The Fugitive Prince (Bell Mountain)

by Lee Duigon

  “Please don’t call me ‘my lady,’” Gurun said. “I will tell you what worries me. In the Scriptures, in the Book of Thrones, it tells of King Emver, who became king when he was just a boy. His nobles ruled the kingdom, and in his name did all kinds of wicked deeds. So the elders made a conspiracy and killed the king.”

  “I don’t know those Obann Scriptures!” Dakl said, wide-eyed. Gurun hadn’t meant to frighten her, but it was too late to take back what she’d said.

  “It’s all right, Mother,” said Fnaa. “God’s protecting me.”

  In his office in the palace, which no one but Gurun and Dakl knew he had—but they did not know that he’d moved it to another room, even more out-of-the-way than the first—Gallgoid listened to the report of one of his agents. The man was in the palace as a humble servant who mopped floors, and had also served refreshments to Merffin and the others when they came to see Gurun. Gallgoid thanked him and dismissed him, after writing down the names of all the delegates. From now on they would all be watched.

  “They’ve lost no time, have they?” he asked himself. “They have their hearts set on becoming oligarchs. The king’s foolishness invites it.”

  Gallgoid knew about the boy king’s capers. His agents kept him very well informed. He didn’t know why the king was behaving so oddly, but he suspected Gurum knew. But he resisted the temptation to question her about it.

  “They won’t find it as easy as they think, to become oligarchs,” he mused. He liked the idea of letting them do the mundane work of governing the city until, in their false security, they judged the moment right to declare themselves its rulers. He would try to upset their plan just a moment before that moment arrived.

  Someone, he thought, should have reminded them of that ancient proverb: “Traitors, beware of treachery.”

  Far away in Lintum Forest, Hwyddo and Maelghin toiled eastward. Hwyddo knew the way, having lived in the forest all his life. Maelghin nursed a forearm badly savaged by Cavall’s teeth.

  The attack by the giant bird had panicked Hwyddo. But after fleeing for some miles, he remembered that he’s left his brother behind, and headed back for him. So he chanced upon Maelghin, who’d gotten up and come looking for him.

  “It’s no use,” Maelghin said, when Hwyddo mentioned it. “That monster kicked poor Culluch right in the belly. He’s done for.” Hwyddo thought it over, and decided Maelghin was right.

  “This forest isn’t big enough for us and Helki,” he said.

  “Maybe we could go to Silvertown,” Maelghin said. “The Thunder King has an army there.”

  “And maybe the commander of that army would like to do something about Helki, eh?” Hwyddo was thinking clearly now. “They have a score to settle with him. Maybe they’d like to see Lintum Forest go back to the way it was, before Helki made himself so big.”

  “The Thunder King’s general might like that very much,” said Maelghin. “Do you think there really is a king in Obann now?”

  “The important thing is that there shouldn’t be a king in Lintum Forest,” Hwyddo said.

  Chapter 34

  Concerning Prophets

  Angel saw everything that happened on the forest floor. She would have provided her master with wood pigeons and other edible birds: he had only to command her, and she would do it. That Chagadai had not gotten around to teaching Ryons how to hunt with a hawk, Angel didn’t know. She would never think of hunting for her master unless he commanded it. She hadn’t been trained to do so. But she did know where the freshly killed hare came from, and she didn’t approve.

  Cavall knew, too, but he approved. He tried to make the hawk understand, but there was no getting through to her. In all other respects he considered her a worthy comrade and quite intelligent, for a hawk.

  As for Baby, he didn’t like going deeper and deeper into the forest where there was no room to run; but he would follow Perkin anywhere. He’d learned to tolerate the dog, who was excitable, to ignore the hawk, and not to look upon the boy as a potential meal. Baby heard things in the forest that made him edgy, and it annoyed him to have his line of sight continually hemmed in by trees. Nevertheless, he stayed with Perkin. Nothing could make him desert the man who’d raised him.

  Three days in a row, Ryons and Perkin woke in the morning to find fresh-killed food provided for them. This gave them something to talk about all day as they wandered in the woods, searching for Helki.

  “The prophet, Sychas the Mighty One, was given his meals when he wandered in the wilderness,” Perkin said. “Crows brought food to him every day. But that was God’s doing, and I’m hesitant to believe that we’re the beneficiaries of a miracle.”

  “Is that a story from the Scripture?” Ryons asked.

  “Yes, Your Majesty—from the Book of Royal Prophets.”

  “Tell me!”

  Perkin obliged. “There were wicked kings in Obann, long ago. Sychas defied them, in God’s name, so they sent soldiers to kill him. Sychas would have defied the soldiers, too, but the Lord commanded him to hide in the wilderness, and he obeyed. While he was there, God made a famine in the land; but the prophet had his food from heaven, and water that sprang up from beneath a rock. And the famine prevailed until the people cried out to God and begged him to bring Sychas back to them. And when Sychas returned and stood before the people atop the Holy Hill, where the Lord’s altar used to be until the wicked kings took it down, it rained at last; and the crops grew in the farmers’ fields—grew up almost overnight. And every day, Sychas preached upon the hilltop, teaching the commandments of the Lord, and the people came to him to learn.

