The Cellar Beneath the Cellar (Bell Mountain)

by Lee Duigon

  “I think they must be coming up from the south,” Corris said. “They’ve got to be coming from somewhere, eh? But why they’ve moved up here, who knows? Maybe something bad, real bad, happened away down south, and the animals had to come north. Nobody knows what happens in the southlands. Nobody goes much farther south than the edge of the forest.”

  “They say something bad’s going to happen here, too,” said one of the men.

  “It already has!” Corris laughed. “Every Heathen fighting man from the mountains to the lakes is going to come this way, and soon. Just be thankful to Latt they’re going to bypass us in Lintum Forest. There ain’t no army on this earth can hold them back.”

  In spite of himself, Jack fell asleep in the briar patch. He woke when the black night gave way to grey predawn, and found himself stiff and sore all over, with his teeth chattering from the cold. For a moment he couldn’t remember what he was doing there; it was as if he’d awakened from an evil dream. But as his eyes took in his surroundings, he realized where he was and that he was all alone. Wytt was nowhere to be seen.

  “Oh, fine!” he muttered. “What do I do now?”

  He could start by crawling out of the briar patch. He emerged into a fog-shrouded grove of ghostly birches, feeling like the only human being left in all the world. For all he knew, he was: God might have taken everyone else, but overlooked him in the briar patch.

  Where could he go? He was no woodsman. Eventually the outlaws would get him, or some fierce animal.

  But then Wytt called out to him from somewhere in the fog.

  “Boy, boy! Be still, be quiet. We are here!”

  Leaves rustled. From out of the fog, out of the underbrush, came Wytt with the Forest Omah following.

  There were more of them than Jack could count. Wytt’s fur was red, but these were grey, brown, with two or three coal-black ones. Their little eyes glittered. Most of them were even smaller than Wytt, but they all carried sharp little sticks. It would be quite easy to be afraid of them, Jack thought. They came silently, without chittering or chirping, and that made them more menacing. But there was nowhere to run, so Jack stood still.

  In the little space in front of the briar patch, there wasn’t room for all of them. Jack couldn’t see them all, but he could sense them: a whole army of them.

  “Omah will save Ellayne and White-face,” Wytt said. “Evil men, we kill. You come, too. We are ready.”

  “Why do they do this for us, Wytt?”

  If the little hairy man had understood a shrug, he would have shrugged. “We do this for you and for Ellayne. This we all know, this we must do. Come, the bad men are sleeping.”

  Jack followed the tiny warrior into the fog, making as little noise as possible. The host of Omah made hardly any noise at all.

  The camp was much closer than he’d thought. The fire had gone out. Everyone was asleep, even the one sentry who should have been awake but had fallen asleep sitting up.

  Jack had only a moment to take it all in. Wytt chirped once, and all the Omah charged the camp.

  The men never had a chance. The Omah hit them like a swarm of bees, a river of rats. They stabbed the men’s faces, necks, bare hands. Sharp sticks pierced sleeping eyes.

  The stricken men screamed. It was terrible: the whole forest was full of their screams. Their bodies thrashed; Omah went flying, tumbled back to their feet, rushed back into the fray. The stronger men struggled to their feet, and those who didn’t fall down again ran screaming into the woods in all directions.

  It was over almost as soon as it started. Two men lay dead, with a third writhing in agony, covered with blood, his eyes stabbed out. A dozen Omah quickly finished him.

  Ellayne and Martis, tied up to prevent escape, were sitting up, wide-eyed, ashen-faced, but unharmed, not a scratch. Jack breathed again. They startled when he burst out of cover.

  “Jack!” Ellayne cried.

  “Did they hurt you?” he said.

  “We’re both unharmed,” Martis said. “But how did you accomplish … this?”

  “Wytt did it. These are the Omah of the forest. He called them, and they came.”

  Wytt would not let them stay there. “Come with us,” was his message, delivered in urgent squeaks and high-pitched barks. “Omah will take you to the big man.”

  “We have to go with him,” Jack told Martis. “I think he knows a safe place for us.”

