Across the Face of the World (49 page)

Moments later, Perdu heard footsteps coming up the road. Now for it! he thought. The sound was the steady crunch, crunch, crunch of boots on gravel, which to those listening among the trees seemed to herald an army. I thought there were only three, he thought nerv¬ously. Now someone came into view around the bend in the road.

Tall, grey-cloaked and stern of face, hand hovering above sword-hilt in constant wariness, the lead warrior strode down the Westway. The image burned itself in Perdu's mind. For a moment the warrior was hidden by the swirling mist, which then parted to reveal he had been joined by a fellow Bhrudwan. They shortened stride and followed the path down to the swingbridge. The Fenni held his breath as the warriors passed by.

Leith could see the far end of the bridge from his position in the trees. The roar of the water below him masked all other sound, so the Bhrudwans came into view with no warning. He stiffened, and his thoughts began to flow through his mind far too quickly, as though they were a stream in flood. What will happen next? Where are my parents! Have the first rank been discovered?

Perdu watched the first Bhrudwan step on to the bridge. At the same moment the third warrior came into view, driving the captives forward: there was Parlevaag, and the man and woman who must be Hal and Leith's parents. They look exhausted, thought Perdu to himself. I hope they manage to keep out of the way.

Now the two warriors were halfway across the bridge. Where are the captives? Are they still alive? Anxiety for his parents robbed Leith of his fear of battle, so that when Kurr tapped him on the shoulder he jumped up immediately, rusty sword in hand. Kurr, Wira and Leith sprang out of the forest and were at the end of the bridge before the warriors realised what was happening. With a shout they drew their swords and rushed along the bridge. Leith and Wira hacked at the ropes: one, two, then three parted. Together they turned to sever the last rope.

Now the Bhrudwans realised their peril, saw that they would not cross the bridge in time, so turned and ran back in the direc¬tion they had come from. Wira made one last swing with his sword and the rope parted. As the Bhrudwan warriors scrambled towards safety, the bridge under them fell towards the river. A despairing hand sought to grasp an overhanging branch but failed: logs and ropes smashed into the rock of the far bank. The bridge was left hanging on by the ropes at one end.

At the first shout, Farr leapt out of his hiding place in the forest with a cry, followed by the rest of his rank. Immediately the three captives threw themselves sideways into the trees, leaving the lone Bhrudwan to face his four attackers. For a moment nobody moved: then, with a cruel grin spreading across his dark face, the Bhrudwan warrior slowly drew his curved scimitar. He stood there, confident in his own strength, waiting for the courage to drain out of his enemies.

'Enough of this!' Farr hissed. 'You killed my father!' He drew his sword and made for the tall warrior, followed by Perdu, Hal and Stella. In his rage the Vinkullen man seemed to have forgotten the others, and did not think to send his rank against the Bhrudwan as a group. He took a wild swing, crying out in fury; but the warrior avoided him with ease, then answered with a slashing blow that cut Farr's sword arm open. With a cry of pain, Farr dropped his sword. The warrior smiled his easy smile.

How can we do this? Stella wondered, strangely calm now that the time had come. This beast looks like he could take us all on and win. In the midst of the heat and blood, she was for some reason reminded of that day, years ago, when Anoan, the older brother of Druin, had blocked the path to the lake so the little children couldn't go swimming. He had knocked down the few boys who tried to challenge him, but Stella had forced him to give way. How could she ever forget? Suddenly a chill went up her spine and across her scalp, totally unrelated to the drama unfolding in front of her. Drum hates his older brother. Is his interest in me, his treat' ment of me, an attempt to prove that he is stronger than his brother? Am I merely a trophy with which to humiliate Anoan? The malice in her prospective husband frightened her more than the warrior before her. How dare he? Her blood flamed within her. If he were here, standing on this path, 1 would bring him down!

The Bhrudwan stepped towards the elder Storrsen. Hurry, hurry, Stella admonished herself as she turned and ran back towards the bridge. There isn't much time!

Perdu saw Stella run away, but had little time to consider it as he rushed to Farr's aid. The Bhrudwan slashed downwards; Farr rolled away as the blade bit the ground just behind his head. He groped for his sword. Perdu yelled, hoping to distract the Bhrudwan as he sought to deliver the killing blow, but with his left hand the grey-cloaked warrior drew his staff out from the pack on his back and flicked it at the approaching Fenni. The staff smashed into Perdu's sword hand with surprising ferocity, cracking across his knuckles. Now Perdu too groped on the ground for his weapon.

