Farnor started upright, his heart pounding. It took him a little time to realize that the strange noise rasping through the tent was his own breathing. It took him even longer to bring it under any semblance of control, for the fear he had woken to was still with him. At one point he was tempted to call out, but something stopped him. Slowly it came to him that the fear was not fear. It was more like the response he might have had to fingernails drawn down glass. And it was familiar.
Thenthere was fear.
This was how he had felt when, as he had confronted Rannick and his terrible familiar, a gash through this reality had been torn to reveal the myriad worlds beyond. As the memory returned, so now, as had happened then, he found part of himself reaching out to make right this affront – a part that he did not understand and that seemed more to be controlling him than he it. His helplessness brought fear of another kind. Not least because a struggle developed. Some power was opposing this other part of him!
Then, abruptly, the struggle was over. The gash was gone, as was this inner self. Everything was whole again.
He was leaning forward supporting himself on one arm as though, with opposition removed, he had stumbled forward. And he was shaking violently.
What had happened?
A nightmare?
No.
The feeling had been real, without a doubt, but what it had meant he had no idea. This time there had been no vision of the rent through into the worlds beyond. There had been just the darkness of the tent all around him. Nor had it been so intense. But it had been the same, without question. Except that this time something had opposed whatever it was in him that sought to right the injury.
Again he was tempted to call out but again he forced himself not to. Whatever had happened, it had definitely passed and, welcoming though his new hosts had proved to be, it was unlikely they would take kindly to being wakened in the middle of the night by what they would almost certainly consider to be a nightmare. For he doubted that he would be able to describe the incident adequately.
Nevertheless, the following day, as they broke camp, he told them about it.
His story met with an uncomfortable silence.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Yengar said. ‘It’s…’
‘Did you sense danger?’ Olvric intruded quietly.
Farnor thought before he replied. ‘I was afraid,’ he said. ‘But I think that was because of what had happened before. And I couldn’t do anything – not deliberately, anyway – I was helpless. The sensation wasn’t frightening in itself.’ He floundered. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t really have any words for it. It was just wrong, unnatural, something that shouldn’t be. It made my flesh creep.’ He shuddered noisily, then looked round at the others. They were watching him intently. Silently Marna pulled her horse alongside him in a small show of support against these potentially hostile strangers.
‘Did you sense danger?’ Olvric repeated his question.
Farnor found himself being thankful for his cold, searching manner. It carried no judgement, only a need to know.
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘No danger. But it was still a bad thing, something that shouldn’t have been. And this time something resisted whatever it was I was doing to close the rift. That didn’t happen before.’
‘You’ve said before twice. This hasn’t happened at any other time since you faced Rannick?’
‘No.’
‘Wake us if it happens again.’
‘But…’
‘Wake us.’ Olvric’s tone was both matter-of-fact and unequivocal and seemed to dispel the uncertainty pervading the others.
‘I’m sorry if we gaped at you,’ Yengar said. ‘You caught us all by surprise. Olvric’s right. Wake us next time – if there’s a next time. Other things may be happening which you’re unaware of and which we’ll be able to see.’
‘But…’
‘Information, Farnor,’ Yengar pressed, explanatory now. ‘I told you. Our job. Gathering information. The more we can tell Hawklan or Andawyr about what’s happening to you, the better.’
‘And if there’s nothing for you to see – or feel – or anything?’
‘That’s information in itself, isn’t it? It may be just as significant. Who are we to say? What we have to do is note events accurately so that we can describe them to others accurately.’
‘I suppose so,’ Farnor conceded reluctantly. The mood of the group was lightening. ‘It just seems – fussy.’
Yengar mulled over the word. ‘Well, we’ve been called worse. I prefer to think of myself as being… obsessive. Fussy sounds rather petty, don’t you think?’
Farnor eyed him suspiciously, testing the self-deprecating humour that seemed to be a common feature of the group. His response caused some amusement.
‘Never underestimate the effects of the small action,’ the two women said to him in unison, obviously recalling an insistent teaching.
‘Sumeral’s in the details,’ Yrain said in a strident, authoritative voice that Farnor thought he should know.
‘Ethriss is in the details,’ Jenna echoed in the same vein.
Then they both laughed.
‘I’m sure Gulda will be greatly heartened to find how carefully you listened to her,’ Yengar said with affected sternness. Farnor remembered the voice.
‘MemsaGulda, Goraidin.Memsa,’ the two women chimed, to even greater amusement. Yengar resisted for a moment, then capitulated. ‘It doesn’t concern me, I can always have Farnor chase her with a stick, I suppose.’
‘I told you, they’re like this all the time,’ Marna said to the bemused Farnor through the ensuing clamour. ‘When they’re not getting someone else to do all the dirty work,’ she added loudly.
‘A necessary part of your training, cadet,’ Jenna said, maintaining Gulda’s persona.
Marna gave Farnor a knowing look and dropped back to join them. Olvric replaced her.
‘Don’t confuse our humour with frivolity, Farnor,’ he said after they had ridden a little way in silence. ‘We’ve done many things together. Many things. We know and trust one another deeply.’
