by Lee Duigon
“Two thousand years!” he said at last. “After two thousand years, God has allowed his servant King Ozias to speak to us again! This is grace beyond all hope!” And tears flowed from his eyes so that he couldn’t see.
“To think that we carried this treasure on a donkey!” Martis said. After all those days and all those miles, now it dawned on him that the scrolls were a treasure worth more than all the gold of Obann. Bending all his energies just to getting safely to the forest, he’d hardly given the scrolls a second thought. But now he began to understand, and it took his breath away. God was not just a word, or an idea, bandied about by theologians. God did things!
It was enough to take anyone’s breath away.
Jack and Ellayne exchanged a look. Jack hadn’t been thinking of the scroll as anything much more than a piece of sheepskin in his hand. Obst made him see that he’d been holding God’s own word. He almost dropped it.
Obst looked up at the chieftains. “Let the army stop here and make a camp,” he said. “We must hold a celebration of thanksgiving, with a feast and songs of praise and prayers. For the whole human race has been given a gift today, a gift beyond price; and for the time being, we are its custodians. God has honored us!”
Chief Zekelesh grinned. “We not own much food to make feast,” he said in his bad Tribe-talk, “but we feast as we can—yes!” He and the rest of the chieftains hurried off to make arrangements.
“When are you going to read the scrolls?” Jack asked.
“When my heart stops beating like a drum and my head stops buzzing like a beehive,” Obst said. “Jack and Ellayne, it was a blessed, blessed day when the two of you first entered Lintum Forest!”
He pulled them into an embrace, held them tight, and kissed them again and again. Because they loved him, they allowed it. Ellayne began to cry because she missed her father.
“What’s the army doing out here on the plain?” Martis asked Helki.
“Burned if I know,” said the Rod. “Going to Obann, I guess. At least that’s what my little peeper said we have to do; and she was speaking as a prophet, so it was really God saying it.”
“Where’s the king?”
Helki took Martis’ elbow and led him a little way off. “No one knows where that boy is!” he said. “He ran off into the woods one day, and before we could fetch him back, we got our marching orders. Peeper says we’ll see him again, someday, who knows when—and he’ll still be our king, and King of Obann. I can’t calculate what any of it means, but the old man seems easy enough in his mind about it. I reckon God tells him things the rest of us wouldn’t understand.”
Martis went pale. He lowered his voice so only Helki could hear him.
“We were lucky to escape from Old Obann,” he said. “There are servants of the Temple scouring the plains for us. I’m sure they know about the scrolls, too. If Ryons comes out of the forest, he’ll be in worse danger than you know.”
“Ain’t much we can do about it.”
“I’d like to know what you’re going to do when you get to Obann,” Martis said. “All the Heathen armies will be there.”
“I reckon we’ll just have to think of something.”
“You’re mighty calm about it!”
Helki sighed and twirled his staff. “Might as well be calm,” he said. “I’m supposed to be the Flail of the Lord. It wouldn’t do for the men to see me fretting.”
The army traveled light, so it wasn’t much of a feast. What they lacked in extra food they made up for in gusto. The men may not have understood what they were celebrating; but a mood of rejoicing settled over them, and as the sun set, songs rang out boisterously in a dozen different languages.
A mound of earth had been heaped up and tamped so that Obst could stand on it and everyone could see him. They made bonfires, half a dozen big ones, and danced around them merrily, waving swords and spears. The subchiefs of the Abnaks danced backward, spinning round and round without getting dizzy. It made Jack dizzy just to watch them.
When darkness fell at last, the men sat down and Obst climbed up on the mound. They cheered him uproariously. He had to stand with his arms spread out for several minutes before they settled down.
“Men and brethren, children of the living God—rejoice, for God is with you!”
He told them about the scrolls: how King Ozias, inspired by the spirit of God, wrote them; how they remained hidden under the ruins of Old Obann for many lifetimes of men; and how God today had brought them to light so He could speak to His people again, as He used to speak to them in days of old.
