The Return of the Sword Page 18

  ‘That’s only to be expected,’ Yengar said sadly.

  Farnor levered himself into a sitting position. ‘How long does it take to learn all this?’ he asked.

  ‘All what?’ Yengar asked in turn.

  ‘All this . . . stuff you know about fighting, riding, camping, hunting, surviving on your own in places like this . . . everything.’

  ‘Stuff!’ Jenna said with mock despair.

  ‘See what I mean about impatience?’ Yrain interjected.

  ‘You asked the wrong question, Farnor,’ Olvric said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The wrong question,’ Olvric repeated. ‘You should have asked, how do I learn about “all this”?’

  ‘Very well, how do I learn about “all this”?’

  ‘By taking one step at a time.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s a great help,’ Farnor said caustically. ‘And how long’s that going to take?’

  Olvric nudged the fire gently with his foot, sending up a small flurry of sparks. ‘A lifetime,’ he said. ‘It’s as well you started tonight. Keep at it, you’ll go far.’

  Jenna took pity on Farnor. ‘What Olvric’s telling you is that if you really want to be like us, then you never stop learning. There’s never a time when you’ve learned “all this . . . stuff”. Learn that and you’ve learned a lot. Learn that and most of your impatience will drop away from you.’

  ‘Sounds like hard work.’

  ‘It’s as hard as you make it. Certainly no harder than getting up at dawn every day to tend the farm. It just becomes a habit after a while, once you start thinking properly.’

  Farnor grimaced as any semblance of a reply to this refused to come to him. ‘Well, my next learning will be to find out how cold that stream is, because I’m going to have a wash after all that.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Marna said.

  As the two strolled off into the gloaming, the four Goraidin looked at one another.

  ‘Teach them everything we can,’ Olvric said in answer to an unspoken question. ‘They’re intelligent, braver than they know, and full of good heart, for all they’ve been through.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jenna said doubtfully. ‘We became what we are because we’d wars to fight. An enemy to face. They don’t have that.’

  ‘There are always enemies to face,’ Olvric said.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ Jenna said heatedly.

  ‘And you know what I mean,’ Olvric replied. ‘Would you be other than you are? Marna’s still burdened by the man she killed and, if nothing else, Farnor’s burdened by the beating that thug Nilsson gave him. We can help him with that. It’s the least we can do. And then there’s this . . . gift . . . of his. From what I can gather, it seems as if it might have something to do with the Power. I think he’s going to need great trust in himself sooner or later.’

  Jenna looked uncomfortable. ‘Don’t forget we’ve seen no manifestation of this so-called gift for ourselves,’ she said.

  ‘I haven’t forgotten,’ Olvric said flatly. ‘But there’s more than enough First Face evidence to confirm there’s something special about him. Not least is the fact that, one way or another, single-handedly, he dealt with Rannick and that creature. You might recall that we, with our vaunted fighting abilities, only survived when we faced Rannick on his own because something made him abandon us! And none of us here doubt that Rannick used the Power, do we?’

  ‘Or that he stank of Sumeral,’ Yrain added viciously. No one demurred.

  Olvric pressed on. ‘Then there’s the Valderen. They need no convincing. Farnor’s very special to them. They might be strange, but I’d judge them to be practical, clear-sighted. Whether or not he’s seeing through into “worlds beyond this one”, whatever they might be, is probably irrelevant. He believes that’s what’s happening and everything we’ve learned about him, from Gryss, Marna, the villagers and our own observations, confirms that he’s a decent lad – troubled, as well he might be, given what happened to him – but level-headed and down-to-earth. He’s neither a madman nor a liar. We can do no more than accept his own judgement of his condition and watch him so that we can give a proper Accounting when asked.’

  He looked round at his friends and received their silent assent.

  ‘And in the meantime, help him to become more self-reliant. My instincts tell me the lad has dangers to face yet. I can’t begin to guess what’s really driven him to leave his home and come to us, but he’s come in trust, and for guidance of some kind. While we have him – which shouldn’t be for more than a few days anyway – we should teach him what we can. It’s little enough. I think Hawklan would expect that of us.

