Across the Face of the World (36 page)

'The Fenni tell a story about the mountains and the rivers,' Perdu said.

'Well, tell them about it,' the village headman shot back. 'I'm going for a walk.' He got up and stomped off into the sheeting rain.

Perdu raised his eyebrows, looked at Kurr and shrugged his shoul¬ders.

'Go ahead,' the old farmer encouraged. 'The fire is warm and people are ready for stories.'

'It's not really much of a story, especially the way I tell it. What we need is a really good Fenni bard, someone like Parlevaag .. .' I le faltered, then recovered. 'Well, we have no bard among us, so here goes.'

A gust of wind whipped over the brow of the low ridge, flat¬tening the flames for a moment.

Sparks flew as the fire roared; the Company drew back; then the wind passed and the weary trav¬ellers again crept closer to the warmth.

'A long time ago, before the fathers of men walked the earth, the land was flat and featureless, rimmed to the north by ice, to the south by sea. Two proud rivers flowed from the ice to the sea, with nothing to disturb their courses. These rivers ruled the land, and spoke often to each other about the lofty positions they occupied and the privileges they enjoyed. Their vanity was plain for everyone else to see, and of the occupants of the land they were the most hated.

'One day the two rivers called loudly to each other across the land, forcing everyone else to listen to their boasting. The other dwellers in the land had heard enough, and held a gathering.

'"It is time we took action," said one of the large lakes. "Without the rivers, they tell us, we would have no water coming in and no water going out. We would stagnate and die. This might be true, but I am tired of hearing about it."

A small stream spoke up: "The rivers remind me constantly of their length and breadth, the beauty of their waters, the mystery of their depths. Mere streams are so small, they sneer. As if size is everything!" A number of other streams murmured their agree¬ment.

'A deep, rolling voice came up from the south. "Those rivers never leave me alone!" the sea complained. "Without us you would be empty, with your bones exposed for all to see, they say. They laugh at my waves, and pour scorn on my tides. Something must be done!" the voice boomed. Cheering broke out amongst some of the younger, more excitable members of the gathering.

'"So what do we do?" they asked each other.

'"Perhaps we could ask the ice to withhold its meltwater," said one. "Without the meltwater, where would the rivers be?"

"The ice won't be coming to the meeting," came the sad reply. "Fast asleep."

'"Can we block the rivers somehow?" someone asked hopefully.

'"How?" they all asked.

'"What about snow and ice? If some of us went and asked Qali, perhaps he would help!"

'This was the best they could come up with, so a deputation was chosen to approach the great snow god Qali.

'"O great Qali," said a particularly deep lake, the leader of the delegation, "we need your help to put a stop to the boasting of the rivers. Will you help us?"

'"Why should I?" the god replied, amused at the rag-tag group.

'"Because the rivers boast that they are the greatest inhabitants of the land," the lake replied.

'"Even greater than the great god Qali?" Qali asked, darkness suddenly appearing on his brow.

'"Oh yes, much greater," lied the lake.

'Then the enraged snow god stormed across the land, scattering all the inhabitants before him.

First he tried to melt the ice, but this was too slow for the impatient god, and only served to make the rivers even greater. Then he tried to freeze the rivers over, but found he had power over the rivers for only part of the year. Finally he gave up in disgust and left the land, going on a long journey.

'This made the rivers even louder in their self-praise. Before they had been irritating; now they were unbearable. The members of the delegation to Qali were held responsible by the others for this state of affairs, and found themselves spurned. The land became a very unhappy place.

'One day the great god Qali returned with the fruit of his journey. Hidden in the hollow of his hand was a small bag of seeds, and in his eye was a smug gleam. That night he walked across the land from north to south, at intervals taking a seed from the bag and planting it in the cold earth. His soft laughter fell as autumn snow across the wide plain between the ice and the sea.

'The next morning revealed the work of the great god Qali. Where he had planted seeds, mountains had grown. Steep-sided and tall, the mountains had chased the lakes away and broken up the streams. Most importantly, they blocked the two rivers from flowing out to sea.

