‘I did,’ Skord replied. He had hated them, especially Ashurek; yet they had saved him from Arlenmia, found him a new home. But perhaps, after all, he had not really wanted to be saved. He still loved Arlenmia, and they were her enemies, and yet... he also dreaded Arlenmia, and she spoke of the three now as if they were to be her allies.
‘So what happened?’ Estarinel asked. Skord feared Estarinel in a more personal, subtle way than he dreaded Ashurek, because the Forluinishman had possessed the power to bring back his memory of the terrible things that Arlenmia had made him forget… the Gorethrian atrocities in Drish.
‘I don’t have to tell you anything,’ Skord said, his voice trembling under a thin veneer of arrogance.
‘No, you don’t, but we are concerned to find you here when we thought you were safe with Setrel,’ Estarinel said gently. ‘What happened when you left the wood?’
Skord frowned, as if he had difficulty remembering. Ashurek suspected that he’d lost his reason altogether – if he’d ever managed to regain it. ‘The wood… I rode a long way, I got lost. There were people shouting – nemale soldiers – and I was frightened. My horse bolted and carried me to Setrel’s doorstep.’
‘Yes – then what happened? Weren’t you happy with Setrel?’
‘I was…’ Skord squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head in pain. ‘Oh, damn you! You are the fools that my mistress said you were! You thought you were helping me?’
‘We released you from the demon, Siregh-Ma, who was causing you so much torment. You declared that you hated Arlenmia,’ said Ashurek. Skord stood up and tried to push past, but he grasped the boy’s arm and held him.
‘I wasn’t myself,’ Skord said through clenched teeth. ‘I love her. I never wanted to leave her. Why did you make me? You dare to imagine that I ever needed your help? Putting me in a trance and making me remember those things I had forgotten – causing me to betray my mistress – abducting me – you think you were helping me? The happiest moment of my life was when Arlenmia came to fetch me, and knocked Setrel down so that I could go with her.’
‘She did what?’ Estarinel interrupted. ‘Was he hurt?’
‘How should I know? He tried to stop her coming in. It was his own fault.’
‘And you just left him? After all his kindness to you?’
Skord’s expression became one of confusion as he recalled how happy he had been with Setrel for that short time, how afraid when Arlenmia came for him. But he suppressed that painful memory. ‘My mistress is the only one who has ever been truly kind to me.’
‘What happened when you went with her?’ Ashurek asked, giving Estarinel a warning look; Skord would make even less sense if he was upset.
‘I was proud to walk at her side. Proud! She had forgiven me! Even after all I had done. She said I was the best and most precious of her messengers. I went with her.’
‘Where? Across the ocean?’ Ashurek prompted.
‘Yes. There was a ship.’ Again the confusion flickered across his face. ‘We went to a place called Terthria. It was dark and fiery and hot. There was a volcano. We went inside the crater.’
‘What did Arlenmia do there?’
‘She – she made the demons go down into the lava for her.’ Skord’s voice fell to a hoarse whisper. ‘And they came out, laughing, with the little blue Stone. I don’t think they wanted to give it to her. But she always makes them obey her.’
‘How many demons?’
‘Three. One was Siregh-Ma.’ Skord turned ashen even at mentioning the name.
‘So, you are happy with Arlenmia, are you?’ Ashurek said sourly. ‘She who is so kind to you, subjects you to the presence of a demon – the very demon from which I took such pains to release you?’
Skord pressed a hand to his face as if trying to erase the terror in his expression. He was trembling. ‘She does what she must. I serve her.’
‘And then you came to the Arctic?’ said Estarinel.
He nodded defiantly. ‘I am loyal to her now. You can’t make me betray her again!’
‘Ah, Skord, I do not blame you,’ Ashurek sighed. ‘You have had a miserable life. Even I find her will hard to resist. How then could you be expected not to succumb?’
‘Don’t patronise me!’ Skord exclaimed, his eyes fever-bright. ‘I choose to serve her. She says I am her comrade! We will defeat you. I don’t want your pity! I warn you, I am your enemy!’
‘If you are so dangerous, Skord,’ Ashurek said softly, ‘what are you so frightened of?’
‘Nothing. I am not.’
‘And you believe that Arlenmia’s quest to make M’gulfn all-powerful is right?’
