Roger Taylor: The waking of Orthlund

‘It’s all right, Dilrap,’ he said discreetly when he reached him. ‘You’re safe for the time being. As am I.’ His manner was casual, for the benefit of onlookers, but his eyes bore a different, more urgent, message amp;mdashintimate almost. ‘We’ve a great deal to organize,’ he continued. ‘Come with me.’

As they walked along the palace corridors towards the main entrance, the activity and noise grew, and Dilrap noted dust and grime layering the floor and darkening statues and ornaments. Equally soiled Mathidrin troopers and palace servants were running to and fro, brought together in common humanity to tend the needs of those damaged by the blow that Oklar had launched at Hawklan.

‘Commander, we couldn’t find you.’ It was a Mathidrin Captain, his face flushed and sweat-stained.

Urssain waved the remark aside. ‘I’ve been tending the Ffyrst,’ he said coldly. ‘Report.’

The report was brief. Impromptu groups were dig-ging in the rubble to find survivors and clear the streets. The dead and the wounded were being taken to various large halls about the City. ‘The Guilds and the Rede’s people are doing most of the organizing,’ the Captain concluded rather awkwardly.

Urssain nodded. This last remark reminded him why he needed Dilrap. The Mathidrin had neither the administrators nor the resources to run a city. ‘Is there any sign of rioting?’ he said.

‘Not so far,’ replied the Captain. ‘But it could hap-pen. There’s a lot of angry talk about, and when the shock and panic die down, it could boil over.’

Urssain nodded again. Nor did they have the forces to contend with any serious rioting. ‘We must be circumspect, Captain. We mustn’t play into the hands of our enemies by inflaming matters. Check the Palace for intruders. Gently amp;mdashmany of them will just be shocked or seeking shelter amp;mdashthen discreetly seal the Palace. When that’s done, find such Commanders and senior Captains as you can, and report to me in the Westerclave.’ Then mindful of his Lord’s last order. ‘And get a party to clear the gateway immediately. The Ffyrst needs to know that his would-be assassin is dead. Immediately, Captain.’

‘It’s almost finished, Commander,’ the Captain re-plied. ‘We’ve found some bodies, but not the… archer’s.’

‘Keep looking, then. And hurry,’ Urssain said, dis-missing the man with a curt gesture.

Scowling at this distraction, Urssain looked around. ‘In here,’ he said, pushing open the door of a small ante-room. As Dilrap entered, Urssain closed the door and bolted it.

‘We have to talk, Dilrap,’ he said without prelimi-naries.

Dilrap did not reply. His legs failing him, he dropped into a chair. He looked at his unexpected saviour.

In contrast to Dilrap’s stillness, Urssain paced fret-fully up and down the small room as he spoke. ‘The Ffyrst is changed, Dilrap,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what or who he is, but he’s changed, and changed unbelievably, and you and I must change also if we’re to survive.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Dilrap lied. ‘What do you mean, changed? And who shot him? And why was the King kill-’

Urssain waved him silent irritably, and Dilrap saw for the first time the fear and deep shock that the man was barely keeping under control. Another reassuring sign of humanity in his enemies.

Urssain stopped pacing and stood looking down at him. ‘Some Orthlundyn assassin shot him, Dilrap. I don’t know why, but the Ffyrst has been fretting about him ever since he got back from Orthlund. It’s not a matter I’d inquire into if I were you, especially now.’

For an instant his composure slipped, his mouth trembled and his terror showed naked on his face. He turned away. In the Mathidrin it was potentially a fatal mistake to show fear. It was almost as bad just to admit to it. For a moment however, Urssain felt drawn to tell Dilrap of the maelstrom of emotions that had torn and twisted him as he had stood by Dan-Tor to face that strange Orthlundyn. Dilrap would understand. He was permanently terrified. He could offer no threat.

But apart from his years of restraint, where could he find the words for such a tale? He could tell of his fear at being faced unexpectedly by a massive and seemingly organized mob. Fear that the ancient will of the Fyordyn had suddenly awakened to call him to account for his deeds. Perhaps he could tell of the eerie tension between his Lord and Hawklan, the one charming yet malevolent, the other grim-faced yet open and honest. Perhaps also he could tell of his horror as Dan-Tor fell to the ground, struck by Hawklan’s arrow. Was this to be the end? His leader slain and the mob free to surge forward to overwhelm the guards and destroy him?

But how could he tell of his emotions as Dan-Tor rose again and revealed his true self? How could he tell of his impotence, his inadequacy, at being less than the merest mote swept up in the howling wake of Oklar’s fury? Or of his joy at finding himself returned unhurt and whole to this world when it had passed? It was beyond all description.

And yet still less could he tell of the dark and vile exhilaration that he had felt at being part of such power, or of his unholy communion with the being that wielded it. That above all was for his own inner contemplation.

Dilrap watched Urssain’s back and read his indeci-sion and torment.

Confess to me, Commander, he willed. Show me your weaknesses for my future use. The harshness of the thought surprised him.

‘Why was the King killed, then?’ he asked bluntly. Urssain started and for a moment looked at him blankly. Dilrap pressed on. ‘I was trying to stop the King releasing Eldric and his son. He was so angry I thought he was going to have me killed on the spot. Then the whole Palace shook and I just ran away. Now he’s dead amp;mdashkilled by your men. What’s happening, Urssain?’

Urssain scowled and crushed his own turmoil under the needs of the present. He leaned forward and brought his face close to Dilrap’s. ‘Too many questions, Hon-oured Secretary. I didn’t save your blubbering neck just to be interrogated by you. Obedience is the law now. Obedience without question. I’ve saved your life today. Listen to what I say, and learn, and you may stay alive.’ He brought his face even closer until it was almost touching Dilrap’s. His voice was soft and menacing.

‘The Lord Dan-Tor has powers beyond our imagina-tions, Dilrap. I’ve seen them. I stood by him when he razed half the City with a wave of his hand. For those who follow and serve him, there’ll be rewards beyond imagination, and for those who do not, there’ll be extinction. Nothing can oppose him, have no doubts about that. I have his favour and now you have mine. Obey me as I obey him and those rewards will be yours also. But remember, Dilrap. You are useful to me. Valuable, even. But I am indispensable to you. Do you understand?’

Dilrap nodded. Out of habit, his body shook and twitched, but his mind was calmer than he had ever known. I understand you perfectly, Commander, he thought. You’re Oklar’s creature, bound utterly by the folly of your greed and lust. There could be no safer place for me than to shelter behind you. I’ll gladly defend your back.

Urssain nodded, then, without a word, unbolted the door and left, leaving it swinging open.

Dilrap watched the hubbub in the corridor, but did not move. Nothing can oppose him, he thought, reiterating Urssain’s remark. But a black arrow from a mysterious Orthlundyn has done you no small ill, hasn’t it, Uhriel? Orthlund. The blessed land of Orthlund as it was called in the Law. Unexpectedly, the thought slipped into Dilrap’s mind that if He were abroad again, a force from an ancient, long-forgotten time, what other forces might not be waking?