by Martin Ash
He pondered his encounter as he ate. The entity that had spoken to him - was it confined to that one area of stone, or could it pass at will from location to location? There were others; it had said as much. Leth cast his eyes about the walls of the chamber. Were they all pregnant with the souls or shades of those who had lived and died here?
'Do you watch me now?' he asked loudly, and was answered by silence. 'Is there someone here?'
The thought lingered uneasily that every corridor and stairway, every chamber, every niche, nook and cranny, could be haunted by the ghosts of those long gone, that his every movement was observed, and nowhere might he find privacy.
The roast fowl was very good, and despite himself Leth ate heartily. The wine, too, was of fine quality, though not surprisingly of a source and vintage he could not identify. He mopped the last of the gravy from his plate with the bread, and sat back, cradling his head in his hands, contemplating his circumstances. He felt warm now, yet though the wine blunted the edges of his thoughts he found barely any comfort. His belly was filled, but his mind raced and would not be stilled. Did the walls observe him? Did they listen to his very thoughts?
He thought of Issul. Had she perished? In his final hours in Enchantment's Reach he had all but given up hope of ever seeing her again. And now, all this. . . . Enchantment's Reach and everything he held dear. . . so far away, another world, almost another existence. Perhaps the wine mussed his thoughts, for it seemed for a moment such a distant memory. He felt a sudden spasm of alarm. It was not so long since he had left; he recalled it all clearly. But this place where he now found himself, so strange and dreamlike; the disquieting insistence of all he met that he had been here before.
Do I dream?
The notion unsettled him, but another one, speeding hard upon its heels, made him stiffen in horror, numbing him to the bone: Have I died?
Fectur! Had Fectur done what he had plainly intended to do, the one thing he had to do to fully secure control of Enchantment's Reach? Leth's blood ran cold in his veins. He stood slowly, staring at his pale hands. He cast his eyes around the chamber again. No, he could see. He could hear. He had full sensation. And yet he knew that even in a dream, many times, he had felt the same things. He had dreamed that he dreamed, and knew it too. He had pinched his flesh to feel pain, and yet still he dreamed on.
But this had another quality, similar yet strangely, disorientatingly different. Something not experienced. As though his mind was not quite his own.
Can this be my death?
Could death possess the quality of dream? How could he discover? Was there a means, a foolproof way, of knowing?
Why should there be? My death has waited for me, as it waits for all men, inexorable and pitiless. Now it waits no more.
His guts churned suddenly, trying to reject the food they had just welcomed. Would a dead man's guts rebel like this? Why not? In the deathdream, if the deluded soul is still attached to the embedded memories of life, clinging to the familiar, or what remains of it, at least for a time. If the soul does not know that life has gone, still believes that nothing has changed, is in limbo but not yet in oblivion. Would death be so merciful, allowing memory, sensation and consciousness to dissipate slowly in the dream?
Leth shook his head, trying to dispel these thoughts, fighting. He tried to think back. He recalled, clearly, the events at Enchantment's Reach, how Jace's childlike curiosity had cast them all into the void of Orbelon's world.
The children! Had Fectur murdered them all? Why did he not recall that? Where were they now? Had death separated them all, casting each into this solitary dreaming state? No. No. It was as he recalled it. It had to be. It had to be!
Leth felt light-headed and nauseous. He sat down again at the table. A dead man, deathdreaming lightheadedness, deathdreaming nausea and fear, deathdreaming that he sat? Was it possible? He stared at the remains of his meal, at the winecup beside his plate. Had he been drugged?
How can I know what is happening here?
He considered Orbelon, the god who was not a god. The irony of it! Orbelon professed himself and those against whom he had fought and been defeated, to be something less than gods. Yet Orbelon existed within a world that was, essentially, within himself. And now Leth, who had struggled for so long with his own people to persuade them against putting their faith in gods they knew nothing of, was within that world, and welcomed as a long-awaited god.
And Orbelon has abandoned me here!
