Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

She turned her head and looked at Tirilen. ‘And Tirilen. Who should be tending the routine mishaps of village life and sees clearer than she wants to what might soon be coming. Who can tell what pain she carries?’

Tirilen met her gaze steadfastly, and Gulda turned away.

‘I can’t stop you amp;mdashany of you amp;mdashreproaching your-selves,’ she continued. ‘But you must use your feelings of guilt as goads, not shackles. Any encounter that you survive has lessons in it that must be learned. And you start by being carvers. By looking at things as they are.’

No one spoke.

She continued. ‘Now you’re all at least a little rested, I want to go through everything that happened, in as much detail as you can manage. When we’ve done that we’ll talk to the signallers and everyone else from the two camps.’

‘Everyone?’ Loman said.

‘Everyone,’ Gulda confirmed. ‘We’re not the only ones who’ve been damaged by yesterday’s exploits, Loman, and we’re not the only ones who have to learn from it. None of you were controlled by the Alphraan. We have to speak to those who were.’ Abruptly, she changed direction. ‘What’s morale like now?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Loman said bluntly. ‘I’ve spent most of the night with Athyr and the others just organizing quarters for all these extra people.’

‘It’s uncertain,’ Tybek volunteered. ‘But those who aren’t still shocked are angry, and seem to be getting angrier.’

Both Loman and Gulda looked at him sharply. ‘No,’ Tybek said, anticipating their question. ‘I don’t think it’s the Alphraan doing it. That was very sudden… unreal somehow. This is colder, deeper. I have it myself. It’s Orthlundyn, all right.’

Gulda frowned. ‘That’s understandable,’ she said. ‘But it might prove to be just another problem.’ She shook her head to dismiss the concern and then pointed at Athyr. ‘The facts first,’ she said.

Athyr’s tale proved to be short. Like Loman, he had sensed some wrongness as he rode with the reserve patrol towards camp six, but unlike Loman he had not identified it. When they neared the camp, they saw a large crowd milling around and fighting, but when Athyr called a halt so that he could decide what to do, some of the patrol continued galloping and rode at full speed towards the camp.

‘Whatever fighting had been going on there before stopped almost immediately and the entire camp turned on the riders,’ Athyr said.

‘And you?’ Gulda asked.

‘For a moment I was just stunned at what had hap-pened,’ Athyr admitted. ‘But I felt the rhythm of the riding trying to drive me forward too, and I understood what it was. Especially when it just faded away. I think they were showing us what they could do to all of us if they wished,’ he added bitterly.

Gulda nodded. ‘Go on,’ she said.

‘I sent a signal back, straight away,’ Athyr said. ‘I didn’t want anyone else charging along, making whatever mistake I’d made. I knew I’d have to deal with the problem on my own.’

A gust of wind shook the tent impatiently and a frayed fringe of raindrops splattered noisily on to the sodden grass outside.

Athyr’s listeners sat silent.

‘I had to stand off,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Even though we were out of range, some of them were slinging at us.’ He looked straight at Gulda. ‘You were right to forbid all weapons,’ he said.

Gulda did not reply.

‘All I could think of was to try and exhaust them,’ Athyr continued. ‘We split into six groups, and took turns at riding within range to draw their fire.’

‘Risky,’ said Loman.

Athyr shrugged. ‘Yes and no,’ he said. ‘We took some knocks.’ He rubbed his arm ruefully. ‘But there was no co-ordination in their fire, and we didn’t stand still, I can assure you.’

‘And it worked?’ Gulda asked.

‘Eventually,’ Athyr said, though his voice held reser-vations. ‘After about an hour, they stopped bothering to attack us, and started wandering about, looking confused. I dismounted and walked towards them very slowly, but all of a sudden they were demented again and I’d to run for my life, rocks bouncing all around me.’

He leaned forward and held up his hand, fingers extended. It was shaking slightly. ‘Five times that happened,’ he said, his voice hoarse again. ‘Five times. I’ve never been so frightened in all my life as on that fifth walk. By then I’d three groups ready to move to divert any fire, and a fourth group ready to dash in to try and reach me, but as I got closer and closer… ’ He shook his head and left the sentence unfinished. ‘Anyway, nothing happened. It was over, they’d had their fun… made their point… whatever. And we were free to pick up our dead and injured and leave.’

His mouth curled viciously.

Gulda looked puzzled. ‘Why didn’t they mount up and attack you?’ she asked.

Athyr looked surprised. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘All the horses were badly frightened when we finally got in, but… I don’t know. It never occurred to me. They just formed up along some natural… perimeter… and stayed there.’

Gulda nodded. ‘It’s interesting,’ she said. ‘I’ve spo-ken to some of the people from the camp. They said that some were affected and some weren’t, just like at camp three. But when the riders appeared, everyone seemed to be affected. They’ve all got different memories of what they thought they were doing, but their antago-nism towards the riders was less than it had been to each other.’

‘Interesting’s not a word I’d choose,’ Athyr said. ‘Murdering little devils.’

Gulda accepted the rebuke with a gesture. ‘But I think we’re beginning to get some measure of them at last,’ she said. ‘I think… ’

The tent flap was pulled back hastily and a large, burly figure strode in unannounced, his face riven with anxiety. Tirilen half stood. A brief spasm of pain on her face made Loman lower his eyes.

‘Tirilen,’ the man said urgently, ignoring the others. ‘Come quick, he’s bad again… ’

Without speaking, but with a brief nod to Gulda, Tirilen walked straight towards the gaily painted entrance. The man turned aside and held it open for her as she passed through, then followed her. The flap, folded awkwardly, stood open for a moment until a light breeze touched it and it slowly dropped back to close out the damp coldness pervading the camp.

Gulda looked down at the ground and tapped her stick on it absently. There was a long uneasy silence.

‘Three dead?’ Loman said softly.

‘Soon, I fear,’ Gulda replied.

Barely had she spoken, than a loud cry of despair and anger reached them. Other cries formed around it. Gulda looked around the circle, her face pained. ‘I don’t know exactly what we’re going to do,’ she said. ‘But Loman’s approach will be essential. We must redirect that.’ She lifted her hand towards the commotion outside. ‘Or they will use it.’

Before anyone could pursue this, Tirilen returned, her face pale. She walked a few paces into the tent and then paused to look at her hand. It was bloodstained.

Loman looked at the woman who was now more than ever his and not his.

‘This obscenity must stop,’ Tirilen said, her voice shaking with emotion and her gaze fixing Gulda. ‘You and I will go and talk to these creatures, now.’

Gulda did not reply, but stood up and with a nod of her head, motioned Tirilen back to the entrance.

‘Where do you want to go?’ she asked as they stepped outside, but Tirilen did not answer. She simply fastened her cloak more firmly round her shoulders and pulled the hood forward purposefully against the fine, penetrating drizzle. Then she turned and began walking through the camp. Such few people as were wandering about stepped aside silently to let her pass, forming a wide, sombre aisle for her. Gulda looked at the retreat-ing, green-clad figure for a moment, then, pulling her own hood forward, followed her.