A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1)

by Freda Warrington

  Estarinel and Medrian were both unconscious, with great holes gouged through their breastplates and their clothes tom. Blood poured from their sides. Ashurek could not understand what it was that kept them – and him – alive. He was weak from lack of blood and it was agony to breathe. Since he had formed a great resistance to pain over the years of battle and torture, he was able to stay conscious.

  Ashurek – who had thought he cared about no one except Silvren – was intensely concerned about his companions. He had come to like and respect Estarinel, who’d shown uncomplaining courage and remarkable abilities throughout the journey. As for Medrian… he still did not know what to make of her. She had dismissed a demon, but then she had appeared to lead them deliberately into the crows’ claws. She was a perpetual contradiction and there was something deeply sinister about her. Nevertheless he saw her as a comrade, and at times he had shared a fellow-feeling with her that verged on understanding.

  The three of them, so unalike and at first so uneasy and distrustful of each other, had become firm companions. We could have been a powerful force, Ashurek thought, if we had not met our end here…

  He was roused suddenly from his thoughts. There were voices approaching. He tried to stand up, but could not move. It was actually not this pain, or torture, or the castle’s dark powers that he dreaded – but Gastada’s mockery and jubilation when he found Ashurek recaptured.

  ‘Here they are, your lordship, as you commanded,’ said a guard.

  ‘Await orders outside,’ said another voice, thick and soft as mouldering flesh. It was Gastada.

  Ashurek closed his eyes as the man entered, delaying a first sight of him. ‘My present from Lady Arlenmia,’ the voice intoned. ‘You’re late.’

  Reluctantly Ashurek reopened his eyes. Gastada was a short man but he carried his insect-thin frame with great arrogance. His small round head was almost bald, crusted with a little lichen-like hair; his features were puffy, sneering and corrupt, with cruel lines about mouth and eyes that were ingrained with dirt. His eyes were terrible. The whites showed above them always and the irises were a sickly, opaque pink with glaring white pupils. He looked blind but was not. He wore thin robes of some grimy, overdecorated stuff. His appearance made even Ashurek, who had met him before, feel physically sick.

  ‘I am so pleased you’ve returned,’ Gastada said in his thick, whispering voice. He bent down, his stench washing over Ashurek, and began to laugh. ‘But you are late, late – Arlenmia can be so incompetent. Never mind. We have all the time we want. Are you not going to reply? How rude.’

  Ashurek glared at him, unspeaking.

  ‘You are a fine fish for anyone to catch,’ Gastada went on. ‘Arlenmia could not hold you, nor could the Dark Regions, nor could I – but I have learned by my mistakes. There’ll be no little fair-haired sorceress to rescue you this time, will there?

  ‘Who are these friends you bring with you?’ He walked, quick as an insect, to look at Medrian. ‘A lady? She’s bleeding rather a lot. She is not very pretty – not as pretty as my wife.’ Then he went to Estarinel. ‘Oh – Forluinish. I do not like the Forluinish.’ He lifted the hem of his robe and pushed Estarinel onto his side with a gnarled bare foot, deliberately digging toenails into one of the talon wounds. Even his nails were disgusting, overgrown and black. Estarinel groaned faintly as he came round.

  ‘Leave him alone!’ Ashurek tried to say. It was agony to speak and it came out a whisper.

  ‘What? Why, have you changed your ways? Prince Ashurek, I am very distressed at your misjudgment of me. I am a kind and merciful man. For example, I will now let you all rest while I decide on your entertainment.’

  Gastada’s awful voice whispered on, punctuated by thick chuckles, for what seemed hours. He had always loved his own voice, Ashurek recalled. It was like him to leave them collapsed with blood loss and pain, for as long as he cared to; Ashurek had expected nothing different.

  He did not listen to the Duke’s monologue, but let himself drift into unconsciousness again. Once he thought he saw Estarinel drag himself to his feet and lean doubled up against the wall, blood spilling over his fingers. Some time later, he half-awoke again and Estarinel was lying on the floor once more.

