Roger Taylor: Caddoran

‘Moved?’ Hyrald exclaimed.

‘Moved,’ Endryk repeated. ‘As I said, I didn’t believe it, of course. Rocks don’t move – at least not on their own. It was obviously some local foolishness just to account for the place being dangerous. I could cope with rocky terrain – hadn’t I been born to it? It wasn’t as if it was mountainous. But after one day of travelling through it I was a little less confident. The deadness of the place seemed to seep into my bones. And when I woke the following day, my surroundings had changed. Not much, but they were definitely different – I take note of where I am out of habit. And I’d seen some of the people who worked there by then. They were all listless, with dead eyes – as though the place was draining them. It was enough. Instinct set aside any reason and I left – quickly.’ He shook himself to dispel the memory, then looked at Thyrn. ‘Is this where you want to be?’

Thyrn’s mouth twitched as though he were having difficulty opening it. ‘The call’s strong,’ he said, looking along the valley.

‘If this place is dangerous…’ Hyrald began.

‘It is,’ Thyrn said, cutting across him. He clutched Endryk’s arm, partly for support, partly out of fear.

‘It’s not as bad as the Thlosgaral,’ Endryk said quickly, trying to undo the impression he had given. ‘That wasn’t an enclosed valley like this. It was a great swathe cut across the land – much bigger – took me several days just to go around the end of it.’

But Thyrn was shaking his head. ‘It’s a dangerous place,’ he said softly.

There was a note in his voice that prevented the others from questioning him. Very gently, Endryk said, ‘We don’t have to go into it, Thyrn. We can find another way westward. Carry on as we were.’

Thyrn was opening and closing his hands like an uncertain child. Nordath took a step towards him but Thyrn stopped him. ‘My judgement,’ he said, echoing what Endryk had said when they had agreed to follow the strange call he was hearing.

‘And no one will reproach you if you change your mind,’ Endryk said.

‘No one but me,’ Thyrn replied unhappily. ‘This call is to Vashnar. I’m an accidental eavesdropper – possibly. But it’s a bad thing, I can tell that. I don’t want to follow it – stars above, I don’t want to follow it. But something inside’s telling me that if I walk away from it, it will follow me, for ever. Terrible things will happen – things that will involve other than me.’

‘You’re thinking of the images you saw when all this started?’ Nordath asked.

Thyrn frowned and shook his head. ‘Worse,’ he said. ‘But nothing as clear as that – just shifting impressions.’

Endryk looked at the others, judging their mood. ‘It is your decision. None of us can hear what you’re hearing. All we can do is be here as your friends.’

Thyrn turned to Hyrald. ‘You meant what you said yesterday – you’d rather meet Vashnar here, now, than later?’

‘Yes.’

‘And if Aghrid and his men are with him?’

‘I’ll have even less hesitation in putting an arrow in Aghrid,’ Rhavvan intervened.

‘One step at a time, Thyrn,’ Hyrald said, more circumspectly. ‘At least we know what we might be running into.’

Thyrn lowered his head, then straightened up, took a deep breath and let it out in noisy gasps.

‘Which way?’ Endryk pressed gently.

Thyrn pointed south along the valley.

They moved off.

The going proved to be more difficult than it had appeared from the shoulder of the mountain. The disorder of the rocks existed at every level, from pebbles to man-sized boulders to rocks the size of houses and bigger. All were strewn about and tumbled together in a manner so wildly random that Adren’s question of Endryk was inevitable.

‘What’s caused this?’

Endryk, however, could only admit his ignorance. ‘I know a lot about how mountains are made,’ he said. ‘And I’ve seen some strange shapes and patterns caused just by weathering and glaciers. But this…’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea. Even the rock itself is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. And this kind of disorder is almost frenzied, for want of a better word.’

Not that they had much time for debate, as the unremitting unevenness of the terrain meant that every footstep had to be taken with care and the horses needed constant help and coaxing. Occasionally, there were tantalizing hints of pathways which they were able to walk along comfortably for a while, but all of them petered out into the prevailing confusion. And time and time again, violent dips and clefts cut across their way, forcing them to search from side to side to find a way past, though these were not as disconcerting as the deepening and narrowing canyons which they found themselves being drawn into and from which the only escape was retreat.

It was exhausting work and it did not help that the sky was growing darker and the air stiller.

‘Storm coming,’ Hyrald said as they came to a halt on top of a small, comparatively level outcrop.

‘The sooner it breaks, the better,’ Adren said, wiping her forehead. ‘This place is awful. I feel as if I’m suffocating.’ Her face creased with dismay as she looked around. ‘And look, we’ve hardly come any distance.’ She pointed back to the mountain, still dominating the skyline.

‘It’s further than you think,’ Endryk said, though not very convincingly.

‘Hush!’ It was Rhavvan. As he held up his hand for silence they became aware of a low, distant rumble. Slowly it rose in pitch until it became a nerve-jangling screech. Then it stopped abruptly. As if in reply, other sounds reached them, some short, some long and drawn out, some like hurt animals, others like cracking timbers. Then the rock they were standing on shuddered. It was not a great movement but it startled the already disturbed horses. By the time they had been controlled the valley was silent again.

‘What in the name of pity was that?’ Rhavvan gasped, wide-eyed.

Endryk was no less disturbed. ‘It must be the same as the Thlosgaral – it moves.’ He looked anxiously at Thyrn. ‘I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to be,’ he said. ‘Is this still the way forward?’

Thyrn was leaning against his horse for support.

‘Are you all right?’ Adren asked, taking his arm.

Thyrn nodded weakly and extended his arm. ‘Everything’s becoming confused,’ he said, lifting his hand to his eyes.

Nordath intervened, urgently easing Adren to one side and taking hold of Thyrn’s face so that he could look into it. ‘Even I can feel the confusion, Thyrn; strange images intruding into me. But there’s something else, isn’t there? Pattern. Shape.’ There was no response. He released his nephew’s face and shook him. ‘Stay in this place, Caddoran. Stay with these mountains and Arvenstaat and your friends. Centre yourself. And stand apart. Speak to us or we can’t help you.’

Thyrn’s eyes opened wide, though with an effort that made it seem as if he were having to remember how to do it. ‘The place is near,’ he said. ‘Fragmenting. Like reflections in a shattered mirror – but all different. A coming together that shouldn’t be. Things meeting that shouldn’t meet. Drawn here somehow.’

He looked round at the others and though his gaze was still fearful and wild it was clear and focused. ‘Something dreadful’s happened here,’ he said.

‘What? When?’ Hyrald asked.

Thyrn’s hands brushed the questions aside. He was obviously having difficulty in speaking. ‘I don’t know. But we’re near the very centre of it. I must go on. On into the eye of it all.’

‘You don’t have to…’ Endryk began.