Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

‘I can see why you’d want to be alone in the mountains at times,’ Antyr said sympathetically as Andawyr managed eventually to disentangle himself from a particularly persistent, albeit apologetic, individual. Andawyr chuckled good-naturedly.

‘It’s a strange thing, Antyr. Circumstances have made me the Leader of this Order, and I’ve no regrets about that, but the only authority I have is what these people give me and when I look at the kind of people they are, and the qualities they bring to this place, I find it very humbling. It sounds pretentious, I know, but it’s an honour to serve them and I wouldn’t have it otherwise.’

‘From what Yatsu and Jaldaric told me, it was more than mere circumstances that made you what you are,’ Antyr said.

They were walking along a high balcony overlooking an echoing hall. ‘They exaggerate,’ Andawyr replied.

‘I thought the Goraidin were noted for their ability to observe in great detail and to report with great accuracy,’ Antyr said, risking some irony.

Andawyr gave him an arch look, but his reply was unexpectedly serious. ‘Circumstances placed me where I had to change or die, Antyr,’ he said. ‘Just like they did with you.’ He paused and leaned on the stone balustrade to gaze down at the figures passing below. ‘Purposeful movement with no discernible pattern,’ he muttered absently, then, ‘We each of us found a resource from somewhere. Who we can thank for that I’ve no idea, save our forebears. I find it helpful to remind myself that maybe I was just lucky and, given that, that I should devote the rest of my time to learning more about everything and passing on my knowledge to others so that if there’s a next time, they – or I – won’t have to rely on luck.’

There was a coldness in his conclusion that disturbed Antyr; not by its strangeness, but by its familiarity.

Then Andawyr was jovial again. ‘But you’re right,’ he said. ‘I’m not above irritability when my halo gets too tight and a little solitude from time to time is very welcome. I just tend to forget that, until something like today happens.’

They left the balcony and went down several flights of stairs to enter the hall itself. ‘I do try to remember,’ Andawyr said, with a look of bewildered concern. ‘I write notes to remind myself. But then I lose them. Tidiness isn’t one of my stronger character traits, I’m afraid.’

‘I can see that that would present difficulties,’ Antyr said with a laugh. He stopped and gazed around the hall. ‘This is truly an amazing place,’ he said. Sunlight was streaming in through high-arched windows that, vivid with coloured patterns, ran along both sides of the hall. The ceiling too was elaborately decorated, unlike almost everywhere else he had seen so far. ‘It feels so open, so fresh, I find it difficult to imagine that we’re underground – inside a mountain.’ He pointed to the windows. ‘Are they mirror stones too?’

‘Yes. All the windows you see are mirror stones. Remind me to show you how they work before we leave. You’ll appreciate it, I’m sure.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ Antyr agreed. ‘Though I have to say that from what I’ve seen as we’ve walked around they’re very disorientating.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘They give views of the mountains and the valleys that are markedly at odds with the stairs we’ve climbed up and down.’

‘That’s because you’re not paying attention,’ Tarrian said impatiently, speaking to both of them before Andawyr could comment. ‘Why you don’t use your nose more, I don’t know. There’s a kitchen along here, for example.’ He and Grayle began padding off down the corridor.

‘Yes,’ Andawyr intervened quickly. ‘But I doubt the cooking Brothers would be pleased to have you wandering about them. If you’d like something to eat, there’s a more suitable place down here.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ Tarrian replied affably. ‘I’m not particularly hungry myself. It’s for Antyr, you understand. His concentration wavers if he gets too hungry. But I’ll have a little something to be sociable, of course.’

Andawyr took them along a broad corridor into a communal dining hall. Plain wooden tables were flanked by plain wooden benches and at one end there was a large counter on which was arrayed a wide variety of food. There were several people in the room – some of them eating, some of them serving themselves from the counter. Tarrian and Grayle headed straight towards the counter, causing several startled diners in the process of returning to their tables to change direction abruptly.

‘Get back here, you two,’ Antyr hissed to them, adding out loud to Andawyr, ‘I do apologize. They’ve been too long in the mountains.’ The two wolves stopped but did not return, choosing instead to wait for him to reach them.

‘Don’t concern yourself too much,’ Andawyr said. ‘We have felcis in and out of the place all the time. It’s just that they’re not as big as these two.’

‘Felcis?’ Antyr queried.

‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ Andawyr replied. He indicated a nearby table and spoke authoritatively to the two wolves. ‘Would you like to wait over there while I get something for you?’

After a visit to the counter and a negotiation with a red-faced and flustered-looking individual, he returned with food for himself and Antyr and two large bones for the wolves. Rather to his surprise, the wolves sniffed them suspiciously before taking them.

As he sat down, a low bell-like tone reverberated through the room.

‘I’ve heard that several times,’ Antyr said. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s a warning,’ Andawyr replied. ‘Or, more correctly, that note is a confirmation that all’s well throughout the caves.’

Antyr’s brow furrowed. ‘A warning,’ he echoed. ‘What do you need to be warned about here?’

‘What did Yatsu and Jaldaric tell you about the Cadwanol and these caves?’ Andawyr asked.

‘That you were an Order of learned men established by Ethriss at the time of the First Coming of Sumeral with the intention of gathering knowledge so that He could be opposed in many different ways. They said the caves were full of strange devices, but they didn’t elaborate.’ He looked around. ‘And they certainly didn’t prepare me for anything I’ve seen today.’

Andawyr broke a piece of bread from a loaf and began nibbling at it idly. ‘Well, that’s all true enough, though pared thinly even for a Goraidin’s telling.’

Concerned that he might have inadvertently betrayed his friends, Antyr protested gently. ‘No, no. They told me a great deal, but I’m afraid I’ve not remembered as much of it as I should. The journey was demanding, to say the least. To be honest, I slept whenever I could. I’m no soldier, least of all like they are, and though they were patience itself I’d a great many simple practical things to learn as we went along if I wasn’t to be too much of a burden to them. Especially through the mountains. And I don’t think it helped that it was winter when we set out,’ he added ruefully.

‘It’s all right,’ Andawyr reassured him with a smile. ‘I wasn’t criticizing. Besides, the three of us have known one another long enough to be quite free in our exchanges of abuse.’ The smile became a quiet laugh. ‘But, answering your question. Do you see that?’ He pointed to a panel by the main doorway to the hall. On it was a symbol. As Antyr looked at it, the symbol gave him the impression that it was suffused with a slowly shifting glow, though if he stared hard at it he could see no actual change.

‘I’ve noticed several like that, though with different symbols on them,’ he said. ‘They’re very strange. I was intending to ask you about them.’