Vredech had been a Preaching Brother in the Church of Ishrythan. Now he was travelling northwards, away from his homeland of Canol Madreth, with his wife Nertha and two companions, Dacu and Tirke. On their journey they had passed through Arvenstaat where they had been joined by a young Caddoran, Thyrn, and his friend, Endryk.
Like Antyr and Farnor, both Vredech and Thyrn were troubled men. Vredech had found himself transported into strange other worlds as he struggled to exorcize a force that had possessed his friend and fellow Preaching Brother, Cassraw, and that through him and his wife Dowinne had threatened to possess the whole of Canol Madreth and thence lands beyond. Thyrn, by contrast, had accidentally thwarted the vaulting ambitions of his powerful master Vashnar, the Chief Warden of Arvenstaat, and, with a few reluctant allies, had been driven into the Karpas Mountains to be hunted as an outlaw. City dwellers all, they had survived there only because of a chance meeting with Endryk.
Like Antyr and Farnor also, both men had faced malign powers beyond their understanding with skills that they were unaware they possessed and of whose use they knew nothing. Each at some point had feared for his sanity and both had nearly perished violently. Now, though they had prevailed, their old lives were gone for ever. They had placed their faith in the companions that chance had thrown their way and were looking to find answers to their many questions at Anderras Darion.
Dacu and his younger companion, Tirke, were Goraidin. Together with Yrain, Jenna, Jaldaric and Yatsu they had been part of the force which had accompanied Hawklan and Andawyr into the heart of Narsindal to face the returned Sumeral. They had stood at the edge of Lake Kedrieth as Derras Ustramel had tumbled to its destruction following Hawklan’s fateful confrontation with its creator. At the same time, Yengar and Olvric had stood in the front ranks of the battle against Sumeral’s Uhriel and His grim army.
Dacu and Tirke and many others had travelled abroad at the suggestion of the Cadwanol. Not, in their case, to bring fugitives to justice, but to learn more of the world that lay beyond Fyorlund, Orthlund and Riddin and to see how far Sumeral’s corrosive and silent influence had spread this time. Alarmed by what they had witnessed in Canol Madreth they had advised Vredech to return with them to Anderras Darion. Their subsequent meeting with Thyrn and the recounting of his story had served only to heighten their alarm.
Endryk was a Fyordyn High Guard. He too had stood in the ranks that faced Sumeral’s army, but the horror of the day and all that had led to it had proved too much and, like many others, he had left the victorious battlefield not to return home but to wander aimless and lost. Eventually he had come to Arvenstaat and found some solace in a long, lonely vigil as a shoreman. There it was that he had encountered the fleeing Thyrn and his companions and in helping them had found the strength to return to his own country and perhaps some part of his old life.
Nertha was a physician. Her trust and clear-eyed vision had anchored Vredech as his conflict with Cassraw had pushed him to the edge of insanity; her courage had saved his life in his final and tragic confrontation with the dark force that was seeking a way to this world.
Despite their past ordeals and the shadows that these threw on the present, all the travellers were in good heart and looking forward in their different ways to reaching Anderras Darion. Thyrn in particular was much easier in his manner than the haunted youth he had been when Endryk had first met him. The Caddoran were an ancient Guild of Messengers. Their origins were obscure, lying probably in the battles of the First Coming, long since forgotten in Arvenstaat. Now they were merely servants to rich merchants and high officials, though they plied a subtle and unusual trade. Not only did they memorize messages, they memorized also the nuances of the senders’ intonations and expressions – they were invaluable in the conspiratorial underworld of Arvenstaat’s trade and government. Thyrn had been exceptionally gifted and was the youngest person ever to become Caddoran to the Chief Warden. Now his Caddoran skills gave him a swiftness in learning things that was a constant source of amazement to his new friends.
A companionable group, they talked a great deal, often long into the night, each telling of their own lands and lives. The Goraidin spoke about Fyorlund with its Queen and its many Lords and their High Guards; about Orthlund with the great castle of Anderras Darion at its heart; about Riddin with its society seemingly built entirely around the Riddinvolk’s love of horses and, not least, about the First and Second Comings of Sumeral, though they made little mention of their fears that perhaps His hand was to be seen in what had happened to both Vredech and Thyrn. Thyrn was much taken by the aspects of these stories that were part of Arvenstaat folklore, but Vredech found this same coincidence with many of the features of his erstwhile religion unsettling.
