A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2) (17 page)

‘It doesn’t make any difference. I would still care about her.’

Calorn was silent for a while. Then she said, ‘When I saw the evil of the Dark Regions, how effortlessly it corrupts all that it touches, I was filled with anger, determination to do anything that will help recompense you and destroy it.’

‘Do you always keep your concern for others – never for yourself?’

She shrugged. ‘I am a mercenary, a soldier who serves others. I have nothing left for myself. But this is the way I’ve chosen to live, therefore I am content. Does that make sense?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘I also know that people can be destroyed by caring too much... but nothing I say will stop you, will it?’

‘No. I am not free to make that choice.’

‘Come on,’ she said, smiling. ‘I must take up my duties; someone has to navigate. You can assist me. I think night is drawing on and this storm won’t help us find our bearings.’

Estarinel helped her to set up navigational equipment. The deck tipped beneath their feet and waves broke over them, but the H’tebhmellian cloaks were sturdy and waterproof. As it grew darker, the diamond radiance shining from the masts gave them light to work by.

‘Now, all we need is a sight of the stars. Meanwhile, I think we should retreat to a cabin and eat,’ Calorn suggested cheerfully.

They were making their way across the deck when the door of Medrian’s cabin opened and she emerged. The wind swept her hair back from her face and she looked very pale under
The Star of Filmoriel
’s lights. She made to walk straight past them, but Estarinel stopped her and said, ‘Medrian? Are you feeling better?’

She looked at him, perfectly composed.

‘Yes. It won’t happen again, I assure you.’ She was as cold as the distant stranger he had first met at the House of Rede. It was as if all they had been through together was obliterated. The darkness had returned to her eyes, making them seem grey and black caverns full of shadow.

He felt like shouting in protest, No! I won’t let this happen to you! At the same time he felt so chilled that he could not say anything at all.

‘Estarinel,’ she added, ‘remember what I told you. I meant it. It must be as it was before.’ Then she went on her way and stood alone at the prow, staring out into the bitter storm. Estarinel tried to swallow his unbearable emotions for her sake; he knew that even those few words were more than she could afford to offer him.

The storm abated during the night. The travellers emerged from their cabins at dawn and saw that the clouds had curled back to reveal patches of colourless, rain-washed sky. The ship’s violent pitching of the night before had subsided to a gentle rolling motion as she glided with the swell of the waves. On the horizon before them, the sun was rising like a giant pearl behind gauzy layers of cloud.

Calorn climbed up to the forecastle deck, tying her cloak and disentangling her long chestnut hair from the hood as she went. She took a deep breath of cold, salty air, and leaned over by the figurehead to check that the sea-horses were well. They were swimming with unrelenting strength, unaffected by the storm. She gave them a shout of encouragement and they shook their delicate, tapering heads in response.

Making a check of her navigational equipment, she found that only a slight adjustment to their course was necessary. This done, she stood looking out across the milky grey ocean, one hand on the figurehead’s slim neck.

After a few minutes Ashurek and Medrian joined her on deck. Medrian looked ghastly. Calorn thought she’d never seen a face so white that had not belonged to a corpse; even the lips were waxen. Her expression had a frozen look to it, as if all ability to express emotion had been leached out and her features petrified. But the intense darkness of Ashurek’s visage did not make Calorn any less uneasy. She looked about for Estarinel, but could not see him.

‘Well, do you know where we are?’ Ashurek asked shortly.

‘Yes,’ she said, relaxing into a smile. ‘We are on course. Look, I’ll show you.’ She pulled a map out of her belt and unfolded it, doing her best to flatten out the creases. Their destination was a small northern country on the west coast of Tearn called Pheigrad.

‘Here is our goal,’ she said, pointing to a small bay on the map. ‘And we are here... so about four days’ sailing will bring us to land.’

Estarinel came up to join them, carrying slabs of dark, rich bread and flasks of H’tebhmellian cordial. He distributed this breakfast among them without speaking. Calorn noticed how pale and exhausted he looked, as if he had emerged on the far side of grief completely numb. He did not meet the eyes of Medrian or of Ashurek, and it was the first time he had greeted Calorn herself without a glimmer of warmth. She looked enquiringly at him but he only stared back blankly for a second, then looked away.

‘Four days?’ Ashurek was saying. ‘Can we be there no sooner?’

‘Possibly, if the tides are in our favour. I’ve made a realistic estimate. And the Exit Point could have landed us two weeks or two months away. We’ve been lucky.’

‘It’s still four days in which the Worm may thwart us,’ Ashurek answered with unrelenting pessimism. Calorn had to bite back an exasperated retort; there was no use antagonising him. He went on, ‘And once we have landed, how much further then?’

