The Thunder King (Bell Mountain)

by Lee Duigon

  “He was an old man, Excellency,” said Gallgoid, “and you’ve spared him from sharing in the anguish of the city when it falls. Saved him from a violent death.”

  “It’s your city, too,” Reesh said.

  “My lord, I serve the Temple, as do you. My way of service is to carry out your wishes. It’s all I know, and all I wish to know. Where you are, First Prester, there is the Temple. I can live without my city,” Gallgoid said, “but without the Temple, I am nothing.”

  It was well said, Reesh thought. “Send a message to Judge Tombo’s household,” he said, “and tell them that their lord is dead. And then to Prester Orth, that he must give the funeral oration. Tell him I want him to exercise the full power of his eloquence.”

  Gallgoid left the chamber, leaving Reesh alone with his old friend.

  CHAPTER 36

  Wytt Arranges an Ambush

  The army made good time on the River Road, and now the chieftains thought they were close enough to Obann to be attacked. But the scouts said otherwise. Chagadai himself, captain of the Ghols, led a party all the way to the hills just west of the city.

  “They have eyes for nothing but Obann, my brothers,” he reported to the chieftains. “They pay no heed at all to us. They have no scouts patrolling west of the city. We could march right up to the walls, if we wanted to. But if you ask me, it’s because they expect to take the city very soon.”

  “How?” said Shaffur, frowning. “The last we heard, they were doing very badly—couldn’t use their fire-throwing machines.”

  Chagadai shrugged. “We saw nothing that gave us any hint of what they mean to do. But that whole vast multitude is like a wildcat bunching up his muscles to pounce.”

  Their council was in the open air, beneath the stars. The chieftains sat on their stools in a ring—even Hawk, who was chief over just his three brothers. Nanny was there, too, comfortably seated in her cart.

  “Now would be a good time for a word of prophecy,” said Zekelesh. Obst translated for Nanny, and she laughed.

  “Tell Mr. Wolf’s-head it’s not up to me, but God, when those words come,” she said. “It’s quite funny. At home they always tried to silence me; but here everybody’s always trying to get me to talk.”

  “It sounds to me as if we’d better hurry, or the city may fall before we get there,” Captain Hennen said. “It would crush my heart to see that! How can God let His Temple be profaned?”

  “Peace—you don’t know what you’re saying!” Obst said. “As it was in the days of Ozias, after he was driven from his throne, and as it was on the day the Empire fell, so it is now. The Temple has already been profaned, and not by any Heathen. The whole city is under judgment because it has turned away from God. The rulers have shed the blood of prophets. They have built a fence around God’s word—and that fence is the Temple. No power on earth can save it.”

  Hennen shook his head and frowned. “Then I’m burned if I can see why we’re marching our legs off just to get there,” he said, “if there’s nothing we can do to help.”

  “We go because God commands it,” Obst said.

  Helki spoke up. “Hennen wasn’t with us to hear Jandra’s prophecy—don’t be too hard on him. He hasn’t seen the things we’ve seen. He can’t understand what a miracle it is that we’re still alive.” He turned to Hennen. “We have to go; God sends us; but if you’d rather not, I don’t reckon anyone here will force you to.”

  “My men and I will go anywhere the rest of you go,” Hennen said. “It’ll be to our deaths, by all my calculations—but who wants to outlive his country?”

  “It’s settled, then,” said Helki. “Tomorrow we march faster.”

  Chillith decided to march upriver for a day or so before crossing the Chariot. Where it joined the Imperial the river was too wide and deep, the current too strong.

  All the little unwalled towns and villages in the country were abandoned. The people must have fled to Cardigal, Martis thought. He wondered how many of them had survived the destruction of that city, and where they could have gone from there.

  “Your honor has dealt harshly with my country,” he said to the mardar, “and yet I’ve never heard that Obann ever did any evil to the Griffs.”

  “We but obey our master the Thunder King’s commands,” Chillith said. “All who stand against him are destroyed. He will rule all nations from the farthest East to the Great Sea in the farthest West.”