‘I can understand you being upset,’ Dacu said to him. ‘The basis of your beliefs – indeed, your chosen calling – being so shaken, but, to be honest, I’ve the greatest difficulty in grasping the fundamental idea of religion anyway. It seems to me that something based on unreasoning faith is intrinsically doomed to such a fate.’
Dacu’s quiet and easy manner allowed him to confront without causing offence.
‘Your people have no god? No religion at all?’ Vredech retorted, not without some surprise.
‘None,’ Dacu replied with hesitation. Then he smiled and conceded, ‘There are one or two strange little sects and cults, and plenty of people with peculiar ideas, but nothing like a state religion such as your Ishrythan was.’
Vredech objected. ‘It wasn’t an instrument of government. No one was obliged to believe or to go to the Meeting Houses.’
‘It was the “done thing”, though,’ Dacu pressed.
Vredech looked at him narrowly and moved on to the attack. ‘I suppose so,’ he said. ‘Rather like one of your young men “volunteering” to spend a period of his life in one of your Lords’ High Guards.’
‘That’s character-forming,’ Dacu chuckled.
‘Hm. I think we can rest evens on the imperfections of our respective social conventions, but I find it difficult to imagine that your people don’t ask questions such as “Where do we come from?” and “What are we here for?”
‘And Ishrythan has the answers to these questions?’
‘It seeks to find them – in faith.’
This time it was Dacu who indulged in the narrow look. ‘On the whole, I’d say that when we ask such questions, we seek answers not in faith – not in the blind acceptance of a doctrine laid down by someone else, however profound – but in constantly questioning – using reason – reason and tested observation.’
‘And reason and tested observation have the answers?’ Vredech returned sharply. ‘And bring comfort to the afflicted?’
Dacu laughed ruefully. But as his laughter faded, he became more serious. ‘No, I’m afraid they don’t give all the answers. In fact they merely provide more questions. It’s all they can ever do. But I think they protect us from some of the excesses that the darker side of our nature can lead us to.’ He moved on quickly. ‘As for offering comfort. I think we each of us find that where we can. For myself, and my friends and companions who’ve found themselves following a soldier’s way like me, I’d say we take comfort in trying to see things clearly – as they are.’
Vredech looked at him. ‘A harsh creed,’ he said gently.
Dacu nodded. ‘Possibly. But on the whole, better a harsh truth than a soft lie. And perhaps a little more clarity of vision – a little more questioning – might have spared your people some of their pain.’
‘That, I can hardly deny. Though, in fairness, the mindless bigotry that poor Cassraw fostered in his madness was no part of the teaching of Ishryth – your Ethriss. How it took the hold it did…’ He threw up his arms. ‘I don’t know. It was very frightening. As was the impotence of both the church and our leaders in the face of it. Which is why I’m here, I suppose, travelling through strange lands to a strange destination. Putting my faith in you.’
Dacu put his hand to his head theatrically in an attempt to lighten Vredech’s mood. ‘Now I understand how a god must feel – burdened by such unquestioning trust. Still…’ he went on sympathetically. ‘Looking back on what happened, being frightened was the only response you could have had. And for all my countrymen’s vaunted reason and our tried and trusted way of government – far superior to yours, I can tell you, as an observed fact – we too faltered and were led astray – plunged first into civil war and then into a war of aggression. Desperate times, desperate events. I think we can both accept that notwithstanding the answers to the “great” questions, we know there are people – powers – in the world that are bent on doing harm even if we can’t begin to fathom why.’
‘Possessed by evil, perhaps.’
‘I’m not even sure what that means. I’m more inclined to think that, like Thyrn here, they’re people born with attributes that have come down through time to us. Reason unknown. Except that in their case it’s not a gift, like Thyrn’s, but rather an omission. Something missing. They’re faulty, incomplete. They lack the fetters that we have on our inner darkness. Fetters that have been forged as we’ve moved from crueller times, when life must have been a constant struggle against hunger, cold, uncaring nature generally. In a sense, they’re our past, come to haunt us.’ He looked squarely at Vredech. ‘But however they come to be, theyare, as we both know all too well, and to ignore them is to court disaster. And the likes of you and I who know these things betray ourselves and those who trust us if we don’t watch for them.’
