Roger Taylor - Caddoran

‘Did you build this?’ he asked, rather self-consciously.

Endryk laughed. ‘No. I didn’t even build the shelter, though some of the running repairs are mine.’ His laughter faded. ‘This has been here since before any of the locals can remember. No one even knows where this kind of stone comes from. It’s certainly not from around here. The last occupant was a real shoreman, the old man who found me on the beach and took me in, helped me, taught me the ways of the shore. I keep the place in good order for him.’

‘He’s away?’

‘He’s dead.’ He pointed to a small fenced area nearby. In it was a small, neatly tended tumulus at the head of which was a wooden stake topped with an iron ring.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…’

‘It’s all right. It was quite a time ago. And he died as well as any of us can expect to. Excuse me.’ With that, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Though uninvited, Hyrald was contemplating following him when a nudge against his calves unbalanced him and pushed him to one side. As he recovered, he saw Nals circle a couple of times before draping himself across the threshold. Hyrald joined the others.

It was some time before Endryk reappeared and when he did it was from the rear of the building. He was wearing a sword and carrying a bow and leading two horses. One was a fine tall animal while the other was smaller and more solidly built, with the look of a good packhorse. Both were saddled and carried bulging saddlebags.

The three Wardens exchanged looks. Hyrald felt an unexpected twinge. He sensed that this was a man who could take his leadership from him. The thought shocked him a little. He had not imagined himself so petty. Nevertheless, and despite a stern inner word of self-reproach, it proved surprisingly difficult to lay the idea aside.

‘Sorry I took so long,’ Endryk said. ‘I had to leave a note for my friends, my neighbours.’

‘Are you sure about coming with us?’ Hyrald asked, concerned, his momentary discomfiture gone. ‘It seems to me that you’ve got a good life here.’

Endryk looked at the cottage. ‘It is a good life. But it’s not mine, and I can see it’s over now. I have to move on.’

‘But your friends?’

‘A manner of speaking. They’re friendly people – fairly friendly, anyway. They know me and they’ve accepted me as much as villagers accept anyone who hasn’t got ten generations behind him in the one house, but they’re not really my friends. They’re good souls but none of them will miss me too much. In fact, they always seem a little surprised that I’m still here whenever they see me. I think they understand who I am better than I do.’

‘Have you locked the place properly?’ Rhavvan asked.

Endryk smiled. ‘No. There’s nothing worth stealing. Besides, in a way, the place belongs to everyone. The next person who wants to be a shoreman will just move in.’

Rhavvan scowled. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.

‘Don’t worry about it. As you said, you’re city people. You’re a long way from many things.’

Rhavvan’s scowl deepened, but he did not reply.

Endryk became practical. He patted one of the saddlebags. ‘I’ve got all the supplies I have in here, but there’s fresh water around the back if you want to water your horses and fill your water-bags. We shouldn’t have many problems with either food or water on the way, but we should start well.’

Nordath and Rhavvan took his advice and led their horses in the direction he was indicating. While the others were waiting, Nals left his post across the doorway and walked over to Endryk. The shoreman crouched down and began talking softly to the animal. As he did so, Hyrald noted the quality of the clothes he was wearing and the weapons he was carrying. They were simple and practical, and even though he could not examine them in detail he could tell they were well made. And his horse too, was one which would have turned heads in Arvenshelm. A twinge of jealousy flared briefly again but he stamped it out ruthlessly, marking its demise with another stern inner commentary. Whoever Endryk was he had saved their lives and done nothing but help them, and he had shown no indication that he wanted any part in the making of their decisions – quite the contrary. A calmer conclusion followed. A leader was a leader only for those who cared to follow, and fitness could determine everything. And beyond doubt, Endryk, with his local knowledge, could serve the group now better than he could. He felt suddenly easier, as if some shadow disturbing the edge of his vision had passed.

Nordath and Rhavvan returned. Endryk finished speaking to the dog and turned to Nordath. ‘Could I suggest that you and Thyrn take my other horse and let Adren take yours,’ he said. ‘He’s better able to carry the two of you.’ He looked at Hyrald. ‘But we should walk as much as we can. Use the horses sparingly – keep them fresh in case we have to run.’

‘We’ve been walking since we started,’ Hyrald replied. ‘We’ll manage a little further, I think.’ He motioned Endryk to lead the way.

Just before they lost sight of the cottage, Endryk turned and looked at it for a long moment. His face was unreadable. The others went ahead a little to leave him alone. Then he saluted and turned to join them again. Nals walked alongside the group as he had before.

It was not long before the undulating green terrain became dry and sandy again. After a brief but calf-tugging passage through some particularly soft dunes they found themselves once again on the hard-packed sand of the shore. They stopped without a command and looked out at the shining line of the sea in the distance.

Hyrald found his eyes turning up to the bright sky again. Whatever had been, whatever would be, this was a beautiful place. An inner resting point in the turmoil into which he had been sucked.

‘So clear, so sharp,’ Nordath said. ‘The horizon, parting sea and sky. Straighter than any line I’ve ever seen.’

Hyrald looked and saw it for himself. He cast a quick glance at Endryk, wondering what he saw.

‘Let’s mount up,’ Endryk said. ‘We can make some worthwhile progress while the light holds.’

As they mounted, the mood of the group became less expansive. Rhavvan bent forward and, with a significant look towards the sea, asked Endryk, ‘It’s safe, here, is it? We won’t suddenly have to run for it again, will we?’

Endryk indicated the dry dunes a little way to their left. ‘Tide doesn’t come much beyond where we are now, and not particularly quickly.’ Then he turned and pointed behind them, out to sea. ‘You were right out there.’ He shook his head and chuckled to himself. ‘You are so lucky. Those sand-bars are never the same two days running. I was taking a risk being out there. Maybe that’s why I’m coming with you – you’re lucky people.’

‘I’d hardly call the Death Cry and being attacked by our own, lucky,’ Adren joked.

‘True,’ Endryk conceded. ‘But then, you did win, didn’t you? Lucky the mist was with you.’

‘Lucky we were listening,’ Rhavvan intruded caustically. ‘Talking of which, what’s that noise?’

Endryk inclined his head, puzzled for a moment. ‘Oh, it’s only the sea – and the birds.’ He pointed again to the distant water’s edge.

Rhavvan squinted along his arm. ‘I can’t see anything,’ he said.

‘They’re much further away than you think,’ Endryk said. ‘You won’t be able to see them from here if you don’t know what you’re looking for. But there’s so many birds out there, they’re like clouds of smoke blowing in the wind when they take off. It’s quite a sight.’

‘It’s a lonely sound,’ Thyrn said.