Roger Taylor: The call of the sword

Andawyr sighed. ‘This is going to take some time,’ he said. ‘Try not to get angry with me again, please.’

Hawklan’s face was neutral.

‘Do you know the history of Sumeral, Hawklan? The Great Enemy. The Corruptor. The Enemy of Life?’

‘The name’s familiar. He’s some evil demon out of legend, isn’t he?’

Andawyr shook his head. ‘Ah, the poor Orthlundyn,’ he said sadly. ‘Such a price they paid.’ He fell silent for a moment, his eyes distant as if in the past. Hawklan waited.

‘He’s not a mythical character, Hawklan, nor is the Great Gate a repository for children’s tales. It’s a history. A history of the rise and fall of Sumeral. Of His rise while the Guardians slept, of His power spreading forth across the world, destroying the Great Harmony of things that the Guardians had created, then finally corrupting Mandrocs and men and sending them out as all-conquering armies.’ He sighed heavily. ‘There was a great and terrible shadow on the world then.’

He fell silent and pensive again.

‘Then in His pride and arrogance, He woke the Guardians, and they stemmed His surging greed. But His shadow had fallen on them too, because they knew that they would have to teach His corruption if they were to defeat it. They knew that even as they sustained the righteous courage of the Kings of men, they were weakening themselves irreparably and sowing the seeds for His Second Coming.’

He looked hard at Hawklan, now beginning to feel somewhat contrite after his outburst.

‘You believe in powers beyond yourself, don’t you?’ he asked.

Hawklan nodded. ‘Yes, though belief is an odd word. They’re all around like the wind and the sky. I feel and direct them in my healing. I hear them in the miracle of every living thing, and my friends hear them in the rocks and minerals of the land.’

‘Good,’ said Andawyr. ‘And good and evil power?’

Hawklan frowned, the question made no sense. ‘The spirit that flows through things is neither good nor bad.’ He gesticulated vaguely. ‘It’s like fire and water. It can be used to create or to destroy. It has no will of its own.’

Andawyr nodded as if satisfied, then abruptly changed the direction of the conversation.

‘Let me tell you what I’ve learned about you,’ he said, pulling his chair closer to Hawklan.

‘When I took you into your own mind, you passed through your memories of the past twenty years, then you found yourself on a featureless landscape. What you saw as a barren, hard plain is the barrier between you and your earlier life. It’s far beyond my skills to penetrate such a barrier. It’s been put there by a mighty power, and only that or some great pain can remove it. Who you are, or rather, who you were, will not lightly be discovered, so we must use such signs as we have.’ He hesitated. ‘Those signs tell me that you may be… ’ He hesitated again, until the reluctant words blurted themselves out. ‘You may be Ethriss himself. The first among the Guardians. The Guardian of Life, and Sumeral’s greatest enemy.’

Hawklan looked at him in embarrassed disbelief.

‘Andawyr,’ he said, gently. ‘Orthlund is a land of small villages peopled by quiet farmers, carvers. It’s a civilized country, full of peace and harmony. We’ve neither Lords nor Kings, let alone mythical gods.’

Andawyr grimaced. ‘This is no use,’ he said angrily. ‘I can’t do anything here. I’ve neither the time nor the resources. If you are Ethriss, dormant yet waked, then He too has wakened. Terrible times lie ahead if we don’t act.’

He paused, struck by a sudden thought. ‘If He is indeed awake, and His servants are peddling their wares, then… the Uhriel too must be awake.’ He took Hawklan’s arm urgently. ‘Come with me to the Caves of Cadwanen. To the Council of the Cadwanol. There I’ll be able to explain things properly. Great forces have already been set against you, and greater will follow. You need protection until you can be taught about yourself… ’

Andawyr was interrupted by the urgent voice of Dar-volci filling the room.

‘Andawyr. Danger. We’re discovered.’

‘What’s happening, Dar-volci?’

Andawyr’s voice rang out, although his mouth did not move. Hawklan realized that the sound was in his own head. So too was the reply.

‘There’s been a group of unsavoury characters wan-dering about for some time, but now the door seal’s failing. Someone who knows what’s what is attacking it.’

The room shook with an ominous rumble. Andawyr looked round in alarm.

‘They’re attacking us here as well. Directly,’ his voice said. ‘How could they have found us? It’s not possible. Unless… ’

He spun round and stared at Hawklan angrily. His manner was so grim that Hawklan started back and reached for his sword, knocking over his chair in the process.

‘What did you bring from that pavilion, Hawklan?’ Andawyr’s tone was commanding.

‘Nothing,’ said Hawklan, alarmed at this sudden power from the little man.

‘You’ve something of theirs. Some corruption. You must have. This place couldn’t be located without that, let alone attacked.’ He put his hands to his head desperately, then snapped his fingers.

‘Have you any of the tinker’s wares with you?’

‘No,’ replied Hawklan earnestly. ‘I didn’t know they were corrupted when I left.’

A booming impact interrupted him and the room shook violently as if it had been struck by a great hammer. The two men staggered and Gavor flapped into the air with a raucous cry. Papers cascaded off the table, books tumbled off shelves and an ominous crack appeared in the ceiling.

Andawyr looked at the crack, the alarm in his face changing to terror. ‘Ethriss protect us if they’re that strong,’ he said. ‘We’re lost before we can begin.’

‘The bird, Hawklan,’ Gavor cried suddenly.

‘Bird? What bird?’ said Andawyr.

Hawklan looked vaguely at Gavor.

‘The brown bird!’ Gavor shouted impatiently. ‘From the mountains.’

Hawklan nodded and, digging into his pocket, re-trieved the corpse of the little bird and held it out to Andawyr.

Andawyr’s eyes opened wide in horror, and as if mimicking him, the bird’s eyes opened, a baleful blazing yellow. Beak gaping, it flew directly at Andawyr’s face with a shriek that sounded like a thousand voices screaming in triumph and hatred. Hawklan lifted his hands to his ears, but, like Dar-volci’s voice, the appalling sound seemed to be inside his head.

Andawyr let out a cry of terror and caught the bird with the flat of his hand as he lifted it to protect his face. There was a red flash and he staggered back, grasping his hand in pain, while the still shrieking bird flew crazily into a far corner of the room, colliding with the walls and floor several times on the way.

Andawyr lifted his uninjured hand and levelled it at the bird as it prepared to fly at him again. Hawklan turned his face away as a bright whiteness shone from the extended hand and engulfed the bird. It thrashed frantically in the corner and its screeching became demented with rage, but it could not escape. Sweat started out on Andawyr’s forehead.

‘This is the one the Alphraan downed, Gavor?’ he said breathlessly. Gavor nodded.

‘A powerful sign, Hawklan, the Alphraan protecting you. They’ve little love for hum… ’

He staggered and Hawklan caught him. The light holding the bird wavered and its screeching and thrashing became even more frenzied, as if it were drawing power from some unseen source.

Hawklan’s face was lined hard and grim by the glar-ing light. He looked at Andawyr. The man was failing visibly.

‘What can I do?’ he shouted.