  “And what would he want to do that for?” Jack thought, but didn’t dare ask. But Ellayne was thinking of a verse from Scripture, from the Book of Beginnings: “To every king his own kingdom, to every nation its own land.” This Thunder King desired all the kingdoms, all the lands. Sheer wickedness, she thought.

  “And does your honor know,” Martis asked, “what your master the Thunder King intends to do with all those nations once he has them, and how he means to rule them?”

  You could see from the look on Chillith’s face, even under all the paint, that he’d never heard that question asked before. Jack thought it was a burned good question and that Martis was of sharper wit than he made out to be.

  “Who can answer such a question?” Chillith said. “I marvel that you dare to ask it, Martis. Do you think my master shares his thoughts with ordinary men? Do you think there’s any man who dares instruct him, or can demand an accounting from him? What answer can I make to such deep ignorance?”

  “It seems to me, in my ignorance, that a man would wish to know such things,” Martis said. “Since the world began, the people of Obann have lived one way and the Griffs another, each and every people to its own way. But how are we to live once your master has established his dominion over all the nations?”

  “I can’t waste time with such talk!” said Chillith, and spurred his horse away.

  “He doesn’t know,” Jack said.

  “I don’t suppose his master is one for answering questions,” Martis said. “I served such a master—Lord Reesh, the First Prester. With a master like that, you get out of the habit of asking questions. You might even stop thinking of any.”

  Wytt rode inside a saddlebag on Ham’s back: he’d snuck into it during the night. There was nothing else in the saddlebag, and no reason for anyone to reach into it.

  He’d learned that these men feared him, discovered it the night he’d shown himself. His mind was not a human mind, so he never asked himself why they feared him.

  From time to time he rose to the mouth of the bag and sniffed the air. Somewhere, not far away, there was a very large animal with an unrecognizable scent. The men drew ever nearer to it, like blind men walking toward a precipice.

  Because the men were his enemies, Wytt greatly desired that they should meet the animal and find it in an angry mood. He saw a picture in his mind of men running right up to the animal, making noise and brandishing weapons, and the startled beast attacking them.

  Cautiously he poked his head out of the bag. A short distance up ahead grew trees. The beast was somewhere inside those trees; a breeze brought its odor to his nostrils. He observed that the horses smelled it, too, and were displaying signs of nervousness. The men didn’t notice that. But if the wind shifted, the big animal would catch their scent and probably move off before they even saw it.

  Wytt knew what to do. With infinite care not to be seen, just yet, he crept out of the saddlebag, hung on for a moment, and then dropped to the ground.

  The monotony of the march was broken suddenly. Ellayne heard someone yelp in pain—and in the same instant, the Omah’s shrill screeching.

  “Wytt!” she cried. He must have jabbed somebody’s foot with his sharp stick.

  Griffs chased him through the tall grass, Wytt zigging and zagging and sometimes disappearing. Chillith roared commands, but no one obeyed him. At least a dozen warriors were trying to catch Wytt, and they wouldn’t stop.

  “The demon, the demon!” they shouted. “Kill it—don’t let it get away!”

  They ran after him into some trees
, where they could never hope to find him; and they no sooner entered the trees when there arose a deep rumbling roar from the heart of the glade—and the men came running out again, in terror.

  Jack thought at first that it was the biggest bear the world had ever seen, pursuing them. But no—it was too slow for a bear, and too big, and behind it trailed a long, thick tail. It was hairier and shaggier than any bear, a rich red-brown.

  The Griffs rallied and threw spears at it. That stopped the beast’s charge; and then, just like a bear, it reared up on its hind legs and roared at them. It was propped up by its heavy tail, and its neck was longer than a horse’s, and its face was not like any other animal’s. Ellayne thought it looked like the face of one of her dolls, turned by black magic into a gigantic ogre.

