Whistler

by Roger Taylor

  ‘I need to think,’ Nertha said, a hint of desperation in her voice.

  Vredech shook his head. ‘No,’ he said agitatedly. ‘Now we must feel. React in the way our hearts and stomachs tell us to, while we’re here. You know this. Later, we’ll think. I’m going to pray over this. A prayer of purification of some kind, or for the safe passage of the dead, I don’t know – whatever comes to me.’ His agitation increased. ‘You can heal it.’

  ‘I…’

  ‘Do it!’

  He seized Nertha’s hand and placed his free one on the stain. Nertha did the same. Their fingers were touching. Both closed their eyes.

  In the darkness, the oppression of which he had been vaguely aware seemed to take an almost solid form about Vredech. And, like Nertha, he began to sense a will behind it. To his considerable alarm however, he found that, try as he might, he could remember none of the prayers that were his stock in trade: prayers that he had recited from memory week in, week out, year in, year out; prayers to which he had turned many times in his own private meditations. His mind filled first with a scrabbling confusion and then fear. He felt Nertha’s grip tighten about his hand. It was the only sign that passed between them of their common struggle. It heightened his resolve. He must cling to his faith. But still his prayers eluded him, mocking him with disjointed fragments of long-familiar phrases. His fear began to twist into panic. And into the now almost crushing oppression came hints of scornful amusement. He recognized them as the will that had touched him once before, when he and the others had been searching for Cassraw. He was the merest mote before such awesome power and majesty.

  If Your power is so great, why do You use such a feeble vessel as Cassraw?

  The thought, stark in its challenge, emerged through the whirling confusion of his mind, its source unknown. Another came.

  Whatever else I might be, I am near enough his equal. If You need his strength to do Your will here, then know that I will oppose You with a strength no less.

  ‘I need the strength of no mortal. Cassraw is my Chosen. My vessel. My Way.’

  The voice that spoke inside Vredech was icy and terrible, but to his horror, the voice that his ears heard, though distorted and distant, was Nertha’s.

  He could not move, and he dared not open his eyes.

  ‘Why do you seek to persecute me, your Lord?’

  Vredech could feel the presence moving through him, searching, testing, learning. Soon, he must surely fall before this terrible possession. Despite the defiance that he had offered, the words of his faith were gone, the heart of his faith was…?

  Yet something other than this will held him. As he clung to his sanity, so something clung to him. Literally. In the shapeless darkness and turmoil he felt it, tight and desperate, pressing itself into him with a force that cried out for help.

  It formed itself into Nertha’s hand, gripping him now with appalling force. Vredech’s awareness cleared. As she had supported him so much over these last few days, so now he must support her in whatever pain she was suffering.

  Abomination!he shouted silently into the darkness. Whatever else You might be, You are not my Lord. Get Thee hence, demon. Leave us, I command You in the name of Ishryth.

  The words rolled back over him, echoing hollowly, empty and futile. They were not enough to warrant even a flicker of attention. They had been like the least of insects riding the uncaring wind to dash themselves to destruction against a great cliff-face.

  Vredech’s ordered resistance, such as it was, crumbled at the insight. Beneath it was a primeval desperation, full of a burning fury.

  ‘Nertha!’ he cried out. ‘Nertha, I’m here. Hold on to me. He can do nothing, except twist our thoughts and desires. For all His seeming power, He is weak and feeble. A great enemy has wounded Him sorely. He holds Himself here by the merest of threads. Threads that we can break. Hold on. Reach out and heal the hurt that He is.’

  But even as he called out, he knew that the hatred and anger that was in him was merely sustenance for the obscenity that was binding him here. He felt it burgeoning, nourished by his own will. Yet he could not relinquish his rage. It poured forth like the vomit that had poured from him only minutes earlier.

  Then he was surrounded by a sound like a great rending. Its terrible shrieking tore at him, making him cry out, though he could not hear his own voice. He felt as though he had been lifted into some fearful limbo where nothing existed save the pain and the noise. And Nertha’s clinging hand. Still holding on to him, trusting, dependent. Nertha, who could no more bring herself to believe in Ishryth and Ahmral than fly. He seemed to hear the Whistler saying, ‘Astonishment, Vredech. Astonishment.’

