The Right Hand of God (56 page)

with the remnants of the Sna Vazthan army occupying the rear. Occasionally they encountered a Bhrudwan patrol, which they destroyed with ruthless efficiency: they could not afford rumour of an unseen army reaching the ears of the Bhrudwan command.

Just before dawn Leith and the commanders of his army moved forward and out of the cover of the Net of Vanishing. 'We will approach the Bhrudwans as though offering to surrender,'

Indrett explained, outlining her risky idea. 'They will assume we are all that remains: they may have doubts, particularly if they have closely examined the field, but it is unlikely they will anticipate the trick we are playing on them.'

Within minutes they were seen. A swarthy officer rode up, followed by a troop of archers, arrows nocked to bows. 'We are the Army of Faltha,' Leith announced, holding the Jugom Ark up for inspection: the man's narrow eyes widened considerably. 'We have come to discuss terms with your master.'

A man was found who understood the Falthan common tongue, and the officer sent one of his men running towards the large spread of tents they could all see in the distance. Behind Leith his hidden army waited, tense but completely silent. To cover any inadvertent noise, Leith and his commanders sang quietly, as though offering each other solace.

Soon a tall man in a black robe came striding across the open field. Was this the one? Could this be the Destroyer? No, the man was in possession of two hands.

'The Lord of Faltha and Bhrudwo will receive your surrender now,' the man rasped. 'There will be no terms other than those he dictates. Accept this now or be slain where you stand.'

His eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion, and his head jerked left and right. There had been no noise Leith had heard, but perhaps this man had special powers, or they had given themselves away in some other fashion. They stood perfectly still, hardly able to breathe . . . but the tall man could not afford to keep his master waiting.

'We will listen to what your master has to say,' Leith replied carefully. The response was a jerk of the tall man's arm, indicating that they should follow him.

Now was the time of greatest risk. Should anyone try to walk behind Leith's small party, the ruse would be defeated. The Falthan army had to inch its way forward. Wagons had been greased, animals muzzled, and in some cases boots removed, yet the army still feared the slightest sound. Many of the soldiers feared that the beating of their collective hearts would be heard. Stomachs rumbled, and one or two sneezes had to be repressed. Near the rear a man collapsed, wounded the previous afternoon but too proud to admit his hurt, and two others tumbled over his body: the resulting noise sounded deafening in the morning stillness, but their escort did not turn.

Finally Leith and his band stood in the centre of The Cauldron. The Bhrudwan camp occupied a surprisingly small space, but contained many times enough men to wipe out his small group of commanders. One large tent had been pegged a little way in front of the others, and just in front of this tent six stakes had been erected, three to the left, three to the right. The Falthans waited quietly, aware that their army had halted a few hundred paces behind them, just out of arrow-shot.

The shadows slowly crept away from them as the sun rose, and they waited still. The Bhrudwan army emerged from their tents, then began to strike camp. Brown-cloaked soldiers with bibs of various colours gathered from all over the plain, forming ranks stretching left and right behind the large tent. Each warrior found a place amongst his fellows of the same bib colour, then settled down to wait patiently. Morning mist cleared from around the valley rim, and Indrett savoured the warm rays of the sun on her back even as she cursed the weariness in her legs. Finally, she thought ironically, the days of standing in the Firanese Court at Rammr pay off: she could imagine the cramping going on in the hidden army behind her, and hoped fervently that whatever was to happen would not be delayed much longer. Should we simply attack without regard for what the Destroyer might say? As soon as the thought had flickered through her mind, the tent flap parted and six chained figures were led out to stand before them, one in front of each stake.

'The cruel, cruel man,' she hissed in her husband's ear. Behind her Modahl responded: 'He does this to break us. We can do nothing without showing our strength. Do not let this goad us into revealing our weapon untimely. We will weep for them later.'

Indrett did not recognise the six men, though by their dress they appeared to be from Straux and Deuverre. The commander of the Army of Faltha bit her lip in frustration, knowing that by this act the Destroyer wished to emphasise their powerlessness. She sincerely hoped that the King of Straux, who had been forced to remain with the hidden army, would not react to what was about to happen.

The tent flap swung open again, and this time a thin but dignified figure emerged, followed by a much smaller servant.

