A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2) (2 page)

Estarinel looked at Calorn for several moments before replying. He suddenly saw her in a new light: a woman who had turned her back on her own ruined world without bitterness, and gone forth with cheerful courage to fight other people’s battles. Would I be capable of the same thing in her place? he thought. If Forluin is doomed, can I leave her behind and forget?

He knew the answer was no.

He had already proved it, in deciding to go back there before finishing the Quest; and although he felt his decision was wrong in every way, he could not resist his compulsion to return.

‘Do you really feel so responsible for us?’ he said eventually. ‘This isn’t your world, and you hardly know us. It can’t really matter to you if you fail.’

‘I have not undertaken this mission lightly!’ she responded. ‘I made a vow, to myself and to the Lady, to serve the H’tebhmellians. I would not have taken this task upon myself if I didn’t mean to devote myself utterly to fulfilling it! Believe me, it will matter to everyone if I fail. Estarinel,’ her tone became softer but no less firm, ‘you must trust me.’

It will matter to everyone if I fail
, his thoughts echoed.

‘I do trust you,’ he told her. ‘Forgive me, Ashurek’s cynicism is catching. Can you tell me anything about the Silver Staff and the journey to fetch it?’

‘Certainly. I’ll tell you all I know,’ she said, smiling as he responded with a grin.

‘Thank goodness. I was expecting another cryptic, “That knowledge can wait.”‘

‘What I know may not be that helpful to you, but I’ll do my best,’ Calorn laughed, pushing her chestnut hair off her face. ‘I don’t know the origin of the Silver Staff, how it came into being or why. I hardly know what it is, except that it’s a weapon of vast power. Over the millennia thousands have quested after it and only a few have been found worthy to use it. The conditions for its use are that the quester is clear of purpose, and facing a vast enough evil to absorb all the Staff’s power. If it were used against a lesser evil, or used wrongly, it could destroy a whole earth.

‘The Guardians have always kept watch over it, but the Staff itself chooses who may use it. It chooses by – well, by setting tests for the questers. Those who fail are generally driven mad.’ The words seemed to scrape through her throat. ‘But this time, things are different. The Guardians are using the Staff to capture the lost, positive energy of Earth, which can destroy the Serpent. The Lady told you of the great energy that split into two parts, the negative forming itself into the Serpent and the positive spinning outwards in an ever-expanding ring? The Guardians theorise that this ring must reach the nadir of its power, and pass into another dimension, or disperse altogether.’

Estarinel said thoughtfully, ‘So they’re trying to take advantage of a crisis. We have to destroy the Serpent now, or never.’

‘Yes… I suppose you are right. It’s their only chance to capture the power and bring it back to Earth. If they fail, the positive power will be lost and the negative will reign supreme.’

‘But why do they need us, three mere humans, to collect the Silver Staff and slay M’gulfn? Surely they’re more suited than us.’

‘Who knows?’ Calorn joked darkly. ‘Perhaps they are not clear of purpose. Will you let me go on?’

‘Sorry. . . it’s just that the thought of these Guardians… never mind.’ He could not bring himself to express the coldness he felt at the idea of the Guardians, who manipulated people and things with such impassive callousness. Sometimes, in flashes of foresight, he thought he had seen them: blank-eyed, grey figures seen through red glass. They terrified him. At least he could hate the Serpent, but they made him too afraid even to hate them. As Calorn continued, speaking of them and the Staff, he felt pierced by a white and silver needle of ice, and he did not know if the pain was fear or prescience.

‘Their belief is that when the power passes into another dimension, it will be on a different scale and emerge as a small sphere. They hope to use the Silver Staff to locate and absorb the power. You see, the Staff is the only object that can act as a vessel for that energy, in order to physically bring it back to Earth and attack the Serpent with it. But even the Guardians can’t be certain that the Staff will accede itself to their service, or that their theory will prove correct. So, we wait for news.’

‘I hope it won’t be long,’ Estarinel murmured. ‘If I understand you rightly, the Silver Staff is being prepared for our use – but only if we prove ourselves worthy of wielding it?’

