by Roger Taylor
‘Are you all right?’ Gulda said to Ireck.
‘Yes, thank you, Memsa,’ he replied. ‘I think so. But it was a nasty shock. I just walked straight into it.’ He slapped his hands together to demonstrate the impact. ‘I can’t remember how I got out now. I must have staggered back.’
Gulda looked at him carefully and took his arm gently. ‘It’ll take you a little time to recover fully,’ she said. ‘Perhaps a day or so. But the effects will fade, believe me.’ Ireck nodded, almost reluctantly, Loman thought.
‘When were you here last?’ Gulda went on.
‘Two days ago,’ Ireck replied after a moment’s thought. ‘We moved those from over there.’ He pointed to a wide gap in the nearest row of weapons. ‘There was nothing wrong then that I noticed, though I didn’t go near the labyrinth.’
Gulda nodded. ‘Has anything strange happened here recently?’ she asked. ‘Anything at all.’
Ireck shook his head. ‘Nothing,’ he said. Then, as an afterthought, ‘There were some children in here when I arrived. I’d forgotten that, but they . . .’
Loman caught Gulda’s eye. ‘Children?’ he said, interrupting. ‘Whose?’
Ireck nodded and then shrugged. ‘I didn’t see them,’ he said, adding, slightly flustered, ‘Well I did and I didn’t. They were playing in here, then they hid when I came in, and scuttled off when I was distract . . .’ He stopped suddenly and his eyes opened in realization. Slowly he pointed towards the centre of the stacked weapons.
‘They were over there,’ he said anxiously. ‘Right over there. Crouching down.’ He turned to Gulda. ‘How . . .?’
She squeezed his arm reassuringly. ‘What distracted you, Ireck?’ she asked.
Ireck told her of the voice, and Gulda questioned him gently. No, he’d no idea who it was, or where he’d gone, or what he’d wanted. But the position of the playing children dominated his concern. ‘It . . . this change . . . must have happened immediately after they left,’ he concluded. ‘They couldn’t possibly have been so far into the hall otherwise. But I didn’t hear or see anything.’
Gulda affected indifference. ‘Children are children,’ she said offhandedly. Then, briskly, ‘Re-order your day, Ireck. You’ll move nothing from here today.’
‘But what are we going to do, Memsa?’ Ireck asked anxiously. ‘What’s happened? We need more weapons. I doubt we’ve enough upstairs for all our training needs, and even with these here there won’t be enough for any large distribution. We have to be able to get into the Armoury. We . . .’
Gulda patted his arm affectionately, and turned him towards the exit. ‘Yes, you’re right, Ireck,’ she said. ‘We do have a serious problem here, but it won’t affect us immediately, and not all our training is weapons training, is it? The important thing is that we mustn’t allow this to interfere with our overall intention, must we?’
Ireck nodded, but looked doubtful. He folded his arms as if to protect himself from something. ‘It’s a bad feeling, Memsa,’ he said. ‘The Castle turning against us like this.’
Gulda’s face became stern. ‘It’s not the Castle, Ireck,’ she said forcefully. ‘Trust me. The Castle’s protecting us as it always has and always will. Never think otherwise.’
She turned to the rest of the group, before Ireck could voice any doubts. ‘I think I know what’s happened here,’ she said. ‘But I have to think about it. And I have to talk with Loman. When that’s done, then we’ll all talk and decide what to do. In the meantime, we must continue with our work. Nothing must deflect us from that.’ Her piercing blue eyes scanned her listeners, defying any argument.
As the group left, she instructed Athyr to accompany Yrain to Tirilen. ‘The silly girl’s foot needs attention,’ she said. ‘And there’s nothing you can do here for the time being. Tell Tirilen that it’s important I have Yrain fit and well again as soon as possible. I’m afraid we may have a rough time ahead of us, and I want no weak vessels with us.’
Then she turned to Yrain. ‘Last chance, girl,’ she said with a sudden power and grimness that made even Loman start. ‘You do exactly what Tirilen says. And start now learning to listen. Either that or school yourself to the idea of making your contribution from your village infantry group.’ Yrain’s brow furrowed and her mouth became a tight, rebellious line. Gulda bent forward towards her, blue eyes terrible. ‘You should know by now I don’t speak just to hear my own voice, girl. Your scatterbrained notions of independence are going to get someone killed eventually. Someone, perhaps, that you’re fond of. Someone, perhaps, that I’m fond of, and . . .’ Her voice faltered slightly. ‘I’ve lost enough already. We all stand on each others’ shoulders round here. In future, if you’ve any bright ideas of your own, spit them out so that we can all debate them, otherwise be under no illusions, you are out.’
