Whistler

by Roger Taylor

  The rain had been falling in a fine drizzle throughout this confrontation and the rock upon which Skynner was crouching had been thoroughly wetted, a small pool forming in the dip at its centre. Suddenly the water gathered there swirled forward and splashed angrily around Skynner’s boots, tiny waves at the foot of an obdurate cliff. At the same time, a flurry of rain struck him in the face, making him raise his hand in protection. Neither event was conspicuous or violent, but the rain in Skynner’s face disturbed him, and the strange movement of the water around his feet startled him and the two together caused him to slither incongruously off the rock.

  Cassraw laughed. It was an unpleasant sound, full more of triumph and malice than humour. The crowd followed his cue. Vredech stepped forward and helped Skynner to his feet. The action was virtually a reflex, however, as he had felt himself almost physically assaulted when the water on the boulder had started to move. His skin was crawling exactly as it had when Cassraw had transformed Dowinne’s simple drink into water, and Cassraw’s laughter was twisting about him like a choking noose. Again the word ‘abomination’ came to him in response to the presence he felt about him; the presence he had also felt invading Nertha and trying to possess him at this same place only three days ago. As then, he could find no response to what was happening other than rage, although the rainwater that was still splashing unnaturally about Skynner’s feet fell away suddenly as though touched by his anger.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked Skynner.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Skynner replied fiercely with an oath. He made to move towards Cassraw, but this time it was Nertha’s hand that stayed him.

  ‘Leave it,’ she said simply. ‘Only harm will come of resisting him here. You’ve done all you can.’

  Skynner looked from her to Cassraw and back again, then yielded to her will. ‘Very well,’ he conceded. ‘But as I’m here, I’ll stay, so there’s at least one accurate witness to what’s going on.’

  ‘There’ll be four,’ Nertha said, wiping the rain from her forehead and glancing at Vredech and Horld.

  Cassraw was now on the far side of the boulder, his arms extended. Dowinne stood beside him, and the Knights bearing the body of Marash were ranked behind him.

  ‘His blessing be upon you,’ Cassraw intoned.

  ‘Thus let it be,’ the crowd chanted back as one.

  ‘My children.’ Cassraw’s voice was unnaturally loud. ‘I have brought you here that you might know the place where He revealed Himself to me.’ He laid his hand on the boulder. ‘Here, but months ago, as I sat alone and desolate with a fearful darkness all about me, a voice spoke to me in the midst of my prayers. His voice, my children. His voice. He told me that such wickedness was abroad that once again it was necessary for Him to venture forth into this world.’ Cassraw’s voice grew gradually louder and a pulsing, driving rhythm began to permeate his speech. ‘He harrowed my whole being, my children. Showed me such things as would chill your souls to know. But He held me firm and gave me the strength that I would need, for He told me also that I was the vessel that He had chosen to set in train the righting of this world; the undoing of the work of His enemy. And as He chose me, so I choose you, to be the flame that will rekindle the true faith in this godless land.’

  Excited cries were rising from the crowd in response to Cassraw’s own mounting passion. His voice dropped suddenly and he leaned forward. The crowd fell silent immediately. ‘But great will be that task, my children, let me not deceive you. For His enemy has laboured long and silently to corrode His truth.’ He turned and laid a hand on the body of Marash.

  The rain was falling more heavily now. Vredech felt his hair plastering flat over his head. He wiped his eyes as Cassraw continued.

  ‘The price for some may appear high – a price that your most inner thoughts whisper is too high; something that you could not do.’ His voice began to rise again. ‘But fear not, for this seeming loss is but a moment’s discomfort. For those who perish in this world in battle against His enemies will know no punishment for their sins and will be judged, not by His terrible Watchers, but by Him and Him alone, and they will be found fit to enter into Deryon. Deryon, that place beyond imagining, that place which is as this world but where all is perfection, and where there is neither labour, nor pain of any kind and where all that can be desired is to be won by the mere asking. There, even as I speak to you, the spirit of our murdered Brother Marash will be rejoicing.’

