"Caddoran" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

Chapter 5

‘What?’

The disbelieving cry came simultaneously from Rhavvan and Adren. Nordath and Thyrn looked at Hyrald in bewilderment.

‘Back to Arvenshelm?’ Rhavvan echoed. ‘Are you crazy?’ He thrust a finger in the direction that Oudrence and Endryk had taken. ‘There could be scores of Wardens out looking for us. Those two who came with Oudrence won’t be the only ones looking to catch Vashnar’s eye, and if they found us, others can. And what are we going to do when… if… we manage to reach Arvenshelm alive? The crowds might have gone for now, but they’ll come back soon enough.’

‘I know, I know,’ Hyrald replied defensively. ‘But what are we going to do anyway? Think about what Endryk said last night. How are we going to be able to get the Death Cry rescinded if we’re in some foreign land? Think about it now, he said, and he was right. We’ve been so busy running, hiding, surviving, we haven’t stopped to think what we’re doing, or why. Not once.’

‘But…’

‘But nothing. It’s true. You know it.’ Hyrald began pacing up and down, talking as much to himself as to the others as he struggled to clarify his thoughts. ‘We’re Wardens, for mercy’s sake. The service isn’t perfect, god knows, but on the whole we keep the peace, we’re respected men. And we’ve got – we had – good lives. So what are we doing here at the back end of nowhere, off the edge of any map I’ve ever seen, running like frightened dogs – and having to kill our own?’ He put his hands to his temples. ‘I can’t believe we did that – right or wrong. And look what happened on the shore. We know the streets, the people, but out here? We’re lost. The way that tide came in!’ He closed his eyes and blew out an unsteady breath as, for an instant, he was crashing across the raging stream again. ‘So fast! Faster than we could gallop, for pity’s sake. I can feel it pulling at my horse right now. It’s the purest chance that we’d got horses, that Endryk was there and that we weren’t all killed.’

He became emphatic. ‘And if we get across the sea, who knows what kind of people we’ll find out there?’

‘People are the same everywhere, Endryk said.’

Nordath put a restraining hand on Thyrn’s arm, but Hyrald merely dismissed the remark, albeit with a sneer.

‘Yes, they are,’ he said simply. ‘They’re dangerous.’

Thyrn persisted despite Nordath’s silent plea. ‘We must go on. Away from here. Away from Vashnar. There’s a great city up there – everyone’s heard about it – so big you can’t see all of it no matter how high a building you climb. We’ll be safe there. We can hide, we can…’

His voice faded as Hyrald stopped pacing and turned a searching look on him. When he spoke however, it was softly and slowly. ‘We don’t even know why we’re here. We don’t know why Vashnar called the Death Cry, and we don’t even know why he wanted you in the first place.’

‘It’s a Caddoran matter,’ Nordath said, edging forward to stand by Thyrn.

Hyrald’s hand gently paddled the air, motioning him to silence. The gesture was both placating and menacing. ‘You’ve said that before,’ he replied, without taking his eyes off Thyrn. ‘But it’s not enough now.’ He turned to Adren and Rhavvan. ‘We’ve known one another for ever. We trust one another. We’ve been in some difficult places together keeping Arvenshelm’s good citizens safe in their beds and on the streets, but this is beyond anything we’ve ever known. It’s time to stop running before we run out of luck. Time to think. Time to find out the why? of all this.’

‘It’s a Caddoran matter,’ Nordath said again, more forcefully.

Two birds flew over the group and disappeared into the trees beyond the shelter, their wings noisy and urgent. Hyrald shook his head.

‘Nordath, I’ve known you for a long time too. No more of this. Thyrn gossiping about Vashnar’s private messages is a Caddoran matter. Us unofficially tracking him down on Vashnar’s behalf is a Wardens’ matter. But Vashnar unearthing the Death Cry; us escaping from Arvenshelm by the skin of our teeth, thanks to some loyal friends and no small amount of luck; and us careening across the country, stealing food and hiding from village Watch patrols and would-be manhunters, killing our own, is a different matter altogether. Before we go anywhere, I… we… need to know what Thyrn’s done. I’ve no great affection for Vashnar, but I know him as well as anyone does and I respect him. And I’ve never known him do anything without a reason.’

Nordath cast an uncomfortable glance at Thyrn whose expression was becoming increasingly desperate.