He recalled words spoken by Orbelon - it seemed long, long ago now - as they faced one another in the blue domain: 'You, who have lived your entire life on the Reach, have you not always known, somewhere deep inside you, that one day you might have to step over? You have surely wondered what might lie on the Other Side? We are entering Mystery, Leth. Do you not wish to travel? Truly, this is only the beginning'.
The beginning? Leth wrenched his head from side to side. I did not wish to travel alone. Orbelon, what is happening here? Why have you forsaken me?
The chamber door opened. Lakewander entered. She stopped short upon seeing Leth's face. 'What is wrong, Lord? Are you ill?'
Leth rose again, his limbs weak and liquid. He stared hard at her. 'How did I get here?'
'Here? To us?'
He nodded.
'You were borne, Lord, through the Sign.'
'Where have I come from?'
'From the Godworld. Your own world.'
'And what was I there?'
Lakewander looked nonplussed. 'You would have been. . . I don’t know. A god among gods?'
Leth shook his head heavily. 'A man, among men. That’s all.'
'But a leader of men? Isn’t that so?'
Leth heaved a shaken sigh. 'Aye, I was - I am - a leader of men.'
'And you wish to return.'
'That is all I wish.'
'We have told you the one known way.'
Leth nodded to himself. Perhaps there lies the sole means by which I might discover the truth, for a man who has died may not be restored to life.
But a man who has stepped over?
'Lord, I have come to show you something,' said Lakewander. 'Will you accompany me?'
Leth did so. He was grateful for her company, the chance it offered, so he hoped, to relieve his mind of its morbidity.
'What is the name of this place?' Leth asked as they passed from his chamber.
'This place?'
'This castle, or whatever it is, in which you reside.'
'It is Orbia.'
Leth stopped dead in his tracks. Lakewander continued a few paces before realising he was not with her. She turned, a quizzical look upon her face. 'Lord?'
'How did it come by this name?'
'Why, you named it yourself.'
Leth was incredulous. 'I?'
'In ages past, before you abandoned us. Before you passed to the Godworld.'
Leth could only stare, though he did not see her now. Lakewander gave a consoling smile. 'You’re still convinced otherwise.'
'I have not been here before. I am a man, not a god. I am mortal flesh and blood and bone.'
'Lord, you come among us as one of us, this we know. But you are the Swordbearer, Ascaria's doom.' She watched him for a moment, then added, 'No other could have slain the ools.'
'How is that?'
'Their hide is thick and resistant to steel. A normal blade, even a two-handed sword wielded by one twice your size, would have caused hardly more than a flesh-wound.'
'The Orbsword has magical properties, I don’t deny that,' said Leth. 'But I have none.'
Lakewander made no comment. They walked on, Leth in a daze, hardly aware of where he went. The passed along further passages then into a round tower, up a long winding stairway until they arrived at length before a door which Lakewander opened to admit them into a high circular chamber with a domed ceiling made almost entirely of glass.
'The observatory,' announced Lakewander.
Leth was gazing upwards, throu
gh the glass, which was almost flawless and clearer than any that could have been manufactured in his own land. He gazed in wonder at the night sky.
Lakewander stood close beside him. 'From here we observe and note the movements of the Godworld.'
Leth's eyes had been drawn to the single celestial body visible. It hung low above the - as he judged it - western horizon, a brilliantly radiant object, oval in form, which resembled a colossal and fabulously lustred blue-white gem. He was transfixed for some moments, for it was a beautiful and mysterious sight.
'Our world is Orb,' Lakewander said, 'and we are guided by the great Orb of the Godworld. It sustains us, it gives us its light, and from time to time, if our need is so great, it sends one of its own to walk among us.'
Leth glanced aside at her. She was observing him closely. He turned back to the great star. Something else caught his eye. There was another starlike thing, he now saw, far smaller, emitting a bright golden light, lying below and somewhat south of the Orb of the Godworld. 'What is that?'
