In the Earth Abides the Flame (54 page)

The castle disappeared before their eyes.

Leith cried out in fear and astonishment.

Phemanderac shrugged his shoulders apologetically. 'I had to give him a chance to retain his dignity.'

In place of the castle lay a grassy slope, leading up to a rude hut. At its door stood a young woman with a wide smile.

'You would not have discovered us had my father been here,' she said. 'Come on in. Welcome, travellers, to Kantara castle. Unless you'd like the other one back?'

Phemanderac strode up the hill: the others remained rooted to the spot. He turned back to them. 'I think we'd better go inside. The quest, remember?'

Inside the hut two slatted beds occupied the near wall. The one window looked out over the hillslope and down on to the mist rising from the hollows. A large fireplace was set in the opposite wall, with the only two chairs in the small room positioned either side of it. The woman herself was probably about twenty years old: her blonde hair, ivory skin and teeth were perfect.

'Have a seat,' she said, smiling still. As she motioned with her hands, six more chairs appeared.

'Solid?' Phemanderac asked, eyebrows raised.

'Not till my father gets home.' She laughed, a golden sound.

'Cut that out,' said Phemanderac. 'Just be yourself.'

Leith held his breath, expecting the woman to dissolve into an old crone, or a dragon. But she did not. Phemanderac looked hard at her, and his eyes widened.

'All right,' he said. 'But put on some proper clothes. You never know what might cause you to lose your grip on the illusion. We'll turn around, if you like.'

Looking somewhat discomfited, the woman turned away and started rummaging in a large chest beside her bed.

By the time the Arkhimm turned back, the woman was bustling about the cabin, lighting lamps and tidying away various articles. She smiled at them again, her composure in place.

'I'd better have your names, then,' she said equably. 'Then, when my father returns, we can talk.'

'There is the small matter of our companion,' Phemanderac said quietly. 'I'm sure you know about her; spiders always know when their prey falls into the web.'

'Where else do you think my father has gone?' the woman responded, surprised. 'We would not have left your friend out there, not in the rainy season.'

'But he would expect to find nine bodies,' said Phemanderac patiently. 'How did he plan to bring them all back here?'

'That is something you should ask him,' said the woman, standing. As she stood the door of the hut opened, admitting a small, misshapen figure. 'Father!' she cried, clapping her hands.

'We have guests.'

The figure came into the lamplight and stood before the Arkhimm. Not much more than four feet tall, back bent, face gnarled and worn, a long white beard, hair like straw; he wore ill-fitting clothes of green, with a floppy hat of the palest blue. The effect was comical rather than alarming.

First he looked at his daughter, then gestured with his left hand. 'Put the castle back,' he snarled. 'Never know who's wandering about. If fools like these can find our house, then who can tell what might come knocking at our door?' He stamped his foot in apparent anger. 'I must attend to your training, my girl. What would your mother have said?'

Fixing his beady eyes on the company, he asked them: 'How did you get past my fences?'

'Be careful,' whispered Phemanderac. 'This man is not what he seems. His appearance is designed to throw us off guard. He is dangerous.'

Aye, I am dangerous!' the dwarf-man said swiftly. 'Particularly to those who do not answer my questions! You!' he cried, pointing to Phemanderac. Are you the leader? Answer my questions!'

'No, my lord; I am not the leader. But it is agreed I should speak for our group, it having been decided that others of our number might daunt you with their words.'

'What? Daunt me?' The little face turned purple with apoplexy. 'Do not bluff me! There is not one among you with wit enough to understand, let alone match my skill. How dare you challenge me!'

The tall philosopher shrugged his shoulders. Leith watched him, nervous and a little disoriented by events, fervently hoping his friend was as much in charge of the situation as he seemed.

'Then you might care to consider how we evaded your nets,' he answered calmly.

'Not all of you!' the old man crowed. 'I entrapped one of you. What thaumaturge would leave a companion snared without freeing her? Unless he had not the power!'

'Or unless he wished first to deal with the daughter before he took the measure of her father,'

replied Phemanderac casually. 'Thank you for bringing our servant back. She was warned, but chose to ignore us. Her embarrassment at being snared by one as feeble as you will be a just and sufficient punishment.'