  The Griffs would have killed a bear—any bear. But although many of the sharp spears found their mark, none of them penetrated very far into the beast’s flesh, and quite a few of them bounced off. The Griffs made a fearful racket, yelling and cursing.

  With a few sweeps of powerfully clawed forepaws, the animal batted away the spears that had stuck in its hide, landed back on all fours with a crash that shook the earth, spun around ponderously, and retreated back into the woods. The spears thrown after it bounced off its hindquarters. It vanished among the trees, and no one dared pursue it.

  Chillith bellowed at his men. He made them gather up their spears. Many of them paused to look at the points, while others studied the ground. They were looking for blood and didn’t find any. When the men were finally calm again, and order restored, Chillith rode up to Martis and the children.

  “It was another one of your little hairy friends that started this,” he said. “But what was that creature that came out of the woods? We’ve seen the giant birds—we even killed one, once. But this creature turned my men’s muscles into water. You saw how feebly they threw their spears.”

  Martis shrugged. “I never saw such an animal before,” he said. In truth, he had, once—but he was keeping that to himself. “In these days there are many strange beasts in the land, which no one’s ever seen before. I know a holy man who says they’ve been sent by God, as a sign of His judgment. But beyond that, your honor knows as much as I do.”

  “My men are all brave warriors, tested and approved in battle,” Chillith said, frowning thoughtfully. “Now they will be troubled by the thought of beasts that cannot be killed by weapons. They will think it was some witchcraft worked by the little hairy demons who are your friends. They will not love you for it.”

  “But we’re not witches!” Ellayne cried, and added hastily, “your honor. There’s all kinds of crazy animals around, everywhere you go. We thought it meant the end of the world. But we do know that God has promised to protect us!”

  Chillith didn’t respond to that reminder, but you could see he took note of it. He sighed. “It’s a long way to Kara Karram,” he said. “Once I would have prayed to my gods to protect us, and been content. But now there are no gods left to pray to.”

  “We pray to ours,” said Martis.

  “Then pray for me,” said Chillith.

  CHAPTER 37

  Cavall Bolts

  Lord Reesh woke to the day he was to open his city to the enemy. He had gone to bed half-hoping that he wouldn’t wake at all.

  He had his breakfast. If his hands shook a little, anyone who saw it would put it down to age and infirmity, and being upset by Judge Tombo’s funeral the day before. Everyone knew how hard the First Prester took the loss of his old friend.

  The twenty men who were to be saved with him were ready. Because they were to be the foundation for a new Temple, he’d chosen them with care, and chosen well: not one had lost his nerve. Attracting no notice to themselves, they’d packed into chests such books and archives as they would need for the new Temple in the East—which of course would be the same Temple in a different building. Gallgoid assured Reesh that everyone and everything was ready, and his word could be trusted.

  It was a day like any other. There was no shortage of food in the city yet, and the people were content. Lord Gwyll kept the fire-fighting teams in readiness, although they’d had nothing to do for weeks. Shops were open, tradesmen plied their trades, bakers baked, and doctors treated the sick. Cart traffic was down because there were no new goods coming into the city. But one street over from the Temple, at least one household was celebrating a wedding.

  Many verses of Scripture spoke to such times, but Reesh cared not to meditate on any of them. “The last day,” he thought; tomorrow the sun would look upon a burning ruin. “A day like any other for a proud city, and an ancient one.” But even the city was not too great a price to pay for the preservation of the Temple.

  The end of this day’s march would bring King Ryons’ army to the hills overlooking the city. The chieftains marched the men at a steady pace, careful not to tire them in case there should be fighting. But the scouts kept saying there was little chance of that.

  “Nothing’s changed,” Chagadai said. “The whole host is hunkered around the city, waiting. They know we’re here, but they don’t care. They have no fear of us.”

  “Where is our king?” cried Zekelesh. “The prophet said we’d see him again.” But no one could answer that question.

