Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series (14 page)

Grib scowled but Cyrek
smiled broadly.

‘If Fenj recommends it,
I’m sure it must be beyond compare.’

Seola looked puzzled
but sat down next to Cyrek. Muttering under his breath, Grib
disappeared into the shed. He came out with three bowls and a
flask. He poured a small amount for Seola and Cyrek and then
retreated to lean against Fenj with the third bowl. Cyrek raised
the bowl, sipped, and froze. Dark have mercy! He glanced at Seola.
Tears rolled down her cheeks which had gone a deep pink. Cyrek
sipped again, got his breathing back under control, and nodded
towards Grib and Fenj.

‘Truly beyond compare,’
he agreed solemnly.

Chapter
Eight

Shield Master and
Armourer Garrol climbed the many stairs to the First Daughter’s
chambers, a long, cloth-wrapped bundle beneath his arm. Peshan
greeted him and waved him inside. The First Daughter smiled at her
Shield Master’s formal salute, left thumb to brow, lips and chest,
and then his palm offered to her. Matching his formality, she rose
from her great chair to touch his hand.

‘And how do you shield,
Shield Master?’

‘With my mind, with my
breath, with my strength and with my blood.’

‘Do you freely shield
me?’

‘I do First Daughter,
now and always, in the name of Mother Dark.’

Lerran sat again. ‘Why
so formal Garrol? Surely we are the oldest of friends.’

Garrol sat opposite, on
the long bench screened from Lerran’s permanently blazing
fire.

‘Whenever you request
weapons First Daughter, it is a very formal occasion in my
eyes.’

Lerran nodded in
understanding.

‘You had what I
requested?’

‘Yes. You well know I
only keep a few items of this quality by me – they take so long to
forge. I will start replacing the ones you choose now.’

He unwrapped the bundle
on his knees. The first sword he lifted was a two handed sword,
double edged with the plainest of down swept quillons. The handle
was black wood with a large jet set in the pommel. The blade was
black; it drank the light from Lerran’s fire when Garrol half-drew
it from its scabbard. Garrol slid the blade gently back and smiled
across at the First Daughter.

‘Favrian was due for a
new sword - the one he wears now was one of the first I ever made,
forty years past.’

The second sword was
shorter, a single handed blade with straight, narrow quillons. The
pommel held a ruby of the darkest red. Garrol handed it almost
casually to Peshan, who took it with surprise and
reverence.

‘I am honoured Shield
Master. It is an excellent blade.’ Peshan drew the sword fully and
tested its weight and balance. He saluted Garrol before letting the
blade touch his left thumb. Blood welled. Peshan smoothed the blood
along the flat of the blade where it vanished, absorbed by the
metal. He resheathed it and sat down, the sword laid across his
lap.

‘I brought several
knives First Daughter. The woman, Gossamer Tewk, has considerable
expertise. She already carries three knives but they are of greatly
inferior manufacture. And the young girl obviously needs something
more suited to her size.’

He spread the thick
cloth wide and displayed eight knives of different lengths and
widths.

‘I would leave the
choice entirely in your hands Garrol. Will you have any chance to
teach the child more than not to cut herself?’

Garrol laughed.
‘Gossamer Tewk can work with her – whenever opportunity arises. It
doesn’t take long to run through the elementary exercises. The girl
is quick – I’ve seen that – physically and mentally. Always a good
sign.’ He moved the knives with a thick forefinger. ‘I would like
the girl to have two of these, the woman three or even
four.’

‘You know best in such
matters Shield Master.’

Garrol stood up. The
first sword he laid gently on the bench along with five of the
knives. He rolled the remaining three into the cloth and bowed to
Lerran.

‘I trust the Dark
blesses these blades well First Daughter.’

They listened to the
sound of Garrol’s boot heels fading in the distance then Peshan
raised his sword again, admiring the glittering ruby in the pommel.
He went across to the bench where the other sword rested beside the
knives. He saw that each knife had a stone in its pommel, each
stone a different type. Peshan raised a brow at his
sister.

