‘I cannot – not as long as Silvren remains in the Dark Regions,’ he grated. ‘Miril, the Shana have almost destroyed her, made her think she is evil. I’ve lost faith in my ability to help her. Is there nothing you can do?’
‘Alas, I cannot go to her. Only if she were to feel a little hope for herself, my spirit might enter even the Dark Regions.’
‘No one could feel hope there!’ he exclaimed bitterly.
‘Still she must find hope in her own way, as must everyone,’ Miril answered sorrowfully.
‘She’d even lost faith that killing the Worm was the right thing to do. Miril…’
‘Ah, no more questions now. It is enough,’ she sang, ‘enough that you have found me again. We must go back to your companions now, and then will I answer your doubt. Come, Ashurek, let me perch on your hand, and I will guide you.’
No. Not there – not to her. I hate her – loathe her – she is poison to me. I forbid it – I will not let you go there.
The Serpent raged within Medrian, on and on, like a thrashing grey sea continuing to pitch the body of a drowning man long after he has ceased struggling. Its fear was her fear, vast and extreme, like the terror she had shared in its nightmares, but this was infinitely worse. The remembered fear had only been a pale shadow of this.
The Serpent loathed and dreaded Miril.
M’gulfn had nearly possessed Medrian at the waterfall, and since then her control had been slipping inexorably, day by day. There were blanks in her memory; she could not remember walking over the tundra for two days. She could hardly recall being stung by the plant or crossing the sulphurous lake. Her only vague memory of that time was of being someone else – still the Serpent’s host – but someone who staggered on fractured limbs while the Serpent’s mockery seared her flesh like a brand. Defeated and weeping with humiliation... but it had only been a glimpse of a previous host’s life, brought on by fever... or by M’gulfn’s will, as a warning. When she had awoken at Estarinel’s side, she had known, instantly, that her precious wall of ice and steel was gone at last.
And yet... M’gulfn lay quiescent. It made no attempt to intrude upon her thoughts, though it could have ravaged her mind on a whim. It was laughing at her. See, my Medrian, I have won. I do not even need to torment you. Your last defence against me is gone. And soon, very soon, you will be mine. There will be no warning... you must understand that every action you undertake of your own volition is by my grace only. When the time is ripe, I will enter your thoughts like a whisper. I will become you. It is almost over.
And with these words echoing venomously in her head, she had stood up like an automaton, and fought the flying things, and run to the Glass City, and listened to Hranna, all the time feeling her inward decay and defeat permeating outwards through her body. It was as if something had laid an egg in her flesh at birth, and from it a maggot had hatched and all this time it had been growing, feeding on her from within, so that now, all that was left of her was a tenuous outermost skin, and in one mouthful the Worm would swallow that skin, and she would be gone, and there would be only a grotesque, bloated monster in her place.
And there was nothing, nothing she could do to fight the feeling. Tearing her apart was the most awful knowledge of all – that if she had not surrendered to her feelings for Estarinel in Forluin, she would never have become so weak. Their love for each other had betrayed them both, and the Serpent was laughing at her.
So, my Medrian, you are no more than human after all. Almost over...
Ashurek was right. They should have left her behind. But that would not really have helped them, since the Serpent could motivate her to do exactly as it wished. Once it decided to make its move they would be as defenceless against it as she was. Even if she could have warned them, it would be futile.
Almost –
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere – the Serpent’s awareness that Miril was on the Black Plane, and the Entrance Point hanging in the air before them. Its terror filled her like vertigo; she felt the emotion discolouring her face and crabbing her hands. Her whole body became nerveless and weak. As violently as she desired to break away from Estarinel, she could not. Horror filled her like a torrent of viscous acid, bearing her mind away with it. It flooded her lungs and it overflowed and surrounded her. She was suffocating in a thick lake that stretched in every direction to the end of the universe: She had no self, but then, neither did M’gulfn. Together, they had become one amorphous mass of fear.
