Across the Face of the World (26 page)

The^Trader closed his eyes to shut out the scene below, but another scene replayed itself behind his closed lids; another open place, a village far to the south and east, a small fishing commun¬ity on the banks of the Aleinus River. As he hid in the trees at the edge of the clearing, he had watched the merciless warriors going from hut to hut, dragging people out and butchering them on the street, or killing them in their homes. The screams were terrible, terrible; mothers pleaded in vain for the lives of their chil¬dren, who were slaughtered in front of their eyes just before they themselves were slain. As Mahnum had watched in helpless frus¬tration, the villagers had simply been wiped out. Pointlessly. None of the villagers could tell their tormentors anything about him; few were given the chance. Finally the huts were set on fire and the village razed to the ground.

Shouts of warning drew his attention back to the present. He shut his eyes, but he couldn't close his ears, and the sounds that came from below were every bit as dreadful as he remembered.

The woman was not killed. Instead, she was knocked uncon¬scious by a blow to the head and carried up the slope to where Mahnum and Indrett lay. For some reason the Bhrudwans had taken another captive. Mahnum was too sickened to wonder why. Too often now he had been forced to watch helplessly while others suffered as the result of his own choices, and though he told himself that it wasn't his fault, he could not fight the guilt settling on him. Each wound inflicted by the warriors he had drawn west¬wards created another debt he had to repay; each death at their hands was an added burden he had to bear. He would do all within his power to see that the Bhrudwan invasion was thwarted. Somehow he must escape and warn the Falthan kingdoms, somehow he must make them believe him. He could not bear to think of these atrocities being repeated in every village in Faltha, in his own sleepy village of Loulea.

It took the Company all morning to climb the Snaerfence. In parts the path could be taken at a pleasant walking pace; other parts were boulder-strewn and broken, or had been washed out by swift spring meltwaters, now locked up in icy prisons on the heights above. In three places the path became a stair; twice the steps were stone-hewn, the third made from sawn timber.

The riders were forced to dismount and lead the horses over the worst parts.

'Who made these steps?' Leith asked as they puffed their way up the second stair. 'And who keeps the road in repair?'

The Haufuth did not have the breath to answer. Kurr began a reply, but his attention was taken by the sight of Hal labouring up the stone steps just above him. He could see that the youth's legs were shaking with the effort.

'Perhaps we'd better call a halt for a while,' the old farmer declared. 'I'm running short of breath.'

Then, abruptly, he turned and sniffed the sky. 'What is that?' he exclaimed. 'Can you smell it?'

'What?' Wira asked.

'Seasnow! The air is thick with it!'

'We're too far inland for seasnow,' Farr commented. 'We must be two hundred miles from the coast.'

'I know seasnow when I smell it!'

'I've been inland many times before, many more times than you, old man,' Farr argued, 'and when it snows here, the flakes are dry and light.'

Kurr held the sleeve of his cloak up to his face. 'Unless, of course,' he laughed, 'the smell is on these clothes.' He laughed again, sheepishly. 'Yes, that's what it is. Kroptur probably had these clothes stored in his barn last winter.'

'I told you it wasn't seasnow.'

'Yes, yes, thank you, Farr,' the farmer said, embarrassed by his mistake.

By now the Haufuth had recovered his breath, and cast about for something to steer the conversation away from the possibility of conflict. 'Who made this road, you ask?' he said, turning to Leith. The boy nodded.

'It was made by the First Men, in the days before ships. Many years they spent building the road, the only link between Firanes and the rest of Faltha. Once it was well maintained, with people employed to collect tolls and repair the road, but with the advent of ships the road traffic fell away, and the tolls did not pay for the repair. So, gradually, the Westway fell into ruin. The villages along the road - like Loulea, Vapnatak and Mjolkbridge - do the best they can to look after it, but it is not what it was.'

'Remember the poles back down in Kilth Keening?' Kurr added. His mistake now forgotten, he joined the lesson. 'They were placed there by the First Men to help travellers keep to the road in times of heavy snow. My guess is that the Windrisians maintain them still, though they do not often use the Westway to ascend to the moors. That accounts for why this section of the road is in such a state of disrepair.'

'Haufuth,' Leith said timidly, 'you speak as though the First Men were real. But didn't you teach us that they were only legends?'