The Bhrudwan warrior stood over the defenceless Farr, who was at his mercy. Stella gathered four suitable rocks from the stony path. She hefted the first and desperately hoped that her hands had not forgotten the two-stone trick her brother had taught her. One, two, she practised her counting as she had been taught all those years ago. The first one doesn't have to be accurate, Stella reminded herself; she had practised and practised this, though she'd not used it since the day she had nearly taken Anoan's eye out.

Now! came a voice into her mind, One, she counted, and threw the first stone as hard as she could. It thudded into the Bhrudwan's shoulder and he spun around with terrible swiftness to confront his attacker. Two, she counted, and let fly with the second - not quite as hard, but with careful aim. The small rock struck the warrior hard on the temple with a sickening crack.

Stella threw her third and fourth stones even before he began to fall. They missed, passing where his head had been an instant before. With a clatter, the warrior's sword and staff struck the path, followed a moment later by the warrior himself.

Farr sprang forward and grabbed the scimitar in his left hand. Stella ran to the fallen figure.

'Do it!' she cried. 'Finish him off before he wakes!' Farr shifted the blade to his right hand, not trusting his left to give a fatal thrust even though it was uninjured and his right hand was not.

Our lives depend on this, he thought. Let the strike be clean! He remembered his father lying dead on the Mjolkbridge road. This is for you!

'No!' Hal said, moving in front of Farr. 'Don't do it!'

Farr snarled as his rage consumed him. 'Get out of my way!'

'This is not for your father!' Hal cried. 'You do this for your¬

self! You want to cut away the pain of a lifetime. Haven't you learned anything in this forest? Isn't it time to let the wounds heal?'

Farr was beyond understanding, and made to strike at Hal.

'Wait!' Perdu shouted. 'Listen! What was the task of our rank? Didn't we have to capture a Bhrudwan alive? Here he is in our hands!'

He walked up to Farr, whose eyes smouldered still. 'Put down the sword. Help me to bind this man. Then let us go and revenge ourselves on the remnants of our enemies.'

Farr began to waver as Perdu's good sense fought with his rage.

'Please,' Hal said. 'I have other things to attend to. Give me the sword!' The cripple held out his twisted right arm.

For a moment no one moved; then, reluctantly, Farr placed the wicked blade in Hal's hand.

Behind them Mahnum and Indrett emerged from the trees, followed by Parlevaag. Farr sank to the ground with his head in his hands.

Tears in her eyes, Indrett went to embrace her son, but he turned away. 'Please,' he said, 'there will be a chance for us later. I have already lost too much time!' Hal turned to Stella. 'We need some water to wash these wounds. Would you go up the path and get some from a stream?'

Stella nodded wordlessly.

Mahnum took rope from Farr's pack and bound the Bhrudwan, who was beginning to stir.

Stella returned with water, to which

Hal added something from his medicine pouch. Then he went over to where the Bhrudwan lay, and began to wash his bleeding temple with a rag soaked in the water.

'What are you doing?' Farr asked, incredulous. 'What about my arm? What of Perdu's hand?

Aren't we more worthy of your atten¬tion?'

Hal turned and fixed the Vinkullen man with an earnest stare. 'Unless I do this, all our journey is in vain. Be still! I will attend to you soon enough.'

The Bhrudwan warrior had regained consciousness and, though dazed, knew he was in the hands of his enemies; yet he showed no fear, and did not struggle against his bonds. Perhaps he did not care about his fate. Perhaps he knew that the face which hovered over him was not going to order his death. The twisted hand that should have been so clumsy ministered to his broken temple, cleaning and putting ointment on the wound. Then the cripple turned to Farr and Perdu, and made ready to salve and bandage the wounds of battle.

All the while Mahnum stood over the fallen warrior with Farr's sword in his hand, unwilling to trust mere rope to hold his tormentor. Yet this is only the Acolyte, the least experienced of the three. What of the others? And where is Leith?

'That turned the tables on them!' Kurr cried in triumph. 'Perhaps now they know the fear we knew on the Roofless Road!'

Beside him Leith pointed. Across the far side of the now-unbridged river the bridge hung uselessly, cut ropes trailing in the water, but on it clung two figures.

'They are still holding on!' Wira shouted, and all three rushed to the edge of the chasm.

