by Roger Taylor
‘Nice to see you again, Marna,’ Farnor said to the bleary-eyed face squinting out of the smallest tent.
Marna’s face became concerned. ‘Nothing’s wrong at home, is it?’
‘No, everyone’s well. Or as well as can be expected, given all that’s happened. I just decided I should come with you.’
Marna contemplated the news for a moment, then looked up at the rain-shrouded valley, grunted and disappeared.
Yengar appeared from one of the other tents. As Farnor had envisaged, he smiled warmly and held out his hand to greet him.
‘Or should I greet you in the way of the Valderen?’ he said, laughing. He mimicked the movement with clawed hands then massaged his own arms in mock pain.
‘It takes a little getting used to,’ Farnor said, taking Yengar’s hand quickly in case he intended to fulfil his threat.
‘It certainly does. I’m black and blue.’
It was Marna again, emerging from her tent and combing her hair with a ferocity that made Farnor wince. ‘And all those damned ladders and walkways. I’ve never been so frightened in all my life.’ She faltered. ‘Well, not like that, anyway.’
‘You stayed in one of their Lodges?’ Farnor said in surprise.
‘Indeed we did,’ Yengar said. ‘And a rare experience it was, too. They’re a fascinating people. I’d like to have spent much longer with them. Perhaps one day. They invited us to return.’
‘They must think very highly of you.’
Yengar gave a self-deprecating shrug. ‘We fought in a common cause. It breaks through barriers that seem insuperable in quieter times. But I think it’s you who’s their hero; they were full of your exploits.’
‘Perhaps we should talk about it out of the rain,’ Marna said tartly, tugging hairs out of her comb. She eyed Olvric. ‘When you’ve lit the fire. I did it last night.’
‘Yes, and filled the valley with enough smoke to frighten every tree in the Great Forest,’ Olvric rejoined.
‘That’s not true. It was just . . .’
‘Come on. Put Farnor’s horses with the others and I’ll show you again. Just pay attention this time.’
Farnor felt a faint frisson of resentment at seeing the new friendship that had obviously developed between Marna and these people. It caught him by surprise, but vanished as Marna took the horses from him with a conspiratorial, ‘in trouble again,’ grin.
Yengar was crouching down, fiddling with something around the entrance to his tent. As he stood up, it came with him and with a couple of practised flicks the tent was opened and a canopy set up in front of it. Yengar bowed and motioned an astonished Farnor into it with exaggerated courtesy. Inside, he found the tent much bigger than he had imagined and he remarked on it. Yengar produced two small folding stools which he placed under the canopy.
‘A little thought, a little experience, a little ingenuity,’ Yengar said, looking around the spacious interior as if he had not seen it for a long time. ‘Actually, more a lot than a little, now I think about it,’ he added. ‘But!’ He clapped his hands. ‘What are you doing here?’ Before Farnor could reply, Yengar leaned forward confidentially. ‘Everything is all right at home, is it?’
‘Everything’s fine,’ Farnor confirmed. ‘Different, but fine. If it’s still open I’ve come to accept your offer to take me to wherever it is . . . whoever it is . . . who can help me find out what’s happened to me.’
Yengar smiled understandingly. ‘A wise decision, I suspect, and I’m more than glad to see you. As much for our sakes as yours. I was fairly certain that, once we’d given our accounting of what happened here, we’d probably have been asked to escort someone back to talk with you. Perhaps even Andawyr himself. And, with no disrespect to your friends and kin, I’d like to spend a little time in my own home for a while.’
‘Andawyr?’ Farnor asked.
‘He’s the Leader of the Cadwanol – the people most likely to know about the kind of thing that happened to you. You’d like him.’ Yengar chuckled. ‘He’s as far away from being like the head of a great Teaching Order as you could imagine. But very clever – and very wise.’
Their conversation was underlain by the steady drumming of the rain on the roof of the canopy and the splashing of its irregular dripping from the edges. Marna’s raised voice drifted across to them. She and Olvric were bent over a pile of rocks from which a faint wisp of smoke was rising. Marna was protesting about something.
