Across the Face of the World (57 page)

'The uttermost end of the earth,' Phemanderac murmured.

'Pardon?'

'Oh, just more doggerel. But I didn't realise that the Sayings of Hauthius contained anything about the Hand of God.'

'The sayings of who?' Leith asked.

'Whom. The sayings of whom,' Phemanderac corrected absently, as though he was a Haufuth correcting the village chil¬dren. 'Now, let's complete the circle. What are you doing in the Death House of the Widuz?'

'The what?' said Leith in alarm. 'Death House? I thought once I got a chance to explain, they'd let me go!'

Phemanderac laughed, a pleasant sound. You'll not be given a chance to speak to anyone. The Widuz do not readily speak the tongues of outsiders. But don't worry, we've not been brought together here to add to the pile of bones at the bottom of Helig Holth. Tell me; what are you doing so far from home?'

Behind Phemanderac the sunlight began to creep into the dark¬ness through a small, barred window at the far end of the stone¬walled cell. Leith was by no means reassured by the words of this stranger, but he wanted to talk. Two weeks without being allowed to communicate had made him hungry for the sound of something other than the barked commands of guards. And this man Phemanderac was saying some very interesting things.

So he lay back under the sacking and told his cellmate every¬thing that had happened since Midwinter's Night. Phemanderac's eyes grew wider as he heard about Mahnum and his escape from Andratan, how Leith's parents were taken captive by the Bhrudwans, and how the villagers mounted a rescue. He hung on every word as Leith described the final battle with the Bhrudwans on the Westway, and his own part in the outcome. (He tried not to embellish it too much.) Leith explained how he had been snatched away at the very moment of victory and brought to this place, not knowing why. The tale took an age to tell, with Leith often digressing to answer seemingly trivial questions by Phemanderac. ('How old is Kurr? Your older brother is a cripple, you say? Does your Haufuth intend to travel to Instruere?') Finally he finished, and the thin man shook his head in wonder.

'Well, it is obvious why you were taken captive by the Widuz,' he remarked.

'Why?'

'So we could meet, of course! Now, the question is, what do we do about it?' He began to wave his arms about in agitation.

'But the Widuz don't know who 1 am,' Leith replied, puzzled. 'How could they have arranged our meeting?'

Phemanderac dropped his hands in exasperation. 'You are a descendant of the First Men, that is obvious from your features,' he said. 'But clearly you have forgotten about the Most High.

The Widuz just want to kill you, no doubt to appease one of their gods, on whose territory you trespassed. But the Most High has used them to bring us together. Don't you see?'

Leith shook his head. This man reminded him of the Hermit of Bandits' Cave, or perhaps Kroptur of Watch Hill. Full of porten¬tous pronouncements that ultimately turned out to be meaning¬less. But what about the Hermit's foretelling of his fall into the pool of icy water? he remembered. Is there really a Most High God moving people about like toys? Leith hoped not; the idea faintly disturbed him. He wanted the freedom to walk his own paths.

'What do you know of the FuirfadV Phemanderac asked.

Leith shook his head. 'What is it?'

'Well, if you don't know, that answers my question. I was hoping that some knowledge of the Way of Fire would have been retained by those who lived in the country - the very village - of the Hand of God.'

'I'm sorry,' said Leith helplessly. 'I've never heard of this thing you mention, unless,' he added as an idea hit him, 'you mean some¬thing about the First Men.'

Phemanderac looked at him with renewed hope.

'Kurr, the farmer I told you about, he told us stories about the First Men. One was about a man who betrayed the First Men. Is that right? Do you know who I mean?'

'Kannwar, the Destroyer.'

'That's right,' said Leith, as he began to remember. 'There was something in the story about the Way of Fire - I can't remember what.'

'Well, at least that's something,' Phemanderac said, more to himself than to Leith. 'They remember the end of the First Men. But do they remember the glory, I wonder?'

Both lapsed into silence, a silence that lasted through the hottest part of the day. This is as hot as midsummer in Loulea, Leith thought. How far south have we come? He began to feel drowsy with the heat.

Phemanderac awoke with a start. How long had he been asleep? The late afternoon sun streaming through the barred window gave him his answer. He shook his head to clear it, but an unusual dull¬ness remained.