'That is the World's Agony,' said Lakewander. 'It appears only occasionally, and without herald. But when it comes we know something momentous will occur.' She was silent for some moments, but when no question came she said, 'This time it brought us you.'
Leth swallowed. He looked at the twin stars, if stars they were, and he felt anguish, though he was not quite sure where it came from.
'Gaze as long as you wish, Swordbearer,' Lakewander said. 'I’ll await you outside and escort you back to your chambers when you have done. And tomorrow I will show you the End of the World.'
ii
The night was well-advanced. Leth lay on his back in the bed provided for him within his apartment. Sleep eluded him; his mind threw itself from one set of memories, one concern, one experience, to another. He had lingered long in the observatory high above, staring at the unworldly night sky and the two strange and entrancing bodies it held. He had asked no further questions of Lakewander, though his brain teemed with enquiry. It seemed that anything he asked, of Lakewander or her two companions, was answered only in terms of conundrums, ellipses or evasions, vexing him further and setting more distance between him and the answers he sought. So he had come from the observatory in a state of deep reverie and abstraction. When Lakewander left him at his door, bidding him goodnight, he hardly noticed her departure.
He lay alone in darkness, darkness so complete in this soundless, windowless place that he could well imagine himself to be adrift in some unearthly void, deprived of all sensation save that of thought. And again the notion came to him that he was no longer among the living. This was night without end. His thoughts were those of the disembodied, the recently dead. They filtered from him as his soul, accustomed to flesh, gradually grew to accept its new - or former - state, and when all conscious thought had gone he would be absorbed into. . . what? Non-existence - the mystery of what lay beyond life.
No! Again he rejected these notions. I am a living man! I am Leth, King of Enchantment's Reach! I have not died! I am in another world, and I will return!
There was a sound, and Leth was instantly alert. The handle of the door to his apartment grated lightly as it was turned from outside. Leth reached for the Orbsword which lay in its scabbard beside the bed.
He could see, through the open portal that let into the main chamber, that the door had now opened. The deep yellow glow of a lamp illumined a tall figure which entered silently, closing the door behind it. It approached the bedchamber, clad in a robe of some dark material which fell almost to the floor. Long fair hair framed the face, falling past the shoulders. Leth recognized Lakewander.
'Lord Swordbearer, are you awake?' She came to his bedside and looked down at him, smiling. 'Don't be alarmed. You do not need the Orbsword.'
Lakewander placed the lamp upon a table beside the bed, then straightened, unfastened the cord that bound her robe at the waist and shrugged the garment from her shoulders. She stood naked before him. Leth gazed up at her. Her body, pale and shadowed, was magnificent, lit by the warm lampglow in tones ranging from deepest umber to saffron. Tiny downy hairs upon her flat belly glimmered in the light, her belly and breasts rose and fell in rhythm with her breathing. Her limbs were long, supple and well-toned. The breasts, though not large, were full and perfectly round, the aureolae dark circles, the nipples proudly erect. She bent to draw back the bedclothes and climbed in beside him. Leth smelt her fragrance, a blend of musk, the soft tang of orange blossom and woodland grass.
'Lakewander--' Leth began, but her lips were on his, warm and searching, her long body pressed against his, deeply stimulating. Leth almost succumbed, so great was his need, so profound his anguish, his desire almost overriding all else. But he twisted his head away.
'What’s the matter, Lord?'
'I do not want this.'
'Do I displease you?'
'No.'
Her hand slid between his legs and she took him in her fingers. 'And you desire me, that much is evident.'
'You don’t understand.'
'Will you not love me?'
He thought: through the act of love we affirm that we are alive. And how desperately he needed such affirmation just now. He looked into her face, wanting her, drawn towards her lips, pulsing, yearning in her tender grasp. Her face was close again, her breast brushing his arm, her lips parted.
But this is not love! Issul! Issul!
He turned away.
'Lord?'
'Lakewander, I don’t want to offend you, but this cannot be. Please understand.'
'But why? If you desire me, as I desire you?'
'Isn’t it not obvious? There is another. My wife, my greatest friend, the mother of my children. The woman I love.'
