It was his younger sister, Lothwyn.
Then there were faces all round him, hands touching him, people laughing and smiling and hugging him... his mother, his sister Arlena, Falin, Lilithea, and others, Falin’s aunt Thalien, Estarinel’s own grandparents, Taer’nel, other men and women from the village and nearby farms… voices asking questions that he couldn’t understand, something about how long had he been back, where he had come from, how was he…
‘I think he’s ill,’ someone said.
‘Oh – come – we’ll take him to the village. Falin, help him. Hurry!’
#
Slowly he came back to himself. He found himself wrapped in a patchwork blanket, propped up by pillows in a bedroom he vaguely recognised. There were uneven, creamy walls, woven rugs on the floor, a window framed in dark wood… Falin was sitting beside him, holding a cup of some hot, reviving drink to his lips.
As he took the cup in his own hands, Falin grinned at him and said, ‘Are you back with us yet?’
‘I think so. It was just… I was so shocked, seeing my mother and sisters.’ He sat up, looking at Falin anxiously. ‘Or did I dream it?’
‘No, you didn’t. It must have been a terrible shock.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Lie back, everything’s all right. You would only let me stay in the room with you. You insisted that the others were – ghosts, or something.’
‘Did I? Oh, by the gods,’ Estarinel exclaimed in dismay. ‘When I came over the edge of the valley and saw you all, it was like – like an awful…’
‘Will you be quiet? Finish the drink; Lili put something in it. There’s plenty of time to explain tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow? It will take me a month. Falin, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.’
‘And we thought we’d never see you again,’ his friend said warmly. ‘Can I send in your mother yet? She is wearing holes in Thalien’s rugs.’
‘Not yet – you must tell me what’s happened here since I left. I don’t understand. What were you doing in the Bowl Valley?’
‘Clearing the poison away,’ Falin replied. Seeing that Estarinel would be unable to rest until he was told everything, he continued, ‘Well, after you left, we went on fighting the Serpent’s venom as best we could. There was little we could do. Neither fire nor water would destroy it, no barriers would halt its progress. All we could do really was flee. We left the village for several weeks. Some people became trapped within pockets. The rest of us were driven slowly towards the south. There’s not much to tell of that time, really. You can imagine how terrible it was. Almost the whole population of Forluin – the survivors, I mean – were crowded upon the southern coast, and some in Maerna and Ohn. We had to eat fish, there was nothing else. I hope I never see a fish again.’ Falin pulled a face. ‘Nearly all our farmlands were destroyed. The venom was only a score of miles behind us. And in that time, the sun never showed itself; there was a perpetual greenish-grey haze in the sky and this appalling reek, like metal, and things decaying…’
‘Yes, I know,’ murmured Estarinel.
‘And it hardly rained. I don’t think any words can ever make it sound as horrible as it actually was.’ He shuddered involuntarily and went on, ‘Anyway, we had some ships ready to sail if it became essential; but there was only room for a few hundred of us, and how could we decide who was to be saved? So none of us went. And one morning when we were sure there were only a few days left, someone walked back to see how far the venom had come, and he found it dry.
‘As that day went on, a clean wind sprang up and blew the haze away. The sun shone. We could walk over the dried venom without harm. Then we knew that the Serpent was dead, and we wept for joy. So, with any animals that were left alive, we came north again. We found that the village was undamaged, although there was venom all around it, but now it was all dry, harmless.
‘Then the most miraculous thing of all happened. Some of those whom we thought were dead, were not.’ Tears came into Falin’s eyes and he swallowed. ‘We had laid them on pallets in the wheelwright’s barn – oh, you remember, you saw them, of course. But some of them rose up and came out of the barn wrapped in the pale green gowns and still wreathed with yellow flowers, blinking in the sunlight – like children just awoken from sleep. Or like creatures newborn. They seemed to have no memory of what had happened to them – not at first, anyway. When it had been explained, they remembered. We couldn’t believe it, at first, but they were alive and undoubtedly well.’
