The Redemption of Althalus

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The Redemption of Althalus Page 40

by Eddings, Leigh;Eddings, David


  “I just thought of something,” Gher said.

  “Have we left something out?” Khalor asked him.

  “Well, maybe.” Gher looked at Eliar. “You can put one of your doors anyplace you want it, can’t you?”

  “To within a half inch, Gher. Why?”

  Gher reached out and laid his hand on the ground just above the front of the trench. “How about right here?” he asked.

  “Good God!” Chief Albron exclaimed. “We never thought of that, did we, Sergeant? They could just step over all our barricades and trip lines and be in our trenches before we even knew they were coming!”

  “Maybe not, my Chief,” Eliar said. He put his hand on the hilt of the Knife, and his eyes narrowed. “I think I know of a way to keep that from happening, but I’ll need to talk with Emmy about it.”

  “Don’t mumble, Eliar,” Khalor barked. “Spit it out.”

  “It’s all going to depend on just how close our doors are to the ones in Nahgharash, Sergeant,” Eliar said. “If they come together exactly, all I’d have to do is open our door when they open theirs.”

  “Oh, that’s just fine, Eliar,” Andine said sarcastically. “Then, instead of invading Wekti, they invade the House.”

  “I can take care of that, Andine,” he said. “They won’t know where they really are, any more than Captain Dreigon knows where he is. They’ll ride through their door over in Nahgharash, pass through my door into the House, and then ride through another one of my doors that opens back down at the bottom of the hill. If I can get those three doors close enough together, I can probably keep them charging up that hill for the rest of the summer.” Then he chuckled.

  “What’s so funny, Eliar?” Khalor demanded.

  “I don’t think they’ll even see that door, Sergeant, and if I juggle it just right, any arrows they shoot at our people will come out down there at the bottom of the hill, so they’ll be shooting their own reserves in the back every time one of them bends his bow.”

  “What a neat idea!” Gher said enthusiastically. “Then our people wouldn’t have to do anything at all except stand here and watch while the bad people kill each other off.”

  “I think we’re straying,” Khalor said. “Let’s stick to the business at hand here, shall we? Are you hearing anything over on the other side yet, Leitha?”

  “You did know that there are several hundred Ansus about a quarter of a mile upriver, didn’t you, Sergeant?” she replied.

  Khalor nodded. “I’ve had people watching them,” he said. “They’re building rafts. Just before dawn tomorrow they’ll probably come floating downriver. They won’t get past us, though. Gebhel’s made some preparations for a greeting.”

  “There are also some mounted men ranging along through those hills over on the Ansu side.”

  “Mounted patrols.” Khalor dismissed them. “They aren’t important.”

  “Let’s go a mile to the east, Eliar,” Leitha said then.

  The transition was so brief that Althalus received only a fleeting impression of the House, and they were in the trench again.

  Leitha frowned, concentrating. “I’m touching the same people,” she said. “Let’s try five miles, Eliar.”

  “Right,” he said, and then led them through a door that evidently only he could see.

  “I’m still getting the same ones,” Leitha fretted. “They’re fainter, but they’re still the same men. Let’s go to ten miles, Eliar. I seem to be able to reach much farther than I’d thought.”

  “Are you sure you aren’t missing anybody?” Khalor asked her.

  “I’d hear them if they were anywhere near us, Sergeant,” she assured him.

  They covered perhaps seventy miles in fairly short order, and Leitha encountered nothing more significant than a few more mounted patrols.

  It was about midnight when she stopped and said, “Here!” in a triumphant voice. Then she frowned again. “No,” she said. “I don’t think that’s the main body you were talking about, Sergeant. There are three or four hundred of them, and they seem to be having some kind of party.”

  “An old Ansu custom,” Khalor told her. “I don’t believe any Ansu army in the history of the world has ever mounted a charge stone-cold sober. They’re usually roaring drunk when they attack.”

  “If it’s only four hundred or so, this obviously is going to be one of the diversions you mentioned, Khalor,” Chief Albron suggested.

  “Probably so,” Khalor agreed. “Let’s move on.”