All eyes were drawn to the man who stood before them, and they did not need to see the handless arm to know who it was.

His face was longer than the Falthan norm, elegant without being truly handsome, with a fine jaw and thin lips. He reminds me of Phemanderac, Indrett thought, and a moment later remembered that the Destroyer had once lived in the philosopher's home town. He looks like Phemanderac, but he feels . . . cold, somehow, aloof, as though he was a glacier hanging over a small village, ready to grind it into pulp.

One hand. The missing hand had been hewn from his arm by the very Arrow in her son Leith's right hand. Did the Jugom Ark behave differently in the presence of its ancient victim?

It still burned, flames running up and down the shaft, but seemed not to know who stood close by.

'Welcome, men and women of Faltha,' the man said in a deep, cultured voice. Laced with Wordweave, of course, Indrett realised; but they had all prepared for that with Modahl's assistance. Don't resist it directly. Let it slide past you. 'In a moment you will present me with the arrow in your possession, which from this day shall be the symbol of my conquest over the plans of the Most High. You will then be taken into captivity, where your suitability for life in the new Faltha will be assessed. Most of you, I am sure, will be able to persuade me that you can abide by my simple requirements.'

Indrett took a step forward, bringing a momentary frown to the brow of the Undying Man, who would surely have expected the Arrow-bearer to speak for the Falthans. 'And if we refuse?' she asked, the words barely emerging from her throat. Speaking to the Undying Man!

How can I dare it? 'What then?'

The Destroyer laughed - and, just behind him, his

servant-girl put her fist to her mouth. It was an action that should have given her identity away to the Falthans, had they been watching anything but the man in front of her.

'What then? After I have whittled you away into a nub of pure pain, I will do the same right across Faltha,' he ground out in a voice of ice, then his face changed. 'Do not be mistaken!' he roared suddenly. 'I can choose to unleash such destruction that future travellers will never suspect people once lived in this land! Or,' he continued, his voice now level again, 'I can place Falthans to rule benevolently in my stead, and return to Bhrudwo happy in the knowledge I have achieved all I needed to, having proved to two continents that I, not the Most High, am the supreme authority in the world. Which of these courses I take will depend in large measure on the cooperation I receive today. Now, do you surrender the Jugom Ark to me, and with that act gift me Lordship of Faltha?'

Indrett took a pace forwards. It was as difficult as walking into a huge wave. 'We could fight you for it,' she said quietly.

Instantly the Net of Vanishing disappeared, and forty thousand Falthan warriors suddenly materialised in the middle of the valley. The losian magicians sustained an illusion which duplicated the entire army, which, it was hoped, would fool even the sharp eyes of their foe.

Most gratifyingly, groans of dismay rumbled across the plain, involuntarily forced from thousands of Bhrudwan throats: men who thought their fighting was over now faced an army which once again overmatched them. A burst of cheering arose from the Falthan prisoners penned by guards some distance away.

At the moment of her pronouncement Indrett locked her eyes on those of the Lord of Bhrudwo. His face showed no visible change. Surely he must have been taken by surprise?

Unless he already knew of their deceit and had made plans to counter it. Or ... a new thought entered her mind. Are we the only ones to use illusion? Maybe he does not show his true face to us.

'As you can see, we are.not quite ready to surrender just yet,' she said in the voice of a northern peasant, all the better to irritate the man. 'Perhaps you have another proposal to set before us. Otherwise, we will ready ourselves for another battle with your army, the outcome of which is less certain than you would like it to be.' She smiled; then, as an afterthought, she added: 'And you can take those silly posts down. You're not impressing anyone with your absurd ruthlessness.' She folded her arms, having finished her scolding of an errant child.

Still not a flicker: the man must have incredible self-control. Well, he's had two thousand years to practise.

'So, an impasse,' he said in a voice of stone. His voice betrays him, Indrett thought. 'What, then, is to stop me ordering my army to drive your ragged remnants right across the valley and into the river? Or,' he added, a new thought coming to him, 'threatening to put to death six thousand prisoners unless you withdraw? Surely you wish to leave the field with at least a small portion of your pride intact?'

