Gulda also scanned the watching Lords. Then she closed her eyes and sat very still for some moments.
‘It is the time,’ she said eventually. ‘Winter will pass this year into a bloody and dreadful spring, but our brief respite is ended. We know nothing of His inten-tions, but delay will work against us, beyond doubt. We must ride to meet Sumeral before He rides to meet us.’
‘But who will face Him when we meet?’ Eldric asked, hearking back to his earlier concern.
Gulda looked at him. ‘It matters not,’ she said. ‘The army must face the army, and the Cadwanol must face the Uhriel.’
There was a long silence, and the quiet buzz of the activity of the Palace gradually seeped into the room.
‘So be it,’ Eldric said eventually. ‘The Geadrol gave me this authority against my wishes; now, against my dreams and hopes, I must exercise it. Arin, call a meeting of the senior Lords and their commanders to finalize our battle plans. Darek, Hreldar, help him. Yatsu… ’
The Goraidin stood up.
‘Destroy those mines.’
Yatsu saluted.
As the Goraidin prepared to follow the two Lords, Eldric spoke again. ‘Commander, if opportunity allows you to understand more of this… substance… that Dan-Tor used against us, then seize it.’
The Goraidin’s normally calm features wrinkled momentarily in distress. He remembered all too vividly the terrible heat on his back as he and his companions had fled away from the warehouse that they had fired with the help of Idrace and Fel-Astian’s special knowl-edge. He remembered too the sudden appearance of his frenzied shadow leaping fearfully ahead of him as all before him blanched in the blistering light of this brief new sun they had created.
Eldric turned away from the involuntary reproach. ‘Those who would use such a weapon must understand fully what that use implies,’ he said.
Yatsu bowed slightly, and left without speaking.
As the door closed, Eldric stood up and walked over to the window. Gulda watched him; a dark shadow in the fading afternoon light.
He looked out over the city with its snow-covered roofs rising untidily above the dark black and grey streets lined with sodden, well trodden, and slowly melting snow.
Here and there the snow had slipped rakishly down a roof, to expose it like a flaunted shoulder.
He watched the people pursuing their various er-rands, huddled against the cold thaw wind; each movement part of the great momentum of the City’s life.
Then it started to rain, and very soon the view be-came blurred and distorted as rivulets of water began to flow down the window like uncontrollable tears.
Chapter 23
The following day, Andawyr led the group forward with seemingly greater confidence, scarcely hesitating as they continued to wend their way through tunnels and chambers and past innumerable junctions and branches. The route, however, still took them inexorably downwards; the temperature remained chilling, and the staleness in the air became almost tangible. Thus the journey which, hitherto, had been marked by the banter and mutual encouragement of companions in mild adversity, became for a while an introverted, almost sullen, procession.
Strange sounds began to drift through the stagnant air; scratchings and scufflings. Occasionally one of the walkers would turn sharply in an attempt to catch the tiny pinprick lights that might have been eyes, glisten-ing red in the torchlight, but they were always gone.
And then a soft, scarcely audible sound, like an in-drawn breath, would sigh through the gloom, and twice Hawklan thought he heard a distant wailing howl.
On each occasion, his hand reached out hesitantly to catch Andawyr’s shoulder, but was equally hesitantly withdrawn.
‘There! I saw it,’ Yrain cried. ‘Look.’
A torch flared up and all eyes followed her pointing hand. Something at the edge of the darkness scuttled away.
Hawklan turned to Andawyr.
‘I don’t know,’ the Cadwanwr said, answering his question before he could ask it. ‘But this is not our place, we mustn’t linger.’ Then he was moving again.
Some of the group started to draw their swords, but Hawklan signalled them not to. ‘The light alone will probably frighten anything that lives down here,’ he said. ‘Let’s not be too anxious to kill things that we don’t understand.’
His manner as much as his words helped to dissi-pate the mounting unease in the group, but surreptitiously he loosened his own sword in its scabbard.
They continued in silence for some time until once again the walls and roof of the tunnel began to disap-pear beyond the torchlight and they felt themselves to be in an open area.
The air became fresher though there was still a strange quality about it.
Faint scurryings in the darkness marked their entry, but beyond these was an echoing emptiness in the silence that was like nothing they had encountered so far.
Isloman gazed around and then gave the instruction he had given once before. His voice was excited.
‘Douse the torches,’ he said.
This time no one demurred and once again the group was plunged into darkness.
Gradually a faint light began to manifest itself. Not, as before, coming from some particular rock formation, but from above, like the vanguard of dawn. Around the silent watchers, the silhouettes of great rock formations began to appear.
‘This is no cavern,’ Isloman whispered, as if even the slightest sound might dispel the faint and pervasive light. Dar-volci started chattering and whistling softly then Hawklan felt him brush past his legs.
‘Take care… ’ he began.
‘This is a… landscape we’re looking at.’ Isloman’s awe-filled voice cut across Hawklan’s warning.
As the words faded, Hawklan felt the shadows around the group assume a new perspective. Though he could not distinguish any details, he knew that some of the shapes he was looking at were a great distance away. His eyes moved upwards. Somewhere, high above, faint lights sparkled.
‘Look,’ he said, pointing, though he knew the others could scarcely see him.
‘Stars,’ someone said softly.
Almost reluctantly, Andawyr intruded into the ensu-ing silence. ‘They’ll be insects of some kind,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard about them. Creatures that live underground and which glow in the dark.’
To give substance to his words, some of the lights began to move, very slowly. Others, Hawklan noted, were winking in and out of existence, though not rapidly like stars, but in a leisurely, fading way.
‘Where are they? How high?’ someone said. ‘It’s too dark to judge distances.’
‘They’re far above us,’ Isloman said. He rubbed his eyes and pointlessly stood on his toes as he peered upwards.
‘I think they’re whole clusters of… insects… or whatever,’ he said. ‘Clusters that keep breaking up and reforming again.’
Dar-volci interrupted any further discussion. His low excited whistling came out of the darkness, then he said, ‘Come here, carefully. Use a dimmed torch to see where you’re treading.’
Following his instructions, the group slowly made its way towards his voice, Isloman leading.
‘Careful,’ said Dar-volci urgently as Isloman neared him. The great carver stopped, gently extending his arms to stop those following him. Very cautiously he eased himself forward and then abruptly drew in a sharp breath and dropped on to his knees.
‘It’s a cliff edge,’ he said, before anyone could speak. Carefully he crawled forward.
‘Give me a torch,’ he said, reaching back. Dacu thrust one into the extended hand. Isloman struck it alight. It revealed him to the others, kneeling on a rocky edge, immediately beyond which lay darkness. He leaned forward and, lowering the torch over the edge, peered after it.
Cautiously the others joined him. There were mur-murs and gasps of surprise.
Isloman swung the torch from side to side, and turned up its light. The ensuing brilliance at once shrank and expanded the world around the group. Shrank it by destroying the subtle radiance that had gradually increased as eyes had adjusted, but expanded it by showing that they were at the top of a craggy rock face which fell precipitately away from them into the darkness far below.