‘Of course. I know it. You three are utter fools.’
‘How would you feel,’ said Ashurek, ‘if I told you that the jewel of power she carries, the Egg-Stone, is the same stone that gave me the power to invade Drish?’
Skord’s pale cheeks coloured with distress. ‘I would say that you’re lying,’ he stammered. ‘Leave me alone! Siregh-Ma never tormented me as you do! Just leave me alone!’ He broke away from Ashurek and ran to the stairs, but there he hesitated, as if afraid to go up. Estarinel looked at Ashurek and shook his head despondently. Skord seemed intent upon clinging to his own weakness, and it was evidently more than they could do to save him from himself.
Arlenmia came halfway down the stairs and leaned round the spiral to look down at them. ‘Why are you standing about there, Skord?’ she asked impatiently, not waiting for an answer. ‘I want all of you to come up here and join me. The view is quite breathtaking. I would not want you to miss it. Come.’
None of them wanted to go with her, but it was then that they experienced a compulsion gentler, yet more horrible, than the violence of the Egg-Stone’s power. They could not disobey her. Her will was tangible, like a heavy perfume. Oppressed by it, they stood up and walked, as if in a drugged trance, to the stairs, and followed Skord and Arlenmia up the icy treads to an observation chamber above. It was smaller than the one below, pyramid-shaped and much lighter, evidently hewn from the very peak of the iceberg. On all four sides, great holes had been cut out of the walls so that they could see for miles in every direction. Yet it was not the view that commanded their attention; the reason for Skord’s fear had become evident.
In the chamber with Arlenmia were three demons: Meheg-Ba, Diheg-El and Siregh-Ma. Whimpering with terror, Skord backed into a corner and flattened himself against the ice as if hoping it would swallow him. Estarinel found himself edging away, clinging desperately to his sanity. Ashurek uttered a bitter curse and Medrian stared at them, blank-faced.
The demons hissed and giggled, their blood-red mouths stretched in wide grins, lightning humming along their perfect humanoid forms.
‘Now, you are not to possess them,’ Arlenmia instructed the Shana, as if they were ravening dogs that obeyed only her. ‘They are on our side now, or very soon will be.’
Searing argent light blazed around the chamber, merging sickeningly with the verdant fires in the northern sky.
‘On our side?’ Meheg-Ba leered. ‘Wonders will never cease, Prince Ashurek.’
‘Be silent and do not touch them!’ Arlenmia commanded. She turned her head and her profile was outlined by Serpent-fires, her hair backlit to a flaring green aureole. Three demons and four humans stood helplessly enthralled by her heavy, sweet, charismatic power, while she stood with her arms outstretched like an angel about to see the face of her personal god.
‘There will be no more conflict now. We are all going to M’gulfn together.’
Chapter Fifteen. ‘They must open their eyes.’
The demons crouched in a group, bouncing restively on their toes, muttering to each other. Their crackling silver forms were outlined by viridian fire. Skord still sobbed in a corner, his eyes riveted by paralysing fear to the Shana. Ashurek stood rigid, grim-faced, staring at the northern skyline where a thin line of solid ice had become visible, reflecting the flickering Worm-lights. Estarinel and Medria
n were clinging to each other like children, but Arlenmia stood oblivious to all of them, gazing ecstatically across the grey, white-flecked sea to her goal. One hand rested below her throat, where the Egg-Stone hung; her lips were parted and her eyes huge and luminous, like sunlight shining through a blue-green ocean.
The ghastly lights seemed to reflect the colours of her hair, as if she had conjured them herself, and the air was vibrating like glass. A dull, discordant humming had begun at the North Pole, rich with power and evil.
‘Thus will we all come to M’gulfn in glory,’ Arlenmia murmured. ‘Thus will we travel forever more... the Serpent will be as a heart, from which energy will flow like liquid jewels. There will be no more human misery, no more death. I know not what form all our lives will take; but I know that we will live on, eternally, upon a level of being that we cannot contemplate, any more than an insect can imagine what it is to be human. Can you yet understand? Can you see that I am doing this, not for my own gain, or because I am mad, or evil, but for the good of the world?’
So sincere and earnest was her voice that they could almost believe her. She was right, and they, and the Guardians and everyone else, were wrong.
