Caddoran

by Roger Taylor

  ‘First the dog, now you,’ Adren said with exaggerated irritation. ‘Have you heard something as well?’

  Endryk ignored her tone. He was pointing hesitantly towards the looming face of the mountain. He took a few steps forward then stopped.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, after a moment. ‘I thought I saw someone moving over there – someone small.’ He shrugged. ‘Couldn’t be, I suppose. I certainly can’t see anyone now. Probably a bird.’

  As though in confirmation, a throaty ‘Rrrk’ floated down to them from a large black bird circling high above them.

  Adren shook her head. ‘Do they have anything called mountain madness in your country?’ she asked acidly, setting off again.

  ‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ Endryk replied. ‘I’ll tell you about it one day. But this isn’t it.’

  Adren stopped and looked at him knowingly. ‘You’d realize if you were mad, of course?’ she inquired.

  Endryk slithered away from her taunt. ‘Let’s look to our charge,’ he said, pointing to the still unmoving figure.

  As they drew nearer they were able to distinguish first Thyrn’s clothes and then his face. They were reluctant to feel relieved however. Though he did not appear to be injured, the ledge on which he was sitting was dangerous, albeit not immediately perilous. An injudicious movement would send him rolling down a long rocky slope.

  ‘He is asleep,’ Adren whispered.

  ‘Silly young man,’ Endryk said, shaking his head. ‘He should have more sense by now than to doze off in a place like that.’

  ‘Come on.’

  They succeeded in positioning themselves silently on either side of him. While Endryk braced himself to cope with any sudden flurry of waking anxiety, Adren shook Thyrn’s arm gently. Somewhat to their surprise, he did not start violently, but opened his eyes slowly and then turned to each of them in turn with a smile – a guilty smile.

  ‘Hello. Nodded off, did I? Sorry. I was waiting for you.’

  Both Adren and Endryk stared at him blankly. Having spent an anxious and testing day presuming that Thyrn had been taken ill in some way, this was not the reaction they had expected. Thyrn rolled his shoulders and then his head. ‘Mistake, that. I should’ve known better. My neck’s stiff now.’

  He winced. ‘And my behind.’ He looked around. ‘Still, isn’t it splendid up here? So quiet, so majestic. I’d never have imagined such a place.’

  Adren, still braced for a more fraught meeting, and unsettled by Thyrn’s assumption of normality, scowled. ‘Thyrn, what the devil have you been up to?’

  ‘Where’s the little old man?’

  The question, asked wide-eyed and frankly, left her gaping.

  ‘Old man? What old man?’ she spluttered.

  ‘The one who said I should wait for you. He was going to fetch you. I say he was old but it was difficult to tell, really. But he was little.’ Adren looked to Endryk for help but though he was obviously concerned, he could only shrug. Thyrn began to lever himself to his feet. He flexed his legs carefully as he stood up and nodded gratefully to Endryk who gave him a supporting hand. Adren composed herself and there was a conscious note of gentle humouring in her voice when she spoke to him again.

  ‘We haven’t seen anyone else, Thyrn,’ she said, motioning him along the ledge and towards safer ground. ‘Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming?’

  Thyrn’s expression became thoughtful. As always when he was treating with anything that touched near his profession his expression changed from that of a young, often bewildered or lonely young man, to that of a mature and experienced adult. ‘There was something odd about him,’ he admitted. ‘Something I can’t put my finger on at the moment, but it wasn’t a dream, no.’

  ‘You’ve had a long and strange day, Thyrn, and very little to eat. The mountains can play peculiar tricks on you when you’re not used to them.’ Endryk took his tentative tone from Adren.

  Thyrn shook his head and met his gaze quite straightforwardly. ‘Yes. A stranger day than you can know.’ He looked guilty again. ‘And you have too, I imagine. I’m sorry, I owe you all an apology. I’ll explain as best I can when we join the others – if I can. But the little man was here. He was neither dream nor hallucination. I mightn’t be much of a fighter or a mountain dweller, but I know my mind and all the tricks it can play…’ Then he was looking around, puzzled. ‘I’ve no idea where he is now though, if he’s not with you. He did say he was going to fetch you.’

