Caddoran

by Roger Taylor

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ he asked after they had been walking for a while.

  ‘We’ll be there soon, but I wanted to talk to you alone.’

  ‘To talk to me? What for?’

  ‘Oh, lots of reasons. Not the least being the fact that you’re at the heart of this business, and as I’ve allied myself with you I need to know more about you.’

  ‘I can’t tell you any more than I told you the other day. If I could, I would. I don’t know why Vashnar’s…’

  Endryk stopped him. ‘I understand that,’ he said. ‘But it’s not particularly important at the moment. It’s sufficient for now that Vashnar’s a pursuing enemy. What we’ve got to do first of all is make sure that we can survive out here indefinitely.’

  ‘Indefinitely?’ Thyrn stopped. ‘You mean – for ever?’

  Endryk did not reply.

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it like that,’ Thyrn said after an uncertain silence.

  ‘You hadn’t thought about it at all,’ Endryk said, walking on. ‘None of you had. Somewhere in all your minds is the vague idea that sooner or later everything will be as it was again.’

  ‘No,’ Thyrn protested loyally.

  ‘Yes,’ Endryk replied unequivocally. This time it was he who stopped. It was lighter now and Thyrn found himself transfixed by a penetrating gaze. ‘Everyone thinks like that in an emergency. I’ve done it myself many times. It’s what keeps you going in the first instance. Then, eventually, a quiet time comes and reality starts to impinge on you.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And you change. Sooner or later you respond to that reality. And sooner’s always a lot less painful than later, believe me.’ His gaze released Thyrn and he pointed. ‘Over there. Look.’ He was indicating a tree about twenty paces away. At first, Thyrn could not make anything out, but as they drew nearer he wrinkled his nose in dismay. Hanging from a thin branch driven into the ground was a rabbit, a noose tight about its neck. It was twitching slightly. Before he could say anything, Endryk had deftly released the animal and struck it a powerful blow with his hand. Thyrn jumped at the impact. It seemed out of character for the man.

  ‘Thank you,’ Endryk said to the dead animal before thrusting it into Thyrn’s hand. ‘Does this bother you?’ he asked as he bent the branch down and re-set the snare.

  ‘I’m not used to animals,’ Thyrn said evasively, holding the rabbit at arm’s length.

  ‘I can see that,’ Endryk replied, standing. ‘Which means you won’t be able to skin this either, I suppose.’

  ‘Skin!’ Thyrn shrank a little and mouthed the word, as if speaking it aloud might offend the dead rabbit.

  Endryk took the animal from him, at once businesslike and fatherly. ‘This is one of the things I need to talk to you about. I don’t know what it’s like being a Caddoran, still less someone as special as you seem to be, but it’s very important that you understand that your former life is gone. Gone for ever. Perhaps you might get back to something like it one day, I don’t know, but what I do know is that if that’s to happen, you need to survive, and to survive you need to accept things the way they are, here, now, and to learn. Above all, you need to learn. You’re a long way from anywhere here, and there’s no one – no one – to help you if you get into trouble. Do you understand what I mean?’

  ‘I think so,’ Thyrn replied unhappily.

  ‘Let’s look at the rest of the traps,’ Endryk said. ‘Tell me about your journey as we walk.’

  It was not a long tale, though Thyrn, having been terrified for most of the time, was vague about much of it. As far as he could recall, the warning from Hyrald’s friend had enabled them to escape the mob, and they had spent some time hiding in a variety of empty properties. He did remember Hyrald saying that they should use the places that the mob had already searched. Then there had been a confusing collection of hushed discussions about scouting the streets, gathering supplies, dark figures coming and going, followed by a night-time cart ride hidden under old sacks, with stern instructions about silence and stillness. Then walking, and riding – he could not remember where the horses had come from or why they had been abandoned – sleeping in barns and outhouses, stealing food and various other things until they had eventually arrived on the shore.

