A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2)

by Freda Warrington

  Then he saw the corpse. A shaggy white bear lying across his path, its limbs folded at awkward angles. A stench rose from it, redolent of the Worm’s venom. The usually imperturbable stallion whickered with fear and edged past, sweating.

  Estarinel felt dislocated. Time had gone by. He was too late. He would come to the camp and they would be lying dead. Medrian, Calorn, even Ashurek.

  It could not be.

  The high-pitched squeal of a frightened horse rang out nearby, sending shock through him like an ice-cold spear. Shaell whinnied in response. Ahead, where the path widened, Estarinel saw Taery Jasmena. Riderless, roaming loose, confirming his worst fears.

  So the Worm had caught up with them at last and revenged itself thoroughly. Numb with fury but self-possessed, Estarinel caught the palfrey and urged the two horses along the path. Presently he came out into a clearing, and there were two more bear corpses, locked together, bloodied, their mouths savagely agape even in death. And near them was Calorn.

  Alive. Alive!

  She saw him, and her expression turned to utter joy. ‘Estarinel!’ she called. ‘Oh, I’m so glad to see you! I would have met you, but I was trying to catch Taery, and then I came across these bodies – but are you all right? What happened? Did you find–’ but as she was speaking he jumped off Shaell, ran to her, and hugged her so hard that she could not breathe.

  ‘What was that for?’ she gasped, laughing.

  ‘For being alive,’ he smiled. ‘Just for being alive.’

  As they rode back towards the camp, Calorn explained about the black horse, the bears, and Setrel’s powder.

  ‘When we came out of the circle next morning, there was no sign of the creatures. Ashurek came back in the afternoon – safe, but I think something happened to him. He won’t speak of it, but I can tell. We anticipated another attack last night, so we built a good fire and stayed within the circle, now armed, thanks to Ashurek. But nothing happened. Thank the Lady. This afternoon I decided to come and look for Taery, and as I was doing that I sensed you’d returned from the domain, so I was on my way to meet you – but I kept finding these bear corpses along the way. Horrible.’ She grimaced. ‘But it’s over. And you found the Silver Staff! I knew you would.’

  Seeing his exhaustion and the veiled pain in his eyes, she restrained herself from questioning him. ‘How long have I been away?’ he asked.

  ‘About two and a half days.’

  ‘Is that all? It seemed... I don’t know. And Medrian, is she all right?’

  ‘Oh – still the same,’ Calorn said as casually as she could, but Estarinel noticed the involuntary lowering of her eyes, and knew something was wrong.

  They reached the camp, where several bears lay dead about the clearing. Even wood smoke could not quite mask the odour rising from the corpses. Ashurek came forward to greet him, but Medrian hung back in the edge of the trees, as pallid as bone. Calorn went to her, and Estarinel heard her saying, ‘The bears – all through the wood, they’re lying dead, torn to bits by their fellows. Whatever made them turn on each other like that?’

  And he heard Medrian reply, her voice low but very clear, ‘Hate. All the children of the Worm hate each other.’

  As Estarinel dismounted, Ashurek said, ‘Well, what luck did you have?’

  ‘I’ve got the Silver Staff,’ Estarinel answered quietly. Ashurek clapped him on the shoulder and grinned, but there was no warmth in the expression; rather, it was sinister. Medrian was now collecting wood for the fire, apparently unwilling even to greet him.

  ‘Medrian’s emphatic that she doesn’t want to see the Staff,’ Ashurek told him. ‘I don’t know why. However, I am eager to view this wondrous weapon.’

  ‘I am eager to eat and sleep,’ Estarinel replied with a sigh. But he unfastened the top of the red scabbard and drew out the long, thin Silver Staff for Ashurek to inspect. The Gorethrian took it from him and studied it, turning it this way and that and weighing it in his palms.

  Ashurek noted its plainness, and that it was as sharp and apparently as flimsy as a needle. He could not imagine how it was to be held and used as a weapon, since it had no kind of handle or grip. Still, the Egg-Stone itself had been no more than a tiny gem... Gradually he began to sense the power that the Staff contained. Like the rumbling of a great volcano many miles distant, just below the level of hearing, he could feel it reverberating through his bones.