“We do not know yet what is in the scrolls, what God will say to us. But we know that God’s bell on Bell Mountain has been rung and that you who were heathen are the first generation of a new people of God. Just those two things alone are miracles.”
They should rejoice, he said, because they were part of something new. God had chosen them to play that part. They must put their trust in Him and be courageous. Scripture was full of heroes who did impossible things because their God was with them.
“They were not giants. They were men like you. King Ozias himself grew up in Lintum Forest, a fugitive with a price on his head and no father to protect him. Abeka the Lame, with just three hundred men to follow him, routed ten thousand armored men hired by the apostate King Jiraz. So shall you do exploits, too, for the power of God is with you!”
He led them in long prayers. Abnaks from the wooded hills, proud Wallekki, savage Attakotts, and men of other nations little heard-of in the West: they all followed him in prayer, and many wept for joy. It amazed Helki to see hard old Uduqu’s tattooed cheeks shining with shed tears. Helki prayed his own prayer, under his breath: “Oh Lord, I don’t know what I’m doing here! I surely hope you do.”
It was decided Obst would read the scrolls while the army continued to march. The Ghols made a litter for him, to be carried between two horses, so he could sit and read all day. They gave him leather packs in which to store the scrolls and keep them out of the sunlight.
Jack and Ellayne insisted on riding alongside of Obst, although Helki thought they should either be sent home to Ninneburky or back to the castle in the forest.
“Nothing doing!” Jack said. “We went to an awful lot of trouble for those scrolls, and we want to know what’s in them.”
Martis looked at Ellayne. “I thought you wanted me to take you home,” he said.
“Not yet!” she answered. “I’ll stay here as long as Jack does.”
“I reckon you two will be getting married, once you’re old enough,” said Helki.
Ellayne blushed violently, and Jack made a face as if he’d just bitten into a ball of soap. What either of them might have said will never be known, for Obst distracted them.
“I thought I might have trouble reading these,” he said. He had a scroll in his hands, partially unrolled. “After all, it’s been a long time since I studied any of the ancient scripts. But I can read it, after all! Listen:
“‘I, Ozias the king, testify that in obedience to the Word of God that came to me in the wilderness of Shilmer, I placed a bell atop Mount Yul. I took it from the temple that was in the city of Kahalla: there we slew the apostate priests and brought down their tower. But the bell I caused to be saved, for the Lord commanded it.’”
Obst read it easily, but had to pause to catch his breath.
“A scholar from the seminary in Obann said he had a great deal of trouble reading these,” said Martis.
“Nevertheless, it seems clear enough to me,” said Obst.
“Read more!” Jack said.
So as the army marched, he read the entire scroll, pausing now and then to hold it up to the light, or squint at it close-up, because there were places where the ink was faded.
“We must find scribes to make as many copies of these as possible!” he said.
“I’m afraid all the scribes are in Obann, under siege,” Martis said.
“Even so, copies must be made somehow. If need be, t
here must be a few men in this army who can do it—at least get the work started.”
“A traveling scriptorium!” Martis said. He smiled at the mental image of a tattooed Abnak warrior trying to be a scribe. “Well, if it comes to that, I can read and write. I could do some copying.”
“Now we know for sure,” Obst said, “that it was Ozias’ bell you children rang, up on Bell Mountain, and that the king came down from the mountain and journeyed into Heathen lands. But there’s much more.”
He read from the scroll: “I shall give you knowledge of things that are to be, says the Lord, in the days after the bell is rung. For in those days I shall do mighty works on earth, and then they shall remember that I am their God.”
“It doesn’t say anything about the world coming to an end, does it?” Ellayne said.
“No, not at all,” Obst said. “Certainly nowhere in this scroll. It appears I was wrong about the end of the world.”
