The Thunder King (Bell Mountain) (8 page)

“Which means the way back East might be open, at least for a while,” said Spider, the old chief of the Abnaks. “Some of the men think this would be a good time to get out of here and go back home. I understand them. I never thought I’d ever say this, but I miss my wives. I don’t think we should go, but there are those who do.”

Now Helki understood the situation. With the way back to their homes beckoning to them, the army might break up.

“It’d be a disgrace to abandon our king, though,” spoke up Zekelesh, chief of the Fazzan. Obst translated his words into Tribe-talk so the others could understand. “After all, we made him our king. The Great Man is not likely to forget it. We shouldn’t go anywhere without our king.”

There was some nodding among the chiefs at this, but Shaffur wasn’t satisfied. “Old man,” he said to Obst, “what is this that God has done to us? You said He gave us this boy to be our king, and we believed you. But now God has taken him away from us! What does it mean?”

Obst spread his arms. “How can I know?” he cried. “Maybe Helki’s men will bring him back before the next day dawns. Who can tell? All I can be sure of is God’s promise. The boy has been given the throne. Wherever he is, he’s still the king. We must have faith.”

“And what is faith?” Shaffur said. “I pledged my honor to that boy, and now he’s gone.”

“You are indeed pledged, Warlord,” said Obst. “But if King Ryons were here now, under what circumstances would you break your oath to him?”

“None!”

“That’s faith—a form of it. Holding fast to your pledged word, no matter what. But faith in God means believing that He will keep His word to you, no matter what! And God will keep faith with you, my lords,” Obst said. “He is with you even now.”

Well said, Helki thought—but would they believe it? Before he could find out, he was moved to speak.

“I don’t know much about religious matters, Chieftains,” he said. “All I know is that if God is not God, then life ain’t worth living anyhow. But if He is God, then we might as well have faith in Him, and not do anything we’ll be sorry for later.

“I don’t know where Ryons is, or when we’ll find him. It’d be too bad if he came back and found his army run away on him. He’d still be king, but you won’t be his men anymore. I don’t reckon you’d be much of anything.”

Chagadai said, “We Ghols will stay no matter what! It was our fault the king wandered into the woods, but we’ll do anything to get him back. We’ll hunt for him ourselves if no one else will, even if we have no woodcraft.” He turned to Obst. “Old man, we have seen your God do marvelous things. Three times has He saved us in hard battle. Pray to Him and ask Him to give us back our king.”

So Obst raised his hands and prayed before them all: “Save us, Lord! Give us a sign so that we might know your will. Have mercy on these men who are only newly come to you. They’ve never been instructed in your Scriptures: they are as babes in their understanding. Won’t you speak to them, O Lord?”

Silence reigned. Obst didn’t know what else to say, Helki thought.

But then Jandra scrambled off Abgayle’s lap. By now they all knew when she was about to prophesy.

“I have heard your prayer”—it was a voice almost like a grown man’s voice coming out of that little girl—“and you shall see your king again, and he shall do exploits before your eyes.

“Go to Obann, to the city that I will not spare: to Obann by the river, where the Heathen are as thick as locusts and no man can count their number. Go to Obann, my people—who were not my people, until you lifted up your voice to Me. Go there, and I shall be with you.”

That was all. Abgayle gathered the sleeping girl into her arms. “You have your prophecy, Obst,” she said. “Your prayer is answered.”

Obst nodded; but Chief Zekelesh snatched off his wolfskin cap, smacked his knee with it, and laughed out loud.

“It’s the most foolish, loony, daft, and crazy thing I’ve ever heard!” he said. “Go to Obann, where all the armies of the Thunder King will be waiting for us! They’ll be fifty to one against us, maybe more.”

“Will you go?” asked Helki.

“Of course I’ll go!” the chieftain said.

So said they all, even Shaffur. “I heard God promise to go with us,” he said. “I’ll hold Him to that promise, and I will go to Obann, folly though it be.” He glared at Obst. “Is that what you mean by faith, old man?”

Obst bowed to him. “It is! It most certainly is.”

