The Right Hand of God (16 page)

'In the meantime, you will strike early and strike hard. Put this rebellion down in the same ruthless fashion you dealt with the insurrection in Jasweyah. When I ride into Instruere 1

expect to see the crow-picked head of this dull-witted Arkhos adorning the city walls, along with those of his followers. Put forth all your strength; the time for secrecy is past. Find this magician and his renegade Maghdi Dasht. Find them and defeat them!

'Now, on your face, my faithful servant. Open your soul to me! I am about to infuse you with the strength you need. You will not fail me!'

As Stella watched in horror the flame reared up, then drove Deorc to the floor. Gobbets of red pulsed through the blue tendrils of fire, washing over the twitching figure like old blood, entering in to his mouth, his ears and eyes. And, in the eerie light, the woman from Firanes quailed as the malice of the Destroyer beat at her like the winds of a mighty storm. Finally, blessedly, she lost consciousness, overwhelmed by the power behind the flame.

As the darkness paled towards dawn Leith sat alone at the table in the pavilion, his eyes closed, feeling the flicker of the Jugom Ark on his eyelids, a cornered animal hiding from the torchlight of the hunter. At some stage during the night the others woke and made the short journey back to their lodgings, but Leith remained. He told himself it was a matter of comfort.

Now that twenty-two members of the Company were crammed into the five rooms that comprised their lodgings, it seemed he had nowhere to think, nowhere to be alone. So much to think about. Stella lost and they could not look for her, prevented as they were from doing anything until they had decided what to do with the Jugom Ark. That cursed Arrow.' he reflected bitterly, and the talisman flared in response. I have lost Stella, whom I loved; and I have this Arrow with its hateful voice, which I do not love. Yet 1 tried to do what is right, speaking what the Jugom Ark wants spoken,

and no one will follow its lead. I can do no more. Why won't they listen to me? Why can they not see there is a price to be paid for unity? How can they expect to gain aid from the losian, and afterwards have everything the way it was before? I wish the Firanese king had never ordered my father to Bhrudwol Then at least I might have had one more year to myself before I died. One more year to climb trees and swim in the lake!

He thumped his fist on the table, opened his eyes, and the light before him lurched for a second. There, seated around the table, was the Company. For a moment he thought it was an illusion, but then realised they must have returned to the pavilion while he dreamed. But no, I did not fall asleep. I'm sure I didn't! A moment's reflection confirmed he had indeed slept: his father was now absent, replaced by his grandfather Modahl, who had left the tent earlier.

From the looks on their faces, Leith knew he had spoken his thoughts aloud, and he hung his head, shamed that he should have been overheard.

The Haufuth stood. 'Dawn comes,' he said. 'We have heard your anguish, Leith, and if we could do anything to spare you this task, we would. While you remained here alone, we took counsel with each other. There are many among us who are stronger and wiser than you, and yet none of us knows what to do with the Jugom Ark, let alone take hold of it and constrain its wild magic to our service. No one has stretched forth a hand to take the Jugom Ark; there it remains, embedded in the table. Take it, Leith. The Five of the Hand may have left Loulea together, but there is only one hand able to lead us to victory.'

Three seats to his right, Phemanderac began to pick a gentle tune on his harp. Three notes repeated, then played again in a different key. Told you so, it seemed to say; told you so.

Kurr stood up and moved to the Haufuth's side. 'It doesn't all make sense, boy, but what pieces of the puzzle we have uncovered all seem to have your face on them. It was your father who uncovered the Bhrudwan plan, and your grandfather who against all chance has returned to aid us. Your family is wrapped up in this mystery. When you stretch out your hand and take up the Arrow, you take it up on behalf of your family, of the Arkhimm, of the Company.

Perhaps on behalf of all Falthans.'

'All Falthans?' Leith retorted. 'Or just the ones like us?'

