already his hair was alight...

The vengeful citizens of Instruere who had been attacked by flame-wielding men - Bhrudwans, they assumed - were drawn to the screams, initially thinking that yet another innocent had been taken by the fire. A figure of flame staggered to the door of the shed, arms wide, mouth open. Then they recognised their tormentor, and watched in silence as he enacted some crazy rite of self-immolation, clutching the door-frame with weakening fingers until finally the shed came crashing down on top of him.

The Falthan commanders were clearly desperate to leave the City and go north to where their army was still - for all they knew - held by the Bhrudwan force. Perhaps the Maghdi Daskt had made their way north to their army. If they could make a bridge across the river in one direction, why not in the other? It might be that, even as they waited in frustration, their soldiers were being executed, one by one. It was their duty, they had to go.

But clearly they could not. Fires had taken hold all through the western part of the City, and the Arrow-bearer had commanded them to help put them out. No one thought to disobey the man. It was through him, after all, and the trick he had played on the Undying Man, they had gained their own freedom. Few people were entirely clear what had happened that afternoon, and they discussed it as they handed buckets to each other.

'I saw the Jugom Ark flash across the hall and strike the Destroyer,' said the Captain of the Instruian Guard. 'The wielder of the Arrow is a magician of rare power! I witnessed him dry up the Aleinus River to make his escape from Instruere.'

'But why did he wait so long to strike?' one of the Fodhram asked. 'If he had the power to defeat the Destroyer, why did he not do so much earlier? Why did he refuse the single combat offered him?'

'Yes!' another of the Instruians agreed, then paused a moment to pass his bucket on to a man who dashed into the burning tenement. 'I saw hundreds of those under my command slain.

Why didn't he do something about it?'

Perdu clapped the Instruian on the shoulder, turning him half-around. 'I might as well ask you why you let this building catch alight. Why didn't you prevent it catching fire?'

'Because I was too busy with another fire!' came the indignant response. 'How could I prevent it when I was not here?'

'Exactly,' said Perdu. 'Leith is a young man, not a god. He could not foresee what the Destroyer would do.'

'But he refused the combat,' said a Deuverran officer. 'I was there. You can't tell me otherwise. The Destroyer challenged him and the Arrow-bearer just walked away.'

Perdu spread his arms. His wife and children were somewhere in this City, along with other Fenni who had not made the journey east, but as yet he had not found them. They could be anywhere, even in this tenement. 'I don't know why he refused!' he said irritably. 'Perhaps his courage failed him. At least he did something about it when it mattered!'

'It mattered to my brother,' growled a youth from Straux. 'He was caught up in the fighting on the two hills west of The Cauldron. Dead or captive, I don't know. Will he bring the dead back to life with that arrow of his?'

The adopted Fenni put down his bucket and stared at the youth. 'I'm sorry to hear of your loss,' he said softly. 'But I saw the boy you rail against suffer under the weight of our expectations. You had better pray that you are not chosen one day to be the instrument of our rescue. I doubt that you would fare as well as Leith!' He kicked his bucket over and stalked away.

'What ails that one?' the boy from Straux asked those around him. 'Why did he take it so personally? I just wanted some answers!'

'Because he was one of the northern Company, that's why,' said the Captain of the Guard.

'He's seen more in the last year than you will ever see in your life. I would keep my mouth closed in future, if I were you. Such criticism may not prove all that popular in the new Faltha.'

The boy grunted and picked up the overturned bucket. Around them the City glowed orange, slowly fading as the night drew on and one by one the many tenement fires were doused.

It was not until the hours before dawn that the hundreds of firefighters were able to draw breath. Leith, his Arrow but one flame among many, sent messengers to fetch his commanders to a meeting. It took more than an hour before the last of his captains made his way to the Hall of Meeting, stumbling with weariness.

'The fires are still burning, but everyone who was in danger has been rescued,' his chief clerk told them in a tired voice. 'My lords, the City has been searched extensively, and no sign remains of those who started the fires, save a score or more bodies.'

'And the Maghdi Dash?' Modahl inquired in his deep voice. Any reports of them still within the walls?'