  “Wait!” Leitha said sharply.

  “What?” Althalus asked her.

  “I just touched Pekhal!” she hissed. “And Gelta as well!”

  “Where?” Khalor demanded.

  “I can’t be sure. Just a moment.” She raised her face and looked up at the stars.

  “I don’t think they’d be there, Leitha,” Andine said.

  “Hush,” she said absently. “I’m trying to step over all that drunken babble just to the front. But I’m afraid I’ve lost them.” She frowned, concentrating intensely. Then she smiled. “Oh, that’s clever,” she said almost admiringly.

  “What?” Althalus asked her.

  “There’s a huge cave—acres and acres—about a half mile back in those hills,” she replied, “and there are thousands of men and horses in that cave. I’m catching the sense that their main attack will come from right here—but not until well after sunrise. The ones who are drinking themselves into a stupor closer to these trenches don’t even know about the force in that cave. They think that they’re only going to be one of the diversionary attacks you mentioned, Sergeant Khalor. I’d guess that Koman’s behind this.”

  “Who’s Koman?” Chief Albron asked her.

  “He’s one of Ghend’s associates, and he shares this ‘gift’ of mine. It has to be somebody who knows how the gift works. He’s put a lot of noise and drunken singing between me and that main force, and the rocks enclosing the cave are muffling the sounds of all those men and horses inside. I might have missed that force entirely if Koman and that defrocked priest, Argan, hadn’t come out of the cave for a bit of private conversation. They’ve got some opinions about Pekhal and Gelta that aren’t very flattering, and I get the impression that they rather frequently go off to someplace private to give vent to their feelings. But that’s beside the point. This is definitely the place, Sergeant. There’ll be a diversionary attack by those rowdies across the way at first light. They’ll mill around just out of bowshot, making noise and waving torches and eventually ride off. Then there’ll be other diversions in other places after that. Then an hour or so after sunrise, the ones hiding in the cave will—” She broke off suddenly. “Wait!” she hissed. “Something isn’t right!” She suddenly gave a startled gasp. “Look out!” she shouted. “They’re using their doors!”

  Althalus looked around wildly and saw a momentary flicker at the back of the trench. Then Khnom was there, swinging a door open wide. Behind Ghend’s little henchman, Althalus caught a brief glimpse of a city made of fire, but then Gelta shouldered Khnom out of her way and rushed into the trench, brandishing her archaic stone ax.

  “Eliar!” Althalus shouted. “Behind you!”

  But Gelta’s crude weapon was already descending toward the back of the young Arum’s head.

  Eliar half turned in response to Althalus’ shouted warning, and Gelta’s ax struck the back of his head with a glancing blow. He pitched forward to fall facedown into the dirt at the bottom of the trench.

  Gelta shrieked triumphantly even as Khnom rushed forward to drag her back to that hideous portal.

  Even as the two of them passed through the open doorway, the voice of Ghend echoed into the trench from the fiery vaults of Nahgharash. “And that puts you out of business, doesn’t it, Althalus?” Ghend chortled.

  And then the portal at the back of the trench vanished, leaving behind only the mocking echo of Ghend’s laughter.

  C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F I V E

  No!” Andi
ne shrieked. She rushed to Eliar, fell to her knees beside his limp body, and clasped him to her, weeping uncontrollably.

  Get her away from him, Althalus! Dweia’s voice crackled inside his mind. She’ll only make it worse!

  He’s still alive? Althalus demanded silently.

  Of course he is! Move, Althalus!

  Althalus firmly pulled the hysterical young woman away from Eliar. “Stop it, Andine,” he told her, forcing himself to speak calmly. “He’s not dead, but he’s badly hurt, so don’t shake him around like that.”

  Move aside, Althalus, Dweia told him. I have to talk with Leitha. He felt her push him out of the way. “Leitha,” she said, “it’s me. I want you to do exactly as I tell you.”

  “It was all a trick!” Leitha wailed. “I should have known it was too easy!”

  “We don’t have time for that now. I need to know how badly Eliar’s been hurt.”

