Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [64]
Baruin said to Yuli, ‘You sleep too, with Dresyl and the others. I will keep watch, in case we are surprised by a counterattack.’
But Little Yuli was unable to sleep. He said nothing to Baruin, but he had been wounded, and his head was light. He felt himself near to death, and staggered outside to die under Wutra’s sky, into which Freyr was already preparing to ascend, for it was the third quarter. He walked down the main street here, where grass grew coarse among streams of mud. Freyr-dawn was the colour of mud, and he saw a scavenging hound slink away, full-bellied, from the corpse of one of his fellow hunters. He leaned against a crumbling wall, breathing deep.
Opposite him was the temple – ruined then as now. He stared without understanding at the decorations engraved in the stone. Remember, in those days, before Loil Bry civilised him, Yuli was by way of being a barbarian. Rats snicked in at the doorway. He moved to the temple hearing only a rushing in his ears. In his hand he held a sword taken from a fallen adversary – a better weapon than any he possessed, made of good dark metal here in our forges. This he held before him as he kicked in the door.
Inside, tethered milch sows and goats scuffled. Field implements used to be stored there in those days. Looking about, Yuli saw a trapdoor in the floor, and heard voices whispering.
Taking hold of the iron ring, he heaved up the door. Down in the pool of darkness under his feet, a smoking lamp burned.
‘Who’s there?’ someone called. A man’s voice, and I expect you know whose it was.
It was Wall Ein Den, then Lord of Embruddock, and well-remembered by us all. You can picture him, tall and upright, though his youth had fled, with a long black moustache and no beard. All remarked on his eyes, which could outstare the boldest, and his haggardly handsome face, which in its time moved women to tears. This was the historic meeting between him, the old lord, and Little Yuli.
Little Yuli went slowly down the steps to him, almost as if recognising him. Some of the masters of corps were there with Lord Wall Ein, but they did not dare speak as Yuli came down, very pale, clasping his sword.
Lord Wall Ein said, ‘If you are a savage, then murder is your business, and you had best get it over with. I command you to kill me first.’
‘What else do you deserve, hiding in a cellar?’
‘We are old, and powerless in battle. Once it was otherwise.’
They confronted each other. Nobody moved.
With a great effort, Yuli spoke, and his voice seemed to him to come from far away. ‘Old man, why do you leave this great town so poorly guarded?’
Lord Wall Ein replied with his usual authority. ‘It was not always thus, or you and your men would have met a different reception, you with your poor weapons. Many centuries ago, the Land of Embruddock was great, stretching north to the Quzints and south almost as far as the sea. Then Great King Denniss ruled, but the cold came and destroyed what he had wrought. Now we are fewer than ever we were, for only last year, in the first quarter, we were raided by the white phagors riding like the wind on their giant mounts. Many of our best warriors, including my son, were killed defending Embruddock, and now sink towards the original boulder.’
He sighed, and added, ‘Perhaps you read the legend carved on this building, if you can read. It says, “First phagors, then men.” It was for that legend and other matters that our priesthood was slain, two generations ago. Men must be first, always. Yet some days I wonder if the prophecy will not come true.’
Little Yuli heard the lord’s words as if in a trance. When he attempted to reply, no words rose to his bloodless lips, and he felt the power drain from his inner eddre.
One of the old men, between pitying and sniggering, said, ‘The youth has a wound.’
As Yuli staggered forward, they backed away. Behind them was a low archway with a passage beyond, dimly lit