Into The Dark Flame (Book 4) (24 page)

   'I would wager not. I would not expect to see Reach Riders taking human form, though it’s possible that you might perceive them as such.'

   'Then what happened? And why did I feel so definitely that Leth was present?'

   'I cannot say. Perhaps he was that close, even if physically he remains trapped. Recall, not so long ago you had an equally powerful sensation of your children.'

   'I even heard him!'

   Orbelon half shrugged his ragged shoulders. 'I can offer no further explanation.'

   'Have you had any other impressions, Orbelon?
Any further sense of his presence, or the children’s?'

   'I’m not sure. I sense him, yes. It’s strangely similar to the manner in which I sense Urch-Malmain. But I am torn two ways, without knowing quite why. And I sense another presence within me, something monstrous, dark and powerful which I can’t explain. I am, I feel, at war with myself. Perhaps this is a symptom of being trapped outside my world. I don’t know, but I think it is taking a toll.'

   'In what way?' asked Issul anxiously.

   Orbelon hesitated a moment before replying, 'I am weaker than I was. I feel we should hurry now.'

iii

   They made the decision, after hasty consultation, to make for the Karai camp via Ghismile Tarn. Both Issul and Shenwolf were reasonably certain of the direction of the tarn in relation to their current location, and Shenwolf was confident that from the tarn he could find his way back through the forest to the Karai camp. Before the sun was fully up they were on their way, Shenwolf riding slightly ahead, Issul behind with the wooden chest balanced in front of her on the saddle.

   They followed no set path but allowed their judgement to guide them towards the shore of Ghismile Tarn. By Issul's estimation they would break out out somewhere along the tarn's southernmost shore, the side furthest from Ghismile village where Issul had slain the brutish Ombo and which was now occupied by grullags and, presumably, Moscul and Grey Venger.

   With a melancholic feeling Issul wondered about the fate of the villagers she had left behind there. They had suffered for years under Ombo's brutal rule. She had given them but a few days of freedom, if that, and now their village was occupied once more by an enemy as deficient in humanity and compassion as Ombo had been. One of her companions, Aurfusk had been left behind to recover from wounds received at the hands of the Karai. Issul had promised to send soldiers to recover Aurfusk and help administer the village. It had been her intention to do that now, leaving a handful of men at Ghismile while she and the greater part of her company rode on for the Farplace Opening. Such plans were now dashed; she held out little hope that Aurfusk or many - if any - of the villagers had survived. And if they had she was powerless at present to help them, and the knowledge of this weighed heavily upon her.

   At midday she and Shenwolf stopped briefly to rest. They ate strips of dried meat, cheese, bread and fruit, and drank watered-wine, all drawn from the saddle-packs on Gordallith's horses.

   'Tell me again about your memories of yourself,' Issul said.

   Shenwolf's look grew distant. 'I have told you all I know. There’s nothing more.'

   'But you have glimpses in the mist. If you concentrate isn’t it possible to push the mist back a little further?'

   'I have tried, without avail.'

   'The little that you did tell me, about being taught martial and hunting skills by your father, about pursuing brigands and survival in the wild; are these things true?'

   'They are true inasmuch as those distant impressions reside within me. But as I have said, if I attempt to pursue or scrutinize them more deeply, they withdraw.'

   Issul considered for a moment, then said, 'Does the name Urch-Malmain hold any meaning for you?'

   Shenwolf compressed his lips and slowly shook his head. For the first time she saw the pain in his young face. His guard was down, and he seemed bare before her. In a moment of pure impulse, Issul reached out and laid her hand on his.

   'Shenwolf, I want you to know that I believe in you.'

   He raised his eyes and smiled at her, almost shyly. 'That is good to hear. Yet I sense a 'But' hovering on the tail of that sentiment.'

   She sat back, removing her hand. 'I’m going to be candid with you. Orbelon and I believe your story. It is extraordinary that you should have come upon the Legendary Child in such a manner, and perhaps there are forces greater than we can comprehend at work here. But essentially what you have told us has the ring of truth.'

   'And I must carry the guilt of knowing that my appearing at that time prevented the Child being slain. Were it not for me it would be dead now and unable to menace you and your kingdom.'

   'That may be so. Then again, who knows what would have happened? That child is no ordinary child. Be quite sure of that. Had Arene laid hands on him, he may well have been capable of retaliation far more effective than anything possessed by a normal infant. Indeed, it is difficult to believe he could be as helpless as he appeared. Your intervention may actually have saved Arene's life, not Moscul's.'

   'I would that it were so.'

   'But I want to discuss further the matter of your background.'

   'My lady Issul, I have told you all I can, and that is the truth.'

   'That is not what I mean. The fact is that the circumstances of your arrival and memory loss, combined with other indications, give Orbelon and I cause to think that an enemy of old has stirred. I can’t say definitely, but it’s possible that this person has tampered with you, with your mind. We don’t know exactly how or to what end.'

   An expression of horror spread across Shenwolf's face. 'Do you mean-'

   'Wait.' Issul lifted a hand. 'Nothing is certain, and your loyalty to me is not in question. Beyond that though, there are unknowns. Are you, unwittingly, Urch-Malmain's instrument? Has he despatched you here, at this particular time, for a specific purpose? Or is there no connection with Urch-Malmain at all? We do not know, but I wish you to be aware of the dilemma we face.'

   'I must go!' exclaimed Shenwolf suddenly. 'I must take myself as far from you as I can, in case I’m drawn to harm you.' He stood abruptly. 'No! Never! I’ll kill myself before I will allow that to happen!'

