by Martin Ash
I stood dumb, aware that everything was changing once more.
‘We are waiting ...’ she said.
‘For it all to end.’
She was no longer with me, only her words, floating: ‘Or begin.’
The bodies were imperfectly still in the strange light, the fabulous wings spread in many cases as though arrested in flight. I had brought the amber but nothing had changed, and I was at the beginning of the road once more. Why the beginning?
I have just been born.
Must I walk it again? There was no figure in the distance standing rapt before the sunset. There was no sunset, just darkness and rain, imbued with that queer illumination that gave me vision.
I turned and saw the young man in grey upon the steps. He stepped down and came to stand before me, his feet stirring spumes of yellowish dust upon the road, despite the rain.
‘Give it to me now,’ he said, holding out his hands for the amber.
I looked at him long and hard. His face was mine, the real me, familiar, but I shook my head. ‘I’ve brought it here. I must keep it.’
‘What for?’
‘Until I know.’
‘You should know. I am telling you. You must give it to me now.’
‘No.’
‘You don’t even know who you are.’ His smile held a hint of scorn. ‘How can you know what you must do? Give it to me. It is proper. That is what you brought it for.’
I was afraid. Was he right? Should I allow him to take the amber? What then?
Who was he? How could I trust him? He was me, but then who was I? How could I trust myself?
‘You don’t even know who you are,’ he said again.
I gazed past him, out along the road. ‘What will you do if I give it to you?’
‘Take it to the well.’
‘I have done that. That is why I am here.’
‘No, I must take it.’
Something glimmered in the far distance, beside the road, a red movement. The glint of light on metal, and a figure, two figures, one low-slung and strong, one immense, just glimpsed for an instant. Feikermun! He waited there, the ape towering at his side.
‘No!’ I drew back. My double, the true likeness of myself, seemed amazed.
‘You are not you!’
I stood firm. ‘You will not have it.’
‘Then what will you do with it?’
I could not say. Far away, Feikermun had stepped out on to the road. My brother? How?
We are of the same source, each and every one of us.
He watched us, clearly visible now. I sensed his consuming hunger. I said, ‘You have to die.’
‘Or you.’ My double smiled. ‘But which is which? And what will remain?’
Feikermun’s voice reached my ears. ‘Cormer of Chol, give it to him. Give him the amber.’
Did he know now what it was? Who I was?
I was afraid, but I shook my head. Feikermun bellowed with rage. Viciously he swung his axe at the nearest of the suspended Avari, but his reach was not enough and the blade missed. Feikermun began to run, pounding down the road towards us. ‘Where is she, Cormer? Bring her to me!’
Bring the amber to the well, Sermilio had said. You will know what to do next.
But I did not know. I knew only that I could not let it fall into Feikermun’s hands. I stepped down, alone now, and crossed the road, then mounted the temple steps upon which my double had stood. I passed between the seven tall stone pillars, aware of Feikermun drawing closer. Behind him were phantom shapes - tall, slashing, numerous. The Scrin are with him now! Panic was rising in me as I entered the temple.
But there was no temple. I was in the rain-soaked streets of Dhaout. A little way off stood a group of men - soldiers. In their midst was a figure in red armour, beside him a huge painted ape. The armoured man held a great axe above his head as though about to bring it down and splinter the skull of a bruised man who stood before him. The bruised man was afraid. He was Cormer of Chol, but he was not who he claimed to be.
The armoured man bawled out into the night. ‘Aniba! Aaaaannniiiiibbbbaaaaaa!’
And I roared, for my anger and hatred was such that I wanted only to destroy everything I saw. That was my purpose, to destroy, to murder, to revenge, that I myself might at last be destroyed.
The men before me turned as one, alarm and terror on their night-stained faces. They reached for weapons, their stances betraying their uncertainty. Attack me, or retreat? I knew no fear, only lust to tear their flesh, to annihilate their souls; for when they were gone I could be something other, could extinguish all that remained. This, and nothing else, was my purpose, for which I had striven for so long.
Feikermun’s eyes were wide. He strode forward, bellowing at me. ‘No! Back! Feikermun commands! Your master commands!’
My master? It had no meaning. The Scrin know no master.
‘Obey! I brought you here! I set you free!’
I cared nothing for his words. I threw myself at the foremost of his beasts. Their weapons scoured and stung, but I fed on the pain, swiping, slashing, biting, my perfect fury mounting. I saw Cormer of Chol seize the moment and slip away. Why did that bring me satisfaction and yet intensify my anger?
‘Back!’ screamed Feikermun. ‘It is Malibeth you seek, not Feikermun! Back! Begone!’
I would have laughed, but we do not know how. That he should have the arrogance to think... I ripped flesh, scattered to sullied atoms a screaming soul, and then... it all shimmered. I was gone.
