Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

‘Any new ideas about how to tackle this?’ he asked.

Jenna shook her head. ‘No,’ she said uncertainly. ‘If it’s like the last time, it came out of nowhere. No warning. No sounds. Nothing.’ She looked anxious. ‘It was frightening, Loman,’ she said. ‘It taught me more about real aggression amp;mdashreal personal threat amp;mdashthan any amount of training could.’ She paused awkwardly. ‘I’ve told you all this before, haven’t I?’ she said.

Loman smiled. ‘You have, Jenna,’ he said. ‘But it doesn’t matter. I understand. Speak your fears while you can. It was a hard lesson for you, but a worthwhile one, I’m afraid. It’ll take quite some time for you to get over it fully.’

There had been some debate before the camps were established about how to tackle this type of problem, but no satisfactory conclusions had been reached. Gulda’s opinion was that divisions among the Alphraan and the absence of weapons would prevent any great harm being done. She also had some hope that sheer weight of numbers might present them with problems. But hope was all they had; the whole point of the venture was to provoke and to learn. Thus Loman and all the other leaders knew that they would have no alternative but to make their own decisions as events occurred, and study the consequences afterwards.

The patrol rode on in silence for some time, then Loman dropped back a little until he was alongside the middle of the column.

‘Have any of you got throwing stones with you?’ he asked. There was some vague nodding and hand raising.

‘Get rid of them,’ he said. ‘All of them. Straight away. We don’t know what… difficulties… we’re going to run into at camp three, or even before, but the fewer potential weapons we have to hand, the better.’

The request caused little debate, though he noted that some were a little reluctant to part with what were obviously carefully chosen stones.

‘They’re lying about everywhere, anyway,’ said one of the riders casually as he upended his pouch.

Loman smiled. ‘True,’ he said, watching the small stones clattering into anonymity amongst their countless fellows strewn across the valley floor. ‘But they won’t be hand-chosen like those, and you’ll need to pause for a moment before you pick them up.’

The man frowned. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.

Loman reflected the frown. His casual remark had set in motion an unexpected train of thought. He did not reply but instead rejoined Jenna at the head of the patrol. For a little while he rode with his head bowed pensively.

The memory of their first encounter with the Al-phraan returned to him vividly. ‘They bind themselves,’ one of the voices had said to Gulda. ‘They have not your vision.’ And, at least in part, they seemed to have been amused by it. Surprised, even.

The harsh drumming of the horses’ hooves on the valley turf was relentless and determined. It echoed in his head disturbingly. There was a wrongness about what was happening, but it eluded him.

What are we going to find at this camp? he thought suddenly. An enemy, obviously, came the reply.

Obviously?

No, he realized. They were going to find friends. Friends being misled amp;mdashused amp;mdashby an enemy. An enemy that would almost certainly be unseen but who were capable of holding people immobile without even touching them. They had even held him. Him! Who could lift a man and his horse if he wished.

Still the horses pounded on and he felt the angry spur of the patrol’s collective purpose.

But against whom could that purpose be directed? How could it be used against an enemy that could not be seen?

Then came the thought: and who would direct this purpose?

He raised his hand. ‘Slow down,’ he shouted. ‘Slow down. Walking pace.’

There was some confusion behind him and Jenna turned to him, startled. She began to protest but he waved her silent. ‘Just slow down,’ he said quietly.

Then the rhythm of the hooves was gone, replaced by the uneven, soft treading of the horses and the relaxed creaking and rattling of tackle.

‘If we go into camp three like cavalry, then we’ll be seen as cavalry, and used as cavalry against our own people,’ Loman said after a pause.

‘What do you mean?’ Jenna asked, almost whisper-ing, concerned at this unexpected development.

‘Halt and dismount,’ Loman called out.

There was a brief pause as Jenna cast another quick glance at her companion before confirming the order.

Loman swung down from his horse and began walk-ing with it. He signalled the patrol to break formation.

Jenna could not contain herself. ‘What are you do-ing, Loman?’ she said angrily, though still keeping her voice low.

‘Thinking,’ Loman said absently. ‘Or rather, order-ing my thoughts.’

Jenna’s jaw tensed. ‘There are people in trouble up there,’ she said, pointing ahead.

‘I know,’ Loman replied. ‘But they’ll be in worse trouble if we go charging in like this.’

He felt Jenna’s eyes searching his face and he raised his hand reassuringly.

‘Listen, all of you,’ he said, addressing the whole patrol. ‘So far the Alphraan have hurt no one directly.’

A small bubble of protest started to form.

Loman punctured it. ‘They’ve only made us hurt ourselves,’ he said.

‘You all felt the excitement of galloping along to rescue our friends, didn’t you?’ he continued. ‘Action at last against these arrogant, interfering little people.’

The ensuing silence was uncomfortable, but no one demurred.

He looked round at his companions. ‘But ask your-selves this,’ he said. ‘How can that excitement amp;mdashthat righteous excitement amp;mdashthat indignation amp;mdashbe directed against an enemy that can’t be seen?’

He paused to let the implication sink in.

‘It can’t, can it?’ he said.

He pointed at one of the younger men. ‘You’re in battle,’ he said forcefully. ‘You’ve killed your man, but your sword’s been broken. More of the enemy appear and you can’t run. What do you do?’

The man smiled and shrugged, pleased to have such an easy question. ‘Take the dead man’s sword, obvi-ously,’ he said.

‘Obviously,’ said Loman softly. Then, louder, ‘When you have no other choice, you take your enemy’s weapon and use it against him. That’s what the Alphraan do. They have no weapons except what we bring to them. They’ll take the weapon of our surging excitement and anger, and turn it on our own people.’

There were cries of denial. ‘No. It’s not possible. They couldn’t make us do that.’

‘They can, they have done, and they will again.’ Loman’s powerful voice stilled the hubbub. ‘It’s all they can do.’ Then, more quietly, ‘It’s all they need to do.’

Jenna nodded in agreement and an uneasy silence spread over the walking group.

‘What are we supposed to do then?’ one of them asked.

‘Mount up,’ Loman said. ‘But keep walking and stay out of formation.’

‘But what are we going to do?’ came the question again. ‘Abandon those at the camp? Stand off until they’ve finished… whatever they’re doing… and then pick up the remains?’

Unexpectedly, Loman smiled. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We’re going to counter-attack. We’re going to disarm our enemy.’

Tybek breathed out as he sidestepped his charging attacker and, moving behind him, seized his shoulders. The man’s momentum carried his feet into the air and he dropped heavily on to his back.

Tybek heard the wind go out of him, but before he could bend down to check the man for injury, an arm came clumsily round his neck. He drove his elbow back somewhere into his new attacker’s midriff and then swung his clenched fist down to strike him in the groin.