Roger Taylor - Valderen

‘Are you all right?’ he heard Bildar asking.

He nodded. Then he shook his head. ‘No. Yes. I don’t know,’ he said uncertainly.

Bildar was by his side, a cool hand feeling his fore-head. Gradually the surge of panic receded into the depths from whence it had come. ‘Yes, I’m all right now – I think,’ Farnor said, after a moment. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what…’ His voice tailed off.

‘You’ve had some kind of a nasty shock, I’d say,’ Bildar said, sitting down beside him. ‘But whatever’s…’

Some pent-up wildness within Farnor was released. ‘Shock!’ he heard himself crying out, his voice cracking with an almost childish incredulity. ‘My parents murdered, my home burned, me beaten like a dog – and then pursued by…’ He wrapped his arms about himself again and began to shiver violently as some other, darker compulsion welled up inside and silenced him. Gritting his teeth, and driving his fingers painfully into his arms, he forced himself to stop trembling.

Derwyn and Bildar, both standing by his side now, were looking at him in horror. Derwyn’s arm was extended to warn Edrien, who was standing with another woman in the doorway, not to enter.

‘He has no fever. Nor any contagion that I can find,’ Bildar said, in answer to the unspoken question on Derwyn’s face. He touched his own temple discreetly. ‘But he seems to be appallingly troubled. We must be patient with him. I think perhaps we can do nothing but tend him until he can find the strength to speak of what’s happened.’

‘Don’t talk about me as though I weren’t here,’ Far-nor said angrily.

A flash of reciprocal anger lit Derwyn’s face, but Bildar laid a restraining hand on his arm. ‘I apologize,’ he said to Farnor, before Derwyn could speak. ‘It was ill-mannered and thoughtless of me. A Mender’s way, I’m afraid. But you’ll understand, I’m sure, that you’ve come to us as mysteriously as if you’d dropped out of the sky. Almost like something out of an ancient tale. Your appearance and your speech tell us that you’re not Valderen, or even of the Forest, and suddenly you talk of the most fearful happenings. We’re concerned for your pain, as we would be for one of our own, and we’re concerned for what your pain might mean for us, if evil things have driven you from your home and land, Farnor Yarrance.’

Farnor put his head in his hands but did not reply.

Derwyn frowned thoughtfully, then crouched down in front of Farnor. ‘Tell us what you can, when you can, Farnor,’ he said. ‘You may stay in our lodge until your body’s truly rested, and your spirit’s more at peace.’

Farnor looked up sharply, his face riven with con-flicting emotions, greatest amongst which was anger. Gradually however, he seemed to gain control of himself again. ‘Thank you, Derwyn,’ he said, his voice subdued. ‘I seem to be full of dreadful thoughts and feelings that I’ve never known before. I’m sorry. I can’t stay, I have nothing…’

Derwyn rested a hand on his arm. ‘For such time as you need to recover yourself, you’ll be our guest, Farnor,’ he said. Then he straightened up and affected a heartiness which, in truth, he did not feel. ‘I’ve no doubt that as you get better we’ll find some chores to keep you occupied.’

Farnor nodded dully.

Derwyn indicated his daughter. ‘I’ll not ask you any more questions now, Farnor. I should’ve let you rest more, you’re obviously still too distressed. I’ll leave you in Edrien’s charge.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘You’re not used to lodges – homes – like ours, are you?’ he asked.

Farnor shook his head.

‘Incredible,’ Derwyn said softly to himself, then, ‘Well, ask Edrien if there’s anything you want to know, but don’t wander off without her. And do as she tells you. That way, you should come to no harm.’

He beckoned Edrien into the room and, taking her to one side, spoke to her softly. ‘Watch him carefully, listen to him, and learn what you can about him – without actually questioning him, that is. He’s probably more likely to confide in you than in old hollow trunks like me and Bildar.’ He glanced back at Farnor, who was sitting motionless with his head bowed. ‘For all he looks a bit odd, he seems to be a well-set-up lad. I’d say he’s been a hard worker in his time, judging by his hands. But even I can tell he’s broken inside in some way. I fancy he’ll need a lot of help and a lot of patient tending, so keep a rein on that acid tongue of yours, my girl. Do you understand?’

Edrien nodded. ‘I think so, Father,’ she replied, tartly. Then she went over to Farnor. ‘Is it true you’ve never seen a lodge in a tree before?’ she asked bluntly.

Farnor looked at her suspiciously, but saw that the question was sincere. ‘Yes,’ he replied.

Genuine amazement filled Edrien’s face. ‘I’ll help you with the ladders and the ways, then,’ she said. ‘I never realized…’

Derwyn laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘Go with Edrien now,’ he said to Farnor. ‘It’s growing dark. She’ll find somewhere for you to sleep tonight, and tomorrow she’ll find you a room of your own and show you around. Then perhaps we can have another talk.’

No sooner had Farnor and Edrien left, than Der-wyn’s concern showed on his face, and he started to pace up and down. The woman who had accompanied Edrien came into the room. Her movements were soft and fluid and seemingly quite without effort. She sat in the chair that he had been using. ‘You can stop that before you start,’ she announced, with a purposefulness markedly at odds with her gentle demeanour. ‘There won’t be a leaf left on the tree if you carry on pounding up and down like that.’

Jaw set, but making no reply, Derwyn sat down by the window and leaned on the sill, his head on his hand. The setting sun threw the Shadows of the branches outside on to his face, deepening its already well-defined furrows. ‘What do you make of it all, Angwen?’ he asked. ‘Have we taken a cuckoo into our nest?’

The woman laughed softly. ‘It’d be a rare bird that could throw Edrien out of anywhere,’ she replied. ‘That black hair makes him look strange, but from what I’ve just seen and from what little she’s told me, he seems a fragile kind of a soul.’

Derwyn nodded. ‘My impression, too,’ he said. ‘But…’ He stood up and walked over to his wife. ‘… somehow he’s cost us our Hearer and, impressions or no, I want to find out a great deal more about him, and as quickly as possible.’ He sat down opposite his wife and turned to Bildar. ‘How long?’ he asked simply.

Bildar shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea,’ he replied. ‘What he’s said should give you some clue to the state he’s in. What was it? His parents murdered! His home burned. Burned, Derwyn.’ He gave a slight shudder. ‘And then something about being beaten and pursued, just as we’d worked out for ourselves. He’s been through some fearful ordeal, and I doubt he’s Edrien’s age. All I can suggest is that we wait, and in the meantime keep an eye on him. I’ll have another look at him tomorrow, but as far as I can tell there’s nothing wrong with him physically that time won’t put right. I think we’ll have to be very careful about how we question him, though.’

Derwyn looked unhappy. ‘You may well be right,’ he said, after a long pause. ‘But, apart from the disturbance that Marken was talking about, it worries me that something might be happening beyond, that could affect us. Suppose whoever was pursuing him returns to the search. And the people who murdered his parents and burned his home. What if they come looking for him?’

Bildar made no reply.

Derwyn went on, his expression becoming increas-ingly troubled. ‘Or suppose he’s a criminal of some kind, fleeing from lawful pursuit?’