  And that, he realized, was why Nertha had been so easily possessed. She would not have believed what was happening to her.

  But he did. He would not be downed by his own inability to accept.

  His rage became a determination. Whatever else happened on this desecrated mountain-top, he would save her, even if it cost him his sanity and his soul.

  ‘Hold me, Nertha,’ he called out into the tumult. ‘As you love me. And I you. Hold me. He can do nothing, but what we allow.’

  And, as abruptly as it had begun, like the sudden closing of the door to a boisterous inn, the noise was gone. As was the presence.

  Vredech slumped forward across the rock. Silence flooded into him.

  Silence and horror.

  He opened his eyes, fearing to see what he knew he would. Sunlight burst mockingly into them, but nothing could illuminate the darkness that was filling him now.

  For the summit was deserted.

  Nertha was gone.

  Chapter 28

  Vredech had no measure of the time he remained at the summit of the Ervrin Mallos, save that it was dark and a bright moon was high in the sky when he finally came to his senses. He was leaning over the rock that had been the focus of all that had happened, gazing into the stain, black now in the moonlight, as if he could see through into wherever Nertha had been transported.

  Physical exhaustion racked him, his robe was soiled and torn, as too were his hands. They confirmed the frantic, confused memories that he had of dashing about the summit, desperately searching for Nertha, ridiculously turning over rocks, peering into impossibly small crannies, going repeatedly to the edge of the precipitous face that dropped away from one side of the summit and staring over it, despite the fact that he could see no sign of her on the rocks below. Calling out her name as though for some reason she might be playing one of their childish hiding games. Calling and calling, now angrily, now fearfully, now pathetically. All to keep him from turning to the truth that she was gone.

  Then, for a hideous, timeless time, he had curled into the lee of an overhanging rock and sobbed hysterically, gnawing on his fists and driving them into the unyielding rock. Sobbing not only for the loss of Nertha, but for fear that there had been no loss, save that of his sanity. Fear that Nertha had never really been there, that all the mysteries and horrors of the past weeks had never occurred, that he was still on the mountain, searching for a demented Cassraw, separated somehow from Horld and the others and lost himself now. Lost and utterly crazed.

  He straightened up painfully. Now, though none of these questions were answered, he was too spent to sustain such agitation. And into this strangely enforced calmness, thoughts began to emerge that grimly demanded order from the churning chaos of his mind. There was little else he could do now, but he was trembling with the effort as he exerted all his will to determine that order.

  He spoke out loud through gritted teeth. ‘If this is the day of our search for Cassraw, then I’ve simply become separated from the others – suffered a seizure of some kind. Dreamt all this, for some reason. I don’t dream, so perhaps my first would affect me thus.’

  The sound of his own voice was unreal and jarring but he forced the words out.

  ‘If it isn’t, then all that has happened is true. And Nertha has gone.’

  Th
e words tore open his burgeoning inner quiet. He slammed his hands down on to the rock and lifted his face to the moonlit sky. ‘Where could she go?’ he roared at it. ‘Where? She was there, then she was gone.It isn’t possible! ’ His voice faded. ‘It isn’t possible.’

  ‘What isn’t?’

  Vredech spun round with a cry. A tall figure stood a few paces away from him.

  ‘Who was there and then gone?’ the figure asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, ‘You’ve not had a young woman up here, have you my man?’ The stern righteousness in the voice combined with the tall, thin stature to identify the speaker.

  ‘Horld,’ Vredech gasped, his voice awash with relief. ‘Horld, thank Ishryth it’s you. I thought – I don’t know. I…’ He stumbled into silence.

  ‘Is that Brother Vredech?’ Horld said incredulously. ‘Allyn, what in pity’s name are you doing here? And what was all that noise? I came up to meditate in the silence only to find someone bawling like a market-trader. What…?’ But Vredech was staggering across the rocks towards him, a single question dominating him. Horld caught him as he staggered and almost fell.

  ‘Where is Cassraw?’ Vredech demanded urgently.

