Wolfking The Omnibus: Books 1-4

by Sarah Rayne

  ‘Do you ford the River?’ asked Fenella, and he smiled at her.

  ‘I can go through and beyond and before Time at will,’ he said. ‘I can harness up the salamanders to the Time Chariot which is made of fire and light and that will come for me if I summon it.

  ‘But for Humans to travel in the Chariot would be dangerous beyond comprehension. You would lose your minds and your souls would burn.’ He eyed them. ‘To ride the salamanders is unsafe,’ he said, ‘but it is safer by far than to enter the Time Chariot.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Floy as their host led them down a wide curving stair and into a great, square courtyard where glistening trees were heavy with strange, warm fruit, and where gentle fountains played.

  ‘To the salamanders,’ said Fael-Inis, and again the smile slid out.

  ‘To the Stables of the Fire Stallions.’

  Chapter Nine

  The stables of the Fire Stallions. The halls of the silky slender wise-eyed creatures who were composed of fire and light, who could be harnessed to the Time Chariot and who could pull it beyond Time. The strange, molten beasts who had swum through the fiery tunnels with the Ark and towed it to the Honeycomb Caverns outside the Palace of Wildfire. The heart and the soul and the core of every enchantment ever spun and every legend ever recounted, and every myth ever written.

  The magical creatures who lived at the heart of the Time Fire … Pegasus and Bellerophon and the perfumed fields of Elysium and the gold-streaked skies of Aegia …

  The stables were not like anything the travellers had ever known.

  ‘Although,’ Snizort was to say, ‘the salamanders were not like anything we had ever known either.’

  ‘And we did not really know what to expect,’ said Snodgrass.

  ‘Had you no such creatures in your world?’ asked Fael-Inis, watching their fascination with amusement. ‘No horses, no Barbary steeds, no dolphins or fire-dragons or gryphons or centaurs? For the salamanders are a little like each of these, although, in reality, they are only like themselves.’

  ‘No.’ Fenella eyed him and wondered how much he knew about Renascia. ‘We did have animals, of course,’ she said. ‘But only the — I suppose you could say the descendants of the ones who came from Earth. And there was not so very much room in the Ark'

  Snodgrass asked about the word salamander. ‘Because,’ he said, frowning, ‘to our people, I think it once meant a rather slow creature with a scaly hide.’

  ‘But the creatures we saw weren’t in the least like that,’ said Fenella.

  Fael-Inis said, ‘You are speaking of the creatures who were the many-times descendants of the true salamanders,’ and sent another of his winged smiles at Fenella, as if to say: you see, Mortal? It happens in all the worlds, this process of evolution.

  ‘The true salamanders, the living salamanders are Elemental Spirits of the Fire,’ he said. ‘They are temporal — that is to say they are flesh and blood and bone — but also they have a little of the spiritual about them.’ The golden eyes gleamed suddenly. ‘In their veins is the thin, magical trickle of the Eternal Fire,’ he said, and the four travellers stared at him and each shared a thought: He, also, possesses the Eternal Fire.

  Descending to the stables of the salamanders was like going down and down to the earth’s core. Floy thought: I suppose we are in the hands of a friend. I suppose that beneath it all, Fael-Inis is not evil and greedy, and a — what did he call it? — a soul eater? He glanced at Fenella, and saw a look of the utmost delight in his sister’s eyes as she watched Fael-Inis. For some inexplicable reason he felt suddenly safer, because Fenella, for all her gentleness, could nearly always see the real person behind the covering. He wondered, briefly, whether Fenella might not simply be dazzled by Fael-Inis, because certainly none of them had ever come across anything like him before, but he thought he could trust Fenella’s instincts. She had seen behind Quilp and events showed she had been right to mistrust him. But she is seeing Fael-Inis as a friend, thought Floy, and at once was aware of a ripple of amusement from their host.

  Do not trust me too far, Floy, for I can be an inconstant friend and a fickle ally …

  But with the thought came also a warm breath of comfort, as if Fael-Inis understood and sympathised.

  I think it is all right, thought Floy, treading carefully where their host led them. I think we are in the hands of someone we can trust. I think it is all right.

