Into The Dark Flame (Book 4)

by Martin Ash

  And now he had actually encountered one of Enchantment's gods, who no doubt, in some form or other, had his followers in Enchantment's Reach. And he had discovered him to be, even in his weakened, dispossessed state, a creature of evil. A skilled and unprincipled manipulator of minds, a corruptor of souls, a being at times quite cruelly capricious, who entertained despicable goals which he intended to achieve by whatever means he deemed necessary.

  Orbelon, do you know that Urch-Malmain resides here within you? Do you know what he will do if I allow him to escape?

  These thoughts passed through Leth's mind in a moment. He turned to Count Harg. 'And you, Harg. Do you also sing the praises of the loving and beneficent Master, Urch-Malmain?'

  Harg smiled coldly and stabbed at a piece of meat with his knife. 'I owe allegiance to none but myself.'

  'But you do Urch-Malmain's bidding.'

  Was there just the tiniest flicker of doubt in those deep smalt eyes? Or did Harg honestly believe himself to be his own man?

  Harg shook his head. 'Inasmuch as his wishes correspond with my own, but not more. Ascaria engorges herself on our world. You, Swordbearer, are here to prevent her. And I will aid you, not out of any kind of allegiance to you, but in order that I may live on and pursue a life of brigandry, adventure and, eventually, ease.'

  'And what were you before you took to this life? Tell me of your background. How do you recall your childhood?'

  Harg's smooth brow furrowed momentarily. 'It’s always been this way. I’ve never sought anything else.'

  Leth turned his eyes to the flames. The company of these hollow creatures made him aware more than ever of what Urch-Malmain could inflict if he were allowed to return to his own world.

  'But what of you, Swordbearer?' Harg enquired archly. 'You’re here from the Godworld, come to save us, are you not?'

  'I’ll say only, as I’ve said before, that I am not what people here believe me to be.'

  'But you’ve come to save us.'

  Leth stayed silent.

  'No one but you can bear this rosy weapon, the Sword of the Orb,' Harg pressed. 'Your companion, Lakewander, affirmed that you had come after many years of petitions and summonings. You appeared suddenly, out of nowhere, so I understand.'

  'I have said, I am not what people think. There is nothing I can add to that.'

  Harg persisted, though there was an archness in his manner. 'Tell us of the Godworld, Swordbearer. Is it so different to our own? Are all its peoples gods like yourself?'

  'I don’t know if the world I have come from is the world you would call Godworld,' Leth said after a pause. 'Certainly, its inhabitants are not gods.'

  'But you, Swordbearer. What are you? You carry the Orbsword, yet are you mortal? Can you be slain?'

  Leth met his blue gaze. 'You yourself have shown concern for my protection, at least until that time comes when our task is complete. Plainly, then, you consider me mortal. You have seen, and I have been made drastically aware, that I am susceptible to many of the perils that would afflict any normal inhabitant of this world. In the Meadows of Dreaming it was apparent that I was in as great a danger from the demons as any other of us. Certainly, I fear for my life when faced with dangers here just as I would in my own world. Hence, my assumption is that I am not invulnerable.'

  'Ah, but to die here might be to rediscover existence in your own world.'

  'I have considered that. I have considered, too, that perhaps I died in my own world and that this is my afterlife.'

  'An intriguing notion!' Count Harg chuckled. 'And is there any among us who has not wondered about the nature of an afterlife, if such there is? Indeed, I have helped some considerable number of persons to discover an answer to that question!'

  Juson sniggered at that. Harg grinned at Leth, his eyes glittering.

  'I don't doubt that your victims have been many, Harg,' Leth said.

  'And I imagine you would derive some satisfaction from personally launching me on my own voyage of discovery into the afterlife,' said Harg, halving an apple with his knife.

  'I’m not a murderer, Harg. Nor is it my place to visit summary justice upon any offender. If you are guilty of crimes - and I know that you are - I would by choice have you taken into custody and given a fair trial before your accusers. The evidence and facts as they are known would be presented. Should you be found guilty then I would have no hesitation in passing a sentence upon you that was considered by the law of the land to be commensurate to the magnitude of your crimes.'

