The Fall of Fyorlund [Book Two of The Chronicles of Hawklan] Read online

  He let out a long low breath. ‘Please let go of my horse,’ he said gently, bending forward and looking directly into the man's eyes. ‘We're off duty. Look, some of us aren't in uniform. We just want to get back to our billets. And I've two injured men here. Let us pass. We mean you no harm.'

  For a moment the two stared at one another. Yatsu's quiet reason and his unseen but implacable will stood like a cliff face before the surge of the man's anger. Subtly it offered both unmoving resistance and a way out.

  The flood abated and the man released the bridle. ‘Get out,’ he said again, quietly and viciously, striking his clenched fist impotently against his own leg. ‘Get out.'

  'No,’ cried another voice as Yatsu prepared to urge his horse forward. ‘No, wait. Keep hold of him, Mendar.'

  A figure pushed determinedly through the crowd until it was by Lord Eldric's horse. Eldric looked down into the round earnest face of a middle-aged man. It was familiar, and his memory immediately started tracking back and forth to identify it.

  'By Ethriss, it is,’ said the man. ‘The Lord Eldric. I thought my eyes were deceiving me. Too long under that brown streak's globes.’ Then he stepped back and saluted smartly.

  Eldric's memory arrived at the face, not without some pride. ‘At ease, Sirshiant Astrom,’ he said, returning the salute and then leaning forward, hand extended. ‘Good to see you again, man,’ he went on, smiling. ‘It's some years since we last met, isn't it? Not as trim as you used to be, I see, but just as unforgettable.'

  Impressive, thought the cold part of Hawklan's mind.

  'Indeed, Lord,’ said the man, beaming and patting his stomach in mock regret. Then, urgently, ‘My Lord. I don't know what's going on, but we none of us believe those rumours about you. Just give me the signal and we'll have these cockroaches down and we'll march with you to the Palace to free your son.'

  Yatsu interrupted quickly. ‘Lord, if this man's known to you, have him ask these people to let us through. Time's against us.'

  Eldric raised his hand to silence him and leaned further forward towards Astrom. ‘Free my son, Astrom. What do you mean?’ he said.

  Yatsu looked at Hawklan almost desperately. ‘Lord,’ he said urgently.

  'A moment, Commander,’ Eldric said firmly. ‘My son, Astrom?'

  Someone thrust a crumpled paper into Astrom's hand and he handed it to the Lord. Eldric pressed out the creases and held up the paper to read it. He became very still.

  When he had finished, he handed it to Darek and turned to Yatsu. ‘You knew of this, Commander?’ he said stonily.

  Yatsu met his gaze unwaveringly. ‘Yes, Lord,’ he replied.

  'And you'd have led me from the City without telling me?'

  'Yes, Lord.'

  'You took a heavy responsibility on your shoulders. Did you think I didn't know my duty?'

  Yatsu's eyes narrowed slightly. ‘That's unjust, Lord,’ he said. ‘You're human. I took the decision, as I've taken all the others. You were rescued because of your value to the people and I put that value before your feelings for your son, and before your son's life. I took nothing but pain in doing it, but it was right, and I'd have accounted for it to you in due course, as you know.'

  Eldric seemed to shrink a little. He looked at Hawklan. ‘And you. Did you know?’ he said.

  'Yes,’ replied Hawklan quietly.

  'And you've met my son?'

  Hawklan lowered his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I'm sorry. I liked him. But Yatsu was Commander. He knew you, and the people, and all your needs far better than I.'

  Eldric sat up stiffly and gazed into the sky. Hawklan could feel the struggle within him. An old conflict. That between duty to the people who looked to him for leadership and duty to his family.

  Finally Eldric let out a deep breath. ‘Yatsu, I and my family absolve you from blame,’ he said. ‘And I apologize for my reproach. It was just an old man's reaction to sudden pain. You were, and still are, Commander here. You've done well.'

  Yatsu's face creased in pain and he bowed.

  Eldric reached out for the notice, which had been passed around his companions. He read through it again, lips pursed.

  'The Lord Dan-Tor's demanding that we four return to the Palace and throw ourselves on the mercy of the King. Not the Law, you'll note.’ He looked at Darek. ‘But the King's mercy. Which means, of course, Dan-Tor's. The nature of which can be determined from the statement that my son—my son,’ he emphasized, ‘"having been found an enemy of Fyorlund by the King's Special Court sitting in closed session", will be publicly executed if we don't return within two days.'

