Into The Dark Flame (Book 4)

by Martin Ash

  The pallid warrior nodded and muttered something in a guttural hiss that Leth did not catch. Harg nodded pensively, and turned back. 'Rasgul is in agreement. Come, you are about to witness a phenomenon rare and strange.'

  From the rocks they looked down again upon the bestial assembly. The wolfhearts had ceased milling; they sat now in orderly fashion upon their haunches around the ring of tall dark stones. Leth estimated there to be more than forty of them now. They were all focused upon the centre of the ring, and from their open mouths came the woeful howling, which rose and fell in pitch and seemed to cause the very air to vibrate in sympathy.

  Leth watched and waited. The sound troubled him, arousing contradictory feelings and tangled emotions. Over his head the roiling chill mist through which they had descended was a mass of low, dense dark cloud, scummy brownish in hue. It cut out much of the daylight from above, stealing any sight of the Orb of the Godworld or the World's Agony, and casting an umbrageous demi-light upon the vista below.

  The wolfhearts' tragic song dropped abruptly in pitch to become a near-drone. Leth felt Harg's touch upon his arm. Harg handed him a scimitar in a leather sheath. 'Use this when we attack. Do not under any circumstances draw the Orbsword. The Great Sow will sense it. She will know that you are near and will prepare herself. We are beneath the mantle now, fully within the Death Abyss. This is Ascaria's domain. Do not draw the Orbsword until you stand within her fortress.'

  Leth buckled the scimitar beside the Orbsword. Below, the wolfhearts fell suddenly mute. The silence was uncanny, seeming to swell and take on an almost palpable form. The standing stones at the periphery of the circle had begun to glow softly. Their obsidian blackness was gradually being replaced by a dull greenish lambence. This strange light was directed into the centre of the circle, where it coalesced to form a slowly rotating globule which rested a little way above the earth. Leth stared, intrigued. Within the green globule he thought to see movement, as though something lived and struggled. As he watched, the wolfhearts nearest to the edge of the circle rose onto all fours and padded slowly and reverently towards the green ball. Close upon it they sat again and stretched wide their jaws. From within the beards of tendrils long tongues extended to penetrate the glowing form.

  Count Harg slapped Leth's arm. 'It’s time!'

  The seven warriors scrambled quickly back up the slope to their horses.

  'Don your helm, Swordbearer,' said Harg. 'We don't want you harmed. And remember, stay upon the road if you can. Ride straight through at your best speed, and do not stop until I say.'

  They set off at a canter. The road permitted them to ride in twin files. Two of the Abyss warriors, Huuri and Dembarl, took the head, then came Rasgul and the remaining Abyss warrior, Fhurn. Next came Leth, alongside Count Harg. Harg's men, Juson and Trin, followed close behind.

  One hundred yards along, the way veered sharply right and broke out onto the plateau where the wolfhearts were gathered. The warriors fanned out to ride four abreast, and spurred their mounts to a gallop. Each man drew his blade as they bore down upon the unsuspecting creatures.

  They were almost upon the circle of obsidian stones before the wolfhearts grew aware of them. The first of the beasts turned as they detected the thunder of hooves, then scattered as best they could with shrieks and yowls of panic. The first rank of riders ploughed into them. Leth found his path almost clear. No wolfheart menaced him closely so he gripped his scimitar at the ready and steered his horse between them, concentrating on the roadway ahead. To his right the Abyss warriors were hacking at the sleek grey beasts, and beyond, Harg and his men were charging into the centre of the circle itself, whooping with bestial delight. Harg was leaning low in the saddle, charging directly at the green globule, his sword swinging. Leth glimpsed a wriggling form in the green.

  The wolfhearts hurled themselves at their attackers, but already Leth was through, speeding on past the circle, Rasgul close at his side. He turned to look back. Several wolfhearts were racing after him, but their speed could not match his horse's, and they quickly gave up. Juson and Trin smashed into them from behind, cutting them to the ground. He heard the frantic wails of the pack behind them. A little way off to the side came Count Harg, grinning ferociously.

  The road led down through a wood of tall dark leafless trees. The riders slowed their pace but cantered on for several minutes until Harg raised his hand and brought them to a halt.