  “I’ve failed, Dweia!” Leitha sobbed. “Everything connected with that cave was nothing more than a trap, and I fell right into it.”

  “Stop that!” Dweia said sharply. “You’ll have to go inside Eliar’s physical brain. I have to know exactly what’s happening in there.”

  Leitha’s eyes grew distant. “There’s nothing, Dweia,” she reported in a helpless voice. “His mind’s totally blank.”

  “I said ‘brain,’ Leitha, not ‘mind.’ Go in deeper. Get past thoughts and go all the way in. Here, like this.” A number of incomprehensible images flickered in Althalus’ mind.

  “Is that possible?” Leitha asked in astonishment.

  “Do it. Don’t stand there arguing with me. I must know how badly he’s been injured.”

  Leitha’s pale face twisted with the intensity of her effort.

  “Not that way,” Althalus heard his voice say. More images flashed through his awareness.

  “Oh,” Leitha said, “now I see. I’ve never done that before.” Her face relaxed, and her eyes grew distant. “Blood,” she reported. “It’s very dark, but he’s bleeding at the back of his brain.”

  “How much? Is it spurting?”

  “Not exactly, but it’s not just oozing.”

  “I was afraid of that. We’ll need to move him, Sergeant Khalor. Let’s get him out of this ditch and into someplace that’s warm and well lighted.”

  “You’re not Althalus anymore, are you?” Khalor said, staring at his friend’s face.

  “It’s me, Khalor. I have to go through Althalus. I don’t have time to come there myself. Get some men to carry Eliar. Order them not to jostle him around.”

  “Can you cure him, ma’am? That ugly hag really slammed his head a good one.”

  “It wasn’t quite good enough. He turned his head just as she hit him. We have to move fast, though. Let’s get him to someplace where we can work on him.”

  “Gebhel’s got a tent on that hill behind the trench, Sergeant,” Albron suggested. “He used it as a command post while his men were digging this stretch of trenches.”

  “It’ll have to do, I guess,” Khalor said. “There’s no place else nearby. I’ll round up some men.”

  “There are quite a few things going on here that I don’t quite understand,” Chief Albron said, looking quizzically at Althalus.

  “Dweia’s speaking to us through Althalus, Chief Albron,” Bheid explained. “She’s in the House, and we’re here. There are probably other ways she could do this, but it’s quicker—and much less disturbing for the men around us—if she does it this way. A thundering voice coming from nowhere might attract a lot of attention. She’s been talking to us through Althalus ever since we first came to know them.”

  “She can cure Eliar, can’t she?” Albron asked with a worried frown. “Without those doors of his, we don’t have much of a chance here.” Then he looked sharply at Althalus. “That’s what this was all about from the beginning, wasn’t it? All that business with the drunken Ansus across the valley and the cave filled with men and horses was just a trick to lure us to this part of the trenches so that they could kill Eliar. Without Eliar and the doors, we can’t possibly defend ourselves.”

  “That’ll change just as soon as we get Eliar back on his feet,” Althalus assured him.

  “What if we can’t?”

  “Please don’t start with the what-ifs, Chief Albron,” Althalus said wearily. “We’ve got enough to worry about without all those what-ifs muddying the waters.”

  Gebhel’s command post was a large tent with several cots, a crude stove, and a table littered with maps and diagrams. The half-dozen Arums whom Sergeant Khalor had commandeered carried Eliar inside on a hastily improvised litter and gently laid him facedown on one of the cots.

  Come in here, Leitha, Althalus heard Dweia silently murmur to the pale blond girl. You and Althalus are going to have to work together when we do this. Eliar’s brain’s bleeding, and there isn’t any way for it to drain. It might have been better if Gelta’d hit him squarely with that ax. If she’d opened his skull, the blood could run out, but the way it is right now, the blood has no place to go, so it’s building up pressure. If that goes on for too long, the pressure will crush his brain, and he’ll die.

  Are you saying that we have to pull off the back of his head, Em? Althalus asked incredulously.

  Don’t be ridiculous, Althalus. All we’ll really need to relieve that pressure is one or two small holes in the back of his skull. As soon as Leitha pinpoints the exact location of the bleeding, you’ll use a word from the Book to open those holes.

