‘Poor Silvren,’ Estarinel exclaimed, ‘to be so cruelly betrayed by someone she thought her friend for so long.’
‘Aye,’ Ashurek agreed, gazing moodily downwards. ‘And to feel it was her fault that M’gulfn had gained such a powerful ally. Often it seems that the harder someone fights the Serpent, the more they aid it.’
‘I’m sorry this was such a revelation to you,’ Calorn put in. ‘I thought you would already have known most of it.’
‘Don’t apologise. I’m grateful to you for telling me. You’ve put much in perspective.’
‘I know it must be terrible for you, to know that the Dark Regions are on the other side of the Blue Plane, so near, and yet impossible even to consider rescuing Silvren.’
Calorn immediately wished she had not spoken. The hellish light returned to Ashurek’s eyes; he glared at her for a moment, then abruptly stood up and strode away. Calorn stared after him, feeling a sudden conflict of duties and emotions.
‘I always seem to say the wrong thing to him,’ she murmured.
‘Don’t take it to heart,’ said Estarinel. ‘It’s hard to say the right thing.’
‘I only wish…’ she said thoughtfully, ‘I wish there was something I could do to help him.’
Estarinel replied, ‘The only thing that will help any of us is for the Quest of the Serpent to be completed. And you are helping in that, Calorn.’
#
The small boat carrying Medrian and the Lady of H’tebhmella drifted through water that was as clear as liquid glass. The vessel was made of pale, smooth wood and pulled by a water-dwelling horse with arched neck and delicately tapering head. They sailed a long way before mooring and stepping onto an island of sapphire-blue crystal. As Medrian and the Lady crested a rise in the shore, they saw a long vista of weird and beautiful formations, like joyously leaping water frozen in mid-dance. There were arches and knolls and spires of rock, shimmering in every shade of blue and violet. Mist drifted between these fantastical shapes, a soft sparkling vapour that seemed sentient, purposeful.
Medrian had to swallow tightness in her throat as she saw the landscape. She could not say why she felt moved, except that the mist seemed alive, caressing the rocks as if greeting old friends with infinite tenderness. The formations appeared to return the greeting, bowing imperceptibly with love and gentleness in every line of their forms. The strange, still dance of light and stone was so unearthly, so far above and beyond her that she knew she could never touch or share their communion. All that love, she thought, and I am condemned to feel cold forever.
As if reading her thoughts, the Lady placed a comforting hand on Medrian’s arm and led her down the slope into the strange landscape. There was light in her grey eyes as she said, ‘Everything, even rock, has a spirit. In places the soul of H’tebhmella shows itself in more than external beauty. Don’t be envious. No human can hope to feel such pure and un-human emotion.’ Medrian dropped her eyes, shivering.
‘I am not envious,’ she said. ‘I have had enough pure and un-human emotion to kill me – the Serpent’s hatred.’
The Lady’s hand fell from Medrian’s arm as if she had no reply, no answer for her pain. She was silent for a long moment. Then she said, ‘Medrian, forgive me.’
‘My Lady, I should not have–’ Medrian broke off, biting her lip. ‘You asked me to talk with you, but I don’t know whether I can. I’m so unused to being able to speak freely. It’s difficult.’
‘Then there’s no need, if you don’t wish it,’ the Lady responded gently. ‘Let us just walk for a while.’
They went on in silence. Soft mist swirled around them, attaching to their skin in glistening azure motes, like dew. Their hair – the Lady’s silken brown, Medrian’s black – floated in the charged air, full of blue sparks. The Lady had faith that Medrian would, eventually, find words to release the misery that she’d kept locked within her for so long.
This time on H’tebhmella may be the only happiness she will ever know, the Lady thought sorrowfully, but while she is here no consolation, no joy will be denied her.
Medrian, however, had no expectation that confiding in the Lady would help her. Kind and wise as the H’tebhmellian goddess was, she was not mortal. She glided through the weird landscape at Medrian’s side, tall, beautiful, crystalline… and so distant. There was a gulf between them, no human warmth. I cannot bear this alien beauty, Medrian thought. It can’t be real.
Without knowing it, she had discovered H’tebhmella’s paradox. The Blue Plane was viewed as a kind of paradise, enigmatic and unattainable. Some strove for years to find an Entrance Point, and the few who succeeded found it all they had dreamed of, and more. Yet no one ever stayed here for more than a few months. The H’tebhmellians never forbade anyone from living out their lives here, but perhaps the Blue Plane was too perfect, its unearthly beauty too alien. Sooner or later each visitor would feel a restless need to return to a more normal, spherical world. For that reason H’tebhmella remained literally unattainable, and so its legendary enigma was perpetuated.
As the initial relief of arriving here faded, Medrian was assailed by self-doubt and indecision. These were enemies she had never had to fight before and she was afraid. To lose the battle would destroy her. She ached to ask the Lady many things, but she could not seem to frame a question.
‘Won’t you tell me what’s in your heart?’ the Lady murmured.
‘I don’t know. I would, but–’ With sudden, heartfelt bitterness the confession burst from her, ‘Oh, I wish I had never come here.’
The Lady turned to her, a puzzled look on her clear, compassionate face. ‘Medrian, why?’
‘All my life I have dreamed of being free of the Serpent.’ Her voice was icy and flat. ‘I know it’s said that M’gulfn cannot touch the Blue Plane in any form, but I could hardly believe it when I came through the Entrance Point – and I was free. I still can’t believe it – it feels so–’ She shuddered with remembered dread and revulsion. ‘It’s heaven to me. And I can’t stand it.’
