A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1) (6 page)

‘Be quiet,’ Ashurek laughed. ‘I think you’re only half-joking. Meshurek has grown up at last, and people find it hard to accept, that’s all.’

Orkesh turned to face him, her green eyes shining bright with that strange combination of humour and sincerity that was unique to her.

‘No, you’re wrong,’ she said. ‘People are frightened of him. And so am I. There’s something in him that terrifies me. But if you can look at him and tell me it’s my imagination, I’ll not say another word about it – agreed?’

‘Yes, Your Highness,’ Ashurek grinned. ‘Now we had better go in and ready ourselves for yet another dreary banquet.’

Innocence. Talking and laughing with his sister, thinking the palace garden the loveliest place in the world. Greeting the rest of his family with joy, knowing that in only a few hours he would receive the high office that he had worked so hard to achieve. It would be the beginning of a wonderful life – the beloved army at his command and the freedom to wander the Empire like a hawk. Ashurek looked forward with almost boyish eagerness to a life of glory and high adventure fighting for Gorethria. He was aware of his vast responsibility; but to him responsibility was a joy, a way of serving his father and country. And it was not power he longed for; he was simply in love with army life, the smell of horses and leather, sweat and dust; the long treks across changing landscapes; the fascination of planning strategy, arguing long into the night as he and his fellow officers pored over maps by the light of a single lamp. The skills of battle and weaponry were arts in themselves to him, and the deaths they caused just a by-product, stones on Gorethria’s path to ultimate supremacy.

Ashurek was indeed innocent as he walked into the dazzling opulence of the banquet being held in his honour. He did not dream he was only a few hours from doubt, and a few months from dreadful knowledge.

There were many people to speak to, and not much chance to talk to Meshurek, but in the few moments Ashurek found to observe his brother’s behaviour, he seemed cheerful and self-assured. Slightly shorter and more broadly built than Ashurek, he seemed in the best of health and looked a suitably regal figure in a robe of ornately quilted green, purple and gold satin. Eventually Ashurek saw him talking to the Emperor and Empress, and moved across to join them. He found Orkesh on his arm as he said, ‘I hear you’ve initiated the building of a new castle at Terthria, Meshurek. How is it progressing?’

Meshurek turned smiling to him and said, ‘I think you are wondering, why am I building it? Terthria is a region of rare beauty and an ideal northern outpost.’

‘It is all black ash and volcanoes,’ said the Empress Melkish. ‘Some might find it beautiful, but I cannot abide the starkness of it.’

‘An outpost?’ said Ashurek. ‘What for? There is nothing there.’

‘There is the ocean,’ Meshurek said cryptically.

‘What he means,’ said Orkesh, ‘is the ocean between Gorethria and Tearn. It is at its narrowest there.’

Ashurek heard his mother give a faint sigh as if anticipating a familiar argument. But the argument was new to him, and he listened, fascinated, as Meshurek said, ‘You look surprised, my brother. Father and I have had long discussions on what I believe to be Gorethria’s only future. We need to establish posts along our coasts with a view to the invasion of Tearn.’

‘Discussions!’ the Emperor Ordek snorted. ‘I have explained to Meshurek in exquisite detail why it is impossible to subjugate Tearn.’

‘Wait, father,’ Meshurek said politely. ‘Let us hear Ashurek’s opinion.’

‘Tearn is another continent, not just another country. The army is at full stretch keeping control of the Empire. The strength of arms we would need to consider taking even a small part of Tearn would leave the Empire weakened, maybe in chaos.’

‘Exactly,’ said Ordek. ‘I have shown Meshurek the logic of it, and he is unable to reply with an equally logical argument. Yet he will not let the matter drop.’

‘The Empire is stagnant,’ Meshurek went on, apparently unperturbed by his father’s adamance. ‘What is there left for us to do, but conquer the other half of the world?’

The last remark was typical of the arrogant, dry humour sometimes heard in the royal court, but no one smiled. Ashurek felt chilled by Meshurek’s words, for no reason he could pinpoint.

