Valderen [The Second Part of Farnor's Tale]

by Roger Taylor

  Farnor tilted his head on one side. ‘You talk like a soldier out of one of Yonas's tales,’ he said.

  'Yonas?’ Angwen queried.

  'He's a Teller,’ Farnor replied, his face brightening. ‘He's one of the few people who come from over the—from outside the valley. He travels all over, telling his stories in return for food and shelter.'

  Angwen smiled appreciatively and her face became pensive. ‘I remember an old woman who used to teach here once ...’ She paused, as if trying to recollect something. ‘Uldaneth, she was called. And she used to tell splendid tales.’ She chuckled to herself. ‘She could be so fierce. Even the men used to scuttle when she told them to do something. She'd poke them with her stick and order them about.’ She thrust an imaginary stick forward and laughed. ‘But everyone loved her.'

  Farnor waited.

  Angwen looked at him strangely. ‘And she was an outsider too. And her hair was black as well!’ She ran her hand absently over her own hair and her eyes became distant. ‘Fancy forgetting about Uldaneth,’ she said softly.

  Farnor was loath to disturb the silence which hung about Angwen after this revelation, but his curiosity was too strong. ‘Where did she come from?’ he asked.

  Angwen shrugged and smiled again. ‘I don't think anyone knew,’ she said. ‘And I don't think anyone felt inclined to ask. She just seemed to belong here naturally.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘I can't even remember when she left now.’ There was another long, thoughtful pause. ‘How strange. I haven't thought about her in years,’ she concluded. A little sadly, Farnor thought.

  Then she shook off her pensive mood and reverted to the question that Farnor's earlier comment had implied. ‘The Valderen were a fighting people once,’ she said. ‘And it's still reflected in many of our traditions.'

  'The swords by the doors!’ Farnor exclaimed.

  Angwen nodded. ‘The Threshold Swords,’ she said. ‘Yes, that's one thing. From a long time ago.’ She became thoughtful again. ‘The strength of a people depends on the willingness—and the ability—of each to defend both himself and his neighbour against those who would unjustly impose upon them.’ She was talking half to herself. ‘Yes,’ she reflected, softly. ‘That spirit is still with us even though we've known no conflict in generations.'

  Despite himself, Farnor found his curiosity engaged again. ‘Who did you fight against before?’ he asked.

  Angwen started slightly, as if her thoughts were elsewhere. ‘Bildar's a better person to answer that than me,’ she said. ‘It's a long, complicated tale.'

  Farnor risked a gentle taunt. ‘Are you afraid that if you tell me I'll understand you better and thus be less afraid?'

  Angwen's head went back and she laughed delightedly. ‘I think you have me there, Farnor,’ she said, as she recovered. Then she looked at him strangely again. Farnor saw a mother's eyes looking at him. ‘Forest forbid that you should ever feel afraid here, of all places, Farnor,’ she said softly.

  He turned away from her.

  'I'll risk telling you a little,’ Angwen said, mockingly, after a moment. ‘Perhaps indeed it'll help you understand us.'

  She leaned back in her chair. ‘Back in the times you were asking about, our ancestor came here to hide from a foe so awful that He seemed set to destroy every thing that lived. For generations we helped to hold the bounds of His conquest, until eventually He was destroyed.’ She paused, momentarily, her face troubled, but the doubt in it passed, like a small cloud from in front of the sun, and she continued. ‘During those times, war was waged in many ways, Farnor. On terrible battlefields, on the oceans, even in the air above us. And in the hearts and the minds of whole peoples as He sought to lead them astray, disguising His evil with sweet words.'

  Farnor found himself spellbound as Angwen's voice began to rise and fall to some subtle rhythm, just as Yonas's would when his tale gathered momentum.

  'And as people searched for means to oppose Him, old skills, old knowledge was rediscovered. For some of us here, in the Forest, came the ability to know the ... minds ... of the trees, to Hear them, as we say now. And with that, came the knowledge that the very trees amongst which we sheltered had a will, a sentience, of their own. A will that had silently supported us in our struggle and that had worked to deceive the enemy when His armies had tried to drive us out.'