  They quickly collected their things, plus a few things the robbers left behind: pouches containing food. They unhobbled Ham and Dulayl. Amazingly, the horse and the donkey hadn’t panicked when the Omah attacked.

  “Did you talk to them, Wytt, and tell them not to be afraid?” Jack asked. “Can you make them understand you?”

  “A little. Enough,” Wytt said. “Hurry now!”

  The day was just breaking. The Forest Omah had dispersed, melted into the woods without anyone seeing them go. A couple of the little grey ones stayed behind; they led the way. Others would follow after them and ruin the trail so no enemy could follow it, Wytt said.

  The Omah led them along paths hidden by thick ferns, paths that just barely found a way through otherwise impenetrable sticker bushes. These were paths that animals knew and used, but not men.

  “You came just in time,” Ellayne told Jack. “They were going to sell us to the Heathen. And they scalped that man Budric! I didn’t think there were any Obannese people who would do a thing like that.”

  “Where are we going?” Martis said.

  “To see some big man, Wytt says. Don’t ask me who,” Jack said.

  “Wytt wouldn’t take us anywhere bad,” Ellayne said. “Wytt, you saved us! I love you!”

  She stooped over and held out her arms. Wytt hopped into them, and she picked him up and held him like a cat, and kissed him. He made a rapid clicking sound that meant he was gloriously happy. The grey Omah chattered at them.

  “They want us to keep moving,” Jack said. Ellayne put Wytt down, and they all got going again. She shocked Jack by yanking him close and planting a kiss on his cheek. “I thought I’d never see you again!” she said. “I was glad you got away, though.”

  It was on Jack’s tongue to tell her to leave off the girl-stuff, but he couldn’t get it out. Instead, he felt something he would have described as a warm, strong hand suddenly wrapped around his heart, cherishing him. It made him kiss her, too, right on the cheek. And of course that embarrassed him tremendously and made him blush. He threw a backward glance at Martis to see if the man was laughing at him, but Martis only looked a little sad.

  “Don’t get any funny ideas!” Jack said to Ellayne; and that made her laugh.

  By midmorning they reached their destination, the mouth of a cave in a thickly wooded hillside. A man was waiting for them, someone whom they’d met before.

  “Helki!” Ellayne cried.

  “Helki the Rod!” Jack echoed.

  There he was, a giant of a man in crazy rags that helped him blend into the leaves and shadows, with his deadly staff in his hand and a broad grin on his face.

  “You made good time getting here,” he said. “I’d have come for you, if I’d known you needed me. But I’ve only just this morning heard about it from the little folk.

  “But I reckon there’s a lot more for me to know. You went east with Obst and come back with this fellow from the Temple. That’s twice you’ve been yanked out of Squint-eye’s clutches, friend! Try to avoid going for a third time.

  “Tell me all your tale—no secrets! But first I reckon you’ll want a bite to eat and a good, long drink of water.” He turned back toward the cave. “Peeper-baby!” he bellowed like a bull. “Come on out and meet Daddy Helki’s friends.”

  Out of the cave came the last thing Jack, Ellayne, and Martis would ever have expected to see—a little girl.

  And she carried a horrendous monster in her arms.

  CHAPTER 10

  Jandra Prophesies

  Orth was the best preacher in Obann, in the First Prester�
��s opinion. Even better, he eagerly preached whatever message the First Prester wished him to preach. This morning, in front of the crowd that packed the great chamber of the Temple, he was at the top of his form.

  “I want you all to take a good look across the river today,” he said, the high, curved ceiling of the hall amplifying his voice. “I want you to see the vast, shapeless pile of rubble that used to be the greatest city in the world.

  “There was a Temple there, a much greater Temple than this one. When the Empire fell, a thousand years ago, and the entire city was destroyed, that great Temple was destroyed, too. You can see what’s left of it, right across the river.

  “But a thousand years before that, there was another destruction, of yet another Temple, on the same site as the greater one. This was the First Temple, the heart of the kingdom of Obann. The last king, Ozias, was the last of Obann’s kings to worship there. Rebels drove him into exile; and then the Heathen came.”

