Valderen

Chapter 2-2

‘He’s asleep, Father,’ he heard the female voice say softly in the distance, but he could not muster the strength to deny it.

A dreamlike, twilight interval followed, as he drifted in and out of the sleep that he so desperately needed. He was aware of shimmering lights, then a dark coolness. Then warmth and sunlight again, with an open sky overhead. And many voices, speaking with that same strange accent. And hands, lifting him gently and laying him down, and searching about him, expertly, purposefully, for injury. He woke briefly to a deep silence and a momentary vision of an odd, cave-like room. Then there was darkness again, folding over him to take him away from his aching body.

And into this darkness came the other voices that he had heard before. The voices that were inside his head. The great family of voices. But whereas, in the past, they had been distant and faint, now they were clear and distinct, and he knew that they were speaking softly, as if for fear of disturbing him.

Some part of him told him that he should be frightened; that he was hearing voices where there were no people; that he had indeed fallen and injured his head — or worse, that he might even be going mad. But he had heard them before, and he could feel no real alarm, for the voices brought with them subtler meanings than those contained in the words alone. Many questions were being asked, and there was bewilderment, doubt, and even fear, but there was nothing that offered him any threat. Indeed, when he became the focus of debate, a sense of surprise and wonder dominated all responses.

‘He can Hear us even now.’

Again, wonder. And a realization that this was the truth.

‘It is strange. There’s never been such a one before.’

Denial.

Farnor felt a sudden, almost giddying, sensation, of great spans of ages arching back into times long past, when many things were very different. It was as if, in a single instant, he heard every one of Yonas’s tales being told, plus ten score more, and each more enthralling than the last. A fleeting glimpse of innumerable great histories, of peoples growing and moving across the world. Of the coming of great darkness and terror, of terrible conflicts, and courage and heroism, cowardice and treachery, sacrifice and victory. Of the return of light and wonder and knowledge. And finally, trailing into the here and now, of guilt, of lapsing vigilance, of a recent, frightening... return?

And, within the blink of an eye, it was all gone. ‘He will Hear our every word.’

‘No. He’s but a solitary Mover. And a sapling.’

‘And what have we to hide?’

Silence.

‘He may be our salvation.’

Doubt. Fear.

‘He may presage our downfall.’

Denial again.

‘He may presage strange and troubled times, but our true downfall cannot lie in the power of the Movers any more than it did before. We are First Comers after the Great Heat and our hold on the world goes even beyond that — into the times unknowable.’

This opinion was given unequivocally, though strands of doubt ran through it.

‘Who are you?’ Farnor found himself asking into the silence that ensued, though no sound came to his lips.

The silence deepened.

‘There. He Hears us almost as we Hear ourselves. Say what you will, there’s not been one such in generations beyond counting.’

‘Who are you?’ Farnor asked again.

‘Rest, Mover,’ came the reply. ‘You know us well enough. We have turned away the abomination for the nonce, though it cost us great pain and fear runs through us as it has not done in many ages. Rest your limbs, we feel their pain. And make your peace with your own kind. You have frightened them also.’

‘I don’t understand anything you say,’ Farnor replied.

Amusement filled him. ‘Rest,’ came the gentle instruction. ‘We’ll disturb you no more with our chatter.’

And in the word, rest, came so many images of peace and stillness that it was beyond Farnor to resist them, and he drifted back into sleep again.

* * * *

Bildar, the Mender to Derwyn’s lodge, scratched his chin unhappily. ‘He’s not seriously hurt,’ he said. ‘But he’s got severe bruising and muscle damage, and, like his horse, he’s absolutely exhausted.’

Derwyn shrugged a little. ‘Well, I suppose only he can tell us why he was riding so hard,’ he said. ‘And I presume it’s the riding that’s caused the bruising.’

‘Not all of it, I’m afraid,’ Bildar said, shaking his head. ‘At least, as far as I can tell. Some of it’s a little older than the rest and it looks as if he’s had a nasty accident to his arm. But, for the most part...’ he looked unhappily at Derwyn, ‘... it looks to me as if he’s been beaten — badly beaten.’

