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Rorick and Conel were not, of course, the only men in Asbaln to rise against the Hygerians, nor even the only ones to have a measure of success. Phedron Doubleaxe, to whom was later given the Sevenhills Barony, had developed on his own ideas similar to those used by Conel and Rorick. The news which came over the Mountains to him, encouraged him, and drew more men to join his cause. He was not connected to the old nobility of the land, though there were some rumours about which the truth could not be ascertained. He was, however, not only one of the best among those fighting for the freedom of Asbaln, but was among the best of the new barons.
-The Hygerian War
Randell of Avantir
He awoke briefly the next morning, back at the village. Helana was there. “Quiet, Rorick, rest. You need much sleep.”
“They must be told at the pass.”
“Do you think we are fools? A messenger left for the Prince as soon as we brought you to the village. Now rest.”
Somehow, though, he thought to argue; the words did not come. He drifted into dreams.
It was late afternoon, he guessed from the shadows on the wall.
Helana sat in a chair beside him. “The clearing of the pass did not leave you unscathed, my warrior.”
“No, but I did return, queen of my heart.”
“And for that, I am grateful. It has been a long week that I waited for you.”
“A week! Two days, by my counting.”
“Yesterday was the seventh day from the time you stepped into the mirror.”
Rorick lay still for a moment or two. “That was a strange place indeed. But if it was indeed a week, I must go to the pass.”
“You must go nowhere at all for some days. You have several bad wounds, a score of minor cuts, some terrible burns and an assortment of bruises. And there is no reason for you to go to the pass, as the war-host will be coming back here. Now drink this; it will help you sleep.”
So firm was her demeanor that Rorick drank the medicine before he could decide that he didn’t want to. He lay back and closed his eyes for a moment before telling Helana what he thought of tyrannical women. It was dark when he opened them again.
In his startlement, he sat up quickly. He fell back as quickly with a thunderous aching in his head, and he vaguely remembered a blow which had glanced ringingly from the side of his helmet. It died down in a few moments, and he opened his eyes to see Helana leaning over him. A little more cautiously, he sat up.
“Well, it seems that I have slept the day away.”
“This day, and yesterday as well. I have never seen a man so tired. You look better now, though perhaps a little hungry.”
And Rorick realized then just how hungry he was. She smiled and went out, returning very shortly with a jug of ale and some bread and meat.
“Some of the healers say that a man in your case should not eat too much, but I have a different opinion. I think you will know for yourself when you have had enough.”
She spread out the food before him, and as he ate, she asked, “Would you tell me something of what you found beyond the mirror?”
So Rorick recounted, briefly, what had happened behind the mirror. So brief was his story that Helana felt it necessary to interrupt several times with questions in order to find out just what had gone on. When it was done, they sat silently for a little time. Helana spoke at last.
“It is time for you to rest again. Would you care for some music to help you relax?”
“I would indeed. What songs do you know?”
“As you are aware, we of the Hills share a part of the heritage of the folk of Asbaln. Among our people as well as your people, there are the songs of the Old Island, of the Ancient Days.”
“Indeed? Do you know the song of Taura Lella Morna?”
“Most certainly.” She took up a small harp and stroked it, then began to sing:
“O Taura Lella Morna, nevermore, nevermore!
O Taura Lella Morna, nevermore!
Great towers, white towers, standing proud and tall;
King and Queen and lady fair in white stone hall.
The towers fell in ruins as we sadly sailed away,
From Taura Lella Morna, at the breaking of the day.
O Taura Lella Morna, nevermore, nevermore!
O Taura Lella Morna, nevermore!
Ah, Taura Lella Morna, with the towers white as snow!
Ah, Taura Lella Morna, with the fields green below!
There is sorrow in our hearts, for we nevermore will stay,
In Taura Lella Morna, at the breaking of the day.
O Taura Lella nevermore, nevermore!
O Taura Lella Morna, nevermore!
O Taura Lella Morna, by the sunset, painted gold!
O Taura Lella Morna, fair city built of old!
Now our hearts are sadly breaking, for we nevermore shall sight,
Fair Taura Lella Morna, shining tall in the twilight.
0 Taura Lella Morna, nevermore, nevermore!
0 Taura Lella Morna, nevermore!
Fair city, white city, that sheltered all our lives;
Great city, doomed city, sorrow cuts like knives!
Though we live till world’s end, no city shines so bright,
As Taura Lella Morna, proud and gold in the twilight.
O Taura Lella Morna, nevermore, nevermore!
O Taura Lella Morna, nevermore!
Ships shall bear us safely far across this wild, wide sea;
We shall come to land at last, who cares where that may be?
For where we go, we shall ever bear with us the sight,
Of Taura Lella Morna, dying, burning, in the night.
0 Taura Lella Morna, nevermore, nevermore!
0 Taura Lella Morna, nevermore!”
When the last notes had died away, Rorick sat silently staring into the last flickering remnants of the fire.
“A beautiful song that,” said Helana, “but a song of great sadness as well. And it is time for you to be sleeping again, my hero.”
Rorick smiled. “It is a song of beauty indeed, but no less beautiful is she who sings it.”
“And my hero, even hacked half to pieces, has a tongue to charm the birds in the sky. Now do you go to sleep and become well.”
Two weeks from the clearing of the pass, the war-host was once more in the Hills. Two hundred men had remained behind at the pass, to prevent the Hygerians from rushing through when they discovered the absence of the war-host. As Beran put it later, the two forces sat and snarled at each other across their barricades, but did little else.
Conel came to Rorick, his eyes shining, his feet near dancing with his news. “Great news has come, O my brother of the Sword! Three days before we left the pass, a man came over the Mountains to us, and was brought in to me. He told us he had taken a trail across the Mountains to bring us news, and when he saw my face he shook his head and said, ‘Na, Milord, ‘e was but a track o’ th’ beasts. A man, ten men, might ga’ through, but th’ whole host would still be marching when the snows fell.’” Conel smiled at the memory, and Rorick at the mimicry of the accent.
“But his news. There is a sheepherding man named Phedron, in the foothills of the North, who owns his own freehold, crew tired of the continual grasping of the Dark ones, who would take the best of his flocks with no return. He therefore raised his own force and fought. Shortly after we had taken Virdan, he had his own force of mounted archers. At this time, he has a force of three hundred cavalry and seven hundred infantry, with more joining him all the time. He has cleared the Hygerians from all the land of the Sevenhills and made the land north of the Relyn river a disputed territory. Crossing the Mountains will increase our host more than we had thought.”
“Good news indeed. When do we march?”
“When you are able. But for now, I will want to hear the tale of your doings in the pass. It is in my mind that it would make for good listening.”