A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1) (11 page)

‘Never,’ Ashurek growled. ‘How can I be sure you won’t betray me?’

‘Diheg-El will loose the sorceress. As you give me the Egg-Stone, she will walk back to your side. Then you will both be allowed to go unharmed. But only if–’ the silver figure turned to look at Silvren, ‘you both swear never to defy us or the Serpent again.’

Ashurek saw the cry of protest forming in Silvren’s eyes and quickly interjected, ‘Very well, so be it. Let her go!’

Then Diheg-El relaxed its grasp on Silvren. She came forward a few paces and stopped as if her body were under the demon’s control. Ashurek, his eyes fixed on her, took the Egg-Stone off the chain that hung round his neck, and held it out towards Meheg-Ba.

Meshurek was between them in a flash, moving with incredible speed to intercept the Egg-Stone. Before even Meheg-Ba could react, Meshurek tore it from his brother’s grasp, stumbled a few paces and turned, clutching it to his breast and laughing.

Instantly, Ashurek was stricken by a sensation worse than pain, leaden veins of agony throbbing sickly through his body. And a ghastly emotion, like that which a demon might feel at the loss of its cruel, bloody power, seared his brain. But he did not forget Silvren. Through his blackened vision, he could perceive her being dragged by Diheg-El into the smoky crystal entrance to the Dark Regions. Crying out, he stumbled after them; but although he could still see Silvren’s figure, faintly, as it melted through the translucent rock layers, to him the wall was impenetrable.

‘Meheg-Ba!’ he screamed, anger, pain and grief battling in him. He stumbled along the rim of rock and confronted the Shanin, oblivious to the blood dripping from his hands where he had pounded the rock.

‘Don’t speak to me,’ said the demon, keeping its argent eyes fixed on Meshurek. ‘I did not break the bargain. Diheg-El wanted the wretched woman, not I; and he made no agreement with you.’

Ashurek froze then. The pain from the loss of the Egg-Stone and Silvren were so intolerable that his mind seemed to be drifting above them, like a solitary, calm, evil eye. The scene continued, but in slow motion, and as though he knew everything that was going to happen next.

‘Meshurek, give me the Stone,’ said the demon. ‘I will take it from you eventually. You are not strong enough to keep it.’

‘Not strong enough?’ the Emperor panted, wild-eyed as a trapped animal. ‘What happened to all the strength you promised me? Ashurek was right. I was a fool to summon you. Now leave! I have no more use for you, betrayer!’

‘Meshurek.’ The demon was glowing brighter and brighter, gathering power with which to retake the Stone. ‘You cannot make me leave. There is only one way I can be banished, and you are hardly about to take your own life, are you? Remember – only my power now holds the Empire together. You do not know how to use the Stone. If I go, Gorethria will collapse.’

At this, Ashurek’s mouth spread in a slow, humourless grin. All this time he had been drawing his sword from its sheath. Now he swung it towards Meshurek’s neck. It glittered as it caught reflected fires from the volcano. The movement seemed to take a thousand years; yet only at the last instant did Meheg-Ba and Meshurek remember he was there and react with astonished protests. Ashurek found time to pause and laugh at their sudden confusion. Then the swing continued, and the sword cleaved through Meshurek’s neck.

The blow knocked both Emperor and Egg-Stone over the rim of the crater and into the broiling yellow lava below. A crust bore Meshurek’s body for a second; then it broke, and the molten heat swallowed him.

Meheg-Ba uttered a roar and turned upon Ashurek like a dreadful basilisk of blood and acid. But the Summoner was dead. Even as the demon turned it vanished, returned by supernatural law to the Dark Regions. Ashurek was alone at the edge of the searing volcano, alone with the mourning, smoke- and mist-filled wind.

Slowly he returned to himself. He was dizzy; the crater seemed to be tipping crazily from side to side. Putting a hand out to the rock wall to steady himself, he began to comprehend what had just happened. ‘I have killed my brother. First Orkesh, now him!’ He found himself trembling convulsively, far beyond tears.

Surely it is justice, he thought, that the royal house of Gorethria has come to grief and ruin in this way. Retribution for her centuries of tyranny. Of all my family, my crimes have been by far the worst. I, too, must die to complete the payment…

He lifted his sword and stared grimly at its bloodied edge. And a voice cried, ‘Ashurek! Don’t!’

