A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2) (3 page)

‘And Arlenmia is a fanatical and dangerous woman,’ Ashurek said. ‘Only recently did I learn that it was she who sent the demon Diheg-El after Silvren. That demon eventually caught up with Silvren and she is now its prisoner. Yet I also heard that she and Arlenmia were once friends. Naturally, I find it somewhat hard to credit.’

‘Well, it’s true. They used to go everywhere together, like lovers. Most of the Sorcery students were natives of Ikonus. Silvren and Arlenmia were among a very few from other worlds. Arlenmia had been there a year before Silvren arrived, and had made no friends at all. And Silvren was very young – fifteen or sixteen, perhaps – and rather shy. I think they were both lonely. They became close and remained so for ten years – although some said they argued all the time.’

‘What about?’ The fierceness left Ashurek’s eyes. He and Estarinel were listening to Calorn with rapt interest.

‘Metaphysical things. The nature of good and evil.’ Calorn gave a shrug. ‘Arlenmia had some strange ideas. I heard she was different from the other Sorcerers. Each was born with the ability to draw sorcerous power from the earth and channel it through themselves, and the School trained them to use their magic properly; that is, with restraint, and only for good. I heard that Silvren was the only one born on her own Earth with these powers.

‘Yes, that is so,’ Ashurek said. ‘She was born out of her time, she told me, because her powers should not exist while the Serpent lives.’

‘Apparently Arlenmia had no such intrinsic power. Instead she had a strange ability to change reality through mirrors. She was given special dispensation to study at the School, but some of the tutors distrusted her. They made her feel different, inferior, not a true Sorceress.’

Estarinel put in, ‘She said to me once, “I am no sorceress, I can only work through an unbroken mirror.” She was angry. Bitter, perhaps.’

‘Yes, that’s true. I believe Arlenmia grew to despise her tutors,’ Calorn went on. ‘Silvren abided by their rules, and Arlenmia didn’t, so they disagreed. But their affection for each other was genuine; Silvren was the only one in whom Arlenmia confided, and everyone said that although Silvren was well aware of Arlenmia’s unusual views, she was sweet-natured and loyal, and prepared to overlook her faults.’

‘Oh, that is Silvren,’ groaned Ashurek.

‘I don’t know whether Arlenmia planned what happened, or whether she acted in a moment of anger. The School of Sorcery had an icon of power, a silvery sphere that hovered perpetually in the sky above the School. This sphere was called the Ikonus – my world is named after it – and it was revered as… how did we put it? “A symbol of pure, uncorrupted Sorcery exercised in the service of Good”. Every student had to take an oath upon the Ikonus that the arts they learned – even the arts of war – would only be used in the service of good.

‘But Arlenmia believed the Ikonus to be more than a symbol. She was convinced that it contained vast power and secrets that the tutors were selfishly guarding. She thought that if its power were released, all would benefit. If ever she talked to Silvren of this, Silvren must have dissuaded her from interfering, perhaps many times.

‘Each year, the sorcery students who’d completed their ten years of study took part in a ceremony at which they received the white robes of fully fledged Sorcerers. I finished my own training in soldiery and Wayfinding in the same year as Silvren. Arlenmia had stayed at the School an extra year to wait for her friend, but just before the ceremony, the High Master informed her that, as she could only draw her power through mirrors, she was not a true Sorceress and therefore could not don the white robe.

‘We heard later how upset Arlenmia was by this: distraught, humiliated and outraged. Understandably, I suppose. Even Silvren could not console her. The ceremony went ahead as planned. I remember vividly that Silvren received her white mantle without a trace of joy, because Arlenmia was not there. If only someone had thought to ask where she was!

‘The ceremony took place outside. The School glittered in the sunshine like a palace of diamonds. No one foresaw what was about to happen. The first we knew that anything was wrong was when the sphere Ikonus began to spin drunkenly in the sky. Then a white light poured from it, more dazzling than the sun. I was near-blinded, and all around me people were screaming. When the light faded, the sphere had gone. From where it had been, a rumbling darkness was surging across the sky, like a thundercloud, turning the day as dark as night.’

Calorn broke off, swallowing hard. Hideous memories flooded her.

‘And this was Arlenmia’s doing? What had she done?’ Ashurek prompted.

