The Waking of Orthlund

by Roger Taylor

  The man smiled and shrugged, pleased to have such an easy question. ‘Take the dead man’s sword, obviously,’ he said.

  ‘Obviously,’ said Loman softly. Then, louder, ‘When you have no other choice, you take your enemy’s weapon and use it against him. That’s what the Alphraan do. They have no weapons except what we bring to them. They’ll take the weapon of our surging excitement and anger, and turn it on our own people.’

  There were cries of denial. ‘No. It’s not possible. They couldn’t make us do that.’

  ‘They can, they have done, and they will again.’ Loman’s powerful voice stilled the hubbub. ‘It’s all they can do.’ Then, more quietly, ‘It’s all they need to do.’

  Jenna nodded in agreement and an uneasy silence spread over the walking group.

  ‘What are we supposed to do then?’ one of them asked.

  ‘Mount up,’ Loman said. ‘But keep walking and stay out of formation.’

  ‘But what are we going to do?’ came the question again. ‘Abandon those at the camp? Stand off until they’ve finished . . . whatever they’re doing . . . and then pick up the remains?’

  Unexpectedly, Loman smiled. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We’re going to counter-attack. We’re going to disarm our enemy.’

  * * * *

  Tybek breathed out as he sidestepped his charging attacker and, moving behind him, seized his shoulders. The man’s momentum carried his feet into the air and he dropped heavily on to his back.

  Tybek heard the wind go out of him, but before he could bend down to check the man for injury, an arm came clumsily round his neck. He drove his elbow back somewhere into his new attacker’s midriff and then swung his clenched fist down to strike him in the groin.

  Not him, he realized on impact; her. But the blow hurt nonetheless and when he turned round, the girl was staggering away gasping in pain.

  ‘Stay back, all of you,’ he shouted. ‘Listen to me. Remember who I am. Remember who you are. There’s no danger here. You’re not being attacked.’

  He linked arms with his neighbours again. A few of them seemed to have been unaffected by whatever had caused the sudden outbreak of violence, and after the first shock he had managed to gather them together in a cleft in the rocks.

  With an effort he was maintaining an outward show of calm, but he was nevertheless very frightened. It had been exactly the same on the other exercise. No warning. Just voices raised in a quarrel and then mayhem. People he had known for years suddenly demented with rage. And this time it seemed to be worse than before. Those affected had stopped fighting amongst themselves and were now uniting against the others.

  And when was anyone coming? He’d seen the signaller sending the news but that was . . .

  He let the thought go. He had no idea how long ago it was. And he mustn’t look towards the end of this or he might not reach it. He must be here, now, deal with attacks as they happened. It would end sooner or later.

  The watching attackers were still milling around at the mouth of the cleft, shouting abuse and threats, but they were also hesitating following the rapid dispatch of the first two individuals. As if mimicking them, Tybek’s own thoughts began to combine to assail him. What if they start throwing stones? What if they charge together? What if these here with me are suddenly affected? What if I am affected? Get in among them, Tybek, they’re only young, they don’t stand a chance against you, not with your technique.

  He brushed the thoughts aside angrily. Stay calm, he intoned inwardly, followed by, ‘Stay calm,’ out loud to the five standing in line beside him. ‘They’re being controlled by the Alphraan. They don’t mean what they’re doing. Stay calm. They’re your friends and they’re in trouble.’

  ‘They’re in trouble?’ said a voice to his left. ‘They should be standing here.’

  The small joke produced some nervous laughter and even Tybek was glad of its brief lightening. But the position was serious. Several people had been hurt, though he could not tell how badly, and it would not take much in the way of a change of fortune to ensure that someone would be killed. There was a limit to the care he could exercise in defending himself and the others.

  The atmosphere suddenly changed. The attackers had found some courage from somewhere, or lost what was left of their control, and were starting to move forward. Their anger surged ahead of them, almost tangible in its intent, and Tybek felt the arm linking his, trembling.

  No, please no, he thought.

