Early next morning they gathered in the courtyard to ride north. Menish had argued half the night with Adhara after the others had gone. She would ride after them, she had said, she had even drawn a sword to give Menish some superficial injury that would prevent his travelling. But she had eventually accepted his argument that she was needed at Meyathal and that he must go to Gashan. He was weary when he climbed onto his horse.
Keashil, Tenari and Neathy had met them in the main hall when they had eaten a brief meal. Yarol was also present and so, of course, was Adhara.
Adhara, having agreed for Menish to go, made no further protest. She wished them a safe journey and only Menish detected the concern in her eyes. But Tenari did not let Azkun go so easily. When he mounted his horse she made to climb up behind him. Yarol caught her arm, but she ignored him and tried again. Gently but firmly Yarol pulled her away from the horse.
“Careful, Yarol!” called Neathy.
But Tenari was too quick. She lashed out at him, raking her nails down his face. He was unprepared for such viciousness and, in jerking away from her, was thrown off balance. He tumbled to the ground. With a spring she was suddenly on the horse behind Azkun and sat there motionless as if nothing had happened.
“Bitch,” said Neathy. “You have to watch her, Yarol, she's not as docile as she seems.”
“You still want to leave her behind, Azkun?” asked Althak.
“Yes, she cannot come with us.” Her attacks on Neathy and now Yarol had made him even more afraid of her.
“She doesn't treat our folk in that fashion,” said Adhara, stepping forward. “Down you come or I'll haul you off that horse myself. You need a birch across your backside for that kind of behaviour.”
Tenari ignored her.
“So be it,” said Adhara grimly. With a quick movement she reached up to Tenari’s collar and, grabbing her by the scruff of her jerkin, wrenched her off the horse. She crashed heavily to the ground with a squeal of surprise. Adhara pulled her to her feet and Tenari’s nails flashed out once again, but Adhara was ready for that. One arm knocked her hand aside and the other thudded into her belly. As she doubled over Adhara caught her in a headlock.
Tenari screamed and clawed at Adhara, fighting like an animal, even trying to bite her, but all she could do was scratch at Adhara’s thick jerkin. When it seemed she might break free Adhara casually tripped her, flung her face down on the ground and sat on her.
“Tenari!” cried Azkun, horrified at this scene. He clambered from his horse and knelt beside her. “Tenari, stop it. Do not fight them or they will hurt you. You cannot come with us.”
Abruptly Tenari’s struggles ended. Adhara let her rise to her feet, though she watched her every move suspiciously.
“She did not understand,” said Azkun, seeing the hostility in Adhara’s eyes. “She did not mean any harm.”
“The next time she means so little harm she'll get more than that.” But Tenari made no further move to climb back onto the horse. Her face became a mask of grief, but she made no sound. Azkun refused to look at her. Her expression touched his heart, but he could not bear her to be with him. She was the eyes of the Monnar.
Keashil had brought Althak’s harp with her, and before he climbed onto his horse she offered it to him.
“Your harp, you should take it with you, It'll ease your heart in peril.” Althak touched the harp.
“You play it better than I. Besides it's yours, I gave it to you.”
“Return soon then, Vorthenki. I'll miss you.”
When their goodbyes were all said they rode off through the gateway and down the road between the stone houses. Their way led them to the bank of the river where there was a stone bridge of crude design; a series of stepping-stones joined together. Azkun remembered the leaping span of the bridge of Sheagil and thought this a mean thing. But it brought them safely across the river and it did not involve dead cows.
On the other side he looked behind him to Meyathal. He could see the walls rising above the houses of the town, and he could see two figures standing on the terrace. He was not sure at this distance but they appeared to be Adhara and Tenari. He hoped Tenari would not be treated too harshly.
North of Meyathal the country opened out into the wide plains they had seen from the mountains. It was vast, empty and windy. The east wind blasted across it like a released demon. The emptiness of the plains was overpowering. After the first three days they lost sight of the mountains behind them and it seemed that the plains stretched on forever. Azkun felt that he stood on the edge of the world. The horizon was a cliff beyond which lay nothing. He found the emptiness filled his thoughts, cleansing them of cares and guilt, reminding him again of the dragons.
