A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1) (40 page)

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Authors: Freda Warrington

BOOK: A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1)

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‘You may have a point,’ Ashurek grinned. ‘We certainly must set out with hope and determination, or we might as well not go at all.’

‘I am glad to hear you say so. There may be needs for sorrow, but never despair,’ the Lady said, her eyes full of the light of hope. ‘There is more to say of the Silver Staff and the journey to fetch it, but that will keep for now. Listen; your world is going through an evil age in which all the Earth seems sad and at a loss. It is on your shoulders to turn her face to the morning. Now I am not saying that once the Serpent is dead, all the Earth will become sweet and fair for eternity; on the contrary, new evils may spring up in its place. There will be a wild, wild age in which sorcery, a bright magic and a dark one, will hold sway; an age of vigour as opposed to this age of lethargy and decay. The change must take place or your world is doomed to Arlenmia’s vision. Silvren knew this from the start, for her power is of the future.’

Silvren. Ashurek stood, hands on hips, staring moodily at the crystal-blue rock beneath his feet. Could it be true, the horrific revelation that the Dark Regions lay on the other side of the Blue Plane? He remembered the vision of her, when she had said, ‘
The Dark Regions are not black at all – they’re blue… like the egg of a small bird, washed by the rain and left to rot in a deserted nest…
’ Yes, it was true. So there must be a way to go through and seize her from the demons…

He remembered Arlenmia, and wondered what she would do now in her fanatical devotion to the Serpent. How had Silvren known her, and been friends with such a one?

He sighed and walked on beside the sweet, clear lake towards Estarinel and Medrian. Now they were waiting for news of whether or not the Guardian’s project was successful. Only then could they go to fetch the Silver Staff. It was a time of peace, but anxieties surfaced to make them all uneasy. Setting forth on a journey was always easier than waiting and waiting; especially now that the first stage of their Quest was over and the dread business of setting out to slay the Serpent was before them.

‘You are quiet,’ Medrian said. ‘What are you thinking about?’

‘Well… if it’s possible and the H’tebhmellians would permit it,’ Estarinel replied slowly, ‘I would like to visit Forluin briefly before we go.’

Medrian stood still and gave him a look of astonishment. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said sharply. ‘What if things are worse there – or better – and you lose heart to continue the Quest?’

‘I won’t, not having come so far.’

‘It’s a chance I’d rather not take!’

‘Medrian – I have to go. It might be the last time I ever see my country, don’t you understand?’

‘You’ve said your farewells. Why repeat the agony?’ She sounded angry. Then her face changed, became thoughtful. ‘Nothing I say will stop you, will it?’

‘Not if the Lady will let me go.’

‘Would you let me come with you?’ she asked unexpectedly.

‘Of course. I would love you to,’ he answered, startled and pleased. ‘Why the change of heart?’

She turned away from him, looking out across the tranquil lake to the formations of crystal beyond. A breeze stirred her long, ebony hair. There was a diamond-like clearness of purpose in her face, contradicted by the confusion and bitter longing in her dark eyes.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, half-smiling as she began to walk on alone. ‘I don’t know.’

Interlude

A dream hung in the dark void like a jewel. Glittering like a rare canary diamond, it seemed self-sufficient, as though it needed no dreamer to conjure it, but had created itself. Approaching the glittering yellow orb, in the slow curving drift of a space traveller drawing close to a strange planet, the dreamer could see that the gem was a living thing. A network of shining capillaries enmeshed it, pulsing with the passage of glistening alien blood. These vessels throbbed to the rhythm of a vast, unseen heart and each pulse was a leap of joy, a graceful continual tribute to the supreme beauty of the heart.

Now in orbit around the vast diamond, the dreamer’s breath was stopped by its splendour. The dream-jewel was singing. The capillaries sang; the blood within them sang; the gold crystal fabric of the gem sang.
We are on our way to the Heart. We are of the Heart. We are the Heart.

Now, cresting the rim of the orb, a Pole came into view and the Heart could be seen at last. It was of purest blue crystal, a sapphire that filled vision and soul with sudden infinite joy. The dreamer’s ecstasy was indescribable. Perhaps it could not be experienced by a human spirit except that insanity was bound to follow.

The Heart did not sing, yet it called. It bestowed blue radiance around it, entreating all life to come to it, to receive the blessing of its infinite joy and grace. Through the radiance it could be seen that each corpuscle of the blood was in itself a jewel, jostling its neighbours in its quest for the Heart’s fulfilment until all became a coruscating river of worship of the sapphire godhead.

And when they neared the Heart, its azure touched their rich yellow and they shone emerald as if the very colour was fulfilment made visible.

And did any ever enter the Heart? No; all their joy was in yearning, for surely to enter that perfect eternal crystal would destroy them. And their stasis, their eternal, pulsing worship, was a paean to infinity. In the eyes of the dreamer it was supreme perfection.