‘You say “some”,’ Estarinel said anxiously.
‘There seemed no logic to who recovered and who did not. But when we thought about it, we realised that those who died in the Serpent’s attack, or not long after, had remained dead, but those we lost more recently were restored to life. E’rinel, your father did not return. Neither did my parents nor my sister Sinmiel.’
‘Falin, I’m sorry.’
‘We should be glad for those who were restored to us. Your mother and sisters. But I can’t explain how or why this miracle can have happened.’
‘I think I can. Oh, it is too complicated to explain now, but I will tell you one day. Who else?’
Falin recounted as many people as he could remember who had been restored to life. ‘And Edrien and Luatha are well. They stayed in the south. But Thalien and Lilithea came back here with me. Oh, we rejoiced when we knew that the Serpent was dead, and how much more so when Filmorwen, Lothwyn and Arlena were restored to us, but we were also… dazed, I suppose. There was so much damage to be repaired, and we hardly knew where to start. Then a message came from the Elders at the Vale of Motha. They said a H’tebhmellian had come to them, bringing with her two horses. One was your Shaell and the other a Gorethrian mare. She said that you were safe on the Blue Plane, and that the Serpent was dead. But the message was third hand and unclear, and we thought it must be wrong, because the days went by and you hadn’t returned. We really thought you were not coming back, E’rinel.’
‘I almost didn’t,’ he said quietly.
‘But the other purpose of Filitha’s visit was to tell us that the H’tebhmellians would help us in the healing of Forluin. Somehow they caused water from H’tebhmella to fill a lake and river near Motha. Wherever we sprinkled this water, she said, it would speed the healing of Forluin.’
‘I wasn’t told any of this,’ Estarinel exclaimed. But then, he had not even asked for news of his country. He would have returned sooner if he had known these things, and perhaps the Lady had wanted him to go back to Forluin in his own time. ‘And will it work?’
‘When you came upon us in the Bowl Valley, we were cleansing it. We throw water onto the venom, then brush the grass, and it vanishes into the ground. We have to use the H’tebhmellian water sparingly, so we’re only clearing selected areas to begin with. Eventually rain and wind should do the job for us, but Filitha said the areas we clear with H’tebhmellian water should be producing grass and crops by next spring. Meanwhile we have to live on salted fish, I’m afraid.’
‘There’s a great deal of work to do, then.’
‘Yes,’ Falin said, putting out a hand to restrain him, ‘but please, have a night’s rest before you begin.’
‘You’ve got very thin, Falin,’ said Estarinel, looking down at his arm.
‘So have you. Now can Filmorwen come in to see you?’
‘I’ll come out, I feel better now.’ Estarinel made to get up, but even as Falin opened the door, his sisters burst into the room and hugged him both at once. He put his arms around them, dark Lothwyn and silver-fair Arlena, and over their shoulders he saw his mother in the doorway, smiling at him, her golden hair escaping the ribbon she had tied it back with.
How could he have ever considered not coming back?
‘Don’t suffocate him,’ she said to her daughters. Arlena turned and hugged Falin instead, and Lothwyn still hung onto his arm as his mother came forward to embrace and kiss him.
‘I dreamed about you, Mother,’ h
e said, when he had recovered his breath. ‘You were in one of the stalls, helping a mare to foal. I told you that the Serpent was outside, and you just smiled at me and said, “Tell it I am coming back”.’
‘And here I am,’ Filmorwen said, laughing. ‘And I have dreamed of this moment a thousand times. Are you sure you are all right?’
‘Yes. It’s all over now. The nightmare is over.’
He saw Lilithea standing almost shyly in the doorway, and he remembered that he hadn’t seen her at all for a year. She hesitated and then ran to embrace him. She was painfully thin, as they all were, but there was still wiry strength in her arms as she hugged him for longer than even his mother had.
‘We knew it was dead,’ said Lothwyn with awe in her voice, ‘but did you actually…?’
‘Yes, but not just me,’ he said. ‘None of us could have achieved anything without the others.’
