Roger Taylor: Whistler

That settled it. Whatever strangeness had just touched him must be left for later consideration. Now he must attend to the matter in hand.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, affecting a heartiness that he certainly did not feel. ‘It was just a little dizziness.’ He nodded towards Horld. ‘You’re probably right. I was walking too fast and fretting about Cassraw, and all in this awful light. I’m fine now. Let’s press on a little further.’

Horld grunted non-committally. Vredech was certain that had the light been better he would have seen doubt written all over the tall man’s face, so he avoided the risk of any further debate by striding out purposefully. The hasty scuffling from behind told him that his immediate problem was over; his decisive action had ended any further interrogation and ensured the continuation of the search. Though the questions set in train by what had just happened were clamouring frantically for attention, he somehow forced them to one side. He was on the Ervrin Mallos, in the dark, looking for his demented friend, in the company of none too robust a team of walkers. He must remain alert, watch and listen for any signs of Cassraw or distress amongst his companions and, not least, he reminded himself, watch his every footstep. Carelessness here could see him pitched over some crag, thereby enabling him to learn the answer to some of life’s great mysteries the hard way. The notion made him smile to himself despite his concerns.

‘Not so fast, Vred,’ came a reproachful cry from behind. He turned to see his companions some way back, dim figures struggling through the gloom. Reaching out, he rested his hand on a nearby rock. Its cold damp touch felt reassuring. It was here, now, and so was he. He felt lighter.

‘Sorry,’ he shouted back. ‘Must have got my second wind.’

There were complaints when everyone finally caught up.

‘We should have gone back for some lanterns…’

‘And more help…’

Vredech looked up at the clouds before replying. The dull, wavering yellow light still pervaded them. It had a sickly hue and it illuminated little, but at least it kept total darkness at bay. For a brief, dizzying moment he felt that he was looking not up, but down: down into some terrible pit, into the very eye of whatever it was that had touched him. He jerked his attention back to his companions.

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘We’ve come a long way and there’s just about enough light to carry on with if we’re careful. I’m loath to turn back without making a little more of an effort to find Cassraw. He could be in desperate straits by now.’

There was a brief silence.

‘Someone’s got to find him, sooner or later,’ Morem said eventually.

Horld was looking up at the faintly glimmering clouds. ‘That’s not a happy sight,’ he said. ‘I’d dearly like to know what’s causing it. I’ve never seen the like, ever.’

‘None of us have,’ Vredech ventured. ‘But light is light. We should use it while we can.’

‘And if it goes out?’

Laffran’s cold query silenced the group again for a moment. Vredech waited, deliberately saying nothing.

Horld shook his head. ‘It won’t go out,’ he declared. ‘Whatever’s causing it, it’s too vast to be turned on and off like a Meeting House lamp. No, it won’t go out.’

There was a hint of the practical man’s contempt in his voice and Laffran bridled. ‘And if these clouds choose to empty their load on us? Rain, snow, wind – what then?’ he demanded. ‘It’s getting colder, you might have noticed.’

‘Then we’ll get wetter and colder,’ Horld countered, speaking with wilful slowness.

The two held one another in brotherly esteem, as was fitting for men in their position, but there was little affection wasted between them and Chapter meetings were not infrequently enlivened by their petty arguments. Vredech intervened hastily before one developed here. ‘To Ishryth’s lawn then,’ he said, half-suggestion, half-instruction. ‘It’s not far now. We can review our position there.’

Ishryth’s lawn was a gently sloping grassy area where many walkers chose to pause and rest before venturing on the final rocky scramble to the summit. It was sheltered and very pleasant and, given the right weather, offered splendid panoramas of Canol Madreth’s mountains.

Laffran and Horld seemed to have no great heart for continuing their argument and, no one objecting to this compromise, the party set off again. Vredech, still strangely buoyed up, paced himself more carefully this time.

As Horld had observed, the light from above showed no signs of diminishing, though it continued to vary in intensity, pulsing slowly and erratically to some indefinable rhythm. Few of the walkers chose to look up at it however, ostensibly being more concerned with watching where they were putting their feet. As they walked on, it grew colder. Not the sharp coldness of a winter frost, but a clinging, damp unpleasantness.

Vredech looked about him at the familiar landscape now made alien. Night in day, a graveyard chill and the whole lit by a light that came from neither sun nor moon, but was…? The word diseased came to mind but he abandoned it immediately and, reproaching himself for allowing his mind to wander, turned his attention back to where he was walking.

Then, after a slithering and alarming clamber up a narrow gulley down which a small stream was still running, they were walking on to Ishryth’s lawn.

‘It’s brighter,’ Morem said in some surprise.

‘It’s probably because we’ve just come out of the gulley,’ Horld said, though more gently than he would have addressed such a remark to Laffran.

‘Either way, it’s no pleasanter,’ Vredech said. There was a unanimous nodding of heads from the eight dark-shadowed forms as they each looked around at the soft green grass now rendered dull and lifeless by the touch of the eerie cloudlight.

Motioning his companions to remain where they were, Vredech moved across the clearing towards a rocky edge which he knew would give him a view out over the valley. Only when he reached it did he realize that he was hoping to see Troidmallos far below, its lights shining up to him like tiny welcoming beacons. The town must surely be alive with lights by now, if this vast bank of clouds had moved so far as to cover the peak of the mountain. But there was nothing. Just an impenetrable darkness. There was not even the faint greyness of daylight seeping through to show the edge of the clouds where they had arched over the mountain.

Nothing.

Just blackness.

And silence. No faint murmur of sounds from the valley below, no occasional bird cry, no breeze.

Nothing.

It was as if the world had ended and he and his companions were alone in an endless, empty void.

Vredech did shudder this time. Partly because of the increasing cold, partly from some deeper need. He wanted to pray again, but he steeled himself against the urge. It’s just freak weather conditions, he forced himself to think. That’s all. I’m not some superstitious savage who retreats into mindless ritual when faced with the unknown. I use the mind that Ishryth gave me. I think. I learn. I strive to fathom his mysteries.

It was true. But it didn’t stop him from shuddering again.

The others began to join him. They stood arrayed around him, gazing out into the darkness. There was a little foot-stamping and arm-beating, but it gradually faded away.

‘It’s frightening.’

Morem’s simple admission made Vredech feel slightly ashamed.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is. I suppose we’ll just have to be grateful that we’re not in the thick of a blizzard or a thunderstorm.’

‘Yet,’ Laffran added. His slightly sour tone made Vredech smile.