‘Yes, apparently.’ Calorn cleared her throat and went on uncomfortably. ‘The Guardians told the Lady that the Staff will still test you, there’s nothing they can do to prevent it. And the tests will be arduous, even unfair. The only help I can give is to show you the way from Earth into the Staff’s domain; once you are within it, the Staff will have control. It is a sensitive entity. I’ve really no idea what will happen.’

Estarinel took a deep breath, as if the air of the Blue Plane could instill him with courage. ‘Well, it seems that no help is freely given; it must always be fought for. I didn’t expect anything different. At least there are three of us to face its tests, and perhaps persuade it–’

As he spoke, Calorn’s gaze flinched from his face, as if she were loath to tell him the worst news yet.

‘Oh, Estarinel – no, oh dear, I’m sorry,’ she floundered. ‘I hoped you wouldn’t ask, so the Lady would have to tell you instead. Only one of you can go – the Staff will only permit one. The Lady has chosen you.’

‘Has she?’ he gasped. ‘Just me, on my own? It’s not that that I’m afraid – I am, but that wouldn’t stop me – only, surely Ashurek is far more fitted to the task than me. He’s used to fighting, and supernatural beings – it’s been his way of life.’

‘Ah, but is he clear of purpose?’ Calorn asked cryptically.

‘Yes, far more so than me!’

‘I doubt it. The Lady is wise. Remember, his main desire is to free Silvren. Do you think he really cares about anything else? And he bore the Egg-Stone for a while, which may have done more damage than we know.’

‘What about Medrian? Her purpose is clear, quite untainted – I can see it in her eyes, in everything she does.’ He lowered his head. ‘Not that I could bear to see her set off on her own.’

‘There must be other reasons why she is unsuited. Don’t look at me like that! I know nothing about her.’

‘I just don’t want to fail. If we fail at the very end, if the Serpent wins, all right. What else could we expect? But if I deny us all even a weapon to attack it… deny Forluin a future…’ he trailed off. Calorn looked at him, made inarticulate by the extreme sympathy she felt for him. She still felt cool and detached about her mission; it was her ability to work with such objective dedication that made her so valuable to the H’tebhmellians. But she was still affected when she saw how deeply involved others were.

‘I’m sure the Lady has made the wisest choice,’ was the best she could manage.

‘It’s all right, I’ll go,’ he murmured. ‘I’m glad you told me; I’ll have time to prepare myself. But I just don’t know if I have a purpose at all now. When it first happened – when I left Forluin – I felt numb. I couldn’t take in what had happened or imagine what I was setting out to face. I still can’t – do you understand? I can’t take in what happened! I saw that dreadful creature and I think it will kill me if I see it again. I really can’t conceive of attacking it. I must’ve been mad even to think we could try… and now, when I don’t feel numb, I feel grief and confusion. Do you call that clear purpose?’

He saw that Calorn was distressed by his outburst, but he still had to try to make her understand how he felt, if only to help himself. He could not tell Medrian and Ashurek. It was not that they did not care; on the contrary, they understood how he felt so well and with such grim sympathy that no words could make it any clearer.

‘So how can I fool the Silver Staff?’ he continued. ‘I want the Serpent dead. Its venom is destroying my country. I still mean to kill it. But it’s not that easy. I can’t be objective about this Quest any more, nor about Medrian and Ashurek. It was easier when they were strangers, but now they’re friends–’ the words were sand in his throat. ‘More than friends…’

‘Estarinel, are you asking me for an answer to how you feel?’ she asked softly.

‘Yes – yes, I suppose I am. Well – do you have one?’

‘I’ve only found one for myself. I can cope because I’ve never felt any ties, not to my parents or world, nor to any other person or place or thing. It’s not that I don’t love, but I can let go.’

He nodded thoughtfully, then sighed. ‘I’m frightened, Calorn. I don’t mind admitting it. I’d be a fool if I wasn’t… and I’m pretending I need an answer to give me strength to finish the Quest. Well, the truth is I’m just trying to find a way to stop myself suffering, to bear the knowledge of what happened to Forluin.’ He paused, staring out across the Blue Plane, then continued, ‘But why should there be an answer? Nothing can help me accept what happened. It is impossible to bear. I can’t keep on assuming that for some reason the Forluinish have a creation-given exemption from misery.’