  He paused for a moment and bowed his head to hide his face from the watching people. Unconsciously he screwed up the notice. ‘This is an abomination,’ he said unsteadily, almost to himself. ‘Secret trials. Public executions, for Ethriss's sake. I begin to dread the very passing of time. Each second seems to sink our poor country further and further into some bottomless mire.'

  He was silent for some time, his hands fidgeting idly with the crumpled paper. Then he looked up and raised and lowered his shoulders as if he were adjusting a great burden.

  'Still,’ he said, his voice almost matter-of-fact. ‘It's good to know the lad's alive.’ Then, very purposefully, ‘Commander Yatsu, here are your orders. Go with the Lords to my stronghold in the hills as fast as you can. Commander Varak's in charge there. Find out what's happened to the estates and High Guards of the Lords Arinndier, Hreldar and Darek. Then raise the old hands, the veterans, and start work on recruitment and training. We have to forge a weapon large and strong enough to face Dan-Tor and his Mathidrin and...’ He caught Hawklan's eye, and the terrible image of the armed Mandroc patrol and all it implied appeared before him. ‘...and whatever other forces he may have.'

  Turning to his friends, he held up the crumpled notice. ‘This alone shows the rightness of Commander Yatsu's actions and of the conclusions we ourselves have reached. No further debate is necessary except on the strategy and tactics of how we rid ourselves of Dan-Tor. Do you agree?’ The three Lords nodded without speaking.

  Eldric turned to Hawklan and Isloman. ‘You're bound to neither me nor my country by any oath or tie, but will you help us further?'

  'We've a common foe, Lord Eldric,’ Hawklan replied, taking his hand. ‘You'll have our help and probably that of all Orthlund should the need arise, though in what manner time alone will tell.’ He looked at the old man. ‘But what are you going to do?'

  Eldric, satisfied, turned to the crowd. He held up the notice again and addressed them all. ‘According to this, my son's to be executed if we four don't surrender. Executed! After a secret trial! No man's been executed in Fyorlund for three generations.’ He paused and looked intently at the crowd momentarily silenced by his passion. Then he continued more quietly, ‘I can't begin to understand what Dan-Tor wants of us. However, it behoves us to remember that he's a man of great cunning and deviousness. A man who turns all eventualities to his own ends. A man capable of anything. I can only imagine that he wants the City rent by riots again, for surely few Fyordyn could let such infamy pass unhindered.'

  Some of the crowd shouted their approval, but Eldric waved them to silence, and then pointed to Yatsu and the others. ‘These men are not what they seem. They're High Guards and it's due to their courage that we four are free today. You all heard the orders I gave them. Publicly and openly announced, in the Fyordyn manner, for all to hear. I'll offer no one violence but I fear that superior force will be the only way this man's hand can be stayed.'

  More shouts of agreement came from the crowd.

  Eldric continued. ‘But there must be no rioting. No random, ill-judged violence. We must not hand this man weapons to strike us down with. While my one hand arms itself, I'll offer the other in peace, if not friendship. Two days hence, on the day set for my son's ... execution, I shall present myself before the Palace and demand a public Accounting of my accuser, according to the Law. I ask you all to accompany me to
witness this.'

  The crowd fell suddenly silent, and then began to shout and applaud.

  Hawklan looked at Darek in puzzlement. ‘What does this mean?’ he asked.

  The lean-faced Lord seemed to be deeply moved. Quietly, he said, ‘Under the Law, any accused person has the right to demand a public Accounting of his accuser. It's the very heart of our Law, Hawklan.'

  Hawklan nodded. ‘But surely if he appears in public he'll simply be taken by the Mathidrin?'

  'Not now,’ said Darek. ‘The word will fly around the City. His very openness will protect him until the Accounting. More than any other act, if Dan-Tor were to breach his right of Accounting it would unite the City against him to a man. It's not merely deep in the Law, it's deep in the people.'

  Hawklan frowned. ‘And after this Accounting?’ he asked.

  Darek looked at him, his face unusually pale. ‘Who can say?’ he replied. ‘Eldric's fulfilled his duty to the country by publicly ordering us to unite and arm, presumably he sees the Accounting as his duty to his family.'

