Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

Loman turned back to the mountain. ‘Voice, would your people speak thus for you?’ he said quietly.

There was no reply.

‘I thought not,’ Loman said. ‘Anyone who would intimidate a free people wouldn’t scruple to intimidate his own kind.’ An angry hissing filled the air. ‘Do not judge us, human,’ said the voice. ‘Our ways are not your ways.’

Loman turned back to the Orthlundyn. ‘Ponder your ways then, leader of the Alphraan,’ he said dismissively, over his shoulder. Then, to the crowd. ‘Section leaders to me for a planning meeting. The rest of you’ amp;mdashhe smiled amp;mdash‘rest. While you can. We’ve got some stiff walking ahead of us shortly.’

It took little time to plan out the proposed search of the mountain and, within the hour, the first parties set out. Loman stayed in the valley, watching intently, as the tiny lines of figures moved painfully slowly across the lower slopes of the mountain.

He turned to Jenna. ‘This must be the strangest army in all history,’ he said, almost jovially. ‘Military intention, military tactics, and yet everyone obliged to treat it as some kind of Festival picnic.’

Jenna smiled nervously. She was finding the am-bivalence of the venture less easy to accommodate than Loman seemed to be. ‘It’s impossible,’ she said reluc-tantly.

‘No,’ said Loman easily. ‘Just slow, and, I hope, very boring. But we’ll stay here until every stone and every blade of grass on this mountain has been examined at least twice. It’ll… ’

‘Signal.’ The interruption came from a young man standing nearby, watching the same scene through a seeing stone.

Loman held his breath.

‘First sector cleared,’ said the young man.

Loman looked both relieved and disappointed. ‘Send the next group up to cover the same area,’ he said.

Jenna looked up at the sky. The watery sun had disappeared, as the clouds had thickened through the day. She frowned a little. ‘That’s a wintry sky,’ she said. ‘And the sky to the north’s been looking very heavy for days.’

Loman did not reply, but the mention of the north brought his brother and Hawklan to mind. Almost without realizing what he was doing, he looked up, half expecting to see Gavor soaring black against the dull grey sky. With difficulty, he set the thoughts aside. Time alone could answer the questions that they posed.

Gradually the light faded and Loman called a halt to the search. ‘Camp where you are,’ was his signal. ‘Relax and rest, and look forward to a good day’s shadow hunting tomorrow.’

As the darkness deepened, unrelieved even by star-light, the mountain slowly disappeared from view except for a twisted skein of camp lights twinkling like a carelessly thrown necklace. Loman leaned against a rock and stared up at the lights. Distant voices floated down to him through the stillness, enlivened occasionally by splashes of laughter. He smiled.

‘Listen, Alphraan,’ he said softly. ‘Listen to the sounds of the people you persecute.’

There was no reply.

The following day was again overcast but visibility was still good and there was no wind to disturb the searchers other than a light breeze.

No trouble was reported as the morning progressed and Loman eventually became weary of just watching and waiting.

‘I think I’ll go up and see how morale is,’ he an-nounced eventually.

‘Yes. I don’t want to sit here all day either,’ Jenna said acidly. ‘I’ll come with you.’

Loman cleared his throat self-consciously.

They were able to ride part of the way but had to leave their horses as the terrain grew steeper. The mountainside was alive with people, searching, making notes, laying out markers, moving equipment in anticipation of another night’s stay on the mountain. Briefly, Loman felt a qualm when he realized that this considerable effort was being undertaken at his behest and on his whim.

No, he thought sternly. Definitely not a whim. It was a reasoned judgement based on the clear actions of the Alphraan and confirmed by the changes in their responses subsequently. In any case, even if he were wrong, future searches would definitely be necessary and much would be learnt from this exercise. The qualm was crushed.

It did occur to him that the Alphraan could be de-liberately misleading him, but he doubted it. They’re on the run, part of him said, with almost hand-rubbing glee. He crushed that too; if they were panicking, then they’d be particularly dangerous as the necklace began to tighten.

When he and Jenna finally reached the highest of the search lines, the terrain that could be walked over was predominantly rock. They had decided at the outset that the scree slopes and rock faces of the mountain were to be left for the time being. Climbers were far too vulnerable.

Loman looked out across the valley. The base camp could be seen, toy-like, far below. Neighbouring peaks sat solid and patient like wise old women pretending to sleep while in reality watching the antics of the giddy young folk around them. It was a calming sight, a sight to correct the perspective, and Loman stood looking at it contentedly for several minutes.

Eventually he turned and looked at the tumbled landscape immediately around him. He much preferred scrambling over rocks such as these to plodding up relentlessly steep grass slopes. However, it could not be denied that the huge jumbled masses of boulders offered far more nooks and crannies in which to conceal cave entrances.

One of the section leaders waved a greeting and, coming forward, echoed his thoughts. ‘It’s going to be much slower now, Loman,’ he said. ‘It’d be a help if we knew how big a hole these people need for access.’

Loman looked at the man. ‘We will, soon,’ he said. ‘Take your time. Don’t let anybody rush. Any doubts amp;mdashcheck again.’ He smiled. ‘We’re going to have to look Gulda in the eye and tell her we searched this mountain thoroughly,’ he added significantly.

Jenna looked up towards the rocky skyline that obscured the summit of the mountain. ‘This is going to take at least two more days,’ she said.

Loman followed her gaze. ‘Probably more,’ he cor-rected.

The woman’s eyes flickered around the neighbour-ing peaks involuntarily.

‘You’re thinking it’s impossible again, aren’t you?’ Loman asked.

Jenna shook her head and mouthed a definite ‘No’ while allowing her eyes and face to say ‘Yes.’

Loman laughed.

Suddenly a cry rang out, one of fear and pain. The section leader spun round looking along the ragged line of searchers for the source of the cry.

‘There!’ cried Loman, pointing. Over to their left, the line had broken and people were converging on a man who was staggering dangerously across the rocks. Loman and Jenna joined the movement, but as he strode out, Loman felt a twinge of anger at this interruption to the search.

Then the man fell, heavily, and his cry became one of anger. Loman stopped suddenly and reached out to stop Jenna and the section leader. For a moment he watched the small, concerned crowd growing around the fallen man and felt the swirl of anger in him struggling to grow similarly.

‘It’s a trap,’ he said, forcing a calmness into his voice which was radically at odds with the turmoil he felt inside. ‘Go back and stop anyone rushing into this,’ he said to the section leader. ‘Get as many people as you can. Tell them what’s happening and remind them to walk here as calmly and quietly as they can manage. Tell them to look at the scenery… talk about their carving amp;mdashanything. Just so that they’re quiet in their minds when they get here.’

‘But the man might be hurt,’ the section leader pro-tested, trying to move forward.