Across the Face of the World (45 page)

At first the snow was barely a nuisance, nothing to be compared to the weeks of pain and struggle as Mahnum, Indrett and Parlevaag fought through the thaw. But soon it began to mount in drifts, and each hour saw the wind grow sharper. Eventually the Bhrudwan leader called a halt.

Later that afternoon two of the Bhrudwans went ahead on some errand. Mahnum guessed that they were after food; their own meagre rations of flour and water had been halved, and they were not eating enough to survive. This far south, closer to human habitation, there had been few animals even for warriors to catch, grouse and rabbit providing an infrequent supplement to their monotonous diet. One of the warriors, the one Mahnum had come to know as the Acolyte, remained behind to guard them. The Trader had often wondered about this younger man. What had compelled him to become a murderer? What threat, what reward could there be to make a man do things that were so distasteful to him? Or did he truly have an evil soul?

Mahnum tried talking to him: he had been snarled at for his pains.

An hour or so later the Bhrudwan veterans returned. Conditions had deteriorated to the point where Mahnum did not see them until they were a few yards away. We'd call this a blizzard back home - stay inside and stoke the fire. He hadn't been truly warm for ages, not since before he first set out for Bhrudwo over two years ago. He tried not to think of a warm fireside and a full stomach. And laughter. He especially tried not to think of laughter.

The Bhrudwans made their captives march forward into the blizzard. What are they doing?

Mahnum puzzled. Ahead of him Indrett coughed; he could hear the pain in it. She won't live through this.

It took them nearly an hour to struggle a few hundred yards down what Mahnum supposed was still the Westway. Then they turned off the path and wound their way under a dense canopy of trees where the snow cover was lighter. In a while they came to a glade, in the midst of which was a house surrounded by deep snowdrifts. The front door was open, broken off at the hinges, but there was no sign of life. A deep sense of dread settled on Mahnum.

There on the verandah lay two bodies, savagely mutilated. One was a child.

Indrett began to sob. The Bhrudwans did not acknowledge the sound, and stepped over the larger of the two corpses to gain entrance. The Acolyte forced the captives inside, making them step over the body of a man. Had he been trying to escape, or to protect his family? He had died in obvious agony, knowing that he had failed to protect them.

In the main room lay two more bodies, a woman and her daughter. They had died trying to hide from a force more implacable than their most evil dreams. Their end had undoubt¬edly been horrible.

At a nod from the Bhrudwan leader, the other warriors carried the bodies outside and threw them on the snow.

Food, warmth and shelter, thought Mahnum later that night, as he lay on the floor where the dead bodies had lain. I would rather be cold and hungry. That night he did not sleep.

'No one has ever survived Mossbank Cadence,' Taller said flatly.

The Fodhram leader shrugged his shoulders. 'That's because no one has ever had the opportunity we have. The Southern Run is usually completed in late spring or early autumn.

It's barely past thaw now; I've never heard of any other Fodhram taking on the Southern Run this early.'

'True.' This from Shabby, who had not yet made up his mind.

'So there's still plenty of meltwater running down the Mossbank. Especially in the wake of this latest snowfall. In fact, she's very nearly in flood. So here we are - the hand of the Provider, I say - with a chance to shoot the Cadence and sail right into a song.'

'Look, do you know how many graves there are down at the bottom of the rapids?'

'Thirty-three. I've counted them. Do you think they'd sing about our deeds all over Withwestwa if we canoed across Cotyledon on a still morning? We've got to earn fame with brave deeds! And do I have to remind you of Trenstane and Thuya Wood?'

Scar-face spoke up. 'That's right. We came on this trip, knowing all the risks, because we wanted the high early season prices at Stanlow. But if no furs should come out of Withwestwa until the summer, the gold will all be spent at Trenstane. There's nothing those stoat-eaters from Thuya Wood won't do to get a little Treikan money.'

'Maybe the storm will let up,' Taller said defiantly.

'It's already too late for that,' Leader assured him. 'Besides, it's a matter of honour. We agreed to take these Firanese to Vindstrop with all possible swiftness, and we can't let them down now. They're on a mission of mercy. Which of you would not risk the Cadence in order to save your loved ones?'

