by Martin Ash
"It would be my pleasure."
The man bent and lifted his ward with one arm, nodded warily to Arene, and set off across the glade. Arene's eyes were on the object around the child's neck. She glimpsed what looked like a tooth or small piece of ivory or perhaps stone, carved into a specific shape, but she could not make out its exact form.
At the edge of the glade Shenwolf turned back to her. "Are you not coming?"
She shook her head. "Not yet. I will sit a while longer."
He nodded and raised his hand. Arene watched their retreating backs. Within moments, almost certainly, each would discover that this old woman in her shabby clothes was unknown to the other. Would they return? She did not intend to wait to find out.
She experienced a welter of emotion. So close to achieving her aim, yet the Vileborn still lived. This moment was lost, but an agony hung upon her. The deed had to be done, still. It had taken all her resources to find the strength to do it, and now she must do it again. Hal had revealed the child's dwelling-place to her. She would wait, then, and watch, until another opportunity presented itself. She would find the strength, somehow. She had no other hope.
But what was the gift that Shenwolf had given the Vileborn child? A charm? A protective talisman or amulet? Would her next attempt be fraught with even greater difficulties?
Arene glanced in agitation into the gloom beneath the trees. There was no sign of Hal; she took it that he had fled. She sighed despondently, shaking her head, then stepped from the glade and vanished into the forest's deep.
II
Enchantment's Reach rested upon the very rim of the leagues-long escarpment from which it took its name, its scores of turrets and spires craning and clambering to seemingly impossible heights, like living things, the topmost limbs of colossal petrous trees, straining to taste sunlight. Massive fortified walls of fused stone encircled it in its entirety, in places spilling over the lip onto the sheer face of the scarp. Over time, within these constantly extending walls, a small city had come into being, burrowing deep into the scarp itself where lack of space denied expansion at ground-level, or alternatively edging upwards like tentative new shoots in the shadows of the hoary, venerable, petrified towers.
Its origins were lost in the intricate meander and blur of fargone history and legend, but written records testified to the great castle's having stood in some form or other throughout the centuries that the gods of Enchantment were known to have warred. The gods, the Highest Ones, to whom even the King was inferior. They battled on, seemingly unaware of or indifferent to the lives of humankind - Enchantment's Reach gazed with wonder, fear, reproach across the deep forest and craggy upthrusts that lay close upon their mysterious domain.
At the hub of Enchantment's Reach was Orbia, the royal palace. It was built almost entirely of semi-translucent marble, pure white in the main, which at times and under certain conditions would glow gently, reflecting the ambient light in its subtle hues. Here and there variations of the stone had been employed to fabulous effect: a tower faced with swirls, whorls and striations of opalescent blues; a rose latticework colouring a dome; a minaret shot with deepest lapis; soft cerise bands on a balcony; an emerald-specked abutment; coiling veins of variegated greys enlivening the mid-region of a steeple or spire. So extraordinary was this place, so striking to the eye and mind and in places so apparently defiant of physical laws, that many believed it could never have been built by human hands. It was surely the work of the gods themselves, so they said, or one of their number at least.
A minority of these believers took the view further, declaring that the reason Enchantment's Reach knew so many troubles was that the Highest Ones were offended by the presence of humans here, in their domain, and that they wished to reclaim it for themselves. This strand of reasoning had its opponents, who argued simply that if that were so the Highest Ones would simply take it. Men cannot stand against gods. If any or all of the warring deities so desired they could expunge the inhabitants of Enchantment's Reach in an instant, down to the last man, woman, waif, workbeast and household pet.
The nature of Orbia, the heart of Enchantment’s Reach, was a mystery, these rationalists conceded. But a greater mystery still was the nature of forbidden Enchantment itself. And perhaps the greatest question of all concerned man's existence here. Was the fact that humankind was permitted to remain an indication that the Highest Ones wanted people here, even required a human presence? Was there an unknown purpose that humans had to fulfil? Or were the inhabitants of Enchantment's Reach simply tolerated, or perhaps considered unworthy of consideration of any kind by the Highest Ones? Might the gods be genuinely unaware of humans? Or might they simply be wholly indifferent?
