Orbelon's World (Book 3)

by Martin Ash

  Pader clung to her for a moment, almost childlike. 'Did you think I would not come to see you off?' He wiped his eyes, as emotional as she. 'Travel safely now, do you hear me, child? Travel safely.'

  Issul released him and turned to Kol, but could not trust herself to speak.

  'Do not concern yourself, my lady,' said Kol softly. 'I will not let him out of my sight.'

  She nodded, forcing back her tears. Kol had at first protested at the news that he was not to accompany the Queen and his two companions. But Issul had stressed that it was vital he remain behind to guard Pader. 'It is as crucial to the success of this operation that I know that everything possible has been done to safeguard him,' she had said, 'and that he is protected by someone I know I can trust without

  reservation. Phis I am taking because of his sensitivity to magic, which may be of great service again. But you, Kol, I am entrusting with a role of no lesser importance.'

  Understanding this Kol had assented gladly and, as now, had assured her that he would not leave Pader's side until she returned.

  Issul embraced him, then turned away, one hand to her cheek. She climbed onto her horse; Shenwolf and Phisusandra mounted theirs. Issul raised her face to the rain and cast her eyes once more around the yard, to the walls, the roofs and towers beyond, and back to Pader Luminis once more. Then she signalled to the leading knight, who raised his hand and urged his steed forward. Slowly the entire company filed out of the barracks' yard and on towards the palace's main gate.

  *

  From a narrow window on the third level of one of the palace's myriad marbled towers a pair of cold grey eyes watched unseen as the cavalcade departed. The Spectre's thin lips twisted into an expression that could have been part-smile, part-sneer, or anything in-between. He looked down into the yard and watched Pader Luminis re-enter the Palace with his armed escort. Then he looked to the heavy grey skies, his eyes reflecting their hue and their anger, and slowly nodded to himself.

  SIX

  I

  The winds and rain that battered Enchantment's Reach on the fateful morning that Queen Issul and her company rode out towards far Enchantment, had also driven southwards during the night. They had raged across the forest-clad lowlands, to descend with barely diminished ferocity upon the heads of the soldiers of the mighty Karai army which plied its way with grim and determined purpose towards the capital.

  The night had barely passed; the camp was rousing itself in preparation for the next leg of the journey. Prince Anzejarl stood in the centre of his field pavilion, listening as the rain drummed in wind-driven blasts upon the canvas over his head, the sides of the tent shuddering and billowing with the sudden gusts. In one hand he clutched a tight fistful of bruised ghinz leaves. From time to time he tore free three or four leaves, spat out the bright green residue of what remained in his mouth, and thrust the fresh leaves between his teeth. He chewed and drained their bitter sap, inhaling deeply, his gem-like eyes, searing cobalt blue with slit-pupils of fevered jade, half-closed as he let the narcotic numb him and bring order to his thoughts.

  Olmana was before him, instructing a Karai maid who packed her belongings in preparation for the day's continued march northwards. Olmana turned and faced the Karai prince. She was clad in a long ermine robe, with nothing beneath. The clasps that held the robe were unfastened, so it fell partially open, revealing her fine pale body, the full inner curves of her breasts, the inside of one long slender thigh, and the near-perfect triangle of flaming red hair at the base of her smooth belly. Her weight was on one leg, her thighs slightly parted, one knee swaying loosely back and forth. Though they had loved many times, passionately and even violently during the night, Anzejarl felt his blood stir again at the sight of her standing so brazen before him.

  Olmana's red lips parted in a knowing half-smile, and her eyes half-mocked him. She dismissed the maid with a flick of her hand, then moved close to Anzejarl and caressed his cheek. 'Ah, Prince of the Karai, my brave and handsome Champion, how is it that I can so easily read the thoughts that pass through your mind?'

  Anzejarl bent his head to kiss her. Their lips touched, just lightly, then Olmana pulled back. 'The greatest prize, Anzejarl. Before you now.'