  The arm tightened. ‘It’s all right,’ he lied, gently loosening the grip and freeing himself for further movement. ‘Stay calm, and follow my lead. Whatever happens, keep together.’

  He clenched his fist and then, irrelevantly remembering his easily disjointed fingers and Athyr’s injunction, opened it again. Glancing round, he identified various stones that he could scoop up quickly and throw. A few cracked knees would slow them down.

  He rejected his idea. Such an action might provoke an identical response and, grouped as they were, they would be defenceless against such an attack. He would have to do what he could without weapons. While he used his superior fighting skills, there was nothing his attackers could imitate.

  But in the end . . .?

  No, please no, he thought again.

  The attacking group came closer. He scanned the familiar faces now distorted in rage. As he looked each in the eye, they retreated a little, but when the contact was broken, they began to move forward again.

  Gradually they began to fill the cleft, breaking their line as they approached down the narrowing gap.

  Terrible images began to form in Tybek’s head. A few more paces and he would have no alternative but to take severe action to protect himself and the others.

  And what would the consequences of that be? Quite possibly some would be killed. And young and inexperienced though they might be, their numbers alone could overwhelm him eventually.

  When was someone going to come?

  ‘No, please no,’ he said out loud. ‘It’s me. Tybek. And your friends. Look what you’re doing.’

  But there was no response, his voice seemed to mingle with that of the mob and make it worse.

  One of the leaders bent down to pick up a large stone.

  That does it, Tybek thought. No more restraint now. People are going to die, and it’s not going to be me or any of these if I can prevent it. Three quick strides and he could lay that one out and the two either side before they realized what had happened. Then. . .?

  He breathed out and relaxed both his body and his mind for the impending onslaught.

  An eerie silence suddenly filled the cleft, then the leader’s eyes signalled his intention to throw the stone.

  ‘Ho, the camp!’

  A cheerful voice rang out powerfully over the shuffling silent menace of the two closing groups. The would-be stone thrower faltered.

  ‘Ho, the camp!’ the voice repeated. ‘Where are your look-outs, Tybek? All asleep again?’

  A little ironic cheering floated gently in the wake of this remark.

  The attackers began to look at one another uncertainly. Tybek craned up to look over their heads. Strolling leisurely between the neat rows of shelters was Loman, smiling broadly. Just behind him was Jenna. Then came a group of men and women laughing and joking as though they were arriving at a Festival Celebration.

  Relief flooded through Tybek followed immediately by alarm. If Loman and Jenna were to be affected – and all these others . . .?

  A hand opened, and a stone fell to the ground with a soft thud.

  It’s going! thought Tybek, his eyes widening. Just like before. Going as it came, no warning, nothing.

  Loman caught sight of Tybek. Raising his hand in an airy salute, he strode forwards towards him briskly. The crowd parted silently to let him through.

  ‘Didn’t see you at first, Tybek,’ he said heartily, placing his powerful arm affectionately about the man’s shoulders. Then, with a monumental smile, he moved him gently but relentlessly ba
ck through the uncertain crowd causing it to move backwards and spill out of the narrow cleft. Tybek gaped as he saw that the other arrivals were also singling out friends and acquaintances and greeting them with tremendous warmth. The attackers too were looking increasingly bewildered.

  ‘Hope we’re not disturbing anything special,’ Loman said loudly and jovially before Tybek could speak. ‘But we were out on an impromptu rock and shadow hunt and as we were passing we thought we’d see how you were getting on. We’ve found some marvellous variegated stone just along the valley, ideal for miniatures – and the surface fissuring is unbelievable. You’ll . . .’

  Tybek found his voice. ‘Loman, what are you blathering about?’ he said. ‘What do you know about rocks and shadows, you tin beater? And . . .’ He stopped, realizing what he was saying. With an effort he pulled his mind away from the wilful momentum of Loman’s enthusiasm and back to reality. ‘What’s happening?’ he asked anxiously. ‘What are you doing, walking into the camp like this? Didn’t you get my message about . . .’

  ‘The fighting?’ Loman said blandly. ‘Oh, yes. That’s why we came.’

