Across the Face of the World (28 page)

He will be tormented for the rest of time by the power in his body, a power he cannot control, a power that will destroy his spirit and his soul and his mind while preserving his body forever. The gift is thus his punishment: he has his wish, he is free of My dominion, and he will lose the gifts I gave to him and keep only the one he stole from Me.

'"But now, you men of the Vale, heed My judgment. My complaint against the Council of Leaders is this: why did you not obey Me? And My grievance against the city is this: why did you not heed My words? You did not call the leaders of rebellion to account, being concerned only with your own opinions. Though you yourselves did not rebel, in your disobedience you set your¬selves against My Face. Thus you have forfeited your right to the water of the fountain, and the Fire of Life will die within you, to be given to another generation. You shall be banished from the Vale, and for many years will have to survive alone in the world ere I visit you again with My Presence. You shall take nothing with you, no relic or scroll or treasure to remind you of joys past, for the Vale and all things within it I shall utterly destroy.

One thing only shall you bear on your journeys, to remind you that I have not forsaken you.

The symbol of unity among your clans and houses shall be the symbol of My wrath against all evil: the flaming arrow which I now name the Jugom Ark, the Arrow of Yoke. If at any time it is produced before the Council of Leaders, be assured that conflict is at hand. Without the unity it represents, you will not survive to see the day of your deliverance. I give it now into the hand of the Arkhos of Landam, who shall select a suitable guardian for the arrow.

'"One Clan only retains My favour; in memory of the right¬eousness and courage of Sthane of the House of Saiwiz, the Rehtal Clan shall be the prophets of My words in the days to come.

'"Now, unto those of the Vale who followed the Destroyer into rebellion of the heart, I raise My Right Hand in judgement. Those who set their face against the will of the Most High shall die."

'The Figure in white raised His Hand above His Head, and a great earthquake rocked the Vale, splitting the Square of Rainbows in two. And He pointed a finger of His Right Hand towards the Council of Leaders on the far side of the smoking chasm, and spoke sorrowfully: "Now go! Flee for your lives, for hardly shall you escape the destruction to come." And from those cowering in fear at His feet the Most High turned His face and vanished from the world.

'The council and their followers turned then and ran from that awful place, leaving Kannwar and the others to their fate. Each one made his way to the sheer wall of the Vale northeast of the city. As they ran, great tremors and shakings of the earth over¬took them, throwing many to the ground. Huge fissures opened in the earth and fire and smoke belched forth from them, flowing over the land about them. In their terror some cast themselves into these fiery chasms or stumbled unseeing into the rivers of fire. Accompanied by the noise of tortured earth and the smell of sulphur, they ascended the Vale wall by a narrow path, and those who still lived assembled at the rim of the valley and watched its destruction.

'All was a haze of smoke and steam and the world roared about their ears. Those with keenest sight then descried a vast wall of water advancing along the Vale from the south. As they watched, it covered the mighty city of Dona Mihst, and the Tower of Worship and the Hall of Lore were no more. The waters divided in two below them and flowed up the arms of the valley to their left and to their right. The hill upon which the refugees stood shook from the battering of the wave as it swept past. As the water engulfed the fissures in the earth, a roaring and a mist rose up out of the Vale, billowing higher than where they stood, and in mercy hid the final destruction from their sight. Though muted now by the fog, the noise of it continued for several hours, slowly subsiding into a bleak silence.

'Thus the First Men were cast adrift, abandoned in a desert land. For months they wandered along the rim of the Vale without purpose, following the northward branch of the now-dead valley. When the mist finally dissipated they could see that the valley was drowned, filled with water released from the south by a terrible violence. Among the survivors were the members of the Council of Leaders, who attempted to order the lives of the people along lines they had known in the Vale, but most were too dispirited to do more than merely exist. The Jugom Ark they had, but it offered them no comfort, only a reminder of what they had lost and the manner in which they had lost it. Already some among the leaders had begun quarrelling over the bearing of it, and during the second month of the journey north Furist, Arkhos of Landam, and Raupa, Arkhos of Leuktom, came to blows over the still-warm arrow.

