by Lee Duigon
If we ever see Ninneburky again, it’ll be a miracle.
CHAPTER 41
A Message from the Thunder King
There was a celebration at the castle in the forest. Helki had won a great victory, another mardar was dead, and two more outlaw chiefs had come in to offer their submission to King Ryons.
“The oligarchs, the Temple—they’re just thieves like we are,” said one of the outlaw chiefs. “But a king, now—that’s something different. Like something in the Scriptures.”
Ryons had never in his life seen a book, much less read one. Obst promised to teach him, someday, how to read. “I have a Book of Holy Scripture,” he said. “It’s in my little cottage, unless someone has taken it. One of these days I’ll go back and fetch it. A king ought to be able to read the Scriptures. Indeed, a king ought to know them better than anyone.”
Helki returned from his battle with several dozen prisoners—prisoners no more, but men who’d freely chosen to serve the king who’d conquered them and spared their lives. Most notable among them were four brothers, black-skinned Hosa from the south, whose like had never been seen west of the mountains. Their language, full of pops and clicks, could be understood only by Obst, who had the gift of tongues.
“King Thunder sent his mardar to our country, and the mardar made our cattle die. He would have killed them all, and we would have starved, if our chiefs hadn’t agreed to give him warriors,” said the eldest of the brothers. They all had names, of course, but no one at the castle could pronounce them. This man’s name meant Hawk, so that was what they called him. “We did not think a mardar could be killed, but now we have seen it. We want to see it again! And again, until there are no more left alive!”
Ryons mourned the loss of Szugetai. The horse-chief’s men piled up a pyre of wood and burned the body, loudly singing from deep down in their throats until the old stone walls of the castle rang with it. Then they joined in the general celebration. By Helki’s advice, this was to go on for three whole days.
“It’s a good idea,” Obst agreed. “You can see how hard some of the people have been working on the castle, clearing land, and putting up cabins. They need a holiday.”
“The Lord be thanked we have nothing here that answers for strong drink,” Helki said. “I’ve heard tall tales of what Abnaks can get up to when they’re drunk.”
“The Wallekki never drink,” said Ryons. “Sometimes they let their slaves drink, and then they mock them when they’re drunk.”
“Never mind, Your Highness,” Helki said. “There are no slaves in Lintum Forest. Most of us don’t even pay our taxes.”
Ryons didn’t mind his people making merry, but he found it hard to share in their glee. He had to sup with his chieftains and award prizes to the winners of contests of archery, wrestling, and sheer strength; and he was cheerful then, because it was expected of him. But much of the time he preferred to spend with Jandra, Abgayle, and Obst. Having seen one live battle, he wasn’t looking forward to the many that were sure to come.
“I know it must be hard for you,” said Obst, “but it won’t be quite so hard once you’ve learned to pray. God will give you strength, my boy.”
At noontime on the final day of celebration, Abnak scouts came to the castle with a messenger. It was a tall Wallekki of the Wal-Kallut, demanding to see the King of Lintum Forest. And so the chieftains had to gather to receive him, and Ryons had to put on his finery and sit on his throne.
This man glared evilly at Shaffur, and Shaffur glared back.
“Beware this fellow, my brothers,” Shaffur said. “My people have had dealings with his. They’ve not been pleasant dealings.”
“And they are likely to be even more unpleasant, before the vultures feast on you,” answered the Wal-Kallut.
“That’ll do!” Helki said. “Let no one bicker in the presence of the king. What’s your name, mister, and what’s your errand?”
“I am Kayl, son of Eeb, son of Masur, who was the prince of the Bana-Sarr clan of the Wal-Kallut,” the messenger said. “I command a thousand horsemen in the service of the Thunder King, master of the gods. I bring a message from him, the Great Man, to all the rebels who have run away to Lintum Forest.”
One of Szugetai’s men, who were now the king’s sworn bodyguard, laughed raucously. Obst held up a hand to quiet him.
“We will hear the message, my lords and chieftains,” he said. “But know this, Kayl—there is no man here who sees in your Thunder King anything but a wicked and deluded man. You would be wise to moderate your language.”
Ryons agreed. He’d noticed a spreading grin on the face of old Chief Spider that should have spelled a warning to the messenger. And if Spider didn’t strike him down, Shaffur would.
“I deliver the message as I was commanded by the mardar of my army: and it is this,” Kayl said. “Know that the Great Man’s armies now are marching into Obann in numbers beyond your reckoning. Their mission is to lay siege to the city of Obann, to destroy it, and to tear down the Temple to the god of Obann and carry him away as a prisoner. From this nothing shall deflect us.
“But the Great Man has not forgotten you! Once the city has been laid in ruins, his hosts shall march to Lintum Forest and hew it down with axes and burn it with fire. Not one of you shall be left alive. As for the slave whom you have styled a king, intending mockery, he shall be taken into captivity forever—after his eyes have been put out with hot iron. I have spoken.”
Silence fell over the assembled chieftains—a silence that Helki broke with a loud whistle.
“Well! I reckon those words are like to give me nightmares for a month,” he said; and the chieftains grinned. “Anyone would think you were trying to ruin our celebration, mister.”
But then Ryons stepped down from his throne. He didn’t know what made him do it; he didn’t know what he was going to say. The words just came.
