A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2) (13 page)

‘Silvren!’ he screamed as the dark sphere swallowed her. ‘No! No!’

Calorn did not hear Ashurek’s cries, for she too was shouting in protest. From some unstoppable source within her, logic came forth to fight the demon’s illogic.

‘What Earth?’ she cried. ‘My Earth is not yours – so which would you send me to?’ And thinking of her own world, she then remembered H’tebhmella. A red fire ignited in all her muscles – the fire of who she was, what she believed in. It gave her the strength to thrash away from the demon’s evil. Wrenching herself backwards, she collided with Ashurek, then half-fell to the ground.

In unison they shouted, ‘No!’

The last of the gold light and the last of the argent lightning crackled away to nothing. Ashurek and Calorn slowly returned to the grim reality of the Dark Regions. The remainder of the powder in the phial was as dead as salt. Ahag-Ga had neutralized its energy, but the Shanin’s own power was also spent, and it had failed to overcome Ashurek or Calorn. They stood in stalemate.

‘I maintained the power as long as I could,’ Silvren said softly into the silence. ‘I’m sorry.’

Ashurek looked at her, relief flooding him as he realised that her destruction by the dark sphere had been an illusion – a figment of his own tortured imagination.

‘You saved us,’ he said. ‘We could not have resisted without your help.’

‘The powder is useless now,’ Ahag-Ga’s voice tore the atmosphere like a saw. It folded its arms, stretched its mouth into a red sneer. ‘So is she, though that is nothing new. Saved, but to undergo your trial and accept your sentence!’

‘You are bluffing, Ahag-Ga,’ said Ashurek. ‘You have exhausted your strength fighting us. You have no more power now than we do.’

‘That is hardly important,’ replied the demon gleefully, ‘when I have so much help at hand...’ It extended an arm, and Ashurek was aware of an awful silver glow on the periphery of his vision. He and Calorn looked round and saw, encircling the mound, some thirty demons. All were hissing and laughing with anticipation, awaiting the next move in the scene being enacted above them.

‘Oh, but don’t you think one or two would have been enough, Ahag-Ga?’ exclaimed Limir. ‘This argument is so entertaining, I would hate them to be too frightened to continue it!’

Ahag-Ga nodded and laughed maliciously.

‘Now, back to business. Limir, bring Exhal forward.’ The malign bird flapped the few yards along the narrow walkway to where Exhal was standing, and began to peck and worry at him in a way that made Calorn shudder. Exhal reluctantly ambled forward. His red eyes rolled wildly as he came, and his tongue lolled over his wolfish teeth.

‘The prime witness to your appalling act,’ said Ahag-Ga to Ashurek and Calorn. ‘Exhal, tell all of us assembled here the violence you saw perpetrated upon poor Limir.’

The huge ox-creature hesitated for several seconds, breathing heavily as if about to explode with rage.

‘They – Limir tried–’ he stammered gutturally. He appeared torn. Limir had tried to kill him; the two humans had tried to save him. But now Limir was still alive – so the humans failed him, the betrayers. ‘They did indeed try to murder Limir!’ he roared. ‘They deserve their fate!’

Ahag-Ga turned a sinister red smile upon the huge beast. ‘Exhal, my friend,’ it said solemnly. ‘Is that all you have to say?’ The herdsman gave a nod. ‘Perhaps you should think again. A confession at this stage might help your case.’

Exhal’s great frame visibly rocked with fury and sudden fear.

‘Case?’ he managed to growl.

‘Your long-standing dissatisfaction with your lot and insubordination to your superiors is well known. You have frequently insulted Limir – your dislike of that noble bird is no secret. And we know that you actually gave help to the two humans.’ There were mocking murmurs of ‘Shame!’ from the Shana below. ‘It is becoming obvious that you are as guilty as they. What say you, Limir?’

‘I have to state that Exhal did in fact play an active part in my attempted murder,’ said the hell-bird with a leer that chilled Calorn’s blood. ‘He stuck a hoof in my stomach while Prince Ashurek broke my neck. My neck still hurts,’ Limir added peevishly.

‘So, fellow Shana,’ Ahag-Ga roared, ‘do you find the herdsman Exhal guilty?’

‘Oh, yes, yes indeed,’ the assembled demons muttered, looking at each other and laughing as if at some fascinating and amusing stage scene.

‘Carry out the sentence, Limir,’ said Ahag-Ga.