  Endryk did not press him on any part of the story, though he interrupted him as they came to each trap. They found one more rabbit, but the others were empty. This time Endryk showed Thyrn how to re-set them and made him do it. ‘We’ll check them again when we leave.’ At the same time he pointed out why he had positioned the traps where he had, showing Thyrn rabbit burrows and signs of regular traffic. Then he showed him how to skin and clean the rabbit, a proceeding that both fascinated and appalled Thyrn and which included also instruction in how to sharpen a knife when, teeth bared unhappily, he attempted the same exercise with his own knife. ‘You’ll cut your head off with a knife this blunt,’ was Endryk’s horrified verdict as he examined the offending tool.

  ‘Why did you thank the rabbits?’ Thyrn asked as they set off back to the camp.

  ‘We took their lives so that we could eat, the least we could do is thank them, isn’t it? Honour their gift.’

  Thyrn looked at him to see if he was being made the butt of some strange joke, but he saw that Endryk was quite serious. In fact, he was very serious. ‘Survival is about awareness, Thyrn. You’re a part of the land and everything in it, not separate, a passer-by untouched and untouching, even though you might feel like that. Everything connects to everything else, every action has consequences – most of them not calculable – but you need to know that that’s the way things are. You must honour the things you use. If you don’t you’re dishonouring a part of yourself and that prompts the question deep inside you, is it worthwhile, your surviving?’ He looked intently at Thyrn and then smiled broadly. ‘You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?’

  ‘A little bit, I think,’ Thyrn replied, adding ruefully, ‘I certainly understand about connections.’

  Endryk looked rueful in his turn. ‘Yes, of course you do,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten.’ He began to walk more quickly, levering his mood into cheerfulness. ‘You’ve done well,’ he said. ‘You pick things up very quickly. Far quicker than I ever did.’

  ‘It’s my job,’ Thyrn retorted quite unselfconsciously.

  Endryk laughed softly at his manner and held up a placatory hand. The sun was above the horizon now, shining brightly through the leafy canopy above them and throwing a confusion of long dancing shadows everywhere. Endryk looked at his pupil and drew in a noisy breath. ‘As I said before, it’s important you learn as much as possible about how to live out here, Thyrn, for all our sakes. We all have to help one another, and there’s no room for passengers. Your uncle concerns me. He’s the one who’s going to feel the strain first. The time’s come now when you have to look after him, not he you. Do you understand?’

  The question obviously disturbed Thyrn and he avoided Endryk’s gaze for some time before grimacing guiltily. ‘Yes, you’re right. I’ve really hurt him, haven’t I?’ For an instant he seemed to be on the verge of tears. ‘He’s probably the only real friend I’ve got, and I dragged him into all this. All he wanted was to enjoy his quiet life – books, music, talking with his cronies.’

  Endryk intervened, concerned by the response he had evoked. ‘You turned to him for help. Don’t reproach yourself for that. I’m sure he doesn’t blame you. It’s not your fault that Vashnar did what he did. You certainly couldn’t have foreseen it. I meant…’

  ‘I know what you meant. I’ve got to shape up and not be a burden any more, haven’t I?’ Thyrn took a gasping breath. ‘I love my uncle, I’ll do anything I can to make things right for him again, but I don’t know what to do. I’m…’ He took another breath before forcing out the words, ‘I’m afraid.’

  ‘You’d be a rare fool if you weren’t.’

  Thyrn blinked at Endryk’s blunt response.

  ‘Being afraid is
the way you should be right now. Hyrald and the others are, you can rest assured.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘But nothing. They are, trust me. You can’t have a lunatic tell an entire country to kill you and not be afraid.’

  Thyrn looked at him in silence, uncertain what to do with this statement of the obvious.

  ‘I want it to go away.’

  The words hung in the waking morning air, simple and sincere and free from the tremulous self-pity that would have provoked disdain or anger.

  Endryk put a hand on his arm. ‘Yes, of course you do,’ he said with equal simplicity. ‘Fear’s wretched. No one wants it. But it’s part of what we are and there are times when we need it if we’re going to survive. The others back there are Wardens; one way or another they know that. They’re used to it – it helps.’

  ‘My uncle’s not a Warden.’

  ‘No, but he’s damned near a parent and that can be really frightening.’

  There was a hint of a smile about his mouth and Thyrn gave him a suspicious look.

  ‘He cares about you – about what happens to you. He feels what you feel,’ Endryk said.

