Tayven managed to take a breath, though his throat burned. ‘No,’ he gasped. ‘You lie.’
‘Khasterrrrr.’ The serpent whistled the name. The sound of it vibrated the ground beneath Tayven’s feet. ‘I seduced him with my beauty and pretty songs,’ said the serpent. ‘He came to my arms and lay there willingly. I was his destruction. But for me, he would now be sitting at Almorante’s side, companion to the king.’
‘Almorante is not king,’ Tayven spluttered. ‘He never will be. You lie.’
‘I do lie, because I am you,’ admitted the serpent, ‘Your pretty songs were nothing but lies and now, because of you, your friends will perish here. I will devour them for their false trust in your deceit. Why don’t you sing for me while I feast, lovely bard? I like a pretty tune.’
‘You are an illusion,’ Tayven said. ‘I deny you.’
‘You cannot deny yourself, for are you not a master of illusions? You are many things. Remember them.’
Tayven found himself unable to look away from the face of the serpent, a hideous caricature of his own features, attenuated and sly.
‘Look well, bard, and judge yourself to be an illusion.’ The image of the beast shivered again, and another torso appeared alongside the first, rising from the same body. This aspect had six arms, all of which held weapons. Its face was twisted into a brutal sneer. ‘I can kill Khaster in any manner you choose,’ it said. ‘The blade or the dart, or a cup of poison. Which will it be?’
Then another body squeezed out of the squirming coils, lunging forward to breathe in Tayven’s face. It was an old man, with long straggling hair and rheumy eyes, rimmed with thick, flaking makeup. ‘I was lovely once,’ it said. ‘My face has betrayed me. Can you believe it? Now I am a twisted and withered flower condemned to sit before a mirror for eternity. The torment of lost beauty is no illusion, Tayven, neither is the fear of it that eats at your belly.’
Another body sprang forth, and another, beseeching him, threatening him. Tayven’s mind whirled in confusion. Each of these disgusting manifestations was an aspect of himself. His self-revulsion was made flesh before him, hungry for his energy, a forest of undulating forms that surrounded him completely. He felt as if the life was being sucked from his body.
‘You cannot deny me,’ said the serpent, ‘because I am everywhere and everyone. I am all that is ignoble within you.’
Tayven had sunk to his knees in the mud. A rank dismal rain fell from the oppressive sky. All was lost. No hope. Everything was his fault. He had turned the damaged Khaster into the emotionless Taropat. He was a being of cold vanity, an empty spiritless whore who led greater men astray for his own gratification. He closed his eyes, feeling the serpent forms closing in upon him. Khaster was dead, his heart ripped out. The quest was over. Tayven did not believe in the Crown strongly enough. He hadn’t believed when it could have counted, when it had mattered. The world was a vile place, and evil influences within it corrupted everything that had the potential to be great. Valraven Palindrake. At one time, he could have been the man to be king. Maycarpe’s secret hope was that the Dragon Lord still was the one. Palindrake knows me, Tayven thought. In Cos, he saw into my heart. He is my king. There is no doubt. Whatever he was, whatever he is, he is still more than any of us. Isn’t it our duty to guide him, to be his knights against the dark influence of the Malagashes? Isn’t that why we’re here? If we were strong enough. If we believed enough. He expelled a groan and pressed his hands against his eyes. If Taropat knewc Tayven could not bear to think of it. The ultimate betrayal. Should Taropat discover the truth, their fragile new relationship would explode in flames and the quest would end in ruin.
The serpent laughed softly and a voice whispered in Tayven’s ear. ‘Oh, we have a little honesty now, do we? All the time you fraternised with Almorante, didn’t you secretly wish it was Valraven? Could it not be said that your love for Khaster was nothing but a substitute for the burning desire you felt for the Dragon Lord? Your relationship with Leckery was a foolish delusion to get close to someone who was close to Valraven. You were a hopeful whore who wished to belong to the dark king and become the light to his darkness. Now you think noble thoughts, but the truth is you just want him. And with the Dragon’s Breath you could have him. That’s it, isn’t it? You are no chivalric knight, Tayven Hirantel. The idea is laughable. Palindrake is only the king of your heart because of your own greedy lust. What makes you think the Dragon Lord of the empire could be the true king? He kills, he ruins, he is without compassion. Is he really fit to wear the Crown? No. This quest is a lie. None of you speaks the truth to one another. You have no hope of succeeding. Why not end it now? Come to me. I can end it for you.’
Tayven shuddered. How could he dispute the serpent’s words? He saw his heart pulsing within his chest: a black, rotten core. He should take out his knife and cut his own throat, end it: the lies, the deceit, the corruption, then the others might survive. His fingers groped towards his belt. Then Merlan’s voice rang through his head. ‘Don’t give up, Tayven. You are the one. We know the truth. You were meant to have the Dragon’s Breath. The love you felt for Khaster was pure. The love you can give now is pure. Take back the hope you tried to give to me. I relinquish it. I am no longer afraid.’