'How did you get past my fences?' the dwarf-man almost screamed.

'Another thing,' Phemanderac continued, ignoring the question, 'you can stop all this posturing. It does you no credit. I know you are no more a wizened old man than your daughter has a perfect female form. I know your names: I read them in a book two thousand years old. You are Maendraga and Belladonna.'

'Who are you?' shrieked the old gnome. 'How came you by such knowledge?'

'Not until you resume your natural forms,' Phemanderac demanded. 'Then we will see if something can't be salvaged from our relationship.'

The old man nodded to his daughter. As Leith watched, their forms began to shimmer and flicker, flowing into new shapes. The man grew, his back unhunched and his paunch shrank, until he appeared to them as a lean, balding man in his middle forties. The transformation in the woman was more subtle. Her edges hardened a little, a few blemishes became visible, her trunk thickened slightly and a small gap appeared between her front teeth. Leith could see no other changes.

'Satisfied?' said the man in a mellifluous tone. Do not question me too closely, his voice seemed to say.

'The voice as well,' said Phemanderac wearily. 'Your Wordweave will not work on us. Our quest is urgent. We have no time for games.'

'And I am hungry,' added the Haufuth.

'Very well, then,' said the magician, in a voice tight with tension. 'By some art beyond my telling, you know our names. Would you

do us the courtesy of telling us yours, and enlighten us about the nature of your business here?

It must be something important, to bring to Kantara the only Falthan magicians I have ever seen. I suppose you're not going to tell me how you eluded all the traps I set downvalley. 1

could detect no sense of their having been disturbed.'

Phemanderac smiled. 'We must have our secrets,' he said blandly. 'But our names are no secret - and, unlike yours, not the subject of legend. I am Phemanderac. My companions are my master the Haufuth of Loulea, his adviser Kurr, and the brothers Leith and Hal, all from Firanes. Their knight Achtal, as you have no doubt discerned, is a Bhrudwan. Take a moment to assess his power, and ask yourself how a Lord of Fear serves us. Prince Wiusago of Deruys stands here for the southern kingdoms, while Te Tuahangata is of the Mist. Our sleeping servant is of Instruere, and so you can understand her ignorance of your arts.'

'And you? You have given me your name, but not your country. I know Falthans, and 1 know Bhrudwans. You do not remind me of either.'

'That is because 1 am neither. 1 am Phemanderac the Traveller, the first man to leave Dona Mihst and journey in Faltha for nearly two thousand years.'

'Dona Mihst? The Vale?*

'Of course.' Phemanderac sighed, as though despairing of his charge's instruction. 'Of the House of Sthane. Drawn here on a matter that concerns you greatly, Guardians of the Arrow.'

Now we hit the mark, he thought. This is the most risky moment.

'Arrow?' the man named Maendraga said quietly, his face revealing nothing. 'I have no bow in the house. We do not hunt. Our food is gathered in other ways. But you have a purpose here.

What is the name of your company?'

'You will have guessed it already; but you might as well hear it from our lips. Ware yourselves, for we are the Arkhimm. Our quest is none other than the Jugom Ark.'

Despite his control, Maendraga took a step backwards and cast a warning glance at his daughter.

'There is no use denying it,' Phemanderac insisted. 'Or would you prefer my master attended to your interrogation?'

'No, that won't be required,' the woman, Belladonna, said hastily. Her father glowered at her, but said nothing. 'From parent to child the teaching has passed from the time Bewray appointed the first guardians. We know who you are. I knew who you were even before you reached our walls. It could be said we have been waiting for you. But you will need to supply proof before you are given the secret of our knowledge. And do not think to force it from us: no power can make us reveal the reason for our existence in such a place as this.'

'So the story that Bewray's children were killed by bandits is false?'

'Of course,' the woman said.

'And you are Bewray's descendants.' The puzzle comes together, Phemanderac thought.

'From time to time we have taken husbands or wives from the few who have stumbled on this place, or have sought them among the shepherds of the Vale of Neume further to the south.

But, yes, we are Bewray's children.'

So that's how the Kantaran legend was shaped. 'And he left you here as guardians of his - the First Men's - most sacred possession.'

'Yes.'

