The boy stood transfixed at the sight of a woman of extraordinary beauty with a cascade of aquamarine hair. In one breath he was back in the phantasm of ecstasy and terror from which he thought he had woken for good. He began to tremble. Colour came to his cheeks and his mouth half opened. A distant part of him saw Setrel lying injured and knew he should go to his aid. But it did not seem to matter. Revulsion and loathing flooded him and he raised his arms to ward off the spectre of Arlenmia.
‘I’ve come to take you with me, Skord,’ she said, smiling, her voice as warm and reassuring as a mother’s.
‘No,’ he protested weakly. ‘I’m staying here…’
‘I have made mistakes in the past; I have been blind,’ she continued. ‘But that is over now. I hope you can forgive me. I have seen the truth and I understand what I must do. And this is thanks in part to you, most devoted of my messengers; I want to share it with you. I need you to help me, Skord. Come, let me show you the beauty I have found. You will have your reward. Come.’
She held out a pale hand that seemed sculpted from marble. His will was no longer his own. Loathing became inextricably merged with adoration, his mind splintered by visions of gold and blue and green crystal, layer upon layer of pain and beauty. Weeping, overwhelmed, witless, he stumbled past the prostrate form of his forgotten protector and followed Arlenmia.
END
The story continues in Book Two, A BLACKBIRD IN DARKNESS
Read on for an extract of Chapter One: The Quest of the Serpent
Author’s Note
Epic fantasy.
Don’t you love it? The brooding anti-hero, the gentle race forced to fight for survival, the woman of mystery. Warriors, sorcerers, demons, weird dimensions. Horses and swords! The perfect, ultimate, impossible Quest.
It’s hard to believe that it’s over thirty years since, as a schoolgirl, I sat down and wrote the first lines of A Blackbird in Silver. It wasn’t the first novel I’d started by any means, but it was the first one I actually managed to finish. I loved Joy Chant, Michael Moorcock, Tanith Lee, and most of Tolkien – especially the portentous bits, the more high-flown and elvish the better! I was rather averse to dwarves, trolls, stable-boy kings and tweeness in general. Instead I wanted to write something dark, something that really mattered – at least to me.
The idea sprang from asking myself, ‘What is the hardest thing you could possibly be required to do?’ Clue: it’s not killing the Serpent. (You’ll have to read Book Two!) And the Serpent M’gulfn? Growing up against the background of the Cold War, with the imminent threat of nuclear annihilation from bombs or unstable reactors, the image of lands laid waste and the soulessness of it and the impossibility of stopping it… all that fermenting in the murky depths of my young subconscious… that’s where my Serpent came from.
The novel was first published by New English Library in 1986, followed by several sequels, reprinted in the 1990s, and later reissued by Immanion Press. This is the first appearance of the Blackbird Series for Kindle.
When I first began, my Blackbird world had a peculiar, intensely weird and brooding atmosphere that I still feel when I return to it. When I came to re-edit later editions, I did so with a light touch. My style has changed so much that I could have ended up completely rewriting it and then it wouldn’t have been the same book. Little has altered – except that Arlenmia’s put-upon maid now has a name! So, with some considered pruning, the narrative keeps its original flavour and a certain naive charm.
A Blackbird in Silver and A Blackbird in Darkness form a duet telling one complete story. The novel became a two-parter due to my original publisher suggesting I make it a trilogy. However, I didn’t want to write a middle volume of ‘padding’ and so it became a duo. The two books should ideally be read as one. If you would like to read the whole thing in real book form, Immanion Press publishes them as a paperback omnibus edition, A Blackbird in Silver Darkness.
PS. If you have enjoyed this book, PLEASE WRITE A REVIEW!
This novel is also available as an audio book from Audible
And in paperback from Immanion Press
Novels by Freda Warrington
A Taste of Blood Wine
A Dance in Blood Velvet
The Dark Blood of Poppies
The Dark Arts of Blood
Elfland
Midsummer Night
Grail of the Summer Stars
The Court of the Midnight King
Dracula the Undead
The Amber Citadel
The Sapphire Throne
The Obsidian Tower
Dark Cathedral
Pagan Moon
The Rainbow Gate
Sorrow’s Light
A Blackbird in Silver
A Blackbird in Darkness
A Blackbird in Amber
A Blackbird in Twilight
A Blackbird in Silver Darkness (omnibus)
A Blackbird in Amber Twilight (omnibus)
Darker than the Storm
For further information:
www.fredawarrington.com
About the Author
Freda Warrington was born in Leicester, England, and began writing stories as soon as she could hold a pen. The beautiful ancient landscape of Charnwood Forest, Leicestershire, where she grew up, became a major source of inspiration.
