Whistler

by Roger Taylor

  Where Vredech had felt parochial at unexpectedly meeting these foreigners, he now felt small and insignificant. Beyond the mountains was tantamount to being on the moon for most of the people of Gyronlandt, and he was no exception. He had heard that occasionally, travellers from the lands to the north would come through the mountains to some of the countries along the northern boundary of Gyronlandt, but to actually meet such people…

  It tore open the tight cocoon of his own concerns and for a moment he felt disorientated as this brief insight into a larger world sank in.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he heard Darke asking.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Vredech replied, a little embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. You surprised me.’ Then, as his cocoon sought to make itself whole again, he asked sharply, ‘Why are you here? There’s precious few people in Gyronlandt bother to come to Canol Madreth. Why should such as you, from so far away? There are richer, more exciting states in Gyronlandt to lure travellers.’

  Darke did not reply at once, but his hand twitched nervously. As did Tirec’s.

  Vredech’s emotions, still unsteady, swung to suspicion. ‘You said you knew of me. Have you sought me out on purpose?’ he demanded.

  Darke smiled broadly and shook his head. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘We came to Troidmallos on purpose, but finding you here, now, was…’ He shrugged. ‘Fate, destiny, whatever you choose to call it. Personally I’m quite happy to settle for chance. I think, however, that we would have sought you out in due course.’

  Vredech allowed his suspicions to show. ‘Whyhave you come to Troidmallos, then? And why would you want to see me?’ he asked. Darke’s smile faded and a slight spasm of pain passed over his face. He reached up and massaged his shoulder. This time it was Vredech who inquired, ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ Darke replied. ‘I hurt it falling off a horse once. It gets a little stiff sometimes.’ He gave his shoulder a final shake. ‘And I can’t answer your question, not directly. As much as anything, we’ve been drawn here.’

  ‘Drawn?’

  Darke glanced at his companion, as if for advice.

  ‘Ask him, he’ll understand. He’s the one we need to speak to,’ Tirec said, answering the unspoken question. He gave an urgent nod of encouragement. ‘This place is frightening me to death. We need to know.’

  Vredech frowned at this enigmatic remark. Darke fumbled with the copy of the Sheet, then placed it carefully in his pocket.

  ‘Brother Vredech,’ he said. ‘Bear with me, please. I’ll tell you what I can, but I need your help first.’ He did not wait for a reply. ‘We’ve learned many things since we came here, just by listening to gossip and asking the occasional question. Please tell me if I’m inaccurate in any particulars.’ Vredech’s frown deepened, but Darke continued. ‘Several months ago, a darkness came over this land. Your colleague, Cassraw, stormed up into this darkness in a great rage. When he returned, he believed he had been chosen by your deity, Ishryth, to bring about some great “purifying” of the land, for want of a better word. And since that time, your country has begun a seemingly unstoppable plunge into decay and disorder.’ He watched Vredech carefully. ‘We’ve heard, too, that he’s been given certain powers. Powers that he used the other night to control the rain. Is this a reasonable gathering of what’s happened?’

  ‘It is,’ Vredech said. ‘But…’

  Darke brought his finger to his lips for silence, at once apologetic and authoritative. ‘We’ve heard also that you, and a Brother… Horld, I think was the name… went after Cassraw on that day, and we know that you’ve been gently striving to oppose what he’s been doing since his return.’ His gaze allowed Vredech no escape. ‘Although I’m a complete stranger to you, Brother Vredech, I’ll ask you to trust me,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask you to tell me what happened to you when you went up into that darkness after Cassraw, and what you think has happened to him.’

  Vredech opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry. ‘Who are you?’ was all he could manage.

  ‘We are who we say we are,’ Darke replied. ‘Travellers and scholars. And I’ll tell you what I can in a moment, as I promised, but please, tell me what happened to you that day. And since.’

  Vredech looked away from Darke and caught Tirec’s eye. Though the younger man was striving to hide it, there was fear in his eyes, and Tirec did not give the impression of a man who frightened easily. Slowly, Vredech lowered his head and closed his eyes.

  ‘In your travels, have you ever heard of a man called the Whistler?’ he asked into the darkness. ‘A legend – a story, perhaps?’

