A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1)

by Freda Warrington

  The black loneliness of his existence was growing beyond endurance. Wandering in a Northern country of Tearn, West Sel-Hadra, he found his way to a tavern in a small village and sat, sardonically heedless of the fearful stares of the folk there, drinking alone in a corner.

  At length a woman came through the tavern door. She looked around, saw Ashurek and stared intensely at him for several seconds. Then she retreated through the door and was gone as swiftly as she had arrived.

  Ashurek’s mood changed like lightning. It was as if part of his consciousness turned outwards instead of inwards. After a minute he rose and left the tavern also.

  For he thought he had seen Miril in human form.

  Outside in the cold misty night, there was no sign of her. His mood reverted and he trudged across the thin village road and into the trees beyond, sighing bitterly as he went. All was darkness, escapeless and full of malicious laughter. He left the trees and found himself climbing the stony slope of a hill. Fog confronted him like a solid wall, lit eerily from within, and his hand went to his sword hilt. Something was moving towards him through the mist. He waited to see what would emerge; and out of the vapour came the woman he had seen at the tavern.

  She was small and slender, dressed in white, her eyes, skin and luxuriant hair different shades of deep gold. She was beautiful, exquisite; but there was pain or extreme weariness in her face. Her eyes were wide with fear or intense concentration. She walked straight past Ashurek as though she had not seen him.

  Behind her, enmeshed in the trails of light that drifted from her half-raised arms, stumbled a great, malformed beast of the Serpent. As it came out of the fog, the vapour dispersed.

  Ashurek drew his sword and followed. Yet the creature did not attack her, and she was not running away from it. Rather she held it in thrall somehow and was leading it purposefully down the hillside. She glanced round as if to satisfy herself that the fog was gone; then she stretched out stiff arms, as if resisting a massive weight. She cried three words and a hole rent the earth in front of her. It was still widening as she made a desperate leap across it. Behind her the Serpent-beast tumbled into the blackness, uttering a frustrated shriek as the fissure slammed shut above its head.

  The woman sagged with relief and her light faded. Now Ashurek could barely see her. He went to her side before she disappeared again.

  ‘I can’t believe what I have just seen,’ he said. ‘How–?’

  ‘I’m glad you were there,’ she said, breathless. ‘I would have needed your sword, had my sorcery failed.’

  Ashurek was mystified and skeptical. ‘You claim to be a sorceress?’

  ‘I don’t claim to be one,’ she answered with a faint smile in her voice. ‘I know what you think. There is no sorcery on this Earth, no power but that of the Serpent and its Shana; no magic that can be learned or drawn upon. Nevertheless, I am a sorceress. My name is Silvren, of Athrainy in the north.’

  ‘I am Ashurek of Gorethria,’ he responded.

  ‘Prince Ashurek; yes I know,’ she said faintly, drawing back from him.

  ‘You recognised me in the tavern,’ he stated with some bitterness.

  ‘Yes, but – I was not afraid of you. I meant to speak to you but – it was a shock. I was afraid of the Stone around your neck.’

  Ashurek felt cold astonishment flood him. ‘No one knows about that,’ he whispered.

  ‘I told you, I am a sorceress. I can see it and I know what it is and what it has forced you to do.’

  ‘Then you were right to run from me. And I should not have followed you.’

  ‘Oh, but I am glad you did!’ Silvren answered with light in her eyes. ‘Are you not someone who knows how it feels to carry a burden of appalling power? You and I have much to talk about, and I am cold.’

  He followed her without argument back to the tavern where the landlord showed them to a small, lamp-lit room. ‘The creature that was following you,’ Ashurek began as he seated himself on a bench, ‘do you know what it was – why it was there?’ He half-feared that the beast had been searching for him and found her instead. Her reply, as with almost everything she said, was unexpected.

  ‘When I left the tavern,’ she said, sitting cross-legged on the floor, ‘I walked, trying to decide what I should do. The beast concealed itself in a mist and attacked me on the hillside, so I mastered it with sorcery. There was no danger, really; well, not much. Many such creatures have been sent after me.’

  ‘Why? You have not been foolish enough to summon a demon?’

