Roger Taylor: Caddoran

But Thyrn was not listening; he turned and began walking away. The others followed him, Endryk hissing out the unneeded command. ‘Watch him. See he doesn’t harm himself. And don’t get separated. Not in this place.’

It was not easy. Once or twice Thyrn let go of his horse and made to walk ahead on his own, but Nordath seized the reins and thrust them back into his hands, forcing him to stop until he had taken a firm grip of them again. Nevertheless Thyrn’s urge to move on unhindered grew and they soon became a fraught and straggling line as Nordath found it increasingly difficult to control him. Eventually, having let the reins slip again, Thyrn pulled himself free from Nordath’s grip and strode off.

‘Get after him!’ Endryk shouted to Rhavvan. ‘Hold him until we’re all together again.’

They had come to a fairly steep slope. Thyrn was stepping slowly but resolutely from rock to rock, Rhavvan closing with him, but it was obviously going to be difficult to walk the horses up it.

Rhavvan caught up with Thyrn just as they reached the crest of the slope. The others were far behind.

Ahead of the two men, the ground fell away into a shallow circular dip. Unlike the rest of the valley, it was smooth and undisturbed.

At the centre of it stood a group of mounted men.

And Vashnar.

Draferth looked up at the large and intimidating figure of the Tervaidin officer standing in his way. The two flanking him were no smaller. Draferth smiled agreeably and made to step around the officer as though the obstruction had been accidental. The officer moved to bar his way.

Draferth’s smile vanished. ‘Excuse me, Officer,’ he said pleasantly.

‘There are crowds gathering outside, Senator,’ the officer said. ‘And their mood is uncertain. Given the controversial nature of your remarks in the debate, I think it would be wise if you came with us so that we can… ensure your safety.’

He held up a hand to prevent a further attempt by Draferth to move past him. Draferth stepped back. ‘Let me pass,’ he said, his manner colder now. ‘You’re exceeding your authority.’

The officer’s eyes narrowed and his jaw stiffened. ‘It is you who are exceeding your authority, Senator.’ He could not avoid grinding distaste into this last word. ‘Arvenstaat is governed jointly by the Moot and the Warding. You cannot…’

It was a mistake. Draferth was no subtle Moot politician but he was a politician and a debater. In offering an argument the Tervaidin had abandoned his most effective weapon – his physical presence and the authority accorded to his uniform, in so far as it still resembled that of a Warden. Draferth did not allow him to finish.

‘Arvenstaat is governed by the Arvens, Officer,’ he snapped back, using the powerful speaking voice that had carried his Acclamation. ‘We hold authority only by virtue of their trust, and it’s they who are now calling both of us to task.’ Draferth slapped the bag of documents he was carrying. ‘And may I remind you that it’s their will that your… little group… is disbanded with immediate effect, pending a full debate in Moot.’

For a moment it looked as though the officer was going to strike him, and while he did not give ground, Draferth flinched. The officer, however, simply nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, that’s as may be,’ he said with the weary dismissiveness of one used to dealing with troublesome individuals. ‘But I’ve got reason to believe that you’re unwell, Senator; that you’ve perhaps been undertaking more work than you can properly cope with and that this has obviously undermined your reasoning faculties. Why else would you have stolen the Red Kerchief and spoken as you did? That being the case, we’ve an obligation to…’

Draferth’s anger burst out. ‘What! Stand aside now, or…’

The officer straightened up and moved closer to him. ‘Or what?’

‘Or we’ll make you stand aside.’

The Tervaidin turned sharply to find himself facing about a dozen of the spectators who had left the Moot Hall at the same time as he had. They blocked the corridor and others were still joining them. Draferth looked openly relieved, but the officer recovered quickly. ‘Members of the public aren’t allowed here,’ he said sternly. ‘Now move along – clear the way.’

The man who had spoken was as large as the officer, but when he spoke, his easy tone was markedly at odds with the menace he exuded. ‘We’re sorry if we’re in the wrong place. We’re here to see our Senator. We’ll go now that we’ve found him,’ he said, bowing conspicuously to Draferth as he finished.

The Senator used the change in circumstances to move quickly past the Tervaidin and the new arrivals closed about him protectively. Without further comment they began walking away, the former leaders now acting as a rearguard.

The three Tervaidin, grim-faced, followed them at a discreet distance.

Vashnar froze as the figure of Thyrn appeared in the distance. Relief and a dark anger welled up inside him simultaneously. Soon all obstruction to his ambitions would be gone. As he had followed the luring inner call that the hooded figure had left for him, it had grown stronger and, at the same time, he had felt his physical perceptions changing. Increasingly he began to feel that he was moving in several different places at once and that everything he could see and hear existed in forms beyond those which were immediately obvious.

At first this strangeness had been only slight, and Vashnar had attributed it to a combination of fatigue and exhilaration as he and his men had galloped across the countryside towards the mountains. As it had grown however, he had overcome an initial concern to find himself experiencing a sense of reassurance, of inevitability; the width and depth of the vision he was gaining were merely facets of the power that had been promised to him.

Now it was vividly shown to be so. For the Thyrn he saw now was not the young and awkward Caddoran that Aghrid and the others saw, but the source of a force which spanned across his every heightened sense and which defied him. Yet it was weak and uncertain, just as Thyrn had always been in front of him. But how could it be otherwise? In this place, nothing could hope to stand against him. For this was where the call had been drawing him. Here he could feel the source of the power that the hooded figure had shown him – the power that was to be his – the power that opened vistas which dwarfed into insignificance his previous petty ambitions.

Here was its heart, its focus. It pervaded everything – emanated from everywhere.

Everywhere except for this scar across it that centred about Thyrn.

But that was easily dealt with.

Slapping the hilt of his sword he turned to his men and shouted, ‘Kill him! Kill them all!’

Aghrid snarled in anticipation and, drawing his sword, spurred his horse forward. The others followed him.

Then they were motionless. No part of them moved, nor their horses. Tossing manes, foaming mouths were caught as in a picture.

Vashnar’s mouth opened in a silent cry. He released his sword and hesitantly reached out to touch the nearest rider. His hand moved through the seemingly solid figure as though it were not there. He snatched it back in terror, splaying it wide and staring at it wide-eyed as if expecting to find it suddenly missing. Then he gripped it with his other hand and massaged them both desperately. They were solid, warm and real. His ring glittered in the dull light.

And, though his men were still all about him, silent and unmoving, he was at the centre of the myriad clashing realities he had witnessed when he had encountered the hooded figure.