The Lady’s rain-grey eyes were full of sorrow as Medrian went on, her voice hoarse with loss, ‘It’s heaven I can never have. I can’t afford to let it touch me, any more than I can afford to let the Serpent touch me. I must harden myself to it, so that I can bear to go back into the world and finish the Quest. If I accepted freedom, I would be finished.’
‘Medrian, you must not doubt your strength,’ the Lady said gently. ‘If you accept the small amount of comfort we can give you here, I believe it will increase your strength, not undermine it.’
‘When there’s no hope, how can there be any comfort?’ Medrian exclaimed savagely. ‘I’m sorry, my Lady. It’s selfish to think only of my own hope – I forsook that many years ago. I have received healing here, and without H’tebhmella the world would have no hope at all. But no one can help me. Not even you. I’ve accepted it.’
The Lady felt inwardly stilled, almost stunned, as though the very fabric of the Blue Plane had shifted beneath her feet. What a fool I have been, she reflected. I thought I knew everything. Now, the revelation. Medrian is unhappy on H’tebhmella; even we, here, cannot really touch or ease her misery. Have I deluded her, as well as myself? Must the Serpent triumph?
Now the Lady of H’tebhmella knew: she had no power to reassure or even console Medrian. She could not even say, don’t be discouraged, because Medrian already was. Despair was all that kept her going.
The Lady could look into human souls as into crystal, and she shared deeply in their suffering, devoted all her strength to alleviating it. Yet human beings had an insubstantial quality that she could not quite touch, any more than a rock can grasp the sea that washes against it. She knew she could never cross that essential barrier, for she was H’tebhmellian, immortal. And now, faced with this Alaakian woman, whose soul was as intangible as a shadow, the Lady felt the void more acutely than ever. All her compassion, strength and wisdom failed her. She felt wordless, powerless. Diminished. I cannot heal her.
M’gulfn has won.
When the Lady spoke at last, there was a quality of inner exhaustion in her voice that Medrian had never heard before.
‘I accept that you feel like this, but I wish you would tell me your story, so I can understand more clearly what has brought you to this depth of hopelessness.’
Medrian hesitated, and the Lady felt sure she would refuse. But at last she said, ‘Very well. I will tell you, my Lady, because you’re the only one to whom I’ll ever be able to speak freely. Not that relating my story can change anything, but it might restore my strength of purpose.’
Emotionless, the words falling from her lips like cold, white pebbles, Medrian began to describe her life: a nightmare such as even the Lady could not have envisaged.
***
For further information and to buy A Blackbird in Darkness in Kindle, print or audio:
Amazon UK
Amazon USA
Audible
Immanion Press
www.fredawarrington.com
More books by Freda Warrington
THE COURT OF THE MIDNIGHT KING
A Dream of Richard III
King Richard III: a shadowy, charismatic figure of eternal fascination. The Court of the Midnight King mixes alternative history with the fantastical to create a wonderful, epic tapestry of love, war and treachery. In this novel, the author goes searching for Richard – not in the ruins of a Leicester friary, but deep in the human psyche.
“Superb fusion of dazzling alternative history and smouldering romance... Tell all the romance fans and the fantasy fans you know about it.” – Justina Robson
“Beautifully written – but not for the cynical!” – Anne Lyle
“One of my very favourite historical fantasy novels, this is a lushly written alternate version of Richard III’s history, with magic and romance and a rich sense of period. Gorgeously written, a wonderful book to sink into.” – Stephanie Burgis
For further information and to buy The Court of the Midnight King in Kindle, print or audio:
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Feedaread.com
www.fredawarrington.com
The Blood Wine Sequence from Titan Books
“The Blood Wine books are addictive, thrilling reads that are impossible to put down and they definitely deserve more attention” – Worldhopping.net
“Not merely one of the finest fantasy novels of recent years, but one of the finest ever. Should not be missed.” – Brian Stableford
“A cross between Anne Rice and more edgy modern paranormal romances, only with Freda Warrington’s incredible voice… This author truly has a gift for storytelling.” – Not Your Ordinary Book Banter
“It’ll remind you of how good, thrilling and romantic vampire novels can be. It has everything you could ever hope for from an entertaining vampire novel: horror, suspense, romance, passion, plot twists, supernatural elements and captivating storytelling.” – Rising Shadow
“Freda Warrington’s prose is simply stunning, sumptuous, graceful and seductive.” – Starburst
“The writing is gorgeous, by turns haunting, lucid, and all-round beautiful… eminently readable, absorbing, and all-round brilliant, a lovely piece of work.” – Alex Bardy, British Fantasy Society
For further information and to buy in Kindle, print or audio:
Amazon
Titan Books
www.fredawarrington.com
Expanded Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Dedication and Reviews
A Blackbird in Silver
Chapter One. The House of Rede
Chapter Two. The Coming of the Worm
Chapter Three. The Egg-Stone’s Bearer
Chapter Four: The Star of Filmoriel
Chapter Five. Hrannekh Ol
Chapter Six. Whither the Lodestone Pointed
Chapter Seven. The Mirror of Soul’s Loss
Chapter Eight. Nemen from the Abyss
Chapter Nine. To Her Door
Chapter Ten. The Glass City
Chapter Eleven. Her Mirror
Chapter Twelve. A Welcome Traitor
Chapter Thirteen. Three from the Gorge
Chapter Fourteen. The Village Elder
Chapter Fifteen. ‘I can see no escape.’
Chapter Sixteen. A Certain Northern Nobleman
Chapter Seventeen. H’tebhmella
Interlude
Author’s Note
About the Author
Also by Freda Warrington
Sample of Book Two: A Blackbird in Darkness
BACK TO START
A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1) Page 37