  Anzejarl's eyes were almost aglow. At this moment he had no thoughts of Enchantment's Reach. One arm encircled Olmana's waist and he pulled her against him. She laughed, leaning back, and drew aside the soft ermine, wholly exposing one naked breast. Anzejarl emitted a grunt of approval. His head came down, his lips brushing against the smooth white flesh then closing upon her nipple. She bent her knees and let him lower her onto the cushions beneath her.

  'What are you, Olmana?' Anzejarl hissed between breathless kisses, his lips upon her neck, her shoulder, her mouth. 'That you can bewitch me so. What are you?'

  Olmana wriggled backwards and drew her legs up, parting her thighs wide. Anzejarl caught his breath, his eyes feasting. Had he been capable of analyzing the smile that curled her lips and the fire that burned in her eyes at that moment, he might have wondered about the nature of the thoughts that passed through her mind, for they did not entirely match his. But he hardly noted her smile. And to herself she thought: That is something you will never know, Karai Prince!

  'You ask too many questions,' she whispered, and reached down, her fingers tugging free his loincloth and curling around his hardness. She eased her hips upwards and guided him into her. She gasped, arching her back in pleasure as Anzejarl slid forward. Her fingers dug into his back; she pressed her heels into his buttocks and drew him deeper. 'Just remember. . ohh, yesss. . . the greatest. . . prize.'

  *

  When their passion was spent Anzejarl lay still in thought.

  The Greatest Prize. With Enchantment's Reach his he would have forged the greatest Karai empire known in more than twenty centuries. And in so short a time. Yet it was not enough. Not anymore. Not since Olmana had come, bringing him her strange and potent gift, her Awakening, as she called it. She had roused him from the torpor that beset the Karai and kept them uncomplaining within the borders of their homelands on the vast ocean's edge in the southwest. She had launched him and his army upon this great and bloody campaign. And she had lit within him fires that might never be doused, so he was beginning to suspect. Olmana had made him powerful and strong; and she had made him want, she had made him need.

  Here was the key. Within himself he had discovered something which as a Karai he had never truly known before.

  Need.

  But need for what?

  At Olmana's bidding he had roused his people and set forth on a campaign of conquest. With Enchantment's creatures within his ranks he had overrun the Southern Mondane kingdoms. Now the most difficult challenge, King Leth's domain awaited him. Difficult, yes, but it could not withstand him.

  So close!

  And then? The Northern Mondanes? Anzejarl closed his eyes. Would anything ever be enough?

  The satisfaction of victory had begun to pale. Anzejarl's newly awakened mind craved new stimuli, new kinds of excitements. His lust for Olmana grew with every day, yet he was sated only briefly, then the need was upon him again. He took men, women, children who had been foolish enough to remain behind in the villages through which the Karai passed. He played with them; he burned and mutilated them, hung them slowly or impaled them on sharpened stakes, yet their writhing agonies hardly gave him satisfaction now. Everything, everything had begun to pale.

  Within him, a void, and this restless unease, this tyrannical desire that could not be fulfilled, that only the ghinz or some other intensity of pleasure could hold at bay. Olmana had told him that what he sensed was that part of him that yet remained to be Awakened, that soon he would no longer need the ghinz. He had gained so much, yet he knew such doubt, so many questions, a dark and teeming jungle of emotions, such untamed wanting. As a Karai this was something he could not fathom.

  He wondered, as he had wondered so often before, about Olmana. What was she? No ordinary woman, he had
known that from the beginning. A creature of the mysterious. She controlled him utterly, and though he could not resist her, did not even wish to, he resented that. Yet she was giving him everything. She had no interest in the lands he conquered, the peoples he subdued. Her single goal was a mysterious child, she had confessed that much, but without elaboration. She sensed the child was close now. What she would do when she found it - if she found it - Anzejarl could not guess. He sensed that his role would be complete. Would she cast him from her? Could he bear it if she did? Emperor of the Karai, the mightiest warrior, a legend. Would it have meaning without her?

