Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

Andawyr looked at him, but did not speak. Ryath continued, beginning to feel conspicuous. ‘There’ve always been individuals who’ve come upon some of the secrets of the Old Power.’ He gestured vaguely. ‘You encountered one such at the Gretmearc. An able one admittedly if he could control that… ’ He hesitated. ‘That bird. But it’s thrown you off-balance. That and your wild-headed trip into Narsindal with barely a word of proper explanation has been too much for you. As I said, you should rest before you speak so hastily. You can’t possibly… ’

‘Please, Ryath, listen,’ Andawyr interrupted him quietly. ‘I understand your concern.’ He looked round at the others. ‘I understand all your concerns. But this is not an academic debate. Ryath, you and I have had some fine, if heated, disputes in the past, and I’ve valued them. But times are truly changed. We’re no longer friends talking about scholastic matters amp;mdashtheories, ideas, learned flights of speculation. We’re Cadwanwr, guardians of the knowledge given to our ancient predecessors by Ethriss, and the only people in the world who can oppose Sumeral and His Uhriel with the Old Power until Ethriss and the Guardians themselves can be found and awakened.’

Ryath, uncertain, pulled a wry face as if distressed to see a loved friend so deluded. In an untypical expression of impatience, Andawyr slapped the arm of his chair. ‘Ryath, you know how highly I respect your many skills. I could ask you to trust my judgement in this matter, and I know you would, albeit reluctantly. But I’ll not do that. It wouldn’t be right amp;mdashnot between you and me. Just know this.’

He lifted his hand slightly towards Ryath, who sat down suddenly as if pushed. Taking hold of the arms of his chair he tried to rise, but could not. Closing his eyes in concentration, he mouthed something silently. The air between himself and Andawyr seemed to tingle, but still he could not rise. Instead he seemed to be pressed further into his seat.

Andawyr lowered his hand, and Ryath was released, red-faced and slightly breathless.

There were cries of dismay around the circle. ‘That was completely unnecessary,’ Oslang said angrily.

Andawyr ignored him. ‘Ryath,’ he said sharply. ‘I’m sorry about that, but you understand now, don’t you? Tell them.’

Ryath dropped his head on to his hand. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I can’t describe that. I’ve never felt such power. You’ve always been more powerful than the rest of us, but that… ’ He shook his head. ‘What’s happened to you?’

‘I’ve learned,’ Andawyr said simply. ‘Nothing more, nothing less. When my time of trial came at the Gretmearc, I learned. Found resources I never imagined I possessed. Are you all right?’ Ryath nodded and made a reassuring gesture.

Oslang however, was less easily mollified. ‘That was still unnecessary, Andawyr,’ he said, still angry. ‘This is a Council meeting. Explain your conduct towards brother Ryath immediately and explain why you made no mention of this new… knowledge when you returned from the Gretmearc.’

‘I will ask you to trust my judgement, Oslang,’ An-dawyr replied. ‘I’ll ask you to wait until I’ve spoken. Ryath knows why I did what I did, don’t you Ryath?’

‘It was a vivid lesson, well taught,’ Ryath answered. ‘I’m not offended, brother Oslang, truly.’

Andawyr turned back to Oslang. ‘As for why I never mentioned my new knowledge,’ he began. ‘Well, as I remember, we were all rather too busy dealing with our… guest, to indulge in debate. And, in truth, I see now that I was too bewildered to understand fully what had happened to me. All I knew was that I must learn about fire by thrusting my hand into it.’

Oslang grimaced at the sudden pain in Andawyr’s voice.

‘And did you learn?’ he said softly.

Andawyr nodded. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘And shortly I’ll teach you what I can, though less painfully I hope. But I’ve no new knowledge to share with you my friends, only a clearer understanding of what I already knew. A clearer vision. The obvious becomes obvious again. I apologize for my demonstration, but it was necessary. Time is against us and simply can’t be squandered on needless debate. I chose my words carefully. We are at war. Metaphorically at least, we must lay aside our pens for our swords. We must fulfil the duties that Ethriss laid on our order so long ago.’

Several of the brothers again stood up to speak, but Andawyr silenced them with a wave of his hand. ‘Listen,’ he said, looking at each in turn. ‘And think. I’ll be as brief as I can, but I must tell you again what happened at the Gretmearc, then what happened in Narsindal, and you too must be prepared to re-examine what you think you already know.’

He paused briefly to collect his thoughts. ‘Even my being at the Gretmearc was unusual. You know that. I very rarely go there, but some spirit moved me, and I went. We’ll not speculate on why I should choose to go there instead of one of the student brothers, but it is a factor to colour our thoughts. However, when I arrived, there was a strange shifting aura about the place. Then one night outside my tent landed a raven, a raven with a wooden leg, a raven that talked, that told me he was searching for his friend, a healer, Hawklan, key-holder to Anderras Darion no less, and bearer of a black sword that had fallen at his feet in the Armoury of that place. A man drawn mysteriously to the Gretmearc by a strange corruption he had seen. A corruption that had been brought into the heart of Orthlund.’

He looked round at his audience. ‘How could I not help such a tale-bearer search for such a man? Well, after we’d wandered hither and thither for some time, the aura that had pricked and teased me for so many days, vanished.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Focussed itself into one clear, foul emanation. I could hardly believe it, it was so appalling. Like a ghastly beacon. And when we found its heart… ’

He leaned forward and, resting his elbows on his knees, cradled his head in his hands, his eyes wide at the remembered pain. ‘I suddenly felt as though I were in a nightmare and that I’d wake up soon in my bed. But it was there. In front of me. Vrwystin A Kaethio amp;mdashthe beast that binds. He hesitated, as if reluctant to go on. ‘It’s a fearful enough thing to read of such creatures, but to see one… ’ He closed his eyes. ‘I was so frightened. Every part of me wanted to turn and run amp;mdashrun and run amp;mdashforever. But I couldn’t. Some deep folly or deeper wisdom just propelled me right into its lair without a vestige of preparation, the bird at my shoulder.’

He shook his head. ‘I barely remember the rest. Playing the innocent clown I managed to do some damage and suddenly the man was free, attacking the creature with his black sword.’ He swung his hand from side to side, his face alive with wonder. ‘It was Ethriss’s sword, as I live. I held it in my own hands later, and felt its power. And such a blow he delivered. And such a scream that creature uttered as it died, if dying is what such abominations do.’ He closed his eyes again.

Oslang reached out and laid a hand on his arm. Andawyr covered it gratefully with his own hand.

‘And its keeper amp;mdasheven weakened and demented at this destruction of his soul-mate amp;mdashhad power such as I’ve rarely felt from one man.’ He fingered the cord of his robe and looked again at his listeners, his face suddenly calmer. ‘That was when I learned again all that I’d ever been taught.’

He nodded at Ryath. ‘Your comment was fair, Ryath, but this was no dilettante dabbler who’d happened by chance on a few tricks with the Old Power. This was a powerful and skilled mage, albeit, I fear, only an apprentice.’ He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t have wished to encounter him at his best. Even after I downed him and scattered the creature’s lair, he found us in my inner quarters.’