The Fugitive Prince (Bell Mountain)

by Lee Duigon

  “And our God is no dream,” said Hlah. Shoosh grunted, but made no answer. After a time, Martis asked, “Do you hear anything about another army coming west?”

  Shoosh spat into the fire. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted.

  “No, they haven’t gotten another army ready yet,” he said. “All I’ve heard is that they’re getting something ready—something big, the like of which we’ve never seen before. No one knows what it could be. Mardar magic, say the Attakotts—but what would they know? Something being brewed up in the Thunder King’s New Temple in Kara Karram, the Wallekki traders say. Something worse than any army. You know as much about it as I do, Westman.”

  “Maybe,” Martis said; but in truth, he knew nothing. Kara Karram was very far away, and no spy for King Ryons had ever gone there and returned. The Chief Spy in Obann, Gallgoid, would just have to keep sending them until one came back with information.

  The peoples between the mountains and the lakes—Abnaks, Attakotts, Wallekki, Griffs, Fazzan—were demoralized. The Thunder King had taken away their gods, and then marched their warriors into Obann to destruction. When the Thunder King was ready to move West again, would they be able to oppose him? Martis knew they would try, but doubted they could successfully defend themselves.

  “Obst taught us that the Scriptures say that someday all the nations of mankind will come to God,” Hlah said. “I wonder if we’ll live to see that time.”

  “You’re dreaming, lad,” said Shoosh. “We had a very fine god in our neighborhood: lived at the bottom of a pond and never gave us any trouble. If you wanted a favor from him, all you had to do was pour a little beer into the pond. But the mardars came and turned him into an old rotten log, fished him out, and carried him off to Kara Karram as a prisoner. We’ve had poor hunting ever since. But if the mardars come again, at least we have no more gods for them to take away from us.

  “Mark my words,” he said, looking Hlah straight in the eye, and then Martis. “One of these days he’ll take away the God of Obann. And then where will you be?”

  Hampered by the rules of Abnak etiquette, Hlah was slow to answer. But Martis said, “My friend, if your eyes had seen the things our eyes have seen, you would never speak such words. Surely your own ears heard the great bell when it rang from the top of Mount Yul; and surely your own eyes saw there was no more cloak of clouds upon the mountain.”

  Yul was the old name for Bell Mountain. For as long as there had been mountains, the peak of Mount Yul was wrapped in clouds. But when Jack and Ellayne rang the bell that holy King Ozias erected there an age ago, then the eternal clouds around Mount Yul were torn away, never to return.

  “I heard, and I have seen,” Shoosh said.

  “It was a sign from God,” said Martis, “a sign for all the world to see. You’d be wise to trust in it.”

  “When the Thunder King returns,” said Shoosh, “the Abnaks will need more than signs.”

  Chapter 5

  How Their Journey Began

  Following the road along the river, the three children hiked all night and on into the morning. It had been a long time since Jack and Ellayne had done any walking like that, and they were tired before the sun came up. But the new day revived them, and they kept on going.

  “Will your father send men on horses after us?” Fnaa asked.

  “He might,” said Ellayne, meaning that he surely would. But he didn’t know which way they’d gone, and he’d lose time questioning the groom, the cook, and the neighbors.

  “Well, then, hadn’t we ought to get off this road?”

  “In a little bit. Then we’ll find a place to rest and have a bite to eat, too.”

  Jack said nothing. He was hoping the baron would catch them before the day was done. Roshay Bault would be good and mad at them at first, but after they explained it all to him, he would understand. At least Jack hoped so.

  They met no other travelers during the night. Just a year ago there were Heathen armies in this land. Some of the towns and villages had been destroyed, and it would be some time before all the farms were back in business. Indeed, there was a chance they might run afoul of Heathen stragglers. Not all of those had surrendered to the king as yet.

  Birds sang the sun over the horizon. As the grey dawn crept away, wildflowers in all the colors of the rainbow refreshed the hikers’ eyes.

  “I wonder how far we’ve gotten,” Jack said. “We might be half the way to Caristun. I think we’d better find a stopping-place.”

  He whistled as loud as he could, and in a minute or two Wytt came scampering out of the tall grass beside the road. It was too early for bees or butterflies to be at work.

  “Find us a nice, safe place to rest, Wytt,” Ellayne said. “Someplace with water to drink and where nobody will see us.”

  He chattered back at her. “I know a place. Come with me,” was what he meant. “He’s found us a place already,” Ellayne said.

  “How did you learn to understand him?” Fnaa said. “He just makes a lot of noises, like a squirrel.”

  “It’s hard to explain,” Jack said. “In fact, it’s so hard to explain, I won’t even try. It’s just something that happened, up on Bell Mountain. Anyway, he’s smart enough to understand us. He always was.”

  Wytt led them perhaps a quarter-mile from the road to a low place in a meadow where a little spring bubbled up out of the ground and made a pool. Between it and the road grew a healthy stand of ink bushes. A bird would see them camping there, but no human traveler would be likely to stumble over the site.

