After Sumeral’s second defeat, a great Congress was held.
Fyordyn, Orthlundyn, Riddinvolk, the Cadwanol, all debated what had happened and the reasons for it, to determine what should be done to ensure that such a horror might be avoided in the future. The Congress’s doors were barred to no one.
There were many bitter cries for vengeance, for much hurt had been done. Wiser counsels eventually prevailed, however, for the victory had been complete; Sumeral and His Uhriel had been destroyed and His army utterly routed. And, too, it was acknowledged that He had returned because there had been neglect. The wisdom enshrined in the various traditions of the different peoples had been long buried under the mere forms of those traditions and their true purpose thus lost.
It was decided, though far from unanimously, that the Mandrocs, the wild and barbarous natives of Narsindal who had formed the bulk of His army and who had suffered grievously in the final battle, were as much the victims of Sumeral as the allies themselves and that nothing was to be gained save further, enduring hatred by seeking to punish them. Thus while Narsindalvak, the tower fortress originally dedicated to the Watch, the observing of Narsindal, was reinvested by the Fyordyn High Guard, it became also a centre of learning about that blighted land and all who lived in it.
The Fyordyn were left with the burden of dealing with those of their own who had sided with Sumeral. There had been many such, drawn to Him through the long and insidious treachery of the Uhriel, Oklar, who, bearing the name Dan-Tor, had come to them initially as physician and seeming saviour to their ailing king, Rgoric. And there were many degrees of guilt to be determined, ranging from refusal to acknowledge what was happening when the truth became apparent, to acquiescence under varying degrees of duress, to enthusiastic and active support. Fortunately, Dan-Tor’s quiet depredation of their land had not totally destroyed either the Fyordyn’s innate tolerance or their deep sense of justice and though, on his passing, there was much confusion and bitterness, their judicial institutions repaired themselves remarkably quickly.
It was the Fyordyn way to demand an open Accounting of any who were accused of offending, and they were always painstaking affairs, intended not only to find the truth but also a punishment that would both seek to repair any injury and guide the offender away from any future offence. For many the Accounting proved to be a benign and healing forum.
However, there were those whose participation had been both wilful and brutal and most of these had fled when Sumeral’s army was broken. It was mooted by some of the Fyordyn that, notwithstanding the guilt of these people, they should be allowed to go their ways; that relentlessly hunting them across foreign lands had an aura of vindictiveness over a defeated enemy which could only demean and degrade the hunters. But, again, wiser counsels prevailed. Lord Eldric, Jaldaric’s father, spoke in the Geadrol. ‘The desire for vengeance is indeed a dark and corrosive emotion which ultimately consumes those who nurture it. But so is neglect and, as a people, we have a duty not only to ourselves but to our children and their children’s children. And as a strong and fortunate people, we have a duty to those who are less strong and less fortunate. It is one that cannot be avoided if we are to live at ease with ourselves. We must say to those who choose to yield to the darker forces in their nature that the consequences of such conduct are inexorable. They, and any who would follow in their steps, must know that neither time, distance, nor the strength of princes shall protect them from accounting for their deeds.’
Thus it was that the likes of Yatsu and Jaldaric began their journeying. It was their charge not to deliver justice but to discover the fate of those who had fled so that the Geadrol might determine what should be done. To this charge was also added the obligation to learn about other peoples. For just as it was realized that neglect of history had helped to bring about the war, so it was realized that neglect of lands beyond their own might also have been an error. While Sumeral and His Army had been contained and defeated in Narsindal, Dan-Tor had been many years in Fyorlund and it was not known how far Sumeral’s influence had spread out into the world. Many others as well as the Fyordyn undertook this last commission, not least the Orthlundyn and the Cadwanol.
Andawyr spoke again before either Yatsu or Jaldaric could begin their tale.
‘Did you find the ones you were looking for?’ he asked impatiently.
Yatsu did not answer immediately. Then, obviously moved, he said, ‘Yes,’ very quietly. ‘In Antyr’s land. They were much changed. True servants to an honourable lord. Many had died for him. Many died while we were fighting by their side. We shall give an Accounting for them when we return to Vakloss. Nothing is to be served by seeking anything further of them.’
‘An unexpected development for you,’ Andawyr said, responding to Yatsu’s subdued tone.
‘Indeed,’ Yatsu replied. ‘But a welcome one. The travelling wasn’t easy and it would have been even harder if we’d been pursuing a trail of pain and destruction brought by our own people to strange lands.’