‘The Empire, my son, is stable,’ Ordek contradicted. ‘We have everything we have worked for. Tearn is no threat to us – so why risk all we have, for the sake of greed?’

‘Gorethria has always taken risks,’ Meshurek replied smoothly. ‘That is why we are great.’

Ashurek was beginning to believe Orkesh. His brother did seem different. They had always been respectful, even a little nervous, with their father before; but now he got the impression that Meshurek was teasing Ordek, tantalising him with what seemed a foolish argument, while underneath there was some great and terrible meaning that Ordek did not suspect.

‘If you think, as I do, that invading Tearn is impossible, why has the building of the castle gone ahead?’ Ashurek said, looking into his father’s hawk-keen eyes. But Ordek did not reply.

Meshurek said, ‘Oh, it is just mother indulging my whims. As I said, I like it there.’

‘It is an Emperor-to-be’s privilege to have a personal retreat,’ Melkish added.

‘I can go there to dream,’ Meshurek smiled, ‘of my brother sailing across the sea to even greater glory.’

Ashurek felt disturbed for the rest of the evening. Even the company of his mother and sister could do nothing to dispel his mood, and when he noticed that Meshurek, having grown increasingly restless, had left the banquet early, he decided to follow him. They would have a long talk which would finally solve the differences between them.

There were no footmen on duty in the darkened corridor leading to Meshurek’s suite of rooms, although Ashurek could hear him talking to someone. The ornate gold door to his bedchamber was ajar, so Ashurek looked into the room and called, ‘Meshurek.’

Darkness lay in the large room like a crouching wolf. He could just make out the figure of his brother, with his back to him, outlined by a faint incandescence that seemed to glow from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Meshurek appeared not to have heard him, and went on talking. Ashurek realised he was talking to himself, or uttering a chant; the words were running together in an inhuman drone.

As he listened, Ashurek began to feel cold and sick. The language Meshurek was muttering was a form of ancient Gorethrian. The exact sense of it escaped Ashurek, but it seemed full of implications of horror, like a nightmare that cannot quite be remembered except for a sensation of terrible dread.

Meshurek was summoning something.

Ashurek was transfixed, fascinated and horrified, at the door; he could find no power to speak or move. His skull felt like lead. He did not understand what was happening, had no power to alter or stop it. For the first time in his life, he felt fear.

In front of his brother, silver light flared and a figure appeared as if from another dimension. It had a perfectly symmetrical human body that shone with a dazzling argent light; but the light was not beautiful. It burned Ashurek’s eyes like acid, and through the glare he saw his brother ducking and edging back like a cowed servant waiting to be struck.

The room – or his head – was filled with a thrumming like an iron bell vibrating in response to distant thunder. Ashurek felt his skull would surely crack open with the strain. My brother – he thought – what have you done?

Then the being spoke.

Its voice sounded like metal and cobwebs. A voice that could make a word into a real object, a poisoned needle that would slide into the listener’s skin and pin him to some dreadful fate. And it was also hypnotic, and persuasive.

‘You have called me again, Prince Meshurek. How can I help you?’

‘Meheg-Ba,’ the Prince gasped as if in physical distress, ‘I want – I want assurances. Did you hear them earlier?’

‘Hear what, O Meshurek? Calm yourself. Explain,’ said the being. Its broad silver face was stretched in a leer, and the mouth gleamed red as if full of blood.

‘The people – cheering Ashurek my brother. Tomorrow he is to be made High Commander. How much louder they will cheer then… I…’

‘Meshurek, now that you have called me to your service, I can see or hear anything you want me to. Once summoned, I can wander freely on Earth to do your bidding. What assurance can I give you?’

‘I want them to cheer me, not him!’ Meshurek almost shouted, his voice ravaged by fear and greed. ‘The people should love and worship me. I am to be their Emperor – not Ashurek!’

The silver being let out a hiss like an echo of laughter. ‘One thing I cannot do, my Prince, is make people like you. Only you can do that. But listen, I can give you all the power you desire – you know that, for that is the true reason you first summoned me.’

