The Fugitive Prince (Bell Mountain) (20 page)

“We have heard he hangs bandits.”

“He grants peace to those who seek peace,” Martis said. “There are many Wallekki in his service now, who once were stragglers like you. You should consider this.”

“We shall,” said the robber.

During his service to Lord Reesh, Martis had sojourned many days among the Wallekki, and he knew their ways. He knew that these, having exchanged the words of friendship with him, would be true to him and that they would grant him any favor that he asked of them. A man who didn’t know those words would have been robbed and killed by now.

“My brother,” he said, “I seek two children who are crossing this country alone, probably making for Lintum Forest. If you meet them, tell them you are Martis’ friends and protect them. The king will reward you for it.” These men’s natural impulse would be to sell the children into slavery, but Martis knew that now they wouldn’t.

“Shall we escort them to the forest, Martis? We know the way.”

“If that is where they wish to go, my brother Kwana,” Martis said. “And if you are wise, you will seek King Ryons’ pardon, in my name—and eat like honest men this winter.”

Kwana laughed. “As the old song says, my brother Martis, ‘The life of a robber is a man’s life.’ But I suppose we’ll think better of it when we see the winter coming.”

They parted and Martis rode on. Whenever he encountered a hill, he climbed to the top and surveyed the land in all directions. But it would take a soaring eagle with an eagle’s eyes, he mused, to find the children in this country. Long ago, Lord Reesh used to tell him, these lands were heavily populated. In the Day of Fire, God emptied them: or so said the Commentaries. The First Prester hadn’t believed in God.

But Martis had learned to believe, on the summit of Bell Mountain. Now he said his daily prayer for the children’s safety; and when night fell, he built a roaring fire for his own.

Hlah led his little troop of refugees from Silvertown over the lowest foothills of Bell Mountain. They couldn’t see the mountain for the trees; but at rare places the forest thinned, and there you could look up and see the peak.

Like Jack and Ellayne, Hlah had grown up in sight of Bell Mountain and seen it every day of his life. He knew, as everybody knew, that the cloud that cloaked the mountain’s peak had been there forever, and would be there for all time—until the day the bell tolled and the cloud was blown away, never to return. Abnaks didn’t know the strange, exciting noise was from King Ozias’ bell, placed there ages ago against the day when someone would climb the shrouded peak and sound the bell, and God would hear. Abnaks knew nothing of God, and even less of Scripture. But Hlah now knew.

“The cloud will never return,” said Uwain the reciter. They’d all paused to look up at the mountain. Like everyone else in all the world, when the bell tolled, they’d heard it. Uwain turned to his fellows. “See the sign that God has given you. Have hope!” he said.

“We’ll need it,” answered one of the men. “Why God let the Heathen come and burn our city, and take my farm and everything I owned, is more than I can see. I heard King Ozias’ bell, but it rang no good for me.” And some of the others nodded. Uwain frowned.

Hlah said, “You should have seen the Heathen host that laid siege to Obann. They were as many as the leaves in this forest. And you should have seen the great beast that God sent to scatter them! If you’d seen that, you’d have hope.”

“We’ve seen another miracle,” a woman said, “an Abnak leading us to safety! Who would have ever thought a thing like that could happen?”

At last Ryons and Perkin came to the edge of Lintum Forest. Ryons didn’t know it, but he’d returned to the exact spot from which he’d first come out of the forest a year ago on his way to Obann. Cavall knew and barked for joy; but he didn’t know how to make Ryons understand. It was very hard to make humans understand anything.

Baby, a creature of the plains, didn’t like the forest and his neck feathers stood up uneasily. Angel was invisible in the foliage aloft, but she came down whenever Ryons called her. There was good hunting here, she tried to tell them. Cavall and Baby understood, but not the humans.

“Now we have to find Helki, and he’ll tell me why the Lord wanted me to come back to the forest,” Ryons said. “I do love it here! I missed it, in the city.”

“Your ancestor, King Ozias, was born and raised here,” Perkin said. “It’s natural for you to be happy here. But how do we find Helki? Or will he find us? I have to admit, Your Majesty, that I don’t know my way around a forest.”

“It’s all right. Cavall does!”

It had been more than a year since Ryons left the forest. In all that time, he’d had no news. Everyone in Obann City took it for granted that Helki was putting down the outlaws and making the country safe for honest folk. And so he had, to a degree. The settlement he’d founded at the ancient castle had survived the winter, and now the people there had cleared the land and planted crops. Helki’s rangers patrolled the woods in bands of six. They were expert archers, all of them, and lawless men had learned to fear them. Helki was called the Flail of the Lord, and many of his enemies had surrendered to him. But there were always more to take their place.

Ryons would have been surprised to know that, as he and Perkin spoke, many miles away at the opposite end of the forest, Helki crouched in the middle of a blow down while two dozen men hunted for him all around it, eager to take his scalp.

Helki had a secret path into the heart of the blow down, and another secret path out. It was one of his hiding places, three or four acres of dead wood all jumbled together years ago by the freakish tantrum of a mighty storm. All but the smallest animals would go around it, no matter how far out of their way they had to go. A few bare, white trunks still stood, here and there; all the rest was a vast tangle.