'No, my lord. It appears that they all escaped over the wall and across the river, just as we were told.' Here he indicated Farr, who grunted at the man's sceptical tone.

'We heard it was they that started the fires,' said Sir Chalcis of the Knights of Fealty. 'We searched the streets and alleys, but did not find any evidence of their passage.' His voice was softer than was his habit: he had seen too much, and it had been one of his knights who had falsely interpreted his vision. The deaths of so many knights, and the failure of their order to live up to the ideals of Conal Greatheart their founder, weighed heavily on him.

'No,' said the Haufuth. 'It was the followers of one of our former companions, a man we befriended. He claimed to hear the words of the Most High. Perhaps he did; I half thought he did. He formed the Ecclesia, and for a while it seemed that he and his followers were a force for gooda"'

Someone in the group snorted derisively: the sound echoed in the huge chamber.

'Whatever his intentions,' the Haufuth continued, 'it is clear they were corrupted somehow, driven by a vision of good and evil that, if fulfilled, would have seen the deaths of many people. He made alliances with the remnants of Escaigne, and then with the Arkhos of Nemohaim.'

At least four members of the group shuddered, remembering their former association with the traitorous Arkhos. Former Arkhoi themselves, they knew they had been lucky to escape with their lives when so many of their fellows were dead. They glanced around the group who sat on the front benches, their eyes on a level with the platform on which the signing table still stood. Someone had disposed of the hand. What might have become of them had the Destroyer gained control of Instruere?

'How many people have we lost today?' Leith asked, trying to suppress the dispassionate voice in his mind already beginning to recite the numbers.

'Well, my lord, we rescued many citizens from the fires, but perhaps a hundred people were unluckily consumed before we could get to thema"'

Farr Storrsen had heard enough. 'We can hear the death count later. What won't wait are the questions, and I have two. First, what happened yesterday afternoon? And second, how can we relieve our soldiers out there on the plain?'

It was late - or early, depending on how one looked at it - and there were things Leith did not want to examine too closely. Not yet. Not when he didn't have any clear thoughts. However, there was a high degree of agreement with Farr's sentiment, and as the demands for answers became more strident, the Arrow-bearer nodded wearily; but before he could begin, Modahl stood and motioned for silence.

'There is a misconception abroad that must be cleared up now,' he said forcefully. 'I have heard talk that my grandson, the Bearer of the Arrow, refused to face the Destroyer in single combat. Further, I have heard it said we were betrayed by his brother, who took up the challenge in the name of the Arrow-bearer with no expectation of winning, thereby placing us in his hand. Now, Hal Mahnumsen cannot defend himself, as he is dead; and Leith Mahnumsen will not speak in his own defence, as he does not consider the ignorant criticisms of others worth answering. So I will speak on their behalf.

'Such a challenge as Leith received would no doubt have broken many of you by sheer force.

Some of you may not know about the magic of the Wordweave, with which the Destroyer fortified his words. The Destroyer bound himself with the challenge, and had Leith accepted it without thought, would have bound us also. However, he took some time to consider it. To sift the task from the trap. Where is the shame in that?' He gazed at those around him, many of whom still looked mystified.

Leith got to his feet. 'No, grandfather; that will not do,' he said. 'The truth must be told. I've held the Jugom Ark in my hand for many months, but I didn't want to find out the truth about it. I was afraid, you see,' he said, trying to hold back the tears of shame. 'I thought the destiny I was being pushed into was stealing away my life. I didn't listen carefully enough to those who tried to instruct me in what they knew about the Arrow. So when the Destroyer challenged me, I couldn't see how it would help me defeat him.'

'Leith, you don't have to do this,' Indrett said to him, tugging at his cloak, but he shook off her hand.

'Some of you know that I was very angry with Hal, my brother. Hal has always been magical, has always been able to see further into the realm of the unseen than anyone I know. It's so hard to live with someone like that; always his advice proved right, and I seemed useless beside him. In my anger it seemed to me that he constantly sabotaged my efforts to save Faltha from the Destroyer, and so I - I turned my back on him.' The tears were coming now, there was nothing he could do to stop them. 'I hurt him deeply, more deeply than I think anyone realised. So when the challenge was issued and I did not take it up, he sought to fight on my behalf, I guess to save me from dying at the Destroyer's hand.

