by Lee Duigon
“But then we’d lose this hilltop,” said Chagadai, “and without the hill, we’d never take the fort. And then we’d never get across the lake.”
“Let us pray,” said Obst.
CHAPTER 36
How Ellayne Parted from Her Father
The sun rose also over the Golden Pass, and Roshay Bault rose with it.
“Get that ditch filled with broken branches,” he ordered his captains. “That’ll slow them up if they try to cross it. We might set it on fire, too. Chutt will be here soon; let’s use every minute that he gives us.” Tired as they were, the men fell to work before they had their breakfast, knowing that their lives would depend on preparations such as these.
Ellayne had an early breakfast because her father insisted on it, but she had no appetite. Still, she and Jack ate because they’d learned, in their adventures, that sometimes it might be long before you ate again.
“Do you really think there’ll be a battle, Baron?” Jack said. “You’ve made the defenses mighty strong.”
“I’m hoping they’ll be strong enough to persuade Chutt’s Wallekki not to fight at all, Jack. But you youngsters are going to go on your way as soon as you’ve had a good feed. Better safe than sorry! Give me a kiss, Ellayne.”
She threw her arms around her father’s neck. “Let me stay! I don’t want to leave you.”
“Not a chance,” said Roshay Bault. “Be brave. I know you know how.” He kissed her again, then peeled her loose. He understood that, for his sake, his daughter refused to cry. “Maybe, before this is over, I’ll cry for her,” he thought.
He took Jack into his arms, too, and kissed the top of his head. “We’ll play chess when we’re safe at home again, my boy,” he said. “Meanwhile, obey Martis and take good care of my girl.” He grinned at Jack and added, “After all, you’re going to be married to her someday.” Jack and Ellayne both blushed a deep red, and Fnaa laughed. Roshay released Jack and put an arm around Fnaa’s shoulder.
“I don’t know you very well, young man,” he said, “but if you served as the king’s double, I guess there’s more to you than meets the eye. Be good, and don’t get up to any tricks. I’ll know you better someday.”
Fnaa had never known his own father. His eyes began to fill with tears; he couldn’t help it. “I’ll be careful, sir,” was all he could say.
Roshay clasped Martis’ hand. “I’ll see you back in Ninneburky, Martis. Thank you,” he said. Martis only nodded; he didn’t trust himself to speak. “Make sure these kids eat before you take them out of here.” With that, the baron strode off to position his men for battle.
“Where’s Wytt?” Fnaa asked.
“Once we’re started, he’ll find us,” said Ellayne. “He always does.”
Orth marched with the Abnaks. The nearest enemy outpost, Foxblood said, was a day’s march down the slope. There they would find Zamzu with several hundred Wallekki.
Aside from offering up a prayer for victory, the First Prester wasn’t thinking about the battle. In his mind, he was composing a letter to Prester Jod in Obann.
“I’ll need as many copies of the Scriptures as you can send me,” he addressed Jod mentally, “and if you can find any reciter who knows the Abnak language and is willing to come here, please send him, too.
“These people, who have for so long been our nation’s enemies, are now ripe for the grace of God and hungry for His word. Do not send any money. Abnaks have no use for it, and why should we teach them to desire it? Let them be as God made them, with no foolish efforts on our part to teach them how to live like Obannese. They wouldn’t want to! But I do believe God’s word will take firm root in this country, if only we can plant it.”
He would write the letter as soon as he could come by any writing materials, which were rare among the Abnaks.
Foxblood jostled him to get his attention.
“Pardon me,” Orth said. “My thoughts were racing on ahead of me.”
“I just wanted to warn you that the Zamzu won’t give up without a fight,” the chieftain said. “We’ll have to wipe them out, and I know that will upset you. But the Zamzu are the Thunder King’s favorites, and he’s their god.”
“Let their blood be on their own heads,” said Orth. “Is it true they eat people?”
“Nothing truer. They’ve done it here, in Abnak country. They have eaten women and children, and they flaunt it. They think it makes us fear them, but it only makes us angry. Our warriors will need no encouragement to fight them. Every man will want to tuck a Zamzu scalp into his belt.”
Orth shuddered, but this, he knew, was the way of the world. When had the Tribes of the Law ever lived by God’s laws? The Heathen didn’t even know the law. Men of the world lived by the promptings of their own lawless hearts, doing more evil than good. The Scriptures told of several nations of the ancient world whose destruction God commanded—because they were committed, heart and soul, to evil, and would not turn back from it.
“Don’t be afraid,” said Foxblood. “We’ll win this battle, for we know God fights for us.”
“Do you believe that, Chieftain?”
“I do! Haven’t I seen it for myself? Before you came to us, what could we do? Not much! My people are fighters, but we couldn’t drive King Thunder’s servants out of our country. They kept coming and coming, and while all we were able to do was take the odd scalp, here and there, they ate up half our homeland. We gave them pinpricks while they hammered us with axes. But now it’s different. If God is for us, no enemy can stand against us.”