  ‘This is as grotesque and primitive as it is heretical,’ Horld murmured, his eyes wide with disbelief at what he was hearing. Vredech nodded but signalled silence. He could feel the rain beginning to reach through to his back, shivering cold.

  Cassraw looked straight at him. ‘Many of you have heard me speak and have understood. Great is the wisdom and vision of those who are unclouded by learning. But there are others – even those who have seen His hand at work before their eyes – who doubt yet. These lost souls are more deserving of our pity than our anger, my children, so blind are they. But only thus far can their blindness be forgiven, for it is in truth a wilful pride that turns them away from the Way when it has been so plainly shown to them. How great is such a pride, my children, that tells them they can deny His truth?’ He paused significantly. ‘Well, just so great is His mercy, for He has given me the power to bring to such doubters a sign.’ The crowd was very silent. ‘Let those among you so weak in faith as to need a sign, look upon this, and question it if you dare!’

  As his last words boomed out over the crowd, he stood up, threw his head back to face the falling rain, and extended his arms wide.

  Vredech drew in an agonizing breath as he felt all that he had felt before in the presence of one of Cassraw’s ‘miracles’, but this time, immeasurably worse. For a moment he felt he was going to lapse into unconsciousness, and indeed, in the darkness behind his briefly closed eyes, he thought he saw the Whistler looking at him curiously, his head on one side and his flute seemingly paused on its way to his mouth. The image was gone the instant he opened his eyes, but he heard himself softly whistling the familiar three notes.

  There was agitation all about him, and cries of wonder coming from the crowd. Simultaneously he heard Nertha gasp, Skynner swear, and Horld cry out. As he looked around he realized that the rain had suddenly stopped. But as he looked further, he saw that beyond the crowd in every direction it seemed to be still falling. Then he discovered what had so startled his companions. His flattened hair, his previously sodden clothes, the rocks under his feet and all about him, were completely dry.

  Chapter 32

  Vredech looked at Nertha anxiously. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  They were sitting by the fire in Vredech’s private quarters. Two lanterns, turned well down, added a little light to that thrown by the fire. It should have been a moment of quiet indulgence as they both luxuriated in the soft light and the after-glow of changing from cold, sodden clothes into dry ones. House had anticipated their condition and was fully armed to deal with it when they eventually returned. But no amount of physical comfort could assuage the tension they felt, though by silent consent they had kept it from House.

  Vredech repeated his question, and Nertha nodded unconvincingly.

  Following Cassraw’s eerie demonstration of his power, there had been an uproar which ended only when most of the crowd had sunk to their knees. Cassraw gazed triumphantly at the four for whom it was primarily intended, but said nothing to them.

  Instead, he had addressed the crowd.

  ‘Such is the least of the powers that have been granted to me. Daily I am given more. Tell this to all who doubt. Tell them what you have seen, what you have felt, at this holy place. Spread the word. Seek out the doubters and convince them. Especially blessed are you, for you needed no sign, but all must be with us. The proving is begun.’

  Then his voice had swelled again. ‘Two things you are charged with. Firstly, you must levy the militia and prepare for battle. Wait for no instructions from a
bove, other than those I give you now, for you are led by weaklings and cowards. I will send forth His Knights to your homes with the ordering of your ranks. And lastly,’ his voice was soft again, but full of a menace that was made all the more frightening by the ecstasy that veined through it, ‘you shall hold this place most holy and walk no more upon it, for a great temple is to be built here. A temple of such wonders that all Gyronlandt will turn towards it and know His power.

  For the rest, Vredech had only a kaleidoscope of memories: the silent return to the Witness House, the hasty empowering of such of his fellow Chapter Brothers as still remained, to deal with the temporary running of the Witness House and, not last, the arrangements for the removal of Mueran’s body. Then, finally, the strained, almost unreal journey through the now-returned rain back to the familiar anchor of House’s hospitality.