  'The Accounting's his duty to everyone.’ It was Hreldar. ‘It'll expose Dan-Tor to the real scrutiny of the people for the first time. They'll start realizing they must choose. He's providing himself as a focus for the people. He's trying to lance the boil that's been festering in our society ever since that ... man ... arrived.’ He looked at Eldric, now in earnest conversation with Astrom. ‘He's also bought us time,’ he said slowly.

  * * * *

  Later, the party rested some way outside the City so that Hawklan could tend to Arinndier and Dacu. Everyone sat motionless and silent in the starry darkness. Eldric's decision dominated all their thoughts, but no one spoke of it. Time enough later.

  Hawklan stood leaning against a tree looking back at the City. Streaked with the bright lights of the globes lining its streets, it looked like some great phosphorescent animal that at any time might waken and come seeking them in the night.

  Free now of the immediate dangers of the last few days he felt again the strange unease he had noticed when he first approached Vakloss. It was like a low rumbling note deep within him. What was this place when I was last here? he asked himself. ‘You'll ruin your shadow vision staring at those lights.’ Isloman's voice interrupted his reverie.

  Hawklan nodded. ‘I'd not have thought it possible that anyone could use light so destructively,’ he said.

  'Consider yourself fortunate to be as shadow blind as you are rock-blind, Hawklan,’ Isloman replied, his voice strangely solemn. ‘Those lights of Dan-Tor's are the stuff of nightmares. More corrupt by far than anything he brought to Pedhavin. He has some terrible, fascinating knowledge.'

  Hawklan looked at his friend. ‘Fascinating? Take care, Carver,’ he said.

  Isloman nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘Dan-Tor's a man of deep and subtle traps. I wonder how many good men have unwrapped his evil, layer by layer, only to be trapped at its heart by those very wrappings?'

  'Does it frighten you?’ Hawklan asked.

  'A little,’ said Isloman after a moment's pause. Then, ‘No. It frightens me a lot. He's powerful beyond my understanding, old friend. I think he could destroy us with the blink of an eye if he so wished. Still, perhaps I've known that ever since we left the village. It doesn't alter the fact that we have to face him and all he offers. If we don't, we'll die with him at our backs.'

  Hawklan laid his hand on Isloman's shoulder and turned away from the City to rest his eyes in the deep purple distance.

  'Mount up, gentlemen.’ Yatsu's soft order came out of the darkness. ‘We've some hard riding ahead.'

  * * *

  Chapter 42

  On the day appointed for Jaldaric's execution, the very elements themselves seemed to reflect the new turmoil within the City. An unseasonable wind whipped and buffeted the streets, flapping through the market stalls, blowing petals from the innumerable floral displays that still decorated the colourful houses, and shaking the milling crowds.

  Only in the darkest corners of the City did there linger any of the stench that had emanated from the funeral pyre of Dan-Tor's workshops.

  Overhead, tattered streams of clouds blew relentlessly from the north as if pursued by some demon, though higher still, the sky was blue and calm and the sun shone warm.

  The crowds, too, were unusual: restless and noisy, roaming the streets, then becoming quiet and patient, hovering expectantly near the Palace. They lacked the busy purposefulness of the normal City traffic.

  Dan-Tor looked out over the City and scowled as he watched the shadows of the clouds scrambling over the rooftops below. Their innocent movement and the strange, quixotic behaviour of the crowds disturbed him.

  Standing behind him in the comparative shade of the centre of the room were Urssain and Dilrap. Urssain watched Dan-Tor carefully. Emotion on the man's face was a rarity. I must learn to read him, he thought, not for the first time. Urssain's ambition and his fear of Dan-Tor were like badly matched horses in a chariot. First one would pull ahead and then the other. His ride was always uneasy.

  'Tell me again,’ said Dan-Tor without turning round.

  'The rumour came in from all over the City,’ Urssain said. ‘Eldric has ordered the three Lords and their rescuers to return to their estates and begin organizing the High Guards against you.'

  'Against me?’ Dan-Tor said. ‘Not the King?'

  'Against you, Lord ... Ffyrst,’ Urssain confirmed. ‘And he announced that he'd come to the Palace today to demand a public Accounting of you as his accuser.'

  'And nothing else?'

  'No, Ffyrst. It was always the same story.'

  'Did you succeed in following this rumour back to its source, Commander?'

  Urssain shifted uneasily. ‘No, Ffyrst. It proved to be rather...'

