Black Jade ec-3

by David Zindell

  Although I hated the need of it, I put to Liljana the question that must be asked: 'Were you able to open the minds of the Red Knights?'

  'No!' she snapped at me. And then, more gently, 'He was waiting for me, Morjin was. Waiting to open up my mind. To twist his soul and his sick sentiments into me. Like snakes they are, cold, and full of venom. I. cannot say. You cannot know.'

  I could know, I thought. I did know. When I closed my eyes, the bodies of my mother and grandmother, nailed to wood, writhed inside me. Only, they were not cold, but warm — always too warm as they cried out in their eternal anguish, burning, burning, burning….

  I'm sorry,' Liljana said to Master Juwain, 'but you were right.'

  Master Juwain sighed as he knotted his small, hard fingers together. 'I'm afraid it's too dangerous for any of us to use our gelstei, now.'

  'And dangerous not to,' I said. 'Atara can still see, sometimes, with her gift, but without my eyes, I would be blind.'

  And with that, I drew my sword from its sheath. Even in the thick of the night, the long blade gleamed faintly. The silustria from which it was wrought, like living silver, caught the stars' light and gave it back manyfold. It was harder than diamond and double-edged and sharp enough to cut steel. Alkaladur, men called it, the Sword of Sight that could cut through the soul's dark confusions to release the secret light within. The immortal Kalkin had forged it at the end of the Age of Swords, and it had once defeated Morjin. The silver gelstei was said to be one of the two noble stones; it was also said that the gold gelstei that formed the Lightstone had resonance with the silver but no power over it.

  'Put it away!' Master Juwain said to me as he pushed out his palm. 'Use it in battle with the enemy, if you must, but until then, put it back in its sheath.'

  I held my beautiful sword straight up, pointing toward the stars. A lovely, silver light spilled down the blade and enveloped my arm; it built around me like a luminous sea and flowed out to

  bathe the grasses and the cottonwood trees and the other things of the world.

  'Valashu!' Master Juwain said to me.

  And I said to him, 'Liljana is right: the enemy is here, and everywhere. And the battle never ends.'

  I turned to look north and west, toward Skartaru where Morjin dwelled. Although I could not see the Black Mountain among the lesser white peaks leading up to it, I felt it pulling at my mind and memory, and darkening my soul. Then suddenly my sword darkened, too. I held before me a length of gelstei no brighter than ordinary burnished steel.

  'Damn him!' I whispered. 'Damn him!'

  Now I pointed my sword toward Skartaru, and the blade began to glow and then flare in resonance with the faroff Lightstone — but not as brightly as it once had.

  'He is there,' I murmured. 'There he sits on his filthy throne with the Lightstone in his filthy hand, watching and waiting.'

  How could the world abide such a being as Morjin and all his deeds? How could the mountains, the wind, the stars? The same bright orbs poured down their radiance on Skartaru as they did the Wendrush and the mountains of my home. Why? And why shine at all? My eyes hurt from staring so hard as I brooded over the conundrum of a star: if it let fire consume itself, it would burn out into blackness. So it was with me. Soon enough I would be dead. A Sarni arrow would find my throat or I would freeze to death crossing the mountains. Or, more likely, one of Morjin's armies would trap me in some land near or faraway, and then I would be taken and crucified. I would descend to that dark, cold realm where I had sent so many, and that was only justice. But it seemed wrong to me, terribly and dreadfully wrong, that with my death, the bright memory of my mother, father and brothers that lived inside me would perish, too. And so those I loved most would truly die, and Morjin would have twice murdered my family and stolen them from the world.

  'Valashu!' Master Juwain called to me again.

  Where, I wondered, did the light of a candle's flame go when the wind blew it out? Could it be that the land of the dead was not fell but rather as cool and quiet as a long, peaceful sleep? Why should Morjin keep me in this world of iron nails, crosses and fire even one more day?

  'Valashu — your sword!'

  I squeezed my sword's hilt of black jade, carved with swans and set with seven diamonds. Once, I had sliced the sharp blade through Morjin's neck, but by the evil miracle of his kind, he had lived. My aim, the next time, must be true. I would plunge the star-tempered point straight through his heart. Atara had once prophesied that if I killed Morjin, I would kill myself. So, just so, as Kane would say.