  At once a strange and bloody vision arrayed itself across his mind, a terrible map of the future. In that moment, he felt he understood the Staff’s function and how it related to his own prescience of doom.

  When the Staff touched the Serpent, the meeting of the opposite energies would cause a cataclysm that would destroy the Earth.

  So, the Quest is hopeless after all, Ashurek thought. I never really thought otherwise – but now I know why. I see hope in Estarinel’s eyes, for all he is so tired. He has touched the Silver Staff and found faith that it is a cleansing weapon that will restore Forluin. Alas for Estarinel and for his country! And alas for Silvren and for my brother and sister… I will never know if they find peace or eternal torment. All I know is that my dreams of rescuing them were in vain. The forces that gave us the Silver Staff do not care; the Earth is expendable, as long as the Serpent is destroyed and their wretched balance restored.

  Ashurek thrust the Staff back into Estarinel’s hands and turned abruptly away, his cloak swirling behind him.

  ‘Ashurek, what’s wrong?’ the Forluinishman called after him. He looked questioningly at Calorn, but she only shook her head.

  ‘I don’t know what is the matter with him, Estarinel.’

  ‘And Medrian does not even want to look!’ He slid the Silver Staff back into its scabbard, feeling dismayed. He had thought that Medrian and Ashurek might express some relief at his safe return, a degree of optimism at the retrieval of the weapon. Evidently it was safer not to expect anything. He recalled the coldness he had felt when he had first told them about the Worm’s attack on Forluin, and neither had betrayed any reaction at all.

  Calorn seemed to know what he was thinking, and took his arm. ‘You need to eat and rest. Come and sit by the fire, and have some H’tebhmellian wine.’

  Later, when they had eaten supper, Calorn cautiously asked Estarinel to relate what he had been through. He hesitated and Ashurek said, ‘Only tell us if you wish to.’

  ‘I don’t really want to talk about it,’ said Estarinel, ‘but there are certain things I must tell you... about the Guardians and Eldor.’ So he began his account, speaking quietly and glossing over the more painful events. But the others could tell from his tone and from what he left unsaid that his experiences had been terrible. When he came to explain about Eldor, however, he told them everything.

  ‘And the Guardians lied – they lied – to the Lady of the Blue Plane. How do we know what other lies they have told? Even Eldor, whom we trusted...’ he finished. He looked pale and drawn in the firelight. Calorn glanced at Medrian, who was staring expressionlessly at the fire, and at Ashurek, whose green eyes were burning with a dangerous brilliance. Calorn herself felt shocked.

  ‘Then I have misled you... told you things that were false... because of those lies,’ she whispered. ‘To deceive the H’tebhmellians in that way is unspeakable!’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Estarinel, his voice stronger and steadier now. ‘Medrian? Ashurek? Have you nothing to say? You don’t even seem surprised at what I’ve told you. Perhaps you knew these things already.’ It sounded like an accusation.

  ‘No, I did not know,’ Ashurek replied. ‘But neither am I surprised, my friend; I always knew that we were being manipulated and deceived. This is only a clearer explanation of it. You are right to be so dismayed and horrified – I share your feelings.’

  And if only you knew, thought Ashurek, of the Guardians’ ultimate deception: the false hope of the Silver Staff. But he had vowed not to tell the others. If they knew, they might want to stop the Quest, and he could not risk that.
/>
  ‘Medrian?’ said Estarinel.

  ‘My opinion is the same as Ashurek’s,’ she said in a dull tone. ‘It doesn’t really matter. This knowledge is unpleasant, but it makes no difference to the Quest; we must forget it and go on.’

  ‘The world is unpleasant and unfair; good and evil are not always easy to differentiate. The terms can be meaningless,’ said Ashurek.

  Estarinel stared at him, his normally gentle eyes glittering. ‘For once I agree with you. Don’t mistake me, I still intend to save Forluin. Nothing else matters now.’

