‘The shaping of the valleys and the mountains by those who were formed of the essence of the beginning, we remember. The filling of the rivers and the lakes and the oceans, we remember. The coming of the Movers in their many forms, we remember.
‘And the Great Evil, we remember. For that, too, was of the essence of the beginning.’
There was a long silence. Many of the words that came to Farnor were so hung about with such subtle shades of meaning that he could scarcely begin to grasp them. He could grasp the pain and distress permeating them, however, and he made no interruption.
‘And there was great suffering. Amongst ourselves, and the Movers of every form. Even the land itself was torn and racked. And the air and the seas and all the waters. All were tainted and foul. But perhaps above all, the greatest suffering was among the vast tribes of Movers such as yourselves, for such was the form that the Great Evil had chosen in which to exercise Its will.’
‘Because that was Its true form from the time before the beginning,’ Farnor said. It was part statement and part question and he could not have said from where the idea came.
There was a pause, heavy with shock and wonder which gradually turned into awe. ‘You Hear further into our meanings than we could have believed possible, Far-nor.’
Farnor did not reply, but simply waited for the tale to continue. He stroked his horse’s head gently, still remorseful at having struck it in his angry frustration and fear. His first act on returning down the mountain had been to ask the animal’s forgiveness.
The voice continued. ‘That is indeed a most ancient belief, though it is not truly known, and what we speak of here, is truly known.
‘And it is known that the Great Evil was overcome. Overcome utterly by a Great Alliance of many powers. Overcome for ever, it was thought, though Its taint was spread wide and deep, touching all things, and ever to be seen by those who chose to look.
‘Now, what had been little more than a suggestion of dark happenings far away, a deep unease, has been revealed to us as a terrible truth. The Great Evil has come again, even within the span of your brief life, Farnor. Come, and been confronted, and overcome again.’
Farnor frowned, there was such fear in the voice that he had no wish to make light of this revelation, but he could ask no other than, ‘If It’s been overcome, why are you concerned?’
The fear flooded into his mind, primordial and terrible. It forced a sharp breath into his lungs, and his hands came to his ears as if in some way that would end this silent distress. And there was another fear, deeper yet, far deeper. ‘What was that?’ he gasped, horrified.
The fear vanished, to be replaced by regret and dismay. But there was no reply. Then he sensed again a debate being held somewhere away from him. ‘Tell me,’ he demanded, intruding into it forcefully. ‘Share this with me. Or do you now consider ignorance to be preferable to knowledge?’
The debate ended, though there was great reluctance in the voice when it spoke again. ‘You must understand, Far-nor, this is not known. It is… sensed… felt. But deeply, for all that.’
Farnor waited.
‘It is thought that that which ended the time before and formed this one was… flawed. That in the remaking of that which had been, an error was wrought, an error so deep that it may doom us all unless some great wisdom is found to repair it.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Farnor said.
‘Nor do we. But thus we feel, and thus we have now told you.’ The voice became almost casual, anxious to return to matters of more pressing moment. ‘And until we know, then there can be no righting such an error, so we should not concern ourselves with it.’
‘But…’
‘No, Far-nor. You asked and we answered. But this… fear… this great doubt… may be no more than idle fancy, for all it is deep-rooted and ancient.’ Farnor made to interrupt again, but the voice overrode him. ‘And if it were not idle fancy but cruel truth, then it would be a task well beyond your means to undertake, sapling. Or, for that matter, ours, unaided.’ The voice faded a little, suddenly pensive. ‘Though, perhaps indeed we are already undertaking it. Perhaps as we each tend to that which confronts us, we are fulfilling some greater need.’
For an instant Farnor felt a sense of revelation all about him, and indeed, there were tinges of excitement in the voice when it spoke again. ‘But, whatever the reason, we must face what we must face, here and now, with what allies come our way. We must survive the moment if we are to survive the whole, mustn’t we?’
Farnor however, was given no time to answer.
‘And the moment we face is grim enough,’ the voice continued, sweeping on now. ‘You ask why are we concerned that the Great Evil came again if It has once again been overcome. True, whatever happened was far away, and, by our lights, brief.’ The voice became grim and dark with meaning. ‘But we cannot begin to give you the true measure of what the Great Evil was, Far-nor, nor what Its defeat cost. Nor would we wish to. But you have had some small measure already in Hearing of our darkest fears. Long-forgotten fears, brought anew to us by the merest hint of Its being amongst us again.
‘And Its recent defeat is perhaps not as certain as has been believed. That which pursued you here is ancient and of Its making, beyond a doubt. But there is another. A Mover. As you are, powerful, but, unlike you, deeply tainted with Its touch.
‘Touched by Its spawn, he has arisen from nothing-ness, like a ringing echo, crying out in faithful copy of the terrible sound it has heard.’
‘Rannick,’ Farnor said simply.
‘He is beyond all help that we can give. But he must be… restrained.’
Farnor did not reply for a moment as a reproach formed in his mind: that’s what I was going to do when you brought me here. But he left it unspoken. It was a lie. His intention had not been restraint, it had been mindless murder; an act perhaps worse than Rannick’s in that, had he succeeded, it would have betrayed all that his parents had meant to him.
Now, though he could not deny that a strand of bloody vengeance still rose from some dark source deep within him, to weave, serpentine, through his thoughts, it was but one of the many that formed the pattern of his present intentions. They were far from clear, but he knew that, if possible, Rannick should be confronted and defeated so that he could be brought to account for what he had done before some ordered forum of law. He should be allowed the opportunity to speak for himself, to turn away from his present course, to make some attempt at righting that which he had marred.
In that need however, Farnor’s intentions came full circle. For he knew Rannick too well. Touched as he had been by his appalling familiar, Rannick could no more be returned to his old self than a full-blooming flower could be made a solitary bud again. His malice and desire came from the same dark depths as Farnor’s bloodlust, but they were wholly unfettered and ruled him utterly.
‘Rannick can neither be restrained nor contained,’ he said. ‘He must be given choice, but I fear his very nature determines his destruction.’
‘He is your kind. That knowledge lies beyond us. The power is yours. The judgement is yours.’
Farnor looked up at the silent trees. ‘Yes,’ he said, tears coming to his eyes unexpectedly. ‘I couldn’t protect my parents as they had protected me. But to honour them I must try to restrain him, or at least protect those who lie across his future path.’
His lust had become his duty. It was no joyous reali-zation.
‘But I know nothing of this power I have; neither what it is nor how to use it. Will you help me?’ he asked, almost plaintively.
‘We cannot,’ came the stark reply. ‘It is a power, a gift, close to the heart of a Mover. Like the knowledge that orders your judgement in this, it is beyond us.’
Desperation began to seep into the quiet euphoria that Farnor had brought with him down the mountain. ‘Then who can?’ he asked.
‘None here,’ the voice answered, though Farnor caught a fleeting glimpse of Uldaneth in the words. It vanished instantly however, leaving him knowing only that, in some way, Uldaneth’s task was more important even than his. And it lay elsewhere.