He realised during the silence and the emptiness that the absence of Tenari had given him freedom from the Monnar’s gaze, freedom from their influence. He was afraid of the spectres on the first night, but they did not appear as they had before he had found Tenari. Perhaps he need no longer fear them.
The dragons filled his thoughts more and more. This country reminded him of the plains of Kelerish and how the dragon had flown down from the wide sky. He had relied on Tenari too much and had not remembered the glory of his masters. This he resolved to change.
The emptiness of the plains was not complete. The road on which they travelled was the only route from Meyathal to Gildenthal and was used by caravans. They met two of these but did not camp with them. Many times they saw distant thals surrounded by herds, but the thals rarely travelled the roads, they were looking for pastures.
Apart from people and their animals Azkun saw other signs of life. Birds soared above their heads continually. One had a high, keening cry that made Azkun feel that the world was nearly at an end. There were rabbits and hares hiding in their holes in the ground, and foxes and wolves hunting them. Several times in the nights Azkun woke with fresh death in his heart. But they were normally dulled by distance, reminders of corruption rather than an intolerable awareness of it. He had the dragons to protect him from such things.
On the fifth day Grath spied a herd of deer and suggested they hunt, for they had no fresh meat left. Menish overruled him. They could eat barley and dried fruit until they reached Gildenthal, he told him, there would be no hunting on this journey. Grath grumbled but Azkun was grateful.
When they were eight days from Meyathal they came to a small path leading away from the road. A cairn of rounded stones had been piled beside it as a marker. Grath, who was in front, turned down the path and the others followed.
It led down into a mossy hollow that was wide enough to contain a large pool. Sheltered from the wind by the hollow the water was clear and still, or it was until the horses bent to drink from it. Their snorting slurps caused ripples that washed out into the centre of the pool. Rising from the centre was a tall, grey stone.
Azkun drew back in fear when he saw it. It was a Monnar stone, he could see an eye chiselled on its face. But he could see no more. The eye was not looking at him. It was not alive. It was just a stone. Nevertheless he looked at it warily.
“This is the Kruzan,” Menish explained. “It's a place more ancient than we Anthorians. Our women-folk say it was placed here before the heroes crossed the mountains of Ristalshuz. This place is sacred to them.”
“In Anthor the men worship Aton while the women worship the old gods, Kiveli and Krith,” said Althak. There was a smile on his face and something that suggested amusement at the situation.
“We leave them to their tales,” added Hrangil. “Women have no place in religion.”
“Why not?” asked Azkun.
“It has always been so for the Relanese,” said Menish. “The worship of Aton is forbidden to women.”
“Why?”
“Because they're not men!” snapped Hrangil, disturbed by the suggestion that things could be otherwise. “You heard Keashil quoting from the Mish-Tal. It was disgusting!”
There was no answer to that. After they had filled their water bags and the horses had drunk their fill they returned to the road.
That afternoon, during a short break because Althak had to check a shoe on his horse, Hrangil spoke to Azkun alone.
“Forgive my outburst at the Kruzan, it was presumptuous of me. These things are… dispensational. We've been shown the way of the Mish-Tal, but the Mish-Tal is not the ultimate authority.” The way he looked at Azkun it was obvious that he believed he was speaking directly to that ultimate authority.
“It does not matter. I did not understand. You gave no offence. I thought perhaps I had offended you.”
“No, no, of course not. I sometimes forget, that's all. I forget who you are and I forget to hold myself away from the world.”
“You fear the world would corrupt you?”
Hrangil looked at him, puzzled, then said, “No, I didn't mean that. I must hold my wicked nature in check. You are surprised. But I say little. I do only what I must do. I dare not do what I want, I might find it evil.”
