In the Earth Abides the Flame (62 page)

It was time to lay plans, and as his remaining Instruian foot soldier changed the bandage, the Arkhos of Nemohaim called his faithful captain to his side. 'We will have to assume at least one, and probably most, of the northerners are alive,' he said quietly. 'Have you determined whether we can pass this chasm and pursue them?'

'The crack has riven the basin in two, my lord. It continues from here right up to the cliffs behind the lake. There is no way to pass.'

'Yet pass we must,' said the Arkhos. 'There is no going back down to the Vale, at least not for me. How could I pass the steel cable with a hand like this?' He held it up, a pink, oozing mass of flesh and bone.

'My lord, the cable is no more. Both it and the deep cut it spanned were swallowed up in the chasm that lies before us. As we are on this side of it, nothing but a section of broken ground prevents us returning to our horses.' From the tone of his voice it was obvious what counsel he would offer. 'Horsed, we might be able to offer some sort of pursuit. However, you will not be able to sustain a long journey on foot in your weakened condition.'

The Arkhos nodded quietly. 'Perhaps the enemy might yet come to us. If they have lost any of their number, surely they will search the basin for them. All we have to do is to hide ourselves, then take one of the searchers captive. With one in our power, all will be in our power.'

'If we cannot pass the chasm, neither can they, my lord,' the captain reminded his master.

'Though we might perhaps shoot anyone who ventures too close to the chasm. Dunay here is handy with a bow.'

'What good would that do us?' growled the Arkhos, though the thought of such an act, even if only for revenge, caused his blood to sing in his ears. Give them to me! Give them all to me!

'Could your man do it?'

'I have seen him do much better than hit a man-size target at a hundred paces,' came the ready reply.

'Might we be able to wound him only, thereby attracting the others? It is the Arrow-holding boy I want. If I can get him to surrender to me, or if we could shoot him, our trip will not have been in vain.'

'My lord, I readily admit my fear of this boy. I saw him on the day of the flood. The water of the Aleinus dried up at his outstretched arm, and returned to drown my men in response to the same command. He is a magician of some sort, a worker of miracles. Great power is in his arm. You saw how he held the Arrow, my lord, hot though it was, to no hurt.'

'I saw.'

'Then perhaps we would be better to attempt one of the others...'

'We will attempt whoever comes within range of our arrows,' said the Arkhos. 'We will hold them within range by the threat of death. Then we will force this boy-magician to give us the Arrow.'

'We still have the problem of the chasm,' pointed out the Captain of the Guard.

'If we provide him with enough incentive, perhaps the young miracle-worker will deal with that problem himself,' said the Arkhos flatly.

As the darkness paled towards dawn, suffusing the mist with the gentlest of light, the Haufuth began to look about him and take stock of the calamity that had unfolded. He stood on a low shoulder of the eastern Sentinel, on the far side of the chasm from the scree slide. The mountain above him was quieter now, but still shook occasionally. The mist had thinned somewhat. Not enough to see the whole of Joram basin, but enough for him to see his friends.

Directly below him sat Kurr, Te Tuahangata, Prince Wiusago and the Escaignian in a little four-cornered arrangement, talking quietly together as they had been doing for hours now, ever since they returned from their last futile search for Leith. Some distance away, near the edge of sight and as near to the newly opened chasm as she dared, Belladonna stood, a forlorn figure; no doubt trying to discover what might have become of her father. Of Hal and the Bhrudwan he could see nothing: undoubtedly they continued the search long past hope or reason. There was no hope. The Haufuth himself had seen the figure of Leith tumble down the rocky slope into the widening ravine.

'The Sentinels have taken revenge on us,' Phemanderac had said sadly when the worst of the confusion was over and they gathered at the edge of the basin in comparative safety. 'The sacred site of the Arrow was violated, and the wildfire magic hidden in the hills burst forth to protect the Jugom Ark against an unholy touch. The great crack in the earth swallowed the Arrow, taking it back underground.'

'And it has taken Leith too,' the Haufuth said. His heart mourned. 'I saw him fall.'

'I saw someone fall,' ventured the Escaignian. 'But was it Leith?'

