Ibryen

Chapter 10-2

‘And I couldn’t explain,’ the Traveller went on. ‘It’d be easier for you to learn to speak to the birds and have one tell you how it flies than for me to tell you about the Carving. Easier by far. All you can do is accept me as I am. What you heard, you heard. And you alone. Just as before, only the Count heard.’ He picked a blade of grass and held it up. ‘Does it concern you that you don’t truly know how even this inconsequential thing has come to be? Why it is what it is? Why this shape, why this colour, why this place? No. You accept. This is all you can do with my poor skills.’

Marris looked from the Traveller to Ibryen and back again, then put his head in his hands. There was a long uncertain silence. ‘Perhaps there’s a sickness come into the place,’ he said eventually, half to himself. ‘A sickness to confuse our minds. I’ve heard it said that some can carry an illness without suffering it themselves. Is that what you are, Traveller, a plague bearer? A new horror sent by the Gevethen to drive us all into insanity?’

But there was none of the fear in his voice that should have accompanied such a question and, despite his own confusion, Ibryen frowned at his old friend’s pain. He turned to the Traveller. ‘Help him,’ he said.

‘I can’t,’ the Traveller replied. ‘Besides, he needs no help, any more than you do. He’s suffered change not hurt. He’s old in his body, not his heart — or his head. What I am and what I can do is a strain for most people to accept if they’re unfortunate enough to find out about it. That’s one of the reasons why I keep myself to myself. But if I’m any judge, you’re both too well-centred to avoid the reality of what you’ve experienced for too long, however strange it might be.’ His voice was unexpectedly resolute.

Marris neither moved nor replied. The Traveller sat down again. ‘Still, it’s better you know than not. Especially as it seems I must stay here.’

Ibryen tried to collect his thoughts. ‘I told you, you’re free to go,’ he said, still watching Marris, concerned.

‘You also told me why I have to stay,’ the Traveller replied. ‘You were right. There is a feeling about this place that’s very like what I found in Girnlant. A feeling that I’ve been finding increasingly, almost everywhere I go, now I think about it.’

Glad of something to focus on, Ibryen reiterated Marris’s comment. ‘The Gevethen couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with whatever happened in some country on the far side of the mountains. Apart from the fact that few here have even heard of Girnlant, the Gevethen have been here for twenty odd years and they rarely leave the Citadel, let alone the country.’

‘I know that,’ the Traveller said impatiently. ‘What did you say? The same moving force — the same spirit. Didn’t I tell you, back in your Council Hall, I’ve had a feeling of an unease creeping into the world. A feeling of something awful returning. Something that was described on the Great Gate. Marris and you aren’t the only ones struggling with change — that’s why I was travelling with a destination in mind for once.’ He tilted his head back, as if scenting the air. ‘You were right. It’s here too. I feel it in every word you speak. The resonances of these Gevethen of yours cling to you and stink of it. How couldn’t I have heard it before?’

‘I was talking without thinking,’ Ibryen retorted, increasingly disconcerted by the Traveller’s words and concerned about Marris’s stillness.

‘You were speaking your thoughts as they came to you,’ the Traveller announced.

Ibryen ignored the remark. ‘Marris, for pity’s sake, what’s the matter?’

‘Give him a minute, and he’ll be...’ the Traveller interrupted.

Ibryen rounded on him. ‘Damn you, shut up... ’

Marris suddenly straightened up, then leaned back on the grass, taking his weight on his elbows.

‘Are you all right?’ Ibryen asked.

Marris looked up at the clouds drifting slowly overhead, and then down at his hands, resting on the grass. Idly he pushed a solitary blade from side to side with his forefinger. ‘Yes, I think I am,’ he said. ‘Bewildered and confused. And with more questions than answers, but yes, I’m all right.’ He looked at Ibryen. ‘And you, Count,’ he said. ‘Are you all right after what you’ve just heard?’

Ibryen did not reply.

Marris plucked the blade of grass then sat up and rested his chin in his hand. ‘That noise you made — or made me hear, Traveller — the rockfall. Brought back memories. Thoughts I haven’t had in years.’ He smiled to himself. ‘When I was a child, I used to think what could be the smallest thing that would start an avalanche. What could it possibly be that would send boulders the size of a house crashing down a mountainside? I remember I decided in the end that it might be nothing more than dust blown by the wind.’ He held his thumb and forefinger slightly apart. ‘One tiny speck rolls into its neighbours, which roll into their neighbours, and so on and so on until down comes everything. Then I thought, but what could cause the breeze?’ He pursed his lips and blew the blade of grass from his extended palm. It twisted and turned erratically as it floated to the ground to meet its approaching shadow. ‘Then I gave up. So many tiny things, each smaller than the last, where could it possibly end?’

