Boaz covered the top of the goblet with his hand, and I felt the sensation strengthen.
Then he lifted his hand, and held the goblet up so all could see.
The most incredibly ugly creature I had ever seen popped its head over the rim of the goblet. It was so covered by warts and knobs it was almost shapeless. There were narrow slits of black eyes, and a mouth so wide it stretched across about half of its skull. Small pad-like feet appeared at the rim, and then the creature heaved itself out of the goblet and hopped away to the south-south-east.
It was a frog, but I had never seen a frog that ugly before. It was also very big, and once it was out I could not understand how it had fitted into the goblet.
About ten paces away it stopped, its great tongue slipping about its lips. It looked to the sky, shuddered, then burrowed beneath a rock.
“It doesn’t like the sun,” Boaz said, “and will only travel by night. I suggest that we rest while we can, for tonight will be a long…hop.”
And he grinned at his own joke, and sat down.
We rested that day, and in the evening, as we were eating a meal, the frog emerged from its burrow and hopped to Boaz’s side, where he fed it tidbits from his plate.
“Boaz –” began Isphet.
The frog fixed her with a beady eye and burped.
I covered my mouth with my hand and giggled, and then we were all laughing.
“If ever I regain Ashdod, and I rule in regal splendour as Chad,” Zabrze eventually managed, “I will slice the head from the first person who mentions that once I led my people across a great plain by following a frog.”
Boaz dribbled some water into the frog’s gaping mouth, and it slapped its huge tongue about happily.
Isphet tried her question again. “Boaz, how did you do that? I have never seen, or heard of, this ability before.”
“I don’t know, Isphet. It just felt right.”
She shook her head. “The Graces are going to want to take you apart and examine you, Boaz. Be prepared.”
“We have to get there yet. Fetizza will show us the way.”
We all laughed again. Fetizza was an Ashdod word meaning “lovely dancer”.
Boaz looked at his brother. “If ever you get to rule in regal splendour as Chad, Zabrze, you shall have Fetizza to thank. Perhaps you can have her dance at court.”
At that moment Fetizza decided enough was enough. She gave a great shudder, angled her head to look at the moon, then bounded off.
“After her!” cried Zabrze. “Follow that frog!”
And thus we did. Five thousand people, scores of camels and mules, all following a great, ugly frog bounding through the stony landscape. Fetizza was fast, and every so often would sit on a rock and wait for us to catch up. She would give a companionable burp as the first person reached her, then off she would bound again.
Occasionally she scurried after a beetle, but generally she kept to her purpose of leading us to the nearest water supply. She was not hard to follow at night, for the moonlight glistened off her slimy skin, and Fetizza constantly croaked in a monotonous undertone, as if telling herself stories to while away the journey.
We followed her that night, and then a second. By the third night there was still no sign of the hills, and food was running low, but spirits were high. The ground had started to rise, and on the fourth night we found ourselves walking up a constant incline.
“Soon,” Isphet said, six hours into the night. “Soon.” She peered ahead, but still could not see the hills.
But by dawn we could. As the sun rose (and as Fetizza yawned sleepily) we all saw the low, rolling horizon ahead of us.
Isphet hugged Boaz. “Thank you,” she said, then smiled excitedly at the rest of us. “A further night of travel, for the hills are still distant, and by dawn tomorrow…”
Zabrze gave her a tender smile, then ordered camp set up.
Fetizza led us through the night. Isphet argued that she could find her way on her own now, but Boaz only said mildly that it had been eleven years since she left, and who knew what other traps and misdirections her people had set up to confuse whatever enemies tried to find their way through.
“Fetizza will not be misguided,” he said, “and she will find the most direct route.”
Isphet subsided, but she was at the forefront of the column the entire night.
The landscape was, if anything, becoming more barren the further we walked. We’d seen the last of the stubby trees some two nights previously, and even the grasses were thinner and more sparse as the ground rose. The incline was not steep, but our way was made troublesome by increasing outcrops of head-high rock.
