Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

Gulda leaned forward but Usche spoke first, bridling at Yrain’s tone.

‘The beginning of all things, as you call it, wasn’t the beginning of all things. That’s a fact beyond any reasoned dispute – accept it! I’ve told you we don’t know what it was but the idea that it was caused by a weapon fits most of the facts.’ She pointed to Thyrn. ‘We’ve also got Thyrn’s Accounting and we’ve been through that over and over, studying every nuance of his Caddoran ability and what he overheard between Vashnar and the person – the entity – whatever it was that appeared to him. It spoke of armies beyond imagining – engines of war beyond imagining – engines that would unravel the very being – the very essence – of an enemy.’ She jabbed her finger into the table in emphasis. ‘But it wasn’t Sumeral nor anything of His. It was surprised to find itself where it was – and surprised to find its former enemies in the same condition. It spoke of something happening that shouldn’t have happened – something that resulted in all being defeated – something…’

‘I see a brightness moving across the land, across the oceans – moving through all that lived, moving scarcely at the pace of a walking man – but relentlessly growing, sustaining itself. And all fleeing its touch – believer and heretic alike. None escaped. And then there was only brightness – a reshaping, a remaking.’ It was Thyrn, retelling, in the Caddoran way, the words he had overheard when he had touched Vashnar’s mind. The voice was that of a powerful and coldly ruthless personality, but, as Usche had said, it was laced through with surprise and growing realization. For a moment the darkness of the Labyrinth seemed to swallow all hint of sound in the hall.

No one spoke.

Andawyr reached into his pocket and withdrew a crumpled kerchief. Carefully he laid it on the table and spread it out to reveal three green crystals.

‘I’ll answer your next question before you ask it, Yrain,’ he said, looking at the still frowning Goraidin. ‘Crystals such as these can be used to do many things with the Power: store it, amplify it, transform it. We used to use them a lot at the Cadwanen but we use them very sparingly now. Their origins are unknown but potentially they’re very dangerous to anyone with the gift to use the Power. That’s why Atelon and Dar-volci went looking for the source of them when they began to appear at the Gretmearc. In our arrogance, we thought we possessed the only ones in existence and, insofar as we thought about it, we presumed that Ethriss had created them himself.’ He paused uncomfortably. ‘That’s not as lame as it sounds because, although they’re apparently mined in the Thlosgaral, there’s no natural process we know of that could create them. Even as far as we’ve been able to examine them, their structure’s far too complex and ordered. They’re made things. How, we don’t know. “Why” is what we’re talking about now. It’s certainly quite possible to envisage crystals being used to form a terrible weapon.’

He swept up the kerchief and the crystals and dropped them into a pocket.

‘Atelon’s told you about the Kyrosdyn who attacked him in Arash-Felloren. He used crystals to enhance his use of the Power and his indiscipline cost him his life. His life energy was drained from him.’

Andawyr leaned forward and held up a warning finger.

‘One crystal, and a little misused knowledge, will do this. Two, suitably aligned, could do four times the hurt. Three could do eight times. And so on. The more we think about what they are and what they can do, the more we think about them scattered and buried in the Thlosgaral, the more we believe they played some part in what Thyrn just reminded us of – something we take to be a memory of the beginning of the Great Searing. As for a society that would make such a weapon, sadly, unlike Usche, I find that all too easy to imagine.’ He gave her a mentor’s reproachful look. ‘She’s young yet and history isn’t one of her favourite subjects. When it becomes so she’ll learn that it’s full of tales of communities racking and destroying each other with that absolute lack of restraint that only righteousness can give. Antyr’s told us of the recent war in his own land. Vredech’s told us of his religion degenerating into darkness almost overnight. We’ve heard of Arvenstaat’s corrupt and self-serving senators, and of the bleak hatred and cruelty of the Kyrosdyn. Even Fyorlund itself fell into civil war under Oklar’s influence. All examples of the festering legacy of Sumeral’s First Coming. All telling us that there are no depths to which we’re not capable of descending.’ He patted the pocket containing the crystals. ‘I don’t know exactly how these could’ve been used to make such a weapon, but that’s simply because I’ve not thought about it enough.’ Andawyr spoke the last words with a savage emphasis. ‘I’m more than prepared to believe that they were used thus and that, as a result, the damage they did became magnified beyond any controlling, and overwhelmed not only the warring parties but far beyond, until no part of the world was untouched.’

A tremulous moaning came from the Labyrinth.

Dar-volci, Tarrian and Grayle had stationed themselves in front of the Labyrinth as they had the previous day. All three were suddenly alert as the moaning filled the hall, then, without any discernible signal passing between them, they were on their feet and running into the darkness. Gavor launched himself after them from Hawklan’s shoulder but, as the animals disappeared, a stern command filled the mind of everyone present.

‘Stay where you are, all of you.’

Gavor flapped urgently, then turned away from the Labyrinth and circled hesitantly a couple of times before returning to his familiar perch. Hawklan reached up and touched his beak but said nothing.

‘It’s all right,’ Antyr was shouting above the confusion of startled cries and clattering chairs. ‘It’s all right. It’s Tarrian. We must do as he says. He wouldn’t have spoken to all of you like that unless it was important.’

‘What’s happened? Where’ve they gone?’ Andawyr asked, grasping his arm urgently.

Antyr’s authoritative manner vanished with a helpless shrug. ‘I’ve no idea.’ He touched his forehead. ‘They’re somewhere far away already – I can barely reach them.’ He closed his eyes in concentration, only to open them wide almost immediately. ‘And I’m hindering by trying. Wherever they all are, it’s beyond anywhere I can go.’

Andawyr looked at him for a moment. Then, after a further anxious glance at the Labyrinth, he began ushering everyone back to their seats. The sound that had caused the animals’ hasty departure had been overtopped by the commotion that Tarrian’s unexpected instruction had caused but, as the hall grew quieter, it returned, though softer now, like the echo of a winter wind, felt as much as heard as it roams the echoing corridors deep inside a long-deserted mansion. Some of the listeners shivered.

‘We’d better carry on with what we were doing,’ Andawyr said unhappily, obviously unsettled by what had happened.

‘Which was what?’ Yrain demanded, though less belligerently than before. ‘Listening to stories about a time before the beginning of time, about weapons powerful enough to do…’ She threw up both arms in a flamboyant gesture. ‘Something… to the entire world. Weapons whose remains are still lying about the place for anyone to pick up and use.’

She slapped the table in frustration, then held out an unsteady and apologetic hand as if to defend herself from Gulda, though the old woman had not moved.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I know. My impatience. But none of this still makes any sense – or any sense that’ll enable us to do something. Whatever may or may not have happened in the past, we’ve present problems that need to be dealt with.’