  ‘No one came for us, Thyrn,’ Adren said, almost apologetically. ‘And we’ve seen no one.’ She cast a quick look at Endryk.

  Thyrn frowned. ‘Odd, that. He was quite insistent I wait. Still, you’re here, aren’t you? That’s all that matters.’

  Adren could not prevent her Warden’s interrogatory nature from coming to the fore. ‘What was he like? What was he wearing?’

  ‘I didn’t really notice, I’m afraid. He was little.’ He held out a hand level with Adren’s shoulder by way of demonstration. Then he smiled. ‘Bright eyes, he had. And he was full of life. With a sing-song voice – very calming, reassuring. Went right through me, like sunlight. He’d a pack on his back, I think, and he seemed… to belong here somehow.’ His smile faded. ‘It is odd though, now I think about it, meeting someone like that, up here of all places. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me at the time. Everything just seemed to be quite natural, standing here, talking. We might have been in the middle of Arvenshelm.’ He frowned. ‘I’ll have to think about it.’

  Adren was about to question him further but Endryk caught her eye and shook his head.

  ‘Let’s get down to the others,’ he said. ‘They’ll be getting anxious and I don’t really want to tackle that rock fall in the dark.’ He turned to Thyrn. ‘Think about it when we’re back at camp. For now, just think where you’re putting your feet.’

  Before they began the descent, both Adren and Thyrn stood for a while looking round at the mountains in their frozen march to the horizon. Endryk joined them when he saw what they were doing. No one spoke.

  Nor did they speak much on the way down into the growing darkness of the valley. Hyrald and the others had set up camp a little way from the foot of the fall and a fire was burning, casting an odd light in the bright-skyed gloaming. They were not sat around it however, but had ascended part way up the lower reaches of the fall to greet the returning rescuers. They had been there since Endryk had called down to let them know that Thyrn was safe and unhurt.

  When he had reassured himself of this personally, Nordath erupted in anger. The others stood back as his outburst swept their own clamouring questions aside.

  ‘What the devil did you think you were doing, wandering off like that? No indication of where you’d gone – taking no food with you, no clothes – your guard duty abandoned.’ This was an afterthought. ‘What if the weather had changed, or if you’d had an accident? If it hadn’t been for the damned dog we wouldn’t have had the faintest idea where you’d gone.’

  The anger faded almost as suddenly as it had flared up, as Thyrn visibly wilted under the onslaught. Uncle and nephew were left staring at one another in a pained and helpless silence. Adren broke it.

  Taking Thyrn’s arm, she said briskly, as to a child who had been on a special outing, ‘Let’s get something to eat, then you can sit down and tell us everything that’s happened.’ An unexpected motherliness in her manner coupled with an unequivocal and protective menace dispatched the men to their tasks and further postponed the squall of questions that had been brewing all day.

  Gradually the valley darkened and bright stars began to appear in the purpling sky. Endryk struck his lantern to complement the firelight. Under Adren’s stern writ however, the only sounds to be heard were those of the fire and the cooking food.

  As they were all settling around the fire and beginning to eat, a signal from her prompted Thyrn.

  ‘This is difficult,’ he began, avoiding looking directly at anyone. ‘I really don’t know whe
re to start. I know what I did was unbelievably stupid – caused you a lot of distress and difficulty and risked getting me lost or killed, but I won’t apologize to you because a simple “sorry” isn’t enough. I’m appalled at what I’ve done and all I can do is try to tell you what happened as honestly as possible.’ He raised a hand to touch his temple. His face was serious when he looked up and met the gaze of each of his listeners in turn. ‘I’m not certain why or how any of it happened, but in so far as it touches on my skill as a Caddoran, I am certain that I’ll get to the bottom of it before I’ve finished. You’ll have to trust me about that.’ There was a note of determination in his voice that none of them had heard before and no one spoke.

  ‘I was on guard duty, walking about to prevent myself from dozing off – Rhavvan had woken me from a very deep sleep and I was quite groggy. It was very quiet – the mountains aren’t like the forest, are they, with all manner of things wandering about killing one another. And none of you were snoring for the moment.’ This provoked some indignant looks but he continued before anyone could interrupt. ‘Suddenly, I felt some… pulling at me.’ He paused and, closing his eyes, took a slow breath.

