Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

Andawyr grimaced at the word ‘war’ but made no direct reference to it.

‘I suppose we should tell our neighbours about this,’ he said uncomfortably. ‘The Muster and the Geadrol need to know. Shall I send riders to Urthryn and Queen Sylvriss? Tell them…’

‘Tell them what?’ Gulda interrupted sharply. ‘They would be in the position of Andeeren Marsyn – their “sages” warning them of impending doom but giving them neither advice nor any indication what was going to happen.’ She tapped her head. ‘No, we must solve this here first. And quickly, I suspect. Besides, I doubt Sumeral will try to match us sword for sword again – He’s lost twice doing that. And while we’d be sore pressed to raise another army, we could raise a damned sight better one than He could if He suddenly appeared amongst us. No, He’s trying another way. After what you’ve told me about Gentren’s world I’m more convinced than ever that now He knows the Guardians are gone He intends simply to exterminate us.’

She curled her lip and, for the briefest of moments, Andawyr felt that he was looking at the face of someone fully as terrible as their enemy. The feeling was gone almost before he could register it and Gulda was standing up. ‘Get everyone together tomorrow.’ She glanced out into the darkness and relented. ‘No. Make it the day after tomorrow. If they’re all working as well as you say another day could make a big difference. But what we’ll have by then will have to suffice. Decisions have to be made.’ She took half a step towards the door, then hesitated. ‘Use the Labyrinth hall. It’ll help focus our minds.’

It was not a popular venue, least of all for those who had to haul chairs and tables down into the depths of the castle. Extra lanterns were brought as well and, though they brightened the hall, their light still did not seem to penetrate far into the Labyrinth. Rather they heightened the gloomy menace it exuded.

The previous day had verged on the frantic, with Gulda wandering about, apparently casually dropping in on the groups and individuals who were poring over the information they had received and the ideas that were emerging. With the exception of Marna, however, she chased Antyr and the other new arrivals out into the Orthlundyn countryside in the company of Loman and Isloman.

‘They’ve told us all they can for the moment. Let them get as much of this place in their bones as they can,’ she said to Andawyr as they left. ‘Who knows what darkness they might be going into?’

Marna, very much at her own insistence, and not without some reluctance on their part, was still being trained by the Goraidin. Yrain undertook most of the work and her confident opinion to Gulda was that ‘She’ll soon get it out of her system.’ This prompted a dark smile, a grunt, and the rejoinder, ‘Let me know when it’s out of yours.’

The tables and chairs were laid out in a wide circle and there was an air of anxious anticipation about those gathering in the Labyrinth hall. Tarrian and Grayle sauntered in and out from time to time, sniffing at everyone and everything routinely before lying down immediately in front of the Labyrinth and going to sleep. Dar-volci joined them.

The last to arrive were an apologetic Yrain and a red-faced and perspiring Marna. They slipped in hastily as Andawyr was about to speak, their progress monitored beadily by Gulda.

Andawyr made no elaborate preamble.

‘As you all know, some sixteen or so years ago we discovered that what many of us, to our shame, had thought of as almost a child’s tale – a myth – had happened. Sumeral, the Great Corrupter, was amongst us again. How and from where He returned, how long He had been in Narsindal, we don’t know even now, but fortune exposed Him and both fortune and courage destroyed Him. Nor do we know what His intentions were. We judged Him, as our forebears did at the time of His First Coming, by His deeds. He corrupted, He destroyed, He took power over others, and sought ever more. He did all those things that to us, as peoples needing our own freedom and respecting the freedom of others, were intolerable.’

He paused and his voice echoed back from the Labyrinth as a soft murmur.

‘In many ways His Second Coming was the same as His First. As before, He levied both the Uhriel and a great army against us and, as before, we knew that both had to be defeated. The one by force of arms, the other by the use of the Power. The only real difference between these two conflicts was their scale. For those involved, the pain and the horror were the same, but this time, fortunately, circumstances did not permit Him to spread His influence too far out into the world.’

Andawyr looked at his audience as if steeling himself for what he had to say next.

‘It would seem, however, that we were premature in assuming that the destruction of his mortal frame and Derras Ustramel was the destruction of whatever He really is and of His determination to return to this world.’ He waved his arm to indicate Antyr and the other newcomers to the castle. ‘The testimony we’ve received is unequivocal. Somewhere He is whole and struggling to return. Struggling desperately.’ He fidgeted nervously with some papers on the table in front of him. ‘Further signs have come from apparently quite separate matters we at the Cadwanol have been studying. Signs from the time of the Great Searing itself – if not before.’ There was a soft hiss of surprise but Andawyr ignored it. ‘It would appear that many things are being drawn together that should be ever apart. A crisis deep in the nature of existence itself is imminent – a crisis that we can’t properly articulate but which must inevitably affect all of us.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘It may even be that Sumeral Himself is as much a victim of this as we are of His evil.’

‘What!’

The exclamation came from several sources, despite the discipline that was normal at such gatherings. Andawyr made no rebuke. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not making excuses for Him. He’s as wilfully conscious as we are and just as responsible for what He does.’ He fiddled with the papers again, momentarily preoccupied. ‘Given these many different signs, the only conclusion we can come to is that it’s only a matter of time before He is with us again.’ He glanced quickly around the circle. ‘He and those He has taken to be His new Uhriel.’ His hand hovered uncertainly by his side, ready to reach out to deal with any outcry at this revelation. Instead, there was little more than a shuffling silence.

Yatsu spoke into it, softly. ‘These creatures that Vredech and Pinnatte met and which destroyed Gentren’s world are Uhriel, then? He’s found new souls to replace those that were destroyed?’ His manner and emphasis told Andawyr that this was a conclusion that the Goraidin had reached in their own discussions. He made to speak, but it was Gulda who replied.

‘Yes,’ she said starkly. ‘I recognized their ancient language in the din we heard when Vredech and Pinnatte came back from wherever they’d been. I didn’t tell you about it because for those of you who’d known the Uhriel – and for other reasons – I thought it too fearful a prospect to be made known too quickly. I know it’s not our way to withhold information like that and I may have been wrong, but in any event it’s irrelevant now. And it’s to your credit you’ve faced that possibility yourselves.’

‘And these other reasons, Memsa,’ Yatsu pressed, watching her closely. ‘How fearful are they?’

Gulda hesitated for a moment as she returned his gaze. Then she told her listeners what she had told Hawklan and Andawyr as they had stood on the sunlit balcony after Vredech’s and Pinnatte’s disconcerting return from the blue world of the Uhriel. ‘The language they now possess is the language of the Power itself. That they know it means that He has chosen to give them a knowledge of it which far outstrips that of their predecessors.’