Across the Face of the World (37 page)

'I have no idea,' Kurr said wearily in response to his headman's question. 'Perhaps the arch was weak anyway.' Kroptur, where are your fancy words now?

'Perhaps if they had stayed around, we might have asked them,' Farr said bitingly. 'What does it matter? It is over now; there is no crossing this river for weeks in either direction. They are gone.'

'Is there no way of crossing this river?' the Haufuth asked, eyeing the far bank. 'Perhaps we could make a raft. ..'

'Out of what?' Farr turned on the stout man. 'Look around -do you see any wood? Have you seen any trees since the Thraell valley? And even if we had wood and could make a raft, do you suppose it would survive in that?' He pointed down to the powerful currents below, then shook his head. 'Was there not anyone in Loulea with sufficient wit to lead us? Or did the Bhrudwans choose our leaders for us?' He laughed bitterly in the stunned silence that followed his words. 'Who will avenge our father now? The great god Qali?'

'How dare you!' Kurr cried. 'Have you no respect? You would do better to let your brother do the talking! Learn from your betters!'

Farr did not reply. Instead, he walked slowly away, paying no attention to the stares focused in his direction.

'Let him go,' the Haufuth said quietly. 'He's upset - we all are. Take no heed of his words.'

'All the same, we would have done better to have two like Wira on this expedition. Even one like Wira. The older Storrsen is a liability.'

Immersed in his grief, Leith said nothing. He knew the in¬accuracy of their opinion, but he didn't have the energy to correct them.

Ten minutes later Farr returned. His time alone had not eased his mood.

'I've had enough,' he announced flatly. 'My brother and I will go on alone. You people are worse than useless. Come on, Wira.'

'To where?' his brother responded. 'The river is uncrossable. We have nowhere to go but home. Are we going to abandon our friends?'

Farr stormed over to Wira and leaned his face close in to his brother's. At first Wira returned his gaze, but then his eyes dropped.

'You and I both know why you have to do what I say!' Farr hissed in his brother's face. The younger Storrsen nodded dumbly.

'What's going on here?' Kurr asked.

'None of your business!' snapped Farr.

This was too much for the old farmer. 'It is our business!' he yelled. 'Here we are in the middle of nowhere, vulnerable to attack - we need each other! Whatever is happening concerns all of us!' He began to walk towards the Storrsens.

The Haufuth rose, arms wide in a calming gesture. 'Come on, let's not fight amongst ourselves—'

Kurr strode up to Farr and Wira, then pushed in between them.

'Come on, old man, watch what you're doing!' Farr warned.

'Show some respect!' Kurr replied, his chin jutting forward. 'You don't have the right to go off on your own!'

'Be careful. I'm warning you!' Farr stepped back, hands twitching.

'Kurr!' the Haufuth shouted.

'When will you learn sense?' pressed the old farmer, irate beyond reason. Emotions rubbed raw by weeks of friction, suppressed for the sake of the Company, were released in the atmosphere of disap-pointment on the wrong side of the river. 'Keep your mouth closed, and leave the thinking to others!' He reached out a restraining hand towards the elder Storrsen.

'Don't touch me!' Farr screamed. He knocked the farmer's arm aside, jumped back and drew his sword. 'Get away!'

Now things spun out of control, and other members of the Company began to shout. No one heard the Haufuth's vain efforts to calm them down. Farr stood back on his heels, waving his sword threateningly at Kurr. Unnoticed in the tumult, Hal moved behind the elder Storrsen, then darted forward with an agility that belied his deformity and chopped down quickly on Farr's wrist. The sword dropped on to the stony ground with a clatter. Quickly, Hal scooped it up and cast it away. Farr spun around, fists raised, set to strike his attacker. Hal stood firm.

And as Farr stared into the eyes of the crippled youth, his anger and frustration drained away.

He lowered his fists, took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

For a moment all was quiet, then from behind the Company someone began to clap. 'Bravo!

Bravo!' a hearty voice shouted. 'Magnificent! Bravo!'

The travellers turned around, startled. On a ridge to the right of the road, fifty or so yards behind them, stood a small fat man with a huge bushy beard, alternating between cheering, clapping and filling the air with full-throated laughter. Instantly swords were drawn, Farr making an undignified scrabble for his blade.

