by Roger Taylor
The group found themselves walking along a wide, apparently natural tunnel. Strange rock formations threw grotesque shadows in the moving torchlight and stained patches of dampness on the walls glistened coldly. Apart from the echoing sound of their own walking, they could hear only the occasional splashing of drops of water.
'Dan-Tor is whole again,’ Andawyr said bluntly. ‘The Vrwystin a Goleg is his creature and only he could have used the Old Power thus to free the bird. It's fortunate it happened when it did. Had it escaped and an acolyte, or even me for that matter, opened the door unsuspecting, the consequences could have been appalling. That thing loose in the Cadwanol...’ He shuddered.
'What does it mean?’ Hawklan asked.
Andawyr grimaced. ‘We must assume that Creost and Dar Hastuin will be made whole again at Derras Ustramel, so for my brothers with the army, Dan-Tor's recovery means they'll be stretched to their very limit. For the army, the release of the Vrwystin means that the extent and disposition of all our forces will be known to Dan-Tor at all times.'
'But it's not free,’ Hawklan said. ‘It's trapped in that room.'
Andawyr shook his head. ‘It's trapped, true, but it's free,’ he said. ‘The blue light you saw, was a manifestation of a great binding that restrained the whole creature. It could see nothing. Now, the room merely confines the one bird. Merely blindfolds one eye in perhaps ... thousands ... who knows?'
Hawklan's face was now as grim as Andawyr's.
'Then he'll see us, too,’ Dacu said, speaking Hawklan's thoughts.
Andawyr stopped walking. ‘Yes, I'm afraid so,’ he replied.
'Our only hope lies in surprise,’ Hawklan said. ‘Sumeral must know nothing of our intention until we march into His very throne room.'
No one spoke, and the silence seemed to press in on the waiting torchlit faces.
'Could Gavor and Dar-volci perhaps hunt them down for us?’ Yrain suggested hesitantly.
Gavor shot her an alarmed look.
Andawyr shook his head. ‘Gavor can't fly either quietly or quickly enough,’ he said. ‘And if he caught one, it would kill him. You saw what it did to Hawklan when he struck it with the sword.’ He looked earnestly at Yrain. ‘And that was a blow that would have cut down a horse and rider. No. The Vrwystin's a formidable creature, and its eyes are not what they seem.'
'Dar-volci caught it,’ Yrain persisted.
'Dar-volci's a felci,’ Andawyr replied. ‘They're strange creatures. They can do many things that are beyond our understanding, but in any case, even if he could destroy the occasional bird that wouldn't destroy the Vrwystin and the merest glimpse of us sneaking around Narsindal would bring Dan-Tor down on us. Or worse.'
'I'm sorry,’ Yrain said.
'Don't be,’ Andawyr said, more positively. ‘Your idea wasn't unreasonable. And it's at least clarified the matter. I'm afraid that we have a task to perform before we can hope to attack Him. We must find the heart of the Vrwystin and kill it, if we're to be safe from discovery.'
Hawklan remembered the power of the blow that had wrenched the sword from his hand, and the desperate struggle he had seen Andawyr waging with the bird, both at the Gretmearc and now here, in the heart of his own citadel. And if Andawyr was to be believed, the birds had each but a fraction of the Vrwystin's true power.
Andawyr looked at him and read his doubts. ‘We've no choice,’ he said simply. ‘To venture out on the surface now would be to announce our presence to Dan-Tor within hours.'
Hawklan shrugged, his face pained. ‘I don't know enough to dispute the matter with you, Andawyr,’ he said. ‘If you say it's necessary then it's necessary. Just tell us where we can find it and what we'll have to do, and let's get on with it.'
Andawyr started walking again. ‘I don't know where the heart is,’ he said. ‘But we're heading in the right direction. To Narsindal. And it will be underground somewhere, that much is known about the creature.'
He hitched up his pack as if he were shaking off the problem. ‘Anyway, we'll have to concern ourselves with that later. There'll be none of the eyes down here, and right now we've got a great deal of walking to do, followed by who knows what problems when we come into unknown territory.'
