The Angel's Command (31 page)

The fat Cutpurse lay exhausted near the lake shallows, his injured foot immersed in the water. He was still chained to Gurz, the big mastiff, evidently terrified of the ferocious brute, which sat growling by his side. Ligran took a ladle of the steaming mush from the cauldron. He slopped half of it on the ground and watched Gurz lap it up.

Stirring Cutpurse with a light kick, Ligran grinned. “I'd better feed him or he'll eat that ankle o' yours. What's the matter, Cutpurse, got no bowl with ye? Oh, well, you'll just have to eat yours the way it comes.”

He poured the other half of the porridge from the ladle straight onto the fat man's jerkin. The rest of the robbers guffawed at the look on Cutpurse's face. Ligran smiled. “Stop moanin' and eat it up before it gets cold!”

Cutpurse was about to dip his fingers in the warm porridge when Gurz snarled at him. He pulled his hand back and lay terror-stricken. Having finished his own portion, the mastiff stood over the frightened man and began lapping up the porridge that lay in a glutinous puddle on the thief's stomach.

Ligran was laughing uproariously at the spectacle, when one of the bear's handlers called out, “Ligran, d'ye want me to feed this thing?”

The leader went and refilled the ladle from the cauldron. “He's supposed to be a dancin' bear, let's see him dance for his supper. Come on, bear, dance! Up off your hunkers an' dance!”

Ben turned away from the scene below. “I can't watch any more of this. What makes those people so cruel and callous?”

Dominic turned to face him. “They're Razan. Murder, thieving, cruelty and wickedness is a way of life to them. That's how they've become so strong and feared by ordinary folk.”

Karay watched for a moment, then she, too, turned away, brushing a hand across her moist eyes. Her voice quivered as she spoke. “Oh, that poor bear! If I get even the slightest chance I'm going to free him. I promise I will!”

Listening to the bear's muted sounds of anguish, Ned looked at Ben. “I'll free him, too, if I can, the poor old thing!”

It was noon before the Razan broke camp and moved on. Ben and his friends had to stay where they were hidden until the Razan left the valley and circled away out of sight around the mountain's base. On reaching the lake, they stood at its edge, looking up at the mighty rocks ahead of them.

Dominic shaded his eyes against the sun. “They went off around that jagged bit up there—we'd best follow right now. If we lose sight of them, it'll be difficult tracking over bare rock.”

It was not too hard mounting the side of the valley. By midafternoon they had reached the jagged rock that Dominic had pointed out. Loose rock scree dotted with growths of avens and horseshoe vetch seemed to spread all over the area.

Karay shrugged as she looked around. “Which way now?”

Ned took a good sniff around, then passed Ben a thought. “Follow me, I could smell that big stinky mastiff a mile off!”

The black Labrador trotted off into the larger shale, which looked like the up-jutting teeth of some dead primeval monster. The others followed him, leaping from crag to crag. Ned paused, his ears rising.

Ben heard the dog's thought. “Aye, that's them, up a bit and to the right!”

Night fell swiftly in the high places as late afternoon, twilight, then dusk followed one another in fast succession. The scree and shale gave way to smooth, unyielding rock. Laboriously, they trekked up a winding path, feeling carefully for safe places to set their feet. A wind sprang up, harsh and chilling.

Cupping her hands, Karay blew warmth into them and sniffed. “We'd better look for somewhere to shelter. I'll bet that lot of villains ahead of us have made camp by now.”

The best they could find was a dry bracken bed beneath an overhanging rock. It was not at all comfortable, being open to the winds on both sides. Karay sat down dejectedly. “This'll have to do, I suppose. There's no caves round about.”

Dominic took out his knife and began cutting bracken. “I'll show you what hunters do up in the high places. Gather as much bracken as you can, and pile it up against the rock here.” By the time they had gathered enough bracken, their hands were numb with cold. Dominic lit the bracken, directing them to sit facing the blaze, close together, with their cloaks around them forming a shelter. Ned squidged in between Ben and Karay as the facemaker explained: “With the rock overhanging us and our cloaks acting as a shield, the firelight glow will be hidden.”

Ben warmed his hands gratefully. “I shouldn't think even the Razan would be out on a night like this. We're pretty safe here. Wait while I dig some food out.”

They ate cheese and some of the ham with a loaf of bread. Dominic broke open the loaf, then toasted it over the fire and divided it into four. It tasted very good.

 
Night closed in around the four figures crouched around their fire on the bleak mountainside. The bracken did not last long, as it was brittle and burned quickly.

Dominic tossed his toasting twig into the embers. “We're in for a cold night. 'Tis a pity there isn't any wood hereabouts—all the forestland's far below us now.”

Karay shivered. “My back is freezing. That wind seems to go right through these cloaks!”

Ben rose and trampled the fire embers flat, until the spot was just a warm patch of ground. “There's nothing more to burn, mates, so let's sit on the ground with our backs against the rock. It might help a bit.”

When they had settled themselves and huddled together, Ned climbed over Ben and lay in front of Karay. “There! That'll keep her warm. Ben, I can hear somebody coming this way. Quick, tell our pals to duck under the cloaks and keep very still!”

Ben whispered to the other two, “Someone's coming. Let's throw the cloaks over our heads and keep quiet!”

Ned shuffled back and got under the front of Karay's cloak. A moment later, the tap of a staff end hitting the rock became audible. Ned had been right—someone was coming. Ben peeked through an open fold of his cloak, covering his mouth so that his breath would not mist out into the open.

It was an old woman, bent almost double—whether it was from old age or the heavy jumble of tattered shawls, scarves and blankets draped across her back, Ben could only guess. She leaned for support on a tall pole from which the bark had been peeled, making the wood appear stark white. She halted not far from where the travellers lay hidden, then slowly she turned until she was facing them.