She saw nothing of the Black Plane. She did not hear a word that the nemen said. She knew nothing of the flight in the sphere. All she knew was a terrible, measured pounding like the footsteps of a malevolent giant approaching, slow but unstoppable, from a great distance. And each beat sent ripples through the lake of fear, shockwaves that filled Medrian-M’gulfn with an excruciating discomfort that was worse than physical.
Each beat was louder and more terrible than the last. Miril was drawing nearer and nearer. I hate her, don’t make me–
And suddenly Miril was there, a silver-gold fire of unbearable sweetness. She instilled the Serpent with the same dread and disgust that it inspired in humans. Theirs was the repulsion of opposites, for she made the Serpent look where it could not bear to look.
Now Miril’s breast was pressed to that of M’gulfn-Medrian, and at the touch the Serpent recoiled, screaming its cosmic abhorrence and misery. It contracted like an amoeba. From being a mass of fear filling the universe, it continued to shrink inside Medrian, falling away into a void until it was but a speck, a mindless mote of terror. And Medrian fell with it, helpless, until at last she was in the centre of a gentle, quiet darkness. Here she found release from torment and, for once, dreamless sleep.
#
Estarinel felt horribly alone on the Black Plane, frantic with apprehension at Ashurek’s disappearance. Somewhere behind him were the nemen. He could hear them talking, their melodious voices chillingly calm as they debated Miril’s nature and other abstract topics. He didn’t trust them not to get tired of waiting and silently abandon them to the darkness.
After about an hour, although it seemed to Estarinel four times longer, he saw Ashurek approaching. His first reaction was overwhelming relief and not a little anger. His second was amazement that he could see the Gorethrian. A faint silver radiance glowed round him, emitting from the small bird perched on his right hand.
‘Miril,’ Estarinel gasped, feeling an urge to weep. Somehow, the idea of finding her had been totally abstract to him. He had never expected it to be so literal, so heartrendingly real.
But her feathers were black – not tawny-gold.
He stood holding Medrian’s arm, watching as Ashurek and Miril came slowly towards them. And when they reached Estarinel at last, neither of them felt able to say a word. Even the nemen fell silent.
‘Estarinel,’ Miril chirped, flying to him. ‘You know me, you know my name.’
‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve helped me so many times.’
‘You understand that I was not destroyed, only lost. I am recreated in the hearts of men with each new sunrise, when they hear the piercing sweetness of the dawn chorus, and know that the previous night’s darkness was not the whole truth of the world. And I give myself wholly again and again, for as long as life endures – but only where I am wanted.’
‘Here you are wanted and desperately needed, Miril,’ said Estarinel, tentatively stroking her silky head. ‘Ashurek said your feathers were golden. Why are they so dark?’
‘Sorrow had taken my colour. Only when this world reaches the sunrise beyond this night will I find my true appearance again,’ she sang. ‘Estarinel, you know love and compassion, but do you know that there is a difference between them?’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
She replied, ‘Love may be selfish, but compassion is not. Remember this.’
She touched his hand with her beak and then flew to Medrian. She settled on her cloak and at once Medrian uttered a gasp and fell
to the ground.
For a long time Miril remained over her heart, uttering soft, sorrowful cheeps. Presently she said, ‘Ah, alas, Medrian cannot hear me. But she will be well. When she awakes, tell her these words. She believes that her feelings are a despicable weakness, but it is not so. They will be her strength.’
Then she flew back to Ashurek’s hand, and said, ‘Ashurek, you spoke to me of Silvren’s doubt that it was right to continue the Quest. Do you share this doubt?’
‘Naturally,’ he answered quietly. ‘She was the only human who ever inspired me with faith, rather than cynicism. If she doubts, so do I.’
‘The Hrunneshians also,’ Estarinel added. ‘They’ve just told us that killing the Serpent would be wrong. That it is the same as destroying life itself. Hranna said much the same. Miril, are we doing the right thing, or are the Guardians misleading us for their own ends?’