  Gratefully, the children slipped their packs off and drank from the spring.

  “Before we eat and sleep,” Ellayne said, “I’ve got a surprise for you, Fnaa.” She reached into her pack and pulled out a little jar.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “It’s some stuff that’ll turn your hair red if you rub it in,” she said. “The cook uses it. Otherwise, her hair would be grey. Hold out your hands, both of them.”

  Fnaa grinned, liking the idea. Ellayne poured some of the stuff onto his palms. “Now rub it in good,” she said. “Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

  Jack watched in amazement as Fnaa’s dark hair gradually turned red. He’d had no idea that Lanora the cook did this to her hair. Wytt didn’t like the smell of the dye, and said so. Ellayne ignored his protest.

  “Does the baroness dye her hair?” Jack wondered. Vannett had golden hair like her daughter’s, only not so bright.

  “What a question!” Ellayne said. “None of your business, of course.”

  By and by the color was off Fnaa’s hands and into his hair. Ellayne made him do his eyebrows, too.

  “How do I look?” he asked.

  “Odd!” said Jack; but Ellayne said, “You look like a totally different person. And you’ll need a new name to go with your new hair. I think we’ll call you Bomble. That’s short for Ambombalbap—he was a hero.”

  “Bomble?” both boys said.

  “Bomble will do just fine,” Ellayne said. “And now, Jack, if you’ll take the scissors and cut my hair—do try not to make a mess of it.”

  Since becoming a baron, Roshay Bault didn’t lose his temper like he used to. But when he read his daughter’s note that morning, his face turned red and he shook his fists at the ceiling.

  “Is she trying to put me in my grave?” he roared. “Great sakes alive, that girl will drive me mad!”

  He bellowed at the groom and at the cook and scared them badly enough so that he couldn’t get anything out of them but wild looks and cringes. He didn’t stop bellowing until Vannett threatened to throw a potful of cold water in his face.

  “Thank you!” he panted.

  “It’s no use yelling at the servants,” Vannett said. “Ellayne wouldn’t have told them she was going to sneak off. And remember, the last time she left home like this, it turned out to be on God’s business.”

  “I’m sure the Lord can manage a few things without our daughter’s assistance. How can
you be so calm about it?”

  “I only look calm!”

  It took all morning to find out that no one in Ninneburky had seen the children leave town, and no one had heard them talking about it. The country was at peace and no watch was posted in the night. Noon rolled around, but no one in the Bault household felt like eating dinner.

  “If only that man Martis were here,” Vannett said.

  “Martis be fried,” her husband growled. After all these hours he was still in his nightshirt. “But I wonder—maybe we should send for him. Ellayne says to show him the note. Maybe he might know something about this.”

  “But Martis is out East somewhere. Nobody knows exactly where he is.”

  “I’ll send a rider, anyhow. And I’ll send out more riders, just in case she’s on the road somewhere.” Roshay ground his fist against his palm. “Why couldn’t she have told us anything? And Jack! After we took him in—”

  “Don’t be unjust,” Vannett said. “Let’s just try to find them.”

  Chapter 6

  How King Ryons Met a Man of God

  King Ryons lay sleeping in his bed on a summer night—the exact night, for reasons you will understand, has been kept a secret—when he woke up suddenly.

  All the lamps in his room were out and curtains drawn across the windows, so it was quite dark. Nevertheless, when by some unaccountable impulse he sat up in his bed, he saw someone sitting at the foot of it—not a shadowy shape, but a person who was plainly visible in spite of the darkness.

  Ryons slept with the door of his bedchamber locked on the inside and one of his Ghol bodyguards stationed outside in the hall. The Ghols called him “father,” although he was a boy and they were all grown men, and each and every one of them would gladly die to protect him. Therefore it was not possible for any stranger to be in his room; and yet there he was.

  “Sorry to wake you, King Ryons,” he said.

  You would think that anyone would be startled and unnerved by this. But Ryons felt perfectly calm, although he found it strange that he could see so well in the dark. Probably he was still asleep and this was just a dream, he thought.

  The visitor was an old man with a shiny bald head and an unruly white beard rippling down his chest. He wore farmer’s clothes and spoke to Ryons in Wallekki, the language he’d grown up with. (But he’d studied hard and learned fast, and now he was fluent in Obannese.) For some reason Ryons was sure he’d seen the man before.

  “I told you we’d meet again someday,” the old man said.

  Now he remembered! “Yes—when Cavall and I were on our way to the city before the great beast came, and the battle—”

  The man nodded. When Ryons trekked all the way from Lintum Forest to the city of Obann with only Cavall the hound for company, this man met them and encouraged him to finish his journey.

  And again, that time the people in the city closed the gates against him, it was an old man very like this one who went on ahead, leading the way. Ryons saw him, but none of the Ghols could. Riding along beside him, Queen Gurun saw someone else entirely. How that could be, Ryons never understood.