  Farnor began to frown a little.

  'Listen, and then you will understand a little better, and be a little less afraid,’ Angwen said, her face counselling patience. ‘That's how it began. And we've lived in harmony with one another ever since.’ She raised a cautionary finger. ‘It's not that we fully understand one another, even now. Not by any means. In fact I doubt that such a thing is possible, we're so different. But we understand enough to respect one another's right to be and, through our Hearers, to talk, as best we can, when we must impinge on one another.'

  Farnor's frown was deepening. ‘But people keep saying they let me in, for some special reason of their own, and they might well not let me out,’ he said, half angry, half afraid. ‘And ...’ He was about to mention the overwhelming will that had possessed him before he fainted in the stables, but some inner voice prompted him not to. ‘Bildar said that theirs is the power here. That they can reach into minds—make people do what they want. That we—people—are merely tolerated.'

  Angwen searched for words that would ease Farnor's distress. ‘What Bildar said is both true and not true,’ she said, after a moment. She looked at him earnestly. ‘But I told you, they're not like we are, Farnor. Almost everything about them is beyond our true understanding. They may have needs, ambitions, desires, affections, but I doubt we'd understand them, even if they could tell us about them easily. And I doubt they understand ours. Their power to control us is undeniable, but power is only power when it's used, and they don't use it, except to keep outsiders away. And that's why your coming here has caused such a stir.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I'm afraid that in our lack of understanding of what's happened, we've become frightened.'

  Angwen's sincerity and concern was beyond any doubting and Farnor looked at her unhappily. ‘And you've no Hearer to advise you now, because of me,’ he said.

  'I told you before, don't concern yourself about it,’ Angwen said. ‘That will resolve itself.'

  Farnor looked at her helplessly. ‘And what am I to do, in the meantime?’ he asked.

  Angwen met his gaze. ‘Whatever you want,’ she said simply. ‘Now you've made me think about it. Do as your heart moves you. But as much as you can, stay ... calm ... and still ... within yourself. And, above all, listen to the quieter voices within you. Whatever it is they want from you, if anything, I'm sure you'll learn in due course.’ She became practical. ‘And I'm sure they mean you no harm. The Forest is vast and there are many dark and dire places in it to which you could have been led to die, had that been their will. And don't forget, they've roused us to come to your aid twice now. Nothing like that has happened before, ever.’ Still watching him, she nodded, as if confirming to herself that her conclusion was correct. ‘Do as your heart moves you,’ she said again. ‘If tomorrow, you still want to leave, then leave. All will be well.'

  Farnor nodded slowly. Angwen's logic chimed with his determination. He would leave tomorrow.

  Set back on his original intention, however, the gentle magic of Angwen's telling faded, and darkness bubbled up inside him again. He would return to seek out Rannick—and, if necessary, the creature—and destroy them both. That was his duty. That was all he truly had now. And if the trees didn't like it, then they could tell him directly, and take whatever consequences ensued.

  Come into my mind at your cost, he felt something say, deep within him.

  He sat with Angwen in silence for some time, then she looked about her suddenly. ‘I hadn't realized how dark it was getting,’ she said.

  She stood up and touched what Farnor had taken to be a round woven basket hanging from the patterned ceiling; an ornament, he had presumed. Immediate
ly a tiny light glowed at the centre of the basket, and then abruptly flared up to light the whole room. Standing up and screwing his eyes against the brightness, Farnor looked at it intently. The basket proved to be of delicately carved wood and it contained a glass globe. He turned away, blinking.

  'What a marvellous sunstone,’ he said to Angwen, who was watching him with some amusement. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Sunstone,’ she said appreciatively. ‘What a nice name. I'm afraid we call them lightrocks, even though we use them as much for heating as lighting. I gather you use them too.'

  Farnor nodded. ‘Yes, but all ours are very old now, and it's difficult to find new ones. We have to look after them very carefully. And we've none as good as that. It's so bright. Where do you get them from?'

  Angwen smiled. ‘From the mountains up north. Anyone who's travelling up there for any reason usually brings some back. And there's always plenty at the Solstice Mart. I'll give you some when you leave tomorrow,’ she said. ‘And a striker.'