Isphet restrained herself from running ahead, but I thought that if we weren’t there by morning, then she might well lose all patience and shout at Fetizza.
It made me reflect about my own homeland. I really didn’t care now if I never saw Viland again. There were no fond memories associated with that thin, cold strip of northern land…and my father was dead. There was no point in going back. Did Isphet have parents? Brothers or sisters still living? What else could drag her so impatient into a landscape that made even Viland look enticing?
“What do you think we will find?” I asked Boaz as night lightened towards morning and we tackled yet another slope littered with rocky outcrops.
“I don’t know. I hope her people can teach me what I need to learn. The mystery that is the Song of the Frogs. What it is that infests Threshold. How to destroy it before it turns life itself to stone.”
“I dread the thought of going back,” I said quietly.
“Oh, Tirzah! No. It will be my –”
“No, Boaz,” I said. “I will not remain behind. Wondering. You will tie up my future, too, when you walk back into Threshold.”
Again I had that overwhelming sense of loss that I’d once felt standing at Threshold’s mouth. Oh gods, I prayed silently. Not Boaz. Not Boaz!
We heard a shout, then a scuffle ahead. Fetizza had bounded into a narrow canyon, Isphet close behind.
A man emerged from the rocks and seized Isphet. He wrenched her about, one arm tight around her body, the other holding a gleaming blade to her throat.
Fetizza was sitting just behind them, yawning at the interruption.
“Take one more step and she dies,” the man said. “You have no place here.”
Everyone froze, and Zabrze raised a careful hand. “My friend, we mean you no harm. We seek Isphet’s people – Isphet is the woman you hold so tight in your arms. Please, let her go.”
The man stared at Zabrze. He was young, perhaps four or five years older than me, with dark hair, but light eyes. Grey eyes. He was dressed in a short tunic and trousers bound close to his legs with thongs. He wore leather shoes rather than sandals. “Who are you?”
“I am Zabrze, Prince of Ashdod…Chad now, I suppose. I lead these people,” and he waved slowly behind him, “to safety from –”
He got no further. The man looked from Zabrze to the line of people that stretched down the hill and halfway up the one behind it.
“You have been sent to destroy us!” he shouted, and his hand tightened alarmingly about the knife. “By it! We knew of your approach, we knew –”
“We have come to learn how to destroy Nzame,” Boaz said quietly, and he moved slowly to Zabrze’s side. “Your people have the skills and the teachers that we need.”
“You know its name,” the man said. “How can I tell that you are not its servants?”
“We come from Threshold,” said Zabrze. “We were there when Nzame first spoke.”
“Then how did you escape? No-one could escape that evil. The echoes of its powers have disturbed us even here. And nothing but evil could have found these hills. Nothing –”
“Nothing but Fetizza,” Boaz said and clicked his fingers. Fetizza bounded back to him.
The man’s eyes followed the frog’s movement but he said nothing.
“There are many Elementals among us,??
? Boaz continued. “We need training. And the woman you hold is of your people. Do you not know her? Isphet?”
“Evil could have borrowed any name to cross the Lagamaal Plains,” the man said.
Boaz sighed. “Listen to me. Take Fetizza back to your people. Let them examine her. She –”
“No!” the man shouted. “It is a trick! Begone! You do not –”
“Shetzah!” Zabrze cried. “I could overpower you now and we’d simply continue following the frog. But no. I have stood here and reasoned patiently. Well, now I have had –”
“I will slit the woman’s throat!” the man hissed. “Attack if you wish, but it will be at the price of her life!”
“Enough,” said a mild voice, and an older man stepped into view. He was in his fifties, perhaps early sixties, and had the pleasant face and manner of a master craftsman. He was not as dark as most southerners, with brown hair and beard peppering to grey. His hands and face had a craggy aspect, and his eyes were hazel.
There was nothing in his clothes or even mannerisms to set him apart, yet the man was surrounded by an immense aura of serenity.
