Into Narsindal

Chapter 3-2

‘This place is amazing,’ he said finally, flopping down noisily on to a long, accommodating settle, and carefully straightening his stiff leg. ‘Look at those torches. And those radiant stones. They splutter and crackle like burning logs. This room, this whole building, must catch and return every spark of their warmth for them to have matured like that. Marvellous, I haven’t seen anything like them in years, if ever. And these carvings defy description. I must get my old wood chisels out when I get home. I’d almost forgotten about them, there’s been so much sourness in the air these last few years, but at the first opportunity...’ He left the sentence unfinished, but beamed a great smile and waved his clenched fist as a token of his resolution.

Arinndier and Tel-Mindor smiled in return, though Jaldaric seemed a little uncertain about how to handle this sudden onset of childlike enthusiasm.

As they rested, each felt the calm of the room beginning to unravel the tangles of dire concerns that had grown over the past months to cloud their hearts and minds. Gradually they all became both silent and still, until eventually the only sounds in the room were the occasional murmur of the radiant stones and the muffled echoes of the activities outside as the Castle prepared to receive again its key-bearer and the many others for whom it was now home. But neither these nor the various people who came in from time to time to inquire solicitously about their comfort, offered any disturbance to the calm of the four men.

Slowly but perceptibly the noises from outside changed in character, becoming more intense and purposeful, like a distant wind gathering energy.

Then, abruptly, Hawklan was there.

The large doors of the room flew open and a clatter of laughter and noise cascaded over the four Fyordyn, swirling the warmth around them, and lifting them out of their reveries. They all stood up expectantly.

For a moment Hawklan stood motionless, framed in the doorway and gazing around the room. It seemed to Arinndier that the dancing music that had flooded through the land earlier that day was still washing around the feet of this strange, powerful man. Then the lean face split into a broad smile and Hawklan strode forward to greet his guests affectionately. Behind him came Loman and Isloman, followed in turn by Tirke and Dacu and several others, including Athyr and Yrain. Following them all, like a dour and watchful shepherdess herding her sheep, came Gulda.

There was a great flurry of introductions and greetings including an alarming bear-hug of forgiveness and welcome for Jaldaric from Loman. Then the questions that both parties had been quietly fretting over for the past hours began to burst out, and very soon there was uproar, with everyone talking at once.

Arinndier looked plaintively at Hawklan, who smiled and brought his hands together in a resounding clap. ‘Friends,’ he said loudly into the surprised silence. ‘We all have too much to tell for us to learn anything like this.’ He affected a great sternness. ‘We must therefore comport ourselves in the Fyordyn manner, so I shall put our meeting in the hands of the Lord Arinndier. No one may now speak without his permission.’

There was a little spatter of ironic applause, but the clamour did not return and as the company settled itself about the room, some on chairs and settles, some on the floor by the flickering fire, Arinndier rather self-consciously began relating the events that had occurred in Fyorlund since Rgoric had suspended the Geadrol.

As if listening themselves, the torches dimmed a little, and the yellow glow of the radiant stones became tinged with red and orange.

Despite Arinndier’s succinctness, it proved to be a long telling, and the bringing of food and drink for the latest arrivals proved a timely interruption.

At the end there was a murmur of general satisfaction at the news of the defeat and flight of Dan-Tor, but it was Tirke who yielded to temptation.

‘He’s really gone?’ he exclaimed, unable to restrain himself. ‘We’re free of him? That’s...’ He clenched his fists and looked upwards for inspiration. ‘Incredible... marvellous,’ he produced, rather inadequately. ‘I’m only sorry I missed the battle.’

Arinndier gave him a stern look for this breach of etiquette. ‘Don’t be, Fyordyn,’ he said grimly, pulling his rebuke into the last word. ‘There was no joy in it, and there’ll be others that you won’t miss, I fear. That’s why we’re here. We’re not truly free of him. He’s alive and unhurt and ensconced in Narsindalvak with a large part of his Mathidrin intact. I doubt he intends to stay there long, and I doubt it’s in our interests to leave him there unhindered too long, though what we should do remains to be decided.’

