by Roger Taylor
'What can I do?’ he shouted.
'Nothing,’ gasped Andawyr. ‘This creature's beyond me. It's part of a greater whole. But it must be bound. I must go to the Council by a route that you can't travel. If I survive that, I fear I must go to Narsindal to seek...’ He paused and gasped for breath. Another violent shock rocked the room. ‘Dar-volci will help you escape the tent. Flee for your life ... your soul. Return to Anderras Darion now, as quickly as you can. Learn everything you can from the Gate, and from the lore of Orthlund. I'll try to reach you if I can, or send another. Above all, Hawklan, be on your guard. Watch the shadows, your days of peace are ended. They'll try to bind you again. Be on your guard. Go quickly now.'
Hawklan moved to help him, but Andawyr waved him to the door with his injured hand. Hawklan ignored the gesture and looking into the old man's pained eyes, laid his hands gently on his head. Andawyr closed his eyes and some of the pain left his face. Then he opened them abruptly, and nodded desperately to the door.
Hawklan lifted his hands from the old man's head, ran to the door and pushed it open. However, instead of walking through it, he found himself pitched forward headlong as if an enormous hand had pushed him squarely in the back. Gavor joined him in an equally undignified manner.
As the two rolled over, there was a great echoing boom and the bird's frantic screeching stopped abruptly. Turning, Hawklan saw the hole in the tent wall disappear, and he had a fleeting vision of the room he had just left dwindling rapidly into the distance, sparking white with Andawyr's flickering light.
Before he could gather his wits properly, there was a raucous shout from outside the tent, ‘They're ‘ere,’ and a long knife blade was thrust through the tent wall. With one swift rasping stroke, the entrance was rent open to reveal a bulky figure standing dark against the early morning sky.
Behind him, Hawklan glimpsed other figures milling around. Their leader seemed to be a man with a ragged bandage tied over his eyes. One hand was gripping the shoulder of another man so powerfully that he was grimacing in pain, and the other, claw-like, was swinging from side to side.
There was a timeless pause as the figure in the entrance hesitated. The healer in Hawklan reached out instinctively to the blind man, but some other part of him was repelled. The blind man cocked his head on one side as though he had heard something familiar and, slowly, his sightless gaze turned towards Hawklan. Hawklan recognized the face he had seen reeling back into the pavilion, but now its look of horror had been replaced by one of madness.
Then the swinging hand levelled itself at him like a quivering compass point, and the man's mouth opened wide in a triumphant snarl. Hawklan felt his unspoken command.
The man in the entrance moved forward and, without thinking, Hawklan stepped low in front of him and then stood up. With a great cry the man flew into the air over Hawklan's back and crashed heavily onto the floor. Even as the man was falling, Hawklan extended his right hand towards the face of another approaching attacker. Although the hand did not touch him, he too crashed to the ground as he tried to avoid it.
As he moved to face yet another, Dar-volci's voice intruded. ‘Never mind these,’ his deep voice bellowed. ‘Run for it. Out of the back.’ Hawklan turned round but there was no one there. He hesitated. ‘Shift, you great lummox,’ came the powerful voice again, from a side room. ‘I'll be out in a minute. I can handle these once Andy's away safe.'
A hand grabbed at Hawklan's shoulder and, without looking, he swung his fist back into the groin of its owner. There was a gasp and the grip vanished. Hawklan sensed more attackers behind him.
'I don't know where you learned those tricks, dear boy,’ said Gavor, jumping up and down agitatedly. ‘But I really think the man's offering us good advice.'
Hawklan nodded. He spun round and laid out one more individual with an open handed blow under his chin, then ran towards the back of the tent. As he did so a small brown sinuous animal ran between his legs in the direction of the assailed entrance.
Drawing his sword, Hawklan slashed an opening in the tent wall, but before he stepped through it, he turned to see where his pursuers were. He saw one trip over the small animal, which ran on unhindered to the next man, stood on its hind legs and opened its mouth to reveal a massive and formidable set of teeth. It sank these into the man's leg, and there was a sound of breaking bones that made Hawklan wince. The man let out a great scream and collapsed on to his fellow who was just getting up.
'Come on, dear boy,’ Gavor flapped urgently. ‘If that's Dar-volci's pet, I shudder to think what he's like.'
And with that he was gone, flying off toward the crowds and noise of the Gretmearc. Hawklan followed him, listening for any sounds of pursuit. But all he could hear was Dar-volci's stentorian voice swearing roundly and filigreed about with thuds and screams.
* * * *
Within the hour, Hawklan had gathered his pack from the rest area, purchased a few supplies, and was making steady, inconspicuous progress down the road that would lead back to the mountains and to Orthlund. Gavor was flying watchful, high above him.
There had been no signs of pursuit after they had left Andawyr's assailed tent, and the Gretmearc crowds had absorbed them into anonymity as effectively as a mountain mist, although part of Hawklan had wanted to draw the black sword and return to face those who had seen fit to so assault him and seek his downfall.
A deeper, darker voice sounded within him however. These people are unknown to you, it said, and would have bested you like a child, but for Gavor and good fortune. Those who know them better told you to flee. To return might be to make vain any sacrifice they have paid.
Reluctantly Hawklan had bowed to this wiser counsel.
Gavor had had less sombre reservations. ‘Dar-volci'll be all right,’ he said confidently. ‘Judging by the noises that were coming from that tent he sounds as if he's twice the size of Isloman. And did you see that rat thing—with the teeth?’ His tone was awe-stricken, and he hopped involuntarily onto Hawklan's head to be further from the ground.
Hawklan nodded, and grimaced at the memory of those bone-crunching teeth. ‘That was no rat,’ he said. ‘I've never seen anything like it before. It must be some kind of a guard animal.'
'Well, if he's got that thing on a leash, at least we'll have no difficulty recognizing Dar-volci if we ever meet him,’ Gavor concluded.
However, their journey was for the most part silent. Each was rapt in his own thoughts. In contrast to his peaceful journey from Pedhavin, Hawklan now found that his mind was troubled and his perceptions darker. He realized he was searching the faces of passers-by for signs of treachery and enmity. Running feet or hooves behind him would see his hand move gently to his sword hilt. A glade of trees overshadowing the road, beautiful though it was still, would become also a possible place of ambush, and part of him would peer into it, seeking out less innocent shadows.
He did not relish this new sight and he became increasingly anxious to be back at Anderras Darion, back amongst familiar surroundings with familiar faces and sounds around him, back amongst light and openness. But Andawyr's voice kept returning to him.
'Watch the shadows. Your days of peace are ended.'
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The story continues in
THE FALL OF FYORLUND
the second volume of
THE CHRONICLES OF HAWKLAN
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Fantasy Books by Roger Taylor
The Call of the Sword
The Fall of Fyorlund
The Waking of Orthlund
Into Narsindal
Dream Finder
Farnor
Valderen
Whistler
Ibryen
Arash-Felloren
Caddoran
The Return of the Sword
Further information on these titles is available from www.mushroom-ebooks.com
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Visit www.mushroom-ebooks.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.<
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eBook Info
Identifier:Taylor-Call-Of-The-Sword
Title:The Call of the Sword [Book One of The Chronicles of Hawklan]
Creator:Roger Taylor
Publisher:Mushroom eBooks
Rights:Copyright © 1988 by Roger Taylor
Description:Fantasy. 63230 words long. First published by Headline Book Publishing in 1988
Language:English
Type:Novel
Format:text/xml
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