  “King Ryons,” said the visitor, “the Lord is pleased with you, and now He wants you to do something. Will you do as He asks?”

  Ryons nodded.

  “It’s necessary for you to leave Obann for a little while. You are to leave tonight, right now, and return to Lintum Forest, taking no one with you but your dog, Cavall. When you get there, seek out your friend Helki. He’ll know what to do.”

  What was all this for? Why leave Obann? Ryons couldn’t imagine.

  “Am I still king?” he asked. “Or does God want someone else?”

  The man smiled at him. “There is no one else, Your Majesty,” he said. “Someday, if you keep God’s commandments, a son of yours shall be king in Obann after you, and his son after him.”

  “But who are you?” Ryons cried. “And how is it I can see you in the dark?”

  “Shh—not so loud. I am a servant of God. And it’s time we were going. Please put on your clothes.”

  Ryons was able to find the clothes he wanted without lighting a lamp. This more than anything else made him sure he was dreaming. When he was all dressed, the man of God opened the door without unlocking it and beckoned him into the hall.

  There Ryons found lamps burning and Kutchuk, his bodyguard for the night, seated against the wall beside the door, head bowed down and snoring contentedly. The man of God shut the door and the lock went snick. That tiny bit of noise should have wakened Kutchuk, but it didn’t. The old man put a finger to his lips and led Ryons down the hall.

  The royal palace was part of a vast government building that used to be the Oligarchy’s headquarters, with offices, conference chambers, meeting halls, kitchens, and everything else. Now that the Temple lay in ruins, it was much the largest building in the city, and it took Ryons and his guide quite some time to wend their way to an exit.

  All of the halls were lit, with soldiers and servants stationed here and there as needed. But no matter which way the man of God led Ryons, they found the people either sound asleep or absent from their posts. Ryons thought this the most outlandish dream he’d ever had.

  Yet when he finally stepped outdoors and felt the cool night air on his face, and found Cavall waiting for him on the curb, wagging his tail, and the men stationed at the exit asleep on their feet, Ryons was forced to acknowledge that it wasn’t a dream after all.

  “Follow,” said the man of God; and Ryons and Cavall followed, the great hound prancing for pure pleasure.

  Ryons knew there were always people on the streets of Obann at all hours of the day or night. As he and Cavall followed the man of God, he heard people’s voices, footsteps, the occasional clip-clop of a horse’s hooves or the creak and rattle of a cart; but the noise always seemed to come from some other street nearby.

  Only once did they meet anyone: a burly, bearded man who looked like trouble, Ryons thought.

  “Ho, there! What’s this?” the burly man said. “Hold up there, you two!”

  Cavall growled, but the man had a cudgel in one hand and didn’t seem at all afraid of the dog. Before Cavall could spring at him, the man of God said something Ryons couldn’t hear, and the burly man dropped the cudgel and reeled backward, bumping heavily into a brick wall. He slid down the wall and collapsed in a heap, and Ryons heard him snoring.

  “What did you do to him?”

  “Nothing. He fell asleep. He will wake up in the morning with a headache. Come, Your Majesty. You must be out of the gate and on your way before sunrise.”

  It being peacetime, Obann’s gates weren’t closed at night; but they were guarded. But the guards at the East Gate just stood staring into the night, and paid no attention at all as Ryons and Cavall followed their guide through the gate.

  Now they were outside the city, and the old man led them on a dirt track down to the river. There he pushed aside some reeds and showed Ryons a little boat resting on the riverbank. He smiled again.

  “The first time you crossed the river, little king, you were riding the great beast to the rescue of your city. This time a little rowboat will have to suffice,” he said. “Get in and I’ll shove you off. You’ll find a sack of provisions and other necessities, a waterskin, and a blanket.”

  Ryons climbed awkwardly into the boat, and Cavall leaped in after him. All the things he would need for his journey were there in a little pile.

  “Put the oars in the locks,” said the man. “You can row a boat, can’t you?”

  “I think I can,” Ryons said. “I’ve never done it before, though.”

  “You’ll do all right this time, Your Majesty.”

  “Why does God want me to go to Lintum Forest? Won’t it make a lot of trouble in the city, when they can’t find me and nobody knows where I am?”

  “The Father of All wishes to magnify His servants and them that love Him,” said the man of God, “at the expense of their enemies, and to demonstrate His pro
vidence. Now go, and trust in God’s protection.”

  With surprising strength the old man pushed the boat into the water, and it kept going as Ryons fumbled with the oars. It wasn’t easy to get them into just the right position. By the time he accomplished it and looked up again, the old man was gone. At least Ryons couldn’t see him in the dark.

  You or I would have found it hard to row across the Imperial River. There was a strong current. You’d get across eventually, but at a point far downstream from the spot that you were trying to reach.

  Ryons found it easy going, and before another hour had gone by, he’d rowed all the way across the great river. “I thought it’d be a lot harder than that,” he said to Cavall. Had he known more about rivers and boats, he would have considered the feat miraculous.