A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2)

by Freda Warrington

‘Ashurek! Ashurek, I’ve found her!’ Estarinel yelled.

  Medrian was lying on a bed of heather, evidently having walked until she had collapsed from exhaustion. She was unconscious, her heartbeat and breathing erratic. Her white skin had taken on a morbid blue-grey cast and, to Estarinel’s consternation, she seemed close to death.

  ‘How fortunate,’ said Ashurek without inflexion.

  Estarinel made her as comfortable as he could while Ashurek gathered enough scrub for a decent fire. Medrian’s breathing became steadier, but she remained unconscious. Even the breaking of certain aromatic herbs under her nose did not revive her. Estarinel took off his cloak and wrapped it over her own, holding her curled up against him so that she would take some heat from his body.

  ‘I don’t know what more to do for her,’ he said, distressed. ‘If only I had Lilithea’s skill. I fear that even rest won’t be enough to heal her.’

  ‘Estarinel,’ came Ashurek’s voice from the other side of the fire, thin and distant, ‘we do not have time for her to rest.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We cannot afford to delay waiting for her to recover. Every day we lose jeopardises the Quest. There’s nothing you or I can do for her; she will have to help herself.’

  Estarinel was stunned by these words, by Ashurek’s stony, matter-of-fact tone. He looked up and exclaimed, ‘How can you be so callous! After we’ve travelled all this way together – been more than companions to each other. I even thought you understood her in a way I did not. And now you are unmoved by her suffering – you can sit there and say, “Let her help herself.”?’

  ‘I am not being callous,’ Ashurek replied with a touch of anger. ‘It’s obvious to me that only she can help herself. I’ve come to understand that much about her.’

  ‘Once, perhaps – but not now. She’s too ill! Ashurek, she hasn’t got the strength. It’s up to us to help her.’

  ‘I repeat, there is nothing we can do. If she does not recover, we must leave her behind.’

  An incredulous silence greeted these words. Eventually Estarinel said, very quietly, ‘You’ve gone mad. To think I refused to believe any evil of you, thinking that my own judgement was surer than hearsay. How wrong could I be! No one could speak as you are doing – no one could be so devoid of pity, and not be utterly evil.’

  ‘You are entitled to that opinion. I never tried to make you think otherwise. But Medrian... Let me put it this way: how would your countrymen feel if they knew you had betrayed Forluin in order to take care of one of the Serpent’s own?’

  ‘That’s a despicable thing to say,’ Estarinel whispered.

  ‘Yes. I did not expect you to be overjoyed. But think on it. Remember how she was at the river? Remember our conversation?’

  ‘I remember a good deal of unfounded speculation.’

  ‘If you think it unfounded, you are deluding yourself. How do you think the Serpent has known every step we’ve taken? How has it put so many traps in our way? How will it find out about the Silver Staff and how will it eventually thwart us? Because it has sent one of its servants on this Quest. Perhaps Medrian is a glib deceiver, or perhaps she is an unwilling ally; whichever is unimportant. She is unquestionably in M’gulfn’s power. You must see it. We cannot afford to let her betray us any further.’

  ‘Betray us!’ Estarinel cried. ‘How is she going to betray us, unconscious? For the Lady’s sake, Ashurek, she’s dying!’

  ‘Estarinel, did you hear what I said? One way or another, the Quest will fail unless we leave her behind,’ Ashurek responded.

  ‘Even if you’re right,’ the Forluinishman said softly, ‘even if you are right, I still cannot leave her. By the gods! Do you think she means any less to me than Silvren means to you?’

  At this Ashurek looked up, and his eyes blazed like a fire shining through two verdant jewels. Estarinel saw that he had struck a chord. All at once Ashurek’s cold obduracy began to fill him with dread.

  ‘Then your love may cost us everything,’ said Ashurek.

  ‘You are wrong. You must be.’

  ‘Strange as it may seem, I was once accused of being compassionate. I was told that it was a weakness, a killing weakness. Since then I’ve come to see that that is true. I always thought that the Serpent was an unintelligent beast, but if it can cause the Quest to fail through your pity for Medrian, then its devious subtlety leaves me gasping.’ The ghoulish humour in Ashurek’s voice made Estarinel shudder, but at the same time he sounded chillingly sane. ‘Listen to me. Your love for her is as hopeless as mine is for Silvren. I have had to accept that; now you must also.’

