The Keep

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 17For the first time since he had met him, Josyff saw Nyk agitated. It was peculiarly upsetting; more so even than the sight of the closed drawbridge. Despite Josyff’s position as the most senior employee of the New Order, Nyk was the group’s natural leader — the Keep and its environs were unequivocally his domain. Josyff felt the need to intervene.

“It was closed when I first arrived,” he said, to no one in particular.

Nyk cast a quick glance at him, but before he could speak, Adroyan, still carrying Esyal, moved forward towards the edge of the moat. Dark against the scattered light of the Beacon high above them, he looked slowly from side to side as though imposing his will on a line of surly underlings.

The snow started to fall thickly again, swathes of it caught bright white and dancing as they passed in front of the Beacon.

“That was just routine maintenance,” Nyk said. “There’s no reason why it should be shut now.”

“Can you... signal... the others in some way?” Josyff asked, tentatively, his voice low as though he did not want Adroyan to hear.

Nyk had no such concerns. “No,” he replied bluntly.

He answered the next question before it was asked. “There’s nothing we can do. This is the only way in and out. That’s why we keep it well maintained.”

“Ho, the Keep!”

Adroyan’s voice was powerful even in the snow-deadened air. Both Josyff and Nyk jumped at the violent rupturing of the silence and, for a moment, Josyff thought he felt a stirring in the air, as though a whispering crowd had suddenly become still and was turning towards this disturbance. He half raised his hand as if to prevent Adroyan shouting again.

“Ho, the Keep! You’ve arrivals at your door.”

“Why would they shut it?” Nyk said, as much to himself as anyone else.

“Whatever the reason, it wasn’t long ago,” Josyff said, pointing to the broad notch cut in the rock that served as a bearing for the drawbridge. There was the merest skim of snow on it. “In fact, it might have been closed as we were coming up the hill.”

“We should not be opposed thus.”

It was Adroyan. He looked grim.

“What?” Josyff said, not without some irritation. “No one’s opposing us. They’ve just pulled up the drawbridge for some reason. I’ve no doubt there’ll be a sensible explanation for it.”

“Can’t think what it could be,” Nyk muttered. “But we’d better make preparations for spending the night out here before we waste too much effort trying to rouse them. They’re not expecting us back so soon”

Josyff was about to remonstrate with him, but the older man’s logic was impeccable. Whatever had happened, they might well be destined for another night outside and they could perish from exposure a few paces away from shelter just as easily as a day’s walk away.

“How is the girl?” Nyk asked.

When Adroyan did not reply, Josyff went up to him and gently checked Esyal’s pulse. Adroyan seemed not to notice him but continued staring fixedly at the dark mass of the Keep.

“Well, she’s still alive,” Josyff said. “But...” He shrugged. “And I’ve still no idea what’s the matter with her. I suppose we’ll have to...”

“This is not a good sign.” Adroyan cut across him. “This place must be measured — contained — as a matter of urgency.”

Despite his concerns about the status of this newcomer, Josyff answered sharply.

“The only matter of urgency, not to mention the condition of the girl, is our getting into the Keep or making safe shelter out here for the night. Without one or the other, any... measuring... is going to be irrelevant.”

Adroyan inclined his head slightly but did not turn to him.

“You are right, surveyor,” he said after a long pause. “It’s just...”

There was no plaint in these word — just anger — but his intended sentence died in the cold air. Once again he looked from side to side along the frontage of the Keep, as though this further inspection might reveal an entrance somewhere, then he turned to Nyk.

“Shout again,” Nyk offered. “No harm in it. And if they’re in the courtyard, they might hear.” He shook his head and muttered, “I just can’t think why...” Then he gave a resigned wave of his hand. “Shout.”

It was a collective command and, for a little while, the three of them bellowed at the unyielding face of the Keep.

“Any caves around here?” Josyff asked, as they eventually lapsed into silence.

Nyk shook his head. “No. We can camp here if we must. Just think ourselves lucky it isn’t blowing.” He was still patently unsettled by what had happened.

“We’ll be all right,” Josyff said, endeavouring to be optimistic. “There’ll be a reason for what they’ve done.”

Nyk grunted doubtingly and began unfastening his pack. “Going to be a squeeze,” he said.

“Wait. Listen!”

Adroyan was craning forward, his head inclined, and though his voice was low and urgent, its tone commanded silence and Josyff found himself holding his breath. After a moment, he made to speak, but Adroyan’s hand urgently motioned silence before he could. The big man leaned further forward. Josyff unconsciously emulated him while Nyk just watched, his face uncertain and his hands frozen in the act of undoing the straps on his pack.

Then Josyff sensed something — something at the very edges of his awareness...

But slowly growing.

Something familiar.

Disturbingly familiar.

Voices.

Rising and falling, faint in an unknown distance.

Voices like those he had been waking to since he arrived at the Keep!

He felt a chill pervading him far colder than the falling snow but some instinct advised him to give no outward sign. Yet despite this his eyes closed in concentration and his senses reached out.

In the name of pity, what was happening here?

Hearing strange voices during the first moments of waking was patently a manifestation from his dreams and, doubtless, some response to this bizarre and isolated building. But out here... in the snow... when he was wide awake...?

Some kind of mountain sickness? Or just plain tiredness... alarm? Or maybe Adroyan bringing reminders of the New Order and that went with it?

No. He might be tired but he was wide awake and clear-headed. The trek of the last hours had ensured that. Whatever the voices were, they were there.

Adroyan must have heard them.

And Nyk?

Discreetly, Josyff opened his eyes and glanced at Nyk, but even as he did so, Nyk was asking, “Listen to what?”

Adroyan hissed him silent. Nyk turned a bewildered face to Josyff and conspiratorially mouthed the same question accompanied by a disclaiming shrug.

