Roger Taylor: Whistler

Vredech looked up at the sky and then at his companions. The clouds were lower and more oppressive than ever. He could feel primitive fears stirring deep within him and, for a moment, he wanted to flee into the sanctuary of the Witness House like a frightened child. He had to make an unexpected effort to steady himself and, silently, but liberally, he blamed his friend for this disturbance.

Then he noticed that like the rest of the group, he was hunching his shoulders and bending his head forward as if the sky itself were pressing down on him. Consciously he straightened up and stared at the mountain in an attempt to focus his mind on the task at hand. The summit could not be seen from where they were, but he judged that in any case it was lost in the clouds by now. He quailed inwardly at the prospect of the bad weather ahead.

Still, it didn’t matter. Cassraw had to be found.

‘Come along, Brothers,’ he said, almost heartily. ‘We’ve nothing to gain by…’

‘A moment, Brother Vredech.’ Mueran’s voice interrupted him. The company at the top of the steps parted to let him through as he emerged from the Witness House. ‘I think a moment’s prayer for our lost Brother would not go amiss, don’t you?’

Anxious to be off, Vredech managed a commendably impassive expression as he bowed his head in response. He knew well enough that Mueran would take three times as long gently remonstrating with him if he debated the worth of this small exercise.

However, as Mueran, hands clasped and features studiously humble, tilted his head back into his usual preaching position, the lowering sky out-faced him, and for a moment he faltered.

‘Ishryth… we beseech You… guide the feet of our Brothers in their… and… keep our beloved Brother Cassraw from all harm… in his torment…’ He was both stuttering and gabbling.

Vredech took advantage of a momentary pause. ‘Thus let it be,’ he said firmly, in case Mueran should recover and begin his usual flow. The traditional response echoed uncertainly through the group, several of the Brothers casting sidelong glances at their revered leader to confirm that he had indeed finished.

Vredech bowed respectfully, then briskly motioned his party forward.

As they walked, there was some discussion about what exactly they should do. Should they divide into two or three parties, or stay together?

‘We’d better stay together for now,’ Vredech concluded. ‘Perhaps when we’re nearer the top we might split up – it depends what the weather’s like. We must be careful. We’re none of us as young as we were and it will certainly reach the Sheeters if we aggravate matters by getting lost ourselves and Mueran has to call in a rescue party from the town.’

They plodded on, stopping occasionally to allow the slower ones to catch up and recover their breath. The sky pressed down on them and the darkness deepened. It seeped inevitably into their conversation.

‘I’ve never seen clouds like this before. They’re neither snow, rain, nor thunder clouds.’ The speaker was Horld, a tall lanky individual who alone among the group seemed to be suffering no physical distress as they climbed. Once a blacksmith, he had turned to the church quite late in life after miraculously escaping from a disastrous fire at his forge. He was famous for the vividness of his preaching, which was permeated by the smoke, heat and clamour of his past trade, and though his pewside manner was the terror of his flock, his compassion and his practical pastoral care made him as much loved as he was feared. Vredech was glad that he had been at the Chapter meeting.

‘Judgement Day.’

Vredech started at these words which echoed the thoughts that had come when he had stepped out of the lee of the Witness House wall to stand alone and exposed before the gathering clouds.

‘An ominous phrase, Laffran,’ he said, struggling with a suddenly dry throat to affect a lightness that he did not feel.

‘Just came into my mind, Brother,’ Laffran said.

Horld grunted. ‘Judgement Day will be darker, hotter and noisier than this,’ he said dismissively, but there was an uneasy tension in his manner as he urged the group forward with an impatient gesture.

‘Yes, I’m sure it will. And I do believe that Ishryth would have given us some kind of a hint beforehand.’ Morem’s mild irreverence brought a stern frown from Horld, but seeing his older colleague suffering noticeably with the effort of the climb, he merely put an arm out to help him.

Vredech brought the conversation back to safer ground. ‘They are strange, though, these clouds,’ he said. ‘They must be piled unbelievably high to be so dark.’ He looked at Horld. ‘And you’re right, they don’t feel like rain or snow, and certainly not like thunder. Let’s just hope that whatever they are, they pass away as quietly as they’ve come.’

No one seemed inclined to pursue the matter, and the party moved slowly on up the increasingly steep ground. The light was beginning to fade. Vredech cursed himself for not bringing any lanterns, but he had not envisaged such darkness. He had been caught in the clouds many times before now, sometimes in extremely bad visibility, but this was almost like night-time.

‘We’ll have to stop,’ he said eventually. ‘This light’s appalling. It’s becoming too dangerous to carry on. One of us is going to be hurt if we do.’

‘We can’t just abandon Cassraw,’ Laffran objected.

‘No, Vredech’s right,’ Horld said gloomily. ‘We need lights. It’s going to be difficult enough just getting back to the Witness House, let alone trying to go on, and still less to actually look for Cassraw.’

There was a reluctance to accept this simple practical logic, however, and for a few minutes the party remained where they were, some resting on the rocks, others peering intently into the gloom.

Abruptly, Horld took Vredech’s arm and pointed. His hand was little more than a white blur now.

‘There,’ he whispered, as though afraid that the others might hear. Vredech screwed his eyes tight and leaned forward but could make nothing out. He shrugged.

‘Light,’ Horld said, still whispering. ‘Up there – see?’

Vredech was about to contradict him when he realized that there was indeed light coming from somewhere. In fact, it was coming from everywhere. Dim, but with a yellowish and, it seemed to Vredech, unhealthy tint, it was marking out the skyline ahead of them. The sight temporarily disorientated him, and for a moment he felt as though he were not truly there. He shook his head to clear his wits.

‘What is it?’ Laffran asked, his voice unsteady.

‘It’s the clouds near the summit,’ Vredech said slowly. ‘They seem to be shining. As if there’s something…’ He hesitated. ‘As if there’s something…’ Inside them , he found himself wanting to say. Something … evil. Thoughts flooded into his mind, imbued with a tingling, unreasoning alarm.

Judgement Day.

God is here.

He is come.

For me .

You’re like a child in the dark, he shouted silently to himself in an attempt to deafen this mounting inner clamour. He was only partially successful and when he concluded his remark with a lame, ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ he had difficulty in keeping his voice steady.

Horld grunted and with brusque practicality anchored Vredech back into solid reality. ‘Probably some kind of lightning,’ he announced. ‘Shall we go on?’

Vredech thought for a moment. Dark, half-formed fears were wrestling with his concern for Cassraw and, all too aware that he was mimicking Mueran, he looked around the group in an attempt to assess the consensus. Though he could see faces in the dim light, however, he could read no expressions. And, disturbingly, all eyes were turned into deep black sockets.