  Olmana!

  In his dreams Anzejarl had envisaged her transformed into some other creature, something dreadful and repulsive. Did his dreams tell him something? He knew that in his sleep she performed esoteric rites of some unknown form. She said she was renewing the Gift, the Awakening, bestowing upon him the power to continue to command the trolls and slooths which were so vital to his army's success. And in the mornings he felt strong. Yet he wondered what it was that she could do only when he was unconscious. He wondered--

  Anzejarl stopped. In truth, what point in wondering? Olmana had him in her palm. He could never resist her, and he could know only what she chose to reveal.

  He sat up suddenly and reached for the ghinz. Olmana watched him and her fingers traced a slow, sensual pattern over is back. 'The greatest prize, my Prince,' she whispered again. 'It lies just before you.'

  Anzejarl felt a burning anger rise. He stood, a fire in his eyes. 'Aye.'

  'Just an arm's reach away. And the Child will be there.'

  'Do you know this?'

  'I know that in whatever land the Child resides, its presence will be known. So go now, Anzejarl. Take Enchantment's Reach for me, for you. Slay Leth and all his kin.'

  Anzejarl nodded fiercely as the wind and rain buffeted his tent. At a word from her he knew the passion again, the insuperable lust for battle, for the lives of those who opposed him; the warrior's charged, irrepressible impulse toward victory and glory. 'Aye, I am here now, Leth. I am upon you. For the glory of Karai, you are mine at last. I will obliterate you and all who follow you.'

  And then? he thought to himself.

  And then. . . ?

  II

  Prior to and immediately following Queen Issul's departure from Enchantment's Reach, Lord Fectur applied intense concentration to the manner in which he would proceed once she was gone. His fury at having been so simply and almost effortlessly fooled by Issul, particularly before so many important personages in the Emergency Assembly, had impelled him to immediate and vengeful action. With the Assembly dissolved he had quickly descended to the warren of grim passages, cells and lightless chambers that comprised the dungeons of the Ministry of Realm Security, and there exacted terrible punishment upon a trio of prisoners hauled randomly before him. Even then, with their corpses spread in bloody ruin at his feet, he found himself barely relieved.

  His dudgeon was only moderately tempered by the knowledge that, even with Issul gone, he must now act with a certain degree of prudence. Not that he was not by nature a prudent man. He was. That is, he planned meticulously, was methodical in application, allowed for every conceivable contingency, and made sure at all times that his tracks were covered. He was never given to impulse or caprice. But the situation now was prickly and volatile in ways it had not previously been. He had been caught unawares; things were escalating at such a breakneck pace.

  Too many uncertainties; too many unknowns. The situation had no precedent. Fectur told himself again that this was a time for cool deliberation and careful, considered decision-making, yet his rage festered. He thought back, recalling that it was he who had taught Issul so much of what she knew. That she should use it now against him! Her ingratitude was amazing. Under different circumstances he would have been proud of her.

  Not least on Fectur's mind was the spine-stiffening shock of discovering himself so ill-informed in so many areas. Something of incalculable importance was afoot, and he had somehow been kept almost entirely in the dark. How was this possible? And how now to take best advantage of her absence? She would no doubt have made careful plans herself.

  He sat and brooded, and carefully took stock.

  Firstly he considered Issul's journey. Where might she be going and what knowledge did she possess that could send her forth at a time like this? He could hardly doubt that it had something to do with her recent absence, but did she really believe she had an answer to the Karai threat?

  What of her announcement that one of the Highest Ones, the gods of Enchantment or whatever they were, had joined forces with the Karai? Her words and attitude echoed King Leth's, when he had implied extraordinary knowledge of Enchantment. This chafed deeply, like grains of dust rubbed upon a lidless eye. How could she know such things, if Fectur himself had no such confirmation? True, his own intelligence-gathering sources had disclosed that the Karai had creatures of Enchantment in their ranks, and he had since come virtually to accept that the Karai must enjoy the patronage of one of those most powerful beings, a so-called god. But both Leth, and now Issul, had spoken with total conviction, as if with uncommon knowledge - knowledge which he, Fectur, was mortifyingly not party to.

