by Lee Duigon
“A good idea, Your Majesty. My sling doesn’t seem to be of much use in all these trees.” They hadn’t had any fresh meat since entering the forest.
When he was here last, Ryons held court at a ruined castle where Helki had resettled people who’d been driven off their homesteads by outlaws. It was probably a regular village by now, Ryons thought. He’d love to go back there, but didn’t know how to find us. “Someone in Lintum Forest must know where it is and how to get there,” he thought. But there didn’t seem to be anyone at all in this region of the forest.
By the end of the day they found a place where a spring bubbled up into a pool and a little rill went running off deeper into the woods. Around the pool was well-churned mud: many animals came here to drink. “So the hunting ought to be good, if we can manage it,” Perkin said. There was enough of a clearing for a lean-to and a fire. A blackberry patch grew nearby.
Ryons went to pick some berries. There was nothing else for supper. Cavall followed him, and in a moment or two, began to growl.
“What is it?” Ryons said. Cavall stood stiff-legged, with his nose pointed at skewed and flattened canes with tufts of black hair clinging to the brambles. Ryons called Perkin to come and see.
“I think a bear was here,” the king said. He was sure he’d heard, somewhere, that bears ate berries.
“Whatever has been here, Cavall doesn’t like it,” Perkin said.
“Maybe it isn’t safe for us to camp here?”
The man shrugged. “We’ll have a fire,” he said, “and most animals won’t want to come near it. And I don’t think even a bear would want to tangle with Cavall and Baby together.”
That was true. But there were other predators in this part of the forest, and they were watching.
Not all of the outlaws had been tamed by Helki. Quite a few simply moved beyond his reach. This meant slim pickings for them, having to keep to regions where there were no settlers to be their prey. Like spiders, they preyed on one another.
One of these was Hwyddo, who with his brother and two friends escaped Helki’s rod and fled to the west end of the forest. The spring and the berry patch, where Ryons and Perkin now camped, Hwyddo considered to be his property, in the middle of his territory.
“We can take them now,” whispered Culluch, his brother.
“We can take them whenever we please, as long as the dog hasn’t caught our scent,” Hwyddo whispered back. “I prefer to watch them for a while. The big bird will make a fine feast for us.”
Culluch nodded; he was an expert archer. All four had bows and arrows, but only Culluch could be relied on to hit anything.
The wind was blowing the wrong way, so Cavall couldn’t smell the men in hiding. But Angel saw them. She whistled an alarm. Cavall barked, and Baby crashed through the berry patch and disappeared among the trees.
The outlaws could have shot down Ryons and Perkin in their tracks, but there was no money in corpses. Captured alive, people could always be sold to the Heathen. One of the lads let fly an arrow at Cavall, but missed. It thunked into a tree. Cavall knew all about arrows and made himself scarce, now barking frantically. Hwyddo would have clouted the man who loosed the arrow, but he was out of reach.
“Down!” Perkin said, and pushed the king face-first to the ground. He dove right after him.
No more arrows followed. Disgusted, Hwyddo gave a signal and he and his men stepped into the open. Culluch had an arrow on the string, ready to shoot the dog if it attacked. But Cavall didn’t show himself.
“Stay down, you two, and give up quietly,” Hwyddo said. “We won’t hurt you if you don’t resist.”
“We won’t!” said Perkin. “But we haven’t anything worth stealing.”
One of the outlaws laughed. “Then we’ll just steal you!” he said.
Ryons thought fast. “Sell us to Helki the Rod,” he said. “He’s a friend of ours. He’ll give you a good price! Better than anyone else would give.” Perkin stared at him but didn’t speak.
The one who’d laughed started to say something, but Hwyddo silenced him with a wave of a hand.
“Helki’s sworn to string us up, if he can catch us,” Hwyddo said. “Who might you be, that he’d ransom you and let us go free?”
“They’re a couple of his spies,” said the other man. “I say we ought to hang them from a tree—teach Helki a lesson!”
“Shut up, Hass. You talk too much.” Hwyddo nodded at Ryons. “Stand up, both of you, and tell me exactly who you are.”
In his days as a slave Ryons had learned to lie as naturally as the grass grows. It saved him many a beating. This skill came back to him now.
“I used to live with Helki,” he said. “He was like a father to me. He sent me to Obann City because he thought it’d be a better place for me to grow up, but I didn’t like it so I decided to come back.
“This is Perkin. He helped me to travel safely across the plain country. He wanted to see me safely to Helki and claim a reward, but we got lost.”
“What about the hound,” asked Culluch, “and the giant bird?”
“The hound is mine,” Ryons said, “and Perkin raised the bird from a chick. They won’t give you any trouble. All we want is to get to Helki. I promise he’ll pay you for us and not hang you.”
“You haven’t told me your name, boy,” Hwyddo said.
“It’s Ryons—same as the king.”
“What king?”
