Their Master's war

by Mick Farren

  For Harkaan, the interior of the lodge seemed to have taken on a golden luminescence. The spirits of the tribe were present in the air. He hadn't noticed before that there were tiny rock crystals sewn at intervals into the beadwork that lined the tent. Each one reflected the fire and the four oil lamps that hung from the roof. It was a moment of magic. He was inside a golden bowl of tiny burning stars.

  The euphoria, though, was quick to fade. The fire sank down to an angry red. The air was no longer golden. It was the same red as the light during the battle at Great Maru River. Exat-Nalan-Ra's eyes glittered in the dark as he nodded his head.

  "There is no mistake, and there can be no other explanation."

  Quetzyloc also nodded, rocking backward and forward on his crossed legs. "There is no mistake."

  "The Gods are coming. For the first time in five generations, the Gods are coming."

  N'Garth shifted uneasily, and Marjooquin treated him to a fast look of disapproval. Neither Exat-Nalari-Ra nor Quetzyloc noticed the interchange.

  "We cannot ignore the signs, and there is no other way that we can interpret them."

  "The Gods are close at hand. We must accept that as fact and act accordingly."

  "Everything has come about as told in song and legend, and even as written in the documents."

  "The. pylon hums louder every day."

  "Exactly as it is recorded and exactly as it has been predicted."

  "The plains are burned, the hot winds roll the dust clouds before them, and the dust obscures the suns."

  "The lightning storm splits the sky."

  "It is exactly as it is recorded and exactly as it has been predicted."

  "In the final stages, the young men taste of madness and deliver death one to another."

  "There is no doubt. It came to pass this way in record, and it will come to pass this way again."

  "There is no doubt that the Gods are almost here."

  "And we must perform their will in the manner of our ancestors."

  "We must perform their will in the manner of our descendants long after we are dead."

  "Now and forever, obedience without end." "So be it."

  "I never thought I would live to see this."

  In slow unison, the two old men's heads turned toward the three youths.

  "Those who kill during the madness go to the Valley of the Gods. That is the law."

  Harkaan could feel the other two stiffen. His own shock exactly matched theirs. Was this to be a punishment for having killed? Did they go to the Valley of the heavily embroidered leather. "It is time they were given the stone."

  Exat-Nalan-Ra was given the bundle. He unwrapped it with the slow, emphasized movements of ceremony. When the wrapping was smoothed flat on the lodge floor, it showed a representation of the birth of the suns. Inside the bundle was nothing more than a medium-sized smooth black stone, a flattened oval that looked just like a million others that could be found on any streambed. Marjooquin indicated that Harkaan should pick up the stone.

  "You will hold the stone between your thumb and forefinger, extend your arm to its fullest, and very slowly move it in a circle."

  Harkaan did as he was told, feeling a little absurd. It was something of an anticlimax. After all this talk of Gods, he had at least expected some fiery, magic jewel. And then, just as he was pointing it at Quetzyloc, the tip of the stone suddenly glowed a bright, pulsing red. Har-kaan's first instinct was to drop the thing like a hot coal. He quickly realized that this was not what was expected of him. He also realized that even when the stone was glowing at its brightest, it gave off no heat at all. He moved his arm again, and the glow faded. He moved it hack, and the glow returned. He looked questioningly at I at — Nalan-Ra. The old man permitted himself the slightest of smiles. Even in these strange times, it was good to see a sense of wonder in a young man.

  The stone will lead you to the Valley of the Gods. You hold the stone and move your arm as you have just done. When the stone glows, the direction in which your i i is pointing is the direction that you take. It is very simple."

  Harkaan put the stone back down on its covering. Miirjooquin rewrapped it and then placed the bundle in a

  Gods as sacrifices? Were they to be kin to the goats and cranes and oraloos that were sacrificed to enlist the cooperation of the mother spirits?

  Marjooquin pointed at the three young men.

  "You may speak. You may ask your questions."

  N'Garth was the first to find his voice. "Why do the Gods come here? What do they want with us?"

  Quetzyloc made the barest of dismissive gestures. "It is not for us to know. They are the Gods. We are theirs, and they will do what they will with us. That is the prerogative of Gods. We merely follow the Law and the patterns of the past. By the Law, those patterns must extend into the future."

  Valda almost shook his head but caught himself just in time. "I do not understand. I do not understand the madness, and I do not understand why the pylons vibrate."

  "It is not to understand. It is only to know. The pylons were given to us in the ancient days. When the Gods left us, they also left the pylons as heralds of their return. When the pylons begin to sing, we know that the Gods are coming. As they draw near, the land is scorched and tormented by wind and storm. Finally the young men become insane, and they kill each other.

  "We can only guess, but it would seem that the culling of the young men is important in the Gods' purpose. The law is most exact. The young men who have killed, who have killed in the grip of the madness, must go to the Valley. They and the same number of maidens." "And what happens in the Valley?" That was the question in the heart of each of the three. Exat-Nalan-Ra's face was as expressionless as if it had been carved from a block of old seasoned timber.

