An arrow thumped into the plank closest to his head. The Jarrians on the opposite side of the gorge were shooting at him, and he could not defend himself. He drew himself up hand over hand. Each time he changed his grip he hung on one hand and groped with the other for the planking above. The bridge was twisted so that each successive gap between the planks was narrower than the preceding one. At last he reached a point where he could not force his fingers into the next
opening and hung there helplessly. The next arrow struck so close that it pegged the skirt of his tunic to the wood.
'Taita!' It was Fenn's voice and he craned his neck to look up. Her face was ten feet above him. She was lying on her stomach peering over the edge. 'Oh, sweet Isis, I thought you had fallen.' Her voice trembled.
'Hold hard for just a little longer.' She was gone. Another arrow thumped into the timbers close to his left ear.
'Here, take hold of this.' The looped end of a halter rope dropped beside him. He reached for it with one hand and slipped it over his head, then worked the bight of the loop under his armpit.
'Are you ready?' Fenn's eyes were huge with fear. 'The other end is knotted to Whirlwind's saddle. We'll pull you up.' Her head disappeared again. With a jerk the rope came up tight. As he went up, he fended himself off the dangling bridge with his feet and hands. More arrows slammed into the timbers but although he could hear the Jarrians clamouring for his blood, like a pack of dogs beneath a treed leopard, not one of their arrows touched him.
As he came level with the path the strong hands of Meren and Nakonto reached out to haul him to safety. He regained his feet, and Fenn dropped Whirlwind's reins to run back to him. She embraced him silently with tears of relief streaming down her cheeks.
A that night they kept the column of refugees moving down the track, and in the early light of dawn they shepherded the last on to the bank of the Kitangule river. That was waiting for them at the gates of the boatyard stockade, and came quickly to meet Taita. 'I am glad to see you safe, Magus, but I am sorry to have missed the fighting. I have reports that it was hot and heavy. What news of the Jarrian pursuit?'
'The bridge over the gorge is down, but that will not hold them for long. Sidudu says there is an easier road down the escarpment forty leagues further to the south. We can be sure that Soklosh knows about it, and that he will take his men that way. He will be moving a great deal faster than we were able to. We can expect him to join us again soon.'
'The southern road is the main entry port into Jarri. Of course Soklosh must know of it.'
'I have left pickets upon the road to watch for him and to warn us of
his approach,' Taita told him. 'We must get these people on to the boats at once.' First they loaded the horses, then the remaining refugees.
Before the last were aboard the pickets galloped into the boatyards.
'The Jarrians' leading cohorts will be upon us within the hour.'
Meren and his men chivvied the last group of refugees down the jetty and into the boats. As soon as each vessel was filled the rowers pulled out into the mainstream of the river and turned the bows down the current. Fenn and Sidudu carried Hilto's litter on to the last boat in the flotilla. Twenty remained empty on the slipways so Taita remained ashore with a few men to see to their destruction. They threw lighted torches into them and when the timbers were blazing fiercely they pushed them into the river where they burned swiftly to the waterline. The lookouts on the walls of the stockade that surrounded the boatyard sounded the alarm on kudu-horn trumpets. 'The enemy is in sight!'
There was a final scramble for the boats. Taita and Meren jumped on to the deck where the two girls were waiting anxiously for them. Meren took the helm and the rowers pulled away from the dock. They were still within bowshot of the bank when the leading squadron of the Jarrian vanguard galloped into the boatyard. They dismounted and crowded the bank to loose volleys of arrows, some of which pegged into the deck but nobody was hit.
Meren swung the bows to catch the current of the wide Kitangule, which was in spate and bore them away, sweeping them round the first bend. He leant on the long steering oar as they gazed back at the high cliffs of the Jarrian massif. Perhaps they should have been ecstatic as they took their leave of the kingdom of Eos but, rather, they were silent and sober.
Taita and Fenn stood apart from the others. Fenn broke the silence at last. She spoke low, for Taita's ears alone: 'So we have failed in our quest. We have escaped, but the witch survives and the Nile flows no longer.'
'The game is not yet played out. The pieces are still on the board,'
Taita told her.
'I do not take your meaning, my lord. We are flying from Jarri, deserting the battlefield and leaving the witch alive. You have nothing to take back to Egypt and Pharaoh but these miserable fugitives and our own poor selves. Egypt is still doomed.'
'Nay, that is not all I take back with me. I have all the wisdom and astral power of Eos.'
'How will that profit you or Pharaoh if Egypt dies of drought?'
'Perhaps I will be able to use the witch's memories to unravel her mysteries and designs.'
'Do you already hold the key to her magic?' she asked hopefully, watching his face.
'This I do not know. I have taken from her a mountain and an ocean of knowledge and experience. My inner mind and consciousness are awash with it. There is so much that, like a dog with too many bones, I have had to bury most of it. Perhaps some is so deeply buried that I will never retrieve it. At best it will take time and effort to assimilate it all.
I will need your assistance. Our minds have become so attuned that only you can help me with this task.'
'You do me honour, Magus,' she said simply.
The Jarrian cohorts pursued them for several leagues downstream, riding hard along the track that followed the riverbank, until swamps and thick jungle forced them to abandon the chase. The flotilla raced along on the current, which was swollen with the rain that had fallen on the Mountains of the Moon, leaving the enemy far behind.
Before nightfall that day the leading vessels of the squadron reached the first of the rapids that had so impeded their voyage upriver so many months before. Now the white water sent them hurtling down the chutes, the banks blurring past on each side. At the tail of the rapids when they stormed ashore below the stockade walls of the small Jarrian garrison, they discovered that the soldiers had fled as soon as they realized that the flotilla was hostile. The barracks was deserted, but the storerooms were well stocked with weapons, tools and stores. They loaded the pick of the supplies on to the barges and pressed on eastwards. A mere ten days after embarking, they sailed out through the mouth of the Kitangule into the vast blue expanses of the Lake Nalubaale and turned northwards, following the shore round towards the hills of Tamafupa.
By this time the voyage had settled into a routine. Taita had claimed a corner of the deck just forward of the rowing benches for himself and Fenn. He had spread a matting sail over it for shade and privacy. They spent most of their days sitting close together on a sleeping mat, holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes while he whispered to her in the Tenmass. It was the only language that was adequate to convey to her all the new information with which his mind brimmed.
As Taita murmured to her he became acutely aware of how her mind and her astral soul were expanding. She was giving back to him almost