Once again Azkun could think of no answer to Hrangil. It seemed an appalling view to hold. He had made mistakes himself, but the dragons would deliver him from the corruption of the world. The corruption was not part of him.
Yet it was part of Hrangil. Hrangil had to eat.
Beyond the Kruzan pool the plains became both colder and drier. Up until now they had crossed streams every few miles, but now the ground became stony and the tough, desert grass began to replace the lusher pastures. Two days after the Kruzan pool the flatness of the plains was broken by a distant line of brown hills that marched from the west towards them. The wind had changed by now from the damp east wind to a dry westerly.
Azkun did not get a close look at the hills until a day later when their road ran right past a great tongue of sand that reached towards it. The hills were sand dunes, piled there by the wind that blew forever across the plains. Tiny avalanches of sand spilled down their slopes. He had seen dunes before when they had sailed along the Relanese coast towards Atonir, but these were much larger. They were as high as the walls of the palace of Atonir.
“They shift closer to the road every year,” observed Menish as they passed the edge of the tongue. “One day they'll cover it.”
“Then we'll move the road,” said Althak.
“No doubt, but it makes me feel at the mercy of the desert. It decides where we can and cannot go. We can't easily cross those dunes.”
“We Vorthenki have a saying: ‘We are all in the hands of Kopth.’ Perhaps you would change it to Aton or Krith but the sentiment is the same. The point at which we imagine ourselves as a power over such things is the point at which they defeat us.”
“You're right,” said Menish. “We'll move the road.”
The line of dunes was the mid-point of the deep desert. Beyond them the dryness of the country diminished. The grass became taller and eventually flecked with green. Streams began to appear again. At first these were tiny, but on the third day beyond the sand dunes they had to cross a sizeable river. Two days beyond that lay Gildenthal.
The flat plain had turned to rolling hills with groups of trees dotted over it. There was even more wildlife here than they had seen in the south, but Menish still refused to allow them to hunt. They were making their way down a winding ridge when Menish halted and pointed to the valley floor below them. Azkun could see the white Anthorian tents surrounded by tilled fields. In their centre was what looked like a small palace with a high tower beside it, but there was something peculiar about the buildings. He could not see what it was from a distance.
Menish had Althak unfurl his standard. They did not want to be mistaken for raiders.
When they reached the valley floor their view of Gildenthal was blocked by trees so it was not until they were quite close, crossing the tilled fields, that Azkun was able to see the place clearly.
The town was almost exclusively made of tents. Two or three small, stone houses had been built among them, but the northerners clearly preferred their felt tents to cold stone. In the centre of the tents lay the palace and the tower, and Azkun was able to see what was odd about them.
They were ruined. There were wide cracks in the palace walls with creepers growing through them and the tower, which might once have been quite a size, was crumbling into rubble. Azkun was about to ask what had happened here when they were greeted by a group of people from Gildenthal.
“Sire, it's good to see you. We didn't look for you in the north at this time of year. I'm Vangrith of the Thonyar clan. I have five hundred yaks.” She smiled at them. The northerners were a direct folk, she said who she was and how rich she was. It simplified matters, thought Menish. In the south they liked to see if Menish would remember their names and standing and became annoyed if he was unable to. In fact he did remember Vangrith, she was one of the most important people in Gildenthal.
“My journeys have taken me far from home this year. I've heard there were floods in the north.”
“The pasture land near the river was flooded two months ago, it often is in summer.”
“Then the tale I heard grew in the telling.”
Vangrith, it transpired, was a distant relative of Grath’s. She offered them food and hospitality in her tents, she had several. They ate a light meal of tsamba, for there would be a feast tonight. Azkun steeled himself to feel death again. Menish had been thoughtful to spare him from it on their journey, but he could not forbid these folk to feast on their own cattle. Even so he took a moment to have a quiet word with Azkun.
“I hope you're not too distressed by this?”
“Nothing can be done. Not yet.”
