Chapter 6: The Camp of the Followers

They followed Doranthe down shadowed trails through deepening gloom. Faint sounds filtered in from time to time from both sides of the trail. Chad was sure that they were being escorted through the forest by a sizable force. He had expected nothing else, but try as he would he could catch no glimpse of the men he knew were there. Finally, just when it was almost too dark under the trees to see the trail beneath their feet, they broke out into a broad meadow that sloped evenly down to a bend in the river.

"These are outlaws?" Chad drew in a surprised breath at what the last of the twilight revealed. In the shelter of scattered trees, rows of open fires revealed a small but orderly tent city. Between the tents children laughed and played, and there was the sound of talking and singing as men and women prepared their evening meals over small cooking fires. Illumined by the last golden rays of the setting sun, the scene was unexpectedly serene and peaceful.

Two rows of larger tents outlined a broad avenue that opened out from where their trail left the forest's edge. They followed it up to a blazing fire that spread light and warmth across an open area in the center of the camp. Stepping into the fire's flickering light, Doranthe raised clenched fists high above his head.

"Followers of The Goddess!" His resonant voice created a spreading pool of silence as onlookers crowded forward. "I call Council. In the name of The Goddess I, Doranthe, call together the Council of the Followers of The Goddess."

The crowd stood for a moment in shocked silence, broken only by the wail of a fretful child somewhere among the tents. Then men and women came forward by ones and by twos until fourteen people stood before Doranthe, waiting.

"The Council is now assembled." He let his arms drop to his sides and stood facing them.

"For what reason do you call us together with no warning, no time for preparation?" a man asked sternly from among the fourteen. He was older than most, his beard and hair almost white and his face seamed with lines. "Who are these strangers you have brought before us? Is it they who pose such an urgent problem?"

"Your questions are to the point as always, Homarthe. These may be the ones whose coming has been prophesied for so long by The Goddess," Doranthe stated calmly, but there was an excitement in his voice and in his eyes that held his listeners in its grip. "Let the Eyes of The Goddess look upon these strangers. Let the Voice of The Goddess repeat once more the warning whose words we have puzzled over for so long. Charis, Chantar. Stand forth!"

There was a stir as two of the councilors moved to the front of the group. They were surprisingly young, looking very much alike, and Chad guessed at once that they might be brother and sister. They were tall and slender, with the fine bone structure that was typical of their race. She had wavy hair of pale reddishgold. Her eyes were great pools of bluegreen, slightly slanted beneath sculptured brows, calm and steady as though gazing on the landscape of a peaceful dream. He guessed her age to be only a little greater than his own.

In her brother, the same cast of features combined to reveal a completely different personality. He was a few years older than she, and his hair was a few shades darker but alive with tight curls. His narrowed eyes sparkled with vitality from under heavy brows, and his every movement spoke of controlled power and arrogant pride. He reminded Chad of a halfwild cat in his quick response to any situation. Chad's fleeting impression, though, was that his sister's tranquillity masked an inner strength that her brother might never achieve.

"Chantar, speak again to us the words of The Goddess's Warning, so that we may know the way of truth." Once more, Doranthe's words held the rhythm of long tradition.

The back of Chad's neck prickled as he dimly sensed the stirring of unfamiliar forces. It was something like what he felt when one of his hunches was at work, but this wasn't directed at him. The man's features seemed to smooth out into blankness as though all personality had fled. The voice that issued from his unmoving lips was high and thin, with a curious lack of resonance that made it sound as though he stood far distant, gazing down upon them from the rim of a cliff somewhere beyond the edge of the world.

"Let all Gardhe beware when the men of Red and Black appear. From nothingness shall they come, and to nothingness shall they seek to return. They shall herald an age of ice and fire, bringing to this land the storm that sweeps away the very trees, the moving earth that levels great mountains. They shall do great deeds, changing the paths of the future beyond any power of Myself or My Brother to foresee. Good comrades, or terrible enemies they may be. They shall smite their foes with wrath like unto thunder and lightning, and so shall you know them."

