The Thunder King (Bell Mountain) (29 page)

It was a day like any other. There was no shortage of food in the city yet, and the people were content. Lord Gwyll kept the fire-fighting teams in readiness, although they’d had nothing to do for weeks. Shops were open, tradesmen plied their trades, bakers baked, and doctors treated the sick. Cart traffic was down because there were no new goods coming into the city. But one street over from the Temple, at least one household was celebrating a wedding.

Many verses of Scripture spoke to such times, but Reesh cared not to meditate on any of them. “The last day,” he thought; tomorrow the sun would look upon a burning ruin. “A day like any other for a proud city, and an ancient one.” But even the city was not too great a price to pay for the preservation of the Temple.

The end of this day’s march would bring King Ryons’ army to the hills overlooking the city. The chieftains marched the men at a steady pace, careful not to tire them in case there should be fighting. But the scouts kept saying there was little chance of that.

“Nothing’s changed,” Chagadai said. “The whole host is hunkered around the city, waiting. They know we’re here, but they don’t care. They have no fear of us.”

“Where is our king?” cried Zekelesh. “The prophet said we’d see him again.” But no one could answer that question.

By noontime Shaffur had his Wallekki cavalry posted just behind the hills west of the city, with Attakotts on the flanks to skirmish with the enemy if need arose. The rest of the army came up the River Road in good order, but Helki planned to hold them back from the crest of the hills until nightfall.

“How far we’ve come!” he said to Obst. “A hunter and a hermit from dear old Lintum Forest—and look where we are now. If I’d have known what was in store for me, I’d have found a den and hibernated like a bear.”

“You have to come when God calls,” Obst said. “There’s not a man here with us today who ever expected to be doing this.”

“Nor woman, either,” Helki said, glancing back at Nanny, who had fallen asleep in her cart. “Nor boy—if we only knew where Ryons is, or if he’s even still alive.”

“You can be sure that he is,” Obst said.

As they spoke, Ryons was sitting beside a little brook that ran through an apple orchard, cooling his feet in the water. He meant to continue his journey in a little while, but not just yet. It was a hot day, and the air felt heavy. He wouldn’t be surprised if it rained soon. Clouds were piling up in the sky to the north.

A little distance away stood a farmhouse, beautifully put together with grey stones, and a green barn. The place was deserted like everywhere else.

Ryons was just thinking about getting up and continuing on his way when Cavall did something he’d never done before. He threw back his head and howled for all he was worth.

“Great stars! What is it, boy? What’s the matter?”

Cavall couldn’t hear him. He howled and howled, and it was terrible. Ryons ground his teeth and put his hands over his ears, but it did no good. Cavall was a big dog, and he made a big noise. Ryons pleaded with him to stop, but he didn’t.

And then he sprang up suddenly and ran off into the south, back the way they came—just charged off like a crazy dog who’s seen a rabbit. He was past the farmhouse before Ryons could slip his feet into his shoes.

“Cavall! Come back! Wait for me!” But Ryons lost sight of him when he passed the house and made a turn.

“Oh, smoke and fire, that’s just great! That’s wonderful!” He spat out some Wallekki curses as he fumbled with his shoelaces. How was he supposed to catch the cusset dog? How was he supposed to go on without him?

He stopped cursing. Up from the south thundered that gigantic, musical bellow that had followed him for all these days. And it was closer now, closer than it had ever been before—much louder than any noise Cavall could make.

Had Cavall run forth to meet it? Had he been calling to it? But that was daft! Cavall was a wise dog; he wouldn’t do a crazy thing like that.

“And what do I do now!” Ryons wondered. If Cavall kept running, he couldn’t possibly catch up to him.

Again the monster, or spirit, or jinn, whatever it might be, bellowed—even louder; it must be coming closer. It became the dearest wish of Ryons’ heart to run in the opposite direction as fast as his legs would carry him.

But then he remembered how Cavall had tracked him down and rescued him from Edwydd, and how Cavall had placed himself between him and the death-dog; and he knew he couldn’t run the other way. He had to follow Cavall, his friend—had to follow him no matter what.

“Lord God, if you can hear me, hear me now!” he prayed. “Don’t let anything happen to Cavall—and don’t let me lose my nerve and run away!”

With his shoes still untied, he began to run after Cavall. Even as the great noise, louder than the advent of a thunderstorm, sounded again, King Ryons ran in its direction, following his dog. He did not run very fast, but neither did he turn aside.

As he drew even with the farmhouse, Ryons heard it again, louder, louder—he would not have been surprised if the noise knocked the farmhouse into pieces. And Cavall had rushed forth to do battle with that!

Ryons ran as if through thick, miry mud sucking at his feet, but he didn’t stop. For all he knew, the dog was the only friend he had left living in the world—he would not run away; he would not leave him. But what he was running toward—no: his mind refused to think about it.

There were apple trees beyond the house and barn, an orchard. Ryons no sooner saw them when Cavall came running out from under them, coming back to him. He was barking his head off, and yet his tail was wagging. Ryons stopped and waited for him, by now thoroughly confused.

“Cavall! What are you doing?”

Cavall looked up at him and barked, his whole great body wagging now. Anyone could see the dog was trying to tell him something, and getting frantic because the stupid human couldn’t understand. Humans hardly ever understand when dogs have to tell them something.