‘Did you provide these
jewels?’

She stared into the
heart of the fire. ‘Dabray,’ she said softly.

Peshan frowned. Dabray
rarely involved himself in such things. He understood the
seriousness of this attempt to enter the Splintered Kingdom, but he
had not realised that Dabray had been consulted.

‘I will speak with
Gossamer Tewk and Shea tomorrow – would you inform Corman for me? I
need to give some help to Seola and Cyrek – their task has turned
out far worse than I’d anticipated.’

‘Help?’ Peshan sat down
again, leaning forward, elbows on knees.

Lerran turned her gaze
from the fire to her brother. ‘The young one who screams is far
down in the Dark, further than Seola can go. It took many others to
call her back to the living world. Yet this young Dragon is even
deeper and I believe his mind is reclaimable.’

Peshan’s face was
bloodless. ‘Deeper than Seola can reach?’ he repeated in horror.
‘But she’s the strongest of us now.’

‘She is not stronger
than I am,’ Lerran corrected him gently.

Peshan stared. ‘But
have you gone, deep into Mother Dark, in the last centuries even?
We would all have known – you can’t conceal the sensations when any
one of us goes to our limits.’

Lerran shrugged one
shoulder. ‘If it is Mother Dark’s will, I shall go. If it is her
will that I survive, I shall survive.’

Silence fell between
them except for the sibilant hiss of the flames.

‘When would you attempt
this?’

Lerran hesitated before
replying. ‘It must be soon to have a chance of regaining the
Dragon’s mind with a hope of restoring him fully. But I do not want
you to go into the Splintered Realm without my presence
here.’

Peshan felt sick.
Lerran had doubts about reaching so far into the Dark. He had never
before heard a word of uncertainty with regard to her abilities.
Lerran gave him a fond smile.

‘Chindar will stand in
for me in the event I am – unavailable.’

Peshan swallowed. He
had accepted the considerable level of risk involved in his
participation in the venture into the Splintered Kingdom, but he
had not contemplated the enormous danger his sister could now face.
Lerran stared into the fire once again.

‘Two days,’ she said.
‘Two days from now you will make the gateway into that place. You
should go at dawn. I will wait until darkfall of that day before I
descend. Two full days for Gossamer Tewk and Shea to be drilled
hard.’ Lerran smiled suddenly at her brother. ‘Gossamer is changing
hourly, have you noticed? Dabray asked to speak alone with her
yesterday morning.’

‘Dabray?’ Peshan
thought Dabray communicated only with Lerran over these last years.
But Lerran nodded.

‘Corman guided her
there and waited for her. He reported that she was extremely quiet,
shocked, he thought.’

‘But what would Dabray
have to talk about with a half dead?’

Lerran laughed aloud.
‘I have no idea, but I do know Dabray. His wisdom is far greater
than mine. I may be First Daughter but Dabray is First Lord for
good reasons, brother.’

‘Do you wish me to work
with Gossamer Tewk and Shea?’

‘No. Garrol and
Favrian’s captains can do that. I spoke with Favrian earlier – he
has gone home, as you must do. Spend this brief time with
Marla.’

Peshan bent over his
sister, resting his cheek against her thick white hair.
Straightening, he picked up his new sword, formally saluted the
First Daughter and went quietly from her presence.

After a while, Lerran
moved to the bench where the other sword and the knives lay. She
lifted one of the longer knives and returned to her great chair.
Loosening the blade in its plain leather sheath, she studied the
half exposed blade. The black metal drank in the firelight, as
always with good blood metal. She realised she had never thought to
ask how much blood an Armourer of Garrol’s skill needed to drain
for his work. She knew it must be quite a lot. Blood metal took so
long to forge because of the quantities of blood needed in the
quenchings. The Armourer would not bleed himself to the point of
debilitation – it took months therefore, to take enough.

