Caddoran

by Roger Taylor

  ‘Go back to when you first saw him,’ Adren said.

  ‘I am,’ Thyrn replied, tapping his head. ‘I’m going through everything thoroughly.’ His hand came up as if enumerating items on a list. ‘As we drew nearer to each other – I could see him smiling from quite a distance away – he just offered his hand – I took it. He seemed to be concerned about me. “A long way from home,” was the first thing he said. Then he was asking me who I was, where I was going.’

  ‘And what did you tell him?’ Adren pressed, very gently.

  ‘I think I told him everything,’ Thyrn said doubtfully. His lack of recall was obviously troubling him. ‘I don’t think I could have done anything else, the way he asked.’

  ‘You told him you were following this… pull?’ Adren asked.

  ‘Yes, I did, definitely,’ Thyrn replied, certain now. ‘Bits are coming back to me. I told him who and what I was – a Caddoran – and why I was up there – not about the Death Cry and all that, but the pull of a message-sender, yes.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  Thyrn looked at Endryk, surprise lighting his face. ‘Same as you did when you rescued us, when I told him what I was, but not so sarcastic. “Battle messenger or storyteller?” he asked. How strange. Maybe he comes from your country, although he didn’t have your accent.’

  ‘That was all?’

  ‘Yes, though I can’t imagine what he thought about it. Odd enough for him to meet someone out here without suddenly finding out they might be a lunatic.’ He laughed. Despite the difficulty he was having remembering the details of his conversation, recalling even part of it seemed to put him remarkably at ease. His mood touched the others too. It was as though the sound of a distant and happy celebration was dancing in the firelight. Nals, on the fringes of the group, pricked up his ears and looked around intently before returning his head to his paws to continue his scrutiny of his companions.

  ‘You said he told you to wait?’ Adren said. ‘That he’d go and look for us?’

  Thyrn became thoughtful again. ‘It’s really odd. Parts of what we talked about are as clear as if I’d just spoken them. Others are vague and blurred, like voices in the room below when you’re half asleep. But, yes, he did say that. He seemed a bit worried when I told him why I was there. He said there’s a bad place ahead – he’d come across it by accident, and it was very dangerous. I think he said something about a place of old power, or great power, I can’t remember. I have images of cracks and schisms – a terrible focus.’ He shook his head as if to clear it. ‘But it was that that was drawing me, because of what I was. I wasn’t to go any further, I was to sit and rest and…’ He snapped his fingers. ‘That’s it! He wasn’t going to go for you. He actually said, “I’ll call them to you,” and he pursed his lips as though he were going to whistle for you. It made me laugh. He said he couldn’t wait, he had to be on his way. And, besides, he’d had enough of crowds for the moment. I don’t seem to remember anything much after that. Just his voice filling my head – that and the fact that the pull had gone. I suppose I must have fallen asleep. I was very tired.’

  He looked round at his audience. ‘I am sorry about all this,’ he said. ‘I know it’s a strange tale but it’s the truth. I’ve no idea why I can’t recall all of it.’ He looked at Endryk. ‘And for some reason I don’t seem to be as bothered about it as I did, although I suppose I should be. Perhaps, as you said, it was just fatigue and lack of food. I don’t work well when I’m tired, I know that. But that’s everything I can remember.’

  ‘It’s gone then, this pull – this sense of a distance message-sender?’ Nordath asked.

  ‘Was it ever there?’ Rhavvan’s sceptical query finally broke through Adren’s silent restraints.

  Thyrn turned to him. ‘Oh yes, it was. I’m not that addled. It’s still there now.’

  This created a small stir.

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s weaker, more distant – though I still don’t know what it is.’

  ‘Can you… resist it?’ Nordath asked.

  ‘Yes, Uncle. I’m curious about it, very curious, but when that traveller told me there was danger ahead, I could feel the truth of what he was saying and I’m not going searching for it again. It won’t catch me like it did before.’

  A little later, when Thyrn had retired to his tent, his tale was recounted and dissected around the fire.

