Whistler [A sequel to The Chronicles of Hawklan]

by Roger Taylor

  Yet, too, pervading everything was an almost unbearable sense of loss, and Cassraw could feel the clawing, scrabbling desperation of someone who must hold on to something, however slight, if He were to remain ... here? And not plunge into ... the void? The images eluded Cassraw but he sensed well enough the terror of slipping from this place and tumbling eternally through a nightmare of solitude and powerlessness.

  Then everything was changed. As suddenly as it had come, the turmoil was ended. A new awareness moved through Cassraw. A slender hold had been found, and the terrible fall halted. All was not yet lost!

  'Be silent, My servant. I must judge you, know the true depths of your faith.'

  Cassraw remained motionless, his eyes closed, his head still thrown back to face the black sky. ‘As You will, Lord,’ he whispered.

  Then, where before there had been a coldness, there was now a searching warmth. Though he was waiting for a questioning, a harrowing, nothing happened. Yet something was moving within him. Like the faint rustling of distant trees, elusive and unclear. Then, fleetingly, a grim, malicious satisfaction passed through him.

  'These dark and terrible thoughts, these doubts and hatreds are yours, Cassraw,’ the voice said, deep and compassionate, though now it was more like a spoken voice than the eerie possession it had been before. ‘They are the burden I have put upon you that you might know yourself the better. But you have borne them well and you have not been found wanting.'

  Cassraw was trembling again, though this time with a powerful sense of expectation.

  'It is My Will that you go forth and bring the truth of My Word to your peoples and all the peoples of this land. A great evil has arisen in the north which must be opposed lest all the world fall under its shadow. This land shall become a Citadel from which My armies will march forth again.'

  Cassraw almost opened his eyes. ‘Lord, I am no warrior,’ he said prosaically. A dark amusement filled him from somewhere.

  'There are many swords, My servant. Yours is your tongue. Wield it well and armies greater than your imagining will be provided. This is My Will, and it will be so. Be thou steadfast and true, and let none oppose thee.'

  'But who will listen to me, Lord? And what is this evil that has come about?’ Cassraw asked weakly.

  'All will listen to you, My servant, for I have blessed you with My Power. And where doubt of My Word exists I shall give you the true meaning.’ A hint of anger seeped into the voice. ‘All else will be revealed in due time. Seek not to question your Lord, servant. Seek only to obey and serve.'

  Cassraw's legs finally gave way, and he slumped to the ground. The small, sharp stones driving into his knees began to restore sensation to his body.

  'I must leave you now, My servant.'

  The voice was fainter. The damage that Cassraw had done to himself in his reckless ascent of the mountain began to assert itself.

  'Do not leave me, Lord,’ he said, holding out his arms.

  Again the amusement.

  'Know that I will be with you always, Cassraw. Always. You have but to listen.'

  And Cassraw was alone.

  He remained kneeling for a long time, head bowed and arms resting on a flat boulder. Then, slowly, fearfully, he opened his eyes and looked around. The sky was still dark, though now the clouds had the snow-laden greyness of winter rather than the looming menace of before. The call which had drawn Cassraw up the Ervrin Mallos was no longer there, but he could still feel the presence of his Lord echoing and resonating inside him.

  He hugged himself and bent forward. ‘I was right,’ he hissed. ‘I was right, I was right.’ Over and over, in a mixture of terror and malevolent glee. ‘I am the Chosen One. His Chosen. I was right!’ Then, with a painful effort he stood up. ‘I am Yours, Lord, utterly,’ he cried out rapturously. ‘Yours! I shall gather up the righteous and bring them to Your Word, and together we shall seek out the sinners in this land and beyond, and bring them to Your Way. Or destroy them.'

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  Vredech closed the main door of the Witness House quietly and climbed the stairs that would lead him back to the Debating Hall. He was still breathing heavily and his hands were shaking slightly. The look in Cassraw's eyes, his final, portentous words and then his manic dash up the mountain into what must surely be a monstrous storm, hung vividly in his mind, adding to his confusion and distress.

