A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1) (41 page)

Freda Warrington was born in Leicester, England, and began writing stories as soon as she could hold a pen. The beautiful ancient landscape of Charnwood Forest, Leicestershire, where she grew up, became a major source of inspiration.

She studied at art college and worked in medical illustration and graphic design for a number of years. However, her first love was always fantasy fiction, and in 1986 her first novel A Blackbird in Silver was published. More novels followed, including A Taste of Blood Wine, The Amber Citadel, Dark Cathedral and Dracula the Undead – a sequel to Dracula that won the Dracula Society’s Best Gothic Novel Award in 1997.

So far she has had twenty-one novels published, varying from sword n’ sorcery and epic fantasy to contemporary fantasy, supernatural, and alternative history.

Her recent novel Elfland (Tor US) won the Romantic Times Award for Best Fantasy Novel of 2009. Midsummer Night, the second in the
Aetherial Tales
series, was listed by the American Library Association among their Top Ten SF/ Fantasy Novels of 2010.

Titan Books are republishing her vampire series – A Taste of Blood Wine, A Dance in Blood Velvet, The Dark Blood of Poppies, and a brand new novel The Dark Arts of Blood (2015) – with gorgeous new covers. The first three were originally published in the 1990s, long before the recent explosion of vampire fiction! (So – no teenagers, no kick-ass super-heroines, no werewolves… but a solid, dark, gothic romance for grown-ups, set in the shadowy, decadent glamour of the 1920s.)

Freda lives in Leicestershire with her husband Mike and her mother, where she also enjoys crafts such as stained glass and beadwork, all things Gothic, yoga, walking, Arabian horses, conventions and travel.

Read on for a sample of
A Blackbird in Darkness
, and more book information…

The Quest continues. In their battle to save the Earth of Three Planes, Estarinel, Medrian and Ashurek must overcome danger, horror and treachery – laced with moments of wonder – until they reach their destination: the frigid Arctic snows, and their ultimate, indestructible foe, the Serpent M’gulfn.

Extract from Chapter One: The Quest of the Serpent

Ashurek walked along the edge of the lake, his head bowed in thought. When he glanced up and saw Calorn and Estarinel seated on the knoll ahead of him, he hesitated. He had no desire for company, and purposed to avoid them. But they had already seen him, and when Calorn waved and called a greeting, he changed his mind. Perhaps it would be better to find some diversion from his haunting thoughts of Silvren; after all, brooding could not help her.

Throughout most of the Quest, he had managed to suppress his grief at her loss. He had once been a prisoner in the Dark Regions himself, and knew intimately the fear, torment and wretchedness that Silvren was undergoing. The Dark Regions were the hellish domain of the Shana, who served M’gulfn. Until now he had accepted that he stood no chance of rescuing her until the Serpent was dead. However, the Lady of H’tebhmella’s appalling disclosure had changed that. She had told them that the Regions did not exist in some vague, distant limbo, but were actually cleaved to the far side of the Blue Plane. Each Plane, being flat, was two-sided, and the Lady had hinted that H’tebhmella’s other side had once been even lovelier than this. But by some ghastly supernatural trick, the demons had contrived to place their own evil kingdom there.

On Hrannekh Ol, Ashurek and his companions had passed from one side to the other through a tunnel in the Plane’s fabric. And although Ashurek knew that H’tebhmella was sealed against the Shana’s power, that no such tunnels could exist here, still he could not rid his mind of the obsessive knowledge that Silvren was there, imprisoned and in agony, just out of his reach…

He climbed up the knoll and seated himself by Estarinel and Calorn, greeting them with the merest sombre nod.

‘Prince Ashurek, I’m glad of the chance to speak with you,’ Calorn said cheerfully. ‘Estarinel and I have been talking about the Silver Staff.’

#

Ashurek appeared uninterested, Calorn thought. His baleful eyes were introspective, and his loose H’tebhmellian clothing of deep blue did nothing to make his tall, lean frame less imposing. His presence was powerful, intimidating. She persisted brightly, ‘And I was telling him about my being at the School of Sorcery with Silvren and Arlenmia.’

The change in Ashurek’s expression as she spoke was startling; his green eyes met hers, brilliant against the dark brown-purple sheen of the skin. His face, with its high cheekbones, straight nose and grimly set mouth, was so menacing that her skin prickled.

‘Everywhere we go, it seems I meet people who know more of Silvren than do I,’ he said in a low voice.

‘But surely you knew…’ Calorn floundered, unnerved by his intense glare.

‘I know that Silvren travelled to another world to learn how to use her sorcerous powers. Of her time there, she told me little. She never cared to speak of her past, so I did not insist. However, I would like to learn more. How well did you know her?’

