Roger Taylor - Whistler

Some of the Knights moved as if to intervene, but a swift flurry of blows sent three of them reeling back crying out in pain and nursing elbows and wrists. The remainder lost interest in defending their fallen leader. Skynner pressed home his advantage. ‘And if it proves we’re under militia rule at the moment, then you know what the punishment for attacking a Keeper is, don’t you?’

They didn’t. Nor did Skynner for that matter, but there was too much menace in his voice for debate.

‘Take those stupid masks off, drop those knives and get over there out of my way. And don’t move.’ Although the Keepers were outnumbered, Skynner’s authority and his grim-faced companions, watching them, batons drawn, ensured acquiescence, reducing the sinister masked Knights to a group of surly young men.

Skynner turned back to Dowinne, who had stood transfixed as these events took place. What he saw almost unnerved him. It was as though he were looking into the eyes of a wild and cornered animal. Something deep stirred within him. ‘Kill this or flee,’ it said, but habit held him there and he simply took his eyes from hers.

‘Let’s look at your husband, lady,’ he said, kneeling down by Cassraw. At the same time he motioned one of his men to go to Vredech. Jarry, he could see, was dead. Before he could begin examining Cassraw, however, he was interrupted by an angry female voice.

‘Let me through, damn you.’

Looking up, he saw Nertha pushing her way through the crowd. He snapped his fingers and two of his men went to help her. When she reached the podium, she stepped over Cassraw’s body without a glance, and went straight to Vredech. Dowinne made to move towards her, but Skynner discreetly detained her.

‘Where was he hit?’ Nertha demanded of no one in particular as she examined Vredech.

‘He wasn’t hit,’ one of the Knights volunteered. ‘He just fell over.’

Nertha carefully lifted one of Vredech’s eyelids, then quickly released it and stood up. ‘He’s just unconscious,’ she said, though Skynner sensed an awkwardness about her. ‘Keep away from him, please. Give him air.’

She looked sadly at Jarry’s body then moved to Cassraw. At first her examination was almost off-hand. Then she became alert. ‘He’s alive!’ she said, her voice soft and urgent. She looked around. ‘Get these people out of here and get me some proper light.’ She began unfastening Cassraw’s robe.

Dowinne stepped forward. ‘No,’ she said forcefully.

Nertha looked at her with a mixture of anger and amazement. ‘He’ll be bleeding like a pig under this lot,’ she said brutally. ‘Looking at where he was stabbed he’s lucky to be alive, but he won’t stay that way unless…’

‘The Chosen One will lose no blood,’ Dowinne said stiffly. She signalled to the Knights. ‘Take him up and bring him to the summit of the Holy Mountain.’

‘What?’ Nertha exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. ‘Are you mad?’ She turned to Skynner. ‘You can’t let her do this. She’s insane, for pity’s sake. He’s liable to die if we try to move him to the Sick House, let alone up the Ervrin Mallos.’

Skynner looked at her. ‘Best for everyone if he did,’ she read in his eyes, and for a moment she faltered, understanding Skynner’s stern and practical compassion for what might follow if Cassraw survived, and remembering again all that happened over the last few days.

But still she could not let him die if some effort on her part might save him.

‘Serjeant.’ Dowinne’s voice interrupted the silent exchange. ‘See that he’s taken as I’ve commanded. Immediately.’ She turned to Nertha and inclined her head towards Vredech. ‘You look to your… brother,’ she said, a sneer breaking through her cold haughtiness.

Nertha’s eyes narrowed and her jaw tautened but she said only, ‘He’ll die if you move him.’

‘No,’ Dowinne said, cold still and categorical. She turned to the Knights with a commanding air. Skynner nodded, and they moved forward and picked up Cassraw’s body. Nertha winced at the action and looked again at Skynner, her eyes anxious.

‘Leave it,’ he said simply. ‘Tend to Allyn.’ She was about to remonstrate with him further, when he turned her round gently and said, ‘Look.’

With Dowinne leading the way, Cassraw’s body was being borne on the shoulders of his Knights down the central aisle of the Debating Chamber. Without any command the crowd had fallen silent and opened a way for the slow procession. Many were circling their hands over their hearts and, as the body passed, they fell in behind it, heads bowed.

‘Like worshippers,’ Skynner said, suddenly afraid.

The diamond-hard nothingness that was Allyn Vredech’s awareness hovered amid the flickering lights and shapes that were there and not there, and which danced to the endless gibbering chorus of sounds that could and could not be heard.

It was no longer unfamiliar, but still it disturbed.

Between the dreams, he thought.

Timelessly he waited.

Then into the awareness came memories of the PlasHein. Of his own failure, of Jarry demented, of blood and confusion, of Cassraw falling, Dowinne raging.

Why was he here?

Was it all over? Was Cassraw dead? Had poor simple Jarry with his clear, tormented vision succeeded where he, with his self-indulgent agonizing, had failed?

Futile questions, he knew. However he had come here, he was helpless and, as always, he felt incomplete. Something was missing – something that would guide him.

Then he sensed danger somewhere in this lost, dimensionless world. Terrible danger. The lights and shapes swirling about him became agitated and jagged, slicing and glinting like a myriad tumbling knife-blades. And a swollen redness rose to taint everything. Fear threatened to overwhelm him, but he could do nothing; could not move, could not scream. And soon, in so far as time meant anything here, for this was all that had ever been, he would be tumbling through this fearful, menacing chaos…

A presence stirred.

Vredech was filled with sensations utterly alien to him, strange, overwhelming scents, each bearing its own message, and sounds that should be beyond hearing, acutely heard. And overlying all, a musky lethargy shot through with lusts and greed.

This was not his, yet it would suffice .

The sudden knowledge came from deep within, and though it made no sense to him, yet it was true.

‘What are you?’ he asked into the presence.

The question echoed back through him.

‘I am Allyn Vredech,’ he replied and, though the words merely flickered over the surface of the true meaning, ‘You are my Guide.’

There was bewilderment and denial. ‘I’m Leck. I’m Privv’s. This can’t be.’

Vredech was suddenly angry, as if he were being defied. ‘This is ,’ he said brutally. ‘Do what you have to do. Guide me, guard me.’

Realization flooded through him – Leck’s realization. This was how it should be. This was her true task. Briefly a surge of regret for things done, time wasted, soured the knowledge, then, though Vredech felt no movement, she was leading him down, through, along, the tangled dreamways of which he was now a part. The bond between them, new-formed though it was, would lead the cat to the place where they were needed.

There was no time to ponder the many thoughts floundering in the wake of this journey.

And, without any sense of change, he was there. He was Cassraw, standing motionless, staring at the summit of the Ervrin Mallos. It moved uneasily within a shifting haze. Vredech had stood in the dreams of others before, albeit briefly, and felt their emotions and thoughts while remaining aloof from them, but here such unbridled desire pulsated that nothing could have protected him from its impact!