Across the Face of the World (44 page)

Within minutes the tumplines and their loads were deposited in the corner, boots came off and the fire was lit. Breathing a prayer of thanks to the travellers who had left fuel by the fire (then realising with a chuckle it was probably he and his lads), the Fodhram leader called for attention.

'Welcome to the best accommodation west of the hills and east of the mountains!' he proclaimed, with a bow and a sweep of his arm. 'In fact, welcome to the only accommodation west of the hills and east of the mountains. It isn't much,' he said ruefully, 'but it is better than sleeping on an ice floe. Depending on the company!' he added, doffing his cap to Leith, who blushed bright red at the laughter of the Fodhram.

'Now then,' Leader continued, 'we have some time to wait until we can travel again. The thaw will make all rivers and portages impassable. No one in the northern lands will be moving. So for the next few days we should make ourselves useful by checking the canoes' - he pointed to the shells in the far corner of the room - 'and repacking our gear. Which should leave us plenty of time for singing and talking around the fire!'

His men roared with delight. This was the kind of speech they approved of! In a very short time hot food and mugs of warm tea were passed around, and the bright spring morning was filled with the raucous sound of singing only those who had come close to disaster could produce.

THE SOUTHERN RUN

'COME WITH US,' WHISPERED Taller, shaking Farr by the shoulder. The afternoon was quiet, and the hot sun coming through the slatted window had sent the Company to sleep.

'Come with us. We're going to watch the Mossbank go out.'

Farr rubbed his eyes clear of sleep and shook his head. Never one for relaxing, he had begun to sleep deeply in the arms of the forest. Something tense ebbed out of him. 'I'm coming,' he said quietly. 'But what about the others?'

'They need their rest. I don't think they realise how much the journey has taxed them.'

The Vinkullen man nodded, pulled on his boots and followed the four Fodhram out into the sunshine.

The chattering stream that drained Midrun Lake emptied into the headwaters of the much bigger Mossbank River a mile or so to the south. It took them half an hour's struggle through the soggy morass of the forest floor to find a suitable site overlooking the confluence of these waters. They came to a high promontory from which they could see a complete panorama of the northern woods, velvet in the afternoon sun as they lay draped over the tortured folds of the wilderness.

About a hundred feet below them lay the ribbon of the Mossbank, still locked by ice. Smaller streams, flowing with steeper gradients and by now ice-free, merrily discharged meltwater from a million trees into the reluctant river. As the water level rose, so the pressure on the ice mounted.

'We're just in time,' Shabby drawled.

'Say nothing, just watch and listen,' Leader advised them.

The Mossbank River went out shortly thereafter. Directly below them the ice buckled up with an unearthly screeching sound, the upper floe overriding the lower. From somewhere upstream came more howls and shrieks as the ice fought free of the riverbank. For a few heart-stopping moments the river paused, as splintering ice from upriver met resistance where the river narrowed; then every¬thing let go.

Floe after floe cascaded down the river, breaking apart on the rocks and on each other. The sound was enormous, and Farr could not be sure whether it was the ice or merely the sound which shook the rocks upon which he sat. At one point an ice jam formed, blocking the river, which simply flowed over the banks and through the trees until the howling ice gave way.

With a rush the trapped ice from upstream roared past them. Huge, jagged floes beat themselves to death on the rocky shores. In various places they overrode the banks, stripping the bark from ancient forest monarchs and shearing off branches and even whole trees as though they were twigs. On one patch of ice an animal -possibly a racoon - crouched in fear: the whirling current took it out of sight in a matter of moments. Death amidst life.

Now fewer chunks of ice came down from the watershed. The river was more water than ice -

then nearly all water. Glittering shards were left high on the rocks, on sandy beaches and even in the forest itself as the water returned to its bed. The screeching and wailing of ice upon ice abated, becoming a faint backdrop to the quiet satisfaction of the woods as the breakup continued further downstream.

A change stole over Farr as he watched. He began to see the forest as a living thing waking from a long sleep. As the ice melted, the lifeblood of the forest was once again able to flow down the rivers. He'd watched the grey of winter fall away, he'd seen the forest's green summer coat revealed. Tender new shoots unfurled amid the protection of the dark evergreens, the yearly promise of life renewed.