‘It’s difficult,’ he said weakly.

‘These past weeks have been difficult,’ Hyrald retorted caustically. ‘Yesterday in particular.’

Abruptly, Nordath’s protective manner slipped away and uncertainty pervaded him. He turned unhappily to Thyrn and seemed to have to drag words from some great depth when he spoke. ‘You’ll have to tell them… us,’ he said. The last word was almost inaudible, but the three Wardens heard it.

‘Us?’ exclaimed Rhavvan. ‘You meanyou don’t know?’

A gesture from Hyrald silenced him. The sudden change in Nordath’s demeanour as Thyrn’s guardian was disconcerting in itself, but now he saw Thyrn’s eyes glazing over. For a moment he thought that the young man was going to collapse.

As did Nordath, who reached out to support him. Despite this change, Rhavvan pressed his question.

‘You mean, you don’t know what all this is about?’

Nordath, recovered now and looking intently into Thyrn’s face, tried a half-hearted negotiation. ‘No, I don’t,’ he admitted bluntly. ‘But the fact that Vashnar’s proclaimed the Death Cry against you is enough to tell you it’s something really bad he wants hidden, isn’t it?’

Adren intruded quickly between Rhavvan’s wide-eyed indignation and Hyrald’s scarcely veiled anger. ‘The seriousness isn’t in dispute, Nordath,’ she said quietly. ‘Hyrald’s right. We’re here through a mixture of good luck and sheer panic, but we can’t carry on like this, we need to know why we’re running if we’re ever going to be able to stop. You must tell us what Thyrn’s done, Caddoran matter or not. You’re not bound by any oath just because he might’ve broken his and told you something. If you want to help him, you’ll have to tell us.’

As she was speaking, she was helping Nordath to lower Thyrn into a seated position against the wall of Endryk’s shelter.

‘What’s the matter with him?’ Rhavvan asked.

‘I don’t know.’ Nordath straightened up. ‘He goes like this sometimes – when things are too much for him. He usually just comes out of it after a while, as if nothing had happened.’

‘Running away, eh?’

Nordath turned on Rhavvan furiously, obliging the big man to take a step backwards. ‘You judge this lad when you’ve walked a mile in his shoes, Warden. Caddoran aren’t like ordinary people. They’re strange, special. Almost impossible for the likes of us to understand. And Thyrn’s special even amongst them. How do you think he got to work for Vashnar at his age?’ He slapped his hand on his chest. ‘I don’t know why, but I’m the only person he’s ever been able to turn to like an ordinary human being – a friend. His parents – my blessed brother and that shrew of a wife of his – just see him as a milch-cow. The other Caddoran of his age are too intimidated by his talent to treat him as an equal, while the older ones are for the most part either jealous of him or wanting to shine by reflection from him. And Vashnar cares for nothing and no one except his position and the power it brings him.’

Rhavvan recovered. ‘We still need to know what’s going on!’ he shouted.

Nordath nodded briefly, but his anger was spent and he sagged. ‘I know, I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I know none of us wants to be here. I realize we’re a burden to you. I’m grateful… we’re grateful.’ He fell silent and sat down wearily beside Thyrn.

Prompted by Adren, Hyrald crouched down in front of him. ‘Is Rhavvan right? Do you really not know what Thyrn’s done?’

Nordath did not reply immediately, but fidgeted nervously, rubbing the palm of one hand with his thumb. ‘No, I don’t,’ he replied eventually. ‘When he came to me he was frantic – hysterical. I couldn’t get two coherent words out of him. I’ve seen him in lots of moods, learned a lot about him over the years, even got some inkling about how he thinks, but I’ve never seen him like that before.’ He recalled the thunderous pounding on his door, and yanking it open to have the terrified lad tumble, white and shaking, into his arms.

‘It took me a long time just to get him quiet,’ he went on soberly, ‘and I soon learned that asking what had happened just set him back to where he’d started. I’ve never felt so helpless. Then, you three were there looking for him, and…’ A shrug encompassed the gasping Warden who had brought the news of the Death Cry, and the subsequent confusion and flight. ‘I haven’t asked him since – not that we’ve had a chance.’ He turned to the still distant Thyrn. ‘But in any case, I haven’t dared. Rightly too, by the look of him now.’ He levered himself up, reluctant to continue talking about Thyrn as though he were not there. He lowered his voice. ‘I don’t even know if he can hear what we’re saying when he’s like this. And you’re right, Rhavvan, he is running away, but what from, and where to…’ He shrugged again.