Issul, Issul, I don’t even know if you are alive!
'Lord, I think it’s you who does not understand.'
'Please. This cannot be.'
Lakewander removed her hand. He let out a breath, not wanting her to stop.
'Your words tell me one thing, your body something quite different,' Lakewander said.
Leth stayed silent. He was so close to reaching for her. Moments passed, filled with uncertainty, then he felt her climb from the bed. He turned towards her as she slipped back into her robe. 'I’m sorry, Lakewander.'
'I too, Lord,' she said, but her tone was not cold or terse. Rather, she seemed wistful, a little preoccupied. 'I don’t know what will happen now.'
'What do you mean?'
'This is not what was expected.'
'Expected?'
Her words suggested she had come here with the knowledge of others, even at their bidding. Leth was both curious and indignant. Was he the subject of an experiment or test of some kind?
'Now we may have to reconsider,' she said. 'Goodnight, Lord. We’ll meet in the morning.'
She took her lamp and left.
III
In the morning Leth discovered a large pitcher and bowl of warm, scented water and soap in his chamber. Again he did not know who had left it. He washed and dressed, then left his chambers and made his way back to the room where he had spoken with old Master Protector the previous day.
Master Protector sat alone at the table, a spread of various foods before him: oatflakes and warm milk, hot white bread rolls, butter, preserves of quince and blueberry, pancakes steeped in honey. 'Lord Swordbearer, greetings. I trust you slept well and find yourself refreshed.'
'My sleep was broken by uneasy dreams, many questions and more,' said Leth. 'Still, in the end, I did sleep, and feel better for it.'
'Well then I am both sorry and gladdened - sorry that beneath my humble roof you should find sleep hard to come by, but glad that you found it in the end. Will you take breakfast with me?'
Leth nodded his thanks and seated himself at the table.
'You saw, last night, and you learned, did you not?' enquired Master Protector.
'I saw a sky that was furrowed and valleyed like an unworldly landscape. I saw a massive
jewel in the sky, the Orb of the Godworld, and the World's Agony at its side. I learned that this place is known by you as Orbia, and that it was so named long ago by the one you believe me to be. I learned also that this place is haunted by beings who dwell within the very stone that forms it.' Leth glanced about the chamber walls, wondering how many ghostly entities listened in to this conversation. 'In short I saw wonders and mysteries, but learned little to enlighten me. It all seems much like a dream, and perhaps that’s all it is.'
'All?' Master Protector smiled to himself, dabbing his thin bloodless lips with a napkin. 'If so, it is a dream from which there is no escape, except death, and who can say whether death is truly an escape?'
His words chilled Leth, who glanced again at the walls. 'Death in your domain appears to be an experience unlike death in my own world. Do all of you become part of this when you pass on?'
'All who are Protectors.'
'Then you are immortal.'
'Orbia is immortal, Swordbearer. You more than anyone should understand that. But it is immortal only as long as no one knows how it may be destroyed. Ascaria, the Kancanitrix, is seeking to do that, and we know that she may be close upon her goal.'
'Hence you would have me slay her first.'
Master Protector sipped from a mug of steaming spiced posset. 'I see that the Orbsword remains buckled at your waist. I am thankful.'
'You are premature. I have made no compact.'
'Quite so. Yet you have not returned the Sword to us. Swordbearer, this is the only weapon that can slay Ascaria, and you are the only one who can bear it.'
'No. Perhaps no other may draw the Sword, but as I said last night, that need not preclude another's wielding it.'
Master Protector shook his head. 'The energy of the Orbsword is harmful to any ordinary man. It would slowly weaken any other who bore it. But not you. No, indeed, I see by your very bearing and the light that shines in your eyes that the Sword empowers you. Do you not feel it?'
'I feel only anger and mistrust, and the desire to be away from here with my children, to our own home,' declared Leth with vehemence. 'You brought us here against our will; you allowed us to be separated; and now you blackmail me with their lives. I want nothing of this!'