Into The Dark Flame (Book 4) (8 page)

   'Have you made your decision, Swordbearer?'
came Urch-Malmain's voice from behind him.

   Leth felt his heart in his throat. Without turning around he said, in a solemn voice, 'I think the decision has been made without me. What choice do I have? I will not rest until I have found my children.'

   'A noble sentiment. But in itself it is not enough. You must slay the Great Sow and return here if you intend to find your way back to your home.'

   Now Leth turned.
And you will be gone, the portal closed, its entities dispersed. Vanished, as if it had never been.

   'It is a dangerous way,' said Urch-Malmain. He stood at the far end of the chamber. 'But I will provide help. You will not travel alone.' He gestured to where four of the tall, pale, black-armoured warriors stood facing him with their backs to the wall. Their expressions were blank, though fierce. 'They are Abyss fighters. They know the way. They were once Ascaria's.'

   'How is this?' asked Leth.

   'From time to time she launches forays against me. That is, she did. She was quick to curtail her actions when she saw that I was. . .' Urch-Malmain pursed his lips and wriggled his fingers, seeking appropriate words, '. . . changing her troopers' minds.'

   'Is it so simple?'

  
'To put someone into reverie? It's like hypnotizing chickens. Somewhat against my preferences, though, for it obliges me to place my person in very close proximity to the subject in order to arrest his or her gaze with my own. Such intimacy is an affront to my nature.' He gave a shudder. 'The process of relieving a person of his or her entire memory track and replacing it with another takes somewhat longer, of course, but I am relieved of the necessity of touching them or gazing into their horrible eyes. 'Now,' he jerked a finger at the warriors, who filed quickly from the chamber, 'you will have others with you besides these grim visaged fighters.' He nodded towards the far end of the chamber.

In the shadows beneath an overhead gallery a man lounged upon the edge of a table. Leth had not been aware of him before. He swung one leg carelessly back and forth; the other was
near straight, the foot resting upon the floor, supporting much of his weight. With one hand he tossed a small white object into the air and caught it as it fell, tossed it and caught it again. He looked across at Leth, nodded and grinned nonchalantly. 'Good day, valiant hero.'

   With a shock Leth recognized Count Harg, the brigand leader. He turned upon Urch-Malmain in outrage. 'I will not have this man accompany me. He is a villain of the lowest order.'

   'As am I,' replied Urch-Malmain, who had moved to the foot of the stairway. 'Still, he will be useful to you, and to me also. Hence he and his company will travel with you. They are charged with your protection.' His voice had hardened. 'The matter is not being offered for debate.'

   Count Harg languidly tossed the little object high and let it drop into his open palm once more. 'Regrettably my company is greatly depleted, due to a rather unfortunate incident at the other end of the Shore. We are but three in
number now.'

   Leth turned to him and growled, 'How did you come here?'

   'Why, the same way you did, I would imagine.'

   'You walked the Shore of Nothing?'

   'That is so.'

   'And were not driven mad?'

   Harg studied the little article in his hand. 'I am perhaps not the best judge of that. But as far as I am aware I am sane. Unprincipled, yes. Irredeemably miscreant, well perhaps. Sure of nothing?,’ he grinned sardonically. ‘Hmm, I’m not sure about that. But of unsound mind? I do not think so.'

  
Of unsound mind!
The words threw Leth back to his encounter with Fectur in the Hall of Wise Counsel, when the Master of Security for Enchantment's Reach had so deftly and deviously usurped his office. It had been. . . when? Incredibly, only days ago, unless more time had passed than he was aware of.

   Was it just coincidence that had bidden Harg to use these words? H
ad he placed any subtle inflection on them, did his expression betray any double meaning? Leth pushed the words from his mind.

   'Why have you come?'

   Count Harg made a weary gesture, and smiled sardonically. 'Oh, everyone is so
glum
back there. Have you not noticed? There is no relief. I tire of it.'

   'If you came this way, did you encounter my former companion, Lakewander?'

