Shadow on the Stones

by Moyra Caldecott

  His eyes shone.

  10

  The Face of Groth

  While Na-Groth’s soldiers marched, they sang. They had no doubt that they were stronger than the enemy and would soon be marching triumphantly back to their lord and his queen, leaving a tasty feast for the scavenger birds and beasts.

  What they did not know was that Karne was preparing a surprise for them, and that the other troop that marched so smartly with them and sang louder than any of them, was itself the enemy.

  Spies brought reports of enemy sighted in a particularly hilly area. Numbers were not known, but it seemed clear that a village was being used as the meeting place for the groups of fighting men that were gradually gathering from the east.

  ‘The village must be punished as an example to other villages,’ the captain said with determination. ‘Not a living person must escape the wrath of Groth. The fighting men we will kill in battle. The villagers, all but one, we will tie to stakes and set alight. The one we have spared will take our message to the other communities. No one will dare to help these circle stammerers, these maudlin mumblers again!’

  Gya could feel rage spreading hotly through his body and his knuckles were white as he gripped his bow.

  Circle stammerers! Maudlin mumblers!

  So that was how these grunting hogs saw the ancient and splendid ritual of his people. He would show them!

  He would show them the power of the Circle! The energy of prayer!

  He leapt up and raised his bow, his mind on fire with rage. Deadly as a hawk’s eye on a field mouse, he aimed his shaft momentarily at the heart of the man who had spoken these words.

  The whole scene froze. Every eye was upon him.

  Not a sound or movement broke the tension.

  The Captain’s eyes glazed with sudden fear, but his men scarcely grasped what was happening.

  In another moment he would have been dead and probably Gya and all his small troop of dissidents as well, the possibility of Karne’s victory lost, the Sun Temple civilization destroyed.

  On Gya’s arrow all this hung.

  Like a wave the moment paused at the point of breaking.

  Inside his head a voice was screaming:

  ‘Kill!’

  But from the trees, from the sky, from the rocks and grass and bracken ... voices were pleading with him to hold ... this was no way to prove his God.

  Sweating, he raised his aim higher, and shot into the sky.

  Clean and true his arrow sang and flew, sucking with it the breath of all who watched.

  ‘Destruction to the enemy!’ shouted Gya.

  ‘Death!’ the men around him roared, and where there had been silence, spears on shields were banged to make as much noise as possible.

  Only the Captain was silent, pale and shaken and sweating from his experience.

  His eyes were full of hate and menace as he met those of Gya.

  * * * *

  When the next dawn came and Na-Groth’s men advanced to attack the village, Gya and his troop made sure they were well behind the main attacking body.

  The Captain expected an easy victory, but Na-Groth was not the only one with spies.

  Karne was well aware of the forces advancing against him.

  * * * *

  As Na-Groth’s army crept nearer the apparently sleeping village through the damp and dewy grass, the early morning mist lying close to the ground reducing visibility for both sides, they had no thought that this might be their last engagement in Na-Groth’s service.

  When the Captain judged that they were near enough he gave a low whistle and stood up, his arm in its black leather arm-guard signalling his men on.

  Swiftly they moved now, flattening the nettles and the tall grasses, spears at throwing readiness, sword hilts gripped tightly.

  Behind them Gya’s men crouched and waited.

  In front of them and from the east the huge sphere of the sun began to rise behind the highest hill. As it came almost to full splendour, the soldiers looked up at it and were aghast to see, silhouetted blackly against its burning copper, huge bird shapes like nothing they had seen before.

  Even as they stared the air became full of strange wailing, whining noises, eerie as ghosts, loud as horns.

  The shapes moved forward.

  The shapes began to fly.

  Dazzled by the sun the men of Na-Groth were faced with huge black wings that spread above them menacingly and hung in the air as though waiting to pounce upon their prey.

  Screaming, they turned and ran.

  Gya’s men were waiting for them.

  Too far back to see the strange birds, Gya could not understand what had put the warriors to flight, but he knew that he must not let them return to Na-Groth to be used again in greater strength against his friends.

  His bow sang out.

  The axes, spears and swords of his friends were put to work.

  Astonished, Karne saw the soldiers of his enemy turn upon each other and do battle.

  He landed the lead glider safely and called to his men to follow him.

  Exuberant at the success of their plan they followed him gladly.

  Caught between two enemies, Na-Groth’s men had very little chance.

  The fighting was fierce and many were killed. Those that were not were taken prisoner and shown a mercy that surprised them.

  Gya was brought to Karne.

  ‘This man fought on our side, my lord,’ he was told.

  Karne looked into the young man’s eyes and saw honour there.

  ‘You are not of Na-Groth’s people?’ Karne asked.

  ‘No my lord, but these who fought so bravely with me are. I would ask you to set them free.’

  ‘How is it that they fight against their own?’

  ‘They have no love for Na-Groth, lord, and would join with us in overthrowing him.’

  ‘Good news indeed. Are there more that we may count upon?’

  ‘I do not know for sure, but it is possible. There is much dissatisfaction and despair.’

  ‘Fear too I think.’