  ‘There was no sign of anyone up there?’ Hyrald asked Endryk.

  ‘We didn’t see anyone although I thought I caught a glimpse of something – someone – moving at one point. And Nals kept hearing things. There’s no reason why there shouldn’t be someone living out here, I suppose – someone who really knows the place – someone a bit eccentric.’ A thought made him smile. ‘I lived on my own in the middle of nowhere for long enough. And I just happened on you when you were heading into danger. Odd as the lad’s story is, I’ve got no reason to doubt it. He certainly believes it and he’s not a liar.’

  ‘He’s no liar, but Rhavvan’s still of the opinion he’s nuts,’ Adren said provokingly.

  Rhavvan was unexpectedly candid. ‘It’s the easiest answer to everything that’s happened, but we’ve all dealt with deranged people before and Thyrn’s not like that. In fact, as you said, Hyrald, he’s changed a lot since we set off from Endryk’s cottage. He’s matured – made a real effort to learn things, to pull his weight.’

  ‘You don’t seem to be too happy about it.’

  Rhavvan grimaced. ‘Well, if he’s not nuts, maybe we are! Either that or there are some very peculiar things in these mountains.’ He turned to Endryk. ‘What did you make of that remark about a place of old power, great power? I noticed you reacted.’

  Endryk looked uncomfortable. ‘Nothing really. Thyrn might be right… maybe the man he met was from my country. According to our old histories, all things are no more than different aspects of the Old Power – the power that came from the Great Searing – or even created the Great Searing. You call it the Great Light, I think. It’s not as fanciful as it seems, believe me. I’ve seen the Old Power used, both benignly and otherwise. It’s very real.’ He waved a hand agitatedly. ‘There are said to be places where, for some reason, the Old Power is concentrated… focused.’

  ‘Could there be such a place about here?’ Rhavvan asked the question unhappily.

  Endryk shrugged. ‘I’ve no skill in using the Old Power. Few people have, fortunately. I probably wouldn’t recognize such a place if I was in the middle of it.’

  The conversation swayed back and forth until eventually it began to circle pointlessly.

  Hyrald cut through it. ‘We’re not going to reach any great conclusions about this. I think we’d better get back to where we are. Today’s been bizarre, to say the least, but I think Thyrn’s told us the truth of it – as he sees it, anyway. And no harm’s been done except that we’ve caught no food – something we’ll have to concentrate on tomorrow. We’ll just have to put this behind us. At least we’ve been moving in the right direction to take us home.’

  ‘What about this little old man he met?’ Rhavvan queried. ‘What if he’s still wandering about?’

  Hyrald shrugged. ‘Well, whoever he was – is – he doesn’t seem to have been particularly menacing. Thyrn seemed to like him – and he did warn him about some kind of danger. There’s no saying where Thyrn would be by now if he hadn’t stopped. At worst the fellow was negligent, abandoning Thyrn like that. But, thinking about it – a traveller, hermit, whatever, on his own, miles from anywhere, I imagine he’d be far more frightened of us than we are likely to be of him. Either he’s gone on his way, like he told Thyrn, or he’s hiding from us. And I can’t say I blame him. Look at us – ugly and armed to the teeth. He’s just another mystery to add to everything else.’

  ‘But what if Thyrn wanders off again?’ Rhavvan’s final question was met at first with silence. Then there was a brief, embarrassed discussion about how Thyrn might be discreetly restrained or at least observed,
but this was abandoned after a brief swing into black humour.

  ‘He’s part of the group now,’ Endryk said. ‘We must trust him. Whatever he is, whatever strange skills he has, even Rhavvan concedes that he’s changing, learning, gradually becoming someone that any of us would be glad to be with in this position. We shouldn’t even be talking about him behind his back like this.’

  No one disagreed with this final summary and the conversation moved away from the day’s events to discussing plans for the following day.

  In his tent, Thyrn, drifting in and out of sleep against a background of faintly flickering firelight and the soft rumble of voices, punctuated by the occasional laugh, rehearsed again his unreasoned response to the strange pull he had felt. As he had admitted, it was still there, though its power over him had gone. He was determined to solve the problem somehow, but his duty now – a duty he was happy to accept – was to the companions who had brought him this far.

