by Hugh Cook
'Yes,' said the young man, now getting positively stroppy. 'He's lord of the Greater Teeth. He'll have you torn to bits. Nobody can stand against him. He's made us conquerors. This winter we took Stokos. Next, Runcorn: then there'll be no power in all of Argan strong enough to hold us.'
'Bold words, my sprig,' said Ohio.
'True words,' said the young man. 'You made a mistake taking me prisoner.'
'You gave me no chance to hide,' said Ohio. 'If I hadn't taken you prisoner, your fellows might be hunting me by now.'
'They'll hunt you anyway, come the morning. They'll know I'm missing.'
Hearst got to his feet.
'Blackwood. Ohio. Miphon. And you, boy – on your feet. Gather wood. Lay fires, each fire twenty paces apart. I want each of us to lay ten fires.'
Blackwood began to protest: 'But that's ridiculous, we should -'
'No, Blackwood,' said Ohio sharply, 'We're not going to let you eat the boy. Not unless he tries to run away.'
Ohio saw Hearst's plan – and so, as they set to work, did Blackwood. After a lot of labour, the fires were laid. They lit them. Then, with burning brands, they set fire to half a dozen trees as well. From a distance, there would be so much light in the forest that one would have to guess that an army was camping there.
***
Morning dawned grey and cold, with a light rain falling; the sunlight of the day before was just a memory. They broke camp and moved cautiously west, until they could see Lorford in the distance. There were no ships there. The pirates had left.
'They've gone!' said their captive.
'What did you expect?' said Hearst. 'Did you think they'd worry about you when they had the safety of five ships to think about?'
'You see?' said Ohio. 'A cabin boy isn't that important.'
'I'm not a cabin boy!'
'Maybe not,' said Ohio, 'But in any case it doesn't matter. Blackwood, I've changed my mind. We'll let you eat him after all.'
At that, their captive bolted and ran. Ohio laughed to see him sprinting away; the last they saw, he was jogging along beside the river in the direction of the sea.
'That wasn't very kind,' said Blackwood quietly.
'Kind!' roared Ohio. 'Other pirates would have raped him then cut him up for fish bait.'
Blackwood – briefly – contemplated the idea of delivering an extended lecture on ethics, then – wisely -abandoned the notion.
***
When they reached the first stonemade ground, Hearst started to count out paces. He wanted to know how much ground the death-stone commanded; that knowledge might one day mean the difference between life and death.
They climbed Melross Hill and crossed the drawbridge: wooden beams, iron nails and steel chains now rendered in stone. Inside the castle, the wealth of gold, weapons, tapestries and precious stones had been similarly affected; they found the mad-jewel itself, a useless chunk of rock lying near a stonemade skeleton.
There was no sign of Elkor Alish.
'Perhaps he slipped when he tried to climb the castle walls,' said Miphon. 'Perhaps he fell.'
T doubt it,' said Hearst.
They spent two days searching the castle for a sign, a clue or a message – finding nothing. Ohio was awed by the size of this wizard fortress; Argan had always been the place for wizards, and there were no such castles in the Ravlish Lands. But Miphon told him that Castle Vaunting was nothing compared to the Castle of Controlling Power by the flame trench Drangsturm, on the border between the Far South and the Deep South -to which they must now make their way, to alert the Confederation of Wizards to the disasters which had befallen them.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
South, then.
Spring rains and wasting winds; the everlast road outlasting daylight. Gaunt ruins of a fallen temple. The mountain of Maf looming in the east. In the hamlet of Delve, sour-faced peasants with stories of marauding Collosnon deserters, bandits and inland-seeking pirate bands. Further south, the Rohm Mountains rearing abrupt battlements against the horizon. The sea, and a tricky hot-mud crossing of a gently respiring flame trench.
From the coast of Dybra, a view of the cliffbuilt islands of the Greater Teeth; Ohio talked of seeking passage to the pirate islands, but there was no boat to take them there. Besides, the closer he got to his brother Menator, the more he seemed to doubt the wisdom of trusting to his brother's mercy.
