Across the Face of the World (38 page)

Come,' he said, beckoning the Storrsen brothers. 'Will anyone join me?' He pulled a flask of liquor from his pack.

'I'll take part in your experiment,' Wira said quickly, too quickly for Farr to protest. The flask was passed around; the laughter became even heartier and the stories more outrageous as the night wore on and the fuel burned low. Some time in the hours before dawn the last of the revellers fell into slumber; for a while after that Wira sat alone by the fire, nursing the remains of the flask.

The next morning the Fodhram leader told them more about the Southern Run. It was the southernmost of three major fur-trading routes: the others were the Northern Run and, far to the north, the Summer Run. This latter run had once been the most rewarding of the three, but the weather had changed for the worse in recent years and in some seasons it could not be attempted. The Southern Run was the first to reopen after the long winter, with the thaw usually coming some time early in March.

The four Fodhram had made an early-season expedition to check the winter traps, hoping the thaw would come early so they could use the maze of lakes and rivers of Withwestwa Wood to canoe the fur pelts down to Treika. They risked a long, hungry wait for the thaw, but the rewards for bringing the first fur of the season to the fashion-conscious Treikan women were very high. So every year a few foolhardy Fodhram took the gamble and set out during the deep winter for the Portals of the Kljufa River, the western terminus of the Southern Run.

They footslogged through snow and ice, then waited out the worst storms, living on salted meats and what they could hunt in the woods. And every year a few Fodhram were swallowed by wood or water, never to be seen again.

This year had seen an average winter, the Fodhram leader told the Company. The thaw was not expected for at least four more weeks, even this far south. So they had planned to wait it out in the shelter of the mountains, then take to their birch bark canoes once the waterways were clear. Now, with the advent of the Company, another idea presented itself. They could take advan¬tage of the Southern Run while it was frozen, wait at Midrun for the thaw, and then use their canoes to get to Vindstrop House. Kurr and the bearded Fodhram leader held a long discussion, then approached Perdu.

'Are you determined to continue?' the old farmer asked the adopted Fenni. 'You have already come a long way further than you planned, and your family are many miles behind you.'

'Don't remind me,' Perdu replied morosely. 'I'd give anything to return to my hearth. But the clan chief laid a sacred duty upon me, and I cannot return until I have beheld the dead faces of our enemies, so into the Rotten Lands I must go.'

'The Rotten Lands? Do the Fenni name our rich lands so?' For the first time a hint of anger marred the jovial face of the Fodhram leader.

'Indeed yes; and by what name is the Myrvidda known amongst the noble Fodhram?' inquired Perdu slyly, knowing the answer full well.

'You have a point,' the bearded man replied, laughing again. 'So it is with people whose own lands must be first in their own minds!'

'Well then,' Kurr interrupted, keen to be on his way, 'here is the nub. You need to cross the land of the Fodhram, but Wisent cannot come with you. The aurochs is too large for many of the trails we must follow, and there is no birch bark canoe in exis¬tence that could hold his bulk, even if he were persuaded to embark on one. So what are we to do?'

'A rhetorical question, no doubt!' Perdu replied, troubled that in his sadness at travelling ever further away from his loved ones, he had forgotten his clan chiefs great gift. 'I'm sure you and the worthy Fodhram here have a suggestion to make!'

The worthy Fodhram laughed until his belly shook with the force of it. 'You are right; and here is the answer. Not far north of the Portals lives a hermit, a man who survives by hunting forest animals. He is an outstanding hunter, and he sells meat to all the Fodhram who pass his way. My thought is this: we need to eat, and he needs a pack animal. Could we not fashion an exchange that will advantage all parties? The alternative is a week's hunting in the depths of the wood, something that we do not like and you would find very uncomfortable. What do you say?'

For a long time Perdu stood silently, considering the problem. At intervals he glanced over to the huge bulk of his shaggy friend, their saviour at the Roofed Road. Indecision was written on his brow.

Kurr spoke. 'Our friend and helper, are you going to return home, or will you come with us?

Make your choice!' Kurr was sorry to press the Fenni so hard, but time and the anxious fear of delay were pressing him.

'Give me a moment,' Perdu responded.

As you wish.'

