As the mountain lumbered forward, dust and sand rose up behind them in boiling clouds of amber-umber; they paid no heed to the devastation left in their wake, but scanned the horizons far ahead, watching for the first sign of the Swarms.
On reaching the Harvest Plains, they saw the Swarms moving, not in great armies but in small scattered groups, a dozen here, a dozen there. They kept watch for the Neversh, knowing they had no defence against any Neversh attacking from the sky. Miphon said the creatures of the Swarms had no intelligence to speak of, relying instead on commands from the Skull of the Deep South, but Hearst was not sure whether to trust that.
On the evening of the second day, they passed south 520 of Selzirk, and saw the Neversh wheeling in their legions above the distant city. Miphon insisted that they give it a wide berth: there was no way they could save Selzirk.
As the towers and walls of Selzirk receded in the distance, Hearst thought of Farfalla, and what might have been – in a different world, a better world. Strangely, he found his memories of his visit to Selzirk were distant, unclear, fading. He was – or so he thought – preparing himself for the end of the world.
The next day, lumbering north-west across the Harvest Plains, leaving a trail of dust and torn earth behind it, the mountain slowed. On the fourth day they reached the shore, and, as the mountain's strength failed, Miphon took it into the sea. It hated the water, which would have killed a mere walking rock outright. Miphon forced the mountain out to sea for a league. Then it halted, its top forming a small island in the Central Ocean.
'We'll have to hug the shore when we go north,' said Miphon. 'Otherwise we'll be walking underwater.'
The day of waiting was hard. They were battered by the cold rains and the biting winds of the beginning of winter. They spent most of their time huddled together for warmth, except when they were fishing; they ate fish raw, having no wood for fires.
Then the wait ended.
Miphon used the death-stone again.
The mountain, liberated in the sea, thrashed in agony as the water tried to destroy it. The travellers were almost flung overboard. Fighting desperately, Miphon forced the mountain to shore. Only half its height reached the shore: the rest was left in the sea, destroyed by the water.
As their journey continued, their mountain smashed its way along the coastline. They went past Runcorn, and saw the Swarms circling above that beleaguered city. They went trampling down the Salt Road, crushing underfoot keflos, stalkers, granderglaws, glarz and other creatures. They were nearing Estar.
But the mountain's power ebbed before they got there. Knowing they must not halt on the Salt Road -the Swarms would attack them if they did – Miphon forced it into the sea. This time, it fought harder than before, knowing how the water would scald it. But he mastered its will, and finally, sweating, exhausted, drained, brought it to a halt in the ocean.
'Our next move,' said Miphon, 'will take us to Estar.'
There, they would confront the Swarms. And win.
Or lose, and die, and fail – and bring the world down to disaster with them.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
They were on their way again.
The mountain came roaring out of the water. The scream of its hate, pain and rage rocked the sky like thunder. It had started off with a height of three thousand paces: about a third of its height was left.
Miphon brought it to heel, and forced it along the Salt Road. Creatures of the Swarms fled to left and to right as the mountain charged down the road. At last, they saw ahead of them the border of Estar.
They saw, in the distance, the fire dyke. Someone had ignited it, and recently: fresh flame roared upward. North of it was a long mound: a fortification freshly raised. Many creatures of the Swarms were gathered to the south of the flames.
'Men!' cried Blackwood. 'On the mound! Men!'
'The sea!' shouted Hearst. 'Go round by sea!'
The mountain, roaring, fought Miphon's efforts to master it into the sea. It went smashing forward. Creatures of the Swarms were pulped beneath it in their hundreds. On the mound, men scattered like ants.
Miphon screamed: 'I'm losing it! I'm losing it!'
The mountain, running amok, lurched and staggered toward the fire dyke, toward the helpless men beyond. 'Strength!' shouted Hearst.
'You can do it!' cried Blackwood. 'You can do it!'
Miphon risked taking a moment to close his eyes and calm himself, as he would for the Meditations. He opened his eyes again. The mountain was almost upon its victims.
With an almost physical effort, Miphon punched the 523 mountain sideways. It lurched, skidded, crashed into the sea, screamed, spun, blundered blindly through the water, then – Urged by Miphon, it made for land again.
And swung out onto the dry and hard.
They had made a wild sweep through the ocean, skirting round the flame trench and the fortifications. They had killed hundreds of the creatures of the Swarms, but not a single man.
The mountain began smashing north across the countryside. It was screaming continuously.
'Make it stop!' said Hearst. 'Make it stop!'
But Miphon shook his head. His face was ashen. He was exhausted. At last he said: 'It's gone mad. It's gone well and truly mad. I can't stop it. Nobody could.'
Though he did not say it, his powers were at low ebb. He had used a lot of his last remaining power forcing the mountain through the sea. When he had recovered a little, he settled himself to the Meditations as best he could on that lurching, heaving platform; it was important for him to build his power as swiftly as he could.
The mountain ran on at will all through that day and into the night. When morning came, it was moving more slowly. Miphon did not try to take it under control, but kept working on the Meditations.
Toward the afternoon, they sighted Maf. As the day wore on, the mountain drew closer and closer. Miphon had an idea. He tried it. He used the gentlest of hints to nudge their mountain onto a course that would take it straight for Maf.
It ran on for a while as if it failed to see the obstacle ahead. Then, when it seemed a collision was inevitable, it came to a lurching halt.
Then backed off.
'It sees the other mountain,' said Miphon. 'What now?' said Hearst.
'Wait,' said Miphon.
The three of them waited. And their mountain began to speak to Maf in a gruff, growling thundervoice. Only Miphon understood what it was saying. After a while, Miphon began to weep. Hearst and Blackwood watched him, bewildered; they had no way to understand the tragedy of rocks and mountains.
Finally, the voice of the mountain grew slower and lower, then finally ground to a halt. it's over,' said Miphon.
As he spoke, the mountain shook. Cracks appeared underfoot. The vibrations began to get worse.
'Come,' said Miphon, quietly. 'Let's get off.'
'What's happening?" said Blackwood, as Miphon led the way down.
'The immersions in water are having their effect,' said Miphon.
He did not wish to tell them that the mountain, driven beyond endurance by what it had suffered, was committing suicide. He thought they would think him stark raving mad.
As they got clear of the mountain, it began to collapse. They ran. An avalanche of rock came roaring after them. But, sweeping forward, the rock disintegrated. Becoming sand. Then dust. Then an unimaginably fine silt. It surged around them.
'Sprint!' shouted Hearst.
They fled, panting.
The silt wafted up around their ankles, surged around their calves, rose to their knees. They found themselves waist-deep in the stuff, wading forward as best they could. It rose to their chests. To their necks.
'Hold your breath!' shouted Hearst.
And grabbed a deep breath, closing his eyes as the silt swamped him. He urged himself forward, felt his head break clear, gasped for breath, coughed, sneezed, heard Blackwood cough: 'Miphon?'