Andawyr looked at him shrewdly. ‘But there’s something else, isn’t there? You don’t have the look of a man bringing wholly good news.’
Yatsu’s brow furrowed uneasily and he pushed himself back into his chair. ‘We’ve no definite bad news as such,’ he said. ‘But things happened over there I think you need to know about. It’s just that I’m a little uncertain where to start.’
Andawyr raised his eyebrows theatrically. ‘So much for the vaunted Goraidin skill in gathering and reporting information,’ he jibed. ‘Come on, Yatsu, since when have you been lost for words? Do what I do when I’ve an intractable problem… when you don’t know where to start, start.’
Ar-Billan entered the room, rescuing Yatsu. He was accompanied by a stern-looking individual, tall and very straight with a high domed forehead and a long narrow face. Tarrian opened one eye to watch him as he approached, but did not otherwise move.
Yatsu and Jaldaric, however, stood up and greeted the man warmly. His stern expression was dispelled by a bright and welcoming smile as he returned their greetings.
‘Excellent,’ Andawyr said when they had finished. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Oslang. I thought you wouldn’t be back for a few days yet.’ He introduced the newcomer to Antyr as the Under Leader of the Cadwanol, then motioned him to sit down with them.
Tarrian closed his eye and gave a soft rumbling sigh as he rolled onto one side. ‘He’s all right,’ came his judgement to Antyr. Grayle’s unspoken agreement followed.
Oslang took a chair that Ar-Billan was offering with a nod of thanks. ‘Fine… dogs… you have, Antyr.’
‘On the other hand…’ Tarrian muttered.
‘They are wolves,’ Antyr confirmed to the uncertain Oslang. ‘And they’re not mine, they simply travel with me. They’re my friends.’ A brief shake of his head arrested Oslang’s hand which was descending tentatively with a view to stroking the apparently sleeping Tarrian. He withdrew it nervously. ‘It’s rather complicated,’ Antyr added unhelpfully, a remark that prompted knowing looks from both Yatsu and Jaldaric.
‘Join us, please, Ar-Billan,’ Andawyr said to the considerable surprise of the young Cadwanwr who was quietly retreating from the room. He glanced from side to side hesitantly, as if the remark might have been addressed to someone else, before responding to Andawyr’s beckoning hand and positioning himself on the periphery of the group.
‘Continue, Yatsu,’ Andawyr said briskly.
Yatsu’s telling proved to be equally brisk. His journeying with Jaldaric in search of those that the Geadrol had named had taken them south through Riddin and thence, perilously, across the sea, in the company of one of the few traders who were prepared to risk encountering the Morlider in their fast, marauding ships. A further journey northwards overland had eventually brought them to Antyr’s land.
‘A strange place. Full of many wonderful things and splendid people, but…’ He hesitated, searching for a word. Then he gave Antyr an apologetic look. ‘No offence to you, Antyr, but they’re wilder, less civilized than we are in many ways. More quarrelsome… more easily inclined to violence, more apt to deal out summary justice than true Law.’
‘Like the Fyordyn were, not all that many generations ago?’ Andawyr intervened acidly in defence of their unprotesting guest.
The remark stopped Yatsu and he was thoughtfully silent for a moment before conceding, quite genuinely, ‘Yes, you’re right. Interesting. That hadn’t occurred to me.’
Andawyr gave him a suspicious look but Yatsu continued unabashed.
There was no single government in the land, just self-governing cities and towns that continually vied for power and advantage over one another. Treaties were made and broken with despairing regularity, alliances shifted similarly, treachery abounded, and assassinations and minor wars were not uncommon. Yet, throughout, the various peoples managed to live and, on the whole, improve their lives despite the antics of their leaders. Gradually, war was beginning to be seen as a poor substitute for reasoned debate.
Although the shifting web of loyalties and obligations that plagued the land was tangled beyond measure, there were two cities whose influence tended to dominate affairs: Bethlar, with its disciplined and spartan people, locked into their stark traditions and their gloomy, harsh religion; and Serenstad, a vigorous trading city, bustling and hectic under the relatively relaxed rule of Duke Ibris. At the time of Yatsu’s and Jaldaric’s arrival events had been set in train that were threatening to bring these two into direct and violent conflict. A war the like of which had not been known for a long time seemed imminent and promised grim consequences for an equally long time to follow, whoever was deemed the victor. Yet, even as this developed, an even darker threat was looming over the two unknowing antagonists and their allies.
