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CHAPTER 22

      THEY TRUDGED through a long evening across meadows of dry grass. The wind was always in their faces, steady and insistent. It covered the sound of the cart's wheels and hushed their panting breaths. Hour after hour as they pushed forward, it pushed them back.

      Their eyes were fixed on the mountains, black against the dark sky, a great range of cliffs that sprang up from the plain, marking the border between Avianne and Berachan.

      Just when it was too dark to see, a splendid, white moon came up to light their way. They moved on, dragging the painted cart through the shadows that stalked behind them.

      They reached the foothills in the middle hours of the night. Here they paused, feeling the cold for the first time. Hearth portioned out the bread, meat, and dried fruit she had bought at Canal Port. "It'll be heavy going from now on," Zex said, chewing grimly, "But if we keep at it, we can be there by morning."

      "Then let's be at it," Ware returned with equal grimness. He and Ember had done the last stint of pulling, and his back was remembering the weight of the cart.

      Steel shifted her pack. "From now on, anybody who isn't pulling must get behind and push."

      The others got reluctantly to their feet. "Wish we could rest a little longer," Hasty muttered.

      Without answering, Ware put himself between the arms of the wagon and Ember joined him. Steel's voice came from the darkness behind them. "All together, now. Push," she commanded, and the cart moved.

      Before long, Ware was counting every step. The cart seemed to have grown heavier. Fifty paces. Twenty more. The incline grew steeper, and the cold air burned in and out of his chest.

      Zex and Hasty took their turn at pulling, while Ware and Ember joined the women behind the cart. It was one step at a time now, their feet sliding in the loose rocks. At a relatively level stretch they paused to rest. Zex leaned against the cart, panting, every exhaled breath accompanied by a puff of sound.

      Ware relieved the exhausted Hasty and began to pull again. The incline grew steeper. "Pull."

      "Push."

      "Pull." Step by step, the cart moved on.

      Tall rocks loomed on either side, casting impenetrable shadows. The cold moonlight spilled around them. There was no reality now except effort and the weight of the cart. Pull, then pause for breath. Pull. Pause for breath.

      Then, very suddenly, the silence was split by shouts. "Forward. WE HAVE THEM NOW!"

      From all sides, men rushed out of the shadows, no way to escape. So many. No hope of out-fighting them all.

      Zex released his side of the cart and caught up his heavy stick. He dashed into the thick of the oncoming soldiers shouting, "Back! Or — by the Bear! — you're dead men!"

      The cart plunged backward. Ware grabbed for it, bracing his whole strength against its weight, lest it roll down and crush the women behind it.

      Ember uttered an incoherent sound and began to grapple with the soldier who was attacking him.

      "THERE SHE IS!"

      Ware had heard that voice before. In the village, as they scattered for the shelter of the forest. At the river as the bitter water closed over him. In his dreams he'd heard that voice.

      "GET THE WOMAN!"

      As Arm shouted those words, Ware let go the cart and turned to follow Ember and Zex. The heavy thing began rolling backward down the steep hill. The hammock that held Itok bobbed wildly.

      Then Ware was being dragged headlong downhill with the cart.

      Steel's voice, shouting. Hearth's voice.

      Let go the cart, Ware. Protect them!

      But he couldn't let go — he was tangled in the harness ropes, and the cart would not let go of him.

      Steel and Hearth were fighting for their lives. He had to help them! But struggle as he would, he could not get free, and he was dragged downhill, stumbling, almost off his feet, helplessly battling the weight of the cart! Too heavy, too fast!

      From the gulf of his desperation, Ware summoned a terrible silent cry. "Help us!"

      Struggling to free himself, to slow the cart, to loose his hands, at the same time he was reaching outward, flinging out that desperate plea with his mind. Calling to the sleeping Ess-Issa, to the dark sky, to any mind, or spirit or essence that could hear him."Help us! Here!"

      Then . . . with a physical shock. Came a contact that brought a wilder shudder to his already thudding heart. With a touch that filmed his skin with moisture and made him gasp an answer came!

      It was as if he'd put out his hand into darkness and found another hand there, waiting for him. It was like no other touch he had ever known, a clasp that fit as closely, palm to palm, as one of his own hands might have gripped the other.

      "I'll come!" said the voice in his mind.

      It had reached him like a flash, and it did not leave him. As Ware continued to stagger down the hill, dragging his heels in the rocky soil, trying fruitlessly to slow the cart, that handclasp was locked in his mind, and the voice rang in his ears: "Hold on! I'm coming!"

      And suddenly, Steel became immobile, with her uplifted wrists still encircled by a soldiers's hands. Zex was motionless with his cudgel poised in the air, and Ember remained stock-still with his big hands around a soldier's unresisting neck. Hasty stopped in the act of dodging a blow. Hearth was transfixed where she stood in the Arm's grasp, and Arm, his knife uplifted above Hearth, stood like a man caught in a dream. Each one was motionless, like a game of statues, as if the mooney light had turned them all to silver.

      Only Ware was running, stumbling. He managed to turn the cart a little, and at last it came to a stop, without being crushed, against the wall of rock. As soon as the cart stopped, the straps that had held him fell slack and let him free.

