What Lies Within (Book 5) (14 page)

   'What are you saying?' demanded Pader furiously.

   'Queen Issul came under assault. Her men were overwhelmed by a force of grullags - yes, grullags! They were under the command of a small boy, the very child whose coming has been predicted by the True Sept, who we know as the Legendary Child.'

   The table was suddenly in uproar. Pader took up a gavel and brought it down several times smartly on the table-top, shouting for silence,
then said, 'What of the Queen?'

    'She fled, while her men were cut down.' Fectur allowed the full implications of this to sink in before continuing. 'My own men now search diligently for her in the hope that she lives still and they can assist her in the completion of her mission.'

   Pader met his stare, conscious of the ambiguity conspicuous in the latter part of that statement, more concerned than ever for Issul's safety. How much of this was true? He suspected half-truths at best, but something unforeseen and possibly disastrous had occurred out there, that much was plain.

   'Exactly when did you receive this information, my lord?' he asked.

   Fectur took a breath. 'An hour ago.'

   'I would like to interview the messenger.'

   'I have already dispatched him - with updated orders for my men.'

   'Then he both passed through the
Karai army on the way here and again now, as he leaves?'

   Fectur did not
so much as blink. 'He is well trained.' 

   'Then you know of a way through?' interposed Sir Grenyard.

   'He slipped through the enemy in darkness and spent most of the night climbing the scarp. He returns at great risk by the same route, though he will not attempt to negotiate the Karai ranks before nightfall. One skilled man may find a way, more would certainly be detected.'

   'Then what are these updated orders, my lord?' asked Pader, with a glance at Kol.

   Fectur paused on a half-breath, his mouth part open. 'Simply to advise the Queen of the situation here and assist her as far as possible to greater speed in her mission.'

   A barrage of questions came at Pader Luminis from all around the table. Was this true? Was the Queen going to Enchantment? Had she really been
there already? Why had the government not been informed? What were these artefacts that she carried and sought? What of Grey Venger and the Legendary Child?

   Pader replied to each to the best of his ability. He explained that he had known little himself. What he did know had been revealed to him under conditions of utmost secrecy. It was not for him to discuss confidences placed in him by the sovereign.

   Silently he damned Fectur, and at the same time he feared.

   What had really happened out there?

   Where was Issul now?

SIX

i

   Prince Anzejarl had established his command headquarters in an abandoned manor house set off the road approximately a league to the south of Enchantment's Reach. The manor was the home of a family of minor nobility who had hurriedly upped and left just weeks earlier. They had taken household staff and carts groaning under the weight of personal effects, furniture and sundry belongings, and moved to the capital where they kept a well-appointed villa.

   The manor, called Willowmere, had been built atop a low, level-topped rise. The forest immediately surrounding had been largely cleared and set to arable and pasture. The lilac-cloaked soldiers of the Karai Guard, Anzejarl's elite bodyguard, had quartered themselves in out-houses and the deserted cottages of the small population of nearby Willowmere village. More troops were billeted in barns and other buildings close by, or had pitched tents along the roadside and in glades and clearings. Men worked quickly to bolster the existing defences of the manor and establish new ones at its perimeter.

   From the windows of the lord's master suite on Willowmere's third and uppermost level, looking northwards, the city-castle of Enchantment's Reach could be seen, lofty and majestic upon its soaring scarp. Prince Anzejarl stood there now, eyeing the capital which had emerged from a swathe of grey cloud. Twisting columns of rising smoke were gently
buffeted and broken by quiet breezes as they slowly drifted between the maze of towers. A shaft of brittle autumn sunlight broke suddenly through the cloud and the marble towers and turrets were shining bright, predominantly white, flecked with myriad other shades. A fantastical vision high above the forest, then the clouds obscured the sun once more and the city-castle, still a wonder to behold, relinquished its fabulous light.

   Prince Anzejarl nodded inwardly, his face set, his
Karai eyes almost aglow. The greatest prize, radiant in the new morn!

   Almost his!

   He had come to want this now, more than anything. In recent days his understanding had grown. He had discovered that the unfamiliar passions and fires that raged within him, the constant restless unease and conflict that beset his being as a consequence of Olmana's Gift, could be quelled, in significant part if not completely. The key he found was focus. To take the tyranny within and turn it without, gather the energy of that rage and torment, and concentrate it to the exclusion of all else upon a single external goal. And if there was no one goal, no overriding ambition, then create one!

   Enchantment's Reach!

