Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

As before, there were elaborate junctions and side tunnels and at each of these Dacu paused and made a conspicuous mark in the rock with a small metal spike.

‘The Goraidin has doubts about us,’ the voice said, slightly amused.

‘The Goraidin has survived to be this old by having doubts,’ Dacu replied unashamedly. ‘And I’m not too impressed so far by the way you cope with emergencies. I can’t risk our being lost down here if you panic and run.’

‘Oh,’ said the voice simply. There was a thoughtful pause, then, ‘But there’s no danger now. There was only the poor wolf.’

Dacu grunted non-committally, but made no other comment.

There was another pause. ‘The scars in the rock mar the song,’ said the voice tentatively.

Dacu stopped. The comment made no sense to him but he had noticed that the texture of the walls was unusual, as if it had been finely carved in some way. He moved on without speaking, but at the next junction he made a large mark in the dust with his foot.

Gavor chuckled, but before he could speak the tun-nel suddenly opened out, the walls curving away, and the roof soaring upward beyond the reach of the torchlight. Ahead of them an ornate stone balustrade came into view, while on both sides the tunnel was transformed into what appeared to be wide curving balconies. The four men stopped, but Gavor continued, flapping up on to the balustrade and peering over the edge. He looked intently from left to right.

‘Hurry up, dear boys,’ he said. ‘Bring the torches.’

The torches, however, made little difference to the visibility. Their light showed the walls curving up and over for some height, and to Isloman, leaning perilously over the balustrade, they revealed various levels of balconies below. Beyond the balustrade however, the light disappeared futilely into the vast darkness.

Yet for all its gloom, the atmosphere of the place was open and light; uplifting, Hawklan felt.

‘You are at the edge of our Heartplace,’ said the voice, very softly, and full of wonder.

‘Bit dark,’ Gavor muttered prosaically.

Thc voice was amused again. Soon it will be on its journey back to its old splendour sky prince,’ it said. ‘With songs and lights such as you have never seen. But come this way.’

The four men followed the voice, leaving Gavor talking to himself about the ‘discernment and fine sensibilities of these people.’

Like the tunnel they had just walked along, the wall to the balcony was full of circular openings of many sizes, and there were frequent side tunnels and large sweeping alcoves.

Then the balustrade itself turned away from them, and the sound led them on to what was apparently a bridge spanning the dark abyss fringed by the balconies. It rose up in a gentle curve and was intercepted by other spans arching in from the darkness both above and below.

‘Remarkable stonework,’ Isloman said. ‘Very un-usual. I’ve never seen the like. There’s a lot to be learned here.’

Hawklan nodded, but seemed to be preoccupied in keeping well away from the rather small balustrades that protected each edge.

Then they were on a wide circular plateau. The sound drew them forward until they came to a central structure. It seemed to be the base of a great circular tower, though the wide arched openings that penetrated it gave it the appearance of being the roots to a massive, symmetrical tree.

The sound faded into nothing.

‘Here,’ said the voice. ‘See His creatures.’

There was no alarm in the voice, and Hawklan stepped through one of the openings. The others followed, Gavor keeping a discreet distance to the rear.

Hawklan let out a long, slow breath. There, white in the torchlight, were three skeletons lying in the scattered debris of what must have been an ancient den.

He knelt down beside one and examined it silently. It was the size of a large man, or a small horse. The images clashed in his mind.

‘What… was it?’ Tirke asked.

Hawklan stared at the skeleton, his face pained. ‘An obscenity,’ he said. ‘It looks like the worst of many things forced into a single frame amp;mdashmen, animals… ’ He grimaced. ‘Nothing like this ever came into being naturally. Even so long dead, there’s no harmony in it. It must have been bred like this. And over many genera-tions. It’s appalling.’

‘What was its purpose?’ Dacu asked.

Hawklan turned and looked at him. He’ll be a fine example to the Orthlundyn, he thought, for although the man felt the awe of this almost unbelievable place and the eerie presence of these remains, his Goraidin mind still cut straight through to the heart of their need. If it was bred, it was bred for a reason and that reason should be known. What had been, could be again.

Hawklan turned back to the skeleton. ‘Powerful legs,’ he said. ‘Probably very fast and capable of running on two legs or four. Large taloned hands, with opposing thumbs to grip and tear.’ He shook his head. ‘And these,’ He reached out cautiously to touch one of the creature’s glittering teeth. His hand twitched uncer-tainly, as if the cruel jaws might suddenly spring open and seize it.

All three watchers started at this involuntary ges-ture. Hawklan smiled apologetically and lifted the errant hand to hold his damaged arm. There would have been no brave struggling against this creature. These hands would have held him powerless and these teeth would have torn his arm off effortlessly.

‘Its purpose was killing,’ he said simply. ‘And if its spirit was as racked and distorted as its body, terrifying its victims also.’

Dacu’s eyes narrowed and he nodded. It was not an unexpected conclusion.

Hawklan stood up and looked around. Something about the place was disturbing him slightly, but it took no clear shape, and he dismissed it.

‘We are finding others, different,’ said the voice.

‘Leave them,’ Hawklan said.

‘They pollute our… ’

‘Leave them,’ Hawklan repeated more firmly. ‘Please. Later we’ll need to study them.’ He looked round at the clutter of the creatures’ den again. ‘We must learn what we can from both their bones and the places they lie.’

‘Very well,’ the voice said after a brief pause, mildly injured.

Hawklan smiled. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘They’ve lain here for generations. A week or so will cause no further harm, surely?’

‘No,’ the voice agreed reluctantly.

‘We must go now,’ Dacu said. ‘Unless there’s any-thing else we need or if we’re needed here. We’ve still got a long journey ahead of us and we haven’t found the gully to take us across the mountain yet.’

Hawklan nodded.

‘We will guide you,’ said the voice. ‘There are ways through the mountain for even your horses.’

Dacu looked around the strange circular enclosure for a moment, and then shook his head.

‘Thank you, but no,’ he said. ‘We must travel out-side. The route may be needed for others in the future amp;mdashmany others. It must be well drawn.’

‘You speak of armies?’ asked the voice.

‘Quite possibly,’ Dacu replied.

There was a pause, then the voice said sadly, ‘You tear us… friends.’

‘No,’ Hawklan said. ‘Don’t be distressed. You’re right in your feelings. None of us wants such a thing, but Dacu is correct. We must learn about the mountains just as you must learn about the ways that lead around and from your Heartplace here. Who travels them in the future is for the judgement of other times and other needs.’

‘Yes, you are right,’ the voice said. ‘Indeed, what we learn now may forestall the grimmer needs,’ it added, mildly triumphant.

Hawklan laughed. ‘Indeed, indeed,’ he echoed. His laughter was caught up and swirled around into seemingly endless distances. ‘But we must go now. It’s night and snowing outside. We must tend to our horses and our camp.’