Chapter Eight
IT WAS a horrible storm. Through the skin of the tent they would see nothing but black, then at once the white light would flicker beyond its walls, and they would see clearly the outline of their shelter's bright stripes. Then would come the crashing crescendo of noise, booming through the giant trunks as if wishing to rip them from their age-old stands by force of sound alone. With each sense-shattering blast Bronwynn would gasp or moan, and clutch Rosha more tightly. As each wave of thunder reverberated past them, she appeared surprised that she still had not been swallowed up and carried away. Rosha, too, recoiled at each blast, but in between shocks he was having a wonderful time hugging Bronwynn to him and teasing her.
"You s-say it is not the p-powers trading insults, so why sh-should you be afraid?" "Because it's frightening!" she snapped angrily, but she made no move to leave his embrace. Another flash-another crash-she shuddered again.
"But your scientists have told you it is n-nothing but force j-jumping from cloud to cloud. If there's nothing malevolent to it, why s-shake so?" "Just because I can explain something doesn't mean I can laugh at it!" She screamed at him, fingernails digging into his hands. "It could still kill us!" "But it won't," he whispered softly, and she followed his eyes to Pelman, who sat entranced on the far side of the tent. Rosha spoke the words so comfortingly and so sincerely that she almost relaxed-until another blow from the angry skies struck the muddy earth. Giant raindrops came fiercely, then subsided, then came again, beating so mercilessly on the fish-satin that it seemed certain to Bronwynn it would tear.
She glanced again at the kneeling Pelman and muttered, "How can he sleep through this?" Then she yelped, as another stroke of the hammer of god echoed through the forest.
But Pelman wasn't sleeping. He listened to a conversation carried on the airwaves of the spirit, a conversation between three who willed to rule the world. Tohn mod Neelis had finally given in. He spoke to his co-conspirators through the pyramid.
But there was a difference now in Pelman's reception of the conversation. Perhaps because of the storm-• perhaps because of the intensity of the discussion- perhaps because of the Power that was upon him-for some reason, Pelman now heard and saw all three.
"It's easy for you to give suggestions, my scrawny cousin, seated in your spire in the safety of Lamath!" Tohn was shouting. "You've not been sitting in a sweltering tent day after day, watching as the dandelions carpet the battlefield with yellow, and still watching when they turn white and blow away!" "If you spent less time watching dandelions and more time watching Dorlyth's movements, you could crack this tiny acorn of a castle and give us what we want!" Flayh replied, smiling viciously.
Jagd groaned, his chin resting in his hands, his elbows propped on his own triangular table. "My forehead is splitting. Can we please get on with the work and hold the bickering until after the business is settled?" The other two saw the wisdom in Jagd's plea and each man held his tongue. In order to keep the pretense of working in partnership, they would have to hold their bile inside.
"Doriyth is out of water," Tohn grunted matter-of-factly. "Any day now he'll be forced to take the field, and sheer numbers insure our victory." Many miles to the north in a dripping forest, Pelman winced at the news. Surrounded by a torrent of water, he felt his own throat constricted by his brother's thirst.
Doriyth had broken his promise! "Be cautious, you old fool," Flayh snarled. "Remember, he has a magician in there with him." Jagd was surprised. Tohn did not bristle, but replied, "I don't think so." "What?" Jagd asked. "I don't believe Pelman is here." "What do you know?" Flayh screamed. "Where could he have gone?" "It's a big world," Tohn muttered. "You lie!" Flayh exploded. "He's slipped through your fingers, and you lie to cover your failure!" "He didn't slip through my fingers. He wasn't there to begin with!" "He wasn't-" "I can't feel him!" Tohn bellowed. "I've fought in this country all my life! I've battled witches and sorcerers, the whole lot, and I can tell when someone is shaping the powers against me. I can sense it." Tohn paused.
"Pelman isn't here." "Where is he, then?" Flayh demanded.
"He could be in Lamath for all I know!" Tohn roared back. Flayh hurled a stream of curses across the dark void at his cousin, and Pelman opened his eyes a moment to clear his mind. The young couple still whispered and clung to one another for support. When he dipped back into the conversation, Jagd was speaking.