"We have been told these words many times, since long before our fathers' fathers were but tiny children." Doranthe's words were softly spoken, but carried easily to his listeners in the hush that followed. "My scouts reported that strangers approached, pursued by a troop of the Landsman Khuran's soldiers. I hastened to set up an ambush, but the strangers struck first. Their weapons are indeed deadly, and speak with voices of fire and thunder. One of them is indeed black, and the other's hair is a strangely dark shade of reddish brown. As to whether they are indeed the ones foretold by The Goddess, as to whether their presence brings good or evil, I know not. Stranger," he turned to Chad. "Why did you turn your weapons only on the beasts of your pursuers? Why did you not also slay the men who rode upon them in pursuit of you and your friends?"

Chad had managed to follow the Council's proceedings fairly well, aided by Ahlenya's whispered translations.

"I not know them. I not wish to kill men I not know, just drive them away, stop them from following." He spoke haltingly, struggling to express himself clearly in what little he knew of their language. "They not harm us, only follow. I am stranger here, and too easy make mistake, kill those who might later be friends."

"From what place do you come, and for what reason?" Chantar asked suspiciously, his normal speaking voice a pleasant baritone.

"We come from another world. Close to this as two hands. No can go back, way is lost. We come with others, seek wealth. Some fight among selves, and all others die. We come in peace. Ask refuge, or safe passage."

"And if we send you on your way?" Charis spoke in a voice much like her brother's, but lighter, clearer. "What then will you do? Where will you go?"

"I not know. What happen will happen. I not think any Landsman will make us welcome."

"If we take you in, will you fight by our side, lending your strength and skills to our cause?" Doranthe asked sternly.

"Yes, gladly we do this," Chad answered after conferring with Mike.

The discussion raged, words flying back and forth faster than Ahlenya could translate. Chad could only stand calmly, trying to act unconcerned. He did notice that Chantar was among the most vocal of those who opposed them, while the little that Charis said seemed to be in their favor.

"This is a matter that may well affect more than just our own future," Doranthe finally decided, calling a halt to the argument when it became apparent that the councilors were merely repeating themselves. "Before we take a vote on this matter, it is my belief that we should call upon The Goddess for Her advice."

There were dubious looks, and Chad wondered whether calling upon The Goddess twice in one evening might be against custom, but none spoke in opposition to Doranthe. Once again, Chantar's features seemed to go blank. It was as though his very identity had been momentarily erased. Again came the high, thin voice.

"This matter must be decided by men. I cannot advise you in this, but consider well before you choose. The fate of more worlds than one may hang in the balance." The blank expression faded into his more normal scowl.

"The Goddess has spoken." Doranthe's voice was deliberately neutral. "You have heard Her words, and you have listened to the strangers. Before you decide, is there anything more that you would ask?"

"What manner of men were those who came with you?" The questioner was an older woman. Her hair had paled to pure silver, but her sharp eyes mirrored a mind undimmed by age.

"Some evil," Chad answered. The old eyes seemed to peer into his very soul, and he had the sudden feeling that his best chance lay with speaking nothing but the unvarnished truth. "Some not fit in. Some like fight. Want wealth. Not care how get, who they hurt."

"Why were you with them?"

"Accident. I run from danger, hide in goods being brought. I also one who not fit in."

Several councilors tried to speak at once, their voices overridden by Doranthe's heavier tones.

"Cymwis, yours was the next question, I believe."

"Why was your friend there?" The councilor was a woman of about Doranthe's age, nearly as tall as he, with arms and shoulders that looked to be as strong as most men's.

"I not ask. He good friend, good man. Not ask more."

The argument raged again, and all the while Charis stood calmly watching the strangers. He couldn't help wondering what thoughts, what emotions hid behind that impassive face. At last the arguments and questions died down. In the relative quiet, Doranthe called for a vote.

"Those who would give the strangers refuge, move to their side of the fire. Those who would turn them away, move to the other side."