  'Good work!' he declared, and held up a small sack within which something struggled. 'And this may serve us well down yonder.'

  'What is this?' demanded Leth.

  'It is the newborn cub.'

  'You have abducted it? Why?'

  Rasgul spoke. 'A newborn wolfheart will command a high price further along our way. Such a prize will facilitate our passage no end.'

  'In what way?'

  'The giant Cerb Two-Heads guards the road ahead. He likes to sup daily on folk like us. Fresh wolfheart is even more to his taste. But a newborn cub. . . in exchange for this delicacy I wager Cerb will both permit us unhindered passage and pay a healthy supplement in gold.'

  Leth shook his head angrily. 'Take it back.'

  Both Rasgul and Harg returned him incredulous stares.

  'Swordbearer, I think you may have taken leave of your senses,' Harg said.

  'Take it back or I will do so myself.'

  'We are simply trying to ease our passage to Ascaria and your children.'

  'You, at least, have travelled this way before,' Leth said to the Abyss warriors. 'And if the birth of a wolfheart is so rare an event, then you did not previously carry such as an offering or a way to riches.'

  Rasgul shrugged. Harg said, 'You are making a mistake, Swordbearer. They are just savage, senseless beasts.'

  'As are we if we must resort to abducting their offspring. This is something I will not countenance.'

  'Aha. I see. And what of your own children, Swordbearer?'

  Leth felt a rage rising within him. 'I have said, this way has been travelled before. We will use whatever methods were found effective then. Now, give me the cub.'

  He leaned across to take the sack from Harg. Harg hesitated. 'You surprise me, Swordbearer. I considered you many things, but I’d not taken you for a fool.'

  'Whereas I have been in no doubt of your character from the beginning.'

  Harg smiled darkly. 'Touché.' He gave up the sack. 'Go then, champion of brutes. But I will not accompany you, nor, I suspect, will the others.'

  'Wait here.' Leth put his heels to his horse's flanks and made off rapidly back up the way. He was racked by his decision. Was he endangering his own children? Were the wolfhearts no more than brainless, savage beasts? But he knew within himself that had this creature that he carried been a human child, there would have been no question. And if he carried on now, without returning the cub, he would be no better than the animals he rode with.

  The distressed wails and whimperings of the wolfhearts reached his ears. He rounded a bend to see them rushing back and forth within the circle of tall stones, plainly distraught. A few saw him and stopped, pricking up their ears uncertainly. Their whines turned to furious growls. Leth quickly loosened the neck of the sack, then leaned low to place it carefully upon the ground. The wolfhearts rushed towards him. Turning his horse about he glimpsed a small grey form begin to emerge from the sack and grope blindly in the dust. He galloped off.

  Looking back he saw the wolfhearts gather as one about the tiny cub. The tone of their cries had changed once again. None pursued him.

  ii

  Leth half-wondered whether Harg and the others might have gone on without him, but he found them where he had left them. No one spoke as he rejoined the group and they continued on their way.

  He was angered by this turn of events. It had been unnecessary and had cost him valuable minutes in returning the wolfheart cub. Why had he felt so strongly about the abduction of the cub? Had it been a calf, a kitten or the offspring of any other wild or domesticat
ed beast known to him, he would not have been so affected. He knew virtually nothing about the wolfhearts. Plainly they lacked high intelligence, and by Harg's account were no more than brutes. Still, their society was not entirely without organization, as evidenced by the way they had gathered at the stone circle. The strange magical birth-rite was deeply intriguing, and the fact that wolfheart newborns appeared so seldom surely meant that a new birth must be an event of extraordinary consequence to the pack. Hence, Leth reasoned, to deprive them of their newborn was a cruel and wanton act, as much if not moreso than with any other creature.

  But he knew nothing of this land. Was he wrong?

  He sighed. What was done was done! He could not change it. He resolved to put it from his mind. But his anxiety over his own children mounted.

  As before, he felt he could not wholly explain or rationalize the nighmarish quality of the journey he was engaged upon. He vowed to himself that nothing now would sway him, even for a moment, from his first concern: his two children. They waited, he desperately hoped, somewhere ahead, needing him.

