The Waking of Orthlund Read online

  Hawklan examined each of them briefly and then consulted Serian.

  ‘They’re all right,’ the horse said. ‘But we should move soon. The weather’s liable to change again quickly and this is not good country for us.’

  Hawklan smiled when Dacu subsequently offered him the same opinion.

  ‘This weather’s unseasonable,’ Dacu said. ‘It seems to be confined to the high peaks, but I wouldn’t like to say it was temporary. It could be the beginning of a very bad winter.’

  He shrugged and set the grim thought aside. ‘Anyway, it shouldn’t be too difficult to find the gully in these conditions, but we must use every moment to look for it. I don’t want to spend another night here if it can be avoided. Amongst other things, we haven’t enough supplies for the horses to be away from grazing for too long.’

  Thus, after a brief meal, the party struck out again.

  Dacu was pleased as he looked at the small hummocks in the snow which marked the positions of the cairns they had made the previous day. It had been a useful day’s work after all, even though it now seemed a very long time ago.

  He did not spend much time in reflection, however. The heavy clouds that dominated the horizon, dominated his thoughts also. Today was a day for being completely in the present. Each step must be taken with the right balance of speed and caution if progress was to be made. Both too slow and too fast would present equally serious problems.

  ‘This way,’ he said, pointing up and across the slope in the opposite direction to the previous day’s search. ‘We’ll make for that skyline there. We should be able to get a better view of the area than here.’

  Dwarfed by the massive bulk of the mountain, the four tiny figures and their tiny horses began their painstaking way up its broad flank. High above, soaring in the cold winter air, Gavor watched their slow but relentless progress. The sun was beginning to appear, red over the eastern peaks, but to the north, great snow clouds still lowered and he could see swirling squalls in some of the distant valleys.

  * * * *

  With typical thoroughness, Gulda had divided the region around the central camp into sectors and sub-sectors. Now, with equal thoroughness, the Orthlundyn were surveying them; painstakingly – ruthlessly, even – in an atmosphere that could only be described as alarmingly disorienting: a bizarre mixture of battle frenzy and children’s game.

  Loman was in charge of the most northerly of the three groups.

  The strange warning note that had greeted their departure from the camp had stayed with them for some time, rising and falling monotonously, then it had stopped abruptly, only to be followed by some form of attack, as various riders suddenly began to suffer headaches, others began to hallucinate, and, inevitably, tempers began to fray for no apparent reason.

  Gulda’s words to the departing force, however, had been unequivocal.

  ‘If anything untoward happens, it is their doing, and theirs alone. Remember that it is an influence from outside, just like the sun and the wind, and just knowing that will help you find a way to protect yourself from it. And remember above all that the Orthlundyn do not fight one another, nor ever have.’ She spelled out her last words very slowly and with great emphasis as if dinning it into her audience in such a manner that it could do no other than remain in the forefront of their minds.

  Thus Loman had ridden straight to the group first affected and repeated Gulda’s words. ‘It’s them,’ he said earnestly. ‘You have no headache except what they’ve given you . . .’

  ‘ . . . If you use your carver’s vision you’ll see the truth of what you think you’re seeing . . .’

  ‘ . . . They’re frightened of us. We must show them our friendship even though they’ve hurt us. Our real enemy lies elsewhere. . .’

  It had not been easy, but as others joined in with Loman’s gentle chiding, the unseen assault had gradually abated, and the predominant atmosphere slowly became one of laughter and pleasantness.

  Similar attacks had, however, continued intermittently throughout that day, passing in waves through the ranks of the riders. But they were mercilessly chivvied by Loman and everyone else who was unaffected, until Loman allowed himself a brief note of triumph. ‘They can’t cope with the numbers, after all,’ he said. ‘We have them.’

  ‘No,’ said a voice very close to him. ‘We are withholding our power because of our concern for your people.’

  Loman looked at Jenna, but she appeared not to have heard anything.