The group plodded on for several hours, moving through narrow, claustrophobic tunnels, through spacious caverns whose ceilings and walls extended beyond the reach of the torchlight, through smaller caves where the torches drew brilliant rainbow colours from the rocks. Not infrequently their progress was slowed by Isloman who was constantly stopping to examine rocks, to peer into shadows, and generally allow his carving instincts to obscure the true object of their journey.
'Some day,’ he kept muttering.
Considerable alarm was caused at first by the occasional appearance of bright green eyes gleaming through the darkness, but these were invariably followed by a whistle and a shouted greeting from Dar-volci, which was returned in kind by the owner of the eyes.
'Felcis abound down here,’ Andawyr declared. ‘And there are lots of other small animals and insects as well.'
'Are you sure that's all?’ someone asked.
'Oh yes,’ Andawyr replied. ‘There's been nothing nasty in this part of the caves in generations.'
There was a hint of reservation in his voice which prompted another question. ‘How many generations?'
Andawyr shrugged. ‘Later on, we may have some ... problems,’ he conceded.
Further debate was ended by their arrival at another wide cavern. On one side, the floor sloped away down to a wide, fast-flowing stream. It came out of the darkness and disappeared into it.
Isloman stood for a moment looking at the slope, then he walked across to the edge of the stream. Small waves reached up from the surging flow and flowed gently over the smoothed rocky floor to lap at his feet. He looked concerned.
'What's the matter?’ Hawklan asked.
'This stream's normally lower than this,’ Isloman replied. ‘Now it's in spate, and I'd say it's risen only recently...'
'It's the thaw,’ Dar-volci interrupted, pointing upwards to the craggy ceiling that supported the snow-covered mountains above them. ‘Don't worry. The water will only rise slowly. It's the sudden summer storms that cause the real flooding.'
'Flooding?’ came an anxious voice.
Andawyr glared at Dar-volci. ‘This part of the caves doesn't flood—even in summer,’ he said quickly and with some force.
'Meaning other parts do?’ Isloman said.
Andawyr shot another dark glance at Dar-volci. ‘Nowhere that we're going,’ he said. ‘Our most serious problem would appear to be a wilfully provocative rodent.'
Dar-volci chuckled and, with a gleeful whistle, plunged into the stream and disappeared from view.
Later, he returned as the group was preparing to camp. Andawyr gave him a reproving look as he wriggled into the shelter and curled up in front of the radiant stones.
However, the felci spoke before Andawyr could begin any reproach.
'I think we have an ally in our search for the Vrwystin,’ he said, closing his eyes.
Andawyr's face became serious. ‘No more of your antics, Dar,’ he said. ‘My sense of humour's not at its best, and none of the rest are happy underground.'
Dar-volci opened his eyes and looked up at Andawyr. Then he unwound himself languorously and wriggled round the glowing stones until he was at the Cadwanwr's feet. Andawyr reached down and stroked him.
'Dar-volci is not joking,’ said a voice.
Involuntarily, everyone in the shelter looked around.
'Alphraan,’ Hawklan said, part question, part statement.
'Hawklan,’ came the reply.
'How long have you been with us?’ Hawklan asked.
'Since you came from the silent place.'
Hawklan's forehead furrowed. ‘The silent place?’ he echoed.
'The place of the Cadwanol,’ said the voice, its words filigreed around with subtle meanings full of wonder and awe. ‘We cannot en
ter there. All is echo. It is a mighty fortress.'
Hawklan nodded. ‘What do you want?’ he asked.
'We wish to come with you,’ replied the voice. ‘We wish to help and guide you.’ Then an unexpected harshness came into the voice, nerve rending, like a myriad tiny glittering edges. Everyone in the shelter winced. ‘We wish to seek out the Vrwystin a Goleg...'
Hawklan raised his hands as if to protect himself from an assault, so full of hatred was the sound whose glowing centre was the words ‘Vrwystin a Goleg'. He was not alone. Everyone in the shelter was reacting in distress.
'Take care, Alphraan,’ Hawklan cried out. ‘You forget the power of your speech.'
Immediately the shelter was filled with sounds bearing the images of regret and remorse.
Hawklan smiled and shook his head. ‘Alphraan, quiet yourselves, and remember the ... crude simplicity ... of our speech and our hearing.'
