Andawyr laughed. ‘You have them at Anderras Darion,’ he said. ‘But they’ll only work when they’re needed. If the Castle were to be attacked, for example.’ He laughed again. ‘Ethriss always did have a bit of the stern puritan about him.’
They walked a little further in silence until, round-ing a corner, they came upon Philean and Hath, waiting by an open doorway.
Andawyr unslung his pack and spoke to the two men quietly for a moment. Then, seemingly satisfied, he turned to Hawklan. ‘This is where the bird is kept. The eye of the Vrwystin a Goleg that you brought to my quarters at the Gretmearc.’ He paused and looked a little apologetic. ‘In my heart I abused you for a profound fool at the time, but now I marvel at the slender threads that brought it to us, to waken our Order and blind our enemy.’ He shook his head. ‘We do right to be simple and direct,’ he said. ‘Who can say what ends any act may lead to?’
Hawklan peered into the room. Behind a large cen-tral column a blue radiance tinted the torchlight. He made to step inside, but Andawyr laid a hand on his arm. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘I came this way just to satisfy myself that it was soundly held. No one knows the true powers of the creature. I’d rather it didn’t see you.’
Hawklan nodded and stepped back as Andawyr entered the room.
The Cadwanwr was scarcely in the room, however, when the blue radiance flared up abruptly and an ominous rumble shook the room and the corridor. Andawyr faltered, and even as he hesitated the blue light flickered brilliantly then vanished, and the air was filled with a hate-filled shrieking that Hawklan recognized at once.
The bird was free.
Strange, strident chimes began to echo along the corridor.
Hawklan watched spellbound as Andawyr’s arms rose up and a brilliant white light shone from them and wrapped itself around the wide column. The shrieking intensified.
‘Hide yourself!’ Andawyr’s voice, speaking unex-pectedly in the Fyordyn battle language, seemed to come infinitely slowly to Hawklan’s ears as he felt other reflexes taking command of him.
The black sword was in his hand almost before he realized his intention to draw it, but as he stepped forward, a figure moved in front of him and struck him a blow on the chest that sent him staggering. ‘Hide yourself,’ came the slow command again. Hawklan saw that it was the old Cadwanwr, Hath, and even as he fell backwards he wondered at the old man’s speed and strength.
Both Philean and Hath were now in the room; wild struggling silhouettes against a demented flickering brilliance which seemed to resonate with the appalling screeching of the bird.
Briefly, a hint of blue returned to the light, but al-most immediately the room and the corridor shook violently, and with a cry all three men were sent sprawling back through the doorway.
Scarcely yet on balance, Hawklan had a vision of a flitting brown shape and two malevolent yellow eyes seeking for him. Into his head came the terrible cacophony that had tormented him at the Gretmearc, but now it was thunderous and triumphant, like the song of a pack of predators converging on its prey.
He could see the Cadwanwr reaching out to him, but they would be too slow, he knew. Then his arms were swinging high and the black sword struck the demented creature an appalling blow in mid-flight.
There was a bright, blood-red flash.
Days before, a far lesser blow had cleaved a stout Morlider shield effortlessly, but instead of the bird falling, broken and destroyed, it merely flew on, still shrieking. Hawklan felt the Sword torn from his grasp by the impact.
He heard it clattering to the floor somewhere as he himself was falling over, raising his arms to his face to shield himself from the screaming bird.
Before the baleful eyes turned to him, however, a long, brown shape interposed itself and with a powerful twisting leap, Dar-volci closed his massive teeth around the swerving bird. The tone of the shrieking changed immediately; not to anger, Hawklan noted, but to a mixture of surprise and fear.
As Dar-volci landed, he gave his head a blurring series of neck-breaking shakes. The bird’s screaming wobbled incongruously and with a final shake, Dar-volci released it and sent it crashing back into the room.
The door slammed shut behind it untouched, with a deafening crash, and the three Cadwanwr threw themselves against it. The rumbling that had shaken the cave before redoubled itself, but it faded as the three Cadwanwr passed their hands over the thin line that marked the edge of the door.
Finally all was still, though the strident ringing still clattered along the corridor. Turning round and leaning against the door, Andawyr slid gracelessly to the floor. His two companions looked at him but made no effort to lift him up. All three looked shocked and drained.
Someone retrieved Hawklan’s sword and thrust it into his hand. He became aware of the sound of running feet and knew that Cadwanwr from all over the Caves were converging on this one small room. When he spoke, his voice seemed to echo strangely in his head, ‘What happened?’ he asked inadequately.
Andawyr did not reply but began struggling back to his feet. Dacu and Tirke stepped forward to help him. He nodded a cursory thanks then turned again to face the door, at the same time reaching out to take hold of Philean and Hath.
The three stood for a moment in some strange, silent, communion, then Andawyr stepped back. ‘We can do no more,’ he said. ‘It would do too much harm.’ He looked at the gathering crowd of brothers and acolytes. ‘We’ve been massively assailed,’ he said. ‘But the creature’s held and the immediate danger’s over. I commend you all on the speed with which you answered the call, but no help is needed now. Brothers Philean and Hath will tell you exactly what’s occurred shortly, in the meantime, return to your duties. Maintain the Full Watch.’
Reluctantly the crowd began to disperse.
‘I’ll come with you to the last door to ensure the seals are sound,’ Hath said to Andawyr. ‘But we mustn’t delay.’
Andawyr nodded and, picking up his pack, began urging Hawklan and the others forward. ‘Quickly,’ he said. ‘We must leave immediately. If the Vrwystin tries to free the bird again, the Caves may be sealed auto-matically.’
Hawklan postponed his questioning in the face of Andawyr’s urgency. Hastily the little man hustled them along the corridor and then through another Slip.
They emerged into a wide circular area with a low, domed ceiling. Around it were several arches, though what they led to could not be seen as beyond each lay darkness.
‘This way,’ Andawyr said, striding towards one of them.
As they passed through, torches burst into life to illuminate a long corridor. It was markedly smaller than any of the others they had been through and the walls were more roughly hewn and less well polished. There was also a sense of oppression about the place that the torches, with their dimmer, yellower light, did little to alleviate.
The corridor took them steadily downwards and ended in a small flight of steps. At the bottom of these was a heavy wooden door secured by three great iron bolts. Hath went down first and, after passing his hand over them, slowly drew the bolts.
Isloman clenched his fists as he watched the Cad-wanwr pull on the door’s ornate handle. It seemed that the door would be far too heavy for such a frail soul to open.
But it opened smoothly and easily and with a faint, sighing movement of air. Hath beckoned the watchers down quickly and pointed to a further flight of steps beyond the door.
‘You’ll need your lights now,’ he said. ‘Go down the steps and wait. Light be with you all.’
Cautiously the group obeyed him, Dacu going first and Hawklan last, save for Andawyr himself.
Hawklan paused at the foot of the steps and looked up at Andawyr and Hath standing on the other side of the door. Andawyr hesitated on the threshold then turned and embraced his friend.
Their brief conversation drifted down the steps to Hawklan.
‘Light be with you, Andawyr,’ Hath said shakily. ‘We’ll remember your teachings and your courage, and hold this place no matter what transpires.’