  Though he knew that Cassraw was fitter than he was, he was no youngster and must surely injure himself careening up the mountain like that. And who could say what kind of a storm those clouds presaged, or how long it would last when it broke?

  He paused at the entrance to the Debating Hall to quieten his buzzing thoughts. A murmur of voices reached him and he sighed. On the whole he would have preferred to enter into an uproar. At least then he would have been able to intervene in a continuing argument. Now it seemed that the matter had been settled.

  What have you done while I've been away, Mueran? he thought bitterly. Used your authority as Covenant Member to have him suspended? Well, not while I've got a tongue in my head!

  With an effort he fought down his anger. He must not allow his anxiety for Cassraw to lead him into any rashness. It would be a serious mistake to charge at Mueran like a stupid mountain goat. Tact and diplomacy were required if he was to protect Cassraw from the enemies that his harsh tongue had made.

  Vredech took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

  The Debating Hall was, like most rooms in the Witness House, plain and simple. It was free from any decoration save for the arched windows which were filled with stone traceries, into which all manner of leaves and vines and, peculiarly, slightly sinister faces had been carved. When a full Convocation was held, the assembled Preaching Brothers would sit on chairs arranged around three walls of the room, while the Chapter Members, the senior Brothers who formed the governing council of the Church of Ishryth in Canol Madreth, sat at one end. Now, however, the Chapter Members were sitting around a long, highly-polished wooden table which occupied the centre of the hall.

  All eyes turned towards Vredech as he entered. He bowed slightly to acknowledge this impromptu greeting, then immediately approached Mueran. Whatever had happened in his absence, a more favourable outcome of the whole sorry business would probably be achieved if he did the right thing here, namely attended to the immediate needs of his tormented friend. He did not wait for Mueran to speak.

  'Cassraw needs our help,’ he said, simply. ‘He's unwell. Very unwell. He seems to have had some kind of a ... seizure.’ This provoked knowing looks from a few of the assembled Brothers, but Vredech ignored them. ‘He's gone dashing off up the mountain, and there's an appalling storm brewing. If he isn't badly injured, there's every chance that he'll be benighted or snowed in.'

  The mood in the hall changed perceptibly. Some of the Brothers showed quite open irritation at this new problem that Cassraw had brought them, but most seemed to be genuinely concerned. Vredech had the impression that Mueran was assessing which group was in the majority before replying, but he swiftly reproached himself for his lack of charity.

  'Ah,’ Mueran said neutrally, but nodding sagely.

  'The sky was looking grim this morning. We must send someone to look for him immediately.’ The speaker was Morem, a gentle, kindly man, remarkably free from the narrow-eyed shrewdness that typified most of the Chapter Members.

  Vredech shook his head and moved closer to the table. He lowered his voice confidentially. ‘Whatever problems Cassraw has caused us recently, he's still a senior member of the church, and despite the occasional complaint from some of its noisier members, he is much loved and depended upon by his flock. I don't have to tell you how greatly he's contributed in the past and I'm sure that with help through this ... difficulty ... he'll contribute as much again in the future. But he needs our help and protection, now. We can't send out the Witness House servants to find him. It'd be all over Troidmallos within the day. We'll have to go ourselves.'
>
  This suggestion caused a stir. Most of the Chapter Members were manifestly too old to be wandering about the upper reaches of the mountain in any weather, let alone in a storm.

  'We could send some of the novices,’ someone offered tentatively.

  Vredech shook his head again. ‘The state that Cassraw's in, it's not going to be easy to make him listen,’ he said. ‘I think he's suffering some deep spiritual crisis. Apart from the common compassion of helping him through this in private, I think only we here stand any chance of being able to get through to him.’ He waved down some retorts and, looking at Mueran, became more forceful. ‘Those of us who can manage it should go up the hill and look for him, and go now before he gets too far, or that storm breaks.'