  #

  Medrian had been drifting slowly back to consciousness for several minutes and these words began to filter into her hazy mind as she lay there, lacking any power to speak or move.

  ‘Why hopeless?’ Estarinel demanded.

  Ashurek paused. ‘I had resolved not to say this, but as nothing else will convince you – None of us has long to live, my friend. Do you think that two powers such as the Serpent and the Silver Staff can meet without causing a cataclysm? They are vast, opposing powers. When they touch, the Earth will be annihilated along with the Serpent.’

  ‘Who told you this?’

  ‘No one. It is the only logical end. Naturally the Guardians neglected to mention it. It is their ultimate deception.’

  Recalling all that had transpired with the Grey Ones, Estarinel found himself believing this without effort. ‘And I thought they had already reached their limit,’ he murmured. ‘There must be another answer.’

  ‘Such as what? To let the Serpent live? Then the world would fall into its power. We might all live then, it’s true. Eternal life on a world more desolate than hell! How would you like that for Forluin?’

  Estarinel remembered Silvren’s description of the Earth under M’gulfn’s power, ‘A bloated sac that can never expel its poison.’ And he-remembered the terrible glimpses he had had of Arlenmia’s vision, figures in a frozen landscape, bent in never-ending worship of the Worm...

  ‘How long have you known that the Quest would have this end?’ he asked, his throat dry.

  ‘From the moment I first saw the Silver Staff.’

  ‘And you said nothing – and carried on – knowing this?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And this – this is what you want, is it?’ Ashurek did not reply. Realisation dawned on Estarinel. ‘By the Worm, I believe it is. You would be happy to destroy everything! You don’t even want to look for another way.’

  ‘It will be a good and cleansing act.’

  ‘Do you know that you sound like Arlenmia?’ Estarinel said incredulously. ‘What is this – a purging of all your crimes? Or retribution against whatever made you commit them?’

  ‘Both,’ said Ashurek with chilling thoughtfulness. ‘Both. You are more perceptive than I had realised.’

  ‘This is insane! Why must the world pay for your guilt? What about those things that are worth saving?’

  ‘What is worth saving? Forluin? One tiny island. I thought the Worm’s attack had tom away the illusion that an idyllic existence is any nation’s birthright.’

  ‘Birthright? You don’t understand!’ Estarinel replied furiously. ‘We worked hard for what we had. We gave our love, we gave everything!’

  ‘All the same, no thief stops to consider whether his victim worked hard for his fortune or inherited it. The world is utterly unjust, fate utterly disinterested.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve learned that much, but there’s no reason for us to tolerate that injustice. If something is worth fighting for, how can you so easily turn round and say the fight is too hard, so let it all perish, instead?’

  ‘You misunderstand,’ said Ashurek with a mixture of anger and pain. ‘Far from it being easy, it has been a hard and bitter struggle to accept that the only answer is for the Earth to die with the Serpent. I’m not asking you to accept it; I am telling you that it is inevitable.’

  ‘Something must have hap
pened to make you believe this. You weren’t like this before.’

  ‘I told you: the Silver Staff.’

  ‘No. There must have been something else,’ Estarinel insisted. Ashurek remained silent. ‘You were always so determined to rescue Silvren. Calorn told us what happened. Why can’t you try again?’

  He thought Ashurek was not going to answer. Flurries of snow blew around them, catching the firelight. Beyond that small circle of warmth all was flat, dark and desolate, as though the world had already ended. Presently the Gorethrian said, ‘The Shana have corrupted Silvren. They have made her believe that she is evil. That belief has devastated her. She refused to leave the Dark Regions because she felt her presence would taint the Blue Plane and Earth – yes, I know it is appalling, but she may never be able to conquer that belief. It will be her doom. The Serpent need not even touch her now; the seed is planted, and she will destroy herself. There is something else too, equally terrible.

  ‘I told you how my sister Orkesh and my brother Meshurek died by my hand. I thought them dead and at peace. But in the Dark Regions I saw them. They were imprisoned in ghastly bodies, doomed to wander the hideous swamps like cattle. The Shana possess their souls. Their misery in that hell is something no human can comprehend.’ His voice was gruff with revulsion and outrage and he struggled to continue. ‘They will never know release until the Dark Regions are destroyed.’