  Could the young Queen be bluffing?

  Somehow, he felt not. For to bluff over an issue such as this. . . what end would it serve her? She would return to Enchantment's Reach if she could; Fectur knew her too well to question that. And if she did, she would have to bring with her the proof of her assertions. So, definitely, she knew something. Definitely she believed the words she had spoken in the Hall of Wise Counsel.

  And Leth! Here chafed another mystery. Fectur broiled at the memory. How could the King and his sickeningly delightful brats have vanished? Where could they be? And of equal importance, for how long could their absence be expected to remain a secret? The men of the Security Cadre who had discovered their disappearance and subsequently searched the King's apartments were well-apprised as to the consequences of loose talk, and Fectur knew that nothing would leak from that source, but even so . . . it could be only a matter of time before questions were asked.

  Fectur had read Issul with an expert eye, and was sure she knew nothing of Leth's whereabouts. At least, he was sure she had known nothing when she had returned to Enchantment's Reach two days ago. Since then her manner and demeanour had undergone a subtle change.

  What could she have learned?

  And how?

  That meddling magician Pader Luminis held at least one key, Fectur more than suspected. The Murinean conjuror had spent a lifetime worming his way into the royal family's favour, but this latest outrage..! It galled Fectur to admit it, but it had come as a complete surprise. He had never suspected Pader Luminis of harbouring political ambition.

  Fectur's mind sped back to the late afternoon of Issul's return. He had come upon the two of them, Queen and conjuror, in breathless exchange in Leth's private study. He had caught only a few hushed and hurried words:-

  The Queen: '. . .no one must know of this.'

  Pader Luminis: 'I swore as much to Leth. He bade me warn you, or whomsoever I passed it on to: its existence must always remain a secret.'

  Issul had glanced around then, and caught sight of Fectur at the door. Fectur cursed silently now. Ordinarily, had he not wished, it his presence would never have been detected. But so distracted had he been, so thrown by events - Leth's disappearance, Issul's sudden, unexpected return and the removal of Grey Venger from his dungeon cell - that he had all but announced himself to them. In doing so he had forfeited privity of their secret.

  The Queen had been clutching something. Something precious bundled in her shawl. The way she held it to herself, her edginess, the shock on her face, had spoken volumes. And this something could only be linked to the journey she had now undertaken. He had not failed to note, as she rode away in the wet, early morn, the small wooden chest which she had personally affixed with such care to
the saddle of her horse, then covered with a water-resistant shroud.

  Fectur drew back his lips in a grimace of bestial malevolence. He lived and grew mighty through information. The Spectre's eyes penetrated all corners, all nooks and niches. That there existed now a shadowed secret that he had not pierced was intolerable to him. To this end he had dispatched Commander Gordallith, one of his most highly regarded and senior security officers, in the Queen's wake. Gordallith had with him a small band of skilled men, highly trained, black-hearted members of The Spectre's security cadre. They were ruthless fighters, accomplished spies, deft, silent thieves and deadly assassins. And their first loyalty, like Gordallith's, was to the Spectre, not the King or Queen.

  Gordallith's orders were complex but specific, and covered a variety of contingencies. Broadly, he was to put himself or at least one of his agents in close proximity to the Queen or those in whom she confided. By such means he was to determine her destination and whether she genuinely held a secret that might save Enchantment's Reach. If, in his judgement, she did, Gordallith was to make it his absolute priority to find out what it was. The mysterious chest upon her saddle was, of course, to be investigated as a priority.

  Gordallith was then to apply himself to the question of whether the Queen was the only person capable of achieving her stated objective. That is to say, might some other person, armed with the relevant knowledge and equipment which Issul currently - and presumably solely - held, be as effective as she in this extraordinary and urgent business?