‘There’s another way to cope,’ Calorn said hesitantly, ‘which is to stop thinking and act instead.’

‘I know. I’ve thought about that too, and I can’t do it. The Silver Staff – it’s just a dream. We can’t assume that anything, anywhere can offer us real help. The only way for me is the hardest; to see the pain through without trying to find ways to lessen it.’

Calorn put her hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him and show that she understood, but for the first time she felt her own optimism dulled by dread. And she thought, yes, that is the only way, and it will destroy him.

#

Ashurek walked along the edge of the lake, his head bowed in thought. When he glanced up and saw Calorn and Estarinel seated on the knoll ahead of him, he hesitated. He had no desire for company, and purposed to avoid them. But they had already seen him, and when Calorn waved and called a greeting, he changed his mind. Perhaps it would be better to find some diversion from his haunting thoughts of Silvren; after all, brooding could not help her.

Throughout most of the Quest, he had managed to suppress his grief at her loss. He had once been a prisoner in the Dark Regions himself, and knew intimately the fear, torment and wretchedness that Silvren was undergoing. The Dark Regions were the hellish domain of the Shana, who served M’gulfn. Until now he had accepted that he stood no chance of rescuing her until the Serpent was dead. However, the Lady of H’tebhmella’s appalling disclosure had changed that. She had told them that the Regions did not exist in some vague, distant limbo, but were actually cleaved to the far side of the Blue Plane. Each Plane, being flat, was two-sided, and the Lady had hinted that H’tebhmella’s other side had once been even lovelier than this. But by some ghastly supernatural trick, the demons had contrived to place their own evil kingdom there.

On Hrannekh Ol, Ashurek and his companions had passed from one side to the other through a tunnel in the Plane’s fabric. And although Ashurek knew that H’tebhmella was sealed against the Shana’s power, that no such tunnels could exist here, still he could not rid his mind of the obsessive knowledge that Silvren was there, imprisoned and in agony, just out of his reach…

He climbed up the knoll and seated himself by Estarinel and Calorn, greeting them with the merest sombre nod.

‘Prince Ashurek, I’m glad of the chance to speak with you,’ Calorn said cheerfully. ‘Estarinel and I have been talking about the Silver Staff.’

#

Ashurek appeared uninterested, Calorn thought. His baleful eyes were introspective, and his loose H’tebhmellian clothing of deep blue did nothing to make his tall, lean frame less imposing. His presence was powerful, intimidating. She persisted brightly, ‘And I was telling him about my being at the School of Sorcery with Silvren and Arlenmia.’

The change in Ashurek’s expression as she spoke was startling; his green eyes met hers, brilliant against the dark brown-purple sheen of the skin. His face, with its high cheekbones, straight nose and grimly set mouth, was so menacing that her skin prickled.

‘Everywhere we go, it seems I meet people who know more of Silvren than do I,’ he said in a low voice.

‘But surely you knew…’ Calorn floundered, unnerved by his intense glare.

‘I know that Silvren travelled to another world to learn how to use her sorcerous powers. Of her time there, she told me little. She never cared to speak of her past, so I did not insist. However, I would like to learn more. How well did you know her?’

‘Hardly at all.’ Ashurek’s expression became more dangerous at this. Calorn refused to let herself be cowed. ‘I should explain that the School had a hierarchical structure. The Sorcery students were the School’s elite, so those of us who studied lesser subjects knew all of them by name, although they might not know us. I’d recognise Silvren anywhere, but I exchanged only a few words with her in ten years there, and I doubt she would remember me. She was quite small – a little taller than Medrian – and her hair and skin were deep gold in colour. Her eyes, too.’

Ashurek nodded. ‘And Arlenmia?’

‘Unforgettable. She was tall, extremely beautiful in a strange way; her skin was like marble, as if she were a perfect statue brought to life. She had extraordinary hair all shades of sea-green and azure, and large eyes the same colour. And such a graceful way of moving that you couldn’t take your eyes off her.’