“Let her be, Naldi. I apologise that I did not warn you of their identities, but until last night we were not aware of exactly who it was crossed the Lagamaal towards us.”
Naldi let Isphet go so hurriedly he almost dropped the knife, and as Isphet moved away from him he took the other man’s hands and kissed them.
Isphet stumbled away from Naldi, her face white, her hands to her throat. She did not look at the older man who had arrived to save her. Zabrze grabbed her and wrapped his arms about her protectively. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, leaning close against him.
Zabrze raised his eyes to the older man before him. “Who are you?”
“My name is Solvadale,” he said, and reached out a hand to Zabrze.
Isphet gasped and turned in Zabrze’s arms. She inclined her head in a deep show of respect. “Grace! My name is Isphet. I came from the Fortieth Step –”
“I know you and I know to which Step you belong, and I will speak with you momentarily, Isphet,” Solvadale said. “Zabrze?”
Zabrze took the man’s hand and gripped it firmly. “We mean you no harm.”
“I know that,” Solvadale said. “But we could not get word to Naldi, nor to the other sentries, in time. I apologise again, to both you and Naldi, for this embarrassment.”
Naldi bowed his head, obviously honoured that one like Solvadale would offer him an apology. Now he relaxed I could see that he was a pleasant looking man, of normal dark aspect for this southern land. He held out his hand for Isphet, a sheepish smile on his face. “If I’d known…”
She accepted his apology and clasped his hand, but she did not move away from Zabrze.
As Naldi stood back the Grace took Isphet’s face in one hand. “You have been a long time gone, woman. Where is Banwell, your husband?”
“Dead, Grace. Ten years, now.”
“Ah, I am saddened. He was better than a good man.”
Isphet nodded.
“And you have changed, Isphet. You have shouldered a great deal of responsibility. And…you have been sent to illume.”
Isphet’s face was as shocked as I think mine was. “How did you know?”
“The Soulenai spoke to us last night,” Solvadale said. “They told us of many things.”
He walked past Isphet to Yaqob who had joined us. “Welcome, young man. What is your name? Ah, Yaqob. A good name. Yes, we can make something of you.”
And then to me. As with Isphet he took my face in his hand. “You have come from very far away, girl. What is your name?”
“Tirzah.”
Solvadale smiled. “A beautiful name. A beautiful woman. Blessed.”
Elder Solvadale certainly wasn’t wasting any breath on explanations. He turned directly to Boaz.
“We have been waiting many, many years for you to come to us. How are you called?”
“Boaz.”
“Ah, Boaz. A noble name your mother gave you.” Solvadale’s eyes narrowed as he took Boaz’s hand. “You are a very unusual man, Boaz. You have strong Elemental magic in you, very strong but very raw. And something else…please, tell me what it is.”
Solvadale knew exactly what it was, but he wanted Boaz to say the words.
“I was a Magus, Solvadale. But that is behind me now.”
Solvadale nodded slowly, his face unreadable. “Magus. But behind you? Oh, I hope not. I hope not. And what an unusual frog that sits at your feet, Boaz. But enough of that; the frog and her mysteries we can discuss later. Now we –”
“Now,” Zabrze said with more than a touch of exasperation, “can I crave your indulgence for my five thousand. We are tired and hungry and we need to talk, you and I.”
It wasn’t until Zabrze spoke that I realised I’d never wondered how Isphet’s people would cope with such an influx.
But Solvadale did not seem too concerned. No doubt he knew the exact numbers of people, camels and mules standing behind us.
“It will take some time to get all of you into the Abyss,” he said, motioning down the canyon. “Maybe all day, for it is a slow and sometimes dangerous trip. But you are right. We need to talk, Zabrze. As we walk, perhaps we can talk about Avaldamon. You were one of the last to see him alive, were you not?”
34
SOLVADALE strode ahead, keeping such a brisk pace that most of us were puffing within five minutes. I looked over my shoulder to see people and pack animals scrabbling over and about rocks.
“Solvadale!” Zabrze called, and the Grace turned about.