  ‘That’s terrible – I had no idea,’ Estarinel breathed.

  ‘Of course not. I did not even tell Calorn. And then... in Pheigrad, while you were fetching the Silver Staff, I met a man named Karadrek. He used to be my second-in-command when I was High Commander. He too had been corrupted by the Shana, but only because of me. Because I had betrayed both Gorethria and the world itself, and the results of my betrayal were spreading outwards like ripples on a pond.

  ‘Karadrek, too, died on my sword. No doubt he stalks the Dark Regions in torment also. But my meeting with him was as if pre-ordained – another manipulation, if you like – and through it I saw that I was doomed to be a destroyer and must fulfil that destiny. The ultimate destruction of the Earth is the culmination of my doom. Only then will the Serpent and the Grey Ones cease their sport with all of us.’

  Estarinel made to reply, but no sound emerged.

  ‘Alas, I am not insane, Estarinel. Would that I were.’

  ‘The Planes–’

  ‘The Planes, the Dark Regions, everything will cease to exist. This world is too lost in evil to be redeemed.’

  ‘That’s not true! Ashurek, listen – at least we must think of what other ways there may be, before abandoning ourselves to this doom.’

  ‘Please, desist. It is pointless. You are only trying to cling to life, which is quite understandable. But now you must learn to let it go. Miril is lost, hope has been proved false. This is the dark heart of reality behind Eldor’s kind words and the Lady’s gentleness and Silvren’s wretched optimism.’

  ‘I still think you’re wrong,’ Estarinel said quietly, fearing that Ashurek was very much right.

  ‘Then I must warn you: if you have any thought of giving up the Quest I will simply take the Silver Staff and go on alone.’

  ‘You would have to kill me first.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ashurek flatly, looking at him. ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘Ye gods. You would.’

  ‘Estarinel, I can no longer afford to let love or pity compromise my purpose. I loved my brother and sister, and look what became of them. If I seem cruel, it is because I have come to understand that compassion is just another false hope, a tool of the Serpent.’

  High above them, the wind seemed filled with faint sounds, eldritch moans with a heart-turning, falling note at end. Shapes were dancing in the darkness, eye-deceiving. Sometimes they seemed to be birds, at others no more than whirling eddies of snow.

  ‘Well, now I truly believe one thing,’ Estarinel said. ‘You are quite capable of leaving Medrian behind.’

  ‘We must leave her. There is no question of it.’

  #

  Medrian was struggling to open her eyes or move, but her eyelids were weighted with lead and her hands felt like dead things. She had to speak to Ashurek – had to – but the Serpent kept her mouth sealed, as if she were a naughty child locked in an attic. She fought against it, but knew she was losing.

  ‘Then, Ashurek, you had better murder both Medrian and me,’ Estarinel said. ‘And you might as well do it now, to spare us any further suffering.’

  Ashurek stood up.

  Medrian battled to lift her eyelids, to speak. The poison had all but left her body now, but she was physically exhausted, a shell that M’gulfn could crush easily. Yes, she had lost; the Serpent could now take her over at any time, and was only delaying in order to delude her that the fight was not quite done, and so mock her more thoroughly. She could feel wings in the air… wings like knives… they might spare her but they would not spare Estarinel and Ashurek…

  The Gorethrian paused, looking down at Medrian and Estarinel. His eyes burned like green acid. Then he turned and began to walk slowly away.

  Medrian opened her mouth and croaked, ‘Creatures coming. They will kill...’

  ‘Medrian?’ Estarinel said, unable to make out what she was saying. ‘Are you awake? Don’t try to speak.’

  At last she felt the sluggish blood quickening in her veins, and found herself able to move and open her eyes. She flexed her rigid limbs and said more lucidly, ‘No, I’m all right. We mustn’t stay here any longer.’

  ‘You can’t think of moving yet,’ Estarinel said gently. ‘You don’t realise how ill you’ve been.’

  ‘I was only cold. I’m warm now,’ she murmured. ‘Where is Ashurek?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Estarinel sighed. ‘Have you been conscious for long? Did you hear what he was saying?’