  Throughout all this, his dominant concern had been for Nertha. Among them she seemed to be the most affected by Cassraw’s demonstration. Skynner had left them at the gates of the Witness House. He had said nothing about the ‘miracle’, apparently shutting it from his mind, but had seized on Cassraw’s call for the levying of the militia. Perhaps the holding of a service on the summit of the Ervrin was a legal act, perhaps not, he announced, and while Cassraw’s assumption of the office of Covenant Member seemed suspicious to him, he was unfamiliar with such matters and, in any event, it was purely a church affair. But setting himself up as a levying officer for the militia was indisputably illegal. The whole point of a citizen militia was that it could not be levied at the whim of any individual, save in extreme emergency. It could be levied only on the order of the Heindral, and there was an established and well-defined procedure for the issuing of that order.

  And while Cassraw’s actions had driven Skynner to take refuge in familiar practicalities, it had, ironically, convinced Horld utterly of the rightness of Vredech’s interpretation of events. ‘I felt it. Horrible, horrible. I felt it. Just as on that day, but worse,’ he said many times on the journey down the mountain, shivering far more than the cold demanded. When they parted at the gates, he apologized to the others. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m rambling. I need to think, to pray, to seek some guidance. When I’m quieter in my mind, I’ll come to your Meeting House.’ He half-turned away, then with a grimace, turned back. ‘No. I’ll come whether I’m settled or not. I’ll come.’

  Vredech had watched him go with some unease, but took comfort in the fact that Horld was above all an ‘iron and coals’ man, well-rooted in reality.

  Reality?

  Safely home now, the word floated to him on the Whistler’s tune, taunting him. Where and how had he met Horld that moonlit evening on the mountain? Who was the Whistler? Did he exist? What he had said was coming to pass, but…? And from where did this awful power come, that had so possessed Cassraw? With a cold resolution that surprised him, Vredech set all these questions aside and brought his attention back to Nertha. She had been silent since Cassraw so mysteriously stopped the rain, and though she had seemed to be listening to Horld’s spasmodic outbursts, and Skynner’s desperate legalizing, Vredech knew that her mind had been elsewhere.

  ‘Nertha, you’re frightening me,’ he said finally. ‘Did He… it… try to possess you again? Speak to me, please.’

  Then she turned to him and for the briefest of moments he saw into her unbelieving soul and understood. He saw that the reason and logic which dominated her thinking and informed her attitudes, were not the tight choking circle that he had always imagined. They were tools with which all things could be examined and, perhaps, understood. They were tools that removed the darkness and shed light along a magical road of learning and discovery that went on for ever.

  For ever.

  And awe and wonder were not lessened by what they revealed; they were enhanced.

  And now she was frightened – desperately frightened. Not that these tools might fail her, he could see, but that she, with her human frailty, might fail herself in the use of them. And now he was afraid, because she must surely bring her will to bear on what was happening. She was a physician, a healer, her very nature would not allow her to turn away from something that could bring such horror and pain without attempting to right it – or excise it!

  He dropped to his knees and put his arms around her. After a while, her arms folded about him and though she made no sound, he felt her weeping. They were no longer brother and sister. Then she said the words.

  ‘Allyn, I’m so afraid.’

  The reply was difficult.

  ‘So am I,’ he said eventually.

  The worst was past.

  He held her tighter, until eventually the weeping faded away, and her body became awkward and stiff. He let her go as she began wriggling to take a kerchief from her pocket. Wiping her streaky face and blowing her nose she made no apology for her tears and Vredech made no mention of them.

  ‘Where can we start?’ she said, clearing her throat.

  Vredech looked at her quizzically.

  ‘We have to do something, Allyn,’ she said, with some impatience. ‘Cassraw’s got to be stopped. This… thing… that’s taken over him is corrupting him totally. Whatever anyone else thinks, we know this. And these powers he’s developed.’ She shook her head. ‘Unbelievable.’ Unexpectedly, she smiled, and Vredech felt the room brighten. ‘A salutary lesson re-learned, Preacher,’ she said. ‘I should know by now not to allow the limits of my sorry imagination to dictate what is and is not possible.’

  Then, fleetingly and in contradiction to his previous fears, Vredech was afraid that she wouldnot venture forth to do battle by his side, but would sink into the familiar warmth of the room and the fire and the spell that House had woven for them, like a tiny field creature unaware of the approaching armies coming to trample over it. House’s magic, he knew now, should be valued for what it was, not what it seemed to be. But Nertha dispelled this concern.

