Roger Taylor: The Return of the Sword

‘They’re speaking to you?’ Yatsu asked in some surprise. He flicked a thumb towards Antyr. ‘You can hear them like he does?’

‘It would seem so,’ Andawyr replied. ‘But don’t ask me why or how.’ He made a dismissive gesture, placed his hands against his temples and announced forcefully, ‘One thing at a time. I went out today to have a quiet think about some difficult questions. Now I’ve got two hundred more, and growing. Let’s get you all fed and watered, then we can talk.’ He looked at Yatsu and Jaldaric. ‘It really is good to see you again. I’m sure you’ve some rare tales to tell. Where are you going first, Vakloss or Anderras Darion?’

‘I’m not sure. I thought we’d stay here and rest a little while,’ Yatsu replied pointedly. ‘I think you need to talk to Antyr first and then advise us. It may be best if he stays here. He’s at least as many questions for you as you have for him. And he has a gift – a skill – that you need to know about. Something far more than just being able to talk to these two.’

Andawyr turned to Antyr and smiled reassuringly. ‘Yatsu and Jaldaric wouldn’t bring you here on any slight matter,’ he said. ‘If we can help you, we will.’

A little later, bathed and fed, they were sitting in a bright and spacious room. In common with most of the rooms in the Cadwanen it was simple in style and plainly decorated. Along one side, a large window opened on to a sunlit mountain vista.

‘We’re very high,’ Antyr remarked as Andawyr offered him one of the several chairs that were scattered about the room and then dropped heavily into one himself. Like the room, the woodwork of the chairs was plain and undecorated, but the upholstery was ornately embroidered. Antyr found his unexpectedly comfortable, and almost immediately felt several months of harsh travelling beginning to ease from him. Tarrian and Grayle flopped down noisily at his feet and apparently went to sleep.

‘Actually, we’re quite deep here,’ Andawyr said.

‘Deep?’ Antyr’s arm encompassed the view questioningly.

Andawyr cast a glance at Yatsu and Jaldaric.

‘I don’t think they have them where Antyr comes from,’ Yatsu said casually. ‘Though to be honest we were occupied with other matters than architecture for most of the time we were there.’

Andawyr looked mildly surprised. ‘They’re mirror stones, Antyr. They bring the outside world into the depths for us. We might live underground, but we’re not moles, we need the daylight.’

Antyr looked at him suspiciously, then eyed Yatsu and Jaldaric as if suspecting some elaborate jest.

Andawyr laughed. ‘I can see you’ve been too long in bad company,’ he said. ‘I can’t do it from down here, but, trust me, that view can be changed. We tend to call them windows, but they’re not. Not as you’d think of them, anyway. What you can see is coming from high above us.’

Antyr held out his hand. ‘I can feel the warmth of the sun.’

Andawyr went over to the window and touched a small panel to one side of it. The soft mountain noises of distant streams, high-peaked winds and low-valleyed breezes drifted into the room. Andawyr touched the panel again and they were gone.

‘We can carry many things to where we want them,’ he said. Antyr’s eyes were full of wonder. ‘Nothing magical,’ Andawyr went on, returning to his chair. ‘Just clear thinking, a little ingenuity, and some determination. I’ll show you how they work before you go, if you’re interested.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Now, tell me what you’ve all been up to.’

After Sumeral’s second defeat, a great Congress was held.

Fyordyn, Orthlundyn, Riddinvolk, the Cadwanol, all debated what had happened and the reasons for it, to determine what should be done to ensure that such a horror might be avoided in the future. The Congress’s doors were barred to no one.

There were many bitter cries for vengeance, for much hurt had been done. Wiser counsels eventually prevailed, however, for the victory had been complete; Sumeral and His Uhriel had been destroyed and His army utterly routed. And, too, it was acknowledged that He had returned because there had been neglect. The wisdom enshrined in the various traditions of the different peoples had been long buried under the mere forms of those traditions and their true purpose thus lost.

It was decided, though far from unanimously, that the Mandrocs, the wild and barbarous natives of Narsindal who had formed the bulk of His army and who had suffered grievously in the final battle, were as much the victims of Sumeral as the allies themselves and that nothing was to be gained save further, enduring hatred by seeking to punish them. Thus while Narsindalvak, the tower fortress originally dedicated to the Watch, the observing of Narsindal, was reinvested by the Fyordyn High Guard, it became also a centre of learning about that blighted land and all who lived in it.

The Fyordyn were left with the burden of dealing with those of their own who had sided with Sumeral. There had been many such, drawn to Him through the long and insidious treachery of the Uhriel, Oklar, who, bearing the name Dan-Tor, had come to them initially as physician and seeming saviour to their ailing king, Rgoric. And there were many degrees of guilt to be determined, ranging from refusal to acknowledge what was happening when the truth became apparent, to acquiescence under varying degrees of duress, to enthusiastic and active support. Fortunately, Dan-Tor’s quiet depredation of their land had not totally destroyed either the Fyordyn’s innate tolerance or their deep sense of justice and though, on his passing, there was much confusion and bitterness, their judicial institutions repaired themselves remarkably quickly.

It was the Fyordyn way to demand an open Accounting of any who were accused of offending, and they were always painstaking affairs, intended not only to find the truth but also a punishment that would both seek to repair any injury and guide the offender away from any future offence. For many the Accounting proved to be a benign and healing forum.

However, there were those whose participation had been both wilful and brutal and most of these had fled when Sumeral’s army was broken. It was mooted by some of the Fyordyn that, notwithstanding the guilt of these people, they should be allowed to go their ways; that relentlessly hunting them across foreign lands had an aura of vindictiveness over a defeated enemy which could only demean and degrade the hunters. But, again, wiser counsels prevailed. Lord Eldric, Jaldaric’s father, spoke in the Geadrol. ‘The desire for vengeance is indeed a dark and corrosive emotion which ultimately consumes those who nurture it. But so is neglect and, as a people, we have a duty not only to ourselves but to our children and their children’s children. And as a strong and fortunate people, we have a duty to those who are less strong and less fortunate. It is one that cannot be avoided if we are to live at ease with ourselves. We must say to those who choose to yield to the darker forces in their nature that the consequences of such conduct are inexorable. They, and any who would follow in their steps, must know that neither time, distance, nor the strength of princes shall protect them from accounting for their deeds.’

Thus it was that the likes of Yatsu and Jaldaric began their journeying. It was their charge not to deliver justice but to discover the fate of those who had fled so that the Geadrol might determine what should be done. To this charge was also added the obligation to learn about other peoples. For just as it was realized that neglect of history had helped to bring about the war, so it was realized that neglect of lands beyond their own might also have been an error. While Sumeral and His Army had been contained and defeated in Narsindal, Dan-Tor had been many years in Fyorlund and it was not known how far Sumeral’s influence had spread out into the world. Many others as well as the Fyordyn undertook this last commission, not least the Orthlundyn and the Cadwanol.