'It should have been me lying on the ground with the sword in my chest. That, I think, was the fate destined for the Bearer of the Arrow. Had I accepted my fate, then perhaps many others might have lived. Certainly Hal would have lived, and I would be dead, not alive with this huge weight of guilt pressing in on me.' He stood there, alone and forlorn, speaking as though separated by a great distance from the rest of humanity.

Kurr left his chair and walked out in front of them, his face carved from stone. 'Sit down, boy, and listen to what I have to say. When you have heard me out, then you can decide whether you are to blame for what has happened.'

He sighed deeply, then stepped back a pace so his old frame leaned on the platform. 'I would have preferred this story to have been for Leith's ears only, but I suppose it is more than time to pay for my old sins.' He cleared his throat nervously. 'Nearly fifty years ago I left these parts and travelled north to Firanes, trying to escape my past. I did many things during those battles that I'm ashamed of, but we had to survive. I'd seen too many of my friends and family die in the battles of Sivithar, and despite my rank as a Watcher, I wanted no more to do with the politics of Faltha.

'For many years I lived a solitary life in a small cottage on Swill Down, a place not far from Loulea, the village where the Arrow-bearer comes from. Then, about twenty years ago, a number of strange things began to happen in the district. For no good reason healthy people became sick overnight and died, and others were found dead of dreadful wounds. For a year Loulea Vale became a place of nightly fear. Few people now remember those times.

'During those days I met a young woman and we fell in love. She lived in Vapnatak, a town a day's walk east of Loulea, and I would happily walk there to pay her court-. On one such day I surprised a dark figure leaning over something by the side of the road: I shouted and waved my quar-terstaff, driving him off. When I reached the place he had stood, I discovered two bodies. They had been ripped apart.

'From that day on I knew something unholy had made its home in Loulea Vale. However, I remembered the months of struggle and the things I was forced to do in Sivithar, evil things in the name of good, so I said nothing. Keeping out of the public eye was more important to me than warning the Vale. May the Most High forgive me!'

'Carry on, old man! Explain what this has to do with the defeat of the Destroyer!'

The old farmer laughed. 'Oh, Farr! You remind me so much of a young man I used to know, one who should have died in Sivithar all those years ago, one who stands before you now. I will explain all, if you will but retain your patience.

'Many weeks and many deaths later, I came one day to Vapnatak to find my Tinei's parents distraught. Someone -or something - had spirited her away during the night. For months I searched, but found nothing.

'Then one day I saw a woman walking up the path to my cottage. I looked more closely, and saw it was Tinei, my intended. Something dreadful had been done to her in the intervening months. Her face was thin and ragged from abuse, and she limped, crippled down one side.

She was also with child.

'Listen to me, and please do not question my words, not yet, not until I've finished. For days she could not speak to me at all, but when she could finally talk, she told me that she had been made the slave of the Destroyer, the Undying Man himself. I did not believe her, of course.

How could the Destroyer be there in Firanes, when his ancient home was in Andratan at the other end of the world? Yet obviously something had hurt her, and any man with courage should have sought that something out and confronted it. I did not. I told her parents I had found her wandering witless, and that her child was mine. I doubt they believed me, but they would have nothing further to do with me, accusing me of abducting her myself.

'Eventually her child was born, and it was poorly formed, a cripple down its right side. Tinei would have nothing to do with it, and shrieked when I tried to place it in her arms. 1 tried to raise the child, but I would not have made a good father. Tinei refused even to sit in the same room as the infant. So I took the child to the village, waited until a childless couple I knew were walking along the road, and left it where they might find it.'

White-faced, Leith turned to his parents. They both sat bolt upright, clutching at each other as though buffeted by a strong wind.

'Tinei never fully recovered from what was done to her. We did not have children of our own.

Then just after the Midwinter's Day before last, she died. That chapter of my shameful life was over, 1 thought.

