by Lee Duigon
“Chillith doesn’t mind if he gets caught, as long as they take him to the Thunder King,” Jack said.
Looking outward from the trees, the plain was a white expanse of snow. You could just make out the forested hills in the east, under a low bank of dark grey clouds. Above the clouds, seeming to float on them, rose the mountains.
If they’d been on the southern fringe of the woods, they would have known from prisoners that the Thunder King had come out from the East and was now in his castle in the Golden Pass. But Jack and Martis hadn’t heard this news.
“The question is, which way up the mountains would they go?” said Martis. “If Chillith really wants to be captured, he couldn’t do better than to follow that new road they’ve built. They’d have to cross the Chariot to get there.”
“It’d be funny if we got caught and they didn’t!” Jack said. “We don’t have Wytt to scout for us, and they do. I guess Ellayne never thought of that.” He started to give her a good tongue-lashing, but Martis wouldn’t let him finish.
“If we run into any Wallekki riders, I can probably talk us past them,” Martis said.
“I wish you hadn’t left Dulayl behind! And poor old Ham.”
“A man and a boy can hide better than a man, a boy, a horse, and a donkey. Just remember that if we do meet any Wallekki, you’re my servant and you don’t understand their language.”
“I don’t see how anybody understands it,” Jack said.
Ellayne and Chillith had already crossed the plain and were in the woods around the headwaters of the Chariot. The snow on the plain was crisscrossed with the tracks of men and horses. Wytt hurried them across as fast as they could go. It took all day, but they saw no one else. Ellayne could hardly believe it.
“We’ll meet people on the road, once we find it,” Chillith said. “And then you must leave me, if you can. There is no need for you to go to the Thunder King.”
“Aren’t you afraid, Chillith?”
“I am afraid of your God, who took away my sight so that He could give me understanding,” he answered. “I’ve felt His power. I don’t want to feel it again! What He calls me to do, I will do.”
Their plan was for Wytt to go on a short distance ahead, to sniff out any danger and to warn them. If you looked at the tracks he made in the snow, they looked just like human footprints, only tinier than a baby’s. Ellayne hoped the Heathen wouldn’t be looking at tracks too closely.
“Are there Omah in these woods, Wytt?” she asked.
He chirped. Yes, a few—not many. The little hairy men didn’t live in the mountains. They preferred the forest and the plain; and most of all, the ruins of ancient cities.
The next day Wytt led them across the Chariot, which at that place was frozen. They’d learned how cold it was at night, up here on the skirts of the mountains; and it didn’t get much warmer by day. Wytt found places where they could huddle together, buried under fallen leaves and the blanket Chillith brought. Ellayne was cold all the time. “I’m going to get sick,” she thought. But she didn’t mention it; Chillith would only say she’d better turn back. She had a wolfskin wrap the rangers had given her—better than nothing, but not good enough.
The day after crossing the Chariot, they struck the road.
“Here it is—the road up the mountain,” Ellayne said. They hadn’t yet emerged from the woods. At the moment the road was deserted, but riders could come along at any minute.
“Here is what we ought to do,” Chillith said. “As soon as someone comes who’s going up, I’ll ask to be taken to the Thunder King. I was a mardar; I know what words to say. But here we part, little maiden. The little hairy man will lead you back to safety.”
“But you’ll be all alone!”
“I’ll be safe. No one will know I’m not a mardar anymore.”
“You can tell them I’m your servant.”
“I will not,” said Chillith. “Where I’m going is no place for you.”
Ellayne felt tears spring to her eyes. Who would have thought it possible? There was something about this blinded Heathen that she’d grown to love. And he was going to defy the Thunder King! She couldn’t bear to think on what would happen to him then—and couldn’t stop thinking about it, either.
He felt for her shoulder, found it, and embraced her gently. She did cry then, out loud, and didn’t even spare a thought for what Jack would say if he could see her.
“It’ll be all right,” Chillith said. “We each have to do what God commands us.”
