Roger Taylor - Valderen

As soon as Gryss had left them, Marna turned to Aaren. ‘Take me with you,’ she said.

‘No,’ Aaren replied unequivocally and without hesi-tation. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

‘Here is dangerous,’ Marna retorted. ‘Everywhere in the valley’s dangerous now, especially for me. I can’t go with Gryss and the others, can I? And there’s nothing useful I can do here.’

Aaren’s reply was impatient. ‘Just stay here. Stay hidden until it’s all over.’

‘The hell I will,’ Marna blazed. ‘This is my valley, woman, and most of what you know about it is because of me!’

‘No! You’re not trained. You couldn’t…’

‘I killed that man.’ Shame filled her at the boast, but she held Aaren’s gaze.

‘You got lucky. Be told. Stay here. You’re no use to us.’

The shame became a livid rage as Marna took in this remark and its scornful utterance. Furiously she swung her hand up to strike Aaren’s face. A contemptuous flick deflected it effortlessly and she suddenly felt Aaren’s hand closing about her throat. The pressure was not great, but almost immediately she felt everything around her begin to swim and darken. Somehow she lifted her hands to take Aaren’s wrist, though there was no strength in them. ‘My valley, my people, you bitch,’ she heard herself saying in the distance.

Then the darkness was gone and two strong arms were wrapped around her, supporting her. ‘I’m sorry, Marna,’ Aaren said, her voice hoarse and unsteady. ‘You’re right, and I’m wrong. It is your valley and it’s not up to me to stop you fighting for it. We’ll find something useful for you to do. You can come.’

Her embrace fell away. Marna straightened up and looked at her erstwhile antagonist. Her anger vanished at what she saw. ‘You’re a long way from home, and frightened, aren’t you?’ she said with a sudden, heart-breaking insight.

Aaren’s lips tightened briefly, then her features composed themselves and she raised an ironic eyebrow. ‘And you, young woman, are too much like I used to be.’ She became purposeful. ‘But understand, as we told you before, if you come with us you keep quiet and do exactly what you’re told, immediately and without question.’ She looked at Marna uncertainly. ‘I hope I’m not going to regret this. Let’s hope your luck holds.’

The next few hours saw the two women making a stealthy journey through the woods and across the rainswept landscape until they were in the woods to the north of the castle. There they were met by Engir, Levrik and Yehna.

Engir threw a quick glance at Marna and spoke sharply to Aaren in their own language.

‘I’ve come to help,’ Marna said, before Aaren could reply. Engir started in surprise. ‘I don’t need to know your language to understand that remark,’ Marna went on. ‘And I’ve had this argument once. I mightn’t be trained but I’m not stupid. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, because I’m not leaving.’

There was an awkward pause, then Levrik said to her, ‘You can mind the horses. We might need them quickly when we come out and it’ll be pitch dark then. It could save a lot of time, not to mention our necks.’

Marna was both surprised and pleased by this inter-vention from the most silent of the group, but despite this feeling of gratitude there was still a quality about the man that disturbed her.

His suggestion was accepted however, and some time was spent introducing Marna to the horses and giving her detailed instructions for their tending, followed by further instructions on how to respond to the different signals that she might hear once the attack had begun. For the remainder of the day the four continued their own preparations: checking and rechecking their weapons and equipment, and repeat-edly going over their plan and its various contingencies. Then there was a strange, tense interlude when all was completed and there was nothing to do but wait until the night came and they could venture forth.

It stopped raining, and the air filled with rich, damp forest perfumes and the sound of the soft irregular dripping of the rain still held in the leaves above. As she watched her new companions, Marna wondered at their quietness and stillness, though she sensed that only Levrik was truly relaxed, truly here. Some part, at least, of each of the others was elsewhere. She herself felt as though she were holding her breath continuously.

Unable to cope with the waiting, she wandered over to Aaren and spoke to her softly, asking about the attack they planned, even though she had heard it described a dozen or more times. Aaren seemed quite willing, even anxious, to speak about it yet again. She concluded almost in a whisper, ‘You know what you’ve got to do, but if things don’t appear to be working out as we intend, don’t be afraid to use your own judgement.’ She paused and looked straight at Marna. ‘I trust it. And so does Levrik.’

Marna had no reply. She glanced over at the mo-tionless figure of her other sponsor into this mysterious group. ‘He frightens me,’ she heard herself whispering. Then she was clamping her hand over her mouth as her mind raced to find an apology.

Aaren looked at her. ‘So he should,’ she said, a strange flatness in her tone. ‘As should I. As should all of us.’ The light caught her eyes, making them glint as she peered through the leafy shade, and Marna’s hands began to shake. Aaren reached out and took them. ‘Above all, Levrik should frighten you. But in what we do, believe me, Levrik guarding your back is worth a score of the rest of us.’

Unnerved by the turn of the conversation and anx-ious to end it, Marna staggered into another blunder. ‘How did you lose the end of your finger?’ she asked.

There was a slight pause, and then Aaren’s noiseless laugh reached her. A maternal hand patted her face. ‘A friend bit it off,’ came the reply, and the soft laughter renewed itself.

‘A friend!’ Marna exclaimed softly.

‘There are times when you get to know who your real friends are, Marna,’ Aaren said, still laughing. ‘But that’s enough. I’ll tell you some other time. When this day’s behind us as well.’

Marna held her peace, far from certain what folly she might commit next. For some time she heard Aaren chuckling to herself, but even in the failing light she could see that the woman was nervously squeezing the end of her damaged finger.

Then, unseen behind the grey clouds, the sun dipped behind the mountains and darkness began to seep into the valley. There was a terse command from Engir, and with a last-minute check that Marna knew her signals and what she was to do, the four were gone, soft and silent as shadows.

Marna stood for some time in the deepening gloom, then, carefully checking that the horses were securely tethered, she cautiously followed a thin guideline down to what was to be her post at the edge of the trees. In the near distance, she could make out the castle. As on the previous night, torches in the courtyard were illuminat-ing the walls of the various towers, and from Rannick’s eyrie the sickly and unnatural light pulsed erratically.

She shivered, though whether it was the light from Rannick’s window, the evening dampness, or the cold fear that was tugging at her stomach, she could not have said. Now she must watch and wait and, above all, as Aaren had emphasized at the last, ‘Be aware.’

Farnor dropped down on to a grassy bank and wiped his forehead. He had been walking uphill steadily for some time and, despite the rain that had started, he was sweating and his shirt was sticking unpleasantly to his back.

Somewhere below, he knew that Derwyn and the Valderen would be advancing through the woods towards Nilsson and his men. He rested his head in his hands and tried to shake off his vexation at what he still saw to be the folly of this action. His anger, he knew, would serve no useful end, and, he suspected, might well cloud his judgement; indeed, it might well already have done so. In so far as I’ve got any judgement, he sneered to himself as he recalled his part in what had happened.