   Inklings of this had become apparent earlier, as Anzejarl marched against and conquered the kingdoms of the Southern Mondane. But at that time understanding had been elusive. Olmana's gift, his Awakening, was still so new, had not yet attained its fullest force - though Anzejarl had not been aware of that then. It was as he moved towards the kingdom of Enchantment's Reach that he began to gain an insight into the full nature of what she had given him.

   Now, with focus, with terrible and single-minded purpose, all things could be achieved, and the demons within could be kept at bay. The doubts and uncertainties were pushed to the edges of his consciousness. The questions, the teeming, untameable jungle of emotions and desires, were absorbed as fuel to his purpose. No longer did he devour himself from within - so long as he remembered not to peer there. Even the abyss, the void, the interminable emptiness that had opened within him, seemed now to have retreated. He knew it to be present still, but he did not teeter so precariously upon its brink.

   The greatest prize!

   Everything can be mine!

   To the Karai that he had once been such a thought was wholly alien. Ferocious and purposeful in battle, the Karai nevertheless did not lust. They did not crave, nor want, did not even dream - not as Anzejarl now dreamed. They did not love or hate, knew neither cruelty nor compassion, and only pale shadows of anger, sorrow, fear or joy. They were proud; they held aloof from other races, who they deemed lesser beings, and were driven almost wholly by an innate sense of loyalty, duty and dedication.

   But the
Karai that Prince Anzejarl had been could no longer step back and dispassionately observe. The Karai that he once was had been overcome just as surely as the lands he had conquered.

   The sun struck the stones of Enchantment's Reach again. Anzejarl curled his pale lip.

   Leth! Leth! Leth! Do you skulk within, waiting? Do you look down and observe, and wonder and fear? Well, be afraid, Leth, and know that I am here!

   Anzejarl drew back his arm, bunched his gauntletted hand into a tight fist and smashed it into the wall beside the window.

   I am here for you, Leth! For you and all your kind!

   He turned from the window, smouldering. Olmana entered the chamber. She barely glanced at Anzejarl, but swept to the far end and threw herself down upon cushions. The room had been virtually stripped of furniture by the fleeing owners.

   Anzejarl reached for a handful of bruised ghinz leaves in a pouch at his hip and pushed them into his mouth. He stood quivering, his eyes half-closed as he chewed the leaves and swallowed their bitter green sap.

   'Give me some.' Olmana reached out a slender hand. She was agitated, tense, had become moreso the closer they came to Enchantment's Reach. It was the Child that she sought so avidly. It had been from the beginning, since she had first come to Anzejarl in his homeland. Anzejarl knew nothing of her reasons for seeking the Child - she explained little to him - but this was why she had brought him and his army on such a great campaign. And with each conquest she had voiced her disappointment. The conquered lands meant nothing to her; it was only the Child, and the Child was not there.

   But as they came to Enchantment's Reach Olmana had sensed its proximity. Her agitation had mounted with each passing day. She was impatient, knowing that Leth's capital could not be taken quickly. Was the Child within? Olmana would not say, but she was troubled. Her temper had grown short; she had become less responsive to Anzerjarl's advances; her thoughts were elsewhere.

   She virtually snatched the ghinz from Anzejarl's hand. 'I do not like the waiting.'

   'It will advance us nothing to be hasty now. We have known from the beginning that Leth's capital would not be taken quickly. Leth has already shown himself too wily to fall for any ploy I have presented. I suspect that the Duke of Giswel was not following Leth's orders when he came out against us, but Leth himself will do nothing so rash. Hence we too must be patient and methodical, unless you can bring other assistance.'

   Olmana sat mutely grinding the leaves between her teeth, her eyes darting and flashing, hardly coming to rest. Anzejarl was not sure, but from some of her recent utterances he had gained the impression that she had indeed planned to bring some other force out of Enchantment to supplement the slooths and war-trolls in their assault of Enchantment's Reach. Something had gone wrong. He was increasingly of the opinion that it was connected with the secret camp she had had his soldiers construct in the forest some leagues from here. Slooths had returned from there, injured and burned, and Olmana had become enraged. She had insisted he send another force to investigate. He had dispatched one hundred warriors on horse and foot. They would be there now. What would they find? He could hardly guess. He did not know what it was that Olmana had constructed there, in the secret bunker beneath the camp.

   'I want to know the moment you hear anything more from your contacts inside the capital,' Olmana snapped.

   'I have always brought you their messages as soon as I have received them.'

   'And they are clear about their instructions?'

   'They will move upon my signal.'

   'And when will you give that signal, Anzejarl? I grow impatient.'

  
'I work on the defenders' spirit. It could lose us everything to move too early. For now the slooths' fire attacks are effective. And as Leth grows complacent, then will come a surprise.'

   Olmana got up and went to the window. 'Such power here!' she breathed, gazing at the high capital. 'What can Orbelon have done?'