‘The entrance to the domain of the Silver Staff is about thirty miles inland from the bay,’ said Calorn. ‘So, however fast we can trek thirty miles.’

‘That depends upon the country. We will hope there’s not a mountain barrier between us and our destination.’

‘The map shows it to be easy country.’

‘The map? Have you made no reconnaissance visit to this part of Tearn?’

‘No, I haven’t,’ Calorn replied. ‘I have never been on this Earth before. But, you see, my particular skill is both an instinctive and a mathematical one, so lack of prior knowledge is no disadvantage. I take it you don’t know the land either?’

‘Alas, no. Tearn is on the whole a dreary continent,’ Ashurek said acidly, ‘so I doubt that Pheigrad is any different.’

Calorn washed a mouthful of bread down with a long draught of cordial. ‘I hope you believe I know what I’m doing,’ she said pointedly.

‘Well, how can you be so sure that the entrance to the Silver Staff’s domain is where you claim it to be?’ He gave her a hard, sceptical stare.

‘I know where the entrance is. I know it as surely as a compass knows where north is. It’s as though I have an internal lodestone that never leads me astray. Ashurek,’ she added softly, ‘I don’t know how you can doubt me, after...’ She trailed off and the memory of how she had unerringly found the way into the Dark Regions returned vividly to him.

‘Aye,’ he assented grimly. ‘You’re right, I have every reason to trust you.’ They stood in silence as they ate their meal, but presently the Gorethrian spoke again.

‘There’s something else I can’t feel easy about. The Lady said that the knowledge of the Silver Staff had been kept upon the Blue Plane, so that M’gulfn would not find out about it. But now, here we are upon Earth, with the knowledge. So, does the Serpent yet know also?’

‘I – I don’t know,’ said Calorn, startled by the thought. ‘I hadn’t considered it. But the Lady must have been aware of the possibilities; she would not have misled us. I’m sure that the Serpent could not possibly know.’

‘Are you?’ Ashurek turned his back on her, squinting at the hazy sun. ‘Someone must be able to tell us for certain. Someone must know...’ He turned slowly, and fixed his eyes on the pale Alaakian woman. ‘Medrian,’ he said. ‘For some reason, at which I will not even hazard a guess, you seem to have a more intimate knowledge of the Serpent’s ways and whims than the rest of us. You had better let us know the worst: does the Serpent know about the Silver Staff? And if so, what will it do?’

Only Estarinel did not look at her. He seemed intent on the eastern horizon, where leaden clouds were already accumulating, threatening another storm.

Medrian seemed to find it as easy to speak as a marble statue might have done. The way she looked at Ashurek, and the stiff, minimal parting of her lips, made Calorn feel like telling him to leave her alone.

‘That I cannot answer,’ Medrian uttered.

‘Cannot, or will not?’ said Ashurek, giving her a sharp glance of puzzlement and suspicion. Medrian did not react. He turned away to look out at the sea again.

Calorn began to explain, in her lively way, something about her particular navigation skills, and then to comment upon the weather. Presently, however, she got the distinct impression that no one was listening to her. She trailed off with a self-mocking grin and leaned against the rail, a breeze tangling her hair as she looked sideways at the Forluinishman. She had never before seen him so numbed and resigned to misery. Even defeated by it. Previously he had always fought against such defeat; she prayed that this was not the beginning of the self-destruction she’d foreseen.

After a while he turned and spoke to Medrian.

‘You’d better try to eat more than that,’ he said in a quiet, gentle tone. ‘We all need as much strength as we can get.’ She glanced at him and at the piece of bread still in her hand. And she nodded, and forced herself to finish it.

By mid-morning, the storm threatening in the west had overtaken them and was forcing
The Star of Filmoriel
at wild speed, like a hare before the fangs of a great hound. It was as if the Serpent, far from being afraid of them, was dragging them eagerly towards itself.

For the next four days, storm after storm broke over them but never forced them off course. The horses glided with the current, barely having to exert themselves by swimming. Their reins stayed knotted around the figurehead, since there was no need to guide them. Calorn was pleasantly surprised by this apparent good fortune at first; after a day she began to think it sinister. She didn’t voice this thought, which was doubtless already uppermost in the minds of her three gloomy companions. Again and again she had to remind herself not to become involved with them. She knew that the best help she could give them was to remain cheerful and practical – no hardship, as that was her nature.

The Serpent threatened, but did not strike. On the fourth afternoon the storm subsided and they sailed across a small bay towards a dull shore glimmering under clouded daylight. Around the Star, waves swelled like mountains of jade with nets of light breaking over them.