'We are sorry,’ said the voice with an obvious effort. ‘But the Vrwystin is an ancient and dreadful foe whose waking is an abomination. You will need our help both to find and to slay it.'
Hawklan looked at Andawyr, who nodded.
'Come with us then, sound weavers,’ Hawklan answered. ‘We welcome your help.'
Tiny dancing sounds of excitement and happiness rang round the shelter. As they faded, Hawklan said, ‘But do your ... ways ... come so far north? Soon we'll be into regions uncharted and unknown to both men and felci.'
The sounds returned, full of laughter, and with faint hints of some far distant age, long gone. ‘It's true that not all the ways are easy, Hawklan,’ the voice said. ‘But they are everywhere, everywhere.'
Hawklan opened his mouth to ask another question, but Andawyr laid a hand on his arm. ‘Leave it,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Even if they could explain, I doubt we'd understand. Just accept their help and be grateful.'
'Gratitude is not necessary, Cadwanwr,’ the voice said. ‘Nothing we can do would repay what Hawklan and the Orthlundyn have done for us...’ The voice trailed off into sounds which told of their Heartplace and of the renewal and rejoining that was there. And light and the Great Song ...
Hawklan looked at Andawyr and raised his eyebrows in amused resignation. ‘Good night, Alphraan,’ he said. ‘We must rest now.'
'Good rest, all of you,’ the voice said.
Hawklan slept well through what his body told him was the night, though once he woke, disturbed by something. He glanced around the shelter, lit by the subdued light of the radiant stones. Nothing was untoward, but Dar-volci was gone. He closed his eyes again; he felt no sense of menace, and the felci came and went as he pleased. As he felt sleep closing over him again, he heard the sound of ringing laughter far in the distance; laughter and song? and the fluting whistling of felcis?
* * * *
The journey continued uneventfully for several days through the endlessly varying and complex cave system. They found themselves fording swollen streams; scrabbling over tumbled heaps of rock such as might be found strewn across a mountain face; walking through echoing caves that were like great columned halls where massive stalactites and stalagmites had met and fused; wandering, more unhappily, through spaces which, for the taller, were less than head height but whose walls were beyond the reach of their brightest torchlight.
On one occasion they were held silent and spellbound by a chamber that was filled with billowing outcrops of white rock poised like a great frozen ocean.
'Douse the torches,’ Isloman said suddenly. With some reluctance this was done after a little further urging, and for a few moments the group stood motionless in the total blackness. Then, as eyes adjusted, the huge wave formations began to appear again, now not only white, but shot through with many colours, and shining as if from intensely bright light buried deep below. They were hauntingly beautiful. ‘One day...’ Isloman was heard to mutter softly again before he struck one of the torches.
Several times they heard great torrents of water nearby but though they came across many streams, they found no rivers. They did however, come upon a massive waterfall, tumbling from some unseeable height above into some unfathomable depth below.
All the larger chambers that they passed through provided them with several exits, and in the narrower tunnels they encountered innumerable side tunnels and elaborate junctions and branches. Dacu supervised the marking of these and the recording of them in the journals.
His concern amused Andawyr who twitted him gently about it.
'There's no point coming back this way,’ he said. ‘Believe me, no one is going to answer a knocking at that door.'
'They'll open it for you, and you'll be with us,’ Dacu replied, giving him a ferocious scowl and striking a bold mark defiantly on a nearby rock. Andawyr laughed.
Eventually however, his sure choice of route began to falter until finally he stopped and shook his head.
'From here it's only my rock sense that's going to guide us,’ he said. ‘And Dar-volci's.'
'And ours,’ said the Alphraan.
'And yours,’ Andawyr confirmed. He grinned at Dacu. ‘Make sure the marking and the journals are kept well, Goraidin. We'll need this route well recorded when we get back,’ he said.
Dacu gave him a look of theatrical disdain.
That night, however, the atmosphere in the shelter was subdued, though, ironically, the sense of the awesome weight of the great mountains looming above them was less inside the close confines of the shelter than outside.
'We could wander about down here forever,’ Tybek said eventually. His tone was unemotional, but he voiced the fear lurking in all of them.
