A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2) (28 page)

‘Will you be returning to the House of Rede now?’ Estarinel asked.

‘Alas, no. I am not allowed back. You see, now that I know about the Silver Staff, there’s a risk the Serpent would see that knowledge immediately.’

‘But surely it knows by now, anyway? When we were aboard the Star, Ashurek remarked that it must have known as soon as we re-entered Earth from the Blue Plane.’

‘It will know eventually, it is true. But human thoughts are a vague muddle to it, and we hope it won’t sense the actual presence of the Staff until it is too late. But that knowledge in the mind of a Guardian might be seen clearly. It cannot read our thoughts as such, but I could not keep from it the awareness of the one thing that has the power to destroy it. So the Guardians say, anyway,’ he sounded weary. ‘I am tired of arguing with them.’

‘I cannot imagine the House of Rede without you.’

‘Neither can I,’ said the sage. ‘Now, it is time for you to go back.’

They stood up, but Estarinel faced Eldor squarely and asked, ‘Is there anything else you haven’t told me?’

Eldor held his gaze and said nothing, but his expression clearly said, ‘Yes.’

‘And I must find it out for myself when the time comes, I suppose?’

‘Yes. It is so. But I will say this much: the Silver Staff is a wild force that has to be tempered by compassion. It is up to you – and Ashurek and Medrian – to discover and understand what that means. I am only a Guardian. Even if I knew what it meant, I doubt that I could explain it to you. It’s something that cannot be explained, only discovered for yourself.’

Estarinel felt something touch his elbow, and turned round to find Shaell standing behind him, ears pricked and eyes bright with health. He gasped with relief and hugged the stallion’s neck.

‘He is unharmed and well, as I said,’ Eldor smiled. ‘And did he not lead you surely along the tortuous path the Guardians laid?’

‘I’ve always suspected that horses have more sense than their riders,’ Estarinel replied, vaulting onto Shaell’s broad back. ‘Fare you well, Master Eldor.’

‘Fare you well. And don’t let your thoughts dwell on the Grey Ones. They want to save the Earth, whatever they have done. Think only of Forluin.’

‘That is all I think of,’ Estarinel replied quietly. Gathering up the reins and checking the thin red scabbard, he rode away.

Shaell cantered down the long green hill with the copper beeches swaying and rustling on both sides. Estarinel did not look back at the red glass castle or at Eldor, for fear they might have vanished. He let the stallion go where he would, trusting him to find the way back to Earth by instinct.

The ride was wild and strange, as if the Guardians were toying with their invented landscape and laughing gently at him. The green hill transformed into a golden beach washed by a turquoise sea, the sand foaming around Shaell’s hoofs as he galloped. Then they were crossing a crystalline landscape of amethyst with weird silver creatures frozen in its depths. Caves with walls like cobwebs of gold passed them by, only to mutate into a field of giant sunflowers. It was a dream landscape rolling past them, exquisite and confusing.

Suddenly they were crossing an undulating plain under a blue-grey, star-filled night. It was again the wild, glorious night through which they had entered the domain, as breathtaking in its emptiness and beauty as before. And for a few minutes Estarinel felt he was no longer a speck, but part of the domain’s infinite night, understanding all and caring for nothing. He was one with the Silver Staff, part of a mystic, joyous dance that led along a shimmering path between the stars into eternity.

Then Shaell carried him underwater and they left the domain behind forever. Deep green water was all around them, a scintillating mosaic of dark and light that rustled like a great forest. Gradually he became aware that it was foliage, not water. Shaell was forging his way through the dense, waxy-leaved bushes, and the path was gleaming under his hoofs. It was raining. Estarinel noticed the change in the atmosphere as it became softer and full of the scents of wood, earth and rain. The silver path faded and was gone. Without warning the bushes ended and Shaell stepped out into the grey and amber forest.

Estarinel pulled him to a halt, feeling disorientated. At once he checked that the red scabbard containing the Silver Staff was at his side; at least that had not been an illusion. His memories of the domain were not dreamlike, but starkly real, even those happenings which he knew to have been phantasms. He would have preferred to forget the whole thing. He felt exhausted, and very hungry; he wondered how long he had been in the domain.