  'Damn him!' I whispered as I pointed my sword toward Argattha. 'Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!'

  I would cut off Morjin's head and mount it on a pike for all to behold. I would hack his body into pieces and pour pitch upon them and set them on fire. I would feel the heat of the flames upon my face, burning, burning, burning. . 'Valashu!' Master Juwain, Liljana and Atara cried out as one.

  When my vision suddenly cleared, I gasped to see that my silver sword seemed to have caught fire. Blue flames clung to the silustria along its whole length like a hellish garment, while longer orange and red ones twisted and leaped and blazed with a searing heat. So violent was this fire that I dropped my sword upon the ground. The grass there was too green to easily ignite, but Liljana and Daj hastened to douse it with water even so. We all watched with amazement as the flames raced up and down my sword's blade, cooled, faded and then finally died.

  'Oh, my Lord!' Maram called out. 'Oh, my Lord!'

  'I didn't know your sword could burn like that!' Daj said to me.

  'Neither did I,' Master Juwain told me.

  And neither did I. Even Kane, who had once been Kalkin, the great Elijin lord who had forged this sword with his own two hands and all the art of the angels, stared at it mysteriously. His black eyes seemed as cold as the space between the stars. He held himself utterly still.

  'Like hell, that was,' he finally said. He turned to stare at me.

  'Like hate, it was,' Master Juwain said to me. Again he pushed his palm toward my cast-down sword. 'Surely its fire came out of that which consumes you.'

  Daj, who was bright beyond his years, studied my sword and asked, 'Did it? Or did it burn because Lord Morjin is gaining control of the Lightstone?'

  Liljana patted his head at his perceptiveness, then looked at me as she said, In the end, of course, it might be the same question.'

  'Whatever the answer,' Master Juwain said to me, 'it is certain that the Lord of Lies is learning the Lightstone's secrets. Your hate will not deter him. Put your sword away.'

  I leaned forward to wrap my fingers around Alkaladur's hilt. The black jade was as cool as grass. But the blade's silustria still emanated a faint heat, like a paving stone after a long summer day.

  'Surely this is damned,' I said as I lifted up my sword. 'As I am damned.'

  Liljana slapped her hand into her palm, then shook her head violently as she waggled her finger at me. 'Don't you ever say that!'

  She edged past Daj and Estrella and knelt before me, and she laid her hand on top of mine. Her voice grew soft and gentle as she told me, 'You are not damned! You, of all people. And you, of all people, must never think that of yourself.'

  I smiled at her kindness, but she did not smile back. I let go of Alkaladur for a moment to squeeze her hand. And then I grasped yet again the sword that would carve my fate.

  'Morjin is poisoning the gelstei,' I said. 'Or trying to.'

  Once, I remembered, in a wood near my home, Morjin's priest named Igasho had shot at me an arrow tipped with kirax. The poison had found its way into my blood, where it would always work its dark enchantment. I wondered if this evil substance that connected me to Morjin was slowly killing me after all. As I fiercely gripped my sword, I felt the kirax burning my stomach, liver and lungs with every breath, and stabbing like red-hot needles through my eyes and brain.

  'Damn him!' I said again, shaking my sword at the heavens.

  In the west, clouds were m
oving in, blocking out the stars. Lightning rent the sky there, and thunder shook the earth. Far out on the steppe, wolves howled their strange and mournful cries. There, too, our enemy's campfires burned on and on through the night.

  'And damn them, too!' I said, stabbing my sword at the Red Knights who followed us.

  I watched with dread as my silver sword again burst into flame. And then something dark and dreadful as a dragon burned through my hand, arm and chest, straight into my heart.

  'He is here!' I cried out as I sprang up to my feet.

  'Who is here?' Master Juwain asked me. Now he stood up, too, and came over to me, and so did the others.

  'Morjin is — he rides with the Red Knights!' I said.

  'Morjin, here?' Kane shouted. His eyes flared like fire-arrows out toward the steppe. 'Impossible!'

  Atara stood by my side, but well away from my burning blade. She put her hand on my shoulder to gentle me, and she said, 'Your sword shone much as it ever did when you pointed it toward Argattha, and so the Lightstone must still be there. And so, as you have said yourself, must Morjin.'

