Into The Dark Flame (Book 4) (20 page)

   Something was horribly wrong, this much was clear. The boy's demeanour was lifeless and unnatural. He did not even glance up at the seven riders approaching. He displayed basic motor functions and virtually nothing else.  As they came beside him Leth slipped from the saddle, his limbs stiff with cold, and went to kneel beside him. The boy's lips were in motion, but he made no sound. Nor did he seem aware of Leth's presence. His eyes stared dully at the floor. He continued his strange shuffling motion, a step back, one or two forward; another to the right, one to the left, without any pattern.

   Leth knelt and put a hand on his shoulder. The boy ceased moving but failed to look up. His lips continued to move soundlessly.

   'Son, what is your name?'

   There was no response, not even a flicker in the dull brown eyes. Gently Leth shook the boy’s shoulder. Still nothing.

   'Boy, I am here to help you.'

   'He is beyond help, Swordbearer,' came Count Harg's voice from behind.

   Leth disregarded him. He shook the shoulder again, gently slapped the boy's ashen cheek. It had no effect.
Once more, harder. Then, concerned to draw some kind of response, he took the child's thin arm and pinched the flesh between his finger and thumb. The pressure he applied was sufficient to have made any normal child cry out in protest, but this child gave no response. He pinched harder; still nothing. The child felt no pain.

   Leth stood again, letting go of the boy, who resumed his shuffling motion.

   'They are less than shells, Swordbearer. Their dreams are gone; they have no imagination, no thoughts. Truly, they are no longer among the living.'

   Leth stood still. His relief that this diminished creature was not Galry had been swiftly followed by a sense of guilt. For the boy was someone's. Somewhere, someone must grieve for the loss of this child. Probably they did not know what had become of him. Which was worse, to know or not know that this was what their son had become?

   'There must be something we can do,' he said.

   'There is nothing. I have seen them before.'

   'You have been here before?'

   Harg shook his head. 'By some miracle these children have from time to time found their way up from the Abyss. It’s rare, but it has happened.'

   'And what did you do with them?'

   'Me? I did nothing. I am untouched by such things. But I know that others tried, to no avail. They can be kept alive for a time, but that is all. Most remain here, though. Others . . . well, others are made into warriors. Children deprived of dreams.'

   Leth fought back his anger. Rasgul spoke, showing no emotion at Harg's pointed insinuation. 'He is right, Swordbearer. You can do nothing.'

   Leth remounted. He looked again at the tragic child,
then his thoughts flew ahead. Where were his children? In the Fortress that lay somewhere before him? Alive - that is, fully alive - or had they too been reduced to ambulant corpses or transformed into mindless child-warriors?

   'Let us move on!' he ordered.

   They had not gone more than a few yards before he realised the worst. The boy had not stood alone on the plain. Now Leth saw the others emerging out of the strange haze. There were scores of them; possibly even hundreds or more, for the haze, closer upon the riders now, revealed nothing beyond a distance of a hundred paces or so away.

   The children’s ages ranged from fifteen or so down to tiny infants barely able to walk. They stood,
sat, lay prone upon the cold dusty plain. Alone or in small knots and groups - it made little difference for they were unaware of one another’s presence and no communication passed between them. Some of them walked in slow, foot-dragging circles, others meandered aimlessly. Some, like the first, shuffled from foot to foot but never left the spot where they stood.

   And there were the dead. The plain was strewn with corpses, new and decaying, and small skeletons clad in tatters and rags.

  
And the silence . . .

   It was in some ways almost the worst thing.
So many children. Their noise, their boisterousness, the spontaneous youthful celebration of living that could rise so naturally over almost any hardship - all this was terribly and completely absent.

   Leth stared at the faces of those they passed close to, dreading that at any moment he might recognize the ruined features of his own child.

   'Have faith that yours are not among them, Swordbearer,' said Rasgul.

   Leth was haggard.
'Faith?'

   'You can’t stop and examine every one. They are lost. They are too many, and every second spent here diminishes the hopes of those still imprisoned in the Fortress. It is
those you must consider now, the ones that the Great Sow has not yet fed on.'

   Deep within himself Leth acknowledged the truth of this. Jace and Galry's one hope was that the Kancanitrix had not yet touched them and that he might still reach them before she did.

   The air had taken on a faint reddish tinge. Everything was toned by a dull bloodlight. The seven had entered the outermost fringe of the areas touched by the red glow that Leth had first spied from the road to Ardbire Keep. They were far out on the bed of the Death Abyss now. At almost any moment, Leth knew, he would be setting eyes for the first time upon the Fortress of the Dark Flame, and the monstrous creature that it housed would be separated from him by no more than the thickness of its protective walls.

iv

   Rasgul, at the fore again, raised his hand abruptly. They had advanced well into the red haze. They halted. Leth brought his horse alongside the Abyss warrior. 'What is it?'

   'I must take your weapons now.'

   Leth could see no more than fifty yards or so in any direction. The haze was deeper, closer all around. It had become oppressive, a weird half-light that played upon his nerves. Children wandered within it like ghouls, or stood stock still, darkly bloodlit shadows, some with lips moving soundlessly like the first, none acknowledging in any way the seven riders in their midst.

   'I’m not happy with this.'

   Rasgul's features were set. 'We have come this far; this is the only way if we are not to turn back. Do you want to turn back?'

   'You know I can’t.'

   'Very soon now we will encounter warriors from the Fortress. They must see that I am bringing back captives.'