“This is our answer to the Thunder King,” he said. “Tell him this: the true God reigns in Heaven, but His eyes are on the earth. He knows your thoughts before you think them; His eyes find out the secrets of your heart. Whether I live or whether I die, the Lord is with me; He knows His people by their names. The wicked He sweeps away like dust, and they are seen no more.”
Here the words stopped. Ryons felt as if he were standing alone atop the highest mountain in the world, and that the world was so far down below him that it didn’t matter anymore.
He stood before the messenger; and Kayl the son of Eeb went pale under his swarthy skin, and some men saw him tremble. Without another word, he stepped back a step, and then another step; and then he turned and rushed out of Ryons’ presence as fast as he could without running.
Suddenly Ryons was very tired, and his knees buckled. He groped behind him for his makeshift throne and sat down, hard. For a moment he wondered what had happened to the mardar’s messenger; but it came back to him almost immediately.
“Praise God, who has remembered us in time of trouble!” Obst cried. The chieftains looked puzzled. Obst turned to Ryons and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right, King Ryons?”
“I think so.”
“Do you know what you said to that messenger?”
“No, not really. Did I say something wrong?”
Obst laughed, and turned to the chieftains. “This boy spoke the Fortieth Sacred Song, composed by King Ozias under the inspiration of God’s spirit—and he spoke it nearly word for word! This boy has never read the Scriptures. He doesn’t know how to read, and I never taught him the words of that song. Can there be any doubt at all that he spoke the words God gave him? Can there be any doubt at all that he truly is a king, and the heir of King Ozias, who is to receive from God’s own hand the throne of Obann?”
Ryons’ bodyguards clashed their short swords on their round shields and bellowed their approval. Chief Spider threw back his head and guffawed. “Not a bit!” he roared. “Not the least little bit of doubt—and I’ll split the skull of any man who says there is!
”
“Looks like we’ve got another prophet in this army,” Helki said.
The sun was up by the time they found their way out of the ruined city. Somewhere behind them, they knew, the First Prester’s men were combing the place for them. How long would they keep at it before concluding that their prey wasn’t in the city anymore?
“I wonder if Occus can lead them back to our camp,” Jack said.
“I was surprised he found the river,” Martis said. “But all he had to say was that we were camping in the Old Temple. Many men know where to find that.” They had no way of knowing that Occus had lapsed into a delirium before he could tell them that. But it wouldn’t take Reesh long, Martis knew, to decide that the Old Temple was the best place to look for scroll-seekers.
“We won’t get far if they come after us on horseback,” Ellayne said; and to that there was no answer.
Their only plan, as yet, was to put as much space as they could between themselves and the Old City, and avoid villages and farms. Beyond that, Martis had only a vague idea of staying well to the south of the river; and then they would have to go steadily eastward to get to Lintum Forest. Most of the journey would be on open, gently rolling plains.
“It can’t be as bad as it looks,” Jack said. “We’ve done what God wanted us to do. We’ve found the missing book. Not much point in finding it, if it’s just going to be lost again!”
By noon they were too weary to go any farther without food and rest. They stopped under an isolated clump of undersized trees, with the blue vastness of the sky above them and the empty, uninhabited land around them as far as the eye could see. Because of the lay of the land, they couldn’t see the ruined city; but they knew it wasn’t very far away.
They didn’t make a fire, only rested their bodies and munched on some biscuits. Ellayne cut a strip from one of the blankets and bandaged Martis’ head. It needed washing, but that would have to wait until they came upon a stream. As Martis pointed out, they didn’t know how long their drinking water would have to last.
“What do you say, Wytt?” Jack asked. “Is there any water in this country?”
The little hairy man sprang up onto Ham’s back and sniffed the air.
“He says there’s some good water, not far away,” Ellayne said, as he chattered to her. “I guess he can smell it. What do you think, Martis? Can we get to Lintum Forest?”
He shrugged. “Who can say? If Reesh’s men don’t pick up our trail and ride us down; if a Heathen scouting party doesn’t find us; if one of those giant birds, or some other deadly animal, doesn’t make a meal of us; if we don’t starve to death, or die of thirst—well, then, all we have to do is keep on trekking east, and eventually we’ll get there. It’ll be halfway through the summer by then; maybe even later.”
In a little while they got up and went on, carrying with them the missing book of Holy Scripture, which none of them could read or understand.
Table of Contents
Down from the Mountain
Where Is Obst?
Of War and Prophecy
How the Scouts Captured a Madman
Obst Becomes a Missionary
A Horse for Wytt
A Mardar and a Boy Named Gik
Budric the Bluejay
The Omah of the Forest
Jandra Prophesies
Obst Among the Heathen
Obst Among the Chieftains
A Rescue Mission
The Chieftains’ Council
A Marvelous Material
A Prophet Speaks to Jack
The Wise Man in the Tent
A Wild Story from the North
Bron the Blessed
A New Scripture
The Assault on Ninneburky
Good New at Cardigal
How Ryons Earned a Reward
What the Blind Man Saw
How God Spoke to the Heathen
The Old City
How the Heathen Got a King
The Way Down
A Prophet on a Scaffold
Under the Temple
What They Found in a Jar
King Ryons and His Chieftains
Martis in Obann
The Scholar and the Scrolls
Remnants of the Legion
King Ozias Speaks
Ozias’ Prophecy
The Flail of the Lord
How Occus Escaped
Lord Reesh’s Awakening
A Message from the Thunder King