   Orbelon? Anzejarl had heard her mention the name before, but she had never explained herself. He stood behind her, inhaling her perfume. He bent his neck and pressed his pale lips to her shoulder. 'Who is Orbelon?' he murmured.

   Somewhat to his surprise she replied, 'An ancient enemy. But I cannot believe it is he who took the Child from me.' Her voice grew harsh. 'He cannot have risen again. How? How?
After all my planning. It should not be possible. But if not Orbelon, then who? Yes, Triune. . . but there is another.' Olmana's mouth twisted into an ugly grimace. She glared up at Enchantment's Reach. 'I will know soon. I will.'

   Abruptly she fell silent. She had said more than she intended. Anzejarl, not for the first time, had the queer impression that it was not her speaking, that she thought the thoughts and spoke the words of some unknown other. His hands went to her waist; he felt the tension return to her limbs. She moved away from him. 'You ask too many questions, Prince of
Karai.'

   'Only to clarify--'

   'Clarify nothing other than what you are told!' she snapped. She swung around to face him. 'Do you understand?'

   Anzejarl paused, taken aback by the anger on her face. For a moment she was almost unrecognizable. He recalled his dreams where he had seen Olmana transformed. He felt confused, and he wanted her. He nodded, almost meekly.

   'Good.' She turned and strode out of the chamber.

ii

   The sun was high, the sky pale azure and streaked with wispy tails of high clouds, though denser cloud could sometimes be seen away to the north. There was little breeze and the day had grown warm, even in the wildwood shade. They had been marching for some hours now, picking their way back through the trackless forest. Count Harg seemed sure of his way. At times he walked along beside Leth, casually airing his views on the unknown land that he now found himself in, wondering out loud as to its extent, quizzing Leth on aspects of kingship.

   'All this is yours, Swordbearer? I am impressed. Truly, until Master Urch revealed you to be king of this land, I had no idea. No idea at all. You are a dark one, aren't you. All that time we spent together and you didn't give even a hint. Well, it's fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. Where is your fabulous palace, Swordbearer? Is it close by? I would love to see it, really I would. And I would add, I am overwhelmed. When Master Urch told me that he was actually sending me into the Godworld to bring you back, I could scarcely believe it. And yet . . . well, perhaps I am rather underwhelmed, if the truth be told. For it’s different here, and yet . . . in many ways much the same. I mean, where are all the gods? Those peasants back at the lakeside were hardly godlike, were they? And look at you with your hands tied and a noose around your neck. No, that isn't godlike. Not at all. Perhaps apotheosis is conferred only as a natural consequence of the process of transition to our world. That's an interesting thought. Can I be a god, here in your world?'

   Leth declined to respond. Harg seemed unperturbed. He talked on, as if to himself, then
fell back to take up the rear until something else prompted him to call upon Leth again.

   The children were complaining. They were hot and weary and wanted to rest. In a low voice Leth urged them on. He did not want to stop yet.
'Soon. I am sure we will rest soon. But not here.'

   'Oh but I'm tired!' wept Jace, her face red and streaked with tears and dust. 'I won't go any further! I won't.'

   Galry, though he struggled to bear his travail with greater stoicism, was also visibly close to tears.

   'Harg, let the children ride upon the horse,' Leth called.

   Harg took time to consider this, possibly wary of some trick.

   'They are worn out, Harg, that’s all,' said Leth. 'Let them ride.'

   'Very well.' Harg brought the company to a halt, then strode to the children and lifted them, one at a time, and placed them upon the chestnut mare's back, between the baggage. He sauntered back to Leth and grinned, his smouldering blue eyes alight. 'You see, I am not all wickedness.'

   'May we drink?' asked Leth.

   'Why, of course.' Harg took a water sack from the mare's back, unstopped it and held it to Leth's lips. Leth drank thirstily. When he had done Harg gave the water sack to the children. 'Be sure to replace the stopper securely.' He patted the mare's broad rump. 'I apologise for the view, Swordbearer. It must be tedious for a monarch like yourself to spend the day staring at a nag's arse. Unfortunately, I can think of no preferable arrangement, given our circumstances. Still, now your two cherubs may gaze down upon you. I think you will like that.'

   Leth stood silently, sweat gleaming upon his brow. Harg gazed upwards through the canopy. 'Perhaps we will stop soon. I admit
, I wouldn't mind a rest. I haven't fully recovered from our battle in the Fortress of the Dark Flame, you know. Bit of a stiff shoulder, and I rather strained a muscle in my thigh. But not yet, I think. So chin up, Swordbearer. Heave ho and onwards!'