      He turned, panting, to see an immense bird like an eagle come swooping down from the sky. Its outstretched wings were twice, no, three times the height of a man. It came to earth in the open, halfway between Ware and the others. And as those great wings closed, it looked first up the slope and then down again.

      Even as Ware felt the touch of its wonderful, dark gold eyes, even then, in his mind, that hand was still in his hand.

      The great bird lifted its head and then, without warning . . . what — what was happening?

      No cloud covered the moon. And yet, it was hard for Ware to see what came next, even in that brilliant moonlight, against the absolute blackness of the shadows. Perhaps a cloud was covering Ware's eyes, instead. Because after a moment . . . where the bird had been, now there was a man.

      "Someone called, and I have come."

      Ware held out his freed hands, and as he did so — Ah, the handclasp was gone.

      The man looked down at his own hands and then back at Ware. He seemed surprised. "It was you? How can that be? Who are you to call me in such a voice?"

      Ware sank to his knees, "Sir, I'm — nobody. But you are . . . You're Hawk, the King!"

      "Yes."

      How did Ware know? After all, it was only a man standing there, and he was not strong, not tall, not handsome. He wore no crown, and he had no host of retainers around him to hold him apart from common men. He merely stood and looked at Ware from dark-gold eyes that were ringed with age and sadness. Yet, there was no way Ware would not have known him. They had touched minds, palm to palm and thought to thought.

      Steel came running down the hill. "Sir. Well come. You've saved us!"

      When Hawk heard her voice, he turned and the weariness left his face. He caught her in his arms and embraced her. "Steel, you're safe then! I was afraid Zex reached you too late."

      The Berach came and knelt before him. "Sire, it would've been too late indeed, if you hadn't come when you did."

      "No matter. She's safe. You're all safe now, and you've done well." Hawk raised Zex to his feet. Then he turned to Ember, Hearth, and Hasty. "As for you others, I thank you for protecting someone so dear to me."

      Hasty took a step closer and looked up at him curiously. "Where did you come from? Was it you that made everyone stop like that?"

      "Yes, it was I," Hawk said. "And now we must see why this was happening."

      He turned to face the soldiers, still frozen in attitudes of attack, and said sternly: "All of you — you poor fellows, why are you here?"

      When he spoke, each of the soldiers gave a start and looked around, gaping at King Hawk and their surroundings like men waked from sleep.

      "Yessir," said one of the men. "We're king's men. Soljers, yer honor. And I guess we surrender ourselves to you, whoever you are. I'm Barleyman, at your service."

      "Show some respect. He's the True King," Steel snapped.

      Barleyman saluted, "Well then, your Majesty. Don't be too hard on the men and me. If we'd been consulted, you know, we'd of rather been peaceable to you, sir. We was only doin' what we was forced to."

      King Hawk looked Barleyman up and down. "You're plain spoken, I see. But fortunately for us all, you've done no real harm. Therefore, as I have no wish to injure any citizen of Avianne, you're all discharged."

      "What." The man was astonished. "D'you mean that, Sir? We get no punishment?"

      "Yes, you're free, all of you. And I advise you to go home; your families need you."

      "Oh, thank you, Sir! We'll go at once. We do thank you!" The soldiers saluted, and, still murmuring their thanks, they drifted down the hill and into the darkness. Only the Arm remained behind, immobile, his eyes vacant and his head hanging a little forward.

      King Hawk went and looked at him. "Poor man. You're Dur's Arm, are you? What a shame; you were a good fellow. How did you come to be here in such a way tonight?"

      "He swallowed me and possessed me," Arm answered dully. "Now that you've driven him out, I'm empty, and there's nothing left of me but bones and stones. I'm falling in on myself, let me go . . ."

      "Empty indeed," Hawk murmured. He laid a hand on Arm's forehead, like a parent feeling a child's fever. "He burned away the whole man and left only the shape that held him. What a sad waste; you were a useful spirit, before he destroyed you."

      As soon as Hawk removed his hand, Arm sank to the ground with a little sigh, and lay still. Zex touched the limp body with the toe of his boot. "Did you kill him, Sire?"

      "No. It was just as he said; he was dying as he spoke, and there was nothing left of him that I could save." Looking down at the inert form. Hawk shook his head. "What a grievous thing to see yet another one lost in this way."

      Then his voice changed, he straightened his shoulders and looked around at them all. "However, it's good that none of you were harmed. Come along now, there's rest and safety at Fairweather, up the hill in Kings Valley. Your journey's over, and you've come home at last."

      "We must bring the injured man and the cart," Hearth said softly.

      Hawk smiled at her. "I'll send men to bring them after us. Nothing will harm them now."

      Taking Steel's arm, he made a welcoming gesture. "It's been a weary journey for you all, and you must have rest and food. Great things are happening, and each of you will have some part in everything to come."

      His eyes moved to Ware, and his mind spoke silently, so that none of the others could hear. "And you, you most of all."

      Then Hawk turned and led the way up the hill, leaving those silent words to burn like a promise in Ware's heart.

      — END OF THE FIRST BOOK —

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