  Horld looked at him, the moonlight deepening the lines on his worried face. ‘I’ve no idea,’ he said. ‘Calm yourself, Allyn, please. He’s probably down at the Haven Meeting House, haranguing whoever’s there – the more gullible members of his flock. Sad to say, some of our own Preaching Brothers.’ He curled his lip in distaste. ‘And doubtless his precious Knights of Ishryth.’

  Vredech tore free from Horld’s grip and turned away to hide his face, fearful of what might be read there. Relief and awful shock filled him equally. Relief that the past weeks had not been some bizarre nightmare, yet shock at this confirmation that they, and thus the last few hours, had actually happened. Where then was Nertha? His insides tightened into a unbearably painful knot.

  ‘I heard you were at Cassraw’s circus today. Passed out with the heat, I believe,’ Horld said. His bluntness helped Vredech to recover himself a little.

  ‘It was bad,’ he said, forcing himself to straighten up and maintain some semblance of a normal conversation. ‘I came here to think about it, like you. Were you there?’

  Horld shook his head. ‘No, I’ve better things to do on Service Day. Sent a novice, though. Came back babbling and wide-eyed. Had to give him a rare roasting to bring his feet back to earth again. I can’t imagine what Cassraw’s up to, Allyn. It’s almost as if he’s…’ He stopped.

  Vredech turned back to him sharply. ‘Possessed?’ he said.

  Horld seemed reluctant to accept the word now that it had been spoken, but he could not reject it either. Vredech seized his own courage and risked touching near his concerns. ‘When we came out that day, looking for Cassraw, I stumbled, had a brief fainting fit, do you remember?’ Horld paused for a moment, then nodded but did not speak. Vredech peered into the dark shadows of his eyes. ‘Tell me what you felt as you saw me fall,’ he said softly, but with great insistence.

  Horld attempted a dismissive shrug, but his manner was uneasy. Vredech pushed. ‘Please, Horld,’ he insisted. ‘It’s important.’

  Horld coughed awkwardly. Vredech gripped his arms earnestly and abandoned caution. ‘You’ve been troubled ever since that day, haven’t you? Or you wouldn’t have sent out your novice to listen to Cassraw, nor come trailing up here to meditate. I’m offering you no insult when I say that of the many kinds of Preaching Brother you are, contemplative is not one. Tell me what you felt.’

  Horld looked away from him then seemed to reach a decision. ‘I thought I saw something, heard something. It’s hard to explain. There were shadows moving about, voices clamouring, and something unpleasant seemed to pass by me. I don’t know. It was all very fleeting, like blue flames dancing over the coals. In so far as I thought about it at all, I imagined it was just the darkness, concern for Cassraw… and for you.’ He straightened up and cleared his throat. ‘It’s all foolishness,’ he muttered.

  Relief was flooding through Vredech. ‘No!’ he said urgently. ‘Foolishness is the last thing it is. I saw those shadows, too, Horld. Heard those awful voices. Something evil came with those black clouds, something that took possession of Cassraw.’

  Once, Horld would have dismissed such a notion out of hand, giving whoever had suggested it the benefit of a memorably caustic rebuttal. That he did not speak at once, and that his posture reflected his uncertainty told Vredech much. Frantic for allies now, he gave the older man no opportunity to be brought back to comforting normality by the momentum of his everyday thinking.

  ‘After you survived that fire at your forge, you were touched by something, weren’t you?’ he said. ‘Something you couldn’t put into words but which was strong enough to make you leave everything you’d ever known and turn to another life. Well something’s touched Cassraw also, and is turning him to another life. You felt… you knew… that it was Ishryth touching you after that fire, and I’m more than inclined to call whatever’s touched Cassraw, Ahmral. But the name doesn’t matter. What does matter is that both you and I felt it, and Cassraw seems to have gone almost insane since he went to the heart of it.’ He shook Horld’s arm before too many doubts could form around the name Ahmral. ‘Think back. Remember what Cassraw was like when he came out of the darkness and took hold of us both. And his strange, arrogant manner until I opposed him at the door of the Debating Hall and he collapsed. Remember! Remember it all!’

