Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

Urthryn grunted non-committally and eased himself stiffly onto a couch. He addressed the Goraidin. ‘We’ve heard Girvan’s tale about the Morlider,’ he said, indicating his advisers. ‘And confirmed the immediate action he’s taken about the coast watch. That’s only sensible.’ He leaned forward and waved a finger at the Goraidin. ‘But I must admit, I’m not keen on the idea of housing and feeding these beggars, to put it mildly. Sets a bad precedent.’

Before either could reply, he waved the topic aside. ‘However, we can talk about that later.’

He turned to Sylvriss and extended his hand to en-compass Oslang and his two advisers. ‘You remember Agreth and Hiron don’t you?’ Sylvriss nodded and smiled at the two men. ‘I’m afraid they’ve weathered about as badly as I have, but we’re still all here.’ He tapped his head. ‘I don’t think you ever met Oslang,’ he went on. ‘Funny sticks, the cave people. Have to be, to live up there; but harmless enough, and fine healers, without doubt. And they’re not usually given to excessive foolishness. At least, in the past they weren’t,’ he added significantly. ‘So tell me your tale again, girl. And you, Fyordyn. And you, Oslang. And let’s see if between us we can’t find out what’s going on.’

His heartiness, however, was forced, and an anx-iousness came through in his voice which even the mellowing qualities of his sing-song Riddin accent could not disguise.

It took some considerable time for the whole tale to be told, not least, Yengar thought, because of the disordered way in which the Riddinvolk proceeded, with frequent interruptions and questions, and seemingly endless repetitions. However, even he had to concede that amazement could understandably override ordered procedure when Oslang referred to Hawklan’s part in his own telling.

When eventually all had been said, Urthryn looked repeatedly from his daughter to the two Goraidin and then to Oslang. Finally he looked in some despair at his advisers.

‘I’ll be honest, lads,’ he said after a long silence. ‘If I didn’t know the people who were telling me all this, I wouldn’t have given it two minutes’ stable room.’

The two men nodded.

‘It takes a lot of believing,’ Agreth said, rather help-lessly.

‘A lot?’ Urthryn exclaimed, standing up. ‘You always did have a gift for understatement, Agreth.’ He walked to the door and spoke to someone waiting outside.

Returning, he sat down again and scratched his head. ‘I’ve always thought having kings and lords and suchlike was no way to run a country. But you seemed to manage well enough, and we’ve all got out own ways… ’ He shrugged off the digression and looked at his daughter again.

‘Rgoric poisoned and murdered.’ He shook his head and grimaced bitterly. ‘I can hardly believe it yet. I must admit, I never liked that long brown streak, Dan-Tor, but I’d never have thought… ’ He shook his head again. ‘And as for all this business about Sumeral being born again, and Dan-Tor being one of the Uhriel amp;mdashOklar amp;mdashsmashing a city with a gesture of his hand? It’s chil-dren’s tales we’re talking,’ he concluded without conviction.

Sylvriss spoke, very quietly. ‘It’s war we’re talking, father. Civil war in Fyorlund… ’

‘And who can tell what kind of a war against Narsindal?’ Oslang finished Sylvriss’s comment.

Urthryn looked up and stared at him, businesslike now.

‘I’ll need to know more of your part in this, cave dweller,’ he said bluntly. ‘We’ve always taken you for a bunch of harmless eccentrics, living in your caves up there, by Elewart; studying your lore and doing your healing. We’re a tolerant people, and we’ve always left you alone. You did no harm, and we’ve had some fine teachers and healers from you in the past. But now, you’re up to your necks in this nonsense in some way.’

Oslang sat motionless.

Urthryn continued. ‘If I’m to believe that this an-cient… demon, or whatever, has suddenly reappeared, and is already wreaking havoc in Fyorlund’ amp;mdashhe looked at Sylvriss amp;mdash‘and, seemingly, I must for now, then I want to know what amp;mdashor who amp;mdashbrought it back.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Was it some shenanigans by your people, Oslang? Meddling with things they ought to have left alone?’

Oslang met his gaze squarely. ‘No, Ffyrst, it wasn’t,’ he said simply. ‘I’ll tell you about our Order with pleasure when the need arises, but it hasn’t yet, and when I tell you it’ll be for you and your closest, most trusted aides only. The longer it is before Sumeral knows of our existence, the better.’ He looked signifi-cantly at the others in the room. ‘Suffice it to say for the moment that we are students of lore,’ he went on, ‘and teachers, and healers. But we’re more as well. And, like all of you here, we too have failed in our ancient duty.’

Urthryn frowned angrily, but Oslang continued.

‘We became introverted, parochial, neglected our duty to be out in the world, watching, listening, learning. The Fyordyn let slip their duty to watch both Narsindal and their very government. Your people, Ffyrst, the least offenders thus far, let Morlider land unhindered and unseen.’

Urthryn bristled, but Oslang waved a mitigating hand. ‘I make no judgements,’ he said, hastily. ‘There are seemingly sound reasons for all these things, but they’re irrelevant except insofar as they should be learned from. What is relevant is the dreadful whole they make.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Urthryn said, taken aback slightly by Oslang’s unexpected conclusion.

‘If the Lords can’t restore Fyorlund, or if the country is seriously weakened by civil war, then an army from Narsindal could walk straight through it and down through Orthlund, probably without resistance, unless the Orthlundyn have taken Hawklan’s advice to heart.’ It was Olvric. He had not spoken before, leaving the telling of their news to Yengar. Now his voice was cold. ‘And if the Morlider land in force they’ll fully occupy the Muster, as they did before, and an army could march down the Pass of Elewart to attack your rear leaving Riddin wide open… ’

Urthryn interrupted. ‘No, no, no,’ he protested loudly, gesticulating violently. ‘Too fast. Too fast. There are too many ifs here, Goraidin. Nobody’s mentioned armies yet. And one Morlider raiding party doesn’t make an army.’

Olvric was unabashed. ‘What else but an army slaughtered Lord Evison and his men, and gutted his castle?’ he said, an anger pervading his voice that was made the more chilling by its very restraint. ‘An army that included heavily equipped Mandrocs! Infantrymen! Evison had no doubts that Sumeral had risen, and you, above all, knew his worth as a fighter and leader. He did you service enough.’

Urthryn turned his face away at this reproach.

Olvric continued, less severely. ‘Consider, Ffyrst. In the Mathidrin, Dan-Tor has built up, armed, and trained thousands of men; unknown to us all. My belief is that they’re the officer corps of Sumeral’s army. Some of them are just ruffians, admittedly, but some aren’t. The group that chased Yengar and me half across the country were very capable.’

Yengar nodded in agreement.

‘As for the Morlider,’ Olvric went on, ‘you’re right. One raiding party amp;mdashif it was a raiding party amp;mdashdoesn’t make an army. But their leader said some ominous things, and they had torches with them that are like Dan-Tor’s globes. Twenty years ago they couldn’t even make an ordinary torch or prepare radiant stones; they still used fire of all things! We asked you to keep them captive so that we could question them, and get some facts, but there’s enough already to sketch out an overall pattern of strategy, and my every instinct tells me… ’