  The voice spoke again: ‘We will do this if we have to,’ and an ear-splitting shriek filled Loman’s mind. He jerked backward, his face grimacing with pain and his hands clamped to his ears.

  Jenna started at this violent and unexpected movement. ‘What’s the matter?’ she cried out in alarm.

  The noise left Loman as suddenly as it had come and, white-faced, he lurched forward in reaction to his previous movement. Jenna reached out and took his arm to steady him. ‘What’s the matter?’ she repeated urgently.

  Loman did not reply immediately. Instead he fumbled inside a pouch on his belt and eventually retrieved a metal bracelet. For a little while he looked at it intently. It was a delicate, intricately woven piece of work that he had made many years ago for his wife and which he had subsequently given to Tirilen. He had done far better work since, but it contained such youthful intensity and so many memories that it never failed to move him.

  ‘They’re learning,’ he replied eventually, carefully replacing the bracelet. ‘Using one of the Goraidin’s tactics – attacking the enemy’s leaders.’ He described what had happened.

  Jenna frowned. ‘I heard nothing,’ she said.

  Loman nodded. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘I think they made a mistake. There was a sense of great effort in the sound – desperation, almost. I’ve a feeling that it hurt the sender as much as it hurt me. I don’t think it’s something they do either lightly or easily.’

  And so it had proved. While the disturbances continued to come and go, neither Loman nor anyone else again experienced such a violent, direct attack.

  Despite this, however, the search for the Alphraan themselves, or the entrances to their caves, seemed to be proving fruitless. Various caves were discovered, but they were all shallow and empty.

  Loman was openly puzzled. ‘We have our shadow vision and we have seeing stones. We’ve been methodical and thorough. How can we have missed anything?’

  He could almost hear Gulda’s voice ringing in his ears. ‘You haven’t been thorough enough,’ she would say.

  He reined his horse to a halt and, dismounting, called the various section leaders to him.

  ‘Perhaps they don’t come out above ground after all . . .’

  ‘Perhaps they’re smaller than we thought, and need only tiny openings . . .’

  ‘We can’t be fast and thorough . . .’

  ‘Perhaps there just aren’t any entrances around here . . .’

  Loman nodded as suggestions were put to him, but he could not avoid the feeling that he was missing something.

  ‘Pass me the map,’ he said eventually.

  Jenna retrieved the document from his horse and spread it out on a nearby rock. Loman stared at it pensively, running his finger slowly along the route they had taken. It stopped a little way from the bright red dot that marked the location of the central camp.

  ‘This is where we had our first . . . difficulty, isn’t it?’ he said. There was general agreement. He continued. ‘Let’s mark on here where each of the others occurred.’

  This took some time and considerable debate but eventually Loman found himself looking at four distinct and separate clusters of dots. He smiled. ‘I think we’ll go back a little way,’ he said, resting his finger on the nearest of the clusters to their present position. ‘We’ll go back, and we’ll search this area very thoroughly.’

  No sooner had he spoken than angry voices rang out from somewhere within the ranks of the waiting crowd. One of the section l
eaders jumped up on to a rock to locate the source of the problem, then, scowling angrily, jumped down and made to run towards it.

  Loman caught his arm in a powerful grip. ‘Gently,’ he said. ‘Very gently. If you go rushing in you know what might happen.’

  The man stared at him angrily for a moment, then lowered his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I just forgot.’

  Loman indicated two of the others. ‘Go with him,’ he said. ‘The rest of you, get back to your people and tell them what we’ve found and what we’re going to do. And tell them to be particularly alert. I think we might have trodden on some toes at last and things might start getting very peevish. Jenna, send a signal to the other two groups telling them to do the same as we’ve done.’

  Loman was correct about the response of the Alphraan. The return journey proved to be eventful, with spasms of anger and disorder rippling through the riders far more frequently and severely than before.

  Loman smiled, however, as he struggled on his rolling mount to mark these incidents on the map. They were completely random now.

