The Return of the Sword tcoh-5

by Roger Taylor

  Yet his legs would not respond. Could not respond. He was already going too quickly. He could do nothing. Nothing except plunge towards the outcome of this catastrophic flight. Panic began to coil inside him.

  The screeching cries of the three riders reached him but he dared not look over his shoulder to see how close his pursuers were. Yet there was a peculiar urgency in them – a concern, almost.

  Then something was touching him, twining itself about his body, holding him, slowing him, promising to stop his tumbling descent. But all that he could feel for this restraint was revulsion. It clung to him like the viscous discharge of an infected wound.

  He could see that Pinnatte too was being affected by something. The young man was moving as through strongly flowing water, though Vredech could see no apparent cause. Both of them had been brought to a halt.

  Pinnatte was turning to face the oncoming riders, his whole posture alive with rage and fear. As Vredech too turned to face them, he became aware of Pinnatte’s arm moving and a stone arcing its way through the stinging air. An angry shout rode with it and the rider it was aimed at flinched and hastily raised a defensive arm. The stone struck him ineffectively on the shoulder but his gesture had been peculiarly human and it stirred something inside Vredech – a distant, flickering hope that he could not properly identify. He could identify a faltering in the mysterious force that was holding him, however. As apparently could Pinnatte, for another stone and another oath passed by Vredech on its way to the same target.

  This one, though, struck nothing. With a sound almost like that of an animal in pain, it shattered into dust and fragments in mid-air as the intended target casually raised towards it the hand that previously had betrayed him.

  But, at the same time, Pinnatte and Vredech found themselves free. The faint hope in Vredech flared suddenly, like a fire caught by a gusting breeze and, scarcely realizing what he was doing, he seized his companion in a powerful embrace. As he did so, the hope became a blinding light and the two of them were falling through it. All around them, clamouring and tearing at the fabric of the brightness itself, came the frenzied cries of their pursuers.

  The terrible noise was still tangled about them as, wide-eyed and gaping, they both jerked violently upright. The room they found themselves in was shaking with the shrieking frustration of the three riders.

  As it faded, Nertha was the first to recover. Emotion broke free from the control she had been exerting ever since Pinnatte and her husband had been found comatose, and with a wordless cry of her own she dropped down by Vredech’s bed and wrapped her arms around him.

  Andawyr, though visibly shaken, dashed to Pinnatte. Echoing Nertha he repeated, ‘You’re safe, you’re safe,’ over and over, until eventually he began to gain the young man’s attention. Not that Pinnatte seemed too sure about the message he was being given so fervently as his eyes gradually focused and he found himself staring into Andawyr’s battered face. He jerked away from him with a cry and gazed wildly about the dimly lit room. Catching sight of a tall figure standing in the shade near the foot of the bed he pushed himself backwards, his hand grasping for more stones with which to defend himself.

  The figure did not move, however.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ it said, its voice calm and reassuring. ‘Wherever you’ve been, you’re safely returned, and nothing can harm you here. I’m going to let a little more light in; will that be all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ Vredech said hesitantly on behalf of his companion. Hawklan touched something by the window and an intricate weave of shutters slowly began to disentangle itself, folding back silently layer upon layer to become part of the window surrounds. Bright sunlight unfurled into the room to reveal elaborate traceries carved across the walls and ceiling.

  Vredech and Pinnatte, still shocked as they were by their sudden return, stared in wonder, for at the touch of the sunlight the carvings seemed to ripple and turn towards it in welcome. Vredech drew in a deep breath and felt the light washing away the last remnants of the sour blue air that scarcely heartbeats ago had been pervading him.

  Pinnatte did the same. He gesticulated vaguely and said, ‘Where?’

  ‘Anderras Darion, young man,’ came a stern voice. ‘More to the point, where have you been to come back bearing such a gift?’ He turned to see an old woman sitting nearby. At least, he thought it was an old woman, though there was an ageless quality about her face that made it difficult for him to tell. Bright blue eyes held him fixed, however, preventing him from either replying to her question or asking his own.