Ben caught his breath, then immediately relaxed. The old crone was blind. She wore a dark strip of cloth bound about her eyes. He caught Ned's thought. “She can't see us, mate, though I've never seen a woman who looked more like a witch in my life!”

Ben stared at the old one. He had to agree with the dog: her face was like a bundled-up and creased parchment with hairs sprouting from odd bumps all over it. Above her shrunken, toothless mouth a hooked nose practically touched an uptilted chin. Truly the image of a witch. When she spoke, her voice was wheezy and shrill. “Are ye friend or enemy?”

They kept silent, scarcely daring to breathe. She swung the staff. Ben felt the whoosh of air as it whipped by, inches from his face.

The hag took a pace forward, calling out, “I am Gizal, friend of the Razan. I know ye are there. Speak.”

The friends held their silence. Gizal cackled nastily. “A touch of my staff can turn folk into bats, toads or worms. So, my children, if ye speak not, I will cast a great spell on thee. 'Tis the last chance I'll give you. Now speak!”

Dominic felt Karay's hand grasp his beneath the cloaks. The hag took another pace forward and grasped the staff tight in both her clawlike hands, swinging out as hard as she could.
Thock!
The wooden pole struck the rock, sending a shock through the hag's body and stinging her hands into numbness. She fell backward, letting go of the staff and wailing with pain.
“Nnnnnyyyaaahhh! Yeeeeeeehhh!”

Ben clasped his hand over those of Dominic and Karay, urging them to remain quiet.

Gizal rolled about, clutching her clenched fists to her mouth in agony and making a noise as if she were humming.
“Mmmmmmmm!”

After a while she pulled herself up onto her knees and started crawling about, arms outstretched as she searched for her fallen staff. It had dropped between Ben and Karay, one end up against the rock, the other end on the ground. Gizal blundered forward, her hands grasping the air as she came closer to them. Ned took a chance. Poking his head from the cloak, he butted the pole outward. It toppled, striking the old woman's shoulder. Instinctively she grabbed it. Slowly she hauled herself upright, hissing viciously through her shrivelled lips.

“I curse thee to the pit of Eblis and the fires of the damned! Ravens shall pick over thy bones and maggots devour thy flesh whilst thou art still alive and praying for death!”

She shuffled laboriously off into the night, still muttering the direst of curses and predicting unthinkable ends for the four companions.

They waited quite a while before anyone ventured to speak. It was Ben who finally broke the silence. “Whew! She's got a very nasty mouth on her for an old lady.”

Karay sounded nervous. “She looked just like a witch—maybe she can really curse folk.”

Dominic laughed. “You don't believe in all that old rubbish, do you? Huh, I wish we had some of those hellfires she was raving about here right now. At least we could get warm from them, eh, Ben?”

The boy stood up, stamping life back into his cold feet. “Aye, right, Dom. Don't worry about some old biddy's curses, Karay. I've been cursed at much worse than that, and look, I'm still here. Ned, too!”

The dog's thoughts cut in on Ben. “We may be here, but I think we'd be better off somewhere else. That old Gizal is bound to run into the Razan gang up ahead. No matter how quiet we kept, she knew we were here. If she tells the Razan, I'll bet they'll send men to search us out. I don't think they take kindly to being followed.”

Ben mentally thanked Ned and suggested to his friends that they needed to find somewhere else for the remainder of the night. They broke camp hurriedly.

 
Further up the mountain, Ligran Razan sat beneath a canvas awning, cooking goat meat over a fire and listening to Gizal's story. He gave her wine and a few of the roasted goat ribs to pick on as he weighed the situation. Gizal was respected among the Razan hierarchy—it was not considered wise to ignore her words. Ligran kicked out at a man lounging nearby. “Rouge, you an' Domba take Gurz. Track back down the mountain an' see if ye can capture whoever 'twas hidin' out there.”

Gizal butted in. “There'd be two, mayhap three, and a dog. I'm sure I could smell dog. Look ye for young ones, their breathing was gentle, not noisy like grown folk.”

Rouge, a big redheaded ruffian, clasped the chain to the mastiff's collar. “Gurz'll sniff 'em out, never fret, Gizal. Me an' Domba will give the brats a good slappin' before we drag 'em back here. If they've got a dog, so much the better, look at Gurz there. Eh, boy, 'tis a long time since you had a whole dog to yerself for dinner, eh?”

Domba jerked the lead, coaxing a snarl from the big ugly mastiff. Both men picked up their long knives and set off, with Gurz sniffing noisily at the ground as he tugged them along.

Gizal gulped wine greedily, falling into a fit of coughing before she turned her face to Ligran. “So then, how is thy bear behaving himself on his way home?”

Ligran took a burning piece of pinewood from the fire.

He threw it at the bear, who was bound to a rock by iron chains. The animal gave a frightened moan as the burning wood bounced off its paw.

Ligran chuckled. “I've a feeling ye took all the runnin' out o' that one. I'm teaching him to dance now. Maguda will enjoy that—she's never had a dancin' bear to amuse her.”

21

BEN KNEW HE HAD PICKED THE WRONG direction to search for a camp. The path he had chosen narrowed as it rose. Now they were on a high ledge. Above them was only the cold night sky. At their backs was smooth rock towering upward. With his back against the rock, Ben saw only space and a stomach-churning drop to the forest below if they missed a single footing. Spreading his arms wide against the rock face, he touched Dominic's fingers. “Maybe we'd better go back and look in a different direction?”

The facemaker inched forward until he was clasping Ben's hand. “No, press on. I think we'll find someplace up ahead, maybe a cave or a deep rift. Don't look down, though, just keep your face level with the side of these rocks, and don't try to walk. Shuffle sideways—not too fast, nice and easy does it.”