Bell Mountain (The Bell Mountain Series) (13 page)

“I wonder if there’s something wrong with him,” Ellayne said.

Jack did an odd thing then. He picked up the hermit’s axe and tossed it out the window. Obst didn’t seem to notice.

“What’d you do that for?”

“I wish I had some rope,” Jack said. “I’d tie him up. I think he might be about to go mad.”

“Well, then—maybe we’d better leave before he does.”

At that moment Wytt jumped onto the window ledge where the axe had just gone out. He startled the children, making them flinch. He stood there, looking in, and chattered loudly at them. Obst heard that. He turned on his stool to see him, stared at Wytt and sighed.

“
And the hairy ones shall inherit all those cities
,” he recited. Rising, he went to the hearth and got a ladleful of stew and held it out toward Wytt, making squirrel noises at him. Wytt hopped onto the floor, boldly approaching the hermit. Obst lowered the ladle. Wytt dipped his fingers into the stew and licked them. Obst stood still so he could eat, and turned to smile at Jack. It wasn’t a mad smile at all.

“So you’ve made a friend, eh? One of the Omah,” he said. “Very, very good! I wish you’d told me—although I might not have believed you.”

“I was coming to it,” Jack said. “But then you drifted off and started talking to yourself in Scripture. You weren’t listening to anything we said.”

“We thought something bad might’ve happened to you,” Ellayne said.

“Not bad,” Obst answered. Wytt went on eating stew. “Sometimes I’ll be praying or meditating in the morning, and the next thing I know, night has fallen, and I’m stiff and hungry. It’s something God does, when you’re close to Him.”

Wytt finished his meal. Obst straightened his back and stretched, and Wytt hopped over to sit on Ellayne’s lap.

“Just so you understand me,” Obst said, “I have a confession to make to you.

“It was in my heart to slay you—to stop you from climbing the mountain and ringing the bell. I, who have sought God all my life, was afraid. I was desperately afraid. All my years of prayer and study, and obedience—they were as nothing. All swallowed up in fear! And that was when I stopped hearing you.”

Ellayne’s heart did a flutter, and she saw Jack glance at the corner where the axe had rested.

Obst held up a hand. “I’m not telling you this to scare you!” he said. “God took away my fear. I couldn’t hear you, couldn’t see you, because God took me away for a little time and changed my heart. And now I understand what He wishes me to do.

“If you’ll have me, I’ll come with you. The forest is my home; I’ll be a good guide. I’ll help you every step of the way—even to the top of the mountain, if we get that far, as I believe you will, whether I do or not.”

Ellayne knew Jack had the big knife under the blanket he was sitting on. He kept his right hand very close to it.

“And what happens to us if you change your mind again?” he said.

“If I were planning to harm you, I wouldn’t put you on your guard against me, would I?” Obst said. “I think we ought to leave tomorrow and stay within the forest all the way to the skirts of Bell Mountain. We won’t have to spend much time in open country. With me to guide you, and decent weather, we can be there in two or three weeks. But maybe you ought to discuss it between yourselves. I’ll go out and get us some fresh water from the spring.”

He took up a big clay jar and went out the door, leaving it ajar.

“Let’s get out of here before he comes back,” Jack said.

“But Jack—he knows the way.”

“He’s crazy.”

He started gathering up their things, and Ellayne had to help him. They made fast work of it, loaded the donkey, and led him off through the woods, trying to find the way back to the plain.

But they couldn’t find it. Jack thought he knew how to find his way around in the woods because he played in the woods at home in Ninneburky. Now he realized that experience didn’t count. Those were only little wooded patches, after all: walk ten minutes in any direction, and you were out.

He tried to lead the way, but he didn’t remember anything about the paths they’d followed to get to Obst’s cabin or the trees they’d passed. Everything looked different in the afternoon, and it was still raining, too.

“This is awful!” Ellayne cried. “Where are we going?”

“Away from Obst, as far as we can,” Jack said. At least it was true.

They were on a path and had to follow wherever it led. Sometimes it narrowed, and they were brushed by rain-soaked underbrush. Their clothes got soggy. The donkey came along quietly enough, and Wytt raced ahead of them, occasionally whistling.

Then, suddenly, the donkey dug his hooves in, and Jack had a fall. He kept his hold on the lead and scrambled back up.