'When it comes to that,' Prince Wiusago answered quietly, 'you know the answer. We of the Company have been gathered by the Five of the Hand. We represent all Faltha. Therefore whatever we do must be done with all Faltha in mind. Yet as the son of a king I must add that this idea of yours is fraught with danger. We may end up with an army that fights with itself before it ever faces the real enemy. A true soldier would counsel that it is better to have a small army of one mind than a large army with many minds. Nevertheless, I do not see how we have any choice. Let the Arrow have its way, if indeed we have read its will aright. After the war is over, those of us who remain can sit together and decide what to do.' Unnoticed, the harpist picked up the pace of his tune, becoming a little more insistent.

Modahl eased back his chair and faced his grandson. 'My bones are old and my wits are not what they were,' he said in his deep voice. 'Yet this does not seem a difficult riddle to me.

Whether I was to find the Jugom Ark in the hands of a small child or an old woman on her deathbed, I would serve that hand without question, and with whatever ability remains to me.

'This should be of encouragement to the Company. Many

others will be of similar mind to myself, including people in positions of influence. They will not hesitate to send the men at their command to join with us, once the discovery of the Jugom Ark is verified to them. I but need to send the word to my queen and ten thousand Sna Vazthan soldiers will be dispatched to aid us; or a still larger army could be sent to the Gap to hold it for a time against any army Bhrudwo could muster. This I shall do, no matter what the Company decides, for Sna Vaztha will not tolerate any army passing their southern borders.

The passage of the Gap will cost the Bhrudwans many lives, particularly if they are foolish enough to attempt it in winter.

'Leith, 1 barely know you, and yet already I suspect the Flaming Arrow has chosen its keeper well. Do not be discouraged! You have wise heads and strong arms at your service.'

'You must lead us, Leith,' the Haufuth declared, picking up the thread; and it seemed to Leith a great relief lay behind his words. 'Last night you gave us an ultimatum: in effect, to accept your terms or to forfeit the use of the Jugom Ark. That is the act of a leader. We have decided.

We will follow.'

The Haufuth sat down, his broad face clearer than it had been since this journey had begun.

'The sun is rising,' Modahl reminded Leith. 'Soon people will gather, waiting to hear what the Arrow bids them do. We wait on your word. In the meantime i have a responsibility I must discharge. Do I have leave to absent myself for a little while?' No one raised any objection, so he left the tent swiftly.

The harpist brought his playing down to the very edge of hearing.

Leith gestured to the people facing him. 'I see four empty seats,' he said, thinking furiously, choosing his words carefully.

'The number of the Company is not complete. Where is my father? Why will he not even sit at the same table as my newfound grandfather?' Turning to Kurr, he said: 'You talk about our family as if it's something special. Maybe we are, I don't know; no one told me anything about my grandfather. But it is a divided family. How can a divided family be involved with the Arrow of Yoke?'

He pointed to another empty chair. 'Where is Hal? My own brother keeps secrets none of you know about. I could take an hour and tell you things about him that might change your opinion of my family. Even you, Mother, don't know all Hal has done since we left Loulea.

He's not what he seems. Hasn't anyone else noticed his silence? Why does he no longer say anything? Doesn't anyone else remember his harsh words in the Hermit's cave? His counsel against bribing the functionaries of the Council of Faltha? Or his ready advice at the Haufuth's house, before the quest even began? Shaping us, always trying to influence what we do. But now he says nothing. He's not said anything since the Jugom Ark was found. Doesn't anyone else think that's strange?'

'Leith, Hal is a special boy. We all know that.' Indrett spread her hands. 'Perhaps he's keeping silent to give you a chance to come into your own. When he comes back from making the breakfast, you might ask him.'

Leith grunted in frustration: that would be just like Hal, once again claiming the moral high ground. '1 see another gap in the Company's ranks,' he continued. 'Where is Farr? Has he abandoned us?'

'We've seen nothing of him since he left us last night,' Perdu replied. 'That one is little loss.'

'I disagree,' Kurr said, surprising everyone, perhaps even himself. 'He showed more spirit than most. Who is to say

how any of us might have turned out in his circumstances? I did not have to watch my mother, my father and then my brother die while I was still a young man. My hope is that he finds somewhere to reflect on what remains to be done.'

