Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

‘It’s Tarrian and Grayle,’ Antyr said, as the noise of the wolves’ howling gradually gathered force. Dar-volci stretched, then sat up, his head cocked to one side.

No one spoke, no one moved, as the voices of the wolves swelled to fill the starlit darkness. Long notes rose and fell, tumbling one over the other, echoing round the tall and silent towers of Anderras Darion and the steep crags of the mountains that sheltered Hawklan’s castle. They sang the Great Song, telling the ancient tale of the wonder and mystery that was in all things. And of the joy of being.

No one spoke, no one moved for some time after the final notes had dwindled into the ringing distance.

The two wolves padded back out of the darkness.

‘I needed that,’ Tarrian said, sitting down and scratching vigorously.

Gulda bent down and stroked their heads. ‘The Alphraan will value it,’ she said softly before returning to the others. ‘The Sword, gentlemen. Time to come down from the stars and turn to our more mundane problems.’

She levelled her stick at Andawyr. ‘As memory serves me, you surmised that when you saw the Sword in your dream it wasn’t actually part of the dream but, somehow, Antyr’s strange gift had actually brought it to you – or you to it – or opened a way between the worlds for you to reach it?’

Andawyr looked at her suspiciously, uncertain of her tone. ‘Yes,’ he said somewhat defensively. ‘I did think that was a possibility.’ He straightened up and met her gaze. ‘In fact, after what we’ve heard I’m quite certain now that it was a possibility. But such a remote one.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m still finding all these clear affirmations of the existence of other worlds unsettling – ideas, theories, calculations and experiments are one thing, but to have them all suddenly given such form… Still…’ He massaged his ruined nose with a fist. ‘The Sword actually being present certainly makes sense of the alarms being set off the way they were.’

Gulda turned to Antyr. ‘Do you think this too?’

‘I don’t know. It could be. I don’t have Andawyr’s knowledge of why these places should be but I also don’t have his reservations. I know they’re there and that moving to them involves not just the mind. The body – a body – your body – is there, no different to how it is here, and you can live and die there just as here. And objects can be moved as well – like the blue stones Pinnatte brought back. The incident in Andawyr’s dream wasn’t as clearly obvious as the other times when I’ve moved into some other world, but it was certainly no ordinary dream.’

‘You’re the expert,’ Gulda said. ‘But it sounds reasonable to me in the light of what we’ve heard. Though in all conscience, for all we know Pinnatte might have had those stones in his pocket since he left Arash-Felloren. He is a thief by profession, after all. It’s quite…’

‘No.’ Andawyr interrupted. ‘Whatever those stones are I’ve never felt anything like them before, and they are dangerous – far more even than green crystals, I’d judge – and they’re frightening enough for anyone who can use the Power. They’re certainly far too dangerous for anyone to carry idly in his pocket, and, street thief or no, he didn’t throw them away with the attitude of someone creating a diversion to gull a gawping crowd. I’ve someone looking at them as a matter of urgency.’

‘Both he and Vredech are Dream Finders,’ Antyr blurted out. The revelation caused some surprise.

‘You didn’t mention this before,’ Andawyr said.

‘I wasn’t sure. But listening to Vredech and speaking to him, and discussing Pinnatte with Atelon, and thinking about everything else that’s happened, I’m fairly certain now. They’re untrained, of course, and without Earth Holders, but they’re Dream Finders nevertheless. Not only that, I think they’re like me – able to move between the worlds.’

‘Adepts?’ Andawyr, looked at him closely. ‘I thought… you told me… they were very rare.’

‘I thought they were non-existent,’ Antyr replied. ‘Until the blind man called me one, “Adept” was nothing more than a word – a Dream Finding myth. Even now I don’t feel easy with the name. “Adept” implies a considerable and conscious skill. I’ll own to being a competent, perhaps good Dream Finder, but if I’m an Adept I’m frankly a floundering one. I’m at the behest of something inside me that seems to be quite beyond my control.’

‘Yet you think both Pinnatte and Vredech are Adepts also?’ Gulda queried, ignoring this repudiation.

Antyr wilted a little under her searching gaze but held his ground. ‘In Serenstad there are many Dream Finders, but the whole idea of Adepts – people who can find Gateways to the Threshold – other worlds – and perhaps even the Inner Portals to the Great Dream – is thought of as so much nonsense. No one thinks they actually exist.’ He curled his lip in distaste. ‘Least of all anyone in the Guild of Dream Finders – all they’re interested in are the fees their inner circle can charge. But, having been forced to think about it, perhaps there may be more Adepts than we know – if I’m one, then Ivaroth was for sure. And, occasionally, Dream Finders die mysteriously.’ He sat down and stroked Tarrian’s head. ‘My own father did. And all their Earth Holders can say is that they just… slip away. Perhaps there’ve always been Adepts but, for some reason, we’ve stopped being able to recognize them. Or perhaps it’s always been an uncontrollable gift.’ He grimaced as he reached this last conclusion.

Gulda’s gaze relented but she turned to Tarrian. ‘Wolf, can you explain this any better?’

‘No,’ came the immediate reply. ‘It’s in a part of me – of us – that’s beyond your understanding, just as much of you is beyond me. The other worlds are there – we “see” them as we “see” the darkness around us right now through the many scents that pervade it. But you’re blind to this knowledge, just as you’re blind to the rich perfumes of the night and I can’t truly stand in your place. How can the living explain life to the unborn? Earth Holders move between the worlds. I’ve no other words for you, still less the kind of explanation you need… only the knowledge. But the Gateways aren’t for us and if our charge chooses to pass through one – or is drawn there – or stumbles upon one in his blindness – they disappear, as Antyr said – just slip from our view. I had a flickering awareness of the Great Dream when Antyr’s father died but…’ Strange, wild images filled the minds of his four listeners, leaving them bewildered and shaking their heads. ‘We hunt for them – we’ve no choice – but…’ Tarrian’s thoughts faded away.

Gulda anchored the group again. ‘You told us that Dream Finders were once known as Dream Warriors,’ she said to Antyr.

‘That’s the tradition,’ Antyr replied, grateful to be away from Tarrian’s disturbing thoughts. ‘People who guarded the spirits of others.’

‘From what?’ Gulda’s question was like the slamming of a door caught by the wind. Antyr looked at her.

‘I… don’t know,’ he stammered.

Gulda tapped her stick on the floor idly, then swung it up and looked at it thoughtfully. ‘Farnor gave me this before he went into the heart of the Great Forest,’ she said. ‘I was very loath to leave him then, but he’d problems only he could deal with.’ She frowned and was briefly silent. ‘It had been a long time since I’d spoken with the trees myself – touched their strange and ancient memories. It was salutary, to put it mildly. We’re so obsessed with ourselves. We forget how many ways Sumeral assailed this world at the time of the First Coming. In fact, we never even fully knew. No single record exists of the totality of that war, but each account we have implies – some even state directly – that many other battles were fought elsewhere – by people who had mysterious skills – by creatures other than humans – high in the clouds – deep in the oceans.’ She paused and looked at Antyr.