Prince of the Godborn (Seven Citadels)

by Geraldine Harris

  “I'm sorry that I hurt you,” he said stiffly, “but I had no choice. You would have thrown your life away.”

  “I only wanted to...”

  “I've heard too much about what you want since we came aboard this ship!” exclaimed Forollkin. `I can't stop you in public but, by Zeldin, you deserve thrashing as a spoilt child. You grab at everything that takes your fancy with no thought for others. Try to act like a true Prince and don't get in the way of those whose job it is to protect you.”

  “But I can't bear to be a burden. I want to protect myself! Teach me to handle a sword.”

  “You know it's forbidden. You'd never have been allowed to use a whip if the laws were strictly kept. Fighting is my task,” declared Forollkin, lying back on the bed. “Yours is to persuade these sorcerers to give up their keys. Nothing more.”

  “No,” cried Kerish angrily. “I will not be helpless. If you won't give me what I want I'll find someone who will.”

  “That's what a child cries when its toys are taken away,” said Forollkin brutally. “Now go on deck and reward your loyal servants.”

  * * *

  For the rest of the voyage Forollkin was forced to keep to his cabin. Kerish was notably subdued. Engis seemed to have guessed something of what he must be feeling and spoke gently to him on the morning they sighted Ellerinonn.

  “We can send back our escort, your Highness. We are safe now. No ship of Fangmere dares come as close as this to the shores of Ellerinonn.”

  The Zeloka anchored in a sheltered harbour, beneath a cliff that hid the Enchanter King's city from view. There were no buildings visible from the harbour at all, only a wide stair cut in the rock. There were no other ships moored and no people but baskets of fruit and flowers were standing on the quay. On deck, twelve men in burnished mail waited to escort the Prince to the Enchanter's palace.

  Forollkin's leg was not healing well. He had no choice but to let Kerish go alone but he lectured his half-brother on how to behave to the king.

  “Remember, he owes no allegiance to the Emperor, so don't try to command him. I just hope he does know something about this key. After all, he can't really be immortal. I suppose the power to rule Ellerinonn must have been handed down from generation to generation.”

  “That's not what the High Priest said.”

  “I expect it was just his manner of talking,” muttered Forollkin uncomfortably. “Your fillet's crooked again.”

  Kerish leaned submissively over the bed for Forollkin to straighten it. The young captain surveyed his half-brother's glittering robe, jewelled sandals and great collar of gold and irivanee, shaped like a zeloka in flight. He nodded approvingly.

  Kerish-lo-Taan went back on deck to wait for the return of the herald he had sent to King Elmandis. When the herald came, he was alone and the expression on the man's face told Engis that something was wrong. The herald knelt at the Prince's feet and stuttered, “H...Highness, I delivered your message to the King by the hand of his chamberlain, but he sends back this answer... “

  “Go on,” said Kerish coldly.

  The man looked down at the deck. “Highness, the King says that he receives no embassies from any country. Only those in need of healing may approach the Enchanter King. Highness, he will not see you!”

  There was a long silence. Even the men of the escort stared at their Prince, curious to see how he would react. Then Kerish said quietly, “Thank you for undertaking the errand. Captain, dismiss your men.”

  Returning to his cabin, Kerish stood for a moment with closed eyes, his hands clutching the Jewel of Zeldin. Then he stripped off his collar and fillet and glittering tunic and kicked away his sandals. He returned to the deck in his plain white under-robe. Ignoring the whispers of the crew, he spoke to the startled captain, “I shall go ashore now. I will try to be back by nightfall but do not take alarm or allow Lord Forollkin to do so.”

  Engis smiled at his Prince for the first time. “I will not, your Highness, but at least let me come with you...”

  “No, but I thank you captain. If I lose my way, I have only to ask.”

  `And ask you will', Kerish told himself through gritted teeth as he reached the top of the cliff. The city was still not in sight, only a seemingly endless orchard. It was a landscape of lush grass, shadowed by stately trees laden with ripe fruit. The sounds of distant music and hushed laughter reached Kerish as he followed the single marble-paved path. He stopped several times to stare at marvellous statues of men and beasts that stood under the trees. He glimpsed a few of the inhabitants of Ellerinonn but they took little notice of him. They were tall, copper-skinned and fair-haired. Both men and women were dressed in long white cloths that curved round the body and fell in graceful folds from shoulder to ankle with bright embroidery about the hem. They moved slowly and reflectively and smiled at him but did not speak.

  After a while a child ran up and offered him a bracelet woven from flowers. It seemed impossible that peaceful Ellerinonn and cruel Fangmere could exist in the same world. Indeed, the land of the Enchanter King did not seem part of the flawed world Kerish knew. It was as if a great invisible wall had been set up to keep out the reality of Zindar and leave Ellerinonn perfect.

  Half an hour's quiet walk brought Kerish to the edge of Tir-Rinnon but it was not the magnificent walled citadel that he had imagined. A pillared mansion of white stone was surrounded by small, elegant houses set in spacious gardens. Here and there were pools and fountains and paved squares where people seemed to congregate, but there was no city gate or guard.

