The Right Hand of God (14 page)

old man say: 'We wanted to ask you a boon' and hearing the old woman say: 'When you come into your own, remember the Children of the Mist. Remember all those peoples who live in Faltha, yet are not of the First Men'.

Pressure began to build in his chest. The voice was about to speak to him; Leith could feel it.And in a flash of insight he knew what the voice was going to say. The words had been forming in his mind for months, making him uneasy, making what seemed a simple battle between good and evil into something much more complicated, much less certain, where the heroes grew black wings and inflicted sickness and suffering on others, or kept dark secrets from each other, little different to the villains. He would speak now, before the voice had a chance to echo through his head, robbing him once again of his own will, of his self.

He stood. Thoughts coalesced in his mind, a multitude of memories coming together to form a single idea, and he shook with the enormity of it. The Arrow responded by exploding into life, burning with a fierce, white-hot flame. The crowd moved back, stunned. None of the Company could brave the heat and flame to get near the youth from Loulea, who stepped on to the box and stood before them enveloped from head to foot in a pillar of fire.

'Leith! What is happening?' Kurr cried, his face a surprised mask, his eyebrows singed. 'What are you - what is it doing?'

Flames roared in Leith's ears. He heard the old farmer, but could not make out what he said.

The flames distanced him from the others, as though he was some mad prophet in the grip of a supernatural ecstasy. These are my words. My words! he told himself. Nobody else's!

'I am Leith Mahnumsen from the village of Loulea in Firanes,' he said. His voice carried over the crowd, which

quieted to hear his words. Truth, tell the truth as I see it. My words. 'I am the bearer of the Jugom Ark. It does not belong to me. I carry it on behalf of the Arkhimm. It's just that I seem to be the only one who can pick the thing up,' he said, indicating the Arrow in his hand, which continued to blaze like a captive star. 'But I do have a question for us all to think about, and it is this: how do we unite Faltha?'

He paused, taking a moment to look about him. To his right and left stood the Company, which had grown from the original five members to a large group of people from most parts of Faltha - and beyond, thought Leith, glancing at Phemanderac, who watched expectantly.

They were all there: his family, enlarged so dramatically by Modahl's reappearance; friends old and new; a few acquaintances, even an untrustworthy adversary with whom they had a temporary alliance; all gathered to debate how to make use of the Jugom Ark. Before him, spread out until it filled the open space between him and the Struere Gate, waited the crowd.

Some had made their way into the adjacent tenements, and now leaned out of windows and sat on balconies and even roofs, the better to see and hear what the people with the Jugom Ark had to say. They will expect more inspirational speechmaking, Leith realised. They will expect me to instill courage in them, courage to face their enemy. They will expect us to lead them. They want someone to follow.

And, with a suddenness that shocked him, Leith realised what he was about to say might ruin the whole quest. Might cost them the war. Might damn them all to defeat. He took a deep breath.

My words. Mine!

'The Undying Man of Bhrudwo is bringing a vast, well-trained army to take Faltha and make it his own,' Leith

told them, his words echoing in his own ears, the squeaky voice of a nervous youth. 'Half of the kings of Faltha have gone over to him. Yet we will need the strength of a united Faltha if we wish to defeat the Dark Lord of Bhrudwo.' Good, so far. They're listening. 'You recognise the Jugom Ark, the ancient heirloom of the Most High, and are willing to put your trust in it.

It is his promise that he will not forget us in our time of trial. But many of our leaders will not recognise the Arrow. They will refuse to acknowledge the leadership of a group of peasants from lowly Firanes. Or they will try to take the Arrow from us, and bend it to suit their plans.

'So what do we do to win over the kingdoms ruled by traitorous kings? How do we get the message out to the furthest corners of Faltha, and gather an army swiftly enough that we can meet the Destroyer before he brings his force through the Gap? How can we make our army powerful enough that it can defeat the might of Bhrudwo? These are the questions we must answer. My friends will tell me this should be talked about in secret, that there may be spies of the enemy right here in the crowd. But I say nothing should be hidden! I tell you we have choices, and tonight we can decide how this whole war is going to proceed.'

