Into The Dark Flame (Book 4) (21 page)

   Issul weighed this over and over in her mind. She could not afford to leave without Orbelon. Not under any circumstances.

   But neither could she give him up to ruffians like these!

   So what choice had she?

   At the back of her thoughts hovered the unlikely prospect of somehow bringing these men around to the possibility of joining with her. It was a mad, absurd hope. She did not know who they were, or what precisely they wanted. Logically, they could not want to see the blue casket and Orbelon destroyed, for his destruction, ultimately, was also theirs. They might not know this, of course. Unless . . .

   Unless what? Might they be True Sept members?
Unlikely. They did not speak or convey themselves in the manner of fanatics. Nor did she suspect them of working for the Karai. So ultimately - though she could not be totally certain - they should have nothing to gain by seeing the casket destroyed.

   But so many unknowns! Nothing could be relied upon!

   Desperate and thwarted though she was, the knowledge that to lose Orbelon was to lose everything kept bringing her back to clutch at the flimsiest of straws.

   How might she win the confidence of men like these?

   The answer was that she did not have to. She had to gain the confidence of their leader, who declined to show himself.

   It had grown cold in the dwindling afternoon. The sun was low now, the forest shadows long and full. A few acutely-slanting shafts of pale sunlight managed to stab through to the forest floor, but the uneasy dappled light they cast brought no warmth. The breeze, though light, still pierced inactive flesh. Motionless for so long, Issul had begun to shiver and her fingers and toes grew raw and painful. She called out to the men, 'Is it your intention to have me freeze to death?'

   As one they looked her way. They had lit no fire, presumably out of fear of drawing attention. From time to time they had been getting up and stamping their feet and performing exercises to stimulate their circulation. After a moment Blackbeard rose and came over to her. He drew a knife from his belt. 'I will free your ankles. You can stand and walk around a bit, warm yourself. No tricks, mind. We’re watching you.'

   He stooped and cut through the ligament binding her ankles. At that moment one of the other men called to him and made a signal with his hands. He seemed to be indicating the woods off to one side. Blackbeard straightened.

  'Wait,' he told her gruffly, before she could stand. He walked back to the others. Issul gathered that he had acted without permission, and was being advised to seek his leader's approval before allowing her to walk. She flexed her ankles and toes but made no attempt to rise.

   She cast her gaze around. Was it possible to make a break for it, even with her hands bound? The men were watching her keenly and she knew lookouts were close by. She dismissed the thought. And at that moment something extraordinary happened.

   Without identifiable reason Issul was visited with the sudden conviction that her husband, King Leth, was close at hand. The thought was irrational, yet the impression was overwhelming, so much so that she could not prevent herself responding to it. She turned her head and peered hard into the shadows.

  
Leth?

   Her heart pounded. She was so sure he was there.

  
Leth?

   It was madness,
yet. . .  a glimmer of movement in the undergrowth a little way off.

  
Help me, Leth! Help me!

   He was on horseback, beneath the trees. Without another thought for her guards Issul clambered to her feet and began to run stiffly towards him. 'Leth, help me! Quickly, free me! I am in trouble!'

   The figure on the horse moved towards her. She saw, not Leth, but a warrior-knight in fabulous, gleaming, blue-tinged armour, an ornate, horned and plumed helm upon his head. She stopped running, suddenly confused. There was something wrong. The horseman had also stopped. He was indefinite in form, a phantom. She did not know what to do.

   There came the sound of pounding hooves. Out of nowhere a second horseman appeared, grim and pale-faced in black half-armour, bearing down upon her, a slender scimitar raised high. She turned away instinctively, but there was no time to get out of his path. She cried out.

   She heard another cry: 'NNO-OOOOO!'

   Leth's voice - unmistakeable!

   But now there was nothing.

   Issul staggered back, stupefied. Both horsemen had disappeared. Or had they never been?

   She turned. Blackbeard and the others were just behind her. They had obviously rushed to seize her. But they stood stock still now, their expressions mirroring her own.

   'You saw it, didn't you?'

   It was a relief. For she had wondered whether she alone had perceived the phantoms; whether she was mad.

   Her captors eyed her warily. It struck her then:
They think I conjured this!

   She had been on the point of asking them what they had seen, to verify her own experience. Did they think it had meaning? Where had the phantoms sprung from? But now she kept silence, thinking that she might just turn their suspicion to her advantage.

   Blackbeard came forward and grasped her arm. 'I told you, no tricks!'

   His eyes flickered edgily past her, into the woods. His grip was tentative, almost gentle. She sensed that she was being treated with a new respect.

   She allowed herself to be led back to the tree where she had been seated, too dazed to offer any resistance. One of the men spoke in a nervous voice, but she did not hear what he said. Blackbeard's grip became a touch firmer as his fears that she might yet strike him down with magic were dispelled. She sat down again.

 
What happened here?  What just happened?

  She thought of the Reach Riders, spoken of by Orbelon: phantasmal creatures, awesomely powerful, which would come out of Enchantment,
bringing with them a wake of chaos and destruction, paving the way for Enchantment to grow. Was that what she had just witnessed? The thought chilled her;
what will it mean if the first of the Reach Riders is free? Is there still time for us to act?

   Without consulting Orbelon further she could be certain of nothing.

   But why had she felt so certain of Leth's presence? Even now, despite everything, she felt him, as though he had somehow been close - and his anguished cry still echoed in her mind.