She studied at art college and worked in medical illustration and graphic design for a number of years. However, her first love was always fantasy fiction, and in 1986 her first novel A Blackbird in Silver was published. More novels followed, including A Taste of Blood Wine, The Amber Citadel, Dark Cathedral and Dracula the Undead – a sequel to Dracula that won the Dracula Society’s Best Gothic Novel Award in 1997.
So far she has had twenty-one novels published, varying from sword n’ sorcery and epic fantasy to contemporary fantasy, supernatural, and alternative history.
Her recent novel Elfland (Tor US) won the Romantic Times Award for Best Fantasy Novel of 2009. Midsummer Night, the second in the Aetherial Tales series, was listed by the American Library Association among their Top Ten SF/ Fantasy Novels of 2010.
Titan Books are republishing her vampire series – A Taste of Blood Wine, A Dance in Blood Velvet, The Dark Blood of Poppies, and a brand new novel The Dark Arts of Blood (2015) – with gorgeous new covers. The first three were originally published in the 1990s, long before the recent explosion of vampire fiction! (So – no teenagers, no kick-ass super-heroines, no werewolves… but a solid, dark, gothic romance for grown-ups, set in the shadowy, decadent glamour of the 1920s.)
Freda lives in Leicestershire with her husband Mike and her mother, where she also enjoys crafts such as stained glass and beadwork, all things Gothic, yoga, walking, Arabian horses, conventions and travel.
Read on for a sample of A Blackbird in Darkness, and more book information…
A Blackbird in Darkness: Book Two of the Blackbird Series
The Quest continues. In their battle to save the Earth of Three Planes, Estarinel, Medrian and Ashurek must overcome danger, horror and treachery – laced with moments of wonder – until they reach their destination: the frigid Arctic snows, and their ultimate, indestructible foe, the Serpent M’gulfn.
Extract from Chapter One: The Quest of the Serpent
Ashurek walked along the edge of the lake, his head bowed in thought. When he glanced up and saw Calorn and Estarinel seated on the knoll ahead of him, he hesitated. He had no desire for company, and purposed to avoid them. But they had already seen him, and when Calorn waved and called a greeting, he changed his mind. Perhaps it would be better to find some diversion from his haunting thoughts of Silvren; after all, brooding could not help her.
Throughout most of the Quest, he had managed to suppress his grief at her loss. He had once been a prisoner in the Dark Regions himself, and knew intimately the fear, torment and wretchedness that Silvren was undergoing. The Dark Regions were the hellish domain of the Shana, who served M’gulfn. Until now he had accepted tha
t he stood no chance of rescuing her until the Serpent was dead. However, the Lady of H’tebhmella’s appalling disclosure had changed that. She had told them that the Regions did not exist in some vague, distant limbo, but were actually cleaved to the far side of the Blue Plane. Each Plane, being flat, was two-sided, and the Lady had hinted that H’tebhmella’s other side had once been even lovelier than this. But by some ghastly supernatural trick, the demons had contrived to place their own evil kingdom there.
On Hrannekh Ol, Ashurek and his companions had passed from one side to the other through a tunnel in the Plane’s fabric. And although Ashurek knew that H’tebhmella was sealed against the Shana’s power, that no such tunnels could exist here, still he could not rid his mind of the obsessive knowledge that Silvren was there, imprisoned and in agony, just out of his reach…
He climbed up the knoll and seated himself by Estarinel and Calorn, greeting them with the merest sombre nod.
‘Prince Ashurek, I’m glad of the chance to speak with you,’ Calorn said cheerfully. ‘Estarinel and I have been talking about the Silver Staff.’