His father came as close to him as he dared; Leith could see the heat drawing sweat from his face. 'Leith! Leith! What are you saying? What are you doing? Should we not talk about this first?'

Leith spoke no word to him, untouchable in his fiery cocoon, and continued. 'We could ignore the kingdoms of the traitorous kings, and halve the potential size of our army thereby,' he told them. 'Or we could somehow subvert each kingdom, perhaps by identifying people still loyal to Faltha,

and encourage them to begin a rebellion; but this will take far too long, and will result in Falthan deaths long before we face the might of the Bhrudwan army.'

Leith sighed. Now for it, the vast risk, the great idea that had been building in his mind for months, though he had not been aware of it until a few moments ago. He began to shout, aware how he must appear to the crowd: smothered in fire, flames coming from his mouth as he spoke, like an apparition of the Most High.

'There is another way, a way to bring together an army so vast it will outnumber the Bhrudwans, so fierce it will cause them to fear. This way arises from the meaning of the Jugom Ark itself. The Flaming Arrow was given to Falthans as a symbol of unity. It is a brightly burning idea which, if we have the courage to accept it, will bring together all true Falthans for the very first time. It is an idea so large its effects will be felt far beyond the end of the battle with Bhrudwo, no matter who is the victor. It is an idea so frightening in what it asks of us I would not suggest it unless we were in the last extremity - but that is where we are.

'Who are the true Falthans? Are true Falthans the same as First Men? No, they cannot be, for we know many of the leaders of the First Men have betrayed Faltha. They are not true Falthans. So what makes a true Falthan? I declare to you by the Flame that burns brightly in my hand - may I be consumed to ash if it is not so! True Falthans are those who remain loyal to the land and the people of Faltha, no matter where they live.'

'Where do they live?' a man called out.

'How can we tell the true Falthan from the traitor?' asked another.

'True Falthans don't short-weight their goods, that's for

sure!' yelled some wag who clearly knew the previous speaker. A section of the crowd laughed, but were shushed by those around them.

'Let the boy speak!' they cried. 'Listen to the Arrow-bearer!'

The disturbance barely registered on Leith's consciousness, so far into his message had he gone. As soon as the crowd quieted, he continued.

'Where do we find these true Falthans? Not only within the walled city of our own small prejudices. True Falthans also live beyond the borders of our Sixteen Kingdoms. They live in secret valleys where we drove them. They remain in hiding on small islands on the fringes of Faltha. They dwell in the deep forests as yet unexplored by the so-called First Men. They occupy hot southern deserts and icy northern wastes. They were once free to roam throughout Faltha, but now are penned in their small lands, the lands we First Men have not yet claimed for ourselves. That is where we find our army. They are under threat just as we are. Their ancestors died just as ours did a thousand years ago when Bhrudwo last defeated Faltha. They will fight for their people and for their land: but unless we make room for them, they will not fight alongside us.

'Where are the hidden armies that will come to our aid? Who are these true Falthans who live on the margins of what we call civilisation? They are the losian. They are the real First Men -

and First Women - of Faltha.'

His pronouncement was met with stunned silence.

'Anathema!' an old man cried into the void. 'Anathema! The losian refused the Fire of Life!

How can we fight alongside such as they?'

'We ain't joinin' with losianV came another voice from the back of the crowd. 'Animals, that's what they are!'

'He's right, young sir,' a woman shouted. 'You dursn't say such things. Were your family murdered by savages from the desert like mine were?'

The crowd began shouting -at the man holding up the burning arrow, at each other, at anyone who would listen. As Leith watched, people began to leave the street, unwilling to accept what they had been told. First one, then another, then dozens and dozens of listeners drifted away into the shadows, until perhaps two-thirds of the crowd remained.

'Very good, you young fool!' Farr cried bitterly. 'Rather than doubling our army, your ill-advised plan has halved it!'

Leith turned on him. 'Be patient!' Around him the flames roared, forcing the Vinkullen man back a step. 'Withhold your judgment until the whole plan is revealed to you. 1 am tired of your constant opposition to things you don't understand!'

