Orbelon's World (Book 3)

by Martin Ash

  She took some small solace in the knowledge that he was not infallible. Not quite. She had wrong-footed him with her return. Lord Fectur had taken a gamble, making his move against Leth in the belief that Issul would not be coming home, at least not yet. She had embarrassed and humiliated him. He had not risked standing against her, for to do so was to threaten the integrity of the Crown, and plainly he had lacked the support for that. He had achieved Leth's overthrow through guile, deceit and the ruthlessly brilliant manipulation of circumstances. Leth's state of mind had been the pretext, and Fectur had persuaded government, army and factions that he was acting in the best interests of the Crown.

  With Issul's return that argument could only be sustained by his voluntarily stepping down. But he would not be beaten. He would be taking careful stock, awaiting and creating his next opportunity. His instinct was that of the spider that sits concealed beneath its trapdoor, allowing its prey to step too close. His jaws had closed once upon the flesh he sought, but, impossibly, it had struggled free. Now he had withdrawn again into the dark, where he waited, patient, still, and ready.

  Issul suppressed a shudder. She needed him. It was an unpalatable fact, but Fectur was invaluable, and therein lay his strength. Many of Enchantment's Reach's most skilled troops were under his direct command; his intelligence network extended everywhere, holding stores of knowledge and information that the Crown needed in order to function effectively; and his police and security system held sway over far too much of the little kingdom.

  And now Orbelon was proposing that, to have any chance of rescuing Leth and their children - and indeed, of saving Enchantment's Reach from the advancing Karai and their god - Issul must leave the city-castle again, this time to journey into unknown Enchantment. In effect Orbelon was asking her to hand power and virtually complete freedom of choice back to Fectur.

  The Lord High Invigilate stood motionless, his short stubby fingers linked before him, observing her with a smile of cordial hatred. 'You have heard the sad news?'

  'Of Duke Hugo?' she gave a curt nod. 'Word arrived a short time ago.'

  'Such a tragedy. A great loss, for Enchantment's Reach as much as for you and your family. My heart goes out to you all.' He tutted, but his eyes were blank, the pupils pinpoints. 'The poor Duchess. How will she take the news?'

  'She will not be told yet, Fectur. Do you understand?' Mawnie - Demawndella - Issul's sister and the wife of Duke Hugo of Giswel, was confined in a state of delirium in her apartment within Orbia palace.

  'The Duke was unwise,' said Fectur. 'The King's orders were explicit: to remain within the castle. For some reason Duke Hugo saw fit to disobey and launch a sally against the Karai. No doubt he believed he had good cause, but . . . he has paid the most terrible price. Many good men lost their lives, and Giswel Holt is weakened.'

  'How many were lost, Fectur? Do you have more details than I?'

  Issul had only recently received the news, brought by pigeon. Pigeon flights had ceased for some days, she had learned, for fear of interception by the Karai. Now the defenders of Giswel Holt reasoned correctly that the Karai would be unlikely to want to prevent this news reaching the capital.

  'Some dozens, it would appear,' Fectur replied. 'Footsoldiers, horsetroops and several knights. Prince Anzejarl has now divided his army into two. A considerable force remains outside Giswel Holt's walls, while the bulk of the army is thought now to be marching north, towards us.'

  Issul took sober note of this. The Karai could be here within days. The city-castle itself was a difficult prospect to lay seige to, situated as it was upon the vast, soaring scarp from which it and the kingdom drew its name. The season was late-harvest, so store-rooms were well-stocked. But the city-castle had become severely overcrowded with refugees who had fled from the towns and villages of the region which lay in the enemy's path. More still poured towards the city gate. And the Karai had access to much of the harvest, too, plus good supply lines leading back into the Mondane Kingdoms they had conquered before turning upon Enchantment's Reach, and to the Karai lands themselves. They had formidable allies in their ranks, creatures of Enchantment, somehow under the command of Prince Anzejarl: slooths - monstrous winged beasts for which cliffs and walls were no obstacle. The slooths were fearless, fleet in the air, and deadly. Issul had already witnessed their impact in battle, and had received accounts of the panic and destruction they had caused when Prince Anzejarl had unleashed them upon Enchantment's Reach and other, less well-defended towns. And there had been additional reports of huge, brutish troll-things moving with the Karai army.