Over on the other bench the youth from Firanes lay snoring, mouth wide open. Poor Leith, he thought. The boy has really been knocked around. To what purpose is all this? he wondered.

He ran a thick tongue over dry lips; the hot sun had dried him out. It was a long stretch from his bench, but he managed to grab the water jar their guards had replenished that morning. For a moment he hesitated; the water had a metallic smell. Probably from sitting in the sun all day. He raised the jar to his mouth and took a long draught. That's better.

Far from feeling cooler, Phemanderac continued to sweat. What was the matter? This climate was not as hot as that of his home. He had travelled across deserts to get here, searing sand and bleak rock ridges that would have killed lesser men. So why did he feel so hot? He licked his lips; they had the same metallic taste as the water. He glanced across at the water jug, then the truth exploded in his mind. He lifted his oh-so-heavy head, blinked his eyes and stared at Leith, who continued to sleep soundly, too soundly. His own head fell forward on to his chest, and he raised it again only with a great effort. Now the room began to swim before him, and he knew it was too late. He just had time to make a small silence within himself before the drug overwhelmed him, and his inert form fell back on to the bench.

The sound of boot on stone came along the corridor. Clack, clack, clack. A key rattled in the lock, then the huge door to the cell opened. Four shaven-headed Widuz came quickly into the room and hauled out the two motionless figures. With a hollow boom the door slammed shut, and the boots clacked their way down the corridor until they faded into silence.

Mahnum listened to the Fodhram planning their assault. He was not much of a swordsman and knew little of war tactics. In truth, he found himself near the limit of his strength and feared that he would get in the way of the warriors. The Warden would have to detail a couple of Fodhram to look after him, which meant his presence might actually weaken their fighting strength.

And what would their priority be? he asked himself. They are frus¬trated and angry that they didn't catch the Widuz, and they will be out for revenge. Will they even recognise my sandy'haired son? Or might they think he is one of the Widuz? His skin chilled as he realised that Leith's life might depend on him.

He glanced at the others, all preoccupied with checking their axes and swords. His decision made, he allowed himself to drift to the back of the small group, then waited until the path turned sharply to the right. Knowing that he would not be missed, the Trader slipped behind a tree. He would search for Leith on his own.

The man with the red mask walked slowly out on to the carven way, the grey cloak the only defence his purified body had against the cool evening breeze rising from the north. He nodded to the guards following him; it was time to begin.

This was the last day of feeding the Earth Mother. She would be satisfied with one more offering, and the snow would not come south to assault them again. Her anger against the northerners had died; she was full, satiated on Falthan blood.

Good. He didn't really enjoy this, though his grinning compan-ions did. If only the Earth Mother would learn to love the taste of other meat, deer perhaps, then the dreadful fear might leave him and the pain around his chest might subside. The Priest of the Earth Mother detested this aspect of his vocation.

He tried not to look at the first sacrifice, but he did notice she was a Fodhram woman. He stepped behind her, then raised his arms.

'M'Bilou!' he cried. For you, Mother!

He pushed the woman gently and she lurched forward, then fell, spiralling lazily down into the shadow of the yawning abyss.

Another Fodhram was next, a small boy. Smaller than my own lad, the priest reflected. Still, these Fodhram killed our children and took our land. Remember that!

'M'Bilou!' His cry echoed harshly around the natural amphi¬theatre, and he gave the boy a rough shove. Deeply drugged and oblivious to his fate, the young Fodhram fell forward off the carven way and into Helig Holth.

The next sacrifice was a sandy-haired, pale-skinned youth. Certainly no Fodhram, the priest noted with surprise. How has he been caught up with the others? He looked further on; the next pris¬oner was a foreigner also. Why were these men being sacrificed with the Fodhram?

The priest watched for a moment as both prisoners stood silently, swaying slightly, eyes glazed open, blissful smiles on their faces. Go to your deaths in peace, he thought. Not like me! In a trance once, he had foreseen the time of his own death, evil faces leaning over him as he fought for breath, rough hands pushing and pulling at him, dragging him down into the dark, wet abyss of death. The terror of it froze him for a moment, tightening his chest unbearably. Sometimes he saw those faces with his waking eyes.