‘Beaten?’ Derwyn queried.

Bildar nodded, and lifted his clenched fist to amplify his meaning. ‘Badly,’ he repeated. ‘I’d say he was lucky not to have suffered some internal injury. As it is, he’s going to be very sore for quite a time.’

Derwyn turned to Marken, who shrugged. He looked around at the trees surrounding the wide, circular green where they were sitting. ‘I’ve no idea,’ he said, in answer to the unspoken question. ‘I don’t even know what’s brought him here, let alone how he came to be injured. And I can Hear nothing. It’s almost as if they were deliberately keeping quiet. I’ve never felt anything quite like it.’

Derwyn leaned on the wooden table in front of him and rested his head on his hand. ‘But who’d want to beat a young lad like that? Who’d beat him so hard that he’d flee his homeland and ride both himself and his horse to a standstill?’

‘That’s not completely beyond understanding,’ Marken replied a little sourly, casting a glance at Edrien. ‘But more to the point, why did they let him through? Why wasn’t he gently turned about? We don’t suffer from outsiders and fringe dwellers here, but the Koyden-ushav and the Koyden-d’ryne do and that’s what normally happens there to anyone who wanders in without an invitation.’

‘Perhaps it’s because they’re not used to outsiders here,’ Edrien offered. ‘Perhaps he caught them by surprise.’

Marken shook his head. ‘No,’ he replied, gently but definitely. ‘They weren’t taken by surprise. I’ve been Hearing vague whispers about... someone beyond... someone unusual... for some time now. And there’s been an odd feeling of... expectancy... in the air.’ He looked at his listeners and shrugged. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be clearer.’

‘You mean, they knew he was coming?’ Derwyn asked, his eyes widening. ‘And you knew?’

‘No,’ Marken replied, a touch irritably. ‘I told you, it’s not that clear. But they certainly weren’t taken by surprise. When I Heard them, it was like nothing I’d ever Heard before. Vivid, intense. There was some great upheaval, a bewildering debate of some kind, then suddenly something was coming into the Forest and we were to find it.’ He shivered slightly. ‘And there were great washes of all sorts of emotions, not least outright fear.’

Derwyn straightened up and then leaned back in his chair. He looked around him. Warm sunlight filled the clearing, while a soft breeze, full of woodland sounds and scents, prevented it from becoming too hot and gently stirred the surrounding treetops. Quite near to the table, several birds were hopping to and fro in search of insects and worms. Occasionally a noisy squabble would break out and one or two of them would fly off into the trees, seemingly to sulk for a little while before returning.

‘Such a beautiful day,’ Derwyn said, putting his hands behind his head then letting them fall on to his knees. ‘I don’t know what to make of all this. It’s so strange. And it all feels so... bad. I almost regret not strapping that lad over his saddle, pointing him south and sending him back on his way.’

‘I think that might have been to his death,’ Marken said, after a long pause. ‘Whatever was causing the upheaval amongst them was no small thing.’

Derwyn turned and looked at him. ‘This has disturbed you far more than you’re admitting, hasn’t it?’ he said.

‘I’m afraid so,’ Marken replied. ‘I’ve no clear reason for it, but I don’t feel any happier about the arrival of this young man than you do. Valderen are Valderen, outsiders are outsiders...’

‘We’re all people, Marken,’ Edrien interrupted, with some petulance.

Marken assumed a look of scarcely controlled exasperation and Derwyn shot his daughter an angry glance. ‘Valderen are Valderen, and outsiders are outsiders,’ Marken repeated deliberately. Then despite himself his irritation surfaced. ‘And no one’s talking about them not being people, you silly girl.’ Edrien bridled, but another look from her father made her keep silent. Marken continued. ‘We’re Forest dwellers and they’re not. They live in the plains and the mountains and presumably know the lore of such places, just as we know the lore of the Forest. But throughout our known history and our legends, contact between us has been infrequent and usually associated with evil happenings.’ He looked at Derwyn. ‘We must tend this boy, of course. See that he’s fed and rested. And listen to his tale, if he’s willing to tell it. But we must be’ — he searched for a word — ‘circumspect in any judgements we make about him. Or anything he says.’