  Too late, little people, he thought, too late. You’ve given yourselves away.

  He passed his new information to the section leaders immediately, together with his interpretation. The more everyone knew about what was happening, the better able they would be to withstand what must surely become increasingly virulent and desperate attacks.

  Finally, though not without some minor injuries, they came to the point which lay at the centre of the small cluster of dots on Loman’s map. He looked up at the peak that dominated the scene, then dismounted and climbed up onto a jutting rock.

  The Orthlundyn gathered round him, drawn to this powerful solid figure like a myriad planets around a small but massive sun. Loman pointed up to the mountain.

  ‘Our friends are up there,’ he shouted, his voice echoing. Some jeers and cheers rose up from the crowd. Loman focused on it. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t being ironic. These people have lived peacefully as our neighbours for generations. For all they’ve troubled us lately – imposed on us, in fact, and worse – they’re our friends. Friends we’re having a disagreement with at the moment, to be sure, but friends nonetheless.’

  Some of the jeering turned to outrage. ‘They’ve killed our people, Loman. What kind of friends do that?’ someone shouted. There was a considerable chorus of agreement.

  Loman gestured an acknowledgement of this, then strode forward to the very edge of the rock and looked straight at his inquisitor.

  ‘Friends who’re frightened, confused and can’t understand what’s going on,’ he said.

  ‘It’s not through want of telling,’ someone else said angrily. ‘They just don’t want to listen.’

  Loman turned to him. ‘I can’t excuse what they’ve done, you know that,’ he replied. ‘But do all your friends at your Guild meetings listen when you try to tell them something? Are there none who take a deal of persuading on certain matters?’ It was an apt and homely point and took the edge off the crowd’s response to the man’s angry denunciation.

  Loman spoke again before anyone else could interrupt. ‘And take care with your anger, all of you,’ he said. ‘It has no part to play in today’s proceedings, you know that too. Our anger is their most potent and dangerous weapon. Be what you are, Orthlundyn – carvers, craftsmen and artists, who see truth. Ask yourselves what anger can possibly achieve here?’ He allowed a brief pause, then continued almost savagely. ‘What do you want to do? Drag them from their holes and kill them? One for one?’

  The crowd was silent under his reproach.

  Loman turned to look up at the mountain. ‘Alphraan, we know you can hear and see us,’ he said. ‘And we know your homes – or the entrances to them – are on this hill, and on others nearby. We come in opposition to you, but in peace. We will do you no harm, but we will find your homes and deny them to you, as you have denied our Armoury to us. And we shall possess more and more of your property until you release the Armoury and agree to interfere with us no further.’

  ‘We will prevent you,’ said a voice.

  Without turning, Loman held out his hand to quieten an angry murmur that this comment brought from the crowd.

  ‘I beg of you, please don’t,’ he said. ‘You know you can’t control a host this size. At the best you’ll simply cause more deaths and injuries before we find you. You, who purport to be doing this to prevent death and injury. And do you really want these people surging into your domain, raging and demented, their darker natures unfettered by you yourselves?’

  ‘Be warned, human,’ the voice said, after a pause. ‘Do not threaten us.’

  ‘You’re wasting your time, Loman,’ said someone behind him.

  Loman raised his hand again, requesting a little further patience.

  ‘Voice,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how you speak to us in this manner, or how you hear what we say. But I dispute your authority to speak for the Alphraan. I cannot see that any rational people would be so stupid as to allow this tragic farce to continue in the light of our conduct and of our reasoning.’ He turned round suddenly and looked at the assembled Orthlundyn. ‘Do I speak for you, here?’ he shouted. There was a brief pause, then a great roar went up that rang around the mountains.

  Loman turned back to the mountain. ‘Voice, would your people speak thus for you?’ he said quietly.

  There was no reply.

  ‘I thought not,’ Loman said. ‘Anyone who would intimidate a free people wouldn’t scruple to intimidate his own kind.’ An angry hissing filled the air. ‘Do not judge us, human,’ said the voice. ‘Our ways are not your ways.’