When evening came a huge fire was lit before the dark walls of the ruined palace and the folk of Gildenthal gathered around it bringing freshly killed beasts. They proceeded to prepare the animals for roasting in the light of the flames. Azkun watched them with mounting horror. It had been days since he had tasted death so intimately, he had forgotten how much it appalled him.
To take his mind off the gore he turned to Althak.
“What are those buildings? Why are they so broken?”
“Grath can tell you better than I,” said Althak. “All I know is that they're very old.”
“Yes, they're old,” said Grath. “That's obvious, I suppose. But they are about the same age as the palace of Meyathal. This palace you can see was destroyed when the ground shook. That sometimes happens here in the north. The women say it is Kiveli, the earth goddess, angry at us men for worshipping Aton. There's a tale I can't remember of an old king who refused to leave the palace even though it was crumbling around him. I can't remember his name either, but it was his grandfather who built the palace.
“The fire tower was built much later, though it, too, is very old. Yes, it is a fire tower, or it was meant to be. I think it was never lit. The Gashans attacked Gildenthal and smashed it. That was hundreds of years ago.”
“The Gashans actually came here?”
“Oh yes. That was before one of the Relanese Emperors drove them back, Gilish III he was called, or was it Gilish II? I'm not sure. His name was Gilish anyway, but he wasn't the first Gilish.”
Azkun was about to ask more about the ruins when he heard Hrangil’s voice raised in indignation.
“What is this man doing in our midst? Begone, vermin! You have no place here.”
The man he spoke to crouched near the butchers picking at the scraps they threw away. His hands and mouth were red and slick with blood. He was not Anthorian. Even in the shifting firelight Azkun could see that. His hair was long and matted and he had a full beard like a Vorthenki. But he was not tall and his hair and beard were black. He wore rags that were torn and filthy.
When Hrangil spoke to him he winced like a kicked dog. He slithered away into the shadows with a leering scowl on his face. Hrangil spat onto the ground.
“What is it?” asked Menish, he had been talking with Vangrith and had not seen the man.
“Monnar filth,” said Hrangil. “They were letting him eat by the fire.”
“Oh, that's old One-ear. He does no harm,” said Vangrith.
“He's a Monnar! You allow him by your fires?”
“Well, we don't exactly allow him. But he manages to fight with the dogs for his share of the scraps.”
“You should turn him away, cast him from you. Don't you know what he is?”
“Of course. He's a Monnar. But he's old and harmless. Master Hrangil, you don't expect me to be concerned with old enemies of your Gilish, do you?”
“To harbour such as he is wickedness! He mustn't live among you!”
“It's not our concern, Hrangil,” said Menish. “We're guests here.”
Azkun looked into the shadows where the old Monnar had gone and shuddered. He had seen blood around the man’s mouth, blood dribbling into his beard. He was a Monnar. Azkun remembered the ring of stones and felt suddenly cold. He wanted to move closer to the fire, but the butchers were still there.
The fire roared higher as someone piled on some more branches. Sparks flew up to the black sky like tiny, orange stars. He stared at them, remembering the dragon fire. He did not have to be afraid of the Monnar, the dragons had given him power over such evil. He did not eat. The dragons sustained him. They had not abandoned him. He would be dead if they had.
While the yaks were roasting on the fire the Anthorians called for entertainment. First was a wrestling match. It was not a duel so there were few formalities. The two contestants bowed to each other to show there was no quarrel between them and proceeded to thrash each other for all they were worth. There were some other differences from a formal duel and Althak explained them to Azkun. Head blows were forbidden and body blows were frowned upon. Biting, which was legal in a formal duel, was also forbidden here.
The two put up a good fight and, after throwing his opponent for the third time, the winner helped him to his feet. They bowed to each other and retired into the crowd.
Another match followed, much the same as the last, except that two women fought. Like the men they stripped to the waist and greased themselves. Althak mentioned that men and women rarely wrestled each other. Not in public anyway, because it was considered unseemly. He seemed to think this was funny.
There were two more matches and, though the Anthorians were tireless of them, Azkun began to find them dull. Did these people do nothing else for fun?