Ibryen looked at him uncertainly. Marris caught his expression. ‘Don’t worry, Count,’ he said, smiling. ‘My brains aren’t addled yet though I’ll concede they’re well stirred up.’ He pointed at the Traveller. ‘Dust in the wind, aren’t you, old man?’ he said. ‘Come to start an avalanche.’ The Traveller tilted his head on one side. ‘It’s very strange,’ Marris went on. ‘Only a few hours ago, the future was merely a dim reflection of the past, dwindling into the far distance. Things would go on as they’ve always gone on since we came here. We’d fight and run, hide and prepare, think, fret. Then fight and run, hide and prepare. Over and over. Until in the end...’ He pointed at the Traveller again. ‘...like he said. We’d lose. We’d make a mistake. They’d find us and crush us. Or, more likely, a stray arrow would bring you down — a missed footing — anything. Then me, Rachyl, Hynard, all the rest, one after the other. Inevitable, sooner or later.’ His demeanour, at odds with the content of his speech, was almost jovial, then it became suddenly dark, and he ground his fist into his palm. ‘We set our future in stone. Made it immutable, unavoidable.’ He looked up at Ibryen and his voice was vicious with self-reproach. ‘We nearly betrayed our people, Count. When we closed these mountains about us for protection we closed our minds as well. Ye gods, how could we have done it?’

As Marris spoke, Ibryen felt the words cutting through his own confusion — the confusion that had been growing since the eerie skill of the Traveller had been demonstrated and which had worsened abruptly with the Traveller’s revelation. But it was not easy to accept.

‘We could have done nothing else,’ he said defensively, holding on to matters he understood.

Marris levered himself to his feet and recanted a little. ‘Perhaps not, who can say? But it’s not important. We are where we are, and how we came here’s of no consequence except in so far as we can learn from it. What matters is that from here we can change the future we’d set for ourselves.’

Marris’s sudden and uncharacteristic optimism chimed with something in Ibryen but it was nameless and unspecific, and years of patient, cautious opposition to the Gevethen prevented it from soaring. ‘Obviously we’re where we are,’ he conceded. ‘But what’s different?’

Marris pointed at the Traveller again. ‘He is,’ he said. ‘He’s slithered through our precious defences — from a direction we thought impossible, on the rare occasions we thought about it at all — to remind us that there’s a world beyond here and Dirynhald — that there are powers other than sword and spear — that somewhere the great cloudlands still fly.’

‘All of which means what?’ Ibryen was almost shouting.

Marris sagged a little. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, more quietly. ‘Except that if he slipped under our guard, perhaps we can slip under theirs. Somewhere there’ll be a way. We mustn’t continue doing what we’ve always done just because we’ve survived so far doing it. We must find a way that’s...’ He looked upwards as though the answer might be written in the sky for him. ‘...different,’ he decided, though with a look of anti-climax on his face. ‘A way that doesn’t fight them on their terms. A way that slips by them, through them, unnoticed — that finds them dozing in the sun on the ridge, thinking themselves safe.’

‘But...’

Marris held up his hand to prevent Ibryen’s response. ‘Let me finish,’ he said, very softly. ‘Please. I must say this while it’s in my mind, even though it’s still forming.’

Ibryen waited.

‘We mustn’t be afraid of this wild thinking, Count. Somewhere in it there’s victory for us. Yet even now I can feel the last five years of careful habit clamouring to dash it away, to keep everything as it was, to carry on as normal. But — it’s wrong — so obviously wrong. And it grieves me that I, who had the arrogance to act as your mentor in such matters, shouldn’t have seen it sooner.’

Ibryen interrupted him. ‘I’ll accept no self-recrimination from you, Corel,’ he said. ‘Few of our decisions have been made without the thoughts of us all being well-aired, but I accept responsibility for everything we do. We’re safe, we’re strong, our casualties have been comparatively slight and, as far as we can judge, our presence disturbs the Gevethen constantly, slowing down whatever plans it is they have against our neighbours. What we’ve done — what we do — isn’t something that can be lightly cast aside.’

Marris took his arm. ‘No, of course it isn’t,’ he said. ‘But it’s not enough. It’s not enough to survive and slow the Gevethen down. To defeat them, to free our people, we have to do what we do, and more. And it’s on that more that we must concentrate.’ He turned to the Traveller. ‘What you did to us, can you use it against the Gevethen’s forces?’

The Traveller retreated a step, arms extended. ‘No,’ he said unequivocally. ‘I’m no fighter. Besides, what I did was an abuse of my gift. Using it like that in the heat of the moment is one thing, wilfully using it as a weapon is another.’