Farnor felt the need to apologize. ‘She’s quite headstrong, Marna,’ he said. ‘Not the easiest of people to get along with sometimes.’
Yengar indicated the other large tent. ‘We’re used to headstrong women, he said, adding loudly, ‘and idle ones.’
A thought occurred to Farnor. ‘I’d no idea how long we were going to be travelling so I brought lots of supplies. Then the Valderen gave me lots more. It’s their way once they know you; they’re very generous.’
‘So we gathered,’ Yengar said, wide-eyed. ‘We weren’t certain whether refusing them would be an insult so we just smiled, said “Thank you” and loaded the poor pack horses some more. I think we’ll have enough food to see us into the winter, let alone home.’
‘Well, you have mine now, as well.’
They were interrupted by Yrain and Jenna emerging from the other tent. As they did so they threw up the canopy as Yengar had done but even more quickly.
‘Marna, air your tent,’ Jenna shouted as they moved across to join the two men. There was no reply, but Farnor noticed Marna’s shoulder’s hunch. He was standing up to offer his seat to one of the women when they seized and embraced him vigorously.
‘Good to see you, young man,’ Yrain said, releasing him, then dropping down and sitting cross-legged beside him. ‘I’m glad you’ve decided to come with us.’
Farnor looked at Yengar in surprise.
‘They were listening,’ the Goraidin explained dismissively. ‘You probably woke them when you arrived. They’ll have been cowering there, fearful of an attack by some mountain demon.’
‘It’s your turn to cook the breakfast, isn’t it?’ Jenna said to him before Yrain could voice the acid reply that was making its way from her eyes to her mouth.
Yengar patted Farnor on the shoulder, then left them and went over to the horses.
‘Don’t make anything for me,’ Farnor shouted after him. ‘I’ve eaten.’
Yrain looked up at the sky. ‘Early riser,’ she said with some admiration.
‘The animals don’t lie in,’ he said. She smiled and squeezed his arm affectionately.
As the others ate, Farnor told them about the few things that had happened in the village since they had left and then explained why he had decided to follow them. His reasons surprised no one and they all reiterated Yengar’s welcome and his opinion that they would probably have had to come back to see him anyway.
‘Even so,’ Yengar said as the conversation flagged momentarily. ‘A hard decision for you. Accepting that something’s gone for ever is never easy.’
‘I’m not sure that it has,’ Farnor said quietly. ‘At least, not all of it. I think what my mother and father gave me, and Gryss, and all my friends, my whole life in the valley – even Rannick, in the end – will stay with me for ever.’
The others exchanged glances and Jenna turned away.
‘I’d say I was at least ten years older than you before I learned that,’ Yengar said. ‘Well done.’
Then the camp became brisk. The two large tents were dismantled and stowed on the pack horses with the same alacrity with which Yengar had erected the canopy. Marna’s took a little longer and involved more robust language. The fire was dowsed, latrines sealed, and the whole site carefully examined until they were satisfied that it was as they had found it.
Farnor helped where he could. ‘Marken said your passing leaves no sign,’ he told them. ‘It impressed him.’
He watched Olvric turning over a stone before he finally mounted.
‘Why such care?’
he asked as they set off.
‘Habit now,’ Olvric replied. ‘Training once. And the nature of the work we do.’
‘Work? I thought you were soldiers.’
This provoked a mixture of laughter and reproach.
‘There’s a little more to soldiering than just charging in and killing people – or getting killed,’ Yengar said. ‘We go deep into enemy territory to find out what they’re doing – where their army is, how big, how many infantry and what kind, how many cavalry and what kind, how well equipped, disciplined, supplied they are, and so on. Then we take the information back to our own people so that they can decide what should be done for the best. Occasionally we have to go in and do damage.’ Farnor looked at him in anticipation of a tale but Yengar became unexpectedly serious. ‘Our profession is the study of ordered violence, Farnor. In so far as violence can be ordered. If we do our work well, then fewer people die than might have been the case. If we do it really well then perhaps none die, perhaps the battle never happens.’ His manner lightened again. ‘And part of our work – a part we relish, I might add – is staying alive. That’s why we do our best to leave no sign.’
