Roger Taylor - Into Narsindal

‘He bound His own?’ Hawklan repeated surprised.

‘None other could,’ Gulda replied.

‘But… that would have left Oklar defenceless,’ Hawklan said.

‘We have no inkling of Sumeral’s intent,’ Gulda said. ‘And the binding would be subtle. Oklar would not be defenceless, have no fear.’

‘It cost him Fyorlund,’ said Hawklan emphatically.

‘We have no inkling,’ Gulda repeated deliberately, to end the conjecture. ‘Tell me of the darkness.’

Unexpectedly, Hawklan smiled. ‘Have you any words to describe sleep?’ he asked. Gulda did not reply. ‘I remember nothing,’ he went on. ‘Nothing until a dancing spark of life reached out and touched me.’

‘Sylvriss’s baby?’ Gulda asked.

Hawklan nodded. ‘From then on, it was like a strange dream. I was awake, but not awake. There but not there. Resting yet striving. Listening, learning, understanding, but not fraught, anxious, concerned-not even at the pain I knew my condition was causing to Isloman and the others. It wasn’t good, but… ’ His voice trailed off. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I can’t explain. I don’t know how long I would have stayed like that. Nothing seemed to change until… the silence.’

‘Yes,’ Gulda said. ‘Dacu spoke to me of that almost within minutes of our meeting. It seems to have had a profound effect on him.’

‘It had a profound effect on us all,’ Hawklan said. ‘It wasn’t just a silence, it was a great deep… stillness… but not the stillness of emptiness. Whatever it was, there was a powerful will at work. Benign I’m sure, but powerful. It reached out and… brought me together… woke me, if you like; and it stunned the Alphraan utterly.’

A thought came to him suddenly. ‘It was searching for something,’ he said. ‘Or someone.’

Gulda nodded. ‘Other forces are moving with us, Hawklan,’ she said. ‘We need our every ally, we must find the source of this will. I’ll speak to the Alphraan about it. Perhaps they understand it better now.’

Hawklan smiled. ‘They might,’ he said. ‘But even if they do, there’s every chance they won’t be able to explain to you in our "crude" language.’

‘Nonetheless… ’ Gulda said, leaving her intention quite clear and refusing to be deflected by Hawklan’s levity.

She leaned forward and, folding her hands over the top of her stick, rested her chin on them again. ‘And your own new knowledge, healer?’ she asked, reverting to her original question.

‘New and not new, Gulda,’ Hawklan replied flatly. ‘No great blinding revelations. It was like a wind slowly blowing sand away and exposing a familiar rock. What I know now, I also know was there all the time.’

He paused. Gulda waited silently.

‘I’ve knowledge of the governing of a great people, of the leading of a great army, of a life of learning and effort to make my body and mind what they are now.’ He smiled sadly. ‘No magical gift from some ancient Guardian made me what I am. Just effort and fine teachers. But… ’ He entwined his fingers and brought his hands together tightly as if trying to wring the truth out of something. ‘… no names, no faces, no… small memories to tell me who or what I truly am… or was.’

He paused again, his face pained.

‘Also I have the memory of a terrible battle… or part of it,’ he said. ‘The last part. The air full of awful noises, the sky flickering black, the ground uncertain under our feet, and hordes upon hordes of… them… coming eternally against us, regardless of their own losses.’

He closed his eyes as if to dismiss the thought for-ever.

‘What else?’ Gulda prompted.

Hawklan did not answer immediately. Instead he looked down at his still clenched hands. ‘I led them there, Gulda,’ he said reluctantly. ‘In my arrogance, I led my army, my whole people, to annihilation.’

‘You know this?’ Gulda asked.

Hawklan leaned back and looked up at the ornate ceiling, red in the firelight like towering storm clouds at sunset.

‘We were the last,’ he said softly. ‘The rest of the army had been… destroyed. Destroyed by sheer numbers… savagery… ’ He looked back at Gulda. ‘Perhaps treachery. I don’t know,’ he added uncertainly. ‘We stood alone, back to back, a shrinking circle… ’

He stopped. ‘And I know nothing other than that. That and a terrible grief and despair.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Something… touched my shoulder… I think.’ Hawklan’s face was riven with concentration, but to no avail.

‘It’s a vivid memory?’ Gulda asked.

‘It’s the clearest memory I have. It comes to me every day. Without the pain of the despair and grief-that’s only a faint, distant echo now. But the images are intense.’ His hands separated. ‘What does it all mean, Gulda?’

The old woman shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said simply. ‘You’re beyond my reach and beyond my vision, and always have been. All we know is that Sumeral fears you sufficiently both to spare you when He could have destroyed you, and to bind His Uhriel to ensure he would not use the Old Power against you again. But why He should fear you?’ She shrugged. ‘You’re as profound an enigma as ever, Hawklan.’

‘Could it be that He wishes me spared for some more devious reason than just fear?’ Hawklan suggested hesitantly.

‘It’s a risk,’ Gulda said. ‘Always has been. But there’s nothing we can do about that. We must play the parts we see and keep our wits about us for ambushes.’ She leaned forward and looked intently at Hawklan again. When she spoke, her voice was almost a whisper. ‘You’re someone who might be turned to His way, Hawklan. Someone even who could become one of His Uhriel. Perhaps that’s what He had in mind for you.’

Hawklan shrank back in his chair, his eyes horrified. ‘No,’ he said hoarsely, his voice both fearful and savage. ‘Never!’

‘All the Uhriel were great men once,’ Gulda said grimly. ‘They weren’t made the way they are at a flick of His hand. They were led to Him step by patient step, until they found they could not retreat.’

Still shaken, Hawklan caught an unexpected note in her voice. ‘You sound almost sorry for them,’ he said.

Gulda was silent for a moment, then, with a slow shake of her head, she said, ‘We all choose our own way.’

Before Hawklan could speak again, she waved a dismissive hand. Whatever doubts she might have, they were not to be pursued further here.

‘What are you going to do now?’ she asked, relaxing.

‘Stay here for a few days to rest,’ Hawklan replied after an uncertain pause. ‘And talk, and think, and walk around the castle, and just sit. I’ve travelled so far since I left for the Gretmearc, I need a little stillness for a time.’

Gulda eyed him. ‘And when you’ve finished this comprehensive list of chores, what then?’ she asked.

Hawklan chuckled and retaliated immediately. ‘You’re relentless, Gulda,’ he said. ‘But when I’ve satisfied myself about everything you’ve all done so far, I intend to accept your original advice-and Andawyr’s.’ His face became anxious. ‘That strange little man saved my life at the Gretmearc and has woven himself into it in some unfathomable fashion. He sought my help twice and I couldn’t-wouldn’t-give it. Then in my darkest moment he reached out, just as Sumeral reached out, and aided me.’ He looked up at the red clouds overhead. ‘We will need this Old Power to face Sumeral, just as surely as we will need men. None here can use it, but Andawyr could. I must seek out the Cadwanol.’

Hawklan stood on the battlements of Anderras Darion and looked out over the Orthlund countryside.