In the Earth Abides the Flame (15 page)

The Arkhos struggled with his nightgown as though it was his rage, and succeeded in buttoning it up. 'You have done well,' he said quietly, even pleasantly. 'Send for my captain. I will dispatch my personal guard to deal with the situation. With good fortune we may capture further prizes to examine at our leisure.' He licked his full lips. 'Moreover, make it known that I will attend this disturbance personally and supervise the quelling of this riot.'

'Yes, my lord.' His servant nodded, then bowed and began to withdraw.

'And you, my little bird,' the Arkhos said, turning to the pale, frightened figure cowering in the corner, 'you will wait here until I return. Let that thought sharpen your desire.' His red battle robe still fitted him - just - and, with it securely fastened, he left his room. His servant locked it behind him, then leaned on the door in relief as he watched the Arkhos stride purposefully down the corridor.

Is this some sort of trap?

Mahnum puzzled over the absence of guards in the longhouse. He had imagined there would be many more guards waiting for them here. However, it seemed most of the guards slept at their homes. Perhaps all the guards had gone below, or the others had gone to fetch their fellows from their beds. Either way, we'll soon be out of this place and on our way home. The Instruians will not forget this night! Thanking the luck that seemed still to be holding, he called Leith and the others forward.

Behind him the prisoners pushed, pressing together up the stair. An older man missed his footing and fell on to the well-worn stone steps. For a moment those below halted their frantic rush upward, but the carnage behind them grew louder, driving the terrified prisoners past the point of reason. Someone stepped on the old man's back, but his feeble shriek was drowned by the sound of fighting below.

The Trader scurried across the deserted guardroom to the door. Behind him Leith spoke tensely: 'What about the Bhrudwan?'

'With the way things have turned out, we have a responsibility for many others now. The Bhrudwan can look after himself.'

'That's not how I see it,' Leith said. 'You stay here with the others while I go back and search for him.'

'You young fool! I only hope there is enough left after they've finished with you in order to hold a proper funeral.'

'Yes, Father.' Leith made a mock subservient gesture. 'You're not the only one allowed to take risks.'

People now poured out of the trapdoor. Leith saw that, in spite of his bravado, he had no hope of forcing his way down into The Pinion; so he waited anxiously as the flood of prisoners continued: the younger men first, then the older men and women, and finally a young mother and the remnants of her family. Many wore a strangely blank, frozen look on their faces, eyes glazed, shocked and uncomprehending, as a result of the violence below. Most simply milled about; a few comforted others, while one or two collapsed on to the wooden floor. A heavily built young man, carrying a bloody sword wrested from a guard, grabbed the trapdoor and slammed it down, then swiftly rammed the bolt home.

'What are you doing?' Leith cried.

'Stopping the guards coming up, that's what,' the man replied gruffly.

'But—'

'There's no one left alive down there except the guards,' growled the big man. 'I saw them going from cell to cell, dragging out the prisoners and butchering them. They're all dead, poor sods.'

There was a disbelieving, stunned silence. All dead? How could Instruians do this to their own?

'What about the man with the large steel bar?' After all this, with all the suffering and death, Leith couldn't believe that the Bhrudwan hadn't escaped.

The man shrugged his shoulders. 'I didn't see him.'

The Trader put his head in his hands. The Bhrudwan slain, and many more besides. Death seemed to be snapping at Mahnum's heels, following him across the world. A dreadful thought came to him: had the Destroyer deliberately let him go as some sort of catalyst of destruction? A lightning rod fashioned to attract the dark power of Bhrudwo?

Behind him came a sharp crack. Mahnum wheeled around: the sound came from the trapdoor.

'Quick! Everyone out of here!' he cried. Leith tried to herd the prisoners towards the door, but they moved slowly, far too slowly. Any moment now the guards would emerge from The Pinion.

With a splintering of wood and a loud roar a naked figure drove up through the trapdoor, bursting it open. In a smooth, swift movement he took his steel bar and wedged the broken doors shut, then turned his black, implacable eyes on the astonished Trader and his son. 'Go now,' he said.