“And I was right!” Ellayne stuck out her tongue at Jack, but he just laughed. He liked being right, but didn’t mind being wrong about the world coming to an end.
“They act like they’re married already,” Helki muttered to Martis.
CHAPTER 16
Ryons and Edwydd
Cavall rose up with a raging thirst and a terrible taste in his mouth, and his head spun when he struggled to his feet. Then he was sick, but after that he began to feel much better.
Without being able to put it into words as a human being would, he knew he’d been poisoned and that the man with the horse had done it. Cavall hadn’t liked the look of him. And a few sniffs of the ground revealed that the man had put Ryons on the horse, after a struggle, and ridden away with him.
Well, it would be an easy thing to track the horse, the scent was fresh enough. And if he found the horse, he’d find the man. Cavall allowed himself the luxury of a quiet growl, then set off on the horse’s trail. Used to loping after deer, he paced himself so he could keep going until after sundown, when the man would stop. He paused only to take a long drink from a water-seep under a patch of waxbush. The horse, he could tell, was not being put to any speed. He would overtake it shortly after nightfall.
Cavall didn’t love the boy. He loved only Mary, who had raised him. But he would stay with the boy forever, and if need be, lay down his life for him—because Mary had told him to.
After a time, Edwydd let Ryons sit in front of him astride the saddle. It took several minutes for Ryons’ head to clear.
“Feeling better?” the man asked.
Feeling well enough to wish I could get my hands on my knife, Ryons thought; but his hands were tied.
“Please sir, let me go! I never did you any harm.”
“You’ll be all right. Indeed, you’re going to get your wish and go to Obann,” Edwydd said. “There are some men who will want to ask you certain questions. I don’t suppose you’ll know the answers to any of them—you’re just a runaway slave—but we shall see. If they’re satisfied that’s all you are, they’ll let you go. So relax, and be glad you don’t have to walk all the way to Obann.”
Ryons knew Jack and Ellayne, but had only a vague idea of what they’d done and knew nothing of the Temple’s interest in them. All he knew was that they’d gone to Obann themselves, with Martis, for some reason known best to God. It was because of something Jandra said. Like me, he thought.
“Why did you poison my dog?” he said.
“He wouldn’t have let me take you with me. Sorry, but I had to do it. I don’t think he and I would ever have become friends.”
“Why should anyone in Obann want to ask me any questions?” Ryons asked.
“In all honesty, my lad, I don’t know! You’ll find out when we get there. Don’t be afraid, meanwhile. I won’t hurt you unless you try to escape.”
Ryons didn’t like the sound of any of it, and he was wise enough not to put any trust in Edwydd: wise enough, too, not to let his feelings show.
“Do they have slaves in Obann?” he asked.
“A few. But most of the slaves in Obann wind up on the logging crews, upriver, or get sold into the East. Still, it’s possible you might find a place in the city. It’ll be better than anything you’re used to, I daresay.”
Martis could have told him right off that Edwydd was a servant of the Temple and that he was in mortal danger from him. But Ryons had no friend at hand to tell him anything. He missed Cavall.
They rode all day until they came to an abandoned farmstead with a stopped-up well, an empty barn, and a cottage stripped bare of food and clothes and bedding. But it would do for a night’s shelter, Edwydd said.
The man fed Ryons with some dried meat from his saddlebag, gave him a drink of water, and then tied him securely to a bed frame.
“Not very comfortable, I grant you,” he said. “But you can’t expect too much, under the circumstances.”
He laid out his bedroll on the floor, near the bed and between it and the door, and was soon asleep.
Cavall pressed on, and well before midnight the horse’s trail led him to the farmhouse. His nose told him the boy and the man were in the cottage. He saw the horse, unsaddled, hobbled, and tied to a rosebush beside the house. The horse saw him and pricked up its ears; but Cavall wasn’t hunting horses.