  Kerish walked unchallenged into the heart of Tir-Rinnon until an old man seemed to take pity on him and spoke in fluent Zindaric, “Stranger, whom do you seek?”

  “The Enchanter King,” replied Kerish. “I would be grateful if you could tell me where to find him.”

  “Elmandis is in the Place of Fountains.” He pointed out the way. “But you must know him when you find him.”

  Kerish thanked the man and followed the path he had indicated through an avenue of pleached trees. He kept his right hand clenched around the Jewel of Zeldin and tried to envisage the Enchanter King. Kerish imagined that he would be a wise old man with a look of Izeldon about him.

  Within a circle of glossy trees hung with scented blossoms, five fountains played, their sparkling waters leaping from the maws of silver fishes. On the grass beside the fountains and on marble benches, a group of men and women were sitting. Some were in grave conversation, some reading and others listening to the music of a lyre. As they noticed the stranger, music and conversation faltered and they turned calm faces towards him.

  Abashed, Kerish glanced quickly at all of them. There were several old men but none of them had the manner of a King and no-one wore any obvious token of leadership. The Prince was about to swallow his pride and ask for guidance when he noticed a man sitting apart in the shadows, a man who seemed neither very old nor very young. Like all the others, he was tall and copper-skinned with hair so fair it was almost white. He was simply dressed, yet Kerish sensed that he was set apart by more than distance. Alone of all the people Kerish had seen in Ellerinonn this man's face lacked serenity.

  Ignoring the others, Kerish-lo-Taan walked across the Place of Fountains and knelt at the man's feet.

  “Great King, wise Elmandis, I beg your help and healing for myself and for another.”

  King Elmandis looked for a long time into Kerish's face and then said softly, “It is our law that the supplicant must be received and the sick healed. Who is this other?”

  “Lord King, it is my brother. He is wounded in the leg and it is painful and slow to heal.”

  “Slow, yes, but that is Time's way. Can I outrun him?”

  “Yes, for I think you are Time's master,” answered Kerish.

  He saw a strange expression pass across Elmandis' face that seemed to disturb all those sitting close to him.

  “You are right. Time crouches at my heel like a whipped dog and loves me as little. Tell me, wh
y should I heal your brother?” asked Elmandis coldly. “The world is full of suffering, why should his be eased?”

  Kerish thought for a moment and then said carefully, “Because it hurts Forollkin so much to be idle. He cannot be at ease with his thoughts, only with his actions. Because he fears for me when I am without his protection and because without his strength a quest that might save Golden Galkis will fail.”

  “Ah.”

  For a moment the King was silent, then he placed the tips of his fingers on Kerish's forehead and murmured, “So you have come at last. I feared that was your errand, Prince Kerish-lo-Taan. Oh yes, I know you, the face of the Godborn is unmistakable. It is fortunate for you that you came as a supplicant. You have trapped me in my own law or I would give you a death that would make the torturers of Fangmere retch.”

  Only Kerish heard his words, but the men and women close by sensed the hatred in his voice and looked at Elmandis as if he and not Kerish were the stranger.

  “Lord King,” whispered Kerish, “I don't understand.”

  “Child,” said Elmandis, “you bring me my death and the end of Ellerinonn.”

  The King rose to his feet and spoke more calmly, “Friends, on the ship that anchors in our harbour there are wounded men. If you are moved to pity, go and give them what healing you can, but bring the Prince's brother to Tir-Rinnon.”

  A dozen men and women got up and walked towards the harbour.

  “You knew about our encounter with the Men of Fangmere?” asked Kerish.

  “There is little that takes place in the Sea of Az that I do not know of,” answered Elmandis calmly. “But you spoke of healing for yourself. Walk with me and we will talk. You need not look so wary, Prince. Hate you or not, I have promised to help you.”

  The King of Ellerinonn and the Prince of Galkis walked back together down the avenue. Kerish caught at the lowest branches and traced the shape of the large amber leaves. Elmandis did not hurry him and gradually the Prince began to talk.

  “Our High Priest promised that Zeldin and Imarko would protect us and I believed him. I scorned soldiers and ships of war. I sent the triremes away. I thought it was a test of my faith, but because I believed in Zeldin's protection, Forollkin is wounded and men have died.”

  “You are unscathed, Prince,”said Elmandis coolly. “The mistakes of those who are protected are often paid for in the blood of those they love. It is a hard thing to bear and rightly so. However, I think that you have mistaken pride for faith, as so many do.”

  “I did not mean to be proud.”

  Elmandis almost smiled.

  “Don't glower at me like a storm cloud, Prince. I won't run for shelter. Pride does not require an act of will, though humility does. You have been rash to think that Zeldin must work miracles for your sake. When the Brigands of Fangmere attacked your ship, what did you expect? A hand to plunge down from the sky and hurl your enemies beyond the furthest star? One man in a fishing boat was enough to save you.

  Zindar is governed by natural laws. The rocks, the plants, the seas, the animals, the humans of our world, interlock and are one. If Zeldin, who is beyond this world, uses his power to destroy a single man or beast or rock or flower, it will in time affect the history of all men and all things. Therefore he uses one link in the chain of life to protect another. So do not always look for wonders and do not always crave the help of Zeldin. Your captain may believe in his god, but he does not leave Zeldin to sail his ship. The hero does not refuse to lift his sword against the monster because he knows his god is the enemy of evil. Would you want to live in a world where everything was accomplished for you by a higher power? A world in which you would never have the chance to use your own wisdom or courage?”

