Across the Face of the World (50 page)

Wira staggered through a tunnel of light, then slammed into a tree. Or was it a tree? For a moment his vision cleared. Before him a dark figure lay on the ground. He shook his head; the light retreated to the corners of his vision. A Bhrudwan warrior!

Instantly the warrior regained his feet and struck at him. Wira ducked, but too slowly, and the blade laid open a dreadful wound across his shoulder and back. He collapsed in a sea of pain, as the white light closed over him.

The Bhrudwan leader turned back to the path. Kill them all! His sword cried out for more blood. There was the girl. He made to strike.

As his arm came down, something crashed into him from behind and his stroke went wide. He regained his feet with a curse.

'Stella! Watch out!' came a cry, and Wira staggered forward. He had found the strength from somewhere to come at the Bhrudwan again, but his effort had taken its toll. As the warrior leapt to his feet to face his attacker, Wira fell into the invisible light and lay still on the ground.

With a cry of anguish, Stella leapt towards her fallen Wira, but Perdu grabbed her arm. The cruel sword came down again, missing Stella by inches. The Fenni pulled her away, but she could not take her eyes off the unmoving figure by the side of the path.

Pure hatred poured from the Bhrudwan, unnerving those who looked into his eyes. One by one the Company began to back away from that sword, those singleminded eyes. Only Hal stood firm. Mahnum retreated from the horror before him. This was the Bhrudwan leader, a captain of the Lords of Fear, his strength and power revealed. His own son stood there opposing him, yet he could not force his legs to take him to Hal's side. The terror of the Bhrudwan was on him, reinforced by weeks and months of fear. Don't look at his eyes', came a voice into his mind. He flicked his eyes beyond the warrior, and saw hope.

For there, creeping quietly out of the forest, came Leith, with his short sword drawn.

The Bhrudwan stepped slowly over the body of Wira and approached the bound figure still lying helplessly on the road.

Leith came up behind him, sword shaking in his hand.

The bound man tried to warn his leader of the danger behind him, but he had barely begun before he was interrupted.

'Save your pleading!' the Bhrudwan said to his fellow warrior in the common tongue. 'Die with praise to the Destroyer on your lips, not begging for mercy like some Falthan animal!'

He plainly meant his enemies to hear and to understand, perhaps to gain a foretaste of their own fate. He raised his sword.

Leith closed his eyes and, with all his strength, drove his blade forward into the warrior's shoulder blades. The look of triumph on the evil face changed to one of surprise, then of rage, as his legs stopped going forward in obedience to his will. The Bhrudwan leader tried to cry out, but his own blood choked him. Then he fell backwards on to the hilt of the sword piercing him, driving it through his body. With a groan, his life disappeared.

For the longest moment, no one moved. Above them birds chirped and called to each other, and beyond them the sound of foaming water echoed through the gorge. Still nobody moved.

Finally Hal stepped forward, over the body of the Bhrudwan, to the side of the fallen Wira Storrsen. 'I'm sorry,' he said, tears in his eyes and in his voice. 'I was too late.'

The Company crowded sorrowfully around the body of Wira. Stella sobbed as she touched the golden locks of the one on whom she'd pinned all her hopes. Oblivious to the others, Farr threw himself to the ground and cradled his brother's head in his hands, weeping openly. One by one, the others began to weep also.

Leith thought of Kurr and the anxiety he would be feeling. Numb and in shock, still trying to forget the feel of his sword as it had slipped into flesh, killing another man, Leith turned and headed towards the edge of the gorge. But when he got there he could not see the old farmer.

Wearily, with little emotion in spite of their great victory and the prospect of being reunited with his parents, he turned back up the Westway.

Without warning, rough hands grasped him from behind, and something was clamped over his mouth. Unseen by any of the Company, he was carried into the forest, then borne away out of his knowledge.

