Andawyr looked almost angry at this response and seemed inclined to pursue the matter, but Dar-volci dropped down on to all-fours, turned away and began lolloping back towards the shelter. ‘More importantly,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘I think it would be better if we all left as soon as possible, don’t you? It seems our luck is turning.’
Andawyr snorted, then nodded in reluctant agree-ment. He looked at Hawklan. ‘Do you feel up to walking?’ he said.
‘I’d rather walk than rest,’ Hawklan said. ‘I think all of us would. I’d certainly like to put some stern effort in before facing my next dreams. And I agree with Dar-volci. If there’s one thing down here that’s prepared to eat people, there may be others. I think we should leave right away.’
No one argued with this suggestion and the group stripped and packed the shelter with unprecedented speed.
When they moved off, the front and rear torches were brighter than before and each was flanked by two drawn swords.
They walked in silence for some time, the only sounds being the rustle of clothing, the muffled padding of footsteps and the heavy breathing as they laboured up the steep incline.
Eventually the slope became less severe and Hawk-lan moved next to Andawyr. ‘Was that one of His creatures?’ he asked. ‘From the First Coming?’
The Cadwanwr shook his head. ‘No,’ he said defi-nitely. ‘I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t one of His, I’m sure. Had it been, the Sword would have cleaved it in half. As it was, only the sunlight from the torch and Dar-volci’s teeth affected it.’
‘I was hardly on balance,’ Hawklan said thought-fully. ‘Perhaps it was a bad strike.’
Andawyr was shaking his head again even as Hawk-lan spoke. ‘The blow was sound enough, Hawklan, and the creature felt it, but… ’
‘But what?’ Hawklan prompted.
‘Look at the grip of the sword,’ Andawyr said.
Hawklan drew the sword and examined the grip. The twisting threads that ran through it, and the strange distant universe of twinkling stars that permeated it, were dull and flaccid, reduced to a clever patterning that might be found on any well-made sword.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked.
Andawyr looked distressed. ‘This place is… ’ He hesitated and his voice fell as if he did not wish to speak the words. ‘This place is… from before the Great Searing. It’s from a time before time.’
‘What do you mean?’ Hawklan asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Andawyr replied, as if he was pro-foundly fearful of the question. ‘We thought that such depths might exist. We’ve even, perhaps unknowingly, touched upon them in our own searchings. But we never in our wildest conjectures imagined… ’ His voice fell even lower. ‘… living creatures… ’
He seemed desperately reluctant to continue.
‘Are the felci from here, then?’ Hawklan pressed. ‘Dar-volci knew about the sphrite.’
Andawyr did not answer for some time, then, in a resigned voice, he said again, ‘I don’t know. These questions have taxed and fretted us through genera-tions, Hawklan. It’s no good asking Dar either, you’ll get no sense from him. Nor any of them. They just laugh and run away if you ask them about such matters-as if we were children.’
He shook his head as if to rid himself of the prob-lem. ‘It’s a matter for another time, Hawklan,’ he said brusquely. ‘But I fear even then it’ll be utterly beyond our understanding. It serves no purpose here, other than to cloud our judgement with needless… academic… concerns.’
Hawklan looked down at the little man, bent slightly as he walked up the incline. He had never seen him so lost and hesitant.
‘It affects your faith in the Old Power,’ he said softly, with sudden realization.
Andawyr turned away from him as if an icy breeze had blown in his face. ‘Faith is nothing without doubt,’ he said bleakly, then he waved his hand to end the discussion finally.
Hawklan’s every inclination was to pursue the ques-tion. Something important lay there, he felt, but he feared the consequences of the inner distress that it was patently causing Andawyr. He nodded and fell silent to allow the Cadwanwr to recover his composure. Tenta-tively he tested his ribs again.
‘Are you breathing all right?’ Andawyr asked, as Hawklan winced, his voice louder than necessary and reflecting his anxiety to return to matters of the moment.
‘Yes,’ Hawklan replied. ‘It hurts a little, but there’s nothing broken and time will ease it. I’ll be better walking than resting.’
‘If you’re certain,’ Andawyr said.
Catching Andawyr’s solicitous tone, Gavor leaned forward. ‘I’m still getting the odd twinge from my wing, dear boy,’ he said. ‘My sprained pectoral, you know. Certain parties have been really quite off-hand about it. And I think I’ve bruised my beak on that thing, as well.’
Andawyr gave him a sidelong look. ‘Rest is what you need for a beak injury,’ he said. ‘Keep it closed. Less food, less talking.’
Gavor looked at him beadily for a moment and then, with an injured snort, returned to his sentry vigil, peering into the darkness ahead.
They came across no more strange creatures as they marched steadily on through the remainder of the night, though occasional cries reached them, and the walls and floors of the various tunnels and chambers they passed through were scratched and scarred.
There was little conversation as each individual concentrated on putting both distance and time between the present and the frightening events that had come in such rapid succession to disrupt their journey.
Eventually, Isloman and Andawyr looked at one another and stopped.
‘Dawn,’ they said simultaneously. ‘Let’s rest and eat.’
No one disputed the command, but as they settled themselves down on the hard floor and began delving into their various packs, Tirke said, ‘I don’t believe this double act of yours, you know. Dawn, sunset, etc. My stomach says we’re at least six meals behind.’
Gavor agreed.
Andawyr shook his head in a leisurely manner. ‘That’s because you’re young and hasty, Tirke,’ he said.
‘As opposed to being old and greedy, like Gavor,’ someone said. Gavor looked up from his food indig-nantly, but was unable to identify the offender amongst the laughing faces before his appetite drew him back again.
‘What you have to understand, Tirke,’ Andawyr went on as the laughter died down, ‘is that older people such as Isloman and I are naturally far wiser than callow youths such as yourself. Not only that, we have greater self-discipline, superior powers of concern… ’
His eulogy ended abruptly as several large gloves and other articles of clothing arced towards him through the torchlight, in a spontaneous, noisy, and widely supported rebellion.
The torches seemed to flare up at the renewed laughter as it carried away much of the tension that had accumulated in the group since they had been attacked by the sphrite.
When they had eaten, they rested for some time. Hawklan examined Yrain’s finger and as he did so, Dar-volci clambered over the sprawled bodies and curled up beside her. She put her other arm around him.
Pronouncing himself satisfied with the wound, Hawklan re-dressed it and then leaned back against the tunnel wall. It gave him great solace to be a healer again.
The conversation fell to their position and their progress.
Andawyr announced that he felt they were now past the deepest part of their journey, but necessarily he could give no clear indication about where they were.
‘I think we’re beyond the Pass, however,’ he said, to exclamations of considerable surprise. ‘I think we’re somewhere under the southern border mountains.’
‘We must head upwards as soon as possible, then,’ Dacu said. ‘Too far west might bring us within sight of the seeing stones at Narsindalvak.’
‘I know,’ Andawyr said, a little shortly. ‘But we’re searching now not just for a way out, but for the Vrwystin a Goleg if you remember. With that free, any appearance on the surface is liable to be seen.’
The reminder of the reason for their hasty departure from the Caves of Cadwanen, dampened the spirits of the group a little.