Derwyn’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the Hearer. ‘Have you Heard things that you don’t want to tell us about?’ he asked.

Marken shook his head slowly. ‘No,’ he replied doubtfully. ‘But something’s wrong. Unsettled, turbulent.’ He hesitated and his face became agitated. ‘You’ll have to forgive me, Derwyn, I suddenly seem to find myself not where I thought I was. As if I’d been walking uphill without realizing it, and suddenly turned to find myself looking out over a totally unfamiliar treescape.’

Derwyn looked concerned, and even Edrien forbore to make any caustic observation, so disturbed did Marken seem. ‘I don’t understand,’ Derwyn said.

‘Nor do I,’ Marken replied after a long pause. ‘That’s the problem. Everything is at once so clear and so vague. It’s clear that something portentous is about to happen — or perhaps has happened — but vague about what it could be, or might have been. Or when, or how it will affect us.’

‘How long have you had these feelings?’ Derwyn asked gently.

‘I don’t know,’ Marken replied. ‘That’s what I was trying to say. It’s as if I’ve had them almost for years, but for some reason have only just noticed them.’ He looked at Derwyn. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, standing up and putting his hand to his head. ‘Even talking like this is... changing things.’

There was a long, uneasy silence, in which Marken stood motionless, staring into the trees, while his companions watched him, uncertain what to say or do. Then, abruptly, he seemed to reach a decision. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to go away for a little while. I’ll have to find... a quiet place... calm myself, order my thoughts.’

Edrien frowned, puzzled by this remark, but Bildar and Derwyn exchanged shocked glances. Derwyn stood and took Marken’s arm and looked at him intently. After a moment however, he nodded slowly, and, with reluctant resignation, said, ‘You must do as your judgement tells you, Marken.’ He sat down again, but it was almost as if he could not trust his legs to support him. Then, clearing his throat awkwardly, he became practical. ‘Do you want a companion to tend to your needs?’ he asked.

‘No, thank you, Derwyn,’ Marken replied. ‘I’ll have to be truly alone.’ He affected a slight heartiness. ‘And I’ve not lost all my Forest skills yet. I’ll survive for as long as I have to.’

Derwyn was too well acquainted with the old Hearer to dispute the matter with him. ‘As you wish,’ he said helplessly. There was another uncomfortable silence. ‘When will you go?’ he asked eventually.

Marken looked pained. ‘Now,’ he said. ‘I’ll get some things from my lodge and go immediately. There’s nothing needing a Hearer for a little while, and...’ he looked from side to side, restlessly. ‘... matters aren’t going to resolve themselves by us sitting talking about them.’

‘Whatever you wish,’ Derwyn said again softly.

Marken gave a curt nod and made a small, awkward gesture of farewell to Bildar and Edrien, then turned and walked off into the trees.

Edrien stood up hesitantly, her mouth hanging open in bewilderment. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked her father uncertainly. ‘What’s happened? What’s he doing? Where’s he going?’

Derwyn motioned his daughter to sit down and, leaning back in his chair, put his head in his hands.

‘Father?’ Edrien insisted.

Bildar laid a hand on her arm. ‘A minute,’ he whispered. ‘Give him a minute.’

Edrien turned to him, the same questions on her face, but Bildar waved a finger for silence.

‘Damnation,’ Derwyn said suddenly, his face grim. He slapped the table with his hand, and the birds feasting nearby rose as one and scattered noisily into the trees.

‘What’s the matter?’ Edrien tried again, her voice both anxious and impatient. ‘What was Marken talking about? Why’s he gone off like that all of a sudden?’ Guilt tinged her expression. ‘Was it something I did?’

