Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

‘The Speaking’s one of the Fyordyn’s ways,’ Sylvriss said after a moment, answering his unspoken question. ‘A very Fyordyn way,’ she added with gentle mockery. ‘They appoint a time and a place, then whoever wishes to can attend and speak as the spirit moves him about… ’ She faltered. ‘About whoever’s died. No debate or discussion, just memories and thoughts. And no ceremony or formality. Just people, talking and remembering.’

She turned round, businesslike. ‘It’s a good way,’ she said. ‘The Fyordyn are such a… good people. Very wise and understanding.’ Then with a last glance in the mirror. ‘It’s a good way. Come along.’

Isloman blinked at this peremptory command. He looked at Hawklan. ‘No,’ Sylvriss said. ‘Leave him. Let him lie in the quiet sunlight.’ She walked to the window and opened it. The sound of bird-song drifted into the room, mingled with sounds of subdued activity in the courtyard below. ‘He can know little or nothing of Rgoric and the grief of so many would be a needless burden to him,’ she continued. ‘He’s done enough for us all already. Gavor, will you stay with him?’ Gavor nodded silently.

As she reached the door she paused thoughtfully. ‘May I borrow Hawklan’s sword?’ she asked Isloman.

He looked at her anxiously. ‘Can you touch it, lady?’ he said, remembering the last time she had tried to handle it.

Sylvriss stepped forward to Hawklan’s bed and, unfastening the scabbard, lifted it up and took hold of the sword’s hilt. Immediately, she closed her eyes and Isloman started forward in some alarm. As he reached her, she opened them again. They were calm and clear. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It’s quiet again.’ Then, enigmati-cally, ‘It’s remembered.’

As they walked towards the main hall, Isloman said, ‘Yatsu was surprised when you said you wanted to speak at this ceremony.’

‘That was because I asked to speak formally,’ Sylvriss replied. ‘It’s just not done. They’ll accept it because I’m their Queen and because I’m Riddinvolk amp;mdashan outlander. And… ’ She smiled briefly. ‘Because they’re a tolerant people.’ Her face became purposeful again. ‘But there are things that need to be said, and quickly,’ she went on. ‘Any Speaking acknowledges and marks the changes in direction that a death brings to the lives of others. This one marks the change for a whole nation. It’s important that the new direction be clear and well focussed.’

Gradually the corridor began to fill with a silent procession of figures converging on the main hall. With her hood forward and Hawklan’s sword concealed under her robe the Queen looked no different from many of the other women present, and several times in the gentle confusion Isloman became separated from her.

As they entered the hall, however, she threw back her hood and started moving towards a small raised platform that had been hastily built at one end.

The crowd parted before her, and the hiss of her name rose softly out of the silent gathering to fill the hall like a wind in the tree-tops. Isloman followed self-consciously in her wake.

On the platform were Eldric and Arinndier, together with Hreldar and Darek, both of whom were showing marked signs of shock and fatigue. Hard riding was Isloman’s diagnosis of the cause of the latter.

When they reached the platform, Sylvriss walked up the steps but Isloman stopped at the bottom until she turned and beckoned him to join her. Eldric came forward to greet her.

‘May I speak, Lord Eldric?’ she asked. Eldric did not reply, but simply bowed and extended his arm towards the now packed hall. Sylvriss bowed in return then turned to meet her subjects.

For a moment she looked at them, then she spoke quietly and clearly, her voice rich with the characteristic singsong lilt of the Riddinvolk accent. The form of the hall carried her words to each individual as if she were standing only a few paces away.

‘I ask your pardon, my friends,’ she began. ‘I know you’re about to start your Speaking and, as Rgoric’s widow, I shouldn’t intrude my grief on yours. But these are no ordinary times and certain matters must be resolved before we can allow ourselves the luxury of grief.’ There was a hint of sternness in her tone and Isloman felt the attention of the hall beginning to focus on her intently.

‘For many years Dan-Tor has poisoned not only my husband, but our whole country. With his words and his deeds, he has caused us to turn away from the wisdom of our ancient ways and duties. We now know why. In other circumstances we would catalogue the misdeeds of such a man, but we have no need of such niceties here, because we know now that he is no man. ’

Eldric shot a glance at Isloman.

‘He is the dark agent of a darker power that has risen again in Narsindal. We know him now for Oklar, the Earth Corrupter, the first of the Uhriel of Sumeral. A creature we had thought only a legend, but who we see amongst us now as a creature of terrible reality. One whose power is beyond our imagining.’ Her voice was still soft and steady, and her command of her listeners was now absolute. She held out her hand to indicate Isloman.

‘Even as I was told of this I knew its truth beyond doubt. And I found solace in it. Great solace.’ She leaned forward, hands extended in powerful emphasis. ‘Did you think that such as Rgoric could be downed by a man? Did you think that Fyorlund could be so reduced by a man? To be laid so low by the acts of a man would be a dishonour indeed, but to stand unbowed after a such blows from such a creature tells us that he has missed the heart of people utterly and that now, as in times long gone, he is neither invincible nor infallible, and that both he… and his Master.’ She pointed northwards. ‘Can be defeated.’

The hall was silent.

‘For even with his treachery and cunning, he could not bind forever the will of your king. He could not hide forever from the light of truth. And even with his vaunted, city-crushing power he could not destroy the determination of people to stand against him. To oppose him utterly.’

Eldric moved to her side.

‘By your Law,’ Sylvriss continued, ‘I am now your ruler. But none has ever sat the throne of Fyorlund without the word of the people and I would hear yours now.’

There was a stir among the crowd, but Sylvriss si-lenced it with a gesture.

‘But know this. As your ruler or not, I shall oppose this creature and his master as Rgoric did. To the end. I shall oppose him for the sake of the Fyordyn, the Orthlundyn, the Riddinvolk.’ She paused and laid her hand on her stomach. ‘For the sake of all peoples. For if we who know him do not oppose him, then who will?’

Then, slowly, she held out Hawklan’s black sword horizontally, her left hand gripping its scabbard. ‘This sword comes out of Orthlund. Orthlund, whose care we have so recklessly neglected. It is the sword of Hawklan. A man. With it he faced the wrath of Oklar. He has paid a price that we cannot yet fathom, but he lives and he recovers, and even in his dreams he reaches out and aids us. Truth and help have come to us unasked. Who can say what forces are stirring now? We have allowed evil to grow in our midst because of our blindness. Let us not now be blind to the good which has awakened also, for in not seeing it, we will bind it.’

Her right hand came up and, gripping the hilt of the sword, she drew it and held it high above her head. ‘I cannot pledge you this sword. Such a pledge is not mine to give. But I pledge you my sword arm and my spirit to follow the path that this sword has begun to cut through the choking weeds that have fouled our way for so long.’

Before the crowd could respond, she turned round and faced the Lords on the platform and looked at each in turn.