The Glass Bridge (Bell Mountain #7) Read online

  “Well, then,” said Uduqu, “what are we waiting for? Let’s go down! It’s bound to be easier than going up.”

  Behind their tribal standards flapping in the wind, King Ryons’ small army invaded the vast dominions of the Thunder King.

  CHAPTER 13

  How Helki Left the Army

  Accompanied by an Abnak named Trout, one of Chief Uduqu’s men, Fnaa enjoyed an easy crossing of the plain. Trout had been that way before. Along the way, he taught Fnaa how to find edible birds’ eggs in unlikely places and edible roots in even more unlikely places. He did not succeed in teaching Fnaa to eat grasshoppers and certain beetle larvae much prized by the Abnaks.

  “You’ll always be a city boy,” he said. “You don’t know what’s good.”

  Once they were stalked by one of the enormous birds—like Baby, only wild—that had come to haunt the plains in recent years. Trout eventually decided it was getting too close, so he unlimbered his stone axe and advanced on it, shouting insults. The bird trotted off the way it came, and Trout stood his ground until it was out of sight.

  “That was brave!” said Fnaa.

  Trout laughed. “Learn to know about animals,” he said. “Hunters, like that bird, they don’t like prey that wants to fight. They might get hurt, and then they starve.”

  “But that bird could have killed us!”

  “Not worth it to him, if first I hit him with my axe.”

  In a matter of days they made the crossing and found all of Ninneburky in an uproar. Fnaa knew the way to the baron’s house, and it took some minutes for Ellayne and Jack to get over their surprise at seeing him.

  “It’s a mess,” Ellayne said. “Half the men in this town have gone running after gold—the Thunder King’s gold, away up in the mountains.”

  Vannett had them sit in the parlor and brought them lemonade. Trout stood in the middle of the room, marveling at the walls, the windows, the carpet, and the furniture. He didn’t know what to do with himself in such strange surroundings. Vannett took him by the arm and made him sit in the baron’s own stuffed chair.

  “I’m sure you’re the first Abnak who has ever come under the roof of this house,” she said. “Not so long ago, I would have been terrified at the sight of you! But things change. Be at ease, Mr. Trout, as much as you can. You’re among friends.”

  Trout, for the time being, was speechless. But Jack and Ellayne wanted all the news from Lintum Forest, and the baroness could hardly take her eyes off Fnaa.

  “Now that I’ve met King Ryons, I doubt I could ever tell the two of you apart,” she said.

  “Ryons has a red streak in his hair,” Fnaa said. “Maybe,” said Ellayne, “but you fooled everyone in Obann City for a long time.”

  Fnaa wanted to hear about the gold. It was very far from being a secret anymore, and the baron’s family felt free to speak of it. Vannett also decided that he and Trout should be her guests for as long as they wished to stay in Ninneburky.

  “And how long will that be?” Ellayne asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Fnaa said. He couldn’t stop thinking about the gold. City-bred, he knew what gold could do. It could make a man a slave or buy his freedom. It made people who would otherwise ignore you listen when you spoke. If so many people from Ninneburky had gone after it, he thought, maybe he and Trout ought to have a go at it, too. But he didn’t think it would be wise to say that to the baroness.

  As many of the men in Ryons’ army knew, at the bottom of the pass began the Griffs’ country—well-watered grasslands, gently rolling hills. North of it lived the Zeph, and north of them stretched mile after mile of swamps that hardly anybody ever entered, and few of them, it was said, ever came out again. The way to the Great Lakes, long ago the boundary of Obann’s Empire, lay straight through Griff-land.

  “But the Great Lakes are a long way off,” said Tiliqua, chief of the dozen Griffs who followed Helki. “To get there, you must pass through countries populated by very barbarous people. Beyond the lakes rise the red cliffs of Kara Karram and the fortress of the Thunder King. But who can say we’ll ever get that far?”

  The Griffs in their homeland were still the subjects of the Thunder King, but most of their fighting men, Tiliqua said, would have been sent south to make war on the Abnaks. “Unless the Zeph have kept an army somewhere to the north, we shouldn’t see much trouble—for a while.”

  Helki had gone on ahead, but early in the afternoon came back to report that the way was clear, all the way down the mountain. “We’re the only people on this road, just now,” he told the chieftains. “Whoever lives at the bottom of the pass in good times, they’re not there now. The war has sucked all the people out of this country. And that being so, for the time being, I’ll leave you to it.”

  “What do you mean, you’ll leave us to it?” Shaffur demanded.

  “Well, you won’t need me to scout. The Griffs in the army know their own country a lot better than I do, and I’ll leave Tiliqua and his lads with you. But I have a feeling that I ought to go back up the pass and see what’s what. I’m uneasy about it. I’ll catch up to you later.”

  Ryons heard this with some misgivings, although he didn’t speak up. Helki made you feel safe. There was no one else like him. But the chieftains all seemed to accept his decision.

  “Someone ought to be watching over that gold until Baron Bault comes to get it,” Shaffur said. “Do what seems best to you, Helki.”

