Roger Taylor - Whistler

Then Horld’s punishing grip was gone and his companion was once again a figure standing next to him, gazing upwards into the dull mottled grey of an ordinary winter sky. The rocks about them emerged from their entombment. The chill about them became the chill of a late winter’s day on the mountains, and a slight breeze began to blow.

Relief swept through Vredech, purging away the last few minutes of terror almost as if they had never been.

‘It’s over,’ he said, not knowing what he meant. ‘It’s over.’

A hand closed powerfully about his shoulder and a familiar, yet unfamiliar voice spoke.

‘No, my friends. It begins. It begins.’

Both men started violently and spun round. Horld lost his balance as he did so, but Cassraw’s hand on his shoulder stayed his fall and steadied him effortlessly. So heightened were Vredech’s senses by this sudden shock that he took in Cassraw’s entire appearance instantly. He saw the formal black cassock, elegant and well-made, torn and stained beyond repair, with bloody weals showing through several of the larger rents. He noted the grimy face and tousled hair, the scratched and bleeding hands. But, distressing though all this was, to Vredech it appeared to be only the surface manifestation of a far more profound change. For, despite his dark and soiled attire, Cassraw’s presence seemed to cut through the gloom as though a light from some distant place were shining on him, like unexpected sunlight striking through storm clouds.

And his eyes… Vredech started.

Were they black…

Not just the irises, but the entire orbs…

Like pits of night.

Vredech had scarcely registered this chilling impression than it was gone and Cassraw was again nothing more than his familiar friend, battered and bruised but seemingly whole, and carefully supporting Horld.

Horld, however, was less than grateful, for all that Cassraw had probably saved him from an unpleasant fall. He yanked his arm free and the blacksmith in him opened his mouth and began to abuse Cassraw roundly for the folly of his sudden and silent approach. Cassraw did not respond, but merely stared at him and smiled absently. Meeting no opposition, Horld’s tirade foundered awkwardly and the obligations of his latter day calling returned to reproach him for his intemperance. Thus, after a few terse but vivid sentences, his rebukes began to be leavened with more charitable and concerned observations about his returned colleague. Still Cassraw made no reply, though his smile became knowing, like an understanding parent waiting patiently for his clamouring children to fall silent.

‘Where have you been? What’s happened to you?’ Vredech asked a few times while Horld’s tirade was plunging on, but even as this faltered into silence so his own questions died. He would receive no answers; he knew this as plainly as if Cassraw had placed his dirt-stained hand across his mouth to silence him.

Then Cassraw was holding their arms and motioning them down the mountain. His grip, though not painful, was quite irresistible and, for a little way, Horld and Vredech found themselves carried along by it. The ground was too uneven for walking thus for long, and after a little while Cassraw released his charges and set off on his own. His pace was not that of a man who had just careened recklessly up a mountain or suffered some great ordeal, and Vredech and Horld fell steadily further behind him.

When he reached the rest of the group waiting on Ishryth’s lawn, Cassraw was not only quite a way ahead of his would-be rescuers, but he looked much fresher than they did.

The Chapter Brothers milled around him, bombarding him with questions, but he did not acknowledge any of them other than by nodding occasionally and smiling mysteriously. The questions were redirected towards Horld and Vredech as soon as they arrived but all they could do was shrug.

‘We didn’t find him, he found us. He was there behind us when the darkness vanished. And no, he hasn’t said anything since then,’ they replied several times, by some common consent not referring to the enigmatic remark with which he had greeted them.

Morem had trained as a physician when younger and though he had subsequently chosen the church as his vocation, he still had considerable skill as a healer. ‘He’s probably in shock,’ he offered quietly. ‘It takes people in odd ways. He looks an awful mess but at least he doesn’t appear to be seriously injured. We shouldn’t pester him. He may be more fragile than he looks. I think perhaps we should just go back and let things take their course. He’ll tell us what happened when he’s ready.’

Even as he was speaking however, Cassraw was moving off again. He went to the rocky edge where, a little earlier, Vredech had stood and stared out into a terrifying black emptiness. Now, though the light was grey and wintry, the scene was more familiar. The lights of Troidmallos could be seen twinkling far below, and the shapes of most of the adjacent mountains could be made out. Cassraw’s head moved from side to side as he reviewed the dull panorama, then he nodded to himself very slowly and unfolded his arms until they were held out wide as though he wished to embrace the entire country.

His companions watched in silence, not so much following Morem’s advice as simply not knowing what to do. They had little time to ponder, however, for, his brief contemplation over, Cassraw was once again determining the course of events. Striding across Ishryth’s lawn he headed towards the gully that would start the descent back to the Witness House.

The return journey gave the Brothers no great insight into Cassraw’s condition. In fact, it served only to compound their confusion as Cassraw, though remaining relentlessly silent, continued to take effective command of the group, moving back and forth amongst them, patiently supporting and helping the frailer Brothers who were now beginning to feel the strain of their strange journey.

Finally the Witness House was in sight.

Cassraw stopped on a rocky spur and looked down at it in an almost proprietorial manner, then he turned and stared towards the summit of the Ervrin Mallos. After a moment he nodded to himself as he had at the edge of Ishryth’s lawn. It seemed to Vredech that Cassraw was making a decision.

As the group, moving slowly and wearily now, wended its way down the final slopes towards the Witness House, they were greeted by Mueran and several of the other Chapter Members. Mueran had led them forth when the darkness had disappeared, after carefully ensuring that all the novices and servants were kept occupied elsewhere in the building. Vredech thought he noticed a momentary flash of anger in Cassraw’s eyes as he caught sight of the Covenant Member approaching, but it was gone before he could register it fully.

He could read the debate in Mueran’s eyes, however, even if it lasted only a little longer than Cassraw’s seeming anger. Was his greeting to be a rebuke, or a welcome?

Mueran’s face became pained and he opened his arms wide. It was to be a welcome.

‘Brother Cassraw,’ he said. ‘We’ve been greatly alarmed for you.’ He looked around at the others. ‘For all of you. The darkness seemed to deepen so after you’d left.’ He glanced up at the sky. ‘I never thought I’d be so glad to see such a dismal wintry sky, but…’ He chuckled genially in an attempt to lessen the tension but the sound jarred and he concluded awkwardly, ‘Ishryth be praised for carrying the darkness from us anyway.’

Cassraw fixed him with a stern gaze. ‘Ishryth’s will is written on this day truly,’ he said, unexpectedly breaking his silence.

Unnerved by Cassraw’s stare and uncertain how to respond, Mueran nodded non-committally and said weakly, ‘We’ve warm food and a good fire for you all inside.’