  At last he awoke fully and he was alone in the claustrophobic room. The candle had melted to a stump and cast cold, guttering shadows into the corners of the ceiling. Ashurek crawled to the table and used it to haul himself to his feet. The talon-wounds had stopped bleeding and his side was aching and so stiff that he could barely move. Each time he drew breath there was a stabbing pain through his chest.

  Sinking despair flooded him as he realised that Medrian and Estarinel had been taken to the lower levels of the castle where prisoners were held and tortured. He did not understand why he had not been taken down there himself; perhaps Gastada had some even more inventive punishment for him.

  His sword and axe had been taken. Crippled by pain as he was, he could see no way of helping his companions. He leaned against the slimy wall, trying to gather strength.

  Gastada was the Duke of Guldarktal, a country which had once been a wild, cold, beautiful land. Gastada himself had once been a normal young man who had inherited the Dukedom from his father. But his power was tenuous, and the country was wracked by civil war. Determined to end the struggle and safeguard his authority, Gastada had summoned a demon.

  Soon he was in full control of the country, but intoxicated with success, he summoned more demons to fulfil his various desires. The sacrifices they demanded in return grew ever greater, and he quickly became insane. First, all the enemies who had opposed his rule disappeared into his dungeons. Then other citizens began to disappear. At first there were plausible excuses, that he needed servants or soldiers, but later he gave up the pretence. His people lived in fear. The Shana gave him terrible creatures which he sent out across the land, burning forests and towns, devouring men and women.

  The Shana, delighted at having found this willing tool, encouraged him to ever greater excesses. His insanity grew until, possessed by a monstrous hatred of all living things, Gastada had destroyed every human and animal in his country.

  Guldarktal was laid waste, and became a taboo subject for its neighbouring countries. They never spoke of it, lest it happen to them.

  It was said that when a man had lived by necromancy for so long that be had nothing left with which to pay the Shana, they would work for him for no reward; or only the reward of having utterly broken and corrupted him. So it was with Gastada, for he had proved himself a true and faithful servant of the Serpent.

  Ashurek left the fetid room and began to make his slow and painful way along a corridor. Before he had walked even a few yards, Gastada came from a doorway and stopped him. ‘Ah, you have revived at last. Where are you going?’

  ‘Such a pleasant day, I thought I’d take a walk,’ Ashurek gasped.

  ‘Are you in pain?’ Gastada asked, looking almost affectionately at him half-doubled over, clutching his wounds.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Ashurek said through clenched teeth.

  ‘You still have that morbid sense of humour, I see. Come with me.’ Gastada beckoned with a stick-like finger and led him along low-roofed, damp corridors. Even if he had had the strength, there would have been little point in jumping Gastada and strangling him. It would not help them escape. And how – how could he ever have revenge on this evil little man for his abuse of the dead Gorethrian soldiers?

  ‘Why am I not downstairs in the cells, with the others?’ he asked.

  ‘I have nothing left with which to entertain you! Still, I know that just to spend the rest of your life with me will give you the utmost delight,’ the Duke cackled. ‘It’s very lonely here, except for my Duchess.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were married,’ said Ashurek, wondering what poor girl he was keeping prisoner.

  ‘Did I not introduce you last time? I’ll take you to meet her. But there’s no hurry – you’ll be here a long time, after all.
’ Gastada began to chuckle and wheeze.

  Ashurek knew there was no escape now. Last time, Silvren’s sorcery had opened doors, disposed of guards and shaken the castle to its decaying foundations; but without sorcery, even should he kill Gastada and every guard in the castle, escape was impossible. The only exit was that triangular black door, and it was drenched in dark powers. Only Gastada could open it. Not even a demon or the Serpent itself could do so.

  Yet Silvren had opened it. Small wonder the Shana so feared her.

  ‘Do make yourself at home here! Your only home, your last home,’ Gastada choked through his laugter. ‘I grant you the freedom of my castle.’

  Granting a captive the freedom of his prison! It was the kind of contradiction that Gastada loved. Refusing to be goaded, Ashurek remained silent. They walked on down the narrow, stench-filled corridors, thick with darkness. The castle was airless and the only light came from a few sickly, faint torches.