And the dreamer held that jewel in her hand. Through long meditation and certain drugs, she achieved at last her ambition: mental commune with the Serpent. Within her mind she stood before it, stretching her arms wide in jubilation as she spoke.

‘Behold, M’gulfn, your servant. Tell me what you want me to do!’

Bring me the eye
, the Serpent replied. Its voice startled her; it was thunderous, tremulous, yearning, confused. Almost human.
I must have my lost eye. This way only can the dream be achieved.

‘Then it shall be done!’ she exclaimed, her purpose becoming religious ecstasy. ‘Only wait for me, M’gulfn – I am on my way, and the dream shall be fulfilled.’

There was a knock at the door of Setrel’s cottage. He answered and stared with shock at the statuesque woman on the threshold.

She was unmistakable from the descriptions given him.

‘I’ve come for the boy, Skord,’ she said.

‘You most certainly have not!’ Setrel stated, his whole frame tense with protective anger. He began to shut the door against her. ‘Get you gone from here! I know who you are, and there is no question–’

As if she were not even listening, the woman pushed Setrel aside with such force that he was slammed to the floor, cracking his skull. He saw her step into the room and he saw Skord in another doorway, staring at her… Then he lost consciousness.

The boy stood transfixed at the sight of a woman of extraordinary beauty with a cascade of aquamarine hair. In one breath he was back in the phantasm of ecstasy and terror from which he thought he had woken for good. He began to tremble. Colour came to his cheeks and his mouth half opened. A distant part of him saw Setrel lying injured and knew he should go to his aid. But it did not seem to matter. Revulsion and loathing flooded him and he raised his arms to ward off the spectre of Arlenmia.

‘I’ve come to take you with me, Skord,’ she said, smiling, her voice as warm and reassuring as a mother’s.

‘No,’ he protested weakly. ‘I’m staying here…’

‘I have made mistakes in the past; I have been blind,’ she continued. ‘But that is over now. I hope you can forgive me. I have seen the truth and I understand what I must do. And this is thanks in part to you, most devoted of my messengers; I want to share it with you. I need you to help me, Skord. Come, let me show you the beauty I have found. You will have your reward. Come.’

She held out a pale hand that seemed sculpted from marble. His will was no longer his own. Loathing became inextricably merged with adoration, his mind splintered by visions of gold and blue and green crystal, layer upon layer of pain and beauty. Weeping, overwhelmed, witless, he stumbled past the prostrate form of his forgotten protector and followed Arlenmia.

END

The story continues in Book Two, A BLACKBIRD IN DARKNESS

Read on for an extract of Chapter One: The Quest of the Serpent

Author’s Note

Epic fantasy.

Don’t you love it? The brooding anti-hero, the gentle race forced to fight for survival, the woman of mystery. Warriors, sorcerers, demons, weird dimensions. Horses and swords! The perfect, ultimate, impossible Quest.

It’s hard to believe that it’s over thirty years since, as a schoolgirl, I sat down and wrote the first lines of
A Blackbird in Silver
. It wasn’t the first novel I’d started by any means, but it was the first one I actually managed to finish. I loved Joy Chant, Michael Moorcock, Tanith Lee, and most of Tolkien – especially the portentous bits, the more high-flown and elvish the better! I was rather averse to dwarves, trolls, stable-boy kings and tweeness in general. Instead I wanted to write something dark, something that really mattered – at least to me.

The idea sprang from asking myself, ‘What is the hardest thing you could possibly be required to do?’ Clue: it’s not killing the Serpent. (You’ll have to read Book Two!) And the Serpent M’gulfn? Growing up against the background of the Cold War, with the imminent threat of nuclear annihilation from bombs or unstable reactors, the image of lands laid waste and the soulessness of it and the impossibility of stopping it… all that fermenting in the murky depths of my young subconscious… that’s where my Serpent came from.

The novel was first published by New English Library in 1986, followed by several sequels, reprinted in the 1990s, and later reissued by Immanion Press. This is the first appearance of the Blackbird Series for Kindle.

When I first began, my Blackbird world had a peculiar, intensely weird and brooding atmosphere that I still feel when I return to it. When I came to re-edit later editions, I did so with a light touch. My style has changed so much that I could have ended up completely rewriting it and then it wouldn’t have been the same book. Little has altered – except that Arlenmia’s put-upon maid now has a name! So, with some considered pruning, the narrative keeps its original flavour and a certain naive charm.

A Blackbird in Silver
and
A Blackbird in Darkness
form a duet telling one complete story. The novel became a two-parter due to my original publisher suggesting I make it a trilogy. However, I didn’t want to write a middle volume of ‘padding’ and so it became a duo. The two books should ideally be read as one. If you would like to read the whole thing in real book form, Immanion Press publishes them as a paperback omnibus edition,
A Blackbird in Silver Darkness.

PS. If you have enjoyed this book, PLEASE WRITE A REVIEW!

This novel is also available as an audio book from
Audible

And in paperback from
Immanion Press