  'No, he is here, a mile away across the grass!'

  'Atara is right,' Master Juwain said to me. He rested his hand on my other shoulder. 'Think, Val: the Dragon would never leave the Lightstone out of his clutches, even for moment, not even to ride after you.'

  'And if he did hunt you,' Atara added, 'he would have come out of Argattha at the head of his whole army, and not leading a couple of dozen knights.'

  As Lightning lit the mountains and fire sheathed my sword, my friends tried to reason with me. I could hardly listen. For I felt Morjin's presence too near me. The flames of his being writhed and twisted as they ever did, in shoots of madder, puce and incarnadine, and other colors that recalled his tormented soul.

  'I know it is he!' I said, to Atara and my other friends.

  Then Liljana moved closer and told me, 'Your gift betrays you. As mine betrayed me.'

  All my life, It seemed, I had felt others' passions, hurts and joys as my own. Kane called this gift the valarda: two hearts beating as one and lit from within as with the fire of a star. He had also said it was impossible that Morjin should be here, in our enemy's encampment scarcely two thousand yards away. But it seemed impossible that the malice, decay and spite I felt emanating from that direction could have its source in any man except Morjin.

  'Do you remember Argattha?' I said to Liljana. 'There Morjin soaked his skin with the essence of roses to cover the smell of his rotting flesh. But he could not cover the stench of his soul. I. . smell it here.'

  Liljana pointed at my sword, at the flames that still swirled up and down its length. And she said to me, 'Is that really what you smell?'

  I noticed that Flick, spinning like a top in the air beyond my reach, seemed to be keeping his distance from me.

  Liljana brushed past Master Juwain, and laid her hand over the steel rings that encased my chest. And she said, 'I think you hate Morjin so much that you always sense him close now. Here, in your own heart.'

  I held my breath against the pain that her words caused me. My sword dipped lower, and its flames began to recede.

  'There is a great danger for you here, Val,' Master Juwain said to me. 'Do you remember the prophecy?: "If a man comes forth in falseness as the Shining One concealing darkness in his heart, if he claims the Lightstone for his own, then he shall become a new Red Dragon, only mightier and more terrible.""

  'But that's just it, sir!' I said to him. 'I have proved that I am not the Maitreya!'

  'Yes, you have. But have you proved that you could not become like unto the Red Dragon?'

  I watched the flames working at my sword, and I could not breathe.

  'Do you not remember your dream?' Master Juwain asked me.

  I slowly nodded my head. Once, in the innocence of my youth, I had vowed to bring an end to war.

  'But there's no help for it!' I gasped out. 'The more I have sought not to kill, the more I have killed. And the more war I have brought upon us!'

  Master Juwain squeezed my shoulder, and then pointed out toward the Red Knights' campfires. And he told me, 'Killing, even at need, is an evil of itself. But killing when there may be no need is much worse. And killing as you feel compelled to kill, in vengeance and hate … that is everything you've been fighting against.'

  'But there's no help for that either!' I said. I blinked my eyes against my sword's searing flames. 'Ten thousand men Morjin crucified in Galda! He is poisoning the world!'

  I went on to say that Morjin would use the Lightstone to master men: their lusts, fears and dreams, even as he was trying with our gelstei. And then soon, perhaps in another year, perhaps less, all of Ea would be lost — and much more.

  'You know,' I said to Master Juwain. 'You know what will happen, in the end.'

  'I do not know about ends,' Master Juwain said. 'I only know that it is as it ever was: if you use evil to fight evil, then you will become evil.'

  'Yes,' I said, gripping my sword, 'and if I do not, the whole world will fall to evil and be destroyed.'

  It grew quiet in our encampment after that. The fire made little crackling sounds, and from out on the grasslands an owl hooed faintly, but none of us spoke. I stood staring at my burning sword. It was strange how the blue and red flames licked at the bright silustria but did not seem to really touch it.

  Then Liljana said to me, 'Morjin has long tried to make a ghul of you. It may be that, through your sword, he could seize your will.'

  'No, I won't let him,' I said. Then I smiled grimly. 'But if he does, then Kane will have to kill me — if he can.'