It came from the many tribes who roamed the vast and barren plains beyond the mountains to the north. They had been united under a powerful and ruthless leader, Ivaroth, and, fired with his ambition, were preparing to sweep down through the mountains and seize what their legends told them was their old land when the two main protagonists had fought themselves to exhaustion. As they surely would.
‘It gets difficult here,’ Yatsu told his now enthralled audience. ‘There was more to Ivaroth than at first appeared. He had a companion; a man, apparently blind, yet who could see, and who had… powers that you need to know about. We only learned of him after everything was over, from Antyr who… met him and… dealt with him. I think perhaps he should tell you the rest.’
As all eyes turned towards him, Antyr shuffled awkwardly in his chair. Throughout the long journey from his homeland with Yatsu and Jaldaric he had pondered what had happened to him in the weeks before the terrible battle that had destroyed Ivaroth and the blind man and sent the tribesmen, broken and bewildered, back to their old nomadic life.
Though he had prevailed in a vital and mysterious part of that battle, and though he was many times his former self, the man who had spent years slowing sinking into bitterness and drunkenness, he knew only that he felt himself inadequate to deal with the skills that he now possessed. He had left his homeland because he knew that no help would be available to him there, though he had followed little more than instinct – and, he suspected, the silent urging of Tarrian and Grayle – when he had accepted Yatsu’s and Jaldaric’s offer to take him to the man Hawklan, a healer, who ‘might be able to help.’ True, at no time since had he been seriously inclined to regret this decision, and during the journey he had learned many things: about his companions, about Hawklan and the Cadwanol and the Second Coming of Sumeral and, not least, yet more about himself. But now he was here, he was at a loss to know where to start his tale, rather like Yatsu just before him. Two other things were not helping him. One was Yatsu’s own clear, orderly and uncluttered telling, the other was an element of malicious chuckling coming from Tarrian at his pending discomfiture. He did his best to ignore this as he cleared his throat and turned stiffly towards Andawyr.
‘In my land, I’m what’s known as a Dream Finder. I enter into the dreams of people and, as circumstances dictate, comfort them, assure them, advise them, whatever’s needed.’ Immediately he saw questions in Andawyr’s eyes but the Cadwanwr remained silent. ‘How I do this, I don’t know. I’m afraid that’s a phrase I have to use a great deal. How any of us do it, I don’t know, though it’s not an uncommon skill in our land.’ He glanced at Yatsu and Jaldaric. ‘It’s a born skill of some kind, but I understand it’s not something you’re familiar with here.’
Andawyr still made no comment, other than to give him a nod of encouragement.
‘Tarrian and Grayle here are my Companions, my Earth Holders.’ He reached down and touched the two animals gently. Tarrian’s ear flicked irritably. ‘They guide me through the dreams and protect me in some way, though again I don’t know how or from what. It’s something deep in their wolf natures, too deep for them to explain to me even if they felt inclined to.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry if this is vague, I’m not used to talking about what I do.’
‘It’s not vague,’ Andawyr said. ‘It’s strange, that’s all. Very strange, I’ll admit. But we’ll have plenty of time to go into details, if you’re willing and if you want to stay. There’s a vast store of knowledge here and at Anderras Darion. It could well be there’s something about your particular talent just waiting to be found. And if there isn’t, we’ll learn what we can from you and then there will be. You’re doing fine. I’m intrigued, to say the least. Please carry on.’ Before Antyr could continue, however, a thought struck Andawyr and, leaning forward, he put a firm hand on Antyr’s arm. ‘Let me state the obvious, just to ease your mind. Should you have any doubts about speaking to us like this, rest assured that the very fact that Yatsu and Jaldaric have brought you here means we know you have a true need and that you’re neither fraud, madman nor charlatan. And that they’ve called you a valued friend says much more.’
‘He’s more than just a Dream Finder,’ Jaldaric intervened. ‘He’s a brave man. Someone with considerable resource.’ Yatsu nodded in agreement.
Seeing his guest’s further embarrassment at this unexpected praise, Andawyr again came to his aid. ‘He’d have to be to put up with you two for any length of time.’ Then, with exaggerated sternness, ‘And let’s have no more interruptions, young Jaldaric. Have you forgotten the Fyordyn ways of Accounting already?’ He motioned Antyr to continue.
