Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

Loman’s eyes widened in horror at this revelation. ‘The entire Castle?’ he exclaimed. ‘And those… creatures can sneak in here and control it? I’ll have a guard placed… ’

Gulda overrode his concerns. ‘They can’t control it,’ she said. ‘No one can control it, except perhaps Ethriss himself. But they’ve tinkered with it very effectively in some way, and we have to face the fact that only they can undo their work.’

‘Meaning?’ asked Loman.

‘Meaning that we’ll have to find some way to talk to them again,’ Gulda replied. ‘Persuade them to allow us back into the Armoury.’

‘Our talking and their listening are two different things,’ Loman said sourly. ‘They seem more interested in stamping their own ideas on us than entering into a debate about the rights and wrongs of events.’

Gulda nodded, but her voice was sympathetic. ‘They’re an alien race, Loman. We know little or nothing of them, and even less about their history. A slim volume can hardly contain the accumulated lore of millennia can it? Who knows what roads have brought them to where they are now?’

Loman grunted. ‘Well,’ he conceded marginally. ‘I’d rather talk than fight any day, but… ’ He stopped and looked back down the corridor. ‘They’ve imposed their will on us back there, Memsa,’ he continued thought-fully, almost disbelievingly. ‘We didn’t do that to them, or even attempt to.’ He stuttered slightly. ‘We… we wouldn’t even think of doing such a thing.’

‘You’ve never imposed your will on anyone, Loman?’ Gulda said knowingly.

‘Not an adult,’ he began, then crueller memories rose to mock him. He curled his lip in distaste. ‘I’ve killed people though, if that’s what you mean,’ he said. ‘But that wasn’t the same. That was in extremity. To protect myself or others.’

‘Perhaps that’s what they think they’re doing now,’ Gulda replied. ‘Preventing harm to us and perhaps themselves by denying us our weapons.’

Loman could not keep the scorn from his face. ‘No one’s that stupid, however alien their culture,’ he replied witheringly.

Gulda shrugged. ‘When you’ve travelled as much as I have you’ll learn there are no limits to stupidity, particularly amongst human beings,’ she said unequivo-cally. ‘I’ve met peoples who believed that weapons made violence, and forbade their very existence.’

Loman frowned in disbelief. Gulda turned away from him and shrugged. ‘While circumstances didn’t show them otherwise, they were without insight into themselves, Loman,’ she said. ‘Quite beyond debate. I have seen it. Perhaps the Alphraan are the same.’

Loman’s scowl deepened, then, abruptly, a great anger welled up inside him and burst out uncontrolla-bly. ‘Good grief, Gulda,’ he shouted. ‘I’m not interested in other people’s follies, and I’m not interested in conjecturing about what the Alphraan might or might not be thinking.’ He smacked his great fist into the palm of his hand. ‘Whatever stupid ideas they’ve got, they’ve used their own weapons very effectively to deprive us of ours. To leave us perhaps defenceless. Nothing can justify that.’ His anger mounted. ‘Damn it, they’ve judged us! I won’t be judged without any semblance of a hearing amp;mdashleast of all by strangers!’ His voice rang loud through the corridor. ‘We went to talk to them amp;mdashto warn them. And they do this! It’s tantamount to an act of war. We should go into the mountains in force and punch their arrogant noses.’

Gulda stopped and, straightening up a little, looked at him intensely. He met her gaze without flinching, his fists clenched and his jaw set. Suddenly she chuckled and, stepping forward, gave him an almighty smack on the arm. It was a comradely blow, but Loman staggered under its impact.

Gulda’s chuckle turned to a laugh, a strangely young and musical laugh. ‘He picked a good one in you, young Loman,’ she said heartily. ‘I’d never have said there was anything in you when you were little. You were such a scamp. Still, I suppose it was difficult, having the soul of a smith in a land of carvers.’ She chuckled again.

Before Loman could respond to this unexpected and rather painful testimonial, she was off again.

The sudden change in Gulda’s mood took some of the outward passion from Loman’s anger, but like metal fresh from the forge, it was still dangerously hot even though it was not glowing, and it betokened a profound inner change.

Rubbing his arm ruefully, he followed after her. For a while they walked on in silence.

‘I agree with you, Loman,’ Gulda said eventually. ‘Whatever their reasoning, what they’ve done is wrong, and wanting to punch their arrogant noses is a very understandable response. But you know well enough it won’t be that easy. We must try talking first. We really don’t have any choice, we know too little about them for conflict.’ She looked at him sternly. ‘And we’ll be in a better frame of mind if we give them the benefit of the doubt for now. If we assume they’re well intentioned.’

Loman managed to lay the excess of his anger to one side. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘But you don’t sound too convinced about the probable outcome yourself.’

Gulda breathed out noisily. ‘I’m not,’ she said sim-ply. ‘I think their intentions are benign, but whether they’re benign or malevolent, I don’t think they’ll listen, whatever we say. I think sooner or later we’re going to have to punch their noses and, bluntly, I’m not looking forward to it.’

As promised, Gulda gathered together Ireck and the other leading members of Anderras Darion’s increas-ingly military complement, to discuss the matter with them fully.

‘I don’t think we can begin to understand their thinking,’ she concluded. ‘Suffice it to say that, for whatever reason, they obviously can’t see our need.’

‘Or won’t,’ someone said.

Gulda acknowledged the comment. ‘Or won’t,’ she conceded.

‘What shall we do, then?’ Ireck said. ‘How can we talk to people we can’t see, and who won’t listen?’

A hesitant hand came up from the rear of the seated group. It was Yrain. Loman signalled to her to speak.

‘Memsa, you said before that you thought they were divided amongst themselves,’ she began. ‘That impres-sion amp;mdashyour impression amp;mdashis really all the information we have about their thinking. Perhaps we should work on that.’

Gulda looked up at her. Yrain faltered, but Gulda gave her an encouraging nod. ‘Spit it out, girl,’ she said, with a slight smile. Yrain flushed then leaned forward purposefully.

‘I think we need to show them that their trick hasn’t altered either our intentions or our possible effective-ness,’ she said. ‘I think we should send out as many groups as we can on survival treks. Send them out conspicuously unarmed. Show them all the usual stuff for surviving in the mountains, but… ’ She raised her hand, forefinger extended in emphasis. ‘Incorporate part of the weaponless fighting training into the treks and add in some ambush techniques, trap laying, etc.’

‘What purpose will that serve?’ Gulda asked.

Yrain’s eyes narrowed slightly. She struck off the points on her fingers. ‘They’ll be watching us presuma-bly. It’ll show them that we intend to continue training. It’ll show them that we can use sticks, rocks, bare hands… anything, just as effectively as swords and bows. And if they’re divided amongst themselves, as you think, then perhaps that might shift the balance in their debates.’

Gulda nodded, ‘But not necessarily to our advan-tage, Yrain,’ she said. ‘It might only serve to confirm to them that they have wild and savage neighbours who are best kept well away from anything with a sharp edge. And what if they chose to extend their control by preventing these… survival treks?’