In Nerja, capital city of Dybra – in truth, a small town of a thousand souls – a dying king wasting away in a deserted castle spoke of a hero who had stolen away his men, inflaming their hearts with rhetoric which promised power, glory, women and wealth. In Chorst, the hero had recruited all the able men in Guntagona.
Nearing Runcorn, the travellers heard that the city had surrendered to a rag-tag army led by the reaver from the west, the Rovac warrior Elkor Alish. Closer to Runcorn, they came upon a battlefield littered with the stonemade bodies of men and horses: Elkor Alish had used the death-stone, doubtless sheltering his own men in the red bottle while he commanded that power against his enemies.
The travellers did not approach Runcorn directly, but camped in hills outside the city. Ohio, guising himself as a Galish merchant, travelled into Runcorn on his own, bearing as trade goods quantities of siege dust and arachnid silk recovered from the depths of the green bottle.
He returned to bring them a detailed account of the activities of the conqueror of Runcorn, Elkor Alish. After defeating that city's army with the death-stone, Alish had installed his motley army of peasants and fishermen in the city. He was now busy recruiting cavalry and infantry from the Lezconcarnau Plains, otherwise known as the Plains of the Wild Horses, rich grazing lands between the Rohm Mountains and the Spine Mountains, occupying the hinterland of Runcorn.
Once Alish had gathered together an army sufficient to garrison the cities of the Harvest Plains, he would doubtless march south: he had already sent envoys to demand the surrender of those southern lands.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The sleeping man stirred, and muttered something unintelligible. Then he cried out as pain lanced home. Opened his eyes, spoke: 'You!'
And could say no more.
His eyes widened in something resembling panic.
'Don't worry,' said Hearst, holding up a blood-tipped needle. 'The point was poisoned, but it won't kill you. Miphon prepared it for me. He knows what he's doing.'
Hearst looked around the room, which was lit by a single beeswax candle. Flame melted time, silently, remorselessly.
'You've made yourself comfortable,' said Hearst.
He drew aside a curtain. The window beyond was open to the night. He saw lights in the streets spread out below this high tower, and lights on ships anchored in the harbour of Runcorn. He closed the shutters against the night.
'You know,' said Hearst, turning back to his victim, i still don't know why you did it. I've thought about it many times, but I still don't understand. So why did you do it, Alish?'
Elkor Alish, paralysed, made no answer.
Hearst fingered the death-stone. It was cool beneath his touch. He picked it up.
'Was it this that tempted you? Power? But you could have had that in the Cold West.'
The death-stone kicked in his hand like a living heart. Hearst set it down.
'Or was it more than mere power that tempted you? Did you think to make yourself a god?'
Alish closed his eyes.
'If that's what tempted you, it's probably impossible anyway. You know as well as I do about Words of Enhancement, Guiding, Command and Reversal. Remember Stronghold Handfast? We found Heenmor, turned to stone. Why? How? Perhaps he was trying to use those Words to perfect his command of the death-stone. Whatever experiments he tried, one of them killed him.'
If Hearst could have been assured that his words were having some effect, he might have stopped then. But Alish, paralysed by poison, could not say or betray what he felt. Hearst's only hope was to go on and on, hoping that his words would be sufficient to enl
ighten the man he had once counted as his friend.
'Miphon says the death-stone may, perhaps, kill anyone who uses it in any but the simplest ways. Possibly there's no way for a man to use it to become a god. So don't let the prospect tempt you – and don't have me followed when I leave here, for I'll use the death-stone if I have to.
'Not that I want to. Look at our lives. Blood and slaughter. What good has it done us? Once I thought the warrior's road led to glory, but now… betrayed by my best friend. My right hand gone. In my dreams, the faces of dead men. A legend in my own time – but I get no pleasure from hearing the songs they sing of me.
'Men call me a hero but what good's that when I see the dead in my dreams? Men who died because my leadership failed. And now? Enough. I go south with the death-stone, and you… best you return to Rovac. And as for the old stories, old legends, ancient wrongs… forget about them.