  ‘No, not I! Someone else summoned it–’ a wince of pain or regret crossed her face ‘– and sent it after me. Diheg-El is its accursed name.’

  ‘They pursue you because of your sorcerous powers?’ Ashurek asked, leaning forward.

  ‘Yes, but also because I have turned my magic against them. It is a long story. I cannot explain my powers, I was born with them – I certainly did not want them! Somehow I was born out of my place and time. To the best of my knowledge, I am the only being on Earth or the three Planes with these powers. I knew they could be dangerous, so I have travelled and learned to use them properly. And I learned much else besides… have you not noticed how the world seems to be stagnating, growing ever darker and crueller?’

  ‘Aye,’ he laughed bitterly. ‘All due to me.’

  ‘Not to you. It is because of the Serpent M’gulfn… the hideous Worm that is no myth, but a physical vessel of evil. It is the channel by which the Shana can maintain contact with the world; it is the force that shapes cruel empires like Gorethria’s. It emanates an aura that creeps round the world like a choking poison, and it has many underlings to do its work and protect it. Its wormish body inhabits the North Pole, and once in a thousand years it might fly south to feed on flesh. But they say it also inhabits a human body, as protection against death – can you imagine locating that one human amongst the millions on Earth? And even if that one human were to be discovered and killed, M’gulfn would not be destroyed, for it inhabits both bodies simultaneously. Its wormish body is said to be impossible to destroy. But I am determined that it must be killed.’

  ‘As you say, that would be impossible,’ Ashurek exclaimed, amazed and fascinated by this strange Tearnian woman.

  ‘Probably… but I must try, for it is now mustering its forces to dominate the world totally and forever. This world has a bright and vigorous future with sorcery, not the sick power of the Serpent, holding sway – if only the thing can be destroyed. If not, the Earth has no future at all.’ She gazed clearly into his eyes, and he knew she spoke absolute truth. ‘I am the only one that knows this – unless Eldor knows. Not that I haven't tried telling others – people I thought I could trust – but they laughed, and called me deranged.’

  ‘Not I,’ he said. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I believe that on the Blue Plane they know a way that the Serpent might be killed. It is knowledge that can never come to Earth, lest M’gulfn find out. But every time I have neared an Entrance Point, the Shana have prevented me from entering. So that would seem to prove me right.’

  When he did not at first reply, she said, ‘Ashurek? Do you believe me?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he answered. ‘I know that the Shana and Serpent are evil. And Gorethria is not the glorious entity I once thought it, but a ghoulish puppet of M’gulfn…’ She looked at him enquiringly, and he found himself telling her his own story.

  ‘I have exchanged no more than a few words with anyone for years,’ he concluded. ‘I don’t know why I trust you – except that your sorcery, although not evil, seems as much a burden as the wretched Egg-Stone.’

  ‘You must get rid of that Stone,’ Silvren said, her golden eyes still fixed on his. ‘It’s no good fighting just that and Meheg-Ba. The evil needs to be tom out at the roots – the Worm itself! Listen. I have strength to resist the Shana – but I am growing so tired, I know I cannot hold out much longer. I need to reach H’tebhmella. I need help – and so do you.’

  Ashurek sat back,
looking away from her.

  ‘I cannot help you, Silvren. I can’t dispose of the Stone, any more than I can tear my own heart out. You must see how dangerous that makes me to you. I would betray you eventually. I murdered my own sister…’

  ‘But that is not the whole story! You are fighting the Shana already. If we separate, we are both lost. But together, we might find hope.’

  Hope! Miril’s eyes, burning into his. ‘As soon as I am gone, you will begin to seek me…’

  ‘Silvren, I don’t think you understand what I have just said to you,’ he persisted bitterly. ‘I am no fit company for you – I have become vengeful, bloodthirsty. I may destroy you.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand,’ the sorceress said softly. ‘I don’t care. The truth is – I cannot stand to be alone any longer. I can’t stand it. Can you?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted. And as she reached out to him, and he pulled her into his arms, he found she was trembling. He was already in love with her. And although he felt the fury of the Egg-Stone at this, his soul cried in relief.

  What Silvren had said proved to be true. They were stronger together. Even the Egg-Stone became quiescent as if subdued by his determination never to harm her. And their love for each other in itself made life bearable, worth living and continuing the fight.