The adopted Fenni walked off sadly, shoulders slumped forward, seeking a quiet place to think. Unnoticed, another figure followed him.

Kurr watched Perdu leave, then turned to the Fodhram leader. 'If I read him right, he will come with us. We must make prepa¬rations to leave. Is the house of this hermit far from our way?'

'No; it is only a mile or so from the beginning of the Southern Run. I will gather my men, and we will make ready. Fodhram, Fenni and Firanese travelling the Southern Run together! This has the makings of a fireside tale - with appropriate embellish¬ments, of course!' Again the laughter, carefree and happy even in the face of such a risky journey.

A little while later the old farmer turned to the Fodhram leader. 'I have to know,' Kurr said.

'What do the Fodhram call the Myrvidda?'

The bearded man laughed shamefacedly. 'Rakkra,' he said. 'The Land of Sour Smell. Though the word has a literal translation somewhat less presentable than the rendering I have made.'

Kurr strode together with the Fodhram leader at the head of the group, even the pretence that the Haufuth led the Company having been dropped. Indeed, the big man seemed unwell. He walked slowly at the tail of the group, frequently stopping for breath and rubbing at his legs.

Although he was trimmer and fitter now than when the journey had begun, the Haufuth was still large of frame and was finding the goijig hard. But harder still to take was the failure he felt, stemming from his inability to make decisions in times of crisis. He had been right: Kurr was the man to lead them now. Perhaps he would be better off going back home - or, better still, just sitting down and resting, resting . . .

Roleystone Bridge disappeared behind them as they walked the last leagues out of the Upper Clough. Ahead, two low hills marked the Portals, the exit from the mountains. The Westway ran across the foot of the rightmost Portal, while the ill-formed path they were now forced to take led them directly towards the left hill. And beyond the hills lay the dark smudge of Withwestwa Wood stretching away to the horizon.

Stella and Wira walked together, the air about them almost crackling with suppressed energy.

Something has happened, Leith thought as he followed them. I've lost her, lost her for good.

He laughed mockingly at himself. Just another dream melting away in the harsh light of day.

Perdu walked beside Wisent. Both their heads seemed to droop forwards, as though they shared the sorrow of parting. Stella left Wira and came up beside the Fenni.

'I'm sure he'll be taken good care of,' she said reassuringly.

'I know. I just can't help it. I've known Wisent for years; it seems sad that such a noble animal as he, born and bred for the wide open spaces, should end his days in the forest.' He sighed.

Beside him, the aurochs let out a low, piteous moan. 'Come on, Wisent, cheer up; plenty to eat and plenty to do where you're going.' The animal moaned again in response.

'Still,' Perdu continued, glad to talk to someone, 'Hal was right. He told me that Wisent had been gifted to the Company to help us catch the Bhrudwans, and without him - and you - we would probably already be dead. It is time to let the gift go. Wisent has done all he can; now let him serve someone else as faithfully as he has served us.'

Stella nodded her agreement.

'Fine words, but they bring me no comfort,' the Fenni concluded. 'It still feels like losing my best friend.'

Ahead Kurr had stopped, waiting for the others to catch up. 'Come on!' he shouted. 'We still have a job to do!'

Behind them the Haufuth slowly got to his feet. 'I can't go on ...' he groaned, but no one heard him. He was forced to continue, and though it seemed to him that he had come to the very end of his strength, he managed to stumble forward after the others.

In this fashion the group straggled out of the passage of the Jawbone Mountains, passing the Portals by late afternoon, and at day's end they watched the twilight envelop the rolling woodland country that hid their path deep within.

THE HERMIT UNDER THE HILL

THE WESTERN TERMINUS OF the Southern Run was little more than a clearing in the woods. There were signs that people had once lived in this clearing - here a brick chimney, there some foundation posts - but most of the evidence had been covered by a forest vigorously intent on reclaiming the open land. A thin layer of freshly fallen snow completed the disguising of what had once been a settlement, as though nature wanted no one to know that for a time men had conquered her.

'Welcome to Fort Brumal! Used to be able to buy provisions and equipment here,' one of the Fodhram drawled. 'Even in my father's time a store here sold flour, corn and peas, along with fresh game and dried meat. All gone now.'