  Hawklan turned to her sharply. ‘Gently, Memsa,’ he said with both reproach and surprise. Gulda tapped her stick on the floor impatiently and seemed set to dispute with him for a moment. Then, with a curt nod, she released her captive.

  Pinnatte and Vredech had been brought back to Anderras Darion as quickly as the night and the road would allow. Both Hawklan and Andawyr had examined them again as soon as they reached the castle, but neither had been able to reach any conclusion as to what had happened. In the end, there being no danger to the two men immediately apparent, and bearing in mind Nertha’s strange but unequivocal pronouncement that they could well be in some other place, they had reluctantly had to settle for making them comfortable and watching them, pending fresher thoughts the following day.

  They had been joined shortly after dawn by a grim-faced Nertha, well rested but less than grateful for the sleep that Hawklan had given her. Gulda had been with them throughout. She had confined her own examination of the two men to laying her hand on their foreheads but otherwise she had said nothing. For what was left of the night she had sat motionless in her characteristic pose; hands clamped over the top of her stick and her chin resting on them.

  When the two men suddenly woke and the room filled with the piercing screams of the riders, Andawyr, Hawklan and Nertha all cried out and covered their ears. Gulda, however, straightened up sharply and gazed about her, as if following every echoing nuance of the sounds as they clamoured about the room like trapped and demented animals.

  Hawklan knelt down between the two beds. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked both of them.

  ‘I think so,’ Vredech said, though he was pale and visibly confused. ‘This is really Anderras Darion?’

  ‘Yes,’ Hawklan replied. ‘Welcome to my home.’

  Vredech levered himself upright. The movement made him feel light-headed and he took his wife’s arm for support. He realized that his legs were shaking, a reminder of his reckless dash down the mountainside. He looked at his host and managed to smile.

  ‘So you’re the man we’ve journeyed all this way to meet.’ He held out his hand. ‘I don’t know how we came here, but I think we owe you a debt of thanks…’ He stopped abruptly and turned to Pinnatte guiltily. Swinging off the bed he leaned forward and looked at his companion anxiously. He echoed Hawklan’s question earnestly. ‘Are you all right?’

  Pinnatte nodded, then shook his head.

  ‘Cobwebs back?’ Vredech asked, his face pained.

  Pinnatte grimaced and nodded again.

  Vredech squeezed his arm encouragingly. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll remember. I’ll make sure everyone knows. You’ll not be left out. And thanks for whatever you just did.’

  Pinnatte shrugged. ‘You,’ he said.

  Vredech shrugged in his turn. ‘It’s not important,’ he said. ‘What’s important is that we’re safe here.’

  ‘No,’ Pinnatte said flatly. ‘No one’s safe.’ He looked around the room. ‘Tell.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gulda said, tapping her stick forcefully on the floor as she stood up. ‘Tell.’

  ‘No,’ Nertha intervened, placing herself resolutely between the two men and the advancing Memsa. ‘Talking can wait. These two need to wash, change their clothes and have something to eat before they do anything else.’

  The two women stared at one another for a long moment, then Gulda gave a brief grunt. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I apologize.’


  Hawklan and Andawyr exchanged a look of open surprise, though they ensured that Gulda did not see it.

  The door opened and Atelon entered, his face flushed and concerned. ‘What was that noise? Oh!’

  The exclamation came as he saw Vredech and Pinnatte awake. His concern became relief and then concern again. ‘You’re bleeding,’ he said to Pinnatte.

  Nertha swore under her breath and with an angry look at Hawklan and Andawyr pushed them both aside as she moved to Pinnatte.

  ‘He wasn’t bleeding before,’ Andawyr protested plaintively as he was drawn into her wake.

  ‘Well, he’s bleeding now,’ Nertha retorted, untying Vredech’s already slack kerchief and looking closely at the cut. ‘It looks worse than it is, I think.’ She smiled at Pinnatte. ‘At least it’s clean. Get my bag, and some water.’

  While Pinnatte was being attended to, Vredech looked at his own hands. Just as they had been in that strange blue world, they too were scratched. What else had he brought from there? he thought. And what had he left?

  Andawyr took Atelon aside. ‘Take care of Pinnatte and Vredech.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And Nertha. Keep a close eye on them. And stay alert.’