“But I believe in you!” Ellayne said. “I hated you at first—and yes, I was glad when God made you blind; I thought it served you right. But I don’t think so anymore! I don’t want to let you go. At least let me lead you up the road until we meet someone. Anyhow, I’ll just follow you if you don’t!”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” Chillith patted her head. “Let it be as you like, then. For just a little while longer.”
They came out of the woods. Ellayne took Chillith’s hand and began to lead him up the road. Wytt stayed hidden among the trees, but Ellayne knew he was nearby. But neither she nor Chillith knew that farther up the mountain it was snowing so heavily that hardly anyone tried to travel. The road stretched on ahead of them, empty. If Ellayne had paid more attention to the look of the sky, she might have guessed why.
Keeping Chillith on his feet took up most of her attention. There were ruts and icy patches everywhere. Finally they stopped so she could cut him a staff from a sapling. He said she might as well keep his knife. She’d just finished trimming the staff when Wytt came back, chittering.
“There’s a cart coming,” Ellayne said.
“Help me up, and I’ll meet it. Hide yourself.”
She had to obey. She ducked into the underbrush beside the road. Wytt huddled close to her, and Chillith used his staff to feel his way out onto the road. There he stood and waited, and moments later Ellayne heard the creaking of a wagon. Snow muffled any sound the horse’s hooves might have made.
There were two men in the wagon, bundled up in furs. They yelled at Chillith in a foreign language, but he wouldn’t get out of their way. He held up his staff and yelled back, and they stopped the cart. The two men got out and bowed to him. They spoke back and forth for a few minutes. Then Chillith made a certain gesture with his hand; the men climbed back into the cart and continued their journey down the mountain. Ellayne waited until she couldn’t hear the cart anymore, then ran out to Chillith.
“What did they say?” she asked.
His face was stern. He didn’t answer right away.
“My journey will be shorter than I expected,” he said. “The Thunder King is at the top of the mountain at the end of this road. He has built a castle there.”
Suddenly the top of the mountain seemed ominously close, although Ellayne couldn’t see it for the clouds and trees.
“It’s not very far to go, is it?” she said. “Did you tell those men you’re a mardar?”
“I know the words of command. I spoke them. Had I commanded them to turn their cart around and take me up the mountain, they would have done it.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because they were afraid,” he said.
CHAPTER 47
The Toddling Prophet
Ryons and his army were a few days out of Obann City, marching eastward within sight of the great river (“That it might anchor our flank, should the need arise,” General Hennen said), when they met a small company of archers waiting for them on the way. So far, the Heathen remnants in the country had avoided them; so they saw no menace in a few archers. But as they drew nearer, Obst cried out, “I know those men! They’re from Lintum Forest. They were outlaws until Helki conquered them, and they swore allegiance to him. What are they doing here?”
“I think I know!” said Ryons, and he spurred his horse forward.
Just the mention of Lintum Forest raised his spirits. But he remembered that some weeks ago, he’d sent messengers to bring Jandra to
Obann. It was her prophecy that had first proclaimed him king.
His Ghols rode with him. So did Gurun, who very seldom left his side. His troops made way for them. Obst dismounted and followed on foot. He was never comfortable on horseback.
The archers opened their ranks, and there Ryons saw Abgayle, holding Jandra’s hand; and nestled in Jandra’s other arm was that horrible bird of hers, with teeth in its beak and dirty purple plumage. The little girl, with her big blue eyes and her long fair hair, hadn’t changed at all, thought Ryons—although it seemed years since he’d last seen her and not just months. The fierce warriors in his army fell silent at the sight of her: for they remembered her as a prophet.
Gurun had heard of Jandra and knew who she was. But she was such a little thing! Three years old, no more—and who ever heard of a toddling prophet?
The hideous bird squirmed loose from Jandra’s embrace and flapped to the ground. Its feathers clanked like mail. It let out a harsh shriek that could be heard all over the plain.
