Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

Dacu was unconcerned. ‘They’re no loss,’ he said dismissively. Then, repenting a little, he looked at Hawklan and held up the map he had just taken from his pack. ‘I’ve marked the position of that cave as well as I could, and I’ve got my notes. When we reach Anderras Darion, your people will be able to send out a patrol, or whatever, and try to contact them again.’

‘That won’t be necessary, Goraidin,’ said a voice, seemingly just outside the small shelter. ‘We are here, as we said we would be, and we shall remain with you for some time yet.’

Dacu tensed momentarily then relaxed very sud-denly. Reading his intentions, Hawklan leaned forward quickly and laid a hand on his arm to prevent him diving headlong out of the shelter in search of the voice’s owner.

‘Do you have shelter and food?’ he said casually, still gently restraining Dacu.

‘We have what we need,’ came the reply.

‘As we’re travelling together, won’t you join us?’ Hawklan asked, sitting back. Dacu shot an agitated glance around the already crowded shelter, but his concern was unnecessary.

‘No,’ said the voice in a refusal that was so total it seemed to hang almost tangibly in the air. ‘We must travel our own ways.’

Dacu looked inquiringly at Hawklan and then briefly at the entrance to the shelter again, but Hawklan shook his head.

‘The Goraidin has doubts about you,’ he said. ‘Great doubts. He rebuked me for inviting you to come with us.’

‘We heard.’

Dacu scowled and lowered his eyes to prevent them from reproaching Hawklan again.

Hawklan however, seemed unconcerned, even slightly amused, at the revelation. ‘If you heard, then you know his reasoning was sound, Alphraan,’ he said. ‘And you do little to lighten the burden of his responsi-bility by maintaining both a continual absence and a continual presence.’

The reply came in a strange combination of anger, resentment and genuine regret. ‘You own you know little of us, Hawklan. Do not judge us. Nor you, Goraidin. You above all should not so readily accuse us of being His agents. You, whose race proved such a rich vein for His mining.’

Dacu winced. ‘I don’t judge,’ he said angrily, stung by this cruelly accurate comment. ‘I have my duty, both to myself and to others, and I must speak what my head and my heart tell me to speak. You know as little of us as we do of you, but strange to our ways or not, surely you must realize it’s hard for us to be at ease with… people… who’ve tried once to kill us, who seemingly listen to our every word, and who constantly hide from us. They’re not the actions of allies.’

‘We are not your allies, Goraidin,’ said the voice immediately. ‘Except insofar as we are His enemies. The… ’ Silence? Stillness that awoke? Still so many mean-ings clung around some of the sounds that the Alphraan used. ‘… reminded us that there are things beyond us all. That and other signs showed us that we must be prepared to learn.’ Images of Isloman’s carving and Hawklan’s sword formed in the words.

‘And it is hard for us to follow the ways to Anderras Darion, human,’ the voice continued. ‘Soon we will have to travel through… ’ The four men in the shelter all craned forward intently in an attempt to identify what followed. The ancient places? Barren? Dark? Lost? Silent?

The meaning eluded all of them, but there was such a growing and chilling awfulness in the sounds that Hawklan called out, ‘Stop. We can’t understand you, your speech is far too subtle for us. But we feel your pain. What are you frightened of? We’ve only mountains ahead. Difficult and dangerous, but only if we’re careless. Join us if travelling on the surface distresses you so much. We’ll help you gladly.’

There was a long silence, then, ‘Our way to Anderras Darion is not your way.’ The voice faltered, as if struggling to find the correct words for a difficult explanation. ‘It is through… bleakness and… hardship… ’ It gave up, and the shelter became silent again.

Hawklan nodded even though his listener was not there to see. ‘We are indeed different, Alphraan,’ he said after a while. ‘We must learn about one another slowly. We mustn’t allow our impatience and fear of each other to become His tools.’

There was another long silence, then the voice spoke again, hesitatingly, apologetically. ‘We do not eavesdrop on you, Hawklan, Goraidin,’ it said. ‘We hear you. It is difficult to do otherwise if we are to remain with you. And we have to learn to deal with the… crudeness… the inadequacies of your speech. That also is difficult.’ There was a hint of humour in the voice. ‘But patience at least is a word we both understand.’

Dacu looked across at Hawklan, his mind suddenly full of times in the past when he himself had wandered lost and frightened in strange places. ‘If our voices guide you,’ he said unexpectedly, ‘then listen by all means. And speak should you need help… or whenever your heart or your head bids you.’

A strange, touching sigh filled the shelter. ‘Thank you, Goraidin,’ the voice said. ‘Thank you.’ And the sigh seemed to fade into the distance.

‘Have they gone?’ said Tirke, awkwardly breaking the peaceful silence that followed.

Dacu chuckled. ‘Were they here?’ he said.

Tirke grimaced at the remark as if he had been struck. He put both hands to his head. ‘How do you all stay so calm?’ he said, his voice trembling.

The three men exchanged glances. ‘The same way you will if you get as far as we’ve got,’ Isloman said, smiling uncertainly.

Tirke waved a protective hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I can’t joke about it. I’m doing my best, but my head’s whirling with everything that happened last night and this morning. I don’t seem to be able to take it all in. Voices from nowhere, those terrible noises, then that strange silence. And Lord Hawklan suddenly awake… I… ’

Dacu looked at him sympathetically. Tirke had been silent virtually all day, an uneasy and increasingly unhappy spectator at events beyond not only his control but his comprehension.

‘Everyone’s head is whirling, Tirke,’ he said gently. ‘Believe me amp;mdasheveryone’s. You can’t be witness to such as we’ve seen amp;mdashand heard amp;mdashand not be disturbed by it, perhaps to the point of doubting your sanity.’ He leaned forward to emphasize the point. ‘We’re all shocked and disturbed in our different ways, and it’ll be some time before we all get used to our new knowledge. All Isloman meant was that the only difference between you and us is age. Age and the changed perspectives that go with it. It’s a big difference and one no one can do anything about it. But for what it’s worth, you’re sane all right, and you saw and heard what you saw and heard, as did we all.’

He took his journal out of his pack. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘if you want a small piece of advice, then just hold gently on to the simple things that you know are sound and real.’ He waved the document significantly. ‘Lord Eldric didn’t send you with us as a stable-lad. He sent you because he values you and wants you to learn. Don’t forget, you’re a High Guard on special escort duty and under Goraidin command. Observation is the heart of our work. Armies may have to move across these mountains before this business is ended. Armies full of young men, like you, Tirke amp;mdashuncertain, frightened. Think about them, and how you can help them with your eyes and ears now. Think about them whenever you get too fretful. Everything you’ve seen, heard and thought goes in here.’ He tapped the journal and opened it. ‘And you spend your days looking for things to put in it. For your own sake, for a time six months hence when you’ve forgotten everything that’s so vivid now, and for their sake anytime, whoever they are.’