The Last Banquet (Bell Mountain) Read Online Free Page B

red and gold leaves struck Gurun as gloriously beautiful. But already a few trees had shed their leaves and were bare.
    The cold and drizzle stopped their talk, and they plodded on in silence, making for a wide gap between two stands of trees. They were halfway through it when, with outlandish whoops and howlings, a band of men ran out and suddenly surrounded them.
     

     
    Gurun didn’t know if they were men or trolls. Darker than Tim or any of his countrymen, short and squat with crow-black hair, they menaced the two travelers with short spears and gabbled at them like a flock of ravens.
    “What are these?” Gurun asked.
    “Heathen—and they’ve got us!” Tim squeezed her hand, hard. “God help us now.”
    There were two dozen of them. They wore leather jerkins and trousers bright with colored checks, red and blue and green. They made a terrible noise, all gabbling at once. After several minutes of this, one of them jammed his spear into the ground and harangued the others, shouting them down.
    Gurun didn’t understand their language—if it even was a language. If they were trolls, it would be fatal to show fear. But it seemed that one of them ran out of patience with the speaker and cocked back his arm to hurl his spear.
    It was aimed right at Tim’s chest; and without thinking, Gurun stepped in front of him.
    “Stop this jabbering!” she cried, holding up her hand against them. “What have we ever done to you that you should harm us?”
    The first speaker knocked the spear out of his comrade’s hand and pushed him to the ground. He turned to the rest and broke out in a loud tirade. Gurun didn’t know what he was saying, but it was this:
    “Idiots! Fools! Have you learned nothing? Do you all want to die in this miserable country?
    “Look at her! Any fool can see she’s different. Is she not exactly what we’ve been looking for? Look at her eyes, her hair, her skin! And she stood between her servant and your spear, Bolok. Would an ordinary maiden do that? Can there be any hope for us without her?”
    The men all looked ashamed. One of them muttered, “You’re right, Shingis. See if you can speak with her.”
    “If she’s not the one, we’ll know soon enough,” added another.
    The man turned to Gurun and made an odd kind of half-bow, half-crouch to her, with his hands balled at his hips. He spoke to her in a fractured Obannese, which both she and Tim could understand.
    “Be no angry with us, maiden. I sorry we scare you. My name Shingis; I chief to this band. We are all Blays. We come here from country far-far away. Thunder King send us to fight Obann.
    “We fight hard, but we lose. Army all broken now, chased away from city. Boy riding great beast, he scatter us like dust. All Blays died but us.”
    He paused to see if she understood. She nodded.
    “My name is Gurun,” she answered, speaking slowly. “I come from far away, from the North. Over the sea. This is my friend, Tim. We were going to Obann.”
    “No go there now—stay away!” He looked scared; they all did. “Obann god very angry. He sent great beast to trample us. Thunder King be angry with us, too. He take away our gods, so we think he is a god. But Obann god kill-kill his army.
    “Please, maiden—you stay with us. Be queen. We take good care for you. You pray for us, maybe find gods to take care for us.”
    Tim looked like he wanted very badly to say something, but didn’t dare. But Gurun could see for herself that it would have been dangerous to decline the invitation.
    “If I am to be your queen,” she said, “then you must obey my commands. A queen should be obeyed, or she is no queen. Then I will stay with you, and pray for you.” Why they would need someone to do their praying, she couldn’t imagine; but now was not the time to ask.
    Shingis turned to his fellows and translated her words. There was some discussion about it.
    “You’d better accept her,” he said. “We can’t survive without gods to protect us.