  Just as he was slipping finally into sleep, he thought he heard the little old man’s sing-song voice again, oddly clear and still reassuring.

  ‘Light be with you, Caddoran,’ it said, carrying him gently into the darkness.

  There was dreamless stillness.

  Then Vashnar was all about him.

  Chapter 21

  ‘I’ll seek him out.’

  Vellain’s stomach had turned icy at her husband’s words. Instinctively, her hand went out to catch his arm.

  ‘No! You can’t do such a thing – you mustn’t. The risks…’

  Her plea had faltered against his grim resolution. Vashnar could be as subtle and devious as Bowlott or any of the Moot’s political creatures when he so chose, but his inclination was always to direct action, and not only did he not flinch from confrontation if he deemed it necessary, he relished it. Thyrn’s distant shade, once merely the irksome buzzing of a night-time insect, had not changed in itself but, by some eerie metamorphosis in Vashnar’s mind, had become like the tapping of an unseen sapper gnawing at the roots of a castle once deemed impregnable, or the faint wind-borne trumpet calls of a mighty army. It could no longer be ignored. It must be ended!

  It is in the nature of power that those who hold it for a long time choose to consider from what or whom it is derived only when they sense that it is threatened. Then, through the distorting glass of their own deepest fears and self-doubts, they see only weakness and vulnerability, finding that what they had thought to be stout buttresses are flimsy and inadequate – easily susceptible to anyone, like themselves, with the insight to see them clearly and the will to assail them. Thus, inexorably, they begin the desperate garnering of more power, the building of ramping towers and bulwarks, each both overreaching and over-burdening the last, futilely striving for that which cannot be attained until eventually the whole tumbles into destruction, overwhelmed by its own unrestrained weight.

  ‘What risks?’ Vashnar said. ‘A nosebleed? A headache? I think I’ll survive those.’

  Unusually, Vellain’s naked doubts showed on her face. ‘This is something we know nothing about.’ She floundered for words, eventually blurting out, ‘You’re fighting on someone else’s ground.’

  Vashnar smiled patronizingly. ‘And so are you, using military analogies.’ He realized immediately that in his preoccupation he had made a mistake and that his manner would serve only to transform Vellain’s doubting expression into one of anger. A rare anger – one directed solely at him.

  ‘I’ve no choice,’ he said hastily, before she could give it voice. To avoid looking at her for the moment, he massaged his temple with three restless fingers. ‘So far, I’ve tolerated Thyrn’s presence as a niggling irritation at the edges of my mind. I’ve ignored it, treated it as something of no consequence. But that might have been a mistake. At the best it must be distracting me, however slightly – preventing me from giving everything that must be given to our cause.’ He became earnest. ‘Worse, I might be turning away from a threat, leaving myself open to some ambush as perhaps Aghrid and his men did.’

  ‘You acceptthat military analysis, then?’ Vellain said viciously. Vashnar took the blow without comment. He deserved it for such carelessness and he was glad it had come. He gave her an apologetic nod, relieved that nothing worse had happened.

  ‘I told you, I’ve no choice.’ He was grim again. ‘Who knows what demented skills this youth has? For all we know, he may be aware of everything I do and intend to do. He may be completely in control of what’s happening – just waiting for a suitable opportunity to bring me low. I don’t think he is, but I can’t risk it, not with everything so close. The country’s ripe for the taking – this journey’s shown me that more clearly than ever. His ground or not, I’ve got to find him and deal with him.’ He leaned back into the coach’s plush seat and became casually resolute. ‘I’ve dealt with worse. When it comes to fighting, it’s not strength, skill, or weapons that decide; in the end, it’s the will.’ He clenched his fists. ‘The will to win, to crush your enemies. And I have him there – I have anyone there.’

  Vellain made no response. It was a conclusion that no one who knew Vashnar would dispute. It lay near the heart of what had drawn her to him and what held her there.

