He set his jaw. ‘I don’t remember,’ he said defiantly. Edrien’s jaw stiffened in imitation.
‘Leave him, Edrien,’ Bildar’s voice came between them like a protective shield. ‘It’s probably nothing.’
Reluctantly, Edrien stepped away from him, though her eyes did not leave his face. As surreptitiously as he could, Farnor took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. He shut out of his mind the clamouring implications of what he had just been told. He must get away from this place. There was too much strangeness beneath the seeming normality here. He must get back to the valley. The thought brought an acrid taste to his mouth, and his original resolve flooded through him, oddly warm and reassuring. There was nothing for him anywhere until he had won vengeance for his parents; until he had killed Rannick.
‘I think I’ll do as you suggest, Bildar,’ he said, as soon as he could trust himself to speak without his voice trembling. ‘If someone can take me back to where I was found, I’ll head south and see what happens.’
Bildar nodded an acknowledgement, but did not speak.
As Farnor opened the door, he noted again the sword hanging behind it. Edrien remained standing where she was, looking at Bildar intently. After a moment he motioned her on her way with a flick of his head.
‘Thank you, Bildar,’ Farnor said, emptily, as he stepped through the doorway.
As he followed Edrien along the platform, Farnor tried to make casual conversation, but she looked preoccu-pied and, apart from occasional warnings about various hazards on the way, she said nothing.
Finally they reached Derwyn’s lodge, Farnor flushed and puffing heavily.
‘Your bags are all here,’ Edrien said coldly, as they entered. ‘But I’ll have to speak to my father before you go. You’ll need someone to take you to where you were found.’ She pointed to a chair. ‘Just wait here. I’ll go and find him.’
Farnor sat down, his outward stillness belying his mounting inner agitation. Resolutely, he refused to think about the voices that he had heard, about trees, about Movers, about anything to do with this place, except that he must leave, and leave quickly.
He had come to this strange place and fallen among these strange people by the purest chance and, while he was grateful for the rest and shelter he had received, he belonged back in the valley, where his enemies were – where his vengeance lay. The image of his slaughtered parents returned to him horribly – his father limp and broken, his mother bloodied and startled.
He drove his fingernails into the palms of his hands as, in a flickering instant, he found himself reliving all that had happened since that day, concluding with his panic-stricken flight from the valley. But that would not happen again. Whatever else might happen, he would not flee again. He would not betray his parents twice. Next time he would stand and take whatever he had to take until Rannick was dead at his feet.
The image of the dead Rannick displaced that of his dead parents. He nodded to himself. Yes. That image he would keep before him constantly, until it eventually became a reality. And nothing, nothing, would be allowed to interfere with his pursuit of that ambition.
As if to challenge this resolution, memories re-turned to him of sitting safe and warm amid an excited group by a crackling fire, listening to Yonas, his ringing tones bringing to life vivid tales of great warriors who had made similar vows. Warriors who had valiantly stood their ground against all odds, despite cruel, perhaps fatal wounds, and who had yielded to nothing until they had slain all their enemies.
You’re living in the spurious glory of a child’s tale, the memories sneered. And with this taunt came, quite unexpectedly, the cold realization that, stripped of Yonas’s dramatic telling, the reality could be only pain and horror. Had he ever seen two dogs fight and the winner walk away unscathed? No. Had he ever seen any conflict in which both participants did not suffer? No.
And, more profoundly, had he ever learned or achieved anything worthwhile without toil and effort and, sometimes, much inner distress? No.
So then, it would probably be with Rannick – no – so it would be with Rannick. He wasn’t living in some child’s tale. His intention was the intention of a clear-eyed adult. He could see through the magical facade of Yonas’s telling and he could see what was truly required. And he would do it.
As he sat waiting for Edrien to return, his aching body felt like a testament to this renewed resolve, and he twisted his clenched fist into a large and painful bruise on his leg.
And if Rannick is too strong? persisted a lingering doubt. He felt a darkness gathering in him as the pain from his leg spread through him.
I will do what I have to do, he vowed.
The darkness overwhelmed him.
I shall kill Rannick for what he has done, no matter what the cost.
And if that cost is your death…?
Silence.
It will be of no great importance. There is nothing left for me now, anyway.
In the stillness that followed this stark conclusion, he stood up and, limping a little, walked slowly over to the open window on the far side of the room. He stared out for some time at the brilliant, shimmering greenery. ‘Wave away, branches, leaves,’ he said. ‘Whatever you are. Whatever you think I am. I have duties elsewhere.’
Then he added menacingly, ‘And don’t seek to defy me.’
Chapter 6
‘Who are you talking to, Farnor?’
Farnor spun round with a start. The speaker was Derwyn. ‘No one,’ he answered, then, with a vague shrug, ‘Well, myself, I suppose.’ He looked at Derwyn’s face, but he could read nothing there.
‘You sounded quite grim,’ Derwyn said.
Farnor shrugged again, but did not reply.
‘Edrien told me about your problems at Bildar’s,’ Derwyn went on. ‘I’m sorry about EmRan. He’s always apt to act before he thinks, but that was inexcusable. I’ll speak to him about it.’
Farnor made to dismiss the incident – he was anx-ious to sever all ties with this place – but Derwyn continued. ‘And I’m sorry for not telling you about them,’ he said, nodding towards the treescape beyond the window. He smiled awkwardly. ‘It never even occurred to me that you wouldn’t know about them. I suppose we must seem very strange to you.’ Yet, to Farnor, the very ordinariness of the remark gave the lie to it. Almost in spite of himself, he smiled.
Derwyn leaned on the windowsill beside him. ‘Most important of all, however, is that Edrien tells me that you’re anxious to leave,’ he said.
Farnor straightened up. ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘There are things that I’ve got to do and I’d like to set off as soon as possible.’
Derwyn nodded.
‘But not until I’ve repaid you for your kindness and hospitality,’ Farnor added hastily. ‘I’m afraid I’ve very little in the way of things that might be of value to you, but if there’s anything you’d like me to do – any work – I can sharpen a good edge if you need any doing.’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw Edrien and Angwen come into the room. He glanced at them briefly. Edrien was stony faced, but Angwen smiled at him warmly as she introduced herself. Farnor shuffled his feet awkwardly.
‘Sit down, Farnor,’ Derwyn said, motioning him back towards the chair that he had just left. ‘Don’t concern yourself about any kind of repayment, you owe us nothing. But I’ll be honest. I hoped that you’d stay a little longer with us. Few of us – few of the Koyden-dae, certainly – have had the chance to meet someone from outside and it seems a shame to let such an opportunity slip away, without a word. Unless it’s some truly pressing matter that draws you back, can’t I persuade you to stay for a little while? Just so that we can talk. Learn a little about one another. I know Bildar’s said that you’re not seriously hurt, but I’m sure a little more rest wouldn’t go amiss after what you’ve been through. And your horse would certainly benefit from it. It was in an even worse state than you when we found you.’