The atmosphere in the tent changed palpably. An-dawyr inclined his head and looked at Hawklan narrowly. Dacu turned from the fire as if someone had spoken to him.
Hawklan stood up. His presence was suddenly al-most frightening and, despite the softness of his voice, everyone in the tent held their breath.
‘Dacu.’ The Goraidin stood up. ‘Extend our perime-ter guards and double your observation patrols. We need to know exactly where they are at all times if they’re going to move about. If any come near this camp, destroy them totally. Act on your own initiative if Tirke and Yrain run into difficulty, but jeopardize nothing, you understand?’ Dacu nodded and turned to leave.
‘Loman,’ Hawklan continued. ‘Rouse the company commanders. Tell them what’s happened and issue the battle orders. Isloman, Athyr, get your group ready to move tonight. We’ll meet in the command tent and go through the final details at sunset or whenever Tirke and Yrain get back.’
As Dacu and the others were leaving, a sentry ap-peared outside the tent escorting a slouching figure wearing a bedraggled and over-sized fur coat, and carrying a large pack.
‘What’s this?’ Hawklan asked, looking at the vision with some amusement.
‘It just wandered in from the north and asked for Andawyr,’ replied the sentry.
Hearing his name, the little Cadwanwr stepped for-ward, setting aside Hawklan’s cautionary hand. He peered into the deep hood. The figure extended its arms, and two gloved hands eventually appeared from the long sleeves of the coat.
‘Atelon?’ Andawyr said in a mixture of delight and concern. The hands flicked back the figure’s hood to reveal the tired but smiling face of the young Cadwanwr.
Andawyr embraced him and then ushered him quickly into Hawklan’s tent.
‘What are you doing here?’ he said, removing the young man’s snow-clogged coat busily. He stepped outside before Atelon could answer and Hawklan could hear the coat being shaken vigorously. Atelon gave him a nervous smile and Hawklan introduced himself. The Cadwanwr looked at him uncertainly as he took the offered hand and gave his own name.
‘Sit down,’ Hawklan said. ‘You look very tired.’
The young man needed little bidding and he was warming himself in front of the radiant stones when Andawyr returned.
‘What are you doing here?’ Andawyr repeated, sit-ting down beside him.
Atelon looked mildly surprised. ‘The felci brought your message,’ he answered. ‘We didn’t know what to think. Oslang had sent the Muster to take us down south when the Morlider islands appeared.’ He cast a glance at the seemingly sleeping Dar-volci and lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘And the felci have been behaving most peculiarly lately. Rambling on about the Alphraan, and opening the ways… all sorts of things. We didn’t know what to make of it. But they were adamant about what you’d said. The Morlider were landing in the north-here. And the Orthlundyn were coming. So, in the end we decided we’d better find out. It was all we could do.’
Andawyr nodded and patted his arm. His face was concerned. ‘We?’ he said. ‘Where are the others?’
‘There was only Philean and Hath left, of the Senior Brothers,’ Atelon said. ‘And they’re far too old for such journeying. I was the only one who could possibly… ’ He stopped; Andawyr was gaping.
‘Only Philean and Hath and you!’ he said, his voice rising. ‘How many went south?’
Atelon gesticulated vaguely. ‘All the senior brothers who were still there, except we three,’ he replied. ‘But most of the students and junior brothers are still at the Caves,’ he added reassuringly.
Andawyr stood up. ‘What’s the matter?’ Hawklan asked. The Cadwanwr frowned a little. ‘The Caves are vulnerable,’ he said.
‘All the defences are sound,’ Atelon said, a little reproachfully. ‘And the seals to the lower levels. We checked them thoroughly before I left.’ He met An-dawyr’s gaze. ‘The Pass has been as quiet as ever since we put the watch stones out. And while Philean and Hath mightn’t be up to a winter hike they’re… ’
Andawyr raised his hand. ‘Yes, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ve done everything that was necessary. It’s just that your news startled me. It’s a long time since the Caves have been so empty.’ He managed a forced smile. ‘But it’s good to see you. To be honest, I had my doubts about whether the message would even arrive and I didn’t seriously think that anyone would venture out in this weather if it did. I’m indebted to you.’
