Into The Dark Flame (Book 4)

by Martin Ash

  'An enviable talent,' commented Leth, and in his mind was the thought that he had heard the name of Urch-Malmain somewhere before.

  'And a sinister one. Urch-Malmain takes away one's pain and substitutes it with fabrications of his own devising. Knowing what little I do of him, I see little to rejoice in there.'

  'How does he achieve this?'

  'Only he can tell you that, and I suspect he will not, even if you should find him. His methods are a closely guarded secret. It may be that he is a charlatan - many consider him so. Others deem him a diabolist of the blackest kind. I do not think my brother has fallen into good company.'

  Leth was pensive; his thoughts shifted. From considering Urch-Malmain and his manipulation of memory, he found himself thinking suddenly of Orbelon and the blue casket, of the mystery of Enchantment and its strange flickering lights in the night, of the Karai and their so-called gods, of the monstrous slooths that had attacked Enchantment's Reach, of Mawnie in her madness, of Grey Venger and the mysterious Legendary Child, of Fectur's betrayal and of his, Leth's, feeling that the ground had been wrenched from beneath him and that he was being pitched into madness.

  And he thought of Issul.

  'Lord?' Lakewander's voice penetrated his haze. She had moved to kneel close before him. 'Now it is your face that is filled with sorrow.'

  He realized suddenly how afraid he was. For himself, for Issul, for the children. And for Enchantment's Reach. He did not know if it existed anymore. He thought with horror of the feeling that had overcome him two nights before: I do not even know if I am still alive!

  Leth gazed down into Lakewander's eyes. They were wide and limpid and pale blue-grey; her hand - he had not realised, but she had taken his in hers - her hand was warm, her touch soothing and tender. Her face was upturned to his, the lips slightly parted, and a look of such concern . . . How he wanted to take her in his arms, to feel her consoling lips upon his, her warm body against him, making him forget. How he wanted her, needed her, as she must need him also. To love each other here, in delirious oblivion upon the soft grass. To forget. . . .

  Lakewander whispered, 'I am here, Lord.'

  Leth put his hand to her cheek. He recalled her naked in his bedchamber, her sinuous warmth against him, her lips, the way she had held him. He moved, to lower his lips to hers.

  He hesitated - and tore his eyes away.

  Issul, I will not forget! Not even for an instant!

  He stood, abruptly, releasing Lakewander's hand, and walked to the side of the road.

  'I wish only to help you,' Lakewander said.

  Leth turned around. She was kneeling upon the grass, watching him, her look both reproachful and consoling.

  'I know. I am sorry.'

  'There’s a storm raging within you.'

  'I’m not alone in that,' Leth said. He was uncomfortable with himself, knowing both that he had spurned her when she, as much as he, was in need of the warmth and comfort that only another human being could provide, and that he had also been barely a breath away from succumbing to her. 'Come, let’s eat now and be on our way.'

  iii

  A short time later they came upon the Sufferer at the side of the road. This time Leth paid him little heed, apart from wrinkling his nostrils slightly as the smell of the man reached him. Then he stopped and looked back. Was he becoming so hardened and cynical? He slid from Swiftwind's back and approached the crouched and bound man. 'Sir, just say the word and I will release you now from this bondage.'

  The man had grown still and tense at Leth's approach. His head was cocked slightly, though he could not look up into Leth's face. He spat, but such was his posture that the spittle merely caught in a long liquid filament upon one of his knees. 'Scoundrel! Begone!'

  Leth returned to his horse. Lakewander made no comment as he came alongside her and for some time they rode in silence. Eventually Leth said, 'There are ghostly creatures in the walls of your home. Two nights ago one of them spoke to me.'

  'The Protectors. Yes.'

  'How many dwell there?'

  'I don't know. Many. Since the first days. They are Orbia, Swordbearer. Without them Orbia could not be. You should know that.'

  'I know nothing. I am not who you believe me to be.'