Kurr barked a laugh. 'Caught out by a child! What sort of nonsense have you been teaching our children? There is no such thing as only a legend!'

'Just because I find out that something is true doesn't make it any easier to believe,' grumbled the big man. 'I didn't want the children to grow up believing every fairy tale people told them.

Open, inquiring minds, that's what they need.'

'When the fairy tale comes riding into their village and makes off with their parents, I'd say it was time to believe,' Farr said flatly.

'For most people the First Men are figures of legend,' Kurr said solemnly, 'but the great stories from the Domaz Skreud, the Scroll of Doom, are known amongst the Watchers. I learned them in my youth, when I. .. never mind.'

'What stories?' Stella asked, filled with curiosity.

Kurr glanced at Hal, who still breathed heavily. 'We have a moment,' the old farmer said. 'In fact, it might be an idea if we ate lunch now. We still have some way to climb. During the meal I will tell you about the First Men, since aspects of the stories relate to our own predicament.'

'We know how the Most High made the world and all that is contained within it,' Kurr began, lapsing into the formal story¬telling idiom common to all Falthan people. The Company settled comfortably beside the path, sharing bread and cheese. 'But this was not the only world He made. Throughout the fields of time and space He scattered countless worlds and made many creatures to live on these worlds. He then travelled across the field of space and chose some of these creatures to be His servants.

'On our world the Most High chose to anoint only one crea¬ture, the race of men, who in their primeval state were as the beasts around them. He set then a whisper in their hearts, drawing those who would listen across the wilderness and the desert to a bountiful vale in the north, and He followed them as a great thun¬dercloud. On the lofty rim of the vale the Chosen waited, and the towering cloud drew swiftly up behind them. Down a narrow trail into the virgin land they went; in terror of the rearing cloud and in fear of the tortuous path they trod, yet they went in obedience to the voice that called them on, and they walked in hope. On a hill in the centre of the vale they rested, with the great cloud high above them. It was there, in the Vale of the North, that the Most High came with fire upon the race of men.

'From the overshadowing presence of the Most High descended flaming pillars of lightning, and each of the chosen was enveloped in fire. In the midst of the flaming pillars another, greater, column of fire formed, as the Most High joined with men. Fiery filaments sprung from His presence, joining the pillars of flame, and in that moment was Man touched with the Fire of Life, imparting fellow¬ship with the Most High, and for a while glory burned on a hill in the Vale.

'With His Right Hand the Most High touched a rock. From the heart of the rock sprung forth a Fountain of quintessential Water, with a potency sufficient to douse the pillars of fire. Then in a great cloud the Presence vanished from amongst them, going they knew not where, yet leaving something in the heart of each one present. And as the spray from the fountain sprinkled their upturned faces, the Chosen fancied they heard a Voice speak within their minds.

'At that time the Most High entered into a covenant with men, saying: "I am the One, the Most High God. I have given you life and set Fire to your hearts, a Fire which will grow if nurtured with reverence and fear and love. My Presence remains with all who seek to dwell within the Fire of Life, and in the mist of the morning and in the cool of the evening I will walk with anyone who earnestly desires fullness of life. You cannot grow without My touch; you cannot sustain the flame by your own deeds, however praiseworthy. Yet by My touch your works shall endure ancrhave merit, and shall add strength and beauty to My creation. For this end I have gifted you Life, that you might live for My glory, adding perfection to that which is already Perfect.

'"I will walk with your sons and your daughters, and when their hearts burn for Me, I will share with them of the fire. Should any choose to reject the fire for which they were made they shall leave the Vale of the Chosen, and they will wander the world in search of truth but will not find it.

'"Fire I have given unto you, and fire shall be your sustenance. You shall walk the vale of your birth, eating and drinking of the Fire of Life, and you shall not die. Fellowship you will have, one with another and each with the Most High, and by this fellow' ship will your flame grow, becoming strong and pure. When the flame has reached maturity I will come for you and translate you beyond the walls of time to a place you know not. As a token and a promise of this I have set amongst you a spring, the Fountain of Eternal Life, from which none may drink. Yet the fountain shall seal my covenant in you, and I will constantly refresh your spirits by its waters.