These issues and their ramifications created a forum for ongoing debate among the citizens of Enchantment's Reach. Within the great city-castle's Arcane College and the Department of Philosophical Studies uncountable man-hours were devoted to the subject. A whole library existed with texts dedicated solely to the study of the nature of Enchantment, its strange and fearsome inhabitants, and the place of Enchantment's Reach and the palace of Orbia in the overall scheme of things.
Independent groups and factions had also sprung up within the mighty walls. Their members held fixedly to individual codes of beliefs and were uniformly convinced that they alone were custodians of the true facts of their existence.
Some of these groups were long-established. They donned the apparel of religio-political faiths - usually with the disapproval of the Crown - and exercised significant influence in the community. Others had been spawned more recently and attracted a smaller and often younger following. Several were given to worship of one or more of the warring gods of Enchantment - though tacitly and with circumspect ritual, for a royal edict forbade worship of specific deities - and while the majority preached peacefully in the streets or held regular convocations at allotted places of devotion and instruction, a few tended to extremist views and one or two were prone to unruliness and unorthodox modes of conduct.
Unquestionably all were keen to swell their own numbers, and equally to discredit by fair means or foul the arguments of their rivals. Assassination attempts upon faction heads or senior figures were a regular source of nuisance, and clashes between groups, sometimes bloody, invariably demanded the intervention of the city militia.
Attempts had even been made to overthrow the monarchy, most recently and infamously the endeavour by Grey Venger, head of the now outlawed True Sept, to take the life of King Leth. The attempt failed but Venger escaped. Leth arrested his two sons in his place and announced their deaths should Grey Venger fail to give himself into custody within one week. Venger stayed hidden and the boys died at the appointed time, flung from the towering walls of the Place of Justice onto the rocks far below.
Grey Venger was believed to be still hidden somewhere within Enchantment's Reach, and he remained head of the True Sept, though his popularity had waned following his failure to save his scions. The ban upon his cult posed King Leth's security cadre the problem of locating the shadowy corners where its members still met, along with those other dark niches that were the secret gathering places of illegal cabals and insurrectionists.
So it went on.
*
King Leth's family had held the throne by natural succession over nine generations. Leth himself, at thirty two, was now in his third year as sovereign of Enchantment's Reach and the surrounding lands. His mother, Queen Fallorn, had died soon after relinquishing the throne in his favour at the age of fifty nine. She passed away peacefully in her sleep following a short bout of influenza. Though she had never spoken of it, Leth had often wondered whether she had somehow known that her worldly time was coming to its end.
On the day following her abdication Leth had been made party to one of the great secrets of Enchantment's Reach. He was summoned to his mother's drawing-room early in the morning. Under the letter of the law the throneless queen no longer had the power of command over her son, but
Leth responded without hesitation.
He found Fallorn alone, unusually, seated upon a comfortable, winged chair before a blazing hearth.
"Mother." He took the hand she offered and touched his lips to it, then kissed her cheek and sat opposite her, his torso inclined forward so that he might keep her hand in his.
Fallorn gazed at him tenderly, her eyes bright. "Leth, my son. I am proud of you. I always have been. I have waited for this day, watching you as you grew, into a youth, then a man, then a man equipped and able to rule our troubled land. I saw from the beginning that you would rise with honours to this office, to continue the tradition of benign and just but firm rule that has been our family's hallmark. Now the day is here and I am comforted, privileged and proud to be able to gaze upon my son, Leth, King of Enchantment's Reach."