His eyes refocused on the far side of the crater and he saw Silvren standing there. He realised at once that the image was not real; he could see straight through her slender form to the rock wall beyond.

‘Silvren?’ he said, lowering the blade. ‘What has happened?’

‘I haven’t escaped,’ she answered sadly. ‘This is only a mental projection of myself; I mustered enough power to create it and speak with you, but my sorcery is weakened and damaged. It may mend, but not here in the Dark Regions. I can never escape.’

‘I have been in that cursed hell-pit. I know.’

‘Ashurek – beloved – don’t despair. I came not to discuss my own agony, but to say that something good has come out of all this.’

‘Has it?’ he exclaimed. ‘I have murdered my own brother, whom I swore I would never harm. And now I have even lost you.’

‘But think – Meheg-Ba is banished from Earth, and the Egg-Stone gone as well. And Meshurek,’ she added gently, ‘in a way you have saved him. Normal life and freedom were lost to him. If you had not killed him, eventually Meheg-Ba would have dragged him down here to exist in misery forever. It was for the best. Now you must not give up; you must continue the fight.’

‘Is it worth it?’ he half-sobbed. ‘You and I together could not even reach the Blue Plane.’

‘For my sake, you must!’ she cried, struggling to hide her distress. The sight of her, and the impossibility of helping or even touching her, wrenched his heart.

‘It’s all right, Silvren – be calm,’ he responded. ‘For your sake, the fight against the Serpent will continue. What must I do?’

‘I don’t know – let me think.’ Her form was shimmering and fading as the effort of maintaining the projection became too great. She turned her head slightly to one side and gazed at the ground, as she often did when thinking. He had hardly noticed the gesture before; now it seemed achingly familiar. She looked up at him again, her golden eyes wide and intense.

‘Yes – you must go to Eldor. Tell him you have decided to destroy the Serpent. Ask his advice.’

To destroy the Serpent; a vast and impossible task, like destroying all evil or slaying the world itself. Yet the undauntable bravery in her voice, issuing so faintly from her fragile, insubstantial form, encompassed the possibility that the task might be achieved; not by unrealistic hope, but by uncompromising determination.

Her courage and love shamed him. Silvren had borne the leaden burden of her sorcery and learned to wield it – and risked being dragged down to hell by the enemies she made – because she felt the Earth was worth loving, worth saving.

And Ashurek knew he would set out upon the Quest with all the wrong motives: bitter hatred, desire for revenge against the Shana and Gorethria and even against the world itself, and self-loathing. Silvren seemed to be voicing his thoughts as she spoke again.

‘Try not to seek revenge. Keep your thoughts on the Quest, not too much upon me. Remember, the Serpent is the essential root of all this evil. When it is dead, the Dark Regions will cease to exist, and I will be freed.’

Freed? he thought. Not destroyed in that cataclysm? And what if, in spite of your trust and bravery, the Serpent truly is indestructible? Silvren – only you matter to me now. I care not about the Earth or the cursed Worm. If I can find a way to rescue you, and escape this damned world…

He did not speak his chaotic, miserable thoughts. He fought and subdued them; then he said, ‘For you I will go to Eldor, and seek his help in this Quest.’ Still she looked at him, her eyes wide and anxious. ‘Not just for you, beloved,’ he added. ‘For myself as well.’

At this she relaxed, almost smiled, held out her hands towards him. ‘Remember I love you,’ she said. Then a white shimmer coruscated along her form, and she was gone. For a while, panic and grief took Ashurek again; he ran to the part of the crater where the entrance to the Dark Regions had been and clawed at the opaque, blind rock. He called Silvren’s name without heed to the lonely, echoing walls. He sat down on a rock, barely noticing its scorching heat and, with his long, dark fingers entwined in his hair, he wept.

I am now the Emperor of Gorethria, he thought. But I do not want the throne; let those left in Shalekahh ponder upon the mystery of what became of Meshurek and myself, and squabble like vultures over a carcass about how Gorethria shall be ruled. It is better so. Let them discover the hard, bitter way that only the Serpent truly rules; and that only men who are impossibly brave, or foolish or desperate, set themselves up as challengers to the Worm’s supremacy.