'Then you will know that in a time of great need the Arrow will again be revealed.' The philosopher's voice rose, and took on a commanding tone. 'That time is upon us. Here are the tokens. A Bhrudwan warrior of the highest order stands among us, now our servant, but once sent to Loulea to find the Right Hand of the Most High.'

Maendraga and Belladonna reacted to the name: he drew in his breath, her eyes widened.

'The Right Hand will be revealed when Bhrudwo threatens Faltha. Achtal is the token that Bhrudwo indeed threatens us. As we speak, the Brown Army may be pouring through the Gap. If they are not resisted with the combined might of the Sixteen Kingdoms, they will surge across Faltha like a brown flood and lay this land waste.

'But the Sixteen Kingdoms will not resist. Already their leaders are in the pay of the Destroyer. Many Instruians have hidden from their treacherous leaders: the woman asleep outside your door is one such. She is our second token.

'At this time the Right Hand will be revealed. Two years ago I left my home in Dona Mihst to search for the Right Hand of the Most High. I, Phemanderac of Dhauria, am the third token.

'I have this lore to offer you, in confirmation of my knowledge: Through the air, over water, In the earth abides the flame.

'You recognise the couplet, part of the Riddle of the Arrow. It is known to us and no others apart from yourselves, who learned it on your mother's knee. To solve the riddle and recover the Arrow, then to use it to unite Faltha against Bhrudwo, is our quest. What say you to that, guardians?'

'Just this,' said Maendraga, and Leith was surprised to see real fear in his face. 'Where is the girl? I see four of the Arkhimm. Where is the fifth? You cannot hazard the Jugom Ark unless all Five of the Hand are present. I cannot allow it.'

'She is detained in Instruere by powerful enemies. We cannot wait for her release. Things have fallen out as they have, and we cannot retrace our steps. We will hazard the Arrow with just four of the Arkhimm, and whatever assistance the others of our number can offer them.'

'You will not,' Maendraga said sadly. 'Your tokens suffice to prove your worthiness to be on this quest. Be aware that were the five of you here, nothing would gladden my heart and that of my daughter more than giving you the secret of the Jugom Ark. But you must have the girl.

Will you not go and get the girl? Get the girl, please.'

'Have you not listened? We cannot spare the time. In the months it would take to return here our cause would be lost. We might have the Arrow, but no one would remain to be commanded. Give us the secret, and we will be on our way. Then you can lay down your guardianship and rejoin the world of men, as has been your long desire.'

'We will do nothing without the girl. You know we will not. What kind of guardian are you, that you would lose the girl, then attempt to browbeat me into discharging my responsibility as badly as you have?'

Phemanderac smiled. 'You are too close to the mark for comfort,' he said. 'I have done well, but not well enough, it seems. Nevertheless, we must press on.'

'It seems, then, your command of enchantment will be measured against mine,' said Maendraga grimly. 'Shall we begin?'

'Please, not until after dinner,' pleaded the Haufuth. 'Can't this wait just a little while?'

To his surprise Leith heard other words behind those the Haufuth spoke. Sit down! Discharge your duty with honour! Pay your guests some respect! Had the words been directed at him, he would have had no choice but to obey them. The compulsion was strong. A suspicion grew in Leith: he remembered the timbre of the voice.

'What are you doing?' Leith whispered to his brother.

'Enhancing,' came the reply.

'I can see why they acknowledge you as master,' Maendraga replied to the headman, deep respect in his voice. 'I obey not through compulsion, but because you are correct, which of course lends power to your words. I have been an ungracious host to such diverse representatives of the First Men - and others.' He bowed to them. 'Daughter, prepare these travellers a worthy supper, while I go and tend their companion.' Stiffly, with a great weight of care on his shoulders, he strode from the room.

'Here, let me help you,' Hal offered to Belladonna. 'I know how to prepare food to my master's liking. It doesn't pay to get him angry.'

Phemanderac had no opportunity to discuss his strategy with the others while the meal was prepared and eaten. He relied on their good sense, and the silence of Illyon the Escaignian, who would undoubtedly remember nothing of her enchantment. Maendraga and Belladonna never left them alone, as though it was part of their purpose to prevent the Arkhimm conferring together.