden away out of the flickering lamplight.

'Now, then,' began the young man, whom Leith recognised as the man who had talked to them on the bridge, 'I'm sorry you haven't paid us the courtesy of telling the truth about your travels.' He smiled wryly. 'But that is your business. Had we not known the Haufuth of Loulea, at least by reputation if not by sight, we might have been a little more insistent in our questioning. However, let me reassure you that we are confident of your trust¬worthiness.

Whatever your business, the people of Mjolkbridge will be glad to help you where we can.'

The Haufuth muttered his thanks.

'Why the guard on the bridge?' Kurr persisted.

Some of the men in the shadows began muttering in response to the stranger's show of bad manners. Accent the offer, Leith willed. Don't get us into trouble.

'Quiet!' barked the young man, turning on his countrymen. 'Please continue,' he said to the old farmer, but the politeness was forced.

'I've lived in these lands for many years, good and bad, and I've never heard of bridges being barred to men of the North March before. Where is the legendary hospitality of the Mjolk valley?'

The frown on the young man's face deepened. 'I have said we will help you, oldling, and help you we will. In many parts of the world that alone would be hospitality enough for legend.

But since you have insisted on uncovering that which we obviously wish to conceal, I will explain our behaviour. Food, drink and a soft bed, those things will have to wait a while.' He paused and looked over his shoulder, as though seeking support from the men behind him. 'As for the reception on the bridge . .. three days ago, two strangers rode over the Alvaspan and into our village. One of our men, a farmer from the slopes of Vinkullen, was in the village collecting supplies. He was about to leave when the strangers approached. The two men ran him down and attacked him with their swords, then took his horse and rode off upvalley.

'By the time we discovered what had happened they had made off. Poor Storr told us what happened before he died of his wounds. We have few horses here, but such as we have were mounted and pressed into a pursuit. A little distance up the Westway we came across three men at the side of the road, standing around a shallow grave, conducting some kind of ceremony. They were burying a horse.

'As we rode up, filled with anger and thoughts of revenge, the three men walked out into the road brandishing swords.' The young man licked his lips nervously. 'We of Mjolkbridge are brave of heart, never taking a backward step when challenged. At least that's what we like to think. But it has been many years since last we rode to battle, and that only against the land-grabbing Windrisians. But we ... Suddenly we could see nothing but the sharp edges of their swords, and read our deaths on the faces of these strangers, so we retreated and set up watch at both ends of the village, lest they return. I can put it no more clearly than to say we were bewitched. Wiser heads may say that we were afraid, yet it did not feel like fear at the time, just common sense. I know not how to explain it, save to say we were under the spell of enchanters.'

The Haufuth nodded and said quietly, 'Brothers, we do not judge you. Believe me.'

'You people are the first travellers on the road since then. To be honest, we thought you were the riders returning, clattering over the Alvaspan in the twilight. I hope you understand the precautions.' The young man sat back, his shrewd eyes watching the Company.

Kurr stood up. 'We won't deny it, since you have guessed already. We know of these horsemen, and are following them along the Westway.'

Angry murmurs came from the flickering shadows.

'Don't misunderstand me! They are our foes and we pursue them. More than that I cannot say.

They are a dangerous enemy, as you have learned. My attempt to deceive you was for your safety.'

'What hope have you against such as they?' came a voice from the back of the room.

'Faint hope at best,' replied the old farmer frankly. 'But we make do without hope. Now, I have something to ask you. Are there any here who saw those horsemen?'

A few men spoke up.

'Did any of you see a man and a woman with them? Did these horsemen have any captives?'

A hubbub of voices ruled for a few moments, then all was quiet.

Apparently no one had seen anything but the riders and their weaponry.

'So! It becomes a little clearer!' said the young man. 'Perhaps the relatives you wish to visit are travelling with these men?' His gaze searched the faces of the Company, reading assent. 'If so, they must have parted. We saw three men only.'

'Then we have hope!' The Haufuth of Loulea stood. 'When these men paid a similar visit to my village, there were four of them. You did not see their whole party. Could others have passed here unnoticed?'

'It's possible,' conceded the young man. 'A little way upstream there are rapids, and above them the river can be forded if the water is low, as it is now in midwinter. The others may have crossed there.' He looked inquiringly at the members of the Company. 'So they have taken captives! A strange thing for death-dealers such as these!'

The Haufuth was still standing. 'We can say little more, other than to express sorrow at your news. While it brings grief to your village, it brings hope to us. We started our pursuit four days behind these men, and now it appears that they are only three days ahead of us. If we make all speed, we may catch them before they reach the moors.'

'Breidhan Moor?' The young man was incredulous. 'They would take horses up on to the moor at this time of year? And you would follow them?'

'Only in greatest need. But these men, while more ruthless than you could imagine, do not know the depth of a Firanese winter. Such knowledge is our advantage.'

The young man stood and extended a hand towards the Company. 'I would like to talk further about these things, but you and your friends must be hungry and thirsty. It is time for the hospitality you have heard about. Come, perhaps we will talk some more at the village inn.

Then you may have beds for the night -unless, of course, you intend to ride these men down without resting!'

The Haufuth laughed. 'I was hoping you would get to the part about food and drink.

Travelling rations are fine for some, but I could do with some real food!'

The young man held out his hand in greeting. 'I am the Haufuth of Mjolkbridge. I am sorry we have met under such circumstances. Let us talk for a while of more pleasant things over a glass of the finest ale in the North March.'

After the meal, the Haufuths of Loulea and Mjolkbridge retired with Kurr to a back room of the pleasant and well-appointed Waybridge Inn. Left to themselves, the others, prompted by Hal, went outside to escape the smoke-filled air.

A cold wind funnelled down the valley towards them as the brothers, with Stella between them, walked slowly up the street. Pale light shone from houses sitting back on either side of the cobbled road. Mjolkbridge was a village of maybe thirty or forty houses straddling the Westway, providing for farmers making a living at the northern extremity of civilisation. The houses seemed a little smaller than those of Loulea, as though they were hunched up against the cold. The trees, too, seemed shorter than those at home, and their silhouettes leaned downvalley away from the prevailing wind. Perhaps, thought Leith, it, is an illusion. High hills clustered close on both sides of the valley, and their ominous shadowy presence dwarfed house and tree alike. Overhead low clouds streamed downvalley, silver against the darkness of the night sky. The crescent moon sat low on the horizon, its pale light sparkling on the evening dew. The wind grew perceptibly colder.