‘All of which leaves us where?’ Rhavvan asked, though his manner was softer.

‘No worse off, I suppose,’ Hyrald replied resignedly. ‘But, Nordath, we must try to find out what he’s done – you can see that. Can you speculate – guess at what might have happened?’

Nordath shook his head. ‘No. I told you, Caddoran think in different ways to the rest of us – especially Thyrn. You’ve seen how he is – nice to be with, more often than not, with an innocence about him and always wanting to know – like a child. Then other times he’s so serious and intense it gives you a headache just looking at him. All I got from him were odd words like “darkness” or “blood”. And he kept covering his eyes and curling up, as if he’d seen something he didn’t want to.’

‘Touched him. Deep.’

It was Thyrn, his voice distant and strained. As the others looked down at him, he let out a long, hissing breath and folded his hands tightly over his head. Hyrald knelt down in front of him, bending low in an attempt to look into his face.

‘What did you say, Thyrn? We didn’t hear you.’

A slight whimper keened out of the young man’s tightly closed lips. Hyrald could feel the fear that prompted it rippling through him.

‘Don’t be afraid, you’re safe with us, here. You…’ He stopped with a startled cry as Thyrn’s hand shot out and seized his arm. It drew him forward until there was scarcely a hand’s width between their faces.

‘Everyone be afraid,’ Thyrn said, his voice soft and still strained. ‘No one’s safe. No one, anywhere. Darkness.’

Then the grip was gone and Thyrn’s hands were covering his face. Hyrald looked up at Nordath for advice.

‘I’ll make him talk,’ Rhavvan said grimly, before Nordath could speak.

‘I doubt it,’ Hyrald said. ‘I agree with Nordath. From the look of him I’d say he’s scared out of his wits.’

Rhavvan bent forward, clenching his fist menacingly. ‘Just another uncooperative witness. Make him more afraid of us than whoever else is frightening him.’

Hyrald noticed a slight twitch in Thyrn’s face at this remark.

Part of you is still here, then, he thought. Listening, learning, watching. What goes on in that Caddoran mind of yours?

Once again, almost as though Thyrn had reached out to him, he sensed the young man’s leaking terror.

He spoke directly into Thyrn’s face as he eased Rhavvan’s proffered fist aside. ‘Difficult to do that, I’d judge. A push too far from where he is and, like some of our witnesses, we’ll lose him completely.’ Besides, despite the lad’s irritating ways, as Nordath had claimed, he couldn’t help liking him, not to say feeling sorry for him. ‘I think right now he needs our help more than we need his.’ He put his hands on Thyrn’s shoulders.

‘Thyrn.’ He spoke softly. ‘I know you’re afraid. We’re all afraid. It’s understandable after what we’ve been through. But you’ve done well. You’ve run with us, hidden with us, eaten and slept with us. Done better than many a Senior Cadet.’ He paused and searched into Thyrn’s eyes for signs that he was being heard. But he could read nothing.

‘We’re safe here for the moment. Safer than we’ve been since we started. But we have to think what to do next. And to do that we have to know why we’re running.’ He became confidential. ‘I don’t want you to break your Caddoran Oath. I wouldn’t ask you to do that. I know it’s very important to you. But we’ve all got to help one another. Even if you don’t want to help yourself, think about your uncle. He…’

A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

‘No,’ Nordath said firmly. ‘He’s had nothing but that off his parents and his teachers all his life. Let me speak to him.’

Hyrald looked into the unfocused eyes again. He felt guilt well up inside him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, patting Thyrn’s arm. ‘I made a mistake.’

Nordath took Hyrald’s place in front of the immobile young man. Rhavvan made an impatient gesture and strode off. Hyrald motioned Adren after him.

Nordath’s hand fluttered uncertainly, then, a little awkwardly, he put his arms around his nephew. ‘Go where you’ve got to go, Thyrn. Come back when you’re ready. We’ll be here, waiting for you. We’ll take care of you.’

Equally awkwardly he released him and stood up, rather self-consciously.

‘Wewill take care of him, won’t we?’ he said to Hyrald.