As Limir rose into the air, screeching metallically, Exhal began to roar, ‘Traitors! Betrayers, all of you! I was your herdsman – where will you find another? And you – humans of the round Earth – you pretended to help me – you accepted my help when all the time you were betraying and mocking me – your bargains are more hollow and worthless than the Shana’s! Betrayers!’

Limir circled him, allowing the outburst to continue, enjoying the herdsman’s pain.

‘Traitors! Scum! Now you are all going to pay! Who is loyal to me but my herd?’ Exhal pulled himself up to his full height and awkwardly stretched out his front feet, brandishing the short stick. Words, slow and deep and awkward, came from his throat. Yet they were as powerful and unstoppable as a lava flow.

If it were possible for a demon to blanch, Ahag-Ga did.

Below them, the glow of the Shana flickered and lost strength. They were turning to one another with exclamations of astonishment and fear. Limir was screaming in rage, but could not drown Exhal’s voice.

Along the walkway, the human herd were swaying and groaning and shaking their heads.

‘Limir!’ Ahag-Ga cried. ‘Silence him!’

Just as when they had met Exhal out on the black marsh, Limir descended like a lead arrow on the ox-beast. The attack was vicious. Grey blood spurted everywhere, spattering Ashurek, Calorn and Silvren. Exhal staggered, struggling for life, still groaning out the terrible words. By the time he fell, his head was half-severed.

His body shook the mound as it toppled, then rolled off and hit the ground below.

Yet the words continued.

Ahag-Ga, Limir and Calorn all looked around wildly to see who was speaking them, and saw that Ashurek was now staring at the six-legged human-creatures, standing as rigid as a tree blackened and hardened by fire. He had picked up the short stick and the words of Exhal’s spell came with strength and assurance from his mouth.

‘Do something! Stop him!’ Ahag-Ga appealed to the fellow demons standing below him. Half of them had already disappeared, and the others were backing away, their skin dull with fear. ‘Limir!’

‘It’s too late,’ said Limir, flopping onto the mound like an empty sack.

And the human herd opened their eyes. Not all of them, for only Exhal could have opened all their eyes, but enough.

Ashurek looked at Ahag-Ga. The rest of the demons had fled.

‘Now you will let us go,’ he said.

Never had he seen such dismay on the face of a demon. The expression made it look almost human. He had no idea what harm the opening of the herd’s eyes could cause, but the extreme fear of Ahag-Ga and Limir was real enough.

‘Yes,’ said Ahag-Ga. ‘You had better go – but not her.’ It pointed at Silvren.

‘You have no choice,’ said Ashurek, angered.

Before he could usher Silvren forward, she said, ‘I have a choice. I told you, I must stay here. Don’t make me explain again, it hurts too much.’

‘Silvren, come on! I told you it was all a lie of the Shana’s – you’ll see that as soon as we reach the Blue Plane!’ Ashurek cried in distress. He could see the determination in her eyes.

‘No,’ she said.

‘If you don’t leave her, I will send an emanation of darkness through to the Blue Plane after you that will taint it for all time.’ The demon spoke flatly and with no trace of its former mockery. It was evidently terrified of the punishment it would receive if Diheg-El and Meheg-Ba returned and found Silvren gone.

‘Can it do that?’ Ashurek asked Silvren disbelievingly.

‘Yes, it can. Its loss of power won’t last much longer. You’d better go.’

‘Ashurek, the humans are starting to close their eyes again,’ said Calorn: ‘Hurry, before it’s too late.’

‘Go without me, please,’ Silvren implored. ‘For the sake of the Blue Plane, if nothing else.’ She took one of his hands and kissed it, but he could not bring himself to kiss her in return; he felt too cold, destroyed. How could a kiss bring him or her any comfort?

‘I will continue the Quest,’ he said dully. She nodded, giving no indication that she still wanted him to – and she was the one who’d set him upon it in the first place.

Then Ashurek started to walk up the narrow brownish bridge that curved upwards from the top of the mound. Calorn tried to give Silvren a smile of encouragement before she followed, but failed. Ahag-Ga had closed its hands on Silvren’s shoulders, and Limir was squatting possessively in front of her. Calorn was glad Ashurek had not seen that.

They had to squeeze past each of the pale human-cattle on the walkway in turn, and their progress was slow. Most of them had their eyes shut again, and their faces were unchanged – pale and sombre death-masks. They swayed and groaned faintly, oblivious to Ashurek and Calorn, oblivious that their herdsman lay dead below.