He knew from experience that a dog couldn’t open the door to a cottage: a human being had to let you in. He knew the man would not let him in. The best time to attack the man would be the moment he stepped outside. He heard the man snoring in his sleep, so he knew that moment would not be until the morning.
Cavall found another big rosebush at the other corner of the house, opposite where the horse was tethered. He went behind it and lay down. The horse fidgeted, but it didn’t wake the man.
Cavall waited.
That same summer night, Prester Orth and Lord Reesh stood on a rooftop of the Temple, looking out at the uncountable watch fires that surrounded the city. From this distance they looked like all the stars of heaven. And God made the stars, and set each one in its place, and instructed them in all their motions, said the Scripture, in the Book of Beginnings.
“Something troubles you, Prester,” said Lord Reesh. “Out with it!”
“Excellency, I suspect you already know what troubles me,” Orth answered.
They were on top of a tower to which only the First Prester had the key. Nevertheless, they spoke in muted murmurs.
“You’re thinking, as I have thought, that we are a long time waiting for the answer to our offer,” Reesh said. “But I don’t think we’ll get one until they’ve entirely despaired of taking Obann by assault.”
Orth shook his head. “They haven’t the siegecraft for it,” he said. “All their attacks have been bloodily repulsed, at little or no cost to us.”
“And you are thinking that if they cannot take the city by force, why should we give it up to them?”
No answer was necessary.
“We enjoy the advantage now,” Lord Reesh said, “but what advantage will we have two years from now, when the food runs out, and the people are weary and disheartened, and we have no more burning pitch to hurl at the enemy machines?
“I don’t know the Thunder King, but I am sure he didn’t send this army here to return to him defeated. He won’t permit it to be beaten. And next spring he will send more armies, with better machines.
“Today this city is like a flower in full bloom. It’s beautiful, but it’s the fate of every flower to wither away and die.”
Orth nodded. History was full of strong-walled cities that fell at last. Unless it was broken up by force, a determined siege would be the death of any city—provided the besiegers didn’t give up.
“What we do, you and I, is for the best,” Reesh said. “What choice do we have? If we do nothing, the city will eventually fall; and then it would be utterly destroyed. This way, it survives. The Temple will survive. That’s all that matters. And then, someday, the Thunder King will die, and his empire will begin to die wit
h him. But the Temple will still be here, ready to reclaim its power.”
“His people say he’s a god,” said Orth.
Reesh laughed coldly.
“There are no gods,” he said. “There is only the Temple.”
CHAPTER 17
Cavall Strikes
Helki’s scouts reported that there were still Obannese garrisons in some of the towns along the river and in the city of Caryllick to the south.
“We could use them,” Helki said to Martis. “Think there’s any chance they might come out and help?”
Martis grinned at him. “Not when they hear we mean to go to Obann!” he said. “Still, it’s worth asking them. Why not give me a few Wallekki as an escort—and we’ll go down to Caryllick as fast as we can and see if we can rouse the garrison?”
“Might as well,” said Helki. So Martis, with half a dozen swift horsemen, galloped off to Caryllick.
Jack and Ellayne missed him at once. He’d been with them since they’d found him lying senseless on the summit of Bell Mountain, with his dark beard turned snow-white.
“Never mind—he’ll be back,” Obst said, “though I don’t think the men in Caryllick will be of any help to us. ‘Put not your trust in marching men or the munitions of war, says King Ozias, but in the name of the Lord.’”
He was still reading the scrolls. They absorbed him all day long, and at night he taught the army.
“What’s in the scroll you’re reading now?” asked Ellayne.
“A history of the future,” said the hermit. “This scroll foretells the rise of Obann’s empire, centuries after Ozias’ time, and lists all the nations it would conquer, all the way out to the Great Lakes. Some are peoples that I never heard of. They’ve either died out or changed their names. But it matches up perfectly with such history as I’ve studied. In Ozias’ own time, Obann’s armies never crossed the mountains. This vision of an empire must have seemed very strange to him.”