Leith waited to hear the reason why the settlement had been abandoned, but the man had finished speaking. A little quieter than the others, this fellow had a huge scar down the left side of his face. 'Swatted by a bear,' he had told them. 'Too close to her young 'uns. Served me right.'

A generation ago this area was all trapped out,' the Fodhram leader explained. 'They say that once these woods overflowed with beaver and wolverine, racoon and mink, enough furs for everyone. But not enough, seemingly; and the Traders moved away north and east. The big town now is Vindstrop House. You'll see!' He laughed. 'We'll have a time there! Maybe we'll sell our bales right there and have ourselves a party! They pay more in Stanlow, but there is nothing in Stanlow to spend it on.' A chorus of agree¬ment came from the other Fodhram.

'Not much of a fort now,' Farr observed.

'Well, this is the largest town you'll see before we get to Vindstrop House, so make the most of it!' the rotund man chor¬tled at them. 'I'll go and see if the Hermit is home. I do hope he is in a good mood; he can be rather grumpy, and he is not used to company. If I'm not back in a couple of hours, he's probably eaten me!'

'Get on with you!' one of his compatriots growled good-naturedly at him. This man was slimmer but still short, with a stubbly beard and shabby clothes. Even in the cold of late winter his leather jerkin was open. He appeared to be wearing a thin shirt underneath and nothing else, an act of sheer bravado or proof that the Fodhram were born to this land. His trousers were heavily patched, perhaps a sign that someone at home cared for him. The number of unpatched rips and tears suggested that some more caring would be needed when he returned.

The amiable Fodhram leader nodded to Perdu, who sighed and prodded Wisent in the flank.

Together they ambled off along a narrow path, and in a moment the forest had swallowed the two men and the great beast.

While he was away his 'boys', as he called them, dragged out from the brush two sleds loaded with huge bales of fur pelts. The tallest of the Fodhram, who still only came up to the shoulders of the Vinkullen men, hefted one of the bales with ease and placed it on the remains of an old stone wall.

'Practice time!' he said. 'Might as well get used to the feel of the pelts.' He beckoned to the members of the Company, inviting them to lift the bale.

Kurr looked around. No one seemed eager to try their strength. He frowned, then stepped forward and approached the bulky object.

There seemed no place to grip the cloth-covered fur bale. He spread his arms wide, bent over and encircled the bale. In this fashion he heaved the bale up from the stone wall. After staggering around with it for a few moments, he dropped it back on the wall.

'Nothing to it,' he declared with a deep breath.

'Excuse me,' Stella said, 'only I can't see how we're to carry all these bales along the path.'

Wira leaned towards her. 'That's what the sleds are for. No one could carry one of those for any length of time. They must weigh a hundred pounds!'

'Only ninety pounds each,' the scar-faced Fodhram said cheer¬fully. 'The curse, we call them.

If we carry two, it's a double curse; three, it's a triple curse and so on.'

'Carry two?' Wira said doubtfully.

'Oh yes,' the shabby Fodhram replied soberly. 'Or more. Of course, we use the canoes mostly, but when the rivers are low or the rapids are too rough we portage the pelts and the canoes to calmer waters.'

'You can't be serious!' Farr muttered, looking at the piled-up sleds.

'Naturally, the fewer trips we make, the quicker we get to market and the higher the price we get for the furs. So sometimes we take on the rapids when maybe we shouldn't. And other times we carry more bales than we should. Our leader holds the record for the number of bales carried over the High Portage - nine miles mostly uphill - which is why he's our leader.'

'How many bales?' Kurr asked, incredulous.

'Let's just say that on that day he laboured under a five-fold curse.'

The members of the Company drew a collective breath. Five bales! Four hundred and fifty pounds! What manner of men were these?

'Let me have a try!' Farr cried. 'We coastlanders are at least as strong as other men!' The Fodhram glanced at each other with amusement in their eyes, then nodded to the mountain man.

The elder Storrsen strode purposefully towards the bale, then with a quick motion bent down, lifted it over his head and placed it on his shoulders. He stood erect in triumph, and said: 'Get another bale!'

The Fodhram nodded to each other, and the shabby man picked up another bale and brought it over to Farr. The young man bent down, and the Fodhram placed the bale on top of the first.