#
Ashurek appeared uninterested, Calorn thought. His baleful eyes were introspective, and his loose H’tebhmellian clothing of deep blue did nothing to make his tall, lean frame less imposing. His presence was powerful, intimidating. She persisted brightly, ‘And I was telling him about my being at the School of Sorcery with Silvren and Arlenmia.’
The change in Ashurek’s expression as she spoke was startling; his green eyes met hers, brilliant against the dark brown-purple sheen of the skin. His face, with its high cheekbones, straight nose and grimly set mouth, was so menacing that her skin prickled.
‘Everywhere we go, it seems I meet people who know more of Silvren than do I,’ he said in a low voice.
‘But surely you knew…’ Calorn floundered, unnerved by his intense glare.
‘I know that Silvren travelled to another world to learn how to use her sorcerous powers. Of her time there, she told me little. She never cared to speak of her past, so I did not insist. However, I would like to learn more. How well did you know her?’
‘Hardly at all.’ Ashurek’s expression became more dangerous at this. Calorn refused to let herself be cowed. ‘I should explain that the School had a hierarchical structure. The Sorcery students were the School’s elite, so those of us who studied lesser subjects knew all of them by name, although they might not know us. I’d recognise Silvren anywhere, but I exchanged only a few words with her in ten years there, and I doubt she would remember me. She was quite small – a little taller than Medrian – and her hair and skin were deep gold in colour. Her eyes, too.’
Ashurek nodded. ‘And Arlenmia?’
‘Unforgettable. She was tall, extremely beautiful in a strange way; her skin was like marble, as if she were a perfect statue brought to life. She had extraordinary hair all shades of sea-green and azure, and large eyes the same colour. And such a graceful way of moving that you couldn’t take your eyes off her.’
‘And Arlenmia is a fanatical and dangerous woman,’ Ashurek said. ‘Only recently did I learn that it was she who sent the demon Diheg-El after Silvren. That demon eventually caught up with Silvren and she is now its prisoner. Yet I also heard that she and Arlenmia were once friends. Naturally, I find it somewhat hard to credit.’
‘Well, it’s true. They used to go everywhere together, like lovers. Most of the Sorcery students were natives of Ikonus. Silvren and Arlenmia were among a very few from other worlds. Arlenmia had been there a year before Silvren arrived, and had made no friends at all. And Silvren was very young – fifteen or sixteen, perhaps – and rather shy. I think they were both lonely. They became close and remained so for ten years – although some said they argued all the time.’
‘What about?’ The fierceness left Ashurek’s eyes. He and Estarinel were listening to Calorn with rapt interest.
‘Metaphysical things. The nature of good and evil.’ Calorn gave a shrug. ‘Arlenmia had some strange ideas. I heard she was different from the other Sorcerers. Each was born with the ability to draw sorcerous power from the earth and channel it through themselves, and the School trained them to use their magic properly; that is, with restraint, and only for good. I heard that Silvren was the only one born on her own Earth with these powers.
‘Yes, that is so,’ Ashurek said. ‘She was born out of her time, she told me, because her powers should not exist while the Serpent lives.’
‘Apparently Arlenmia had no such intrinsic power. Instead she had a strange ability to change reality through mirrors. She was given special dispensation to study at the School, but some of the tutors distrusted her. They made her feel different, inferior, not a true Sorceress.’
Estarinel put in, ‘She said to me once, “I am no sorceress, I can only work through an unbroken mirror.” She was angry. Bitter, perhaps.’
‘Yes, that’s true. I believe Arlenmia grew to despise her tutors,’ Calorn went on. ‘Silvren abided by their rules, and Arlenmia didn’t, so they disagreed. But their affection for each other was genuine; Silvren was the only one in whom Arlenmia confided, and everyone said that although Silvren was well aware of Arlenmia’s unusual views, she was sweet-natured and loyal, and prepared to overlook her faults.’
‘Oh, that is Silvren,’ groaned Ashurek.
‘I don’t know whether Arlenmia planned what happened, or whether she acted in a moment of anger. The School of Sorcery had an icon of power, a silvery sphere that hovered perpetually in the sky above the School. This sphere was called the Ikonus – my world is named after it – and it was revered as… how did we put it? “A symbol of pure, uncorrupted Sorcery exercised in the service of Good”. Every student had to take an oath upon the Ikonus that the arts they learned – even the arts of war – would only be used in the service of good.