They cajoled the prisoners - perhaps fifty at the most, Mahnum speculated, leaving at least the same number dead down in The Pinion - through the longhouse door and out into the clear, cool night. The Trader and his son took deep breaths of the sweet, sweet air, and wiped their swords clean on the hems of their tattered robes. Then they heard a faint clink, a tiny metallic sound. It came from the shadows on the far side of the open space between the long-house and the Hall of Meeting. There was something in the shadows.

An unmistakable figure, large and menacing, strode out into the moonlight.

'So this is the brave rescue party,' came the familiar, hateful, high-pitched wheeze. 'Good. 1

shall enjoy discussing aspects of your attempted escape with you in a location of my choosing. Perhaps you will not find me so agreeable without the protection of the craven Arkhos of Sarista.' He made no attempt to keep the note of gloating triumph out of his voice.

'Guards!' he cried.

Purple-cloaked, armoured men stepped out from the shadows in perfect unison, long, curving scimitars at the ready. The laughter of the Arkhos of Nemohaim rolled softly across the compound.

TERRIFIED PRISONERS COWERED against the wall of the longhouse as the personal guard of the Arkhos of Nemohaim advanced menacingly across the dusty compound. Leith glanced desperately to the left and to the right, but there was no way of escape, the wooden wall stretching into the darkness on either side.

'Bhrudwans,' said the naked warrior between Leith and his father. 'Bhrud achannin Aldh. An order low.' His lip curled in derision.

The guards stopped on a command, and parted to let the Arkhos through. The obese man stood about ten steps away, breathing heavily, surveying his prizes.

'Disarm them,' he said. 'Then slay all the prisoners but these three. And do not leave a mess: I don't want any questions.' He withdrew through the line of guards, lifting his robes to avoid the dust. This will be entertainment richer even than 1 had planned for this night, he thought as a smile played on his full lips.

Instantly and with no visible effort three of the guards crossed the remaining space in obedience to their master's order. Leith's hand went to his sword. Without warning he was slammed up against the wall then slid to the ground with the wind knocked out of him. His weapon fell from his hand. For a few seconds he lay gasping. He forced himself to his feet, dizzy and nauseous, in time to witness Achtal the Bhrudwan, Leith's sword in his hand, face his three countrymen.

It had been Achtal who disarmed him, roughly but quickly, Leith realised. Still naked, yet clothed with a single-minded determination, the warrior marshalled his considerable strength and training. The first of his opponents lost his life by incautiously turning to his fellows for a fraction of a second. Perhaps he was surprised by the arrogance of the man's demeanour, or unsettled by his stance or some subtle hint of Bhrudwan training. Whatever the reason, his head fell to the earth before he could warn his comrades, leaving his body standing for a few unnatural moments. This distraction cost the two other Bhrudwans dearly. A moment's inattention; a sword-thrust; and their bodies slumped softly to the ground.

Turning to the prisoners, Achtal cried: 'Run! Go!' Hesitant at first, but encouraged by what they had seen and aware of what would happen to them should they remain, the dishevelled group edged away into the shadows.

'Guards!' the red-faced Arkhos shouted, then closed his mouth tight in frustration. 'They're not important,' he muttered.

Leith sucked air into his burning lungs, steadied his spinning head and glanced at Mahnum.

'There's nothing we can do,' the Trader said. 'We're totally in his hands.'

There was an inevitability about the way the remaining seven guards were dispatched. This is a combination of innate ability, strict training and pure aggression, Leith thought as he watched the Arkhos's personal guard fall before the Bhrudwan warrior. They were obviously reluctant to face him, knowing themselves in the presence of a warrior of the highest order, and therefore stood no chance. Although it was almost certainly his own life at stake should one of them defeat Achtal, Leith couldn't help feeling sorry for them, people like him, mere footsoldiers in a far larger game. They could not have suspected that they would face a Lord of Fear this night. Now if it had been the Arkhos at the sharp end of the sword, then he wouldn't have felt so sorry.

It was over very quickly. The Arkhos of Nemohaim became more and more incoherent as he screamed orders to his men. When the outcome became obvious he quickly backed away towards the Hall of Meeting and safety.