"We have an opportunity here we cannot pass by. With the dragon confused and angry, we have a passport through his passageway. Our armies will say they march in search of Pelman. Talith prepares to march from the golden city and I assume the plans are in motion to bring the dragonhordes of Lamath to Dragonsgate as well?" "They'll be there," Flayh snorted, hoping this time Peri would not fail. If he did, Flayh would drop him down a deep shaft and let him starve to death. Of course, that would take longer than usual-Pezi had so much to go on.
"We can manipulate the two-headed beast to allow both armies passage to Ngandib-Mar. Once they come into contact with one another, battle is a certainty. We'll let Lamath and Chaomonous whittle one another down on the eastern plains of the Man highlands, while their governments fall to carefully planned coups at home." Tohn bit his tongue. He thought of the fields around his castle. His green lands to become the battlefield for a wrestling of giants! At least now there would be no damage to the harvest. How could there be? There had been no planting.
"It is certain the lazy man of High City will make no move," Flayh chuckled. "My informants tell me he spends his days folding artificial birds of parchment sheets and launching them from his castle casements." "No, there's nothing to fear from Pahd mod Pahdel," Jagd agreed, "and that is to our advantage. Once we control both Lamath and Chaomonous, Ngandib-Mar will tumble to us like a squatter's shack in the whirlwind." Tohn winced at that, but said nothing. He was thinking of his fields.
"From his vantage point within his castle, Tohn will be able to witness the entire conflict." Jagd smiled, and then chuckled low in his throat. "When it is clear which force has won the day, Tohn can attack the victor." "If he's returned in time," Flayh goaded.
Tohn had been lost in thought. Now he looked back into the blue object he balanced on his palm and answered quietly. "I can leave today. I assure you I'll not miss this place." "And break the siege?" Jagd asked, startled.
"What purpose is there in continuing if Pelman isn't here?" Tohn argued.
"If he isn't there, why does Doriyth resist you so strongly?" Jagd argued back anxiously.
"I don't know. Pride, I suppose. After all, he is a Man." "Yes, and Marts are a pigheaded race," Rayh injected.
"I would not expect you to understand pride, Flayh," Tohn shot back. "You have, after all, so little to be proud of." "I insist you continue the siege," Jagd urged, attempting to get everything said before the mounting animosity broke the link again. "Perhaps Pelman is not there. But maybe he is, and wishes you to think him gone. He may be witching you yet. Remember he's a powershaper! Then, too, even if Pelman has fled, the girl may still be in the castle. That Princess has been our primary pawn in this entire enterprise. Her recapture would be of great value still! I implore you, Tohn. Don't break the siege!" "Very well." Tohn sighed. "We'll stay. But it cannot last much longer. I know Dorlyth's water is gone. He will have to yield soon, or else take the field against me." "Which leads me to my last point," Jagd rushed on. "After which you two may insult one another until you both have your fill of bile. If we can force this war into Ngandib-Mar, we have nothing to fear from Pahd. Our only danger lies with that one you have bottled up in his castle." "Danger from Doriyth?" Tohn mumbled.
"He is the only Mari outside of Pahd who could unite those clans against us. Pahd won't. Doriyth, given the chance, will." "And so?" "When the opportunity arises, Tohn-kill him." There was a long pause, then Tohn answered quietly, "I'll do what I must." The old warrior tossed the crystal object across the tent and buried his face in the hand that had held it. The link was broken again.
&nbs
p; Pelman opened his eyes. The interior of the tent, devoid of light, nevertheless glowed with an eerie blueness. He realized at last that it emanated from himself. His two companions still held one another tightly, even in their sleep, though the storm had evidently passed. Pelman stood slowly, quietly, and tossed a wet tent flap aside to step out into the moist night air.
Water ran along the ground and dripped from every branch. It filled the trench they had carved around their shelter, and-yes, it still dribbled from the rock in a steady stream that had not existed yesterday.
Water, thought Pelman. While Doriyth went thirsty.