  As Atelon took his charges in hand, Gulda flicked her stick at Hawklan and Andawyr. ‘Come with me, you two, we need to talk.’

  She led them along a bright corridor at the end of which was a door that opened on to a broad, circular balcony. It overlooked a small park and children’s voices rose up to greet them. Gulda leaned on the stone parapet and watched the children for some time before speaking. She seemed to be unusually uneasy.

  ‘What’s the matter, Memsa?’ Hawklan ventured.

  ‘What indeed?’ she replied, maintaining her vigil over the playing children. ‘What indeed?’

  Hawklan and Andawyr looked at one another but found no enlightenment.

  ‘No slight thing, I’d deduce, from your manner,’ Hawklan said. ‘Indeed, I’d deduce that from the fact that you’ve come back to Anderras Darion. I’d thought never to see you again.’

  Gulda looked round at the towers and spires of the great castle, then at her questioner. ‘I thought I’d never be back,’ she replied. ‘I thought that with the Uhriel slain at last and Sumeral destroyed so totally there’d be no more need for me.’ She turned back to the children. ‘Except as a wandering teacher.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But… little signs everywhere. Little signs – and doubts deep within myself that, though chance and courage had conspired to give us victory, perhaps all was not truly over. That what was scattered might come together again, as it had before.’ She drummed a brief tattoo on the parapet with her long fingers. ‘Only vagueness, Hawklan. A strangeness in the wind that says that rain is coming, winter, spring, something. A call beneath the senses.’

  ‘It’s a deep call if it’s beneath your senses,’ Hawklan said, without irony.

  ‘Who can truly assess the effects of the least thing?’ she replied. ‘Who knows what things we truly know? Who knows how we guide ourselves?’

  She abandoned the children and began walking around the balcony. ‘Suffice it that I sensed a coming together of some kind. It was a dark and ominous feeling. And my feet turned me towards here.’

  Unusually, Andawyr showed a hint of impatience. ‘We’ll talk about that over the next few days, together with everything else.’ He put his hands to his temples. ‘So many things are happening so quickly we mustn’t confuse coincidence and cause. We’ll have the tales of our visitors – and, from what I’ve heard so far, these are mightily strange – and we’ll have the Accounting of the Goraidin. If there’s a pattern there, we’ll find it, you know that. We’re all of us wiser than we were.’ Following Gulda’s deceptively fast stride, they moved into the shade of the tower. The sound of the children was replaced by the clatter of horses’ hooves in the stone courtyard below. ‘But that’s not why you dragged us out here, is it?’

  Chapter 23

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Gulda replied, tapping her stick on the mosaic floor as she strode around the balcony. Both men declined to press her. Experience had taught them that Gulda did what she wanted, when she wanted, and that even to try to force events was to risk a memorable rebuke. They were torn, however, for, very unusually, she seemed to be openly disturbed.

  She stopped abruptly, then moved off again. As they came back into the sunlight she sat down on a long bench and motioned them to sit by her. She was about to speak when something caught her eye. It was Gavor, high above them, black and purposeful against the blue sky. Wings wide and still, save for pinions lightly testing the unseen pathways of the air, he began gliding down in a slow, graceful spiral. As was often the way, though, he landed less elegantly, with a great deal of flapping and a muttered oath as he bounced to a halt.

  ‘You sedentary souls really should make the effort and learn to fly,’ he said as he recovered. ‘It’s not at all difficult and it’s such a joy up there.’ He looked beadily at each in turn. ‘Ah, I see that a sparkling demeanour is inappropriate. Do tell.’

  ‘Just listen, bird,’ Gulda said. ‘And all of you, say nothing of this to anyone else.’ A curt movement of her hand silenced the pending protests. ‘Nothing,’ she insisted. ‘For the simple reason that I don’t know the significance of what I’ve just heard yet, and nothing’s to be gained by adding needless alarm to what’s already happening.’

  ‘Dar-volci’s already told me that Sumeral is whole again and struggling to return,’ Hawklan said bluntly. ‘And he was quite unequivocal about it. What could be more alarming than that?’