He fell silent.
‘Watch for them and deal with them,’ Vredech added. There was a questioning note in his voice.
Dacu nodded. ‘With all that that means. Head, heart and sword. Wilfully removing our own fetters if we have to.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘It seems we’ve a gift of our own, haven’t we? We can’t see such things and do nothing.’
‘Evil prevails while good lies abed.’
‘You two aren’t going to be allowed to ride together if your conversation’s going to be so relentlessly cosmic all the time.’ Nertha’s smile came between the two riders. ‘Why can’t you talk about the weather for a while?’
‘It’s sunny,’ Dacu said hastily, taking her hand.
‘Yes,’ Vredech agreed, taking the other. ‘But it might rain later.’
‘Very droll,’ Nertha retorted caustically, studiously withdrawing her hands to fumble with the ribbon that was holding back her long black hair. ‘Perhaps you’d care to talk about where we are, then? Where we might be tomorrow? When we’ll be in Anderras Darion?’ Pulling the ribbon ferociously tight, she slapped the sleeve of her jacket. A pale reddish dust rose up from it. She looked down at her grimed hands, gave a sigh, then fixed Dacu with a reproachful gaze. ‘They do have running water there, I trust.’
‘Well, when it rains, they…’
‘They’ve everything you’ll need, Nertha.’ Tirke intervened rapidly as Nertha’s brown eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘As for where we are, I think the short answer is, we don’t know.’
Nertha let out a pained breath. ‘Tirke, I don’t wish to seem unkind, but I have to tell you, you’re not reassuring me.’
Tirke floundered. ‘I mean, we don’t know exactly where we are. We’re heading north all right – towards home – but we didn’t come this way. We were further east on our way out – more towards the coast. But there are towns there – the Wilde Ports – that we thought it would be better to avoid on the way back.’
‘I know where we are.’ It was Endryk. ‘We’re at the south end of the Thlosgaral.’
This provoked only inquiring looks.
‘I wandered around this region, long ago,’ he explained. ‘The Thlosgaral’s a… rocky desert… for want of a better description. Dusty, barren, dangerous. The only people who go into it are miners and the bandits who prey on them.’ He grimaced, then shuddered. ‘It’s a bad place. And it moves.’
‘Moves?’ Tirke and Nertha exclaimed simultaneously.
Endryk did not flinch before their combined doubt.
‘Moves,’ he confirmed. ‘Slowly, but quite definitely. It’s like an ocean caught in a different time. I spent a night here once – and only one night. I couldn’t get out fast enough. And there seems to be something unhealthy about the rocks themselves. You’ll understand if we see any miners. They all look the same – as if the life’s been wrung out of them.’ He turned to Dacu. ‘We should go around it. It’s longer, but it’ll be quicker and much safer.’ Dacu inclined his head and motioned Endryk to take the lead.
Towards evening, Dacu began looking towards the eastern sky, puzzled.
‘That redness in the sky is the Thlosgaral,’ Endryk told him. ‘It’s like a permanent sunset.’
‘More like an inflamed wound,’ Nertha said, frowning.
Thyrn was riding alongside Endryk. ‘It feels like the place in the Karpas mountains where Vashnar attacked us.’ The young Caddoran looked decidedly unhappy as he too glanced towards the eastern sky.
‘It does indeed,’ Endryk said tersely. ‘Perhaps they’re outcrops of the same thing.’
Dacu frowned. ‘If it’s like the place you described to us, then we really should have a look at it. Andawyr and the others will want to know about it for sure.’
‘Andawyr and the others can come and look at it for themselves, then,’ Endryk said bluntly. ‘I’ve been in it once, I won’t go in it again.’
‘Nor I,’ Thyrn said, hunching his shoulders.
It was the nearest they had come to a dispute on their journey so far. Dacu held up a peacemaking hand. ‘Just habit, that’s all. It’s in my nature to find out about things. But I can see the idea upsets both of you. Sorry.’