  'Ah, Val, Val!' Maram said to me as sweat beaded on his fat cheeks. He cast his eyes upon Kane. 'Don't make jokes, not at a time like this!'

  No one, I thought, not even Liljana, could read the look on Kane's face just then. He stood as still as death, gazing at my sword as his hand rested on the hilt of his own. Like coals, his black, blazing eyes seemed to burn open the night.

  And then this strange man said a strange thing: 'Hate is just the left hand of love, eh? And so with evil and good. So — Val hates Morjin, even as Morjin hates him. Don't be so sure what will come of it.'

  I pointed Alkaladur toward the Red Knights a mile away I said, 'There Morjin watches us and waits. Let us end things now if we can.'

  Kane followed my gaze, and I felt his insides churning with an unusual disquiet. 'Don't be so sure he is there. The Lord of Lies has laid traps for us before, eh? Let us ride tomorrow, for the mountains, as fast as we can.'

  Master Juwain nodded his head at this and said, 'Yes, surely he has conjured up confusions, somehow. Let us ride, as Kane has said.'

  Maram, naturally, agreed with this course of action, and so did Liljana, Atara and even Daj. It was not Estreila's way to pit her will against mine or even to make a vote by painting towards or away from the Red Knights. But she knew with a quiet certainty that she had a part to play in our decision. She came up dose to me, heedless of my burning sword. Against the curve of the dark world, with her fine features and wisps of black hair, she seemed small and slight. She stood gazing at me, her lovely eyes looking for something bright and beautiful in my own. She was a seard, I remembered, gifted with finding things and the secrets inside them; a dying scryer had once promised me that she would show me the Maitreya. Since the night I had met her, it been both a grace and a torment that she had also shown me myself.

  'Don't look at me like that!' I said to her. I stabbed my sword out toward the steppe. 'If Morjin is there, he won't expect us to attack. When we do, you and Daj will ride with Liljana and Master Juwain toward the mountains. You'll be safe there. After we've won, we'll meet up with you. And then it will all be over… everything. We'll regain the Lightstone, and much else besides.'

  Evil, I know, speaks in the most seductive of voices. It plays to our lusts, fears, delusions and hates. There is always a part of us that wants to heed this voice. But there is always a deeper voice,
too, which we might take to heart if only we would listen. As Estrella looked at me with so much trust, I heard it whispering, like the songs of the stars: that war could be ended; that I could grip my sword with hate's right hand; that darkness could always be defeated by shining a bright enough light. 'Estrella,' I whispered, 'Estrella.'

  I would give anything, I thought that she should grow into womanhood without the blight of murder and war.

  Then she called back to me in her silent way, with a smile and a flash of her eyes. She placed one hand over ay heart and the other upon my hand that held my sword. I watched as its fires

  dimmed and died.

  'All right, we won't attack — not tonight, not like this,' I said. I slid my sword back into its sheath. 'But if Morjin is out there, it will come to battle, in the end.'

  After that, I sat back down with my friends to finish our dessert of fresh berries. Maram brought out his brandy bottle; I heard him muttering to himself, commanding himself not to uncork it. He licked his lips as he held himself proud and straight. In the west, lightning continued to torment the sky, but the threatened storm never came. As I watched our enemy's campfires burning with a hazy orange glow, far into the night, the wolves on the dark grass about us howled to the stars.

  Chapter 2

  The sun, at the breaking of the morning, reddened the green grasslands in the east like a great blister of flame. We rose at first light and ate a quick, cold breakfast of dried sagosk and battle biscuits. I pulled myself on top of my great, black warhorse, Altaru, as my friends did their mounts. The twelve Manslayers formed up behind us to cover our rear. Their captain was Karimah, a fat, jolly woman who was almost as quick with her knife as she was with her arrows, which she could fire with a deadly accuracy while turning in her saddle. Bajorak and his thirty warriors took their places on their lithe steppe ponies ahead of us, as a vanguard. If we were attacked from the rear, he and his men could quickly drop back to support Karimah and the Manslayers. But as he had told me the day before: 'The danger in that direction is known, and I scorn the Zayak, even more the Crucifier's knights. But who knows what lies ahead?'