And then out of the little girl’s mouth issued a voice—a grown-up voice, almost as deep as a man’s—that seemed to Gurun that men would be able to hear all the way back in Obann.
“Hail, King Ryons! Hail, Queen Gurun! The Lord is with you.
“For I the Lord have heard the bell of my servant King Ozias, and the prayers of all my saints in secret places: and you my servants shall go forth, and no enemy shall hurt you. And my Spirit shall go forth among the nations; no more shall it be fettered; and all men shall know me. My standard shall be raised among the Heathen, wherever men walk upon the earth which I have made; and all the tribes of men shall seek me.”
Those words seemed to beat against the sky and fill it. Gurun shivered under her fur cloak. “It is Scripture that has not been written down,” she thought. The sound of those words didn’t fade away; rather, it was absorbed into the earth and into the hearts of them that heard it.
Then the little girl wrinkled up her face and wept.
She cried as if her heart would break. The woman who was her guardian, Abgayle, tried to comfort her but couldn’t make her stop. The bird stood beside her and hissed at everyone. Finally the captain of the Ghols, old Chagadai, sprang lightly from his horse and picked up Jandra in his arms. He crooned something to her in the outlandish Gholish language, and in a few moments she stopped crying and fell asleep. He rocked her gently for a minute, than handed her to Abgayle. Ryons looked on in amazement.
“When did you learn how to do that?” he cried.
The old warrior grinned. “I’ve had many children of my own,” he said. “And this little one has always liked me.”
“Why does she cry?” Gurun asked.
“She does, sometimes, when God speaks through her,” Abgayle said. “Usually she doesn’t remember. But once or twice she’s said something about being in a nice place with her mommy. We all think raiders must have killed her family; but she doesn’t remember what happened to them. I suppose she cries because she doesn’t want to leave her mother—wherever they are together.”
“How did you know we left the city?” Ryons asked. “Nobody sent a message.”
“Jandra knew.”
“And now we ought to send her back to the city,” Hennen said. “This is an army on the march. It’s no place for a child.”
Obst shook his head, hard. “Didn’t you hear what she said, Hennen? No enemy shall hurt us. That was the Lord our God, speaking through a prophet. She couldn’t be safer anywhere than she’ll be with us.” But Hennen had never seen Jandra before, and looked doubtful.
“Be assured she is a prophet,” Chief Shaffur said. “We know.”
“Where’s Helki?” Abgayle asked. “Jandra was looking forward to seeing him again. She’s missed him.”
“He’s off somewhere, trying to find Jack and Ellayne. Nobody knows where they are,” Ryons said. “But now that Jandra’s here, maybe she can tell us. Helki took my dog, and they haven’t come back.”
Obst patted his shoulder. “Prophets speak what God gives them to speak, Sire,” he said. “We must all continue to pray for Helki—and pray he finds those children!” Then Ryons knew he’d spoken as a child speaks: but of course he couldn’t help that. He was a king, but not a man. Not for a long time yet.
CHAPTER 48
How a Father Got News of His Daughter
In the teeth of a stiff snowstorm, the Ninneburky militia crossed the Imperial to join with Helki. It wasn’t all the town’s militia—just the hundred best and strongest spearmen, with the town’s chief councilor, Roshay Bault, to lead them.
They came just in time. The next day Helki fought a battle, and the Ninneburky spearmen stood fast in the middle of it, holding the line while Helki’s wild Abnaks and Wallekki riders swarmed around the flanks to crush the enemy. It was over by the middle of the afternoon.
“That was their last throw,” Helki told his captains, after the prisoners were rounded up and it was finally time to rest. “A fair number of them got away, but I reckon they’re scattered in a hundred different directions. From what the prisoners tell me, there’s no one left in this country to fight against us.
“But it was a close shave today!” He turned to Roshay. “It would’ve gone hard for us if you hadn’t shown up, Councilor. But they do breed tough birds in Ninneburky! Even the chicks are tough.”