  Lakewander gave no reply. Leth said, 'In my own domain I have devoted much of my life to trying to understand the nature of gods. I have argued that belief must never become a permanent substitute for true knowledge. I have declared, as my illustrious forebears have declared before me, that those beings which many of our kind worship as gods are not gods; that we truly know nothing of them, not even that they exist in any real form, yet we have attributed to them the characteristics and personalities of deities. And now I find myself here, awaited by you and your people, a deity in your eyes. You believe me so, and I know I am not, yet I possess the qualities and abilities that you expect your god to possess. Which of us, then, is right?'

  'Can it be only one or the other?' Lakewander asked.

  'Oh yes. I know what I am. But I know, too, that if I so chose, I could masquerade among your kind as the god you believe and wish me to be. I could demand tribute, all the privileges of a deity. I would be false, but it would not matter to you.'

  'Were you false, we would know.'

  'Because I could not bear the Orbsword?' Leth shook his head in vehement dismissal. 'That is not enough. I bear it, and don’t know how. But I say to you again, I am no god.'

  Lakewander pursed her lips in contemplation. 'The end will be the same, no matter what. You bear the sword, therefore you are able to slay Ascaria.'

  'And if I fail?'

  'If you fail, Ascaria wins. The end comes upon us.'

  A sudden thought struck Leth. 'You spoke earlier of your Creator. Do you know Orbelon?'

  'Orbelon? What is that?'

  'Beyond the rune through which I stepped there is a domain formerly occupied by. . . a god. I can find no other word for him. I spoke with him many times. He--' he hesitated, almost stricken by what he was about to reveal, then changed tack. 'Have you, any of you, been there?'

  Lakewander was curious. 'Beyond the Sign? Of course not. How could we?' She waited, and when Leth said nothing, prompted him. 'Tell me of it.'

  'Without Orbelon it is a terrible, silent place,' Leth said. 'The only sound is the rush of your own blood through your veins, the storm of your breathing, the rhythmic deafening thunder of your own heart.'

  'And Orbelon? What of him?'

  'Orbelon is the place he occupies,' said Leth, and looked slowly around him. 'Don’t ask me to explain it. He is this place also. And yet he has gone.'

  'How can I leave myself?'

  It had been Orbelon's question to him at their last meeting. But he had also said that, had Leth come a few moments later, he would not have found him. And it had truly been only minutes later that Jace had inadvertently opened the casket lid and cast them all into the blue domain.

  And Orbelon had not been there.

  Where had he gone?

  A few nights earlier, Leth recalled vividly, he had lain alone and sleepless upon his bed - the bed he normally shared with Issul - in their chamber in the Palace of Orbia. And he had seen, he was sure he had seen, Orbelon, standing in a shadowed corner of the room. It had been only for an instant, and then Orbelon's voice, husky and half-whispered, 'Ah, so close. . . .'

  But if Orbelon had put himself outside the casket, outside the Orb, outside himself, in that moment, could he not have done it again? Was that where he was now, in Enchantment's Reach? To what end? And why did he not return? He must surely know that Leth was not there.

  Leth was unaware of how closely Lakewander had been observing him.

  'The storm rages unchecked,' she said in a soft voice.

  He turned to her, his eyes wide and feverish. 'Has Orbelon been here? Does he know of you?'

  'We have not seen him, but perhaps we would not know. Is he our Creator?'

  'He would deny that he is. And
yet, in a sense, he must be. Yet he has abandoned this world, and he has left me here and I do not know why.'

  'To help us,' said Lakewander. 'That’s why you have come, Lord Swordbearer. You are his representative.'

  Leth felt cast down, shaking his head. 'No. No. There is too much here that I cannot comprehend.'

  'We need you. Is that not reason enough to be here?'

  'My people need me; my children.'

  'More than we, who will be destroyed without you?'

  'As greatly. It is Orbelon who should be here, not I.'

  'Our Creator should be able to intervene directly on our behalf? Why should that be? Is that not an assumption based on belief, or hope, or desperation, rather than knowledge, which you profess to seek?'

  Leth recalled how Orbelon had claimed to have inklings of life or consciousness within himself, but knew nothing of its form or nature, nor of the scope or limits of his world. It had grown as he had grown, as he himself had become more than the prison in which he had been incarcerated.