  ‘Gulda would, for sure,’ Yengar agreed. ‘I’m still concerned that she left him in the Forest when he patently needed help.’

  ‘Gulda’s Gulda,’ Yrain said. ‘She sees further than any of us. If she didn’t help him, she couldn’t. Or perhaps she’d done all she could by the time they parted. There’s always that dreadful time when you have to stand by and watch someone learn the hard way.’

  ‘Well, if she’s at Anderras Darion when we get there, you can ask her,’ Yengar said.

  ‘I think I will.’

  This determined pronouncement brought united derision down on Yrain, during which Marna and Farnor returned.

  ‘That was quick.’

  ‘Yes, we’re quick learners. We learned very quickly that it was very cold,’ Marna replied for them both. ‘Have you been talking about us behind our backs?’

  ‘Of course,’ Yengar confessed. ‘It’s much more fun than when you’re here.’ He changed the subject before Marna could reply. ‘Did you enjoy the sword training?’

  ‘Yes.’ Marna’s reply was immediate and enthusiastic. Farnor was a little more reticent. ‘It wasn’t quite what I was expecting.’

  ‘What were you expecting?’

  Farnor thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know, now you mention it.’

  ‘Ah. So you’ve learned at least two things, then?’

  Farnor looked at him blankly.

  ‘That few things in life are as you expect them to be, whether you do or whether you don’t.’

  He paused significantly.

  ‘And?’ Farnor prompted suspiciously.

  ‘You don’t always learn what you think you’re learning.’

  Marna leaned over to Farnor and said, ‘They’re going to laugh now.’

  And they did.

  Abruptly Farnor lurched forward. Yengar’s arm shot out and caught him before he tumbled into the fire. Jenna and Yrain took hold of him and were easing him upright when Olvric’s voice hissed through the sudden commotion.

  ‘Quiet!’

  Instantly Marna found Yrain’s free hand across her mouth and the Goraidin’s urgent eyes confirming the command. She nodded quickly to indicate she understood. Yrain withdrew her hand. Olvric was peering intently into the darkness. Silently Yengar eased a thin slab of stone over the fire to douse its light. Equally silently, Jenna and Yrain laid Farnor down, Jenna whispering to him, then testing his pulse and finally bending low to listen for his breathing.

  Yrain drew her knife.

  Marna wanted to speak, but she had known the Goraidin long enough to know that in such circumstances she must just do as she was told and stay alert. She became aware of Olvric pointing. Following his direction she saw a movement some way away from the camp. She screwed her eyes tight in an attempt to bring it more clearly into focus, but to little avail. The movement was not that of a figure, human or animal. Rather it was an odd shimmering, as though the night air were dancing above hot coals. And, too, she realized she could not judge where it was, near or far. For an instant it was almost as if it were not beyond the camp, but dancing in her mind. She drew in a sharp breath and, as she did so, the shimmering was beyond her again.

  Jenna was still trying to win a response from Farnor, but without success. Frighteningly she could see that his eyes were wide open, dull white in the darkness
.

  The others were silent and watching.

  Marna could contain herself no longer. ‘What is it?’ she whispered.

  ‘Watch. Listen,’ came the reply.

  Then she felt a faint, unpleasant tingling. It shifted and changed, echoing the mysterious movement in the darkness. The hairs on her arms rose in revulsion and she clenched them tight to herself as though a cold wind had sprung up. She became aware of a scuffling behind her. Glancing quickly over her shoulder, she could just make out Farnor struggling to pull himself upright, Jenna helping him, her hand hovering about his mouth to stifle any inadvertent cry.

  The tingling in Marna’s arms grew worse, and started to spread down her back. She wanted to turn away from the dancing shape, but, serpentine now, it held her fascinated. A thin wavering light started to cut an unsteady thread through it. As it too moved, parts of it flared brightly, like ghastly jewels, then it faded and slowly widened, becoming a foaming grey, turbulent and troubled.

  Still Marna could not decide how far away it was, or even whether it was on the ground or floating in the air. Her stomach lurched.

  She felt Farnor moving again.