The last three words were articulated slowly and came out like dagger thrusts. Yrain, already pale due to the pain in her foot, went paler still under Gulda’s onslaught. Her mouth worked vaguely, as if she were searching for words, but all she managed was a very faint, ‘Yes, Memsa,’ before reaching out to Athyr for support.
‘That was a bit severe, wasn’t it?’ Loman said when the couple had left, Yrain leaning heavily on Athyr and looking very young.
‘No,’ Gulda said, brusquely. ‘She hasn’t the judgement to use that kind of initiative yet. She could be a considerable asset, but if she can’t learn what it means to be part of a team, as well as being an individual, she’ll be a monumental liability. You can’t fight properly if you’re wondering what someone like that’s doing instead of guarding your back, you know that. If she doesn’t buck up, she goes.’
A flick of her hand ended the debate. Loman was not unrelieved. Gulda was right about Yrain, but he found the making of such decisions difficult and was quite willing to let Gulda carry the burden. He knew too, though, that the scene he had just witnessed was also to highlight for him this particular weakness in his leadership. He too must learn to accept the truly harsh responsibilities of his position.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the memory of Yrain’s pain came to him briefly, then, dragging his mind back to the present, he turned to the labyrinth and said, ‘It’s the Alphraan, isn’t it? Children – little people, using sound like that. What have they done? And how?’
Gulda did not reply at first, but walked forward until Loman heard the sound of the labyrinth stirring. Then, as before, she prowled back and forth across the hall, as if making out a boundary or testing for a way through.
Cautiously he joined her. ‘You don’t ask why?’ she said, stopping in front of him.
Loman replied without hesitation. ‘They said they’d oppose us, and now they are doing so,’ he said. ‘Though why they should, defeats me. And I never dreamt they’d come down out of the mountains to do it. I thought they’d carry on as before, just interfering with our mountain training.’
Gulda nodded. ‘We misjudged them,’ she said. ‘And now they’ve struck right to our heart.’
Loman frowned. ‘What can we do?’ he said. ‘We’re lost if we can’t gain access to the Armoury.’
‘Can’t we make the weapons we need?’ Gulda asked.
Loman looked at her in surprise. It was a peculiarly defeated comment. ‘Given time,’ he said. ‘Smithing’s not common in Orthlund. There’s only a few of us capable of that kind of work, though I suppose we could bring on some of the apprentices more quickly in an emergency. But will we be able to get into the mountains for the raw materials?’
But Gulda was already waving the answer into oblivion, moving any from her brief lapse. ‘No, no,’ she said. ‘It was a foolish idea. Besides we may not have the time.’ Her voice fell. ‘Not if Hawklan’s met Dan-Tor.’
She stood still and silent after this remark, and Loman turned his gaze back to the gloomy columns. With their concerns about the Alphraan, it was almost the first time that Hawklan’s name had been mentioned since Loman had been hurled from the labyrin
th.
The silence hung about them like a reproach.
‘What do you think has happened to him?’ Loman said hesitantly after some time.
Gulda shook her head a little. ‘I’ve no idea,’ she said quietly. ‘I wish I had. My heart says he’s not dead, and my reason tells me that Okl . . . Dan-Tor . . . has not had his way entirely, or his armies would have been at our gates by now. But what’s happened, where is Hawklan . . . or Gavor?’ She shrugged and fell silent again.
For a while the only sound in the hall was the sinister whispering of the labyrinth.
‘But it makes no difference,’ she said abruptly, banging her stick on the floor. The sound spread outwards like ripples in a still pond, to return almost immediately, transmuted by the labyrinth into a deep pulsating echo that filled the hall like a cavernous laugh. ‘What we’re doing is all we can do, whether Hawklan comes back to us or not.’
She turned round and walked a few paces away from the invisible new boundary that the labyrinth seemed to have set. ‘If he comes back, he’ll have urgent problems at his heels for sure, and he’ll be none too pleased if we’ve been dragging ours. And if he doesn’t come back . . .’ She paused. ‘Then at least we’ll be ready to face whatever’s brought him low.’
