Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

‘That’s what I keep telling people,’ Loman agreed. ‘And most of them agree eventually. But it’s still heavy going.’ With a dismissive wave of his hand, he changed the subject. ‘Have you found your wedge yet?’ he asked, leaning forward and looking at her intently.

‘Oh, yes,’ Gulda replied, returning to her book. ‘I always knew what that would be. I just wanted to have a long talk with Tirilen about it first. Now she’s reasona-bly happy about it, I’m simply waiting for you to tell me everyone’s ready for the change. Then we’re off.’

‘Off?’ Loman queried suspiciously.

It was not a particularly warm day, but Loman and Athyr were perspiring freely as they trudged up the last and steepest part of the mountain where Gulda had first lured out the Alphraan with the singing of the three boys.

‘At least you’re not carrying the children today,’ Gulda said, leading the way.

Loman risked a sour look at her back and then ad-justed his pack.

‘We might as well be,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how that damned tinker carried this lot on his own.’

‘He had more than that with him when he came, father,’ Tirilen said, wilfully unhelpful. ‘And we are carrying some of it for you.’

Loman looked at the small neat pack on his daugh-ter’s shoulders. ‘I’m indebted to you, my dear,’ he said acidly. ‘There must be a good two to three bracelets in your pack.’

‘Take no notice of him, Tirilen,’ Gulda said. ‘He’s just getting old.’

With difficulty Loman remained silent. He judged he had little alternative if Gulda and Tirilen were going to conspire against him. Athyr grinned widely.

At the top, however, it was with some relish that Loman noted his daughter too was looking rather red-faced.

His glee, nevertheless, was tempered with deeper emotions. It seemed a long time since he had walked in the mountains with Tirilen, and while he, in many ways, had become younger over the past months, she had aged noticeably. Not in her appearance, but in her manner and demeanour. The quiet, slightly reserved young woman that had grown from the boisterous, almost raucous tomboy, now seemed to have developed into a much more solid, purposeful individual. He felt a strange twinge of regret.

He shook his head in self-reproach at this unex-pected emotion, then gratefully lowered his pack on to the ground, and flexed his arms and shoulders. Athyr did the same. Gulda plumped herself down on a rock nearby and folded her hands over the top of her stick, though Loman noticed that, as previously, she seemed to be quite unaffected by the climb.

Tirilen, however, did not sit down immediately, but walked to the edge of the cliff that fell sharply away from the far side of the summit. There, she stood motionless except for her head moving gently from side to side as she gazed around the valleys and lesser peaks spread out below. The wind, strong and cold at this height, buffeted her and blew her hair awry, and eventually she pulled her cloak tight about her. It was a calm, unhurried movement, however, quite free from the hunched and hasty clutching that many others might have shown. Tirilen embraced the winter-presaging wind as readily as she would embrace the warm summer sun.

Loman watched her, his face impassive.

Unexpectedly, Gulda reached up and took his hand. He looked down and met her gaze. ‘They have to leave, Loman,’ she said softly. ‘One way or another. Just as we left our… ’ She faltered. ‘… parents, and they left theirs. The only way you’ll keep her is to let her go.’

‘I know,’ Loman said. ‘I understand.’ Uncharacteris-tically, he sighed. ‘I think I’m used to the idea of letting her go amp;mdashbut not my need to protect and care for her. It’s difficult. And I get so frightened for the future.’

Gulda squeezed his hand. The caring and affection amp;mdashor need for it? amp;mdashin the contact were suddenly almost unbearable. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That need I can’t help you with. Take heart that Tirilen’s well founded in her life. She’s as ready to face and cope with its problems as she is to savour its joys. As for the future,’ amp;mdashshe shrugged amp;mdash‘sight of that is denied to us all, thank Ethriss. But at least your people aren’t such innocents any more, Loman. They’ve been given the opportunity to think and prepare for some of the grimmer futures that might come to pass, and they’ve seen it and acted on it in a manner that barely fouls the present.’ She looked pensive. ‘In fact, I think it may even be enriching it.’

‘Not for the people we’ve lost,’ Loman said.

Gulda squeezed his hand again, ‘You know what I mean,’ she said. Then, releasing him, she clapped her hand on her knee to signal the end of the debate. She stood up and, for an instant, Loman felt himself again in the presence of a younger, immensely powerful, almost frightening woman.

‘Anyway,’ Gulda said grimly. ‘You know well enough that the preparations themselves might prevent the very future they’re intended to meet. No Mandrocs amp;mdashor anyone amp;mdashcould march through Orthlund now and be slowed only by fatigue, could they?’

Loman nodded. ‘Probably not,’ he said. ‘But… ’ He waved his arm around the mountains. They had returned to the reason for their journey. Their lack of weapons.

Gulda flicked a long finger at the two packs they had brought. ‘Tip that lot out over there,’ she said.

Loman and Athyr did as they were bidden. Out on to the grassy knoll tumbled the decaying remnants of the wares that Dan-Tor had brought to the village in the spring. Tirilen turned at the sound, her face uncertain.

She walked over to the knoll and, opening her own pack, added its contents to the pile. All four looked at the results with distaste. Metal objects were pitted black and red, fabrics were frayed and mouldering, and wood was cracked and split with unpleasant damp and gaping fissures. The whole, even the children’s toys, exuded an almost tangible unhealthiness.

Unthinkingly touching the slight blemish on her throat, Tirilen crouched down and carefully picked up individual items. ‘They’re still getting better,’ she said after a while. ‘But it’s painful.’ She looked up at Gulda questioningly. ‘Are you sure this is necessary? she asked.

Gulda raised her eyebrows. ‘No, I’m not,’ she said. ‘But it’s all I’ve been able to think of.’ She looked around at the mountains. ‘It’s an obscenity to bring these things here, but some, perhaps most, of the Alphraan don’t seem inclined to listen, so they’ll have to see for themselves. That plus our new training exercises might make them think a little.’

Tirilen nodded reluctantly. ‘Before we leave, I’ll do what I can to make sure they don’t harm anything amp;mdashor anyone amp;mdashthat happens on them by chance,’ she said. ‘But I’d rather have them by the Leaving Stone where we can all see them. It’s bad enough that they foul one patch of ground.’

Gulda laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘You can do no more,’ she said gently. ‘That’s why I asked you to come. That, and the fact that you need the mountains for your healing skills.’

‘Yes,’ Tirilen said softly, looking round and smiling. ‘I do. I hadn’t realized.’

Gulda gave a satisfied grunt and stumped over to the cliff edge where she stood for some time like an angry black cloud.

‘Alphraan,’ she shouted into the blustering wind. ‘We came to you before with a gift and a message. You took the one and ignored the other. Now we bring you another gift, and the same message. You’re divided amongst yourselves, that much we heard in your song, but the debate is not yours alone. Know the truth. Sumeral is awake and we must all amp;mdash all amp;mdashof us prepare to face Him. Know too that He cannot be hidden from. He will seek us out, each in our turn, when His strength is sufficient. And this may be soon. Nothing can prevent this and nothing can protect you except your willing-ness to protect yourselves.’ She levelled her stick at the pile. ‘Here’s our gift,’ she continued. ‘It’s what His agent brought to Orthlund. And far worse followed in its wake, which we’ll tell of when you want to listen. But for now, study these corrupted wares well. If in the face of these, the ignorant and foolish among you still prevail, then so be it. You would not be the first in history to turn your backs to the knife.’