  ‘No,’ she heard him saying hoarsely. ‘No!’ Then she could sense Jenna’s hand gently but very firmly silencing him.

  A convulsion shook the grey, storm-cloud turbulence.

  And into it came the black silhouette of a horseman.

  Chapter 14

  Marna felt a scream forming but no sound came from her constricted throat.

  ‘No.’

  The hoarse cry became a rumbling growl. Though she knew it was Farnor she could barely recognize his voice, so full of angry defiance was it. And though it was not loud, there was a deep resonance about it that seemed to echo all around her. The boiling greyness shivered at the touch of it and both rider and horse became momentarily still. Then, slowly, as though the movement were tearing through the air itself, the rider’s head turned.

  Marna could sense a burning gaze searching through the darkness. Already crouching low she had to fight an almost overwhelming urge to throw herself flat to the ground to avoid this unseen scrutiny. Then an arm was raised and a hand was pointing towards them and the horse was prancing and rearing violently as though struggling to move forward. The unpleasant tingling that was now suffusing her became a wave of horror, biting and acidic. Though she could hear nothing, she knew it was the rider, calling out. She turned away and raised her hands protectively as if against a blistering wind. As she did so, she had a fleeting impression of other riders appearing behind the first.

  Then Farnor, free of Jenna, was pushing past her, his arms extended.

  It seemed then to Marna that suddenly there were two great forces opposing one another – balanced – and she could do no other than hold her breath for fear of disturbing this frightening equilibrium. Slowly it shifted. There was a sensation of something tearing within and around her – a noise that was not a noise. Looking up hesitantly, she saw the storm-cloud greyness beginning to shrink. She willed it on its way desperately as, with a painful slowness, it closed about the riders. Then, quite suddenly, it dwindled into nothingness, leaving only a thin, baleful red line that quivered and twitched unpleasantly before fading in its turn. As it vanished, so the awful tingling slipped away from her, though she kept rubbing her arms.

  For what seemed to be a very long time there was a deep silence. Then Yengar was barking out orders, his voice low but coldly urgent, and Jenna was rushing forward to catch Farnor who was slowly sinking to his knees. Even as Yengar was speaking, he and Olvric were moving into the night towards where the mysterious image had appeared. Yrain, eyes and knife scanning the darkness, remained protectively by Marna who was still rubbing her arms.

  The silence returned.

  Marna watched the strange, flickering movement of the two men as they searched. Bright swathes of light came and went suddenly, now here, now there, as they used the tightly focused lanterns fastened to their wrists to slice open the darkness. Anything caught in their beam would be both dazzled and exposed – either to the sword in the light-bearer’s other hand, or to that of his companion, now silent and dark. Yengar and Olvric moved to a deadly, long-practised rhythm.

  For a while the lights bobbed and jerked like sinister fireflies, then they were gone and the two men were returning.

  ‘Nothing,’ Yengar said, disbelief dominating the exasperation in his voice as he unfastened the lantern from his wrist, checked it and laid it down by the fire. ‘No sign of anything. Not a stone moved, not a blade of grass bent. No sound of riders moving away. There’s nothing and no one here or anywhere near.’ He addressed no one in particular. ‘What in the name of Ethriss was that?’

  ‘Help me with Farnor,’ Jenna said, ignoring the question.

  The group rallied round, seeking temporary solace from the eeriness of what they had just witnessed in a common concern. Farnor, shaking and patently distressed, was gently brought back to the fire and sat down. Olvric gingerly eased the slab from the fire and soon had it blazing again. Its light banished the darkness of the empty valley around them but not the memory of what they had just seen.

  For a long time Farnor sat motionless and silent, staring into the fire, his eyes wide and unblinking. No one spoke. Each seemed to be waiting for the other.

  ‘Something awful is happening,’ he said eventually.

  Despite this ominous remark, there was an almost palpable sense of relief in the group.

  ‘Can you tell us what happened?’ Jenna asked softly.

