Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

‘The eye called him,’ Oslang said, part-question, part-statement.

Andawyr nodded. ‘Yes. The eye of Vrwystin A Goleg, the beast that sees all. That at least, you’ve seen amp;mdashand felt.’ He shook his head again. ‘You know the appalling price that must have been paid by perhaps hundreds of people to recreate and fetter the Vrwystin A Kaethio. And who was known for his use of that creature and the Vrwystin A Goleg?’

He fell silent, but the question was rhetorical. ‘Ok-lar,’ he continued. ‘So went my reasoning. And if Oklar is awake, then He too must be. And the man Hawklan, who tore himself free from the maw of the Kaethio and slew it? Who was he? He’s gentle and peaceful, yet his mind is closed by a strange power and he has strange inner resources.’ He leaned forward. ‘Consider. You can imagine the condition of his arm after being absorbed by the Kaethio. It was appalling. Yet it was healable. I felt those inner resources responding even as I wove.’

Andawyr clenched his fist. ‘So many things, broth-ers, so many. Small wonder I was nearly witless when I returned. A healer, from Ethriss’s castle, bearing Ethriss’s sword, watched and hunted in a manner that only Oklar would amp;mdashcould amp;mdashuse. Plus what I myself felt. What else could I conclude?’ The room was silent. ‘The man is Ethriss returned, as I live. But dormant in some way. How else could all these things be? And the other conclusions. If Oklar were awake so then must He be. How could I see all these wonders and horror and not go searching for its source? And where else but in Narsin-dal?’

Through the window openings the shadows of late summer clouds could be seen marching slowly over the undulating countryside. But inside the council chamber, all was still. Held by the power of Andawyr’s telling, no one moved, no one spoke.

When Andawyr began again, his voice was very soft. ‘I sought out some of the Mandroc families that I used to be familiar with many years ago, but they were gone from their normal hunting ranges. No sign. So I went further in. The plains were alive with bands of armed Mandrocs and black liveried men.’ There was a stir among the brothers, but Oslang silenced it with a gesture.

‘Worse than that, though,’ Andawyr continued. ‘The place was alive with His presence.’ He shuddered. ‘He is with us, beyond doubt. And strong. It defies me that we should have been so blind for so long. These things are not the happenings of months or even years.’ He waved his own thought aside and looked again at his cord.

‘I turned back. Fled, in a word. But even in full knowledge, we’re not above foolishness. Despite His presence I used the Old Power to give myself a little light and warmth in that benighted place.’ Andawyr folded his arms around himself as if bitterly chilled. ‘I was in the mountains by then, you understand, and deep. Not so foolish as to be on or even near the surface. But He felt my presence and found me. And bound me like the merest insect. But for the depth at which I had hidden, He could have made me walk to His very castle, had He chosen.’ He fell silent, but again no one spoke. It was as if the dank chill of Narsindal and His appalling touch had reached into this, the very heart of the Cadwanol’s strength.

‘And it was only because I was so deep that his… men… Mandrocs… couldn’t find me. I heard them searching. Passing nearby, but they always missed me, though by what chance I can’t say. It was from them that I heard of the rising of Derras Ustramel.’

He leaned forward, his voice intense. ‘Alone in the darkness and in my pain, I passed through many moods. But twice, at my very lowest, I saw the man Hawklan again. Saw him as clearly as I see you. And I felt his presence. Both times he gave me comfort and on the second he actually reached out and caught me when truly I thought all hope had gone. And He felt him too. For His presence came in Hawklan’s wake. But I’d been given a new stillness and though His binding still surrounded me, it was uncertain.’

Andawyr’s face became pained and anxious. His voice fell even lower. ‘And the third time I saw him amp;mdashthough this time, in some way he reached out to me for my aid amp;mdashSumeral’s hold left me. Abruptly. No gradual lessening. It just disappeared. His attention was elsewhere, and massively so. And then Hawklan was there in front of me.’ He began to speak slowly, his eyes narrowed, as if he were watching the scene again. ‘There were others there, I think, but in truth he was alone. And facing Oklar amp;mdashOklar in all his power, but hurt somehow, I felt, and about to release some terrible blow in his rage.’ Eyes now suddenly wide, Andawyr put his hands to his mouth in terror. ‘He was defenceless. I shouted to him to use his sword, but… ’

He fell silent.

‘What happened?’ Oslang ventured after a moment.

Slowly, his eyes still wide, Andawyr shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Just as suddenly I was alone again in the empty darkness, surrounded by the dying echoes of my own shouting. Quite alone, I don’t know how long I stood there before I fully realized where I was, and what had happened, but when I did, I forgot Hawklan and everything else, and just ran. Ran and ran.’ His hand came up to cover his face. ‘Your precious leader ran like a frightened child. Who knows what cave lore guided me out of the depths and brought me towards the Pass? When I came to my senses, I could think of only two things. At no matter what cost, I must return and tell you everything and I must not use the Old Power for whatever reason amp;mdashexpect perhaps my own death. Just those two things.’

He lowered his hand and looked again at his friends. ‘That was another learning, my friends. Travelling fearfully in the darkness inside the mountains, guided only by my cave lore. Travelling fearfully from shadow to shadow when I had to travel on the surface. And then the Pass, and one foot in front of the other, on and on, with who knew what at my back, for day after day. Outside, the endless… voices, the discourse. Inside, the darkness again. To be honest I can remember very little of the journey.’

‘You were distraught and very weak when we found you,’ Oslang said reassuringly. ‘But all’s well now.’

Andawyr nodded. ‘Yes and no,’ he said. ‘I’m alive and I’m aware now of the danger, but I’m aware too of our weakness, and I’ve no idea of the fate of Hawklan.’

Abruptly his trials seemed to overwhelm him and his voice became almost desperate. ‘At its finest the Cadwanol couldn’t stand against Sumeral unaided, and if Oklar struck down Ethriss while he slept in that form then he’d have doomed him to millennia of darkness.’

‘If the man Hawklan is indeed Ethriss, then such a blow might well have wakened him.’ The speaker was Atelon, a Riddinwr and a newcomer to the ranks of the senior brothers. ‘Perhaps Ethriss had Hawklan go there for that precise reason.’

Andawyr looked at him pensively for some time. ‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘And it’s a timely thought. We should always remind ourselves that we’re only mortals, and the subtleties and powers of the likes of Ethriss and Sumeral are well beyond our understanding. But I doubt Ethriss would volunteer his… host… his bearer… to the maw of Vrwystin A Kaethio, and while we might not have noted his passing from this age, we’d certainly have noticed his wakening.’

Atelon bowed in acknowledgement.

‘Then again,’ Andawyr muttered softly, ‘if Ethriss were gone from us wouldn’t we surely have felt His presence by now? Rampant in triumph?’

He fell silent for some time, then abruptly he turned to Oslang. ‘I don’t suppose you sent anyone to Anderras Darion as I asked?’ he said.

Oslang shook his head. ‘No, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘We’d no small problem with the eye of the Goleg that you brought back. And… ’ He hesitated. ‘To be frank, as Ryath said, we doubted you. You passed through like a mountain storm, left us with a string of rambling suppositions and that abomination, and then you were gone. We all thought the unexpected encounter with the Goleg had unbalanced you temporarily and that after a day or so in the Pass you’d be back.’