  “Then the most wicked of the kings, who was also the greatest and most powerful of them all, came with an army to scatter the people and to kill the prophet. When the people saw the chariots, they wanted to run away; but Sychas wouldn’t let them. So mighty was his voice that it seemed to root them to the ground.

  “‘Now,’ said Sychas, ‘see the judgment of the Lord!’ And he took off his bearskin cloak and shook it at the king and his army; and they all clapped their hands to their eyes and fell out of their chariots, groaning: for the hand of the Lord had struck them all blind. And Sychas with his own hand slew the king. So all the other kings repented and left off their wicked ways.”

  Ryons whistled, a habit he’d learned from his Ghols. “That’s a story!” he said. “Did it really happen? The Wallekki tell marvelous stories, but I think they’re mostly lies. And the Abnaks are even bigger liars.”

  “There are no lies in the Holy Scriptures, Sire,” Perkin said.

  “So do you think God has made some bird or animal bring us our meat these last three mornings?”

  Perkin shrugged. “I don’t think any forest animal would dare to come so close to Cavall and Baby,” he said. “My great bird sleeps soundly, but what could possibly sneak past Cavall?”

  “Nothing,” Ryons said. “That’s what makes it such a puzzle.”

  They talked it over and over, and they might have wandered in the forest until Doomsday before they found Carbonek, for all their ignorance of woodcraft. But before the day was done, it turned out otherwise.

  They had just disentangled themselves from a patch of sticker bushes when a harsh voice called out to them, “Halloo! Who be you, down there?”

  Cavall barked. Perkin and Ryons stopped in their tracks, while Baby looked all around for someone to attack.

  “I say, who you?”

  “If you want our answer, let us see you!” Perkin said.

  “Ha-ha! So you big dog can bite me? Or you big bird? No, no—you say first.”

  “He’s up in a tree,” Ryons whispered.

  “If we’re already surrounded by outlaws, we won’t be any the worse off for answering this one’s question,” Perkin said. He raised his voice. “We’re looking for a place called Carbonek. This boy has friends there. The dog is well-trained; he won’t attack you. The bird belongs to me, and he won’t hurt you, either. Now please come out where we can see you.�
�� He draped an arm around Baby to make sure the bird stayed put.

  “No tricks!” said the voice. “I come from Carbonek.”

  Right in front of them, a man jumped down from the lowest branches of a very leafy tree, landing lightly, without losing his balance at all. Baby would have lunged for him, but Perkin held him back. Ryons made Cavall sit, but couldn’t keep him from barking one more time.

  The man was short and squat, with his head shaved bald but for a thick black topknot. He sported purplish tattoos around his eyes and on his bare shoulders; he wore buckskin leggings, but no shirt. He clutched a stone tomahawk in his right hand and grinned fiercely at the newcomers.

  “You’re an Abnak!” said Ryons.

  “Too right,” the man agreed. “Bandy my name, son of Dinga. We Crow clan. Why you want Carbonek? Tell you names.” His Obannese was bad, but not too bad. “Very funny, you bring great-big bird!”

  They gave their names. Perkin had never seen an Abnak before, but had heard many bloodcurdling tales about them. But Ryons felt almost as if he’d been reunited with his army.

  “Tell me, warrior,” he said, “what are you doing here in Lintum Forest? This isn’t Abnak country.”

  “Oh, I come with Helki. I scout for him.”

  “May you never run out of tree-beans!” Ryons said. “Helki’s my friend, and the very man we’re looking for. Can you take us to him?”

  “Sure. I reckon I can do all things you want.” Bandy dipped his head politely. “I do all things whatever you like—for King Ryons.”

  “You know this boy is the king?” Perkin cried.

  “Righty, sure thing! Helki make us all take oath to serve King Ryons. He say King Ryons someday will come, and here you be. He tell us many stories of brave King Ryons, the boy king. King Ryons’ man, me—all of us with Helki, king’s men, too. Obann God save king!”

  Ryons could have turned cartwheels, he was so happy. He could see Perkin had his doubts. “Cheer up!” he said, and slapped the man’s arm. “An Abnak would rather die than pretend to be your friend. It’s true they like to tell stories, but they have honest hearts.”

  “In that case, then, I’m pleased to meet you, Bandy,” Perkin said. “But tell me—for how long have you known we were in the woods?”

  “I hear you from faraway, this morning. I been watching you two-three hour. You make a lot of noise!”

  “You haven’t been following us for three days?”

  “No. Just today, like I say. Why you ask me three days?”

  “Because someone has been bringing us meat for three days,” Perkin said. He explained the situation. “If it wasn’t you, then it’s still a mystery.”

  “Dog don’t catch him?” Bandy said.

  “Cavall is a great watchdog,” Ryons said, “but we haven’t heard a peep out of him.”

  “Funny thing, that.” Bandy thought it over for a few moments. “Sounds like brownies, I say. Brownies sing magic; dog won’t bother ’em. Only brownies don’t give you things. They take.”

  But at least, he said, Carbonek was only an easy two days’ march away, and he would take them there. He was still talking when Angel called from the top of a tree. Ryons held out his arm and whistled for her, and down she came.