'Mjolk, the northern of the two rivers, was sleepy that night, and the mountain-plants took him by surprise. Before he had time to react, his course had been split in two, and he had lost his link to the ice. From that day on Mjolk was a much smaller river, flowing from the mountains to the sea, and his boasting voice was never heard again.

'Kljufa, the southern river, lay awake in his bed, expecting some trick from the snow god.

When the mountains began to grow, he gathered up the lakes and streams nearby and flowed with great power between the huge peaks. No matter how fast the mountains grew, the river cut down between them. By the time the mountain-plants had finished growing, Kljufa was bigger and louder than ever. The remaining inhabitants of the valley, those who had not been swallowed by Kljufa or scattered by the mountains, were dismayed. The great god Qali was beside himself with anger.

'While Kljufa celebrated down by the sea, singing his own praises to anyone who would listen, Qali took his seed-bag and crept northwards, intending to plant more mountains.

However, when he looked in his bag, all that remained was dust and seed flakes. In disgust he flung the bag on the ground and retired to his eyrie, defeated.

'The next morning, the land awoke to find that the seed-dust had taken root in the north of the land, near the ice. Instead of growing mountains, the dust formed a series of low hills, blocking the outflow of the ice, which ponded into a huge sea to the north. Kljufa began to get thinner and rushed northwards, too late. He was cut off from his headwaters. From that moment his laughter was silenced, and the sound of his waters became the sound of mourning.

'The great god Qali could hardly believe his good fortune. At a single stroke, two of his most powerful rivals had been defeated, the ice was cut off to the north, and the lesser inhabitants of the land had been scattered or cowed. So he assembled all his powers and covered the land with snow. And from that day until this, Qali has ruled the land with a cold hand, having subdued it to his will'

When the Haufuth returned from his time alone, he found his travelling companions asleep around the fire. They lay in pairs: Leith and Hal, Farr and Wira, Stella and Kurr, Perdu and the urus Wisent. Sleep had smoothed out the lines on their faces, and for a while his friends looked as they had done two months ago, before all this started, untouched by evil. For a long moment the stout headman thought of waking everyone, turning them around and taking them home. The captives were probably lost; realistically, what could they do? Who could blame them if they abandoned their quest?

The Haufuth sighed. What about Faltha? Let Faltha take care of herself, thought the bone-weary man. He reached out his arm to tap Kurr on the shoulder, hesitated a moment, then withdrew it. It was too late. Evil had touched them already; they could not go back in time.

They had to go on, try to free their friends, and probably perish in the attempt. All that stood between those inno¬cent faces and a horrible end were an old farmer and a fat headman, wisdom enough between them for perhaps one good man and strength for not even that.

For a moment his gaze lingered on the weather-beaten face of his friend the farmer. Kurr, I am thankful you chose to come on this journey. But perhaps you had no choice. Are you also running, even as 1 am? You run from the memory of a good woman, as 1 run from a village which ridicules me even as they use me. What a pair we make.

But you have more strength than do 1. This trek has exhausted me, body and soul; soon I will sink to my knees on the side of this road and you will take over leadership of the Company.

He laughed to himself. You have already taken over. And so you should: you're one of the Watchers, and you are trained to think clearly. Sleep well, my friend.

The rain continued all afternoon, falling steadily as the travellers slept; in the evening the rain slackened, and as Hal moved quietly about preparing the meal, it turned to a light snow. The wind fell away, and for a while the Upper Clough was quiet, with the mournful sibilance of Kljufa's deep waters the sole sound in the canyon.

Leith awoke refreshed the next morning to find the weather had improved further. Already the clouds were lifting and the day promised to be clear and cold. The others slept on as he stirred the embers into flame, then wandered down to the river's edge to wash.

The deep blue waters of the Kljufa were very, very cold. Behind some ragged bushes Leith undressed and washed, the chilling water serving to fully wake him from the daze of the last twenty-four hours. As he dressed, he heard Farr and Wira come down to the riverbank some distance upstream.

'Well, you drank it,' said one as they came within earshot.

