Orbelon's World (Book 3) (18 page)

   And Issul shuddered, her anger growing, and her fear for Pader Luminis. No matter the steps she had taken to try and keep him safe, was he really capable of standing against both Fectur and the
Karai?

   'Are we ready?' Orbelon asked.

   Issul came from her grim reverie and gathered up her cape and swung it about her shoulders. 'Aye, we are.' She took up a small, sturdy wooden chest bound with studded iron straps, and carried it across to the oak chiffonier upon which the blue casket stood. 'Are you sure this is the best way?'

   Orbelon slowly nodded. 'There is no other. But remember, it is me who you carry. It is also my world, and your husband and children. If the casket is shattered, we are gone.
Forever. Now, if you need to speak to me you have only to call, as before. But be certain you are not observed. And be strong, brave young Queen. As I know you can be. Be strong.'

   He faded slowly from her sight. Issul stared blankly into the space he had occupied. She could still not fully assimilate it all - that the casket was, somehow, Orbelon; that it was also an entire world, an entire universe, as was he; and that within it, within him, Leth, Galry and Jace roamed, lost and believing
themselves abandoned.

  
She unlocked and eased open the lid of the chest. Inside it was deeply padded with soft grey velvet stuffed with densely packed wool. With infinite care she took the blue casket in both hands both hands and placed it inside the chest. It slotted neatly into the centre, the padding cushioning it on all sides, base and, when she closed the chest's lid, the top also. Issul locked the chest, filled with a sensation of strange disquiet, anticipation, nervous hope. She pocketed the key in her tunic, then took up the chest and strode from her apartment. Outside Shenwolf waited with Phisusandra and a squad of six Palace guards. Shenwolf stiffened, clicking his heels, and smartly bowed his head. 'Are you ready, my lady?'

   Issul gave a nod. At Shenwolf's command the soldiers formed a guard around her. They marched through the corridors of Orbia, descending to ground level and passing from the royal household to the military wing, and thence to a barracks' yard set off the main parade-ground. Here Issul's full company awaited her - five knights and fifty proud men-at-arms, all mounted and clad in breastplates and mail, with waxed, hooded capes shielding them from the rain.     

    Issul strode to her horse and strapped the chest containing the blue casket onto a special pad mounted afore the pommel of the saddle, on the horse's withers. Here she could keep the chest in view at all times when in the saddle. Then she turned to Shenwolf, and Phisusandra who stood beside him. 'Remember, if I should fall, this is to be protected at all costs. Shenwolf, you know what it means, and what you must do if I am prevented for any reason from carrying on. Phis, it is better that you do not know all at this point. But be in no doubt that your task is to protect this. I have instructed Shenwolf to reveal all to you in the event of my incapacitation, captivity or death. It is vital that at least one other knows what must be done.'

   'Do not doubt me,' said Shenwolf.

   'Nor I,' said Phisusandra.

   To one side of the yard Issul spotted Pader Luminis sheltering from the rain beneath a wooden awning, his eyes upon her. Half a dozen guards were ranged at his back, and Kol stood in uniform at his side, his feet planted firmly apart and his arms folded across his broad chest. She smiled, tears stinging her eyes, and walked over to embrace the little Murinean. 'Pader, you should not be here.'

   Pader clung to her for a moment, almost childlike. 'Did you think I would not come to see you off?' He wiped his eyes, as emotional as she. 'Travel safely now, do you hear me, child? Travel safely.'

   Issul released him and turned to Kol, but could not trust herself to speak.

   'Do not concern yourself, my lady,' said Kol softly. 'I will not let him out of my sight.'

   She nodded, forcing back her tears. Kol had at first protested at the news that he was not to accompany the Queen and his two companions. But Issul had stressed that it was vital he remain behind to guard Pader. 'It is as crucial to the success of this operation that I know that everything possible has been done to safeguard him,' she had said, 'and that he is protected by someone I know I can trust without

reservation. Phis I am taking because of his sensitivity to magic, which may be of great service again. But you, Kol, I am entrusting with a role of no lesser importance.'

   Understanding this Kol had assented gladly and, as now, had assured her that he would not leave Pader's side until she returned.

   Issul embraced him, then turned away, one hand to her cheek. She climbed onto her horse; Shenwolf and Phisusandra mounted theirs. Issul raised her face to the rain and cast her eyes once more around the yard, to the walls, the roofs and towers beyond, and back to Pader Luminis once more. Then she signalled to the leading knight, who raised his hand and urged his steed forward. Slowly the entire company filed out of the barracks' yard and on towards the palace's main gate.

*

    From a narrow window on the third level of one of the palace's myriad marbled towers a pair of cold grey eyes watched unseen as the cavalcade departed. The Spectre's thin lips twisted into an expression that could have been part-smile, part-sneer, or anything in-between. He looked down into the yard and watched Pader Luminis re-enter the Palace with his armed escort. Then he looked to the heavy grey skies, his eyes reflecting their hue and their anger, and slowly nodded to himself.   

SIX

I

   The winds and rain that battered Enchantment's Reach on the fateful morning that Queen Issul and her company rode out towards far Enchantment, had also driven southwards during the night. They had raged across the forest-clad lowlands, to descend with barely diminished ferocity upon the heads of the soldiers of the mighty Karai army which plied its way with grim and determined purpose towards the capital.

   The night had barely passed; the camp was rousing itself in preparation for the next leg of the journey. Prince Anzejarl stood in the centre of his field pavilion, listening as the rain drummed in wind-driven blasts upon the canvas over his head, the sides of the tent shuddering and billowing with the sudden gusts. In one hand he clutched a tight fistful of bruised ghinz leaves. From time to time he tore free three or four leaves, spat out the bright green residue of what remained in his mouth, and thrust the fresh leaves between his teeth. He chewed and drained their bitter sap, inhaling deeply, his gem-like eyes, searing cobalt blue with slit-pupils of fevered jade, half-closed as he let the narcotic numb him and bring order to his thoughts.  