His question was answered after the fourth match. Two women stepped onto the wrestling ground, each armed with a curved sword and wearing heavy jerkins. This time there was a flurry of betting.
One of the women began to sing. Her high, clear voice rang out over the crackling of the fire. The other joined her as they circled each other, holding their swords vertically before them. Azkun did not understand the words of the song for it was Anthorian, but the singers were skilled and he enjoyed their music. It made him think of Keashil, though these two sang without any accompaniment. Suddenly the song changed. The singers lowered their swords and moved towards each other like fighters. With a clash the swords met. One singer shifted aside and forced the other’s sword to the ground. All the while they kept singing in unison. It was a stylised sword fight. At first they moved slowly and gracefully, keeping time with their song. The song picked up speed and so did the dance, becoming wilder and more violent. The swords rang and the dancers whirled in a predefined sequence that looked impossibly complicated. Surely they would not keep up the pattern with no mistake. Thrust, parry, slice, thrust, it went on and on, faster and faster. At last one dancer missed her footing. She did not meet the other’s down coming sword with a deflecting slice and it hit her shoulder, knocking her to the ground.
A cheer went up from the crowd. Vangrith remarked that they had put on an excellent performance tonight. The loser was not hurt, for the swords were blunt and her thick jerkin had protected her from the force of the blow. She dusted herself off with a smile and bowed to the winner.
“There's nothing like the sword-dance for teaching skill with the weapon. We'd be easy meat without it. Speaking of meat, those yaks must be cooked by now.”
They were indeed. The meat had been sectioned and placed on rods over the fire. Althak said that meant it cooked faster than leaving them whole but Azkun was trying not to listen. They lifted the rods off the fire and placed them on the ground. Then, as at Meyathal, with no speech making, they cut the meat they wanted and returned to their places to eat it.
This had a curious effect on Azkun. He had watched the wrestling with interest and he had been fascinated by the sword dance. But, when he saw them cutting at the dead yak, he remembered that all these people knew was to fight and kill. Their diversions were mere practices of their evil arts. Murder was their way of life. Cattle raids, duels, slaughter of their animals, it was all corruption. They did not know the dragons.
But they should know them. He rose to his feet. They were all stuffing meat into their mouths, talking and laughing. He remembered the Monnar with blood around his mouth and felt ill.
“People of Gildenthal!” he called in a loud voice. Most turned to look at him. Althak had said something to him about guests having a traditional right to speak at a feast in Anthor. Menish, however, looked up, startled. “I have come to tell you of my masters, the dragons. What you are doing is evil in their sight. They do not wish you to fight and kill, not even to kill your own cattle.”
There were murmurings of “what's he talking about?” and “doesn't like the food?” But, although he spoke Relanese, most of those present could understand him.
“The dragons can deliver you from this evil. I am the bridge to the dragons. Believe me, I have stood in the fire of a dragon.”
“What's this talk of dragons?” called someone, one of the wrestlers, Azkun thought. “There are no dragons here, we're too far from the sea.”
“Not enough fennel about,” called another.
“Not enough Vorthenki,” laughed the first.
“Do not laugh at him!” shouted Menish, rising to his feet. In the firelight his face was stormy with anger. “How dare you laugh at a guest? Are these the offspring of the heroes of Ristalshuz?” Menish’s voice was quiet now but all eyes were on him. Even the fire seemed subdued. “We accepted your hospitality in good faith. My friend wishes to tell you something, he has the right of a guest to speak. If you disagree then tell him so, but don't laugh at him.”
Menish sat down and Azkun was left alone, wondering what he should tell them next. But they had laughed, they were not ready to hear more about dragons. He had been wrong to speak.
“That is all I have to say,” he said lamely and sat down. But he did not forget that Menish, although he had not endorsed what he said, had defended his right to speak.
His words had spoiled the good humour of the evening. People finished their meal in silence, there was no more of their good-natured laughing and joking. It was not long before most of them had drifted off to their tents.
