Enchantment's Reach (Book 1)

by Martin Ash

  How she wanted to tell him all - but she couldn't. Not yet. Not until she knew more. But she would not lie, either. "I’ll tell you precisely at a more appropriate time, my love. Suffice to say that I believe we must establish relations with Venger now. We can’t eradicate the True Sept, and it serves us no good to force it underground."

  "Isn’t that for the King to decide?"

  "Yes, but the King has always consulted wisely before making important decisions." She saw how this pricked him. "Leth, I have reason to believe that the creed of the True Sept, and particularly the prophecy of the Legendary Child, may be of significance at this time." Her heart beat fast as she said these words and she felt her throat constrict.

  "In what way?" enquired Leth.

  "Until I have learned more I would prefer not to say."

  "There are proper diplomatic channels for these things."

  "And they are lined with many ears. The other ways, if technically illegal, are more direct and private, and often offer more effective results."

  "But you went without proper escort, in disguise!"

  "Would you have me go as the Queen with a retinue of thirty knights? There would have been pandemonium in Overlip, and the Veiled Light would have been empty when I got there. This was the better way, my love. Fectur was fully informed, and he provided more than adequate cover."

  "Even so, it was dangerous."

  "These are dangerous times, calling for sometimes unorthodox and perhaps risky ventures. But I don’t I placed myself at great peril. Leth, if a communication is received from a representative of the True Sept, or anything that in any way may relate to the True Sept, will you inform me immediately? Please?"

  King Leth eyed her, then gave a single nod. "Will you not tell me what it is about?"

  Issul moved closer to him, taking one of his hands in both of hers. She kissed his forehead. "When I know more."

  They said little else but, their meal over, they sat together, lost in their individual thoughts. Issul gently stroked her husband's hair, her other hand holding his in her lap, his head resting upon her shoulder. After a while she placed a kiss upon his neck. "Tired?"

  He nodded slowly, then lifted his head and met her gaze. A twinkle lit his eye. "Well, perhaps not so."

  Issul smiled. She kissed him, rising, taking both his hands. "Well, noble sir, will you not then escort this fair woman to her bed?"

  *

  They stood together in their bedchamber beside the bed, slowly disrobing each other, warmed and illuminated by the orange flames of the great fire that burned in the hearth. When he was naked before her, Issul's hands slid down to gently take his cock, caressing, slowly, responding to the mounting pulse of him, her own ardour growing as the sound of his breathing deepened and his hands played over her breasts. His sighs grew to moans as her motions became more rapid and his hips thrust involuntarily towards her.

  Smiling, she knelt before him, planted soft kisses upon his stomach, his thighs, the soft mass of his hair, gently plying his hardness against her cheek, breathing in the familiar smell of him. She took him into her mouth, and her fingers slid between his thighs to tenderly stroke and caress his balls. Leth's hands went to her head, urging her, throbbing in her mouth as her tongue played.

  Knowing him, she brought him closer to his peak, and when she knew that he could go no higher, she grasped the base of his shaft and squeezed firmly, holding him back. Releasing him from her mouth she stood slowly, kissing her way up his strong body until their mouths met. They fell together upon the bed. Issul straddled him, taking him into her, drawing him deep inside, crying out. A few short strokes and Leth could hold back no longer. He poured himself into her, and as the hot liquid gush of his seed filled her she lost herself in the waves of her own climax, arching her spine and throwing back her head in delirious abandon, until she fell limply, joyful and exhausted, and his powerful arms slipped around her and held her to him, their bodies slick and spent.

  III

  Leth slept, deeply, his breathing even, somehow able to free himself of the trials that beset him. But Issul, though she slumbered after their lovemaking, became restless, fitful, troubled by strange dreams. Eventually she found herself awake in the near-dark and unable to return to sleep.

  She lay for some time, watching Leth's sleeping face in the coppery light cast by the dying fire. His eyelids flickered from time to time, the eyeballs rolling beneath, and occasionally he would half-mumble something. Once he cried out as if in protestation or anger, but he did not wake and the words were incomprehensible, giving Issul no clue as to the content of his dreams.