  ‘Darkness is there – I can see no escape,’ Medrian had said, and at last Ashurek believed her. This was what she had foreseen – not Arlenmia’s domain.

  ‘I am expecting good news soon. It is taking a long time to arrive, but it will be soon. I will have a new country to add to my estate.’

  This brought an involuntary, malicious grin to Ashurek’s mouth. Gastada appeared not to notice. Obviously the demons had chosen not to tell him the unfortunate news about his Dead Army as yet. What would Gastada do to the three when he eventually found out?

  He led Ashurek on through dim rooms and corridors, muttering incessantly. Ashurek did not listen to his insane ramblings, and only took notice when he stopped to speak to a guard, saying that Ashurek was to be attended and obeyed as an honoured guest. He had forgotten, but now he remembered. The guards were not human. Though they stood upright and were clad in leather and metal, they walked in a shambling way, like apes. They were large and strong, heads and hands covered in a brownish, bristling hair. Some had long hairy tails trailing behind them, but the most inhuman thing about them was their faces. The skin was red and looked raw and naked, with a long nose fused into a cleft, pendulous upper lip. Their small, pale eyes were too close together, almost touching.

  He also recalled that they were grossly stupid.

  At last Gastada took Ashurek to a room in which there was an ageing four-poster bed, heavy with dusty, decayed hangings.

  The Gorethrian looked with longing at the bed, for he could hardly walk.

  ‘Do you wish to lie down?’ Gastada asked, face twisted.

  ‘Not if you’d rather chain me to the wall,’ Ashurek gasped, leaning against the door jamb. ‘But there’s already someone lying there.’

  ‘Ah yes – now you may meet my wife.’ Gastada bent over the slight figure on the bed and kissed her face. Ashurek stumbled over to the bed and hung onto one of the posts of soft, rotting wood.

  ‘No one will ever lie on this bed beside her except me, and that not until I am dead,’ Gastada said, looking at Ashurek with his awful pink-and-white eyes. ‘Isn’t she pretty?’

  Perhaps she had been once, but now her eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling, her jaw hung open, and the flesh was falling away from her long-dead face.

  Ashurek saw then the most ironic tragedy of all, that even the Serpent’s agents were its victims. Along with all the things Gastada loathed, the one thing that had been precious to him had perished also.

  #

  The guards had dragged Estarinel along a labyrinth of corridors, down steep, perilous stairs, to a small, damp cell lit by a dying torch. For a while he thought that, out of the sight of their master, they were going to show him mercy. They let him sit down and gave him water to drink. But as soon as he had finished it, they seized him, roaring with mocking laughter.

  ‘Let us see what fevers that swamp-bilge will give you!’

  They twisted wires around his wrists and tied him to rings on the wall. They extinguished the torch, and ignoring his entreaties to know where Medrian was, left him in the cold, suffocating darkness.

  He slumped against the wall but with his arms bound painfully above his head, and he could not move. He swallowed against the tightness of his throat, thinking, I’ve never before wept out of fear, only for my country. How do I find courage now?

  He felt he had no courage at all, and that if he had known the Quest was going to end in darkness and sickness and dread, he would never have set out. Despair possessed him, not only for his own situation, and the impossibility of helping Medrian and Ashurek, but for the whole world. It was all swamped in sickness and evil; attempting to destroy the evil ended in pain and death. He thought of his mother’s sorrow if she could see him now. And he thought of his beloved sisters, Arlena and Lothwyn, and of Falin and Lilithea, and all the others he so loved. Forluin seemed like a dream now, a perfect green jewel that could never have existed.

  A persistent faint scratching penetrated the feverish twilight in which he drifted. He shuddered and recoiled, for it sounded like a rat’s claws on the flagstones. Or was it some worse creature, some thing of the Serpent? Yet it also, ridiculously, sounded like a bird hopping about.

  ‘It’s all right, it’s all right,’ a ghost of a voice lilted in birdsong. ‘You’ve forgotten again, haven’t you?’ Then Estarinel’s feverish dream continued, but his body became numb of pain and his thoughts clear as crystal. Forluin was real, and other lovely things were too… the Blue Plane was real. ‘Where are you, O Lady of H’tebhmella?’ he cried. It emerged as a whisper. ‘You said you would help us!’