  'Law of the land?' Harg raised his eyebrows, coolly sardonic. 'We are in the Death Abyss. There is no law here, save for survival of the most able.'

  'Even here the laws of common humanity must apply.'

  Leth turned away. He had not intended to be drawn into confession, speculation or debate. But a question arose which he had not considered before. Could Harg genuinely be said to be guilty of - and therefore deserving of punishment for - those crimes he had committed solely as a result of the changes wrought upon his personality by Urch-Malmain? Harg had once been a different man, so Lakewander had avowed. Even a good man. Now he murdered and thieved as he willed, without conscience, presumably because it had amused Urch-Malmain to create such a monster and set him free. Was the process reversable? And whether or not it was, was Harg truly deserving of punishment?

  Leth wearily shook his head. Imponderables beset him at every turn; he was in no mind to philosophize. He rose and stretched. 'I am tired. I think I will sleep now.'

  'That is a pity, Swordbearer. I was just beginning to enjoy our little talk.'

  'Another time, perhaps.'

  'I will look forward to it.'

  Leth moved away to spread his blanket upon the ground, then lay down. The clouded sky above him was starless, featureless, invisible, drawn into the enclosing night. He closed his eyes.

  'Sleep soundly, Swordbearer,' he heard Harg say. 'Tomorrow we ride for the Fortress of the Dark Flame.'

  iii

  The morning came far too soon. Leth woke, feeling he had barely slept. Without enthusiasm he ate a breakfast of salted fish and bread and, with the others, harnessed his horse. Without further delay they set out upon the broad plain.

  The day was chill and virtually still. Not a breath of breeze stirred the leaves on the trees from beneath which they rode. The cold penetrated deep into the flesh, seemed to seep through into the bones themselves so that the whole body felt numb, brittle and deprived of energy. The plain was featureless, a perfectly flat expanse of hard, even ground beneath a thin covering of sour pale dust. Far ahead an abnormal haze obscured the opposite wall of the Death Abyss, and within that haze, directly in front was the dark bloody glow that signified the hidden presence of the Fortress of the Great Sow Ascaria, the Kancanitrix, the Dark Flame of Orbelon's world.

  Rasgul, riding alone at the head of the party, was hunched forward in the saddle. He peered constantly ahead, alert and intent, as though expecting something. The other three Abyss warriors, too, were more tense than previously during their descent. They had spread out to either side of Leth, Harg and Juson, and their gaze was focused outwards, swinging across the plain to either side and to the distant haze ahead, searching.

  To Leth it seemed this was a dead place. The ground was unrelentingly even and hard beneath its layer of dust. No plants grew upon its surface; not even thistle, mat-grass or brown clover. There was no scrub to be seen, not a single stunted tree. No rocks, pebbles or clumps of earth, just the unrelieved brown-grey dust which rose in quick dry plumes around the horses' feet and settled quickly back to the lifeless earth. Leth wondered to himself if it could be Ascaria's influence, her very proximity, that rendered the plain so barren and inhospitable to life. His mind flew back to the End of the World that Lakewander had revealed to him as they stood upon the wild Shore of Nothing. He flinched at the recollection. Even now, to merely think of the Nothing that he had been forced to confront, to attempt to embrace it within his mind, was to unleash an em
ptiness within him that he shrank from reflexively. Even in memory he recoiled from it. He wondered, surprisingly almost for the first time, what manner of creature Ascaria could be, that could wreak such utter devastation upon a world and its inhabitants.

  Harg came up alongside him and broke the his train of thought. 'Rasgul and I talked last night. Rasgul's intention is to lead the three of us - you, Juson and myself - into the Fortress of the Dark Flame as though we are his prisoners. He believes that will get us past the outer defences at least.'

  Leth's stiffened at this. 'We’ll be defenceless?'

  'Not entirely. He and his men will take our main weapons, though anything that can be concealed about our persons, such as daggers, we will keep. The Orbsword will be strapped to Rasgul's mount.'