The poor little ass had his ears laid back and the whites of his eyes showing and his teeth. Jack felt his own hair stand on end. Ellayne clung to the donkey’s pack.

“Steady, boy, steady!” Jack tried to soothe the donkey. If he really did bolt, Jack doubted they could hold him. And if he ran away with all their things …

The donkey drew back his lips and groaned.

Ahead of them, a patch of tall ferns waved back and forth, and they heard footfalls.

The ferns parted, and out came something that froze Jack’s mind.

It was an animal, a big one, much, much bigger than a man, bigger even than a horse, though not so tall. It was brown, mostly, with a long, straight tail of a lighter shade of brown, and vivid black and white stripes up and down its flanks. Its head was something like the head of a dog with rounded ears. But it couldn’t possibly be a dog because of what it carried in its jaws—the head, neck, shoulder, and foreleg of a knuckle-bear, with the long leg and curved claws dragging on the ground. The huge trophy was held in those jaws as easily as the carcass of a pheasant in the jaws of a big hunting dog. How wide those jaws gaped to hold it! The knuckle-bear’s heavy, horse-like head lolled, but didn’t touch the ground.

The beast paused for a moment to study them with a pair of yellow eyes, then crossed the path and disappeared into the high ferns on the other side. Jack and Ellayne waited for a long time in the rain, but it didn’t come back.

It was Ellayne who found her voice first, and she got Jack’s attention by hitting him on the shoulder with her fist.

“I don’t care how crazy Obst is!” she said. “We’ve got to go back. We’re soaking wet, it’ll be night soon, and if you think we ought to stay out here all night, you’re crazier than he is!”

Jack fended off another blow. “All right, you’re right—stop hitting me!” he said. “We’ll turn right around and go back.”

The donkey trembled, huffing and puffing; but he didn’t resist when they turned him, and didn’t at all mind going back. He was an awfully good donkey, Jack thought, and petted his wet, furry neck. Van’s ox would’ve just bolted and never come back.

“Faster, Jack!” Ellayne said.

“I’m going as fast as I can.”

He didn’t know if they could find their way back to Obst’s cabin. If they came to a fork in the path, he wouldn’t know which way to go.

They didn’t talk, but put all their efforts into going as fast as they dared. With the trees overhead coming into leaf, and the rain coming down, and the sky completely overcast, Jack had no idea how much time they had before night fell.

“We’ll be lucky if we don’t get sick,” Ellayne said.

Up ahead, Wytt uttered a series of sharp little barks and piercing whistles. A moment later they saw him with the hermit following after. Obst wore a kind of cloak made of straw and a fur cap on his head.

“Ah—there you are,” he said.

Ellayne ran a few steps toward him, but stopped short. “Master Obst, we’re sorry we ran away. We were afraid of you,” she said.

“It’s all right,” he said.

“We saw a horrible animal!”

“You’d better come back with me and get warm,” the hermit said. He smiled, looking better when he smiled. “In truth, you didn’t get very far. And you’re safe.” He looked at Jack. “Are you ready to come back to my house?”

Jack felt like he’d lost a fight. He nodded. “I reckon we are,” he said.

“I have a kind of tea made from blackberry leaves,” Obst said. “It’ll do you good. And you need to sit by the fire. Come.”

He led them up the path. Jack wished they didn’t have to go with him, but they had no choice.

Having ridden through the rain all day, the next morning found Martis not far from Lintum Forest. Once he reached it, he could begin his hunt for the missing children.

But he turned aside that morning to investigate the behavior of some birds—buzzards, he thought—descending on something that lay out of his sight to the east. Anything sizeable that died on the plain, he thought, might turn out to be one or both of the children. In that case his journey would be over.

As he expected, he found buzzards and crows feeding on a carcass. There was another bird, too, as big as a stork, if not bigger, tearing at the corpse with a heavy hooked beak that reminded Martis of a turtle’s jaws. This bird glared at him as he rode up, then turned and ran off at a speed any horse would be hard put to match.

Martis whooped and waved his hat, driving off the crows and buzzards. Now he could see what they’d been picking at.

It was all that was left of a man, and not much: no face, no hands. But from the condition of the dead man’s clothes, he could not have been lying there for more than a few days. Scavengers had begun to tear away the clothing, but hadn’t finished.