#
That winter was grim and hard, but the Forluinish faced it with joy. Now that M’gulfn was dead and its evil removed, nothing could daunt them. Snow and rain and wind were a blessing, sweeping the last traces of virulence from the land. Long before spring came, grass was growing vigorously again, the trees were heavy with buds, and the places where H’tebhmellian water had been strewn promised to be more fruitful and beautiful than ever before. Long years of work still faced them before life returned fully to normal. There were forests to be replanted, farmhouses and villages to be rebuilt, and animals – domestic and wild – to be nurtured until their numbers were replenished. Food was short and their tasks never-ending, but they worked eagerly and with good cheer, because everything they did was for Forluin and for each other.
Only Estarinel, his family and friends noticed with distress, seemed melancholy. He was Forluin’s hero, but he determinedly refused to be singled out for attention. He worked unstintingly with the others, and was outwardly as friendly and affectionate as ever he had been. But he hardly mentioned the Quest and he often seemed withdrawn, as if concealing bitter sadness.
He told Falin some of what had happened, but it was only to Lilithea that he told everything, and even then, the story emerged only bit by bit over a period of months. Because he spoke to her the most, she discovered that he was more deeply depressed than anyone realised. She would never forget how pale, how emotionless he had been when he told her about Medrian; he didn’t weep but, oh, she thought afterwards, how much more hope she would have had for him if he had.
‘I am so worried about him,’ she said to Falin one day. ‘You have noticed how distant he seems.’
‘Yes, but he talks to you, doesn’t he?’ Falin asked.
‘Oh yes, he talks to me,’ Lilithea replied, an almost bitter note in her voice. ‘I think I know almost everything that happened. They had a dreadful time of it.’
‘He feels that his experiences have set him apart from us.’
‘Yes. But is he going to feel apart from us forever? If so, he’ll never be happy.’
‘And neither will you,’ Falin said gently, taking her hand.
Lili was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘I know about Medrian. It’s all right, I understand why you didn’t tell me when he came back that time. I told E’rinel – and I meant it – that I would have loved her if I’d known her. And if she had come back with him, and he’d been happy, then I would have accepted it and been happy too. But she’s dead. Is he going to mourn her forever?’ She paused, biting her lip. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. But do you know how wretched it is to love someone who looks on you as – as a sister?’
Falin shook his head, trying not to smile. ‘Why don’t you tell him?’
‘I couldn’t. I shouldn’t have to.’
‘That’s not necessarily true. He gave me the same advice himself once, about Arlena. “Don’t tell me, tell her.”‘
‘But you were just being circumspect. This is different. Oh, I couldn’t tell him. It would make things worse. He would be forced to say that he doesn’t love me, and then I would be less than a sister to him. I’d have to go away.’ She looked up at Falin, her large eyes at once dark and bright. ‘Perhaps that would be for the best. To carry on like this is unbearable.’
#
Spring came, and the grass grew lush and the trees heavy with, blossom. Their branches were filled with nests and chirping fledglings apparently overnight. No foals were born that year, but there were many more lambs and smaller animals than they could have hoped for.
Yet to Estarinel, the life and beauty all around him made it more intolerable than ever that Medrian had had to die in that lonely, frozen wasteland. He looked on the happiness of others and felt objectively glad for them; he would not have wished things otherwise. But inside he felt cold and dark, as if nothing of Forluin could ever touch him or warm him again.
That spring, Falin and Arlena were handfasted at last, in the simple Forluinish Ceremony of Flowers, followed by a day of riotous celebration. Amid the rejoicing, Estarinel thought, I would have undergone the Quest a hundred times over for this. This makes everything worthwhile, this is what it was all for. But at every joyous sight – Falin and Arlena dancing past him, dressed in green, white and gold, his mother and Lothwyn laughing as they deluged the couple with blossom – he could not stop himself from wishing that Medrian had been there to share it. Every moment of sweetness brought its sibling, a cold stab of pain.
