Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

‘Neither,’ Hawklan replied bluntly and without hesitation. ‘There are far stranger things in this universe than death and madness. Far stranger.’ He turned to Andawyr. ‘More hard information for you?’ he asked.

‘Oh yes,’ Andawyr replied grimly. ‘Too hard for the kind of comfort I’d prefer. I’ll tell the others straight away.’ He spoke to Gentren. ‘There’s nothing I can say that will ease the pain you must have suffered. To be honest, I can’t begin to imagine how you feel after what’s happened to your world – indeed, I don’t want to imagine the kind of desolation you must feel. I’d like to tell you that you’re safe here but that wouldn’t be entirely true. We know – we think we know – the creatures you called the Riders. We’ve dealt with their kind before. We know they’re striving to reach us in this world, presumably with the intention of doing to it what they did to yours. In some ways we’re better placed than you were to deal with them, but I fear we’re looking towards a desperate and bitter struggle – one we may well lose.’ Hawklan’s eyes moved uneasily from Andawyr to Gentren and he raised a hand to intervene in this harsh verdict. But Andawyr waved him aside and while the gesture was gentle his words were unyielding. ‘Your world has gone, but you may perhaps have an opportunity for vengeance in this one, if you wish. We could use your help if you’re prepared to give it.’ Gentren stared at him in silence. He was trembling again. Andawyr’s manner softened. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This is all too much, too quickly, isn’t it? Don’t worry, there’s no immediate danger, for sure. Rest here as long as you wish.’ He pointed towards the door. ‘When you’re ready – when you’ve satisfied yourself that Hawklan’s right – you’re neither dead nor mad – you can go anywhere you wish about this place – this land. Speak to whoever you wish, ask whatever questions you wish. Vredech and Antyr will go with you. It was Antyr’s Companions who guided you through the Labyrinth.’

Nertha coughed conspicuously. ‘And Nertha will go with you, too,’ he added hastily.

‘How do you know about the Riders?’ Gentren asked, seizing his arm abruptly.

‘Later,’ Andawyr replied. ‘There’s a lot to tell. And there’s a lot more we can still learn from you, I’m sure. Rest now.’

A little way to the east of Anderras Darion, in the mountains, a strange encounter was taking place.

Gulda stood on a rocky outcrop and gazed down into a broad, sweeping valley. She had spoken a simple message in a clear and ringing voice when she arrived.

‘Alphraan, the Labyrinth awakes again. Help us.’

Now she waited, as motionless as the crags around her and seemingly as endlessly patient. High above her, Gavor swooped and dived and tumbled through the unseen cascading pathways of the mountain air. Below her, the shadow of a small cloud slid silently along the valley floor.

‘You use the Power with great subtlety, my lady.’

The voice was behind her. There was surprise and admiration in it that touched on awe. As Gulda turned, it spoke again, no louder, but with a quality that sent the words spiralling up towards Gavor.

‘Your wings make a rare music, Sky Prince. Join us if you would.’

Gavor dropped a little way like an untidy bundle before stretching his wings and arcing into a wide, rushing spiral.

‘Aah!’ said the voice appreciatively.

Gulda found herself looking at a small, slightly built man sitting on a rock a little above her. Dressed in what appeared to be practical travelling clothes, simple in design though of an unusual cut, he was studying Gulda intently. She returned the compliment. He had the immediate look of a frail old man, though, on examination, neither his face nor his manner gave any indication of his age. Gulda’s piercing, blue-eyed gaze was not one that many could meet comfortably, but the man’s eyes twinkled in the sunlight and a white smile cracked his face. It was definitely not the smile of an old man.

‘Great subtlety,’ he emphasized. His voice was high-pitched and musical. Abruptly he was apologetic. ‘Do forgive me for staring,’ he said. ‘But I’m afraid I’ve always been drawn to taller women.’

Gulda’s eyes narrowed.

The man frowned in self-reproach. ‘I’m not doing this terribly well, am I?’ he said, scrambling nimbly down from the rock. ‘Life’s been more crowded for me than usual lately but I’m still not all that used to dealing with people. Especially remarkable people like yourself.’ He looked her up and down. ‘I was told about you, but I found it difficult to believe. Even now I find it hard. Gauche or not, I have to ask. Why do you choose to be the way you are?’

‘I am what I am.’

‘Oh, come now. A bland truism? Indulge me with an open answer. After all, we’re both old in the ways of the world, aren’t we?’

‘I don’t know. Are you?’

The man smiled. ‘You’re teasing me, my lady. Which I probably deserve. But while I may not be a true Sound Carver, and your skill with the Power may be considerable, I can do no other than hear what you are beneath the fiction you adopt.’

Gulda raised a warning finger. ‘Don’t listen. Nothing is to be shaped from what you hear there. And it is my fiction, my wish. Just as yours is yours.’ She added the last sternly.

The man bowed. Then, after some rooting through his pockets, he produced two small pieces of cloth which he proceeded to knead into rolls and insert in his ears. At the same time he affected a look of great contrition. His manner made Gulda laugh. Eyes widening in wonder, the man gazed around as though he was following the sound as it rose to join the wind-carried murmuring rising from the valley below. Suddenly, he was very close to her, looking up into her face.

‘Rare music, your laughter, my lady. Rare indeed,’ he said, his voice deeper and richer. ‘And you are a very beautiful woman.’ He was two paces away from her by the time her warning finger levelled itself at him again.

‘Enough,’ she said, though her voice lacked the edge that such a command from her would normally have had. Gavor landed on her shoulder, ending the exchange. He looked at the man, his head cocked first on one side then the other. The man bowed to him. ‘It’s an honour to meet you also, Sky Prince,’ he said.

Gavor tapped Gulda’s shoulder with his wooden leg. ‘I don’t wish to seem churlish, dear boy,’ he said. ‘But who are you?’

‘Just a traveller recently come home,’ the man replied.

Gavor clucked wearily. ‘One of the problems with dealing with humans is that they’re so often not what they seem. I’ve never felt the need for it myself. It can make life so difficult. Let’s just be our plain ordinary selves, I say.’

The man chuckled, a dancing joyous sound. ‘I’d heard you had a fine sense of irony, Sky Prince. Someone who carried the spirit of Ethriss through the ages and became the friend of the man who opened Anderras Darion can hardly be said to be an ordinary bird, can he?’

‘That’s as may be, dear boy,’ Gavor said with the air of someone rapidly changing the subject. ‘It’s a complicated tale. More to the point, you still haven’t told us who you are. You’re not Alphraan, that’s for sure…’

‘And I’m not human either,’ the man interrupted in a mockingly injured tone. ‘Not wholly, anyway. You were a tad free with your insults before.’

Gavor drew in a reproachful breath and was suddenly fulsome. ‘My dear boy, I do apologize,’ he exclaimed. ‘That was quite unforgivable. Thinking about it, I suppose I should have realized. But it was an understandable mistake, I hope you’ll agree. The two legs you see…’