Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

Although quietly put, it was a harsh question and both he and Isloman knew the answer. Isloman remembered Hawklan saying that the only thing which might have stopped the Mandrocs marching through the length of Orthlund, was fatigue.

‘I can’t say,’ he replied. ‘There were plans for de-fence afoot when we left, but we’re not many, and we’ve no military tradition.’

Eldric nodded. ‘And once in Orthlund they could move across into Riddin.’

‘There aren’t many routes through the mountains,’ Isloman said.

‘There are enough,’ Eldric said curtly, ‘if my mem-ory serves me. Enough for them to move quietly through, wait for a second force to be sent down the Pass of Elewart to draw the Muster north, and then attack their flanks or their rear.’ He shook his head. ‘While we keep our eyes so intently on Oklar, He could move around us and out into the world, leaving us as just a noisy irrelevance.’

It was a grim and chilling picture and, shifting un-easily, Isloman frowned. Sylvriss too, looked pale, and even Eldric seemed unsettled by his own impromptu analysis. He sat down and rested his head on his hand gloomily.

‘Ah well,’ he said with a sigh. ‘At least I’m starting to think straight again.’ He tapped the arm of his chair impatiently. ‘But I wish I knew more about… about everything in this mess… forces, dispositions, intentions… anything.’ His voice trailed off.

There was a brief, uncertain silence, then Isloman spoke, almost cheerfully. ‘Well, He knows no more about you than you do about Him, Eldric. That’s what war’s about; uncertainty. But you at least have your Goraidin like eyes and ears all over the countryside. And I’ll wager you have, at worst, the passive loyalty of many ordinary people throughout the entire land.’ His voice fell to a whisper. ‘And a great many people like Dilrap watching and waiting, and perhaps quietly acting. What servant of Dan-Tor’s could come so near the heart of your counsels?’

Eldric looked at him seriously for a moment, then smiled. ‘Ethriss protect me from optimists,’ he said, standing up. ‘But you’re right. I’m sorry. It was just a passing darkness. A patrol can be led anywhere by stealth but I find it difficult to imagine any of the western Lords allowing a Mandroc army over their land other than under the direst threat.’

‘And no one would attack through the Pass of Elewart unless they already held the north of Riddin in its entirety,’ Sylvriss added. ‘However, your reasoning was sound, and such a thing could come to pass if we aren’t vigilant. It confirms the rightness of our decision to leave. With Hawklan and me away, you’ll be less vulnerable, freer to take action, and easier in your heart to know that allies are being sought. I accept your escort amp;mdashand the healer. We’ll leave tomorrow, if that’s possible.’

Eldric allowed himself a brief look of regretful res-ignation then bowed formally to the Queen and looked at Isloman. ‘And you, Orthlundyn?’ he asked.

Isloman nodded in confirmation. ‘We also,’ he re-plied.

‘Farewell, Majesty,’ Isloman said, looking down at the Queen.

Sylvriss wrinkled her nose. ‘Don’t call me that, Islo-man,’ she said. ‘It comes ill from you. I’m not your ruler, nor will anyone ever be. Muster woman is as much honour as I could wish from anyone, and Sylvriss will suffice.’

Isloman smiled awkwardly, then swung up on to Serian behind the mute form of Hawklan. He held out his huge hand. Sylvriss took it in both of hers. ‘Take care, Muster woman,’ he said. ‘You’ve been a rare companion. I’ll miss you.’

Sylvriss squeezed his hand. ‘And I you, carver,’ she said. ‘But we’ll meet again, have no fear. And guard your charge well. My heart tells me his worth is beyond measure.’

Eldric joined them. ‘A little chilly,’ he said, clapping his hands together. ‘But it should be a fine day.’

Around them the peaks of the higher mountains were already being touched by the light of the rising sun, while far to the west could be seen the remains of the clouds that had so peevishly shed their rains the previous day. Above them the sky was pale but hopeful, and Gavor, the merest black speck, circled diligently.

Eldric became solicitous. ‘You have everything?’ he asked anxiously. Both Isloman and the Queen reassured him patiently.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve asked that before, haven’t I?’

‘Only a dozen or so times,’ Isloman laughed.

‘Yes, I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘To be honest, I’m not keen on partings, but I’m doing my best. I’ll miss you both very much, and Hawklan, and I’ll be mightily relieved when I hear you’re both safe with your own people.’

‘We’ll be relieved to send you that news,’ Isloman said. Then he reached into a pouch at his waist and took out two small stone discs. ‘I nearly forgot,’ he said. ‘A small gift for each of you.’

He handed one to Sylvriss and the other to Eldric. Sylvriss thanked him with a surprised smile, and Eldric grunted self-consciously. There was a brief, slightly awkward silence as each examined their gift.

‘I’d have preferred to give you something a little better,’ Isloman said. ‘Miniatures aren’t my strong point and I only had my knife point… ’

His disclaimer was interrupted by exclamations from the two recipients.

‘It’s amazing,’ said Eldric cocking his head on one side and repeatedly turning the disc to view it from different angles. ‘It’s Hawklan on Serian.’

‘He moves as the stone moves,’ Sylvriss said, imitat-ing Eldric, her eyes wide. ‘How have you done that? It’s like the Crystal Room at the Palace.’ Her voice faltered a little at the memory.

Isloman caught the hesitation. ‘It’s my hope for the future,’ he said. ‘Not my memory of the past. Make it yours as well.’

Sylvriss nodded and, still looking at the small carv-ing, mounted her horse. Eldric gave his a last appreciative turn and placed it in his pocket. Then, without any further comment, he bowed to the Queen, saluted Isloman, and, clearing his throat, turned back to the castle.

Isloman and Sylvriss looked at one another for a moment, then Sylvriss urged her horse forward and clattered off through the open castle gate. Isloman watched her for a moment and then turned to Yengar who, together with Olvric, was in charge of the Queen’s escort. ‘I’d hurry after her if I were you,’ he said, with a grin. ‘She’s liable to be halfway to Riddin before she remembers you’re supposed to be with her.’

Laughing quietly to himself, he watched as the six men rode out of the courtyard in pursuit of their charge. Then he looked around at Eldric’s mountain castle. In the increasing claustrophobia of their re-emerging wartime thinking, all had agreed that the departures of the Queen and Hawklan should be as inconspicuous as possible. Even their true destinations were not to be announced for several days.

However, in the shade of some of the windows Islo-man could see Arinndier and the other Lords, making their silent farewells, together with Varak and Yatsu and such other of the Goraidin who were not out in the field.

Distant and dark-shrouded though they were, Islo-man looked at each in turn and then raised his arm in a broad salute to them all.

Then he turned to his own escort; the Goraidin Dacu and the High Guard, Tirke. Both nodded to him.

Carefully he put his arms around Hawklan and took Serian’s reins. ‘Let’s go back to Anderras Darion, Hawklan,’ he said. ‘Let’s go home.’

When the Guardians, Sphaeera, Enartion, and Theowart, had formed the world as a celebration of their being, they found such joy in it that they bade the First Comer Ethriss to create others so that they in their turn might celebrate the miracle of being.