The Right Hand of God (7 page)

First Farr, then Perdu, came to find them. The two men staggered out of the smoke and ruin of the street. Black smoke filled the air, billowing out from the shattered windows of warehouses and tenements set on fire by shrapnel. People struggled to their feet, looking for friends in the choking gloom, or tried to make their way somewhere, anywhere but here. A few prone figures made no movement. Indrett glanced to her left. Close by, at the end of the street which she now recognised as the south end of the Vitulian Way, lay the wreckage of the Struere Gate.

A cold thought stabbed through her mind. Is this the beginning of the Bhrndwan assault?

As she watched, half-expecting the armies of the Destroyer to come howling through the gate, a lone figure stepped into the gap, framed by chaos. The figure raised an arm. Something flared brightly in his hand, piercing the gloom. Indrett staggered forward a few feet, careless of the danger from further explosions. As the. smoke cleared, thinned by a fresh wind blowing through the open gate and by the light that pulsed like a heartbeat from the flame above the figure's head, she knew; and the tears began to flow. Indrett was joined by her husband, and together they called his name.

'Kurr! Haufuth! Over here!' The old farmer heard the shouts, but too much noise, too much movement all at once made it difficult for the voice to register. Around him men and women struggled to calm frightened animals and children,

or dodge the occasional red-hot missile that fell from the enveloping darkness descending on them. Kurr hung on grimly to the reins of the lead camel, while at the same time trying to see through the smoke to ascertain whether all the travellers were unhurt, and wondering what had just happened to the Great City. Could this be the Bhrudwan army?

Then a figure materialised out of the smoke. Astonishingly, beyond all joy or hope, like a figure from a dream, the boy Leith stood before them. Mahnum's boy, grinning from ear to ear, with the Jugom Ark flaring brightly in his hand. He was almost unrecognisable in outlandishly foreign clothing, and there seemed to be a broad cut across his cheek and blood smeared across his face, which healed and disappeared even as he watched. The boy didn't seem to realise it had happened, and continued to grin widely at the old man.

'Took your time, didn't you, boy?' Kurr growled, trying to keep an answering smile from growing on his own face. 'Where did you get to? Never mind for now: I see you still have that pretty arrow thing. Well, I suppose we'd better have a think about what to do with it. Did that magician come with you?'

'I did,' said a stocky figure stepping up on to the road beside Leith. But what else he might have said was lost as Belladonna threw herself into his arms, crying inarticulate words of delight.

Now the remainder of the travellers gathered around, fractious animals forgotten in the joy of the unexpected reunion. Leith found his hand shaken and his back slapped, and though his friends were reluctant to embrace him, perhaps for fear of the bright arrow he carried, the boy from Loulea found himself weeping for sheer happiness. He was even able to look Hal in the eye and tell him sincerely that he was pleased to see him again. Most startling of all was seeing the Arkhos of Nemohaim standing at the back of the group, obviously eyeing the Jugom Ark with a mixture of covetousness and nervousness. He wanted to ask his friends what had happened, how this man came to be standing with them, but there were more immediate things he needed to do.

'So what happens now?' the Haufuth inquired of them all. As one, the travellers turned to Leith - who was already walking across the bridge towards Instruere.

'My parents are in there,' he called back over his shoulder. 'They are why we started on this adventure in the first place. I'm not doing anything else until I find them.'

He picked his way across the bridge, stepping over debris from the City and ignoring the soldiers who tried to accost him but who drew back when they saw what he carried. Kurr and the others looked on as Leith walked right through a sheet of flame without seeming to notice.

As they tried to keep up with him, they were forced to hug the railing on the far side of the bridge to avoid a place where the timber roadway had caught fire. They were still some distance behind when he stood, framed in the wreckage of the Struere Gate, and raised the Jugom Ark aloft.

He saw them as the smoke parted momentarily, then heard them call his name. He felt no surprise that of all the places they might have been, his companions were here to see him enter the City in triumph. Then he saw his parents, and all pretence of power, all confusion over what was happening to him, all his fears about what the future might bring were forgotten in an instant as he ran to his mother and father and their deep, enfolding embrace.