  She stroked his forehead and he sank back into deep sleep. Though she tried, Issul, still in his embrace, remained wakeful. She lay for some time upon her back, then eventually unwound Leth's arms carefully from about her and rose from the bed. She slipped on a quilted night-robe and went to stand beside the window.

  Enchantment's Reach was silent and cloaked in utter black, relieved only here and there by the dim glow of a lantern. Overhead the firmament was a starry mass, filling her with painful wonder as she gazed. Cold beauty. A vastness beyond comprehension, and she its dazzled, uncomprehending witness. Are there others out there, she asked silently as she had asked so many times before. Did they gaze towards her from their own lonely stars, their hearts and minds filled with the same profound wonder, the same unanswerable questions?

  Issul lowered her gaze, her eyes drawn to another mystery, far-off, yet compared to the stars, no more than a hand's reach away: the weird lights of Enchantment. They were a bright shifting blur in the distance, vermilions, golds, greens and blues, hovering about an unseen horizon.

  Now here was a mystery that might be solved, she thought. For what are you? Enigmatic glows upon a strange and forbidden land, yet so close. The impulse was upon her to leave upon the instant, ride forth from Enchantment's Reach, through the forest to Enchantment itself. Surely, surely, there must be a way?

  But Issul knew that of those who had done just that, none had returned to tell their story. The remains of some had been found in the forest, though not in her lifetime. Their bones had been picked clean by unknown carnivores, their belongings scattered amongst the roots and bushes. But more had simply disappeared, never to be heard of again. And nothing had been learned of the mystery they had set out to explore.

  No, it was impossible. For all its apparent proximity, for all the tantalizing, eerie glow of its beautiful lights, Enchantment might as well have lain beyond the most distant star.

  The last champion known to have ventured there was named Greth the Bold. Pader Luminis had spoken of him only hours earlier as he recounted to Issul tales of their age. He was a knight of Enchantment's Reach, a mighty warrior and, so it was rumoured, a lover of Queen Fallorn. With a dozen men-at-arms and two adepts of the Arcane College, Greth the Bold had ridden forth, pledged to return with accounts of the gods and their land. That had been more than thirty years ago. Greth and all his followers vanished like so many before them, and nothing was known of their fate.

  And yet, out there, is it possible that there may lie the answer to our troubles? Issul pressed her head back against the wall, fighting back tears of frustration, her heart pressing against her ribs.

  The Orb's Soul.

  No, it was a dream. As Leth had said, a refuge of frightened minds in desperate times. Nothing more.

  And even if it were more substantial than a dream, neither she nor any other could ever go there.

  Issul's mind ran over other elements of the conversation she had had with Pader Luminis, most notably his references to the Legendary Child of the True Sept. Details were scant, known only to the hereditary leaders of the Sept, who were bound to absolute secrecy. Pader had been able to fill in little more than Issul already knew: the Legendary Child was said to be the spawn of one of Enchantment's gods, let loose upon the world to wreak havoc and destruction. Its very presence, it was said, would be the cause of ruination and war. Why, was un
clear. The True Sept held knowledge of its coming, the conditions that would pertain, and the reasons for its arrival among men. The True Sept prepared the way. At Issul's entreaty Pader Luminis had promised to scour the library, delve into every corner in an effort to find out more, but he did not hold out great hope.

  "The creed of the True Sept is held within its heart. Nothing more than these most basic details have ever been revealed, and the leaders of the Sept decline to affirm or deny even this, so we can be sure of nothing. The ranks of the Sept have never been infiltrated - at least not to bring out that knowledge." He had scratched his pate, pursing his lips in concentration. "Still, I will try, my dear. For you, I will try."

  He had not enquired into the reasons for Issul's sudden interest.

  Issul squeezed shut her eyes. Am I really the cause of all this? Have I brought about our destruction?

  Again Ressa's smiling face rose before her. So like Mawnie. Almost indistinguishable.

  Ressa, I did it for you! Ressa, Ressa, if only it had been different! I loved you so. We all did. You should have lived. It was unfair, so unfair!

  She turned away, forcing the demons from her mind. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would ride to Lastmeadow.