'The glow of the Arrow fell with him,' the big man confirmed. 'He is lost.'

'But why? Why?' Phemanderac fretted. 'We did nothing wrong; I'm convinced of it. We were the chosen ones. Why did the Sentinels destroy our quest?

'Perhaps they could not discriminate between friend and foe,' Kurr suggested. His voice was grief-lined, as though the boy meant more to him than he had realised. 'We all heard their whispered threats.'

'I wonder if my father was right,' Belladonna said quietly.

So much sadness here, the Haufuth thought.

'He said the girl was needed. He said the Arkhimm was incomplete. Maybe the mountains might not have rejected us if we had been up here alone, but when the others came, we were all deemed unholy'

'Whatever the explanation, we have lost Leith; and with him the hope of saving Faltha.' A deep depression had settled then on the Haufuth, as the burden of failed leadership began to weigh on him.

'Nevertheless, we will go and look for him,' Hal had said firmly. 'If my brother is to be found, we will find him. Who will come with me?'

So they had searched and searched, stumbling in their weariness and sorrow, wandering back and forth between the chasm and the eastern edge of the basin until it seemed the night could not possibly last any longer. In his despair the Haufuth was reminded of the times during his childhood when he had mislaid something precious, usually something of his father's, and of the sick feeling nestled in the pit of his stomach as he searched in increasing futility for the object in question. He remembered the bargains he made with the Most High, what he promised to do for him if the object was found. Then, just as it did now, his anxiety had evolved into frustration and finally despair when he realised the god was against him.

Then, as now, he had not found what he looked for. But now at least he made no bargains.

Sighing at his foolish recollections, the big headman made his way down to the others.

The Captain of the Guard barely had time to hunker down on his haunches and Dunav to fit an arrow to his bow, when the figure in the little alcove across the chasm began to move. At first he thought it was wounded, but after a few moments he realised the figure stretched as though it had endured an uncomfortable night.

'My lord!' he called urgently.

Instantly the Arkhos woke, and manoeuvred himself to his captain's side. If he was in pain from the dreadful wound to his hand, he did not show it. A truly remarkable man, thought the Captain of the Guard, admiration momentarily overcoming his distaste for the man.

'He is alive,' he whispered, pointing across the ravine. A moment later he added: 'It is one of the northerners.'

'It is the boy himself,' said the Arkhos, wonderment in his voice. So close! Delivered into my hands. The fates honour the rightness of my cause. Deep within him his black voice cried out for blood. Kill him! He's the one who humiliated you!

'I will not,' he said clearly in answer, unaware that he had spoken aloud. 'I will have him alive.'

Leith stretched again, trying unsuccessfully to remove the knotted pain in his muscles. Beside him die Arrow lay quietly. He grasped it without fear, and the Jugom Ark flickered redly in his hand. Live magic, he thought. Or not magic, but something more holy. The touch of the Most High remains in the Arrow;. With such a touch, what is it capable of? Slowly he unwound himself, rising to his feet.

'I have him at the tip of my arrow,' Dunay reported flatly. 'Shall I shoot?'

'Await the order of your captain,' the Arkhos of Nemohaim replied.

His first task would be to find the others, Leith knew. If any of the others had survived the night. I would exchange the Arrow and all the power it holds for their lives, he thought, directing it almost as a plea to the Owner of the Arrow. As if in answer, he realised such an exchange was exactly the sort of thing the Most High might require of him, at the right time, when the exchange would ransom Faltha, not his friends. I've seen Faltha, Leith thought morosely. I'd rather have my friends.

Need you ask?

Yes, then. Yes. I would surrender the Arrow and the power it promises in order to see my brother alive.

The voice left him then, as though satisfied that something significant had taken place. Leith yawned, reached inward for courage to face what he must face - even if it included discovering he alone survived the night - and made to begin his search.

'Captain!' Dunay whispered urgently. 'I can shoot to wound.'

'Hold your arrow,' the Arkhos said tightly. Then, immersed in the deliberate irony of his words, he stood, making himself visible to the figure on the opposite side of the chasm. 1

couldn't hold it. Let's see if you can.