The smell made Martis’ horse fidgety. He kept the animal under control.

He wondered what there was out here that could kill a man. He’d seen no dangerous animals. When a man lay dead and unburied, the reason usually was another man; but Martis hadn’t seen another human being since leaving Ninneburky. There were outlaws in the forest, but what would bring them out onto the plain?

“Easy, there—easy,” Martis whispered to his horse, as he dismounted. Holding the reins, he looked for tracks. What with all the rain yesterday and the plethora of bird prints, he couldn’t find any.

There were clerics who would have at least blessed the corpse before moving on, but Martis wasn’t one of them. He’d been with Lord Reesh too long to believe in blessings.

He rode only a little farther to the south when two men in buckskin stepped out from behind a stand of birches.

“Stop right there, you!”

The one held up his arms. The other carried a bow with an arrow on the string. He wasn’t ready to shoot, and that was his undoing.

Martis plucked a sharp skewer from his cloak, and before the other man could pull his bowstring, the skewer thunked into his chest. He gave a loud cry, dropped his weapons, fumbled at the skewer without being able to get hold of it, and then pitched forward onto his face. The second man stared at him. He had a knife in one hand and a cudgel in the other, but seemed to have forgotten them for the moment.

“Drop your weapons and stand still,” Martis said, “or I’ll ride you down and bash out your brains.” Under his cloak he had a mace hooked to his belt. It had an iron head with four sharp flanges, and now Martis brandished it in his hand. The man in buckskin took one look at it and obeyed.

“That makes two bodies lying dead on this uninhabited ground,” Martis said. “I suppose you and your friend murdered the other fellow whom I found about a mile north of here. Robbed him, did you? As no doubt you hoped to rob me.”

“Burn you—no!” the man cried, shaking his head. “That other fellow was a friend of ours, Hesket the Tinker. We don’t know who killed him. But who are you, who comes riding a horse out here where no one ever rides? Hesket had a donkey, but whoever killed him took it.”

Martis twitched his cloak aside to show the red and white braid on his shoulder. He seldom wore it, but he thought it might be useful to him in this mission.

“As you can see,” he said, “I’m in the service of the Temple. I’ve come a long way, and I’m not in a good mood, so you’d be wise to try to please me. First tell me your names, and what you and your friend are doing here.”

“Bless you, elder brother, we’re thieves, my partner and I. That’s Osrhy, who you’ve killed. Thieves we are, but no murderers. My name’s Oolf.

“As for our being out here, well, our friend Hesket was to meet us, and he didn’t turn up, so we went out to look for him in case he was hurt or something. We know the way he always goes, so we went out to find him. And find him we did, but too late to do him any good. When we saw you coming—not knowing you were from the Temple—we thought we’d try for your horse. I confess we meant to steal him from you. We wouldn’t, if we knew you were from the Temple. And that’s the truth, elder!”

Martis believed him, although he was a little surprised to find so much reverence for the Temple in a country that didn’t have a chamber house, let alone a prester. He must remember to tell Reesh. But to move on to more important matters:

“Answer truthfully, Oolf,” he said. “Have you seen or heard anything of two children traveling in this country? They would have come down from the north and crossed the plains.”

“Children, elder?” The thief seemed genuinely puzzled. “Nay, I’ve not seen any children round these parts, traveling or otherwise. It’d be a very remarkable thing to see children around here, elder.”

“Who do you think killed the tinker?”

“Bless me, sir, I don’t know. There wasn’t anyone I knew but liked Hesket and bartered with him. Nor do I reckon he’d be an easy man to kill, either. He was a very cautious sort of man and full of tricks.”

“You’re sure you’ve heard nothing of the two children?”

“Oh, very sure indeed!” Oolf said. Martis decided the thief was scared enough to be telling the truth.

“I’m a stranger in these parts, so perhaps you could advise me,” Martis said. “If you were looking for two children who’d crossed the plains, but you weren’t sure exactly where they’d crossed, where do you think they’d be most likely to be seen by people? If they came to the forest, say, and then turned east. Think carefully. I very much want to find them.”

Oolf was beginning to think that he’d neither be killed nor sold into slavery if he answered all the questions honestly. That was just what Martis wanted him to think.