‘It was a vivid lesson, well taught,’ Ryath answered. ‘I’m not offended, brother Oslang, truly.’
Andawyr turned back to Oslang. ‘As for why I never mentioned my new knowledge,’ he began. ‘Well, as I remember, we were all rather too busy dealing with our… guest, to indulge in debate. And, in truth, I see now that I was too bewildered to understand fully what had happened to me. All I knew was that I must learn about fire by thrusting my hand into it.’
Oslang grimaced at the sudden pain in Andawyr’s voice.
‘And did you learn?’ he said softly.
Andawyr nodded. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘And shortly I’ll teach you what I can, though less painfully I hope. But I’ve no new knowledge to share with you my friends, only a clearer understanding of what I already knew. A clearer vision. The obvious becomes obvious again. I apologize for my demonstration, but it was necessary. Time is against us and simply can’t be squandered on needless debate. I chose my words carefully. We are at war. Metaphorically at least, we must lay aside our pens for our swords. We must fulfil the duties that Ethriss laid on our order so long ago.’
Several of the brothers again stood up to speak, but Andawyr silenced them with a wave of his hand. ‘Listen,’ he said, looking at each in turn. ‘And think. I’ll be as brief as I can, but I must tell you again what happened at the Gretmearc, then what happened in Narsindal, and you too must be prepared to re-examine what you think you already know.’
He paused briefly to collect his thoughts. ‘Even my being at the Gretmearc was unusual. You know that. I very rarely go there, but some spirit moved me, and I went. We’ll not speculate on why I should choose to go there instead of one of the student brothers, but it is a factor to colour our thoughts. However, when I arrived, there was a strange shifting aura about the place. Then one night outside my tent landed a raven, a raven with a wooden leg, a raven that talked, that told me he was searching for his friend, a healer, Hawklan, key-holder to Anderras Darion no less, and bearer of a black sword that had fallen at his feet in the Armoury of that place. A man drawn mysteriously to the Gretmearc by a strange corruption he had seen. A corruption that had been brought into the heart of Orthlund.’
He looked round at his audience. ‘How could I not help such a tale-bearer search for such a man? Well, after we’d wandered hither and thither for some time, the aura that had pricked and teased me for so many days, vanished.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Focussed itself into one clear, foul emanation. I could hardly believe it, it was so appalling. Like a ghastly beacon. And when we found its heart… ’
He leaned forward and, resting his elbows on his knees, cradled his head in his hands, his eyes wide at the remembered pain. ‘I suddenly felt as though I were in a nightmare and that I’d wake up soon in my bed. But it was there. In front of me. Vrwystin A Kaethio amp;mdashthe beast that binds. He hesitated, as if reluctant to go on. ‘It’s a fearful enough thing to read of such creatures, but to see one… ’ He closed his eyes. ‘I was so frightened. Every part of me wanted to turn and run amp;mdashrun and run amp;mdashforever. But I couldn’t. Some deep folly or deeper wisdom just propelled me right into its lair without a vestige of preparation, the bird at my shoulder.’
He shook his head. ‘I barely remember the rest. Playing the innocent clown I managed to do some damage and suddenly the man was free, attacking the creature with his black sword.’ He swung his hand from side to side, his face alive with wonder. ‘It was Ethriss’s sword, as I live. I held it in my own hands later, and felt its power. And such a blow he delivered. And such a scream that creature uttered as it died, if dying is what such abominations do.’ He closed his eyes again.
Oslang reached out and laid a hand on his arm. Andawyr covered it gratefully with his own hand.
‘And its keeper amp;mdasheven weakened and demented at this destruction of his soul-mate amp;mdashhad power such as I’ve rarely felt from one man.’ He fingered the cord of his robe and looked again at his listeners, his face suddenly calmer. ‘That was when I learned again all that I’d ever been taught.’
He nodded at Ryath. ‘Your comment was fair, Ryath, but this was no dilettante dabbler who’d happened by chance on a few tricks with the Old Power. This was a powerful and skilled mage, albeit, I fear, only an apprentice.’ He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t have wished to encounter him at his best. Even after I downed him and scattered the creature’s lair, he found us in my inner quarters.’
‘The eye called him,’ Oslang said, part-question, part-statement.
Andawyr nodded. ‘Yes. The eye of Vrwystin A Goleg, the beast that sees all. That at least, you’ve seen amp;mdashand felt.’ He shook his head again. ‘You know the appalling price that must have been paid by perhaps hundreds of people to recreate and fetter the Vrwystin A Kaethio. And who was known for his use of that creature and the Vrwystin A Goleg?’
He fell silent, but the question was rhetorical. ‘Ok-lar,’ he continued. ‘So went my reasoning. And if Oklar is awake, then He too must be. And the man Hawklan, who tore himself free from the maw of the Kaethio and slew it? Who was he? He’s gentle and peaceful, yet his mind is closed by a strange power and he has strange inner resources.’ He leaned forward. ‘Consider. You can imagine the condition of his arm after being absorbed by the Kaethio. It was appalling. Yet it was healable. I felt those inner resources responding even as I wove.’
Andawyr clenched his fist. ‘So many things, broth-ers, so many. Small wonder I was nearly witless when I returned. A healer, from Ethriss’s castle, bearing Ethriss’s sword, watched and hunted in a manner that only Oklar would amp;mdashcould amp;mdashuse. Plus what I myself felt. What else could I conclude?’ The room was silent. ‘The man is Ethriss returned, as I live. But dormant in some way. How else could all these things be? And the other conclusions. If Oklar were awake so then must He be. How could I see all these wonders and horror and not go searching for its source? And where else but in Narsin-dal?’
Through the window openings the shadows of late summer clouds could be seen marching slowly over the undulating countryside. But inside the council chamber, all was still. Held by the power of Andawyr’s telling, no one moved, no one spoke.
When Andawyr began again, his voice was very soft. ‘I sought out some of the Mandroc families that I used to be familiar with many years ago, but they were gone from their normal hunting ranges. No sign. So I went further in. The plains were alive with bands of armed Mandrocs and black liveried men.’ There was a stir among the brothers, but Oslang silenced it with a gesture.
‘Worse than that, though,’ Andawyr continued. ‘The place was alive with His presence.’ He shuddered. ‘He is with us, beyond doubt. And strong. It defies me that we should have been so blind for so long. These things are not the happenings of months or even years.’ He waved his own thought aside and looked again at his cord.
‘I turned back. Fled, in a word. But even in full knowledge, we’re not above foolishness. Despite His presence I used the Old Power to give myself a little light and warmth in that benighted place.’ Andawyr folded his arms around himself as if bitterly chilled. ‘I was in the mountains by then, you understand, and deep. Not so foolish as to be on or even near the surface. But He felt my presence and found me. And bound me like the merest insect. But for the depth at which I had hidden, He could have made me walk to His very castle, had He chosen.’ He fell silent, but again no one spoke. It was as if the dank chill of Narsindal and His appalling touch had reached into this, the very heart of the Cadwanol’s strength.
‘And it was only because I was so deep that his… men… Mandrocs… couldn’t find me. I heard them searching. Passing nearby, but they always missed me, though by what chance I can’t say. It was from them that I heard of the rising of Derras Ustramel.’
He leaned forward, his voice intense. ‘Alone in the darkness and in my pain, I passed through many moods. But twice, at my very lowest, I saw the man Hawklan again. Saw him as clearly as I see you. And I felt his presence. Both times he gave me comfort and on the second he actually reached out and caught me when truly I thought all hope had gone. And He felt him too. For His presence came in Hawklan’s wake. But I’d been given a new stillness and though His binding still surrounded me, it was uncertain.’