  Loman turned back to the Orthlundyn. ‘Ponder your ways then, leader of the Alphraan,’ he said dismissively, over his shoulder. Then, to the crowd. ‘Section leaders to me for a planning meeting. The rest of you’ – he smiled – ‘rest. While you can. We’ve got some stiff walking ahead of us shortly.’

  It took little time to plan out the proposed search of the mountain and, within the hour, the first parties set out. Loman stayed in the valley, watching intently, as the tiny lines of figures moved painfully slowly across the lower slopes of the mountain.

  He turned to Jenna. ‘This must be the strangest army in all history,’ he said, almost jovially. ‘Military intention, military tactics, and yet everyone obliged to treat it as some kind of Festival picnic.’

  Jenna smiled nervously. She was finding the ambivalence of the venture less easy to accommodate than Loman seemed to be. ‘It’s impossible,’ she said reluctantly.

  ‘No,’ said Loman easily. ‘Just slow, and, I hope, very boring. But we’ll stay here until every stone and every blade of grass on this mountain has been examined at least twice. It’ll . . .’

  ‘Signal.’ The interruption came from a young man standing nearby, watching the same scene through a seeing stone.

  Loman held his breath.

  ‘First sector cleared,’ said the young man.

  Loman looked both relieved and disappointed. ‘Send the next group up to cover the same area,’ he said.

  Jenna looked up at the sky. The watery sun had disappeared, as the clouds had thickened through the day. She frowned a little. ‘That’s a wintry sky,’ she said. ‘And the sky to the north’s been looking very heavy for days.’

  Loman did not reply, but the mention of the north brought his brother and Hawklan to mind. Almost without realizing what he was doing, he looked up, half expecting to see Gavor soaring black against the dull grey sky. With difficulty, he set the thoughts aside. Time alone could answer the questions that they posed.

  Gradually the light faded and Loman called a halt to the search. ‘Camp where you are,’ was his signal. ‘Relax and rest, and look forward to a good day’s shadow hunting tomorrow.’

  As the darkness deepened, unrelieved even by starlight, the mountain slowly disappeared from view except for a twisted skein of camp lights twinkling like a carelessly thrown necklace. Loman leaned against
a rock and stared up at the lights. Distant voices floated down to him through the stillness, enlivened occasionally by splashes of laughter. He smiled.

  ‘Listen, Alphraan,’ he said softly. ‘Listen to the sounds of the people you persecute.’

  There was no reply.

  The following day was again overcast but visibility was still good and there was no wind to disturb the searchers other than a light breeze.

  No trouble was reported as the morning progressed and Loman eventually became weary of just watching and waiting.

  ‘I think I’ll go up and see how morale is,’ he announced eventually.

  ‘Yes. I don’t want to sit here all day either,’ Jenna said acidly. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Loman cleared his throat self-consciously.

  They were able to ride part of the way but had to leave their horses as the terrain grew steeper. The mountainside was alive with people, searching, making notes, laying out markers, moving equipment in anticipation of another night’s stay on the mountain. Briefly, Loman felt a qualm when he realized that this considerable effort was being undertaken at his behest and on his whim.

  No, he thought sternly. Definitely not a whim. It was a reasoned judgement based on the clear actions of the Alphraan and confirmed by the changes in their responses subsequently. In any case, even if he were wrong, future searches would definitely be necessary and much would be learnt from this exercise. The qualm was crushed.

  It did occur to him that the Alphraan could be deliberately misleading him, but he doubted it. They’re on the run, part of him said, with almost hand-rubbing glee. He crushed that too; if they were panicking, then they’d be particularly dangerous as the necklace began to tighten.

  When he and Jenna finally reached the highest of the search lines, the terrain that could be walked over was predominantly rock. They had decided at the outset that the scree slopes and rock faces of the mountain were to be left for the time being. Climbers were far too vulnerable.