'Because if you really live to remedy history, then you really are mad. Every man, sometimes, in a battle or after it, may hesitate and wonder if what he does is right. And then: it's good to know our people have suffered. Thinking of ourselves as victims of an unforgivable wrong, we're free to follow the way of the sword with clear minds. We can blame the wizards, who forced our ancestors off their land – forgetting that we've made our own choices since then.
'Alish, those old tales are just excuses for murder. Nobody on Rovac gives half a shit for the lands round the Ocean of Cambria. Rovac's been our home for thousands of years. Rovac! That's home! Not some place in the south of Argan that we've never seen in our lives.
'I know there are others who think as you do. I know you're a member of the Code of Night – and we both know that on Rovac the Code of Night is something of a joke, and for good reason. Even if we did destroy the wizards, to take back our ancestral lands we'd have to kill all the people who have settled there over the last four thousand years.'
Hearst paused, sighting a handsome document drafted in black ink on vellum. He picked it up, and read it through. It was addressed to the Ruling Council of Rovac, and it commanded the armies of Rovac to battle. It spoke of Raunen Song, the death-stone and the red bottle; it spoke of the conquest of Runcorn and also of the conquest of the Greater Teeth and the Harvest Plains. interesting,' said Hearst. 'You boast of conquests you've yet to make – still, no doubt, given the chance, you'd have conquered all by the time this ink reached Rovac. Given the promises you make, perhaps the fleets of Rovac would have sailed here. But the plunder of cities would be what drew them, not any thoughts of ancient wrongs and the justice of history.'
Hearst tore the document apart. Alish opened his eyes, gazed on the torn vellum, then closed his eyes again.
'As you know, I'm taking the death-stone south. And the red bottle. As for Raunen Song… I can't trust you with even that much power.'
Hearst remembered the sword cutting apart the steel bars of the portcullis in the green bottle. He took it and held it high. He spoke Words of Unbinding which Miphon had taught him. The room was flooded with violet light as energies flared from the blade.
'There,' said Hearst, laying the sword down beside Alish. 'Strength has gone out of the world. It's a better place without it. Keep the blade. And remember my mercy: I let you live.'
Alish, opening his eyes again, tried to speak – but failed.
'What do you want to tell me?' said Hearst. 'What went wrong? I wish I knew. There's a breach between us now: yet once it was as if we were of the same flesh. i don't know what went wrong, but I know when it happened. It was at Larbreth, wasn't it? Yes. I remember. You were held captive. None of us knew your fate. Day followed day: a long siege. Then you opened the city gates to give us our chance. We pressed home the attack.
T found that woman, Ethlite. Yes. She lay on her bed; she was very weak. She'd been sick for some reason. She said she couldn't see properly: I think she thought I was you. Anyway, she tried to command me. She spoke as if she owned you. She spoke… not in a tone of command… but as one speaks to a person trusted to obey to the point of death and a little bit beyond. She spoke as if you were her creature.
'She asked for help. I drew my sword – I helped her, you can count on that. I took her head. Remember that, Alish. Think about that when I'm gone. My thoughts were all for you: I myself took revenge against her.
T don't know what terror, what torture she used to break you to your knees. But we all know that anyone can be broken. Still, you gave us the city. If there was any way… Alish, I wake by night, in the darkness, and I'm alone. Every person I've ever valued is dead… some by my sword. I could kill you now, but too many are dead already.
'Think about what I've said, Alish. You'll have plenty of time to think. It'll be daylight before that poison wears off. Apart from anything else, think about how easily I got to you. Of course, the green bottle gave me an easy way over walls and through bars. And Miphon made poisoned needles for me – three of your guards are in the same state as yourself.
'Not everyone has my advantages – but think about all the things that were in this room. Raunen Song, the death-stone, the red bottle – all worth killing for. Sooner or later, your own earth-scum guards would have cut your throat to claim them.
'And if you planned to use Prince Comedo as a figurehead for your conquests, even he would have plotted against you sooner or later. You must realise that. I've taken what would have tempted others, but at least I've left you alive. Others wouldn't have been so kind. Think on that when I'm gone, Alish.'