*
Breathless, I leaned against a wall in the black of an alley. I had put distance between myself and Feikermun and his beasts and that thing. I could no longer hear them. The glows of the fires were visible in the sky, the billowing columns of smoke opaque; the cool rain dashed my burning cheeks.
What had happened there? Something... I had seen... I forced it back. Did not want to face what it meant. Madness. The gidsha dream.
You must take the amber.
But haven’t I already taken it. I did enter the well.
My fingers closed around the hard rock in my tunic and I was confused. So much happening. Where was I now? What was I to do?
I knew Feikermun was searching for me again. How could I know this? How could I be certain that he had not been killed by the Scrin back there? I shook my head, unsure, unwilling to think because the answer was too shocking. But I knew. I knew. I pushed myself away, stumbling in the dark, wondering where I might go next. And was so afraid, caught up in this dementia, this nightmare over which I had no control. The gidsha. Let it end. Let it end.
Don’t let it end!
I am dying. I am dead. I have just been born.
He is your brother.
No, not that. Never that.
Oh yes. Born of the cosmos.
I cannot go on.
You have no choice.
I HAVE A CHOICE!
Then make it.
Is it a dream, Cormer of Chol?
No, it was no dream. I ran on down that alley, further, through the corridors of Feikermun’s palace, scattering animals as I passed. No leaves fell. A child stood beneath a tree, waiting. We are waiting...
The Avari hung, waiting.
We are...
I am.
I cried out: ‘Aniba! I am coming! Wait for me!’
Two figures stepped out, one on either side. They roughly grabbed my arms and brought me to a halt.
‘Be still and do not cry out or you will die!’
They were soldiers, there were others with them. I did not think they were Feikermun’s beasts, nor Wirm’s men.
‘Come. Don’t struggle.’
I was led away, down many streets, unsure of where I was, panic beating in my breast. And all the time the world was changing, deforming, the wings beating close, visions of the Avari, the Scrin, a sudden conviction that I was still within Feikermun’s palace, or that I was falling, falling, into the well, that I stood beside the road and gazed upon the g
lory of a sunset, that I was entering the temple... But the rain, more forceful now, splashed upon my face; my clothes were soaked and clinging cold; strong hands guided me forward; the sky was black overhead, with just the faintest reddish wash above the hills.
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Be silent!’
‘Are you Malibeth’s men?’
‘Be silent!’
We passed through wide puddles and mud, then beneath an arched gate and we were in the darkened courtyard of a pale-toned villa. An oil lamp glowed above a fortified door. We entered, marched along a richly appointed corridor, down stairs then rough steps, into musty cellars, through a hidden door, and on. We were below the streets now, I was sure. Up again, through several small rooms and then into a wide, dimly lit hall.
A man sat upon a wooden chair placed on a dais at one end of the hall. That is, he had the body of a man, strong and athletic, and his bearing, even seated, was relaxed and assured. But his face was hidden. The whole head was contained within an exquisitely figured helm, wrought in gold or golden metal. The helm was moulded into the form of an animal head: a lamb. There was an element of extreme menace in that image: so harmless, timid, innocent a creature transformed into something golden and sinister upon the shoulders of a human being. Or perhaps, not human.
Below the helm he wore a long surcoat patterned with blue and yellow Iozenges, and a mail shirt and leggings and leather boots beneath; there was a longsword buckled at his waist. Half a dozen guards were posted before him, clad in mail and helmets, clasping halberds erect. The soldiers who had brought me in remained close; they conveyed the impression of being well drilled, disciplined and highly efficient.
The helmed figure on the dais surveyed me in silence for long moments. When he spoke his voice was hollow, dull and metallic.
‘You are Linias Cormer of Chol.’
‘I am.’
The golden head moved slowly from side to side. ‘No, you are not.’
A spasm of fear clutched my heart. ‘I assure you, sir, that is who I am.’
‘No.’ He spoke with absolute certainty. I could scarcely doubt that I was uncovered, but how could he know? I would admit nothing until he had proven his assertion. But his next words chilled me utterly. ‘You are Ronbas Dinbig of Khimmur.’
I felt the blood drain from my face. ‘No! I am Cormer, Linias Cormer of Chol!’
The Golden Lamb eyed me in silence, one finger crooked beneath his metal chin. ‘I have the means to expose you. It might save your life; on the other hand, it might condemn you to death. But now is perhaps not the time. Let us talk, but before we do let me warn you. You have magic at your disposal. Do not think to employ it. If you do my men will strike you down instantly. Do you understand?’
I said, ‘Sir, I have no magic.’
