A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1) (12 page)

They sat without speaking for a time, the only noise that of the running stream; just as if they were sitting in some calm glade in Forluin before the coming of the Worm. Arlena jumped like a startled gazelle before the others even heard the sound of grooms bringing horses to the front of the House of Rede.

‘E’rinel,’ Falin said, ‘you had better go.’

Ashurek watched, from a distance, as Estarinel said goodbye to his friends. They all embraced him – Falin, Edrien, Luatha, and last of all his sister, Arlena. She clung to him, weeping openly.

‘Try not to worry about me, it won’t help,’ he told them, at a loss for words. ‘You must return to Forluin safely; that’s all that matters now.’

Arlena let him go and stood close to Falin, both pale with sorrow. Estarinel mounted his horse and rode to where Ashurek, Eldor and Medrian waited. It was as if his four countrymen’s distress at his leaving had absorbed all his own capacity for sadness at that moment. He felt calm enough to produce a convincing smile and a wave as the four riders began to wind their way through the mountain passes that led to the shores of the Southern Ocean.

Eldor went first, on a sturdy, pale grey heavy-horse, with Estarinel riding beside him. His great silver-brown stallion, Shaell, moved at a high-stepping prance. Following him came Ashurek, eyes fixed ahead of him. His mare, Vixata, was a finely-built, ethereal beast, gleaming gold and copper and silvery-white with a light of her own. She went with her delicate head high, her eyes pools of liquid jet, fire dripping from her mane. Medrian tailed at the back, speaking to no one. She rode a long, low beast, as black as a beetle, that went with a sullen manner and flattened ears.

The mountains were bulks of shadow in the darkness. It was a few hours’ ride to the coast, where the H’tebhmellian ship awaited them. The hired vessel on which Medrian had arrived had already departed, and a message was to be taken to Ashurek’s Tearnian crew that he no longer needed their ship.

Estarinel and Eldor rode in silence for a time. Then Eldor said, ‘So the plan is for you to sail the ship until it delivers you to the Blue Plane, and to find help there. It should take only a few days. Then you will return to Earth and go north to destroy the Serpent.’

‘Much could go wrong,’ Estarinel replied quietly.

‘Well, I must warn you that the Serpent will not remain in ignorance about the attack you plan.’

‘But how could it know?’ Estarinel asked, dismayed.

‘If it could not see almost everything it wants to, it would be far less trouble to the world. It cannot read minds – as a rule – but it will know. Perhaps it knows of your coming already.’ Seeing the expression on the young Forluinishman’s face, Eldor continued, ‘Estarinel, I am not trying to frighten you, just to warn you of what you will have to face. There is much more to it than its hideous physical being.’

Estarinel looked at Eldor, perplexed. ‘Please, give me some advice. How can Ashurek and Medrian be so certain of their purpose? To me this journey is like stepping into an abyss with closed eyes.’

‘They are not certain of themselves; it is like that for them too, but need has made them push doubt from their minds. I know you are demoralised and confused by the attack on Forluin, and at every turn you are told you are trying to destroy something indestructible. But you must put these difficulties behind you, because the Quest must take place.

‘The journey won’t be easy, and you may have to depend on those who cannot really be trusted, so you must always have your wits about you. Never take anything for granted, but at the same time be aware that action is often more appropriate than analysis…’

Estarinel grimaced. ‘If only the H’tebhmelIians could have sent a mighty warrior – not me!’

Eldor laughed. ‘You Forluinish have a charming unworldliness. You also have a great deal of common sense.’ He paused. ‘I may be wrong, but it seems to me that the Serpent attacked you physically because it cannot attack you mentally. That may be your greatest weapon.’ Eldor did not add that it might be a weapon easily tom away in a violent world.

‘My thanks for the encouragement, Eldor,’ the fledgling knight smiled.

Eldor thought, I wish I could tell you the truth, Estarinel – but it would help not at all, and it would make no difference, except to make things worse. He shook his head in sadness.