‘But Arlenmia believed the Ikonus to be more than a symbol. She was convinced that it contained vast power and secrets that the tutors were selfishly guarding. She thought that if its power were released, all would benefit. If ever she talked to Silvren of this, Silvren must have dissuaded her from interfering, perhaps many times.
‘Each year, the sorcery students who’d completed their ten years of study took part in a ceremony at which they received the white robes of fully fledged Sorcerers. I finished my own training in soldiery and Wayfinding in the same year as Silvren. Arlenmia had stayed at the School an extra year to wait for her friend, but just before the ceremony, the High Master informed her that, as she could only draw her power through mirrors, she was not a true Sorceress and therefore could not don the white robe.
‘We heard later how upset Arlenmia was by this: distraught, humiliated and outraged. Understandably, I suppose. Even Silvren could not console her. The ceremony went ahead as planned. I remember vividly that Silvren received her white mantle without a trace of joy, because Arlenmia was not there. If only someone had thought to ask where she was!
‘The ceremony took place outside. The School glittered in the sunshine like a palace of diamonds. No one foresaw what was about to happen. The first we knew that anything was wrong was when the sphere Ikonus began to spin drunkenly in the sky. Then a white light poured from it, more dazzling than the sun. I was near-blinded, and all around me people were screaming. When the light faded, the sphere had gone. From where it had been, a rumbling darkness was surging across the sky, like a thundercloud, turning the day as dark as night.’
Calorn broke off, swallowing hard. Hideous memories flooded her.
‘And this was Arlenmia’s doing? What had she done?’ Ashurek prompted.
‘We found out afterwards. While everyone was at the ceremony, she’d gone to her room and worked through mirrors to release the “secrets” of the Ikonus. Some said she never meant any actual harm, only to steal its power and flee. If that’s what she intended, she made a terrible mistake. The Ikonus was no mere symbol, nor did it contain the marvellous secrets she desired. The High Master is described
it as the work of centuries, a sphere that captured and contained all the dark, negative forces that otherwise would taint our sorcery, a filter through which only good energies could pass. That was why we revered it. So when the Ikonus exploded, all that blackness was released to spread around my world like a blanket. The atmosphere became perpetually cold and dark. Plants, animals, everything began to die.’
‘And what happened to your world?’ Estarinel asked gently. ‘Were they able to save it?’
Calorn took a deep breath and steadied her voice. ‘The Sorcerers believed they could heal it eventually. But it would be a long, hard task, and only a few possessed the skill to help. By now, the healing is underway… I hope.’
‘What became of Silvren and Arlenmia?’ Ashurek asked with a touch of impatience.
‘When the High Master realised what had happened, the tutors rushed to detain Arlenmia, but she’d already vanished. When she saw the havoc she’d wreaked, she must have used her skills to flee the world. A few weeks later, Silvren, who was distraught, vanished as suddenly. A couple of the tutors said good riddance, she’d been as foolish as Arlenmia; but most were distressed, because they’d wanted her to stay at the School and teach. Even the High Master couldn’t understand why she followed Arlenmia. And I’ve only realised why since I met you, Ashurek.’
Estarinel looked at the Gorethrian and said, ‘When Silvren spoke to me in the Glass City, she said, “Arlenmia brought another world to ruin before this, and it is my fault she came here.”’
‘Yes, I remember,’ Ashurek said heavily. ‘I understand well enough, Calorn. In all innocence, she must have told Arlenmia about our Earth of Three Planes, and about the Serpent. In her desire for power, perhaps Arlenmia did not believe the Serpent was evil; or at least, she decided to come and see for herself. And when Silvren realised where she’d gone, she followed to find out what Arlenmia was planning to do here.’ Ashurek pondered. ‘She must have found Arlenmia and confronted her. When she discovered that she intended to serve and worship the Serpent, Silvren would have been horrified. She must have tried with all her strength to persuade Arlenmia that she was wrong; and when she failed, Silvren was forced to use sorcery against her. Therefore Arlenmia sent the demon after Silvren: to prevent her sabotaging her plans for the Worm’s supremacy.’
A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1) Page 36