Endryk became conciliatory as they rode on. ‘There’s every chance we’d get lost. Once you’re in there it’s as though you’ve been transported to another world, it’s so different from anywhere you’ve ever been before. And it does move. Sometimes you can actually feel it – everything around you shaking, shifting. Suddenly nothing’s fixed – not even the ground – you feel dizzy, sick – it’s very frightening. Then you’re disorientated when you find all the landmarks have subtly changed. And there’s nothing to see – just reddish-grey rocks everywhere. No natural erosion patterns, no trails, no vegetation, no animals, nothing. The whole place looks blighted. And it makes noises as it moves. Like something being tortured.’
‘You’ve made your point,’ Dacu said. ‘Quite vividly. But we should still find something out about the place if it bears any relationship to the place where you fought Vashnar. You mentioned miners. Perhaps we can speak to some of them if we see any. By the way, what do they mine that’s so precious if the place is as awful as you say?’
‘Crystals, though I don’t know what they are or why they’re valuable. I imagine they trade them in Arash-Felloren or the Wilde Ports.’
‘Arash-Felloren? That’s north-west of here, isn’t it? I seem to remember hearing about it when we passed through the Wilde Ports.’
‘It is,’ Endryk said. ‘I’ve been there once too.’
Dacu looked surprised. ‘You never mentioned it.’
‘It was long ago. And I was in a sorry state then. It was only the dust on Nertha’s jacket reminded me where we might be.’
‘What’s it like?’
Endryk pulled a wry face. ‘Big,’ he said. ‘Very big. Far bigger than Vakloss.’ Dacu raised doubting eyebrows. ‘And very confusing. Full of hills and winding streets. I’ve vague memories of all kinds of buildings – big, small, old, new, rich, rotten – wide avenues, cramped alleys. And people everywhere.’
‘Sounds peculiar, but interesting. Are the people friendly to strangers?’
Endryk’s expression became pained. ‘At my best I was no Goraidin, Dacu, and in those days I could hardly remember my name, let alone pay attention to what was going on around me. I remember the people as being neither friendly nor unfriendly – just indifferent. Almost as if, were you to fall over in the street, they’d let you lie there until you died or found the strength to stand up again. People would step over you.’ Dacu frowned at the image, but Endryk continued. ‘The whole place was full of clamour and noise, everyone buying and selling all the time, everyone in a hurry, rushing everywhere. It probably suited me then. On my own in a vast crowd. Surrounded but alone.’
Dacu searched anxiously into the High Guard’s face. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve stirred memories you’d rather have left to lie. It sounds like an awful place.’
‘I wouldn’t judge,’ Endryk said. ‘It was a long time ago and, as I said, I was in a poor state then. People did help me, I know, though to my shame I can’t remember either names or faces. When I think of the place now I remember only confusion, but that could’ve been as much me as the city. There must be countless good souls there or so huge a place would’ve destroyed itself by now.’
‘Can we go into it?’ Thyrn thrust the enthusiastic question between the two men. Reaching safety in some vaguely rumoured ‘great city in the north’ had been constantly in his mind during his flight across Arvenstaat. Dacu gave Endryk an inquiring look.
Endryk looked at the pack horses. ‘There’s no special reason why we should, we’ve plenty of supplies. And we’ve no local money so we’d have to barter if we wanted anything.’ He shook his head. ‘And I do remember they’re hard bargainers. I doubt any of us here are a match for one of them in a haggle.’
‘We don’t have to buy anything, we could just look – wander around for a while,’ Thyrn insisted.
His enthusiasm made the others smile.
‘Well, if Endryk’s happy there’s no threat to us and if it’s not too far off our way we can spare a day to have a look at this place, can’t we?’ Tirke inquired generally. ‘I’d certainly be interested to see a city that’s bigger than Vakloss.’
‘I don’t see why not,’ Dacu said. He looked at the others challengingly. ‘The sight of some different faces might do all of us some good.’
The next day they came to a road heading north. When they first joined it there were few other travellers using it but as the day passed it became much busier, traffic entering at almost every junction. They made several brief travelling acquaintances as they rode along; people in groups; people alone; families in orderly, courteous procession; families in excited, disorderly confusion; heavy-booted farmers on heavy-wheeled carts loaded with hay and produce; slouching stock-men, herding cattle and sheep; craftsmen and tradesmen of all kinds, walking, riding, leading pack horses, pushing and pulling precariously loaded handcarts of every conceivable shape and size.