‘There’s no enemy round here,’ Farnor protested.
‘You know these mountains, this land, do you?’
‘Well, no, but . . .’
‘Well, no, but, indeed. Still, you’re probably right, I doubt there’s any enemy around here. But our work can be dangerous and frightening. Believe me, when someone’s hunting you, he’ll spot a broken twig, an upturned rock, scuffed grass, and be on you like a summer storm. As Olvric just said, we rely first on good training and then on good habits – habits we can’t risk letting slip just because there’s no immediate threat. Hard experience has taught us that – both ours and other people’s.’
Farnor acknowledged the explanation.
‘Besides,’ Yengar went on. ‘Leaving the place a mess is disrespectful to the other creatures that live here, isn’t it? So if the idea of fighting offends you, you can think of our tidiness as simply good manners.’
‘It doesn’t offend me. It frightens me – frightens me a lot.’ He paused. ‘And it puzzles me. I understand it and I don’t understand it. When I reached the Most Ancient I was full of hatred for Rannick. I had a vision of him dead – killed by me – like I’d slaughter a pig – and I wanted their knowledge so that I could come back and overwhelm him and make it so. But when I came away, I was different. The hatred was still there, driving me on, but changed somehow. I knew then I had to try to stop him doing what he was doing. I didn’t seem to have a choice. I couldn’t see any life beyond it.’ He laughed weakly. ‘I remember having some vague idea about bringing him before the law, to be tried. But I knew in reality I’d have to fight him – and that creature – and that I might die. I convinced myself it wasn’t just for me any more, that it was for everyone else as well. It was to stop him hurting people like he’d hurt me. But it was still the same hatred. And still as much a desire for vengeance as it was for justice.’
He fell silent, rapt in thought. No one disturbed him.
‘And in the end I forgave him. Forgave him the murder of my parents. How could I do that?’ He gave a gulping laugh that was almost a sob. ‘And that destroyed him as surely as if I’d cut him open like that damned creature of his.’ He threw back his hood and turned his face upwards to let the rain fall on it. ‘I held out my hand to help my parents’ murderer and it destroyed him. Do you think I knew that was going to happen? That that was the sure way to destroy him?’ He shook his head and wiped his hand down his face. ‘It’s too complicated. I don’t understand.’
There was a long silence.
‘Wiser men than you or I have struggled to understand the darkness we have inside us, Farnor,’ Yengar said eventually. ‘And failed. I suppose we all have to make our own peace with it as best we can – strive to do as little harm as possible. What you did you did for a purpose that any of us would consider just. And you did well. In fact, you did magnificently. Circumstances put you where you were and, dark and frightening though they might have been, you found the resources to survive – in every way. Any blame – any guilt – was Rannick’s. He had the same choices as you, but where you used your crueller nature to a good end, he allowed himself to be consumed by his.’ Farnor made to speak but Yengar pressed on. ‘There is no understanding the likes of him when they pass a certain point. They cut their own demented path through the lives of others, and bring about their own destruction.’
There was a soft murmur of agreement from the others.
‘Gryss thinks that I might have the same power as Rannick.’
The words hung in the rain-filled air.
‘Maybe you have,’ Yengar said casually. ‘I don’t pretend to understand these things, but coming from a small community like yours you’re bound to be related in some way if that’s of any relevance. Not that it matters.’
Farnor was taken aback by his offhand manner. ‘Not matter? But . . .’
‘But nothing.’ Yengar looked at him powerfully. ‘You’ve been tried and tested. More than many so-called fighting men I know. If you were going to turn into another Rannick it would’ve happened by now. Trust me.’ He swung an arm across his companions. ‘There are always choices – and always the heart and the head to guide. You made yours and you chose well – as you said yourself, what your parents gave you will be with you for ever. Even now, by coming with us, you’re choosing. You’ve chosen to learn more about yourself. And if it transpires you’ve some skill with the Power – or something else – then learn whatever you can about it. You’ll make mistakes with it, as sure as fate, but you’ll put it to no ill use.’ He put a reassuring hand on Farnor’s shoulder. ‘For now, all you need concern yourself with is staying in your saddle and enjoying our journey home.’