Vangrith’s hospitality was still available, but there was little warmth in her manner now. She showed them a tent in which they could sleep and bade them good night.
The next morning the ground was frosty and so was Vangrith. She invited them to stay longer, but that was only a formality. It was plain she wanted them to leave. Most of her hostility was directed at Azkun, but Menish did not entirely escape. Northerners did not like to be rebuked, especially by someone they could not challenge to a duel. The King, of course, was immune from such challenges.
Beyond Gildenthal the trees grew more thickly and the country rose steeply. They caught glimpses of mountains in the distance when they crossed ridges but their road wound mostly along steep valleys. It was well into autumn now and the nights were very cold, but fortunately there was plenty of wood for their fires. Even so Menish’s leg began to ache again and he found himself tiring each day by mid-afternoon.
The road they had followed to Gildenthal had been no more than a beaten track and now it deteriorated further. Menish suspected it was frequented more by wild animals than by men. But Grath, who came from this region, led them on surely. He had been this way many times.
The hills on either side of them grew taller and steeper. The trees became sparse again as they gained height. Four days after they left Gildenthal they found themselves travelling between the snow capped peaks of the mountains of Ristalshuz. It was bitterly cold, even when the sun shone, and they found patches of snow in the valleys. The valleys themselves were formed of long, grey scree slopes that converged at their path. Hardy tussock and lichen grew among the rocks but little else. At Grath’s suggestion they had cut wood and carried it with them. But this had to be used sparingly. Menish could not keep his leg warm enough no matter what care he took of it and he began to wish he had listened to Adhara.
On the fifth day they crossed a saddle in the mountains and found themselves in a wide, valley with a shallow river winding through it. This was a place Menish remembered well. It was the site of the last battle with the men of Gashan, forty years ago. As he looked across it his memory peopled it with those who had fought and died here. He saw again the imperial armies drawn up along the near edge, the Anthorian contingent arrayed along one flank and his own small company at their edge, near the river. The river had saved his life and, in the process, had saved Anthor. But so many had died. The valley must be littered with old swords and armour.
There had been too many dead to dispose of fittingly. They had gathered up those they could and made a pyre of them, the remains of Telish IV and Kizish, Menish’s father, lying on top of the pyre. It had burned for two days, and when it had gone out they piled a great cairn of stones from the river over the charred remains.
He could see the grassy mound near the river and they rode towards it. It was covered with forty years of tussock growth but the outline was still clear, even if it now looked like an earth mound rather than a stone one. Menish had forgotten how large it was, so many had died, and it must have subsided over the years.
Would they, perhaps, have to build another mound soon? Would his own body lie on that mound? He turned to Azkun.
“Do you know what this is?”
“A hill, though an odd one. Was it made by men?”
“It was made by men, by men and of men. After the great battle we fought here with the men of Gashan we gathered up our dead and placed them here, though there were so many that we had to leave most where they fell.”
“How many died?” Azkun was pale.
“Nearly four thousand.”
“These men of Gashan killed so many?”
Menish nodded.
“I understand. It was like the fight with the pirates. You had to fight or you would die yourself. I see that, but it is appalling.”
On the other side of the wide valley floor they came to a stream which bubbled and gurgled across their path. They looked at it with amazement for it steamed. Grath leapt from his horse and plunged his hand into the water. He pulled it out quickly with a yelp.
“It's hot! Hot water flowing along the ground! I've heard of such things but I never believed them.”
“I, too, have heard of them,” said Menish. “This place is mentioned in the Gash-Tal, or some place like it.”
“It is indeed, Sire,” said Hrangil. “Gilish III found several of these streams. He also found something else here. Let's dismount and lead the horses through those trees.”
They did as Hrangil suggested and he led them up the stream for about ten minutes. The way was difficult for there was no path and trees and undergrowth had gathered about the stream. Presently they came to what Hrangil had been looking for, the source of the stream.