  ‘Yes. I heard,’ she said noncommittally.

  ‘I only wish I could believe he’s gone mad. But I don’t think he has.’

  ‘We must find him.’ She tried to stand up, but Estarinel restrained her.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll come back, Medrian. You should have something to eat and then try to sleep; I’ll build up the fire.’

  ‘No, we’re not safe here,’ she persisted. ‘I’m not delirious; there are creatures flying above the clouds, and they will attack us before long. Can’t you hear them?’

  Estarinel became aware of the thin, eerie moans high above them. He looked up but could see nothing but feathers of snow drifting down. ‘They sound like those grim birds that drove us out of the forest that time.’

  ‘They are the same. The Serpent has sent them after us. I should have realised earlier.’

  ‘Are you sure? Then I should warn Ashurek, but I’m not leaving you alone here.’

  ‘It’s all right. Help me up.’

  ‘Listen to me: when I say that you need rest, I mean that you are putting your life in danger if you try to go on so soon,’ Estarinel said severely. ‘You’ve been unwell since we left the Blue Plane. Perhaps you don’t recall what happened to you, but after that plant stung you, you walked for two days almost without stopping, until you collapsed. It’s a miracle we found you, and that you’re still alive. I won’t let you risk–’

  ‘Estarinel,’ she interrupted softly, her voice as unearthly as the keening of the creatures above, ‘I am not in danger of dying. Please believe me. We are at greater risk if we stay here. The fire will draw them. We must go.’

  Her voice was compelling, faint as it was. When she made to stand up he found himself helping, with everything that Ashurek had said about her like a fresh wound in his mind.

  ‘Here, have your cloak and give me my pack – and the crossbow,’ she said. She began to walk with stiff, unsteady steps across the dark plain, and didn’t refuse to lean on Estarinel’s arm when he offered it. Her face was still deathlike and her limbs as frail as wax. He could only wonder at her resilience. It was as if despair ran in her veins like an ichor i
n place of blood.

  The cries above them grew louder, rising and falling on the wind like the wails of demented children. Estarinel, shuddering, drew his sword and Medrian armed the crossbow. He looked up but could see nothing, could feel only big, cold flakes of snow settling and melting on his face. He called Ashurek’s name two or three times, but there was no response. They trudged on.

  ‘Some sort of light ahead – can you see it?’ Medrian said. Along the horizon there was a faint, spectral radiance, like an oncoming storm. Then Estarinel felt the wind turn warm, and in the same moment Medrian gasped, ‘Be ready – they’re coming!’

  A sickly mustard glow began to creep along the underside of the clouds towards them. It illuminated the dark Tundra, clearly revealing the figure of Ashurek a few hundred yards away, engaged in frantic battle with a flapping, airborne object. Beyond him gleamed a vague shape resembling an amorphous mass of crystals. As Estarinel and Medrian began to hurry towards him, the snow became discoloured, like flakes of flesh, turning gradually into oily rain. A branch of blood-red lightning spat at the ground near them and the sky seethed lower until it seemed almost to be touching their hands.

  Out of it plunged a flying thing.

  It was a huge pterosaur with a wingspan of some twelve feet. Its long jaws were gaping to reveal rows of needle-like teeth as it came at them, screaming like a soul in hell. Great claws swung below its belly and its lengthy tail thrashed the air like a barbed whip. It shone with incongruously brilliant colours, black and sapphire-blue and red, and on its head was a crest that resembled a shaft of vermilion bone.

  Estarinel swung his sword, but the creature pivoted round the blade with remarkable agility for its size, and lunged at him with snapping jaws. He dodged and struck at again, but it was like fighting nothing. Its dark wings beat around his head, creaking like leather. Their pinions bore vicious, curved claws. Even as he tried to wield his blade, one of these caught on his cloak and the pterosaur was suddenly on him, folding itself around him, chewing at his throat with cold, sharp teeth. It smelled of the carrion things on which it fed.

  Revolted, he tried ineffectively to prise it away. He succeeded only in losing hold of his sword. Then he remembered the knife on his belt; shuddering with disgust, he felt for the haft, found it, and began to stab repeatedly at the creature’s gristly belly.