By his own manipulation of the powers he could shape himself into the swiftest of birds, and be in Dorlyth's keep by noon. By the Power, he mediated, he could call forth a stream from the bare rock beneath Dorlyth's castle.
"Would that I could do both, at once," he murmured, as the water-laden branches of the giant pines showered him. But he could not. "Why must I always be forced to choose?" he groaned quietly.
"Doriyth," he said, thinking of the lad wrapped in blankets in the tent yonder. "I must save Doriyth." Impulsively he raised his hand above his head in the classic stance of the magus-a pose not taught him by book or man but by his own intuition and his years of practice. But as he would have focused his will-as he would have mumbled the words and shaped himself into an eagle-he hesitated.
He had not been made to stop. It was not that he couldn't. It was rather that-though torn by love for his friend and brother and for the son that lay in the tent- he wouldn't.
Instead he lifted his other arm as well, and opening both hands in supplication he implored of the Power beyond the dark silhouette of the trees. "All right! If I cannot, then you do something!" There was silence in the clearing, but for the steady rhythm of moving water. Then, as if in answer, there was a soft roll of thunder from far away in Lamath. Water dripping from the brilliant blue cassock, head drooping on his chest, Pelman the Prophet made his way back to the dark shape of the tent, and sleep.
Many miles to the south and west, the same storm that poured torrents on the Great North Fir shed a fine mist across the high plateau of Ngandib. The cobblestones and courtyards were slippery with the wet, and the moist gloom muffled the usual noises of castle life. It was a good day to stay in bed-and, of course, many of the servants of Pahd mod Pahd-el did just that.
But not Pahd. "Not today!" Chogi lan Pahd-el exulted, and she dragged the King's young wife out into the damp courtyard to listen to the sweet sounds coming from the armory. "You hear, Sarie? Hear that?" Pahd's mother barked happily to her daughter-in-law, and Sarie replied with a surprised yawn. Though muffled by the cloak of dampness, there was still the unmistakable noise of sword clanging on sword.
Sarie wrapped her robe tightly about her and asked uncertainly, "You're sure that's him?" "Of course that's him. I know my own son, don't I? Dragged him out of bed at daybreak!" "Daybreak? How could you tell?" Sarie wondered, eyeing the dark sky and yawning.
"Had seventeen opponents lined up for him to face. Took me the better part of last night to blackmail them all into appearing, but they showed. Made him promise he'd practice with each swordsman before he quit." "Seventeen!" "Not to worry. He'll work through them by noon; they're none of them very good. But at least he's getting some exercise!" Chogi grinned her elation, her hands propped on her wide hips as she enjoyed the music of the rhythmic clanking. Sarie cocked her head, also listening. Soon she began to frown uncertainly.
"He's very-regular in his exchanges, isn't he?" she asked.
"Regular?" "Of course, I know very little about swordplay, but it seems there would be a bit more action. This constant 'clank, clank, clank.' Somewhat boring, don't you think?" "Greatswords, dearie, remember," Chogi growled. "Takes a lot of effort to swing one. Come on, we'll watch. Perhaps when you see the flash of the blades, and the careful body work, it won't seem so boring to you." They walked across the cobblestones to a stairway leading down to the armory. The nearer they came the louder was the clashing of swords. But Chogi, too, now noticed that the strokes fell with a rather numbing uniformity. "He must be tiring," she muttered as she opened the armory door.
In fact, Pahd mod Pahd-el wasn't tiring at all. There was little chance of that, stretched as he was across a wrestling rug piled in the comer of the stone-walled room. His seneschal, though, was ready to fall over. The poor fellow feared his arms would soon fall off, for he had been standing next to the window beating swords together for a full half-hour, and the King would not let him stop.
"What is the meaning of this?" Chogi bellowed, and Pahd raised his head off the mat to look up at her.
"Oh, hello. Mother. You can stop now, Plari." "Thank the powers!" the seneschal moaned, and two swords clattered to the floor.
"You promised to duel seventeen opponents! On your word as a King!" Chogi yelled.
"Tell her, Plari," Pahd sighed, laying his head back. The seneschal advanced to the Queen Mother, swinging his arms to loosen cramping muscles.