  Guiltily, Farnor raised his hands to refuse the offer, but Angwen shook her head. ‘It'll be a gift to your people from my people, Farnor. You can't refuse a gift of light, can you?'

  Taken aback by this impulsive gesture, Farnor did not know what to say. Sunstones were precious in the valley and much cherished by their owners. He was just composing a suitable sentence of thanks when Derwyn returned. He looked harassed.

  'What's the matter?’ Angwen asked quietly, wrapping her arm around him.

  Derwyn cast a glance at Farnor but spoke to his wife. ‘EmRan's being particularly troublesome,’ he said. ‘More than I thought he would be.’ He pulled a rueful face. ‘And I'm afraid it didn't help that Farnor threatened him with a knife.'

  Angwen grimaced slightly and nodded.

  Farnor felt suddenly trapped. Though no explanation was asked for, he blustered one out. ‘He barged into Bildar's like a mad bull. I thought he was someone else. Bildar and Edrien saw what happened. They'll tell you. He frightened them, too.'

  'Don't upset yourself, Farnor,’ Derwyn said, kissing Angwen and unwinding her arm from about him. ‘It's just an unfortunate thing to have happened. And EmRan's thrashing about and clouding the issues that we really need to be discussing.'

  'I can leave now, on my own, if you wish,’ Farnor offered.

  Derwyn shook his head hastily. ‘No, no,’ he said. ‘That will make things far worse. With all the confusion there is at the moment, that might even bring the hunt down on your head, and Forest knows what the consequences of that would be.’ He sat down and looked up at Farnor, his face unhappy. ‘I didn't want to get you involved in this, but drawing a weapon against another is a serious matter amongst us, Farnor. From what I've heard from Bildar and Edrien I'm satisfied that your behaviour was reasonable, and that it was EmRan who was in the wrong. But now it's been raised publicly ...’ He paused uncomfortably for a moment. ‘I can't force you, but I think it would be better for all of us if you could come with me to the Congress tonight and say why you did what you did. And tell them whatever else you feel you can.'

  Farnor looked at Angwen, alarmed at this unexpected turn of events. She nodded slightly, and laid her hand on her heart significantly. ‘Everyone speaks freely and without fear of reproach in the Congress. Farnor. Go and listen to them. Understand their fear. And then speak to them so that they'll understand yours.'

  'And if they don't understand?’ he asked.

  Neither Derwyn nor Angwen replied.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  As Farnor followed Derwyn along the ways that led to the Congress Hall, sunstones hung along the walkways and through the branches were bursting silently into life. Gradually, the great tree canopy was turned into a flickering, many-greened cavern by the myriad lights sweeping and twisting through it in long, glittering skeins. It was a sight that might have held Farnor spellbound had he noticed it, but he was too preoccupied with safely negotiating the walkways and ladders along which Derwyn was leading him; that, and the leaden, almost desperate, feeling inside him about what was going to happen.

  Although Derwyn had tried to hide his concern about the Congress, he had been unable to keep it from his eyes and, unsettling Farnor even further, had been the reference to him bringing the hunt down on himself if he decided to leave immediately. He tried not to dwell on the images that this presented but it was all far from reassuring. Conflicting thoughts harried him. He had been well treated—very well treated, in fact, and the worst that he had had to suffer was some blatant curiosity. But EmRan's violent intrusion at Bildar's lurked in his mind like a menacing shadow. For a terrifying moment he had truly thought that it was Nilsson hulking there in the doorway, pursuing him even into the depths of the Forest. But how would all these people see it?

  Surely Bildar and Edrien would speak for him; explain what had happened? They too had been badly frightened. If he had somehow broken one of their laws, then it had been through ignorance, and no harm had been done. Then regrets began to mingle angrily with his circling justifications; he should have left as soon as he was able, he shouldn't have stayed to eat, he should have asked for his horse and pack as soon as he had wakened this morning.