  Thyrn looked down at his dew-sodden boots and trousers. Pollen and fragments of leaves and grass were clinging to them. ‘I understand what you’re saying. I want to shape up, to help, to take care of my uncle instead of being a burden. But I’m only…’

  ‘Only! Only what?’ Endryk’s grip tightened about Thyrn’s arm. ‘You are what you are. Don’t give me only. A little while ago you were someone who had a very special skill – a skill which enabled you to be of valuable service in Arvenshelm. And to command payment that others your age would kill for. You’ve still got that skill, but now you need others as well – skills to help you survive out here, on your own. You’ve already got some.’ He pointed to the two skinned rabbits.

  ‘But…’

  ‘But nothing.’ Endryk bent close to him. ‘When you feel doubt and inadequacy gnawing at you, remember what you’ve already achieved, and remember your uncle. It’s your turn to carry him now. You’ll find resources in you you never dreamt of. And while I’m with you, I’ll teach you whatever I can. Just watch, listen and, above all, think. And if you want to know something, ask.’ His voice became urgent. ‘That’s important, Thyrn. Not only for you but for the others, because when they see you learning something, they’ll learn it themselves.’

  Thyrn looked puzzled. ‘But what do they need to learn? They’re Wardens.’

  A laugh, not altogether kindly, burst out of Endryk, but he cut it off sharply. ‘They seem like good people to me. Decent and honourable in their own way. And Hyrald’s certainly getting to grips with what’s happening. But my past experience of Wardens hasn’t always been happy. They’re not particularly well-disciplined or well-trained, and as an organization they leave a lot to be desired. I soon learned it was best to avoid them if possible.’

  ‘You’ve had trouble with Wardens up here?’

  Thyrn’s open curiosity deflected Endryk. He became reflective. ‘No. I travelled all over Arvenstaat before I ended up here. When I first arrived I was going to go south for ever – just for ever.’ He paused, his eyes distant. ‘But by the time I reached the southern mountains I was exhausted, inside and out, and I couldn’t face them. And it was coming up to winter.’

  ‘No one ever goes south,’ Thyrn said knowingly. The impassability of the southern mountains was a given truth for the Arvens. It was also false, though the mountains were not for the faint, the feeble or the inexperienced, and few travelled them.

  ‘Where are you from?’ Thyrn asked abruptly.

  Endryk pointed vaguely in the direction of the unseen shore but otherwise ignored the question. ‘So I ended up wandering around, taking odd jobs here and there for my keep. I spent quite a time in Arvenshelm. Learned a lot about this strange country I’d found myself in, with its farce of a government in the Moot, and the Wardens making up the law as they went along.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s not a good way for a country to be, Thyrn. Something bad will come of it eventually.’ He shrugged. ‘Still, that’s not our immediate problem, is it? Come on. Let’s rouse the camp.’

  ‘How did you get back up here?’ Thyrn asked.

  Endryk frowned, then sighed. ‘Well, I did tell you to ask, didn’t I? I came here the same way you did – fleeing an enemy. But unlike you, my enemy was in my head. I carried him with me all the time, and he drove me from every place I went to. I’m not sure I’m totally rid of him even now.’ He waved a hand to forbid any more questions on the subject. ‘But as I told you before, there comes a quiet time eventually and reality starts to make itself felt. In my case, it was when I was on my hands and knees out on the shore and an old shoreman was dragging me to safety.’

  He stopped and stood silent for some time before clearing his throat and looking accusingly at Thyrn.

  ‘But we’re talking about you, aren’t we? Not me. My enemy’s long given up the chase – though I suspect we only have a kind of truce. But I’ve a feeling that yours hasn’t really begun his pursuit yet. And to be ready for him, you and the others need to learn a lot more.’

  Thyrn’s loyalty reared again. ‘I don’t think Hyrald and the others have much to learn about looking after themselves.’

