Roger Taylor - Into Narsindal

Hawklan could do no other than laugh self-deprecatingly at the gesture.

‘Tell me about Dar-volci,’ he said unexpectedly.

Andawyr looked at him steadily for a moment, then said, ‘Dar’s an old friend and a typical felci pack leader,’ he said. ‘What do you want to know?’

Hawklan gestured vaguely. ‘Nothing special,’ he said. ‘I’m just idly curious. I’ve never seen anything like him before, that’s all. Why was he so excited by the Alphraan?’

Andawyr shrugged. ‘Dar’s Dar,’ he said, with a ges-ture which indicated that that was a complete explanation. ‘He comes and goes as he pleases-as I said, a typical felci pack leader.’

Hawklan shifted a little uneasily. ‘There’s something odd about him,’ he said.

‘Odd?’ Andawyr queried, watching Hawklan’s face intently.

‘I don’t know,’ Hawklan said uncertainly. ‘Nothing specific, just… unusual, strange.’

‘They’re unusual creatures for sure. They burrow through rock,’ volunteered Andawyr. ‘Hence the teeth. And they’ve got claws to match. And minds both as sharp and as strong as their teeth and claws, as I’ve no doubt you’ll find out when he condescends to come back.’

Hawklan shook his head. ‘I’m sorry to be vague,’ he said. ‘It’s not important. It’s just that there seems to be something profoundly different about him… some-thing very deep. Alien almost.’

Andawyr smiled gently. ‘According to their own legends-which are very colourful, I might add-they were here before our time; even before Ethriss’s time.’ Then, intoning deeply in imitation of Dar-volci, ‘Creatures of the deep rock, brought unwilling to this new world when the deeplands were desecrated by the plundering mines of Sumeral… ’ His mimicry broke down into a happy laugh.

Hawklan’s unease faded in this sudden sunshine and he responded to the little man’s merriment. ‘I gather you don’t feel anything strange about them?’ he said.

Andawyr’s laugh carried over. ‘I feel great affection for them,’ he said, reaching up to wipe his eye. ‘But you didn’t come here to talk about Dar-volci, did you?’

Hawklan shifted in his chair awkwardly again. ‘No,’ he said after a pause. ‘I suppose not.’

Andawyr opened his hands as a signal for him to continue.

Hawklan hesitated, uncertain again. ‘We’ve all been working, studying, reorganizing. You’ve spent a great deal of time with Gulda and… ’ He gestured around the stacks of documents. ‘I feel we’re nearing the time when we have to decide what we must do next. I thought we ought to start talking about it.’

Andawyr bowed his head slightly in acknowledge-ment then turned to stare pensively into the fire.

‘Gulda tells me you remember things,’ he said abruptly.

Hawklan started a little. ‘She’ll have told you what things, then, I presume,’ he replied, though not unkindly.

Andawyr nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘More awareness of your skills. Hazy memories of your life’-he looked up at Hawklan-‘but no details of who, what, when; no faces, no names. Nothing to tell you who you were, or are.’ He leaned forward. ‘Would you like me to search your mind as I did at the Gretmearc? We’re both wiser than we were.’

Hawklan looked at him narrowly. ‘You still think I’m Ethriss, don’t you?’ he said.

Andawyr pulled a wry face. ‘I don’t know,’ he said hesitantly. ‘You’ve been given his Castle and his sword. And you wielded the sword to some effect against Oklar.’ Hawklan shook his head in denial, but Andawyr ignored it. ‘It occurs to me that perhaps you wielded the sword too well. That in protecting yourself and your friends you did not receive the power that would almost certainly have awakened your true self… ’

Hawklan’s face was suddenly angry. ‘It was a happy chance then,’ he said. ‘I might be incomplete, but this is my true self.’ He struck his chest forcefully. ‘If this… great Guardian… requires the sacrifice of a city for his rebirth, then better he stays asleep.’

Andawyr flinched away from Hawklan’s powerful denunciation but only briefly. ‘That confrontation was of your choosing,’ he said, struggling with his own anger, which had risen in response to Hawklan’s. ‘And don’t forget that the sword which you feel you used so inadequately may have halved the destruction of Vakloss, and that Sumeral Himself reached out from His fastness and bound His own servant rather than see you assailed further.’

‘Damn you,’ Hawklan said softly, his green eyes black and ominous in the red glow of the fire.

Andawyr met his grim gaze squarely. ‘Ethriss was cruel only in the clarity of his vision of the truth,’ he continued. ‘He bound nothing lightly; either by chains or deceitful words. He let things be free. He gave us the freedom that he himself cherished, to do with as we will. Sumeral is the one who binds; the manipulator, the deceiver, the twister of minds and realities.’ His finger jabbed out. ‘You yourself uttered what were virtually Ethriss’s own words when you said that to fight Sumeral with treachery and cunning would be to choose to fight Him only with the weapons He offers us; when you said that we should fight him with our greatest strengths-with simplicity and directness.’

He stopped speaking and slowly sat back in his chair.

Hawklan looked away from him and rested his head on his hand.

‘I’ll oppose Sumeral to the end, Andawyr,’ he said after a long silence. ‘I see no alternative. But under-stand, I faced Oklar’s power and felt no vestige of godhood in me. You must look elsewhere. Whatever I was, I was not Ethriss. I was as I am; mortal and frail. That I know.’

Silence seeped down from the waiting books to surround the two men like a mountain mist.

‘And ponder this,’ Hawklan said quietly. ‘Why did Sumeral reach out to save me? Is it not possible that He, the deceiver, the manipulator, might seem to protect me, perhaps even conspicuously bind one of His Uhriel, with the intention of leading astray those who were searching for His most feared enemy?’

Andawyr stared at him, unmoving. ‘Damn you ,’ he said viciously.

Hawklan lowered his eyes and, after a moment, gave a single ironic grunt. ‘Now I’ve given us no choice,’ he said, ‘with my own inept manipulating. Now we’ll have to find out who I am if Ethriss is ever to be found.’

Andawyr pursed his lips and nodded.

‘Sit back and relax,’ he said, standing up. ‘Just re-member that whatever you see and hear, you’ll be here all the time. You’ll hear me; feel my presence. Nothing can harm you except yourself.’

Hawklan closed his eyes. Andawyr reached out and placed the palms of his hands on Hawklan’s temples.

Hawklan felt their gentle warmth, and then, as he had at the Gretmearc, he found himself floating free in a strange world of shimmering, fragmented sounds and images.

‘Open your eyes,’ came Andawyr’s voice.

Hawklan did as he was bidden, but no barren empty plane appeared this time. Instead, he was still floating, drifting amidst elusive, disjointed images, and vaguely significant whisperings.

A woman on his arm, laughing…?

An aching memory of a swirl of auburn hair and the soft irresistible curve of a cheekbone. Hawklan reached out to touch it again…

Warm and comforting sunlight, and the scent of fresh grass and yellow flowers…

Children, running, playing…

More laughter…

Fond, stern voices commanding and teaching…

Music and beauty in a shining singing castle…

Darkness at the edges… nearing.

Darkness on the horizon. Smoke… Burning…

Fear…

Then he was there. Simple, but radiant and power-ful. Yet pained and guilt-ridden. His presence standing against the darkness. But he could not stand alone…