The Thunder King (Bell Mountain) (23 page)

She knew a mardar was a special servant of the Thunder King, something like a prester in the service of the Temple and something like a magician, too. She was sure the mardar would have to stop and consider what she’d said, and she was right.

Chillith held up a hand and stopped his men. He glared at Martis. “Is this true?” he said.

Martis nodded. He’d grasped instantly what Jack and Ellayne were doing. He would have forbidden them to speak of these things, but it was too late now.

“Your honor, it is true,” he said. “We three climbed Bell Mountain. These two children rang the bell, which you heard. In ancient days, that bell was hung in obedience to God, so that when it finally sounded, He would hear it.

“You should know the Temple of Obann feared the bell, and feared these children. If your honor is wise, your honor will fear them, too. Surely your lord the Thunder King heard the bell, and will not thank your honor for depriving him of the chance to question those who rang the bell. For we are all three of us servants of the living God.”

If Chillith had not spent so much time in Obann in his younger days, he would not have known of the legend of the bell. He would not have known of the great power of the Temple, nor realized how serious a thing it was for the Temple to be afraid of anything. But he did know all those things, and understand them; and it came to his mind that if he brought these three prisoners to the Thunder King, he might be raised to the highest rank of the Great Man’s mardars.

“You have purchased your life, Martis—at least for the time being,” he said. “I shall take you to my master the Thunder King so that he might question you. The children, too. No harm shall come to you by me.”

He issued orders to his men, who tied ropes around the prisoners’ necks—not to choke, but to keep them from trying to escape. Others led Ham and Dulayl out of the barn.

Wytt had vanished. Ellayne prayed he would stay out of sight. What could he do, no bigger than a good-sized rat, against these scores of tall warriors? But she would miss him cuddling in her arms.

“You shouldn’t have spoken,” Martis said softly, as the ropes were tied around their necks.

“And let them just kill you in front of us? Not a chance!” Jack said.

“Besides,” said Ellayne, “it’s a long, long way to where we’re going. Something might happen. We might get away.”

Chillith overheard that. He bent in his saddle.

“You won’t get away, little boy,” he said, “and it’s better not to try—much better. Obann’s God is strong, but the Thunder King is stronger. Else I wouldn’t be here, in the middle of your country, as a conqueror.”

Once the prisoners were securely under guard, Chillith marched his men into the east. He didn’t send a messenger back to Obann to tell the other mardars where he was going, or why. Martis noticed that, and kept it in his mind for future use.

Ryons knew how to tell directions by the position of the sun. That was how he learned that the deep, rolling, musical bellow of the unseen giant always came from someplace south of wherever he happened to be.

“Now that’s very odd!” he said to Cavall. “Why does it never sound like it’s coming from the east or from the west or from the north?”

The Wallekki told tales of great jinns that lived in the desert, and how you could hear them howling at night when the wind blew over the sands. When the jinns howled, travelers said, there was sure to be a sandstorm. Ryons wondered if there might be a jinn or something like it in this country—but in this case, maybe, a good jinn that protected him. However, he had never heard any stories about good jinns. Men who had to cross the desert feared them.

He still had no idea of how far he was from Obann. Had he known the country better, he would have known that the bunches of glossy black berries on the ink-bushes were a sure sign of the end of summer; and he would have worried about getting to the city, or to any city, before the winter caught him on the open plain.

There—he heard it again, the voice of the south. It seemed to him that the voice was trying to hurry him northward. Could that be possible?

“If it was an animal, Cavall, we would’ve seen it by now,” he said. “If it was a jinn hunting us, it would have caught us: they travel on the wind. If it was a giant, we would have seen its head peeking over the hills.” He’d heard that in the far, far north, where no man in his right mind would ever go, there were giants. “But I don’t think they have giants in the south—not that I ever heard.”

Growing up as a slave, the boy was never taught things; he only overheard them. He used to hide and listen to the storytellers tell of jinns and giants. Obst had taught him a little, but hadn’t had the chance to teach him much.

And so he wondered if the voice belonged to God—because, after all, God had promised to be with him on his journey. Maybe his prayers weren’t as ineffective as he thought.

Nanny Witkom, too, believed she heard the voice of God as she journeyed to Obann. But to her He spoke in words, encouraging her to go on.

For truth to tell, she was weary beyond any weariness she’d ever known. Caring for a houseful of children was nothing compared to this journey.

“Lord,” she prayed, “I’m tired! So very tired. These old bones were never made for riding on a donkey’s back all day, every day. I’ll do my best, but I’m afraid the next time I lay me down to sleep, I won’t get up again.”

“Daughter, fear not,” said the Voice that wrapped itself around her like a blanket. “I will provide help for you: tomorrow you shall have it. Be still, and let Me add to your strength.”

A gentle breeze blew up, a west wind carrying a salt taste of the sea. For an unaccountable moment Nanny yearned to see the great waters. But the breeze was to her as a drink of cool, sweet water to a thirsty traveler, and she breathed it in gratefully and sat up straighter on the donkey.