  He was aware of Darke shifting awkwardly beside him. ‘I’ve heard all manner of tales about pipers, flute-players, whistlers, in different places. In some he walks in dreams, in others he walks strange worlds, worlds like this but in some way beyond, his tunes building the bridges between, or binding them together. Some say he’s mad, some say he’s a great righter of wrongs, a fighter of evil. Some tell of him as a man trapped in his own dream.’

  ‘Are there worlds beyond this, Traveller?’ Vredech asked. ‘Worlds around us that are here, yet not here?’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘I’ve heard it said so, and by people wiser than me by far,’ Darke replied eventually. ‘It’s a disturbing thought, enough to shake any man’s sanity. Why do you ask?’

  Vredech did not reply, but let out a long breath. Then he opened his eyes and looked up. A small flurry of raindrops cascaded from the leaves above. Most fell on the grass at his feet, twinkling momentarily despite the dullness, but a few fell cold on his hair. He ran his hand over them.

  It occurred to him that he had slipped into another world again and that the two men were of his own creating. But did it matter? he thought. No harm had come to him previously from such excursions. Indeed, on the last occasion it had perhaps saved Nertha from some dreadful fate and, in involving Horld, much good had come of it. He could see now that, each time, he had come away a little wiser. Suddenly, it was as though a keystone had fallen into place, locking together disparate and unstable parts into a solid whole. He was in the world he had always known. And he would know in future when it was otherwise, though he could not have defined the source of this new certainty.

  Then, without preamble, he told Darke and Tirec what had happened on the mountain and since. He made no mention of his own pain or of his meetings with the Whistler, and he spoke in unconscious imitation of Darke, simply and straightforwardly.

  As he talked, he saw the fear in Tirec’s eyes grow, and pain appear in Darke’s. When he had finished, they both remained silent.

  ‘I’ve thought myself mad on more than one occasion these past months,’ Vredech admitted, ‘battling endlessly with screaming doubts.’ Then, slowly, he asked, ‘What does this mean to you?’

  Neither replied for some time, then Tirec stood up and began pacing fretfully. He spoke to Darke in his own language, though the strangeness of it could not disguise the fear-driven anger that filled it.

  Darke looked at him, then very gently said, ‘Of course it’s true. We’ve known it all along.’ He rubbed his shoulder again. ‘We’ve just not had the courage to accept it.’

  Tirec seemed disposed to argue the point, but Darke motioned him to sit. ‘And speak Madren in front of Brother Vredech,’ he said, with a hint of sternness. Tirec sat down heavily.

  Vredech waited. He was about to repeat his question when Darke began to speak. ‘In our land, we know of the one you call Ishryth,’ he said.

  Vredech could not contain his surprise. ‘You worship as we do?’ he asked.

  Darke smiled, rather sadly Vredech thought, and shook his head. ‘No, we accord all things respect, in so far as we are able, but we worship nothing and no one.’

  ‘But…’

  Darke held up his hand for silence.

  ‘This may be hard for you,’ he said, ‘but it’s known that from the Great Heat at the beginning of this world, Ishryth and his three companions – the Watch
ers, I think you call them – emerged and, through a time that we cannot measure, shaped the world as we know it, and all that’s in it.’

  ‘“Known”?’ Vredech queried, briefly a theologian again. ‘Believed, surely.’

  Darke shook his head. ‘Known,’ he confirmed. ‘As certainly as anything past can be known. There are unbroken lines of recorded thought back through the ages to the time when he walked amongst men.’

  Vredech was suddenly alarmed. Was he dealing with people whose religious beliefs were as primitive and simplistic as those to which Cassraw was reverting?

  ‘I see your doubts,’ Darke went on, ‘and I understand them. Just accept what I say for the time being. There’s a body of knowledge available which will withstand your finest scholarship, believe me. We’re a clear-sighted and inquiring people.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘But that’s by the by. Suffice it that Ishryth and his companions existed and did what they did. So also did the creature you call Ahmral. It’s said that He, too, came from the same Great Heat, but even Ishryth did not know this. What He did is touched on in your Santyth. He took on human form… or perhaps already possessed it… and destroyed Ishryth’s work wherever He could, the focus of His greatest endeavours always being the destruction of life. Men were His most apt pupils, His greatest allies.’

