The Right Hand of God (57 page)

The magic faded, and the Destroyer brought the full force of his gaze to bear on them all.

'Should I defeat you, son of Mahnum, I will take the woman who spoke for you this morning and make her my personal servant, replacing the present holder of this position who has outlived her usefulness.' Again the hand in the mouth, and this time the Haufuth saw the servant-girl for who she was, and what had been done to her, but managed somehow to stifle his shout of grief.

The hateful figure drew himself up to his full height. 'You may use any weapon you wish, including the arrow you hold in your hand. And I will use whatever weapon I choose.' He paused, and again Leith felt magic ripple through the air. 'Now, do you accept? Or will you flee from this as you have fled from my army? What is it to be, son of Mahnum?'

'I - I. ..' His stuttering reply rang across The Cauldron,

and a raven that had set down on the tree in the dell between them burst into startled flight.

Forty thousand ears and more listened for his answer.

'I - I will consider your challenge,' he got out at last. 'You will have my reply within one hour.'

'Good,' replied the Destroyer, laughter playing around the edges of the word. 'As one warrior to another, I offer you advice. Do not wait too long to bring me your answer, for the delay will sap whatever little courage you possess.' And the laughter rang out then, loud and long, and the raven gave a squawk of fright, took to its wings and vanished among the hills.

Leith looked longingly after it, wishing that he, too, could fly away so easily.

'I'm going for a walk,' the Arrow-bearer insisted over the storm of protest. 'Can't 1 have some time to think about it?'

'It is a trap,' Farr argued. 'Do you think the Destroyer would propose a challenge that he was in danger of losing?'

'It's not like you to step back from a fight,' Leith replied sullenly. 'How is it that you offer me such counsel now?'

The acknowledged hero of the Gap frowned at him. 'But I would never take on impossible odds . ..' His voice trailed to a halt amongst nervous laughter. That was, of course, exactly what he had done, to great renown, in the first battle against the Bhrudwans.

'He should fight,' Kurr said. 'For what other reason was his the hand into which the Jugom Ark was given?'

'Are you saying that we should put our faith in the Most High?' snapped the Haufuth angrily.

'I see scant evidence of his assistance up to now, and much evidence suggesting the contrary.'

He bit his lip, on the point of telling them what he had seen.

'We must be realistic. It might be a choice between one man and us all. I fear that we will not survive another battle.' The Captain of the Guard passed a weary hand across his face. 'And I have seen many great things done by the hand of this boy. The parting of the Aleinus River, the discovery of the Jugom Ark, the ending of the Battle of the Four Halls. I am willing to put my trust in the strength provided us.'

'What does Hal say?' Phemanderac said. 'He was one of the original Company, and he often sees truly. His advice here would be of much interest.'

'He is not here,' his mother said, troubled, 'and he cannot be found.' She sighed. 'I fear my clever words have led us to this place. If it were any other hands holding the Arrow I would counsel them to take the risk. But since his hands carry my blood, I do not want him to do this thing.'

'I thank you for your thoughts,' Leith told them politely, his face white, 'but I wish to make up my own mind. I am going away somewhere I can be alone so I can think about this. I will trust the jugom Ark to protect me.'

'But what if this whole thing was designed to draw you out in just such a solitary walk?' the Fodhram leader asked. 'Is it not folly to wander unprotected on paths that may be patrolled by the enemy?'

'I am not unprotected,' Leith responded, and the Arrow roared briefly into flame, driving his friends away from him. 'Very well, I will take one guard, of the losian, so that if I fall, there might still be a hand to pick up the Jugom Ark.'

Axehaft stepped forward. 'I will accompany you,' he said stoutly. 'Any Bhrudwan ambushers will need to wear knee-length armour.' And he laughed, a refreshing sound that, for a moment at least, eased the tension among the Falthan commanders.

'It is difficult, this,' reflected the leader of the Widuz, as the tent flap closed behind Leith and the small Fodhram warrior. 'Months of fighting, and it all comes down to a moment like this.

We are uneasy because we can do nothing.' Heads nodded all around him. 'He will choose to fight, because he has gone to find his courage. He will fight well. I have heard the tales of how he survived Wambakalven, and know the measure of his courage. He will fight well.'

