by Roger Taylor
Those, such as Iscar who had worked to aid Ibryen from within, were duly honoured. Iscar not least for his assault on the virtually abandoned Citadel with a group of his followers even before news of the destruction of the Gevethen reached them. They tore down the shutters and sealed curtains and uncovered many of the mirrorways to flush the darkness from the place, it being their desperate intention to hold the place no matter what transpired in the mountains. It is said that it was the light that Iscar introduced into the Watching Chamber as much as the sunlight from Isgyrn’s sword that destroyed the Gevethen’s device, for all the mirrors there shattered on the instant.
Harik continued as the Citadel Physician and continued to affect an indifference to the changed regime, though his manner became noticeably easier.
Jeyan’s name too was honoured, and the memory of her dogs, though none knew their names.
* * * *
Floating high above his village, Ibryen gazed down at it yet again.
‘Well hidden,’ he said. ‘It served its purpose well. We mustn’t forget it.’
To the north he could clearly see Dirynhald with the Citadel at its heart while to the south there hung the Culmadryen. He shook his head as he looked at it.
‘There are words for it, Ibryen,’ the Traveller said. ‘But silence is the best in your language.’
‘I’m sorry that you could not come to my land,’ Isgyrn said. ‘But it is too high. The lack of air would distress you. Perhaps when Svara’s will has carried us here again our Seekers will have found a way for you to come there.’ He leaned forward confidentially and patted his chest. ‘They’re doing a deal of thinking about me, I can tell you.’
Ibryen looked round at the cloud-island he was standing on. It was a bewildering place, with its strange terrain and unexpectedly angular buildings which constantly moved so that within the space of a few hours, one that had been at the top of a small hill, would be at the bottom of it. He could not make out how they had been built, but they were beautiful, shining silver and gold and white. Yet, for all their brightness, it was no strain to look at them, for there was an iridescence about the whiteness, and many subtle shadows about the whole that protected the eye. Amongst many other strange skills that they possessed, the Dryenvolk seemed to have a rare way with light, Ibryen mused.
He and his friends had been brought there by Isgyrn’s Soarers, hanging from their brilliantly coloured Culmaren wings, for all the world like great gliding birds, yet as agile in the air as ravens. The journey had been a nerve-wracking prospect, and all freely admitted to taking at least the first part of it with both eyes tightly closed, despite being securely held. Subsequent to that however, it had been difficult for Isgyrn to persuade them to call an end to their swooping flights about the peaks and the valleys and to join the celebration that had been prepared on the island. Their hard-learned discipline of silence vanished that day and their excitement was a source of great amusement to the Soarers.
Now the celebration and the talking was over. It had been a joyous interlude, not least for Isgyrn, finding his land unscathed and free from the darkness it had been threatened by when he was torn from it. And finding too, his family and kin.
Ibryen, to his considerable embarrassment, had been treated with an almost overpowering deference though at the same time he was aware that he had been extensively interrogated about his disturbing gift.
‘We are doubly in your debt,’ he was told finally by the elder Seeker who had been discreetly leading the questioning. ‘You have enriched us with your knowledge – and with the return of our brave brother, long-mourned.’ There was a hint of sadness in his voice though, and drawing Ibryen to one side, he spoke softly to him, away from the others. ‘Few have been so blessed as you in your gift, Ibryen. But you must… you must… study it, learn everything that is to be learned. It was given to you for a purpose beyond what it has achieved so far, I’m sure. It must not be allowed to lie fallow because the immediate needs of healing your land are clamouring so.’ He coughed awkwardly. ‘You must forgive me speaking to you thus, elder to younger as it were,’ he said. ‘I don’t normally regale guests with such lectures. Seeker’s habit, I’m afraid – but I had to speak how the mood took me. Please accept it in good part.’
Ibryen smiled and bowed. ‘Your advice matches my intention,’ he said. ‘I regret that you can’t remain longer to help me.’
But the time for parting had come. ‘Svara’s will can be defied only so far,’ Isgyrn told his friends. ‘The land must move on.’ He embraced each in turn. ‘It has been a time of great learning. It seems that the Great Corrupter may indeed have been destroyed – at least in this world.’ He lowered his voice as though loath to darken the moment. ‘But His touch lingers on and my land has been travelling high and strange Ways since that time. We must concern ourselves more now with the middle depths. Learn what has happened to Him, for until He is destroyed utterly He will surely return. We will come here again.’
Then the Soarers carried them back to the sunlit ridge where Ibryen had first met the Traveller.
The little group watched in silence as the island began to drift back towards the Culmadryen. Like the mountains themselves, the scale of the great cloudland deceived, and the island was scarcely visible long before it reached it. As it shrank into the distance, becoming the merest wisp of cloud, a single brilliant light flashed from it as once more Isgyrn’s sword sent the sun to Ibryen. Then, slowly, the Culmadryen began to move away from them.
They stood for a long time, staring after it.
* * * *
‘I’ll be off then.’ The Traveller broke the silence.
‘What?’
He flinched away from the combined exclamation. ‘I’ll be off,’ he repeated weakly. ‘I have to go.’
‘Why?’ Ibryen protested. ‘Your land’s not blowing away on the breeze.’
The Traveller smiled. ‘Neither is yours, Ibryen, but you’ve much to do. All of you. And so have I.’
Rachyl sat down beside him and put her arm around his shoulders. ‘You can’t leave us now,’ she said.
The Traveller gently unwound the arm, but held her hand. ‘It’s been a noisy few days,’ he said. ‘Days such as I’ve never known before and may well not know again.’ He looked at Rachyl. ‘They’ve given me back many things I’d long forgotten about – renewed me. I must pay more heed to people in future. But I need to think. I need the sounds of the mountains.’ Ibryen made to speak, but the Traveller continued. ‘And my kin are returned,’ he said, his eyes distant but excited. ‘Isgyrn spoke of it when he first woke but we’d more pressing concerns then. Now the Seekers have confirmed it for me. The Ways of the Sound Carvers are being opened, the Great Song is being heard again.’ The excitement reached his voice. ‘And the Great Gate is open. I must find it, I have so many questions now.’ He looked intently at Ibryen. ‘And I must find those who can help you understand your gift and bring them to you, as well as spreading the news of what’s happened here.’ Then he cleared his throat and made a shooing motion with his hands. ‘Go on now,’ he said briskly. ‘I’m not keen on goodbyes.’
There was nothing more to be said.
He took the hands of each as they left, but Rachyl remained sitting by him. He looked at her, eyes bright and full of life. ‘You too,’ he said.
‘I know,’ she replied.
He ran a finger down her cheek. ‘Thank you,’ he said softly.
‘Thank you,’ she said, taking his hand and squeezing it.
Then he stood up, hitched his pack on to his back and strode off.
He moved very quickly.
Rachyl stood watching him, one hand on her sword hilt, the other in her belt, patting her stomach thoughtfully.
‘You will come again?’ she asked, knowing that he would hear her.
‘Oh yes,’ came the reply. ‘I’ll be back.’
‘When?’
‘Ah…’
‘I’ll listen for you.’
; ‘Yes.’ His voice was growing fainter. ‘Listen for me always.’
Then there was silence.
Rachyl leaned forward intently.
But there was only the sound of the wind.
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