A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2) (12 page)

‘That’s just it,’ Silvren replied, her face glowing with acid light as if the sickness of her soul were concentrated there. ‘I had no right to fight it. The Serpent was here before us and it will outlive us. Trying to find a way to slay it was arrogance. Just desire for power. Do you understand? I was arrogant, ambitious – evil. And my sorcery is just the outward manifestation of that evil–’ she repeated the word as if it were venom with which to kill herself – ‘and not the power for good I thought I was shaping it to be. Not the beautiful and magic future of the Earth. Just evil.’ She slumped in his arms, stricken by the agony of bearing this terrible knowledge about herself.

Ashurek was numbed, so deeply shocked that his rage and sorrow seemed to be a bottomless pit into which he was falling, falling. He thought he had prepared himself for the worst, that she would be weakened by torture and lack of food, by the nightmarish torments of the Shana – dejected and hopeless of spirit. He had never, in his worst phantasms, foreseen that she would be so racked by self-loathing, destroyed by a simple lie.

The Shana were cunning. They always found the sharpest weapon to use against the victim. ‘It’s a lie, Silvren.’ The words struggled up past the iron in his throat. ‘A lie, invented by Diheg-El to break your will.’

‘No, I know it’s true,’ she responded emptily but with unshakeable conviction. ‘I’ll tell you how I know. It’s because I felt – feel – jealous of Arlenmia’s power over the Shana, because she can control them and doesn’t fear them. And that’s because she’s more evil than they are. And I wanted that power! And I – and I loved her. And we are both entrenched in wickedness. It’s proof. I am a danger to the world as long as I still have my sorcery. So I can’t go to the Blue Plane, not with this taint of sickness upon me. Do you see? The only help I can give anyone now is to stay here.’

Ashurek stared at her, feeling his heart torn into fragments, unable to find any voice for the screaming torment within him. Silvren looked back and knew what he was feeling. Tears fell from her eyes because there was nothing she could do to help him.

‘I’m sorry, Ashurek,’ she said, adding with hopeless irrelevance, ‘I don’t mind it here – they don’t mistreat me. No, don’t touch me again,’ she said, seeming to shrink back into herself. ‘I can’t bear it. Please leave.’

Ashurek made a grim decision then. He had never before gone against Silvren’s judgment, never questioned what she thought was right or tried to submit her will to his. If she truly believed the Shana’s lie, and continued to believe it after they were safe on the Blue Plane, she might never forgive him. But he could not leave her here.

‘Lead on, Calorn,’ he said, and he gripped Silvren’s shoulders and pushed her on in front of him.

She fought him, really fought. But her sobs of despair were for her own supposed evil, and inside she was fighting herself, not him. Gritting his teeth, he twisted one of her arms behind her back and frog-marched her after Calorn, showing no mercy when she stumbled or gasped with pain.

And he prayed that she would one day forgive him.

It was with a rush of relief that Calorn heard Ashurek say, ‘Lead on.’ Instantly she set forth along the path between the grim mounds, following the course she had tentatively plotted. The Dark Regions were constructed in an illogical way, unlike any world or dimension she had ever encountered before. Planes tilted and intersected with other planes, each incomplete, with no definite boundaries. Larger areas were contained within smaller areas. And all slid and changed position in relation to everything else, as if the Dark Regions consisted of a mass of restless amoebae. It would seem a prisoner could walk amid the ghastly cell-mounds forever. Although she could strongly sense paths leading out of the prison area, they were invisible.

She tried to maintain calm confidence, but fear was growing that her skills would prove useless. The Dark Regions were treacherous and could turn a correctly chosen path into a wrong one in a second.

And now, she could not even find the base of the invisible path that she knew led out of this terrible area. Unless…

She broke into a run, Ashurek and Silvren following.

‘Here,’ she said, indicating the cell mound that had drawn her strongly. ‘We have to climb up it.’

‘I’ll go first – you help Silvren up to me,’ Ashurek said. Silvren had stopped struggling and was quiet and pale, as if she had also given up the fight against her own despair and shame.

