It was Hawklan who eventually spoke.
‘Is this the tale you’d have told me?’ he asked, his face still drawn, but seemingly composed.
Gulda drew back her hood. Her face was unreadable.
‘Yes and no,’ she said. ‘Yes, I’d have told you about the destruction of the Orthlundyn army and much of its people, but no, I could not know what you’ve just told us.’ She reached out and took Hawklan’s hand in an uncharacteristically feminine gesture. ‘My poor prince,’ she said softly.
Hawklan gripped her hand. ‘My poor people,’ he replied.
There was another long silence, then Andawyr said, ‘Finish his tale, Memsa, unburden him.’
Hawklan looked at her. ‘Do you know my name?’ he asked.
Gulda shook her head. ‘We know who you are,’ she replied. ‘But not your name, nor even the names of those who rode with you.’
Hawklan frowned. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Do you know how I came here?’
Gulda shook her head again. ‘That’s an even greater mystery,’ she said. ‘But at least I can tell you that the Orthlundyn’s sacrifice was not in vain.’
Hawklan leaned back in his chair, his face question-ing.
‘Then, as now, to presume to match Sumeral in cunning was an act fraught with hazard,’ Gulda said. ‘We don’t know whether Ethriss’s plan was betrayed or whether it was just seen for what it was, but Sumeral saw the trap and laid His own, secretly moving an army into Riddin before he launched His direct attack on Orthlund’s southern border. It was this army that fell on your flank.’
Hawklan looked at her intently. Riddin had been like Fyorlund then; empty save for some fishing villages on the coast and a few wandering shepherds. An army could have been moved in with ease.
‘But it would be almost impossible to bring an army through the mountains. Anderras Darion guarded the easiest route… ’ He stopped.
Gulda shook her head. ‘It took great leadership,’ she said. ‘But Sumeral had many fine Commanders, and it was a deed you yourself would have honoured.’
Hawklan looked down, remembering Dacu’s patient observations on their journey from Fyorlund. Even Ethriss had presumed the mountains and Anderras Darion would protect Orthlund’s eastern flank. ‘Go on,’ he said softly.
‘When the Alliance army entered Orthlund as planned, they found the enemy occupying your entrenchments,’ Gulda continued. ‘As you retreated northwards, the Alliance army was held fast for many days. I’ll spare you the details, though they’re heroic, but eventually the new defenders were overrun and they retreated to form a rearguard to the army that was pursuing you.
‘So the hammer did strike,’ Hawklan said.
Gulda nodded. ‘Ferociously,’ she said. ‘But, as you said, the anvil was broken, though it was no man’s fault.’ Her voice fell. ‘The Alliance army pursued with all speed, driven on relentlessly at first by Ethriss’s will and then by their own desperation as they realized what had happened. They passed gutted villages and scorched farmlands, groups of straggling, bewildered survivors, and the unburied bodies of countless less fortunate until they too passed into the empty northern land we now call Fyorlund.’
She paused and looked at Hawklan reflectively. ‘However, such had been the fury of your defence, first in Orthlund and then, finally, on that lonely hill, that Sumeral’s army was but a shadow of what it had been, and He Himself was much weakened. When news came to Him that the great host of the Alliance was approach-ing, it’s said that He formed up His army to meet them, but seeing them so reduced, and fearing that Ethriss himself might in his rage be at the forefront of his army, He turned and fled. Fled up into Narsindal where once He had dwelt, with the victorious ravens taunting and harrying Him all the way.’
Gulda shrugged. ‘Whatever the truth, He and His army were gone from the field when the army arrived. Only Ethriss stood amidst that carnage; come by some means beyond us. He held the black sword and the bow of the Prince, and he wept as he wandered the battle-field. But he did not speak, except to name each of the dead as he came to them. Even those that no one could recognize.’ Gulda turned away and pursed her lips to stop them from trembling. ‘He knew them all,’ she whispered.