Indrett smiled at him, endeavouring to keep her demeanour ironic, her tone light. 'If I was the cruel and pitiless leader of a ravening horde gathered and trained to sweep across Faltha, I think I'd ensure that I had enough soldiers left to complete the job,' she said. 'You attack us now, and the likelihood is that you will eventually emerge victorious. But I imagine the few hundred battered and bleeding survivors that remained to you would be defeated by the next fighting force you came across. Or did you think we were all that could be raised against you? No, we are but the first wave. Even as I speak to you, armies prepare to march eastwards, and ships from the Southern Kingdoms put into Instruere's docks. Weigh my words and know them for true! Your only hope of final victory is to leave here with your entire force intact, which you will find difficult to do, as you are a man who has not yet mastered his pride.' She smiled sunnily at him, still watching his eyes, which glittered with malevolence at her. He wants to tear out my heart, she realised.

'So, man of ancient wisdom, hear the counsel of a peasant woman of forty summers. Gather the tired remains of your army, along with your badly bruised reputation, and take the eastward road. Perhaps we might entertain you again after you've thought things through more completely.'

The only sign that her words had impacted on him was a slight thinning of the lips. Someone will suffer for this, Indrett thought ruefully. I only hope it's not us.

'As I said, an impasse,' he said companionably. 'I have made my offer, and you have countered with yours. Go back to your counsellors and consider my terms. I will not wait long.'

He has some other plan in mind, Indrett knew. As much as we have discomfited him, he still has the power here. We will have to await his next move.

That move was not long in coming.

'Son of Mahnum! Son of Mahnum!' a voice boomed across the valley, drawing the Falthan leaders from their hastily-erected tent. 'Come and face me, Son of Mahnum!'

The Destroyer stood alone at the far edge of a small depression, some distance from his own tent. As the Falthans drew nearer they could see he no longer wore his grey cloak.

Instead, he was garbed in armour, and wore a broad helm on his head. Against his right hip hung a silver scabbard, from which he drew a long sword with a curve near the point.

'What is he doing?' Leith asked.

His father put a hand on his shoulder. 'Unless I'm mistaken, your mother has done her job far more effectively than we might have wished.'

'Is that good?' asked Leith, thoroughly confused. His father regarded him for a moment, then squeezed his shoulder.

'No, Leith,' he said gravely. 'It is not good.'

'Son of Mahnum!' cried the Destroyer yet again as he handed his helm to his ever-present serving girl, who placed it quickly on the ground as if it burned her. 'Son of Mahnum! Heed my challenge or forever be known as craven!'

'Go forward and listen to what he has to say,' Kurr whispered in his ear. 'But be careful.

Though we have magicians ready to act, it may be at the cost of losing our phantom army.'

Leith moved out from behind his leaders and stood in the open, knees shaking, the flame in his hand pulsing with the rhythm of his heart. 'What is it you want?' he replied, his voice husky with fear. ...

'This is what I propose, to preserve honour and to bring this war to a close. Listen to me, champion of Faltha, for I will make this offer only the once.' He raised his voice, and his magic carried his words to both armies: to the Bhrudwans with their Falthan captives, and to the Falthans themselves, the Instruians, the losian army, and all Leith's other allies.

'Hear me! The Undying Man, the Lord of Bhrudwo, offers challenge in single combat to the son of Mahnum, Trader of Faltha and sometime visitor to Andratan, thereby to prove upon his body the right and wrong of the present conflict!

A Truthspell will be spoken, and both armies will be bound by the result of the combat.

Should victory go to the son of Mahnum, the forces of Bhrudwo will renounce their claim to Falthan lands, both now and at any future time, and will set out on the eastward road before nightfall this day. A Declaration of Withdrawal will then be signed by the Chief of the Maghdi Dasht and the Bearer of the Arrow, and thus the Truthspell shall be sealed. But should the Lord of Bhrudwo prove the stronger, the Falthan army will surrender and disperse to their homes, except for their commanders who will be held captive by Bhrudwo. Upon the signing of the Declaration of Surrender by the Undying Man and by whomever commands the Falthan army, the Truthspell shall be sealed; and he shall be given lordship of Instruere, and shall claim tribute from any other lands whose people are represented here. Thus shall the war be decided in favour of one side or the other!'