The men who hunted Helki were no ordinary Lintum Forest outlaws. Someone had sent them down from Silvertown, several hundred of them. They were real woodsmen, trappers, who’d grown up in the forests on the skirts of the mountains. They were Obannese, but now they served the Thunder King. They’d come to Lintum Forest for no reason but to murder Helki; this he knew from one he’d captured alive.

Helki smiled to himself as he heard them calling to one another. They were beginning to consider setting fire to the blow down. He had to applaud their skill in following him here. Things would get interesting if they resorted to fire. They wouldn’t be able to control it, once it started. “That man in Silvertown must want me pretty badly,” he thought.

By the calls of blue jays and purple peeps, he knew pretty much where all the men were. They were spread out thin, trying to surround the blow down. “Reckon it’s time I stirred up some excitement,” Helki said to himself. “Only two hours of good sunlight left.”

As silently as the little red-backed salamanders that crept around the leaf mold under all the dead wood, Helki began to creep toward the edge of the blow down. In his garment of sewn-together patches of every color you could salvage from other people’s worn-out clothes, he was almost invisible. He didn’t want his enemies setting fire to the blow down: it was one of his favorite places in the forest. But they were spread out too thin for their own good, and they would pay for it. He allowed himself an hour to get to the edge of the blow down without making a sound. The birds considered him a creature of the forest like themselves and didn’t comment on his movements. Possibly they couldn’t see or hear him.

As he neared his exit from the blow down, Helki sniffed the air. He was in luck: only two men were anywhere near him.

When he emerged from the blow down, they weren’t ready for him, and he gave them no time to get ready. “Helki

the Rod!” he roared; and they had just enough time to hear his voice before his staff descended on their heads and ended their hunting days forever.

“Two for me and none for you, my boys!” he bellowed. “Better get back to the mountains while you can!”

That ought to bring the rest of them running, but he wouldn’t be there when they came. He fled into the greenwood. They’d never catch up to him by nightfall. And tomorrow would see another day’s sport.

Chapter 24

How Jack Stole Noma’s Magic

The second day after Jack and Ellayne joined him, Noma encountered bandits, half a dozen Wallekki on horseback who galloped up and made him halt his wagon. Ellayne noticed he didn’t seem the least bit afraid of them. She was, though. The men looked tired and hungry, and ready for anything.

“Wanamalaki,” Noma said, or something like that. Whatever it meant, the men lowered the points of their swords and spears, and the one with the most feathers in his headdress replied at length. The children didn’t speak Wallekki and had no idea what was being said. Noma wasn’t being given many chances to answer.

But then he held up his hand and said, “Mardar shu!” And the riders all stared wide-eyed at him. They fell silent. He spoke to them calmly, without raising his voice. They kept on staring at him. When he lowered his hand, they put their fingertips to their lips and bowed their heads. Muttering, they backed their horses off, then suddenly turned and galloped away as fast as they could go. Noma watched them, apparently without surprise.

“What did you say to them?” Ellayne wondered. “Those men looked like killers!”

She and Jack had been riding in the back of the cart. The bandits couldn’t have missed seeing them, for the canvas cover had been rolled up on its frame. And yet the Wallekki, many of whom were habitual slave traders, had paid no attention to the children. That was very strange indeed.

“Well, they haven’t killed us, have they?” Noma said. “I just told them we had nothing worth stealing—as they could see for themselves—and that I am an adopted son of a chief in their clan.”

“Are you really?” Jack asked.

Noma laughed. “Why, of course! I used to do a lot of trading in Wallekki lands.” Slaves, probably! Jack thought. “You can tell a Wallekki’s tribe and clan by his headdress. Those men were of the Mount Immr clan. They would know Chief Jahi, my adopted father. And truly, they apologized most sincerely for disturbing me.”

“What if they’d been from another clan?” asked Ellayne.

“Then I’m afraid I might have had to tell them a lie,” Noma said. She looked for a twinkle in his eye, but didn’t see one. “I really don’t like to tell lies, and I hope you children don’t, either. It’s a very bad habit, and the Temple has always taught that lying is a sin.”

“You snake in the grass!” thought Jack. He didn’t say it: just fumed, and kept on fuming until they stopped for tea, and he and Ellayne went off to gather firewood. As soon as they were out of earshot of Noma, he grabbed Ellayne by the elbow.

“Ow!”

“Shh!” He lowered his voice. “I saw something that Noma doesn’t know I saw—that sneaking skunk!”

“Saw what?”

“He had something in his pocket! Something that he took out and hid in his hand as soon as he spotted the bandits coming. I saw him.”

“Well, it must’ve been something awfully tiny,” Ellayne started to say. But something of Jack’s thought was already hatching in her mind. “Something he could hide in the palm of his hand, where we wouldn’t see it … but those Wallekki saw it.”

“You bet they did!” Jack said. “Did you see their faces? They were scared! And maybe what they saw was light coming out of his hand—which we couldn’t see because his hand was facing away from us. But when the Wallekki saw it, they skedaddled. And I’d like to know what he really said to them!”