He grinned to himself, like a skull, at this thought. Here am I, O M’gulfn, a mad and desperate man seeking to kill you. Are you afraid? Or will you crush me like a tiny, unnoticed insect?

He got to his feet and strode away from the crater’s heat and down the grumbling side of the volcano. The ache of the Egg-Stone’s loss was still in him, but no worse than the other conflicting miseries that made up his dark psyche. In a few hours he gained the shore and hailed the Tearnian ship, which had waited for him… and for Silvren.

Swiftly the vessel set sail for the South Pole and the House of Rede where he might find help in the Quest. And he spent much of the long, turbulent journey at the helm, staring into the distance as though seeking a reflection of hope in the waves or the sky. But all he saw was a dark wolf racing to its death, sometimes looking round, without success, for a glimpse of a blackbird’s eyes; then racing on again.

Ashurek ended his narrative standing with his back to them, his tall, cloaked figure silhouetted against the waning fire. Estarinel drew in a slow breath as if to speak, but the Gorethrian turned and silenced him with an icy glare.

Estarinel was not even sure what he had been going to say. The truth about Ashurek was worse than he had imagined; but at the same time he felt sympathy for him so strong that it was a cold pain in all his limbs. The terrifying unknown was taking on its first faint shape as he perceived the reality of the grim world outside Forluin.

To Ashurek, Estarinel’s expression was more explicit than any words; there was horror in his clear brown eyes, but also understanding, even compassion. Bitterly, he reflected that if he had had any capacity for trust or fellow-feeling left, he might have felt some for the Forluinishman. But events had eradicated most of his humanity.

Ashurek turned his gaze to Medrian. By contrast her face was as cold and expressionless as it had been when they had first entered Eldor’s kitchen.

‘Well, Medrian,’ he said, breaking the uneasy silence. ‘What have you to tell us?’ She had been staring at the shadows cast on the walls by the red flickering of the fire, but now her eyes slowly refocused on him.

‘Nothing,’ she said.

‘What do you mean, nothing?’ Ashurek asked. His tone was polite but his green eyes were sharp and malevolent.

‘I cannot tell you anything. Surely it is not compulsory,’ she replied shortly.

‘Estarinel and I have recounted our stories when we both would have preferred to remain silent. Is it too much to ask that you do the same?’

‘You don’t understand. I have no choice.’ She pushed a few strands of her black hair out of her eyes. Her voice was so quiet and flat that it was hard to hear what she was saying.

‘Could it be,’ Ashurek persisted, ‘that you are not totally committed to this Quest? How are we to know, unless you explain yourself?’

‘I have no choice,’ she repeated. ‘I can’t. But no one could be more committed than I. Please take me at my word.’

Ashurek continued to stare at her. Estarinel felt the force of his will, and he sensed Medrian’s distress like a taut cord that was stretching and stretching under the Gorethrian’s insistent gaze.

‘There’s no need to tell us anything if you don’t want to,’ Estarinel put in. ‘I’m sure your reasons are good. It can’t matter that much if we don’t know them.’

‘But it does,’ said Ashurek. He came forward and leaned on the table next to Estarinel, glaring intently at Medrian. ‘Why do you want to go on this Quest?’

The silent tension deepened like the shadows in the recesses of the room. Estarinel fought a desire to make for the door. Surely the cord of pain within Medrian would stretch to infinity before it ever broke and gave her relief. At the same time, Ashurek’s force of personality seemed to make no real impression on her; she remained cold, self-contained, unmoved.

Eventually she said, ‘You know what happened to Alaak, Ashurek. For some reason I survived. There is nothing left for me to do but try to destroy the ultimate evil of this world.’ Her words were ice crystals forming in the air.

Unexpectedly, Ashurek seemed to find this explanation acceptable. ‘Obviously that will have to suffice for now,’ he said, his black cloak falling in folds round him as he sat next to Estarinel. ‘If that is your true reason, nothing could be more ironic, could it?’ She returned a small, icy smile; to Estarinel it seemed that she was laughing at some different, inward joke that was too horrible to be voiced. He noticed that the little colour in her face had drained away; even in the red firelight she looked grey. He had an impression of someone who was in such chronic pain that she had learned long ago never to betray it.

‘Now, Estarinel, what do you know of this ship?’ Ashurek was asking.

‘Er – you know as much as I,’ the Forluinishman replied diffidently, not expecting this turn in the conversation. ‘It will find an Entrance Point and take us to the Blue Plane.’