With difficulty, Medrian managed to speak. ‘Arlenmia, I can see you believe this, but I don’t know where or how you’ve received this vision. If you understood the Serpent’s nature, you would know that you are condemning the world to hell.’
‘No!’ Arlenmia exclaimed, reaching out to grip Medrian’s shoulder. ‘It is you who do not understand. It is so wrong to call M’gulfn a “Serpent”. Corporeal forms are illusory. M’gulfn is energy. It knows nothing of your tiny standards of good and evil. You only think these things are “hell” and “evil” because of simple human fear. It is understandable. But if you would only show some trust in me, you would see the truth. My vision. My dream made real.’
‘Your dream. No one else’s,’ Medrian said. ‘And a dream is all it is. You think I have lived all these years alongside the Worm and not–’ she trailed off, whether halted by Arlenmia’s will, or some despair within herself, it was impossible to tell.
‘My Lady Arlenmia, I warned you about her,’ Siregh-Ma interjected, pointing at Medrian. ‘She is dangerous. She is death. What are we going to do about her?’
‘Siregh-Ma, you sound like a human fool. Be quiet and trust me,’ she snapped, and the demon subsided, still glaring at the Alaakian woman. ‘Fear, Medrian. Weakness,’ Arlenmia continued. ‘No wonder you have suffered, having tried to resist M’gulfn all this time. And Estarinel, what troubles you? You find now that you cannot face M’gulfn?’ She smiled contemptuously at him. ‘However can you presume to destroy the Serpent, when you cannot even bear to approach it? Ah, but you will be forgiven. You will be the first to bend in awe when we reach it at last.’
‘And Ashurek shall bend to me, shall he not?’ said the demon, Meheg-Ba, stepping forward suddenly. ‘He owes me so much. More than he can afford. Is it not so, Prince Ashurek?’
‘I have nothing to say to you, Meheg-Ba,’ Ashurek said tightly, not looking at the Shanin.
‘Oh, really? Nothing to say about the sorceress Silvren, who has undergone so much further unpleasantness since your ridiculous attempt to free her?’
‘What?’ Ashurek turned to stare into the demon’s silver eyes.
‘Oh, but it was not our fault!’ Meheg-Ba cried, impersonating a flustered human. ‘It was that idiot, Ahag-Ga, the one you so upset. We were away, and Ahag-Ga deemed she should be punished. Diheg-El and I rescued her; she is safe now. She is working for us.’ Ashurek looked away, knowing that he was risking possession by showing anger and curiosity. With an effort he suppressed his emotions. Arguing with Meheg-Ba would achieve nothing.
Meheg-Ba added, ‘Do you not want to know what she is doing? We gave her Exhal’s job.’
Then Ashurek did turn upon the demon, his control lost, but Arlenmia stepped between them and intervened. ‘Meheg-Ba, be silent. I meant what I said. Forgo these petty ideas of revenge. Ashurek is not going to bow to you. We are all going to bow together to the Serpent.’
The Shanin fell back sulkily, and began to hiss and mutter to its two comrades. Skord tried to edge out of his corner – but Siregh-Ma sent out a lash of lightning that stopped him short.
Estarinel, sickened, felt he could stay no longer in the demons’ company, with the Worm’s power permeating the atmosphere like a disease. He began to make for the stairwell, with Medrian and Ashurek following him.
‘Yes, you should go and rest,’ Arlenmia said, an edge of mockery to her voice. ‘I am staying here, but I will call you when we come into land.’
The three sat disconsolately on the fur-covered ridges in the chamber below. They felt defeated, but perhaps that feeling in itself had stirred some spark of defiance.
‘I always felt we had not seen the last of her,’ said Ashurek. ‘And the damned Egg-Stone. Suddenly our battle is not just to kill M’gulfn, but to stop her reaching it first, and both tasks seem impossible.’
‘Do you think she can hear us talking?’ Estarinel asked.
‘No doubt, if she wants to. But she’s so sure of her power that she doubtless doesn’t care what we’re saying anyway.’
‘And do you think she knows...’ he indicated the Silver Staff, which was concealed beneath his cloak.
‘I don’t know,’ Ashurek sighed. ‘But if she reaches the Serpent first and replaces its eye, nothing will prevail against it. Nothing. And with the power of the Egg-Stone and three demons, I can see no way to stop her.’