  Ashurek had never met anyone like Silvren before; she made even his beloved sister and mother seem dark, snake-like, even sinister in character. She brought light to everything she touched or regarded, and that included his soul. She was basically a joyful person, and even through extremes of danger, weariness or despair her joy would eventually surface, just as an air bubble, besilvered by sunlight, cannot be restrained at the bottom of a dark pool.

  She wove a web of sorcery to conceal them, for a while at least, from the Shana; and for nearly two years they had a time of calm, solitude and love. But in that time, despite all their efforts, they still did not find a way to the Blue Plane. And one day Ashurek, out hunting alone, was captured by a monstrous eagle-creature and carried to a hideous castle. There Gastada, an insane minion of the Serpent, imprisoned and tortured him. Because the power of the Egg-Stone was dormant, it did nothing to help him; but Silvren forced her way into the impenetrable edifice and rescued him with her bright sorcery, nearly expending her life with the effort.

  Gastada was deeply involved with the Shana (and also jealous and resentful of them), and so Diheg-EI and Meheg-Ba found out that the Egg-Stone’s bearer and the hated sorceress were together.

  ‘Why has it taken you so long to find out?’ Meshurek hissed at Meheg-Ba. ‘Why can’t you catch him, with all your wondrous powers?’

  ‘I told you, dear Emperor,’ the Shanin replied with a bland smile, ‘he used the power of the Egg-Stone. Now the unnatural magic of the wretched sorceress protects both of them. But we can plan carefully and overcome this setback, if you have faith.’

  ‘Faith!’ Meshurek shrieked. ‘I had faith in you! Where has it led me? I am the most deeply loathed Emperor Gorethria has ever had! The Empire is crumbling – my Tearnian conquests lost! And you cannot even catch my own damned brother!’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ Meheg-Ba said, staring at Meshurek with its dreadful argent eyes until he shrank back in fear, ‘you have no choice but to continue to help me. Think; we have a two-pronged weapon against him now.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There is the sorceress. He loves her more than ever he loved even Orkesh. And there is you. Contrary to what you believe, he has always held you in deep affection. With this in mind, I have a simple plan which is bound to work.’

  ‘All right. Tell me. We must do something.’

  ‘Do not fear. We will soon recover the Egg-Stone and find other, more reliable hands to wield it – though, alas, not yours,’ Meheg-Ba said with a mocking grin.

  Meshurek snarled softly to himself, but dared say nothing.

  So it was that Ashurek dreamed that his brother, hunched and pathetic with desperation, appeared before him and implored: ‘My brother – I have never before asked your help. But now I need it. It shames me to admit it… but you were right. The demon is a noose-around my neck… It is destroying me, and Gorethria. I have been a fool, and I am afraid – terrified. Only you in all the world can do anything to save me now. I know I do not deserve your mercy, brother – but please, please help me.’

  Ashurek awoke, shaking and sweating. He roused Silvren and told her the dream. ‘I must go back to Gorethria,’ he said.

  ‘But Meheg-Ba must have sent the dream! It’s a trap,’ Silvren cried, distressed.

  ‘I know it’s a trap. But my brother was not acting. Those words came from his heart, whether he realises it or not,’ Ashurek answered heavily. ‘Silvren, I am as guilty as he. Apart from all my other crimes, I have run away from him, not once but twice. Perhaps if I had stayed, things would have been no different, but I would not take the risk. That makes me a worse fool and coward than Meshurek. Now I must begin to repay; by going back and helping him.’

  ‘You judge yourself too harshly,’ Silvren half-sobbed. ‘I will come with you.’

  She expected him to argue; but he looked at her thoughtfully.

  ‘With your strength and that of the Egg-Stone, if I can control it, we should be more than a match for any demon. Perhaps the trap can be sprung the other way.’

  At this Silvren let out a breath of both relief and fear, and embraced him as though he were going to be tom from her that very moment. She was not afraid for herself, for she was confident of her power; but the thought of Meshurek and Meheg-Ba waiting like twin ghouls, to re-enslave him, wrenched her stomach and made her feel she was choking on ice.