‘We found out afterwards. While everyone was at the ceremony, she’d gone to her room and worked through mirrors to release the “secrets” of the Ikonus. Some said she never meant any actual harm, only to steal its power and flee. If that’s what she intended, she made a terrible mistake. The Ikonus was no mere symbol, nor did it contain the marvellous secrets she desired. The High Master is described it as the work of centuries, a sphere that captured and contained all the dark, negative forces that otherwise would taint our sorcery, a filter through which only good energies could pass. That was why we revered it. So when the Ikonus exploded, all that blackness was released to spread around my world like a blanket. The atmosphere became perpetually cold and dark. Plants, animals, everything began to die.’

‘And what happened to your world?’ Estarinel asked gently. ‘Were they able to save it?’

Calorn took a deep breath and steadied her voice. ‘The Sorcerers believed they could heal it eventually. But it would be a long, hard task, and only a few possessed the skill to help. By now, the healing is underway… I hope.’

‘What became of Silvren and Arlenmia?’ Ashurek asked with a touch of impatience.

‘When the High Master realised what had happened, the tutors rushed to detain Arlenmia, but she’d already vanished. When she saw the havoc she’d wreaked, she must have used her skills to flee the world. A few weeks later, Silvren, who was distraught, vanished as suddenly. A couple of the tutors said good riddance, she’d been as foolish as Arlenmia; but most were distressed, because they’d wanted her to stay at the School and teach. Even the High Master couldn’t understand why she followed Arlenmia. And I’ve only realised why since I met you, Ashurek.’

Estarinel looked at the Gorethrian and said, ‘When Silvren spoke to me in the Glass City, she said, “Arlenmia brought another world to ruin before this, and it is my fault she came here.”‘

‘Yes, I remember,’ Ashurek said heavily. ‘I understand well enough, Calorn. In all innocence, she must have told Arlenmia about our Earth of Three Planes, and about the Serpent. In her desire for power, perhaps Arlenmia did not believe the Serpent was evil; or at least, she decided to come and see for herself. And when Silvren realised where she’d gone, she followed to find out what Arlenmia was planning to do here.’ Ashurek pondered. ‘She must have found Arlenmia and confronted her. When she discovered that she intended to serve and worship the Serpent, Silvren would have been horrified. She must have tried with all her strength to persuade Arlenmia that she was wrong; and when she failed, Silvren was forced to use sorcery against her. Therefore Arlenmia sent the demon after Silvren: to prevent her sabotaging her plans for the Worm’s supremacy.’

‘Poor Silvren,’ Estarinel exclaimed, ‘to be so cruelly betrayed by someone she thought her friend for so long.’

‘Aye,’ Ashurek agreed, gazing moodily downwards. ‘And to feel it was her fault that M’gulfn had gained such a powerful ally. Often it seems that the harder someone fights the Serpent, the more they aid it.’

‘I’m sorry this was such a revelation to you,’ Calorn put in. ‘I thought you would already have known most of it.’

‘Don’t apologise. I’m grateful to you for telling me. You’ve put much in perspective.’

‘I know it must be terrible for you, to know that the Dark Regions are on the other side of the Blue Plane, so near, and yet impossible even to consider rescuing Silvren.’

Calorn immediately wished she had not spoken. The hellish light returned to Ashurek’s eyes; he glared at her for a moment, then abruptly stood up and strode away. Calorn stared after him, feeling a sudden conflict of duties and emotions.

‘I always seem to say the wrong thing to him,’ she murmured.

‘Don’t take it to heart,’ said Estarinel. ‘It’s hard to say the right thing.’

‘I only wish…’ she said thoughtfully, ‘I wish there was something I could do to help him.’

Estarinel replied, ‘The only thing that will help any of us is for the Quest of the Serpent to be completed. And you are helping in that, Calorn.’

#

The small boat carrying Medrian and the Lady of H’tebhmella drifted through water that was as clear as liquid glass. The vessel was made of pale, smooth wood and pulled by a water-dwelling horse with arched neck and delicately tapering head. They sailed a long way before mooring and stepping onto an island of sapphire-blue crystal. As Medrian and the Lady crested a rise in the shore, they saw a long vista of weird and beautiful formations, like joyously leaping water frozen in mid-dance. There were arches and knolls and spires of rock, shimmering in every shade of blue and violet. Mist drifted between these fantastical shapes, a soft sparkling vapour that seemed sentient, purposeful.