'It was Reynir of the House of Wenta who first suggested that they should try to find the pasture lands said to be to the north. The Council of Leaders adopted his idea, and after six months of travel they crossed the upper reaches of the valley, beyond the furthest extent of the water. In the dim light of a dull evening the refugees saw a tall, grey-robed figure hurrying up the valley ahead of them. He turned towards them with a shrill cry and lifted a threatening, handless arm. Furist then held the Jugom Ark aloft and when the figure saw it he quailed, then turned and fled from their path, towards the east.

'Finally the forlorn group escaped from the desert and came to greener lands, but not before death had visited some among them. All saw it and were ashamed. A remnant only remained alive to reach the Aleinus, the life-giving river of the north. On the banks of that broad river Furist and Raupa again contended one with another for possession of the Jugom Ark, and the council consigned the care of the arrow to Bewray of the House of Saiwiz. There on the greensward the survivors of the destruction parted company, for some clan leaders aligned themselves with Furist and others with Raupa over the issue of the arrow. The greater body crossed the river in driftwood rafts and travelled north out of knowledge. With Furist as their leader, and with the Jugom Ark accom¬panying them, the remainder travelled slowly west along the south bank of the great river.

'Generations of men have passed and those born in the Vale died, one by one. They settled in fair countries, though few of those who had dwelt in Dona Mihst could see their beauty.

Children were born to them, sons and daughters without know¬ledge of the Way of Fire, never to be called to that secret meeting with the Most High.'

Sorrow hung cloyingly around the voice of the farmer. He took a deep breath.

'There is little else to tell of the years of joy, for only fragments of old songs remain; much has been lost in the destruction that laid waste the Vale of man's youth. Swift is the passing of a peaceful age, and uneventful tales are short in the telling. Pause and reflect upon the grace of the Most High and the folly of men.'

'Is that all?' Leith asked, incredulous. 'Didn't the Most High rescue them? Did he just ignore the First Men?'

'Most of the Watchers believe that the Most High has washed His hands of men. Others, like Kroptur, argue that He still involves Himself in our affairs. Personally, I have never seen any evidence of it.'

Outside, the deep wet snow packed down hard. The blizzard howled as strongly as ever, but the Company sheltered in an eerie calm, thinking about the First Men, their own forefathers.

There, in a snow-filled hollow on Breidhan Moor, a few lonely people sheltered against the elemental forces of the world, seemingly protected by nothing but their own resourcefulness.

One by one they fell asleep by the fire, under the shadow of the cloud.

THE FENNI

THERE WAS TO BE no travelling for the next two days. During that time the storm relented only slowly, and the Company anxiously waited it out in their makeshift shelter. They kept surpris¬ingly warm, with their body heat enough to maintain the air at a comfortable temperature. To keep occupied, they repaired various rips and tears in their clothing and packs, talked about their home villages, and listened as Kurr told them more about the First Men.

Wira re-emerged from peering out of the airhole early on the third morning, and reported:

'The storm seems to have blown itself out. Now, perhaps, we can be on our way!'

Slowly, carefully, the travellers dug themselves out of their snow-lined cocoon. This was a much more difficult task than they had imagined, because they had to free their packs and cloaks from the grip of the heavy blanket that pressed down on them. It was not until midmorning that the travellers stood silently on the surface of a cold carpet stretching unbroken in every direction.

Their first concern was for the horses. This was compounded when they discovered that their mounts were no longer where they had been tethered. A frantic search was begun, with everyone scratching around in the snow in ever-widening circles. Finally Hal let out a shout: wisely, the horses had taken shelter on the far side of the limestone wall at the eastern end of the dell, and had received only a light dusting of snow.

The next problem was far greater. The Westway had completely disappeared under the seasnow. Because of the frequent gales that swept over the area, there were no poles on Breidhan Moor. Farr told them that the road was marked by a line of boulders, but these had been covered without trace by the billowing drifts. With mounting despair, Kurr looked out over the moors. The view was much the same in every direction, white mounds, blue sky and hard, dazzling light.

