Crown of Silence
Page 39
‘This isn’t the landscape I expected to find here,’ Merlan said. ‘It’s so bleak. Surely the blue ray is that of creativity, even emotion.’
‘It is,’ Taropat answered, ‘but here the waters will be turbulent.’
As they approached Malarena, they found that many of the trees had been hung with long wooden chimes that clunked and tocked in the breeze. ‘Perhaps the guardian put them there,’ Shan said, ‘or pilgrims. Could that be the offering to Malarena?’
‘I doubt it,’ Taropat said.
‘Almorante and I didn’t give offerings at all before,’ Tayven said.
‘So what did happen here, then?’ Merlan asked.
Tayven shrugged. ‘The same as with the other lakes. Almorante invoked the water spirits. He asked for the essence of Malarena to enter into me.’
‘You must have felt something,’ Shan said.
Tayven nodded. ‘Yes, I felt the atmosphere here to be very dark. It is not joyous emotion like the earth site of Uspelter.’
They emerged from the trees by the lakeside. Malarena was surrounded by tall bull-rushes. Its surface appeared calm, but they could hear the rushing of a weir to the left. The shadowy shapes of rotting jetties poked out into the lake, but the only boats they saw were dilapidated, half sunk in the water.
‘It feels desolate,’ Shan said. ‘Dank. I don’t sense the presence of anyone near.’
‘Neither do I,’ Taropat said softly. He handed the torch to Shan, then walked along the lake shore and stood staring down into the weir. The others remained where they were, close to the forest path.
‘I don’t relish a night here,’ Merlan said. ‘I can imagine being taken in our sleep by hideous ghouls.’
‘That’s the next site,’ Tayven said gloomily. ‘Rubezal, the lake of spirit.’
‘Isn’t spirit the last lake, the seventh?’ Shan said.
‘No, Pancanara has no element specifically. It is the combination of all the others.’
‘Why should emotion and spirit be so bad?’ Shan asked. ‘I’d have thought that the further we travelled, the more spiritual the sites would become.’
‘We are human,’ Tayven answered shortly. ‘The deeper within ourselves we travel, the darker the experience. What we are seeking is transformation.’
‘You must be feeling pleased with yourself about the transformation at the last site,’ Merlan said.
Tayven lifted his upper lip into a sneer. ‘You are crude,’ he said. ‘Have you no care for your brother? Uspelter gave him a kind of peace, an understanding of his fears. We didn’t rush off into the undergrowth to rut like savages. If you must know, all that happened was that we went somewhere to talk, as I told you.’
‘But the offering to the lake,’ Shan said, as curious as Merlan was. ‘Didn’t you make one?’
‘Yes, but it was a spontaneous reaction to the emanations of pure love and joy that the lake imparts. We didn’t create it together like you and Niree did.’
‘Right,’ said Merlan. He rolled his eyes at Shan. ‘If you want to put a spiritual gloss on it, that’s your prerogative.’
‘Funny, I thought we were here for spiritual reasons,’ Tayven said. ‘Clearly, we have different motives for this trip.’
‘Your motive is obvious,’ Merlan snapped.
Shan was wondering whether he should intervene to prevent another argument, when Taropat hurried back to them. ‘Look over there,’ he said in a low urgent voice, ‘on the other side of the lake. Can you see anything, or am I picking up an etheric image?’
The others all looked in the direction Taropat had indicated. At first Shan saw nothing, then he perceived a tall still figure in black, or was it only a dead tree? The shape was a mere shadow against the night.
‘There seems to be someone standing there,’ Merlan said, ‘but I can’t be sure.’
‘A hooded figure,’ Tayven said.
‘I don’t feel that’s the physical guardian,’ Shan said. ‘Do you, Taropat?’
Taropat shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t know. Whatever, or whoever, it is, it appears to be watching us.’
‘Shall we perform the opening meditation as normal?’ Tayven said. ‘If that is the guardian, perhaps it will approach us when it feels reassured we’re genuine seekers.’
Taropat nodded. ‘I was about to suggest that. Shan, stick the torch in the ground.’