‘How long will that take?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps a few days.’

‘Then what?’ Ashurek’s green eyes were glittering again, and he seemed dangerously restless.

‘What do you mean?’

The Gorethrian rose and paced round the room. ‘Then,’ he said grimly, ‘armed with what little help the H’tebhmellians can give us, we face ice, snow and storms, and at last the Serpent.’

‘I know,’ Estarinel said quietly.

‘Do you? I have spent most of my life travelling and fighting… nor does Medrian seem inexperienced. But you would appear ill prepared for such a journey…’ Ashurek sighed, suddenly looking exhausted. ‘Still, I expected nothing of Eldor. I have not been disappointed.’

Estarinel felt faintly annoyed at this. He wanted to ask what the Gorethrian would have preferred, why he doubted the H’tebhmellians’ word that a great army was unnecessary, even useless against the Serpent M’gulfn; and if he considered the H’tebhmellian ship to be ‘nothing’. But he felt too unsure of himself to speak. Eldor had brought the three of them together, and if he could not put faith in the sage, then all was lost before they had even begun. Perhaps he should not take Ashurek’s sour words so much to heart. He looked across at Medrian, but could still detect no trace of fellow-feeling in her blank eyes.

‘We will all be ill prepared if we do not get some sleep before the ship arrives,’ she said drily. Without a further word or glance for either of them she stood up and walked briskly to the door, her travel-dusty cloak swinging in a slight draught as she left the room.

The fire flared, catching purple lights on the Gorethrian’s dark face. ‘She’s right,’ he said brusquely. ‘Talk was ever a waste of energy.’ He strode to the door, leaving Estarinel feeling bereft of hope of achieving any communication with the two strangers. The kitchen, once so bright and welcoming, now seemed full of black, dancing spectres. All he felt was dread.

The Gorethrian paused in the doorway and said, in a less menacing tone, ‘I believe you’re as exhausted as me. Go to bed; brooding is an even greater waste of strength. I should know, though it’s a damnably hard lesson to learn.’

#

Eldor stretched out his feet in front of the fire and smiled, with some sadness, at his wife. Dritha drew a curtain and went to sit at the other side of the fireplace. They were alone in their room.

‘I wish I could tell them everything,’ he sighed.

‘That would not help,’ his wife answered. The firelight caught silver glints in her hair and eyes. ‘They would be caused bitterness and make wrong choices.’

‘Oh, I know… Their motives are so painful and personal that they are convinced they act for themselves. They would not believe that outside forces could so manipulate their actions. And while we are involved in that manipulation, we are just as much victims of it ourselves.’ Eldor gazed steadily into Dritha’s clear grey eyes. ‘So it begins, the Quest of the Serpent. The flow of powers in the universe has been going the Serpent’s way through billions of years since the world’s creation. Now at last it is time for the balance to be righted, before it tips completely in the Worm’s favour…’

‘We know that the balance must be righted, and assume that it will be,’ said Dritha, ‘but I believe you sometimes fear – as I do – that the Serpent will win, after all.’

‘It’s unthinkable,’ Eldor replied rapidly. This doubt was rarely voiced between them. ‘But yes, I sometimes think of what could happen… the chaos it would cause throughout the universe. And this world would be left floating in a timeless nightmare, adrift in an evil membrane through which the benign powers could never again penetrate.’

‘That’s what M’gulfn wants,’ his wife stated. ‘The odds are all in its favour, and more energy flows to it every day. Oh, Eldor, I wish it was over.’ She leaned forward and touched his knee. He closed his large, craggy hand around her fingers. Perfect and sorrowful understanding passed between them.

‘We, alone of all of them, elected to remain in human form when the others chose to depart. Now we must see through to the end what we have begun,’ the sage said.

Dritha sat back, sadly turning her eyes away.

‘What we have begun,’ Eldor repeated softly, ‘albeit inadvertently, and with the best intentions.’

‘So be it, but it saddens me that three humans must suffer so much in the process – just three of them to be pushed this way and that by the struggling forces of the universe. Is there nothing we can do?’

Eldor looked as deeply troubled as his wife.

‘We are doing what we can, though I agree it barely suffices. Only the H’tebhmellians can help them now. What knowledge they have is forbidden to us on Earth, lest the Serpent discover it.’