Farnor frowned. ‘You’ve thought a lot about this, haven’t you?’
Yengar threw his head back and a loud, generous laugh rolled out of him. Jenna and Yrain too laughed. Olvric smiled quietly. Farnor and Marna looked at one another, uncertain about the cause of this mirth.
‘Yes, I certainly have,’ Yengar replied, still laughing. ‘Many’s the time all of us have had cause to think, “What am I doing here?” And if I can teach you in ten days what it’s taken me ten years to learn then I’m only too happy to.’
‘Could you teach me to be like you?’
Yengar reined in his laughter and gave Farnor a strange look as if the young man might be teasing him. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘I mean, be like you. Someone who can protect people against the likes of Nilsson and his men. A warrior.’
Yengar’s mouth opened and closed twice before he managed to say, ‘You challenged Nilsson and survived. You challenged Rannick and survived. You challenged the Great Forest and survived. You plunged into the depths of your own fears and doubts and survived. And, not least, you fought and killed what was almost certainly a Sierwolf and came away with nothing more than a few bruises. You need no lessons from me, Farnor, you’re everything you need to be.’
‘I was lucky.’
Yengar laughed again, though this time with an air of exasperated disbelief. ‘You quite probably were,’ he said. ‘But being “a warrior” . . .’ He laid a mocking emphasis on the words. ‘Doesn’t mean that you don’t need your share of luck.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘No, I don’t. Why in pity’s name would you want to be like me – or any of us?’
‘Because I would! Because I can still remember the helplessness I felt when Nilsson beat me. It was like nothing I’d ever known before. I could do nothing. I was something less than a child’s doll to him. You’re right, I did survive, but only because Gryss intervened and talked our way out of it. I don’t want to experience anything like that ever again!’
Yengar did not speak, surprised and a little disconcerted by this unexpected passion.
‘Even Gulda threw me around as if I was
nothing,’ Farnor added, almost petulantly.
‘Gulda?’ exclaimed Yrain, suddenly taking a keen interest in the conversation. ‘Why would she throw you around?’
Farnor turned to her sheepishly. ‘She took me by surprise,’ he said defensively, clearing his throat. ‘She sneaked up on me when I was by my camp fire. I . . . lashed out at her with a stick.’
‘You did what!’ Both Jenna and Yrain were wide-eyed.
‘I . . . lashed out at her with a stick. Then . . . I tried to stab her.’
‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this,’ Yrain said. ‘You never told us about it before.’
‘You never asked,’ Farnor said weakly.
The two women moved their horses to ride either side of him, Yrain casually displacing Yengar despite the fact that he was equally enthralled by this revelation.
‘What happened?’ they both urged him, abruptly gossiping jades.
‘I don’t know,’ Farnor replied, taken aback by this sudden interest and beginning to regret he had mentioned this encounter. ‘I was poking the fire and, all of a sudden, there was this figure behind me. I just swung round with the stick I was holding.’
‘And . . .’
Farnor hesitated for a moment. ‘I remember the clearing turning upside down. And then I hit the ground . . . some way away. Twice, I think. And without my stick. She was poking the fire with it when I gathered my wits.’
This caused a great deal of laughter and brought down a combination of back-slapping and precarious embracing that nearly tumbled Farnor out of his saddle.
‘Swinging a stick at Gulda,’ Yrain said, at the same time wiping her eyes and righting him again. ‘I’d have given a lot to see that.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Yengar intruded. ‘You’d have been hiding behind the nearest tree. As would all of us.’
‘You’re probably right.’
There was more laughter.
‘It’s not funny,’ Farnor said indignantly.
‘Yes, it is,’ Yengar replied. ‘You don’t know Gulda like we do.’