  "Nobody knows. The Valley is forbidden to all others, on the pain of a retribution so severe that it may not even be spoken of."

  Marjooquin produced a small bundle wrapped in soft,

  Two

  It was a perfect day. If it hadn't been for the unknown terror of the Gods, it would have been a dream rather than a nightmare. The air was clear and smelled sweet and clean. There was a cool breeze blowing. They rode their flower^decked mounts at a leisurely pace across a plain that was already recovering from the ravages of the drought. A thin carpeting of green existed where previously there had been only sere brown. After the rains, the grass was already struggling back. But Harkaan couldn't shake the feeling that this recovery was only a lull in a continuing drama. At the height of the previous day's storm, he'd been certain that the Gods had arrived. Now, in this period of calm, he could imagine them in their valley, waiting.

  The three had been taken from the Lodge of the Spirits and left in a smaller temporary lodge of their own In-side the pylon. Conchela the maiden had instructed them to sleep. Sleep didn't last too long, however, as the drystorm had shortly redoubled its fury. Thunder rolled, the wind shrieked, and the sky was split by bolts of red, green, purple, and orange. They huddled in the stifling lodge and wondered if the world was ending. leather drawstring bag. Grimly, she handed the bag to Harkaan.

  "You will find the way to the Valley," she said. Beside Harkaan, Valda shifted slightly. "I have one more question." "So ask it."

  "Is there any chance that we might return from the Valley of the Gods?"

  Exat-Nalan-Ra shook his head.

  "No one ever returns. You belong to the Gods now."

  The rain came like nothing short of a miracle. For a full day, it fell in gray, unceasing sheets. The lodges leaked and smelled of damp hides. Although they had been praying for rain, the Ashak-ai viewed its coming with a good deal of distrust. The omens were so bad that a break in their misfortunes might only be a herald of worse to come. A relief too readily accepted could well prove to be the cruel jest of a malignant entity who would turn on them and multiply their troubles.

  The distrust continued during the leaving ceremony that set them on the way to the Valley of the Gods. Th
e ceremony was supposed to be one of celebration. The tribe was renewing its bonds with these mysterious Gods by sending them their young men. Maybe the real celebration would come after the three had left. The tribe could rejoice at the departure of the young and the dangerous.

  After the purification ritual, Harkaan, N'Garth, and Valda were led naked before the tribe. They were carefully dressed in fringed white robes and brought to their mounts. The three maidens who, by tradition, would accompany them to the Valley were already mounted and waiting, also dressed in white and garlanded with flowers. The entire tribe watched stone-faced as the six of them walked their mounts out of the village in solemn procession.

  The Law laid down only two rules for the journey to the Valley of the Gods. The first was that they follow the path dictated by the stone and go all the way to the Valley. The second was that the maidens should remain maidens. To facilitate this, they were charged with traveling in two strictly segregated groups. By day, the two groups would ride separately, but in sight of each other. By night, they would sleep in adjoining but separate camps.

  The first rule was relatively simple to follow. They were so steeped in the traditions and superstitions of the tribe that they would never challenge the Gods by succumbing to the temptation to turn away from their destiny. The second was a little less easy. They might belong to the Gods, but N'Garth, Harkaan, and Valda were youths in the first flush of potency. It didn't help that their untouchable companions were three of the most beautiful young women in the tribe. Indeed, they had been chosen for exactly that quality. There was Am-sessa, the tall, willowy sister of Ga-Niru who had been killed at the river battle. Her straight black hair fell almost to her waist, and her eyes tilted up at the corners. Harkaan could, if he put his mind to it, make himself ache with the thought of actually lying with her. What disturbed him was that he could ache in the same way for Naio, the witchling from the lodge of Horlem-Fram. She wasn't as tall and straight as Amsessa, but she had equally beautiful eyes and a flashing smile. There were also her ample breasts and the way her hips moved as she walked. In fact, the only one he couldn't feel that way about was the third maiden. Not that Conchela lacked beauty-with her unusual pale gold hair, she was possibly the most striking of the three-but the fact that she had served Marjooquin in the Lodge of the Spirits set her apart. Even this fairly innocent connection with the realm of ghosts and demons made her somehow unsuitable as the subject of an earthy, erotic fantasy.

  N'Garth was the first to rebel- In camp, on the second night, he rolled over and propped himself up on one elbow.

  "In the end, who would know?" he asked. "Who would know what?"

  N'Garth didn't really have to answer. The other two knew exactly what he was talking about. Harkaan sighed. "The Law is absolute." N'Garth lay back and stared at the sky. Pran, the smallest of the moons, had just risen. All three were silent for a long time. When Valda finally spoke, it was as much to himself as to anyone else. "What are we going to find when we reach the Valley of the Gods?"