“I am sorry. I did not realise,” he said. “I was hurrying because…Naldi?” he called.
“Yes, Grace?”
“I would like to take these four, and Zabrze, through to the Abyss. Will you stay and guide the rest? As I pass other sentries I’ll send you help.”
“Yes, Grace.”
“Wait,” Isphet said, and as Kiath reached us she lifted Zhabroah from her arms.
“A baby?” Solvadale asked. “Whose?” His eyes flitted about our small group.
“My son,” Zabrze said. “And that of my wife, Neuf. She died in his birth some three weeks ago.”
“Ah. I thought I did not feel…”
And Solvadale strode off again without explaining.
He did not go so fast this time, and we managed to follow him easily enough. The sun crested the ridge before us, and grew hot as it strengthened.
“Soon,” Solvadale said, as he saw our sweat. “Soon.”
I glanced at Isphet. Her colour was high, but I did not think it all due to the exercise. She’d put Zhabroah into a sling made from her blanket, and now he nestled asleep at her breast. I smiled to myself. I’d never thought to see Isphet so motherly.
Solvadale led us into a narrow gully. Here even he had to slow down, for the rocks lay tumbled about as if giants had played skittle ball and not thought to pick up their toys. Fetizza was the only one among us who managed with ease, eventually even bounding ahead of Solvadale.
“Soon,” I heard Isphet whisper, then she turned to me. “Oh, Tirzah, you are not going to believe what lies ahead!”
I certainly wouldn’t have any warning, I thought. Isphet had kept remarkably silent about her hill home, this mysterious Abyss. Maybe its existence was so wrapped in secret she was not allowed to talk of it. Maybe –
Whatever I’d been about to think next died as I stumbled to a halt directly behind Solvadale and Zabrze. My mouth slowly fell open. Isphet had not said anything because she did not want to spoil our first stunned sight of her home.
About us the barren hills rolled desolately away, north, south and east.
But not east before…not before they had been cleft asunder.
Solvadale had brought us to the lip of a great…abyss.
It was clean cut, so clean cut I swear the rock lip along its entire length had the edge of a blade. The Abyss was some fift
y paces wide, and stretched further north–south than I could see; at least a league.
But it was its depth – and what had been done with that depth – that so awed and inspired. It plunged for what Isphet would later tell me was twelve hundred and four paces. From the lip, the bottom was hidden in dimness and mist.
I felt Boaz slip his arm about my waist; as much to support himself as me, I think. “By all the wonders in the universe,” he said. “Look what they have done to the walls!”
The rock exposed by the cleft was a soft rose pink. It did not fall sheer, but had been carved over what must have been centuries into a myriad of balconies and levels that jutted further and further into the chasm the deeper it fell. Steps, I realised, remembering that Isphet had told the Grace she’d come from the Fortieth Step. These Steps began perhaps a hundred paces below us, then plunged down into the mist. Behind them must be homes and schools and halls, carved deep into the rock.
At intervals, arched bridges of pink rock masonry connected the walls of the Abyss, and on several I could see people moving.
“Oh!” I said. “It’s astounding!”
“The mist clears,” Solvadale said, “when the sun rises to its noon height. Soon, now,” he added, checking the sky.
Fetizza sat at the very lip, gripping tightly with her toes, her bright eyes staring down into the Abyss. Suddenly she gave a great croak…
…and jumped into the open air.
She fell like a stone.
“Fetizza!” Boaz cried, and I wrapped my arms about him; for one dreadful moment I thought he was going to leap after her.
“Be still!” Solvadale commanded. “She will come to no harm. What was she commanded to seek, Boaz?”
“Water.”
“Oh.” He winked at Isphet. “Then she has found it for you. Now, follow me.”
He led us back from the brink several paces to an outcrop of rock.
“How is it that I knew nothing of this, Solvadale?” Zabrze asked. “I am well learned, and I have studied maps of this area. Nothing I have seen or heard indicates the existence of this Abyss or your people.”