The Jugom Ark flickered

quietly, unregarded in his hand, as the man and the woman were reunited with their son.

Deorc strode purposefully into his room, slammed the door shut behind him and took a key from his desk. Stella knew that key, and she took a deep breath to keep control of the fear that rose up within her.

'Time to inspect the progress of the battle, my queen,' the hateful man said as he undid her chains. She whimpered a little as feeling returned to her arms. Though Deorc did not seem particularly aware of her, preoccupied as he was with the conflict he had fomented, Stella did not attack him or try to escape. She remembered what he had done when she first tried, and kept still.

'Up to the tower, my queen!' he cried, almost gaily. She was to be married to the Destroyer, he told her - not quite truthfully, she thought, as she understood the Destroyer's words from the blue fire - so she would be Deorc's queen. But he had all the power, and he delighted in taking every opportunity to drive despair into her heart.

Pushing her ahead of him, Deorc and Stella made their way to the highest room in the tower above the House of Worship. They met a few people in the corridors, but so thoroughly had Deorc cowed those who worked there that none remarked on the bedraggled girl accompanying the dapper Head of the Council. Indeed, none gave any sign that there was anything amiss. Stella thought she recognised one man she saw as a member of the Council of Faltha. She couldn't remember his name, but dragged at the memory until she retrieved it, taking any chance to keep her mind working, focusing on anything but her predicament. The Arkhos of Firanes, that's who he was. Firanes! That's where I'm from!

He dragged her to a window, one of four quartering the circular room at the top of the tower.

'Gaze on the fruit of my master's plan!' he boasted. 'Look there!' He pointed out over the City, towards the south-west, where a vast plume of smoke hung. 'Escaigne, the sworn enemy of wicked, debauched Instruere, does his work! They have set fire to the Granaries, believing it would draw the Guard away from the heart of the City, leaving the Council vulnerable. It was a good plan! The only problem is that it was my plan! Ah, listen, my sweet. Can you not hear?' Against her wishes she heard faint cries and the sound of explosions. 'That is the sound of Escaignians and the Instruian Guard killing each other. I play them both like stringed instruments, one coun-terpointing the other, sending just enough reinforcements from The Pinion to keep the battle even and ensure the greatest number of deaths on both sides. See how I weaken the City, thus fulfilling my master's commands!'

Stella turned her head away, her mind's eye filling with imagined scenes of battle in which people died, people she knew from the market and the Ecclesia. Because of this man, the one she would have wed. His hand snaked out, grasping her jaw in a harsh grip, turning her head back to the window.

'Don't make me angry, my queen,' Deorc said from between clenched teeth. 'I have practised some new tricks which I long to show you. Is that what you want?' She shook her head, stomach icy with fear.

'Good. Since you desire so much to watch the destruction of Instruere, I will allow you to remain up here all afternoon. Keep a close watch, my queen. I shall ask you questions about it later. You wouldn't want to give me any wrong answers.' His level voice was more of a threat than any shout might have been.

'Now wait here until I bring back your jewellery.' He laughed his dry laugh and turned on his heel, as though grinding something in to the floor.

As soon as the door closed, Stella moved into a series of exercises. She needed the defiance, the self-assertion, whatever the risk, though she kept a careful ear for his footfall on the stone stairs. When he returned she acquiesced, as she always did since those terrifying first few days, not resisting as he chained her to a single bolt high on the wall, facing the south and east windows.

'I'll make sure you have plenty to look at,' Deorc promised her. 'And tonight, if you're good, I'll leave you here to watch the death of the Ecclesia.'

Stella tried to keep her renewed fear from showing on her face, but she must not have entirely succeeded, for the brute drew close and leered at her, his foul breath hot on her cheek. 'Oh, I neglected to inform you. I've invited the Ecclesia to join my party. We can't have a battle without allowing the fanatics to take part, now can we?'