  He paused for effect. He had a hard face, an iron-grey fringe of beard with a clean-shaved upper lip. Great lamps on thick gold chains hung over his head, concentrating light on him. From his throne at the right of the preacher’s podium, Lord Reesh looked on him with approval.

  “They came in numbers uncountable,” Orth resumed. “They came like locusts, say the Scriptures: like a flood. They starved the city for a year; no one could get in or out. And then a traitor opened one of the sally ports to them. A handful of invaders entered the city by stealth, overwhelmed the guard at the Commerce Gate, and threw the doors open; and the Heathen host poured into the city. They slew with the sword until the streets were choked with corpses and the gutters ran with blood. They put the city to the torch. How it burned! Nor did they leave off until they had destroyed everything: the whole city had to be rebuilt.

  “Now they are about to come again, in power and might and number greater than the world has ever seen. Their aim is to destroy this city and leave uninhabitable ruins on both sides of the river. That’s why I want you to take a good look at what’s left of the old city. That’s what this city, your city, will look like, if the Heathen have their way. And they are coming—soon!”

  He held the crowd in silence; they waited on his every word.

  “By now you have all heard various people, supposedly imbued with the spirit of prophecy, claim that King Ozias’ bell on Bell Mountain has rung out, proclaiming the imminent destruction of the world. And to be sure, the bell has rung; we all heard it. But very few have understood its message!”

  Orth raised that mighty voice of his. It was like the tolling of an iron bell.

  “Yes, it was a warning—a dire warning from God Himself, which we dare not ignore, on peril of our lives. But how can anyone be so blind as not to see what we are warned against? The danger we’ve been warned against is breathing down our necks! It is nothing less than the assembled nations of the Heathen, come together for our final and complete destruction.

  “And what are the people of Obann, God’s people, to do? Offer our throats to be cut, our cities to be burned? Bow down to Heathen idols?

  “No, no, no! That bell was calling us to war, calling us to go forth and conquer. To put forth all the strength that God can give us, and once and for all, forever, destroy the Heathen and their idols! To drive them out of our land, and then to march beyond the mountains and ruin their cities, burn their idols!

  “If we do not do this, if we do not obey the commandment of God, then that will be the end of us—the end of our world. For has not God commanded us, ‘Ye shall surely destroy the Heathen’? But we have not destroyed them. We have not even tried.

  “Now we have been warned. Ozias’ bell has warned us. This is our last chance, the last time God will call on us to destroy the Heathen. If we do not, the Heathen will destroy us; and this time there will be no one to rebuild the Temple.”

  And that was that: a short speech, but certainly effective, Lord Reesh thought. Orth had written it himself; he’d be a good choice to be the next First Prester. But meanwhile, imitations of his sermon would be preached in every chamber house in Obann.

  We can’t silence all the crazy prophets, Reesh thought, but we can turn their fervor to our own uses.

  Jack flinched, and Ellayne gasped and stepped back when she saw the thing the girl was carrying.

  “Great powers, what is that?” Martis said.

  “It’s horrible! Take it away!” Ellayne cried.

  It hissed at her, just like a snake. It had a scaly lizard face, with a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth and shiny red eyes; but the rest of it was covered with feathers, like a bird: dirty-looking, grey-blue feathers. It had clawed hands on its wings and a long, stiff, feathered tail. If it hadn’t been only the size of a large crow, Ellayne would have thought it was a dragon. But maybe it was—a baby dragon.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Helki said. “I’m burned if I know what it is, but it seems mighty fond of Jandra. She found it yesterday while she was playing in the bushes. It just hopped right into her arms and let itself be petted. Jandra, baby, these are Daddy’s friends. Say hello.”

  “Hello.” She’d be a sweet little girl, Ellayne thought, if it weren’t for that monster she was holding.

  The child looked up at Martis and smiled at him. “Nice man,” she said. Martis looked away. He’d met Jandra on the plain before Helki found her, but she wandered away from him while he slept. Intent on his mission for Lord Reesh, he didn’t try to follow her to protect her.

  “She likes you,” Helki said. Martis cringed. He’d given her food and water, nothing more, and left her behind. It was a miracle she wasn’t dead.