  There was tension between them, like a shell of black glass that was vibrating under such incredible pressure that it must surely fracture and implode, revealing what lay beyond: a writhing grey sky that was at the same time the Serpent M’gulfn, dwarfing the Earth with its unassailable, heartless omnipotence. It was oblivious to them, yet at the same it mocked them, its laughter utterly devoid of humour, vast and diabolic. Its insanity enclosed them like a prison of wire and thorns, binding them helpless, terrified and humiliated before it. And they saw a bird fall from the sky, dead, like a tiny black cinder.

  Estarinel closed his hand over the top of the Silver Staff, willing it to reassure him. But the confidence and wild joy with which it had first filled him were gone. Perhaps they had just been illusions within the Guardians’ domain.

  Gradually the vision faded. He could hear the horses grazing, the fire crackling, leaves stirring in a gust of wind... even a mouse running through the undergrowth. The moment was vivid and fragile. Then the faint, musty stench of the Serpent’s creatures came to him and in his mind he was suddenly running and running under the powerful delusion that escape was possible – only to find that he was running towards Falin’s house, and the Worm was in front of him, lying on the ruins, staring at him.

  ‘So, Eldor said that the Serpent would not know about the Silver Staff at once,’ Ashurek said, breaking his reverie. ‘But now the thing is actually on Earth, how soon will M’gulfn realise? Medrian?’

  Medrian wondered how to answer. M’gulfn need never know, as long as she could mask the knowledge within her own mind. But she could not tell Ashurek that, and at the same time she could hear the Serpent whispering insistently, There is something that I must know you must tell me what it is you must you will tell me...

  ‘It is my guess,’ she said carefully, ‘that the Worm will not know until we are close enough for it to sense it.’

  ‘How close is that?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps the weapon protects itself.’

  ‘And what will happen when the Serpent does know?’

  ‘It will be frightened. Furious. It will do its best to destroy us and it will probably succeed. This speculation is pointless, Ashurek.’

  ‘Aye,’ he agreed, sighing. And now he began to see the Quest even more clearly. Surely all that was required was for the Staff to touch the Serpent. All they had to do was stay alive until they reached M’gulfn, or, better still, it came looking for them. It did not matter if it attacked them – as long as Staff and Serpent met – because they were all going to perish anyway.

  Doubts began to assail him. Ashurek was hiding this knowledge from the others. He had withheld certain truths from his family in the past, thinking to protect them, and they had all died as a result. Perhaps there was another way...

  No. As Meshurek and Karadrek had had to die, so must the Worm – whatever the cost. Sometimes the need for the destruction of evil outweighed the desirability of sparing what was good.

  And yet...

  Ashurek wrapped himself in his cloak, willing sleep to obliterate these black thoughts from his mind. Calorn also curled up and was asleep in minutes. She had her worries, but knew they were as nothing compared to her companions’ troubles. It moved her unbearably to see how haunted each of them was. She welcomed sleep.

  Although they were safe within the circle of Setrel’s powder, they still had a watch rota and Medrian was keeping the first vigil.

  ‘Why don’t you go to sleep?’ she said to Estarinel, who was still sitting up and looking abstractedly into the fire. The desire to be free of the Worm, free to communicate with him, was intense; it weakened her in a way she could ill afford. She added in the same cold, flat tone, ‘You look exhausted. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he murmured. His longing to hold her, to share her misery even if he could not alleviate it, was so extreme as to be painful. He found it ever more difficult to watch her struggling alone. Gently, he said, ‘Medrian, we have a weapon now. Does it give you no hope at all?’

  Her reaction was unexpected. She visibly recoiled and a deadly expression came over her face.

  ‘Don’t speak of it!’ she hissed. She was trembling and so stricken that he made to go to her, but within seconds she had regained her composure. Holding out a palm as if unconsciously warning him not to come closer, she said calmly, ‘Estarinel, I beg of you never to speak of the – the object to me. I don’t want to hear mention of it and I especially do not want to see it. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, knowing better than to ask why. He stood up and went over to Shaell, thinking, I can do nothing to help her; I must think only of Forluin. He stroked the satiny neck of his horse and the great head with its bold and kindly eye. This was the one creature that had seemed sane and real to him in the worst moments of the Quest. All the gentility, faithfulness and love that were missing from the world – everything that he was fighting to save – were embodied in Shaell. And he thought, I must help her. To lose her would be a loss beyond bearing. Then he lay down beside the fire and went straight to sleep, too exhausted to dream.