  Helki trekked back up the road and the army continued on down. He couldn’t say what troubled him. He remembered the story Gallgoid told, when he’d helped him down the mountain in the winter. Somewhere under those ruins lay the dead body of a Thunder King with a golden mask on its face. “If I were as superstitious as our Wallekki,” he thought, “I’d almost think the ghost was putting a hoodoo on me—calling me back to dig up the corpse so it could walk again. But that’s all fiddle-faddle.”

  He hadn’t brought up the subject when the chiefs conferred in Ninneburky, but maybe it was something he ought to mention to the baron when he got there.

  “Can’t just leave it lying about!” he thought. “The man is dead, but the mask might still be dangerous.”

  CHAPTER 14

  A Surprise for Lord Orth

  Some distance to the south of the Golden Pass, in the hills that led the way up to Bell Mountain itself, the First Prester of Obann spoke to an audience whose like had never before been addressed by any minister of the Temple. But Orth was speaking not as a prester of the Temple, but as an ambassador of God.

  Gathered around him, perhaps a thousand strong, were Abnaks—the men tattooed and shaven-headed, except for the scalp lock that hung down one side, and many Abnak women in doeskin, with their long black hair in braids, and many children with them, too. For the Abnaks were bringing their families over the mountains, out of reach of the Thunder King—for now.

  Hlah had sent out messengers inviting them to come and hear the First Prester. People who’d known Orth when he’d been among them as a simple man named Sunfish, and loved him, remembered how he used to recite the Scriptures to them and teach them. They rejoiced at his return and were eager to hear him again. Word of him had spread throughout all the new settlements in the hills and aroused the Abnaks’ curiosity.

  “Wait’ll you hear him,” said a chief named Ootoo, who’d founded his own settlement in the hills. “He’s the best kind of madman. His God speaks to him every day.”

  Now Orth was speaking to the Abnaks, standing on a big stump in the middle of a clearing, with Hlah standing before him to translate.

  “For a thousand years, your people and mine have been enemies,” he said. “But we are both God’s people. You have not known him, but He knows you. He created you and gave you your own country that you love, full of good things that sustain your lives. Although you worshipped other gods, He forgave you because you did it out of ignorance.

  “But the time has come for you to know Him! The Bell atop Bell Mountain has been rung, and
you have heard it. God has begun to gather to Himself all the peoples of the world, that they might love Him as He loves them and that He might protect them from their enemies.”

  As he translated, Hlah studied the faces of his people. They were listening attentively, he thought. The very trees of the forest were listening. Orth’s voice compelled it.

  “How will this God of yours protect us?” a chief called out. There was a deep murmur of agreement.

  “By the strength of His hand, which created the heavens and the earth,” said Orth, “and by His righteousness. You don’t know Him, but He knows you. Your very names, each and every one, are written on His palms.

  “The Thunder King invaded Obann with the greatest army the world has ever seen, and inside the city, there was treachery to help him. I know it, to my shame, for I was one of those who betrayed the city to him. I was one of those who opened the secret gates and let his warriors in. They burned down the Temple, of which I was one of the chief men. They forced open the great gates of the city.

  “But God sent a young child to deliver Obann and sat him on a great beast that was like a mountain walking, and by this means God scattered that great host and saved the city. Neither force nor treachery could prevail against Him.

  “If you put your trust in Him and call upon His name, He will hear you. And He will deliver your country, too, and restore it to you, its rightful owners.”

  “And what will He want in return?” cried the chief. “Our gods are little gods. For a pot of beer, they would give you good hunting. But they couldn’t protect us from the Thunder King! He took them away from us and told us that from then on, he would be our only god.

  “It seems to me that your God will want more than pots of beer! What sacrifices must we make to Him? How much of our flesh and blood will He require?”

  Orth smiled. It calmed the crowd, which had begun to get excited.

  “He doesn’t want your beer,” he said, “and He doesn’t want your flesh and blood. He wants your love. He wants to be your Father. He wants your hearts and your obedience. And He wants you to be able to live in peace, enjoying the good things He has given you.”

  “How can we live in peace,” said the chief, “when we’re at war? The Thunder King has promised to exterminate us. Will this God take away the Thunder King?”

  “Oh, He most assuredly will!” Orth said. “The Thunder King and all his works will be like dried grass for the fire. Of that you may be absolutely certain.”

  There were other translators scattered amid the crowd, so it only took some moments for Orth’s words to be understood. And suddenly a cheer broke out—at first a ripple, and then a mighty roar, and then a chorus of high-pitched war cries. Warriors raised their weapons, brandished them over their heads. Women made a shrill, trilling sound, as of birds. Children jumped up and down. They had heard, all right, thought Hlah—and understood.

  A great chief stepped out from the midst of the crowd—the people made way for him—and stood in front of Orth, demanding to be heard.