Perkin spoke up. “Sir, there is a king in Obann now. Don’t ask me how that came to be, because I don’t know. I suppose it’s because of the war; that’s thrown everything out of kilter. Last summer the Heathen almost took the city. They burned down the Temple. There’s no First Prester now, and the oligarchs have all been killed or run away.”
“We’ve heard nothing of any of this,” Hwyddo said. Looking at the bearded, dirty faces and the ragged, unwashed clothes, Ryons could easily believe that.
“Nevertheless, it’s true,” Perkin said.
The fourth bandit spoke. “So what are we going to do, Hwyddo? Are we going to sell these birds to Helki and take our chances with him? I don’t like it!”
Hwyddo didn’t answer right away. He rubbed his fingers through his beard.
“It’s late in the day,” he said. “Let’s sleep on it and decide tomorrow morning.”
Martis’ zig-zag course across the plain took him toward the forest only slowly. Because of this, he was able to see Kwana’s smoke signals.
“Two—friends—found—come.” He read the message accurately. “Is that for me?” he wondered. There was only one way to find out. He turned Dulayl and rode back in the direction of the signals. He would lose ground by this, but it couldn’t be helped.
Martis urged his horse to greater speed.
Chapter 29
A Demon in His Pocket
Helki had eleven Griffs who had attached themselves to him after he led them in a desperate battle against a band of Abnaks, and they had all by a miracle survived. At their own insistence they bound themselves to him by complicated oaths, as was the custom of their nation. Tiliqua was the name of their chief man, a tall fellow who managed, in all circumstances, to keep his black hair piled up in a truly impressive coiffure. Under Helki’s direction they were becoming expert woodsmen.
The Griffs came looking for Helki while he was still being hunted by the men from Silvertown. The hunters weren’t expecting anyone to come for Helki, and before they knew it, the Griffs killed half a dozen of them. The survivors lost heart and fled the forest altogether.
“Who were they?” Tiliqua asked when they found Helki.
“All I know is that they were Obannese,” Helki said, “and that they came here just to kill me. Too bad we didn’t take one alive. We might’ve learned something interesting. But what are you men doing here? You’re supposed to be scouting in the south.”
“Your pardon, Chief!” said Tiliqua. “But when you were late for our rendezvous, we feared for you.”
“Anythi
ng going on in the south?”
“There is no enemy within a whole day’s journey of Carbonek.” Carbonek was the name given to the village growing up around the ruined castle, after an enchanted place in an ancient story.
Helki nodded. His men patrolled aggressively all around the village. After the first few hangings, outlaws learned to give the place a wide berth. Many of Helki’s men had once been outlaws themselves: they were the most zealous fighters he had.
“Those bushwhackers you chased out of here,” he said, “came into the forest from the east. Either the Thunder King has put a price on my head and they wanted to collect it, or else somebody sent them. They were too many to share any kind of reward that might be put up for me, so I reckon they were carrying out someone’s orders.”
“Let them try!” Tiliqua said, grinning. “They would need a very big army to flush us out of Lintum Forest.”
“That’s what worries me,” said Helki.
In the morning Hwyddo decided to sell his two prisoners to Helki. His brother Culluch agreed, and the man named Hass just shrugged. But the fourth man, Maelghin, strongly disagreed.
“I say cut their throats and bury ’em right here,” he said. “And if they’re really friends of Helki’s, that goes double! What about all our friends that Helki killed?”
“Use your head, Maelghin,” Hwyddo said. “If we kill them and keep it a secret, what kind of revenge is that? But if Helki finds out, he’ll make sure to finish us.”
Ryons saw Perkin turn pale. He’d judged Perkin a brave man: he must not be used to this kind of talk. As a slave among the Wallekki, Ryons had heard worse.
Hass said, “I don’t trust Helki. There’s many a good lad who ain’t alive anymore on account of him. We don’t want to end up the same way, do we?”
Culluch nodded. “He’s got a point there, brother,” he said.
Then Perkin began to whistle—and very loudly, too. Everybody stared at him. He and Ryons had their ankles and wrists tied, so they couldn’t try to get away or to defend themselves. Maybe Perkin’s nerve had cracked, Ryons thought. That whistling sounded crazy.
“Stop that!” Hwyddo said. But Perkin wouldn’t stop, not even when Hwyddo kicked him in the thigh. It wasn’t even a proper tune he whistled, Ryons thought.
And then Baby burst out from the trees, and the great heavy beak snapped shut on Hass, killing him instantly; and Baby lashed out with a heavy taloned foot and felled Culluch. And with a great howl Cavall burst out of the woods right behind the giant bird. Hwyddo and Maelghin took to their heels, but Cavall pulled Maelghin down from behind and savaged him. It was all over in the blink of an eye.
“Your hands, Ryons—hold out your hands!” Ryons obeyed automatically, and Perkin untied his wrists for him, with movements swift and sure. “Now untie mine—if you please, Your Majesty.”