Encouraged, the Dream Finder plunged on. ‘My father – my late father – had been Duke Ibris’s Dream Finder once, long ago, and when the Duke began having strange dreams he asked me for help. What I – we – discovered, eventually, was that Ivaroth was himself a Dream Finder, albeit an untrained one, and that he was using his skill to assail the Duke and also the leaders of Bethlar to foment the war between the two cities for his own ends as Yatsu told you. What we also discovered was that his Earth Holder was not an animal, but a man. I didn’t even think such a thing was possible. And he was terrifying.’ He shuddered as old memories flooded over him. ‘He was what we could call a Mynedarion – a person who has the ability to affect physical things, to change them, with a mere gesture – or with a thought – I don’t know.’ He gesticulated unhappily. ‘You must understand that as far as I was concerned – as far as any Dream Finder, any rational person, was concerned – Mynedarion were mythical – part of a quaint tale come down through the ages about how the world was made – not real flesh and blood.’ Antyr made a slashing action with his hand to cut through his own confusion. ‘But he was real and he did have powers of some kind. Powers that defied logic but that he used to sustain Ivaroth as ruler of the tribes and that he didn’t hesitate to use against either people or things as the whim took him. He was dementedly evil.’
His manner and sudden passion brought a deep stillness into the room and when he spoke again his voice was soft, as though the words themselves might bring some retribution in their wake. He continued speaking directly to Andawyr.
‘When we enter a dream, there is a place we know as the Nexus: a place into which our client’s many dreams, past and present, leak, as it were. From there, our Earth Holder, our Companion, guides us to and through the Portal of the dream where our client’s need lies. In the dream, we become the dreamer and can sustain or comfort him as needed and quite often learn enough to be of further help on waking. This is what all of us can do. It’s our gift and, given the gift and a suitable Companion, there’s neither difficulty nor mystery in the use of it.’
His black-eyed gaze held Andawyr.
‘As you might appreciate, a great deal of thought has been given over the years by learned men as to how such a gift could come about – why such a thing should be possible. And while much has been written and conjectured, there’s more speculation than hard fact, and the whole business is mingled with storytelling and legend. However, there’s a dominant belief that some – we would call them Masters – can move through what are known as Gateways in the dreams themselves and into the Antechambers of the Threshold to the Great Dream itself.’
His hesitation returned.
‘You were there, man, tell them! They need to know.’ Tarrian’s command jolted him but he still found it difficult to continue.
‘The Antechambers are… other worlds. Places as real and as solid as where we are now, but… not here.’
Oslang shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Andawyr’s hand came out to still him and his look urged Antyr on.
‘The Great Dream itself is the place – though place is hardly an appropriate word – in which all things and all times exist. It’s believed that, just as dreams leak into the confusion we call the Nexus, so these worlds are but echoes of the Great Dream.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s said that only the most gifted can find the Inner Portals that lead to the Great Dream. Such individuals are known as Adepts. More fully, Adepts of the White Way. Tradition tells us that there were few Masters and even fewer Adepts, and all of them lived in times long gone. Times at the beginning of time when we were known as Dream Warriors, and charged by MaraVestriss, the creator of all things, with the duty of protecting Mynedarion – those in whom he had vested his own power – from Marastrumel, the Evil Weaver, whom he had created to be his companion and who turned against him.’ He released Andawyr and looked round at the others.
‘I did tell you it was difficult,’ Yatsu said into the ensuing silence.
Andawyr nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes. But even at first hearing, there are some disconcerting resonances in the tale.’ He turned to Antyr. ‘Where are you in this… hierarchy of Dream Finders?’ he asked.
The silence returned until, very softly, Antyr replied, ‘I don’t know. I was perhaps better than average at my job when I chose to be, but nothing more. But, as I said, Masters, Adepts, these were just part of our tradition. Not real.’
‘Yet?’
‘Yet I’ve been to other worlds – worlds that were not this one. I’ve walked in them, breathed their air, felt their sun. And I’ve been somewhere that I believe to be the Great Dream insofar as I could perceive it. There I saw, in ways that are not seeing as we understand it, the myriad worlds of the Threshold – shifting, changing, coming together, drifting apart, flickering in and out of existence, endlessly.’ His eyes widened. ‘All knowledge was there. Everything was there.’
Andawyr spoke very softly. ‘How did you come there?’
‘I told you, I don’t know. I know so very little about my gift. That’s why I’m here, searching.’
‘You wish to go there again?’
Antyr did not speak for a long time. ‘It’s not a place where people belong. It’s not a place we can begin to comprehend.’
‘Then why are you searching?’ There was a penetrating coldness in the question. Both Yatsu and Jaldaric flinched slightly, seeing their travelling companion thus pinioned.