  Gulda did not reply. ‘Just listen,’ she said.

  A ringing burst of childish laughter rose up from the park below.

  ‘The sound that we heard when Vredech and Pinnatte awoke. What did you make of it?’ she asked.

  ‘It was peculiar, to put it mildly,’ Hawklan replied after a moment’s pause to assimilate the unexpected question. ‘In fact, it was extremely unpleasant. I wouldn’t have thought a human throat could make such a noise, but then, their whole condition was peculiar – to all intents and purposes, just sleeping, yet apparently unwakeable.’

  ‘It’s not unknown for people to wake up screaming from nightmares, you know,’ Andawyr contributed dismissively. ‘And from what I can gather, they’ve both been through a great deal in the not too distant past.’

  ‘They didn’t dream,’ Hawklan said, casually but categorically. Then he frowned as if taken unawares by his own remark.

  Andawyr too looked puzzled. ‘Didn’t dream?’ he echoed. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean they didn’t dream,’ Hawklan replied as though he were testing the answer.

  Andawyr pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘You must be mistaken. Everyone dreams. It’s deep in the roots of the way our minds work. Stop someone dreaming for long enough and they’ll go mad.’

  ‘I know that,’ Hawklan said irritably, his frown deepening. ‘And I’m not mistaken. I’ve sat through enough night vigils to recognize different kinds of sleep. In fact, now I think back on it, the behaviour of both of them was unusual. I don’t know why it didn’t strike me sooner. They didn’t toss and turn like ordinary sleepers and they definitely didn’t dream.’ Andawyr looked set to protest again but Hawklan did not allow him. ‘No spells of deep relaxation or flickering eye movement. Not one.’

  Andawyr was unpersuaded. ‘It isn’t possible,’ he said testily. ‘You probably missed them, that’s all. You were tired yourself. You probably dozed off from time to time without realizing it. It happens.’

  ‘I know. I heard you snoring.’

  An impatient tap from Gulda’s stick ended the burgeoning argument and drew them both back to her question. ‘The noise,’ she demanded stonily.

  ‘I don’t understand what you want, Memsa,’ Hawklan said, still a little querulous at Andawyr’s off-hand rejection of his idea. ‘They woke up screaming, presumably after some frightening experience – dream or otherwise. Bu
t we won’t know anything about it until we can talk to them properly – that’s to say when Nertha lets them go.’

  Gulda gave a menacing snort. ‘Think back to when they awoke. Both of you!’

  Her tone forbade any dispute or return to their disagreement but Hawklan still protested. ‘I really don’t know what…’

  ‘Think!’

  Gavor chuckled and, stepping to the edge of the parapet, peered precariously down at the playing children. Hawklan yielded and did as he was told, taking his mind back to the sudden awakening of Vredech and Pinnatte.

  There had not been a vestige of a warning. At one moment the two men were lying motionless and asleep, the only sound in the softly lit room being the breathing of its occupants and the faint background buzz of the activity that pervaded the castle. Then, as though an ambush had been sprung, the room was full of the overpowering sound of the sleepers’ screaming as, suddenly, they were awake.

  Even now, sitting in the sunlight with the friendly guardian towers of Anderras Darion about him, Hawklan shuddered as he recalled the scene. Despite Gulda’s stern injunction to reflect on what had happened, he found he was strangely reluctant to return to the event. And why was Gulda so interested in the noise the two waking men had made?

  Because it wasn’t they who had made it!

  The realization struck him almost like a blow.

  The sound had had no focus, no single point of origin. Nor had it grown to a climax. It had suffused the entire room the instant that Vredech and Pinnatte woke. And it had died strangely; not collapsing back on to its creators in all too human sobs or choking gasps, but fading into the distance like dying echoes across a rocky valley. He had a fleeting image of Gulda’s eyes searching the room.

  He voiced his discovery.

  Andawyr shuffled uncomfortably. Part of him wanted to decry the idea but he had been coming to the same conclusion himself.

  A breeze wafted over the balcony. Gavor’s shining wings fluttered as he steadied himself. Gulda turned her head into it and drew in a deep breath, her nose cutting the air like the sail of a tiny, tacking yacht.