   Her captors stood in a knot close by. They flashed her mistrustful glances and scanned the woods, apprehensive of another manifestation. Though obviously shaken by what they had witnessed, their overall composure, individually and as a unit, impressed her. Typical bandits, even many soldiers, would have been panic-stricken at the sight of the phantom warriors. They would likely have fled. These men, though alarmed, had not for more than an instant been deflected from their purpose. Once again Issul found herself wondering who they were.

   She let her head tip back against the tree-trunk and closed her eyes. She was sinking again into despondency, not knowing how she could escape this terrible situation and continue with her mission. She heard a heavy footfall in front of her and opened her eyes to see Blackbeard looming above her.

   'Was that your doing?'

   Issul hesitated. Should she continue with her bluff, let them believe she commanded elemental powers? Or was it better to admit the truth? Or could she work upon them with half-truth, a middle path by which she might yet lead them in the way she wanted? She elected for the latter. 'Such phenomena will recur again and again, becoming destructive and uncontrollable, if I am not permitted to continue on my way.'

   Blackbeard digested this with a frown, clearly not sure what to make of her. She saw in his eyes an alert, if cold, intelligence. 'Do you threaten us?'

   'I merely state how it is.'

   'You mean it has to do with the chest, and what it contains?'

   Again she balked, and realized that this was in fact not half-truth at all. It was the way things were. She said, 'It has to do with many things. But I will tell you this: if I am prevented from continuing on my way, you will not survive. Nor will I. If you know anything of what you are about, you will be aware that there are immense and incalculable dangers here.'

   She looked into his eyes and saw the lack of decision there.

   'Do you know of Enchantment?' she asked.

  
'Enchantment?' A wariness. 'Of course?'

   Issul nodded thoughtfully.

   'Tell me more,' he said.

   Issul shook her head. 'I want to speak to your leader.'

   'I am leader here.'

   'No you are not. I speak of he who skulks yonder in the bushes, afraid to show his face.' She raised her voice and called, 'Come out, mongrel! There are things we must discuss! Or are you too cowardly to face me?'

   There was silence. Issul looked up angrily into Blackbeard's face. 'Well, understand this clearly: we are doomed. You are standing in the way of what must be done. There are factors involved which you cannot possibly comprehend, but you will bring down all the forces of Enchantment upon our heads if you do not help me. Now leave me. Begone!'

   Blackbeard gave her a long appraising look,
then withdrew, almost with reluctance. Issul sat alone and fumed. Perhaps it was impossible. Perhaps nothing she could say would sway these men. Why should they believe her, after all? They were treasure-seekers, nothing more. They had fought together as mercenaries in skirmishes here and there - hence their discipline and close co-ordination. They had seen that she carried a chest, and believed it held valuables that might make them rich. They had seen phantoms in the woods and suspected her of witchery. They were probably now debating the best way to kill her.

   As she thought these glum thoughts there was a movement in the bushes off to one side. The blue-cloaked man stepped into the open before her. He was tall, broad of shoulder, deep-chested. Issul estimated him to be about thirty years of age. But she could not see his face, for he wore a mail coif which covered all but his eyes. Again she was struck by his familiarity, the way he moved and held himself.

   He conferred briefly with Blackbeard, then strode over to her. He was swift and sure of himself. 'What is the nature of this quest you are engaged upon?'

   'Why do you hide yourself?'

   'Please answer my question.'

   'I think you have made a mistake. I think that whoever has employed you will not be pleased to learn what has happened here.'

   'I wish to know what is in the chest that you were carrying, that you guarded so closely. And where is it now? And why do you speak of Enchantment?'

   'I speak of Enchantment because it is the truth. And I will take you to the chest,' Issul said. She was thinking rapidly. At all costs she had to get to Orbelon. She had somehow to continue with him to the Farplace Opening. Somehow she had to get these men to accompany her, guard her, at least as far as the former
Karai camp. It was absurd, but it was the only way. She had to make it utterly clear that if they obstructed her they would die.

   'You will give it up?' queried the blue-cloaked man, clearly taken by surprise.

   'No. And if you attempt to take it from me you will perish. Not by my hand, but as a natural consequence. You have plainly followed me; I believe you know who I am. You know too that the chest is of incalculable value. Not monetary. It contains no treasure as such. But you will be aware from my actions back there -' she nodded in the direction from which she had ridden when she fled the grullag attack ' - just how valuable I deem it to be. Thus I am willing to take you to it.'

   She felt her nerve faltering. Did she dare confide in him? By what other means was she to get to Orbelon?

   The gang-leader nodded to himself and stepped back, straightening. 'Very well, take me. Is it far?'

   She shook her head. He helped her to her feet. 'Let’s go now.'

   She led him and his men back the way she had come, through the deepening shadows of the forest. All the way her heart was in her mouth. If she was wrong . . .

   They came to the grove and the thicket where she had hidden the chest. Issul pushed her way through the bushes.

  'There,' she said, nodding. 'It’s beneath that bush.'

  At a nod from the leader one of the men dropped to the ground and probed beneath the bush. He withdrew, shaking his head. 'She has led us false.'

  'No!' Issul felt her world dropping away. 'It’s there! I hid it there!'

   She fell to her knees. Her wrists were still bound behind her, so she could not feel beneath the bush. But she could see the worst. The man was right. The chest containing Orbelon's blue casket had gone.

ii

   'Is this a joke?' the blue-cloaked commander demanded harshly.

   'It is not! Look! There are my other things, just as I left them!' Her saddle and items of equipment remained undisturbed beneath the bushes. 'Somebody has been here and taken it!'