  'Not far now.’ Derwyn's voice brought him sharply back to the present. For the first time he became aware of the noise. All around him was the clatter of feet on the swaying walkways and the clamour of voices. And as the voices impinged on him, so too did the sight. As he looked around, he saw walkways everywhere, all crowded with people moving purposefully in one direction. And there were more than he could see, he knew, for the leaves about him were alive with shadows.

  Several people pushed past him as he paused, forcing him against the handrail. ‘Careful,’ he heard Derwyn saying crossly to the culprits. ‘Faller.’ This last word brought about some rapid head-turning and hasty apologies. Those who really saw him, however, paused and gaped openly, until Derwyn nudged them on their way. ‘Quite a stir,’ he said to Farnor, swinging on to yet another ladder. ‘I haven't seen this much interest in a Congress meeting for a long time. It's going to be quite an entertaining evening.’ Farnor sensed that he was smiling, though it was difficult to tell in the shifting shadows. Even so, he felt little reassurance in the words.

  'Last one,’ Derwyn said, as Farnor dropped down on to the walkway. It was wider than any Farnor had seen before, and it felt more solid under his feet. The sense of stability this gave him made him feel a little easier. As they walked along, the walkway was joined by others, and after a while it began to spiral slowly downwards, becoming wider as it dropped and as yet more walkways joined it. Progress, however, became slower as these tributaries brought with them increasing numbers of people.

  Eventually they reached the ground, though Farnor deduced this from the feeling underfoot rather than from anything he could see amidst the noisy press of bodies. Being borne along by a crowd was a new experience for him and it was not one he enjoyed. Indeed, once or twice he felt panic welling up inside him. There must be more people here, in this one place, than in the entire valley at home, he thought. Derwyn, sensing his unease, kept very close to him. ‘It's not normally this bad,’ he shouted above the din. ‘And we're nearly there now.'

  Looking ahead, Farnor saw the area they were moving towards was ablaze with lights. Despite the strange structures that he had seen thus far in his stay, he was expecting to see some kind of building similar to the Council Hall at home. Instead however, he found himself walking along a curving avenue of trees. It was wide enough to allow the crowd to spread out, to Farnor's relief, but the trees had an ominous quality about them as they loomed high into the darkness above him; darkness which was made yet darker by the bright lighting below.

  Like great sentries, he thought.

  Then the avenue widened out suddenly, like a river reaching the sea, and the crowd disgorged itself into a large circular clearing lit by brilliant sunstones that were both mounted on the trees and slung overhead by some means tha
t Farnor could not make out. ‘This is your Congress Hall?’ he asked Derwyn.

  Derwyn nodded and pointed ahead. It took Farnor some time to realize what he was looking at, so strange did it seem. And even as he drew closer he could not see exactly how it had been built or how it was supported. For, rising from the ground was what appeared to be an enormous tangle of branches. It reminded him, in its intricate random pattern, of the strange, fine weave of rootlets that had lined the walls and columns of the stables, but here the branches were both much thicker and more varied, ranging from those with a girth of perhaps a man's height and more, to twigs scarcely the diameter of a little finger.

  Gazing at the confusion, Farnor saw that the branches curved around the sides of the clearing until they merged subtly with the surrounding trees, while above him they rose up and curved forward like a great arched roof, though their final destiny was hidden from his view by the bright lights. The whole conspired however, to make him feel that he was once again standing in a huge root room rather than on the Forest floor.

  As they drew nearer, Farnor began to feel both awed and intrigued by the eerie splendour of the place. Eventually his curiosity overcame his immediate preoccupations. ‘How did you build all this?’ he asked, lowering his voice.

  Derwyn patted his shoulder and gave a rueful chuckle. ‘If you're leaving tomorrow, I haven't remotely the time to tell you,’ he said. ‘Something this size is the work of generations. Growing, nurturing, shaping.’ He tapped his head. ‘Not to mention thinking, if it's going to work properly.’ He stopped suddenly and looked around, as if it was something that he had not done for a long time. Then he nodded. ‘I almost saw it with your eyes, Farnor,’ he said, with a mixture of pride and surprise. ‘New and different. And I have to admit, it's as fine a Synehal as you'll find for many a day's ride.'