  Issul turned back towards the bed. Her husband still slept, one bare arm lying upon the cover. She moved back to join him, though she still felt she would not sleep. As she cast off her robe something caught her eye. She stared for a moment at Leth. Nothing seemed amiss, and yet. . .

  She peered more closely. There was nothing. It must have been her tiredness. She bent to draw back the cover and climb in beside him, and glimpsed it again. A faint glow, so faint, barely discernible. It seemed to come from his skin.

  But again, as she stared at him, she could see nothing.

  Issul glanced away, beyond Leth, but keeping him within the periphery of her vision. There! Now she could see it, when her gaze was slightly averted. It was definite, the dimmest luminescence, bluish in colour, clinging to him.

  She looked directly at him once more: it was indiscernible. But it was no visual fallacy nor the product of her overwrought brain. She focused beyond him and saw it again.

  Her heart thumping Issul pulled the cover back, exposing Leth's entire naked body. She let her eyes pass beyond him. There it was, the dimmest aura, clinging to him from head to toe.

  Issul recalled the strange lucence she had descried that night beneath his study door.

  Leth! Leth!

  She was afraid to wake him. She lay beside him, pulling the cover over them both, her thoughts spinning once more. And when the first grey light of dawn seeped into the chamber she lay there still, wakeful and wondering.

  IV

  Far away, though far too close in the minds of many, the same grey dawn broke upon another scene. A blue command pavilion had been pitched in a grassy meadow which let onto the shore of a long misted lake. Around this, beyond the edges of the meadow, spreading along the shore, over nearby heathland, up the slopes of proximal hillsides, were pitched hundreds upon hundreds of other, smaller tents. Campfires smouldered in the chill morning, a thousand smoke plumes lazily curling to merge with the mist. Huddled figures moved between the tents and fires, lugging pots and cauldrons, bundles of faggots and logs, sacks of meal, tack, dried meat and other basic foodstuffs, and barrels of ale, spirit and, more commonly, water. The air carried the odours of cooking food as, in the tents, sleepy figures gradually began to stir. The Karai army was waking.

  From the blue pavilion came Anzejarl, Prince of the Karai people, to stand upon the dewy grass and gaze out upon the misted terrain. Around the meadow sharp-pointed stakes rose from the ground, some three score or so in number. Impaled upon these were the tormented bodies of men and women, mostly corpses, though one or two of the least fortunate still somehow clung to the agony that was all life had been reduced to.

  Living or dead, Anzejarl paid them no heed. He stared instead out across the lake to where, above the densest layers of mist, the topmost bulk of a high, rugged, saddle-backed ridge loomed darkly in the half-lit morning.

  Anzejarl was tall, unusually so for a Karai, and his face, long and deeply-seamed in the character of his people, wore a cast both mournful and coldly proud. He was garbed in stuffed and studded black leather armour and boots, a black cloak slung about his shoulders. His eyes, like the eyes of all Karai, were a total searing blue, scored by the narrowest slit-pupils of weltering jade. In one fist he grasped a bunch of bruised ghinz leaves, raising one from time to time to his lips. Chewing, his gaze growing glassier and more intense as the narcotic worked to quell his senses, he stared into the distance for some time. Eventually he lowered his eyes, slowly shaking his head, and breathed a long harsh sigh. "Enough of this. Now. Enough."

  Behind him a woman had emerged from the pavilion. She was startlingly beautiful, her hair long and lustrous red. She wore a long deep green dress which hugged her figure, voluptuously accentuating the curves and swells of her body. She moved up beside Prince Anzejarl and rested her hands upon his arm, gazed for a moment at the far ridge, then looked up into his eyes.

  "I sense your anger. It isn’t necessary."

  "It isn’t necessary. Pah!" Anzejarl's jaw tightened. "It should end, now."

  "It cannot."

  "The price is far too high."

  "But you are rewarded."

  Anzejarl spat mashed ghinz onto the grass, inserted another leaf between his teeth. "I am enslaved."

  "You have your desire."

  "Perhaps that’s what I mean."