‘It seems you were right,’ said a stunned and unusually agitated Dacu to Endryk as he managed to extricate himself from one individual. ‘They all want to buy or sell something.’ He indicated his recent companion, who misjudged the gesture and gave him a knowing salute in return. ‘I told him we were just passing through, that we were on a long journey, but he insisted on trying to sell me glass for my windows – windows! – for my tent, presumably!’ He growled. ‘Or in my saddle, for all I know! I doubt he cared. My “lucky day”, it was, to have met him before any of his rascally competitors. His glass was “not cheap”, he admitted.’ Dacu laid his hand on his heart in imitation of the man’s expression of sincerity. ‘But “very special. Double thickness”. It would “last a lifetime”, though he didn’t say whose, now I think about it.’ His eyes widened in shock. ‘I wouldn’t mind, but I nearly bought some. This place must be worse than the Gretmearc.’
Endryk stopped trying not to laugh. ‘A soldier of your experience should know when he’s outmatched. There’s no disgrace in retreat under such circumstances.’
‘It’s not even seeing the ambush that’s bothering me. These people are the commercial equivalent of a combined Goraidin and heavy infantry unit.’
‘We need a new leader if you can’t take the strain,’ Endryk advised him solemnly. He nodded towards Nertha who was in the middle of an agitated debate with a red-faced man pushing a bright yellow cart full of garments. Vredech was trailing in her wake with the air of a child who has just been given the sternest parental instruction to stay quiet. Amid a great deal of emotional arm-waving, Dacu and Endryk learned, amongst other things, that the carter had a family of sickly children on the very edge of penury somewhere, while Nertha’s horse had developed a debilitating complaint that needed her every worldly resource to cure. Being a physician, Nertha had a wealth of ominous words and alarming symptoms at her command. In the end, Vredech was presented with a stout jacket of undeniable quality and the carter went on his way, still concerned for the well-being of his family, whose condition was apparently worsening by the minute, but carrying now an elegant gown with which, presumably, to comfort his much afflicted wife.
‘It was no use to me,’ Nertha replied to her husband’s protestation. ‘I don’t know why I brought it in the first place. And you need a good jacket.’
There were less entertaining meetings though. At a cross-roads a band of uniformed but unsavoury-looking individuals passed over the road in front of them, heading east towards the Thlosgaral. With them were two conspicuously well-dressed men.
‘Private guards escorting someone across the Thlosgaral,’ Endryk told Dacu. ‘There are lots of such people in the city, protecting individuals, businesses, properties.’
‘They have no civic authority to do this?’
Endryk’s lip curled. ‘After a fashion. As I recall, there’s the Prefect and his Guards – the Weartans – but they’re corrupt. Much worse than Arvenstaat’s Wardens.’
‘The more I hear, the more I feel this city’s a desperate place,’ Dacu said.
‘Well, now you make me think about it again, I suspect it’s just the size of the place. Too many people too close together. They can’t be governed by force any more than we could be, and there are too many conflicting factions and interests to reach any semblance of a consensus for an effective form of government.’
‘Destined to destruction?’
Endryk was unexpectedly optimistic. ‘I don’t think so. Destined to permanent change, yes, but they’re probably used to that. Some of their qualities might have protected us better. Made us more alert, suspicious. I don’t know.’
Dacu was silent for a while before saying simply, ‘You may well be right.’
Later, while they were walking the horses, they were overtaken by a hooded figure striding out, high-shouldered and tense. Both Dacu and Tirke started as he passed them while Thyrn reached out and gripped Endryk’s arm tightly.
‘Good day to you, sir,’ Dacu said to the man with a geniality that his friends saw was taking some effort.
The figure hesitated, then turned to him as if surprised.
‘Good day to you,’ came a harsh and unpleasant voice after a moment. Then the figure was on its way again.
A passer-by, a middle-aged man, spat noisily and sneered after the departing figure.
‘You know him?’ Dacu asked.
‘I know them,’ the man replied, his voice as full of contempt as his face. ‘Kyrosdyn. The lot of them should be burnt.’