   Leth turned in the saddle and saw Harg and Juson giving up their swords. With a resigned sigh he unbuckled the scimitar Harg had given him and handed it to Rasgul. Then he unbuckled the Orbsword. Dembarl dismounted and came to take it from him. He staggered under its sudden weight and looked up in some surprise at Leth, then bore it over to Rasgul's horse and held it while Rasgul strapped it behind his saddle.

   'You see, the hilt is unharnessed,' said Rasgul to Leth. 'Summon it and it will fly to you.'

   Harg and Juson were having their hands tied behind them. Rasgul approached Leth with a short length of cord. 'Don your helm, Swordbearer.'

   Leth did so, then crossed his wrists behind his back. Rasgul bound his wrists and said, 'Check it. It’s a slip knot, and not tight. You can pull free with the minimum of effort, as you must do if we are discovered.'

   Leth tested the binding. Rasgul adjusted the knot then climbed back on his horse. Now they rode forward with Rasgul at the fore and Leth, Harg and Juson coming behind in single file. Dembarl and Huuri rode guard, one upon each flank, and Fhurn brought up the rear.

   The flat plain dipped a little. Huge, strangely conformed boulders stood out here and there, emerging suddenly as if thrust up out of the ground. The dark red luminescence grew more intense. Leth watched the children still, peering into the faces of those he was close enough to make out. He calculated that he had already passed more than a hundred, plus countless dead. Of the living, not a single one showed a spark of inner life, but either shambled slowly or was silent and still, eyes cast sightlessly to the dust. He wondered how many more there could possibly be; how many Ascaria needed to fulfil her aims.

   Rasgul uttered a sharp word of warning. A party of Abyss warriors rode up the slope towards them. Leth slumped forward a little in the saddle to give the appearance of dejection.

   The warriors, six in number, halted and their leader greeted Rasgul in harsh, guttural tones. They exchanged a few words; Rasgul jerked his thumb back, indicating the three 'captives'. All the warriors' eyes were on the three, though most pointedly on the knight in sapphire armour and helm. Leth heard brief, coarse laughter, then the Abyss warriors went on their way, filing slowly past him, their pale faces curious. Rasgul signalled forward and they continued on.

   'It’s an encouraging start,' declared Rasgul a short distance on, when the Abyss warriors were well gone. 'They suspected nothing. Now, prepare yourselves. The greatest test is before us.'

   Though the glassy red light still persisted, the haze had lifted noticeably. Leth stared ahead to where the rough ground rose, some two hundred paces distant, to a long low ridge. Upon the ridge a dark, crouching form: a huge castle of three levels, characterized by massive fortified walls and five wide, lowering rounded towers. The walls followed the contours of the ridge; the entire edifice was constructed of a dark, red-black stone, and it seemed to Leth that it was from the Fortress itself that the red luminescence radiated. Lights glimmered about its battlements. An exposed, elevated roadway of a hundred yards or so led up to a colossal barbican. Leth’s stomach tightened.

   Rasgul glanced back at him, his face sombre and haunted in the bloodlight. 'Are you ready, Swordbearer? Ascaria awaits you.'    

EIGHT

i

   Issul strained against her bonds, though it was futile. She was securely bound and no amount of flexing, twisting and manipulating was going to permit her to break free.

   More than an hour had passed since she had fallen into the hands of this band of - what were they? Disciplined cutthroats? Mercenary outlaws? She still did not know. They had not harmed her and she remained under the impression that they were unsure of what to do with her. From their failure to enquire as to her identity or her reasons for being here alone in the forest, however, she had come to believe that they had a reasonably sure idea of who she was.

   She was intrigued by the disappearance of their commander, the man in the blue cloak. There had been something about him that she felt she knew, though she had not seen his face. Now she wondered, had his departure at the time of her capture been coincidence? That is, had he simply left at this time on pre-planned business, or had he deliberately absented himself for fear of being recognized by her? Her intuition inclined her towards the latter.

   Issul racked her mind, but she could not fit a face onto that body which she knew instinctively was not that of a total stranger.

    She had been perfunctorily questioned three times. On each occasion it was the burly, black-bearded man who she had seen earlier with the tracker, who had interrogated her. His questions were gruff and to the point - he wanted to know the whereabouts of the chest she had carried. He showed interest in little else.

   Each time she answered evasively, pretending ignorance. Though plainly frustrated by her attitude, Blackbeard had until now pressed no harder. His chilling parting comment had been, 'You will tell us. Be sure of that. We are patient just now, but we don’t intend to wait forever. Think of what it will mean if you choose not to tell us.'

   They knew about the chest, but not what it contained. They knew it to be significant, but not what its precise significance was. This much she was able to deduce - Blackbeard's interrogation skills were rudimentary, and he gave away more than he was aware of.

   The last two times that he had come across to question her, Issul noticed something. Prior to his approaching her, another member of the gang, who she took to be on sentry duty, had arrived. They had conferred briefly, heads together with the other gang-members. Then Blackbeard had come over and put his questions to her. When he left her the men spoke again quickly, then the sentry made off once more into the trees.

   Issul wondered, was the sentry conveying the content of her interrogation to another person?  Did the mysterious blue-cloaked leader of this anomalous band wait somewhere close by, deliberately beyond her sight?

    The afternoon wore on. Issul was left to ponder her predicament - deliberately, she supposed.

   'Think of what it will mean if you choose not to tell us.'

   Yes, those words had not been chosen lightly. They played upon her mind. She did not imagine they had originated from Blackbeard.

   And it was not only the tortures and indignities that these men might inflict upon her that were implied here. Of equal if not greater importance were the consequences of her being led from this place without giving up the chest. The leader of this gang realised the possibility, just as Issul herself knew, that if she was taken far from here she might never locate the chest again.