‘Hardly at all.’ Ashurek’s expression became more dangerous at this. Calorn refused to let herself be cowed. ‘I should explain that the School had a hierarchical structure. The Sorcery students were the School’s elite, so those of us who studied lesser subjects knew all of them by name, although they might not know us. I’d recognise Silvren anywhere, but I exchanged only a few words with her in ten years there, and I doubt she would remember me. She was quite small – a little taller than Medrian – and her hair and skin were deep gold in colour. Her eyes, too.’

Ashurek nodded. ‘And Arlenmia?’

‘Unforgettable. She was tall, extremely beautiful in a strange way; her skin was like marble, as if she were a perfect statue brought to life. She had extraordinary hair all shades of sea-green and azure, and large eyes the same colour. And such a graceful way of moving that you couldn’t take your eyes off her.’

‘And Arlenmia is a fanatical and dangerous woman,’ Ashurek said. ‘Only recently did I learn that it was she who sent the demon Diheg-El after Silvren. That demon eventually caught up with Silvren and she is now its prisoner. Yet I also heard that she and Arlenmia were once friends. Naturally, I find it somewhat hard to credit.’

‘Well, it’s true. They used to go everywhere together, like lovers. Most of the Sorcery students were natives of Ikonus. Silvren and Arlenmia were among a very few from other worlds. Arlenmia had been there a year before Silvren arrived, and had made no friends at all. And Silvren was very young – fifteen or sixteen, perhaps – and rather shy. I think they were both lonely. They became close and remained so for ten years – although some said they argued all the time.’

‘What about?’ The fierceness left Ashurek’s eyes. He and Estarinel were listening to Calorn with rapt interest.

‘Metaphysical things. The nature of good and evil.’ Calorn gave a shrug. ‘Arlenmia had some strange ideas. I heard she was different from the other Sorcerers. Each was born with the ability to draw sorcerous power from the earth and channel it through themselves, and the School trained them to use their magic properly; that is, with restraint, and only for good. I heard that Silvren was the only one born on her own Earth with these powers.

‘Yes, that is so,’ Ashurek said. ‘She was born out of her time, she told me, because her powers should not exist while the Serpent lives.’

‘Apparently Arlenmia had no such intrinsic power. Instead she had a strange ability to change reality through mirrors. She was given special dispensation to study at the School, but some of the tutors distrusted her. They made her feel different, inferior, not a true Sorceress.’

Estarinel put in, ‘She said to me once, “I am no sorceress, I can only work through an unbroken mirror.” She was angry. Bitter, perhaps.’

‘Yes, that’s true. I believe Arlenmia grew to despise her tutors,’ Calorn went on. ‘Silvren abided by their rules, and Arlenmia didn’t, so they disagreed. But their affection for each other was genuine; Silvren was the only one in whom Arlenmia confided, and everyone said that although Silvren was well aware of Arlenmia’s unusual views, she was sweet-natured and loyal, and prepared to overlook her faults.’

‘Oh, that is Silvren,’ groaned Ashurek.

‘I don’t know whether Arlenmia planned what happened, or whether she acted in a moment of anger. The School of Sorcery had an icon of power, a silvery sphere that hovered perpetually in the sky above the School. This sphere was called the Ikonus – my world is named after it – and it was revered as… how did we put it? “A symbol of pure, uncorrupted Sorcery exercised in the service of Good”. Every student had to take an oath upon the Ikonus that the arts they learned – even the arts of war – would only be used in the service of good.

‘But Arlenmia believed the Ikonus to be more than a symbol. She was convinced that it contained vast power and secrets that the tutors were selfishly guarding. She thought that if its power were released, all would benefit. If ever she talked to Silvren of this, Silvren must have dissuaded her from interfering, perhaps many times.

‘Each year, the sorcery students who’d completed their ten years of study took part in a ceremony at which they received the white robes of fully fledged Sorcerers. I finished my own training in soldiery and Wayfinding in the same year as Silvren. Arlenmia had stayed at the School an extra year to wait for her friend, but just before the ceremony, the High Master informed her that, as she could only draw her power through mirrors, she was not a true Sorceress and therefore could not don the white robe.

‘We heard later how upset Arlenmia was by this: distraught, humiliated and outraged. Understandably, I suppose. Even Silvren could not console her. The ceremony went ahead as planned. I remember vividly that Silvren received her white mantle without a trace of joy, because Arlenmia was not there. If only someone had thought to ask where she was!

‘The ceremony took place outside. The School glittered in the sunshine like a palace of diamonds. No one foresaw what was about to happen. The first we knew that anything was wrong was when the sphere Ikonus began to spin drunkenly in the sky. Then a white light poured from it, more dazzling than the sun. I was near-blinded, and all around me people were screaming. When the light faded, the sphere had gone. From where it had been, a rumbling darkness was surging across the sky, like a thundercloud, turning the day as dark as night.’