Reluctantly, Taller nodded his head. He could see which way the vote was going. 'Aye, then,'

he concurred. 'We'll shoot the rapids. If even one of us survives it will make a tale worth the telling.'

'We'll make sure it gets told!' Leader laughed. And you know what happens to tales repeated around Fodhram campfires. Before the season is out they'll have us dancing on Bircheater Teeth in our stockinged feet.'

One by one the Company emerged from their hastily constructed shelter into the lightly falling snow. The forest canopy was coated like the first snowfall of September, drifts lay deep on the ground, and the chill north wind whistled tunelessly through the tree tops. The sounds of spring were muted now, with the rush of the rapids coming faintly through the forest to their right. Kurr cast a glance up the portage trail, where a deep drift blocked their way.

'This is the only way,' the Fodhram leader said quietly. 'The weather could take a week to clear.'

'It has come to this before,' the old farmer replied. 'Time and again, choice has been taken away from us. So be it!'

Leader had assured him that the rapids were nothing to worry about, but this he doubted. Else why the delay in running them before now? The too-eager looks on the faces of the Fodhram did nothing to ease his mounting fear.

The canoes were floated and loaded, and the Company cast off into the green waters of the lake. The two craft turned to the right, floating between the shore from which they had launched and a small island with a solitary jack pine atop it. The Fodhram stopped paddling, but the canoes continued to pick up speed. Ahead the lake disappeared between the trees, and Leith could make out rocky heights far up in the mist. Mossbank Cadence.

Now the paddlers beat against the current, their efforts hardly arresting the progress of the canoes. Leader manoeuvred his canoe to the front, and Leith watched from the second canoe as Leader's craft suddenly disappeared from sight.

In an instant the second canoe came to the edge of a steep fall, a series of steps down a seemingly sheer precipice. Before Leith could catch his breath, the prow dipped down and bit into the foam. He was thrown up in the air, and scrabbled for his seat as the canoe shot down the falls. Ahead and behind the Fodhram stood, using their stout blades to push the canoe away from rocks. Leith found he was shouting unheard at the top of his lungs, the great voice of the Cadence obliterating all other sound. Down they plunged, down the foaming rapids of Firststep Falls. Water'and rock flashed past the frightened passengers. Then, suddenly, they shot out into a pool of calmer water. They had been in Mossbank Cadence only a few seconds.

To their left was a sandy beach lightly dusted with snow. Above them sheer walls stretched on both sides. Around them the green-blue water surged. Ahead the first canoe dropped again from sight.

As the trailing canoe approached Secondstep Falls, it struck an unseen snag, spinning the boat sideways. Leith was almost jerked from his seat. Taller thrashed in the water with his broad blade, which promptly snapped in two. The canoe drew closer to the falls, rocking sideways, lurching dangerously over pressure waves. Then, at the last possible moment, Shabby jammed his blade in between two rocks. The canoe twitched, the stern shot forwards and they broached the head of the falls backwards.

Leith tumbled backwards over a bale, striking his head on the side of the canoe. The leaden sky swirled above him, lurching as the canoe bucked uncontrollably down the stair-like rapids. Had the water been lower they would have been wrecked on the rocks; the Mossbank in flood, however, propelled the eggshell canoe over all rocks and obstacles, and spat it out into Roiling Pool. They had a hole above the waterline, but were otherwise undamaged.

Still the current drew them inexorably forwards and downwards through the vortices of the Roiling Pool. Here the gorge narrowed further to a point where all the waters draining east of the water¬shed many miles behind them passed through a twenty-foot gap between sheer smooth walls. Around a curve they whipped like seeds in a storm. The lead canoe, flicked left by the irresistible current, cracked against an outcrop on the left-hand wall, splin¬tering the bow under the steersman's hand. Immediately the canoe began to take water. Behind them Shabby, now the steersman for the second canoe, frantically thrashed his paddle in the boiling water as he fought to avoid the wall. Closer and closer they came; then the current twitched them left and they glanced off the rock, squeezing past the outcrop by a matter of inches.

Leith caught a brief glimpse of the first canoe as it drifted into a widening channel, then the powerful current took them again and threw them straight at the riverbank.