  What else? It had been established beyond all reasonable doubt that the Karai were led by one of the mighty god-beings who ruled Enchantment. The precise identity of this 'god' was undetermined, and the fact of its existence had not been made public for fear of inciting the populace, and worse, one or more of the factions. The factions had worshipped such beings before the practice was banned by Leth's forbear, King Haruman. Worship still continued clandestinely, and if it were officially acknowledged now that one of the so-called gods gave patronage to the Karai, and indeed led them to war against Enchantment's Reach, the consequences within the kingdom would have been catastrophic.

  Rumour was rife, of course. Most of the factions were vociferous in their claims that the current strife was due to the gods being angered at the Deist Edict which prohibited worship. They had become even more vocal with the appearance of the slooths, and it served no one's interests, not even Fectur's, to have such knowledge broadcast. As it was, as far as she was aware, even Fectur, though he might strongly suspect and even believe in the intervention of a god, had no actual evidence. It was Leth who, in discussion with Orbelon, had confirmed the existence of the Karai 'god', and apart from these two, only Issul and Pader Luminis of the Arcane College were aware.

  Orbelon had told Issul that there were as many twenty three of these beings dwelling in Enchantment. One was Triune, who she had already encountered. They were Orbelon's enemies, and he had himself been one of them before his defeat, banishment and separation from his soul. He confirmed that they were not truly gods, although their power, compared with ordinary folk beyond Enchantment's borders, was immense, and in that sense put them on the level of deities. He described them as nodes of consciousness formed out of the chaotic energies that created Enchantment, and declared that they were doomed, only half-knowingly, to forever wage war upon each other and the world in order to continue to exist.

  Orbelon did not know which of these beings aided the Karai. He informed Issul that outside of Enchantment's borders his ancient enemies were deprived of much of their power. Hence the creature which led the Karai, and which reportedly took the form of a red-haired woman of astonishing beauty who had established herself as the consort of the Karai Prince Anzejarl, was unlikely to be the 'god' itself. More probably, she was a sorcerous projection, simulacrum or bound servitor of the 'god'. Nonetheless, he believed her quite capable of summoning other allies, other magics, should the circumstances demand.

  Deep within the forest to the south of Enchantment's Reach Issul, whilst held captive by a Karai raiding party, had discovered a secret underground bunker constructed by the Karai using human slaves. Within lay a mysterious thing, a manifestation of strange and powerful magic, called a Farplace Opening. From here, according to Orbelon, things of Enchantment could issue forth. Orbelon spoke of Reach Riders: awesome phantasmal entities, the very expression of Enchantment itself. These bringers of destruction would pave the way for Enchantment to grow, to return the world to its own condition of chaotic flux.

  And there remained another abiding mystery: that of the Legendary Child. According to the teachings of the outlawed faction known as the True Sept, the Legendary Child was the spawn of a god whose advent was predicted at a time of great crisis. The child was also Queen Issul's nephew, though none but Issul, Pader Luminis, and now Orbelon, knew this. The child, named Moscul, had been born in the most terrible circumstances, push
ing himself from the lifeless womb of Issul's deceased younger sister, Ressa, the twin of Mawnie.

  Issul, only half-aware at that time of the preachings of the True Sept, and not wanting to believe, had brushed aside the facts of the unnatural birth. In accordance with Ressa's plea before her death, she had taken Moscul and hidden him with a poor peasant family in the tiny, outlying village of Lastmeadow. Inadvertently Issul had helped to nurture the Legendary Child, had allowed him to develop and grow, undiscovered and unopposed.