‘They have their own ends, it is true,’ Miril answered. ‘But in the final evaluation, however it appears, they do not conflict with yours. You speak of “killing”, but I know nothing of this. I only know that certain powers must be brought together: myself and the Egg-Stone, the Serpent and the Silver Staff. This is not destroying, it is creating. But it must be done with love and gentleness, as I told you, Ashurek.
‘If you wondered why the Guardians could not essay this task themselves but had to send three humans, the reason must be clear to you now. They are not human. It is true that they could have destroyed the Serpent, and the Earth with it. But only through humanity can the Earth be redeemed. They sent you not because they are callous, but because they wished to give the world a chance.’
‘If this is true, it changes everything,’ said Estarinel.
‘Ah, but there is still great risk, and your choices must be the right ones.’
‘Miril, can you not come with us on the rest of the Quest?’ Ashurek asked.
‘Oh, but I am coming with you,’ she sang joyfully, to their relief. ‘Don’t you know that this is why you had to find me? Estarinel, take out the Silver Staff.’
Surprised, he obeyed. As he drew the Staff from its scabbard he was overwhelmed by its joyous song and by a feeling of tranquil strength. It illuminated the blackness, splashing silver light onto the wet stone. He wished he had thought to use it before.
The blackbird chirruped, and her notes were in exquisite harmony with the Staff’s song. ‘You know the power within the Silver Staff is that which is opposite to the Worm. Do you know also that I am a part of that power?’
‘I had half-forgotten it, but yes, the Lady told us,’ said Ashurek.
‘In order to come with you, I must be absorbed into that power. This is why you need me. Without me, the Silver Staff is incomplete. Just as, without the Egg-Stone, the Serpent is incomplete. Estarinel, hold the top of the Silver Staff against my breast.’
Ashurek began to protest, but Miril silenced him. Her voice was lilting and gentle as she said, ‘Do not fear: in this way will I escape the Black Plane, and show you an Exit Point to the Worm’s domain, and fulfil my purpose. Although I will be with you, I will be invisible to you, and you must make your own choices. Yet you may call upon me in times of greatest need for my help. Now, Ashurek, hold me firm while Estarinel touches me with the Silver Staff.’
Then Estarinel raised the Staff and hesitantly pressed the blunt end to Miril’s breast. She stretched out her wings and put her head back, beginning to glow from within so that her feathers were silhouetted against the light. Then they, too, absorbed the radiance until she shone as if afire. The Staff burned in Estarinel’s hands with the same brilliance, while its carefree innocent energy reverberated through him like a paean. Miril cried out and leapt aloft, hovering on motionless wings, burning brighter and brighter until she blazed silver-white, and they could hardly bear to look at her.
She seemed to have lost her three-dimensional quality and transmuted into a heraldic symbol in front of them. When their eyes grew used to the brilliance, it seemed that they were looking at a bird-shaped hole in the fabric of the Black Plane, through which they could see the sky of their own world. The corporeal Miril was no more.
‘She said she would show us the Exit Point,’ exclaimed Ashurek. ‘Come on!’
Still in a daze of brilliance and warmth and immanent strength, Estarinel slid the Silver Staff back into its scabbard. Then he bent to pick up Median’s unconscious, slender body. As he did so a voice near them said, ‘Wait.’
It was Valcad, who seemed to be the only Hrunneshian still there.
‘Must you go?’ the neman said sadly. ‘We had looked forward to many long and enriching talks with you.’
‘Well, we must disappoint you,’ said Ashurek. ‘We must return to Earth and complete our Quest. Where are your companions?’
‘They went back to the other side,’ Valcad said, ‘because we could not understand the speech of Miril, and her presence was too disturbing to our philosophy. But I waited in case you needed further help.’
‘Thank you, but we have found what we sought. For your help in that, we are profoundly grateful.’
‘I must thank you, too,’ Valcad replied, ‘for we will be no longer troubled by Miril, and you have given us much food for thought. I ask only that in your Quest you bear in mind the philosophical paradoxes that we have brought to your attention.’
‘Yes, we will,’ said Ashurek with a grin. ‘There is some truth in them. Farewell.’