The spiritual landscape of Malarena was, like that of Uspelter, very similar to its actual form. Taropat described a brooding calm beneath which great turbulence churned. ‘The lake is not just what we perceive with our eyes,’ he said. ‘We must extend our senses beneath its surface, see the activity that is taking place there. It is a metaphor for human emotion: chaos and muddy uncertainty. In the darkness are specks of sparkling blue radiance, which are creative thoughts coming into being, directed down from the indigo ray of Rubezal.’
Shan was oppressed by the imagery he saw. Around the lake, shadowy figures moved among the trees like predators. He was relieved to open his eyes and find no physical manifestations before him like at Ninatala.
‘The hooded figure hasn’t moved,’ Shan said. ‘It must be a tree or an hallucination.’
But even as he spoke, the creature or individual lifted one arm and pointed directly at them.
‘I don’t like the look of that,’ Merlan said.
The figure drew back its arm and appeared to fling something towards them. A dark blot shot from its hand or the sleeve of its robe. Halfway across the lake this missile extended wide ragged wings and uttered a loud caw. The group was forced to duck as an immense raven swooped upon them. They felt the wind of its passing, but it did not attack.
‘What in Madragore’s name was that about?’ Merlan snapped.
‘It’s gone to the weir,’ Taropat said.
The bird had alighted upon a rotten tree stump that poked out of the water. It stood with its head to one side, regarding them through an unblinking yellow eye.
Taropat stared back at the raven, tapping his lips with one forefinger. Then he made an emphatic gesture. ‘Yes, I think I understand. This is an extension of Uspelter, the same but different. Here, too, we must immerse ourselves in the water of the soul, but it will be no playful, joyful exercise. We must jump into the weir in the dark. We must put our trust and our faith in fate.’
‘That would be very dangerous,’ Shan said cautiously. ‘We have no idea what’s down there. Our limbs could get tangled in weeds and what about the underwater currents? We could drown.’
‘That’s the risk,’ Taropat said. ‘That’s the lesson. The overcoming of the fear of death.’
‘We don’t know for sure,’ Merlan said. ‘We haven’t exactly met a guardian yet. Perhaps we should wait.’
‘No,’ Taropat said. ‘The guardian stands on the opposite shore. He has given us the message. The spiritual guardian is the raven, who waits for us to act. The offering here is ourselves. We must give ourselves to the waters and trust we will survive.’
‘He’s right,’ Tayven said. ‘Perhaps the reason Almorante failed here is because he’d never think of doing anything so reckless.’
‘Isn’t starving us enough?’ Merlan said, with what sounded like forced humour. ‘Do we have to drown as well?’
Taropat ignored the remark. ‘It is not yet fully dark. We should wait until it is before we attempt the trial. Drink from the flasks we filled at Uspelter. We’ll need that energy to sustain us.’
Darkness came quickly. The sky was clear and blistered with stars, and the moon rose full and round above the forest. A wan spectral light illuminated the scene, turning the surface of the lake to milky pearl.
Taropat stood up and began to undress himself. ‘We must do this in our own time,’ he said, ‘We must be on our own.’
‘I have a strong desire to run away,’ Merlan muttered to Shan. ‘I hope Tayven was right to endorse Taropat’s idea.’
‘He has become Taropat for you now, then,’ Shan murmured back.
The four of them stood naked and vulnerable at the water’s edge, their torch flickering nearby. Shan could already sense the powerful churning current beneath the surface. From where he stood, he could see nothing but blackness beneath. The moonlight could not fight through the thick branches of the trees to illuminate the waters of the weir. Taropat was breathing slowly and deeply, as if summoning strength and courage. When would he find it and jump? Shan had already decided to wait until someone else dived in before he did so himself. He was hoping the sight of that would free his body of the rigour that gripped it. It wasn’t just physical fear, but a gut-deep instinct that what he was about to do was dangerous in more than the obvious ways. Overcome it, he told himself, but still his feet were rooted to the spot. He felt like a lamb at the door of the butcher’s shed, smelling blood and death, aware of gore-streaked metal in the ochre gloom. He glanced at Merlan who looked back at him, his face expressionless. Tayven was frowning in concentration, while Taropat stood straight and tall, his eyes screwed shut. No one could do it.