Atelon returned the smile, but his face too was con-cerned. ‘Is it true?’ he said. ‘Have the Morlider come north as well as south?’
Hawklan interrupted. ‘Take him to your tent, An-dawyr,’ he said, laying a hand on the young man’s shoulder and easing a little of the strain and fatigue he felt there. ‘Tell him what’s been happening while he eats, and then let him have a rest. He might be needed soon.’
As the two Cadwanwr strolled through the falling snow, with Dar-volci loping along behind, the camp was coming alive. Well-wrapped figures were moving purposefully hither and thither through the greyness as Hawklan’s battle orders began to be implemented. Atelon kept glancing upwards nervously.
‘He’s a strange man, Hawklan,’ Atelon said. ‘Very powerful. More even than I’d imagined from your description of him.’
Andawyr nodded. ‘He’s changed,’ he said. ‘Very much changed. And you’ve caught him at a… crucial moment. But I’ll tell you about that shortly. Tell me about your journey.’ He looked at the young Cadwanwr solemnly. ‘It was hardly an act of wisdom to venture out on your own in these conditions.’
Atelon shrugged. ‘It wasn’t much fun,’ he conceded. ‘And I got lost a few times. I know this area a little but I’d forgotten how the snow changes the countryside. That sentry frightened me to death appearing out of nowhere, but I’ll admit I was glad to hear that Orthlundyn accent when he challenged me… ’ He glanced upwards again.
‘What’s the matter?’ Andawyr asked.
Atelon looked awkward. ‘I thought it was because I was tired,’ he said hesitantly. ‘But it’s still there, coming and going, and not pleasant.’
‘What is?’ Andawyr persisted.
‘The Old Power,’ Atelon said, rather hastily, as if to get an anticipated reproof over with quickly. ‘I think. No, I’m sure it is. It’s faint and distant and… ’ He extended a finger upwards. ‘It’s… up there… but… ’
Andawyr did not let him continue. ‘Did you use the Old Power yourself to get through your journey?’ he asked.
Atelon shook his head. ‘No. Except once, a little, to light some bad radiant stones-I’m sure they’d been baked you know,’ he said with mild indignation. Dar-volci cleared his throat conspicuously but Andawyr said nothing, and Atelon returned to his answer. ‘I’d no idea what I was walking into. I didn’t want to attract the attention of anyone-anything-I couldn’t cope with. Especially after I began to feel that.’ He looked upwards again.
‘Sound judgement there, anyway,’ Andawyr said approvingly. ‘That,’-he imitated the young Cadwanwr’s gesture-‘is Dar Hastuin.’
Atelon’s eyes widened in fear and, unconsciously, he cowered a little as if to avoid the attention of the sinister presence far above him.
‘Viladrien are nearby,’ Andawyr went on. ‘And from what Hawklan’s told me I suspect some battle’s afoot up there which may be as vital to us as anything that’s happening down here.’
‘Viladrien?’ Atelon said in amazement. ‘And fight-ing?’
Andawyr nodded, but did not amplify his remarks.
‘What can we do?’ Atelon said after a moment, rather from want of something to say than anxiety for an answer.
‘Nothing,’ Andawyr replied, shaking his head. ‘Ex-cept hope, and be aware.’
He stopped at a tent and unsealed the entrance. Dar-volci scuttled in and headed for the radiant stones. ‘Here’s my tent,’ Andawyr said. ‘Let’s obey our leader’s orders and talk while you eat and rest.’
When Andawyr and Atelon left his tent, Hawklan threw on his cloak and, gesturing Gavor on to his shoulder, strode out into the snow.