The fat man raised his arms, palms upwards. 'No swords! No swords!' he called, but his friendly face showed no fear.

'Put your swords away,' Perdu said, in a surprisingly bright voice. 'This man is one of the Fodhram, and is no threat to us. In fact, he might be able to help us.' The Fenni beckoned to the bearded man, who left his perch on the ridge and came bouncing down to them.

Leith stared at the fellow with undisguised curiosity. Of in¬determinate age, his long, straggly hair and a full moustache and beard partially hid a weather-beaten face lined with creases that were surely laughter lines. He was short, astonishingly short, and portly, with his stomach hanging over his wide belt.

'What a performance!' the man cried, throwing an arm around a startled Hal. 'Disarming the fighters with one blow! I salute you!' He cast an amused eye over the travellers. 'And what were they fighting about, I wonder? What is worth wasting energy on in such a place as this?'

He laughed. 'For that matter, what brings coast-landers into the toughlands?'

No one offered a reply. His appearance had taken them by surprise.

'Perhaps I can guess,' he said, a shrewd gleam in his eyes. 'I have seen another group of people today, not so soft, hurrying through an unfamiliar land. Do you wish to have words with them? More than words, perhaps?' He read their faces as he spoke. 'I thought so. A pity, then, that Roleystone is fallen. You will not speak with them today.'

Perdu bowed from the waist, then clasped the man about the shoulders, much to his delight.

'Fellow travellers,' the Fenni said, 'may I introduce to you a member of the Fodhram, whose name is . . .'

He looked expectantly at the rotund man, whose smile only broadened.

'You seem to know the Fodhram,' the man replied, smiling. 'If that is so, you will know that names are not the property of strangers. My name I keep to myself; my hospitality, however, I share. Do you wish for the hospitality of the Fodhram?'

Perdu nodded vigorously. 'We're all in need of a little hospi¬tality right now,' he said ruefully.

'It's been a long road, and we need new strength in order to face its end. The hospitality of the Fodhram would be most welcome.'

'Magnificent! Wonderful news! New faces around the fire! My boys will be proud of me!' The man did a little jig, then turned and cupped his hands around his mouth. 'Boys!' he yelled.

'Guests for dinner!'

In response to his call three bearded faces appeared above the ridge. In a moment they were amongst the Company, three stocky men scarcely taller than their leader, greeting them as if they were long-lost friends. The Storrsens in particular were taken aback by the show of friendliness, so much unlike the Vinkullen Hills where everyone kept to themselves, and strangers were most often ignored.

'It is the Fodhram way,' Perdu said out of the side of his mouth. 'Greet them warmly; any less is an insult.' So shoulders were clasped and bows were exchanged, but no one asked anyone else's name.

AH right, Kroptur, thought Kurr. I'm sorry 1 doubted you: you were right. 'Friend and foe unhoked for,' you said. Well, we have had both today. 1 only hope friend helps us triumph over foe.

That night twelve people sat around a huge campfire sharing salted meats and tall tales. Five there were from Loulea: the Haufuth, Kurr the farmer, Stella, Hal the cripple, and his brother Leith. From the hills of Vinkullen came the Storrsen brothers, Farr and Wira, who sat next to those from Loulea. Perdu of Mjolkbridge, who had adopted the Fenni of Myrvidda as his people, laughed along with the Storrsens; and from wooden cottages deep in Withwestwa Wood four of the Fodhram sat: all twelve far from home. In the background the outline of Roleystone Bridge flick¬ered in the firelight.

Leith lay quietly on his back a short distance from the fire, content to rest, allowing others to do the talking. He yawned and put his hands behind his head. Above him stretched two tall fir trees, scarce in the valleys of the Jawbone Mountains. Through their boughs Leith could see the sky, lit by the faint glow of a newly hatched moon: ragged clouds fluttered by on a cooling breeze, occulting the northern stars.

Behind him the four Fodhram were making merry. They seemed to have no interest in who the newcomers were, or the business that had brought them so far from home, contenting themselves instead with singing and shouting with great gusto. Most of the songs were new to the Firanese, but even here on the borders of Firanes and Plonya familiar words or snatches of melody could be heard, and the canyon of the Upper Clough echoed to melodies such as the ubiquitous 'My Lady Fair':

Saw her at the autumn harvest Sunlight shining in her hair Promised she would not forsake me Loved her more than I could bear.