  ‘I don’t know what to think,’ Horld said eventually, his manner agitated. ‘Almost every part of me says you’re talking nonsense, but the tiny part that doesn’t is shouting louder than all the rest put together.’ Abruptly, he began walking away. ‘I need time to think.’

  ‘You’ll reach no conclusions,’ Vredech said starkly. ‘Ishryth knows, I haven’t, and I’ve been wrestling with it for months now. Just remember Cassraw on that day and since, remember what you felt and, in the name of pity, remember this conversation.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘And perhaps ask yourself what prompted you to climb the mountain so that we could meet thus.’

  Horld turned back and looked at him. Vredech sensed a debate about to start, but he could not afford it. Not only would it be fruitless, for despite Horld’s partial acceptance of what he had said, he still could not tell him everything that had happened. Worse, the inner frenzy about what had happened to Nertha, contained so far only by his need to seem calm in front of his colleague, was threatening to take complete possession of him at any moment.

  ‘I’ve no answers to all this,’ he said, barely managing to keep his voice steady. ‘But, in any case, what Cassraw’s doing is wrong by a score of the church’s tenets, you know that. The least we can do is watch him and see that Mueran and the Chapter censure him properly, take steps to stop him.’

  Horld relaxed visibly at this simple practical suggestion.

  ‘I’ve been here longer than I intended,’ Vredech said hastily. ‘I’ve a lot to do. I’ll leave you to your privacy.’ He paused and looked back at the flat-topped rock. The stain dominated his vision, darker by far than all the shadows that lay across the summit. ‘Could I ask a favour of you?’

  ‘Of course,’ Horld said.

  Vredech was about to ask him to say a prayer over the rock, when he remembered the painful futility of his own words as they had rebounded upon him, mocking his shattered faith. ‘While you’re here, do as I asked you. Think again about what brought you into the church. Set aside your training and your studies, and all the words. Remember that touch which showed you the way.’

  Horld looked uncertain.

  ‘Please, Horld. Stay here and do this for me. It’s important.’ Vredech felt his remaining control slipping. He had to get away. ‘You said you came here to meditate. You said you needed to think. I don’t know what you’re going to find, but where you found Ishryth is the only place to look.’

  There was a brief, agonizing silence, then Horld said,
‘I’ll do as you ask, because you ask, Allyn. It’ll do me no harm, for sure. But we must talk again, and soon. This is all very…’

  ‘Mid-morn tomorrow at my Meeting House,’ Vredech interrupted, nodding purposefully. ‘We can talk the day into evening if we want.’ Then, with a cursory farewell, he began clambering down the rocks, fearful that Horld might attempt to prolong the conversation.

  As he looked back he saw that Horld, a shadow amongst the shadows now, was sitting on the rock, one foot pulled up on to it to support his arm and his head; an oddly youthful posture. He was gazing out across the moonlit valley.

  As Vredech paused to watch him, some small night-hunting animal scuttled across the rocks nearby, making him start violently. He set off down the mountain again.

  Once away from the summit and his friend, his anxieties returned in full suffocating force, this time laden pitilessly with guilt. He had known that great forces were in play, so why had he let Nertha go up to the place where they were actually producing a physical manifestation? Why had he so rashly challenged it with his poor prayers? Why had he pushed Nertha into using her own unsure healing skills to that same end? What had been that terrible noise? And, overriding all, incessant and unyielding in its grip on him, where had Nertha gone?

  Such a thing as had happened was not possible!

  Yet he had been transported bodily to some other world. And even to worlds within that world.

  Hadn’t he?

  Fabric’s torn, ‘fore all was born…

  For a timeless interval as his body carried him down the mountain towards the Witness House, Vredech’s mind teetered at the edge of disintegration. The only thing that prevented it from shattering and scattering into the void in wretched imitation of the stars domed over him, and struggling with the moonlight for supremacy of the heavens, was the knowledge that Horld, too, had been touched by the presence that had invaded the mountain and taken possession of Cassraw.

  But even in this, barbed thoughts tore at him. Perhaps his meeting with Horld had been no more than another illusion generated in his failing mind.