  “Nice hawk,” Bandy said. “Good hawk for a great chief. Looks like hawk that Helki used to have.”

  “Helki gave her to me,” Ryons said, “so maybe she’s the same hawk.”

  “Maybe. So—when you like to go to Carbonek? Now, maybe?”

  “Right now, indeed,” said Perkin, “and the sooner we get there, the happier we’ll be.”

  “Don’t worry, Perkin,” Ryons said. “Everything’s going to be all right from here on in.”

  Things were not all right for Sunfish. It was getting so he feared to sleep at night. Ever since he’d had what Uwain told him was a vision of the Thunder King, he’d been having dreams that sorely troubled him.

  “They’re bad dreams,” he told Hlah and May, one morning. “They scare me, and now I have them every night. Three nights in a row! What does it mean?”

  He described them. “I’m always in some great big place that’s strange to me, and almost always there’s a big crowd of people in it with me. Sometimes not. Sometimes it’s dark in there, but other times it’s like broad daylight. Sometimes I’m up in front of all those people, preaching to them. Other times, I’m sitting or standing in the midst of them and someone else is preaching. But when I wake up, I can’t remember what the preaching was about. Never! And sometimes there’s a man with me—not a good man, someone I’m afraid of. But I don’t know his name; I don’t know who he is. He just scares me, and I don’t know why.”

  He paused to lick his lips, for his mouth had gone dry. Then he continued.

  “Just at the end of my sleep, just now, I dreamed I was alone with this man and he was telling me something. I can’t remember what it is—only that it was a secret. But I thought it was a devil whispering to me, and I didn’t want to know the secret. And all of a sudden I woke and was all in a sweat, and my teeth were chattering!”

  “What did the man look like?” May asked.

  Sunfish shook his head. “When I wake up, I can’t see his face anymore. But I think he’s old, very old. And I think it must be evil secrets that he tells me, that I must be afraid to remember.”

  It was a beautiful summer morning in the hills, with the green leaves shimmering and birds singing, and all the people of the little settlement up and going about their business. They had no crops to tend, but there was plenty of hunting and fishing to be done and gathering of berries, wild nuts, and other edibles. Some of the women had babies to take care of and quiet little songs to sing.

  Sunfish was happy there. To him it was like Heaven. He loved instructing the people in the Scriptures and leading them in prayer.

  “You would have made a great prester,” Uwain said to him the other day: and he was a reciter, so he should know. “A lot better than some of the ones we have nowadays, more’s the pity.” But for some unknown reason that compliment made Sunfish quite uneasy. Sunfish was sure he would never want to be a prester, although he couldn’t have told you why.

  “We Abnaks have shamans who are great dreamers,” Hlah said. “Their dreams carry them up into the world of gods and spirits, and they see many visions. But I know now that those little Abnak gods are nothing, really; and so I know those shamans must be crazy, or else great liars. But what does the Holy Scripture say about dreams, Sunfish? If anyone knows, you do.”

  “That’s a fair question,” Sunfish said. “God spoke to many of the prophets in their dreams. In a dream the prophet Ika saw the throne of the Lord with angels attending it, and in that same dream the angels commissioned him to be a prophet of the Lord. And sometimes great kings, and even pagan kings, had dreams sent to them from God, in which the Lord showed them things He meant to do. Indeed, King Ozias had many such dreams, which he recorded in the Sacred Songs.

  “But I’m no prophet! And I’m not a king. If I knew a prophet, he could tell me the interpretation of my dreams. But there are no prophets anymore.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard,” Hlah said. “When I was in the army and we were marching to Obann, people said the city was full of prophets. And other cities, too. So there must still be prophets in Obann.”

  “Oh!” Suddenly Sunfish grabbed Hlah’s shoulders. “Could you take me to Obann, Hlah? So that I might speak to a prophet and be told the interpretation of my dreams? Then I would know whether God was speaking to me or it was just some fever in my soul.”

  Hlah patted Sunfish’s hand. “If I ever go to Obann, my friend, surely I will take you with me.”

  Greatly reassured, Sunfish left them. But May asked her husband, “Why would you ever go to Obann?”

  Hlah shrugged. “I’d like to see the king again,” he said. “And maybe I said something because I knew it would comfort Sunfish. Everybody loves him, but we all know he’s a little mad. And maybe h
e’s more of a prophet than he knows! But if I do go to Obann, I’ll take you and our baby with me, too. That is, if you’d like to go.”

  May grinned at him. “Me, see Obann? Yes, I think I’d like that very much!”

  Chapter 35

  Fools Can Be Dangerous

  In Obann, the king commanded that Merffin Mord and his fellows be allowed the use of the great hall in the palace, there to meet whenever they pleased, as the new High Council of Oligarchs.

  The first thing the council did was to proclaim that the Temple should be reestablished, and someday rebuilt, as “the spiritual center and heart of Obann,” complete with a new First Prester to be elected as soon as all the presters in the land could be summoned to the city for a conclave. At the same time, the Oligarchy was to be restored, to manage the affairs of Obann.