Before Loman could comment, she was stumping towards the archway that led from the hall. ‘We’ve got a serious problem, Loman,’ she said, as he came alongside her. ‘The labyrinth’s a fearful device, Anderras Darion’s ultimate defence. If the circumstances so determined, it could spread its influence throughout the entire Castle.’
‘What do you mean?’ Loman asked uncertainly.
Gulda frowned. ‘Exactly what I said. The labyrinth can reach out to protect all parts of the Castle if need arises.’
Loman’s eyes widened in horror at this revelation. ‘The entire Castle?’ he exclaimed. ‘And those . . . creatures can sneak in here and control it? I’ll have a guard placed . . .’
Gulda overrode his concerns. ‘They can’t control it,’ she said. ‘No one can control it, except perhaps Ethriss himself. But they’ve tinkered with it very effectively in some way, and we have to face the fact that only they can undo their work.’
‘Meaning?’ asked Loman.
‘Meaning that we’ll have to find some way to talk to them again,’ Gulda replied. ‘Persuade them to allow us back into the Armoury.’
‘Our talking and their listening are two different things,’ Loman said sourly. ‘They seem more interested in stamping their own ideas on us than entering into a debate about the rights and wrongs of events.’
Gulda nodded, but her voice was sympathetic. ‘They’re an alien race, Loman. We know little or nothing of them, and even less about their history. A slim volume can hardly contain the accumulated lore of millennia can it? Who knows what roads have brought them to where they are now?’
Loman grunted. ‘Well,’ he conceded marginally. ‘I’d rather talk than fight any day, but . . .’ He stopped and looked back down the corridor. ‘They’ve imposed their will on us back there, Memsa,’ he continued thoughtfully, almost disbelievingly. ‘We didn’t do that to them, or even attempt to.’ He stuttered slightly. ‘We . . . we wouldn’t even think of doing such a thing.’
‘You’ve never imposed your will on anyone, Loman?’ Gulda said knowingly.
‘Not an adult,’ he began, then crueller memories rose to mock him. He curled his lip in distaste. ‘I’ve killed people though, if that’s what you mean,’ he said. ‘But that wasn’t the same. That was in extremity. To protect myself or others.’
‘Perhaps that’s what they think they’re doing now,’ Gulda replied. ‘Preventing harm to us and perhaps themselves by denying us our weapons.’
Loman could not keep the scorn from his face. ‘No one’s that stupid, however alien their culture,’ he replied witheringly.
Gulda shrugged. ‘When you’ve travelled as much as I have you’ll learn there are no limits to stupidity, particularly amongst human beings,’ she said unequivocally. ‘I’ve met peoples who believed that weapons made violence, and forbade their very existence.’
Loman frowned in disbelief. Gulda turned away from him and shrugged. ‘While circumstances didn’t show them otherwise, they were without insight into themselves, Loman,’ she said. ‘Quite beyond debate. I have seen it. Perhaps the Alphraan are the same.’
Loman’s scowl deepened, then, abruptly, a great anger welled up inside him and burst out uncontrollably. ‘Good grief, Gulda,’ he shouted. ‘I’m not interested in other people’s follies, and I’m not interested in conjecturing about what the Alphraan might or might not be thinking.’ He smacked his great fist into the palm of his hand. ‘Whatever stupid ideas they’ve got, they’ve used their own weapons very effectively to deprive us of ours. To leave us perhaps defenceless. Nothing can justify that.’ His anger mounted. ‘Damn it, they’ve judged us! I won’t be judged without any semblance of a hearing – least of all by strangers!’ His voice rang loud through the corridor. ‘We went to talk to them – to warn them. And they do this! It’s tantamount to an act of war. We should go into the mountains in force and punch their arrogant noses.’
Gulda stopped and, straightening up a little, looked at him intensely. He met her gaze without flinching, his fists clenched and his jaw set. Suddenly she chuckled and, stepping forward, gave him an almighty smack on the arm. It was a comradely blow, but Loman staggered under its impact.
Gulda’s chuckle turned to a laugh, a strangely young and musical laugh. ‘He picked a good one in you, young Loman,’ she said heartily. ‘I’d never have said there was anything in you when you were little. You were such a scamp. Still, I suppose it was difficult, having the soul of a smith in a land of carvers.’ She chuckled again.