  'Is it not so?' enquired Lakewander again.

  'You are right, yes. You have exposed the flaw in my reasoning. Yet only a short while ago you were asking what kind of Creator could allow such suffering in those he had created?'

  'Yes, I asked, but it was not in expectation of an answer. But tell me, Swordbearer, if you have indeed met with our Creator, this Orbelon, what kind of creature is he? Is he truly so indifferent to our plight?'

  'He is a being,' said Leth after long moments of thought, 'who finds himself almost as mystified by his existence as you are by yours. Or indeed, as I am by mine. And he is not indifferent. The truth is, he simply is not aware that you exist.'

  Lakewander gave a bitter smile. 'Ah well, much is thus explained. And he has sent you, even if he is unaware of it.'

  Leth was about to protest again, but something caught his attention. He sat up abruptly in the saddle. 'What is that sound?'

  'I hear nothing.'

  'Nothing?'

  She shook her head.

  Leth glanced about him, then shrugged. 'The breeze passing through the trees.'

  'There is no breeze, Lord.'

  'Then it was my imagination.'

  'Or a sound intended for your ears alone?'

  Leth said nothing. There was silence now, but for the clump of their horses' hooves upon the way, and the low creak and jingle of harness. But he had heard something that had sounded like a voice calling from far away. An ethereal sound, that had repeated his name twice: 'Leth! Leth!'

  And he had thought then that the voice sounded within him. It had faded, and then he had heard: 'Be strong, Leth. I am seeking you.'

  Whether it had come from within him or from somewhere beyond, was of little account. But Leth had recognized the voice. It was Orbelon.

  iv

  Soon they began to pass the metal statues that housed the imprisoned Souls, living and dead. Lakewander rode slowly between them, her head bowed. Leth eyed them uneasily, and felt relief that their occupants emitted no sound. He and Lakewander broke out upon the dust-covered plain. He cast his gaze far and wide, taking in the multitude of blank, faceless metal figures, morbidly wondering which one housed the bones of Lakewander's mother.

  In due course they left the plain and began the laborious ascent of the winding stony path towards the crest of the gleaming ridge. Leth turned and looked back from time to time, seeing the panorama of the eerie plain and the distant forest spread beneath him, the red-toned ridge arcing away for as far as he could see. Well beyond the forest misty blue mountains rose in dramatic tiers and a silver ribbon of distant water glittered in the bright Orblight.

  At length they halted before the stone slab-bridge. Below them the river foamed and thrashed, silent at the foot of the gorge. The entrance to the cavern which led down to the Shore of Nothing gaped darkly on the other side of the bridge.

  Lakewander took a breath and hailed the Bridgekeeper, who was nowhere in evidence. Her voice cracked the silence of the place, then was gone. She called again, then for the third time, more loudly: 'Bridgekeeper, this is tiresome. It is I, Lakewander, wishing to cross with my companion of yesterday. Surely you know my voice, even if you cannot see me; and you know that I am alert to your wiles. So show yourself now if you wish to collect your toll, otherwise I have declared my presence the statutory three times and will cross accordingly without payment. So states the Law!'

  Nothing moved; there was no sound.

  Lakewander frowned and looked about her. 'This is curious. I don’t like it.'

  She made to dismount. 'Remain here, Swordbearer. Be alert. Something isn’t right.'

  Drawing her sword she moved with cautious steps to the stone bridge. 'Bridgekeeper!'

  Still no response. Lakewander stepped onto the great stone slab high above the rushing water. Leth scanned the surrounding slopes. To his right the ascent was almost sheer fissured rock, with stunted pines sprouting wherever they could find a foothold in the thin dark soil that clung between the crags. On the other side the land fell away steeply, with more pines thrusting from shale and loose, rotten earth. Leth could see short lengths of the stony path winding down between the trees, and the Plain of Imprisoned Souls far below. Beyond the bridge the red-toned cliff reared towards the sky; a narrow curving ledge ran off to either side of the cavern mouth. On the right it vanished around the shoulder of the bluff; to the left it climbed into a deep cleft in the rock.

