Roger Taylor - Caddoran

‘You think so?’ Endryk’s manner was challenging. ‘Well, until our trouble came, there was never rioting on the streets. No need for the Cry, still less the Death Cry. No half-witted government oblivious to those who trust it with their authority, and no need for Wardens to maintain order by a mixture of force and corruption.’

Adren went pale and anger drew her face tight in response to this unexpected passion. She was about to retort when Hyrald laid a restraining hand on her arm. Endryk pressed on. He slapped a hand on his chest.

‘The fact is that we’re dangerous and wildly erratic creatures. All of us. More than any other animal you’ll ever meet. And only if you find the violence within yourself and accept it will you stand any chance of controlling it. Deny it, ignore it, and one day, if circumstances let it loose, it’ll control you instead of you it, and you’ll be lost. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen that in others, or felt it in yourself, Warden.’

Hyrald’s restraining hand tightened. ‘We understand, Endryk,’ he said quietly but earnestly. ‘More so than ever, these past weeks. Just go gently.’

Endryk held his gaze for a moment, then his face softened and a look of regret passed over it. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just… I don’t know. Perhaps I’m more frightened about what’s happening than I’m prepared to admit.’ He took Adren’s hand briefly. She glowered at him. Then, rather self-consciously, he turned back to Thyrn. ‘I apologize to you, too. It was a fair request. I don’t know how I can help, but let’s talk about it, if you still want to.’

‘It’s not a matter of wanting,’ Thyrn said, apparently unaffected by what had just passed. ‘It’s a need.’ He looked at the others then glanced at the distant peak he had designated as their destination. ‘Can we move on?’

His request was accepted with some relief and a small flurry of activity helped to ease the tension pervading the group. The horses well rested, they decided to ride for a while.

‘Tell me what you want, what you need, as clearly as you can,’ Endryk said to Thyrn, when they were under way.

Thyrn’s face darkened. ‘I don’t really know. All the things you’ve shown me have been great fun. I’ve enjoyed it, like a game – though I see the value of it,’ he added hastily. ‘And even though I can’t envisage being able to stab someone, or shoot an arrow through them, I still feel easier in myself knowing it’s an option I have. But this is different. This thing that I felt drawing Vashnar last night, seems to have woken something inside me. Thinking about fighting Vashnar, man to man, makes me tremble.’ He gave Endryk a significant look. ‘I know – you’d say to avoid a fight whenever possible. But, as I said before, this feeling inside me is reaching out to oppose this thing. It’s telling me that running away isn’t an option for me. I don’t understand what it is or what it wants me to do.’

‘And I’m no wiser than I was a few moments ago,’ Endryk replied. ‘Understanding other people is hard enough at the best of times. As for understanding the peculiar insights of a Caddoran – where would I start?’

Thyrn nodded and they rode on in silence.

‘Are you sure this isn’t just imagination – or a misinterpretation of what you’re experiencing?’ Endryk asked after a while.

‘As sure as I can be.’ Thyrn looked distressed. ‘I’ve been thinking hard about what’s happened the last two days. What occurred between me and Vashnar was strange enough, but perhaps understandable in some way. Maybe my extreme sensitivity and Vashnar’s part Caddoran nature came together… brought our minds too close.’ He pointed towards the distant mountain. ‘But this is different. I can’t help feeling that it was our coming together that woke this thing. Stirred something into life that was long dead.’ He blew out a noisy breath. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how awful it is, or how Vashnar’s darker nature is being drawn to it.’

Endryk looked at him sharply. ‘You can’t take responsibility for the actions of another. Whatever Vashnar does is his to account for.’

Thyrn stopped him. ‘But I’m responsible for the circumstances that led him to these actions.’

‘No, no, no. Absolutely not.’ Endryk looked around for help. ‘Tell him, Nordath, Hyrald. He can’t…’

But Thyrn addressed them all, cutting across him. ‘You’re all older and cleverer than me at this kind of thing. Maybe I am responsible, maybe I’m not. But the fact is, I feel responsible and I’ve learned enough from you since all this started to know that I can’t walk away from it; I have to face it. I’m the only one who can.’ He looked round at them all. ‘What I want is your help – your advice.’ He turned to Endryk. ‘You’ve faced things that nearly drove you mad. Tell me what it’s like. Tell me what I have to do to win.’

Thyrn’s plea was greeted by a difficult silence. The effect on Endryk was almost palpable and Nordath and the Wardens watched him uncomfortably, torn between the raw pain in Thyrn’s voice and the brutality of what he was asking.

Eventually, Endryk reined his horse to a halt. For a moment he looked as if he were about to turn around and ride away.

‘I don’t know what to tell you,’ he said. ‘I can teach you how to survive out here, how to fight, perhaps how to be like you think I am, if that’s what you want. But that won’t make you either a survivor or a fighter. That comes from somewhere else in the end. I can’t take you back to what I went through, even if I wanted to – which I don’t.’

‘I need your help,’ Thyrn said simply.

‘I don’t think I’ve any more to offer than I already have,’ Endryk replied.

Reluctantly, Hyrald intervened. ‘You’re the only person who has.’

Endryk straightened up and looked along the valley. The others followed his gaze. As they did so, a solitary shaft of sunlight made its way through the clouds to fall on the lake. It gave it a brilliance and vividness that made all else around them seem unreal.

‘If you’re asking yourself why you came with us, I think this might be one of your answers,’ Adren said, quietly bringing her horse alongside him.

The clouds moved to extinguish the shaft of light, turning the sun back into a pallid disc and restoring the valley.

Endryk looked at her enigmatically, then gave a prosaic sniff and clicked his horse forward. He made a final faint attempt to avoid the burden that Thyrn was asking him to carry.

‘I was surrounded by trusted friends…’

‘So am I.’

‘I had skills born out of years of training…’

‘So have I – where I must fight.’

Endryk yielded. He gave Thyrn a look which Hyrald recognized. It was that of a Commander about to lie to an eager novice who has just volunteered for a dangerous task – a task he might well succeed in if unclouded by the greater wisdom of his superior. The look was full of confidence and trust, immediately behind which lay agonizing doubts and prayers to whatever forces its giver believed shaped the lives of men. As for the lies, they were necessary if those very doubts were not going to infect their recipient and bring about the doom they feared.

‘I can’t make you into a weapons master overnight. The essence of almost everything you need to know in that regard, I’ve already shown you. What you know, you know better than you think and it will work for you when you need it.’ He began to speak with more assurance. ‘I’ve told you before, not to be afraid of being afraid. It’s your greatest protection – the inner knowledge of your deepest self and that of generations long gone. When I think back to fighting in the line, much of it is vague, with only occasional, terrible images left now. But though the details have… slipped away, I do remember that everything was vivid and simple.’ He became pensive. ‘There was only the moment and its single solitary task – infinitely clear and focused, each fraction of time the totality of everything I’d ever been. Yet too, there was a deep awareness of everything else that was happening around me.’