  “Who is she, Helki?” Jack said. “Don’t tell me she’s yours!”

  “Only until I can find a proper home for her. I found her on the plain, wandering around alone. I reckon the Heathen must’ve got her folks, and she escaped somehow. Peeper, these two kids are Jack and Ellayne. I’m sure they’ll be nice to you. Why don’t you put your bird down now, and let him find something to eat?”

  Jandra released the creature. It strutted like a chicken, head bobbing as it walked, glaring at Ellayne. Helki picked up Jandra and invited his guests into the cave, where he fed them on fresh fish he’d caught with his bare hands in a nearby pool and some coarse little cakes he’d made by baking them on a flat stone. Only after they’d filled their bellies did he question them.

  “Where’s Obst?” he said. “Start by telling me that.”

  It took all day to tell their tale. Jack and Ellayne told him everything—Jack’s dreams, their long journey to the summit of Bell Mountain, and their ringing of the bell. What Martis held back from his part of the story was his own affair.

  “I wish you’d told me all that the first time we met,” Helki said. “I’d have gone up the mountain with you. Obst should have trusted me; he’d’ve done better if he had. But then I reckon I wouldn’t have been there to take care of Jandra.”

  “Can you help us get to Obann?” Jack asked.

  “Never been there. It’ll be a pretty good job just to get you through the forest, the way things are. Latt Squint-eye, King of Lintum Forest!” Helki threw back his head and laughed. “I’ll crown him with my rod!”

  Throughout the day Jandra played with Wytt, napped, and cuddled her hideous pet dragon, never venturing more than a few yards beyond the mouth of the cave. She sat on Helki’s lap for a while, then puttered around the cave, humming a tuneless little song. She lay down on a bed of ferns for another nap, and they’d just about forgotten her—until she raised her voice in words that no toddler from the mountains should have known.

  “The Temple is fallen; twice has the Temple fallen; but I will give the throne to Ozias, and my words to all the peoples of the earth.

  “There is a Temple beneath the Temple, and a cellar beneath the cellar. Ih wolbe c’heilet ander richteke-mann, an hehr wol Ih ophelten …” And with that she fell into a sound sleep.

  “What in the world was that?” Ellayne whispere
d.

  “It was a line of Scripture, in the language of the Old Books,” said Martis. “It’s from the prophet Ika: ‘I will be honored by the righteous, and him will I uphold.’ No reciter could have pronounced it better.”

  “But how could she recite Scripture?” Jack said. “How old is she? Two? Three?”

  Helki shook his head. “She’s always coming out with something I don’t understand. If you say it’s a verse from Scripture, that’s more than I know. She talks about some book that’s missing and tells me I’m the Flail of the Lord, whatever that is. The rest of the time, she’s just an ordinary little girl. I wish Obst were here—he might understand it.” He looked at Martis. “Too bad a servant of the Temple can’t explain it to us!”

  Martis spread his palms. “What can I say?” he answered. “Do you know how many thousands of men and women serve the Temple? We aren’t all religious scholars!

  “All I know is that these two children rang the bell on Bell Mountain, and what I suspect is that that changed everything. I don’t know how; but I do know the First Prester, my master, was mortally afraid of it. He sent me out to stop them, and I failed—which is the one thing in my life I don’t regret.”

  “Just get us as close to Obann as you can, Helki,” Jack said. “I know everything is supposed to be ending, but it looks more like something else is beginning. Maybe,” he turned to Ellayne, “you’re right about that, after all.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Obst Among the Heathen

  Living out in the open in a leaky tent, surrounded by enemies, might have been the end of most old men; but not Obst. He felt stronger and healthier than he’d felt in many years.

  He delighted in the company of the slave boy, Ryons, who soaked up friendship as rich soil soaks up rain. He could not have had much friendship in his life so far, Obst thought. Obst told him stories from the Scriptures, and stories of the forest and outlaws and hermits like himself; the poor child lapped it up. He especially liked the stories told of King Ozias as a boy, hiding in the forest from his implacable enemies, protected by his mother until he was old enough to outwit them on his own.