We’re all mad, Helki thought. But we’re going to Obann all the same. God help us!

Nearer and nearer to the forest with each step they took, Jack, Ellayne, and Martis continued their journey. But one night they lost Ivor.

They were camped by a stand of waxbush, where a little fresh water bubbled out of the ground and made a tiny pool. They had speckled eggs for supper and were tired from a long day’s trekking. The depopulated plain hereabouts swarmed with rabbits, but neither Martis nor Jack was able to bag one.

“Something’s made them cautious,” Martis said, after he’d missed again with the slingshot. “I wonder what it is.”

“Foxes, I’ll bet,” Jack said. “There are a lot of foxes around Ninneburky. Once I found one in my shed. They eat rabbits.”

Wytt spent most of the day standing atop the pack on Ham’s back. Even if you couldn’t understand his Omah-speech, you would have realized he was keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings.

“What is it, Wytt?” Ellayne asked. “Are there people around somewhere?”

He chattered at her. “It’s not people,” she told the others. “He doesn’t know what it is. But he’s sure there are animals around here that he’s never seen before. He’s not sure whether they’re dangerous.”

Ivor scowled. “How does he know anything?” he said. “Not natural—some kind of witchcraft, that’s what it is.”

“Oh, don’t be stupid!” Jack said. “Dogs can hear and smell things that we can’t. Wytt can, too. That’s all it is. Didn’t you have dogs in Cardigal?”

“My cat always knew when the weather was going to change,” Ellayne said, “before any people thought it would.”

“I wish I had a crossbow,” Martis said, “in case one of those giant birds comes along and it’s hungry.”

“I wonder how they taste,” Jack said. He was hungry enough to eat a giant bird.

But all they had was eggs and berries and water from the spring. The stars came out in overwhelming numbers, and Ellayne thought she’d never seen them so bright and brilliant. If you looked at them hard enough, you’d almost think you could hear them singing. Again she thought, as she’d thought so many times since coming down from Bell Mountain, “It sure doesn’t look like God’s about to end the world!” But to say so would only start an argument with Jack and spoil her enjoyment of the stars.

Without noticing it, she drifted off into sleep—to wake with a start when Wytt chirped piercingly, right next to her ear.

They all woke, not only in response to Wytt’s alarm, but because something was noisily shaking the waxbushes behind them. They heard stems and branches snapping, and a series of deep, thunderous grunts that made Ellayne come out in gooseflesh. Martis sprang to his feet, gripping the short spear in both hands.

“Everybody be still!” he whispered.

Jack and Ellayne froze; but Ivor let out a howl of terror and took off running before anyone could hold him back. “Ooh!” he wailed, even as he ran.

And there was a great crash in the bushes, and out of them burst a great black bulk that tore straight through their campsite, knocking Martis down. Dulayl screamed and tried to bolt, but he was hobbled and Martis caught him. Ham just lowered his head and brayed.

Jack jumped up. Ivor was already just a little black dot on the plain, pursued by a four-legged something that looked too big to be fast, and ran with a peculiar rocking gait, but wasn’t losing any ground to Ivor. It bellowed almost like a bull—but not like any bull that any farmer in Obann ever heard.

Martis dragged Dulayl back with him. “Get the saddle, Jack!” he cried. “It might not be too late to save him!”

Saddling a frightened horse at night, when seconds count like gold, was a maddening business. But Martis got it done, threw himself onto Dulayl’s back, and spurred off after Ivor and the beast. Already the children had lost sight of them; but they still heard the beast bellowing.

“What in heaven was that!” Ellayne cried.

“Too dark to get a good look at it,” Jack said. “Just some burned big animal!”

Wytt couldn’t tell them what it was. It was something that he’d never seen or smelled before, and he didn’t have a word for it. The most he could say was that it was a big black thing, something like a wild hog, but not a hog.

“A pig as big as an oxcart—poor Ivor!” Jack said. “Still, it’s hard to imagine a man running away from a pig.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of wild boars?” Ellayne said. “It takes a pack of dogs and a bunch of men with spears to hunt a wild boar. There was a boar in
Abombalbap
that ravaged a whole kingdom, and no one could kill it.”

