The Fellowship of the Talisman Read Online Free PDF Page A

Duncan. “My knowledge of the sword is little more than fencing. We have been at peace for years. For years there have been no wars.…”
    â€œYou would not be sent out to engage in battle,” his father told him smoothly. “The less you do of that the better. Your job would be to get through the Desolated Land without being seen.”
    â€œBut there’d always be a chance that we’d run into the Harriers. I suppose that somehow I would manage, although it’s not the kind of role in which I’ve ever thought to place myself. My interest, as it has been yours and your father’s before you, lies in this estate, in the people and the land.…”
    â€œIn that you’re not unique,” his father told him. “Many of the Standish men have lived in peace on these very acres, but when the call came, they rode off to battle and there was none who ever shamed us. So you can rest easy on that score. There’s a long warrior line behind you.”
    â€œBlood will tell,” said His Grace pontifically. “Blood will always tell. The fine old families, like the Standishes, are the bulwark of Britain and Our Lord.”
    â€œWell,” said Duncan, “since you’ve settled it, since you have picked me to take part in this sally to the south, perhaps you’ll tell me what you know of the Desolated Land.”
    â€œOnly that it’s a cyclic phenomenon,” said the archbishop. “A cycle that strikes at a different place every five centuries or thereabouts. We know that approximately five hundred years ago it came to pass in Iberia. Five hundred years before that in Macedonia. There are indications that before that the same thing happened in Syria. The area is invaded by a swarm of demons and various associated evil spirits. They carry all before them. The inhabitants are slaughtered, all habitations burned. The area is left in utter desolation. This situation exists for an indeterminate number of years—as few as ten, perhaps, usually more than that. After that time it seems the evil forces depart and people begin to filter back, although it may require a century or more to reclaim the land. Various names have been assigned the demons and their cohorts. In this last great invasion they have been termed the Harriers; at times they are spoken of as the Horde. There is a great deal more, of course, that might be told of this phenomenon, but that is the gist of it. Efforts have been made by a number of scholars to puzzle out the reasons and the motives that may be involved. So far there are only rather feeble theories, no real evidence. Of course, no one has actually ever tried to investigate the afflicted area. No on-the-spot investigations. For which I can not blame …”
    â€œAnd yet,” said Duncan’s father, “you are suggesting that my son …”
    â€œI have no suggestion that he investigate. Only that he try to make his way through the afflicted area. Were it not that Bishop Wise at Oxenford is so elderly, I would say that we should wait. But the man is old and, at the last reports, grown very feeble. His sands are running out. If we wait, we may find him gone to his heavenly reward. And he is the only hope we have. I know of no one else who can judge the manuscript.”
    â€œIf the manuscript is lost while being carried to Oxenford, what then?” asked Duncan.
    â€œThat is a chance that must be taken. Although I know you would guard it with your life.”
    â€œSo would anyone,” said Duncan.
    â€œIt’s a precious thing,” said His Grace. “Perhaps the most precious thing in all of Christendom. Upon those few pages may rest the future hope of mankind.”
    â€œYou could send a copy.”
    â€œNo,” said the archbishop, “it must be the original. No matter how carefully it would be copied, and at the abbey we have copyists of great skill, the copyist might miss, without