  ‘And in the Last Battle He ventured forth amid the pitiless slaughter of men by men, seeking to slay Ishryth, unarmed and at prayer. But around their Lord stood a circle of his Chosen, barbed sharp with spear and sword, and seeing it, Ahmral faltered and was brought low. And with the passing of His body so was His spirit scattered. Yet His teachings lingered.’

  Darke nodded in response to Vredech’s quotation from the Santyth. ‘That is from what you call the Lesser Books, is it not?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ Vredech replied. ‘Its origins are uncertain and it’s read as an allegory.’

  ‘It’s no allegory,’ Darke said starkly. ‘It’s substantially accurate.’

  Vredech frowned. Darke cut through his thinking. ‘I appreciate you’ve no way of knowing this, but I’m neither simpleton, madman nor jester, Brother Vredech,’ he said, with unexpected authority. ‘I am, however, a long way from home and the people I need to speak to about what’s happening here – the same people who could show you the truth of what I’m going to tell you. And, like Tirec here, I’m also desperately afraid about what we’re discovering.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Vredech said.

  ‘Say nothing for the moment, just listen,’ Darke replied. As if he could no longer contain it, strain showed suddenly on his face. ‘Ask whatever questions you wish when I’ve finished.’

  ‘Very well,’ Vredech said, though with some reluctance.

  Darke began. ‘Several years ago, through a combination of evil chances and, sadly, our neglect, Ahmral rose again. Took mortal form again.’ Vredech’s eyes widened but he managed to stay silent. ‘And too, His ancient lieutenants – those you call the Uleryn – were roused. They were out in the world raising armies to free Him from the bleak land where we unwittingly surrounded Him, before it was discovered what had happened.’ He paused before continuing, though whether to marshal his thoughts or to contain some powerful emotion, Vredech could not tell. ‘I’ll spare you the details, but in the end, like a faint echo of earlier times, an alliance was formed and battles were fought and He and His Uleryn were destroyed.’ Then in a tone that cut through Vredech in its pain, ‘As we thought.’

  Vredech wanted to be able to laugh out loud into the silence that followed; to dismiss this rambling nonsense out of hand, to declare these two strangers obviously deranged. But Darke’s telling had wrapped about him like a damp, clinging sheet, binding him, chilling him, with an awful certainty.

  ‘He’s come again,’ he heard himself saying. It was not a question.

  ‘His hand is here, for sure,’ Darke said. ‘I can offer no stern logic for this, but my every instinct tells me that dreadful events are in the offing. Your Cassraw does His will. And there is a strangeness lingering visibly about the summit of your holy mountain the like of which I’ve never seen before. Nor Tirec, and he was born to mountains.’

  Bridgehead,’ Vredech said softly.

  Darke’s brow furrowed quizzically.

  ‘A foothold in enemy territory,’ Vredech continued. ‘To it, He will come, and through it pass amongst us. He waits only for the temple that Cassraw will build, then…’ He left the conclusion unspoken.

  Darke and Tirec glanced at one another.

  ‘What makes you say that?’ Tirec asked.

  ‘Who slew Him?’ Vredech asked, ignoring the question. The two men looked at him uncertainly. ‘Who slew Him?’ he said again with some force. ‘Ahmral! You said He was destroyed. Who destroyed Him? Who wielded the sword? Did you see Him slain? Did you see His body?’

  ‘We were… nearby,’ Darke said after some hesitation. ‘But no man slew Him. He destroyed Himself.’

  ‘Be specific,’ Vredech said coldly, his father’s voice echoing through his head as he spoke. It was a command that his two listeners seemed to appreciate.

  ‘This will not be easy,’ Darke said.

  Vredech gave a grim laugh. ‘This was never going to be an easy day,’ he said. ‘Just tell me your tale.’

  ‘As you wish,’ Darke replied, though again, his face was pained. ‘He was destroyed because He believed that a flickering remnant of Ishryth’s conscious spirit was in fact Ishryth re-born, as He had been. In His rage – or terror – He unleashed such power that His human frame could not contain it and was destroyed utterly, as was the great citadel that He had built.’