The girl said nothing, but clearly Deorc enjoyed hurting her. 'Your friends will be invited too, don't worry. If you're lucky, you might just see the heroic dreams of your northerner friends end at the tip of a blade right below this tower. And if all goes well, I might let you be the one to tell our master of His great victory - and mine, of course.' He sneered at her, then left the room. Stella heard the key turn in the door. When she was sure he had truly gone, she hung her head and wept bitterly.

'What is happening here?'

Leith's question spoke for them all. They had no time to tell each other their stories. Still the explosions continued

somewhere behind them in the Granaries district, not as violent as those that brought destruction to the Struere Gate, but threatening nonetheless. All around them buildings burned, with one or two of those ahead starting to smoke, and there was a very real possibility they might not escape this place if they remained much longer. Already they stood alone on the street, apart from a few unclaimed bodies.

'Somebody fired the Granaries,' Mahnum told them. 'Started at dawn. We were out on the streets looking for Stella - it's a tale we will tell when we can—'

'Stella is missing?' The Haufuth moved to the front of the group. He turned his head this way and that as though he might see her somewhere on the street.

'As I said, it is a tale we will relate when we can. For now, let's go back to our lodgings, if we are able, if they're not on fire as well.'

'Who started the fire?' This from the Captain of the Guard as they began to walk hurriedly along the Vitulian Way, the Struere Gate behind them.

And who are you to ask?' Mahnum retorted.

'Now who wants to ask questions?' the Haufuth said gently. 'The man's question is a fair one.

He serves this City loyally, no matter how evil his master might be, and might be able to do something to save it. So who did start the fire?'

'The general belief among those helping put out the Granary fires is that it must be Escaigne.

They've committed similar acts before, apparently, but nothing on this scale.' The grim captain nodded, as if the information confirmed his own guess.

Indrett added: 'A few of the locals I spoke to tell of seeing strangely-clad men and women, and even some children, grappling with the guards. This likely convinced them the Escaignians are involved.'

Farr spoke up. 'I have a question. What is he doing here?' The mountain man indicated the Arkhos of Nemohaim, who walked among them without apology. 'More to the point, why is he still alive? I have the will and the skill to change that, if no one else has the stomach for it.'

He put a hand on his sword hilt.

'There is much to explain,' Hal put in. 'He gave us aid on the journey north, and we agreed to respect each other for the time being. We have a bargain to honour, and until the man proves unfaithful he may remain with us.'

'Are you collecting enemies like stray dogs?' Farr asked the cripple with a sneer in his voice.

'Such dogs turn on their masters when hungry. I, for one, do not want to make a meal for them!'

'We would have made a meal for a band of robbers, were it not for Achtal,' Kurr responded sharply. 'We would not have escaped from the Deep Desert if he had not rescued us. Don't be too quick to condemn others. Perhaps your brother might still be with us if those who knew him best had been more tolerant.'

'You have no right!' Farr cried, his anger blazing hot. 'You know nothing!'

'Enough!' The Haufuth stood between them. 'I thought you two had resolved your differences.

Can't this wait until we're somewhere safe?'

The two antagonists glared at each other and lapsed into silence. For some time the group walked briskly northwards, along the road. Clear sky opened up above them.

'So how do we stop the burning?' Leith asked eventually, glancing back behind him. 'Surely that is the most important question?'

'That, and then to decide what we do about the thing

you carry in your hand,' Phemanderac stated firmly. 'We could spend our time battling the flames, or the Escaignians who started them, but surely we have forgotten our purpose? The Arkhimm has succeeded! We have reclaimed the Jugom Ark and brought it to the heart of Faltha! Now all we need to do—'

'—Is what?' the Haufuth finished for him. 'So we have an arrow that burns people's hands, all except his.' Involuntarily he lifted his own hand and placed it under his armpit, as though sheltering it from pain. 'It was never clear to me how this talisman would suddenly make everyone do as we tell them to.'

Geinor spoke, throat working, his thin voice barely under control. 'How can you doubt? Are you not a true Falthan? This is the Jugom Ark, the Arrow given to unite all true Falthans against the Destroyer, as spoken by the Most High Himself and relayed to us by Bewray of Nemohaim. I can testify personally to its efficacy. My hand was burned, and was instantly healed!'