He let Shaell walk on through the trees, but after a few minutes he began to feel disturbed. Eldor had assured him that Calorn was alive, and she’d said that she would know when he returned, and would come to meet him. Yet there was no sign of her.

Out of nowhere an image came back to him: the monstrous, fanged white bear advancing on Medrian and Calorn. Apprehension stabbed him, and he urged his horse into a trot against the dense undergrowth.

‘No. Medrian...’ Calorn whispered, the last of her breath trickling from her. Her body was a mass of pain, ribs bruised, spine aching with the bear’s weight, its claws four deadly points of pain across her back. And worse was the terrible illusion that Medrian was towering above her in the night sky, black and demon-silver like some ancient deity laughing with infinite malice. The night seemed as soft and rank as the Dark Regions, while the glowing flecks from the fire became the red eyes of imps, dancing with glee at her death.

Suddenly it was over. There was a flurry of fire in the air; sparks and ash swirling together, and she felt the bear lurch backwards and away from her. Relieved of its weight, she struggled to stand up, trembling violently and gasping.

Medrian was standing in front of her, wielding the brand with which she had forced the bear off. She was small, human, ordinary. Calorn stared at her for a moment, shaking her head. An illusion. Only an illusion.

Savage with relief, she exclaimed, ‘What kept you?’ She rubbed the pain in her ribs, and her fingers closed on the object that had been sticking into her; the phial that Ashurek had thrown to her.

‘Nothing.’ Medrian sounded surprised. ‘You were down for only two or three seconds.’ The bears had withdrawn a few feet and were pacing slowly round and round the dying fire, their lips drawn back over ivory teeth.

‘It seemed like hours.’ Calorn was backing towards the fire, her eyes fixed on the bears, one hand reaching for another brand, but there were only smouldering logs left, nothing she could hold. She did not notice Medrian staring at the phial gleaming in her other hand.

‘Calorn, let me see that.’

‘What? Oh.’ She handed Medrian the phial, just as one of the beasts turned towards them, its jaws gaping, its eyes mindless as death. ‘Look out!’ Calorn seized a red-hot lump of wood from the fire and hurled it at the creature. It hit the bear’s shoulder in a shower of sparks and the beast shied back, roaring as its pelt caught alight and smouldered.

Medrian, looking at the tiny glass bottle, hardly noticed. At first she could not think what it was, why it seemed significant. Then memory came rushing back. Setrel! The village elder they’d helped had given it to them. She remembered his words, ‘A powder that can hold some sorcerous energies within it. If in peril you scatter it about you, it will repel evil creatures.’ She had not given it a further thought until this moment.

‘Ashurek gave it to me,’ Calorn began to explain.

Medrian interrupted briskly, ‘We must scatter it in a circle.’

‘It’s no use – it had some power in the Dark Regions, but it’s dead now. The demon neutralised its power.’

‘But we have to try,’ Medrian snapped. ‘We’ve no other chance. I’ll scatter it. Here, take the brand and follow me round to keep those creatures off. And if it does fail,’ she added morosely, ‘we are done for.’

With Calorn protecting her, Medrian trickled the gold powder sparingly onto the grass, working her way in a rough circle that included the fire and a place for them to sit. She did not really believe it could help them. But by the time she completed the ring and the last of the substance was gone, she could hear a different note in the bears’ voices. Their growls were louder, higher-pitched.

‘Now, let us retreat and see what happens.’ They withdrew to the centre of the circle, their backs to the fire. To their astonishment, although the bears continued to rear and lunge, not one placed a paw or muzzle over the line of powder. Then Calorn realised that although the substance had become neutral in the Dark Regions, once on Earth again it must have regained its potency. And now, like a ground mist, a faint, shimmering veil of gold hung above the ring. It was very much fainter than the dazzling curtain of light-motes Calorn remembered from the Dark Regions, but it was real enough.

The bears ceased striking out and began to pace around the circle of aureate light. They wailed their frustration. It was a horrible noise, but Medrian and Calorn were too euphoric with relief to care. They shook hands, and Medrian actually grinned briefly. She must have been in severe pain from the blow on her shoulder, yet she looked brighter now than she had done for days.

Estarinel had once told Calorn that Medrian was always more cheerful and communicative in a crisis. Some people, Calorn reflected, were like that.