'"I am the Most High; I am the Fountain in your midst, the Flame in the centre of your being.

Rejoice and fear not! My words cannot fail of their fruition."

'As darkness after light was the cessation of His words, and all the people mourned His departure, yet rejoiced at the grace shown to them. And in the Vale of the North they went about their lives outwardly unchanged, but inwardly transformed by the gifts of the Most High.'

'We must not tarry on this road,' Farr said after a while. 'There is no shelter here were it to rain or snow.' He looked pointedly at the old farmer.

One by one the travellers arose, groaning and stretching weary limbs, then led the horses slowly up the remainder of the climb. The air was still and bitterly cold; and with the keenness of sight common at this altitude, they could now gaze across Kilth Keening below them to the heights opposite. Around a corner they went, and a wider vista opened behind them: snow and ice wreathed the upper slopes of the fells across the Torrelstrommen valley.

Further up their eyes were drawn, to where the mountain peaks jutted into the clouds. Further up still Leith looked, and then gasped: an immense grey cloud towered over the mountains, dwarfing them. Dirty black at the bottom, puffy and white near its top, the cloud leaned menacingly towards them.

At that moment the path levelled out. They had climbed the Snaerfence, crossing the threshold into Breidhan Moor. Ahead the land was open, a wild wasteland of rolling, snow-covered hills, into which the Westway disappeared without trace. But the Company had eyes only for the cloud behind them. Leith thought of the cloud that had shepherded the First Men into the Vale of the North. Had it looked like this? As he gazed on the towering cloud, rising rampart upon rampart into the sky, he could feel awe settling upon him, awe edged with fear.

'Seasnow!' Farr breathed, in spite of himself.

'Yes, and headed our way,' the old farmer grated.

'There are few places to hide from storms on Breidhan Moor,'

Wira said. 'We'd better move on, and hope that the snow stays away.'

The travellers turned their backs on the approaching cloud and hurried on into the moors.

It grew dark as they stopped to eat their evening meal. 'We can go no further,' the farmer warned them. 'It is now two weeks from the full moon of Midwinter's Night and, even if the storm passes, there'll be no moon tonight. We cannot risk travelling in the dark.'

A little way ahead of them Farr let out a cry. 'A fire site!' he called to them. 'Someone has built a fire here in the last few days. Come quickly and see!' The others hurried after him.

Just to the left of the road the land dipped into a bowl-shaped dell, sheltered from the east and west by limestone walls. Snow lay deep around the perimeter of the bowl, but at the centre it was only a thin wispy covering. 'Look!' Farr called, brushing aside the snow.

The Company scrabbled around in the deepening gloom. 'Definitely a fire site,' Kurr agreed.

'A group of people spent the night here two - no, probably three - days ago.'

From the darkness beside him came a cry. Kurr wheeled around: it was Leith.

'What's wrong?'

Leith could not answer. Instead, he held out his hand. There was something small in his palm.

Kurr bent over, peering through the murk. It was a birch bark carving.

The farmer held the carved figure up against the pale eastern sky. 'What is it?' he asked.

Hal answered him. 'I've seen it before. It is a carving of my father. Leith himself made it.'

Beside him Leith stared into the distance, his expression as blank and unchanging as that on the carving in the farmer's hand.

'Well, there's no doubt about it, then,' the Haufuth breathed. 'The captives were here, and had wits enough to leave a sign behind.'

* * *

The fire burned brightly and soup simmered in the pot. While Hal tended the meal, the others set up a shelter against the threat of seasnow. They arranged their packs in a semicircle around the fire and used their staves to make a frame, the opening to the east. Spare cloaks and some of the wood they had brought up from the valley lined the frame; in this fashion the shelter was completed. Wira tethered the horses to a limestone outcrop some way up the far side of the dell, then made his way back to the shelter.

And not a moment too soon. From their seats around the fire, the Company watched dim grey snowflakes filter down past the doorway and settle on the ground. Before long the snow fell heavily, swirling and slanting from right to left across the blackness in front of them. A few flakes backed into their shelter; heavy snow, wet from its journey across the sea, the sort that fell on the coast. The wind gusted above them, but the shelter was exposed only to the eddies, being spared the full force of the gale because it was at the bottom of the dell. Outside the white blanket deepened.