  Kerish snapped off a handful of twigs.

  “The High Priest told me to listen to your counsel and I will.”

  “However unwillingly?”

  Now Kerish smiled. “Yes, Lord King, however unwillingly. Sir, you speak of Zeldin as one who knows his mysteries...”

  “Knows him, yes, but I will not love him,” said Elmandis with quiet vehemence. “If we are truly free to reject his love then I mean to do so. I have taught my people to live without a god and to glory in their humanity. No power of Zeldin could now break down the defences of Ellerinonn and compel my people to worship, but he is cunning and wounds me with his trust.”

  “Lord King, I have come to ask your help for Galkis, not to harm Ellerinonn.”

  “Can you walk through a field, Prince, without harming some form of life?” asked Elmandis. “No. You, Kerish-lo-Taan, will destroy everything in your path. But come, your brother has already been brought to the Chamber of Healing. We will not leave him in pain any longer.”

  * * *

  Forollkin lay on a couch staring up at a painted ceiling. He refused to be calmed by the gentle colours of the room or the soft cushions beneath his head and plucked restively at the garland a smiling child had hung about his neck.

  “I am sorry if peaceful Tir-Rinnon is not to a soldier's liking,” said a soft voice.

  Forollkin jumped. Elmandis and Kerish had come in quietly through a curtained archway.

  “Kerish! Your clothes, your jewels. What have you...”

  “Your Majesty,” Kerish broke in quickly, “may I present my half-brother, the Lord Forollkin?”

  Startled, Forollkin looked for the first time at the tall man with eyes the colour of the wind-bowed grasses of the northern plains. He tried to get up but Elmandis pushed him back with strong hands.

  “Lie still. Your brother is concerned about your wound and has asked me to heal you.”

  “Your Majesty is generous but truly there is no need. I've no wish to trouble you, and the wound...”

  “You need not be afraid,” said Elmandis dryly. “I am no petty swamp sorcerer conjuring with crawling serpents and rotting leaves gathered beneath a sickly moon. But perhaps you do not believe that any man has power enough to heal instantly?”

  “No. I mean I don't know, your Majesty.”

  “Well, you shall learn. Let me see the wound.”

  He swiftly undid the bandage as Kerish looked on anxiously. The wound was crusted with blood where Forollkin's restless movements had re-opened it. Elmandis touched the place very lightly and closed his eyes for a moment.

  “There is no poison here,” he said. “The hands of a Healer have already soothed the wound.”

  “Kerish tended it for me,” murmured Forollkin.

  Elmandis seized the Prince's hands and studied them. “Yes, a Healer's hands. I cannot hate you as I should. Kerish, fetch me the two chalices standing on the table there.”

  Kerish brought them and Elmandis took a chalice of pale shining cirge patterned with the dark Flowers of Sleep. He held it to Forollkin's lips. “Drink!”

  Reluctantly Forollkin took a sip.

  “What is it?” he whispered.

  “In the secret forest of Everlorn, in a hidden valley where no men have ever trod, grow the Shendaaso, the Flowers of Sleep. They thrive on dreams. I have given you their petals, crushed with melted snow from the Ultimate Mountains. Drink and sleep.”

  Forollkin drank and Elmandis' face, the painted ceiling and the figure of Kerish dissolved into a swirl of colour. At the centre was something dark and huge, something that grew like a vast purple-black flower, folding back its petals. In the middle of the pulsing darkness, a speck of light increased until it seemed a gaping hole in the firmament. The world tilted and Forollkin fell down and down into an endless well of light.

  Elmandis put down the first chalice and took up the second. “Prince, you may not watch any further. Walk wherever you wish in Tir-Rinnon and return in three hours. Your brother is safe in the cradle of sleep, I promise you.”

  As Kerish went out, he glimpsed Elmandis leaning over Forollkin with an expression on his face of intense concentration or, perhaps, of pain.

  Kerish wandered disconsolately around the palace garden till he was approached by
a man whose face he remembered from the Place of Fountains.

  “I am Soreas,” he announced. “If you haven't eaten, Kerish, I should be honoured to welcome you into my house to share our meal.”

  The Prince stared at him, astonished at such familiarity. Mistaking the cause of his hesitation, Soreas said warmly, “Truly it will be no trouble. Do come. We so rarely see strangers in Tir-Rinnon.”

  Kerish remembered his manners and his hunger. “Thank you, Soreas. I shall be honoured to come.”

  The Ellerinionn led Kerish to a white house on the edge of the city, built around a small but beautiful garden. A shady colonnade ran round the inside of the house and cushions had been set there and a low table laid for a meal. First, however, Soreas showed his guest the whole house and especially a ceiling that he had just finished painting. The design was a circle of leaping fish and grotesque sea monsters around a tree of coral. Kerish exclaimed in delight at the vibrant colours and lively creatures. He asked how long it had taken to complete.