‘They know,’ said Medrian. ‘Look at them, they’re furious. I’d forgotten all about that powder, I certainly never thought it would work.’

‘How long must we stay in the circle, though?’ asked Calorn, visualising being there for days, while Estarinel and Ashurek came unsuspecting through the forest only to be torn to pieces.

‘I don’t know. Watch them.’

The bears continued their restless vigil outside the ensorcelled ring. After a couple of hours they seemed to forget why they were there and began to fight among themselves. Presently three lay dead, and the others had wandered out of sight.

The clouds cleared and there was colour in the sunrise, a soft rose and golden light giving warmth to the forest, coaxing browns and greens into the trees. Calorn stood up and stretched painfully.

‘Oh, I’m bruised all over, and frozen stiff.’ She winced as she probed the back of her head where the bear had struck ‘Do you think it’s safe to go out of the circle yet?’

Medrian did not answer. She was extremely pale, as morose and withdrawn as she’d been the previous day. Calorn asked, ‘Are you all right? How’s your shoulder?’

‘Not bad. I’ll survive,’ Medrian said, and there seemed to be black irony in her words. Memories fell on Calorn like a bear’s paw: the rabbit keeling over under the acid glare of Medrian’s eyes, the horrific illusion that she was standing untouched amid the bears, grinning pitilessly.

Trying to shake off the night’s horrors, Calorn said briskly, ‘Well, bears or no, I’m going to rebuild the fire so we can warm up and have some breakfast. Still no sign of Ashurek. And Estarinel must still be in the domain. I wonder where Taery’s got to?’

She stepped out of the circle.

#

The dense undergrowth would not allow Shaell to proceed faster than a walk. The impossibility of hurrying only increased Estarinel’s state of alarm. He pressed on against the hampering trees and bushes, filled with grim anger and despair. If Calorn was dead – if Eldor had lied – then the Silver Staff itself must be a lie, all their hopes proved false.

Then he saw the corpse. A shaggy white bear lying across his path, its limbs folded at awkward angles. A stench rose from it, redolent of the Worm’s venom. The usually imperturbable stallion whickered with fear and edged past, sweating.

Estarinel felt dislocated. Time had gone by. He was too late. He would come to the camp and they would be lying dead. Medrian, Calorn, even Ashurek.

It could not be.

The high-pitched squeal of a frightened horse rang out nearby, sending shock through him like an ice-cold spear. Shaell whinnied in response. Ahead, where the path widened, Estarinel saw Taery Jasmena. Riderless, roaming loose, confirming his worst fears.

So the Worm had caught up with them at last and revenged itself thoroughly. Numb with fury but self-possessed, Estarinel caught the palfrey and urged the two horses along the path. Presently he came out into a clearing, and there were two more bear corpses, locked together, bloodied, their mouths savagely agape even in death. And near them was Calorn.

Alive. Alive!

She saw him, and her expression turned to utter joy. ‘Estarinel!’ she called. ‘Oh, I’m so glad to see you! I would have met you, but I was trying to catch Taery, and then I came across these bodies – but are you all right? What happened? Did you find–’ but as she was speaking he jumped off Shaell, ran to her, and hugged her so hard that she could not breathe.

‘What was that for?’ she gasped, laughing.

‘For being alive,’ he smiled. ‘Just for being alive.’

As they rode back towards the camp, Calorn explained about the black horse, the bears, and Setrel’s powder.

‘When we came out of the circle next morning, there was no sign of the creatures. Ashurek came back in the afternoon – safe, but I think something happened to him. He won’t speak of it, but I can tell. We anticipated another attack last night, so we built a good fire and stayed within the circle, now armed, thanks to Ashurek. But nothing happened. Thank the Lady. This afternoon I decided to come and look for Taery, and as I was doing that I sensed you’d returned from the domain, so I was on my way to meet you – but I kept finding these bear corpses along the way. Horrible.’ She grimaced. ‘But it’s over. And you found the Silver Staff! I knew you would.’

Seeing his exhaustion and the veiled pain in his eyes, she restrained herself from questioning him. ‘How long have I been away?’ he asked.

‘About two and a half days.’

‘Is that all? It seemed... I don’t know. And Medrian, is she all right?’