The cold southern mountains reared around them, bleak and impassive. Presently Eldor pulled up his horse and indicated a track climbing up the rocks to their left. ‘Your way to the coast will be quickest if you go by that track. You can’t miss the ship. It’s best that I leave you here, my old horse is not as fit as he was.’ He shook hands with the three, bidding them farewell and good luck. He turned his steed, but hesitated, and touched Medrian gently on the arm, saying, ‘Fare you well, brave child.’ Then he rode away, a broad figure receding into shadow, and Estarinel felt that he had said too little, departed too suddenly. It seemed that the very last vestige of friendship and safety was dwindling to nothing with Eldor, leaving only the cold unknown to welcome them now.

He glanced at his companions and was struck by the intensity of their gaze. Ashurek’s eyes were bitter and piercing, Medrian’s expressionless and dark. Yet it was the woman’s eyes that chilled him to the heart.

‘Come on then,’ said Ashurek, nudging the warm flanks of his mare. They began the ascent of the steep side-pass.

Within two hours’ ride, they were guiding their mounts down slippery, black paths to the beach. The dark cliff dropped sheer to the water’s edge, separated from it only by a narrow, gritty beach that gleamed with faint radiance in the dim twilight. The horses slithered gratefully from the treacherous paths to solid ground. The sea was sullen but calm. The whole day had an atmosphere of foreboding, which probably suited the mood of Ashurek and Medrian very well; but Estarinel, of a laughter- and light-loving race, felt increasingly oppressed by it.

Then they saw the ship.

She was moored beneath the shelter of a great bluff, fifty or so yards away. She was clean-lined, slender and beautiful, of an ancient, simple design, built of pale smooth wood. Her figurehead was tall and swan-necked with a mythical beast’s head. At her stem was a slim, fluted tail. Her decks were smooth and shone with a glistening radiance that fell from her three masts. At the top of each a white light sparkled; but they had no sails. Nor were there holes for oars.

‘Very pretty,’ said Ashurek, ‘but how does she sail?’

They cantered towards her, Medrian hanging back slightly on her skeletal steed. Clouds of the horses’ breath floated on the crisp air and the crunch of their hooves was muffled by the rushing of the sea. The ship was rocking gently in the waves, as lovely as the moon. Her name was etched delicately on her bows:
The Star of Filmoriel
. They sat and stared at her for a long time.

At last Ashurek nudged his mare forward. A wide gang-plank had been lowered into the shallow waves, yet none of them had noticed it being let down.

They dismounted, wading into the tide and leading the snorting, shying horses to the gang-plank. Estarinel went first, leading his courageous stallion who went calmly, ears flickering. Medrian’s strange beast fought a little, teeth bared as it strained against the bit. She spoke a few words in its ear and it came reluctantly, showing the whites of its eyes. Estarinel felt an instinctive revulsion for the creature, as strong as his fascination with Medrian. The bond between woman and horse was disquieting.

Ashurek came last. His delicate mare went wild, rearing and snorting, kicking up foam on the water and nearly causing Ashurek to loose her. He managed to guide her to the gang-plank and she suddenly shot up sideways like a crab to stand trembling and dripping on the deck.

Another plank led down into the hold, where they found quarters for the horses, complete with straw and fodder. They settled the beasts, then explored the vessel.

There were four small cabins, two fore and two aft, simple but comfortable. There was an ample supply of provisions and fresh water. But there were no sails, no oars, no wheel or any means of navigation. Although the ship was behaving as if moored, she had no anchor. There were certainly no one aboard, but when they returned to the deck the gang-plank had been drawn up. Medrian climbed to the forecastle deck, leaving the two men alone.

‘And we are supposed to trust this entity?’ Ashurek said flatly.

‘But the ship is honest, well-meaning,’ said Estarinel. ‘You must feel that? The horses have settled quickly. They know.’ When Ashurek still looked skeptical, he went on, ‘I never expected there to be a crew on board. The H’tebhmellians are a mysterious people. Our lands have close contact with them, but they are not human.’ Estarinel leaned on the rail and gazed into the water.

‘Is it true, then, that there is an Entrance Point to the Blue Plane in Forluin?’ asked Ashurek, moving to his side.