The creature stretched out magnesium-white hands and placed them on Meshurek’s shoulders. ‘You and I together shall be invincible. With such power, I promise you will not care that you are not loved!’

Meshurek’s shoulders shook as though he was laughing. ‘Yes, Meheg-Ba. I trust you. I can make them worship me on a whim!’

‘It was a happy day when you thought to summon me. Now you are destined to be the world’s most powerful man – and the bargain was so simple. All I require in return is the loyalty of you and your family, and to be unleashed upon the world – in your service, of course.’

Ashurek reeled back from the door. In panic – made more terrible because he had never experienced panic before – he stumbled and lurched down corridor as if blind drunk until, somehow, he gained the safety of his own rooms. A minute later the thrumming in his head subsided and he knew the creature had returned to wherever Meshurek had called it from.

Shaking, so weak with dread and terror he could no longer stand, he lay upon the bejewelled and brocaded cover of his bed. He did not understand what he had seen, but it was obvious that Meshurek had ensnared himself in some terrible evil.

Why? he cried to himself. For power? But he is going to be Emperor anyway, by birthright. No – Ashurek could not conveniently ignore the truth any longer. Orkesh was right; their brother was not better. He believed that everyone hated him, and had summoned the supernatural being to jealously guard that which he was sure was going to be taken from him.

Ashurek wept for a while. He still loved his brother, as he had always done. Now he was shattered to realise the truth, furious at his own foolishness in imagining that Meshurek had solved his problems. What did the being mean,
the loyalty of you and your family
?

Eventually, when he had calmed himself, he left his room. The banquet was long over, the palace in silence and darkness. He said to a guard, ‘I cannot sleep. I am going to the library to read for a while.’ And once in the vast library, he searched until the first light of dawn for whatever fell knowledge Meshurek had found there.

The being he had seen, he soon learned, was one of the Shana – a supernatural race that inhabited a region removed from Earth. They were evil and powerful and they were ‘of the Serpent’, the ancient book said – although whether this meant they were its servants, or that it had created them, Ashurek could not tell. They lusted for power over Earth. However, the Earth was protected from them in that they could only come there when summoned by a human, and the first summoning was arduous and dreadful.

There was no sorcery on the Earth, since the potential energy for it did not exist. So anyone who desired power that could only be achieved through magical means had to resort to calling upon the Shana. In return for performing whatever tasks the summoner wanted, a Shanin would take control of the unfortunate human and extract whatever payment it desired. And if the human fell short in fulfilling his side of the bargain, it was easy enough for the Shanin to drag him down to the Dark Regions and make him regret it for eternity.

Unsurprisingly, men called the Shana ‘demons’.

Ashurek could find nothing on the actual ritual of summoning. No doubt Meshurek had concealed that information in his own room. But there were hints of the terrible difficulty and danger of breaking through to the Dark Regions to call a demon into the world. Ashurek could imagine how his brother’s cleverness had overcome the problems of understanding the ritual and putting it into practice.

Once the bargain was made, subsequent summonings were simple. The demon could even come without being summoned. As he read on, the cold, archaic language of the old book and the implications of the appalling, apocalyptic danger of demon-summoning left Ashurek sickened. Had Meshurek any real conception of what he had instigated? If so, did he care?

The next day, the ceremony at which Ashurek received the office of High Commander passed like a dream. Externally he went through all the correct motions; internally he was totally distracted by what he had learned. He could not meet Meshurek’s eyes. Whenever he looked at the rest of his family – all sparkling like hummingbirds as they happily greeted an endless stream of courtiers, relations and officials – he felt fear for them.

They don’t know, he thought. They have not the slightest suspicion that Meshurek… They are in terrible danger.

Ashurek had no idea what he should do. If he told his father and mother, they would be furious and confront Meshurek. Then Meshurek’s worst fears – that his family meant to oust him from the throne – would be realised. There was no telling just how powerful the demon Meheg-Ba was. He did not doubt it had the power to destroy anyone who challenged Meshurek. That was exactly why he had summoned it.