‘What about Miril?’ Estarinel said.
‘I don’t know. If we called her, the demons might simply destroy her.’ Ashurek dredged his memory for everything the Shana and Miril had ever said about each other.
‘I can’t believe that Arlenmia spoke to M’gulfn,’ said Medrian. ‘I am the only one that can speak to it. Perhaps if she was determined enough, she might have communicated briefly with it, long enough for it to tell her it wanted its eye. Certainly she’s never touched its thoughts, or she would have understood its true nature at once.’
‘If we could only make her understand–’ Estarinel began.
‘Even if she did,’ Medrian said, ‘still the Serpent’s will would draw her on to return the Egg-Stone. More likely, however much evidence she had, she would still twist it to fit her own vision. I think… well, I think she is insane in her way. Perhaps without this all-consuming obsession – religion – whatever it is, she would feel she was nothing. You see, she is just as much its victim as the rest of us.’
‘My heart bleeds for her,’ said Ashurek. ‘Nevertheless, she must be stopped. Miril must be reunited with the Egg-Stone. But I cannot touch the Stone myself; it would destroy me, put me in M’gulfn’s power at once. In fact, it is not safe for any of us to touch it.’
‘It all seems…’ Estarinel began. ‘Well, she is right about me: I feel I would rather die than go any closer to the Serpent. I don’t want to let you down, but…’
‘You won’t. I know you won’t,’ Medrian said, putting her hand through his arm.
‘Medrian, when we reach the ice cap again, just how far will we be from the Serpent?’ Ashurek asked.
‘About two days’ walk,’ she replied. ‘Less, if the snow is flat and firm.’
‘Two days! We have less than two days to stop her,’ he groaned. ‘The first thing we must do is separate her from the demons. That alone may give us a chance.’
‘That’s easier said than done,’ said Medrian. ‘Besides, she uses them; she is no less powerful without them. Even if we could separate them, how would it help?’
‘I don’t know yet… it’s just an instinct,’ said Ashurek standing up and walking slowly around the chamber. ‘I must think.’
‘And I must talk to M’gulfn,’ said Medrian, so faintly that even Estarinel barely heard her. ‘If I can only make it listen.’
As the iceberg continued its slow drift northwards, Estarinel gradually realised
what the rhythmic movement of their ice raft had symbolised; it was Arlenmia’s terrible vision in which all life existed only to worship the Serpent, to pulse slowly towards it for eternity. He remembered the dreadful things she had tried to show him in her mirrors, Forluin a petrified landscape in which miserable figures made obeisance to M’gulfn, trapped as if within a jewel that was both beautiful and diabolical.
After about eight hours, the iceberg grounded against a cliff of ice. The demons, under Arlenmia’s instruction, held it steady while she directed Skord, Medrian, Ashurek and Estarinel to disembark. Again her will was irresistible; they were fully aware that she was manipulating them, and yet they had no choice but to obey her like zombies. The cliff was fairly easy to climb and they soon gained the top. They found themselves on another perfect, flat field of snow, where the three demons were already waiting.
The sun was in the north, staring like a sick eye through the poisonous green smoke there. The atmosphere reverberated with a dull, massive energy that was both nauseating and deeply depressing. Medrian felt M’gulfn stirring within her, gloating, whispering, Medrian, come to me, come. She thought she was going to fall and she hung onto Estarinel’s arm, and it was only that which stopped him from turning back and plunging blindly into the freezing sea.
Ashurek was filled with loathing and revulsion; yet the more he despised the Serpent, the more he felt akin to it, one of its own. Disgust overwhelmed him.
Yet Arlenmia looked ecstatic as she faced the north, her furs drawn up round her chin and her lips parted, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
‘We are nearly there,’ she said. She turned and grasped Skord’s shoulder. The wretched boy was glassy-eyed with dread. ‘Do you feel M’gulfn’s power, Skord? Do you see it? Soon we will belong to it... and it to us.’
‘It will kill me,’ Skord muttered wretchedly.
‘Don’t be foolish! Are you ready?’ She turned to Ashurek and the others, laughing quietly to see the despair in their faces, to feel her power over them as if she literally held strings that moved their limbs.
A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2) Page 39