There were two pools at the base of an earthy bank. The first pool was rough and natural. They could see holes in its bed where clear water gushed out of the earth. A conduit joined this pool to a second pool. The second pool had been carefully faced with stone by human hands to form a wide, square bathing pool with steps leading from one corner. Another conduit allowed water to flow from the other side into the stream.
“It's just like a Relanese bath!” said Grath.
“Who else would have thought of such a thing?” said Althak.
“It's exactly what I need for my leg.”
Without further discussion they removed their clothing and entered the pool. At first it was too hot to bear but it soon became pleasant when they were warmed up. For Menish the pain in his leg became excruciatingly delightful then ebbed away entirely after a few minutes.
“Now what we need is some soap,” said Hrangil.
“While you're wishing,” laughed Grath, “how about some fresh food and a soft bed.”
“Gilish III went to a lot of trouble to build this,” said Althak. “I thought he came up here to fight Gashans.”
“The Gash-Tal says he found this place,” said Hrangil. “Not that he built it.”
“So who built it? No one lives here.”
“What's that?” asked Menish, pointing to one of the stones that faced the pool. It was a large slab that supported the conduit from the upper pool. There was something carved on it.
“It's very worn with age,” said Grath who was closest to it. “Not much to make out. It looks like an axe I think, although there's this… oh, it could be a double headed axe.”
“A double headed axe?” asked Hrangil. “Why would anyone carve that? Are you sure?”
“No, I'm not. But that's the best I can make of it.”
“Let me look.” Hrangil peered at it. “It could be anything. It might even be a sword.”
“I've seen a double headed axe carved in stone before somewhere,” said Althak, “but I don't remember where. Somewhere in the north I think. Perhaps my folk came here.”
“Or the folk who built this also visited the Vorthenki coasts,” said Grath. “Perhaps the Monnar built it. It's said they sometimes built in stone.”
“Crude carving on stones they found in place,” said Hrangil. “Nothing like this.”
They emerged refreshed from their bath but, although it was not time to look for a camp site, they decided to spend the night here. It was a pleasant place with plenty of wood, and a taste of luxury, after travelling so long, was not to be wasted. They bathed again after the evening meal and yet again when they rose in the morning. Menish’s leg felt much better for the treatment and he was ready to set off again, though with some reluctance.
Not far past the stream the valley opened out even wider and they found themselves standing on the shores of a huge lake. It was so big that they could only just see the other side of it, and it was much longer than it was broad. They were near one end of it, the other end was lost in the distance. This was the legendary Lake Kel, or Bekel as some called it. There were few people who had seen it with their own eyes. The Gash-Tal told of its vastness, like a sea yet with fresh water. It was said to be the home of strange monsters and they trod warily along its shores.
The road ended at the lake shore. There were the remains of a stone pier but it was buckled and broken with age, possibly by the shaking of the earth. Hrangil said that it had been whole in the time of Gilish III and they had used it to launch barges across the lake. But Menish had no intention of building a barge and sailing across on it, even though there were a number of good-sized trees here. It would take too long and, besides, all except Althak and Azkun hated sailing.
The alternative was to go around the lake. The near end was not far and the shores of the lake were sandy beaches. They spent two pleasant, though cold, days making their way west. Here there was plenty of wood and fresh water. Althak caught some fish but no one else wanted any. Three times they found warm streams running into the lake but there were no more pools to bathe in.
On the third day the lake edge became rocky and more difficult to get the horses across. They had to resort to leading them for much of the time. The weather also turned against them. Up until now it had been cold but dry, now an icy wind blew down from the mountains and grey snow clouds swirled across the sky. The next day the snow fell, dusting everything with white and making their way even more difficult. They found the end of the lake, a deep gorge was sliced into the mountains and a river plunged from it into the lake. It was swift, cold and deep.
The horses were uncooperative about crossing it but they forced them through. On the other side they had to stop and build a large fire, for they were in danger of freezing to death. The snow grew thicker that night, swirling about them and building up drifts in the hollows.