  ‘I don’t understand . . .’ Tybek began, but Jenna joined them.

  ‘It’s worked, Loman,’ she said. ‘Look at them.’

  Loman released Tybek and looked around at the dispersing crowd. Shock and confusion dominated.

  ‘This is the way it was before?’ Loman asked. Jenna nodded. Loman pulled a sour face. ‘How many have been hurt?’ he said, turning to Tybek.

  ‘About a dozen or so, I think,’ Tybek said hesitantly, still uncomprehending.

  ‘Get the healer to look to those immediately,’ Loman said to Jenna. ‘Then start casually gathering them into groups. Talk to them as we agreed until they’re more settled. Then see if you can get any of them to talk about what’s happened – or what they think has happened.’

  As Jenna walked off, Loman looked up at the surrounding mountains. Everything was still and silent, and except for a signaller standing high on a prominent ledge, there was no sign of any living creature. The sight of the signaller reminded him of something, but the thought refused to form and with a slight frown he turned back to the camp.

  * * * *

  Several hours later, as the sun dipped behind the mountains and low evening clouds began to form around the higher peaks, Loman and Jenna led the duty patrol into the central camp. With them were Tybek and the others from camp three.

  An anxious crowd headed by a young man wearing a duty officer’s sash was waiting for them.

  ‘No one’s been seriously injured,’ Loman said, before anyone could speak. ‘There’s a couple who’ll have to go back to the Castle, but the rest can be tended here.’ He smiled wearily. ‘Leave them to the tender hands of Tirilen’s trainees – that’ll teach them not to fight amongst themselves.’

  But neither the news nor the jest affected the crowd’s concern.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Loman said, frowning.

  ‘There’s been serious fighting at camp six,’ said the duty officer suddenly, as if anxious to be rid of his burden.

  ‘How serious?’ Loman said.

  ‘We don’t know,’ said the man. ‘The last message we got said, “send no more – Athyr”, and then they stopped.’

  ‘Stopped?’ Loman said.

  The man nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The stations in sight of camp six stopped responding.’

  Loman looked at Jenna, his face tense and pale. ‘We never signalled back,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Told them what we’d done.’

  Jenna looked down. ‘He mightn’t have seen it, on the move,’ she offered after a moment, but the comment held no consolation.

  Loman closed his eyes and bowed his head.

  ‘I’ll get the injured attended to straight away, Loman.’ The duty officer’s voice brought him back to the present. ‘And make arrangements for the quartering of camp three, but what shall I do about Athyr?’

  Loman rubbed his finger on his forehead absently, then looked up at the purpling sky. Some of the mountain top clouds were red in the glow of the unseen sun, others were now leaden and cold.

  ‘Have all the signallers been reinforced?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Send this,’ Loman said. ‘“Look at the evening light, Orthlundyn. Look at the shadows and the rock. Turn your minds to your carving.”’

  The man frowned uncertainly. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.

  ‘Just send it,’ Loman said decisively. ‘And tell the signallers to keep repeating it until they get a response from every station.’ Still uncertain, the man looked up at him. ‘Through the night, or until I countermand the order,’ Loman said, anticipating the next question.

  The man nodded to a nearby signaller who ran off immediately. ‘But what have I to do about Athyr?’ he asked again, turning back to Loman.

  ‘Nothing,’ Loman said, ‘Jenna and I will go to camp six alone, now. See that the night duty patrol is alert and that everybody else is bedded down early. Tomorrow could prove to be trying. I want everybody fresh.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Tybek asked.

  Loman shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Stay here. Tell everyone what’s happened, and if you haven’t had a signal from us by dawn, move out in force.’ He raised a warning finger. ‘But gently, Tybek, gently.’

  * * * *

  While the light held, Loman and Jenna maintained a steady trot, but as it failed they were obliged to slow down to a walk. For a while they had to strike their torches, but eventually a full moon rose above the peaks and filled the valleys with glistening silver light.

  Above them, Loman’s message flickered from peak to peak, as torches replaced the daytime flags.

  Jenna shivered, and wrapped her cloak about her.