His feet led him to the top of the bluff. Up here the breeze blew, and it was much colder than the early spring warmth down below. For a moment he closed his eyes, and again he could see the rainbow stretched across Vulture's Craw, again he could hear the groaning of Sir Amasian.

Again he saw the vast hand rise up and snatch the rainbow from the sky.

Always our enemy will counter our best efforts, Leith realised. Always he has out-thought us.

Perhaps it is time to risk all.

He held the cursed Arrow in front of him. Just over two feet long. . . He wondered how, if the Most High had towered over Kannwar of Dona Mihst in the moment he partook of the Fountain of Life, the Jugom Ark was so small. Isn't the scale all wrong?

The flames burned merrily, seeming not to reflect his anguished state of mind. Was it like Phemanderac said? Did the Arrow respond to his emotions? Or did he respond to the wishes of the Arrow? For a moment Leith considered asking the voice to speak to him.

Was this truly a decision he was free to make?. Or, like every other moment since he had begun this preposterous journey, was his path already mapped out? For a moment he rebelled: if the voice wants me to fight the Destroyer, then I will run and run and run and run.

But that was the path of madness. To flee from what a voice might ask him to do, a voice that no one else heard, a voice that now, in his time of need, remained steadfastly silent.

No. It was courage he needed, not advice. His life had been shaped, he could not deny it. He had been brought to this moment, and he could not avoid it. Perhaps if I get through, he told himself, I ivill make some choices for myself. Then he laughed. If I get through? He could not fool himself: today was likely the last day of his life.

He would fight.

A crunching of gravel wrested him from his thoughts: someone approached along the path.

Axehaft had his weapon ready to strike, and Leith realised how truly grateful he was for all the people who had guarded him.

'It is only me, your village Haufuth!' came a voice, distinctly short of breath. 'Leith, will you allow me to speak to you for a moment?'

'If you wish to give me advice as to what to do about the Destroyer's challenge, you are too late,' Leith said. 'I have decided.'

The Haufuth struggled up the last few steps and promptly sat down on the stony ground. 'I know you have,' he said gently. 'But there is something you must know now, for I fear that the Destroyer means to taunt you with it at some stage during your encounter.'

Leith looked on the Haufuth, a patient, compassionate man. 'What is it?'

The village headman told Leith what he had seen - who he had seen - and the bright flash that followed his dreadful words eclipsed for a moment the light of the sun.

* * *

Leith came to himself a moment later, unable for the present to think beyond the fact that Stella was alive, but in the hands of the Destroyer. Even as the news sank in, his attention was drawn to the battleground. Some sort of ceremony was beginning, judging by the noise filtering up from below. He wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to find the cause. For a moment he simply could not believe what he was seeing. When his brain finally registered what his eyes beheld, the Jugom Ark flashed incandescent for a second time, fit to burn the world to cinders.

And in the midst of the great light, one word reverberated through the sky, crashing from cliff to cliff, setting the trees to groaning.

'HAAAAAAAL!'

The Destroyer stood on the lip of the dell, the tip of his tall sword planted in the ground between his booted feet. He was prepared to be patient, for he knew the Right Hand of the Most High would be drawn to the challenge. For what other reason did he exist?

But there were things these northern peasants did not know about conflicts such as these. The Undying Man remembered the first hundred years of his own reign in Bhrudwo, when his authority was challenged again and again by the most powerful thaumaturges of the land. He had beaten the best of them, and remembered every lesson he been taught. There had been surprises then, but now the tricks and stratagems of a score or more wielders of magic resided in his awesome memory. None had ever come close to overcoming him, and this untutored rustic would not do so now. Yes, he had the Jugom Ark, but that had been effective only in the hands of the Most High himself. It was a

risk, but because of the words of that cursed woman spoken in front of his own army, he could not abandon the field of battle. There was no other way to achieve his objective.

I am immortal, he reminded himself. J have been gifted with life. 1 cannot taste death. The bargain was made at the cost of my own right hand.