“Poor Ivor,” Jack repeated.

After a long time Martis came back without him. He dismounted with a sigh.

“I was too late,” he said. “The beast trampled him, and that was that. I’m sorry, but the ground’s too hard for burial and we have a long way to go tomorrow.”

“You mean he’s dead?” Ellayne cried. Martis nodded; but he was thinking about himself. What had made him try to save a man he hardly knew, to whom he owed nothing, who could give him nothing in return, and whom he hadn’t even liked very much? Had he caught up to the beast a minute sooner, his own life would have been at risk. There might be two trampled bodies lying under the stars right now, instead of one.

“Did you see the animal?” Jack asked.

“I saw it loping away. I couldn’t tell you what it was. Nothing like I’ve ever seen before. But it might not have harmed anyone if Ivor hadn’t suddenly screamed and run away.”

“Jack thought it was a giant hog,” Ellayne said. “Wytt says it was something like that, but not quite.”

“Whatever it is,” said Martis, “let’s just hope it doesn’t come back.”

After the children finally fell asleep again, Martis lay awake all night, wondering what had gotten into him.

At first Ryons’ only thought was to get as far away from the castle as he could, as fast as he could. As a slave of the Wallekki, he’d traveled on the plains, in the desert, and even visited a city or two; but he knew absolutely nothing about forests. The whole time he’d been in this forest, he’d been in the care of the men who’d made him king.

But it was God who made me king, he thought. Obst said so, Jandra said so, and everyone believed it. He shook his head and kept going.

He pushed through ferns, through places where watery ground tried to suck the shoes off his feet; made wide detours around sticker-bushes; and followed paths wherever he could find them. Gnats flew into his eyes; jays and squirrels scolded him from the treetops. But he didn’t want to be in any more battles, and he certainly didn’t want the Thunder King to put his eyes out with a red-hot iron, so he just kept going.

At last, when the sun was low in the sky and it was beginning to get dark under the trees, he stopped to rest. As a slave he’d learned things that most children didn’t know about: he understood that in another hour it’d be too dark to go on, and he’d need a safe and comfortable place to sleep.

He found an old tree that had been blown down, forming a sort of cave in the ground where its base used to be. The roots, still packed with earth, made a roof for the cave. A few armloads of ferns tossed into the hole would make his bed. He’d slept in worse. And having done that, he gathered wood and made a fire, and settled down to have his supper—dried meat, some berries, and a drink of water. A city boy from a good home might have thought it a miserable supper, but Ryons had often gone to bed hungry.

It was dark before he’d finished eating, a deep dark that you could almost reach out and knead with your fingers. He heard all kinds of strange noises—birds, insects, frogs—things that came out at night and that no one ever saw. He’d heard them at the castle, too; but now, without any people around, they seemed louder, closer.

He hoped there weren’t any dangerous animals nearby. He remembered Helki said, “The most dangerous animal in the forest is a man. The others—wolves and bears and catamounts—hunt when they’re hungry and leave you alone when they’re not. After a while you learn to stay out of their way, and they stay out of yours, and you don’t have to be afraid of them. But you can never tell what a man is going to do.”

It dawned on Ryons then that he liked Helki, and would miss him. And Obst, and Jandra, and his Ghols. Now that he thought of it, he missed them already. Obst was going to teach him how to read and teach him all about God. Now that wouldn’t happen.

“Why did I do it?” he wondered. Run away, just like I was still a slave! And they were all so good to me, too!

Up above, somewhere, some unseen creature of the night made a noise like a woman trying to sing with her throat cut. Down below, Ryons regretted what he’d done.

If a slave ran away from the Wallekki, and they caught him, they usually killed him as a lesson to the others. At the very least they flogged him. Ryons didn’t think Obst or Helki would let anyone do that to him if he went back to the castle the next day and said he was sorry—but would anybody even want him back? What good was a king who ran away? He thought of the chieftains sitting in their black tent, and shuddered. They wouldn’t be pleased with him!