   'You will not go, nor will you kill yourself,' said Issul sternly. 'Sit down and hear me out. I need you beside me, and until a link is proven or disproven you stand accused of nothing. But equally, until I know the truth, I must take certain precautions. Thus, I may not confide in you so freely as I might otherwise have done. It saddens me, for I have come to hold your opinion and advice in high regard. But I must now be more guarded. Will you obey my orders without question?'

  
'Of course! Utterly!'

   'And if I seek your opinion, will you give it freely?'

   'You know that I will.'

   'And if it seems that I do not confide or share with you, will you understand and accept, without doubt, affront or recrimination?'

   Shenwolf nodded ruefully. 'I will. Of course I will.'

   'It may even be that as we delve deeper into this mystery we will uncover the secret of your memory. Perhaps it can be restored to you. I hope it will be so.'

   They rode on, again relying largely on animal tracks to find their way through the densest forest. The day permitted a golden light to penetrate through the greens and golds, russets and tans of the overhead canopy. The smells of herbs, moss and dank earth pervaded the air. Small creatures scurried in the undergrowth and birds flitted among the branches. For a short period Issul began to feel almost at peace.

   Shenwolf now seemed
more sure of the direction of Ghismile Tarn than Issul, and she allowed him to lead the way. For a time she watched him, wondering, hoping that somehow he might prove to be what she had previously believed him to be; then her mind was drawn back to the prospect of the Karai camp ahead, and the strange secret in the bunker beneath it.

   As the day drew towards a close Shenwolf brought the horses to a halt.

   'The tarn lies no more than two leagues distant, if I’m not mistaken. We should rest here for the night so that we can approach in daylight, the better to avoid stumbling into grullags or anything else that might be on the prowl, and to get our bearings before we proceed.'

   They made camp, eating a cold, simple meal. Issul brought Orbelon forth to keep watch once again,
then crawled beneath her blanket. She lay for while on her back, watching the stars drift in their course, wondering as she had wondered so often before about their nature and the secrets they might hold, but her eyelids grew heavy and soon she fell asleep.

iv

   On this night, with the limitless forest dark and silent all around her, Issul's sleep was visited by a succession of disturbing dreams, which kept her fitful and tossing. She seemed to drift back and forth over the borders of unconsciousness and waking,
then would plunge suddenly and involuntarily into terrifying, vision-filled depths. There her tormentors were arrayed before her, one after another.

   Moscul sat beside her upon a wooden stile: a little fair-headed boy, her beloved nephew, smiling and innocent, his tiny warm hand in hers. It was a comforting image - or should have been. Instead Issul was filled with a creeping dread, and could not understand why. Something was terribly
wrong. Something awful impended. She felt it in her bones. What was it about this situation, this child, her sister's son, that made her feel this way?

   'You must look after me, Aunt Issul.'

   'Yes, I will do that, Moscul. You needn’t fear.'

   'Will you be with me always?'

   'Of course.'

   'Then why did you send me away?'

   He turned to stare up at her with bright violet reproachful eyes. Issul was overcome with confusion; her dread turning to sudden inexplicable terror. Had she sent him away? She could not recall. Why? What was wrong here?

   'My mother is dead.'

    Oh, the spirits, yes!
Ressa! Poor, poor Ressa!

   Issul was transported to her parents' summer villa, Saroon. She was in Ressa's bedroom, where her sister lay before her,
dead upon her bed. And as she watched Ressa moved, alive in death. Her body twitched, then heaved and bucked, her legs splayed wide. Yet her face showed no animation. Her head was thrown to one side upon the pillow.
Oh, what is happening?
Issul backed away. Ressa's body, still limp after three days, arched, thrashed and the blood spreading darkly red through her gown. And a cry, a thin, tiny cry, and Ressa was still again, but something else made the smallest movement beneath her gown. She knew what it was. Issul knew what it was. She stood there rooted to the floor as Moscul came forth and stared up at her.

   'My mother is dead, Aunt Issul.'

   'Yes, I know, Moscul.'

   His eyes disturbed her so, and she did not know why.

   'I remember everything.'

  
'Everything?'

   'I remember you!'

   And he laughed. His laugh was terrible to hear; no three-year-old's laughter, but that of something not wholly human. Issul looked around her at the forest, fearful, still not able to explain what was happening, except that this was at least half a dream. Yes. That thought comforted her. This had not happened. She dreamed and it was not real. But something moved beneath the trees and a figure stepped forward. Grey Venger came at her in a single bound, a wild shriek, face horribly contorted, fingers angled into claws. And there were more figures mustered there in the forest fringe. Hirsute man-creatures, or were they the pale, wrinkle-faced Karai warriors? So many of them, together, coming from the dark.

   'We are the dead.'

   Their bodies, gem-eyes faded, mute upon a hut floor.

   She could not understand them.

   'Aunt Issul, you will take care of me, won't you?'

   'Yes. Yes.'

   'It is your duty, you know.'

  
Duty?

   The child laughed again. Issul wanted to run.

   'Iss! Help me! Help me, Iss!'

   With sudden wrenching guilt Issul recalled Mawnie. Poor Mawnie, who she had managed to look in on for only moments when she had returned to Enchantment's
Reach.

   'It was me he wanted, Iss! It was me!'

   'No, Mawnie. You are ill. You must rest.'

   'Hugo's dead!'

   'I know. I know.'

   'Help me, Iss. You’re all I have.'

   But Mawnie was retreating, fading away. Suddenly, from around a corner came Fectur. And Issul could not move. She was trussed tight upon the forest floor, helpless as a babe. Her terror pounded in her chest; she strained and stretched against her bindings.

   'Fectur, do you know what you are doing?'