  By noontime Shaffur had his Wallekki cavalry posted just behind the hills west of the city, with Attakotts on the flanks to skirmish with the enemy if need arose. The rest of the army came up the River Road in good order, but Helki planned to hold them back from the crest of the hills until nightfall.

  “How far we’ve come!” he said to Obst. “A hunter and a hermit from dear old Lintum Forest—and look where we are now. If I’d have known what was in store for me, I’d have found a den and hibernated like a bear.”

  “You have to come when God calls,” Obst said. “There’s not a man here with us today who ever expected to be doing this.”

  “Nor woman, either,” Helki said, glancing back at Nanny, who had fallen asleep in her cart. “Nor boy—if we only knew where Ryons is, or if he’s even still alive.”

  “You can be sure that he is,” Obst said.

  As they spoke, Ryons was sitting beside a little brook that ran through an apple orchard, cooling his feet in the water. He meant to continue his journey in a little while, but not just yet. It was a hot day, and the air felt heavy. He wouldn’t be surprised if it rained soon. Clouds were piling up in the sky to the north.

  A little distance away stood a farmhouse, beautifully put together with grey stones, and a green barn. The place was deserted like everywhere else.

  Ryons was just thinking about getting up and continuing on his way when Cavall did something he’d never done before. He threw back his head and howled for all he was worth.

  “Great stars! What is it, boy? What’s the matter?”

  Cavall couldn’t hear him. He howled and howled, and it was terrible. Ryons ground his teeth and put his hands over his ears, but it did no good. Cavall was a big dog, and he made a big noise. Ryons pleaded with him to stop, but he didn’t.

  And then he sprang up suddenly and ran off into the south, back the way they came—just charged off like a crazy dog who’s seen a rabbit. He was past the farmhouse before Ryons could slip his feet into his shoes.

  “Cavall! Come back! Wait for me!” But Ryons lost sight of him when he passed the house and made a turn.

  “Oh, smoke and fire, that’s just great! That’s wonderful!” He spat out some Wallekki curses as he fumbled with his shoelaces. How was he supposed to catch the cusset dog? How was he supposed to go on without him?

  He stopped cursing. Up from the south thundered that gigantic, musical bellow that had followed him for all these days. And it was closer now, closer than it had ever been before—much louder than any noise Cavall could make.

  Had Cavall run forth to meet it? Had he been calling to it? But that was daft! Cavall was a wise dog; he wouldn’t do a crazy thing like that.

  “And what do I d
o now!” Ryons wondered. If Cavall kept running, he couldn’t possibly catch up to him.

  Again the monster, or spirit, or jinn, whatever it might be, bellowed—even louder; it must be coming closer. It became the dearest wish of Ryons’ heart to run in the opposite direction as fast as his legs would carry him.

  But then he remembered how Cavall had tracked him down and rescued him from Edwydd, and how Cavall had placed himself between him and the death-dog; and he knew he couldn’t run the other way. He had to follow Cavall, his friend—had to follow him no matter what.

  “Lord God, if you can hear me, hear me now!” he prayed. “Don’t let anything happen to Cavall—and don’t let me lose my nerve and run away!”

  With his shoes still untied, he began to run after Cavall. Even as the great noise, louder than the advent of a thunderstorm, sounded again, King Ryons ran in its direction, following his dog. He did not run very fast, but neither did he turn aside.

  CHAPTER 38

  The Great Beast

  As he drew even with the farmhouse, Ryons heard it again, louder, louder—he would not have been surprised if the noise knocked the farmhouse into pieces. And Cavall had rushed forth to do battle with that!

  Ryons ran as if through thick, miry mud sucking at his feet, but he didn’t stop. For all he knew, the dog was the only friend he had left living in the world—he would not run away; he would not leave him. But what he was running toward—no: his mind refused to think about it.

  There were apple trees beyond the house and barn, an orchard. Ryons no sooner saw them when Cavall came running out from under them, coming back to him. He was barking his head off, and yet his tail was wagging. Ryons stopped and waited for him, by now thoroughly confused.

  “Cavall! What are you doing?”