A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1) (2 page)

‘I know there are those who will object to your presence, but all are welcome in my house. You have some necessary business to conduct, and until it is finished I’ll see you are left in peace as my guest,’ the sage replied cheerfully.

‘My thanks, Master Eldor.’

‘And when you say your need for advice “doesn’t matter”, I fear that, in fact, what I said a moment since has convinced you that I am unable to give you advice of any kind whatsoever.’

‘Yes, that is so,’ said the warrior with a grin. ‘It’s because of the damned Serpent that I am here. So you understand, if you cannot comment upon the Worm, Eldor, I might as well be on my way. The sooner I begin the better.’

‘Because you are determined to destroy the Serpent,’ Eldor stated. Ashurek looked at him with surprise.

‘You were expecting me, and you also know that? Then it’s true that you are the all-seeing, all-knowing sage?’ he said sardonically.

‘Not exactly,’ the old man chuckled. ‘Sometimes events have a certain inevitability: You will have to fill in the details of your story for me.’

Ashurek hesitated, then proceeded to relate, very briefly, the reasons for his visit. When he had finished, Eldor paused a few moments to take in what he had said. Then he nodded gravely.

‘You were right to come to me, Ashurek; your journey has not been wasted. There are two others here who also wish to slay the Worm. They will be your companions on the Quest. I’ll introduce you shortly, and then we shall talk of the Serpent and the need for its death.’

This pronouncement so astonished Ashurek that he was speechless for several seconds.

‘Silvren was right. How could I have doubted her?’ he muttered at last. At that moment the party who had followed him to the House entered, having stabled their horses. There were four of them, not newcomers but more members of the Morrenish crew. They were no longer laughing, but agitated.

A rough-looking, abrupt man who appeared to be the Captain cried out over the murmur of voices, ‘Did anyone know that there’s a Gorethrian horse in the stable?’

There was silence, then a few faint exclamations of disbelief from his sailors.

‘A vicious-looking beast, looks as if it’s made of gold metal – it’s unmistakable. Go and see if ye don’t believe me!’ The Captain glared around the room. ‘Where is its rider?’ His eyes alighted on the warrior who remained sitting, legs stretched out, appearing quite relaxed. ‘What is this? Is this continent now part of the Gorethrian Empire?’

The warrior put back his hood, revealing a helm of black metal fashioned into the shape of a creature with outstretched wings and a hawk’s head. The face beneath it was thin, with high cheekbones, long nose, and a grimly-set mouth. The skin was a sheeny purple-brown, and the eyes a moody, glaring green. He stared coldly at the sea-captain until the man became disconcerted; for however much they might despise Gorethrians, even fighting men regarded them with terror.

‘I don’t wish to cause any trouble. I’ll leave, sooner than let my presence upset you,’ the warrior said at last. There was a murmuring from all the guests.

‘All of us against one Gorethrian! Why do you hesitate to kill him? Are you cowards?’ shouted one of the sailors, made brave by wine.

The Captain was breathing heavily, his mouth twisted with anger and indecision. His hand was on his sword hilt. ‘If you must fight, please go outside,’ came Eldor’s authoritative voice. ‘But the Gorethrian is my guest, and as such, I’d thank you to treat him politely.’

‘Damn it,’ the Captain exclaimed. ‘My crewman is right. It is coward’s work to attack, so many against one. Perhaps later – outside.’

‘There will be no fight,’ Ashurek stated coldly. Finally, quite disconcerted by him, the Captain and the other three men turned away and went to sit with their fellows at the table. The atmosphere was heavy with their fear and frustrated anger.

Eldor sighed. ‘Perhaps it is best that you meet your companions now, before another such scene ensues,’ he said.

‘It is only to be expected; it means nothing to me,’ said Ashurek with a bitter smile. ‘However, I am in some haste to glean whatever knowledge and help I can here, so I put myself at your command.’

‘Good,’ the sage said cheerfully. ‘We’ll go to the kitchen; we can be private there, and warm. Dritha will show you the way, while I fetch the others.’

Ashurek left the hall and Dritha led him to a square room with a heavy oak table in the middle. The air was warm and steamy from the preparation of food.

