by Roger Taylor
The heart of Vashnar’s scheming, both practical and political, lay in Arvenshelm and the people he needed there he dealt with constantly. He had few reservations about these and it was generally accepted amongst them that if any opposition came from beyond the city it would not be serious and would almost certainly diminish with distance. Nevertheless, his obsessive nature had not accepted that risk and over time he had worked to win support where a lesser man might have thought it unnecessary. It always troubled him to some degree that he could not maintain the direct contact with his more distant allies that he would have liked. Was he neglecting them? How resolute were they? How reliable? How discreet? How prepared?
Over the next few days as he and Vellain travelled north he was able to answer many of these questions while at the same time revitalizing any flagging enthusiasm. Not that there was much, he found to his increasing satisfaction. Aghrid may have passed through most of these small towns and villages very quickly, but he had not gone unnoticed and the effects of his passage were rippling outwards still, stirring further the disturbance already caused by the Death Cry. The Tervaidin returned was an omen of great changes to come, surely?
Those that Vashnar met recited the tale he had already heard from Darransen. A little grumbling here and there by the constitutionally discontented but, on the whole, there was unconditional support.
Vellain basked in the glow of her husband’s increasing confidence. Gradually, as they travelled, as they walked, as they lay together in the pleasant darkness of strange but friendly rooms, he began to prepare plans for the final part of his scheme.
Then they met one of Aghrid’s men.
Chapter 17
The Karpas Mountains ran north to south down the centre of Arvenstaat. Legend had it that they were created during the Wars of the First Coming by one of the Great Corrupter’s aides – a necromancer to whom He had given a portion of His power. Seeking to destroy an entire nation which was strong against his Lord, he tore a great island from its roots and hurled it into their land with such force that what had been a shoreline was crushed and buckled and thrust high into the air to become the Karpas Mountains. That this was patently true was demonstrated by the presence of sea shells in various places along the western edge of the mountains, now on the far side from the ocean and at a great distance from it. Arvenstaat’s academics, burdened as they were with observed facts and rational thought, offered explanations for this phenomenon which were far more tentative and far less interesting.
Although sometimes referred to as the backbone of the land, and certainly splendid to look at, the Karpas Mountains on the whole were not particularly daunting and posed no serious obstacle to travel east and west across Arvenstaat. There were a few places where individual peaks and groups of peaks shouldered one another ominously, but at no point did they assume the daunting impassability of the southern mountains or even the rugged defiance of those in the west which separated Arvenstaat from Nesdiryn.
Hyrald and the others had reached the northern extremity of that part of the Karpas range which lay in Arvenstaat. Hyrald found it oddly intriguing as they moved westwards that while the river dwindled and divided, making any passage to the north much easier, he was increasingly sure that they had made the right decision to end their flight and return south. Even the prospect of what would undoubtedly be serious difficulties in returning to Arvenshelm did little to diminish this certainty.
‘How far north do they go?’ he asked Endryk as they reached a vantage which showed the mountains extending to both horizons.
‘A long way, I’d think,’ Endryk replied. ‘They’ve the look of the tail-end of a long range.’ He pointed. As the range extended northwards, what they could see of it began to assume a greyer, colder aspect, its peaks higher and closer.
‘You don’t know what’s up there, then?’
Endryk shook his head. ‘No, Warden,’ he said with a smile at Hyrald’s untypically awkward prying. ‘My land’s further east. There’s supposed to be a remnant of the Old Forest up there somewhere – to the west – bigger than the whole of Arvenstaat, I’ve heard, and unbelievably ancient. Not a safe place, they say. Not for people, anyway. They go in and don’t come out. It’s said to be surrounded by mountains. Perhaps that’s where these go, I wouldn’t be surprised. The world’s a big place and a small place. However far you travel there’s always somewhere else to go, new wonders to find.’ He looked north then south along the mountains. ‘And the same old things to discover anew.’