  ‘I must learn about this thing inside me,’ Farnor went on as if he had not heard her. He turned towards where the apparition had appeared. ‘And that. All that out there.’ He looked around the watching group, his face desperate. ‘I’m so frightened. They’ll be able to help me, these people we’re going to see, Hawklan, Andawyr?’

  ‘More than we can,’ Yengar replied. ‘And it frightened all of us, don’t fret about that. At least there doesn’t seem to be any danger now – if there ever was.’

  ‘There was.’ Farnor’s tone was unequivocal.

  ‘Well, it’s gone. In fact there’s no sign that anything was ever here. Are you all right now, in yourself?’ As he spoke, Yengar put his hand on Farnor’s forehead, then tested pulses in his neck.

  Farnor paid no heed to the inspection, but looked down at his hands. They were trembling and he was obviously struggling to gain control over himself. Yengar’s expression telling them that he could find nothing immediately untoward in the young man, the four Goraidin exchanged a look and turned to their own needs.

  ‘What did we each see?’ Olvric asked. ‘Marna?’

  Marna started slightly at being drawn into this conversation. She was still rubbing her arms slowly, though the tingling had long passed. ‘What did you see?’ Olvric pressed.

  Hesitantly, she described the greyness and the rider – perhaps riders – and their vanishing as the greyness had closed about them.

  ‘That’s what I saw too,’ Olvric said when she had finished. The others concurred. ‘Well done,’ he said to her. ‘At least we know that it was something outside ourselves. One of us having an hallucination is one thing, but five of us sharing it is unlikely, to say the least.’

  ‘But what was it?’ Marna burst out, her voice shaking.

  Olvric became wilfully instructive. ‘First, we need to be clear what we saw and heard. Then what we felt. Then perhaps we can speculate.’ He took her hands and held them. He was unexpectedly gentle. ‘Seeing things as they are is rarely easy, but it’s invariably our greatest protection. It’ll be yours too in due course. You’ve a clear vision. Clearer than you know. It’s a great asset.’ He released her. ‘Why were you rubbing your arms like that?’

  Marna told him. This time when Olvric turned to the others he was greeted by head-shaking. Yengar summarized their responses. ‘I didn’t hear anything – or feel anything unusual – apart from being frightened out of my wits.’


  Olvric looked thoughtful. ‘It’s possible you’ve some distant kinship with Farnor back along the line,’ he said. ‘Maybe that’s something to do with it. Anyway, just remember what it felt like. It’ll help you if it happens again.’

  ‘Happens again!’

  ‘Why not?’

  Marna went cold, though whether it was the prospect of the riders returning or Olvric’s casual acceptance of the possibility, she could not have said. Olvric was talking to Farnor. ‘How are you now? Can you tell us what happened?’

  The fire was casting deep shadows on Farnor’s face, ageing him. He held out his hands again. They were still now. ‘I saw what you saw,’ he said. ‘But what I felt I can’t begin to describe. It’s as though every part of me was filled with rage and horror – except that it’s not just me, it’s parts of me I know nothing of. I’m sorry.’ He smiled weakly.

  Yengar snatched at an idea.

  ‘Was that what happened when you destroyed Rannick?’ he asked.

  ‘It was similar, yes,’ Farnor replied. ‘Though that was far more . . . intense. This felt . . . crude, forced, even more unnatural, if such a thing were possible. And whatever it is inside me that reached out to put it right was opposed again . . .’ He paused. ‘Just like last night. Something was fighting to keep it open. That didn’t happen when Rannick was lost. And what I saw then was very different.’ He pressed his fingertips against his forehead. ‘It was as though I were seeing with my entire body. I “saw” sights that can’t be seen just with the eyes. I know that sounds ridiculous, but that’s how it was.’ He became almost scornful and his hand waved out into the darkness. ‘But this was just out there. A hole deliberately torn into this place from . . . somewhere else . . . and riders struggling to come through.’

  ‘Marna thought she heard – or she sensed – a cry. Did you hear anything?’

  Farnor touched his head again. ‘Yes, but nothing I could identify.’ He shuddered. ‘Just a dreadful sound in my head. Full of triumph, then anger and hate.’

  ‘And you still don’t know how you . . . reach out . . . and end these things?’