   'I did,' said Harg, brightening. 'She was making her way home.'

   Leth bristled. 'Was she harmed?'

   'By me? No. To be honest, I was far more interested in you and your marvellous pink sword than I was in her. And as it happened, we met near the stone bridge. She sought and gained the
aegis
of that simple-minded hulk who guards the way.'

   'And the Bridgekeeper let you pass?'

   Count Harg eased himself off the table and crossed the room. He paused before a side-table upon which rested a small vase of translucent white gypsum, which held a single, vibrantly pink rose. Harg lifted the rose to his nostrils and enjoyed its perfume for a moment, then replied, 'Mmmm, yes, he did. I hailed him in the proper manner this time, so he had little option. And besides, he was busy attending to my former companions.' Harg made a grimace of distaste. 'He is a creature of strange appetites, even to someone of my hardened sensibilities.'    

   Urch-Malmain had ascended to the second step of the stairway. He had taken a pale blue foulard from within his robe and was applying it to his mouth and nose as if to ward off a foul odour. Leth saw that his brow gleamed with perspiration. 'So, Swordbearer, can I take it that you are ready to depart?'

   Leth felt no readiness, either to travel with Harg or do Urch-Malmain's bidding. Yet somewhere his children were hidden, awaiting him, and ahead lay a possibility of escape, of a return to Enchantment's Reach.

   So he
nodded, his countenance dour.

   'Excellent!' Urch-Malmain edged away up the stairs, delivering little staccato coughs into his foulard. 'I shall apprise you later of all that I know of the journey that
lies ahead of you. For now, I must remove myself from your presence, for you offend me. Amuse yourselves!'

iii

   It was a bitter day, a day chill with foreboding, as Leth rode out from the Tower of Glancing Memory. He was accompanied by Count Harg, his two surviving thugs and the four lean, putty-skinned Abyss warriors who had once been soldiers of Ascaria.

   Urch-Malmain had informed him of the four warriors
’ names. They were: Rasgul, Huuri, Dembarl and Fhurn. So similar in appearance were they that Leth could barely tell them apart, with the exception of Rasgul, their captain, who had irises of deep burnt orange pigment, in contrast to the dull umber of the other three. He was also a little more massive than they and had a distinguishing blemish or birthmark like a faint stain or shadow upon the left side of his jaw.

   None of them were prone to conversation in any form bar the exchanging of orders and necessary responses, which suited Leth. Count Harg, on the other hand, seemed keen to establish a feeling of
bonhomie
between Leth and himself. Leth had neither desire nor stomach for such a rapport, and gave him no encouragement. Harg was undeterred and spoke on as the mood took him, his manner smooth and light-hearted, as though they were setting out on an adventure no more perilous than a deer-hunt.

   Leth was bemused by him. Harg was plainly a man of refined background, almost likeable, yet by demonstration and his own admission, devoid of conscience, decency or feeling for others.

   Harg's two men were the gangling, pockmarked youth, called Juson, who had helped to tie Leth at the stone bridge; and a smaller weasel of a man, spare and quick of build, with cadaverous features and darting black eyes, whose name was Trin.

   They were heavily-armed, all of them. Leth wore his sapphire armour; the Orbsword was buckled at his belt, his dagger also, and he had been provided with a bow and arrows by Urch-Malmain. Behind his saddle was the magnificent horned and visored sapphire-blue helm. This had in fact been stolen by Harg at the bridge, but he had borne it with him along the Shore of Nothing and presented it to Leth as they prepared to set out from the Tower of Glancing Memory, commenting archly that he felt it only proper that a hero be fully-accoutred when setting forth upon a quest.

   Count Harg himself carried a longsword and numerous knives. A repeating crossbow, capable of firing several lightweight bolts in quick succession, was attached to his saddle, as were quarrels. He also carried a small silvery instrument which fitted into the palm of his hand. Leth had caught but a glimpse of this device. He was ignorant as to its precise function but assumed it to be a weapon of some kind.