‘That is a price the Guardians have delighted in extracting from us,’ Dritha sighed.

‘Indeed.’ He nodded. ‘But it is understandable. You and I are supposed to be neutral, concerned only with the balance; but by remaining in this form and among humans we have abandoned neutrality. We have developed conscience, become aware of the cruelty of manipulation and our helplessness to avert it. I know how you feel, Dritha; that the saving of this world is surely more important than the redistribution of distant, mindless powers. And I agree.’

‘Yes,’ she said with feeling. ‘The Guardians must eventually atone for what they – what we – have set in motion; therein lies Earth’s only hope.’

‘They would say that it is easier not to hope, or even to think, but to be mindless, if only that were possible,’ Eldor said with a trace of humour. Dritha shivered, as if the fire’s yellow flames were ice. ‘But Medrian, Estarinel and Ashurek are human; they must find hope. I give as much as I can without the lie of false optimism.’

‘Oh, I fear for them,’ Dritha exclaimed. ‘When they find hope – if they are so fortunate – will they even then realise that it is more than hope they must seek?’

For once the great sage had no answer. He looked up at the wall above the hearth where there hung a small, beautifully-worked tapestry depicting a stylised bird. It was in shadow, hard to discern. ‘It’s only a tapestry, only an image,’ said Dritha. ‘The reality they must learn and recognise for themselves.’

#

It was dark outside, and there was a distinct chill in the air, though the Forluinish seemed unaware of it as they sat on a large, smooth boulder on the bank of the stream. Next to them a gnarled tree leaned out over the water, half its roots exposed by the erosion of the earth beneath it. The stream bubbled past, clear, calm, oblivious to the feelings of the five humans staring disconsolately down at it. It was the following morning – heralded by the merest hint of twilight – and in a few minutes Estarinel must leave to join the H’tebhmellian ship.

‘There seems to be no colour at all here,’ said his sister, Arlena. ‘The valley’s all brown and rust and grey… so different to Forluin. Yet it has a kind of beauty… peace. I feel as if I could see into the clefts of rock over which the stream runs; into the hidden secrets of the Earth… even through to the other side. So different…’ Her voice trailed off. Estarinel looked at her slender hands, white against the dark rock.

‘What are they like, your companions?’ Falin asked quietly. Estarinel hesitated, not wanting to say anything that would make them worry even more.

‘Unhappy and desperate, like us,’ he said at last. ‘But as determined... and stronger than me, I think. Yes, they are strong.’

‘But to be trusted?’ Arlena needed to know.

‘Yes. I have faith in Eldor,’ he answered.

‘And I,’ said Edrien. ‘Heaven knows, we must have faith in something.’

‘He didn’t seem able to offer those poor Morrenish sailors much help,’ said Luatha. ‘I heard a couple of them muttering beside me that a time is coming when the Serpent will take over the whole Earth, and Prince Ashurek’s presence here proves it.’

Arlena looked at her, alarmed. ‘It was just talk. The Morrenish are superstitious, aren’t they?’ She clutched her brother’s arm. ‘E’rinel, I wish you did not have to go with that Gorethrian. He terrifies me.’

Estarinel and Falin both put comforting arms around her.

‘Arlena, there’s no need to fear for me. He is the Serpent’s enemy, I am in no doubt of that. That’s what is important,’ Estarinel said, trying to sound reassuring. His sister straightened and pushed back her silver hair, recovering her composure with a courageous smile.

‘We must trust Eldor,’ said Luatha, reaching out to take her hand. All nodded in agreement, exchanging looks of love and hope that were as wretched as they were brave. Each was wrestling against private despair, the misery of parting, the feeling that the Serpent had already won and the Quest was just a pretence of hope.

‘E’rinel, there is some good news,’ said Falin more brightly. ‘We were talking to Dritha last night, after you’d gone with Eldor, saying – well, that the voyage back to Forluin would be a long and dreary one. She gave us something – I got the impression she did not part with it lightly, only because she was so concerned for us.’ Falin produced a small, pointed stone. ‘It is a sort of lodestone, which will enable us to return to Forluin within a month.’

‘That’s wonderful. I’m glad,’ said Estarinel, grateful that his friends would return home quickly, but not daring to wonder what they would find when they got there.