  Leth shook his head. 'No!'

  'It’s merely to allay suspicion while we enter the Fortress, Swordbearer. The Orbsword will be free in its scabbard. No other can wield it, and you can summon it to you at will. And if we’re threatened or discovered, that is exactly what you must do. That is the point at which we will begin fighting for our lives.'

  Leth was still less than easy with the thought, but he noted the gravity of Harg’s manner in contrast to his previous mocking attitude. 'Is Rasgul's defection not known?'

  'He and the others have been absent for some weeks. He is confident that he can bluff his way in, at least in the initial stages. He’s an officer of the Fortress garrison and is known by his men. Bringing captives from the High Lands will add to his credibility. Of course, we’ll be discovered soon enough. When we’re closer he wants you to don your helm. You will draw the guards' attention and they will be less attentive to details than they otherwise might.'

  'Are we to be bound?'

  'Our hands will be tied loosely behind our backs, so that we can quickly free ourselves. At a cursory glance it will appear that we are bound fast. This is where your appearance and the impression it makes upon the guards will be most effective.'

  'I don’t like it.'

  'It’s the only way, Swordbearer. We are but seven; I don’t think success will come from attempting to storm the Fortress. Or perhaps you think we should just ride up to the main gate and request entry of the guards for the purpose of a little sojourn?'

  'I dislike the idea of riding helpless like a babe into my enemy's maw.'

  'Trust me,' said Harg.

  Leth looked aside at him and saw that he was grinning, his deep blue eyes now alight with irony.

  There came a shout from Rasgul up ahead, a guttural, wordless sound. He wheeled his horse around and galloped back to join them.

  'There is the first,' he rasped, and pointed.

  Leth peered in the direction he was indicating, directly ahead, but could see nothing more than the haze and the unnatural red glow of the still hidden fortress. The glow was of notably greater height and breadth than it had been when they set out, but Leth did not think this was what had excited the Abyss warrior.

  'What is it? What do you see?'

  'Wait!'

  They carried on, following the same course. The other three Abyss warriors, Huuri, Dembarl and Fhurn, had drawn closer in following Rasgul's call, though their eyes still scanned the bleak landscape ahead and to either side.

  'There!' declared Rasgul, pointing again. 'Do you see now?'

  Leth craned his neck, squinting as he peered hard into the watery distance. The ground was addled and indistinct where it merged into the haze, and at first, still, he could see nothing. And then - he blinked, his eyes watering with the strain of staring so hard - yes! He did not know what it was. A tiny blot. Something pale and still, standing out against the bleakness of the plain. Was it really still? It seemed to move against the haze, but that could have been a visual distortion. Was it large or small? From this distance it appeared tiny, but he could not judge the distance. He could not tell.

  'What is it?' He was coming to realise that Rasgul's eyesight, and perhaps that of the other three as well, was keener than his.

  'It is a child,' Rasgul said. 'The first one.'

  Leth's heart kicked. He stared ahead again, but could make out nothing of the figure. But a sudden stricken, almost panicked feeling coursed through him. He made to dig his heels into his horse's flank and urge it forward into a gallop, but Count Harg had anticipated him. Harg reached out and grasped Leth's rein close beside his horse's muzzle. The mount ramped, snorted, and turned in a half-circle.

  'Wait, Swordbearer,' said Harg. 'This is not a time for impetuousness.'

  Leth struggled against the tumult of feelings.

  Galry! Jace!

  The urge to draw forth the Orbsword and smite Harg's hand from his wrist was overpowering, but he fought, fought, drawing deep, long breaths to instil at least a semblance of calm. Reluctantly he could only admit that Harg was right. To rush forward now, no matter the reason, was foolhardy. He knew nothing of what lurked within that haze. And the child standing so still up ahead, if child it was, could be anyone. Anyone's child.

  Leth nodded, barely able to speak.

  Harg eyed him a moment longer, then released his grip. They continued along their way, keeping the same pace, the eyes of all four Abyss warriors scanning the distance.