He moved behind the next sacrifice. Obviously a Falthan, though not a Fodhram. Falthans must die. Mother, this one is for you! He raised his arms.

'M'Bilou!'

Keeping under the forest eaves, Mahnum took a moment to assess his position. He was now alone in a land he had only a vague remembrance of, and that only south of the Sagon. But he had burdened the Fodhram long enough; he only hoped they would not waste precious time looking for him.

Memories of an old trading journey came back to him. What was the name of the fortress near here? Adunlok. How could he have forgotten it? A huge maze of tunnels through a limestone bastion, with vast caverns below, all centred around a vast sink¬hole that made Greenwoods Hole back home look tiny by compari¬son. He had posed as a southern official come to inspect Helig Holth, the Great Mouth of the Earth Mother. Standing on the lip of the chasm had been an awe-inspiring experience. They said that sometimes human sacrifices were hurled over the precipice ...

The realisation of exactly what was in store for the captives hit him between the eyes. The Widuz intend to feed their captives to the Earth Mother. Mahnum knew he had to make all speed, but he felt so very tired. Gritting his teeth and ignoring the pain, he sprinted along a narrow path.

A few minutes later he heard voices, and pulled back into the forest. Two Widuz came crashing along the path, swords drawn. Mahnum waited until they were well past, then unsheathed his own steel and stole further down the dusky valley. The hilltops on either side glowed orange with the dying sun. Up ahead, Mahnum could make out the windowed wall of Adunlok, but Helig Holth itself was in shadow. This is a place 1 had hoped never to see again, he thought grimly.

A shout came to his ears. Was that the priest? Mahnum wondered. Have the sacrifices already begun? He increased his pace, knowing that he could be seen from the fortress, should any Widuz be watching. Where are the Fodhram? Am 1 doing the right thing? He thought of what he had seen all those years ago, and imagined Leith standing on the edge of Helig Holth. I can do nothing else.

The Warden of Withwestwa Wood had issued his instructions, his men were in position, waiting for his signal, and there was nothing else he could do. If only it were not the end of the day; if only his men were not so tired, facing a fresh enemy from the fortress ahead of them; if only they had caught the Widuz before now; if only...

There would be time for regrets later. If there was a later. Realistically, their chances were slim. The Widuz had arrived here at least a day earlier, and their captives might already have been sacrificed. The prudent thing would have been to pull back, putting both rescue and revenge out of their minds, and go home. But the time for prudence had long passed.

'M'Bilou!' came a loud cry, magnified beyond belief by the enclosed canyon, and immediately Axehaft jumped into action, leaping to the top of an adjacent knoll. He waved his hand to signal as previously agreed. Down the slope the Fodhram raced as one, axes, staves and swords at the ready, funnelling towards the shadowy scene ahead.

'M'Bibu!'

The cry echoed around the circular bowl of Adunlok. Down came the arms of the priest, and for a moment his hands rested on the back of the fair-haired youth, who stood unknowingly a foot from the darkness.

Out of the corner of his eye, the priest saw a sudden blur of movement to his right. Then something slammed into his chest, knocking him sideways on to the carven way.

'What—?" the priest had cried as he had been knocked to the ground. He struggled to his feet.

One of the captives! Had he not been drugged?

For a moment all was confusion behind Leith, who stood dreamily on the very edge of destruction. The two guards rushed towards the scene, but were too far away.

'Guards!' bellowed the masked man, then the wind was knocked out of him again. He fought the captive with all his strength, real¬ising that he was fighting for his life, and managed with a great effort to push him away.

The man facing him was thin and wiry, with wide eyes and a grim face - no sign of stupor about him. This is the second foreigner, thought the priest. For some reason his mind filled with the tech¬nicalities of administering the drug, something he prided himself on above all else. The drug may not work with foreigners. But he was unconscious half an hour ago - 1

checked him myself!

Then the foreigner rushed at him again, feinted to the right and thrust out a foot, tripping the priest. He fell to the ground, his momentum carrying him to the very edge of Helig Holth.

Pure terror rose within him and his chest tightened unbearably, his heart seemingly exploding within. A foot came down on his head. He scrabbled for a hold, but his hands found nothing but air. He looked up and saw the round outline of Helig Holth, now above him and receding as he fell.