Orth smiled so broadly that Foxblood had to notice.
“Have I said something funny?”
“Not at all!” Orth answered. “But King Ozias wrote practically your very words in a Sacred Song, two thousand years ago.”
Foxblood laughed. “Do tell!” he said. “I’ll remember that.”
Ysbott, Hrapp, and Gwawl followed Chutt’s riders up the mountain at a safe distance.
“What if we get caught, Tobb?” Hrapp panted.
“We won’t!” Ysbott growled. “Do you think they’ll bother with three men on the road? It wouldn’t be worth their while to chase us through the woods.”
“But what are we going to do, once we get back up to the top?” Gwawl said.
“Nothing! Not until we see what happens there. Now stop complaining!”
The Wallekki were going to take the gold from Roshay Bault; Ysbott was sure of that. Would they kill him, too? He wouldn’t be surprised if they massacred the baron’s men. And after that, what? Probably go down the east side of the pass with all the gold they could carry, Ysbott thought. The Thunder King would get it back. But at least he could then retrieve the seven sheets that he had cached, enough to make him a rich man all his life.
And if they went west with the gold instead of east, back into Obann—well, he’d think of something.
They couldn’t use the road because the enemy was on it, so Martis led the children into the woods with Trout bringing up the rear. Once out of sight of the camp, Wytt joined them. Ellayne yelped when he sprang out of hiding and scrambled up her leg. Once in her arms, he chattered excitedly.
“What’s he telling you?” Martis asked.
“He says he crawled into the ruins all last night,” Jack said, “all the way down to where the dead men are. He says it’s a bad place, very dangerous.”
“But he can’t say why,” Ellayne added. “Wytt, what did you see? Is it dangerous to my father?”
Wytt could have bitten her. Big people always wanted to know things that couldn’t be known and didn’t matter—even Ellayne and Jack, who had much more sense than other humans.
“He thinks the baron shouldn’t stay there any longer,” Jack said. “It’s something about the place that he doesn’t know how to explain.”
“But that’s easy!” Fnaa said. “It’s just a bad place, isn’t it? And the gold is bad, too, because it belongs to the Thunder King and he did wicked things to get it.” Wytt couldn’t
understand Fnaa’s words, but if he could, he would have agreed.
“Well, Father can’t get down—not now!” Ellayne said.
“Shh! Listen!” Martis said.
For a long moment they all stood silent. But then they heard the noise of horses’ hooves.
“That’s Chutt with his army. They’re coming,” Martis said. “We’d better get a ways farther from the road, deeper into the woods. It seems we left just in time.”
The noise grew into a racket, but they were already too far from the road to see anything. After what seemed a very long time, the clatter died away. A few jays protested from the treetops.
“They’ll be up to the top in another hour at the most,” said Trout.
“God save the baron!” Martis said.
Invisible to anyone who might chance to look in his direction, Helki, too, saw Chutt’s riders pass. An eagle flew along with them, high up in the sky.
Helki was on the south side of the road, Martis and the children on the north. As far as he knew, they were still in Ninneburky.
Nevertheless, the thought began to nag him that perhaps he ought to cross the road, once Chutt’s army passed. Being Helki, he needed no better reason for action than his instincts. But he was here to help the baron, if he could, by positioning himself behind the Wallekki and waiting to see what he could do. At the very least, he could invade their camp by night and make them think the forest was full of enemies. No Wallekki ever born could track him through the woods. He could pick men off as he pleased.
After a sufficient interval, he turned and followed the Wallekki.
CHAPTER 37
How the Gold Changed Hands
In Obann, Joah sought out Prester Jod with a message from Hennen.
“It’s good news,” he said. “Hennen is alive and well. The men Chutt left behind have set him free. He’s taken command of the force I sent to rescue him and has set about securing Market City against Chutt’s return. But he doesn’t think Chutt’s coming back.”
“Our prayers for the general are answered,” Jod said.
“He’ll be coming back to us soon,” Joah said. “He thinks the north will be safe for a while. Chutt, it seems, recruited all the Wallekki who were on the loose up there and has taken them east with him. I don’t think any Wallekki would care to spend a winter in North Obann if they could help it.”
“Then the question is,” said Jod, “where will they plant themselves? Or will they just decide to go back to their homeland, once they’ve got the gold at the Golden Pass?”
“Maybe Gallgoid can find out in his travels.”
But they’d had no word from Gallgoid since he’d left Obann.
Chutt found the ride up the mountain hard to endure, even if there was a road. He was ten times the horseman he’d ever been before. “I should be!” he thought. “I’ve ridden ten times as much as I ever did in all the rest of my life.” Still, he couldn’t be compared with any man of his Wallekki. To keep their respect, he had to grit his teeth and pretend his bottom wasn’t being battered into a paste by being rammed against the saddle. This mountain road was rough! He wondered if his legs would ever again function properly.