‘What is truth?’ they heard Valcad musing behind them as they turned and headed for the silver shape that was the Exit Point.
It was larger and further away from them than they had realised, and they walked for many minutes over the treacherous, dark rock before they reached it.
‘If I’d had to spend any longer in the company of those philosophers, I would have gone mad,’ said Estarinel as they walked. ‘They could make any nonsense sound profound.’
‘I disagree,’ said Ashurek. ‘I think the Hrunneshians are quite right: there are no real answers to anything. And I think if they ever proved anything, they would all cease to exist.’
The surface beneath them began to slope upwards and they slithered and stumbled on the rock until they finally reached the bird-shaped window in the darkness. Ashurek looked through and Estarinel, behind him, called out, ‘What can you see?’
‘Nothing. It’s too bright. It’s all silver and white, and it’s cold – freezing. Come on, let us go through.’
Side by side they stepped through the Exit Point, and the Black Plane vanished, and a cold, white brilliance embraced them.
Chapter Thirteen. The Last Witness of the Serpent
As they stepped through the Exit Point, it was several minutes before their eyes adjusted sufficiently for them to see where they were. Around them the air was cold and still, as if in an enclosed space. Then they saw that the brightness was not that of the sky at all; it was the whiteness of ice. They were in a cave, formed by a crevasse that had become sealed at the top. Walls of ice rose around them, shining like frozen glass, with hints of pale blue gleaming in their depths.
Estarinel saw a flat ridge on the far side of the cave and went over to lay Medrian down upon it, skidding on the ice floor as he went. He made her as comfortable as he could, reassured to find that her eyes were closed and her breathing steady. There was even some colour in her cheeks.
‘Miril said she would recover,’ Estarinel said pointedly, looking at Ashurek.
‘I cannot withdraw what I said about her,’ he replied softly. ‘However, I’ll admit I was wrong to want to abandon her. She is part of this Quest until the bitter end. The Serpent’s victim, like the rest of us.’ He walked slowly round the cave, searching for a way out. Presently he found a crack concealed by tumbled blocks of ice.
‘I think Miril has specifically placed us in here so that we’d be safe for a time,’ said Ashurek, his voice echoing in the high-roofed cave. ‘We’d better rest and eat before we think of going on. We’ll stay here until Medria
n has recovered.’
Estarinel nodded, grateful for Ashurek’s change of heart.
Having settled Medrian, he drew the Silver Staff from its red scabbard to check it. As soon as he touched it he knew it had changed.
‘Ashurek, look!’ he exclaimed. On top of the argent rod, where previously there had been only a small rounded head, there was an ovoid the size of Estarinel’s palm. It seemed to be made of the same metal as the Staff itself, but it had a translucent quality. At its heart, something stirred with tiny, soft movements, like an unhatched chick.
‘She said she would be with us,’ Ashurek said. He touched the silver orb with a long, dark finger. ‘I don’t know what this means, except that she is somehow within the Staff, and may be called upon to our aid when we have great need of her.’
Estarinel replaced the Silver Staff carefully in its sheath. ‘You don’t still believe that there is no answer but the Earth’s destruction, do you?’
Ashurek sighed. ‘I was wrong about that as well. But it’s still a danger, and it is up to us – all of us – to find the right way of finishing the Quest. I fear... well, I fear that I many have to face the Egg-Stone again. I don’t know whether I will survive that.’
‘But you said it was lost with Meshurek.’
‘Yes, it was. Ah, I don’t know. Perhaps those philosophers have turned my brain. Now,’ he said more briskly, ‘it’s very bright in here and I think we are not far below the surface. The first thing I intend to do is locate a way out of this cave, and see what is outside. I’ll mark the way as I go if it proves tortuous. I’ll be back soon.’ Ashurek turned to go, then paused. ‘There were many things I said on the tundra that I now regret. Nothing has changed, about Silvren and the others, but Miril made me understand... well, that the path I had chosen was insane. As you so rightly pointed out. It was wrong of me to try to take the Quest upon myself. I now know that the three of us are the Quest.’
A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2) Page 33