Only years as a Warden prevented Hyrald from showing his doubts as he met Nordath’s gaze. It had occurred to him more than once in the days immediately following their flight from Arvenshelm that perhaps surrendering Thyrn might be a way of having the Death Cry against him and the others lifted. He was honest enough to admit that it was only the unexpected ferocity of the response to the Death Cry that had prevented him from doing this. As they had moved further away from Arvenshelm, the clamour and urgency had lessened but the day-to-day needs of hiding and surviving had remained, and the option of surrender had faded away as the group gradually became five instead of three and two.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘We’ve taken care of you so far. We won’t stop now.’

But some time later, as he abandoned Nordath to his vigil and joined Rhavvan and Adren on top of a nearby rise his mind was awash with doubt.

‘Why so fierce?’ he said. Rhavvan frowned and Adren looked at him blankly.

‘Why were the crowds so fierce when the Death Cry was announced? If we hadn’t been warned – given that little extra time – we’d have been…’ A sideways cutting action of his hand finished the sentence.

Rhavvan shrugged airily. ‘Not everybody loves a Warden,’ he declared mockingly. ‘The ordinary Cry doesn’t exactly bring the best out in people, does it? You know how long it takes us to get the streets quiet after one.’

Hyrald looked down at Thyrn and Nordath by the ramshackle shelter, then at the surrounding landscape. The view beyond the shelter was restricted by gently hilly terrain, lush with trees and shrubs, but in the other direction the colour gradually faded until it ended in the pale line of the dunes. In a dip between two of them, Hyrald could just see the bright line of the sea. It was good here. Open, undisturbed, even the air was different – so very different from the soiled and oppressive streets of Arvenshelm. Yet too, it was frightening. It was empty and lonely. It left him feeling exposed and vulnerable, thrown totally on his own resources. And the glint of the distant sea at once lured him and repelled him, filling him with vague images of great and alien spaces.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, returning to his friends. ‘It wasn’t just the ordinary mob. It was as though…’ he searched for the words. ‘… as though something fearful had been released. There was a real bloodlust in those we saw when we were hiding in the Old Park.’ He shivered at the memory, then he became thoughtful. ‘I wonder how many people got killed in all that, in the general crush, by mistaken identity?’

‘Not to forget the score-settling. There’s always some of that in any Cry. I should imagine a lot were hurt. It’s just one of those things. Anyway…’ Rhavvan threw a suddenly cheerful arm around Hyrald’s shoulders, making him stagger. ‘What’s the problem? People are bastards at the best of times, you know that. Whack you as soon as look at you if they thought it was to their advantage. They have to run amok from time to time. It’s enough for me that we got away.’

‘You’re cynical.’

‘I’m a Warden, and I see people for what they are.’ A jabbing finger emphasized his point. ‘As do you, normally.’

‘Maybe,’ Hyrald conceded reluctantly. ‘But there was still something more. Worse than I’d have expected – realist or no.’

‘You’re right.’ It was Adren. ‘I hadn’t thought about it until now, but itwas worse than the usual mob that comes out for the Cry – much worse.’

Rhavvan threw up his hands, dismissing the two of them.

‘It’s been brewing for months,’ she went on. ‘Perhaps years.’

‘What has?’ demanded Rhavvan, increasingly exasperated.

‘Trouble,’ Adren replied simply. ‘Year on year since I joined there’s been more violence and discontent. And we’ve had more drunks, more beatings, more crowd flare-ups, more everything this last year than ever before – you know that. It’s as though there’s something in the air – like a storm coming.’

‘Horse manure,’ Rhavvan declaimed. ‘That’s all there is in the air – horse manure. And the warm weather always makes people fractious.’ He slapped the purse on his belt. ‘A nice heat-wave’s always good for business. More overtime, more fines, voluntary contributions, and the like.’ He laughed.

The sound should have lightened the mood of the group a little, but the clink of coins in Rhavvan’s purse had a dull, funereal timbre to Hyrald, reminding him that money was of no value to them now. Here it was only something more to be carried – another burden. And Adren was unconvinced by Rhavvan’s airy analysis.

‘There’s a restlessness about,’ she insisted doggedly. ‘I don’t know what it is, but something’s falling apart. And all this business about the Morlider and what’s going on in Nesdiryn hasn’t helped. In fact, I think that’s…’

A loud cry from Nordath cut across her.