  In one of the guest apartments within the Royal Palace of Orbia the leader of the True Sept, Grey Venger by name, waited. Fanatically opposed to the throne, and half-crazed with hatred for King Leth, Venger was the only man believed to hold the secret of the Legendary Child's purpose. So far Issul had put off speaking to him, but she knew that she could not delay much longer.

  It was all too much. Issul put her hand to her brow.

  'You are unwell, my Lady? You look tired and pale.'

  'I am fine.' She had barely slept in days and her mind could barely take in what was happening. But she would not give Fectur the satisfaction of knowing this. 'Is your account reliable?'

  'It was sent by one of my own people within Giswel Holt, and carries coded signals. I would be aware if it had been tampered with.'

  'Is there anything else?'

  'Soldiers returning to Giswel Holt reported seeing large grey creatures, trolls. It was these beasts which inflicted the greatest damage upon our troops, and took Duke Hugo's life.'

  Issul nodded to herself. Fectur's report seemed to differ little from the one she had received, though of course he might not be telling all. It was unsettling news. Hugo's death was a severe blow. Almost certainly he had blundered into a trap set by Prince Anzejarl. And with his loss came the first reliable sighting of Anzejarl's trolls within the borders of Enchantment's Reach.

  All else aside, with Prince Anzejarl's army on the move and so close, was there even time to follow Orbelon's plan and travel to Enchantment?

  'I want an emergency assembly this afternoon in the Hall of Wise Counsel,' said Issul abruptly.

  'Another?' Fectur scarcely troubled himself to disguise his sarcasm.

  'Yes, another!' she snapped. 'All knights, senior military officers, security and intelligence officers, advisors and officiers will attend. I leave it to you to arrange.'

  Fectur did not flinch, but she saw the flicker of suspicion and resentment in his cold carp eye. 'Very good, my Lady.' He reached into his robe and brought forth a scroll bound in crimson ribbon. 'Here is the report you requested.'

  'It is late.'

  'I have been very busy.'

  She took the scroll, curious as to its contents. How would Fectur have accounted for his conduct during her absence, most especially his overthrow of Leth? He was too clever to incriminate himself, but in covering his tracks Issul hoped he might at least have left clues that could help her understand just how he had accomplished his feat, and perhaps more importantly, name or give credible indications as to the identities of his closest accomplices, or at least those distinguished figures who had most readily given him their support. Many of his henchmen she already knew, but to establish himself as Regent Fectur would have needed the backing of the highest ranking ministers, knights and the heads of the numerous factions. The factions were influential in the politics of Enchantment's Reach, but their greatest weakness had always been their conflicting beliefs and inability to find accord between themselves. That they had demonstrated unity now intrigued Issul; that they had done it behind Fectur's banner was a matter of enormous concern.

  II

  Issul paced her chamber, racked with indecision. Outside a light drizzle fell from uniform grey skies above Enchantment's Reach. The misty rain was chill, carried from the northeast with the changing season. The vast forest at the foot of the great scarp had been almost obscured, a murky ocean of denser tone merging into the low cloud. The mountains of Enchantment could not be seen.

  Barely thirty six hours had passed since Issul's return to Enchantment's Reach. She had come home to find herself obliged to don the mantle of supreme office in her husband's absence. She was twenty two, with scarcely any practical experience in the art of government. Taking the throne, she found herself beleaguered and antagonized, a reluctant sovereign in a time of crisis like none that had gone before in the history of Enchantment's Reach. From outside the city-castle's high walls enemies approached. Others circled within, like raptors waiting for her to drop, not all yet announcing themselves. And now she was faced with an impossible choice.

  To go or to remain? On the face of it she had little option. Ironically, she had known, even as she was making her way back to Enchantment's Reach, that she would return to the secret Karai bunker beneath the forest floor, where the Farplace Opening - the wormhole to Enchantment - lay entombed. She had made the impossible journey, had been to Enchantment, and something of Enchantment was within her now. It called her back, a mystery that could not accept abandonment. But she had never imagined she would be returning there this soon, nor under circumstances as desperate as these.