Calorn helped Silvren, who crawled up the steep side of the mound like a puppet. Ashurek lifted her up to stand beside him, then Calorn swallowed her own repulsion at the evil, fleshy feel of the mound and scrambled up its side.

As she reached the top, the unseen path became visible at last, a brownish, steep bridge curving up and out of sight. The ceiling of darkness seemed to have receded.

Relieved, she leapt to her feet, only to be blasted by an explosion of silver fire. She was flung off the mound and slammed into the ground below where she lay winded for a few seconds. Then she painfully crawled back up the steep side, dazed by the sudden light.

As she regained the flattish top of the mound, she saw Ashurek’s tall figure silhouetted against the glow, which she now perceived to come from a being standing in front of him. She moved round to get a better look, and saw that the creature was human in form, perfect in proportion, asexual, with a broad, grinning face. It was naked and its skin shone like platinum.

She might have known the Shana could appear at will. Watching out for them had been useless. And beside the demon – oh, horrible, impossible – the hellish bird Limir was hopping gently up and down with suppressed glee. Behind them, ambling ponderously down the narrow walkway, were the pale forms of Exhal and his herd.

Calorn came forward to stand beside Ashurek and Silvren, facing the demon bravely although its aura filled her with revulsion.

‘Prince Ashurek of Gorethria,’ the silver figure was saying, the words oozing sibilantly from its red mouth. ‘I am privileged. My name is Ahag-Ga.’

‘I don’t give a damn who you are,’ Ashurek hissed. ‘You’ve destroyed her. She’s useless to you now. Let us pass.’

Calorn was astonished at the contempt with which Ashurek addressed the Shanin. Plainly his anger must long ago have gone deeper than fear.

Petulantly, the demon responded by suffusing them with a crackling argent light. The light was pure pain. Calorn staggered back, coughing, but Ashurek and Silvren stood their ground like two steel blades until the demon-power bled away.

‘Just a small reminder to show respect to those with power,’ Ahag-Ga grinned. ‘Forgive me, Prince Ashurek, I did not destroy your sorceress. That was the work of Diheg-El, with the encouragement of Meheg-Ba. However, as you will observe, those two venerable Shana are not here. They are at large on the Earth, with Siregh-Ma, so I am fortunate indeed in being the one to welcome you.’

Ashurek perceived at once, from the wry jealousy permeating the demon’s mocking tone, that it was subordinate to Meheg-Ba and Diheg-El. But that did not make it any less dangerous.

‘Indeed, it would go badly for you if your superiors returned and found you had let us escape,’ he said acidly. The demon’s mouth stretched in a red hiss of fury. It did not notice the deft movement of Ashurek’s hand as he drew a small phial from a pocket.

‘My so-called “superiors”,’ Ahag-Ga sneered, ‘will, on the contrary, be more than delighted to find their lost Prince imprisoned here. However, I am not in the slightest degree interested in their petty bickering over you and the sorceress. There is another score to be settled.’

At this Limir bounced in visible glee, cackling with the chilling menace of a harpy.

The demon continued, ‘It has come to my notice that on your way through the Dark Regions, you attempted what would, on Earth, be termed a brutal murder. The fact that your attempt failed is immaterial.’

‘We tried our hardest!’ Calorn blazed, angered by the demon’s mockery. ‘I can see no reason for Limir to return to life after what we did to him, except that he is too evil to find peace in death!’ She took a step towards the dreadful bird. ‘You would be dead a thousand times over if I had my way.’

‘You amuse me,’ said Limir. ‘It was an excellent joke, feigning death at your hands, but all jokes must be paid for eventually.’

‘I believe the penalty for murder, in many of the civilized countries of Earth, is execution,’ Ahag-Ga went on, grinning horribly. ‘But here in the Dark Regions we can offer many more terrible fates. Eternal ones if we choose, eh, Exhal?’

The huge ox-creature said nothing, just glared balefully at them all.

‘As you can see,’ said the demon, ‘I am in no position to release you – even supposing I wanted to, in order to spite my so-called superiors. Justice must be done.’

Ashurek gazed steadily at the demon as he raised his hand. The small phial was glowing with a pale golden light. It was the phial that Setrel had given them, claiming that the powder within had power against the Worm’s adherents.