  The haze seemed never closer. Leth was reminded of the vast, towering wall that curved around the perimeter of Orbelon's blue domain. How he had walked for so long towards it, yet no matter how far he went the wall seemed endlessly to retreat, never nearer, never further away.

  Mercifully, after a while, he saw that it was not the same here. Infinitely slowly they were drawing closer to the distant figure. Leth could not take his eyes from it. Then he was aware that Fhurn reached out and touched Rasguls' arm and pointed, away off slightly to their left. Leth allowed his gaze to shift, following the direction of Fhurn's arm, and he saw another figure, similar in size and form to the first. Harg was peering too. Then he turned to Leth, and there was no trace of irony or humour in his expression. 'Prepare yourself, Swordbearer.'

  Leth swallowed. A sensation of dread was slowly gathering, spreading to every cell of his body.

  Galry! Jace!

  The first figure was still not close enough to allow him to make out much detail. It was human, without question; he could see that much now. Standing against and partially swathed in the eerie backdrop of the misty blood-red glow, it wore a long smock-like garment, the colour of oatmeal. Its hair was fair, as far as Leth could make out - like Galry's. It appeared to be unusually small and slight of stature, almost certainly a young child. And it was standing motionless upon the empty plain, gazing towards them, though whether it could actually see them or not Leth was unable to tell.

  He could barely restrain himself, so keen was his need to ride forward and identify the solitary figure. The Abyss warriors maintained their vigilance; Rasgul was half-standing in the saddle.

  At last they drew close. The child - for child it was - was not quite motionless, Leth now saw. Though it stood more or less in one place, it was shuffling, just a step, forward then back, to one side then the other. It seemed not to be aware of the seven slowly advancing upon it. The child's face was slightly downturned, its arms wrapped about its upper body. The child was a boy, Leth now saw, aged about six or seven, Galry's age. He was dreadfully thin and pale. Leth saw that it was not Galry.

  Something was horribly wrong, this much was clear. The boy's demeanour was lifeless and unnatural. He did not even glance up at the seven riders approaching. He displayed basic motor functions and virtually nothing else. As they came beside him Leth slipped from the saddle, his limbs stiff with cold, and went to kneel beside him. The boy's lips were in motion, but he made no sound. Nor did he seem aware of Leth's presence. His eyes stared dully at the floor. He continued his strange shuffling motion, a step back, one or two forward; another to the right, one to the left, without any pattern.

  Leth knelt and put a hand on his shoulder. The boy ceased moving but failed to look up. His lips continue
d to move soundlessly.

  'Son, what is your name?'

  There was no response, not even a flicker in the dull brown eyes. Gently Leth shook the boy’s shoulder. Still nothing.

  'Boy, I am here to help you.'

  'He is beyond help, Swordbearer,' came Count Harg's voice from behind.

  Leth disregarded him. He shook the shoulder again, gently slapped the boy's ashen cheek. It had no effect. Once more, harder. Then, concerned to draw some kind of response, he took the child's thin arm and pinched the flesh between his finger and thumb. The pressure he applied was sufficient to have made any normal child cry out in protest, but this child gave no response. He pinched harder; still nothing. The child felt no pain.

  Leth stood again, letting go of the boy, who resumed his shuffling motion.

  'They are less than shells, Swordbearer. Their dreams are gone; they have no imagination, no thoughts. Truly, they are no longer among the living.'

  Leth stood still. His relief that this diminished creature was not Galry had been swiftly followed by a sense of guilt. For the boy was someone's. Somewhere, someone must grieve for the loss of this child. Probably they did not know what had become of him. Which was worse, to know or not know that this was what their son had become?

  'There must be something we can do,' he said.

  'There is nothing. I have seen them before.'

  'You have been here before?'

  Harg shook his head. 'By some miracle these children have from time to time found their way up from the Abyss. It’s rare, but it has happened.'

  'And what did you do with them?'

  'Me? I did nothing. I am untouched by such things. But I know that others tried, to no avail. They can be kept alive for a time, but that is all. Most remain here, though. Others . . . well, others are made into warriors. Children deprived of dreams.'