'Don't move!' a voice cried across the ravine. Leith stiffened at the sound of the Arkhos's hated voice. 'We have arrows trained on you,' it continued, 'and we will not hesitate to use them if you do not do exactly as I say. Nod if you understand.'

Without turning to face his tormentor, Leith could see the triumphant face in his mind, its pig-eyes glistening with evil delight. Even yesterday I would have been vulnerable to this, he thought. But not today. Not after he had picked up the Jugom Ark. After that risk, that terror, and with the awe in which he held the Arrow of Yoke, the threat of an ordinary arrow did not seem to touch him the way he would have expected. All this flickered past his mind in a moment, leaving him free to nod deliberately. He still had a task to complete, after all.

The Arkhos stepped forward eagerly, his arm outstretched. 'Come,' he called to Leith. 'Come, grandson of Modahl. Come across the gulf to us. Join us! Or, if you cannot, throw the Arrow over to us.'

Leith sensed an offer in those words, an invitation to betrayal. He turned around and faced the huge, obese man.

'The gulf between us is too wide. I could never join you.' His voice was sharp and clear, his words carried the recognition of their double meaning.

'My lord,' whispered the Captain of the Guard, 'someone comes.' He pointed across the chasm where, in the mist above and behind the Firanese boy, shadowy figures moved.

'Lie flat on the ground,' the Arkhos ordered Leith. 'Any movement will attract the attention of my archers. Do it!' The Arkhos waited just long enough to see Leith obey his word, then he, too, took shelter. Underneath him the ground rumbled, moving slightly.

Down to where they could see the edge of the chasm came Kurr and Phemanderac, looking for any sign of their friend and companion and the Arrow he bore, determined to search even the depths of the ravine if they could. The old farmer held on to the unravelling threads of his emotions, his whole life, as he looked down into the black wound below them. Tears blurred his vision throughout the morning's search, tears Kurr thought he would never shed again after the death of Tinei his wife and heart's-love, but Leith's loss brought his own sorrow to the surface, and with it a burgeoning despair. It had seemed so much a part of his destiny, his travelling to Firanes so many years ago, meeting and being trained by Kroptur, the only Watcher of the Seventh Rank alive in Faltha. Then being on hand when the events leading to the revelation of the Right Hand of the Most High began, having a part in those events, then discovering he himself was a finger of God, one of the Five of the Hand. One of the Arkhimm. It was the culmination of his life's work. Even Tinei's death, which freed him to accompany the others west and south to Instruere and beyond, was necessary, sorrowful though it had been. Everything had been given meaning by the Jugom Ark. And now that it was lost, along with the only one who could hold it, the fragile structures of his recent beliefs had come tumbling down. He was on his own again in a raw and unreasoning world, where destinies evaporated and life had no meaning, and nothing and no one heard their prayers, and Tinei had died in vain.

The rock under his feet shook as the mountains above them stirred, as though offering their own answer to his mood. The faintest of whispers rippled across the Joram. A threat, a warning, the words indistinct. Kurr felt weak at the knees, as he had done every time since the Sentinels began to shake, taking revenge for the desecration of their sacred valley. In a moment the ground stopped moving. He went to take another step, then a great roaring rose from the depths of the earth. For a moment everything was held in some sort of stasis, while the world about them consisted only of the rock-wrenching sound. Kurr and Phemanderac clung to each other without realising it. Then the earth heaved and buckled, throwing them both to the ground.

And it heaved again, and again, and the rocks crumbled under their prone bodies. All thought of searching for anyone left them. Terror-filled, they sought only to escape the quaking earth all around them, as it became clear the Sentinels had not finished with them yet. They had to flee, yet they could not even rise. The roaring and the shaking merged until sound and movement became as one, battering them as they lay.

As the basin pitched and spun around him, Leith could do nothing but grab hold of the sharp rock edges of the shallow depression he had slept in. He flattened himself against the rock, holding on for his life, buffeted and bruised, sobbing with fright, unable to take the chance to escape amidst the confusion of his enemies. Even in this extremity he refused to let go of the Arrow, though it meant he risked being pitched into the chasm.