  But Vredech scarcely heard the tale. ‘What do you mean, a flickering remnant?’ he exclaimed. ‘Ishryth is the Source and Creator of all things – this world, the stars, the whole universe. He is Supreme.’

  Darke cut across his outburst. ‘Ishryth came from the beginning of this world, and formed it thus. What was before, no one knows. What he is, or was, no one knows, save that for a time he took human form. But he did not create this world, still less the stars. If there is a Supreme Being, it is not Ishryth. And how could we frame such a creature in our puny minds? Two things Ishryth said as he faded from the final conflict. That he was amongst us all now, and that both he and Ahmral were aberrations of the Great Heat from which they came. Make of that what you will.’

  Fabric’s torn, ‘fore all was born.

  Vredech felt as though he had been suddenly plunged into freezing water. He began to gasp for breath. As he had in the strange night meeting with Horld on the Ervrin Mallos, he felt his mind lurching into darkness, all points of familiarity, of anchorage, gone. What were these two men? Were they indeed creations of his own? Was the Whistler? Were they Ahmral’s demons taunting him?

  But no sooner did these thoughts appear than they vanished, and the certainty that had formed about him earlier returned. He could not test Darke’s story, subject it to any theological rigour, but it was as if it had reached below his thinking mind and shone a light into the doubts and hesitations he had fearfully stored there over the years. He felt the death of many things that he had accepted as articles of faith, but there was no true pain, no sense of loss. He had been given more questions than answers, but they were wise questions and asked in a wider, more wondrous world. He had told Nertha that his faith was changing but now, at the touch of this story, he saw that, as a dried and shrivelled seed becomes a flower, or a caterpillar a butterfly, so his faith had been transformed into something far greater than it had ever been.

  He was who he was and he was where he was. And still he must do what he had set out to do, though it cost him his life. But now, there was hope. Now he was no longer pitted against a supernatural evil rooted in the essence of creation, but against the all-too-human evil he had heard exulting as it took possession of Cassraw on the Ervrin Mallos.

  He looked at Darke. The man’s face was full of pain and guilt. ‘Don’t reproach yourself,’
Vredech said. ‘The truth is always to be preferred to ignorance, however painful. And I’m in your debt more than I could begin to explain to you. Tell me now why you’re here.’

  Darke looked as though he wanted to pursue further the hurt he might have done, but Vredech’s manner gave him no opportunity.

  ‘Ahmral returned because of our negligence and our ignorance,’ he said uncomfortably. ‘Now many of us are travelling the world. Some to seek out enemies who fled after the battle and who must be brought to account, others…’ He indicated Tirec and himself. ‘… just to learn more of the world beyond our own self-satisfied boundaries. And to see how far and how deeply His teachings had spread.’

  ‘And now you’ve found Him whom you’d thought destroyed?’

  ‘It would seem so. We heard and felt both His death scream and the destruction of His citadel. They were not things to be either misunderstood or forgotten. And those skilled in such matters pronounced Him gone. Yet…’

  ‘Yet the stink of Him is all around you?’

  Darke nodded. ‘An apt phrase,’ he said.

  ‘I heard it from someone else who knows Him,’ Vredech said. Darke’s eyes widened, but before he could speak, Vredech asked, ‘What will you do?’

  Darke shook his head. ‘I don’t know. We could try to destroy Cassraw, I suppose, but I doubt we’d get close enough from what we’ve seen of him so far. And we know from experience that people who have gained such powers are often armoured in ways we cannot understand. But what did you mean by “someone else who knows him”?’

  ‘You must return to your own people,’ Vredech said. ‘Tell them everything you’ve heard and seen.’ He leaned forward earnestly. ‘And tell them this. It’s important. Thereare worlds beyond this. I cannot say how and why, but I’ve been drawn to them of late, and it’s shaken my sanity to the core. But they are there as surely as we are here. And somewhere, spread through and between them, distorting, twisting, His spirit exists still. He’s done hurt in other places than this. Perhaps it’s there He must be sought, I don’t know. And tell your people, too, that though He is still strong by our lights, He was grievously weakened by what you did to Him.’ He held Darke’s gaze. ‘Will you tell them this?’