  Dan-Tor turned slightly and fixed him with a sidelong gaze.

  'It was impossible, Ffyrst,’ Urssain said defensively. ‘We interrogated a few people, but the trail invariably led back to some public gathering place of one kind or another. It was obviously started in several places at once.'

  'And what do you deduce from this, Commander?’ Dan-Tor turned round, his face bright with an open smile. Urssain's stomach went leaden. He had learned enough of Dan-Tor to know that this smile meant his Master was at his most devious. The inviting smile was like soft grass covering an iron-toothed trap. He had learned also that this was no time to try intellectual games with him. Let the fear dominate. Simple honesty was the best protection.

  'Very little, Ffyrst,’ he said. ‘Except that he still has many loyal friends in the City. This rumour could be to cover his escape from the City, or it could be to mislead us into thinking he's left the City when he's planning another assault on the Palace to rescue his son, or...'

  Dan-Tor raised his hand. ‘Commander,’ he said. ‘Palace life is making you too devious. I'll tell you what all this is.’ He waved his hand towards the window. ‘It's not a rumour. It's a simple announcement. Lord Eldric's torn between his country and his family, so he's left the country to his friends and is hoping to save his son by this futile gesture. It's a solution to his dilemma that I had thought probable, though I hadn't anticipated his flair for theatre. I presume he's hoping to avoid clandestine arrest by making himself so visible to so many people.'

  The smile again.

  'His hopes may be fulfilled, Ffyrst,’ Urssain said, cowering inwardly. Dan-Tor's head tilted like a curious schoolgirl's.

  Urssain's mouth dried. ‘The crowd's in a strange mood,’ he continued. ‘Expectant, uncertain. In my opinion it would be dangerous to provoke them needlessly.'

  Silence.

  'They're talking about the Law, and the Accounting. Everyone's become a juror. All the fear we've instilled into them over the months seems to have evaporated. At least for now.’ He hesitated. ‘The threat to Jaldaric pushed many of the waverers their way. If we do something imprudent such as seizing Eldric before he speaks we could bring the whole City down on
us.'

  The white smile vanished and Dan-Tor turned again to the window. Urssain released the muscles he had been holding tense and breathed out carefully. He kept his eyes fixed on the lank, motionless silhouette, vertical against the horizontal clouds streaming past in the sky beyond.

  'Are you saying, Commander, that you'd be unable to control this civilian rabble?’ said the silhouette eventually.

  'If those crowds turn against us, united? Yes. Quite unable. Besides there may be disaffected High Guards amongst them waiting to take advantage of any violence that breaks out.'

  'Dilrap?'

  Dilrap hitched up his robe on to his shoulders and twitched back a sleeve. ‘I fear that Commander Urssain's right, Ffyrst,’ he said. ‘The Fyordyn are a legalistic people. They'll dismiss rumour and conjecture once appeal has been made to the Law or the Geadrol. It's an old habit. Those people down there will expect to hear cases argued, especially the way Lord Eldric's gone about it. It's like a piece of folklore come true. A shrewd act. There'll be trouble beyond doubt if he's obstructed in any way.'

  He walked over to the window and joined Dan-Tor in his surveillance of the City. ‘If Eldric appears and demands an Accounting, then we've a serious problem. He's perfectly entitled to do so under the Law and, if he names you personally, then Ffyrst or no, you must reply.'

  'Must?’ There was an evil edge to Dan-Tor's voice.

  Dilrap flinched, but stood his ground. ‘Must, Ffyrst, with all those people there. We can dispense with legal niceties here and there, but not the overall form of the Law. It's too well-known and respected for all the recent changes. If you don't answer, you'll be judged guilty of malicious accusation...'

  'And?’ Dan-Tor picked up the hesitation.

  Dilrap spoke more softly. ‘I fear the resentment that's accumulated since the suspension of the Geadrol will manifest itself in considerable violence.'

  'Damn the Law,’ said Dan-Tor contemptuously.

  Dilrap made a gesture of agreement. ‘But the Law's deep in every Fyordyn, Ffyrst. Every child knows the adage “Who destroys the Law destroys his sword and shield". For all the ... simplification ... that your new office allows, it would be unwise to do anything that can't be given at least a veneer of justification within the Law. And with respect, Ffyrst,’ he lowered his voice, ‘Commander Urssain's correct. The threat to Jaldaric was ill-judged.'