Hawklan lifted his hand to speak. Arinndier acknowledged him.

‘We must talk further about these blazing wagons that Dan-Tor used,’ Hawklan said thoughtfully. ‘And the materials that were in the warehouse that Yatsu fired.’

‘Indeed we must,’ Arinndier said. ‘They were terrifying. With a little more thought, he could have destroyed us.’ He frowned as he tried to set the thought aside. ‘Still, there are many things we need to discuss in due time, but tell us of your journey now, Hawklan, and your illness and your apparently miraculous recovery.’

Hawklan shrugged apologetically. ‘What happened to me after I struck Oklar and until I was awakened, I haven’t the words to tell. I’m sorry,’ he said, holding out his hands towards Dacu.

It was thus the Goraidin who told the tale of their journey from Eldric’s stronghold and of their strange encounter with the Alphraan and the mysterious awakening of Hawklan. His spare, unadorned, Fyordyn telling forbade interruption, but a deep, almost fearful, silence fell over his audience as he described Hawklan’s brief but terrible battle with the monstrous remnant of Sumeral’s First Coming.

Then he was concluding his tale. Telling how, after leaving the Alphraan’s strange caverns, they had found the gully that had led them safely across the shoulder of the mountain, and how their journey thereafter, though slow, had become gradually easier as they moved south and away from the premature snowfalls.

‘We have the route well mapped now,’ he said casually to Arinndier. ‘But it’ll need a lot of work — roads, bridges and so on — to make it suitable for use by a force of any size.’

He finished his telling with the mysterious and sudden disappearance of the Alphraan in the last part of the journey — if, as he wondered, disappearance were the correct word for the sudden absence of beings they had never actually seen.

‘They used to join in our conversations, just as if they were with us,’ he said. ‘Then’ — he snapped his fingers — ‘they were gone. Silent. It was very strange. We’d grown used to this disembodied voice talking to us, but there was nothing until we walked into your... army and that... whatever it was... that great clamour.’

‘It was an ousting of the old, the inflexible, by the new.’ Unbidden, Gulda interrupted the proceedings, though she threw an apologetic glance at Arinndier. ‘Or perhaps, more correctly, it was the ousting of the old by the very ancient.’ She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re a people... a race... almost beyond our understanding. We’ll probably never know what happened. In fact I doubt they’d even be able to explain it to us. Suffice it that in some way they’re now whole again and our friends, or at least our allies. Something that hasn’t happened since the beginning of the First Coming.’

‘Hence the singing, the... celebrations... we heard, several hours ride away?’ Arinndier said.

Gulda nodded and Arinndier motioned her to continue. ‘Geadrol protocol demands that the first shall be last, Memsa,’ he said wryly, twitting her gently for her own remark earlier.

Gulda looked at him sideways and the Orthlundyn waited expectantly. But no barb was launched at the Fyordyn lord. Instead, it was launched at them as, very graciously, Gulda said, ‘Thank you, Lord. It’s a refreshing change to be amongst people who know how to discourse in an orderly and rational manner.’

Her own telling however, was almost breathtakingly brief: the Orthlundyn had been made ready for war; the Alphraan had interfered, first by causing accidents and then by stealing the labyrinth that guarded the Armoury. They had been contacted and confronted.

‘The rest you know,’ she concluded. ‘And the details we can discuss later.’

She ended abruptly and there was a long silence in the room. ‘They sealed the labyrinth?’ Hawklan asked eventually, almost in disbelief.

Gulda nodded. ‘It’s open again now,’ she said almost off-handedly. ‘First thing I checked when I got back. To be honest I’m surprised they’re not here, but...’ She shrugged, reluctant to speculate on the behaviour of these strange people. ‘The whole thing was very worrying, but it’s been a useful exercise and we’ve learned...’ She pulled a rueful face. ‘Re-learned, a great deal about our command structures and the logistics involved in moving so many people about.’