‘He sent the army in pursuit of Sumeral,’ she went on. ‘And while they were gone, with Theowart’s help, he threw up a great burial mound for all the dead.’
‘Vakloss,’ Hawklan said, recalling suddenly the strange unease he had felt when first he had seen the City.
Gulda nodded. ‘The army followed Sumeral as far as the borders of Narsindal and then returned, concerned about their extended supply line and the possibility that the enemy might turn and counter attack in the mountains.
"‘We have Him caged then," Ethriss said. "He must never come forth again." And he gave charge of the land to the Fyordyn, his second most favoured people, whose own land had been despoiled beyond recovery by Oklar. Their task was to watch Narsindal and protect what was left of Orthlund and the Orthlundyn. And he gave the inner lands of Riddin to a great horse-riding nation who too had been cruelly dispossessed by the war. Their task was to aid the Cadwanol in guarding the Pass of Elewart, the only other route out of Narsindal. Then he returned to Anderras Darion.
‘There, however, surrounded by so many beautiful memories of his finest friends, his grief and remorse were appalling and it was a dark place for a long time. The people of the Alliance wandered Orthlund, seeking out survivors and helping them to rebuild their homes and restore their lands. But it was a cruel task, so broken were the Orthlundyn, so cast down.
‘Then one day, Ethriss came out of his inner cham-ber and, wandering the Castle, subtly touched all the likenesses of his friends, so that they were different. And he removed all mention of their names also. "As you love me, I beg you, speak none of these again, lest you disturb the true obeisance I must do them in my heart," he said. "Those who remain I shall repay as well as I am able."’
Hawklan grimaced at Gulda’s obvious pain. ‘What of their prince?’ he asked.
Gulda looked at him. ‘Ethriss said no more. He re-made the prince’s black sword and bow to be his own, and the legend grew that, horror-stricken at fate of his beloved Orthlundyn, he had risked all by venturing into the heart of the battle and snatching away the prince at the very point of death, laying him to sleep in a secret place against some future need.’
‘And nothing more?’ Hawklan asked.
Gulda shook her head. ‘Nothing more,’ she said. ‘But from our knowledge and yours, can you doubt who you are?’
Hawklan did not answer, but rested his head on his hand and lowered his eyes pensively.
Tentatively, Gulda went on. ‘Then there was a period of great peace for many years. Sumeral and His Uhriel were weakened in every way, but so were Ethriss and the Guardians and neither could assail the other with any hope of victory. So Ethriss and the Guardians moved back out into the world, mending what could be mended, and slowly easing the rifts that Sumeral’s words had torn between its many peoples. But always Ethriss returned to Orthlund to add some further wonder to the countryside and to Anderras Darion so that perhaps subtler forces than man might protect it should Sumeral venture forth again.’ She raised a warning finger. ‘And venture forth He did, many times. Unhindered in Narsindal, He grew in knowledge and His armies grew in strength, particularly the Mandrocs. Gradually His Uhriel and many other agents seeped out into the world to undo the work of Ethriss and cause yet more havoc and chaos. Then He too led His armies out of Narsindal, and though the horse people of Riddin always held Him at the Pass of Elewart, and the Alliance kept Him from Orthlund, He dragged war to and fro across Fyorlund times beyond number for generation after generation, until that last terrible battle, when both He and Ethriss fell.’
Gulda fell silent and no one spoke for a long time. Eventually, Hawklan looked up. ‘I feel no different,’ he said. ‘I am as I was when I found myself in the moun-tains-no prince, no great leader-though events have reminded me I am a warrior as well as a healer. I hear and feel the truth of your words, and the truth of my few memories, but in some way they bind me to here and now.’ His face was concerned. ‘I am of this time utterly, not some time long gone. Why does the absence of the names and faces of my friends… my kin… and their terrible fate pain me so little? How can I have lost so much and known such horrors and yet still be so at peace with myself?’