Despite Farnor’s warning, however, nothing unto-ward happened during the remainder of that day, nor during the following night, although a little while after he had first noticed it he began to sense the presence of the creature constantly. Again, he felt himself restrain-ing an urge to reach out to it. That night, without comment, Derwyn placed an extensive guard about the camp.
‘You must warn us if it wakes,’ Farnor instructed the trees. An unspoken acceptance filled his mind.
Knowing that the trees would watch unsleeping for any stirring by the creature reassured him greatly as he lay alone in his small tent. But despite this, and though fatigued from the day’s riding, he was unable to sleep. As he drew inexorably nearer to his own land and the source of his troubles, so the need to make clear and definite plans became more pressing. Yet, still he could not; at least no more than he had been able to do hitherto. All he could do was hide in the forest, watch the castle and wait for the time when Rannick would emerge alone again to ride north and…
Then, for the first time, he realized that the goals which he and the Valderen were pursuing were inextricably linked. That such an obvious fact had not occurred to him before chilled him and brought him upright, breathing shallowly. What else had he missed? Not for the first time in the quiet of the night, he asked himself what he was doing here. He felt again the eyes of the listening Valderen watching him, trusting him, relying on him. Men and women older than he. It was frightening.
As he lay back again, he searched instinctively for an excuse for this negligence. Throughout his journey to the central mountains and back, his hesitant advice to Derwyn had been locked tight into his mind. Guard your southern border. Protect yourself. In his thoughts had been images of defence; images of an attack being repelled by a static, impenetrable barrier of some kind; people, traps… whatever. Indeed, it seemed to him, such ideas pervaded the whole thinking of the Valderen themselves, with their talk of the fringes of the Forest and outsiders.
Yet these people were hunters. It could not be in their nature to tolerate persistent danger from an animal. A threat of the moment might be averted by flight, or noise, or fire, and was acceptable; but a further threat – an expression of wilful intent – was surely a death sentence for the offending animal.
And, of course, it was death that they intended for the creature. Perhaps it was the fact that it had scarcely been voiced in so many words that had kept the consequences from presenting themselves clearly before him until now; had kept him thinking, in so far as he had thought about it at all, that he and they were merely riding together: they to seek out the creature with a view to keeping it from the Forest, and he to seek out Rannick.
But of course, Rannick and the creature were effec-tively one. To attack either would be to bring the other down in furious response. He swore angrily at himself for his foolishness in not appreciating this earlier. ‘Obvious, obvious, obvious,’ he muttered to himself. Then abruptly, and somewhat to his surprise, he became calm and resolute, and oddly relieved, as if something had just fallen into place.
It was, after all, only a matter of tactics. The affair was no longer one of his personal revenge. As he had told the trees, they all shared a common enemy and it did not matter who defeated which, just so long as the enemy was defeated. His eyes closed.
He must discuss this with Derwyn in the morning. The obvious… he clenched his fists at the word, then used it again… the obvious thing to do would be for the Valderen to seek out and, if possible, destroy the creature, and then await the arrival of Rannick. He yawned. He must discuss this with Derwyn… in the morning… no, immediately. Even as he made this decision, however, he fell asleep.
Nevertheless, this same train of thought was still with him when he woke the next morning, and he was still dressing himself as he walked sleepily across to Derwyn’s tent with the intention of discussing it. He stopped suddenly as a jolting tremor of panic ran through him.
Fire!
The fear in it jerked him so violently into wakeful-ness that he almost stumbled even though he knew immediately that the response was not his own.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked silently.
‘Movers. Fire. Felling,’ came the immediate re-sponse. It was a mixture of one and many voices and it was full of fear and pain. And was that screaming in the distance?
‘Marken!’ Farnor roared across the gentle hubbub of the waking camp.
‘Save yourselves,’ he said to the voices with a calm-ness and authority that surprised him. ‘But show me. Take me there.’
‘But…’
‘DO IT!’
And on the instant, he was transformed.
There was darkness. Or rather, there was no sight. Nor was there hearing, nor touch. But what had been these things was now a myriad other senses, each telling him of the many worlds about him. He was at once vast and but an infinite part of that vastness. And where that infinite part lay, the pain lay also. The terrible pain. And the deeds of the Movers. And their will. That unmistak-able wilclass="underline" callous, indifferent, killing…
And there were many threads within it. A great many threads. Some dull and lifeless, others sharp…
Nilsson!
The part of the Forest that was Farnor recognized that thread woven among the will of the Movers. It was Nilsson who had entered to wreak havoc amongst the… homes.
A searing pain swept through him.
‘This is too dangerous, Far-nor.’ The voice of the Forest, though distant, was determined. ‘You are not as we are. You must return.’
‘Are you all right? Are you all right?’
Farnor’s eyes focused with agonizing slowness on Marken’s anxious face. ‘Yes, yes,’ he stammered, his voice alien in his own ears. ‘Did you Hear their calls?’
Marken nodded. ‘Fire,’ he said. ‘And something worse. What’s happening, Farnor?’
Derwyn emerged out of the circle forming around them.
‘I must speak to you right away,’ Farnor said, but as he stepped forward he staggered. It seemed to him that his feet were rooted deep into the earth, and their sudden moving caused him to cry out in pain. But only the trees heard the cry. Farnor’s fellow Movers, knowing him to be a faller, merely caught him. He shook them off roughly. ‘I’m all right. It’s just cramp,’ he lied.
‘Come into my tent,’ Derwyn said, taking his arm firmly.
With an effort, Farnor cleared himself of the residue of his strange transformation and forced his feet forward carefully. He was grateful for Derwyn’s supporting hand however, for the first few paces.
He offered no explanation of what had happened as he halted by Derwyn’s tent. He simply blurted out, ‘Nilsson and his men have come into the woods and are cutting and burning the trees. We must…’
He stopped. The effect of his announcement on Derwyn and those around him had been staggering and immediate. First disbelief, then an unbelievable fury coloured all their faces, and suddenly there was uproar. For a moment he was afraid. It dawned on him that he had not the remotest measure of what the trees truly meant to these people. Derwyn, patently struggling to control his own emotions, stood in front of him and closed a powerful hand about his shoulder. ‘Cutting and burning, you say?’ he asked. ‘Our Forest?’
‘There’s fire,’ Marken intruded by way of confirma-tion of what Farnor had said. ‘I can feel it. And something else.’
Farnor nodded. ‘It’s… it’s Nilsson and his men,’ he managed to say, increasingly concerned about what he might have inadvertently unleashed.
There was barely a flicker of reason in Derwyn’s ferocious gaze as he asked, ‘How can you know that?’
Briefly Farnor sought for an explanation, but there were no words that could begin to encompass the experience. ‘I know,’ he said simply. Yanking himself free from Derwyn’s hand, he stepped away. Though he had no idea what forces he had let loose with his rash announcement, he knew that it was more important than ever now that he give voice to his thoughts on what must be done next. ‘Whatever’s happening ahead, we must deal with the creature first,’ he shouted deter-minedly into the din. ‘Its lair is within a day’s ride, I’m sure. We must…’