  This time Endryk did not laugh. ‘Yes they have, believe me. I’ve no doubt they can look after themselves very well in Arvenshelm – dealing with drunks and thieves and the like. Certainly they can fight well. They dealt with those others on the shore splendidly – it’s no slight thing to stand your ground against a mounted attacker. But here…’ He made an expansive gesture, encompassing the small sunlit clearing they were walking through. ‘Here you can die of starvation, of thirst, of cold, through eating poisonous vegetation, maggoty meat, drinking foul water – most unheroically, like an animal – slowly, dismally, eaten by rodents and insects while you’re still alive but too weak to…’

  He stopped. Thyrn’s eyes were widening and the blood was draining from his face.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said unsympathetically. ‘But there are things you need to know out here and Hyrald and his friends are no wiser than you about them. Their problem – our problem, actually – is that it’s more difficult for them to admit their ignorance than it is for you, so if you act as a willing student it’ll give them a chance to learn without losing face. Can we agree on that – our secret plot?’

  He held out his hand. Thyrn shifted the rabbits to his other hand and grasped it warmly. ‘Yes, I want to help – my uncle especially.’ He was suddenly full of enthusiasm. ‘Teach me everything you can. I can learn faster than anyone you’ve ever known.’

  As they came in sight of the camp they saw that Nordath was awake. He was struggling to light the fire amid a cloud of smoke. Endryk looked upwards as it escaped through the canopy.

  Thyrn hailed his uncle, waving the rabbits high. Nordath gave a cry and jumped to his feet unsteadily, patting his chest and coughing.

  ‘You startled me,’ he said, rubbing his watering eyes. ‘I thought you were still asleep.’ He focused blearily on the carcasses dangling from his nephew’s hands. ‘What are they?’ he asked in some alarm.

  ‘Food,’ Thyrn announced with great relish. ‘Endryk showed me how to catch and skin them.’ He mimed the operation. Nordath’s expression ran a gamut of emotions until, seeing his nephew’s patent delight at his achievement, he settled for sharing it with him. ‘Very good,’ he said, as encouragingly as he could.

  Endryk in the meantime was attending to the fire, blowing on it gently and carefully feeding twigs into the glow that Nordath had managed to create. Discreetly he signalled Thyrn to watch. ‘Not bad, Nordath,’ he said. ‘Not bad at all. But your kindling’s a bit damp – hence the smoke.’ Glancing at Thyrn he made a swift series of cuts in a thin twig, shaving back the wood like feathers. ‘It’s drier inside,’ he explained, then he pointed to a dead branch hanging from a nearby tree, before adding the twig to the burgeoning fir
e. ‘But standing deadwood’s better, if you can find any,’ he said casually.

  ‘A bit of smoke won’t hurt, will it?’ Nordath retorted in a mildly injured tone before being convulsed by another fit of coughing as the smoke swept round and enfolded him.

  ‘I think you’ve answered that for yourself,’ Endryk replied, laughing. ‘It’s all right if you want to keep the flies off, but not for cooking, warmth, or a peaceful fireside.’ More serious, he added, ‘And it’ll tell an enemy exactly where we are.’

  ‘Enemy, what enemy?’ It was Rhavvan emerging from his tent. He was dishevelled and scratching himself freely.

  ‘Don’t worry. We’re just having a lesson in country crafts,’ Nordath said, not without some heavy irony. Rhavvan grunted and disappeared into the bushes.

  ‘That’s another thing we need to talk about,’ Endryk said to Thyrn, softly but very significantly, nodding in the direction Rhavvan had gone.

  Breakfast proved to be quite a cheery affair with much claiming of credit for the capture of the rabbits by the previous night’s reluctant trappers. In the course of it, Endryk conspicuously explained to Thyrn many things about the trapping and eating of animals and birds. He touched again on the grim ways of dying that lay in wait for the unwary, to which Thyrn nodded sagely, while the other listeners fell oddly silent. When Endryk had finished he added a discreet wink to his pupil.

  ‘Can’t live on rabbits for ever, of course,’ he concluded. ‘Not on their own anyway. They don’t have everything we need. But they’re tasty enough and they’ll get us through the day. We’ll collect some roots and leaves as we travel. Add a little extra to our fare.’

  After they broke camp, they visited the traps again and Thyrn was able to demonstrate his new-found skill with a further catch. It provoked more banter, but they were all quietly impressed, not least Endryk. ‘Youdo learn quickly, don’t you?’ he said as he helped to dismantle the remaining traps.