'We should make for the highest point, then fix a course on a landmark on the horizon,' Farr suggested. 'There's no sense in charging off in the general direction without any reference point.'

So the travellers loaded up their horses and began the long, slow slog across country. But the next serious problem immedi¬ately became evident: although the surface of the snow was hard, having frozen overnight, it was soft underneath, and the horses kept breaking through and getting stuck. Time after time the trav¬ellers had to stop and free them, and after a while their legs began to bleed below the fetlock, where they rubbed against the crusty surface of the snow. Their progress was painfully slow, marked by a series of blood-rimmed holes. After a stop to unload the horses, the Company carried the packs themselves, and the horses broke through the hard snow crust less frequently. In this fashion the Company crawled up the nearest ridge.

The sun was near its zenith when finally they made the summit of the low ridge. Looking back, they could still see the dell and the remains of their three-day camp, a grey smudge in a rolling sea of white. A brisk east wind blew dry and cold across the exposed bones of the moors, blowing the softer snow away from their compacted footprints, leaving a raised trail to indicate their morning's tortuous progress.

Away to the east a line of hills raised themselves above the snowy sea. 'The Brethren,' Farr pointed, 'maybe thirty leagues away. The Westway goes in that direction.'

Leith looked back over his shoulder at the site of their shelter, then ahead into the distance, the hills seemingly floating above the snow, painfully white. At this rate, he thought, it'll take forever to get there.

'We can't take too much of this,' the Haufuth groaned. 'I can't feel my feet!'

'We should light a fire,' added Wira.

'But not here,' his brother put in. 'Not on this ridge. We need to get out of the wind.'

Kurr grunted, then moved off, leading his horse towards firmer snow.

Lunch was eaten under the shadow of shoulder-high spruce trees which had found a sheltered gully to grow in. The fire burned the last of their fuel as they huddled together, trying to stay warm. As each log went into the flames, an unspoken realisation grew. They were not going to make it across the moors. While Hal rubbed a salve into the abrasions on the horses' legs, the others sat there, seemingly drained of energy, while the afternoon passed slowly by.

Stella stared at the fire with glazed eyes. Her front was warm but her back was freezing, and her bones ached with the cold. They had been much warmer in the shelter, where the company had been cheerful and she didn't have to worry about going home. Home, she sighed. She realised that they were about to turn for home, beaten by the snow. The moment her feet turned for home, her life would begin to end . . . Across the fire sat Wira. Stella tried to catch his eyes with hers, but his face was downcast, his features set grimly as if drained of energy. Casting her gaze upwards, she watched the smoke from their fire curl lazily up out of the gully, then move off behind them in the wind. Everything here was stark and sharply defined: the marble whiteness of the snow, the icy blueness of the cold afternoon sky, the crispness of the line that separated snow and sky. She looked again, tried to clear her eyes, then gasped.

The shapes of men stood above them, looking into the gully.

The others turned to Stella, then followed her gaze upwards. Four men stood there silently, black figures outlined against the pale blue sky already purpling with the twilight. The smoke of their camp drifted up past them, a message for anyone to read. As one, the travellers jumped up and went for their weapons, but they were too late. There was a shout, and the menacing figures had drawn bows. Another shout, and an arrow flew between Farr and Wira, stopping the Company in their tracks.

Down the gully came the four black figures. Leith looked towards the Storrsen brothers, whose faces were white, drained of blood. No one moved. No one spoke.

'Fenni dachl' asked the first of the figures. 'Fermi dach?'

The travellers looked at each other, but made no reply.

'Hasteval! Forlin du andach!' the lead figure called to one of his fellows.

Leith waited. A tall figure crunched through the silence and approached the campfire.

'Not speak Fenni?' the man asked.

'No, we don't speak Fenni,' Kurr replied hoarsely. 'What is Fenni?'

'Us Fenni!' the tall man replied sharply, pointing to his own chest, then at his companions.