Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

Andawyr became pensive. ‘They’re part of what I suppose you’d call the darker side of our life here. Yatsu and Jaldaric are quite right, this place is full of strange devices. In fact, it’s full of very dangerous devices.’ He leaned forward and his voice fell as if he did not want to be overheard. ‘When Ethriss founded the Order, it was a terrible time. The more I read and learn about it, the more I realize just how terrible it was. Sumeral held great sway then. His armies were powerful and fearsome. It seemed that nothing – nothing – could stand against His ultimate victory.’ He tapped the table with his forefinger for emphasis. ‘Part of the horror of it was that He had many honourable and very able people fighting for His cause; people deceived by His words, seduced by His promises or just terrified by the lies He spread about His enemies. And it was Ethriss’s greatest sorrow that in order to defeat Him, he’d no choice but to use His own weapons against Him. He had to teach his own followers how to make war and every cruel thing that that entails. It was a brutal loss of innocence.’ He twitched his hand irritably to stop himself from digressing. ‘It was a desperate matter that this place be kept secret. Had Sumeral learned about us then He’d have known the risk we posed and He’d have launched His entire might against us. But it was no slight thing, avoiding His eye; He’d many and different spies roaming the world. At first, Ethriss was able to shelter those who were working here, but he couldn’t do that for long as his very presence would eventually have drawn the enemy here. So very soon the first Brothers had to protect themselves. They did this by doing what we do yet – learning and practicing the skills with the Old Power that Ethriss had taught them.’ He sat back and glanced admiringly around the hall, almost as though he were looking at it for the first time. The jarring sound of Tarrian and Grayle massacring their bones rose into the silence. ‘And, I have to say, from a purely professional point of view, some of the work they did was staggering. Such minds, Antyr. Such minds. It’s difficult to comprehend. In many ways we knew so little. Some of the things we regard as elementary now – things we teach almost casually to our novices – were at the very limits of their knowledge then – brilliant insights. To discover them from nothing, as it were, betokens vision and intellect which humbles us all yet. Some of the discoveries they made actually turned everything that was then accepted completely upside down.’ He gave a guilty shrug. ‘I’m sorry, I’m wandering again, aren’t I? I’m apt to when I talk about the past. I’ve always had a keen sense of history and after what happened to us it’s keener than ever these days. Anyway, coming to your question again, the symbols that you see and the sounds you hear are part of a vast, intricate web of warning devices and traps developed from those that the first Brothers made to protect themselves. It’s altered, refined, adjusted, extended constantly, but at its heart it’s still what they made.’

Antyr turned to look at the panel and its symbol, which still seemed to be at once moving and not moving. ‘I told you I’m no soldier, but I served my time behind a shield wall when I was younger and had to learn something about sieges and the kind of traps that can be laid within a castle – falling stones, sprung spears, counter-weighted blades and the like – but that doesn’t look like any device I’ve ever heard about.’

‘I’d be very surprised if you had,’ Andawyr said. ‘And more than a little alarmed.’

Antyr raised a questioning eyebrow.

‘We search endlessly for knowledge here, but all knowledge can be abused, and all knowledge carries responsibilities,’ Andawyr replied. ‘And that,’ he nodded towards the panel, ‘carries responsibilities far beyond the average.’ He stood up. ‘Come on, I’ll tell you more as we go.’

‘We haven’t finished.’ Tarrian’s indignant voice touched both of them.

‘Bring your bones with you,’ Antyr retorted with heavy patience.

Tarrian muttered something indistinguishable, then he and Grayle loped after the retreating pair.

As they reached the door, Andawyr chuckled and briefly ran an affectionate hand over the panel. Antyr stopped for a moment and looked at it intently. Even so close, he could not decide whether the glowing symbol was moving or not. Nor could he determine where the light was coming from that illuminated it.

As they walked along he began to notice many similar symbols along the walls, though most of them were smaller than the one on the panel.

‘All these are traps?’ he queried, unable to keep some incredulity out of his voice.

‘Oh yes,’ Andawyr replied straightforwardly. ‘But don’t worry, you won’t be suddenly sliced in half by a swinging blade. They’re not intended to deal with armed assaults as such. We rely on more traditional methods to cope with that. We’re protected from enemies coming from the south or along the Pass of Elewart, for example, by the Riddin Muster. We receive training from the Goraidin so that we can guard our own doors if we have to, and for the rest, the mountains themselves are virtually impassable for a large force. Even so, we watch them constantly.’ He extended an arm to move Antyr through an open doorway. ‘Come in here, I’ll show you.’

The room Andawyr ushered Antyr into was circular. A group of men and women sat at a table in the centre. Some were reading, some were writing, others were talking quietly. One appeared to be asleep, his head cradled on his arms, though a quick nudge from his neighbour brought him suddenly upright, wide awake and diligently applying himself to the study of a large book. As the two men entered, the group turned and made to stand up but a signal from Andawyr sent them back to their tasks. Nevertheless, as had been the case throughout their tour of the Cadwanen, Tarrian and Grayle proved to be a discreet distraction.

Around the walls, set close, side by side, were a great many of what again appeared to be windows. They looked out over the mountains, filling the room with sunlight. Around each of them were yet more of the symbols that had attracted Antyr’s attention, though they were much smaller than those he had seen in the corridor. Some of them were glowing.

‘More mirror stones, I presume?’ Antyr said.

Andawyr nodded. And as Antyr looked round at the views they offered, he could see this confirmed disconcertingly by the fact that most of the individual vistas were not continuous with their neighbours.

‘We think of them as windows as well, if it helps,’ Andawyr said with an encouraging smile. But Antyr was staring at a series of views of what he now knew to be the Pass of Elewart. Though part of it was flooded with bright sunlight, this cast jagged threatening shadows and merely served to deepen the darkness of the shade that pervaded the rest. Antyr shivered. He had not spent long in the Pass but it had had an atmosphere that weighed on him like nothing he had ever known before and that he felt was not due solely to its stark barrenness and the wind whose moaning tones shifted and changed constantly. Even Yatsu and Jaldaric had seemed subtly uneasy and had pressed on at a very steady speed, sombre-faced and unspeaking. The horses too had been noticeably unhappy and Tarrian and Grayle had been unusually silent, drawing away from him utterly, deep into their wolfish selves, as they trotted ahead of the riders, ears flattened and tails between their legs.

‘Yes, it’s not a happy place, is it?’ Andawyr said, easing him away from the bleak view. He gestured towards the group around the table and one of the women stood up and came forward in response. About the same height as Andawyr, she was slightly built with an oval face framed by neatly trimmed black hair. She had brown, challenging eyes and a slightly crooked nose that served to enhance her appearance rather than detract from it. The long hooded robe she wore was similar to that worn by everyone else Antyr had seen in the Cadwanen, though it was particularly neat and clean and had a small golden clasp securing it at her neck.