Ryons labored on the knots. Baby had begun to eat a bit of Hass: not something you wanted to look at. Culluch lay whimpering and groaning; he wouldn’t be doing much for a while. Cavall stood over Maelghin, growling, but the man lay perfectly still and silent. Ryons fumbled with the knots and finally loosened them. In a moment Perkin’s hands were free, and then he untied their ankles. He took some time, but not too much, to recover their belongings.
“We don’t dare stay here,” he said. “Hwyddo might come back with more men, and this time they’ll shoot us before we know they’re there.”
But there was something Ryons wanted to know. “How did you teach him to do that?” he cried, pointing to Baby. “He came when you called!”
“Oh, he comes when I whistle to him. But I didn’t know he’d attack those people, although I certainly hoped he would! I know he wouldn’t like anyone to hurt me. Your Majesty, we’ve got to go!”
Ryons called Cavall to his side, praised him and patted him. It wasn’t the first time the great hound had saved him. He held up his arm and whistled for Angel, who swooped down from a tree with a glad shrill cry.
“We’re all here. Now we can go,” said Perkin. He patted Baby, whose head shot up from the remains of Hass, and for a moment his feathers stood up on his neck. He didn’t like being interrupted in his feeding, but when Perkin insisted, he came along.
“What about them?” Ryons asked, looking back to the fallen men. Culluch was still alive, and Maelghin might be.
“They’ll have to manage without us, Sire.”
Not knowing where they were going, they hurried down a path other than the one Hwyddo had chosen. Perkin led the way, but Baby overtook him and stalked on ahead, his great head bobbing back and forth. Cavall stayed close to Ryons’ side, and Angel flitted from tree to tree. Where in the forest they would be, at the end of the day, they had no inkling.
Kwana pointed to a few tiny puffs of smoke sailing in the sky, some indeterminable distance in the east.
“Martis is coming,” he says. “He says we must wait for him. This is a good place for camp, so we stay here.”
The Wallekki were happy because they’d been able to bag an animal something like a deer, and that meant fresh meat for all. It was another one of those strange animals you sometimes saw these days. Instead of hooves like a deer’s, it had three stout, thickly padded toes. None of the men had ever seen anything like it before, but they were hungry enough to expect a good meal out of any creature.
“That’s really Martis sending that message—and you can really read it?” Ellayne marveled.
Kwana nodded. “It says, ‘Coming. Wait,’” he explained. “I think it must be Martis, but soon we know.”
Jack said nothing. He was trying not to think of the face in the disc, that appeared the last time he held it in his hand, but it kept swimming up to the surface of his mind. The cusset thing had blinked at him; and only living things can blink. Somewhere inside that little piece of whatever-it-was existed a living thing. And he had it in his pocket.
Ellayne told him there was a magician in one of the Abombalbap stories who confined a demon to a magic jar and made it his slave. When he spoke a certain word, the demon had to come out and do his bidding. Jack wondered if he had a demon in his pocket, and whether he could get rid of it.
He stole a hard look at Ellayne. She was the one who’d wanted to go to Obann. He would have been just as happy to stay home and play chess with the baron. “All her fault!” he thought. But what would have happened if they hadn’t delivered Fnaa to the city in time to take King Ryons’ place? And it certainly hadn’t been Ellayne’s idea to take the magic-thing from Noma.
What would he do if the demon came out of it and spoke to him? It looked like a woman, but Jack had only seen its face. It might be a serpent from the neck down, or a giant beetle. Once you got involved with magic, anything could happen.
“Which is why there’s no such thing as magic!” whispered an urgent little voice in the back of his mind. “God doesn’t let just anything happen!” But then if magic wasn’t real, why did it say in the Scriptures that it was forbidden to practice magic?
“Watch, Jack!” Ellayne jogged his elbow, snapping him out of his reverie. “Isn’t it interesting?” How she could be so interested in smoke signals at a time like this was unfathomable.
“Sure,” Jack muttered. “Interesting.”
“Well, Martis is coming and I can’t wait to see him,” Ellayne said. “He always knows what to do.”
“He won’t know what to do this time,” Jack answered. “I wonder if you can get rid of magical things by throwing them into the river. Or do they just come back to you?”
She yanked him close and whispered right into his ear, “Shh! Don’t talk about it in front of the men! Haven’t you got any sense at all?”
Sometimes I wonder if I do, Jack thought. But he said, “All right, all right! No need to pinch my arm.”
Chapter 30
How the Army Left the City
Once again King Ryons’ army rode forth, this time to leave the city that they’d come so far, and dared so much, to save. It was a bigg
er army now, its numbers swelled by some thousand Heathen warriors salvaged from the Thunder King’s vast host that was driven from the city in a panic a year ago. General Hennen’s Obannese spearmen stayed behind as a royal guard, seven hundred of them. But four thousand men, all told, departed from the city.
Once again they raised their voices, singing the anthem of the army in a dozen different languages at once:
“For His mercy endureth forever!”