  The woman took his free hand and raised it to place it upon one of her breasts. She held it there, squeezing, feeling her nipple harden. "Are you saying this is not enough?"

  Anzejarl breathed deeply and looked into her eyes. With satisfaction she saw his features slacken, saw the burning in his eyes and felt his great hand move at his own volition on her breast. She pressed against it, reached up and curled her arm around the back of his head, drawing his lips down to hers and kissing him fiercely.

  Anzejarl let the ghinz leaves fall. He pulled her hard against him, one hand sliding to her buttocks. "Olmana, Olmana."

  She broke free of the kiss, gasping, "Now, do you still say it should end?"

  His mouth travelled over her neck, her shoulder. He bent to place his lips upon the swell of her breast.

  "Remember, I can take it all away. And more."

  "No. No." He gripped her shoulders, stared into her face.

  "You are pledged, Anzejarl. At any price. There is no turning back. Remember that."

  "I can never forget," he growled, sullen and aroused.

  "The Child will be found, will it not?"

  "It will, if the entire world must burn in the process, it will."

  "Good. Then. . . " Olmana arched her neck, rolling her eyes towards the high ridge.

  "We will move today," muttered Anzejarl. "Soon we’ll see how the good soldiers of the Reach have prepared for us."

  "They’re aware that you are coming?"

  "Of course. More than two years of conquests will hardly have passed unnoticed, even to the dim eyes of Enchantment's Reach. And their scouts have been spotted shadowing us on more than one occasion."

  "And your contact in the capital? Is there no indication there?"

  "Of the Child?"

  "Or anything else."

  Anzejarl shook his head. "I have received no word. But good King Leth is bound for a surprise."

  Olmana smiled to herself. She slid a hand to his groin and caressed him through the leather, coaxing, "I wonder whether they might appreciate a small taste of what is to come."

  Alzejarl's eyes closed and he grunted in pleasure. "I dispatched special advance units some time ago. They will be in place now and will begin providing a few distractions."

  "Good. But I thought. . . ." her eyes went to a small grove of trees on the edge of the meadow. Dark, bulky forms could be seen roosting on their lower limbs. Beneath were strewn bones, mostly human, and
mauled tatters of meat.

  "Do you want me to send slooths, Olmana?"

  "Why not? They could be there in, what, two days? Three?"

  Prince Anzejarl nodded.

  "Good. Send them, then. Not in force. Just enough to put fear into the populace and more pressure upon Leth. Kill a few folk. Make it plain to them all that the towering walls and high cliffs of Enchantment's Reach are of little count against a superior enemy who can strike from the air. I think, between the slooths and your special units, we should achieve an encouraging level of demoralization."

  Prince Anzejarl looked into her eyes and smiled. "As it happens, it is already done. A small detachment of slooths departed in the wake of the special units. I would imagine they will be making their presence known very soon."

  Olmana smiled. "Good. It seems you deserve your reward, Anzejarl."

  She brought his head down and he sought her mouth hungrily again, gathering her to him and carrying her back into his pavilion.

  FOUR

  I

  It was Orbelon, the ragged-garbed tenant of the strange blue casket, who had told King Leth about the Orb's Soul. He had done so only hours before Leth mentioned it to Issul. But he had spoken of it imprecisely, and in terms of loss and inaccessibility. Leth came away without a clear description, knowing the Orb's Soul only as something that probably did not exist and certainly could never be found.

  In the three years since becoming King, Leth had been summoned numerous times to Orbelon's enclosed blue world. Always it was Orbelon who commanded him, establishing the times and conditions; never did Leth enter unnannounced.

  Over this time he had been granted brief glimpses of an extraordinary knowledge. He came away at times with his mind reeling. But the unusual master/student relationship he had with Orbelon had a somewhat oppressive quality. Orbelon often spoke in a way that seemed calculated to confuse. Leth always sensed that he was holding something back, that there were things he was unwilling to reveal, and yet that he was building up to something. That which he did reveal, though it might make good sense, was largely unverifiable from Leth's position. Leth proceeded largely on trust, never quite sure whether everything was to be wholly believed. He had to fight sometimes to contain his frustration and impatience.