Farr drew back even further, shocked to hear the youngster speak like this. In an instant Leith softened. 'I'm sorry, Farr. You've done much to help us. But the die is now cast, and nothing anyone does can unsay what has been said. Please be patient with me a little while longer.'

The youth from Loulea raised his voice: again, it carried easily to the remnant of the crowd, again the flame rose until he was cloaked in fire. '1 have placed my life as forfeit once already tonight, and now 1 do so again. In the crowd, and within our very Company, there are people we call losian, people not descended from the First Men exiled from the Vale of Youth. Let us see whether the Arrow of Yoke, the most sacred object known to Falthans, accepts or rejects the losian amongst us.'

Well, you've challenged me to say and do strange things, he said to the voice. Now it's my turn. Do I do this or not? I'm going to wait until you speak to me.

'I don't need to speak. You're in tune now with the Arrow. Its desires have become your desires. Do what you plan to do.'

'Behold!' Leith cried, feeling like a hawker at the local market, but knowing what he was about to do was necessary. 'The Jugom Ark tries the losian by fire!'

A dozen gouts of flame burst from the Flaming Arrow, arced over the heads of the crowd and landed in a dozen widely separated places. Louder and louder roared the fire. One of the fiery arcs descended on Te Tuahangata, standing only a few yards away. Immediately he disappeared in a blaze of light. For an awful moment Leith thought the man had been destroyed, and he cried aloud, along with many of the crowd, expecting to see nothing but ashes. But no! In a scene eerily reminiscent of his own dream, the arcs of fire held firm, each one immersing a dark silhouette in flame. The Flaming Arrow burned brighter and brighter, until none could look upon its radiance. Then, in a final burst of light so bright it seared the very darkness, the filaments of fire disappeared.

'Look around you,' Leith spoke into the preternatural stillness. 'The losian have been judged.

They have been touched by the Fire of the Most High, and they still live. Have any been found wanting?'

The people standing around the fire-drenched figures had already pulled well away from them, and retreated further when they saw that each figure glowed, as though the fire still rested on them, though already the glow began to fade.

'We have been answered,' Leith declared, trying to keep

the relief out of his voice. 'Now, does anyone here wish to put their prejudice against the losian to the same test? There is plenty of fire left!' He held the Arrow aloft, and it burned with an angry red glow.

No one took up the challenge.

'Return now to your homes,' the figure bearing the Flaming Arrow told them. 'Think on what you have heard, and decide if you can still stay loyal to this new vision of Faltha. Then come back here tomorrow at dawn, and bring everyone you know with a like mind. We will then decide what to do.'

The Company drifted back to the pavilion, stunned by the turn of events. Leith noticed rain now fell steadily, and his friends were wet through: he, however, was completely dry. The Arrow flickered quietly, the vast energy it had displayed replaced by a gentle glow.

Leith waited until everyone else found a seat, then took his place between his parents. Twenty faces and more stared back at him, with only a few betraying anything but anger. Hal, he noticed, wore a smile of immense satisfaction.

I've been played for a fool again, Leith realised angrily. The Arrow, the voice, his brother. All in league against him. Just when he thought his great idea would take him forever away from the clutches of the voice, he discovered - had been told - the Arrow itself exercised control over him. And he had thought he controlled it! That it matched his moods! That it was his tool! Now he knew who the tool really was.

Putting the rising anger to the back of his mind, Leith waited for the inevitable questions.

'How could you have done this thing?' Kurr began, his face drawn and pale. 'Surely you could have spoken with us before announcing your plans to the world? Don't you think we deserved some say in the matter? Or have we merely been bystanders in all of this, bit players in the drama of Leith Mahnumsen and his Burning Arrow? Have we, boy?'

'It wasn't like that—'

'I want to know where you got this scheme from,' Farr interrupted, clearly unable to wait a moment longer. 'Whose idea was it to involve the losian7. Even if such a thing was conceivable, even if they should agree to fight with us, what's to stop them turning traitor and selling us out to the Bhrudwans halfway through the battle? They can't be depended on, mark my words. I won't march alongside them! I swear this on the grave of my dead brother: if but one losian fights alongside our army, I will leave this Company forever!' Then he sprang to his feet, knocking his chair to the ground, and marched from the tent.