  ‘Still,’ she said, ‘believable or not, it was as real as a broken leg.’ She gave Vredech an apologetic look. ‘And it was no party trick either. I’m sorry.’

  Vredech gave a dismissive wave then laboured himself up off his knees and sat down on his chair again. Nertha reached out and took his bruised hand. He winced as she manipulated his fingers then, satisfied that no serious harm had been done by the punch he had thrown, she gave a guilty chuckle and clicked her tongue. ‘Fisticuffs between the Brothers, eh? How Father would have laughed.’ There was more sadness than humour in her manner, however, and she returned his hand to him gently. Then, quite soberly, as though she were speaking to a normally conscientious student who had just made a careless mistake, she said, ‘If you’re going to hit someone in the face, use the heel of your open hand, not your fist. You might have been permanently crippled.’ She demonstrated as she spoke.

  Vredech gaped at this unexpected advice, but before he could respond, Nertha had leaned back, her face thoughtful. ‘It would help if we knew what it was that’s taken over Cassraw,’ she said.

  Vredech raised an eyebrow. It was the kind of obvious question that would probably never have occurred to him.

  ‘I suppose it would,’ he said vaguely. ‘But I don’t know…’

  A violent knocking on the Witness House door made both of them start. It went on long enough for Vredech to rise and move to the door of the room in some concern. As he opened it he heard House’s voice raised in indignation, then the knocking ceased. He paused, listening. Almost immediately House cried out. Vredech ran through into the hallway. House was standing by the open doorway while sprawled across the threshold was a man wearing the uniform of Cassraw’s Knights of Ishryth. Another man, short and strong-looking, and a tradesman judging by his clothes, was bending over him, trying to rouse him.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Vredech demanded sternly, thinking that the fallen man was drunk.

  ‘Please help me get him up, Brother,’ the kneeling man implored. ‘Please! I couldn’t think of anywhere else to come. I’m
sorry. Please help.’

  ‘You’re Yan-Elter, aren’t you?’ Vredech said, recalling the man’s name.

  ‘What’s happening?… Oh!’

  The exclamation came from Nertha, who had been drawn inexorably after Vredech. She pushed past him and knelt down by the fallen man, gently motioning Yan-Elter away. Vredech gave the man a reassuring nod. The sight of Nertha kneeling over the prone figure brought back the memory of Mueran, and Vredech found himself holding his breath. This time however, there was no resigned slump of the shoulders as she stood up.

  ‘Pick him up and bring him through here,’ she said authoritatively.

  Together, Vredech and Yan-Elter lifted the unconscious figure and manhandled him awkwardly into Vredech’s room, House following, wringing her hands anxiously. At Nertha’s further instruction they laid him on a long couch and she began to examine him. The man’s uniform was torn and soiled and his face was begrimed and bloody. ‘House, could you get me something to clean this young man up with, please, and some blankets?’ Nertha asked as she turned up the lanterns and lit another one.

  Vredech repeated his initial question to Yan-Elter as House left. ‘What’s going on, Yan?’

  ‘Is he going to be all right?’ Yan-Elter asked Nertha, ignoring Vredech. Nertha waved a hand for silence and continued her examination. Her manner brooked no interference and the man turned to Vredech.

  ‘Give her a moment,’ Vredech said, his manner softening. Catching Nertha’s eye for confirmation, he added, ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine.’ Then House entered carrying a bowl of water and some towels and the two men retreated before the subsequent bustle of female activity that eventually restored the unconscious man to some state of cleanliness.

  ‘He’s got bruises and abrasions, mainly to his arms and legs, and his ankle’s swelling up badly, although it doesn’t seem to be broken,’ Nertha concluded eventually, wiping her hands. ‘I’m not getting any signs of serious internal injury, but we’ll have to wait until he wakes up before I can check that properly.’ She directed an unexpectedly stern gaze on Yan-Elter and asked Vredech’s question again. ‘What’s been happening here?’ she demanded. ‘As far as I can tell, the main thing that’s wrong with him is that he’s absolutely exhausted.’ She turned to Vredech. ‘Those Knights of Cassraw’s looked the same.’