Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

‘What do they use them for?’ Dacu pressed. ‘Come to that, what do you use them for?’

‘Mainly we study them. It was trying to understand them which led us to realize there could be other worlds around us. They can change the characteristics of space itself, and even time…’ Dacu’s raised eyebrows halted the explanation. Atelon gave a worldly sigh and raised his own eyebrows in retaliation. ‘Do you want me to get technical?’ he demanded.

‘Just being sceptical,’ Dacu returned, reminding him of his advice to Thyrn.

‘You’ve used the Slips to move about the Cadwanen, haven’t you?’ Atelon continued.

‘Before you closed them, yes. Never liked them, though. Now you’re here, now you’re there – creepy.’ He gave a laboured shudder. ‘And all to save a little time.’

‘Well, that’s as may be. Andawyr used one to escape from the Gretmearc when he and Hawklan were attacked once, though I doubt anyone but him could have done it. But they use crystals. It was when we began to learn more about them that we stopped using them.’

Dacu pursed his lips doubtingly. ‘Andawyr told me he stopped you using them because you were all getting too fat and idle.’

‘Just our great leader’s little joke, that’s all,’ Atelon rebutted, defensively. ‘He wouldn’t want to worry you.’ Then he was serious. ‘It’s the same with using the Power generally. The more we’ve learned, the more circumspect we’ve become about using it.’

Dacu nodded. ‘Why were you surprised when you found crystals being sold? How did you come by yours?’

‘Ethriss gave them to us, but no one knows how he came by them. Insofar as anyone ever thought about it, it was always assumed he’d created them just for us. It all seems rather naive now.’

‘Well, if these things are being mined, then, in a manner of speaking, perhaps he did create them. He was the first of the Guardians,’ Dacu offered.

Atelon gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘It’s a nice thought but I’m afraid we’re beyond the help of pedantry on this. The fact is we didn’t think about them, we took them for granted, and we’ve no idea where they came from. Finding them for sale on a market stall was more than a surprise, actually, it was a considerable shock. As if you might have come across Hawklan’s sword casually dumped in the clutter at the back of a blacksmith’s shop.’ He half turned towards his pack. ‘Oddly enough, though, while they might be dug out of the ground like any other precious stone, my feeling – and it’s only a feeling, I’ll admit – is that they’re made things – that the many uses to which they’re put are simply an inadvertent consequence of some deeper purpose. Something even Ethriss didn’t understand. The way they can be used to manipulate the Power, I can’t shake from my mind the idea that they’re intended for use as some kind of a weapon.’

Dacu watched the Cadwanwr thoughtfully. ‘Trust your judgement, Atelon,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t hesitate to. The light will break through eventually, you know that.’

Nertha’s face had darkened as she listened to this conversation. The image of Pinnatte silently closing the box returned to highlight what Atelon was saying about the crystals.

‘Are those things dangerous now?’ she asked, pointing to his pack.

‘They can be,’ Atelon replied. ‘If you’re sensitive to them – particularly the green ones. That was Andawyr’s main concern when he found we weren’t the sole possessors of them. There are lots of people in Riddin, Fyorlund and Orthlund who’ve got some aptitude for using the Power and given that, even if it’s a scarcely noticeable trait, then an accidental misuse of a crystal can do them a great deal of harm.’

‘How?’

Nertha delivered her question like a punch and Atelon floundered momentarily before managing to gather together a reply.

‘Forgive me, it’s difficult without knowing how you approach your healing but, put simply, the Power underlies the energy that suffuses us and just as the crystals can focus and transform the Power so they can do the same to this energy. Consequences range from simple contact burns to ulcers to a permanent imbalance of the body’s ability to mend itself.’

‘Fascinating. We’d heard they were used in medicines,’ Nertha said. ‘But I can see why you were concerned.’

They fell silent.

Dar-volci opened a bleary eye, gave a small, explosive sneeze, then closed it again as Nertha continued stroking him.

Night filled the valley, and stars could be seen between thin, slowly drifting shreds of cloud. Now and then, a distant animal cry echoed through the darkness. The fire burned a quiet red and the occasional soughing hint of urgent night-bird wings came down to the silent group.

Suddenly Pinnatte pointed to Vredech. ‘Your tale,’ he said. He flicked his ear. ‘Listening.’

The gesture and his manner caused a crackle of amusement around the group. Endryk prodded the fire into life and threw on some more wood, sending up a flurry of sparks which briefly rivalled the stars.

It was much later by the time Vredech and Thyrn had recounted their own strange stories and fatigue was beginning to take its toll. Pinnatte was the first to succumb, but the others did not remain by the fire for long after Nertha and Atelon had helped him to bed.

The next day, neither Pinnatte nor Vredech could be woken.

The raven cocked its head on one side as it examined first Marna, then Farnor. It craned forward as if to examine Farnor particularly thoroughly. Shimmering rainbow colours scattered and rippled across its shining plumage as it moved. Then it tapped its wooden leg on the stone coping and turned its attention to the Goraidin.

‘Dear boys, dear girls, how nice to see you all again,’ it said in a deep and cultured voice. ‘And such a surprise. I was just in the area… visiting a friend… when I noticed this small army riding determinedly over the bridge. Invaders, I thought, as one would. Doubtless intending to bombard us with Eirthlundyn ribbons and laces. So I thought I’d better pop down and shoo you all away. And here you all are. Delightful. And quite timely, too.’

Overcoming her initial shock, Marna grasped Farnor’s arm excitedly. ‘A talking crow,’ she exclaimed. The Goraidin winced in anticipation. The raven turned slowly and stared at her.

‘And you’ve brought guests with you. How nice. Just what we need – young people,’ it said acidly. Then it turned back to Yengar and spoke in a loud whisper. ‘Do tell them not to gape, dear boy, it gives me this overwhelming urge to fill their little mouths with worms. It’s a fatherhood thing, I think. Quite disconcerting in its way.’

‘Marna, Farnor, allow me to introduce you to Gavor,’ Yengar said. ‘Hawklan’s companion. We’ve told you about him.’

Farnor’s eyes widened as he realized to whom he was being introduced. Gavor had featured highly in the Goraidins’ fireside accounts of the war of the Second Coming.

His hand extended automatically to hover vaguely in front of the raven before dropping awkwardly to his side.

‘It’s an honour to meet you… sir,’ he said, uncertain how to address the bird.

Gavor bowed his head by way of acknowledgement. ‘Farnor, eh? Now this is a surprise. Given the odd names you people choose for yourselves, I’ll warrant you must be Farnor Yarrance. The young man that Memsa Gulda met in the Forest. Delighted to meet you. I’ve heard such a lot about you. The Memsa mentions you often. She was most concerned at having to leave you the way she did. Said you were lost and full of darkness. There’s something odd about you, for sure, though I can’t put a claw on it, but you seem bright enough – for a fledgling. Anyone who stops to watch the river going by can’t be all bad, can they? And, to be honest, the Memsa’s apt to be a touch doom-laden at times.’ Before Farnor could reply, Gavor was speaking to Marna.