Derwyn looked at her sharply, as if surprised to find that he was not alone. His dark expression faded almost immediately into regret as she flinched away from it. He took her hand. ‘No, no,’ he said reassuringly. ‘I’m afraid it’s something far more serious than your acid tongue.’

‘What, then?’ Unsettled by her father’s sudden change of mood, Edrien let a petulant note waver into her question.

Derwyn scowled. ‘I don’t know, Edrien,’ he said, echoing her tone. ‘And neither does Marken. Nor Bildar. Nor any of us. Something’s troubling him deeply; very deeply. And he needs to go to what the Hearers call a quiet place.’

Edrien frowned. ‘But...’

Bildar cut through the angry family tension that was beginning to develop between father and daughter. ‘Marken’s a Hearer, Edrien,’ he said, risking the obvious. ‘No one knows what they Hear, or how, or why. But they’re our only contact with them and we need them if we’re to live here in any semblance of harmony. We have to weigh what they say, and we have to trust their judgement.’

Edrien’s lip began to curl slightly.

‘No!’ Bildar said softly, but with great force. ‘You’re young, and you take things for granted. Just listen for once. That’s the way it is, even though we don’t truly understand it.’ He became stern. ‘And we don’t denounce because we don’t understand. We think and we listen and we watch and we stay silent until perhaps, one day, the light dawns.’ He tapped his temple with his finger.

Untied to her by blood, Bildar had an authority over Edrien that was in many ways greater than her father’s. She nodded, but did not speak. Bildar cast an anxious glance at Derwyn and hesitated before continuing. ‘Your father’s concerned because we don’t know when, or even if, Marken’s going to come back.’

The remainder of Edrien’s antagonism drained away into shocked disbelief. ‘What do you mean, you don’t know if he’s coming back?’ She looked at her father and then back at Bildar, a frightened girl suddenly trying not to peer out of the young woman’s eyes.

Seeing his daughter thus downed, Derwyn’s own darkness faded a little. ‘We’ve no answers to any of your questions, Edrien,’ he said gently. ‘Hearers are Hearers. If Marken could’ve told us the how and why of everything then he would have done. All we can do now is accept whatever problems his leaving presents us with. His own troubles are far greater. If he needs anything at all, it’s to know that his friends, his people, will be carrying on as he’s always shown them, trusting in the knowledge that this is their will and that they’ll not leave us without guidance for long.’

Edrien looked in the direction that Marken had taken. Her face was pale and she seemed suddenly near to tears, but her father’s appeal to friendship and trust had forbidden any response other than concern for Marken now.

‘You mean he’s just going to wander off somewhere and sit under a tree and think?’ she said, her voice unsteady.

Derwyn shrugged, but did not reply.

Shaking her head rapidly, as if to clear it, Edrien took refuge in practicalities. ‘You men are so illogical,’ she announced. ‘How can he wander off without knowing what he’s doing, or where he’s going? What in the Forest’s name does...’

Bildar interrupted, a little impatiently. ‘I told you,’ he said. ‘He trusts himself, and what he Hears. And we must do the same. It’s a rare thing for a Hearer to leave like this but it’s happened to others before now.’

Edrien let out an exasperated breath. ‘If you say so,’ she conceded reluctantly. ‘But I don’t understand what’s happening at all. Marken’s probably not been away from the lodge alone in years. How’s he going to manage?’

‘He’ll manage well enough,’ Derwyn said, though his voice lacked conviction. He looked up at the sunny sky. ‘It’s summer, after all. And he’s well rooted. Try not to fret.’

Questions still tumbled around Edrien’s mind, but she gave voice to none of them. After a moment she said conspiratorially, ‘Should I go after him quietly? Keep an eye on him?’

Derwyn smiled and shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Leave him be.’ He stood up briskly, slapping his knees loudly with both hands as he did so, to signal an end to the debate. ‘What you can do though, is go and see if that young man’s awake yet, and if he is, bring him to my room. He’s at the heart of this business, and I think it’s time we called him to account.’