Before Loman could respond to this unexpected and rather painful testimonial, she was off again.
The sudden change in Gulda’s mood took some of the outward passion from Loman’s anger, but like metal fresh from the forge, it was still dangerously hot even though it was not glowing, and it betokened a profound inner change.
Rubbing his arm ruefully, he followed after her. For a while they walked on in silence.
‘I agree with you, Loman,’ Gulda said eventually. ‘Whatever their reasoning, what they’ve done is wrong, and wanting to punch their arrogant noses is a very understandable response. But you know well enough it won’t be that easy. We must try talking first. We really don’t have any choice, we know too little about them for conflict.’ She looked at him sternly. ‘And we’ll be in a better frame of mind if we give them the benefit of the doubt for now. If we assume they’re well intentioned.’
Loman managed to lay the excess of his anger to one side. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘But you don’t sound too convinced about the probable outcome yourself.’
Gulda breathed out noisily. ‘I’m not,’ she said simply. ‘I think their intentions are benign, but whether they’re benign or malevolent, I don’t think they’ll listen, whatever we say. I think sooner or later we’re going to have to punch their noses and, bluntly, I’m not looking forward to it.’
* * * *
As promised, Gulda gathered together Ireck and the other leading members of Anderras Darion’s increasingly military complement, to discuss the matter with them fully.
‘I don’t think we can begin to understand their thinking,’ she concluded. ‘Suffice it to say that, for whatever reason, they obviously can’t see our need.’
‘Or won’t,’ someone said.
Gulda acknowledged the comment. ‘Or won’t,’ she conceded.
‘What shall we do, then?’ Ireck said. ‘How can we talk to people we can’t see, and who won’t listen?’
A hesitant hand came up from the rear of the seated group. It was Yrain. Loman signalled to her to speak.
‘Memsa, you said before that you thought they were divided amongst themselves,’ she began. ‘That impression – your impression – is really all the informatio
n we have about their thinking. Perhaps we should work on that.’
Gulda looked up at her. Yrain faltered, but Gulda gave her an encouraging nod. ‘Spit it out, girl,’ she said, with a slight smile. Yrain flushed then leaned forward purposefully.
‘I think we need to show them that their trick hasn’t altered either our intentions or our possible effectiveness,’ she said. ‘I think we should send out as many groups as we can on survival treks. Send them out conspicuously unarmed. Show them all the usual stuff for surviving in the mountains, but . . .’ She raised her hand, forefinger extended in emphasis. ‘Incorporate part of the weaponless fighting training into the treks and add in some ambush techniques, trap laying, etc.’
‘What purpose will that serve?’ Gulda asked.
Yrain’s eyes narrowed slightly. She struck off the points on her fingers. ‘They’ll be watching us presumably. It’ll show them that we intend to continue training. It’ll show them that we can use sticks, rocks, bare hands . . . anything, just as effectively as swords and bows. And if they’re divided amongst themselves, as you think, then perhaps that might shift the balance in their debates.’
Gulda nodded, ‘But not necessarily to our advantage, Yrain,’ she said. ‘It might only serve to confirm to them that they have wild and savage neighbours who are best kept well away from anything with a sharp edge. And what if they chose to extend their control by preventing these . . . survival treks?’
Yrain lowered her eyes briefly, but when she looked up her face was resolute. ‘Frankly, I couldn’t care less about what they think of us,’ she said. ‘If they can’t understand what we’d be trying to show them, then they must be particularly stupid, so who needs their good opinion?’
There was some nodding of heads amongst the small audience at this forthright observation.
‘Besides, Memsa,’ she continued. ‘We’re supposed to be learning how to defend ourselves. We’re supposed to be making up for the years of neglect that eventually allowed creatures from Narsindal to march into our country unseen and unopposed, and commit murder. We can’t let these people treat us thus – deny us access to what’s been entrusted to us for such work.’ She glanced awkwardly at Loman. ‘So far, for all some of the training has been harsh, it’s been so much theory. Now, we have to act, and act as an army – deal with a real practical problem. If we take some knocks, we take some knocks, and that’s it. We’ll be the wiser for it. But we can’t sit and do nothing. It would be a betrayal of Hawklan . . . of ourselves . . . everything.’ She looked around, her face agitated. ‘And for all we know, these Alphraan might be in league with Narsindal in some way. This action they’ve taken could be part of some deeper scheme.’