'Yet Farr is lost for now,' Leith concluded. 'As is one other. Less than two days ago I walked through the gates of Instruere to learn Stella had gone missing. I still haven't got the straight of it.' He turned towards his mother. 'You say she fell in love with a man from the Ecclesia, but was not given permission to wed him? How could this be? I was only away for one season!'

'Leith, Leith; Stella is a woman. At least, this journey has made her one before her time.

Perhaps we should have granted her permission to follow her heart, trusting that her heart might prevent her making a disastrous marriage - as any such union would be, for she wants something from a marriage that no marriage can provide. We will continue to search for her.'

Indrett nodded to emphasise her words.

'I want all the members of the Company together,' said Leith. 'I don't like the thought of any empty seats.'

'I don't like to harp, but it grows lighter outside every moment,' Phemanderac reminded them, the smile on his face lessening the gravity of the moment. 'What, then, is to be done? Do you, Leith, accept the burden of the Jugom Ark?' He played a last chord, which echoed through the pavilion, then faded into silence.

The moment hung in the air above the table like a storm about to break. In the cave under the island in the Joram Basin Leith had taken the Jugom Ark without knowing all that it meant, clasping his hand around the burning shaft in obedience to a voice that seemed to be a friend.

Now it was different. He knew that the Arrow would not burn him, at least on the outside, but he could feel himself being inwardly seared by the potency of the flame. The same flame had visited him the night of the Firefall in Foilzie's basement, the same voice that had spoken through him to Stella on the icy lake in Withwestwa Wood. It spoke of love, but sought to constrain. It offered freedom for Faltha but bondage for him. He desired the voice, yet wanted nothing to do with it. This time, if he stretched forth his hand, he would not be parted from the Arrow and its voice until all was won -or lost. And even should the war be won, what would he lose in the process?

I don't know why I hesitate. There really isn't any choice. There never has been.

He opened his fist.. . and the Jugom Ark burst into life, jerked itself free of the table, crackled through the air and flew to his open hand like it had been loosed from a bow.

'I accept leadership of the Company,' Leith announced, 'until a better hand than mine can be found.' The Arrow of Yoke flared, as though expressing contentment with the situation.

'You've made me leader, but that doesn't mean I will no longer ask for advice. So,' he said, signalling for them to draw closer, 'here is an idea that seems good to me, and I would like your thoughts on it.' He spoke rapidly for a few minutes, and as he spoke first one, then another of the Company began to nod.

When the Arkhos of Sna Vaztha arrived at the Iron Door, the Council secretary informed him the meeting had already begun, and he couldn't possibly be admitted until after the morning session, and then only if Deorc allowed it. A quick glance back along the corridor told Modahl the first of the

day's supplicants had yet to arrive. He drew his sword and asked the secretary a second time, knowing what would be waiting for him as the great door slowly rose on its chains.

Nevertheless, his queen commanded it, so he must obey. He had little hope of returning to this side of the door alive.

'That is why we cannot let the present situation continue,' the handsome magician was saying as Modahl drew near the half-open door to the Inner Chamber. 'A man such as he loose in the City, even if his powers are less than legend makes them, will be a focus for all the discontent currently troubling us. The news that he is related to these northern peasants is yet another reason to act swiftly.'

Modahl made to push open the door; and at once the speaker was aware of him. He could feel the leader of the Council as though the man stood right beside him.

'Come in,' said the voice, and the Arkhos of Sna Vaztha was forced to obey. Around the Council table the treasonous Arkhoi sat, open-mouthed that he would dare to return. Directly opposite the door sat Deorc, owner of the voice.

'Sit down,' it commanded, full of power, and again he did not resist. Save your strength for when it counts, he told himself.

What sat opposite him was no longer human. Something had happened to it since last he had been in this fearful place. A fierce and harrowing presence stared out of those eyes, and for the first time Modahl looked into the face of a man possessed.

'You've saved me a great deal of trouble,' said the voice, the mouth jerking the face in a number of directions, as though in parody of normal human speech. 'I was about to order a search for you. I have some questions for you, Arkhos.'

It hurt horribly, but Modahl resisted in the Haukl fashion, not directly confronting the power beating at him, but