  ‘Cold?’ Loman asked.

  ‘Inside and out,’ she replied. ‘Cold, sick, guilty, everything, Loman. And still frightened.’

  He leaned over and laid his hand on her arm. ‘The fear, you’ll handle,’ he said. ‘I know you. As for the guilt – leave it for another time.’

  Jenna made to speak but Loman shook his head. ‘I know we made a mistake in not signalling back what we’d done, but you were quite right, Athyr mightn’t have seen the message while he was on the move. And if he had there’s no saying he would have been as lucky as we were. Save the guilt, Jenna, until we know what’s happened, and until we’re both less tired.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she said flatly. ‘But . . .’ She abandoned the sentence and for some time the two rode along in silence.

  Reaching the end of a long incline, they found themselves on a broad rounded shoulder between two mountains. Halfway up one of them a signal light moved. Loman lifted his fingers to his mouth and whistled.

  ‘Any news from camp six?’ his message said.

  The sudden piercing noise made Jenna start, and shook her out of her preoccupation.

  The lights above faltered and, reacting to her immediate alarm, Jenna smiled. ‘You’ll frighten them to death, Loman,’ she said. ‘They probably think you’re Alphraan.’ Loman nodded and striking his torch waved it in a wide arc over his head. He whistled the message again.

  ‘No,’ came back the curt reply. Then, after a pause, ‘Good luck. Will keep sending your message.’

  Loman acknowledged with another whistle and a wave of his torch then he peered down into the moonlit valley below.

  ‘How far’s the camp from here?’ he asked.

  ‘Not far,’ Jenna replied. ‘A couple of hours at this speed.’ She pointed. ‘It’s round that spur,’ she said. ‘It’s only just out of sight, but you’ll not see it until we’re almost on top of it.’

  Loman nodded. ‘And the signal stations?’ he said.

  Jenna indicated three well-spaced peaks. Loman glowered into the shining darkness, remembering his own helplessness in the thrall of the Alphraan. How many of his people were lying thus now? He clicked his horse forward.

&n
bsp; A wave of anger washed over him at the thought of the signallers, bound and impotent in their high sanctuaries. But something diverted it into more reflective considerations.

  There were inconsistencies in what had happened. The predominant weather in the mountains was cloudy, with mist and rain making visual signalling difficult. Presumably therefore the Alphraan had chosen such a clear day for their attack so that some form of investigating force would be drawn into the fray. Yet if this were so, why would they paralyse the communications from one and not the other?

  Perhaps the weight of numbers was indeed presenting them with problems? Perhaps they had a strategy whose subtlety couldn’t yet be seen? It occurred to Loman that random and inconsistent behaviour was an admirable tactic for destroying morale. Perhaps again they were random and inconsistent, either through their nature, or because, as Gulda reasoned, they were divided amongst themselves?

  ‘Riders.’

  Jenna’s whisper cut through Loman’s circling speculation. He felt his pulse start to race as he reined to a halt. ‘Where?’ he whispered in reply, as if fearful of what the dark shadows around them might hear.

  Jenna pointed.

  Loman leaned forward, his eyes intent. Slowly weaving its way along the valley was an unsteady thread of mottled light and shadow that slowly resolved itself into a long line of riders. It was too far away to form any judgement about their condition.

  ‘Halfway from the camp,’ Loman said. He looked again at the peaks which housed the signalling stations. Nothing. Just darkness.

  ‘They were in the shade before,’ Jenna said. ‘That’s why we didn’t see them sooner.’

  Loman stared pensively at the distant riders.

  ‘Should we signal them?’ Jenna asked. Loman caught the flicker of the same request from above.

  ‘No,’ he replied to Jenna. Then taking her torch he dismounted and signalled a formal reply to the signaller. ‘No. Continue original message as ordered, but report the sighting and our actions back to central camp.’

  ‘Signals won’t tell us anything about them,’ he said, remounting and handing Jenna’s torch back to her. ‘If they’re hostile in any way, they’ll only lie. We’ll approach openly, as we did at three.’