‘Ashurek, how did you know the words of that incantation?’ she called to him.

‘How did I know?’ he said sharply, glancing round. ‘The words were written in Exhal’s eyes!’

Calorn shrugged and bent her mind to finding the rest of the way out of the Dark Regions. The walkway was growing steeper and it was a struggle to climb and negotiate their way past the herd. As they passed the stragglers, Calorn noticed that two still had their eyes open. The eyes were fully human, alert and intelligent, seeming not to belong in the witless, sorrowful faces. Shivering, she passed them by, but noticed that Ashurek had begun to climb much faster. Now she could barely keep up with him.

Just ahead, the bridge vanished into darkness. She dreaded losing sight of him before she knew what lay ahead. A rank breeze began to moan around them, thick with swirling particles. Calorn strained to reach Ashurek, but she could not catch her breath. She was choking on the dense air, becoming sick and faint. He was out of sight – then, suddenly, it no longer mattered. The breeze became a roaring wind that bore them both off the bridge and away into darkness.

They were hurtling at inestimable speed through a void. Ashurek uttered a despairing cry as his last chance of returning to Silvren was torn from him. Now he could not breathe, and unconsciousness – or death – was tugging his mind into its dark flow. He fought it desperately. Each time the darkness submerged him, he was again confronted by the horror of those eyes – the eyes of the two human-cattle, which he had recognised as those of his sister Orkesh and his brother Meshurek.

A figure drifted through Estarinel’s dreams, a girl whose silver-fair hair obscured her face as she leaned over an ancient, hand-bound volume of illuminations. His sister, Arlena. Strange that she had so loved books, when in all other ways she had been adventurous, outgoing and wild. She would have set off on the Quest brave and laughing, like Calorn... He remembered how they used to race their horses, or how she used to ride over the rim of the valley to greet him, her silver hair flying and her eyes full of laughter. Then there was Lothwyn, dark-haired and quiet, so like their father. It seemed he had hardly known them, for both had used few words and devoted themselves with quiet affection to their work; his father to the sheep and lambs, Lothwyn to her weaving. Then he dreamed of his mother, leaning on a fence outside the house and watching, with her clear amber eyes, the mares and foals she had so lovingly tended. Ah, the horses, they were gone too. Memories of love, affection and contentment drifted through his mind, as if he were saying goodbye to them.

Yet there was no pain in the dream. The tranquillizing power of tears and exhaustion had helped him to accept, for the time being, the loss. As he slowly drifted out of sleep he felt heavy as lead but calm, as if recovering from a long illness. The faint golden light of dawn was shimmering through the window. Medrian lay curled against his shoulder, her hair spread like glossy black silk across his chest. She, above all, had saved him from insanity.

He gently wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head, trying not to wake her. Images of their journey drifted across his memory, distant and enigmatic as dreams. How he had killed a man, before he’d even had time for doubt, to save her on Hrannekh Ol. And how, after that time, and after the battle with Arlenmia’s mercenaries, she had spoken to him – reached out to him from the strange cold darkness of her soul – trying to lessen his pain. Or had she been trying to show him a way to be as callous as she was, so that she’d be sure he would have the strength to complete the Quest? It was as though she had seen straight through him from the start, seeing his growing fondness for her... and, at every opportunity, had tried to warn him away. Everything she had said and done – such as the time Arlenmia had stabbed her in the neck, and her sinister horse had died instead – should have proved her some sort of fiend, less than human, a creature of the Serpent. But no. Instead he had fallen in love with her.

She had said she could only function by not feeling anything, and he had observed how she encased her being in ice, numbing herself against all emotion. Anything that threatened to dissolve that protective shield caused her acute distress. He knew she’d have been happier if he could have been hostile to her, or at least indifferent, but he could not. It was totally against his nature. And besides, he had always sensed that behind her coldness she was crying, crying for help... Did it hurt her even more to be offered that help, when she knew she could not accept it?

He wished he understood her. He wished he knew why last night she had been colder than ever, then changed so suddenly, going completely against everything she’d tried to make him think she was. Something had broken within her... Oh, Medrian, Medrian, is it possible I have harmed you by caring for you? If so, forgive me. You’ve haunted me since I met you…

More memories. Medrian, commanding a demon to depart as if she were its master, chasing a sinister black horse away as though it were death come to claim her. Medrian in Gastada’s castle, horribly tortured…

That recollection made him start, and draw her protectively closer to him. She woke up then and looked at him, and for once he was able to hold her gaze without feeling fear. There was an expression in her face and dark grey eyes that he had never seen before, a tenuous serenity.