Andawyr looked at him. ‘We walk towards danger whatever path we take,’ he said gently. ‘You know that. It's been so since we decided on this errand.’ He leaned forward. ‘But understand this, all of you. Whatever fate is waiting for us, it will not be a lonely dying of starvation down here. Aside from the Alphraan and Dar here, I'm a Cadwanwr; born to dwell under mountains as easily as above them. I came out of Narsindal, walking exhausted through the endless unlit darkness, through ways I could not possibly know, and afraid to use the Old Power which should have sustained me. And I came through whole. So will you all. We've good lights, and supplies to take us well into Narsindal, and if need arises we've many other resources between us.'
'There's fish,’ Dar-volci interposed, helpfully.
'And some most unusual plants,’ Gavor added.
Andawyr looked at them both. ‘True,’ he said unenthusiastically. ‘But I think short rations might be preferable.'
'Nonsense,’ boomed Dar-volci, chattering his teeth ecstatically. ‘They're delicious. I'll bring you one tomorrow—as a special treat. I can...'
'No fish!’ Andawyr said definitively.
Dar-volci chuckled malevolently.
Andawyr's forceful declaration seemed to sweep aside the concerns that had been mounting, but nevertheless, progress over the next few days became slower and more fraught, with Andawyr walking some way in front of the group and pausing longer wherever alternative routes offered themselves. Dar-volci occasionally ran ahead and the group would have to pause until he returned with a simple nod or shake of the head for the Cadwanwr.
'Why don't these Alphraan help more?’ Yrain whispered to Hawklan at one point.
'It is not the time,’ came the reply before Hawklan could speak.
Yrain jumped, and looked about awkwardly. ‘I'm sorry,’ she said. ‘I...'
'Do not doubt the deep wisdom of the Cadwanwr and the way-maker,’ said the voice. ‘We are wise in this lore, but even we learn with his every step.'
Then the route began to move steadily downwards, sometimes quite steeply. The temperature, which had been for the most part cool so far, began to grow very cold, and an unpleasant staleness began to pervade the air. Once or twice Hawklan caught the anxious look in Andawyr's eyes.
'What's the matter?’ he asked discreetly as they were making camp later.
'We're very deep
, and getting deeper,’ Andawyr replied quietly. Then, hesitantly, ‘We've moved well beyond the reach of Oklar and even the writ of Theowart...’ His voice had fallen to an awed whisper and he caught Hawklan's sleeve nervously. ‘I'm beginning to doubt...'
Hawklan raised a hand gently, to stop him. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You've always doubted. Now you're beginning to fret. Your people have been deep before. Wasn't it Ethriss himself who told you to go beyond? You'll guide us through safely.’ Before Andawyr could reply, Hawklan signalled Dacu.
'Go a little way away, beyond our chatter here; sit in the darkness and be still,’ he said, looking at Andawyr intently. ‘Dacu, you go with him. Remember the Great Silence that roused me. Alphraan, share this as you need.'
A soft voiceless whisper of thanks floated around him briefly.
Dar-volci jumped up into Andawyr's arms unbidden.
As the two men walked off into the darkness, Hawklan motioned the others in the shelter.
'I sense some kind of trial ahead for us,’ he said. ‘What it will be I don't know, but you're Helyadin and you'll cope with it whatever it is. Stay aware and, above all, don't cling to your fear. We must keep to a minimum the burden we impose on Andawyr.'
It was a long time before Andawyr and Dacu returned, and most of the others were asleep when the two men quietly entered the tent. Andawyr did not speak, but he smiled at Hawklan before he lay down and apparently went to sleep immediately. Dar-volci curled up beside him.
Dacu looked at Hawklan. His manner was relaxed and his eyes were alive with some silent animation. ‘This is a strange ... alien ... place,’ he said, enigmatically, to Hawklan, then he too lay down and fell asleep.
During the night, Hawklan woke twice. On both occasions he thought he heard the dying notes of a faint, howling cry, far in the distance. It chilled him.
* * * *
The message had been brought to Eldric's mountain stronghold by two exhausted but triumphant Orthlundyn. While they rested after their difficult journey, posts of High Guard riders carried it rapidly across Fyorlund to Vakloss.