When the wedding was over he felt that he must be on his own for a time, before the contrast between his family’s joy and his own inner coldness drove him mad. He decided to walk to the Vale of Motha, a journey of several days, to fetch Shaell and Vixata.
To his surprise, Lilithea asked if she could go with him. ‘I was going to go on my own, but…’ he paused, reconsidering. Perhaps it was not good to be alone, and of all people, he found Lilithea’s quiet company the most soothing. ‘Yes, I would prefer it if you came as well,’ he said.
They wore the common garb of Forluinish farmers, brown breeches and soft boots, sleeveless jerkins belted over wide-sleeved white shirts, blue-grey cloaks. They took nothing with them, for every traveller in Forluin received hospitality wherever they went, and at this time of year it was no hardship to sleep in the open.
Lilithea had lost the strained, ill look that she’d had when he had first returned from H’tebhmella. Her delicate-featured face had regained its healthy colour and she was once more slender rather than thin. The spring sunshine lent a golden lustre to the rich bronze-brown of her hair.
Their walk took them through glorious woods and soft valleys. The last time they’d passed this way together had been just after the Serpent’s attack, when a grey haze had hung in the air like death. Now, all was green-gold and fresh, as Forluin should be. At first Estarinel thought Lilithea was so quiet because she was awed by this joyous contrast. Presently he realised that she was not so much silent as uncharacteristically morose, even tense. He asked her if anything was wrong.
‘I am worried about you. You are not happy,’ she replied.
‘What makes you say that?’ he asked. ‘Forluin will soon be whole again. How could I not be happy?’
‘The way you ask me that betrays you!’ Lilithea exclaimed. ‘Where are you, E’rinel? You are not with us. You are with strangers in distant landscapes. Somewhere I can’t reach.’
Her words startled him, and he was quiet for a moment. He answered in a low voice, ‘I can’t help it, Lili. I’m not the same person I was. Part of me died with Medrian.’
‘But you are still alive. Are you going to stay in the cold forever, only half-living? How can that help Medrian?’
‘It’s not that simple. Yes, I feel apart. I no longer feel truly Forluinish. They want to call me a “hero” but that is false. They don’t know of the times I almost ran away, the blood on my hands–’
‘And they call me a healer,’ she said harshly, ‘but that is false too. There are some things I cannot heal, E’rinel.’ She strode ahead of him so he could not see her tears, but he cau
ght her up.
‘Lili, don’t worry about me,’ he said, cursing himself for having upset her. ‘I am all right, really. It’s enough for me to see others happy.’
‘Do I look happy?’ she burst out. He stopped and stared at her. In the silence some young thrushes began to sing in the trees around them.
‘Lili, what is wrong?’ he asked concernedly.
‘You’re breaking my heart!’ she cried. She had been so determined to stay calm, but she had failed. ‘You say you’re not the same person. Well, none of us are. You’re far away in some bleak and miserable place and you don’t want to come back because you think only Medrian and Ashurek could understand you, and they are gone. But you are not unique! The Serpent happened to all of us! I was with you, don’t you remember? When it came, and we ran across the valley and saw it lying on Falin’s house. It was me with you!’
‘Yes – yes I know–’ Estarinel floundered.
‘And while you were away, I have been here trying to cure people of the Worm-sent illnesses, and failing, and watching them die. How do I know if I tried hard enough? I may have more blood on my hands than you. You are not the only one who has suffered. We have to go on living! It’s a sin not to! E’rinel, you’re giving up, you’re frightened to care about anything. Would Medrian have wanted you to give up? Did she die so that you could stop caring? Oh,’ she turned away from him, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t – please forget I said all that.’
‘Lili, I have never, ever known you to get upset like this before,’ he said, shaken. ‘Now I am as worried about you as you are about me; I’ve missed something, or I’m being very stupid… What is it, really?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? How long have you known me?’
‘Since we were six or seven…’
‘And why do you think I stayed in the cottage when my family moved away, instead of going with them? It wasn’t that I thought myself indispensable to the village.’
‘But you are,’ he put in quietly. She hardly heard him.
A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2) Page 48