We can’t fail, Shan thought. I am the warrior. I must be their mettle and their courage. We can’t fail.
Shan closed his eyes, took a deep breath and uttered an ear-splitting scream. Then, without thinking he jumped into the water. It engulfed him in icy cold and immediately he felt himself being dragged down. Strong weeds whipped at his legs: muscular tentacles that would bind him until he drowned. Something buffeted him painfully in the side, which he realised was someone else’s kicking limb. His body bumped off submerged detritus that could have been fallen trees or boulders. It happened too quickly to tell. Sharp objects cut into his flesh. The boiling currents threw him against every obstacle. He was afraid his bones would break. All he could see was swirling blackness, utter chaos. Rise! he told himself. Reach for the air. It was like trying to pull himself out of chains. He would die. Involuntarily, he gripped the Dragon’s Claw, which still hung around his neck, and willed it to give him the strength of the warrior.
A voice whispered through his mind: Sinaclara’s. ‘It is within you, not the artefact. Energy flows where intention goes. Remember it. Remember it and focus.’
Yes, that was the way. Clear the mind. Concentrate. With great effort, Shan visualised pushing the primal fear from his mind. It was an obscuring cloud that must be banished. He concentrated his physical energy into his solar plexus, forcing all his will into the thought of rising to the surface. This he fed with the energy of his will. He clove the water with his arms. His legs kicked against the current. His were the limbs of a god, unstoppable. As if pushed from beneath, his body arrowed upwards. He had conquered the fear. He was free.
Shan broke the surface, gasping for air, and swam quickly, painfully, to the bank, where he pulled himself out of the water. His whole body was tingling, and for some moments he could only lie face down on the cold earth, breathing heavily. Then he forced himself to sit up. Where were the others? He called their names, but as far as he could see the surface of the weir was still. He got shakily to his feet, wondering whether he had the strength to dive back in and find them, but then a head broke the surface, followed by another. Tayven and Taropat swam towards him, bearing Merlan between them.
‘Is he all right?’ Shan called.
Tayven clambered out slowly, shaking so much he could barely control his limbs. Taropat had a deep gash on his forehead, which was bleeding heavily. In the torchlight, the blood looked black. ‘I think Merlan took a knock to the head,’ he said. ‘Help us, Shan.’
Shan took hold of Merlan’s arms and dragged him onto the bank. He was relieved to hear him groan, but what would they do if Merlan was badly injured? How could they continue? Taropat dragged himself out of the water, wiped his face of blood.
‘Are you all right?’ Shan asked.
‘Yes. It’s not much. What about Merlan?’
Tayven squatted down and ran his hands over Merlan’s limbs, then carefully examined his body. ‘Don’t think there’s anything broken,’ he said. ‘There are no open wounds on his head.’
‘One of his hands is curled up,’ Shan said. ‘He’s got something. Take it, Tay.’
Tayven prised open the fingers of Merlan’s left hand. A spherical object rolled out onto the ground, emitting a faint glow.
‘The Eye,’ Taropat said.
‘Did you give it to him?’ Tayven asked.
Taropat shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Why did he take it?’ Shan said.
‘Let’s trust we’ll be able to ask him later,’ Taropat said, picking up the Dragon’s Eye. ‘Cover him with a blanket, Tayven. Quickly.’
Tayven stumbled as he groped his way to their luggage.
‘What we did was madness!’ Shan said to Taropat.
Taropat touched the wound on his forehead gingerly, winced. ‘We had to do it, Shan. Merlan will be fine, I’m sure.’
‘He’d better be, otherwise we’re turning back now, aren’t we?’
Shan felt invigorated, full of energy. At his feet, Merlan had curled up on his side. ‘What did you see down there?’ Shan said to Taropat.
‘Darkness,’ Taropat replied. ‘Impenetrable darkness. I had prepared myself for so much more – terrible visions – but there was only a void. For a while, I was Khaster again, and I was prepared to face whatever would be shown to me, but Malarena’s lesson is not focused upon me.’
‘Tayven?’