Since the death of their parents, life had been hard for Wira; no wonder he'd turned to the drink. As Farr listened to the far-off rumble of ice to the south, he acknowledged for the first time that life had been just as hard for him - and he hadn't had an older brother to support him.

Since his mother died, he'd put on anger like a grey winter cloak. Take it off, the forest whispered to him. Winter is over. He let out a long breath.

Beside him the Fodhram exchanged smiles.

The Company began the second leg of the Southern Run well before dawn. The Fodhram made sure that Midrun Hut was shut fast against the elements, as some of the strongest winds in these parts came in the spring. 'Other Fodhram will be here later in the season,' Leader told them. So they supplemented the fuel for the fire by taking fallen branches from around the hut. All four birch bark canoes had been mended, even though the Company would be taking only two. They pulled shut the door of the hut and stepped out into the clear, cold night.

The fragile, twenty-foot-long canoes were lifted over a rocky beach and lowered gently into the water, then packed with fur bales interspersed with members of the Company. With short, powerful strokes of wide-bladed paddles, the Fodhram powered the cumbersome canoes out into the darkness.

The flat-bottomed canoe settled well down in the water. Leith took a deep breath: he could smell the fur bales ahead and behind him, and across the lake drifted the fragrance of spring, the sweet¬ness of pollen and sap. At the prow of his canoe sat Shabby, who seemed to be in command; behind him Perdu and Stella talked quietly. Separated from them by a couple of bales was Hal, who was in turn two bales forward of where Leith crouched uncomfortably.

Behind him lay the bulk of the bales, and Taller paddled vigorously at the rear, steering when necessary. Every once in a while Shabby would call out instructions to Taller in a rough, unintelligble tongue.

It was still dark when they reached the stream which drained the lake. The canoes were beached by the stream, and their cargo quickly unloaded. All of the Firanese took up tumplines and at least one bale, while the Fodhram carried the canoes, the bowsman and steersman taking an end each. It was time for their first portage.

Leith could not believe the ability of the Fodhram to see in the dark. They led the travellers confidently along the narrow and boggy path, singing as they walked, avoiding with their bulky canoes trees that Leith blundered into. For a while the trail climbed, then it wound down to the river's edge. When the Company emerged from the depths of the forest, it was to the faint light of dawn under a low overcast. There on the riverbank the pattern that was to dominate the next two weeks was established: the canoes were gently lowered into the water, sterns held by the steersmen, while the Company unburdened themselves of their fur bales and tumplines. These were then placed in the canoes, the travellers clambered on board and the steersmen settled into the sterns as they cast off into the current.

Dawn came and went. The river emptied into a larger body of water than any they had yet seen, announced as Lake Cotyledon by the Fodhram. Out on the lake the south wind blew, raising a chop with foaming whitecaps. The canoes kept to the southern shore, as on the far shore the waves would have pounded the canoes into matchwood. Even so, the ride was slow and uncom¬fortably rough, and soon Leith began to feel unwell.

'When do we stop for breakfast?' Kurr call out to Leader. His reply was a hearty laugh. 'Be patient! We have a routine we must adhere to.'

'Patient? The Haufuth wouldn't have stood for this, you know,' the old farmer commented, half jokingly.

The Fodhram leader indicated his own ample girth. 'Does it look like we are underfed?

Patience! We will have a banquet at the far end of Cotyledon.'

What about the Haufuth? Leith wondered, clutching his upset stomach. Has he survived the rigours of the late winter and the spring thaw?

* * *

The thaw had not in fact yet come to Bandits' Cave. The lime¬stone hill, in the shadow of the mountains, still lay in Qali's jealous grip. Days of leaden skies gave way to rain and sleet, and it proved impossible to go outside. Not that there was any need. There were plenty of provisions laid on in the cave's cool inter¬ior, so the Haufuth reasoned that even he should survive until the thaw.

Wisent, however, was another matter. Much of the food was not suitable for the huge beast, and so eventually the Haufuth had with great reluctance let the animal go to forage for his own food. But what, he wondered, would the aurochs find to eat out in the ice-hardened, snow-covered forest? The big headman shrugged; what could he do?

