'Too bad!' said Miphon.
From the Meditations, he had gathered enough power to bring the mountain under control if he really had to. But he wanted to conserve his strength, not exhaust it by doing battle with the mountain at the outset.
Miphon let the mountain run rampaging through the night. Then, hint by hint, he began to nudge it south. Dawn found them storming south on a course parallel with the Salt Road.
Cold, weary, hungry, they watched the landscape 536 lurching past. They had no words for each other this morning. They watched the sky for the Neversh. Hearst, after a while, fell asleep; he dreamt of the Neversh, and he dreamt of the shade of Elkor Alish, wandering without comfort or guidance in the darkness of hollow wind.
When Hearst woke, Miphon changed the dressing on his wounded sword-arm.
'Satisfied?' said Hearst.
'I think it'll heal,' said Miphon.
'Let's hope we live long enough to find out.'
The southern border drew steadily nearer. Toward the end of the day, they began to make out the details of how things had changed. A number of small mountains had moved, but most had not gone far. One had made the mistake of blundering into the sea; withdrawing from the water, it had parked itself half-way across the open seashore strip where the Salt Road ran; there was now only a breach some two hundred paces wide to guard against the Swarms.
'No sign of any of the Swarms,' said Blackwood. i'm not surprised!' said Miphon.
In the very recent past, they had smashed thousands and thousands of the creatures of the Swarms as they drove a mountain toward Estar. Since then, a death-stone had been used against the Swarms at the border. Obviously the enemy had taken fearful losses; it was scarcely surprising that their advance had been checked.
The fire dyke and the makeshift fortifications the travellers had seen when they skirted the border had disappeared without a trace, obliterated by monstering mountains or the action of the death-stone.
'Somewhere here,' said Blackwood, peering ahead, 'is Valarkin.'
'With a death-stone,' said Miphon.
'Charming,' said Hearst.
'We'll make an alliance with him,' said Miphon, with 537 determination in his voice. 'We have to. He has a death-stone. He may also have the green bottle.'
'Alish said – ' began Blackwood.
'Don't believe what Alish said about the green bottle,' said Miphon. 'Nobody would give away anything like that. Someone's got it right now, and the obvious person is Valarkin.'
'So we find Valarkin,' said Hearst.
'That's right,' said Miphon. 'Then I seal the border with this mountain. Then we wait, so I can be sure it doesn't move away until it's frozen back into inert stone.'
'But if we wait,' protested Blackwood, 'we'll be at danger from the Neversh!'
'We owe our grief a death,' said Hearst grimly.
But, if the Rovac warrior had commitments to death, Blackwood did not. Now that they had come so far, now that they had survived so much, there was no way that he could accept death as inevitable. Well, perhaps the Neversh would not attack them during the two or three days they would have to wait at the border. Perhaps – 'Look!' said Hearst, pointing. 'To the east! Something on that bald mountain-top!'
'Are you sure?' said Miphon. i don't see anything!' said Blackwood.
'Bear east,' commanded Hearst.
Miphon hinted to the mountain. His subtle urging made Maf slow, then veer east. He was getting good at this.
As they drew near the bald mountain Hearst had indicated, they saw a tent, a banner, a handful of men.
'Valarkin must be there,' said Hearst.
'We'd better not go closer,' said Blackwood. 'We may frighten him.'
'Frighten him!' said Hearst. T don't care if we frighten him out of his breakfast! If we're going to have to bargain with him, let's soften him up first.' i don't think – ' began Blackwood.
'Good,' said Hearst. 'We've no need for thinking now. Just action.'
They came closer and closer to the tent, which was perched on a sheer cliff face. As they came within hailing distance, men, terrified, stared at them in awestricken silence.
'Hoy,' yelled Hearst. 'You on the mountain!'
Nobody responded.
They seemed paralysed by terror.
'There's Valarkin!' said Blackwood. 'By the tent!'
Valarkin! Yes, Blackwood was right.
'Hello there, Valarkin!' roared Hearst.
Straight away, Valarkin whipped out the death-stone.
'No, Valarkin,' shouted Hearst. 'No!'
But it was too late. Valarkin cried out in the High Speech. And Miphon shouted: 'Segenarith!'
Valarkin cried out in pain as the death-stone grew hot in his hand. He dropped it. His men were running in panic, scattering in all directions.
'Come back!' yelled Blackwood. 'Come back, we'll take you aboard! Back here, or you're dead!'
But, if anyone heard him, nobody obeyed.
'Leave them,' said Hearst, harshly. 'Let's get out of here.'
Miphon began to urge the mountain. Slowly, as the fire of the death-stone grew and grew, the mountain backed off. They watched as a fireball swallowed the cliff-top. Valarkin must be dead by now – unless he had run swiftly, or unless, perhaps, he did have the green bottle in his possession, and had been able to take refuge.
Night was now falling.
By dawn, the southern border of Estar was a sea of flame as the death-stone, frustrated by the Ultimate Injunction, the command Segenarith, released its energies as heat. Steam rose in clouds from the sea where molten rock ran into the water. By now, the mountain of Maf had withdrawn ten leagues from the border.
Miphon made the mountain lie down on its side – a long, slow, difficult manoeuvre. The travellers descended to the ground, then Miphon made the mountain stand again.
Then Miphon used all his skill, talent and strength to work on the mind of Maf, and sent the mountain roaring south. His instructions would take it south into the fire raging on the border. It would stand in that fire. Heat would fuse rock with rock. The mountain would block the way that led into Estar, thus closing the border to all creatures of the Swarms except the Neversh. it is done,' said Miphon.
And Hearst, with something almost like disappointment, realised that they had triumphed – and that he was still alive.
Now he had to make a life for himself.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
On a cold winter's day in the land of Estar, a man named Morgan Hearst found the drained body of a man named Elkor Alish. In days past, they had been friends; they had shared the same shadow down many roads. Then Elkor Alish had betrayed his friend, had tried to kill him and had cost him his right hand.
There had been harsh words and bad blood between them; they had led armies against each other; their swords had crossed in anger, blade against blade. Yet Morgan Hearst stood by the body of Elkor Alish, and said Words of Guiding for the dead man's soul.
Where does friendship end and love begin? Amongst the Rovac, it was a question never asked; they lived close enough to the cutting edge of death to value any human loyalty as an alliance against the darkness.
'Be at peace,' said Hearst.
Then he took a ring and a red bottle from the dead man's husk, and, helped by his friends Miphon and Blackwood, raised a funeral pyre, and burnt the mortal remnants of Elkor Alish.
Then they resumed their journey, heading north.
Reaching the Hollern River, they found, to their amazement, that Melross Hill was now topped by a chaotic disorder of smashed stone and torn earth, through which, at random intervals, fire billowed up.
'What a mess!' said Miphon.
'Positively stochastic,' said Blackwood, nodding agreement.
'That reminds me,' said Miphon. 'We never did finish the question of free will, did we?'
'Well,' said Hearst, 'Let's go into town and settle it over a drink or three.'
Whatever had smashed Castle Vaunting – and it could only have been a free-ranging mountain – had missed Lorford, where there were now a few dozen hovel-style shacks. The travellers trudged down the Salt Road toward the shacks.