At the last possible instant the canoe found a tiny channel between the sheer wall and an island of white birch trees. For a moment the water quietened, and Leith found he was sitting near the bow, beside Stella and his brother.

'Where are we?' Leith called to Shabby. The Fodhram shrugged his shoulders in reply.

'Never been this far through the Cadence before!'

Taller sat wearily in the stern of the canoe, helpless without his paddle. They were virtually at the mercy of the current.

Ahead of them a large rock divided the channel still further. Straight towards the rock the canoe drifted/again picking up speed as it entered another stretch of white water. For a time it appeared they were going to go to the right, the larger channel, but once again the tearing current took them left, just left of the tall rock. As they passed Leith felt a branch flick his arm, then suddenly the river disappeared as they fell ten feet from a rock platform. The canoe smacked hard into the water, splitting the stitching open.

'Water! Water!' Stella cried as the canoe began to fill.

Shabby ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt and stuffed it in the tear, stemming the flow, but now the canoe wallowed in the river. The bowsman paddled furiously to keep them going forward, and after a minute or so they drifted into a large, still lake.

The Fodhram cheered loudly. Ahead and to their right the first canoe was beached, and already the Fodhram were at work making frantic repairs. A series of strong strokes saw the second canoe up on the beach beside the first.

'We made it!' Stella shouted excitedly.

'Well, not exactly,' the Fodhram leader said. 'This is the Garth; it lies between the Upper and Lower Cadence. We've made it through the Upper Cadence, but the Lower Cadence still awaits us.'

'Still more rapids?' Leith said. 'I don't think I want to try any more rapids.'

'We can't go back, and we can't walk out of here,' Leader said, pointing at the sheer walls either side of the Garth. 'Up there to the right is the portage, but it is out of our reach. Or can you walk up walls with bales and canoes on your back?' He laughed long and full, an incongruous sound in the depths of the grey-walled gorge.

Leith looked more closely. The faces of the Fodhram were flushed with excitement, not fear.

Something in their eyes told him that as soon as repairs were completed they would pit their lives against the Lower Cadence.

* * *

An hour of caulking and restitching restored the second canoe. The lead canoe, however, had suffered severe damage to its bow, and really needed rebuilding. 'No time for that,' Leader said, the fire still burning in his eyes. So makeshift repairs were made, and Taller fashioned another paddle out of driftwood.

It had been easy casting off into the unknown, but this time Leith knew what to expect and fear gripped him as the canoe left the shore. For a few minutes the Fodhram paddled the boat across the lake, then the current grabbed them and the paddlers stood up to steer. The lead canoe was slightly in front of them. Leith heard Leader say: 'The Lower Cadence is much shorter and much wilder,' and the roar of the Thirdstep Falls took the rest.

Thirdstep Falls was a spout followed by a sheer drop into a boiling punchbowl. Down the canoes shot and the cries of the Fodhram rang out, cries of exaltation as they flew amongst the tortured water drops and slammed into the foaming pool. Immediately the canoes jerked forwards, the second shooting ahead of the first as they were drawn down the Lower Cadence.

Side to side, spinning, bucking and weaving, the tiny Fodhram canoes battled the immense power of the Mossbank.

Leith began to feel the excitement of the journey as it over¬came his fear, but then he noticed a black line ahead stretching across the river from bank to bank. As they drew nearer the line resolved itself into a group of sharp pinnacles dividing the river into a series of narrow slots, all seemingly far too narrow to admit their canoes. 'Bircheater Teeth!' Taller cried with joy, as to a long-lost lover, and he leaned forward as though eager to dash himself to pieces on their sharp edges.

Leith spun around to see the other canoe close behind them. Shabby paddled hard* trying to steer to the right. The teeth came closer, as though the canoe was still and the rocks rushed towards them. The boy from Loulea held on tight as they approached the impassable barrier.

Ordinarily no canoe could pass these voracious teeth, Leith could see that. However, with the rise in the water level, the teeth were partly submerged and the gaps between them were widened. A steersman just had to choose the correct path.

What was that sound coming from the front and the back of the canoe? Louder and louder it grew, louder than the thunderous churning of the Lower Cadence. The same sound came from the canoe behind. For a moment Leith could not place it, then he realised that the Fodhram were laughing.