He waved a hand dismissively. ‘Enough. Just remember what I have said. Now, I require information from you. Strange events assail us. Dhaout is in bloody turmoil, but something else is happening beyond the ordinary. There have been manifestations, fearsome creatures appearing in our midst, then vanishing; other inexplicable disorders. What do you know of this? Is it Feikermun’s doing?’
‘Feikermun believes he is achieving godhead,’ I replied. ‘In fact he is unwittingly achieving something of far greater reach, something which must be stopped. But surely you are aware—’
I hesitated. How much should I reveal? Did the Golden Lamb know anything, anything at all, of the Citadel of Selph? If I told him more, what use might he make of it? I recalled that neither Jaktem nor Ilian had claimed to have heard of the Citadel, yet — treacherous hounds! — how could I give credence to their words?
‘Go on,’ said the Golden Lamb softly. His voice was strange - not only distorted by the helm but of an unnatural timbre.
My anger boiled over. ‘Why did you assign your men to me?’
‘For your protection.’
‘Protection? Pah! I trusted them. I believed in them. I even liked them, and they have betrayed me. And now you mock me!’
‘I do not mock. Have you need to change your feelings? They have done you no harm. They worked well for you. They helped save your life.’
‘At your behest! Why? Who are you?’
The Golden Lamb was still. I half-sensed that behind the mask there was a sardonic smile. ‘I am as you,’ he said. ‘Someone who has good reason not to reveal a true face.’
‘What purpose do I fulfil in your scheme? I do not know you—’ I stopped, thinking back. Malibeth’s lover, Gorl. She had slain him after he took power, or so it was believed. Was it possible that he had not been killed? Had he escaped her, or had the whole thing been a ruse between the two of them? Why? So little was known. Could this be him? Did he work secretly with Malibeth against Feikermun, or was he alone against the two? But if he were Gorl, how could he know about me? And what part did I play?
And then another thought came: this masked, helmed enigma, might he be my double?
My mind could not follow so many paths. I was spinning in the unknown, on the edge of delirium.
‘You were saying,’ said the Golden Lamb. ‘About Feikermun...’
‘He has unleashed a power, an immense destructive force. The manifestations you’ve witnessed are elements of it, but there’s more. Much, much more. Feikermun labours under the misapprehension that he controls this force. In fact he has little control. He has spawned it; that is, it has come through him into this world. But it will destroy him and all else.’
‘Can it be stopped?’
‘I— I don’t know.’
‘Feikermun must die, then.’
‘No! It is he who has opened the way to the Citadel, and he must be allowed to live at least until the way can be closed again.’
‘The Citadel?’ The Golden Lamb inclined his body forward.
I had said more than I’d intended, but there was no simple way to stop now. From his attitude I took it that the Golden Lamb knew nothing of the Citadel, or of Selph. But that might be a ruse. Who was he? ‘It’s a realm of potential, a place that lies beyond the world of our normal perceptions. It is the domain of pure, unformed thought. I can explain no further than that, for I truly know little.’
‘But it is from there, this Citadel, that the destruction emanates?’
‘That is so.’
‘And we are to be its hapless victims? Are you saying that there is nothing that can be done?’
‘The one thing that can be done is to keep Feikermun alive. As long as he lives there remains a hope that the gates to the Citadel can be closed.’
The Golden Lamb eased himself back in his seat. ‘An interesting notion. Advantageous from Feikermun’s point of view.’
‘If you believe I work for his benefit, you are wholly wrong. Surely your two agents have made that plain to you.’
‘Quite so, yet there is intrigue here. Intrigue within intrigue, duplicity within duplicity. How can any of us be sure of anything? After all, we do not even know ourselves.’
In my heightened sensitivity that statement seemed laden with import. Perhaps it was, but my mind raced and the world blurred and shifted and I knew only that I had somehow to get away from here and return with the amber to the Citadel of Selph. It struck me that I might yet enlist the Golden Lamb’s aid.
‘You have been there, have you?’ enquired the Golden Lamb. ‘To the Citadel?’
I nodded.
‘How?’
‘Sir, believe me when I tell you that I do not really know. The truth is I have been there, and I am there now even as I am here before you. The Citadel is here also. I can make it no clearer than that.’
‘Then might I also enter it?’
I paused. ‘I do not know. I entered it, as did Feikermun, with the aid of a drug.’
‘What drug?’
‘Gidsha root, specially prepared.’
The Golden Lamb absorbed this. ‘Do you have access to this drug?’
‘In a very limited amount. Bu
t the preparation is specific and takes time. Even were you to consume it, I could not guarantee the result. I do not understand it myself. Moreover, it’s possible that the drug is now redundant, as the Citadel is here, with us.’
‘Yet I believe you perceive more than I do.’
I gave no reply. The Golden Lamb sat in contemplation for some time, then said, ‘What of Feikermun now? He is seriously threatened by Malibeth and comes here to meet with me?’