The other side of the lake made Menish wonder if building a barge might not have been a better idea. The country was much steeper. The mountainsides plunged directly down into the lake leaving only thin stretches of broken rock beneath the cliffs. Many times they had to swim the horses across channels. It was hard on the beasts, and hard on the men. The water was cold and the weather was bleak. The snow still fell heavily. But, when Menish looked out over the water he decided that this was still the better choice. The cliffs sheltered them from the worst of the wind but out on the lake they would have no such protection. There the waves were whipped up by the wind and Menish doubted if they could have built anything that would stand such rough weather.
They pressed on miserably, sometimes hoping for another hot stream, but mostly just trying to get this leg of the journey over with. Once they found the road again, for there was said to be a pier on the other side of the lake, the way would be easier. But this part was sapping their strength. Even Althak looked pale and grim, and Menish had never seen him tire before.
When, at last, they found the road they almost missed it in the snow. The pier was broken like the one on the other side and, covered with snow, it was hard to distinguish from the surrounding rocks. The road led up into a valley but it, too, was white with snow. It was only that Althak noticed an upright stone a short distance up the valley and went to look at it. He came back shouting with joy.
“We've found it! This is the place!”
“What's the stone?”
“It's a stone like the Kruzan, it guards the road I suppose. But this is the road. You can see the line of it down to the water. That must be the pier, there.” He pointed and they went to see. Sure enough, there was the pier with a hard, stone way leading from it towards the standing stone. It was not like the track they had been following on the other side of the lake. This road was more like the ones in Relanor.
To celebrate finding it at last they decided to camp that night near the pier. They made a huge fire and gathered closely around it. The weather was still cold but it did not snow that night.
Sometime during the night they were wakened by a strange noise.
“Wolves!” said Grath.
“Not wolves I've heard before,” said Althak. “They sound more like hounds.”
“What's the difference?”
“Wolves howl, hounds bark. That's a bark.”
“Wolves bark as well,” said Hrangil, drawing his sword.
“They don't bark when they're near prey,” said Althak.
“Perhaps we can continue this discussion some other time,” interrupted Menish. “There's something out there and it may like man flesh.”
“I'll go and look,” said Althak. “I know it's not a wolf.”
The sky had cleared during the night and the moon was one day past full. Althak climbed out of his blankets and walked off into the darkness. The glow of the fire reflected off the jewelled belt Menish had given him for a time, then he disappeared from view. They waited, listening.
A few moments later he returned with a broad grin on his face.
“Wolves indeed! Come and see these ‘wolves’ of yours, Grath.”
They all followed him down to the lake shore. Before they reached it he bade them walk quietly and they crept across the snow to the edge of the lake. The barking sound came from the rocks near the pier.
“There, see? On that big rock. You can see him in the moonlight.”
On one of the large rocks lay a rounded shape with a tiny head. From it came the barking sound.
“What is it?” asked Azkun.
“It's not a wolf,” said Grath. “It doesn't look dangerous.”
“It's a seal,” said Althak. “It's harmless. They can bite you if you're not careful, but they can't move quickly on land.”
“Is it a fish that lives on land then?”
“I think so. It breeds on land and hunts in the water. It has fins rather than legs so it must be a fish. I've seen them on the Vorthenki coasts. They hunt them there for meat and their skins are warm to wear.” He grinned. “You'd not like the meat I think.”
So Menish forbade them to kill this one and they returned to their camp. For the rest of the night the seal serenaded them.
The next day the road, once they knew it was there, was not difficult to follow and it was wide and flat. It led them up through the valley and through a deep gorge. There was snow everywhere until they crossed a pass that led them steeply downwards. Late in the afternoon they found themselves standing on high mountain ramparts.
This side of the mountains swept up abruptly from a vast, green plain that stretched away as far as they could see. The country was perfectly flat and densely forested. Just as they had at the lake shore the mountains here plunged down in high cliffs to the plains with no foothills to break them. This time, however, they had a road to travel on. It led them down the cliffs in long zigzags that took them all the following day to negotiate.
At last they had reached the land of Gashan.