Roger Taylor: The call of the sword

‘Where’s my bag. Dar-volci? Have you moved it again?’ he said irritably.

‘What?’ came a bad tempered and deep voice from a side room somewhere.

‘I said, have you moved my bag again?’ shouted Andawyr.

There was silence for a moment, then what sounded like a sigh, and, ‘Of course not, you old fool. What would I want with your bag?’

Andawyr shrugged apologetically at his guests. ‘An… old friend,’ he said.

‘We’ll leave if we’re going to cause trouble for you,’ said Hawklan, concerned at the tone of the conversa-tion. Andawyr was dismissive.

‘Take no notice of Dar-volci,’ he said very loudly. ‘He’s just an uncouth mountain dweller with no idea how to behave in civilized company.’

The object of this jibe ignored it, but retorted in an oily voice. ‘Found your bag yet, Andy?’

Andawyr stood up very straight, his fists clenched, his mouth taut and the start of a twitch flickering along his jawline.

‘Dar-volci,’ he growled warningly. A low chuckle came from the other room. ‘Have you looked in your cupboard yet, old friend?’

Andawyr snorted and, spinning on his heel, stalked off into another room. He returned a moment later carrying a huge double-handled bag which seemed to be almost as big as he was. He dropped it on the floor next to Hawklan, opened it and started rooting around inside it, making a great clatter amongst the contents.

Gavor gave a small flap of alarm when it looked at one stage as if the little man was going to disappear into it entirely.

Eventually he stood up, rather flushed, with a length of cloth in his hand.

‘This should do it,’ he said, triumphantly. ‘Give me your arm.’ Gingerly, Hawklan offered the seemingly alien limb. Andawyr took it and quickly and expertly wrapped the cloth around it, singing softly and rhythmically to himself as he did so. Hawklan tried to follow the movements of Andawyr’s hands, but they were so deft that he soon lost track. When he had finished, Andawyr’s forehead was damp, but he looked up at Hawklan and smiled, his little eyes shining.

‘Not familiar with this technique, are you?’ he said.

Hawklan shook his head. ‘I’ve some healing in my voice, but your weave means nothing to me.’

‘No reason why it should,’ said Andawyr. ‘It’s a fairly… specialized method, used for fairly specialized injuries.’ He made a slight adjustment to the bandage. ‘There. That should do it.’

Hawklan looked at his arm. The bandage covered the whole of the damaged area and was wrapped individually around each finger. To his surprise however, he found he could move his hand and fingers quite easily. Looking closely at the bandage he saw that it was without texture, and apparently without edges. Nor could he see any sign of how it had been fastened. He looked at Andawyr and was about to speak when the little man raised his hand.

‘One day when we’ve more time I’ll explain it to you. All you need to know now is that the bandage will fall off in a few days when your arm is well again and, in the meantime, you should be able to use your hand perfectly normally.’ He looked at Hawklan strangely. ‘I’ll be honest though. I don’t know what saved you from that trap. It certainly wasn’t just me and the bird. There’s more to you than meets even my eye. We must talk urgently.’ He seemed to come to a decision. ‘Come over here,’ he said, seriously.

Over here proved to be yet another room, the door of which appeared when Andawyr made a movement with his hands against the wall of the tent. Hawklan ducked through the low opening and turning round was surprised to see Andawyr closing a heavy wooden door. Again, in anticipation of his curiosity, Andawyr spoke.

‘My personal quarters,’ he said, as if that explained all. ‘Only a travelling model I’m afraid, but fairly secure.’ Then looking at his guest’s face, ‘I’m sorry if all this is bewildering, Hawklan, but we do have a great deal to talk about and not a great deal of time. I must make the most of what we have before we have to leave. My little trick on the tent door will keep most ordinary searchers away, but whoever set that trap for you will open it with no trouble, and they’ll be after me now as well. Either for revenge because I’ve done them a hurt they didn’t expect, or because I’ve seen too much. Either way, they’ll want to know who I am just as much as I want to know who they are, and now we’ve no longer got the element of surprise, they’ve the greater strength.’

He put his hand to his head.

‘But you destroyed that pavilion,’ said Hawklan, trying to follow the little man’s conversation.

Andawyr shook his head and laughed grimly. ‘De-stroy. Would I had. Would I could. By some miracle you slew its heart and I managed to throw dust in its keeper’s eyes to stop him running completely amok.’ He shook his head. ‘But he’s almost totally out of control now. Who could have given him such Power? Taught him to use it like that?’ he said to himself.

Hawklan could contain himself no longer. ‘Andawyr, what on earth’s happening? I thought I’d no curiosity in me, but this evening has shown me otherwise. Who are you? What was that place I was in, and what was that appalling… chair?’ He shuddered. ‘What happened to me in there? And to my arm? And how did you find me?’

Andawyr lifted both his hands to ward off further questions.

‘In a moment young fellow, in a moment. I can only tell you a few things, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to spend our time asking questions, not answering them. Will you please trust me?’

Hawklan looked into the man’s eyes for a long time, then glanced at Gavor. The raven nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said abruptly.

‘Good,’ said Andawyr. ‘Now sit down and make yourself comfortable.’

Hawklan looked dubiously at the various chairs scattered about the room.

Andawyr smiled. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘None of these chairs will harm you-besides, you’re better armed than you realize.’

Hawklan sat down cautiously on the edge of a very hard upright chair and Gavor hopped onto his shoulder. Andawyr chuckled.

‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘I can understand your con-cern. But that was no chair you were sitting on in that… place. Still, another time maybe.’ Then he became very serious, and his oval punchbag face looked searchingly into Hawklan’s. Occasionally as he spoke, Hawklan thought he saw a bright white light flickering through his stained old smock, so that he looked like a worn cover over a brilliant lantern. And always, Hawklan sensed a barely controlled excitement in the little man. Excitement mixed with doubt and fear.

‘The question,’ Andawyr began, ‘is not who I am, Hawklan, but who you are. But I’ll answer some of your questions first… briefly. Don’t interrupt. I’m Andawyr, leader of the Cadwanol.’ He looked carefully at Hawklan to see his reaction to the name, but there was none, although Gavor bent forward intently. ‘We’re a group of… teachers. Dedicated, amongst other things, to studying and preserving ancient lore. It’s a very old Order, and we’ve accumulated much knowledge and many skills over the centuries. I was here just to buy supplies, but I’ve had a feeling there’s been something amiss for a long time now and the Gretmearc’s such a hotchpotch of a place there’s always some useful gossip to be picked up.’

Hawklan shifted on his chair, struggling to contain his patience. Andawyr continued.

‘As for where you were, that was all too easy to find once they started.’ He leaned forward and put his head in his hands as if in pain.

‘Are you all right?’ Hawklan asked.

Andawyr nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, looking up and smiling slightly. ‘I’m a little shocked that’s all. I didn’t think this morning that I’d ever be called upon to face such a trial as that… ’ His voice tailed off and his face became thoughtful. Hawklan waited.