He remembered the years spent growing up in Dona Mihst, and his dissatisfaction with the way in which the First Men acquiesced to every requirement of the law. Why were we given the Fire of Life, and all the wisdom attending on it, if not to make our own laws? No one could give him a satisfactory reply. Then had come the years of searching, when he wandered the wide world in a vain quest for answers, only to find them in himself. Such risks he had taken then, so desirous was he of knowledge, and the stand he took eventually cost him his hand.

More recently he had begun to wonder whether he was settling into exactly the same sort of complacency he had once found so distasteful in the citizens of Dona Mihst. Would the day come when, for all his care, he would be driven out of Andratan by some young risk-taker, left to lick his wounds and dream of his days of glory in some forgotten cave?

No, it was time to take a risk. But just to be certain of success, he began to wrap himself in spells, muttering to himself in a barely audible voice ...

.. . which is why he did not hear the approach of booted feet until the voice called to him from across the dell.

'Undying Man, do you wish to challenge the son of Mahnum?'

His proud head jerked upwards, where he saw a solitary figure on the other side of the shallow depression.

'What is it you want of me?' he growled, angry to have

been interrupted. He thought to put this man to death, but decided to wait. Perhaps he was an emissary.

'I asked you if you were prepared to challenge the son of Mahnum. I am Hal Mahnumsen, older brother to the Arrow-bearer; and, by right of law, the proper recipient of your challenge.

By the ancient law of primogeniture you cannot fight Leith until you have defeated me. I know the magics you have used in issuing the challenge, and know that it cannot be withdrawn or changed, only refused. And, as you can see, I do not refuse it.'

What trick was this? But then he remembered how he had phrased his challenge, and exactly what Words of Binding he had spoken into the air. The man was right.

'But I am at a disadvantage,' the Destroyer said smoothly. 'I have but one hand, and I see that you have two.'

'My brother also has two hands, and it was him you intended to fight. But even now you reach out to me, trying to gain a measure of my strength. Does it surprise you to learn that I am strong?' He waited, and saw the Destroyer's eyes widen in surprise.

'Strong in Fire and in Water,' the Undying Man breathed, the thin tendrils of doubt searching for purchase in his soul. How could this be? He kept the doubt at bay. 'But you are a cripple.'

'I am. It will be an even contest.' The young man's voice was firm, with no wavering, no hint of fear. Nothing for the Destroyer's magic to take root in. His spells had been woven across the dell, ready to entrap anyone who expressed even the slightest fear or doubt.

'Very well, then. We will fight, then I will take your brother and make him my right hand, as has been fated for a thousand years. 1 have studied the prophecies, obviously more closely than the sages of Faltha, judging by the recent premature proclamation of victory we all witnessed yesterday. I will turn him, and he will serve me gladly. Now: are your fellows coming to watch you die - or do they even know of your challenge?' He laughed then, recognising the last desperate gambit of an army on the brink of defeat, and shook off any doubt. 'You will die alone and unmourned, and the birds will fight over your carcass!'

'I accept your challenge,' Hal declared, then exerted his power so that the words were binding.

'As the rightful elder son of Mahnum and his legal heir, 1 accept the challenge issued by the Undying Man, including the terms as they were spoken,' he intoned. 'By this Truthspell are they sealed!'

As soon as he uttered the words, he strode forward into the dell. The Destroyer matched him stride for stride.

'You do not walk like a cripple,' the Undying Man remarked as they drew nearer to each other.

'Not today,' said Hal grimly.

A great shout came from somewhere behind him, beyond the rim of the small dell. Achtal had uncovered his master's deception, but it was now too late for anyone to do anything about what was going to happen.

The discussion in the Falthan tent had come around to the length of time Leith was taking.

The Haufuth had gone to inform the Arrow-bearer the hour was nearly up, and that he would soon be required to answer the challenge, and others in the tent were becoming impatient, unable to deal with their tension.

Suddenly one whole side of the tent caved in, and a deep, accented voice cried: 'Hal! Hal fights the Destroyer!' Achtal extricated himself from the tangle of cloth and animal skin, then repeated his cry to a stunned group. 'Come! Come quickly! He will die!'