‘Well, the particular orbits of the Entrance Points bring them across Forluin quite often. So yes, we have had more contact with them than the rest of the world. And they say the H’tebhmellians can use magnetism to deflect the Entrance Points, and make them appear where they want.’

‘Can they indeed? Silvren and I wasted much time and effort trying to reach H’tebhmella – and yet you can walk freely in and out?’

‘No, we cannot. It is rare that anyone visits the Blue Plane, and rare for a H’tebhmellian to walk in Forluin. I have never been there, nor seen an inhabitant,’ Estarinel said, deep regret in his voice.

‘In a few days, so you say, we will be there.’

Estarinel glanced at the tall Gorethrian, then stared at the sea once more. ‘I wish it had been in happier circumstances,’ he muttered. ‘First things first, though; how do we get this ship to set sail?’

At that moment there was a cry from Medrian on the forecastle. ‘Look!’

They ran up the steps to the deck to find Medrian staring down into the waves, one white hand on the figurehead’s neck.

‘Look,’ she repeated.

Harnessed to the prow of the ship were two horses, half-submerged in the water. They were strong, well-muscled beasts, with powerful, curving necks and broad backs. In the half-light they glistened greenish-grey, as if formed from sea-washed rock. Below the water their legs graduated into great fins, and their heads were attenuated, like the heads of sea-horses. From their small mouths, plaited leather reins ran up and were loosely knotted around the rail.

Ashurek’s verdant eyes came alive in his dark face. He unknotted the reins and made contact with the horses’ sensitive mouths. They responded instantly.

‘Ho! Forward!’ he called, and they began to swim, slowly at first, gathering speed.
The Star of Filmoriel
cut smoothly through the waves. Estarinel turned to speak to Medrian, but she abruptly walked away and went down onto the main deck and thence down into the hold. Her face was white and expressionless and she looked almost ill.

‘If only her hatred of me was open, I’d understand her,’ muttered Ashurek, glaring after her.

‘Why are you so sure that she must hate you?’ asked Estarinel. That two people should dislike each other on such slight acquaintance was an anathema to him. He wanted to understand as well. Ashurek only shook his head, grimacing.

‘How little you must know of world events. Still, the invasion of Alaak was nine years ago… I dare say you were hardly out of childhood then.’

‘I am twenty-three,’ said Estarinel, ‘and I believe Medrian is no more than two, three years older than me at most.’

‘Ye gods,’ Ashurek said softly, leaning back against the rail. ‘I was only twenty-three when Alaak… I believe she’s a Serpent-sent reminder. You, also, must have every reason to despise me. I knew I should have embarked on this mission alone.’

‘Listen,’ Estarinel said, his gentle eyes becoming purposeful, ‘I believe you’ve told me the truth about yourself, and we’re linked by a common purpose: to destroy the Serpent M’gulfn. I really don’t care about anything else; I only care that the Worm is stopped from slaughtering innocent people. Whatever our feelings about each other, we must have a working relationship.’

Ashurek looked surprised, and smiled suddenly. ‘Nobly spoken, indeed! For your philanthropic attitude, my friend, I have every respect.’

Estarinel shrugged. ‘I have no personal grudge against you. But you believe Medrian does?’

‘I don’t see how she could fail to. So why does she deny it? If I knew the truth I’d feel easier, that is all. Ultimately, only the Worm matters – as you rightly say.’

The ship carved ahead at incredible speed as the horses swam, their powerful shoulders heaving. Ashurek wrapped their reins around the figurehead’s neck and called, ‘Come on, come on!’ and the horses responded to his encouragement, swimming without guidance from the bridle. As they swam they dipped their slender muzzles into the waves, as if grazing on tiny sea creatures.

In fact the whole ship was a kind of lodestone, moving as sure as an arrow towards the Entrance Point, while at the same time drawing the Point towards itself.

The cliffs of the cold southern continent slid below the horizon. The darkness grew. The open ocean was all around them. The slim figure that was Estarinel and the tall one that was Ashurek stood motionless for a long time. After a while Medrian returned, quiet as a cat, to join them.