One of the Bhrudwan warriors, the higher of the two, clung to a rope with one hand, his other arm hanging by his side, appar¬ently broken. The lower Bhrudwan, however, climbed grimly hand over hand up the rope towards safety.

'What can we do?' Leith asked. 'The others are in danger!'

'Nothing but watch,' Kurr responded.

'No!' Wira cried. 'There must be a way of crossing this river, perhaps further upstream! We can't allow our friends to be over¬whelmed!' And with this he set off into the trees.

'Shall we follow him?'

Kurr didn't answer, instead growling in frustration as he watched the warrior climb slowly up the bridge, which was now a ladder up the sheer side of the gorge.

Half a mile upstream, Wira found a crossing place, where the walls of the gorge lowered far enough for him to scramble down a narrow ravine to the stream bed. His chest and throat burned from his sprint; several times he had come close to falling over roots and branches.

Now he waded the swift-flowing stream and clambered up the far bank. He was desperate to get there in time; he could think only of Stella, unaware of her danger, defenceless against the ruthless warriors who even now had possibly made the top of the cliff. . .

Ahead of him, on the edge of vision, a light shone which only he could see.

Leith and Kurr remained at the east end of the bridge, helplessly watching events unfold on the far bank. Indistinct figures grap¬pled on the path; whether friend or foe Leith could not tell. There was his brother - he would know that shape anywhere. One figure was down; a curved sword was uplifted. Now the sword bearer was down also. What was happening? This helpless watching was worse, far worse, than any fear of battle. Without a word, he turned and ran after Wira.

'Leith! Come back!' Kurr cried, but the crashing of a body through the forest died away and the old farmer was left alone.

Ah well, there is nothing 1 can do anyway, he thought as he strained to see across the gorge.

The figures on the far side of the chasm were blurred in the misty air, but he could clearly see the two Bhrudwans as they tried to climb up the bridge. The upper figure, the one with the broken arm or shoulder, had not made any progress. As Kurr watched, he tried to use his broken arm, but it would not bear his weight. The lower figure hung immediately below him, having climbed quickly and seemingly with no hurt, but his progress was now blocked by his fellow warrior. For a moment both were still - perhaps they are talking together, Kurr guessed

- then the upper figure tried again to climb, but could obviously not manage it. Then, as Kurr watched in disbelief, the lower figure reached up an arm, took hold of a black-booted foot dangling above him, and pulled. The Bhrudwan tried to hold on, but again his fellow pulled at his foot, and he lost his handhold. He floated slowly away from the bridge and fell tumbling to the bottom of the gorge, his body breaking on the rocks below. The remaining Bhrudwan did not waste time looking down, but continued his climb to the top of the cliff.

A fire burned in Wira's leaden frame, and his limbs seemed unwilling to obey him. If only I had taken better care of myself, he thought as he ran through the forest. The drink has robbed me of the strength I should have. In that moment, as he swerved to avoid yet another tree root, he decided that enough was enough: he would forsake the bottle and prepare for marriage. For I will propose to Stella, he told himself, and she will say 'yes' to me if I put my drunkenness aside. He grew light-headed. The bright light in front of his eyes made it difficult to see where he was going. Nevertheless, he fought on. He knew only that his beloved was in danger, that she would be slain if he arrived too late.

The Bhrudwan neared the top of the ladder. Only one rung to go. Now he reached a hand up on to the path and began to haul himself up. From the far side of the gorge, Kurr tried to shout a warning, but the distance and the churning water defeated him. The Bhrudwan heaved his muscled bulk up on to the road. Ahead he could see a group of people surrounding a bound, grey-cloaked figure lying across the road. I wouldn't have expected anything else, he thought.

The young fool deserves death, and I will give it to him. But these Falthans, their deaths will come upon them unexpecu edly also. He took a moment to try once again to draw on his dark magic; but, as had been the case since the moment this audacious ambush had begun, his abilities remained out of reach. It was exactly the same effect as when his Master, the Undying Man, swamped his link to the spirit realm by his mere presence - but that could not be possible. There were no magicians worthy of the name in this backward land. No matter; magic would not be neces¬sary. He melted into the trees on the right of the path, and began to move with inhuman stealth towards his unsuspecting victims, of whom a girl bending over a water-pouch was the closest. He drew his sword. The lust of death rang in his ears as it always did.