They were not the same group that had trekked along the river and fought off Aghrid’s men, and they were markedly different from the group that had nearly drowned on the shore. Where Endryk had taught Thyrn surreptitiously, he now taught all of them constantly and openly. And too, he learned.
‘We’re like all the other animals around here. Free, but in constant peril, with only our wits and good fortune to protect us. It’s a frightening feeling for people who’ve been brought up in any kind of community, but we have to accept it. It’s important we think of ourselves as being here for ever. We must be completely self-sufficient in everything; renew as we use – waste nothing.’
Unlike the animals however, he acknowledged, their needs were more complex and in addition to their surviving day to day, they also had to plan for winter and, eventually, their return to Arvenshelm.
‘Whatever you’ve been, you’re that no longer. You must live your lives at a different pace. Learn to relax into whatever you’re doing. Take your time – concern yourselves with the here and now, be patient. Fretting about the future may break your ankle in the present, or worse, and drastically change the very future you were carefully laying out. The time to think and plan ahead is around the fire or lying in the darkness.’
‘Be patient?’ Rhavvan snorted. ‘Then the next thing he’s saying is, learn this, learn that, time’s not with us, time’s not with us.’ He mimicked Endryk ruthlessly.
‘Nor is it,’ Endryk replied laughing. ‘To go as slowly as we need to you’ll have to learn quickly. You’ll need all your Warden’s skills if you’re to leave your Warden’s thinking behind.’ He slapped the growling Rhavvan on the back.
The three Wardens were very keen to learn more about the fighting skills that Endryk had briefly demonstrated, as was Thyrn, though where the Wardens’ interest was for the most part professional, Thyrn’s was openly excited and heavily coloured by romantic myth and legend. It brought down a sober lecture on his head from Hyrald. Nordath was generally nervous of the subject and invariably diverted conversation away from it when it arose.
In any event, Endryk was not to be drawn, other than into telling them that relaxation and breathing were fundamental, underlying everything, a contribution which left Rhavvan in particular looking at him in open disbelief. The others tried to disguise their own doubts with polite nods.
‘Trust me in this,’ he said, noting their response with some amusement. ‘As I was once told by someone for whom I had a great regard, how can you expect to control others when you can’t control yourself? Cruel question. And if you can’t control your own body, or even your own breathing…?’ He grinned and shrugged.
When Rhavvan pressed him strongly one night, he reiterated the point, adding, ‘We’ll look at this in due course. When we’re more together. When it’s more appropriate. There are more urgent things needing our attention right now.’ He pointed to a bundle of sticks that Nordath had gathered and selected. ‘Like feathering and pointing those arrows, for example. An army marches on its stomach and so do we. No food for a few days and fighting skills are going to be very low down on your list of what’s important.’
For that same reason however, he did begin to show them how to use the bow and the sling.
‘You need these for hunting.’
Even here though, his instruction consisted mainly of showing them how to make and care for their bows, arrows and strings. His pupils took to their learning very variably: Rhavvan constantly demonstra
ted his flair for impatience; Adren showed a remarkable natural marksmanship – her wilful flaunting of which further tested Rhavvan’s threadbare patience, to everyone else’s amusement; Hyrald and Thyrn plodded along diligently and dutifully. Nordath proved to be the most reluctant and least confident, having neither youth, fighting experience nor inclination on his side. He did, however, show an unexpected aptitude at shaping bows and finding wood suitable for arrows. Ironically, his enthusiasm for the task and everyone else’s willingness to let him do it, prompted the nearest to an angry reaction that Endryk had shown since they first met him. ‘Everyone does everything,’ he insisted with unusual force. ‘All the time. We want no weak links. If you’re good at something, get better at it and help the others. If you’re bad at it – keep doing it until you’re not. And if you need help, in the name of pity, ask. Pride’s inexcusable out here. I’ll show you things as many times as it takes, but I can’t teach you anything, you have to learn it.’