But then Ryons saw what Cavall was trying to tell him about, and he forgot to breathe. His heart forgot to beat.

Above the line of full-grown apple trees appeared a head and neck and shoulders, a great beast taller than the trees.

Nothing alive had a right to be that big. It was impossible. It towered over the trees. There was no telling what kind of animal it was because there was no such animal. It wasn’t a real animal grown to overwhelming size, but something you would only see if you’d lost your mind.

It looked down at Ryons and Cavall, cocking an enormous head that seemed undersized because it was so high off the ground. Its ears flicked inquisitively.

To have the monster actually looking at him broke the chains of astonishment that bound his legs, and Ryons turned to flee, if flight were even possible. But Cavall wouldn’t let him. Gently but irresistibly, his jaws closed on Ryons’ forearm and held him to the spot. He whined imploringly.

The beast came through the orchard on pillar legs that were thicker than the tree trunks. It went through the trees as if they were grass. Its neck was long, thicker around than the body of a horse. From the depths of its colossal chest issued a rumble that was like boulders sliding down a mountainside.

When it was past the trees, it stopped. It was waiting for something, but for what? It twitched its tail, as a horse would do—a little tail, in the scheme of things, but probably bigger than Ryons himself.

Cavall released Ryons’ arm and trotted a few steps toward the monster, halting to look up at it and bark. Ryons froze again. He wished he could run, but his legs would not obey.

The animal lowered its head until it almost touched Cavall: that undersized head was bigger than Cavall’s whole body. It wrinkled a pointed lip, revealing short tusks in its mouth, and sniffed with nostrils you could stuff whole apples into. The noise of its sniffing drowned out anything Cavall was doing. But Cavall was wagging his tail, and when he turned back to Ryons, he was grinning. He yapped at Ryons, and the boy knew the dog wanted him to come up and stand beside him.

Come up and stand before that living mountain? But Cavall was doing it, and he was happy—anyone could see that.

The thought came to Ryons that he was under God’s protection, that God had sent this great beast to him. Had it not followed him for miles and miles across the plains? Hadn’t its roar chased off the death-dog, which would have killed both him and Cavall? It came to him that the way to obey God, at this moment, was to stand before the beast.

Ryons’ knees quaked and wobbled as he advanced. He had to take small steps or he would have fallen. Nevertheless he got there, finally, and stood beside Cavall. His hand trembled as he laid it on Cavall’s neck. The dog’s wagging tail thumped against his hip.

The beast’s face was close enough to touch, not that Ryons would have dared. He stood as still as a statue while the beast sniffed him, gales of breath like hot wind. Because its head was so large and its eyes were on different sides of its face, it had to turn its head this way and that to look at him. Its eyes were a deep, dark, liquid brown, each one as big as a half-grown pumpkin. Short, bristly hairs lined its lips.

How long he stood frozen to that spot, Ryons didn’t know. At a time like this, there is no time. But the time came to an end suddenly, and in a way Ryons never expected.

With a quick movement, too quick for Ryons to react to it, the beast seized the boy’s head and shoulders in its mouth and snatched him up. Ryons felt his feet leave the ground. He couldn’t see; his head was inside the creature’s mouth. The only thought in his mind was that he was going to be swallowed whole, and there was nothing he could do about it.

But in the next instant he was out of the mouth, out in the sunshine and the air again—no longer on the ground but high above it.

He was on the beast’s broad back, just behind the mighty neck. The animal had picked him up and put him there.

For a moment he was dizzy, and he might very easily have fallen off. But that passed; and as his mind cleared and he heard Cavall barking excitedly down below, he realized something.

“This is what I dreamed of!” he thought. “This is what those dreams were all about!” He never could have imagined how they would come true.

Then the beast moved. It was carrying him, and he was riding it. It was carrying him north to Obann. Its mighty strides forced Cavall to trot to keep up. Ryons looked down on the roof of the farmhouse, seeing things now as birds saw them. It was like flying, or else like being perched high in the branches of a walking tree.

This was how he was going to come to Obann! This was what the old man meant by saying he would cross the river in style. And he knew from the dreams that when he got there, the enemy would flee from him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he exulted. It wasn’t much of a prayer, but he knew that God would understand it.

By sundown the whole army was arrayed behind the hills, less than two miles from the walls of the city. As if to show contempt for so negligible a foe, the Heathen host ignored it.

Helki and the chieftains stood on the crest of the high ground, under the cover of some trees, looking down at the great city of Obann and its mighty walls.

“There are rich cities in the East, trading cities visited by many caravans,” Shaffur said, “but nothing like this city. But see the Thunder King’s armies gathered together against it! They are more than the sands of the desert. They have enough men to tear down the walls by hand. We are insane to come so close.”

“They know we’re here, all right,” Helki said. “They’ve just decided to pay no heed to us. What could we do to them?”

Old Chief Spider said, “We can always fight them. It’s as good a way to die as any.” But Obst said, “No! You can be sure God didn’t send us here to die.”

“I’m not complaining,” Spider said, “but if not that, then for what purpose did He bring us here?”

“We shall know before we leave this place,” said Obst.