Roger Taylor - Ibryen

Isgyrn smiled, almost mischievously. ‘Then Astrith chose the very finest of his people and gave them the sight to know the Ways of Svara and the skills to use the Culmaren. And he sent them forth to move along Svara’s Ways, high above the lands and the waters, so that all the works of the Shapers should be known by men and rejoiced in.’

He leaned forward and his face became thoughtful. ‘And as the Culmadryen rose into the high clouds, Astrith pondered the ways and the destiny of men saying, as to himself, “I have found in this creation, that which I did not put there, and their nature is deep and strange and many-leaved and defies all future knowing.” And he went from the world to think on this.’

The tent became silent.

‘Ah,’ the Traveller said. ‘A sombre and mysterious note on which to end. How splendid.’

‘You tell a tale well, Isgyrn,’ Ibryen said.

‘A tale, Count? You’d deny the truth of our most ancient history?’ Isgyrn said, though his manner was easy and he put no challenge in the words.

‘A deep question,’ Ibryen replied, in like vein. ‘But who could deny or affirm the truth of a story so rooted in the mists of times gone and so well told?’

Rachyl leaned over and peered out of the crowded tent. ‘It’s raining as heavily as ever,’ she announced, glancing upwards. ‘And it’s definitely in for the day.’

Ibryen confirmed the decision they had made earlier. Being caught in such weather while travelling was one thing, but setting out in it was another. There was, after all, no urgency about their journey now. They were not expected back so soon and they had more than enough supplies to serve them for the two days or so that it would take them to get back to the village. More seriously, for Ibryen, though he made no mention of it, he was glad of an excuse to spend some time doing nothing so that he could think quietly about all that had happened and its implications for the future. Though he had affected an optimism about the changes they had all experienced, it concerned him greatly that he was indeed returning to the village with ‘only one more sword’. An awful foreboding was beginning to grow within him.

What he had learned over the past few days was obviously of profound significance, but how it related to the immediate needs of his conflict with the Gevethen he could not begin to see. The message that he had given to Iscar that he would come on them from a direction which they did not even know existed returned to reproach him constantly. Particularly so as it had proved to be almost prophetic. Strange Ways did exist. He could even enter them, though with little conscious knowledge of what he did or how he did it. But what were they? Where were they? How could he use them? Was there a way in which he could travel them that would bring him to a known destination? He had answers to none of these, nor any of the many other questions that kept arising to disturb him. Not that he was given a great deal of time for meditation as it transpired. The small tent was very full and, in the absence of anything to do, conversation ranged over many and varied topics. Ibryen told Isgyrn and the Traveller more fully about his land and the rise to power of the Gevethen and their subsequent depredations. Isgyrn told his own similar tale, though he was reticent about the cause and the telling distressed him. The Traveller yarned of many places and deeds, and Rachyl just asked questions and, as the youngest there, allowed herself at times an air of mildly smug tolerance as her elders rambled on.

It was one of the tales that the Traveller had told that prompted Isgyrn to tell the Dryenvolk’s story of the creation of the Culmadryen. His stern face had come alive as he spoke and his manner had held the others spellbound. The Traveller in particular leaned forward and listened intently.

‘I’ve heard many such tales,’ the Traveller said, taking up Ibryen’s rhetorical question. ‘All with too many things in common to allow them to be lightly set aside as mere myths.’

‘I’m not inclined to dismiss any tale, however fanciful, after everything that’s happened since I met you on the ridge,’ Ibryen said. He pulled a rueful face. ‘I wish I could see to a time when we’d all have the leisure to pursue such matters further. Scholarship is infinitely preferable to swordsmanship.’

‘To neglect either is a serious mistake, although I’m as guilty of the latter as many another.’ The Traveller’s tone was unexpectedly dark. He clapped his hands straight away to dispel the effect. ‘But let’s pursue just one small piece of scholarship while we’ve the chance.’ He turned to Isgyrn. ‘Tell us how the joyous world of the Shapers became the flawed world of today,’ he said.

Isgyrn grimaced. ‘I’m rather as Ibryen now,’ he said. ‘The story of Astrith has always been regarded as significant but allegorical, and the story of the Coming of Samral even more so. “Red and baleful, He too came from the Great Heat, with lesser figures at His heels, carrying an ancient corruption with Him from what had gone… before…”’

Isgyrn stopped with an unhappy wave of his hand. ‘I can’t speak it any more. Its a tale of treachery and deceit, of the seduction of people by fair words and seemingly fair deeds into dark folly while the Shapers slept. It was a tale to make fledglings shiver with delight and fear, and curl up in warmth and security, knowing that in truth, all was well. But now…’ He fell silent. No one spoke. ‘Now,’ he went on after a long interval, ‘I must accept that it was not an allegory, but perhaps an historical truth.’ He looked round at the others, his eyes pained. ‘Samral came again. It was His agent, one of the three Ahriel, who racked our lands, while the others racked the middle depths. I felt His very presence in His white-eyed agent.’ He shivered. ‘I saw deeds done, powers used, beyond anything we’ve ever known.’ He looked at Ibryen. ‘Yet He must indeed have been defeated or sorely wounded in the war that brought me here, or He’d surely have swept out across the world in these last fifteen years, and all would have known of Him. All . His purpose knows no bounds.’

‘I can’t doubt that you believe what you say,’ Ibryen said uncomfortably. ‘But it’s a difficult tale to accept. We’ve many stories ourselves of giants and ogres in days long gone. And tales of how the world was made, but…’

Isgyrn levelled a warning finger at him. ‘I understand your doubts. They’re the doubts of any rational man, and the Dryenvolk are nothing if not a rational people. But had we thought and researched more and wallowed in doubt less, perhaps matters would have been greatly different and many lives spared. Trust me in this, Ibryen. Whether He has been defeated or not, I felt Samral in your Gevethen. Powerful and awful. They are not Ahriel, but it’s said that He always had many human servants, equally as foul. The Gevethen are His, I’m sure. From what you’ve said, they possess the kind of power He bestows, albeit they use it rarely. They do His work, and they’ll not stop with the enslavement of your land alone. We must never sleep again.’ His tone was grim, but Ibryen could not keep the doubts from his face. ‘I’ve stood where you stand, Ibryen,’ Isgyrn went on. ‘And I take no offence at your doubts. But whether you believe me or not, base your actions on the assumption that I’m correct.’

A gust of wind buffeted the tent, dispelling the dark mood that Isgyrn’s story had created.

The conversation moved on.

From time to time the Traveller brought bouncing, whistling tunes into the damp twilight of the tent which allowed no foot to remain still. Isgyrn made no further reference to his tale and no one questioned him about it and, gradually, the debate settled on to Ibryen’s immediate problems. Here, Isgyrn proved to be a determined inquisitor as he sought out knowledge of the fighting techniques that armies could use in this strange world where all battles had to be fought on one plane. He found it difficult, though he proved to be a perceptive listener, more than once making both Ibryen and Rachyl retreat into earnest thought with questions which obliged them to look at some long-established practice from an unusual perspective.