  ‘Yes. Fear too.’

  Karne looked at Gya steadily.

  ‘You do not fear?’

  ‘Not enough it seems,’ Gya answered cryptically, with a smile.

  Karne smiled too and clasped his arm in friendship, right over right, as was the custom.

  ‘You are the Spear-lord Karne?’ Gya now asked.

  The older man was surprised his name was known, but when he heard that Gya was a friend of Isar’s and had news of him, tears of joy and relief came to his eyes.

  But they were short lived. Isar was still a prisoner and in danger. This day’s work had only defeated a small part of Na-Groth’s force.

  ‘It is important no news of this battle should reach Na-Groth’s ears,’ Karne told his men. ‘Not one of these,’ and here he indicated the prisoners, ‘must be allowed to escape. We must move deeper into Na-Groth’s territory and finish what we have started. It will not be easy and each one of you has to give up thought of personal peace and comfort until Na-Groth is defeated.’ He looked searchingly into the eyes of his followers. ‘Is that understood?’

  ‘Aye,’ they murmured.

  ‘Are you with me?’ he called ringingly.

  ‘Aye!’ they replied, this time loudly and convincingly.

  ‘Good,’ he said shortly, and then he turned to Gya.

  ‘You know the country. You know the stronghold of Na-Groth. Lead us.’

  * * * *

  As they moved away, leaving the villagers to handle the prisoners, the wounded and the burials, Gya met the eyes of the defeated Captain.

  If ever eyes could bore into the soul of another and bring a curse, those eyes would have done it then.

  Having seen what happened at the hands of Na-Groth to the first troop of men who had been defeated by Karne’s tricks, the second troop were not at all keen to escape and return to their master. They made willing, if ungracious, prisoners.

 
All except one.

  The Captain had a score to settle with Gya and within half a day of Karne’s departure for Na-Groth’s stronghold, he managed to elude his captors and disappear.

  As soon as they discovered he was missing the villagers sent the older children out to look for him, but he had already covered too much ground and was out of reach.

  Gerd, lying impatiently on his bed of straw and rugs, fuming with frustration, could not help thinking that he would have been able to track him down if only he had been able to walk.

  Now what would become of Karne?

  * * * *

  But Karne himself was making good progress and was full of confidence.

  The men who were moving the seven sail gliders worked their way across country more or less under cover, but the main force, dressed in the clothing stolen from Na-Groth’s defeated men, marched boldly forward. When talking had to be done, Gya’s dissidents did it so that the difference in language would not be noticed.

  They even managed to send a false message to Na-Groth that the Temple forces had been routed.

  This way they hoped to make him relax his vigilance.

  What they did not know however, was that the Captain of Na-Groth’s defeated troop was making his way back to his master at the same time, but by a different route.

  * * * *

  To Gaa-ak, kneeling at the feet of Groth at the dawning of the day that was to be the Festival of the Mask, the sky appeared to be on fire. From east to west clouds flaming with the red anger of the sun mottled the sky, forming a low and menacing roof.

  As Gaa-ak mouthed the prayers the people expected of him, his eyes were drawn involuntarily upwards several times.

  What did it mean?

  He had lived long in Na-Groth’s employ, but had never seen a sky quite so strange and so lurid.

  Through the mottling of fire, the distant universe showed, a potent and a vibrant blue. Momentarily the priest of Groth had a chilling premonition of danger.

  At dawn he always felt vulnerable.

  Groth’s time was sunset, the moment of his triumphal entry into the Dark Kingdom where he chastised those who had offended him and rewarded those who supported him.

  The day was the sun’s time and Groth’s influence was at its weakest.

  During the day he bided his time.

  During the night he came into his own.

  The ceremony of dedication at which the Mask was to be offered to the god would take place at noon, the moment of balance between the two powers, the moment of increase for Groth.

  Gaa-ak’s task at dawn was to start the prayers and incantations and continue them until at noon the whole population was gathered to do obeisance to the powerful lord.

  By sunset the god would be used to his new Face and would wear it proudly into the night.

  Na-Groth and Maeged would not join their people until the Mask was carried out in procession ready for the final ceremony.

  * * * *

  Na-Groth was sleeping late.

  It was Maeged who swept into the room where Isar was smoothing the last surface on his masterpiece.

  She walked around the giant mask, in itself just taller than a man, and stared at it with baleful intensity.

  It was powerful, there was no doubt.

  The boy who looked so feeble had great strength of vision and skill in translating it to wood.

  ‘But there is something of the animal in this face,’ she said suspiciously.

  Behind her, Lark met his eyes and he was given confidence to answer boldly.

  ‘Is Groth not master of animal and man? Is Groth not master of all things?’

  Luckily she did not detect the sarcasm in his voice.

  ‘True,’ she said doubtfully, not quite sure what it was about the mask that disquieted her.

  Thoughtfully she prowled about it, looking at it from every angle, but it was more man than animal, and more god than man, so she retired at last, content to let it be.

  It was certainly better than the last one that Groth had had.

  And what if it was not perfect, what did it matter?