‘If I had a wish,’ she said, ‘I would like to stay here forever.’

‘So would I,’ he replied softly.

But as it is, she thought, these few hours will have to be enough... enough for my whole life. Oh, what have I done? I may have made it impossible for the Quest ever to be completed. I tried, I did try... but I am human. And perhaps I’ve condemned the world to hell, because I wasn’t strong enough to resist the need for happiness. I’m a fool, I don’t know what I’ve done. But I don’t care. Whatever else M’gulfn can do, it can never deprive me of these few hours.

She kissed him with tenderness he would not have believed her capable of a few weeks earlier.

‘Estarinel,’ she began softly, ‘no one ever saw anything in me worth loving before. I still don’t know what you see. I tried so hard to make you dislike me – that was for a reason which I can’t tell you, but which you’ll eventually know and understand. It was important, but all the same, I just didn’t try hard enough.’ She swallowed, trying to steady her voice.

‘Medrian,’ Estarinel began, but she silenced him.

‘Please listen, while I’m still able to say it. It’s not your fault. You did as I asked. It was my strength that failed... but I’m glad. I didn’t realise until last night that I loved you, or that I was even capable of love. This is the only good moment I’ve ever had in my life; can you understand that? Because of you.’

‘Then I’m glad too,’ he said very quietly, dreading what he was sure she would say next.

‘But now I must face the fact that I may have doomed the Quest to failure. My fault, not yours, as I said... but there is some hope left, and I swear it is our only hope – and it depends on you as well. I have to ask you something very difficult.’

‘Go on,’ he prompted gently, seeing how anxious she was about his reaction.

‘When we leave Forluin, and especiaIly when we leave H’tebhmella,’ she said, willing herself to hold his gaze, ‘things must be exactly as they were before, as if we hardly know each other. You must try to forget that you loved me – because I will not have any choice.’ He said nothing. She forced herself to continue. ‘But if you do truly love me…’

‘You know I do,’ he whispered, stroking her hair.

‘I have something even worse to say. The time may come when I ask you to do something that seems terrible; know that it is not without good reason. You must give me your word that you will comply and not protest. I do not ask this lightly. Please promise these things – otherwise the Quest will fail.’

‘Medrian, Medrian,’ he sighed. ‘It’s all right. I give you my word. What choice do I have? Perhaps the Quest is doomed anyway, but without you I could never have continued it, and I will never, ever knowingly let you down.’ After a minute he felt her relax in his arms.

‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘How could I doubt you?’

‘Is that why you came with me, to make sure I didn’t lose my nerve?’ he asked with a smile.

‘Only partly,’ she answered honestly. ‘There were many reasons, some I didn’t even know about... Don’t let us think of the future now. We still have a few hours in Forluin.’

And it was mercifully easy, Estarinel found, to forget her ominous words and the chilling promise he had had to make, just for the time being. At the same time, a new strength began to grow in him. She had saved him from despair and madness, and surely he owed her something in return – at least to help make the future less black than she expected it to be. She had helped him bear the loss of his family – and now there was almost no one left, he became determined that he would not lose her also. That would be a loss beyond bearing.

#

Falin noticed, later that morning, how much better Estarinel seemed. Not happy, but he had a tranquil resignation about him. Wryly Falin realised that he and Medrian were more to each other than just companions on a journey. Obviously Medrian’s apparent coldness was deceptive and she had been able to comfort and help him after all; but Falin still wondered if Estarinel was making a mistake in trusting her. Or, he thought, do I just resent the fact that a stranger could console him when I couldn’t?

As they ate breakfast he apologised for the poor quality of the bread; much of their farmland had been ruined. Medrian replied that all the same, it was the best bread she had ever tasted, and she smiled at him; the effect was like spring sunshine after a long winter, lighting up her face with warmth of character that made him think he really had been wrong about her.

It was still early and there were only a few people about in the village. The sun was warming the air and coaxing soft colours from the stone cottages. Estarinel waited until there was a lull in village activity and went back to the long stone barn to take a last look at his family. Falin and Medrian walked up with him, and waited outside.