Josyff closed his eyes but made no reply. How could this noise not be heard?

He had no time for consideration however, as the voices were abruptly all around him, clamouring for his attention: incoherent yet full of meaning, if he had but the wit to understand. What were they saying? What were they asking?

Was that fear?

Or a warning?

He was almost on the point of crying out in rage and frustration when a realization filled him.

“Help!”

For the briefest of moments the voices swirled and kaleidoscoped into order and the word rang through him. Then, like a climber’s fingers slipping from a tentative hold, they were just as quickly gone, and all that remained was the soft hiss of the falling snow.

“What did it say?”

Adroyan’s voice, booming and coarse, jerked Josyff’s eyes open. The big man was scarcely a pace in front of him, still bearing the unconscious Esyal.

Josyff took a pace back.

Tell him nothing, came a message from somewhere. Nothing!

“Y... you startled me,” he stammered. He was blinking. Even though they were lit only by the reflected light of the Beacon, it seemed abnormally bright after the darkness in which he had heard the voices. And though he could not see Adroyan’s eyes in this artificial gloaming, he could sense a commanding gaze searching his face.

“What did what say?” he managed. “I didn’t hear anything.” He turned immediately to Nyk both for support and to avoid Adroyan’s scrutiny.

Obviously reluctant to take sides, but unable not to, Nyk looked from one to the other. Then, with another shrug, apologetic this time, he said to Adroyan: “I heard nothing, sir.” Adding quickly: “Then, my hearing’s not what it was.”

Adroyan’s teeth flashed white for an instant in the gloom.

Whatever that was, it was no smile, Josyff thought, but before he could pursue the thought, Nyk shouted, “Look!”

He was pointing.

The drawbridge was moving. The black rectangle was slowly tilting forward.

No sound was being made by whatever mechanism operated the bridge and as Josyff focused on it, it seemed for a moment that it was quite still and that it was he and everything around him that was moving. It did not help that the bridge’s progress was peculiarly uneven, as though the act of opening were being opposed in some way. Momentarily disorientated, Josyff swayed, and took an unsteady step backwards.

Nyk caught his arm.

“Careful, boss!”

“I’m fine,” Josyff said. “It just surprised me.”

Unexpectedly, Nyk grinned. “We should be getting used to surprises on this trip by now,” he said.

Josyff’s tension vanished. Here was safety, warmth, food, small tales to tell. And, as a slightly guilty afterthought, help for the girl.

“Indeed we should,” he replied cheerfully.

The drawbridge dropped into its rocky bearing as silently as it had descended. Nyk and the others did indeed keep it well maintained, Josyff reflected, as he picked up his packs and began walking across. Nyk joined him.

Halfway across he turned casually to see where Adroyan was, but their new companion had not moved.

Josyff beckoned him forward.

But Adroyan still did not move. His head was turning slowly from side to side as though he was still examining the silent frontage of the Keep and could not see the road that had opened in front of him.

“Come on, sir” Josyff called.

Adroyan stopped his search and stared along the drawbridge.

“Can I enter?” he asked.

Josyff was unable to keep the surprise from his face.

“Of course,” he replied, with a smile and a broad, inviting gesture. “Though it’s scarcely my place to allow it. This is more your property than mine. I just work here.”

Adroyan looked at him. “This place belongs to no one, surveyor, and my question was rhetorical.” There was irritation, if not outright disdain in his voice.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand...” Josyff began.

“No.”

The exchange was ended. Josyff did not know whether to feel embarrassed, indignant, or afraid that he had committed some folly before this disconcerting new arrival. He had little time for reflection however, as Adroyan began walking forward. It was apparent from his first step that he was having difficulty — he looked as though he were moving against a powerful wind or struggling through a busy crowd. Josyff took it to be fatigue due to the burden he had been carrying.

“Can I help?” he asked.

“Measure this building, surveyor — measure this building.”

It was a curt dismissal.

I don’t understand, Josyff thought desperately, though he did not speak this time. I do not understand. He turned away. Hang him. If he’s going to be so objectionable he can go to hell. Tells me I was specially chosen for the job then has the gall to tell me to do it well! Too high and mighty to ask for help when he needs it!

At the same time he reminded himself who Adroyan was. Where in the New Order’s hierarchy he might lie, there was little point conjecturing. Few had any understanding of it. It was sufficient that he was in it and that he was no workaday underling. He would have to be treated with the utmost circumspection, not to say, suspicion, at all times, and no indication of this should be shown in either his, Josyff’s, or Badr’s conduct.

It was no new game. He had been playing it since the New Order came to power — as had many of his ilk — those whose concern it was to deal with matters practical — to get things done and who used reason as their currency. It had been a learning driven by sinister, if intangible necessity. And still it continued — there was always the feeling that such as he were merely tolerated as just so many useful tools — at any time expendable. It was both alarming and bewildering.

Then again, Josyff reflected cautiously, out here, isolated, who knew what might come of being closely confined with the likes of Adroyan? And how would he deal with Nyk, Qualto and Henk — so used to independence in their work?

Josyff turned back to look at his possible nemesis.

For a moment, Adroyan looked as though he were far away, at the end of a long tunnel — stretched and distant. The vision passed as quickly as it had come but Adroyan still seemed to be having difficulty. Almost in spite of himself, Josyff felt a twinge of compassion. Esyal was quite slight in build but she was also a dead weight and Adroyan had carried her a long way. He must be exhausted.

Josyff put down his packs and walked back to help him. This time he made no offer of help, he simply voiced his conclusion.

“You’re exhausted, man. Give her to me.” Before Adroyan could reply, Josyff was summoning aid.

“Nyk!”

Adroyan’s face looked strained and his eyes were unfocussed.

Then the drawbridge started to rise again.