Riding eastwards with the Thendâ was exhilarating. The company of riders, Mëolande and her thráka-sarron, Rauno on Tiratéma, and Arbros on Borotíki, moved at a steady pace along the eastward high road, making camp along the way. At times they would gallop their horses, and Borotíki made his best effort to keep up, urged on by Arbros. Between them there was now a strong bond: they began almost to know each other’s thoughts. Apart from Vidnî, Arbros had never had such a friend.
After many days on the road, the Thendâ turned north, to join their comrades and the herds grazing on the high plains. Mëolande bade farewell to Arbros in her accustomed short-spoken way:
‘Go well, son Arbros. You have the makings of a fine rider, for a Hyûvanwa. Always listen to Borotíki. He is the wise foal of a wise mare!’
Then, to Arbros’s surprise, Mëolande embraced him and kissed him on both cheeks; then ran and vaulted on to her mare; and the thráka-sarron at once moved off. Arbros suddenly felt lonely. But Rauno came and said:
‘We shall soon have company enough. For now our work begins. We must ride to the land’s end, where the eastern seas are warm, and visit the fisher folk there.’
Then, like Vidnî and Mirutháli, they two went from one settlement of Hyûvandri to another, staying with friendly folk, speaking to the people about the Dolorous Stroke, the return of Negobith, and the founding of Tídris. At the very end of the land, where thick woods full of strange birds fringed a sandy shoreline, they found simple fisher folk who listened impassively to their words, but replied that they would be glad to have the protection of the Great City. For they had heard tales of the Kúmi Netári, and feared them.
They visited farmers and herdsfolk dwelling in the inland regions, and they too were glad to know that a great lord and his folk would take thought for them if indeed new dangers were arising. They spent a pleasant enough Spring, Summer, and Autumn in these travels; but always, for Arbros, it was riding and caring for Borotíki that gave him his chief happiness.
Of Ingos Earthstepper and his care for the Hyûvandri, the peoples in the East knew only the tales their fathers and mothers had told them. They had not seen him walking the earth, going forth with the sowers, joining in the harvest, herding the beasts. They could not mourn for him, and their response to the news of the Dolorous Stroke was only courteous regret.
As they travelled westward again, Arbros and Rauno came to small towns where folk were wary of them. They listened respectfully to their tidings. But they said:
‘Of this Ingos we know neither bad nor good; our fathers praised him, but he has not visited us. And as for the great City, we can make our own choices: other cities there be, and their lords are well disposed to us.’
Arbros could see that Rauno was greatly troubled at these words, and asked what they might mean.
‘I know naught for certain, son Arbros, but it was foretold that the sons of Oigenas, when they return, are to set up a great city in the East; and thither they will take all who receive the Yoke.
But now we have been guests in nearly all the settlements of the Hyûvandri that I know of in the East. The autumn is wearing on, and we must return to Tídris. There is one more town that we should go to, Istammet; it is a little way to the northwest of here.’
Then Arbros remembered the Quest, and was alarmed that he had found neither crown, nor sword, nor ring. He felt a sudden urgency to obtain them as soon as he could. Supposing Vidnî had all three, or even two, or even just one, and he came back with none! But Rauno said:
‘Fear not, Arbros lad, for the game is neither won nor lost till the last throw.’
The very next day they came into a land that Arbros recognized. The shapes of the hills were known to him. The village in which he grew up, Uxul, must lie only a few days’ journey away.
That evening they entered Istammet, the greatest town Arbros had yet seen. A crowd assembled to hear them, but they murmured at their words, and some even began to call out against them:
‘Ingos the Earthstepper! Of him our fathers prated, but none of us have ever seen him! What can he do for us, or has ever done? Build your mighty city if you wish, but we know who our friends are! We await the mighty ones who bring the Yoke of Negobith.’
Arbros shuddered at these words, for he had heard almost the same things before, at Uxul when the Entelláka maidens came to warn the people. The meeting soon broke up, and some folk stayed to speak, or perhaps to argue, with Rauno; but no one paid Arbros any heed, and he walked along the high street to see the big buildings, wondering if they would have such houses in Tídris.
He felt a touch on his arm and turned. A man of short stature, dressed like a horseman, stood there; he had a wizened smiling face and dark curling hair, and something like a drum slung on his back.
‘Son of Ingos! You are glum, for they will not listen. Now, I know that the tall Entelláwa’s story is quite true. I was a friend of the Lord Ingos myself. His loss is very terrible.’
Arbros had nothing to say. He could see the man was friendly, but he trembled inwardly. Was it fear or excitement?
‘But your story is most wonderful. You escaped from Uxul? You know, do you, that it is but a few miles from here. The road is easy to find. It runs between yonder hills and through some pleasant woods. Perhaps you walked in those woods yourself in former years?’
Arbros answered:
‘I do not think so, sir, for I was like a servant to those that I lived with, and I hardly ever had time for play. When we had no tasks we crept into the well—’
The man’s eyes crinkled with pleasure as he interrupted.
‘Ah, now the well! That is the most interesting thing of all. For that was never a well at all! It is the entrance to a secret chamber. You do not know, I am sure, what “Uxul” means, in the language of old? “Treasure”! Yes, to be precise, its old name was Yir Uxul, “the place of treasure”. Because under that town are the chambers where the giants of old bestowed their treasures for safe keeping, and now the giants are no more, and the silly townsfolk who dwelt on top of it, and never knew about it, have gone away. So if anyone is looking for precious things to be freely had, such as, say, swords, or rings, or even crowns — well, it’s all there for the taking! But keep it to yourself, won’t you!’
This seemed almost too good to be true to Arbros. Now was surely his last chance to achieve the Quest, and all he had to do was grasp it. But he thought it wise not to seem eager.
‘That is very interesting, sir. I did not know. I will ask Rauno about it.’
‘Now, now, lad, as I said, keep it to yourself. This is a Hyûvanka matter. The Entellári have done their work, and they are entrusting everything to the Hyûvandri now. But if you should pass that way, and feel like exploring the place, there’s an ûthéa that opens the hidden door. It is easy to remember: Gantë thûr, hlafaremef. Now I must be gone: good luck to you!’
‘Excuse me, sir, but please stay a moment and tell me by what name I am to remember you? You seem to be a rider by your attire, but you are not a Thendáwa.’
‘Yes, I am a rider. The Foul Rider some call me, for folk do not like the look and smell of my mount. Farewell.’
No comments:
Post a Comment