  Na-Groth had just wanted an excuse for a sacrificial ceremony. He enjoyed the drama of other people’s suffering and death as she enjoyed power and adulation.

  To her and her husband Groth was wood and straw.

  They were the real gods, the dispensers of life and death.

  They despised the people who crawled about the base of the Image they had created.

  * * * *

  Deva was withdrawing more and more from her family and friends.

  She refused to attend any prayer rituals in the Sacred Circle of the Temple and slipped away as often as she could to the haunted mound, secretly saying her prayers to Groth, using the height of the mound to see as far as she could towards the west where Isar was, and where Groth’s fell kingdom was.

  Her parents were busy almost continually in the Temple now, and she saw her mother only when she came home to rest, grey with weariness.

  Several times Kyra tried to talk to her daughter, seeing her sullen and brooding face, but each time Deva managed to shut her out, and at last, too tired to fight any more, Kyra left the girl, thinking that the greatest service she could do for her would be to defeat Groth and bring Isar home to her.

  ‘As soon as we have something positive to tell her she will come round,’ Kyra told herself.

  Although she loved Deva deeply, she knew, compared to Khu-ren and herself, and indeed to Isar, she had not evolved through so many lives, nor reached so fine an understanding of life’s mysteries.

  * * * *

  On the day of the Festival of Groth’s Mask Deva rose early and was drawn to the mound.

  Looking at the strangely lurid mottling of the sky, she felt that this was somehow a day marked out for dramatic events.

  ‘Today I will free my lord,’ she said to herself, ‘and if I do not, today he and I will die.’

  She felt no fear.

  She said it calmly, knowing that if Isar died she would join him.

  Inside the folds of her cloak she carried the same knife she had used when she had made her first sacrifice to Groth.

  * * * *

  In the Temple of the Sun the strange and beautiful appearance of the sky was also seen as an omen.

  There was a calmness and a readiness in the hearts of the priests that had not been there before.

  This was an important day, and on this day they would put all the energy that they were capable of into the challenge of Groth.

  * * * *

  Karne took the appearance of the sky as a promise from the God of Light. ‘See,’ he declared to his uneasy troops, ‘it is the light of sunrise, of renewal ... this day will be a good day!’

  Gya had shown them where to make camp the night before, so that at the dawn they would not be far from the ridge of hills that rimmed and protected Na-Groth’s stronghold.

  They had planned their attack well and had every justification for expecting success.

  But Na-Groth’s defeated Captain had reached the ridge before them and was at this very moment warning the guard of their approach.

  Exhausted, he lay down to recover while they prepared their defences.

  He would have liked to deliver the message immediately to Na-Groth and receive the reward he was sure would be his due, but his limbs were aching with the strain of the speed with which he had covered the ground from the rebel village, and his heart was longing to avenge himself on Gya.

  The sweetness of reward could wait.

  * * * *

  Karne moved his men carefully closer to the pass and then called a halt.

  Puzzled, Gya came to him.

  ‘We must move forward now,’ he said, ‘we are too near to remain unnoticed for long.’

  ‘I know,’ Karne said, a slight frown of concentration between his eyes. ‘But I need to think.’

  ‘Think!’ hissed Gya in amazement. ‘Surely we have done enough of that?’
/>
  ‘Something is holding me back,’ Karne said stubbornly.

  ‘Fear?’ the young bowman asked bitterly.

  He was chafing to get going and was astonished that Karne, who had seemed so impatient himself a few moments before, was now so content to wait.

  ‘No, not fear. Caution perhaps.’

  ‘But caution tells us to move before it is too late!’

  ‘Something...’ worried Karne.

  He could not explain it, but he just felt it was not the time to move forward.

  Even as the two men stood confronting each other, Gya’s eyes blazing with accusation and Karne’s sombre with the weight of decision, the ominous, rumbling sound of many men marching came to them.

  Instantly Karne gave the signal to take cover and lie low.

  * * * *

  Not far from their hiding place, but mercifully unaware of them, a large body of Na-Groth’s warriors marched towards the pass.

  Gya looked at Karne.

  If they had been on the move as he had tried to insist, they would have been in the open now, out-numbered, surprised and certainly massacred.

  ‘Na-Groth’s special men,’ one of the dissidents whispered. ‘No one passes them!’

  Karne shivered slightly and said a quiet prayer of thanks to whoever it was who had made him hesitate.

  ‘What do we do now?’ someone asked.

  ‘We wait until they are well past the guards and down the other side,’ Karne said.

  They waited.

  Gradually the violent red of the sky faded and the canopy of broken cloud that had been so bright before became dull and slate grey.

  The waiting was not easy, and hearts that had been full of purpose and courage began to be afraid.

  They watched the strong and disciplined body of men march up the path to the pass. If these were the kind of men that they would have to do battle with, Karne’s inexperienced farmers were not at all sure that they wanted to go on.

  The dissidents were desperate men and had no way to go but forward, and Gya was anxious to avenge his father and rescue his friend, but Karne could see the hesitation in his own men’s eyes.

  He was just drawing breath to make an encouraging speech when someone shouted ‘Look!’

  They all looked.

  And what they saw astonished them.