   Olmana was before him, instructing a Karai maid who packed her belongings in preparation for the day's continued march northwards. Olmana turned and faced the Karai prince. She was clad in a long ermine robe, with nothing beneath. The clasps that held the robe were unfastened, so it fell partially open, revealing her fine pale body, the full inner curves of her breasts, the inside of one long slender thigh, and the near-perfect triangle of flaming red hair at the base of her smooth belly. Her weight was on one leg, her thighs slightly parted, one knee swaying loosely back and forth. Though they had loved many times, passionately and even violently during the night, Anzejarl felt his blood stir again at the sight of her standing so brazen before him.

   Olmana's red lips parted in a knowing
half-smile, and her eyes half-mocked him. She dismissed the maid with a flick of her hand, then moved close to Anzejarl and caressed his cheek. 'Ah, Prince of the Karai, my brave and handsome Champion, how is it that I can so easily read the thoughts that pass through your mind?'

    Anzejarl bent his head to kiss her. Their lips touched, just lightly,
then Olmana pulled back. 'The greatest prize, Anzejarl. Before you now.'

   Anzejarl's eyes were almost aglow. At this moment he had no thoughts of Enchantment's Reach. One arm encircled Olmana's waist and he pulled her against him. She laughed, leaning back, and drew aside the soft ermine, wholly exposing one naked breast. Anzejarl emitted a grunt of approval. His head came down, his lips brushing against the smooth white flesh then closing upon her nipple. She bent her knees and let him lower her onto the cushions beneath her.

   'What are you, Olmana?' Anzejarl hissed between breathless kisses, his lips upon her neck, her shoulder, her mouth. 'That you can bewitch me so. What are you?'

   Olmana wriggled backwards and drew her legs up, parting her thighs wide. Anzejarl caught his breath, his eyes feasting. Had he been capable of analyzing the smile that curled her lips and the fire that burned in her eyes at that moment, he might have wondered about the nature of the thoughts that passed through her mind, for they did not entirely match his. But he hardly noted her smile. And to herself she thought:
That is something you will never know, Karai Prince!

   'You ask too many questions,' she whispered, and reached down, her fingers tugging free his loincloth and curling around his hardness. She eased her hips upwards and guided him into her. She gasped, arching her back in pleasure as Anzejarl slid forward. Her fingers dug into his back; she pressed her heels into his buttocks and drew him deeper. 'Just remember. . 
ohh, yesss. . . the greatest. . . prize.'

*

   When their passion was spent Anzejarl lay still in thought.

  
The Greatest Prize. With Enchantment's Reach his he would have forged the greatest Karai empire known in more than twenty centuries. And in so short a time. Yet it was not enough. Not anymore. Not since Olmana had come, bringing him her strange and potent gift, her Awakening, as she called it. She had roused him from the torpor that beset the Karai and kept them uncomplaining within the borders of their homelands on the vast ocean's edge in the southwest. She had launched him and his army upon this great and bloody campaign. And she had lit within him fires that might never be doused, so he was beginning to suspect. Olmana had made him powerful and strong; and she had made him want, she had made him
need
.

   Here was the key. Within himself he had discovered something which as a
Karai he had never truly known before.

   Need.

   But need for what?

   At Olmana's bidding he had roused his people and set forth on a campaign of conquest. With Enchantment's creatures within his ranks he had overrun the Southern Mondane kingdoms. Now the most difficult challenge, King Leth's domain awaited him. Difficult, yes, but it could not withstand him.

   So close!

  
And then? The Northern Mondanes? Anzejarl closed his eyes. Would anything ever be enough?

   The satisfaction of victory had begun to pale. Anzejarl's newly awakened mind craved new stimuli, new kinds of excitements. His lust for Olmana grew with every day, yet he was sated only briefly, then the need was upon him again. He took men, women, children who had been foolish enough to remain behind in the villages through which the
Karai passed. He played with them; he burned and mutilated them, hung them slowly or impaled them on sharpened stakes, yet their writhing agonies hardly gave him satisfaction now. Everything, everything had begun to pale.

   Within him, a void, and this restless unease, this tyrannical desire that could not be fulfilled, that only the
ghinz
or some other intensity of pleasure could hold at bay. Olmana had told him that what he sensed was that part of him that yet remained to be Awakened, that soon he would no longer need the
ghinz
. He had gained so much, yet he knew such doubt, so many questions, a dark and teeming jungle of emotions, such untamed wanting. As a Karai this was something he could not fathom.

   He wondered, as he had wondered so often before, about Olmana. What was she? No ordinary woman, he had known that from the beginning.
A creature of the mysterious. She controlled him utterly, and though he could not resist her, did not even wish to, he resented that. Yet she was giving him everything. She had no interest in the lands he conquered, the peoples he subdued. Her single goal was a mysterious child, she had confessed that much, but without elaboration. She sensed the child was close now. What she would do when she found it - if she found it - Anzejarl could not guess. He sensed that his role would be complete. Would she cast him from her? Could he bear it if she did? Emperor of the Karai, the mightiest warrior, a legend. Would it have meaning without her?

  
Olmana!

   In his dreams Anzejarl had envisaged her transformed into some other creature, something dreadful and repulsive. Did his dreams tell him something? He knew that in his sleep she performed esoteric rites of some unknown form. She said she was renewing the Gift, the Awakening, bestowing upon him the power to continue to command the trolls and slooths which were so vital to his army's success. And in the mornings he felt strong. Yet he wondered what it was that she could do only when he was unconscious. He wondered--