  And when he found them?

  An impossible question. There were too many variables involved. The possibility of return to Enchantment's Reach, Leth's doubts concerning Urch-Malmain and the passage he had constructed between this world and their own, the ever-real risk of Count Harg and the others turning upon him - all these things would wait, at least until he had rescued Galry and Jace from their immediate peril.

  Leth and his band found themselves crossing a wide tract of wild pasture land, the way leading ever-downwards, though more gently now than when they had first descended into the Death Abyss. They came at length to the crest of a grassy slope, slightly steeper, characterized by low swells, hummocks and ledges. In the far distance the landscape seemed to dissolve into the air, though directly across from where they stood Leth made out the sombre shadow of the far wall of the Death Abyss rising into the dull cloud. A dirty-red haze rose out of an area clad in mist far away in the depths of the Abyss.

  Count Harg began discussing something with Rasgul. They spoke in undertones and Leth did not make out all that was said. He understood that they were debating the best way to proceed now, and weighing the dangers they could expect to face. Several references to ghosts and illusions did nothing to put his mind at ease.

  In due course Harg spoke to him. 'Some way ahead is Ardbire Keep, where the giant, Cerb Two-Heads, resides. We require his assistance if we are to proceed further. Hence delicate negotiations will be called for. Very delicate, now that we have nothing to offer him.'

  'Rasgul and his warriors have passed Cerb Two-Heads before, if you have not,' replied Leth, refusing to be goaded. 'So I suggest we follow their advice, and leave any negotiations to them, as Cerb will surely know them well by now. He knows nothing of the wolfheart cub, after all, and so cannot be disappointed by its absence.'

  Harg scowled. 'All well and good, but Cerb will not be pleased by the arrival of so many strangers.'

  'Perhaps if you were to volunteer yourself or one of your two men as a hostage, or even sacrifice, Cerb might be appeased.

  The idea did not find favour with Harg. He sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his gauntlet, then looked out across the slope. 'First, though, are the Meadows of Dreaming, within which manifest phantoms of innumerable descriptions. So says Rasgul. These phantoms are innocuous if accepted for what they truly are, which is to say, harmless phantoms. However, when certain conditions are fulfilled, they may become real, at least for a short period.'

  'What conditions?' asked Leth.

  'I have not been here before, and am reliant upon Rasgul's advice. He declares that to believe in the phantoms you see, or to indulge in intercourse of any form with them, may be sufficient to permit the phantoms to establish themselves in material form. Hence, keep your wits about you. Concentrate only upon your goal, which is the far side of the meadows, and ignore all else. Be conscious that anything you perceive here will be a dream imago conjured by the elemental forces that imbue this place as they respond to whatever they detect within your imagination. If you allow yourself to be drawn into the dream you may be lost. As may we all.'

  Rasgul, listening to this exchange, gave Leth an expressionless nod. He raised his arm and pointed across the sloping meadows. 'See the ruined tower?' he hissed. 'That is your first goal. Do not take your eyes from it.'

  'The Abyss warriors are not as susceptible as we to the dream-inflictions of the meadows,' Harg explained. 'We must place ourselves in their hands.'

  It was not a thought that gave Leth great comfort.

  They began to make their way across the first meadow. With mild surprise Leth noted the clarity of the light as he walked his horse through the lush green grass. The meadow was dotted with bright flowers and, having removed his helm, he was pleased to feel the warmth of sunlight upon his face. He closed his eyes.

  'No!'

  He opened them abruptly to see Rasgul glaring at him, his burnt-orange eyes harsh and bright.

  'Watch the tower!'

  Leth focused again, thinking: sunlight! He raised his gaze to see the depressing brown cloud-cover dense overhead, and yet when he looked down again the sunlight poured upon him, inexplicably, and he understood that there was much to be wary of in this place.