  Leth listened: all was totally silent. In his own land such silence would have alerted him, for it was unnatural, as though all of nature held its breath, awaiting something. But here perhaps it signalled nothing out of the ordinary.

  Lakewander crossed the bridge. She moved up to the cavern maw and peered in. 'Bridgekeeper?'

  Her voice was hollow in the gloom. She stepped inside, was swallowed by the darkness. Leth waited, growing tense. Lakewander reappeared, shaking her head, mystified. 'He has gone.'

  From around the bluff a few yards to Lakewander's left two men appeared.

  'Lakewander!' Leth called, and nodded towards the newcomers. Lakewander swung around to face them, her sword held before her.

  The two men wore makeshift shirts of dark mail and leather trews and undershirts. Upon their heads were dented iron helmets with leather ear- and neck-flaps. One gripped a huge two-handed sword before him. He was a big, burly fellow, aged perhaps twenty-five years, with mean, glittering eyes and a coarse dark beard. His companion, only marginally smaller of build, and of a no less menacing aspect, was older by about five years, bushily bearded, and toted a stained and battered battle-axe.

  As Lakewander adopted a defensive stance a sound behind her caused her to glance over her shoulder. Two more men approached, similarly garbed and accoutred. From their postures and expressions she was in no doubt that their intentions fell short of honourable.

  From Leth's rear came the sound of hooves upon the stony path. He twisted in the saddle. Six more men approached up the track. Four of them were on horseback; three held crossbows aimed his way.

  He calculated swiftly that he might wheel and charge, and stand a chance of smashing through them. He would be dependent upon his armour to deflect, or at least stop their bolts, but the advantage of height was his. But against such odds he had little chance of sustaining a fight - he could possibly strike down two, and then flee. But Lakewander would be left at their mercy.

  He turned his head back to Lakewander. She was half-crouched before the cavern mouth, swinging her blade from side-to-side. Her eyes were bright and wild. No one had spoken a word, but she was in no doubt that she faced the fight of her life.

  In a strong, clear voice Leth said, 'Gentlemen, greetings. Can we be of assistance to you?'

  The men at Leth's back smirked and grinned and muttered amongst themselves, their eyes going for the most part beyond Leth to the sight of Lakewander before the cave mouth. Then one of them - a tall, long-haired fellow, aged perhaps thirty, with a clean-shaven jaw
, thin dark moustache, notably pale skin and piercing blue eyes the colour of smalt - spoke. He was better-garbed than the others, in a dusty red shirt, leather trousers and boots, long leather gauntlets, and a long damask cloak over a mail hauberk and jupon. His voice was surprisingly rich and plummy, the words clearly-enunciated and resonant. 'Yes you may, sir. You can lay down your arms and thus spare us the inconvenience of having to take them from you.'

  Leth had not yet drawn the Orbsword. His hand slid now to its jewelled hilt. 'I think, under the circumstances, we might be ill-advised to comply with your request.'

  'Ah,' said the pale man in a tone of regret, 'that is a pity. Still, if that is your choice, so be it.'

  His eyes went beyond Leth and he gave a single nod. Leth turned. A movement on the cliff above Lakewander caught his eye.

  He cried out a warning - too late. A slender loop of rope snaked down, dropping over Lakewander's head and draping itself about her shoulders. Then it was jerked taut, snapping tight around Lakewander's neck. Two burly men hauled from the rocks overhead, hoisting her from her feet. Her sword fell from her grasp. She swung before the cavern entrance, kicking and twisting, her hands grasping frantically at the murderous noose about her throat.

  'Throw down your sword, warrior,' came a politely-couched command from behind Leth, 'and she will be spared. At least for now.'

  If he spurred Swiftwind hard across the bridge, Leth could cut Lakewander down quickly. But he lacked space to manoeuvre the stallion on the other side. He would be overcome with no great effort, and a single slip of the stallion's hooves could have him pitched headlong into the gorge.

  Grinding his teeth, Leth slid from the saddle and drew free the Orbsword from its scabbard. The sight of the glowing blade drew gasps and murmurs from the men before him.