Leth slightly dropped his gaze. He was proud himself, just a little self-conscious under her praise, and aware also that he was perhaps not as wholly-deserving as she believed. He loved his mother dearly and knew the utmost respect for her as a woman and ruler, but he had not always agreed with her decisions. Her advisor and confidant for some years, he had begun to see ways in which his rule, when it came, might differ slightly from hers. He always put forward his view, but if Queen Fallorn overruled him he did not protest. Rather he kept his own counsel more and more, biding his time, for he was young and there had never been any doubt that his day would come.
"King of Enchantment's Reach," Fallorn repeated, half-whispering and almost in a reverie.
"Not yet, mother," Leth gently reminded her. "Not for two more weeks."
She had dismissed this with a short breath and a nonchalant flap of her hand. "The coronation is protocol and formality, you know that. It is for the people, that they may publicly acknowledge their new monarch, and for the nobility, the knights and grand officiers that they may renew their fealty to the crown. But it is all airs and posture. I am no longer the incumbent sovereign. You are King Leth, I have declared it so, and the world knows and acknowledges it."
Leth nodded, closing his eyes momentarily to savour the emotion that swept through him. He was realising his life's ambition. He was popular, with the people, courtiers, counsellors, nobles and military alike. He knew his rule would not be trouble-free - there were problems, as always, among the cults and factions; and from the south there had come disturbing rumours of a conflict among the Karai, not so very far beyond the marches of Enchantment's Reach - but Leth believed himself at that time well-able to meet any challenge that might confront him.
"It is to this end that I have called you here." His mother's voice had interrupted his thoughts. Opening his eyes he saw that her face had grown sombre. He frowned quizzically.
"There is something I have to reveal to you," Fallorn went on. "A confidence, combined with a gift, which will bring you to knowledge of Orbia's most precious secret. This is something that may be imparted only at this time, and only to the assumptive monarch."
She slid her hand from his and reached down to take a small blue casket, figured with glyphs, which rested on a low ebony table beside her. She held it upon her lap, cupping her hands around it, touching it lightly. She half-smiled to herself and seemed to be in a state of profound inward reflection. Leth watched her curiously.
"This is for you, my son." Fallorn raised the casket and passed it to him. Seeing that his fingers went immediately to the clasp which held it closed, she quickly covered his hands with hers. "No. Do not open it. Not now, not here."
Leth's brow creased again. "Mother, what is this?"
"It is a wonder, Leth, my son, my king. It is. . . ." She stopped herself, pressed his hands as a final admonition, then removed hers and sat back. "You will understand soon enough. Take this to your chambers and when you are alone, completely alone, preferably today, open it. First be sure to bolt all doors so that you may not be disturbed. Then you will learn."
Leth's frown deepened. He disliked riddles. A hidden rebelliousness in him spoke sharply, urging defiance of his mother, telling him to break open the box now and see what was within, be done with nonsense. But the mature man, the son and ruler provided better counsel. Though those aspects of his personality were also roused, they tempered him and he remained calm.
"Good." Fallorn had been watching him carefully, and now exhaled a held breath. "All might have been lost in this moment had you shown yourself less than I believed you to be."
"Mother, I don't understand--"
"Do just as I have told you. I can say no more. But tell no one. No one. Do you understand? Keep this from the eyes of others at all times, and let no person learn of its existence."
"But Mother--"
"Is that understood?"
Leth nodded. "It is. But--"
"No." She lifted a hand. "I can say nothing more. It is not permitted."
"Not permitted?" Leth was incredulous. "Mother, you are the Queen!"
"No longer. Hence this mystery is yours. Now, you have much to do. Kiss me and go. And later, when you know, do not speak to me of this. In time you will understand why."
Leth, impatient, had opened his mouth as if to ask more. But his mother regally turned her head aside, presenting her cheek, her eyes lowered. He rose and kissed her, and as he did so she briefly clasped his hand in a tight embrace. When he straightened she was looking into the flames of the fire. He bowed and withdrew.