On the whole though, their journey to the mountains was filled with good spirits and enthusiasm.
The only incident of note during their plodding progress was the killing of a small deer on their last westward march.
There was little excitement in the hunt itself which for the most part consisted of testing the wind, lying still, and keeping very quiet while Endryk slowly moved close enough to bring the animal down. As the heavy-headed arrow struck it, the deer ran for a few paces then stumbled. Endryk shot it again very quickly then, moving closer, finished it with two carefully placed arrows.
Though she was trying not to show it, Adren was obviously distressed when she emerged from cover. ‘Couldn’t you have killed it with your sword – like the horse?’ she asked inadequately.
‘Who would you rather tackle in an alley – a frightened man or an injured, frightened man?’ Endryk replied. ‘It mightn’t be very big but, believe me, a blow from a deer’s flailing leg can do a great deal of harm. And I’ll remind you where we are.’
‘You’ll have to forgive me,’ Adren said, wincing as Endryk cut out the arrows. ‘I’m used to seeing dead people, but…’ She stopped.
‘You’re just not used to seeing your meat killed.’
Adren ran her hand across the animal’s head. ‘It’s a beautiful creature.’
‘Yes,’ said Endryk, drawing his knife.
‘You thank it,’ Thyrn said, anxious to help her. She looked up at him uncertainly. ‘You thank it for being beautiful and for the food it’ll give you. You do it to anything you kill – for food that is,’ he added uncomfortably.
‘And there’ll be more than food from this.’ Endryk’s tone approved Thyrn’s intervention. He handed Adren his knife and without further comment began to instruct her in how to bleed and skin the animal. It took some time and was a heavy learning for her.
‘That’s because you’re not hungry yet,’ Endryk said, though his manner was sympathetic throughout. ‘You did well. Very well. That skin will be shelter or clothes before we’ve finished.’
It fell to the watching Rhavvan and Hyrald to gut and butcher the carcass.
They were all quieter than usual as they finished that day’s travelling.
They were less quiet that night when they were eating the results of their endeavours.
‘This is amazing. I’ve never tasted anything like it.’ Rhavvan’s praise of the food met with general agreement and congratulations for the hunter.
‘Fresh air and fresh meat,’ Endryk told them. ‘Not something you’re used to in Arvenshelm, I’d imagine. Especially meat you’ve caught yourself.’
When the meal was finished and a string of Wardens’ reminiscences had petered out, Hyrald remarked to Endryk that, ‘This must be much harder for you than you thought when we set out.’
‘Yes and no,’ Endryk replied. ‘Being Wardens has given you a greater aptitude than you realize. You listen, you think – more than many do.’ He looked significantly at Rhavvan. ‘Most times, you ask when you don’t know. No, it’s not difficult. In fact, I think it’s slowly waking me up.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I learned all these things years ago – with a damned sight greater reluctance than you’re showing now, I can assure you. Then some of them I had to use without thinking, just to get me from one place to another safely, quickly, my mind full of other things – frightening things. Now, faced with this – a long journey with no end in sight – and having spent years wandering and living alone, I see a value in what my old teachers showed me that’d make them smile if they could hear me admitting it. I’m surprised I’m remembering so much of it.’
‘You were an officer in your army?’ Nordath asked tentatively.
Endryk shied away from the question a little. ‘No, just an ordinary soldier – but none of us were what you’d think of as soldiers really. It was just our way – part of our society – a military tradition maintained in memory of harsher times long gone, just as you have a tradition of having no army – only the Warding. We had no enemies. We lived in peace with our neighbours, in so far as we ever met them. As here, no one travelled much. We had all we needed. We were content.’
‘How did you come to be fighting in a war, then?’ Rhavvan blundered in. Hyrald scowled at him.