  Mueran affected a look of great concern as if he were pondering the suggestion carefully. Vredech waited. He had launched his final appeal directly at Mueran simply to force the issue. It was a device he had used more than once in the past, knowing that the man disliked taking decisions but disliked being seen as indecisive even more. When faced in such a forthright and public manner, however, he could give his approval in the knowledge that, should it prove to be a mistake, he would be able to lay the greater part of any odium at the main instigator's—the frail servant's—feet. Should it prove to be correct, he would allow himself to bask quietly in the appreciation that would follow. Once again Vredech reproached himself for his lack of charity.

  'You're quite right, Brother Vredech,’ Mueran said smoothly. ‘Dear Brother Cassraw's pain must be our concern. Little is to be served by allowing this matter to become the commonplace of the gossips and still less the Sheeters.’ The word Sheeters brought angry frowns to the faces of many of his audience and there was a great deal of knowing nodding.

  Mueran turned from Vredech to the others and with a regretful smile said, ‘Alas, I myself am long past trekking about the mountain, but those of you with the legs and the youth for it go with Brother Vredech now. The rest of us will wait here and pray for your safe return with our Brother.'

  'Perhaps you might also prepare a room and a warm bed for him,’ Vredech said, a little more acidly than he had intended.

  Mueran's smile barely faltered but his eyes narrowed slightly as he inclined his head regally. Mistake, Vredech thought.

  'Practical as ever, Brother Vredech,’ Mueran declared unctuously. ‘Brother Cassraw has a fine friend in you.'

  It was a double-edged remark.

  A little later, some eight of the Chapter Brothers were gathered outside the Witness House, clad in such heavy cloaks, scarves and gloves as they could find. There had been more than eight volunteers, but Vredech had had to dissuade several of them. There was no point in taking out such a large group, since they might have to spend more time tending their own than searching for Cassraw.

  Those Brothers who were staying behind were either watching anxiously from the top of the steps, or were busily shooing novices and servants about their affairs.

  Vredech looked up at the sky and then at his companions. The clouds were lower and more oppressive than ever. He could feel primitive fears stirring deep within him and, for a moment, he wanted to flee into the sanctuary of the Witness House like a frightened child. He had to make an unexpected effort to steady himself and, silently, but liberally, he blamed his friend for this disturbance.

  Then he noticed that like the rest of the group, he was hunching his shoulders and bending his head forward as if the sky itself were pressing down on him. Consciously he straightened up and stared at the mountain in an attempt to focus his mind on the task at hand. The summit could not be seen from where they were, but he judged that in any case it was lost in the clouds by now. He quailed inwardly at the prospect of the bad weather ahead.

  Still, it didn't matter. Cassraw had to be found.

  'Come along, Brothers,’ he said, almost heartily. ‘We've nothing to gain by ...'

  'A moment, Brother Vredech.’ Mueran's voice interrupted him. The company at the top of the steps parted to let him through as he emerged from the Witness House. ‘I think a moment's prayer for our lost Brother would not go amiss, don't you?'

  Anxious to be off, Vredech managed a commendably impassive expression as he bowed his head in response. He knew well enough that Mueran would take three times as long gently remonstrating with him if he debated the worth of this small exercise.

  However, as Mueran, hands clasped and features studiously humble, tilted his head back into his usual preaching position, the lowering sky out-faced him, and for a moment he faltered.

  'Ishryth ... we beseech You ... guide the feet of our Brothers in their ... and ... keep our beloved Brother Cassraw from all harm ... in his torment ...’ He was both stuttering and gabbling.

  Vredech took advantage of a momentary pause. ‘Thus let it be,’ he said firmly, in case Mueran should recover and begin his usual flow. The traditional response echoed uncertainly through the group, several of the Brothers casting sidelong glances at their revered leader to confirm that he had indeed finished.

  Vredech bowed respectfully, then briskly motioned his party forward.

  As they walked, there was some discussion about what exactly they should do. Should they divide into two or three parties, or stay together?

  'We'd better stay together for now,’ Vredech concluded. ‘Perhaps when we're nearer the top we might split up—it depends what the weather's like. We must be careful. We're none of us as young as we were and it will certainly reach the Sheeters if we aggravate matters by getting lost ourselves and Mueran has to call in a rescue party from the town.'