Not fast enough. The naked figure flashed across the compound, easily outdistancing the bulky man. Passing him, he turned and held his arms wide, with the blade extended even wider; as though shepherding a recalcitrant sheep back into the fold. Wild-eyed, the Arkhos looked right and left, searching in vain for a way of escape. Achtal advanced on him. The Arkhos backed away, straight into the grasp of Mahnum and Leith. Instantly a sword was at his throat. Terror paralysed the Arkhos, turning his red face grey.

Achtal turned his head slightly and caught Mahnum's eye, then raised one eyebrow slightly.

The question was obvious.

'No,' said Leith, for some reason he couldn't understand. 'No more killing.'

'What?' Mahnum said, surprised. 'You know what he was going to do to us!'

The Bhrudwan's eyebrows raised in puzzlement, his eyes edged with a dangerous anger.

The exercise of mercy strengthens the merciful, a remembered voice echoed in Leith's mind.

'That doesn't mean we have to do it to him. This one can't do anything more to us. So, no.' But even as he spoke, his mind cried out: what are you trying to prove? That you are more moral than your brother?

'Not now, perhaps, but—'

'I'm not killing a defenceless man!' Leith insisted. 'Besides, if we kill the Arkhos of Nemohaim, we're likely to find ourselves back in The Pinion.' He looked into the small, frightened eyes of their adversary. Am I right?'

The Arkhos took a deep breath and swallowed twice, then nodded, clearly not able to trust his voice.

'How are you going to tell the Bhrudwan?' Mahnum asked. 'He doesn't seem to be particularly merciful.'

'If he wants to slay the Arkhos, I can't stop him,' said Leith. 'But I'll not agree to it.'

He spun on his heel, very deliberately, and walked away. 'Come on,' he called over his shoulder. 'We need to get back before dawn.'

No one moved. Leith held his breath, but also held his course.

As he left the open space he heard movement behind him, but forced himself to continue without looking back. In a few moments he was joined by Achtal and his father. A red robe sat on the Bhrudwan's wide shoulders. Nothing was said on the long walk home.

The pale pre-dawn glow had begun its task of rolling away the heaviness of night when finally the three weary figures approached the tenement. For Leith the last hour had been the most trying of the night, more difficult than the night in The Pinion cell, far more difficult than the frantic battle under the longhouse, more difficult even than choosing life or death for the Arkhos of Nemohaim.

For in the hour it took them to walk from The Pinion to the tenement, Leith saw again the faces of those he had sent to their deaths. Up they rose, one after another, people with histories and friends, some dying at the end of his sword, some cut down before he could come to their aid. Faceless then but dead now, and now he could see their faces. The realisation the world was unfriendly, he was not at the centre of it, and that life was uncertain, death inevitable, with no guarantees of old age, settled on Leith like nightfall in a foreign land. He was going to die. Perhaps not like those just gone to their desperate, frightened deaths, but death would seek him out nonetheless. The faces of the dead had come to help him think about it.

In echo of his sorrow the clouds lowered over the grimy city and it began to rain.

Leith put his hand to the door, and let out a long sigh. Sanctuary in an oppressive world, for the moment at least.

'You've been released!' Kurr cried as they entered the tenement. 'I would not have believed it!'

He must have been waiting here in the hall, unable to sleep, Leith realised. Such is his care for us. The discovery that the crusty old man would do such a thing was somehow humbling.

'Not released exactly,' Mahnum said. 'I doubt they had any intention of ever setting us free.'

'So ...' Kurr encouraged.

'So, wake everyone and assemble them here,' Leith said in a voice that was his and yet not his.

'We need to talk together.'

The old farmer nodded slowly, as if his thoughts were elsewhere, then disappeared up the stair.

The story related by the Trader and his son amazed and encouraged the Company. There was sadness for the many lives lost, but great joy for the captives who escaped such a cruel place. 'We fled The Pinion,' Leith concluded, 'only to walk into a trap laid by the Arkhos of Nemohaim.'

At the mention of his name the Company leaned forward as one.

'He was waiting for us outside The Pinion, he and a contingent of guards wearing a livery I have not seen before in the city,' Leith said.

'Bhrudwans,' Mahnum spat out.

'Bhrudwans?' echoed Kurr. 'What are Bhrudwans doing in Instruere?'

Hal spoke swiftly to Achtal in a rumbling language, and the Bhrudwan replied in kind. 'Bhrud achannin Aldh,' he said.