Medrian had to swallow tightness in her throat as she saw the landscape. She could not say why she felt moved, except that the mist seemed alive, caressing the rocks as if greeting old friends with infinite tenderness. The formations appeared to return the greeting, bowing imperceptibly with love and gentleness in every line of their forms. The strange, still dance of light and stone was so unearthly, so far above and beyond her that she knew she could never touch or share their communion. All that love, she thought, and I am condemned to feel cold forever.

As if reading her thoughts, the Lady placed a comforting hand on Medrian’s arm and led her down the slope into the strange landscape. There was light in her grey eyes as she said, ‘Everything, even rock, has a spirit. In places the soul of H’tebhmella shows itself in more than external beauty. Don’t be envious. No human can hope to feel such pure and un-human emotion.’ Medrian dropped her eyes, shivering.

‘I am not envious,’ she said. ‘I have had enough pure and un-human emotion to kill me – the Serpent’s hatred.’

The Lady’s hand fell from Medrian’s arm as if she had no reply, no answer for her pain. She was silent for a long moment. Then she said, ‘Medrian, forgive me.’

‘My Lady, I should not have–’ Medrian broke off, biting her lip. ‘You asked me to talk with you, but I don’t know whether I can. I’m so unused to being able to speak freely. It’s difficult.’

‘Then there’s no need, if you don’t wish it,’ the Lady responded gently. ‘Let us just walk for a while.’

They went on in silence. Soft mist swirled around them, attaching to their skin in glistening azure motes, like dew. Their hair – the Lady’s silken brown, Medrian’s black – floated in the charged air, full of blue sparks. The Lady had faith that Medrian would, eventually, find words to release the misery that she’d kept locked within her for so long.

This time on H’tebhmella may be the only happiness she will ever know, the Lady thought sorrowfully, but while she is here no consolation, no joy will be denied her.

Medrian, however, had no expectation that confiding in the Lady would help her. Kind and wise as the H’tebhmellian goddess was, she was not mortal. She glided through the weird landscape at Medrian’s side, tall, beautiful, crystalline… and so distant. There was a gulf between them, no human warmth. I cannot bear this alien beauty, Medrian thought. It can’t be real.

Without knowing it, she had discovered H’tebhmella’s paradox. The Blue Plane was viewed as a kind of paradise, enigmatic and unattainable. Some strove for years to find an Entrance Point, and the few who succeeded found it all they had dreamed of, and more. Yet no one ever stayed here for more than a few months. The H’tebhmellians never forbade anyone from living out their lives here, but perhaps the Blue Plane was too perfect, its unearthly beauty too alien. Sooner or later each visitor would feel a restless need to return to a more normal, spherical world. For that reason H’tebhmella remained literally unattainable, and so its legendary enigma was perpetuated.

As the initial relief of arriving here faded, Medrian was assailed by self-doubt and indecision. These were enemies she had never had to fight before and she was afraid. To lose the battle would destroy her. She ached to ask the Lady many things, but she could not seem to frame a question.

‘Won’t you tell me what’s in your heart?’ the Lady murmured.

‘I don’t know. I would, but–’ With sudden, heartfelt bitterness the confession burst from her, ‘Oh, I wish I had never come here.’

The Lady turned to her, a puzzled look on her clear, compassionate face. ‘Medrian, why?’

‘All my life I have dreamed of being free of the Serpent.’ Her voice was icy and flat. ‘I know it’s said that M’gulfn cannot touch the Blue Plane in any form, but I could hardly believe it when I came through the Entrance Point – and I was free. I still can’t believe it – it feels so–’ She shuddered with remembered dread and revulsion. ‘It’s heaven to me. And I can’t stand it.’

The Lady’s rain-grey eyes were full of sorrow as Medrian went on, her voice hoarse with loss, ‘It’s heaven I can never have. I can’t afford to let it touch me, any more than I can afford to let the Serpent touch me. I must harden myself to it, so that I can bear to go back into the world and finish the Quest. If I accepted freedom, I would be finished.’