  The coach and its escort moved steadily on through the late afternoon sunshine.

  Their reception at Degelvak proved to be better than any they had received on the entire journey so far. As everywhere else, amongst those who were swayed by such things, the Tervaidin had made a considerable impression on their earlier northward journey. Now that they were returned, tired but seemingly triumphant, and in the presence of their Senior Commander – the man who had resurrected their ancient and proud name – the number of people so impressed increased fourfold. At one point, towards the centre of the town, the procession found itself being cheered by passers-by. Excited children, gangs of young men and noisy dogs ran alongside the coach, providing an impromptu honour guard to complement the stern-faced Tervaidin.

  ‘Excellent,’ Vashnar said to Vellain while he was acknowledging the crowd. ‘So much for the idea that the further from Arvenshelm, the less the enthusiasm for our cause.’

  ‘But these people know nothing of your plans,’ Vellain remarked, still uneasy about her husband’s intention of seeking out Thyrn. ‘At least, I hope not. Even at this stage, a wrong word in the wrong ear could bring everything down on us. Bowlott and the Moot are not that stupid, and more than a few of the Warding are of Hyrald’s inclination.’

  But Vashnar was not to be deterred. ‘The mood is here. All around us. As it has been throughout. The need for change – for strong leadership. Look at them – just look at them. They’ll be with us when the time comes.’

  And indeed the mood of the crowd did persist. The good citizens of Degelvak seemed determined to confirm Vashnar in his opinion that support for his imminent bid for power would be almost universal, treating his arrival with general revelry. Even his chief ally in the town, the leader of the local Senate, expressed surprise as he looked round at the noisy diners filling the town’s public banqueting hall that evening.

  ‘Inspired, if I may say so, Commander,’ he said. ‘Bringing back the Tervaidin to pursue those traitors. Inspired. The town’s been buzzing with it ever since they rode through.’ He leaned confidentially towards his guest but had to shout just to make himself heard. ‘And support for our cause has…’ He did not finish the sentence but merely gestured upwards.

  Vashnar nodded agreeably but made no attempt to reply. He had already learned that when he spoke other than to his immediate neighbour, a silence hissed out from him to fill the hall as the many talkers suddenly became many listeners. At one point he had had to clap his hands loudly into this emptiness and, with an indulgent laugh, tell them all to, ‘Carry on eating, my friends, I was only talking about the weather.’ The laughter had returned to him disproportionately.

  Then it was over. The last of the ‘useful’ introductions had been made, the last hand had been shaken,
the last of the important dignitaries and influential supporters gently and jovially dismissed. Vellain flopped heavily into a capacious basketwork chair in their bedroom. It creaked ungallantly. She kicked off her shoes. Though she had not been able fully to put aside her concerns about what her husband was intending to do that night, she too had been swept up by the general excitement. Her eyes shone as she watched Vashnar dragging off his boots. Untypically they lay where they fell as he removed his tunic and with unbridled relief loosened his collar.

  He dropped back on to the bed and closed his eyes momentarily. Vellain’s expression became wantonly purposeful, but as she gripped the arms of the chair and began to lever herself upright, it creaked again and Vashnar turned to look at her. A denying hand reached out to stop her.

  ‘Later,’ he said with undisguised reluctance. ‘This can’t be delayed any longer.’

  Vellain paused, then, with equal reluctance, sat back into the betraying chair and prepared for a final burst of opposition to her husband’s intentions. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked. ‘How are you going to… find him?’ She gesticulated vaguely.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Vashnar replied. ‘But I’ll get no better chance to do it on my own terms than now. So many unspoken questions have been answered over these past days. The mood of the people is as I’ve always judged. They’re weary of the fatuous antics of the Moot. They’re crying out for leadership, strong leadership – my leadership. To deal with the Morlider. To prepare us for whatever’s likely to come from Nesdiryn. To bring order back to the land. Whether Thyrn’s contact with me is inadvertent or deliberate, I can’t risk having him bring me down now.’