Calorn broke off, swallowing hard. Hideous memories flooded her.

‘And this was Arlenmia’s doing? What had she done?’ Ashurek prompted.

‘We found out afterwards. While everyone was at the ceremony, she’d gone to her room and worked through mirrors to release the “secrets” of the Ikonus. Some said she never meant any actual harm, only to steal its power and flee. If that’s what she intended, she made a terrible mistake. The Ikonus was no mere symbol, nor did it contain the marvellous secrets she desired. The High Master is described it as the work of centuries, a sphere that captured and contained all the dark, negative forces that otherwise would taint our sorcery, a filter through which only good energies could pass. That was why we revered it. So when the Ikonus exploded, all that blackness was released to spread around my world like a blanket. The atmosphere became perpetually cold and dark. Plants, animals, everything began to die.’

‘And what happened to your world?’ Estarinel asked gently. ‘Were they able to save it?’

Calorn took a deep breath and steadied her voice. ‘The Sorcerers believed they could heal it eventually. But it would be a long, hard task, and only a few possessed the skill to help. By now, the healing is underway… I hope.’

‘What became of Silvren and Arlenmia?’ Ashurek asked with a touch of impatience.

‘When the High Master realised what had happened, the tutors rushed to detain Arlenmia, but she’d already vanished. When she saw the havoc she’d wreaked, she must have used her skills to flee the world. A few weeks later, Silvren, who was distraught, vanished as suddenly. A couple of the tutors said good riddance, she’d been as foolish as Arlenmia; but most were distressed, because they’d wanted her to stay at the School and teach. Even the High Master couldn’t understand why she followed Arlenmia. And I’ve only realised why since I met you, Ashurek.’

Estarinel looked at the Gorethrian and said, ‘When Silvren spoke to me in the Glass City, she said, “Arlenmia brought another world to ruin before this, and it is my fault she came here.”’

‘Yes, I remember,’ Ashurek said heavily. ‘I understand well enough, Calorn. In all innocence, she must have told Arlenmia about our Earth of Three Planes, and about the Serpent. In her desire for power, perhaps Arlenmia did not believe the Serpent was evil; or at least, she decided to come and see for herself. And when Silvren realised where she’d gone, she followed to find out what Arlenmia was planning to do here.’ Ashurek pondered. ‘She must have found Arlenmia and confronted her. When she discovered that she intended to serve and worship the Serpent, Silvren would have been horrified. She must have tried with all her strength to persuade Arlenmia that she was wrong; and when she failed, Silvren was forced to use sorcery against her. Therefore Arlenmia sent the demon after Silvren: to prevent her sabotaging her plans for the Worm’s supremacy.’

‘Poor Silvren,’ Estarinel exclaimed, ‘to be so cruelly betrayed by someone she thought her friend for so long.’

‘Aye,’ Ashurek agreed, gazing moodily downwards. ‘And to feel it was her fault that M’gulfn had gained such a powerful ally. Often it seems that the harder someone fights the Serpent, the more they aid it.’

‘I’m sorry this was such a revelation to you,’ Calorn put in. ‘I thought you would already have known most of it.’

‘Don’t apologise. I’m grateful to you for telling me. You’ve put much in perspective.’

‘I know it must be terrible for you, to know that the Dark Regions are on the other side of the Blue Plane, so near, and yet impossible even to consider rescuing Silvren.’

Calorn immediately wished she had not spoken. The hellish light returned to Ashurek’s eyes; he glared at her for a moment, then abruptly stood up and strode away. Calorn stared after him, feeling a sudden conflict of duties and emotions.

‘I always seem to say the wrong thing to him,’ she murmured.

‘Don’t take it to heart,’ said Estarinel. ‘It’s hard to say the right thing.’

‘I only wish…’ she said thoughtfully, ‘I wish there was something I could do to help him.’

Estarinel replied, ‘The only thing that will help any of us is for the Quest of the Serpent to be completed. And you are helping in that, Calorn.’

#

The small boat carrying Medrian and the Lady of H’tebhmella drifted through water that was as clear as liquid glass. The vessel was made of pale, smooth wood and pulled by a water-dwelling horse with arched neck and delicately tapering head. They sailed a long way before mooring and stepping onto an island of sapphire-blue crystal. As Medrian and the Lady crested a rise in the shore, they saw a long vista of weird and beautiful formations, like joyously leaping water frozen in mid-dance. There were arches and knolls and spires of rock, shimmering in every shade of blue and violet. Mist drifted between these fantastical shapes, a soft sparkling vapour that seemed sentient, purposeful.