‘You said you’d help.’

‘And I will, if I can.’

‘But...’

‘No!’

There was refusal in his tone that few could have gainsaid, but Marris was not one to surrender easily. ‘What can you do then?’ he demanded angrily.

The Traveller looked at him a little uneasily. ‘I think I’ve already done two things,’ he replied. ‘One by accident, one deliberately. You yourself said that just by coming here I’ve made you think. Made you turn your minds to things that you never dreamed existed. Shaken loose thoughts that have been stagnant for years.’ Ibryen found himself being studied. ‘That was the accident,’ the Traveller went on. ‘The deliberate help I’ve given you, I suspect, is the message I gave you before. The message that gave form to what you’d already heard.’

‘What!’ Marris exclaimed. ‘That nonsense about the Culmadryen?’

‘Was what you said just moments ago only air, then?’ the Traveller responded, himself suddenly angry. ‘Have your everyday needs swamped you already? Have you so soon given up your search for the way that can’t exist, that’ll bring you the Gevethen?’ He did not wait for an answer. ‘I don’t know what the call I heard means for any of us, but that’s what it said — “Help me, I am nearly spent”.’ He levelled a finger at Ibryen. ‘And he heard it in ways as alien to me, as my ways are to you. That’s where your way lies, Count. Into the Unknown. That’s the direction that cannot be — that is at right angles to all the others no matter which way you turn — and that’s where you must go.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Marris stormed. ‘You must be the way. You could use this power of yours to distract their forces. Unhorse their riders, scatter their infantry. Don’t you realize what a weapon like that...’

‘No!’ There was force in the voice now that even Marris could not oppose. ‘I am not a warrior. I do not fight, except in need, and then only to escape. Do not mention this again.’ His final emphasis slammed Marris’s mouth shut.

A cloud moved across the sun, throwing the group into shadow. Only when the sun returned did Ibryen find a response. ‘Neither of us understand,’ he said, stepping to the defence of his silenced Councillor. ‘You overwhelmed both of us effortlessly. You must explain.’

For a moment the Traveller seemed inclined to turn and walk away, then he gave a helpless shrug. ‘By its very nature, a way that doesn’t exist, a direction that cannot be, isn’t amenable to explanation, is it?’ he said. ‘It’s to be stumbled upon. It’s to be the Unseen already clearly before you. I spoke as I was moved, and you must act as you are moved. I can’t add anything further.’ He held out a peace offering to Marris. ‘If I were able to attack the Gevethen’s forces in some way, would it really be any different from what you’ve already been doing? Perhaps there would be a temporary advantage, who can say? But if not, where would you be then? Still doomed.’ Marris bridled, but did not reply. The Traveller went on. ‘To you, my gift is strange and powerful. To me, it’s something delicate and fragile, easily damaged — a trust to be cherished and tended as I constantly strive to improve my poor skills. It’s neither weapon nor magical power. There is no magic — nothing that just wishing makes it so; you know that, you’re not children. There are only those many wonders which for the moment lie beyond our knowledge.’ A hint of reproach came into his manner. ‘And didn’t you say that the Gevethen themselves have strange gifts — powers, if you must — of their own? Powers which you also do not understand, presumably, yet which you’d have me ride to war against. Would you ask me to die for your cause?’

Though the words were spoken simply and without rancour, Marris closed his eyes and turned away as if he had been winded.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, after a long silence. ‘I didn’t think.’ He shifted uneasily. ‘I started the day worried enough because the Count had wandered up on to the ridge in the dark — something he’s never felt the need to do before. Since then, confusion’s followed on confusion.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I was afraid.’

‘Ah.’ The Traveller breathed out the exclamation as if he were recognizing an old friend. He fiddled with the cloth in his ears. ‘Fear, everyone understands,’ he said. ‘It’s been a strange and difficult day for all of us, Corel Marris. I’d not expected to find myself cramped in a valley and involved in a war when I came across a stranger enjoying the morning sun. I was merely going to pass the time of day with a fellow traveller.’

The two men looked at one another in silence for a long time.

‘What would the dust know of the avalanche?’ Marris asked rhetorically.

The Traveller did not reply, but frowned and reached up to adjust the cloth in his ears again. ‘Someone’s whistling,’ he said. Both Ibryen and Marris stiffened. The Traveller looked up and pointed. ‘Over there. It’s getting closer.

With increasing concern the two men turned to follow his gaze. Almost immediately a faint, staccato whistling reached them. Ibryen straightened up and motioned the Traveller to follow him. ‘It’s the alarm,’ he said. ‘Someone’s approaching.’