‘Oh – still the same,’ Calorn said as casually as she could, but Estarinel noticed the involuntary lowering of her eyes, and knew something was wrong.

They reached the camp, where several bears lay dead about the clearing. Even wood smoke could not quite mask the odour rising from the corpses. Ashurek came forward to greet him, but Medrian hung back in the edge of the trees, as pallid as bone. Calorn went to her, and Estarinel heard her saying, ‘The bears – all through the wood, they’re lying dead, torn to bits by their fellows. Whatever made them turn on each other like that?’

And he heard Medrian reply, her voice low but very clear, ‘Hate. All the children of the Worm hate each other.’

As Estarinel dismounted, Ashurek said, ‘Well, what luck did you have?’

‘I’ve got the Silver Staff,’ Estarinel answered quietly. Ashurek clapped him on the shoulder and grinned, but there was no warmth in the expression; rather, it was sinister. Medrian was now collecting wood for the fire, apparently unwilling even to greet him.

‘Medrian’s emphatic that she doesn’t want to see the Staff,’ Ashurek told him. ‘I don’t know why. However, I am eager to view this wondrous weapon.’

‘I am eager to eat and sleep,’ Estarinel replied with a sigh. But he unfastened the top of the red scabbard and drew out the long, thin Silver Staff for Ashurek to inspect. The Gorethrian took it from him and studied it, turning it this way and that and weighing it in his palms.

Ashurek noted its plainness, and that it was as sharp and apparently as flimsy as a needle. He could not imagine how it was to be held and used as a weapon, since it had no kind of handle or grip. Still, the Egg-Stone itself had been no more than a tiny gem... Gradually he began to sense the power that the Staff contained. Like the rumbling of a great volcano many miles distant, just below the level of hearing, he could feel it reverberating through his bones.

At once a strange and bloody vision arrayed itself across his mind, a terrible map of the future. In that moment, he felt he understood the Staff’s function and how it related to his own prescience of doom.

When the Staff touched the Serpent, the meeting of the opposite energies would cause a cataclysm that would destroy the Earth.

So, the Quest is hopeless after all, Ashurek thought. I never really thought otherwise – but now I know why. I see hope in Estarinel’s eyes, for all he is so tired. He has touched the Silver Staff and found faith that it is a cleansing weapon that will restore Forluin. Alas for Estarinel and for his country! And alas for Silvren and for my brother and sister… I will never know if they find peace or eternal torment. All I know is that my dreams of rescuing them were in vain. The forces that gave us the Silver Staff do not care; the Earth is expendable, as long as the Serpent is destroyed and their wretched balance restored.

Ashurek thrust the Staff back into Estarinel’s hands and turned abruptly away, his cloak swirling behind him.

‘Ashurek, what’s wrong?’ the Forluinishman called after him. He looked questioningly at Calorn, but she only shook her head.

‘I don’t know what is the matter with him, Estarinel.’

‘And Medrian does not even want to look!’ He slid the Silver Staff back into its scabbard, feeling dismayed. He had thought that Medrian and Ashurek might express some relief at his safe return, a degree of optimism at the retrieval of the weapon. Evidently it was safer not to expect anything. He recalled the coldness he had felt when he had first told them about the Worm’s attack on Forluin, and neither had betrayed any reaction at all.

Calorn seemed to know what he was thinking, and took his arm. ‘You need to eat and rest. Come and sit by the fire, and have some H’tebhmellian wine.’

Later, when they had eaten supper, Calorn cautiously asked Estarinel to relate what he had been through. He hesitated and Ashurek said, ‘Only tell us if you wish to.’

‘I don’t really want to talk about it,’ said Estarinel, ‘but there are certain things I must tell you... about the Guardians and Eldor.’ So he began his account, speaking quietly and glossing over the more painful events. But the others could tell from his tone and from what he left unsaid that his experiences had been terrible. When he came to explain about Eldor, however, he told them everything.

‘And the Guardians lied – they lied – to the Lady of the Blue Plane. How do we know what other lies they have told? Even Eldor, whom we trusted...’ he finished. He looked pale and drawn in the firelight. Calorn glanced at Medrian, who was staring expressionlessly at the fire, and at Ashurek, whose green eyes were burning with a dangerous brilliance. Calorn herself felt shocked.