It was not going to be so hard to cross the river after all. The men from Caryllick went out in front of the army and spread the word that this was no Heathen host, but friends and allies who had fought hard for Obann. They were farther downriver now than any of the Thunder King’s armies had yet come, and the people were still in their towns and villages. When it became known that this friendly force had need to cross the river, the people were eager to help; and when they heard that these were troops from uncouth and barbarous nations far away, people came from miles around to see them.

“I don’t like the way they stare at us,” Shaffur grumbled. Women and children lined the road to watch the army pass. “They point at us and jabber like monkeys in the trees.”

Somehow, no one knew how, the whole country seemed to know of Helki’s feat of giant-slaying. As he strode at the head of King Ryons’ army, there was more pointing and jabbering at him than at anybody else.

“You’re famous,” said Hennen, the captain from Caryllick. “Everybody wants to see the giant-killer. You are the Wild Man who came out of Lintum Forest. They aren’t sure whether you’ve killed five giants, four, or only three. The story grows in the telling.”

“I kind of wish I hadn’t killed the one,” said Helki.

But because people wanted to help the famous giant-killer, and tell their grandchildren that they’d seen him, by the time the army reached the point along the river where Helki wished to cross, every boat and barge in the vicinity had been placed at his disposal and hundreds of men were already felling trees and making rafts. The chieftains quickly organized the available boats into a ferry service, getting the Wallekki and the Attakotts across the river first, to scout out the country. For there on the north bank of the river, the army would turn back to Obann.

“And do what, once we get there, I don’t know,” Helki said. “Preach to these people tonight, Obst—to our men, and to this crowd that’s come to see us off. I could do with some good preaching.”

Obst agreed. “Who knows if we’ll ever again see so many gathered in one place to hear the Word of God?” he said.

He’d just finished his first reading through the scrolls. He would have to read them again and again before he could begin to understand them. But one thing he did understand, and he was ready and eager to preach on it.

Men, women, and children gathered by the river that evening. Uduqu showed off the giant’s sword. The Ghols showed off their archery, galloping past tiny straw targets and filling them with arrows. You’d never guess there was a war on, Helki thought. Shaffur would have disapproved of all of it as frivolous, but he and his riders were already across the river. The rest of the army would join them the next day.

When the sun set and the stars came out, men lit bonfires, the multitude gathered round, and Obst mounted the platform that was made for him of stones and hard-packed earth. Someone blew a horn for silence.

“Hear the Word of God to King Ozias,” he said. “’From the beginning I have spoken to My people, but they have built a fence around My words so that no one can come near to them; and I have borne this with patience, because I have already chosen the day when the fences shall be broken down.’”

Obst paused. He’d learned that verse by heart, and thought he knew what it meant.

“People of Obann, and God’s people from the nations of the East,” he said. “If nothing else comes out of this tumultuous day and age, let it at least be said of us that we harkened to God’s word and proclaimed it everywhere, in every country on the earth, to every people, every tribe.

“Yes, the city of Obann might fall! Yes, the Temple itself might be thrown down. What of it? We have, right here with us, God’s own words. We have them written down on scrolls from King Ozias’ time, in the king’s own hand. Whether the Temple stands or falls, what’s to stop us from copying God’s word and proclaiming it in every corner of the earth? Who’s to stop us from carrying God’s words over the mountains, into every nation of the East? Our enemies have crossed the mountains with weapons of war; but we can cross armed with weapons of the spirit—God’s spirit! The spirit of God who conquers everywhere He goes!”

By now he hardly knew what he was saying. The words just came to him; he opened his mouth and let them out.

But Helki whispered to Hlah, the son of Spider, “Carry the scrolls across the mountains, as if they were siege engines? Wage war on the Thunder King with Scriptures, not with swords? There’s a notion!”

“There is one thing to be said for it,” the Abnak whispered back.

“Which is?”

“No one will be expecting it!”

When the Griffs understood that their prisoners were to be brought before the Thunder King, they guarded them closely but did not mistreat them. Jack, Ellayne, and Martis had to walk with ropes around their necks, leashed like dogs, but these were not tied as choking nooses. They had to sleep under guard, which for Ellayne took a long time getting used to. The Griffs brought along Dulayl and Ham as spoils of war. Of Wytt there was no sign at all. The children missed him, but were glad he’d escaped.

“I was born and raised in sight of the Cloaked Woman, which you call Bell Mountain,” Chillith told them. He often rode beside them as they walked, and liked to talk with them. “For as long as the mountain stood, she wore her cloak of cloud. Our people believed there was a mountain goddess that lived up there.

“But then dawned that morning when the sound of a bell was heard in all the land. I’ve been to Obann, so I know a bell when I hear one. There are no bells in our country, and most of the people had never heard anything like this, and were afraid. And then—foof!—a wind came up and blew the cloud away. There was terrible fear among the people when they saw that. The mountain without her cloak! What could it mean?”

“It was a sign from God, that He had heard the bell,” said Martis. “He promised He would hear it, when someone climbed to the top and rang it. It was prophesied two thousand years ago, and the prophecy is in our holy books for all to read.”

Chillith frowned. “I cannot read your books. I never learned how,” he said. “But my master the Thunder King, the Great Man, will have read them all. He will know them better than you do.”