"You mustn't scold him, my Lady," he puffed, "for I can attest that he kept his promise to the letter." Plari stopped to gasp for a breath.
"Seventeen opponents?" "They weren't any good. Mother. If you're going to make me practice, would you at least find me some decent competition?" "Such as?" his mother challenged.
"I don't know. Muldi mod Sag, of the northwest . . ." "Killed by a cavern bear," Plari put in. "Up in the mines." "What was he doing there?" Pahd asked.
"You sent him," the seneschal replied simply.
"Oh yes, now I remember," Pahd said uncertainly, trying to remember. "But isn't Muldi a bear's-bane?" "He was." Plari shrugged. "Apparently, bears don't put as much stock in such titles as we men do." "Go on," Chogi urged, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Name me another." "Ah, Doriyth mod Karis, or-" "Ah-hah!" Chogi gloated, and Pahd looked at her, puzzled. "Doriyth mod Karis is locked in siege with Tohn mod Neelis, or have you forgotten?" "Of course I haven't forgotten," Pahd protested, having forgotten. "Why did he lay siege to Tohn mod Neelis?" "He didn't! Tohn attacked him! He sent you word almost two weeks ago. Don't you remember anything?" "I remember how to sword-fight," Pahd sniffed, offended. "Tell her, Plari." "Oh yes, my Lady, he certainly does. It took him not more than four strokes for any man. One to engage, one to disarm, one to feign the death stroke, and a whack across the backside for each with the broad edge of his blade! It was a splendid exercise, with-" "Spare me, Plari!" Chogi begged. It was a request, but the threat in her voice told Plari he had no alternative but silence. He smiled at Chogi, and closed his mouth. "Nevertheless," Chogi began, turning to her son, "that wonderful ability of yours is of little value here. I wager Doriyth mod Karis could use your blade this minute-if he hasn't already fallen. I did tell you that he notified us of his lack of water. I know I did." "You did?" "She did," Sarie agreed.
"Oh, hello, dear." Pahd smiled lazily. "What are you doing up?" "The question is, are you going to lie there and just let one of your vassals, whom you've sworn to protect, be overrun by the armies of this renegade merchant? Are you?" Chogi demanded loudly, her face turning orange-red.
"Of course not." Pahd shrugged. "Then what are you going to do about it?" Chogi shouted.
"I'll-rescue him, naturally," Pahd replied.
"When?" "Well, we could go today-" Pahd began.
"Wonderful!" Chogi sighed and turned to stalk triumphantly from the room.
"-on the other hand, it's raining today. By the time we got a nice-sized army gathered from the city, it would be late afternoon, and it isn't good to leave for war in the late afternoon, so probably it would make better sense to wait until tomorrow morning, when it may not be raining and more people would be willing to volunteer." "Are you finished?" Chogi snorted. She leaned in the doorway, waiting for him to make up his mind.
"Why do you always ask me that. Mother? Why can't you just let me take my time?" "The army!" she demanded. "Shall Plari give the order to muster the army or not?" "Alw
ays rushing me!" "Take your time, darling," Sarie soothed, kneeling behind him on the rug to massage his neck.
"I think I will," Pahd said defiantly, leaning back into her fingers and closing his eyes. They popped open again to look at Chogi. "Don't worry. Mother, I'll get to it." Then he lay back into Sarie's lap.
"If there's anything left to get to," Chogi muttered sourly, and she left the armory. As if that weren't aggravation enough, she slipped climbing the steps back up to the tower.
But there was no rain on Dorlyth's castle. Though Doriyth pleaded with the powers to send moisture his way, none fell. He stood on the battlements, gazing north at a large black cloud, feeling the promise of rain in the sticky way his robes clung to his body. But the cloud passed him by. And the blue-and-lime tents stayed on the hillside beyond his unplowed fields, awaiting his decision. To fight? Surrender? Where was Pelman by now? Where was Rosha? Vainly Doriyth watched the storm bypass the boundaries of his lands. His mind was made up. He skipped down a stairway to the stables and found his captain-at-arms.
The Prophet Of Lamath Page 19