‘I understand,’ Farnor replied, Olvric’s remarks bringing to him the memory of the friends and the laughter he had left back at the village. It all seemed to be such a long time ago. Then, abruptly, he did understand, and though the laughter behind him did not change it was suddenly different, echoing into the depths of who these people were.
‘It’s what Marken called your lightness of touch,’ he said, turning and looking directly at the enigmatic Goraidin.
Olvric raised his eyebrows and bent his head forward slightly in appreciation.
Farnor straightened as if a weight had been lifted from him.
‘But you don’t laugh much,’ he heard himself saying.
Unexpectedly, Olvric chuckled. ‘I do in my own way,’ he replied as the sound rumbled through him to break out in an equally unexpected, if brief, smile. ‘Have no fear about that.’ He became pensive for a moment then said, ‘It’s good to have you both along,’ before easing his horse forward a little to ride alone.
The sky was overcast, but the clouds were high and light and seemed set to remain so for the rest of the day. Towards midday, however, a wind sprang up and began to disperse them. The valley that they had chosen twisted and turned, but it carried them generally eastward and the going was easy. Farnor was gradually inducted into the ways of their travelling, now walking, now riding, now resting, now eating. And throughout, he was aware that both he and Marna were being gently instructed.
When they stopped in the late afternoon to make camp for the night he was given the task of choosing a suitable site. After some wandering about and a disproportionate amount of fretful thought, he chose the lee of a rock face.
Jenna looked at it critically. ‘Dry ground, out of the wind, no sign of loose rocks above to give us a rude awakening, near a stream but not so near that it’ll disturb us or cover unwelcome sounds. Not bad.’
Later, they sat around the fire, eating.
‘I’m afraid we’re not going to be able to give you much hunting experience, Farnor,’ Yengar said, dropping a well-gnawed bone on to the fire. ‘Not with the quantity of supplies that we’ve still got left.’ He pulled a rueful face. ‘In fact, I think some of the food will be going bad before we can eat it. We’ll have to leave it for the local scavengers.’
‘I’ve trapped rabbits and foxes,’ Farnor told him.
‘Can you use a bow?’ Olvric asked.
Farnor shook his head. ‘Not really. There were quite a few in the village, but I don’t think anyone could use one properly. Gryss wouldn’t allow anyone to take one when we first went looking for the creature.’
‘It’s not a good idea to have a weapon you can’t use,’ Olvric went on.
Farnor shrugged. ‘If they were ever for anything it was probably hunting, and there was precious little need for that. I don’t think anyone ever thought about them being used as weapons. We’d no need at all for weapons.’ His voice faded. ‘Well, we thought we’d no need.’
‘An apt epitaph,’ Olvric said, staring bleakly into the fire. ‘And an old one.’
‘Speaking of which, what’s that?’ Yrain was pointing to a sword lying by Farnor’s saddle.
‘It’s a sword,’ Farnor replied, with a hint of indignation.
‘May I look at it?’
Farnor held out his hand towards it by way of invitation. Yrain took the sword from its scabbard and brought it back to the fire. She was grimacing as she lifted it.
‘It’s just an old thing I found,’ Farnor said.
‘It certainly is,’ Yrain agreed.
‘I wanted a Threshold Sword. Like the Valderen. I think everyone in the village has one now. I know the blacksmith’s been kept busy making new ones and repairing old ones. Better late than never, I suppose.’
Yrain tested the edge and her expression changed. ‘Almost everything about this thing leaves a lot to be desired, but this edge is good,’ she said, openly surprised. ‘Did your blacksmith do it for you?’
‘No, I did that. I could always put a good edge on things.’ Yrain’s surprise became frank admiration. The sword did the rounds of the four soldiers who all reacted similarly.
‘I don’t suppose you know how to use this either?’ Olvric said, returning it to Farnor.
‘What’s to know?’ Farnor replied, making a mock fighting gesture with the sword to the considerable consternation of the others.
‘A lot,’ Olvric said tersely as his grip closed powerfully around Farnor’s wrist and he gently prised the sword from his hand. He signalled to Yrain.
‘Come on, you two, over there,’ she said to Farnor and Marna.
After some ritual opposition from both of them, they spent the next hour receiving instruction in swordsmanship.
‘Keep itvery basic,’ Olvric emphasized to her after watching them for a little while. ‘Just enough to make sure we don’t get cut down by our own fireside and they don’t cut their own heads off.’
When finally Yrain finished with them, it was almost dark. Farnor and Marna, red-faced and breathless, collapsed gracelessly by the fire. Farnor was wriggling his shoulders and massaging his right arm. Yengar made to speak but Farnor gave him a baleful look. ‘Don’t tell me to relax, that’s all I’ve heard for the last hour.’
‘You won’t want to do any close-quarter, unarmed fighting, then?’ Yengar grinned at him. Farnor’s look became grimmer.
‘I’ll take that as a refusal,’ Yengar said, this time laughing.
Olvric gave Yrain an inquiring look.
‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘I’ve dealt with worse. Just impatient with themselves like most young people.’ She became serious. ‘But they’re both clearer in their minds than most.’
‘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.