  ‘Pulling?’ Hyrald queried cautiously.

  Thyrn released the breath and opened his eyes. ‘When a Caddoran Joins with a client,’ he began to explain, ‘he has to let go of whatever’s going on in his own mind. Make a blank space, as it were, so that the client’s intentions can be recorded accurately. The blanker the space, the more accurate the receiving of the message will be.’ He smiled unexpectedly but there was an edge to his voice as he continued. ‘It’s not an easy thing to do by any means but, being “gifted”, I can be very blank when need arises – that’s what makes me so valuable.’ He shrugged the observation aside. ‘Anyway, this letting go is as much a physical thing as a mental one and it has physical effects. These tend to be different for each individual Caddoran. Some feel they’re floating in water, some flying, some just diffusing into nothingness – all sorts of things. For me it’s a sensation of being drawn – pulled – towards a client, or more correctly, towards his message and his intentions.’

  ‘And this… pulling… is what you felt?’ Adren prompted.

  ‘Yes.’ Thyrn was shaking his head as if reluctant to confirm his own answer. ‘Very strongly. Stronger than I’ve ever felt it with any client – even Vashnar.’

  Nordath waved his hands vaguely. ‘But I thought you had to prepare yourself before this could happen – that it was something absolutely in your control.’

  ‘So it is,’ Thyrn replied, staring into the fire. Shadows danced about his face and he looked much older than his real age. ‘So it has to be. Without control, what would there be? Just madness. A mind helpless – completely exposed – filling with everything around it.’ He shuddered. ‘Like a sewer.’

  Few Wardens passed through their careers without having to go down into Arvenshelm’s ancient and labyrinthine sewers in search of one of the many criminals who used them as a convenient underground road system and hiding place; Hyrald, Rhavvan and Adren were no exceptions. Thyrn’s image disturbed them but they did not speak.

  ‘But it was there,’ Thyrn went on. ‘Quite unmistakable. And, as I said, stronger than I’ve ever known.’

  ‘Stronger – what do you mean?’ Hyrald asked.

  ‘The intensity is different for each client,’ Thyrn replied offhandedly.

  ‘I don’t understand any of this,’ Rhavvan said. He spat a piece of gristle into his hand and threw it into the fire.

  ‘Youdon’t understand it?’ Thyrn said bluntly. ‘Idon’t understand it. I wouldn’t have thought such a thing possible. In fact, I’m still having difficulty realizing it actually happened. But it did, and that’s what it was. A pulling stronger than I’ve ever known that came on without any preparation by myself and without a client – or anyone that it could be related to.’

  He fell silent, staring into the fire again. Adren looked at him carefully. There was some fear in his eyes, but mainly there was anger. He had been affronted. He was feeling as she had when Endryk had casually overwhelmed her vaunted swordwork. Except that then Endryk had been there to rebuild and improve upon what he had nearly destroyed. For Thyrn there was no one.

  ‘Is it possible that somehow one of us might accidentally have… contacted… you while we were sleeping?’ she asked.

  Thyrn pursed his lips then turned to look at her. The look told her she was talking nonsense, but that he was grateful for the effort she had made. ‘No,’ he said. ‘A Caddoran’s art is really only mimicry. It’s not mind reading. It’s strange – mysterious, intuitive, but there’s nothing mystical or magical about it. The client doesn’t really have to do anything except give the message he wants delivered. Everything else is up to the Caddoran and his discipline.’

  ‘But you say this came from nowhere, without you doing anything?’ Nordath’s statement was a question.

  ‘Yes,’ Thyrn replied simply. ‘I told you, I don’t understand.’

  ‘Go on,’ Adren urged gently, sensing the beginning of a futile debate. ‘Just tell us what happened. We can discuss the whys and wherefores after.’

  Thyrn nodded. ‘I’m not totally sure what happened next,’ he said. ‘I remember also feeling a great need in the pulling. Although I could see no one, everything else told me that I’d a client who needed a difficult and important message delivered urgently. I could do no other than move towards it.’