Lerran stooped to push
more wood into the fire, and sat, as so often, staring into the
flames. Since Dabray had been lost to the half death she had spent
what must add up to many years just sitting alone, remembering her
long past and trying to pierce the shadows of the future. But all
her beloved had told her was that events were so delicately poised
and balanced, one against another, that peril was closer than since
the Dark had first retreated to this small Realm. The Dark had
ruled the whole world but, with no overt challenges to its
strength, had grown complacent. Now the Dark, once Mother of all,
clung to this tiny foothold behind the Barrier Mountains, hidden
and secret.

Lerran hear Corman
approaching, although no one else would have noted the Palace
Master’s footfalls. He set down a tray on the long sideboard and
then moved a table close to Lerran’s chair. He fetched the tray and
put it beside her.

‘You must eat,’ he
chided her. ‘You know you must for what you plan.’

He picked up a crystal
decanter, the liquid within almost black, and filled two goblets.
He touched the goblets lightly to warm the contents and placed one
beside a dish of meat. The other he took himself and sat in an
armchair, his eyes fixed on the First Daughter. He raised his
goblet to her and took a deep swallow. Lerran pulled the tray
closer and peered at the plates and dishes. She took a fork and
began to eat.

‘An awful lot of meat
here,’ she commented.

Corman merely smiled.
‘And you will eat all of it.’ He watched, making sure she did
continue to eat. ‘Who else will support you when you
descend?’

‘Surely you will be
with me – who else could I need?’

‘Sarcasm is beneath
you, Lerran.’ Corman frowned, crossed his legs and rested his
goblet on the arm of the chair. ‘Chindar must keep clear – you have
named him should anything go awry. I suggest Coby. She suspects
what you plan and she is equal to Chindar in strength. I have
worked with her many times. We know we can trust each other.’ He
finished his blood drink and removed the now empty tray.

When he returned he
still bore the tray, heaped afresh. Placing it by Lerran again, he
grinned. ‘You see, your body understands what lies ahead and is
eager to store energy in plenty.’

Lerran looked a little
surprised to realise she had in truth consumed all the food Corman
had first brought her. And yes, she still felt hungry. She began to
eat again, gnawing flesh from a bone while she considered Corman’s
suggestion. He had indeed worked often with Coby and Coby was
deemed almost as knowledgeable as Chindar in matters of Dark
ritual. A thought occurred.

‘Coby – is she not a
stickler for the correctness of all ritual? Would she be able to
handle something inexplicable or even contrary to what she has
believed correct?’

Corman poured more of
the blood drink for both of them while he gave Lerran’s question
careful thought.

‘I believe so,’ he said
at length. ‘It is something I should clarify with her though. And
if I have the slightest hesitation or doubt, who else will we
ask?’

‘Is Treska still here?
He would be capable.’

‘No.’ Corman’s reply
was instant and blunt. ‘Treska is capable yes, but not stable
enough to undertake a prolonged supervision. He would get bored and
lose concentration – which could be fatal for us all. And this will
be a prolonged descent will it not?’

‘I’m afraid it may well
be. What about Alloc?’

Again Corman took his
time reviewing Alloc’s suitability. Eventually he
nodded.

‘Of the two, I would
prefer Coby, but if I doubt her flexibility, I would choose Alloc.
In fact, whoever does not act with me as your supporter should
still be present. In case of emergency.’

Lerran sat back,
nursing her drink. ‘On further thought, I think Harith might do
better than Treska, in whichever role you decide: supporter or
watcher.’

Corman nodded slowly.
‘I believe you’re right. Treska is a dear fellow and utterly loyal,
but his mind has butterfly tendencies, as he himself has said often
enough.’

‘You will speak to them
tonight?’

‘At once.’ Corman
collected the tray, noting with approval that all the food had been
eaten again. He headed towards the door. ‘I’ll bring you more to
eat later, and I’ll tell you what I’ve decided about Harith and
Coby.’