Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

Urthryn nodded. ‘That’s our major problem for sure. If they come in force they’ll outnumber us as before, but if they’ve learned to fight in "lines and squares, like the Fyordyn"’ he mimicked Drago’s harsh accent amp;mdash‘then we’ll have desperate problems. We’ll have to defeat them as they land. If they get any kind of a foothold, it’s going to be grim indeed.’

He turned to Olvric and Yengar. ‘Can you stay and advise us, Goraidin?’ he asked.

Yengar looked relieved. ‘Yes, Ffyrst,’ he replied. ‘But we can’t advise you on how to deal with Creost. Even now, Lord Eldric and the others go in fear of Dan-Tor amp;mdashOklar amp;mdashapproaching alone, and destroying their strongholds as easily as he did Vakloss.’

Urthryn turned to Oslang and then back to the two Goraidin. ‘Can you three work together in some semblance of peace and trust?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Olvric replied without hesitation. ‘He fright-ened me badly when he knocked down the Morlider, but neither before nor since did I feel any evil in him.’ He extended his hand to Oslang. ‘I won’t apologize for what I did,’ he said. ‘You know I’d no alternative, don’t you? But I’ll accept any rebuke you care to offer me, and if you wish’ amp;mdashhe looked quickly at Yengar, who nodded amp;mdash‘we’ll share our knowledge with you, and work with you in every way to defeat this abomination that’s leached back into the world.’

Oslang took the hand. ‘I’ve no rebuke for you, Goraidin,’ he said. ‘I’m just glad I survived, and glad you’re on our side. I’d be honoured both to teach you, and to learn from you.’

‘Good,’ Urthryn said vigorously, clapping his hands and looking increasingly businesslike. ‘We’ll have to sort this out with the heads of the Houses and the Decmills before we call a Moot, but for the time being we can double the coastal patrols amp;mdashand tell the fishing villages that the Morlider are near again.’

Hiron intervened. ‘We’ll have to make arrangements for looking after the villagers,’ he said. ‘They won’t go to sea once they hear that.’

Urthryn nodded. ‘I’d forgotten about that,’ he said, his eyes wrinkling in self-reproach. ‘But we can’t not tell them.’ He fell silent.

‘Why won’t they go to sea?’ Yengar asked.

‘Their boats can’t outrun the Morlider ships,’ Urth-ryn said, almost offhandedly. ‘Some of the villages lost nearly all their menfolk as slaves just before the war started. The fishing’s never really been the same since.’

Yengar grimaced and looked angrily at the sleeping Morlider. Innocent fishermen amp;mdashfathers and sons amp;mdashsnatched away from their families to slavery! A host of feelings swept through him quite suddenly, but dominating them was one he had not felt for a long time. Satisfaction. Satisfaction that he, at least, could fight; that on occasions he had been able to put his skills, sometimes his sharp steel, between such inno-cents and their harrowers; that perhaps he might be able to do so again.

‘We have Drago’s boat,’ he said. ‘He and his men can’t be allowed to return to their island yet amp;mdashnot knowing what he knows now.’

Urthryn looked uncertain ‘It’s not our way, Goraidin,’ he said.

‘Times are changed, Ffyrst,’ Yengar replied. ‘And many of our ways will be changed whether we like it or not. I think you have enough disadvantages against this foe without him knowing in advance that he may be facing Fyordyn, Orthlundyn, and someone who can use the same power as their new leader.’

Urthryn nodded. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said, reluctantly. ‘But what do we need their boat for?’

‘Have your fishermen learn how to use it,’ Yengar said. ‘Make more if you can. A good sea-borne signalling system might ease your fishermen’s minds and also give you several extra hours of warning.’

Urthryn nodded again, his face more optimistic. ‘Hiron, will you see to that as soon as we’re finished here. And the extra coastal patrols. Oslang, can you talk to… question… all the Morlider, separately? Find out as much as you can about this new leader and his plans?’

The two men bowed their heads in acknowledgment.

Urthryn hitched himself up in the chair. ‘Now,’ he continued, ‘that’s a start made towards dealing with the Morlider. But it was no easy task fighting them the last time, and it sounds as if it’s going to be even worse now, for all we’re forearmed.’ He reached out and took his daughter’s hand. ‘We’ll have to work out our strategy and tactics and so on, but it seems to me that we’re going to have precious little left to help you with your problem in Fyorlund,’ he said. ‘And as for Sumeral… ’

Sylvriss laid her hand over his, and looked at the two Goraidin. ‘Only the Fyordyn can solve their immediate problem, father,’ she said. ‘There’s going to be pain and horror enough with kin fighting kin without one side calling on Outlanders for help. I came here to have Rgoric’s child in safety and to tell you what’s happened before news from any other source reached you.’

‘But we can’t stand idly by,’ Urthryn said.

Sylvriss’s voice became resolute. ‘When the weather permits, send messengers to Eldric. Tell him we’re safe, and what’s happening here; it will stiffen his own purpose. Tell him also that you’re sending one of your advisers to Orthlund, to Anderras Darion, to enlist the help of the Orthlundyn and to find out what’s happened to Hawklan.’

‘Hawklan,’ Urthryn said, as if testing the name. ‘He slips through this tale like a binding thread. And he’s made a considerable impression on you, considering you’ve only seen him unconscious.’ There was a gentle, fatherly taunt in his voice, but Sylvriss did not respond in kind.

‘He lies near the heart of this, father, I’m sure,’ she said, intensely. ‘It seems he started Oslang’s people towards their awakening. He faced Oklar’s wrath, and lived amp;mdashor at least didn’t perish. And while he was amongst them, he won the loyalty and obedience of the Goraidin. He’s no ordinary man.’

Urthryn looked at his daughter keenly.

‘Oslang, what’s your view on the worth of this man?’ he asked.

‘He is the heart, Ffyrst,’ Oslang said immediately. ‘The leader of our Order, Andawyr, is even now journeying to Anderras Darion to discover his where-abouts.’ He paused and looked reflective. When he spoke again, it was half to himself. ‘It seems Sumeral tests us with his lieutenants. The Fyordyn must face Oklar, and the Riddinvolk, Creost. If either fall, then both fall, and Orthlund will stand alone. If we prevail, then my heart tells me that it will be Hawklan and the Orthlundyn who lead us against the Dark Lord Himself.’

Dan-Tor gazed down from the high platform that had been built on top of the temporary structure now serving as a gate to the Palace. On either side of him, resplendent in full dress uniform, stood Urssain and Aelang, while behind him stood Dilrap, together with several other senior palace officials and Mathidrin Commanders.

In front of them, disappearing into the darkness, the two great avenues that the unleashed Oklar had cut through the City were lined with crowds, upturned faces mottled and seething in the harsh light of the globes that illuminated the immediate vicinity of the Palace.

An excited clamour rose up around the high-placed watchers.

Dan-Tor stepped forward and placed both hands on the guard rail at the front of the platform. For a moment he looked up and down the crowd, then he raised one arm high above his head.

The noise from the crowd fell, and a rippling motion passed through it as though it were corn bowing before the wind as heads turned expectantly away from the Ffyrst to look into the darkness that shrouded the further reaches of the two avenues. The globes dimmed and the hush deepened in response, then, faintly, a distant sound percolated through the residual murmur: an insistent, pulsing rhythm.