As he went in, a terrible memory of the previous evening gripped Medrian like a steel hand on her throat. She staggered, reaching out to the barn wall to steady herself. How could she have forgotten! The perfect, undecaying bodies – the hideous evil of the Worm – she struggled with herself, turning her back on Falin so he could not see the pain in her face.

There was no need to say anything to Estarinel, she decided. It was only a feeling, after all, probably unfounded. No need to cause him further pain by revealing something that might only exist in her imagination. That decision made, she tried to put it from her mind.

‘Medrian, are you all right?’ Falin asked.

Long years of practice enabled her to make her face quite emotionless as she turned round and said, ‘Will the bodies be buried?’

Falin started at the unexpected, almost callous, question.

‘No, no,’ he answered thickly, ‘there’s an Elder who cares for the dead – every village has one. The bodies are brushed with powders and herbs that keep them whole. They stay in the place of rest – we normally use a much smaller building – until their families and loved ones release them. Then they are taken to a certain hill, where they turn to dust – return to the earth and sky. But there are usually just a few of the very old. Not like this…’

‘I see,’ she said shortly. Falin stared at her, mistrust welling up again. She was an enigma; she frightened him. He was glad when Estarinel reappeared, because he had the illogical feeling that the darkness of her eyes would consume him if he stayed alone with her for much longer.

As they began to walk down the grassy slope back towards the cottage, he decided to speak before his uneasiness about Medrian made him reverse the decision he had come to the night before.

‘E’rinel, I’ve something to ask you. I thought very carefully about it last night, and…’ Falin suddenly found himself unable to explain why he felt so strongly that he must take his friend’s place on the Quest. He only said, ‘Let me go instead of you.’

Estarinel and Medrian both stopped and stared at him. Medrian’s eyes widened and a thrill of grim hope made her catch her breath. That could be the answer, she thought. Falin doesn’t like me; it would be easy, so easy to make him hate me. Estarinel and I could part here, now, and save all that doubt and pain – but even as she thought it, she knew it was impossible.

‘Oh, Falin,’ Estarinel sighed, placing his hands on his friend’s shoulders. ‘I understand – I know it’s hard to stay here, and watch me go away again. I would feel the same. But I have to go. I was chosen in the first place, and even though it was a random choice at the time, it was a final one. I set out on the Quest, and I have to finish it,’ He shook his head sadly. ‘I know I shouldn’t have come back. Oh, Falin, I’m sorry if I’ve made things harder for you. But you are needed here.’

Falin nodded with grim acceptance.

‘I think I knew you’d say that,’ he smiled sadly. ‘There may not be much hope for Forluin, but while you are on your journey, you can be sure we’ll be doing everything possible to fight the Serpent here as well. That I swear.’

They went back into the cottage, but there did not seem to be much left to say, and soon Estarinel began to feel it was best if they said goodbye and began the long walk back to Trevilith Woods. So they said their farewells, and Estarinel added, ‘Give my love to Lili, when you see her – oh, on second thoughts, don’t. It’s better that she doesn’t know I’ve been back. I don’t think anyone but you has seen me. So don’t tell anyone, not even her.’

Falin nodded, knowing it would be painful to be unable to tell her – and that Lilithea would be deeply hurt if she ever found out.

‘Fare you well,’ he said. He and Estarinel embraced like brothers who would never meet again. Then Falin placed a hand on Medrian’s shoulder and looked into her eyes and said, ‘Take care of him for me.’ She smiled faintly and nodded.

‘Fare you well also,’ Estarinel said. He took Medrian’s hand and Falin stood at the corner of his aunt’s cottage, watching them walk from the edge of the village, across a meadow, and into the cover of trees until he could no longer see them.

Then Falin went into the living room and sat still for a long time, so shaken he was unable to think or feel anything. Eventually, still numb, he dragged himself from the cottage to join the others going about their farming work, trying to convince himself that nothing had happened, that his world had not been thrown into turmoil yet again.

#

Estarinel went by a different route back to Trevilith Woods, avoiding even a distant glimpse of the Bowl Valley. A lone bird called sadly, like a bell tolling, as they trudged between the trees. Medrian was silent, and seemed very calm, almost sleepy. She kept looking around at the trees and sky and earth as if they were the last things she would ever see.

‘It is still beautiful, even now,’ Estarinel said. ‘There’s a spirit in this land that cannot easily be destroyed.’