Antyr lowered his eyes for a moment. When he raised them, it was Andawyr who found himself transfixed. ‘Because something is wrong. Something is flawed. He was there too. Ivaroth’s Earth Holder, with his corruption and his awful power. And others. How he had come there I don’t know. Perhaps it was through me, perhaps through Ivaroth, perhaps through some unknowable conjunction of the two of us. But it shouldn’t have been. Yet he was there, and in search of still more power. He was possessed by a desire to rend and destroy all that he saw and reshape it after his own way.’
Despite the bright sunlight being carried into the room by the mirror stones, Antyr’s face was drawn and grim.
‘Yatsu said that you “dealt with” this man,’ Andawyr said. ‘Unusually for a Goraidin, that had a hint of euphemism about it.’
‘I dealt with him,’ Antyr replied flatly. ‘And Ivaroth too. For he was there also.’ He frowned. ‘I’ve learned so much about myself. And not all of it’s been to my liking.’ For a moment it seemed that he was going to break down, but he composed himself. ‘Ivaroth I killed in the way men kill. He attacked me and I was lucky. He died on the knife of one of his own victims. The blind man…’ He shook his head. ‘For an instant he was my Earth Holder, he became me, and I him, as is the way. And in that instant I understood him. Saw to the heart of him. Saw the tortured route he had followed, the desires that bound him. And when he attacked me I returned his own power, his own inner knowledge of himself, to him. In pity, you understand, not malice. But it destroyed him. Sent him to places beyond this world.’
Andawyr glanced at Yatsu who answered his question before it was asked.
‘Ivaroth’s body was found, but there was no sign of the blind man. But he existed all right. Many people saw him. And it seems he knew how to use the Power and use it well.’
‘He’d been taught.’
It was Antyr. Andawyr turned to him sharply.
‘What I learned from him faded almost immediately. It always does. But some impressions lingered, for what they’re worth. Someone, at some time, loomed large in his life – literally – a tall, powerful figure – someone who held him in thrall with the knowledge and the promise of power he offered. And whatever took his sight was… a great light, or…’ He searched for a word. ‘… something that was torn from him, something that was bound to him in the deepest way.’ He nodded. ‘Yes. It was a loss. A terrible, wrenching loss.’
‘You sound almost sorry for him,’ Yatsu said.
‘How could I not be?’ Antyr replied without hesitation. ‘Who am I to say that I might not have travelled his way in his circumstances? You’re a soldier, you understand that. But sorrow for how he came to be as he was gave me no qualms then about what I did to him, nor does it now. I’d have had it otherwise but I’d no choice. He was evil beyond imagining. Removal from this world was all that was left for him, for all our sakes.’
There was a long silence. Attention turned to Andawyr who was looking out at the sunlit valley. ‘Twice now you’ve referred to him as being gone from this world.’ He turned and smiled slightly. ‘Have you picked up our Goraidin’s unexpected flair for euphemism?’
There was enough humour in his tone to lighten the dark atmosphere that had crept over the group. Antyr returned it.
‘No. I’ve picked up their painful insistence on accuracy. I don’t know whether the man’s dead or not. He was just gone from where we were. And gone from this world. He was no longer a threat. And he was hurt – badly hurt. That I do know.’
Andawyr’s eyes narrowed. ‘So many, many questions,’ he said. ‘I can see why you’d feel the need to seek help.’ He gave a rueful laugh. ‘It would be much easier for us all if we could just declare that you’re rambling due to a sickness of the mind, but I fear you’re all too sane. And, in any case, I’d have you stay here if only to find out more about your splendid Companions.’ He clapped his hands and just managed to restrain himself from reaching down to stroke the two wolves. ‘You’re welcome to stay here as long as you wish, though I’d feel obliged to warn you that while you’re sane now, you might well not be after dealing with our incessant questioning.’
‘That’s true,’ Yatsu muttered.
Before Andawyr could respond to the taunt, Antyr said, ‘I doubt you can ask as many questions as I’ve asked myself, but I appreciate your kindness and thank you for it. I’d welcome the opportunity to learn more about who I am and what’s happened. Not only because of my ignorance about my own abilities, but because there were others as evil as he bound in that place…’ He stopped.
‘And?’ Andawyr prompted.
‘As I said, something’s wrong. While I was there I “saw” something which has been returning to me constantly, and which disturbs me in a way I can’t explain. It’s as though I’ve seen a hurt deep in the heart of the way the world itself is made.’