‘I don’t know.’ Taropat placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘And who knows what Merlan saw?’
Tayven returned with the blanket and they carried Merlan to a more comfortable spot nearby, a carpet of spongy moss beneath the trees. Merlan’s eyes were open and he turned his head slowly from side to side. Tayven gave him some water and he swallowed.
‘Can you speak?’ Shan said. ‘Merlan, can you hear us?’
Merlan blinked, but said nothing. Taropat took one of his brother’s hands and Merlan’s fingers grasped his own. They were so intent on their companion, they did not hear someone approaching, until a voice above them said, ‘May I assist you, sirs?’
The hooded figure they had seen on the other side of the lake stood over them. He was swathed in a long dark robe, and his face was bony and ivory pale beneath his hood.
‘That would be generous of you,’ Taropat said. ‘We went into the weir, as you probably saw. It looks as if Merlan here took a knock beneath the water.’
The hooded man did not appear to think their actions were unusual. ‘Allow me to examine him,’ he said. ‘I’m adept at treating the wounds incurred in these waters.’
The others moved aside so the man could squat down. ‘Many don’t survive,’ he said, as he lifted Merlan’s eyelids. ‘You should consider yourselves lucky.’ He examined Merlan thoroughly. ‘Hmm, nothing too serious. The injuries are not physical. He is in shock. All he needs is sleep. I have a posset I can give him to help his condition.’
‘You are the guardian of this site?’ Taropat said.
‘I am Nordren,’ the man said. ‘Many years ago, as a young man, I undertook the quest of the lakes seeking enlightenment. When I reached Malarena, I could find no trace of a physical guardian. As I wandered the shore, I came upon a shack, in which I found the body of a man, long dead. The raven came to me and landed on my shoulder. I knew then I was destined never to complete the quest. Here I stayed, as a guide for others. That was my destiny.’
‘Have you ever entered the weir?’ Shan asked.
‘I cannot,’ Nordren said. ‘Should I do so, I could move on to Rubezal, and that is not my fate.’ He stood up. ‘Carry your friend to my dwelling. It is basic, but has floor space for guests who are not too particular.’
Taropat hesitated. ‘We plan to take as little sleep as possible.
’
‘Your aims are noble,’ Nordren said, ‘and I can tell from your breath you haven’t eaten properly for some time. However, fasting is one thing, sleep deprivation another. If you do not rest for some hours tonight, you will never fulfil your quest. Rubezal is the hardest lesson of all.’
‘Has anyone completed the quest?’ Shan asked. ‘Has anyone reached Pancanara?’
Nordren smiled grimly. ‘None has returned to say, but I’ll tell you this: some have perished here at Malarena. Others, who have stayed on the path this far, never understand the true lesson of the lake, or else realise it, cannot face it and turn back. Those who pass on may fail at Rubezal. You will see their bones there. I’m not even sure Pancanara exists. I think that once you have received the knowledge of Rubezal, Pancanara comes into being within you. I am sure it is a spiritual concept. Now, dress yourselves. Let’s get your ailing friend to warmth.’
As they walked to Nordren’s dwelling, carrying the semi-conscious Merlan between them, Shan asked the guardian, ‘Would you have let us drown if we’d been unable to get out of the weir?’
‘It is your decision to undertake the quest,’ Nordren answered. ‘If you emerge from the waters, I offer assistance. That is the way.’
Nordren’s dwelling was actually more comfortable than he had described it. He was not so much of an ascetic as he appeared, for he had done many things to make his abode homely. Matting covered the floor, constructed from woven reeds of different colours that formed a complicated pattern. The scrubbed wooden table was decorated with an earthenware jug containing iris and bull-rush, while against one wall was a surprisingly large bed with a thick mattress and quilt. Several oil lamps cast a warm, comforting glow around the single, spacious room. Curtains were drawn against the night, and cushions filled with rush down were piled in a corner. ‘Make your bed from those pillows,’ Nordren said. ‘You will find them more than adequate.’
Tayven and Shan laid Merlan down on three cushions that seemed to fold around his body like comforting arms. Nordren offered them a blanket. Merlan appeared to be sleeping normally now.