  They plodded on, stopping occasionally to allow the slower ones to catch up and recover their breath. The sky pressed down on them and the darkness deepened. It seeped inevitably into their conversation.

  'I've never seen clouds like this before. They're neither snow, rain, nor thunder clouds.’ The speaker was Horld, a tall lanky individual who alone among the group seemed to be suffering no physical distress as they climbed. Once a blacksmith, he had turned to the church quite late in life after miraculously escaping from a disastrous fire at his forge. He was famous for the vividness of his preaching, which was permeated by the smoke, heat and clamour of his past trade, and though his pewside manner was the terror of his flock, his compassion and his practical pastoral care made him as much loved as he was feared. Vredech was glad that he had been at the Chapter meeting.

  'Judgement Day.'

  Vredech started at these words which echoed the thoughts that had come when he had stepped out of the lee of the Witness House wall to stand alone and exposed before the gathering clouds.

  'An ominous phrase, Laffran,’ he said, struggling with a suddenly dry throat to affect a lightness that he did not feel.

  'Just came into my mind, Brother,’ Laffran said.

  Horld grunted. ‘Judgement Day will be darker, hotter and noisier than this,’ he said dismissively, but there was an uneasy tension in his manner as he urged the group forward with an impatient gesture.

  'Yes, I'm sure it will. And I do believe that Ishryth would have given us some kind of a hint beforehand.’ Morem's mild irreverence brought a stern frown from Horld, but seeing his older colleague suffering noticeably with the effort of the climb, he merely put an arm out to help him.

  Vredech brought the conversation back to safer ground. ‘They are strange, though, these clouds,’ he said. ‘They must be piled unbelievably high to be so dark.’ He looked at Horld. ‘And you're right, they don't feel like rain or snow, and certainly not like thunder. Let's just hope that whatever they are, they pass away as quietly as they've come.'

  No one seemed inclined to pursue the matter, and the party moved slowly on up the increasingly steep ground. The light was beginning to fade. Vredech cursed himself for not bringing any lanterns, but he had not envisaged such darkness. He had been caught in the clouds many times before now, sometimes in extremely bad visibility, but this was almost like night-time.

  '
We'll have to stop,’ he said eventually. ‘This light's appalling. It's becoming too dangerous to carry on. One of us is going to be hurt if we do.'

  'We can't just abandon Cassraw,’ Laffran objected.

  'No, Vredech's right,’ Horld said gloomily. ‘We need lights. It's going to be difficult enough just getting back to the Witness House, let alone trying to go on, and still less to actually look for Cassraw.'

  There was a reluctance to accept this simple practical logic, however, and for a few minutes the party remained where they were, some resting on the rocks, others peering intently into the gloom.

  Abruptly, Horld took Vredech's arm and pointed. His hand was little more than a white blur now.

  'There,’ he whispered, as though afraid that the others might hear. Vredech screwed his eyes tight and leaned forward but could make nothing out. He shrugged.

  'Light,’ Horld said, still whispering. ‘Up there—see?'

  Vredech was about to contradict him when he realized that there was indeed light coming from somewhere. In fact, it was coming from everywhere. Dim, but with a yellowish and, it seemed to Vredech, unhealthy tint, it was marking out the skyline ahead of them. The sight temporarily disorientated him, and for a moment he felt as though he were not truly there. He shook his head to clear his wits.

  'What is it?’ Laffran asked, his voice unsteady.

  'It's the clouds near the summit,’ Vredech said slowly. ‘They seem to be shining. As if there's something ...’ He hesitated. ‘As if there's something ...’ Inside them, he found himself wanting to say. Something ... evil. Thoughts flooded into his mind, imbued with a tingling, unreasoning alarm.

  Judgement Day.

  God is here.

  He is come.

  For me.

  You're like a child in the dark, he shouted silently to himself in an attempt to deafen this mounting inner clamour. He was only partially successful and when he concluded his remark with a lame, ‘I've never seen anything like it,’ he had difficulty in keeping his voice steady.

  Horld grunted and with brusque practicality anchored Vredech back into solid reality. ‘Probably some kind of lightning,’ he announced. ‘Shall we go on?'