'Are you sure you don't have any? No wine? No ale?' The voice sounded frantic.

'Of course not. I've been watching you, little brother. Yesterday afternoon you went through our things when you thought we were asleep. What were you looking for? Did you think you might have found some liquor in our packs? That there are other sly drinkers among us?'

Leith couldn't help himself. He moved quietly forward until he was sitting among the bushes, looking down upon the Storrsen brothers as they argued by the water's edge.

'Come on,' said Farr, gesticulating at his younger brother. 'Put it out of your mind. Is anything more important than avenging our father?'

Wira kicked at an angular rock. 'You're heartless. We're miles away from anywhere; it could be weeks before I get another drink.'

'Good! What will the others say when they find out? What will the Loulea girl say?'

'They'll never find out. I've been careful!'

'What if I tell them?'

'You wouldn't!'

'If you can't control yourself, I may be forced to tell the fat man. Then what will the coastlanders think of my fair-spoken brother?'

Wira sank to the ground. Even from a distance Leith could see the despair in his eyes, hear the pleading in his voice.

'Please! They don't need to know about this! I'll not mention it again.'

Farr stood above his brother with his arms folded, a satisfied smile on his face.

It was all too much for Leith. It was as though Farr stood over him, gloating over his weakness like the other children had done when Leith was a boy. He pulled back, stumbled over a tree root and slithered away out of sight, making far too much noise. Head down, he ran back to the campsite, not stopping to see if he had been heard.

A few moments later the Storrsens came back into the camp. He tried to control his heavy breathing as he lay pretending to be asleep. The brothers looked around for a minute, then gave up and settled down to make breakfast.

Rejuvenated, the Company made their way through the Upper Clough. While not as precipitous as the Lower Clough, and with no hazards like the Maelstrom and the Roofed Road, the narrow upper gorge of the Kljufa was still spectacular. The river surged over rapid after rapid, white foam beating at snarltoothed shoals, with inaccessible islands encircled by swift blue arms. Above them the hills grew into mountains, stretching up to the roofless sky.

The great god Qali had spread his white blanket across the land, but the Kljufa still flowed vigorously. Evidently, whatever the Fenni bards said, the snow god did not have everything his own way.

Later that day, however, the travellers came to an impasse. At the borders of Firanes, where the mountains gave way to the waste¬lands of the Vollervei, the Westway crossed the Kljufa by a single stone arch called Roleystone Bridge, then trailed away southwards into the depths of Withwestwa Wood. Leith could see the road on the other side of the river, following the far bank into the distance.

But there was no way of getting to it. The great stone arch of Roleystone had been thrown down.

Farr crawled as far out as he could on the ruined bridge. 'This was done recently,' he said. 'No sign of wear - in fact, the stone has been cut here, and here.' He pointed, but the others were too far away to see.

'That is a pity,' Kurr said sadly. 'The bridge was a thing of beauty, and has been standing here for a thousand years and more.'

'The real pity is that they are over there and we are not,' Farr grumbled. 'Look!'

On the far side of the river, three threatening figures emerged from the shadows. Three Bhrudwan warriors. The sounds of jeering filtered across the expanse of water. As they watched in horror, one of the warriors dragged three further figures, ragged and bound together, out into the light. Hal bit his lip; Leith cried out. Thin, bedraggled, cruelly used, Mahnum and Indrett stood a bridge-span away on the other side of the water, along with Parlevaag the Fenni woman.

'Stand firm,' said Kurr, placing his arm on Leith's shoulder. 'They mean by this display to torture us and their captives both.' Evil laughter echoed around the canyon.

Finally, tiring of their sport, the Bhrudwans drove their captives down the Westway. Slowly they disappeared from sight. The Company could only watch. Leith sobbed with frustration as with every step his heart was torn further in two. As he endured the sight of his life vanishing into the unreachable distance, he learned that there is a pain more fierce than the edge of a sword. His world dissolved into a mist of tears, and for a time he knew nothing but the emptiness inside where his heart had been.

'How did they pull the bridge down? The thing was made of solid stone!'