‘Silvren,’ he said, ‘does this substance have any power that you can perceive?’

‘Yes, yes it does,’ she said. Her expression transformed as though she were remembering the beauty of her sorcery before the Shana had contrived to corrupt it. ‘Where did you get it? I can’t see how…’

The hissing of the demon and the metallic screeching of Limir drowned her voice. Both looked furious, like blood-streaked ghouls in their anger, as Ashurek held the phial towards them like a weapon.

‘I know not how much damage this powder could do to you or to your Regions,’ he said. ‘Will you take the chance, or will you let us go?’

‘Aha, a challenge!’ cried the demon, while Limir took off and circled menacingly over their heads. ‘I will take a chance. Let us fight, Prince of Gorethria!’

Swiftly Ashurek drew the stopper from the phial and cast a pinch of the powder into the air. It formed a glittering gold curtain around Silvren, Calorn and himself, dazzling in the darkness. A feeling of protective warmth came from it, though it also seemed insubstantial, for it was formed only of soft motes of light. Moving forward with the light-curtain around him like a shield, Ashurek bent – like a man turning into a gale – to face the demon’s power.

Grinning, Ahag-Ga began to raise its arms and silver fire crackled to meet the gold. Ashurek felt Silvren mustering what little sorcery she could to help him, although that feeling was suffocated as he began to sense the mounting of distant powers.

It was suddenly as if he were standing below a dark, forbidding mountain range whose sides were scarred by ancient battles and whose desolate peaks were haunted by birds like Limir, forlornly screeching. And on the highest peak, as if from a domain of evil gods, a dread power was accumulating. All the ancient anger of the Serpent, all the jealousy and vile power of demons, the bloodlust of Gorethria, the leering insanity of those who bargained with demons – all was swirling into a thunderous sphere of power.

Ashurek was alone below the dark thunder of the mountain range, laughing with hunger – waiting for that dark, dread sphere to roll heavily down towards him. And now the cumulus of power was approaching, gathering wisps of evil as it rolled, growing ever larger and more terrible, like all the thunder and violence the world had ever known. And part of him desired that power, lusted for its terrible might to enter and overtake him. It was the fire that had driven his ancestors to conquer their Empire. It was the malevolent fever of the Egg-Stone and the gross, infinite energy of the Serpent. It was the calling of the dark blood within him.

And it was everything he had given up for Silvren’s sake.

Beside him, Calorn was struggling in a different way. Ahag-Ga was on the point of possessing her.

‘It is a most simple bargain,’ the demon was saying. ‘I can grant your freedom instantly: you will find yourself back on Earth, relieved of this pain. All I require is that you summon me from time to time, give me some small assistance...’

The silver aura was swimming in front of Calorn’s eyes, filling her with an unbearable sensation of pressure. Ashurek and Silvren had, for her, ceased to exist. All she knew was that if she only surrendered to the darkness, to the distant thrumming of a membrane stretched like an eardrum across the universe, her pain would be relieved. The membrane would burst. She could go to sleep.

‘Help me,’ she whispered.

The demon grinned. It knew she was appealing not to Ashurek, but to itself for help. It held her balanced on one hand, the Gorethrian on the other, and both were about to break. The curtain was weakening. It only needed Ashurek to say yes to the dark and terrible power he so obviously desired. Say yes, yes! Say yes –

Ashurek saw his father upon the dark mountain, and the old Emperor was speaking. Ashurek, would you fail me again? Take your power! It is your birthright.

Father! he cried as the thunderous sphere rolled inexorably towards him. Let the power be mine – so that I can set right all the harm Meshurek did. He stretched his arms wide, laughing exultantly as he welcomed the evil cumulus of power as his own. No conflict, no bitter torment within him now. Why had he not known before that this was his appointed destiny?

Suddenly there was a woman between him and the power, standing in its path. She was slender with eyes, skin and long hair each a different shade of deep gold.

‘I don’t care,’ she was saying. ‘The truth is – I cannot stand to be alone any longer. I can’t stand it. Can you?’