His other charge was doing much better. The Hermit had remained unconscious for many days, then for two weeks after his eyes opened he had not spoken or acknowledged the Haufuth in any way. The man with the long blond hair was totally dependent on the village headman from northern Firanes, who prepared his meals and fed them to him, who cleaned and bathed him, and who talked to him long into the cheerless nights even though he got no response. The normally gregarious Haufuth was severely taxed by this situation, and couldn't help wondering whether he shouldn't have gone with the others. But one look at the helpless man in his care reminded him that, without his constant atten¬tion, he would have died.

For a while the Haufuth assumed that his sickness had affected the Hermit's mind, but gradually he had come to himself. On two nights he had woken, crying, 'The Right Hand! The Right Hand has struck me dead!' The Haufuth did not understand it, but rejoiced to hear at least some words pass the lips of his charge.

Finally the day had come when the Hermit had been able to speak with some coherence. The light was back in his eyes, and he beckoned the Haufuth over to the side of his cot.

'Tell me,' the Loulea headman asked in a gentle voice, 'do you feel well enough to get up for a while? You can't stop in bed forever, you know.'

'How long have I been - asleep?' The voice from the bed was still painfully thin.

'Four weeks.'

'I don't feel able to - I'd better lie here for a while longer. I'll be right in a while. Did they -

have the others left?'

'The day you took ill.'

'And you? Why did you not go with them?'

The big man turned away from those alert eyes. 'What else was there to do?'

The Hermit laughed softly. 'Presumably continuing a quest so pressing that it brought a company of dread warriors hustling across the moors and mountains!'

The Haufuth shrugged his shoulders. 'I think the dread warriors will do better without me,' he said quietly.

'Not so! In fact, the quest will not succeed without your continued involvement.'

'What do you know of our quest?'

'Nothing,' the Hermit said evenly. 'I don't have to. You yet have a role to play.'

'You're still not well' •

'True!' The man levered himself up on his elbows, the better to deliver his wisdom, then collapsed in a fit of coughing. After a few minutes, he was able to continue. 'I hear what I hear. Not, mind you, that I always know what to do with what I hear!' He frowned. 'That's why I became sick.'

The Haufuth shook his head. This man seemed a paradox of certitude and confusion. No wonder Leith had looked so bemused after talking with him!

'Now I have a question for you,' the Hermit said, and the Haufuth could hear the eagerness in his voice.

'Yes?'

'When did you first meet the Right Hand?'

'I have never met this "right hand". What is it?'

'But the Right Hand was with you! I spoke to him!' Then, too late, a thought entered his head.

'You don't know!' he said incredu¬lously. 'He hasn't— no one knows!'

The Haufuth bent over and patted his patient on the arm. 'Time to eat. I'll get you something.'

The Hermit rubbed his forehead. 'I'm sorry. Perhaps I have underestimated the effects of a month in bed. Forget what I said.'

The Haufuth had already done just that. It was past dinner time.

The fine weather was never going to last for the entire journey to Vindstrop House, but there had always been hope. However, the Fodhram had not expected the late snow that kept them pinned three days beside Mossbank Cadence, unable to attempt the portage.

'Unseasonal,' was all the Fodhram leader would say.

'That's what you said last year. Remember the week at The Neck? Your fault. Some leader!'

Leader laughed and tried to cuff Shabby around the ear, but he was too quick.

'How far are we from Vindstrop House?' Kurr asked.

'Less than two hundred miles as the river runs,' Leader replied. 'Don't ask me how long that will take, because with this weather I can't say.'

'What if it cleared now?'

'At best we'll have to wait another two days. The snow's piled up into drifts out there. We'll not make it through the portage until the snow melts and the meltwater drains away.'

'The thaw will be over down south by now.' A statement, not a question.

'Well over. I'm sorry.'

The snowfall that fell on the lower Mossbank was only the edge of a huge band of storms which had its origin to the far north. The weather over Withwestwa Wood had been good, too good; the southerly winds had died, giving the travellers a week of perfect weather, but also allowing the storms to move in from the north. The huge mass of cold air funnelled down against the Jawbone Mountains, blanketing Bandits' Cave with cloud and finally snow; it reached frigid fingers out past Midrun and touched the Mossbank River system, trapping the Company. But it reserved its full force for southern Withwestwa Wood, from the Portals to Steffi Mountain. In this tempest of ice and snow, the revenge of Qali for an early thaw, the Bhrudwans and their captives were caught and held fast.