Oh, I adored her When I saw her there She played my heartstrings How I loved my lady fair!

When she stepped across my doorway Then she stepped into my life Tenderly she gave love to me Gladly she became my wife.

Oh, I adored her When I saw her there She gave love to me How I loved my lady fair.

She left me for another lover One who said he loved her more Took my knife and ran it through her Left her lying on the floor.

Oh, 1 adored her When I saw her there She lay there silent How 1 loved my lady fair.

They sang the song through again: it was a favourite right across the northern lands, encapsulating lives lived on the edge of the world, far from the moderation offered by civilisation. As they began the last verse, Stella stood quietly, a glow in her fathomless eyes, and walked gracefully around the fire to where Wira was seated. Without a word she sat beside him, then took his hand in hers.

He turned to her, and in a low voice he said: 'Promise you won't forsake me.'

'Never!' she replied, and tightened her hold on his hand.

'That is just as well,' he said. 'I'm no good with a knife.'

Oblivious to what was happening on the other side of the fire, Leith drifted into sleep, lulled into temporary forgetfulness by the melodies around him.

'So, you're trying to catch these Bhrudwan raiders and set their hostages free.' The short man grunted as he pondered the story he had just heard. 'Not only that, you want to capture one of these Bhrudwans and make him tell the Falthan kings all about the coming invasion from the east.' The Fodhram leader laughed long and lazily. 'Perhaps you might also ask them to pull the old town of Astora out of the sea!'

The fire had died down along with the singing; now only the crackling of embers and the low murmur of conversation could be heard. Above, the pale stars glistened in the cold air like snow crystals suspended in the night.

Kurr smiled. 'So what would you advise? That we should go back home to sit on our porches to await the end?'

The short man leaned forward, a new seriousness entering his manner. 'Bhrudwo is an old and not very convincing story, and the Destroyer - well, the Destroyer is simply a tall tale. And here you are telling me that today I saw a man who has been on Andratan, a man held captive by Bhrudwans.' He laughed again; it seemed that this man laughed at everything.

'No, I'm not convinced. My counsel would indeed be to return home and abandon this hopeless quest. So of course you should continue, for in this case your hearts should never yield to counsel, however wise. But how, you are thinking? Roleystone is impass¬able, and there is no other way for you to cross the river. In that case, you had better come with us.'

'Where are you going?'

'We are making the Southern Run, the first run of the season.'

'How will that help us?' Kurr wanted to ask what the South' ern Run was, and where it went, but dared not show his igno-rance.

'We will make much better time on the Run than these raiders can make on the Westway.

They will be immobilised by the spring thaw which even now approaches Withwestwa Wood from the south. We can wait for them at Vindstrop House.'

The Fodhram man's proposal began to make sense to the old farmer. Vindstrop House was the best part of a thousand miles east of the Jawbone Mountains, a small trading settlement sitting astride the Westway. Between Roleystone Bridge and Vindstrop House a handful of people eked an existence from the deep northern forest, trading in furs and cutting timber for the citizens of Plonya and Treika, countries far to the south of Withwestwa Wood. These people were the Fodhram and the forest was their domain. This Southern Run was probably some trading route known only to the woodcrafty Fodhram.

'The only risk we run is the chance that they may leave the Westway before Vindstrop House,'

Kurr replied. 'Other than that, we'd be delighted to accept your help.'

'And we'd be glad of the company, I won't deny it!' the portly man laughed. 'Five months of winter cooped up with these three animals is quite long enough. But you'll have to pay your way! I'll not disguise the fact that meeting you here is a lucky chance. We've checked the winter traps and found far more pelt than we can easily carry. There are some strong shoulders among you, shoul¬ders that can carry a bale or two along the Southern Run.

Agreed?'

Kurr did not hesitate. It was either this or return home. Agreed!' he said, with as much passion as he could muster.

This brought another hearty laugh from the Fodhram. 'Tomorrow morning we can tell your headman!' the leader said. 'The food and ale have sent him to sleep!'

'More likely the talking!' another of the Fodhram added. 'We have a saying: "Friends who meet on the road should drink first and ask questions later." I intend to prove the old saying!