'Yet it was not. I learned that the man and woman who had adopted my wife's child had been abducted by Bhrudwans, and the awful truth began to work its way down into my heart. Why would the Bhrudwans be interested in Mahnum and Indrett? Yes, Mahnum had knowledge the Destroyer wanted to suppress, but would that knowledge have been enough to prevent his army attacking Faltha? As we have seen, it was not. No, there must have been some other reason the Destroyer was interested, and I could think of nothing else than the crippled son of Tinei, Hal Mahnumsen. Hal and his brother left with myself and the village Haufuth as we set out to rescue their parents. But, as you know, we soon became part of a much larger story.'

Indrett stood, and she shook from head to foot. 'You -you - why did you say nothing? We wanted to know! Tinei's child? Who was the father?'

'I did not find out who the father was, girl,' he said gently.

'But the evidence points in one direction. He must have been someone steeped in magic, if Hal's powers are any guide. Moreover, he was an evil man. I am sure he was responsible for the awful things that happened in Loulea Vale. Did you think 1 would ruin your life with news such as this?'

'Are you saying ... do you think his father was Bhrudwan?' Mahnum stood at his wife's side, hands clenched.

Kurr sighed. 'If we have learned anything, it is that the Bhrudwans are people just like us. You of anyone should know this, Trader, since you lived among them. No, I do not think his father was a mere Bhrudwan.'

'A Lord of Fear?'

'Undoubtedly,' Kurr said, firing the affirmation at them. 'Who knows how long the Vale was spied upon? How long the Destroyer has known that someone he fears would come from Loulea? Otherwise why would he send such a one to spy on us?'

'Hold!' Phemanderac fairly leaped into the air. 'What you are saying cannot be! Listen, man: are you suggesting the Destroyer knew the Right Hand of the Most High was to be found in Loulea Vale, and that he sent a Maghdi Dasht to bring him into being? Why would the Undying Man want a challenger, long prophesied, to rise up against him? No, we are still missing something. It all comes down to the identity of the Right Hand of the Most High.

Who is he?'

'Perhaps that will become clear if we examine the Destroyer's desperate ploy at the height of the war,' Kurr said, silencing the philosopher. 'After the Battle of The Cauldron he thinks he has us beaten. Then he discovers that we have another twenty thousand men still on the battlefield; which, through trickery and magic, he thinks is twice that. He is pinned and in danger of defeat. So he proposes single combat, and prepares binding magic in the event of his victory. Hal fights him, and holds his own until - well, from what I saw, he allowed the thrust that killed him. I don't expect anyone to agree with me, but that's what I saw.

'Now the magic binds us, and will be sealed at the Hall of Meeting. For me the crucial piece of knowledge is whether Hal knew that the Truthspell could be broken if the Destroyer could not sign the surrender document. We will never know for sure, but I ask you this: who amongst us knew more about magic than Hal? If anyone would have known that we still had a chance, even if we lost the single combat, it was he. I think he planned on it. I think he used the Destroyer's power against him. So, now for it: what happened yesterday?

'Let me tell you what I saw. The commander of our army and the Arrow-bearer both signed the document, then made way for the Destroyer. I watched with a heavy heart, but.. . I realise how easy this is to say ... I thought something might happen. I heard a noise, looked up and saw the Arrow coming down from the ceiling to strike the Destroyer. The spell broke, and chaos erupted as we were set free from the spell, able to oppose our conquerors.'

'But - who loosed the Arrow?' The question came from a dozen throats. Leith held his tongue: not yet.

'I saw who fired the Jugom Ark,' said the Haufuth. 'It came from the great carving above us.

Look! Is there not supposed to be an arrow in the bow of the Most High?'

They followed his outstretched arm with their gaze. There, high above them, stood the carven figure of the Most High, bow tightly drawn - but with no arrow.

Leith clapped his hands, and instantly all eyes were on him. He took a deep breath, then told them what he had seen and heard. In complete silence he explained to them about the voice, and told them that it continued still. Mahnum and Indrett wept openly, his mother sobbing with joy and with sorrow.

'It was Hal's face I saw, Hal's voice I heard,' Leith summarised. 'I think Kurr is right. He planned this all along.'

'Then we were rescued by the deliberate sacrifice of your brother,' said Phemanderac.