THE BLUE FIRE

THE SENIOR OFFICIALS OF Malayu waited under a sky slashed with red, the City Factor at their head. He rubbed his sweaty palms down the outside of his silk-clad thighs, realising that the gesture betrayed his anxiety to anyone who cared to look. He hated himself for his lack of control, but knew that no one would be looking, not today. For at least the fifth time since he had arrived at the docks, he tried to turn his head, knowing that he should run a critical eye over the men under his suzerainty, wanting desperately to reassure himself that he was not the only one suffering nerves; but he could not tear his gaze away from the sea. His neck muscles cramped with the strain. Perhaps the Destroyer's magic was already at work, compelling his attention. Cynic though he was, he could believe anything of the Lord of Bhrudwo after that night one short month ago.

All Factors were acquainted with the blue fire, employed for two thousand years to communicate the wishes of the Undying Man, though it hadn't been used in any of the provinces of Malayu in living memory. Truth to tell, none knew how it worked, but at least they knew what it was for. It was early in the third watch of the night that the dull, unemotional voice of some servant or other had woken him, and delivered the news that the fire was flaming blue. The servant's voice had been so casual that he was obviously unaware of the import of his news. The Factor had actually needed to ask the man to repeat himself.

He had descended hurriedly to the sacred chamber, wrapped only in his nightshirt, an unbecoming state for the most powerful man in Malayu. But the Factor did not care. His thoughts were already bent towards the flame, and as he entered the room its irresistible power sought him out, reading him, stripping away his remaining dignity, rendering him nothing but a frightened mass of flesh. That it was not the Destroyer himself delivering the message was the only saving grace of the night. The message had not been good news.

And this day one month later, the day of his lord's arrival, had been filled with the sort of minor crises that drive a man to the edge of panic, and it was not getting any better. The royal barge drew close to the wharf a full half-hour earlier than he had been told to expect it. Men cried instructions to each other, each desperate not to make a mistake, each aware of what the occasion meant, every wharfsman knowing what would happen to him - to them all - if they profaned this holy moment. Ropes, expertly handled by men with years of experience, secured the huge vessel to the wharf. A young apprentice boy, whose master should have known better than to have involved him in this, caught a care-less slipper on a rope, slipped on the wet timber decking and fell between the barge and the dock. As the lad scrambled for safety, his master rushed to his aid, then drew back... as the figure that had filled his dreams for weeks began to walk down the gangplank. The dockmaster clapped his hands to his head in despair, for he could see the barge swing against the wharf, and knew the fool boy would doom them all. Then, just as the boy's dying screams began, a great fanfare blew, heads snapped to face the gangplank, and the dockmaster lived again.

Down the gangplank came the figure in grey, and all present pressed their faces to the rough timber surface of the dock. Down he came; and the Factor of Malayu sought the inner peace of Mul to steady his nerves as he rose to greet his master, hoping he had done him sufficient honour. He had thought this day would never come, not in his lifetime or in anyone else's, but here it was, and he could not escape his duty. For the first time in a hundred years, it was said, the Undying Man, Lord of Bhrudwo, had left his dread castle of Andratan. And he had chosen Malayu as the port at which he would come ashore. At this, the moment of moments, in front of thousands of citizens and in the presence of he who commanded the power of life and death, Mul proved elusive, and the Factor went to greet the Lord of Darkness in fear of his life.

The figure in grey reached the bottom of the gangplank, then halted. His retinue remained a respectful distance behind. The Factor of Malayu approached, leading the selected group of offi¬cials, their fine speeches evaporating in the face of the presence in their midst. They approached; then abruptly the figure made a gesture with his hand, the air rippled, and the Factor and his group froze, unable to move, wholly in the grip of the Undying Man's magic.

Something hot and unbearably sharp sliced through his mind, exquisite pain exposing motive and deception, laying his innermost thoughts bare like the innards of some gutted fish flap¬ping on the rough boards of the wharf - then was gone as abruptly as it had started. The Factor would have collapsed had he not been frozen in place.

The figure moved forward again, seeming to glide across the wharf as though propelled by some inhuman device, until he was face to face with the Factor. There could not be a deeper fear than this. His lord's eyes... ah, they were shafts carefully sunk into the black pits of the underworld, the unblinking, amused stare of a carrion bird considering how to dismember his prey. Abruptly the compulsion was released and the Factor voided himself unnoticed, as around him a full third of his officials crumpled up and fell to the ground, stone dead.

'Loyalty.' The cruel voice of the Lord of Bhrudwo ripped across the docks and through the city, enhanced by his magic arts, though he had barely whispered the word. 'I demand loyalty.'

