Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

An uncertain silence greeted this revelation.

‘But the Great Searing is the beginning of all things.’ Gulda’s voice was uncharacteristically unsure. ‘The Guardians themselves came from it, they made everything from it. They…’ She faltered and stopped.

Andawyr slowly shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, very gently. ‘Proofs are there for you to see. Bring your sharpest wits, your strongest fist. You may lay the odd one in the dust, but not all of them – mercy knows, we’ve tried hard enough ourselves. I’m forced to admit to myself now that too many lines of good reasoning and tested experiment go back through time and do not converge at the Great Searing. It was obviously the beginning of many things – Ethriss and the Guardians, Sumeral and some of His creatures, such life as we know. But it was not the beginning of all things. Not by tens and hundreds of millions of years. I think Ethriss sensed this when he gave us that injunction.’

There was another awkward silence, then Antyr spoke.

‘In the most common of the Serenstad Creation Myths, the creator, the Weaver of the Great Dream, MaraVestriss – your Ethriss, presumably – didn’t create men, but discovered them when his son Marastrumel tried to tear apart the fabric of the Great Dream in a rage. The story says that Marastrumel couldn’t damage the fabric because it was woven from a single thread that was of the nature of the timeless time beyond the Dream and was indivisible. But in the new pattern he made with his violence could be seen the world of men and many others beside – all bearing the mark of both MaraVestriss and his son. And when MaraVestriss saw this, he realized that he didn’t know how such a thing could have come about. And, as he struggled with this, the question came to him, “How is it that out of the timeless time, that which is indivisible, I became?” And then he knew himself to be truly ignorant and he withdrew from the Great Dream, determined to find an answer to his ignorance before he would attempt to repair the damage his son had wrought.’

Antyr’s voice had become that of a fireside storyteller as he spoke the final sentences, but there was no incongruity.

Andawyr blew out a long slow breath and stroked Dar-volci’s head. ‘I think your myth might have more wisdom in it than much of our learning. It’s certainly not unreasonable to imagine that Ethriss asked himself such a question, nor surprising that he was unable to answer it. And given he was wise enough to know that children invariably surprise their parents sooner or later, it’s not unreasonable to imagine he’d look to them to answer it for him.’

Hawklan shifted restlessly. ‘I can’t see what this has to do with our present concerns, Andawyr, but it’s remarkable stuff to be casually announcing on a quiet Orthlundyn evening. How is it we’ve had no wind of it before now?’

Andawyr made a vaguely apologetic gesture. ‘Until quite recently it was just the backwash of unrelated ideas. Profound, fascinating, far-reaching, certainly, but not urgent.’

‘And now?’

‘And now, I don’t know. Bear with me, please. As I said, there are so many things coming together, it’s difficult to order them. But, for what it’s worth, I think that Thyrn has touched on this time before the Great Searing. Or touched on some lingering remnant of it.’ He paused and his eyes became distant. ‘Endryk told us that the place to which both Vashnar and Thyrn were drawn was like the Thlosgaral – dead, and barren – a place that seems to draw the life out of people – a place where crystals can be found.’ Hawklan leaned forward but Andawyr answered his question before he asked it. ‘I could give you several long lectures about crystals,’ he said. ‘But then you wouldn’t know much. Put simply, they can store and transform the Power – amplify it, absorb it. They can be very dangerous to anyone who can use the Power. That’s why we sent Atelon and Dar-volci to find out where they were coming from when they suddenly appeared at the Gretmearc. We used to use them for all sorts of things – latterly mainly the Slips for moving about the Cadwanen quickly, if you recall, but…’ He shook his head thoughtfully. ‘They distort things – distance, even time. As we learned more about them we used them less and less. Now they’re just part of the Cadwanen’s defence system.’

Gulda grunted. ‘Why would Ethriss create them if they were so dangerous?’

‘I don’t think he did,’ Andawyr retorted. ‘In fact, I’m inclined to agree with Atelon – they’re made things.’

‘Which means?’

‘Which means that someone else made them. It’s not possible they came about by some random natural process – their inner structures are far too complex, too ordered.’

‘Just because you can’t account for them doesn’t mean that’s the way of it, does it? How else would they come to be scattered all over the Thlosgaral?’

Gulda’s question ended in a dying fall as she anticipated Andawyr’s answer.

‘I’d surmise that they were made by the people who came before the Great Searing and that they were part of whatever weapon or weapons actually caused it,’ he said, quietly, but very steadily. He had the air of a man who had just attained a reluctant goal but was ready to move on.

‘They could be used as weapons, these crystals?’ Hawklan asked into the ensuing silence.

‘Oh yes. Using them as weapons is easy. It was using them more creatively that always taxed us,’ Andawyr replied. ‘From what we already know, it needs no great feat of imagination to see great arrays of them linked to form weapons of truly appalling destructiveness.’ He met Hawklan’s gaze squarely. ‘Or that could draw the life from – unravel the very essence of – an enemy. Reshape it, remake it. However Ethriss came by them, we should consider ourselves fortunate that Sumeral didn’t, or this world would have been His long ago.’

Hawklan looked at him searchingly for a moment, then said, ‘This is a great edifice to be building on the foundation laid by one young man.’

‘It would be if it were,’ Andawyr replied resignedly but without any resentment. ‘But it’s not. Now I look back on it, it’s been a long time in the making, and it rests on far more than young Thyrn’s testimony.’ He became explanatory. ‘What he’s told us is more like the keystone to an arch. It gives the ideas stability – holds them together.’

‘Apart,’ Gulda corrected absently. Andawyr looked at her, then raised his eyes upwards as he silently mouthed the word ‘apart’. Then, unexpectedly, both of them burst out laughing. Gulda’s laugh was rarely heard. It was that of a young woman. It twined around Andawyr’s guffaw to make a sound that infected both Hawklan and Antyr, drawing them into it even though they scarcely knew what they were laughing at and despite the darkness of the concerns they were discussing.

‘Good for some, picnicking in the balmy evening while others are slaving over their work.’

It was Usche, moving towards them through the soft light. Behind her confident stride came the large and uneasy form of Ar-Billan. Andawyr extended a welcoming arm and signalled them to sit down. Usche’s eyes were wide with excitement but, seeing Gulda and Hawklan, she hesitated. ‘I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?’ she asked.

‘Quite possibly,’ Andawyr replied, still laughing. ‘But don’t worry about it. What have you discovered that won’t wait until the morning?’ He glanced at the papers she was carrying. They were the ones he had given her earlier. ‘Not given up so soon, have you? Or are you going to tell me you’ve resolved my paradoxes and confusions?’

‘Well, in a manner of speaking, I think we have,’ Usche replied, excited again.