  *

  'Orbelon. . . . Orbelon, speak to me.'

  She ceased her pacing and focused her gaze upon the blue casket which rested with other precious ornaments and items of finery upon an open shelf of an ornately carved oak chiffonier to one side of the room. Orbelon would not be far away. By his own account, prevented from re-entering his world, he could also not leave it. He, the world, and the casket were somehow one and the same - a concept which Issul was not fully able to grasp.

  Issul had agonized over the problem of concealing the casket. With Pader Luminis, she had decided upon open display, where it would in fact draw the least attention. No one knew of the casket. Her apartments were private, and more closely-guarded now than ever before. Fectur was always a risk, but he had no direct access to Issul's private rooms, and he had already failed to note the casket when it lay conspicuously upon Leth's workdesk. To hide it now might actually be to risk exposing it in the event of calamity or clandestine search. Consulted about this, Orbelon, after brief consideration, had agreed.

  'Orbelon, are you there?' Issul peered about the chamber, seeking out the vague figure of the god, filled with unease. She knew so little about him, nothing more than he had told her, in fact. He professed himself benign, but how could she be sure? Leth had left instructions with Pader Luminis that the casket must be protected at all costs, had hinted that the fate of Enchantment's Reach might somehow be bound up with the casket. And when Issul had taken the casket, then had come Orbelon with his claim that within him, within the world that he had somehow become, Issul's children and husband were alive. What could she do but trust him, and hope?

  'Orbelon, I have to talk to you.'

  The silence unnerved her, set her fearing the worst. 'Orbelon!'

  At last there came a voice, dry, aged, laboured, from behind her. 'Ah, Queen Issul.'

  Issul turned. The stooped, bulky figure of Orbelon, not wholly distinct, rested beside the window, surrounded by the faintest corona of pale blue.

  'I apologise,' he said. 'I was lost.'

  'Lost?'

  'Within. It is an extraordinary thing. I have yet to become accustomed to the idea, the fact that I am truly that which I have always denied I could be, a god in the purest interpretation of the word. Out of dormancy, out of unconsciousness and an infinity of striving, without knowing that this was what I was striving for. . . .' His massive head shook slowly and he leaned heavily with both hands upon his staff, his spine bowed. '. . . I have given birth to a world. This is a wonder almost too immense to contemplate. And it pains me, renders me ecstatic, moves me. . . . Ah, Queen Issul. . . .' He trailed off. 'No words can possibly convey this.'

  'What have you found?' enquired Issul with hope. 'Are you able to see within?'

  'Sense is a closer approximation. But I am outside, an exiled god. I can see nothing.'

  'But you
sense life?'

  'Oh yes. Absolutely yes. I’ve told you already, Orbelon's world has life. It is alive. And fragile.' He peered towards the blue casket on the chiffonier. 'So vulnerable and easily shattered. Take care, Queen Issul. Cherish it like a babe in your hands, for it’s upon you that its future depends.'

  Issul bit her lip. 'What do you sense of this life?'

  'That it is, that’s all. I told you before, I can’t identify the creatures that dwell here. And I know your real question. I’m sorry, if I could find Leth and your children I would, but I don’t know how. Should I discover something, anything, I will tell you.'

  Issul was silent for some moments, racked by waves of emotion. When she could speak without her voice betraying her, she said, 'Orbelon, tell me there is an alternative.'

  'An alternative to what?'

  'To going with you to Enchantment.'

  Orbelon hesitated. 'I cannot. There isn’t.'

  'There has to be.'

  'I’m sorry. I wish it could be otherwise.'

  'I cannot leave.'

  'You don’t have a choice.'

  'I will be giving Enchantment's Reach into the hands of my enemies.'

  'Remain here and you give it both to your enemies and mine. It is utterly certain that all will perish, and Leth and your children . . . we will never know. But go with me and there is at least a hope.'