To some gath¬ered there, the words seemed to stab at them like knives cunningly wielded; to others, the voice was as a winnowing fork, sifting their secret thoughts. None within earshot remained unaffected.

'Loyalty must begin with those who claim to serve me. See! I have tested my servants and found some wanting, harbouring treacherous thoughts in their innermost hearts. In honour of this occasion, the beginning of the war I seek to prosecute against Faltha our enemy, I have granted them a merciful death. It will not always be so.'

The crowd gazed upon the still forms lying in testimony to their lord's mercy, and murmured uneasily.

'Do not be mistaken; I am not deceived. Many of those gath¬ered here doubted my existence.

Some doubt still! A hundred years is a long time - for such as you. But it is nothing to me.

Nothing! So for the doubters I have one message: Believe!' And such was the Wordweave exercised by the Destroyer that many of the weaker-minded among the crowd found their doubts erased without their own volition.

The Undying Man took a step forward, and turned until he faced a section of the assembly perhaps fifty yards away. 'I hear you, my son,' he whispered, a rasp across rough timber, and raising his one hand, pointed into the crowd. 'I hear your thoughts.' People drew away from the unfortunate white-faced man thus confronted, until there was a clear space around him.

'I see the doubt in your heart, my son.' The man looked on the verge of collapse. Perhaps only the magic of the grey figure kept him from falling to the ground. 'So, as a sign to all those who doubt, I call you to me. Come.' And he closed his hand into a fist.

As the word was uttered, the man rose struggling into the air and floated over the water, like a feather on the wind, to land in a heap at the feet of the Lord of Bhrudwo.

'Stand up,' came the command, and the words themselves jerked the man to his feet, or so it seemed to the onlookers. In a moment he found himself fixed by the gaze of the Undying Man.

'So, doubter, do you doubt now?' Frantically, the man shook his head, but the figure ignored him, holding out his left hand, palm half-closed. 'I know a way to put an end to doubt in a man's heart. Do you feel my hand within your breast.7' The man nodded, his eyes wide with terror. 'To end all doubt, I simply crush the heart lodged within my hand. Like this.' And he squeezed his hand shut.

A second passed, then another, then the man's eyes bulged wide and he threw his arms backwards.

'Be free of your doubt, my son,' came the soft voice, and everyone heard it, everyone saw the man gasping for air, flailing and thrashing as though his fate could be escaped by struggling.

He fell to the ground, and his struggling ceased.

'Does anyone still doubt?' The figure swept his gaze across the people gathered there, and the crowd froze wherever the feared gaze fell. 'You! You think this is trickery, that these trai¬tors are paid to act a part. And you! You at least believe in the magic, but still you do not believe I am the Undying One.' Two forms burst suddenly into flame, and although their screams echoed across the harbour, their loved ones dared not rush to their side.

Now the Destroyer's tone became suffused with patient love, like a stern father dealing with recalcitrant offspring. 'My wayward children! I do not wish sorrow on you, but the task set before us demands our whole-hearted effort. My ancient enemy is corrupt, and is rendered vulnerable by that corruption. Riches beyond your ability to imagine await you all as we take back what is rightfully ours. Yet Faltha will not fall to a people weakened by unbelief. I must weed out half-heartedness, corruption and doubt from within your midst, and so must you. Set your heart upon our goal, and do not waver for a moment. If you remain faithful, I can promise you that Faltha will be ours!'

His retinue, primed for this moment, cried out in response: 'Faltha is yours! Faltha is yours!'

and it seemed to all gathered there that a mighty multitude gave voice. 'Faltha is yours! Faltha is yours!' They all joined in, until the air rang with the declara¬tion. Then the Lord of Bhrudwo raised his hand, and all fell on their faces and worshipped him, glad to have escaped with their lives.

It might as well have been a mud-daubed hut with an open fire set on the floor as the grand drawing room of the Factor's palace. The Undying Man didn't care. He was focused, his time was at hand, and the playthings of the material world with which he had amused himself through the long dark years of his strengthening meant nothing to him now. Truly he did not notice the tapestries lining the walls, depicting in sequence his triumph over the Most High -