‘And your verdict?’ Hawklan asked.

Gulda paused thoughtfully. Loman found his eyes narrowing in anticipation of some caustic reply, but Gulda just nodded and said, ‘Not bad. There’s plenty of room for improvement, but I think they’ve got the wit to see that for themselves now. Not bad at all.’

‘Good,’ Hawklan acknowledged, smiling at the confusion of relief and surprise that Loman was struggling to keep off his face.

Arinndier looked round at the others. Several wanted to speak, but many were also showing distinct signs of weariness. He glanced quickly at Hawklan for approval.

‘We’ve heard enough for tonight, I think,’ he said firmly, pulling himself upright in his chair. ‘Even though we’ve raised more questions than we’ve heard answers. I think it’s going to take us some time to acquaint one another thoroughly with what’s been happening and I see no benefit in going without sleep while we’re doing it.’

Gulda grunted approvingly and soon the group was breaking up noisily. Hawklan took Arinndier’s arm as he rose to leave. ‘First light tomorrow, Arin, we’ll send messengers to Riddin to find out what’s happened to your Queen,’ he said.

Arinndier bowed. ‘Thank you,’ he replied. ‘She’s probably all right. She had a good escort and she’s not without resource as you know, but these early snows...’ He shrugged helplessly.

Hawklan walked with him to the door. ‘Your people did well, but I grieve for your losses,’ he said.

Arinndier nodded. ‘Your arrow bound him, Hawklan, and gave us the chance. Without that...’

‘It’s of no relevance now,’ Hawklan said, raising a hand. ‘Loman’s arrow. Ethriss’s bow, my...’ he smiled self-deprecatingly, ‘marksmanship. Many things made the whole, not least the courage and discipline of your men, and it was the whole that tilted the balance and gave us all a little more time. What’s important now is that we use it to the full.’ He motioned to Tirilen, standing nearby. ‘We’ve a great deal to talk about yet. I’m glad you’re here. Tirilen will show you and the others back to your rooms. We’ll talk further tomorrow.’

As he closed the door behind them softly, Hawklan paused. Then he turned and with a gesture further dimmed the torches.

Only Gulda remained in the room. She was sitting by the radiant stones which were now glowing red and, in the reduced light, casting her shadow on to the walls and ceiling like a great, dominating presence. In her characteristic pose, resting her chin on her hands folded over the top of her stick, she seemed the stillest thing in the room.

Hawklan sat down opposite her quietly. Gulda looked up at him and, for an instant, in the light of the dimmed torches and the glowing fire, he saw again a fleeting vision of a powerful woman of great and proud beauty. But as quickly as it had come the image was gone and she was an old woman again.

‘You knew that Dan-Tor was Oklar and didn’t tell me,’ Hawklan said, his voice even.

‘I thought...’ Gulda began.

‘You knew,’ Hawklan insisted, before she could continue.

Gulda lowered her eyes.

‘You reproach me,’ she said into the firelight.

‘Should I not?’ Hawklan replied.

Gulda was silent for a long time, then, ‘You had Ethriss’s sword and bow, arrows as good as could be made in this time, a fine horse, a stalwart friend...’

‘Yes, you let Isloman go too,’ Hawklan interrupted. ‘Two men against an elemental force.’

Gulda looked up, her face scornful. ‘Don’t whine, Hawklan,’ she said. Her anger carried through into her voice all the more powerfully because it was commanding in tone and quite free of the rasping irritation that normally laced her more severe rebukes. ‘Oklar is no elemental force, he’s a mortal man as you are. A flawed mortal man, corrupted by being given too great a power, as perhaps you might have been had you stood too close to Sumeral with your whingeing begging bowl of desires.’