But the gold was worth any amount of hardship. “It’ll be your downfall, someday, your lust for riches,” Lord Ruffin, the governor-general, used to warn him. Back then, Chutt wouldn’t listen: the pickings were too good to resist. As the high councilor in charge of collecting Obann’s revenue, he’d become a wealthy man. But when the Heathen broke into the city, he’d lost most of his wealth. They’d burned down his house, and looters had made off with everything of value. Chutt had had to start over again. All they knew about him in the north was his great name as a wealthy man. The name was all he had, but he’d used it to recruit an army.
Now he would be able to pay that army and to do much more besides. But if the Wallekki had ever found out his famous coffers were empty—! Ah, well, that danger was past.
Ilfil, the chief of his Wallekki, clattered along beside him. “It can’t be much further, lord,” Ilfil said. “There’s the top of the pass, straight ahead. Shall we do battle there?”
“Only if we have to,” Chutt said. “I doubt they have sufficient numbers to make a fight of it.”
An hour more of hard riding, and they were there.
At first the sight that met his eyes nearly broke his heart. The way to the ruined hall was blocked: a ditch and a barricade in front with mail-clad men behind it, and on either side a chaos of heavy, broken timbers.
But beyond all that, the sun, now high in the sky, shot its rays off sheets of gold—more gold than Lord Chutt had seen in all his life: enough gold to make him the sole ruler of all Obann, if only he could take it.
His riders, three thousand of them, halted in a cloud of dust. Chutt paused to catch his breath, then moved out a few paces in front of his army. Now, if ever, he had need to speak with a commanding tone. He cleared his throat.
“I am Lord Chutt, High Councilor under the law of Obann. Who is in command here?” he called. “Let me see your face!”
A sturdily built, middle-aged man who needed a bath rose up to answer him.
Roshay Bault had thought long and hard about what he would say when this moment came. He knew that if he faltered, his men would falter, too. When Chutt called out his challenge, Roshay stepped onto a log so Chutt could see him clearly.
“I’m in command—Roshay Bault, Baron of the Eastern Marches by appointment of His Majesty King Ryons, King of Obann by the grace of God.” There was no one in Ninneburky who had a voice to match his. “I’m here by commandment of my king, to retrieve this gold for the good of all Obann.”
“I’ve heard of you,” said Chutt. “You’re the chief councilor of the town of Ninneburky, and well known as a man of valor and good sense. Come down from there, Chief Councilor. I wish to speak with you.”
“My title is ‘Baron,’ Lord Chutt. And the High Council of Obann no longer exists.”
“Must we shout at each other, Chief Councilor? Surely there’s no reason why we shouldn’t have a parley. As for my rank, it’s true that my colleagues on the High Council are all dead. But someday the oligarchs will elect new ones to replace them. I am here lawfully. And so are you—even if there is no law of Obann recognizing any such rank as Baron of the Eastern Marches. Let us reason together!”
“The other high councilors died defending our capital city,” Roshay said. “You’re still alive because you ran away when you had the chance. That won’t help your reelection.”
Roshay’s men chuckled. “Good,” thought the baron. They’d been more than a little edgy since they’d first heard the rumble of Chutt’s host coming up the road.
“You do me wrong, Roshay!” Chutt answered. “Someone had to go and secure the north. The council appointed me to do it.”
“Too bad I can’t ask any of them if that’s true.” Roshay was sure Chutt was lying, but didn’t want to provoke him with the name of “liar.” If Chutt lost his temper, men would die.
“I see you don’t trust me enough to come down and parley,” Chutt said. “I suppose that’s understandable. Very well—will you permit me, and two or three of my officers, to enter your camp so you and I can have a civil discussion? I’m willing to trust you!”
That was unexpected. Roshay thought swiftly. Chutt’s men would hardly launch an attack while their commander was on the wrong side of the barricade and sure to be killed. As chief councilor of Ninneburky for many years, and as a man of business, the baron was used to negotiations of all kinds. That was how things got done. Try as he might, he could think of no reason not to negotiate now.
“Let me confer with my captains first,” he answered.
“By all means,” said Chutt.
Ilfil spurred his horse up next to Chutt’s.
“Are you mad?” he said. He spoke fluent Obannese and had understood every word that passed between Chutt and Roshay Bault. “He has only a handful of men to hold that barrica
de! We can slaughter them all in a matter of minutes. By the face of the moon, we haven’t come here to talk!”
Chutt kept his temper. “Talk is cheap, Ilfil,” he said, “but combat is expensive.
“We’ll get the gold, one way or another. Have no doubt of that! But this man, Roshay Bault, is a hero. The people in this part of Obann love him. What would they think if I killed him and massacred his men?
“Oh, we will do that, if there’s no other way. But if we manage our business skillfully, all Obann will be ours for the taking. Why settle for a little, if we might have it all? I’ve not yet done anything against the law. That will help us greatly, when we seek to buy the support of all the great men in the country. Can’t you see that?”