Leth strode directly to his private chambers in the First Tower of Dawn in Orbia's west wing. There he dismissed all attendants, took himself off to his study and, in accordance with his mother's instructions, bolted the door. Wonderingly he took the little casket and placed it upon his work desk and sat down before it.
He examined the glyphs and symbols upon its surface, but they were of unfamiliar design and meant nothing to him. He ran his fingertips over the beading which curved from the four corners of the casket's base, up over its convex surface, to meet at the exact centre of the lid. The beading was made of small, oval gems, bright, opaque and deep blue. Where they met, in the lid's centre, was set a larger stone. Precious, Leth supposed, though neither the gems nor the larger stone were quite like any he knew.
The emotion that had earlier impelled him to break open the casket without ceremony had now left him. Instead he found himself almost reluctant to ease open the catch. He sat before the casket for some time, inexplicably overcome with apprehension. It was foolish, he told himself, and he did not know why he should feel this way. But his palms perspired and his mouth was dry and he felt an unaccustomed flush upon his cheeks as though he were coming down with a sudden fever.
For a moment Leth had been tempted to take the casket and fling it from his window to be smashed upon the stones many levels below. That way he would never know, never enter this mystery, this tantalising secret that had been presented to him - and perhaps that would be better. For he was afraid - he acknowledged this now with anger at himself. His mother's demeanour had unsettled him. He could not recall a time when he had been more impressed by her authority and the gravity of her tone. He was afraid, yes, at what this might mean.
But his curiosity was unappeasable, as Fallorn must have known it would be. He could not resist this; no sane person could. He leaned forward and took the blue casket in his hands. It was light, as if it contained very little. He eased the little hook that was its catch from its metal eye, freeing the hasp, and raised the lid.
Immediately Leth's chamber was filled with bright, pale blue light. With a startled cry he threw himself back in his chair, covering his eyes instinctively with an arm. Though pale, the light in its initial intensity half-blinded him. He squinted, seeking to see through the dazzle, but it hurt him to open his eyes more than a fraction, and even then he was forced to clench them shut almost upon the instant.
With his free hand Leth lashed out widely to knock the casket from the desk, hoping this might diminish or wholly deprive it of its power. But he failed to strike it; in fact he failed to strike the desk in front of him
, though the strangeness of this did not immediately become apparent to him. Uppermost in his mind was a sudden, terrible, crippling fear.
"The gods! I am blind!"
Leth lurched from his chair with a cry, both hands to his eyes. "Guards! Guards!"
He staggered towards the door, one hand stretched before him. He had covered several paces before it came to him that he had met no obstacle. Yet there was a divan only a couple of paces from his desk; and beyond that a stone pedestal supporting a bust of his great-grandfather, King Hordicard. And the big chest, the bookshelf, the wall! He should have touched the study wall by now, yet there was nothing. Nothing before him, around him; nothing familiar.
"What is happening here?"
He fell to his knees, groping forward for something, anything. And slowly he became aware that the intensity of light no longer stabbed through his eyelids. He parted them by degrees, fearfully. The blueness surrounded him but it no longer hurt. It was a gentler luminescence and he could see into it, and what he saw astounded him.
The new king, like a bewildered animal on his hands and knees, stared into an endless blue as his senses struggled to make sense of what had happened. He could see walls, blue-toned walls, but they were not the walls of his own apartment, and they appeared to be an infinite distance away, although they surrounded him and towered over him as if close. He could not explain this paradox. The walls were both near and far away. They were everywhere around, forming a vast circular chamber, and they were beneath and above him also. He was in a wide empty space, a uniform misty blueness, and there was nothing else.
He sat, blinking slowly, gazing around in a daze and trying to control the fear that welled within him.
"Where am I?"
The silence, he realised, was profound. It was as if there was nothing, nothing at all, anywhere, other than himself. And his heart hammered and he heard the blood roaring through his veins, the air bellowing in his lungs. He had never before been aware of himself like this, and it bore him up to a pitch of panic.
