Roger Taylor - Whistler

Leck’s distant frenzy redoubled itself. It stirred something deep within Vredech, and even as he was about to step forth on the road before him, the knowledge rose to the surface, scorching in its urgency.

‘You are in the dream of a dead man. Flee!’

It was primitive and irresistible, like the force that powers the struggles of a drowning man.

‘Allyn…’ repeated the voice, still honeyed and alluring, but now Vredech saw to its corrupted heart and he shouted.

‘To me, Leck! To me! I hear you!’

And suddenly the clawing, slashing presence of the cat was all about him and he was tumbling over and over, caught up in its killing fury.

Then he was free of the dreadful lure and crashing through into wakefulness. But even as he did, to his horror, he felt Leck’s heart bursting.

‘Too ignorant. Didn’t know,’ the cat gasped feebly. ‘All my life. Didn’t know. Sorry. And not truly yours. There is a companion for you somewhere. Learn what you are, Allyn Vredech. This isn’t finished yet.’

And spiralling, dwindling, into a never-attainable distance, she was gone.

‘ No! ’ Vredech cried.

He lurched forward.

Skynner felt the hairs on his neck stand on end as he looked at Dowinne, her crazed eyes staring at him, the bloodstained knife extended in front of her and her gore-covered hand beckoning him forward. Dealing with women who tipped over into violence was always particularly frightening because of their almost suicidal lack of restraint in such circumstances. And dealing with someone wielding a knife had its own special terrors. But it was not simply the combination of these two fears that was disturbing him. It was something else. Something namelessly awful.

Then Dowinne canted her head as if she was listening to someone and her eyes rolled upwards, replacing their manic stare with a dead whiteness. But Skynner could still feel her gaze on him.

‘As You will, Lord,’ she said.

Her eyes closed and she sank to the ground.

Vredech scrambled rapidly to his feet and looked around wildly. He was at the summit of the Ervrin Mallos. Rain was drizzling down and all about was greyness.

‘Allyn!’ The cry was accompanied by a vigorous shaking of his arm. Terrified, he snatched himself free and spun round poised to defend himself, only to see Nertha, her eyes wide with fear. ‘For pity’s sake, what’s happened? Where are we?’

Without thinking he put his arms around her and held her tightly. He wanted to say, ‘Don’t be afraid,’ but he couldn’t. There had always been truth between them, and it held even now. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Just stand by me. And be aware.’

‘Allyn, how can this be?’ Nertha burst out. ‘Tell me I’m dreaming.’

Vredech shook her. ‘Listen,’ he shouted. ‘You’re not dreaming. I don’t know how or why we’re here, but as you love me, stand by me.’ He closed his eyes. He was different. Something within him had been awakened by his mysterious contact with Leck. ‘We are here,’ he said softly. ‘And we are in the Witness House also. I can feel it.’ His voice was full of awe, then a hint of irony came into it. ‘Asleep to anyone who sees us.’

Nertha looked at him, still fearful. ‘This is madness,’ she said. ‘I am dreaming.’

‘No,’ Vredech said. ‘This place is as surely as Troidmallos is. Whether it should be or whether we should be in it, I don’t know. I’ve no answers to any of your questions, but trust your senses, and be alert. Something dreadful’s happened. I think Cassraw’s dead.’

Nertha clutched at his hand, her grip desperate. She was taking slow deep breaths, her mind demanding control over her shaking body. ‘We can’t be in two places at once, it’s not possible,’ she muttered, as if she needed to hear the words spoken out loud before she could continue.

‘This is the darkness where your ability to measure ends,’ Vredech said. ‘You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?’

‘Not at noon,’ Nertha retorted immediately.

A smile formed inside Vredech at this hint of recovery, but it barely reached his face, so strained did he feel.

‘“Fabric’s torn ‘fore all was born”,’ he quoted.

‘I wondered who would come to this dismal place in such weather.’

The voice made both of them start, for all that Vredech recognized it. The Whistler emerged from behind a rock. He looked at Vredech thoughtfully. ‘I was going to call you “night eyes”, but I see you’re not any more.’ He flicked the flute to his eye and squinted along it. ‘It’s a marked improvement,’ he said. ‘You look almost human.’ Then, before Vredech could reply, the Whistler turned his attention to Nertha. His eyes gleamed, at once mocking and lustful. ‘Ah, you must be the sister who isn’t a sister. The wonderful Nertha.’ He held out his hand. ‘My dear, you’re as lovely as I’d imagined. Quite the kind of dream I prefer. I can see why my man here is so taken with you.’

Nertha’s eyes narrowed, but out of a mixture of courtesy and curiosity, she took the offered hand, at the same time tightening her grip on Vredech’s. Vredech looked on darkly. ‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ the Whistler said. He carried the hand to his mouth and kissed it with a flourish. ‘I am your…’ he paused. ‘… your maker, I suppose.’

Vredech leaned forward and placed a significant forefinger on the Whistler’s chest. ‘Truce, Whistler,’ he said. ‘Who’s dreaming whom no longer matters. We need to be back in our own world, something bad’s afoot.’

The Whistler looked down at the finger. ‘Martial as ever, eh, Priest?’ he said, releasing Nertha’s hand lingeringly and smiling massively at her. Then he shrugged. ‘My dreams pursue their own course, Allyn, you know that,’ he said, but suddenly there was pain in his eyes. ‘He’s here, isn’t He? All around us. Stinking the air.’

Vredech felt Nertha’s grip on his hand tightening again. He had been so preoccupied with tending to her distress at their mysterious arrival in this place that he had not noticed but, as the Whistler said, the presence of the spirit that had infected Cassraw was permeating everything.

‘Damn you, Priest,’ the Whistler burst out angrily. ‘Must it always come to this? Must I always have to face Him myself? Why didn’t you kill Him like I told you to?’

‘Cassraw is dead,’ Vredech shouted back at him. ‘I was in his dream as he died. He nearly took me with him.’ Then, furiously, ‘Why don’t you play your damned flute and whistle off to some other place if you don’t like this one? Leave us alone! We’ll get back somehow.’

Unexpectedly, the Whistler sagged and looked down at his flute. ‘I daren’t,’ he said uncomfortably. ‘It’s too… sensitive. It always is when He comes too close. I daren’t play it. Everything’s too fragile – so many worlds come together. The least note opens so many, and I’ve not the skill to separate them. No control.’ He leaned forward confidentially, and spoke softly. ‘I’m frightened, Allyn. I think perhaps I’m on the verge of waking when it’s like this, but what’s waiting for me when I wake? Am I some sick lunatic bound in a cell for my own good? Or a miserable labouring peasant languishing in a hovel? Then, perhaps again, I’m about to die. But in either case, where will you be when I abandon you?’ He gazed up into the greyness about them, waving his hand, fingers twitching. ‘You’ll be nothing. Gone. All of my creations, gone.’

Torn between compassion for the Whistler’s patent distress and fury at his own confusion and helplessness, Vredech could only stare at him.