Dritha left, taking the four kitchen helpers with her. Now alone, Ashurek sat down at the table and removed the metal helm from his unkempt black hair. He reflected on the easy familiarity with which she and Eldor treated him, even though they were complete strangers. There was an odd kind of comfort in it. Since the loss of his family there was only one who had not approached him with aggression, fear, subservience, or a combination of those. Now she was lost also.

After a few minutes Eldor entered with the five Forluinish folk. They all had long shining hair, and their clothes, though simple and of drab blues and greys, took on the graceful, flowing lines of their slender forms. The aura of beauty and sorrow about them was tangible, and utterly alien to Ashurek.

Behind them came the dark-haired woman, automatically keeping her distance, her face as expressionless as white stone.

‘Do sit down,’ Eldor said to them. ‘Are there enough chairs? Good. Perhaps I can persuade you all to take a glass of warm mead.’ No one spoke. The lone woman seated herself next to Ashurek. Facing them were the silver-haired Forluinish girl and a dark-haired man. At the bottom of the table a woman with chestnut hair sat with her fair-headed male companion; and at the top a brown-haired man sat beside Eldor’s empty chair. The sage, meanwhile, was busying himself at the long fire hearth with goblets and a stoneware jug, apparently oblivious to the uneasy silence of his guests. In his cheerful, unhurried way he served them each a vessel of mead, and provided a plate of honeyed cakes, which remained untouched.

Then, at last, he sat down to talk to them.

Who Eldor was, or where he came from, no one seemed to know. There were various theories; including a fanciful one that he was the first man on Earth, who had fled here to escape the growing madness of mankind. Here, all-knowing, he gave freely of his wisdom to help people as best he could. As little was known of Dritha, who had always been with him. Yet no one, least of all Eldor, would provide a true history and so he had become a living legend. The most ancient books preserved mentioned him. He would not speak of himself, however, and it was an unwritten rule that no one should question him. His domain was neutral, inviolable, a place of refuge, and all accepted that.

‘Now,’ the sage began, pulling back the loose sleeves of his robe and resting his arms on the table, ‘you have all come here with the same purpose in mind, though perhaps for very different reasons. I am here not to investigate your motives, but to give what help and advice I am able. You have embarked upon a very grave and serious mission, to destroy the Serpent M’gulfn.’

Ashurek saw the distracted glance the silver-fair Forluinish woman gave to the dark-haired man at her side. He took her hand. The white-faced woman was staring fixedly at a knot in the table as if she were wishing herself somewhere else.

‘Now the Worm is, according to legend, the source and channel of many evils in this world. You are taking a great task upon yourselves: to destroy evil.’

‘Will our efforts be wasted?’ the dark-haired man broke in, a beseeching note in his voice. ‘At every turn we are told the Serpent cannot be destroyed, so what use is it?’

Eldor paused as if pondering how to put a complicated answer in clear terms.

‘The Worm is a power that holds sway over our Earth. Can such a thing be destroyed? I do not know. Perhaps you will fail. But I do know that your Quest must take place, for there are vaster powers beyond the Serpent.’ The young Forluinishman looked lost. Eldor stopped and shook his grey head. ‘Even if I told you it was useless, would it discourage you from going? No; and even I cannot swear that there is no hope at all. Be assured there is some, however little. But to begin,’ he went on gravely, ‘would one of you recount, as you did to me, what has happened in Forluin? Falin?’

The Forluinishman beside Eldor had a fine-boned, gentle face and curling brown hair. He looked bleakly across at the warrior and at the grim-faced woman. He was the one who had been distressed when the Morrenish sailor mentioned the Serpent.

‘The Serpent attacked Forluin,’ Falin said abruptly. Drawing a breath he continued, ‘You do not know our land, I imagine?’

‘No, but its pastoral gentility is much envied throughout the world,’ said the Gorethrian with a touch of irony.