  #

  At last, the demon Siregh-Ma itself appeared to Gastada, alone in one of his cave-dank rooms. It laughed as it told him the news. ‘Your three prisoners made a bargain with me to de-animate your army of corpses. I did so, and you have lost Excarith! Their energy was delicious.’

  Gastada became demented. His round, ugly head swayed on its insect-thin neck and his eyes were wild. The demon had betrayed him; it had delayed the information, and it had the cheek to bring the news itself. And worse, now probably Arlenmia would send her own messengers there and control Excarith, the filthy witch. Dancing with murderous anger, Gastada threw everything he could lay his hands on at the demon, but the silver figure simply shook with mirth as the missiles passed through it.

  When Gastada’s fury had exhausted itself, Siregh-Ma said, ‘However, to make up in some way for my appalling behaviour, I bear some information concerning the loathsome woman Medrian…’ The demon explained in careful detail as Gastada listened, his face twisting with various emotions.

  Then the demon left, saying as it departed, ‘Don’t fear that Arlemma will seize Excarith. She is putting a far greater design into motion!’

  ‘What?’ Gastada spluttered, but the silver creature had gone. He was trembling with fury still, but now it was all focused into one ghastly purpose.

  He had lost interest in Ashurek. He had never had any in Estarinel. But Medrian, now, held endless possibilities for venting his rage and malice.

  #

  Many miles away, in the House of Rede at the South Pole, Eldor put his head in his hands. The great frame of the sage shook with exhaustion, and his wife, Dritha, watched him sadly. She looked equally tired, her silver hair dishevelled.

  ‘I shall have to start turning them away,’ Eldor said sadly. ‘How can I? We call this a House where anyone can come for any reason, but it isn’t true, there just isn’t room for everyone!’

  ‘The other Guardians would say they told us so,’ said Dritha. ‘They never approved of this House, after all.’

  ‘Well, it’s too late for them to say anything! We are involved in human affairs too deeply to desert the world now.’

  Over the past few weeks, refugees had been pouring into the southern continent from Tearn and the Empire, with tales of fierce fighting, demonic animals, and weird happenings of nature.

  ‘It seems to me the Earth has fallen through a hole in space and landed in hell,’ said one dark-skinned man of Vard
rav. ‘Everything is falling apart! We always cursed Ashurek and his armies, but things are worse since he vanished – the Gorethrians have gone mad and so have the rest of us – it’s anarchy. And as for the volcano…’

  A shipload of fearful people had come from the Empire, saying that they had seen ‘a golden bird in flames, falling from the sky’. One old woman still babbled that she had seen the death of hope and the end of the world. Others had come, saying that the ocean had frozen down to the north coast of the Empire, and that evil creatures of the Arctic stalked the lands, devouring people. And in Tearn, equally terrible events were taking place: senseless fighting, roving bands of savage wolves or bears, appearances of demons, plagues and countless other afflictions.

  The people who had come to Eldor were only those few who had had the presence of mind to remember him and had managed to find ships to take them to the House of Rede. Even so, there were hundreds, filling the house and camping all over the cold hills round the valley.

  They were afraid. He saw and felt their fear every day, and it was an ever-increasing, terrible burden. There was so little he could say.

  ‘It is the doing of the Serpent M’gulfn,’ he would try to explain. ‘Three people have gone to slay it. That’s all I can tell you.’

  ‘What if they fail?’ said one refugee.

  ‘I thought you were a sage,’ said another. Usually, though, they listened in silence, taking comfort from his presence, putting their burden of fear onto him.

  Alone, he told Dritha, ‘I’m very worried. I’ve meditated and scried, but I can divine no news of them. It’s as if they left our shores and passed into a void.’

  ‘They never reached the Blue Plane, I know,’ Dritha said grimly. ‘We cannot have sent them to their deaths, can we? There cannot be so little hope?’

  ‘No,’ he tried to reassure her. ‘Dritha, the Guardians have summoned us. Even without knowledge of the three, we must ready ourselves to go and perform our task.’