‘That seems rather extreme.’
‘You’re strangers around here, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, We’re heading north.’
‘Well, welcome to Arash-Felloren, my friends.’
‘I don’t wish to buy anything,’ Dacu said hastily.
The man’s expression changed. He chuckled. ‘I see you’re not complete strangers, then. Don’t worry, I’m not selling anything, I’m just going to watch one of the animal fights tonight. But I’ll give you this advice for free. While you’re in the city, keep your eyes on your goods, your hand on your wallet, and your business well away from the Kyrosdyn.’
Dacu’s eyes narrowed at the mention of animal fights, but he asked, ‘Bad people, are they, these Kyrosdyn?’
‘Yes, very,’ the man replied starkly. ‘Crystal workers they’re supposed to be, but they’ve got fingers in everything.’
‘What are crystals?’ Dacu asked.
The man looked at him in open surprise. ‘You must be from a long way away. They’re used in everything. Expensive jewellery, toughening iron for ploughshares, knives and the like, fancy decorations for those who can afford them, medicines…?
‘Medicines?’ Nertha queried.
The man looked her up and down as though she might be an item for sale. ‘Ointments, potions, lozenges. Draw the badness out of anything, they do.’ He leered. ‘Or put life into it if it’s… sagging a little.’ The leer faded as Nertha did not respond. He tried for another effect. ‘There’s some grind them and cut them straight into the blood.’ He made a scratching motion with his finger on his arm but the action seemed to disturb him more than it disturbed Nertha, to whom it obviously meant nothing. He rejoined the men. ‘Kyrosdyn do it all the time, if you ask me. That’s why they all look the same.’ He gestured towards the rapidly retreating figure. ‘All tight and jerky.’ He sneered again, then took Dacu’s arm confidentially. ‘Mind you, their star’s falling a bit, what with Imorren getting killed and all.’
‘Imorren?’
‘Their Ailad – their chief. Right bitch she was. Good looker by all accounts, but a bad lot. Good riddance, that’s my feeling.’
Before Dacu could question him further, the man had acknowledged a salute from the driver of a passing cart and, without any leave-taking, was clambering on to it.
‘Certainly short on social graces, these people,’ Nertha said.
‘Did you make anything of that?’ Dacu asked her.
She shook her head. ‘These crystals sound strange, though.’ She mimicked the scratching that the man had demonstrated. ‘And that sounds very peculiar.’
Dacu’s eyes narrowed as he looked after the now distant figure of the Kyrosdyn. ‘I’d swear I felt a touch of the Power as he went past,’ he said to Tirke who nodded grimly but did not speak. ‘Thyrn, something startled you, didn’t it?’
‘I don’t know. I felt for a moment as if Vashnar… I don’t know… I…’
He was obviously distressed. Dacu stopped him. ‘Don’t worry. There’s no danger. Just remember it for later.’
Then he said softly to Tirke. ‘And you too. If that was the Power then Andawyr and the others will be more than interested.’
‘Should we follow the man?’
Dacu thought for a moment. ‘No. We can’t leave the others and there’s no saying what we might run into in the city. I’m certainly not disposed to seek out anyone who can use the Power without a Cadwanwr by my side. We’ll have to leave it. Just include it in our Accounting.’
As the day passed, Nertha succeeded in transforming a few more unwanted items into the local money.
‘It’ll come in handy if we go into the city,’ she claimed, dropping the coins into her belt purse.
‘Speaking of which, I think we’ll have to decide soon,’ Dacu announced. Ahead of them, at the bottom of a gentle slope, were crossroads. Some of the traffic travelling their way was moving east and a little was moving north, but most of it was turning west.
Set some way back was a large building surrounded by rambling outhouses and stables. A sign hanging from an arched timber frame over the gate to the courtyard declared it to be ‘The Wyndering’.
As they drew nearer, an appetizing smell drifted over the group, drawing them to a spontaneous halt. They looked at one another.
‘Let’s see how far your new-found wealth goes, Nertha,’ Dacu said, voicing their common thought. ‘It’ll be nice to sit on a chair and have a meal cooked by someone else. We can decide what we want to do while we eat. What do you…’
The others were already heading for the gate.