‘Envied, oh,’ the man muttered, lowering his head and shuddering. ‘For no reason we can comprehend, several months ago the Worm left its home in the Arctic snows and flew south to Forluin. It came like a whirlwind of death upon us, flying low and slavering a searing grey fluid that destroyed our farmlands and forests. It settled its long body, which was a loathsome, indescribable colour, on our land, spreading disease; and then it took to the air again, seizing many people and animals in its maw, chewing them and drooling the blood of our friends and families down upon those of us that it left. Eventually it flew north once more, though the stench of it hung over our land in a foul cloud for many days. Much of Forluin is smoking, diseased ash; few escaped without losing parents, or children or loved ones. I watched it seize my mother–’ Tears choked him. ‘Arlena, please finish for me.’

‘When those of us that were left gathered together,’ said the girl with the bright silver hair, ‘a Lady of the Blue Plane responded to our sorrow. She came through an Entrance Point, weeping when she saw what the Worm had done. We were all for forming an army – this after thousands of years of peace – and going north to destroy it. But she said we must send a party to the House of Rede for help, and select just one Forluinishman to go with the companions he would find here. And that the H’tebhmellians would provide a small ship to take them to the Blue Plane, where they would be given help in the Quest.’ Her voice was steady, although tears coursed down her face. ‘But it has taken us months aboard an ordinary ship to sail here and we do not know what is happening in Forluin. Perhaps with our herbal arts, all the diseases have been cured, and there is green growing through the ashes; or perhaps where Maerna and Forluin and the islands were, there is nothing.’

A strangling coldness crept over Ashurek as he listened. The Serpent to him had always been remote, only a symbol of evil. Now, even though he had purposed to destroy it, to hear of its actual existence and the horrible physical reality of it was a shock. His face betrayed nothing; neither he nor the solitary woman spoke or reacted at all to this news.

‘Well,’ said the third man, who had sea-bleached fair hair, ‘now you know about us; what of you?’

‘I was sent upon this Quest on behalf of one who cannot fulfil it herself,’ Ashurek answered. The fact that the Forluinish seemed to have no idea who he was disconcerted him; the hatred of the Morrenish was easier to deal with. Forluin was so cut off from world affairs, it was only to be expected. ‘Which of you has been assigned to this Quest?’

‘By mutual agreement, it is I who am going,’ the dark-haired man who had voiced doubts about the expedition replied. ‘My name is Estarinel.’ His face was clear-featured, beautiful, fair of skin and dark of eye. His black hair was long and curly and he was clad in a tunic and breeches of dark blue linen, with a white muslin shirt.

‘And I am Ashurek of Gorethria,’ said the warrior.

There was a silence. The five Forluinish stared at him; Arlena went white and muttered, ‘Oh ye gods.’ Meanwhile the dark-haired woman continued to stare at the table as if this horrific revelation meant nothing to her. Eldor merely maintained a serene expression, determined not to influence the proceedings.

Brother of the Emperor Meshurek, High Commander of the Gorethrian armies and navies, murderer, ravager of countries, loathed miscreant, and – so some thought – demon incarnate was Ashurek, Prince of Gorethria. Even the isolated Forluinish knew who he was, all his evil misdeeds. Unexpectedly confronted by the most feared and hated man in the world, it was impossible to find anything to say.

Eventually Ashurek spoke.

‘I would only say that I no longer have any connection with Gorethria. I do this for myself, and one other. I understand how you feel; it may well be the best for all of us if I pursue the Quest alone.’ His green eyes shone very bright and cold in his dark face.

Falin, Arlena, and the other two – the fair man and the chestnut-haired woman – looked at Estarinel with a sort of stunned relief. But Estarinel continued staring at the Gorethrian. His brown eyes were thoughtful rather than full of fear.

‘Wait,’ he said. ‘We’ve been told that we must go to the Blue Plane before we even consider setting out after the Serpent. Without the H’tebhmellian ship you’ll stand little chance of getting there.’

‘I know,’ said Ashurek, looking levelly back at him. ‘I have been trying to reach the Blue Plane for years. Eldor was my last hope. But it is entirely up to you.’

‘We had better go together, then,’ the Forluinishman said quietly.

‘E’rinel, you can’t!’ exclaimed Arlena, clutching his hand.