‘We failed in our duty,’ Endryk replied. His voice was unsteady, as if he had answered without wanting to. ‘Relaxed our vigilance. Forgot how and why such a tradition had come about. Our enemy was within us…’ He stopped and stared into the fire. His eyes were shining. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘The apology’s ours,’ Hyrald said, still scowling at Rhavvan. ‘Asking questions is such a part of our job it becomes a habit. We forget that it’s not always appropriate.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Rhavvan said, genuinely repentant. ‘I don’t always think before I speak.’
Endryk did not reply but just nodded and held out his hand to end the matter. The easy, relaxed atmosphere that the meal had induced gradually reasserted itself. Rhavvan casually observed that, ‘I don’t suppose he’s eating as well as we are,’ and the discussion fell to Aghrid.
Having been moving through open country for the last few days they had taken every opportunity to look behind them. But there had been no sign of any pursuit. Hyrald voiced the unspoken conclusion.
‘I suppose he might have gone wandering off north, but I doubt it. I think we’ve bloodied his nose too much. I think he’s on his way home.’
His analysis was tentatively accepted, but Endryk still insisted that they should continue posting guards through the night. ‘We can’t be sure yet, and it’s too good a habit to break,’ he said. ‘We must be absolutely certain. There’s a chance that perhaps he’s learning too.’ He did not sound too convinced by his own argument and the Wardens dismissed it.
Rhavvan was blunt. ‘Aghrid’s ruthless and crafty, but he’s a street creature, like me, like all of us. He’s lost out here. Three horses down and at least one man badly hurt. He’s running for home.’
‘According to the one we caught, he’d abandoned men on the way; he may have done the same with his wounded,’ Endryk countered.
‘Possibly, but I doubt it,’ Hyrald said. ‘I’ve been fretting about this Tervaidin business, and about Aghrid reinstated. It’s frightening – I can’t think what it all means. But the only men I can imagine running with Aghrid would be his own kind and they’d take only so much of that treatment. He’s astute enough to know he’ll get a knife in the ribs one night when he’s asleep if he’s not careful. He’s gone, all right.’
‘But we must be vigilant, always,’ Endryk insisted. There was an earnestness in his manner and a resonance in the word vigilant that brought back their earlier intrusion into his past and the discussion ended abruptly.
‘You’re right,’ Hyrald said. ‘We’ll keep the watch duties. I don’t want to take the slightest chance that we might be wrong about Aghrid – the cost would be far too high. And anyway, it’ll be harder
to start them again if we stop. Not to mention the fact that we don’t know who or what else is out here.’
‘No one lives round here,’ Rhavvan said.
‘You’re sure about that, are you?’ Hyrald retorted. ‘Bearing in mind that there was an entire sea we knew nothing about only a few days ago.’
Rhavvan conceded the point unhappily.
The rest of the evening they spent following Endryk’s advice and considering their future movement. Relaxed by the food, the soft light of the fire and the warmth of the night, the discussion about their route rambled freely over many topics. In the course of it, Nordath remarked, ‘I’ve got family in the country in the west, and quite a few friends.’ The greater part of Arvenstaat’s population lay on the eastern side of the mountains. The western side was devoted mainly to farming and was viewed with knowing disdain by the sophisticated city and town-dwellers to the east who gave little thought to where most of their food came from. ‘They think city folk – and that includes me, now – and easterners generally, are all foolish and rather unpleasant. Not people to be trusted.’
This revelation provoked some banter about Nordath’s antecedents but then Hyrald became serious and asked, ‘How would they respond to the Death Cry, Nordath?’
‘Difficult, that. At any other time I’d have said they’d have nothing to do with it, but after what happened over here, I don’t know. I still find it all hard to accept.’
‘But on the whole, they respond badly to edicts and injunctions coming out of the Moot?’
‘Oh, yes. The Moot’s held in even greater scorn than it is over here, if such a thing is possible.’
‘And if memory serves me, there’s only a couple of towns with proper Wardings,’ Hyrald mused. ‘Everywhere else will be the Watch.’