  #

  Morning came, and they were all ready to commence their journey. The remains of the fire had been obliterated, their packs shouldered, and there was nothing left to do but say goodbye to Calorn.

  There had been some discussion about the horses, but eventually it was concluded that they could only ride so far north. Sooner or later they would have to abandon the animals somewhere on the cold tundra. This seemed an unnecessary cruelty when the three travellers could manage quite adequately – if more slowly – on foot, so it had been agreed that Calorn would take the horses aboard The Star of Filmoriel, and thence back to the Blue Plane. Estarinel in particular was adamant that he did not want his stallion to undergo any further hardship. Ashurek eventually conceded that Vixata was too old to endure the cold weather of the north.

  There was now only one way for them to reach the Arctic, which was to plod northwards across the vast tundra until it joined the frozen Arctic Ocean. It was a long and daunting journey, but it had to be faced. Even the H’tebhmellians had only limited means of controlling the Entrance Points that might otherwise have shortened the way. They had compasses and maps, and Ashurek had planned a route, although he feared the maps were too inaccurate to be of any real value. They would have to take the country as they found it.

  ‘My task to help you find the Staff is over, so I must leave you,’ Calorn said with a cheerfulness she did not feel. ‘I don’t know what to say. It seems fatuous to wish you “good luck” – but I do, anyway. And I hope I see you again.’ She clasped Medrian’s hand, and there was a tenuous, comradeship between them, tempered by Medrian’s coldness and Calorn’s mixed sorrow for her and fear of her. Then she went to shake hands with Estarinel and found herself embracing him with tears in her eyes.

  ‘I’m going to miss you,’ he said.

  ‘Please take care of yourself,’ was all she managed in response. He had changed even in the short time she had known him. She was afraid that he was in danger of being destroyed by everything he had endured, and the feeling made her want to weep. She pulled abruptly away from him and went to Ashurek.

  The Gorethrian looked at her for some time without speaking. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead, a Gorethrian gesture of love and respect that he had not bestowed on anyone for years.

  ‘I wish
to thank you for your steadfastness in the Dark Regions,’ he said. ‘Even though we did not succeed, it wasn’t for want of courage on your part.’

  Calorn bit her lip and said, very softly so that only he could hear, ‘I have something to confess. I deluded myself into believing that I really wanted to come with you to the end of the Quest, if only you would permit me. Now I realise that I cannot – I dare not. It is very hard to discover that you are not as brave as you thought you were.’ She did not add that it was Medrian who had inspired this dread in her.

  ‘Calorn, you must not doubt your courage; it is not bravery that’s required on this Quest. It is desperation. There is one simple reason why you cannot come with us; which is that you do not share our despair.’

  ‘Yes. I appreciate that.’

  ‘Go back to the Blue Plane with Neyrwin. If you can, return to your own world.’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ she exclaimed. ‘The Lady of H’tebhmella may still need my services.’ Then her expression changed. ‘Wait... this is a warning, isn’t it? That even the Blue Plane may not be safe?’

  ‘Who knows? It is only conjecture on my part.’

  ‘Well, I am not yet so devoid of nerve that I would put my own safety before my duty! But I will tell the Lady all that Eldor said to Estarinel. She may see a meaning in it that we can’t perceive.’

  Ashurek looked at her a moment longer; then he took his hands from her shoulders and said, ‘Farewell, Calorn.’

  She forced a smile onto her clear, valiant face. ‘Fare you well, all of you. I will see you again.’ She gave special emphasis to the last words and then she turned away and vaulted onto Taery Jasmena’s back. She gathered up the reins to lead the other two horses, gave a brief, fierce salute with one fist, and turned to ride away into the forest.

  They watched her disappearing through the trees, an upright, cloaked figure, her long hair glowing copper-red in the translucent early light. On the near side of the blue-green palfrey, Estarinel’s noble brown stallion walked sedately, and on the off side, Vixata danced along with her head high, shards of golden fire flying from her mane. Presently they were out of sight.