  Suddenly he wrapped his arms about himself. ‘I’m sorry. I was all right when I woke up, but the more I think about all this, the more it’s bothering me – frightening me.’ The last words came out reluctantly. As he looked round the listening circle he was a bewildered young man again. ‘I do know the tricks my mind can play; I can always end them even if I can’t prevent them from starting.’ His distress grew. ‘But looking back, I can’t think why I did any of what I did. How could I have felt the pull of a client without preparation, without seeing him? Why should I have thought that I could find the message-sender by looking for him when everything that was happening could only have come from inside myself? Why had I no control over my mind, my actions?’

  Hyrald intervened quickly, leaning towards him and holding his gaze. ‘Thyrn. Listen to me. None of us has control over everything all the time. Look at us, senior officers of the Warding, experienced in dealing with and controlling all manner of situations – frightening, horrific, chaotic, tragic situations. And where are we now? Sitting round a campfire in the middle of the Karpas Mountains, as far from our old homes and lives as if they’d never existed. Why? Because frightening, inexplicable things quite beyond our control have happened to us. You’re forgetting that somehow, without you doing anything, you and Vashnar touched one another when you were more than half the country apart. I can understand you being afraid, but understand too -you’ve survived.’ He gripped Thyrn’s arm powerfully. ‘And you’ve found skills and abilities in yourself over just these past days you’d never have thought possible. Everything’s changed for all of us. Maybe your Caddoran skills are changing too. Developing in some way. Just trust yourself.’ He drew the others into his plea. ‘We trust you. And we’ll support you if you slip. Just tell us what happened as well as you can then it won’t catch us unawares again.’

  Thyrn placed his hand over Hyrald’s and nodded.

  ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not used to relying on other people like this.’ He cast an anguished glance at Nordath.

  ‘It’s all right,’ his uncle said, smiling. ‘I understand what you mean.’ He motioned him to continue. It took Thyrn a few moments to compose himself again.

  ‘There’s not much more to tell, really. The pull was so strong that I just had to keep following it.’

  ‘Did you realize what you were doing?’ Endryk asked.

  Thyrn gave a feeble shrug. ‘Yes and no. I knew I was walking away from the camp. I remember being careful how I walked in the half light. But I didn’t rea
lize how long I’d been walking. As I said, the pull was so strong. I just kept thinking, a little further and I’ll find out what all this is about – who needs this urgent message sending – a little further, over and over. I remember scrambling up there.’ He pointed to the ridge, now only a suggestion of deeper shadow against the starry sky. ‘And I remember walking along the ridge. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t even see that marvellous view of the mountains – I just walked on. The pull was getting stronger. Then there was this little figure coming towards me. I think he was whistling, or singing, to himself.’

  Hyrald, Rhavvan and Nordath all craned forward.

  ‘Then therewas a message-sender actually causing this?’ Hyrald voiced the general anticipation.

  Thyrn shook his head. ‘He wasn’t the message-sender. I don’t know who he was. I got the impression he was just a traveller – someone passing by.’

  ‘What?’ Rhavvan’s protestation made everyone jump. ‘Passing by? Just like that – halfway up a mountainside, in a part of the country that most of the people don’t even know exists?’

  ‘Let him finish.’

  Adren reached out for silence. ‘You’re still sure you met this man, Thyrn? That you weren’t dreaming? Because we saw no one and we certainly didn’t get any message about where you were.’

  ‘He was there.’ Thyrn was as definite as when he had been on the ridge. He described the man again – little, bright-eyed, lively, infectious voice, though he could still remember little of what the man had been wearing, and he was hesitant about his age – old and not old. Rhavvan was patently sceptical but Adren’s glower and taut jaw kept him silent.

  ‘You are a Caddoran, Thyrn,’ she said with just a hint of reproach. ‘Youmust remember. Exactly what did he say to you?’

  The question obviously unsettled Thyrn and he did not reply for some time. He was frowning when he did. ‘That’s very strange. Even when I’m not working I tend to recall conversations quite well – especially if they’re out of the ordinary. But I can only remember parts of this clearly.’ He stared into the fire, silent again for some time. ‘I remember the sound of his voice. It was strange – musical, seemed to pass right through me, but pleasant – reassuring, like everything about him.’