  The old tower was a couple of hundred yards away, a ragged grey-stone tumble with a single wall left erect, rotten beams stabbing horizontally into the air where floors had once been. Low green swells lay between the tower and the eight riders. Three figures stood upon one of the swells and silently watched the company pass. It seemed to Leth that the three had appeared suddenly, out of nowhere. They were human, so he perceived: a middle-aged man of exceptional height, flanked by a pair of slender young maidens. Each was garbed in a long white robe with a garland of yellow flowers around their necks. Leth watched them in fascination. He took them for phantoms, yet he was drawn to observe them.

  The Abyss warrior, Dembarl, rode up alongside him, obscuring his view of the three figures. 'Eyes ahead!' he intoned sharply.

  Leth blinked as though snapping out of a daydream, and fixed his gaze on the ruin again.

  'Replace your helm,' said Dembarl. 'It may help.'

  Leth did so. To his right the weasel-eyed Trin said suddenly, 'What is that sound?'

  Leth listened, and heard nothing but the slow, steady pacing of the horses and the jink and creak of harness.

  'I have heard nothing like it in my life,' declared Trin.

  Leth glanced around at him. Trin sat erect in the saddle, gazing into space, his eyes like small black moons and his mouth hanging open in rapture.

  'There is no sound!' stated Rasgul harshly.

  Trin ignored him, if indeed he heard him at all. 'Oh, such a marvellous sound. . . . Never have I heard anything like this!'

  Rasgul brought his horse around, rode up to Trin and slapped his face hard. Trin drew back in sudden shock and anger, his hand going for his sword.

  'There is no sound!' declared Rasgul again.

  Trin shook his head dazedly, swallowed, blinked several times. 'No. No sound.'

  'The ruin.' Rasgul pointed, and Trin nodded and peered ahead as if into a mist.

  They arrived without further mishap beside the ruined tower, at which point Rasgul warned, 'Do not enter. Stay clear of the stones.'

  Leth looked up at the jagged wreck, which seemed to shimmer and distort slightly in the bright light. In antiquity it had stood four levels high and seemed to have been a single, square edifice, perhaps a watchtower. A pair of large, silent black birds circled above its ragged battlements.

  Rasgul pointed again, off down the sloping meadow in a slightly leftward direction. 'The belt of far trees. There is a stone wall there, with a gate set within it. That marks the end of the Meadows of Dreaming.'

  He urged his horse forward and the others followed slowly. They entered a grove of small trees with low, wide-spread branches, twisted trunks with rough, dark, fissu
red bark, and delicate, silver-grey foliage. Strangely, Leth had not been aware of these trees until he found himself among them. He gazed about him. Suddenly, off to his left, a fearsome figure burst from between the trees: a knight clad in fabulous, gleaming armour, three times the size of a normal man, mounted upon a gigantic black charger. Both man and beast were in flames. The knight held high a huge flaming longsword and with a blood-chilling battle-cry urged his fiery horse into a gallop, bearing down upon the eight riders.

  The company stopped, each man struck with awe at the sight - only the four Abyss warriors seemed unperturbed. The eight spread out, drawing weapons. The knight aflame adjusted his path, bore down directly upon Leth. Leth gripped his scimitar, his mouth suddenly dry. He knew that any defence he might offer would be useless against an adversary such as this, but there was no time to shift his mount out of the knight's path. He freed his feet from his stirrups and prepared to dive for the ground. Then, at the last instant, the knight veered away. He passed between Leth and Count Harg. Leth heard the angry sputter of flames, felt a gust of sudden heat. The blazing knight galloped on, still venting his great roar, and disappeared between the trees.

  'Leth!'

  Leth turned. He knew the voice that hailed him. The sound made his heart quicken.

  'Leth!'

  He could see no one. He urged his mount towards the sound.

  'Help me, Leth! Help me!'

  He could see someone seated in a nearby hollow.

  Issul?

  It had to be an hallucination. She could not be here. But she turned her head towards him and he saw that it was her. She stood as if with difficulty and came towards him. Leth saw that her hands were bound behind her. 'Leth, help me! Quickly, free me. I am in trouble.'

  She ran up the side of the hollow towards him, looking back nervously over one shoulder. Leth half-saw figures behind her: a small group of armed men.

  Issul stopped suddenly and looked at him in alarm. 'Leth? No, you are not my husband! Who are you, warrior? What do you want with me?'