  “You all know me—Foxblood, of the Centipede Clan. Chief Spider was my cousin, so this young warrior is my kin by blood.” He nodded to Hlah, who was Spider’s son. “This is a great day for us! I am ready to follow the Obann God, of whom we have heard so many good things. I will follow this man, His servant.” He looked up at Orth with a fierce grin. “This is the man to lead us against the Thunder King. He can speak to God for us.

  “What are we waiting for? Let’s take him back with us across the mountains, and put his God to the test against the Thunder King! This man will have honor among us if we win, and he can die with us if we lose.”

  This needed no translation. The hills rang with wild whoops and cheering. But Hlah felt sick with dread.

  “No, no, no!” he cried. “This is the First Prester, and his place is in Obann! You can’t just carry him off!” But Orth held up his hands for silence, and when he got it, spoke again.

  “Be of good cheer, Hlah,” he said. “God’s ways are often strange to us. But if we have faith in Him, we obey. When He calls, we go.”

  He looked around at all the Abnaks.

  “I will go with you,” he said, “although it’s not what I expected. I am no man of war, but my master is the Lord of Hosts. If you become His people, surely He will fight for you. If it’s His will that you conquer, no enemy will withstand you.”

  “Please, my lord!” cried Hlah, speaking in Obannese. “You don’t know my people. They’re not ready for this! Like as not, the first time anything goes wrong, they’ll slay you where you stand. But Obann needs you!”

  “Obann is in God’s hands, as are we all,” said Orth. “Besides, there are Prester Jod in Durmurot and Preceptor Constan in the city, and others elsewhere, who are better men than I have ever been.

  “All my life, I did what it pleased me to do and hoped to gain from it. You saw where that got me—I was a witless madman starving in the marshes when you found me. So now I will do what God calls me to do. It’s only right.”

  Hlah’s eyes filled with tears. But his people, once they understood how Orth had answered them, exulted.

  “Be sure to tell everyone that I went of my own free will,” the First Prester said.

  Roshay Bault couldn’t wait for a thousand men to be collected. It was taking too much time, and meanwhile too many men from Ninneburky had run off seeking gold, and he was afraid they would fall into mischief. When he had some four hundred men assembled with their horses, he decided to set out for the Golden Pass.

  “Organize the others into troops when they get here and have them follow me,” he told the captains he’d left behind for that purpose. “And make sure there is a guard for Master Harfydd’s barges.”

  Harfydd, who’d been a rich man in Obann City before the fire that destroyed the palace burned down several of his warehouses, had married Enith’s grandmother and now made his home in Ninneburky. He’d offered to send his barges up the river as far as they would go to aid in transporting the gold.

  To Ellayne—and to Jack, too—her father gave stern warning.

  “I expect you both to be here when I get back,” he said. “No running off on adventures of your own! If the gold can draw honest men out of Ninneburky, it’ll have no trouble luring outlaws, too.”

  “Can’t we come with you?” Ellayne asked.

  “Not on your life.”

  Along with the rest of the town, Jack, Ellayne, and Fnaa saw the baron off when he set out with the militia that afternoon. All were on horseback, although some were yet a ways from being riders.

  “Everybody thinks riding a horse is easy, but it’s not,” Fnaa said. “I had to ride the king’s horse, Dandelion, so the people could all see me. I’m glad I don’t have to do it anymore!”

  So the baron rode out from Ninneburky and wasn’t there when Hlah came looking for him in the evening at his house.

  Hlah had been there before, when he and May had brought Sunfish back to Obann. He’d hurried with all speed back from the gathering of the Abnaks—straight down the river in a borrowed canoe, paddling for all he was worth, day and night. When he turned up at the baron’s door just after supper, he looked every inch a man who’d made a long journey in a short time. Jack, answering the door, hardly recognized him. Ellayne called for her mother.

  “Hlah! Why, what’s the matter? You look terrible!” Vannett took his arm. “Come and sit down, before you fall down. Find him something to eat, Ellayne.” She led him into the parlor, and there he told his tale. Before he’d finished, Fnaa and Trout appeared in the doorway, where they listened.

  “My people have forced the First Prester to go back across the mountains with them to fight the Thunder King. He has commanded me to tell the baron that he goes of his own free will and not to send a rescue expedition after him.”

  “It seems I’m not the first Abnak to have been a guest here, after all,” Trout interrupted. At the sight of him, Hlah stopped short.

  “I didn’
t count Hlah,” Vannett said. “He’s married to an Obannese girl. Hlah, this is Trout, my guest. He came from Lintum Forest with this boy, Fnaa. Please do go on with your news!”

  “My friend, Chief Ootoo, knows Chief Foxblood,” Hlah said. “Foxblood is a good man, Ootoo says. He’ll take good care of Lord Orth.”

  “That’s so,” Trout said. “Foxblood is a famous chief. He’s lifted many scalps.” Vannett did not find that as comforting as it was intended to be.

  “Abnak country, in a time of war, is no place for the First Prester of Obann!” Hlah said. “My people honor their shamans, but a shaman who makes prayers that aren’t answered or prophecies that don’t come true, they kill. And what will become of all his work, if Lord Orth isn’t here to do it? But he just says it’s all God’s will.”