Hearst put the death-stone into a small leather bag. He picked up the leather bag and the red bottle, turned the ring that he wore on one finger – turned it with his teeth, since he could not turn it with his hook hand -and was inside the green bottle. Hearst left the death-stone and the red bottle there, then returned to Alish's chambers. iil leave you now,' said Hearst. 'Don't try and follow us. We've got fast horses – we've stolen your best. And there's death waiting for anyone who follows us.'
***
Hearst rejoined Miphon, Blackwood and Ohio outside the walls of Runcorn. 'How did it go?' said Ohio, it went just as we planned.' 'You took a long time.' ! i was being careful.' 'We were worried.'
'No need to be. Come on, let's go. The more distance we've covered by daylight, the better.'
They set off in darkness, heading south along the Salt Road toward the distant city of Selzirk, capital of the Harvest Plains. Hearst decided that, on reaching Selzirk, he would leave Miphon and travel back to Rovac. He had fulfilled his oath: he had delivered the death-stone to Miphon for Miphon to take south.
He was free. i
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
They travelled south through the flatlands of the Harvest Plains, sheltering in mud-dirt villages which, as they neared Selzirk, slowly became towns. As the prospect of pursuit became increasingly remote, they relaxed. They bought new boots, new clothes, and more food than was good for them. They risked their gold in taverns and elsewhere; Ohio and Hearst were almost killed in a brothel-brawl in a place called Kelebes, but other than that the country proved hospitable.
Miphon, who had been this way before, lectured them at length about the dams and irrigation canals that drew water from the Velvet River. All dams were upstream of Selzirk, leaving the river between Selzirk and the port of Androlmarphos free for navigation by shallow-bottomed trading galleys.
Miphon went on to discuss local law, labour tax, art, poetry, song, industry and agriculture – at length. Hearst retaliated with infinitely detailed stories of the birdlife of Rovac and the combat cults of Chi'ash-lan, but Miphon, though he became irritated at Hearst's prolixity, failed to take the hint.
In the end, Ohio spoke bluntly, and silenced the pair of them. But, after that, there were arguments about stupid things such as when to stop for lunch. Without hardship and danger to unify them, they were, really, a disparate bunch of people.
For Ohio, everything lay in the future. He'd decided not to go to his brother Menator as a beggar; instead, he'd south t
o the great trading city of Narba, and set up in business. For Hearst, everything lay in the past: he was a ruined, crippled veteran, a man who had lost his hope, his friends, and all sense of purpose.
Blackwood, who had realised by now that the everyday savagery of human society was too much for his heightened sensitivity to bear, thought to follow Miphon to the Castle of Controlling Power, there to see if he could find a wizard to tell him how to blunt his perceptions of the pain and suffering of the world. Now that he knew Mystrel was dead, his only responsibility was to himself.
Of the four, only Miphon still carried the burdens of heavy responsibility. Though Hearst had not announced his plans, Miphon realised, none the less, that the Rovac warrior did not intend to go south with him beyond Selzirk. Yet, from that city, it would be five hundred leagues to the Castle of Controlling Power -and that was as the crow flies, it would be longer by road.
And, once Miphon actually delivered the death-stone to the Confederation of Wizards at the Castle of Controlling Power, it would still have to be returned to the Dry Pit. Which would be a dangerous journey all on its own. And then some way would have to be found to ensure that no wizard ever again followed Heenmor's footsteps into the Dry Pit.
How?
For that question, he had no answer.
***
They closed with Selzirk on an afternoon when the spring weather was hinting at the heat of the summer to come.
'That's a big city,' said Hearst, studying the prospect of walls and soaring towers. 'Some of the towers look like they were built by wizards.'
'They were,' said Miphon. in the Long War, wizards raised a castle here, on the northern side of the river.
Now the gatehouse keep of that castle is part of the palace of the king-maker, Farfalla. Many bridges span the fire dyke, and as you can see the wizard castle is only a small part of the city.'