'Loosing the Jugom Ark against the Destroyer could be seen as the last stroke of the single combat. Hal died knowing that somehow he could come back long enough to shoot the Arrow.'

'As he had done once before,' Leith said.

It took even the Dhaurian scholar a minute to work out what Leith suggested. 'Are you saying that Hal. . . that Hal and the Most High . . .'

'Does it really matter?' Leith countered. 'But how else could my brother have worn the face of the carving? Look closely, those of you who know Hal. Is that not his face still?' They moved as a group over to the far wall, and stared up at the white face, featureless no longer. Not Hal exactly, but a face that might possibly have been Hal in the full maturity of manhood.

'A problem, young sirs,' spoke Sir Chalcis in an agitated voice. 'Suggesting that a crippled boy was in fact the Most High incarnate is bad enough, but you now claim that he was also the son of an evil Bhrudwan lord! This discussion sails too close to blasphemy for my taste.' He stood stiffly and pulled on his gauntlets. 'If you are in fact a Dhaurian,' he said, addressing Phemanderac, 'you should know the error you commit. The Knights of Fealty will now withdraw from this alliance and return to their castle. The vision of Sir Amasian has yet to be fulfilled.' He nodded once as if underlining his pronouncement, and left the hall.

Leith shrugged his shoulders, and looked around the hall for help or inspiration, but there was none forthcoming.

'He makes a good point about the mystery of Hal's birth,' Phemanderac conceded finally. 'But what we believe about Hal makes no difference to our material condition now. We still have to rescue the remains of our army.'

At this the losian commanders, to whom this theological discussion held little interest, began to take notice. Dawn came with the commanders deep in discussion, proposing and rejecting idea after idea, with only the occasional nervous or awed glance up at the silent and still carving above them, or at the blazing Arrow in the young man's hand.

Somewhere in the distance a horn blew, then another and still more. One by one the heads of the strategists and commanders came up, wondering what else could possibly happen. A short time later a man came running into the chamber.

'My lords!' he cried. 'There is a great army at the Inna Gate!'

Barely had the words been uttered when another messenger came in, this time still on his horse, which he had ridden right into the building. 'My lords! A force of men are gathered at the Struere Gate!'

Bewildered, the Falthan leaders looked to each other for inspiration. Gradually the noise died down, all except the mad laughter of the Arrow-bearer.

CHAPTER 19.

INSIDE THE ENEMY CAMP.

GRADUALLY THE DARKNESS TURNED into light, and with it the tortures began anew.

Newly added to her catalogue of hurt was a throbbing pain in the area of her right cheek.

Without thinking, she lifted a hand to feel for damage, but found she could not make it work properly. Then the realisation that she was a cripple hit her again, as it did every morning.

She hung over someone's shoulder, her head resting in the small of his back. It was not the Destroyer who carried her. She could see him walking behind her if she lifted her head slightly, though the increase in pain dissuaded her from repeating the exercise. Two handless arms, one heavily bandaged, reminded her of yesterday's events; though the recollection of the Destroyer's defeat could do little to penetrate the darkness enveloping her.

Even the ambush some time during the night failed to rouse her from her torpor. She had regained consciousness with a cry of anguish on her lips, finding herself lying in the bottom of a small boat poled by two shadowy figures, with fearsome cries and the ring of steel on steel all around her. A frighteningly familiar sound. She tried to manoeuvre herself up on to a bench to see what was happening - and to stop an arrow if she was lucky. But there were no arrows, only men in canoes paddling vigorously around a number of rowboats. Confused by her sudden awakening, driven to the point of madness by her never-ending pain, Stella could not be sure even of which force -canoes or rowboats - she was attached to. A sudden movement of the boat sent her head banging against the gunwale, and she fell back into the boat with a moan. Above her two figures grappled together for a moment, then toppled into the water.

She could dimly hear their thrashing next to the boat, then even that noise stopped and she was left in blessed silence.

Now she had awoken again. Unable to lift her head, she could still count pairs of feet, though it took her a long time. Twelve. For a while she fell asleep, then awoke again with the number in her mind, but was unable to remember what it meant. Eventually she was lowered to the floor of a tent, her back against the cool rug, and gentle hands fed her.