  They took a small sailing ship, manned by a crew of rough Tearnians who asked no questions, and started on their dreary journey. The ocean was unnaturally calm and a too-friendly wind billowed the sail and sped them straight as an arrow to Terthria.

  The voyage was days shorter than it should have been. Looking uneasily at each other, not needing to voice their thoughts, Ashurek and Silvren stepped onto the black ashen shore.

  A cold mist-filled wind caught at their cloaks as they made their way across the rough terrain. Meshurek had been right; the land indeed had an eerie, stark beauty, like a faceted piece of jet whose sloping and interlocking planes shone with hints of fiery colour. To the north, a mountain range reared up like black teeth savaging the sky. Smoke plumed from several of the peaks and the ground vibrated as though some vast creature were slumbering uneasily beneath the crust.

  They had walked northwards for several hours when a party of six Gorethrian horsemen approached and hailed them.

  ‘Prince Ashurek and the Lady Silvren,’ the leader called. ‘The Emperor Meshurek awaits your arrival at his castle. We have been sent to ensure your safe passage across the mountains and into the Emperor’s presence.’

  Ashurek looked from one rider to another, but he recognised none of the men. They all looked similar, expressionless and apathetic; Meheg-Ba’s influence. With a bitter sigh, he took Silvren’s hand and they walked on in the midst of the horsemen.

  Silvren felt tired, disorientated and fearful. She tried to use her sorcerous vision to see the truth of the situation, when and how the trap might be sprung, but each time she glimpsed something the ground shifted beneath her feet and fog clouded her eyes. Her head ached with the strain of trying to see. The horses looked translucent to her; with a gasp she turned to look at Ashurek, but he appeared perfectly substantial.

  ‘I feel cold,’ she said. ‘I can’t see properly.’ He wrapped the edge of his cloak around her and pulled her to his side. It was unlike her to sound so afraid and unsure of herself.

  ‘The easiest route is along the edge of this volcano, Your Highness,’ the leader called. ‘There is no danger, but it will be very hot.’

  Ashurek felt Silvren shudder as the man spoke; his voice sounded unreal, full of sinister echoes. They completed the long climb up the trembling side of the vo
lcano and were led through a cleft in the rock wall. Then they found themselves in the vast, circular crater at the volcano’s peak. Acrid smokes drifted from the depths.

  The men pulled their horses to a halt. Silvren stared at them and rubbed her eyes, but the horsemen had become quite transparent. As she and Ashurek watched, astonished, horses and riders dissolved into mist and were blown away on the wind.

  ‘It’s not at the castle. It’s here,’ Silvren whispered. ‘Ashurek, I’ve lost–’

  She broke off, because Meshurek had appeared as if from nowhere and was standing in front of them. He stooped as though weighed down by his brocade robes, and his eyes flickered ceaselessly to and fro, glittering with a mad light.

  At the sight of him, painful emotions and memories swirled in Ashurek’s mind. His brother was foolish, destructive, evil; but he was also a victim and slave to Meheg-Ba’s cruelty. In one way he despised Meshurek and could never forgive him for the deaths of Ordek, Melkish and Orkesh. But in another he still loved him, felt he would sell his soul to save his brother from this torment.

  ‘Meheg-Ba spoke truth!’ said Meshurek. ‘I did not believe you could be naive enough to respond to such an obvious trick. Yet here you are, my brother, with your lovely sorceress.’ He opened his arms in a mocking gesture of greeting.

  ‘Ready yourself,’ Ashurek whispered to Silvren, and began cautiously to summon the power of the Egg-Stone. Inside the rim of rock on which they stood, a pit of yellow-hot lava swelled and boiled sluggishly. The heat seared their faces and the sulphurous steams were hard to breathe.

  ‘Meshurek,’ he said, trying to keep his voice steady, ‘the trick was obvious indeed. But so was your real need for my help.’

  ‘What?’ Meshurek sniggered uneasily. ‘You are more of an idiot than I thought you. The last thing I have ever needed is your “help”. You are expendable. All we need is the Egg-Stone.’

  ‘You delude yourself. You know the words you spoke in the “dream” were true. Meheg-Ba has not increased your power; in fact you are now so feeble that you can only rule with the Shana’s necromantic help. You are the weakest Emperor Gorethria has ever had.’