  They were walking cautiously through more of the wide rock tunnels and there were steps worn into the floors, so that the descent was easier than might have been expected.

  ‘Are the steps natural formations?’ asked Snodgrass. ‘Or were they cut?’

  ‘They are natural,’ said Fael-Inis. ‘They have been hollowed by the footsteps of countless ages.’

  ‘Who by?’ asked Fenella.

  ‘By me,’ said Fael-Inis. ‘I have worn these steps away, Mortals. Since the beginning of this world … If you do not look where you are going, you will be knocked senseless, Floy. Along here, and be wary of overhanging rock.’

  And then they were in a great echoing cave and ahead of them were two forks and between the forks …

  ‘Oh!’ said Fenella, clasping her hands together in pure delight.

  Between the forks were rearing rock formations, veined with gold threads, and within the formations …

  ‘Oh!’ cried Fenella, clasping her hands.

  The Stables of the Fire Stallions …

  The Stables seemed to stretch back endlessly — to the Earth’s core, thought Floy — and, within them, the four travellers could see fire-washed halls, huge, beautiful, high-ceilinged rock chambers, lit by tongues of flame, layer upon layer of fire, orange and red and tawny and deep, deep bronze. There was a sense of beckoning, of allure, so that they were each of them conscious of a strong wish to know more, to want to explore these remarkable fiery halls, but there was a feeling of fear as well, because surely such a place could not be safe …

  Massive arched openings led into the Fire Stables, great curved doorways, and across each of these were spiralling columns of fire, endlessly coiling and twining upwards, partly obscuring the interior of the Stables from their view.

  ‘Curtains of Flame,’ murmured Floy and, as he spoke, they saw, deep within the glowing fires, the slanting eyes of the fire stallions watching.

  ‘Will they come out?’ asked Fenella.

  ‘Yes, for they know that I am summoning them,’ said Fael-Inis. ‘They do not obey many, but they will obey me.’ As he said this, the flames seemed almost to be brushed aside, and the salamanders were suddenly there, strong and sleek and not quite solid, and not quite fluid, but somewhere between the two, so that the four travellers could never afterwards describe their shapes. To begin with, the salamanders seemed to be like the engravings they had seen of Earth-horses; or, at the very least, centaurs, half Human, half horse. Or unicorns, thought Fenella, who had seen pictures in Snizort’s carefully preserved books. But, after a moment, the salamanders were nothing like this at all. They were high-nosed and arched-necked and arrogant and imperious-looking, but you felt as well that they might be friendly and mischievous and rather fun. And they were strong and sleek and their skin was glossy and it looked as if it had been polished, or as if warm sweet honey had been poured over it. They made you think of things like copper when it was being melted down to re-shape, and of glowing furnaces and white-hot metals, and firebrands.

  The salamanders were strange and frightening and intriguing. They moved to stand before Fael-Inis and, although they bowed their beautiful heads, the gesture held not the least trace of subservience.

  Even so, thought Fenella, staring, I believe they do render him obeisance. I believe they will do whatever he asks of them.

  She thought she would never dare to ride astride one of these remarkable creatures and, in the same moment, thought she would regret it always if she did not make that attempt. I wonder if I ought to be feeling nervous, she thought, rememberi
ng how, on Renascia, ladies had been expected to be meek and hesitant, and how she had never been either of these things. How boring! thought Fenella, her eyes shining, not feeling the least bit nervous. And then: and how fortunate I am that Floy will certainly not try to keep me safely in the background of everything!

  At her side, Floy was staring at the salamanders, visualising them bridled and harnessed, streaming through Time, pulling Fael-Inis’s Chariot. Above and before and below and beyond Time … Shall we dare approach them? he thought, and knew at once that they would certainly approach them, and that they would certainly ride astride them. He glanced at Fenella, and knew a swift delight. She is enjoying this with every ounce of feeling she has, he thought. She is certainly apprehensive about what is going to happen to us but, even so, she is still enjoying everything. He knew he would certainly try to protect Fenella against whatever might be ahead of them, but he knew, as well, that he would have to do so covertly, because Fenella would not expect to be protected and she would not want to be protected, either. She would want to be at the centre of everything.