   Juson and Trin each carried a longsword and crossbow, with a battle-axe slung from their saddles. The four Abyss warriors had their scimitars, knives, bows and short spears.

   Leth was far from easy in his mind, riding with men in whom he could place no trust. Had he searched the furthest corners of his kingdom he could hardly have found himself a more poisonous band of travelling-companions. Each one of them he knew to be either a cold-hearted villain or a tutored killer. Any or all of them might slide a blade between his ribs the moment his aim was achieved; he was not closed to the likelihood of their having received orders to this effect already. And apart from his brief to slay Ascaria he knew so little of the full nature of the mission he was engaged upon.

   Prior to their departure Urch-Malmain had withdrawn to his workroom with the four Abyss warriors. Hours later he had emerged to announce that the four were now subservient to Leth's command. 'They will follow your orders, Swordbearer, but only insofar as they concur with my own. Bear that in mind. These pale fellows will do all in their power to assist you in entering the Great Sow’s stronghold. They will deliver you to her if they can, so that you may end her vile life. But they will not then lend you a hand to return here and slay me, heh-heh-heh! No, be assured, their loyalty is never in question.'

   A chill breeze scoured Leth's cheek. It seemed to come up from the Death Abyss, which lay just yards away to his left. Harg had said they must travel several leagues from the Tower of Glancing Memory, more or less following the lip of the great Abyss, before they came to a way that would let them descend into the chasm.

   The landscape was harsh, a rutted plain of weak grey soil and rock. Here and there low hillocks relieved the overall flatness. A few stunted trees struggled for growth, small yellow flowers grew at the wayside, otherwise thistles and occasional tussocks of tall, spare grass were all that found purchase in the feeble earth. Misty hills and mountain tiers reared in the distance.

   Leth brooded on a thousand concerns. Not least was the ever-present, gnawing fear that his mind might have been tampered with, that his memories and perceptions, all he believed he knew, might not be his own. He strove to reassure himself and cast such thoughts from him. But Urch-Malmain's leering grin and his question,
'How do you know that I have not already done so?'
lingered with persistence at the forefront of his consciousness.

   Urch-Malmain and Harg had alerted him to difficulties ahead, though neither had been specific. 'There are a number of levels to the Death Abyss, each with its own denizens and dangers. In the village of Sombren, beyond which the trail begins to descend, the folk are fearful and prone to superstition. Beyond it is the first level, where the wolfhearts dwell. We must be wary.'

   Leth wondered, should he succeed in reaching Ascaria's stronghold and actually slaying her, what then? Did the Kancanitrix truly guard a portal that would return him and Galry and Jace to Enchantment's Reach? It seemed unlikely that Urch-Malmain could know nothing of it.

   Still something else unsettled him. By slaying Ascaria he was opening the way for Urch-Malmain to return to Enchantment - allowing a hostile god to reclaim his former powers. What would be the cost of this?

   And again, what of the innocents who, as not only Urch-Malmain but he - Leth - and the children, stepped through the portal, would be randomly plucked from their own world and cast into this? Could he justify his own freedom, knowing what they must suffer?

   Leth looked at the bleak landscape around him, and at the sky. Did Urch-Malmain's
Eyes of Vigilance lurk here somewhere unseen, observing his every move?

   To distract himself he turned to Count Harg. 'I’m curious. You are from my own land, are you not? Where exactly did you reside?'

   Harg seemed mystified. 'I think you are mistaken, Swordbearer. This land has always been my home.'

   'By Urch-Malmain's account, someone of interest to me came through the portal from my world. I assumed, by your subsequent appearance, that it was you he referred to.'

   Harg shook his head. 'Not I, Swordbearer.'

   Leth frowned.
Then who? Or did Harg lie? Or did he simply not know? For the first time it dawned upon Leth that Harg was one of Urch-Malmain's creations, a man whose memories had been erased, others substituted in accordance with the whims or ambitions of the Noeticist.