  For Harkaan, it was frighteningly simple. "We'll find the Gods."

  "I'm not sure I'm prepared for Gods."

  "We've always been told that a man who comes face to face with his Gods has need of nothing else in his life."

  N'Garth rolled over once again. "I'm not sure about that."

  He continued to stare at the maidens' campfire.

  Every morning when they rose and at intervals throughout the day, Harkaan would remove the stone from its wrapping and scan the horizon. Each time, the glow of the stone indicated that they should continue in the same general direction. They kept moving east, following the course of the red sun.

  By the afternoon of the fifth day, the plains started to drop away. On the horizon, there were the purple folds of a low range of hills.

  Even though he'd never been there before, Harkaan had a distinct feeling that the Valley of the Gods was somewhere in those hills. These feelings were starting to unnerve him. It was as if the Gods were already reaching out to him. He'd said nothing to the other two, but he'd watched them carefully. They showed no signs of sharing the feelings. Maybe it was because he was carrying the stone and it somehow had an influence on him, or maybe it was because the Gods had selected him for something particularly unpleasant.

  On the fifth night, they camped beside a spinney of trees in a shallow, wind-sheltered bowl. N'Garth and Valda were chafing at the confines of the second rule and were about ready to break loose and visit the girls during the night. Harkaan could hardly believe that he was the only one who stood in awe of the Law and who remembered the horror of the killing at the river. His respect for the Law had brought him into conflict with the other two. They called him a prude and an old woman, and probably worse when his back was turned.

  "What's the matter with you, Harkaan? You want to deny us what might be a final chance at life? You're as crazy as a Brana-ma."

  To avoid an open conflict on that particular night, he elected to take the first watch. They could break the Law on their own; he didn't have to be a witness. He climbed to the nearest high point and settled himself on the short grass, making himself as comfortable as possible. He drew his knees up to his chest and watched the shadows deepen among the distant hills. He was more sure than ever that somewhere in those shadows, the Gods were waiting.

  But despite himself, his mind wandered to the young women in the camp below. Were N'Garth and Valda really going to visit them? Perhaps they had already made their move. The idea created a cold hollow inside him. Why did he have to care so much about what was right and wrong that he was prepared to give up a bright fire and a pretty young girl laughing into his face? What was this absurd sense of duty that forced him to sacrifice bright eyes, moist lips, and teasing giggles for a night on a bare hillside?

  At one point, he must have dozed. All he knew was that he woke with a jerk as his head toppled forward. He rubbed his eyes. It took him a moment to remember where he was. All four moons were in the sky. The last thing he remembered was Pran shining alone; it had to be very close to dawn. His next reaction was anger. Nobody had bothered to relieve him. He was about to climb back down to the camp when he noticed the tiny spark of light out on the dark plain. Was someone else out there, also camping for the night?

  N'Garth and Valda were sleeping beside their own fire, and the women were some distance away. Either they had never gone to the girls or else they had, at some point, returned to their own blankets. He quickly roused them.

  "There's a light out on the plain. It looks like another camp."

  Valda grunted, coughed, and looked around blankly, but N'Garth was instantly awake, his hunter's instincts straight to the fore.

  "Where?"

  "It's some distance away."

  N'Garth glanced at the embers of their own fire. "Can they see us?"

  Harkaan shook his head. "I don't think so. We're far enough down in the hollow to be hidden from them." "Let's hope so."

  "I think we should go and take a look."

  N'Garth was already rolling up his blankets. Harkaan turned to Valda, who was slowly coming awake.

  "You stay here and look after the women."

  Valda stopped rubbing his eyes and scowled. He clearly wasn't pleased to be left out of the scouting party.

  As Harkaan and N'Garth crept toward the light, they could see figures moving around a fire. For the last two hundred paces, they wormed their way through the grass on their bellies. The first gray-green of the predawn was streaking the horizon. When they thought they were close enough, they slowly raised their heads.

  There were five people, four women and a single man, grouped around what had to be an early cookfire. Two of the women were eating, and the others looked as if they had just finished. Three other men were tending the needs of eight mounts, preparing them for travel.

  "They must be making an early start."

  Harkaan and N'Garth were too far away to be able to make out any tribal markings, but they could see t
hat, like their own party, the strangers were wearing elaborate costumes and that their mounts' saddles and bridles were decked with streamers and flowers. Also like the Ashak-ai group, they appeared to be unarmed.

  "They're going to the Valley."

  "It looks that way."

  The sky was becoming increasingly light, and Harkaan and N'Garth started to edge away. Again they crawled and then ran doubled over until they felt that they were safe from detection. Back at the camp, there was a single question.

  "What do we do about them?"

  The others seemed to be looking to Harkaan for some kind of direction. Still very conscious that he alone had spent the night on a bare hillside, he didn't answer immediately. Finally he allowed himself a half smile.