  The nearest salamander was regarding them from its dark glowing eyes. ‘Human travellers,’ it said and appeared to nod to the other three, and the four Renascians jumped because they had not expected the salamanders to speak. But the salamander’s voice was warm and deeply interested, and it was inspecting them. The other three, too, were regarding them with friendly curiosity, as if they might be a species that the salamanders only encountered very occasionally.

  Fael-Inis had moved closer and laid his hand on the rippling manes of the two leading salamanders. ‘Chiron and Charybdis,’ he said gently, and Fenella saw that there was a tremendous closeness between Fael-Inis and the salamanders, as if they might have shared many things, perhaps encountered many dangers together. ‘They will take you safely out of this place and into a world that will be a little more like your own,’ said Faunas. The grin slid out, briefly. ‘But not entirely like it,’ he said, ‘for no one world is ever entirely like any other. But you will perhaps find creatures near to Human.’

  ‘Are they to traverse the River of the Dead, Master?’ said the first salamander, Chiron, and Fael-Inis seemed to hesitate. Then — ‘If you cannot avoid it,’ he said, and the salamanders tossed their heads in acknowledgement, so that sparks cascaded across the rocky cavern.

  As they moved towards the archways, Fenella said, ‘Shall we meet you again?’ and he smiled at her, a genuine smile, as if he liked her.

  ‘I am to be found in many places,’ he said. ‘Only you sometimes have to look hard to discover me.’

  He stood watching as the salamanders turned about, and they saw that he was still smiling and that the gentle radiance was all about him.

  And then the first of the salamanders said, ‘This way, Mortals,’ and they were through the archway and out into a wide tunnel.

  Ahead of them were the Honeycomb Tunnels and, beyond those, they could see the golden River.

  Riding on the salamanders was a little bit like flying in the Ark, and a little bit like walking, and a little bit like reclining in a very comfortable chair close to a glowing fire. There was a strong, sweet wind blowing in their faces as they moved, and all about them they were aware of the rushing rock tunnels. Fenella thought they were not actually travelling very fast, because they could quite easily make out the figures and the symbols carved into the sides of the Honeycomb Tunnels.

  Snodgrass and Snizort were extremely interested in these carvings. Snodgrass, who was at the rear, managed to make out several of them, and said he thought they were something called Christian, but Snizort, who had managed to don his spectacles and was peering intently at the etched symbols and figures, said they were much earlier than that.

  ‘My Master did know the One called Christ,’ said Chiron in his soft warm voice. ‘But my Master is older by far than that One.’

  ‘He knew others, also,’ said Charybdis. ‘Some of whom you may know, and others you may not. Noah and his people were here when Flood threatened another world.

  Also Ut-napishtim the Babylonian … And Berosus, the Egyptian priest … People, races, whole worlds have been threatened by the Angry Sun.’

  ‘Are there truly other worlds?’ said Floy, who was finding the salamanders unexpectedly easy to talk to.

  ‘There are many,’ said the salamander, tossing its mane and bounding forward. ‘You are not the first of your race to have fallen into the Time Corridor and passed through the Curtain. Many of your people have attempted to cross Time. Some have succeeded, but others have been taken and devoured by the Soul Eaters.’

  ‘Others?’ said Snizort, who did not very much like the word ‘devoured’, and who liked, even less, the sound of the Soul Eaters. The creature turned its burning eyes on him.

  ‘There have been others who have believed they have fathomed the secret of Time,’ it said, ‘but they have failed, and they have become lost.’

  Lost for ever in the echoing endless Corridors of Time …

  ‘There have only been a few occurrences of the Chosen Few escaping into the Past or the Future,’ said Snizort’s salamander.

  Fenella was thinking how remarkable it was to be one of the Chosen Few, and trying to decide whether she thought she was worthy of it, when Floy said, ‘What are Soul Eaters?’ and for the first time the salamanders seemed to shiver, as if with fear.

  ‘They are creatures of the Dark Ireland,’ said Charybdis. ‘They serve the Lords of the Dark Domain that is the dread mirror image of the true Ireland, and where evil rules and where the necromancers spin their strong and fearsome magic.’

  ‘The Soul Eaters do not walk in the world of Men,’ said Charybdis. ‘They inhabit the Cave of Cruachan, which is one of the Doorways into the Dark Realm,’ and Floy felt the tremor go through her again.