Under Calorn’s direction the horses brought the ship to anchor near a narrow, pale shingle beach. Beyond were sand dunes and low grey hills. Easy country, as the map had indicated. The travellers completed the packing of food and clothing for removal from the Star. Presently they were ready to disembark with backpacks strapped beneath their hooded cloaks. Calorn had only a small pack, as she would not be going to the Arctic with them. She and Ashurek lowered the gangplank and they all waded through the tide to the shore.

Calorn had explained to them that
The Star of Filmoriel
would wait for her until the search for the Silver Staff was over. Then the ship would take her back to the Blue Plane, while the others continued northwards towards the Arctic. There was also something she had not mentioned – that the Lady herself had mentioned so briefly that it might have been forgotten – which she hoped would be a pleasant surprise, and proof that she was a reliable guide.

A few seabirds were circling above the delicate ship. There was no other sign of life. As they crunched across the narrow beach the sky darkened and a cloudburst drenched them, streaming down the folds of their cloaks and dancing in a mist above the sand. Calorn looked round at them with a despairing grin, and led them along a path that wound inland between sand dunes.

Estarinel turned for a last look at the ship, to see that she was already veiled by rain, only the firefly lights atop her masts still visible.

Beneath their feet sand and stone gave way to wiry grass. The ground rose gradually, presenting a vista of featureless low hills that offered no shelter. Pulling their heavy cloaks around them they plodded on, resigned to the weather.

After they had walked for about an hour the country grew more rugged and they followed rock-strewn paths winding between steep, rough-grassed hillsides. Ashurek noticed four goats staring at them from a high vantage point. The rain had lessened, and he could see that the goats were wearing bells. So, he thought, the country is not uninhabited after all.

Eventually the rain dwindled to drizzle and the landscape was besilvered by sun filtering through the clouds. The land became richer and there were trees ahead, glittering in the drenched silver light. Calorn led them into this forest, turning round to say enigmatically that there was not much further to go.

Within the trees the light had a different, softer quality. Evening was imminent, and shadows lay like pools of dark water around the tree trunks. Even the long, blade-shaped leaves were grey, as if cut from hammered pewter. They formed clusters from which hung bunches of large amber-gold berries. All gleamed and dripped with rainwater.

Presently Calorn slowed her pace and led them to the left along a thin, overgrown track into a small clearing. Medrian, Ashurek and Estarinel stopped in surprise. There, in the gloom, stood three horses. They gleamed in the dark silver light, their heads up and their ears pricked at the humans’ approach.

Behind them flickered an elusive blue glow. There was something uncanny, mystical and dreamlike in that moment; the feeling persisted as Estarinel walked slowly forward and touched the smooth, rain-dampened coat of his stallion, Shaell. Beside him stood Ashurek’s fiery mare, Vixata, and the horse they had taken from Arlenmia, Taery Jasmena.

‘Now will you believe that I know my job as your guide?’ Calorn asked with a grin.

‘I never doubted it, but to find our horses with such ease–’ Estarinel began, then broke off as he saw the source of the eerie blue glow. There was a H’tebhmellian on the far side of the clearing. Seeing them, she began to glide forward, the light floating round her, her beautiful features sombre and one white hand outstretched.

It was Neyrwin, the H’tebhmellian they’d first seen in the castle of Gastada. She had drifted past them in that evil place, giving Estarinel, who had been near death, the strength to escape. Later they had learned that she had been dispatched by the Lady to recover their horses.

‘Greetings, Neyrwin,’ Calorn called. ‘I’m so glad to find you here.’

‘We are well met this hour,’ the H’tebhmellian responded. Her voice was faint and her form insubstantial, as if her extended period on Earth had diminished her.

‘Did you find the horses easily?’

‘I travelled a great many leagues, but I found them at last. For their own comfort I had to remove their saddles, which I could not carry, but I have their bridles. They are in good health, as you see. I brought them here at a leisurely pace.’ Estarinel saw an extraordinary vision of the H’tebhmellian drifting across the miles of Tearnian soil like an unearthly spore of light, and the three horses following quietly like lambs. Shaell nuzzled at his arm and he reached up to slap the great silver-brown stallion on the neck. ‘Hello, old friend,’ he whispered. ‘I thought we’d parted for good.’

‘Calorn, I will not wait for you here,’ Neyrwin continued. ‘We were not meant to dwell long upon the Earth, and I am exhausted.
The Star of Filmoriel
will give me rest, so I will wait aboard her.’

‘As you will. You look – fragile, somehow,’ Calorn said, concerned. ‘Must you wait for me ? Can’t you find an Entrance Point?’

‘No, my strength is so diminished that I cannot find one quickly.’

‘But the Lady said that you could find one at will.’ Calorn seemed so worried that Ashurek began to sense something ominous.