  That’s all there is to it? Althalus asked. It sounds awfully mechanical to me—sort of like installing a drainpipe.

  That comes fairly close, yes.

  And that’ll cure him? That’s all it’ll take?

  Not entirely, but it’s the first thing we have to do. We’ll get to the rest of it after we’ve relieved the pressure. Let’s move right along: every minute counts right now. The first thing we need is more light. Use “leuk,” Althalus. We want the tent roof to glow in the same way the dome in the tower does.

  All right. Do we need anything else?

  Have somebody fetch one of those Wekti shepherds. We need certain plants to make a poultice and some others to brew up a medicine. The shepherds are more familiar with the local vegetation than the Arums are.

  “Gher,” Althalus said aloud, “go find that redheaded shepherd Salkan, and bring him here. Hurry.”

  “Right away,” Gher said, bolting from the tent.

  We’ll have to shave the back of Eliar’s head before we can start, Dweia said then.

  “Is your razor good and sharp, Bheid?” Althalus asked.

  “Of course it is, Althalus.”

  “Good. Dweia wants you to shave the back of Eliar’s head.”

  “Althalus!” Andine protested.

  Put her to sleep, Althalus, Dweia said abruptly. Use “leb.” She’s just going to be in the way, and she doesn’t need to watch anyway.

  Right, Althalus agreed silently. Then he spoke aloud. “Andine?”

  “Yes?”

  “Leb, Andine. Leb.”

  Her eyes went vacant, and she slumped senselessly into his arms. He carried her to the other side of the tent and gently laid her on one of the vacant cots.

  “How are we going to go about this, Dweia?” Leitha asked.

  “As soon as Bheid finishes shaving the back of Eliar’s head, you’ll locate the exact places where the brain’s bleeding. Then you’ll put your finger on his head to show Althalus precisely where they are. Then Althalus will very gently grind small holes through Eliar’s skull bone with the word ‘bher.’ That’ll let the blood out and relieve the pressure.”

  “Has anybody ever done anything like this before, Dweia?” Leitha asked dubiously.

  “Not very often, no,” Dweia admitted. “Most people who claim to be healers are frauds—or worse—and they have a very limited understanding of how the body really works. Now and then, though, a few very gifted healers have recognized this problem
. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the right kind of tools. And because they didn’t understand the danger of infection, they didn’t bother to clean the tools before they started drilling holes in people’s heads. Althalus isn’t going to use a hammer and chisel or a flint knife. He’s going to drill with a word from the Book, and the poultice we’ll make should ward off any infection.”

  I caught a few “shoulds” and “maybes” in there, Em, Althalus noted. If I wanted to put a wager on this, how good would the chances be?

  About half and half—maybe just a little better. We don’t really have a choice, though, do we?

  No, I guess we don’t at that.

  Gher led the fiery-haired Salkan into the tent. “I finally found him,” the boy said. “How’s Eliar?”

  “He’s been better,” Bheid said, wiping his razor on a crumpled rag.

  “Why are you cutting off his hair?”

  “Althalus needs to get to skin, and the hair’s in the way.”

  “When Eliar wakes up, he’s going to come after you with a club,” Gher said. “He’s going to look really silly without his hair.”

  “We have to make a poultice, Salkan,” Dweia told the young Wekti, speaking through Althalus, “so we’ll need certain leaves and roots. Eliar’s been badly injured, and we don’t want any infections setting in.”

  “I’ve got a fair idea of the things you’ll need, Master Althalus,” Salkan replied. “I’ve cured quite a few injured sheep. Your voice sounds a little strange, though. Are you all right?”

  “Something just happened that wasn’t supposed to happen,” Dweia replied. “It made me a little tense. Which plants do you normally use to make a poultice?”

  Salkan rattled off some names that Althalus didn’t recognize.

  “That should come fairly close,” Dweia approved. “See if you can find a greenberry tree, though, and bring me some of those berries as well.”

  “Those berries are poisonous, Master Althalus,” the boy warned.

 

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