  ‘But they have Servants,’ said Snodgrass’s salamander.

  ‘Beings they hold in thrall, or whom they have chained by a bewitchment, and who must serve them and bring to them the souls of Humans.’

  ‘Servants?’

  ‘They say the Robemaker is one of their Servants,’ said Chiron, and Fenella and Floy both felt the wariness they had felt from Fael-Inis earlier. ‘And also, the necromancer CuRoi, who rules from his Fortress of Illusions deep within the Dark Realm. Those two it was who used the Giants of Gruagach to storm Tara and oust the rightful High King.’

  ‘The Gruagach are their pawns,’ said Charybdis, tossing her mane rather contemptuously. ‘You will almost certainly meet with them, but they are stupid and slow-minded, and you will be able to outwit them.’

  Floy thought to himself: I hope we shall! because he was rather disliking the idea of giants.

  Charybdis laughed, as if she had heard the thought. ‘You should not worry overmuch about the Gruagach,’ she said. ‘Only about the Ones who use them as pawns.’

  ‘The Soul Eaters … ’ said Floy.

  ‘Yes. Every night, the Soul Eaters hold court,’ said Charybdis. ‘And they feast on the souls brought to them by their servants. Few Humans have seen the Soul Eaters,’ she said, ‘but it is known that they were old when the world was still young.’

  ‘Have you seen them?’ asked Floy, and Charybdis tossed her mane again.

  ‘We have seen most things in the world, Mortal,’ she said. ‘For we were brought into the world by our Master, whom you know as Fael-Inis, when the world of Humans was still cooling.’

  ‘You will have met the creatures who were forged from our blood during that cooling,’ said Chiron, with a sudden warm chuckle of amusement. ‘For they are woven into the legends and the lore of Men.’ He glanced back at Floy, mischievously.

  Snizort, who had been listening, said, very warily, ‘We know of creatures who were called dragons.’

  ‘And unicorns?’ said Chiron.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And gryphons and minotaurs and wyverns?’ said Charybdis.

  ‘I-believe so.’

  ‘And sirens and
phoenix and chimera?’

  ‘Well — ’

  ‘We are a little of all those things,’ said Chiron, and the salamanders exchanged glances as if sharing some brief, faintly amusing secret. And then, suddenly serious, Chiron said, ‘But we spoke of the Soul Eaters. You should pray to whatever gods you worship that you never find yourselves at the Court of the Soul Eaters in the Cave of Cruachan.’

  It was then that Snodgrass, who had been looking about him very searchingly, said, ‘What’s that up ahead?’ and the other salamander said, quite calmly, ‘It is the River of the Dead. The River of Souls.’ And then, in a soft voice, ‘We shall have to ford it very carefully.’

  The banks of the River of Souls. The four travellers slipped carefully from the salamanders’ backs and stood for a moment looking out across the vast expanse of dark water.

  The River flowed silently and steadily and there was a faint, shimmering phosphorescence on its surface. Floy reached for Fenella’s hand, because there was something awe-inspiring and out-of-the-world about the River. Fenella would not show if she was afraid — she had not shown any fear at all so far; she had eaten supper in Fael-Inis’s Palace calmly and listened to him with interest, and retained a sense of humour, and behaved as if this sort of thing was very nearly everyday.

  Fenella was not thinking about being courageous or calm, or even about pretending not to be afraid or keeping a sense of humour. She was grateful for Floy’s presence, and she was comforted by the feel of his hand pressing hers.

  But she was staring at the dark-flowing River of Souls and, for the moment, there was nothing else in the world for her.

  ‘Where does it end?’ asked Floy in a low voice. ‘Does it have a — a source? A place where it ends?’

  Chiron, who was watching the dark, glistening water thoughtfully, said, ‘It is believed that its end is in the Lair of the Frost Giantess, the Geimhreadh. It is said that in its beginning is its end and that she presides over its source.’ He turned to look at them, his brilliant eyes unreadable. ‘It may be only a myth,’ he said, and the travellers each had the feeling that he was holding the belief out for their consideration, as if he might be saying: you may believe whatever you wish; it is up to you.