“What do you know of Ninneburky?” Roshay wondered. He couldn’t take his eyes off Helki’s clothes, which were all different patches sewn together, no two of the same color.
“I know a boy and a girl who come from Ninneburky. They’ve done some things that’ll someday make them famous.”
“A boy and a girl!” Roshay’s knees almost buckled. He felt suddenly short of breath. “Their names—what are their names?”
“Why, Jack and—” Then Helki remembered. “You must be Ellayne’s father, then. She said her father was the chief councilor, or something like that.”
“Where is she? Is she well? Tell me, man!”
Helki had to find something for Roshay to sit on, before he fell over. A discarded saddle did the trick. This man, who’d been so strong and brave in battle, was about to faint for tidings of his daughter. A couple of his men gently lowered him onto the saddle, and Helki squatted before him.
“I wish I could tell you where Ellayne is. I’ve been looking for her,” he said. “But she’s still with Jack, and there’s a man who travels with them to protect them. I think they’re in King Oziah’s Wood, but I couldn’t get in. Now I guess we can.”
Roshay took deep breaths. The day the bell on Bell Mountain rang, he and his wife ceased to mourn their daughter. “God is watching over her,” they told each other. “She’s all right.” And they believed it with all their hearts. But now, to be told by this wild man that he knew her and had seen her and it was too much to take in, right after a battle.
“It’s been so long since she ran away. She and that boy—” Roshay couldn’t finish.
“Easy—I’ll tell you all I know, once we’re settled down,” Helki said. “But first I’ve got a battle to clean up after. It’s a long story, Ellayne and Jack’s doings. You’ll hardly believe it.”
Roshay nodded. He probably wouldn’t believe it. This was the first time in his life that unlooked-for good news hit him as hard as bad. At the moment it was hard to tell the difference. Maybe by the evening he might be able to understand whether or not he’d just received a blessing.
Helki stood up, patted Roshay on the shoulder, and strode off to see to his army.
Two more days went by, at the end of which Roshay knew that his daughter had stolen out of a ranger camp in the company of a blind Heathen medicine man. The camp belonged to a ranger captain named Huell; he’d left the children there and hurried to the south edge of the forest to harass the Heathen with his archers. Jack and Martis followed after Ellayne and the Griff, he said, and that was all any ranger knew about it.
“Exasperating!” Helki said. “But I reckon Cav
all and I can track them down.”
“I’ll go with you,” Roshay said.
“I can go a lot faster alone,” said Helki.
The shelter in which the children slept was still there. Cavall crawled in and got their scent.
“So it seems they headed East,” Helki said. “Why would they do that?” he asked Huell.
“Who can say? It’s one way out of the forest. Then it’s a short distance to the foothills and some more woods. And along the Chariot the Heathen have built a road that goes all the way up the mountains—all the way to the top.”
“We’ll find them,” Helki said; and Cavall barked once.
“I can’t go home without her,” Roshay said.
Helki thought for a minute. “You can best help,” he said, “by taking command of this army for me and leading it up the Heathens’ road. It’ll be a hard slog in all this snow, but that’ll probably mean no fighting.”
“Am I to command a thousand Heathens?” Roshay cried. “They’ll murder me!”
“You can trust them. They’re sworn. They’ve fought against King Thunder, so they know they can never go back to him.”
“But what is the point of my marching your army up the mountain?”
“If those kids are wandering around up there,” Helki said, “they might find the army before I can find them.”
It was the best plan anyone could devise at the moment. Even this was wasting too much time, Helki thought. But he introduced Roshay to the chiefs among his following, and they all agreed to obey him.
“But why go up the mountain at all, Helki?” asked Tiliqua the Griff.
“Because it’ll show everyone who’s winning this war—and it’s not the Thunder King.” The chiefs liked that explanation! “But wait, just one more thing,” said Helki. “What about that mardar that we captured? I think we ought to take him with us.”