Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

‘I Hear your fears,’ he said. ‘I shall protect you if I can.’

‘And we, you, Far-nor. It is good that you seek the light.’

‘Good day to you, young sir.’

The voice startled Farnor. Though it sounded loud and intrusive, even as he spun round Farnor knew that the speaker would have been whispering and this betokened both knowledge and respect.

‘Marken?’ he said, smiling and opening his arms in greeting. ‘What are you doing here?’

The old man, narrow-faced and slightly built, swung down from his horse and gave Farnor a long look.

‘I live here, Farnor, if you recall. The question is, what are you doing here? Not that you’re other than welcome, of course.’ He took Farnor’s arms in the powerful grip that was a characteristic Valderen greeting.

‘I meant, how did you know I was here?’ Farnor said in some confusion, trying not to rub his arms.

Marken’s eyebrows rose. ‘You’re not the only Hearer in the Forest you know. They told me you were coming, and that I – that all of us – should help you on your way. Incidentally, I’m Hearing much better than I used to – I don’t know whether it’s me or them, but it’s… a good feeling.’ Farnor smiled at his friend’s conspicuous pleasure. ‘I must confess to being surprised to see you again so soon, though. I thought you were going back to live on your farm.’

Farnor explained what he was doing. Marken nodded sympathetically. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘Many things other than my Hearing are different here, too. Quite possibly for the better, for all the pain we suffered. I don’t know. Time will doubtless tell.’ He became brisk. ‘Will you come to Derwyn’s lodge? Stay with us awhile?’

‘I can’t, Marken. I have to catch my friends. They won’t be hurrying but they’re several days ahead and I really don’t know where I’m going, except east. Besides, I’m still sore after fighting that creature of Rannick’s. I think I’d frighten you to death trying to climb one of your ladders.’

‘You always did,’ Marken said bluntly. ‘You’re a natural born Faller, without a doubt. Are you sure you don’t want to come to Derwyn’s? He’d be…’

‘He’d be annoyed if he thought I was idling in his lodge when I’d urgent matters to attend to.’

Marken looked at him shrewdly.

‘Help me find my friends, Marken,’ Farnor pressed. ‘They came this way with your permission, and I’d be more than surprised if you didn’t know not only where they are, but every step they’ve taken.’

Marken cleared his throat self-consciously. ‘We always watch… newcomers… in the Forest, naturally. They may need help, guidance – it’s easy to get lost.’

‘Hm.’

‘And, of course, we’re curious too,’ Marken conceded. ‘They did great service. We honour them.’

‘I know,’ Farnor said reassuringly.

Marken leaned forward and became confidential. ‘The young girl – Marna – is awkward – like you – a Faller – though she tries hard and she’s learning quickly. But the others are remarkable. So light in their touch. They’ve great respect for everything around them. Their passing leaves no sign. They could almost be Valderen.’

It was a considerable compliment.

‘How far did you go with them?’ Farnor asked knowingly.

‘Just a day’s ride,’ Marken admitted, his manner indicating that he regretted it had not been for longer. ‘Then we had to get back to the lodge.’

‘We?’

‘There were… a few of us.’

‘That many, eh? Things are different.’

‘I suppose I’d better see you on your way, then, if you’re so anxious to be off. You’d like me to give your affection to Derwyn and his lodge, I imagine?’

‘Of course. You know that.’

Marken rode with him for half a day and with his guidance the steady trot they were able to maintain carried them a long way.

‘Let the Forest guide your horse,’ Marken told him as they finally parted.

‘I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,’ Farnor said, pointing to two riders approaching them.

‘Probably not,’ Marken said with a broad smile. ‘I’ve sent messages ahead. I think it’s unlikely you’ll be alone for long, if at all. You might have to tell your story a few times, but you’ll make good progress and you’ll save a lot of your supplies.’ He took Farnor’s arms again. ‘I don’t know if I’ve said this before, I don’t really have the words to say what I feel, but thank you for all that you’ve done – for me, and for the Forest.’ He released him. ‘Travel well, Hearer. And come back to us one day.’

‘I will.’

The journey proved to be just as Marken had said. Farnor was accompanied all the way and he not only saved his supplies but had them supplemented, as lodge after lodge pressed gifts on him.

Then, early one morning, he was at the edge of the Forest. The ground had been rising for some time and the trees ended abruptly, sweeping up the lower slopes of a range of mountains like a still and silent wave.

‘We must leave you now, Farnor,’ said the eldest of his latest companions. ‘This is not a place where we can guide you.’ He pointed to a col between two small peaks. ‘Up there. That’s the way your friends have gone.’ There followed the grip on his arms, then, ‘Go safely, it’s been an honour to ride with you… Faller.’ The familiar jibe was made both affectionately and tentatively and Farnor knew that he was giving more true thanks in his laughing at it than in his actual words. He spoke them nevertheless, then set off up the rocky slope.

He turned when he reached the dip. The Valderen were still at the edge of the Forest. He waved to them, then led his horses over the top of the rise. The Valderen returned his salute and in their turn disappeared into the Forest.

For a while, as he walked down the far side of the col, he could hear the horns of the Valderen speeding him on his way. It was a good sound, full of meaning for him. Gradually it faded.

He looked along the valley. It was much narrower than his home valley but it was green and lush and although the mountains bounding it were high and stern they were not oppressive. He mounted and clicked his horse forward.

For the first time since he had left home he felt alone. In the Forest he had been accompanied throughout not only by the Valderen but by the will of the Forest itself, unobtrusive but powerful. It reaffirmed for him that the Most Ancient were indeed watching him and that wherever their consciousness touched the lesser woods and forests beyond the Forest – the remnants of what they had once been – they would be watching him there also.

But here there was nothing.

He felt a little afraid.

Had he made the right decision, leaving a home and the friends of a lifetime to go in search of…

Of what?

Doubts came to him more than once as he rode on, but each time, whenever they reached the point of making him draw in his horse, he realized again that he could do no other. He must go forward, find Marna and the others and go with them to the people who might understand what his gift was and what it meant. The fear that his gift, if ignored, might turn him into another Rannick persisted. In the end, the doubts, like the notes of the horns of the Valderen, faded into nothingness.

Towards evening, he fancied he glimpsed a thin column of smoke rising through the still air. Briefly it caught the light of the setting sun shining along the valley, then it twisted and parted and was gone. He looked at the lengthening shadows around him and did his best to estimate the distance to where it had been.

He could do it, he decided, urging his horse forward.

It was a mistake, as he discovered shortly afterwards when the sun finally dipped behind the head of the valley and the gloaming deepened abruptly. He glanced upwards. The tops of the mountains, some still dull red against the darkening sky, were becoming shadows, wrapping themselves about with wisps of dull grey cloud. A solitary silver star shone clear and bright in the east, like a guiding beacon, but, beautiful as it was, he realized that its light was treacherous and deceptive, serving only to deepen the darkness in the valley ahead.