They emerged from the bower, damper, but a little more cheerful, to find themselves in a wide, tree-lined avenue. Their conversation began again, though still it was dominated by the battle.
‘It was a shame we didn’t take that creature during the battle,’ Eldric mused at one point.
‘You’d neither have held him nor killed him,’ Dilrap said.
Both Yatsu and Eldric looked at him, surprised at the cold certainty in his voice.
‘Only a very special person could do either,’ Dilrap emphasized.
‘He fled fast enough when he was threatened,’ Eldric said, defensively.
Dilrap nodded slowly. ‘I doubt he fled because you menaced him personally, Lord,’ he said. ‘He simply retreated in good order to preserve what he could of his Mathidrin in preference to paying whatever it would have cost him to use his… power… on your whole army. He’d have used it on anyone who came too close, have no doubt about that.’
Yatsu smiled at this brief but accurate military dis-sertation and Eldric affected an injured indignation. ‘It was only a winter daydream, Honoured Secretary,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to be so stern.’
Yatsu laughed out loud at the Lord’s expression, causing his horse to dance a little.
‘Commander, aren’t you going to protect me from such assaults by armchair tacticians?’ Eldric said.
Still laughing, Yatsu shook his head. ‘No, Lord,’ he said. ‘Your position’s not tenable. I’m afraid I too will have to retreat in good order and yield the field to the Honoured Secretary.’
Eldric sighed massively, then laughter erupted out of him too like a sudden burst of sunshine through the damp grey gloom.
Dilrap joined in, not isolated this time, but truly part of the body of warriors who had set their swords and their wills against the evil of Oklar and his Master.
Chapter 8
Agreth’s expression was pained as he turned to Arinndier. ‘It’s very difficult,’ he said. ‘They’re so… ’ He searched for a word, ‘… vague in their introductions. I’ve really no idea who’s related to whom, although I can work some of them out from their features. And as for where they come from… ’ He threw up his hands in despair. ‘How they cope, I do not know.’
Arinndier could not help but smile at the Riddinwr’s discomfiture. ‘I don’t think they follow bloodlines as intently as the Riddinvolk, Agreth,’ he said, looking round the hall, crowded with Orthlundyn elders, senior officers, Helyadin, and all the newcomers. ‘As for me, I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve forgotten a lot of their names already, let alone their relationships.’
The confession seemed to amuse Agreth, and he leaned back in his chair, chuckling. ‘Ah well,’ he said. ‘We’re strangers here, I suppose, but more holds us together than holds us apart.’ He became confidential. ‘And, to be honest, I’d rather be with these people than some distant cousins I can think of whose lineage I know for ten generations.’
Arinndier laughed, but any further conversation was ended by the entrance of Hawklan, preceded by a swooping Gavor and followed by Gulda and Andawyr. The general hubbub diminished as all attention turned towards them.
The hall chosen for the meeting was simple and functional, its relatively few carvings and pictures being abstract and calm in character as if to help the focusing of concentration. Comfortable bench seats and desks had been laid out in spacious semi-circles to achieve a similar effect, and it was to a group of seats at the centre of these that Hawklan and the others moved.
As he sat down, the remaining murmur of conversa-tion faded and there was a sudden uneasy silence.
Hawklan looked at the waiting people and, cocking his head on one side as if having difficulty hearing, smiled, and said, ironically, ‘Ah, a goose has walked over my grave.’
It was the phrase that Dan-Tor had used during a similar silence when he had visited the green at Pedhavin in his guise as a travelling tinker. For those who had been there on that day, Hawklan’s wilfully casual use of the phrase acted both as a release and a reminder. For the others it was merely a mildly humorous opening to what must surely become a serious, and probably grim, meeting.
The tension vanished and the atmosphere in the hall became quietly expectant.
Hawklan made no preamble.
‘It’s time to decide, friends,’ he said simply. ‘We’ve spent the last weeks talking, learning, thinking. Bringing together all the knowledge we have of both recent and long past events so that when we reached this point we’d be able to speak to some purpose. Now we shall see whether this will indeed prove the case.’
He turned to Arinndier. ‘We’re indebted to you for your stern control of our ramblings. You’ve managed to teach some of us the value of listening.’ He cast a significant look at a group of elders earnestly occupied in a whispered conversation. ‘And if such an impossibil-ity can be achieved, then perhaps others can be as well,’ he concluded pointedly.
There was some laughter at this remark and Arinndier nodded in acknowledgement.
Hawklan continued. ‘The Lord Arinndier, as you know, both speaks and listens with the authority of his people, as does Andawyr, as do we Orthlundyn here.’ He smiled at Agreth.
‘The Riddinvolk, being wiser, or more foolish, do not entrust such authority to any one man, but we know that Agreth will report our discussions faithfully to them when he is able to return. In the meantime, our thanks to you for the help you’ve already given with the training of our cavalry squadrons, and be assured that when the Morlider arrive we shall help your people if it is possible. We can but hope that they’re not assailed while the mountains are still impassable.’
Agreth bowed and thanked him.
Hawklan looked round his audience. Again he was direct. ‘I’ll waste no time discussing further the many different… adventures… that have happened to us all recently, and I’ll waste none debating how it could have happened that such an evil-so long presumed dead as to be known to most of us only as a myth-could so suddenly be alive and whole and as intent on its purpose as it was millennia ago. Suffice it that it is alive and that it does threaten us, and if we choose to take no action, then it will destroy us utterly.’
‘You have no doubts about this, Hawklan?’ one of the elders asked. ‘In all that has been discussed over these weeks and months, there seems to have been a presumption that we can come to only one conclusion, namely armed conflict; war against Sumeral. One of my sons died over in Riddin, fighting against the Morlider, and we must remember that when we reach this "inevitable" conclusion, it is our young people who will bear the consequences of this decision, while many of us here will remain safe in our homes. Do you find no other interpretation that can be placed on these happenings that might avoid such an end?’
Hawklan lowered his eyes briefly. ‘None,’ he replied after a moment, shaking his head sadly. ‘None of us here would strike before we would talk. Indeed, few of us here would wish anything other than good fortune to our neighbours or even passing strangers for that matter. Sumeral however, without provocation, sent Oklar secretly into Fyorlund to destroy it, and but for the King, he’d have succeeded. Indeed, so near this success did he consider himself that he’d ventured forth and was spreading his evil amongst us here, even as his foothold in Fyorlund was beginning to falter. As it was, he did them terrible harm. Now we hear, again by chance, that a second of the Uhriel is abroad, intent upon leading the Morlider against Riddin.’
The elder nodded, but did not yield. ‘I know all this,’ he said. ‘Indeed from what I’ve heard, I can deduce too that Sumeral may even have had some hand in the making of the Morlider War so that Creost could be carried to the islands. For that alone I could have greater cause to see Him brought down than many other Orthlundyn. But still we can’t send our young people into such dangers without assuring ourselves that this… creature’s… needs can’t be met by debate or perhaps just by the threat of force.’