Tayven looked up expecting to see Merlan’s face, but his gaze fell directly upon the eyes of the serpent. One of its heads, that of the sly young boy, was inches from his own. ‘Yes, you can love, Tayven, but only yourself,’ it whispered. ‘You are the whore, the schemer, the vain fool doomed to age and wither, the bitter assassin.’
‘No!’ Merlan’s voice pierced the air, strong, firm and clear. ‘You are beautiful, Tayven, but within you are also hope and love and courage. You have been the light to my darkness. I am behind you. I can see you. Listen to me.’
Tayven looked behind him, but all he could see was a filthy mist. ‘Merlan?’ he murmured.
The serpent hissed, laughed. ‘Wishes, dreams,’ it purred.
Merlan’s voice came again, urgently. ‘Hear me, Tayven. The demon cannot touch me. I’ve already defeated it, because I saw the truth of myself. I’d already denied all that I thought I was. It doesn’t lie when it says you are an illusion but, like I did, you must deny yourself. You must. That’s the secret. That’s what Almorante couldn’t do. Do it now. Leave all that you were behind. Let go of the past. Shed your skin and the breath of new life shall be yours.’
Was that really Merlan’s voice? Tayven couldn’t be sure. Perhaps, ultimately, it was his own.
The serpent bellowed and raised its arms. ‘Come to me, bard. I will embrace you. You are mine. You belong to me utterly.’
Tayven raised himself from the mud and threw his arms around the writhing beast before him. Its flesh was colder than the depths of Malarena. Tayven felt as if his brain was stabbed by a thousand splintering darts of ice. The creature hissed and twisted in his grasp, its fingers clawed at his face, but he would not let go. ‘I embrace you,’ he cried. ‘I conquered fear at Malarena. I take you into myself. I face myself.’
‘Tayven!’
Tayven turned his head and saw Shan standing among the trees nearby. He held out the Dragon’s Claw on its leather thong. ‘Take it, Tayven! Use it!’ He threw the Claw, and with one hand Tayven reached out and caught it. Without pausing, he thrust his arm down the throat of the sly serpent-boy. He would use the Claw to rip out its dark lying heart. He surrendered himself to fate, uncaring of whether he lived or died, sure only that the serpent should be destroyed. His arm was enfolded by a cold, glutinous mass that squeezed his bones. He could feel something moving beneath his hand and plunged the Claw into it. As he did so, his arm was thrust back by a mighty force. The serpent’s face hung before him, its mouth three times as large as it had been, dripping a stinking black ichor. Its eyes were mad with rage and pain and it expelled a hurricane of foul-smelling breath, which punched into his mouth. Tayven felt the serpent’s breath writhing madly within him. Pulses of energy coursed through his fl
esh. He felt as if his body would burst. He was not strong enough to contain it. Then, with a final thunderous hiss sizzling in his ears, Tayven was thrown backwards. His spine collided painfully with a tree trunk and dead branches rained down onto him. He was choking on something, which was lodged in his throat. He could not breathe. He must expel it.
Tayven fell forward onto his knees coughing and retching. Something flew from his mouth and landed in the mud before him. It gleamed wetly: a perfect blue pearl. He looked up, desperate to see the result of his actions. Had he done the right thing, or had he merely compounded the darker aspects of himself? He fought his way free of the dead wood and struggled to his feet. The serpent was nothing more than a pile of shrivelled skin. Its life force had left it.
A figure came out of the trees. Was this another illusion? Merlan stepped forward and put his hands upon Tayven’s shoulders. ‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘I feel it.’
‘Merlan?’ Tayven asked. ‘Is it you? Was it you?’
Merlan nodded. ‘I am here. You did it, Tay. You conquered the serpent.’
‘We conquered it,’ Tayven said. ‘But for your voice I would have been lost. And the Claw. Shan threw it to me. I used it to pierce the serpent’s heart.’ He lifted his hands, flexed the fingers. ‘The Clawc’ He looked round. ‘Where is it? I’ve lost it. Where’s Shan? He was here.’
‘I didn’t see him,’ Merlan said. He stooped down and picked up the blue pearl from the mud. ‘What’s this?’
Tayven touched his throat, swallowed, then took the pearl from Merlan’s hand. ‘It is a symbol of the Dragon’s Breath. It’s in me, Merlan. I can barely describe it. It’s as if my dark self, all my self-doubt, has been transformed. Through the Breath, I can enable great men to overcome their own darkness. I am the bard of the king, Merlan. I have become an avatar of hope, the light I believed myself to be before. I can be the light to Valraven’s darkness.’ He laughed coldly. ‘And it won’t be about sex, I promise you. This might sound insane, but I feel it completely.’
‘Is Valraven the king?’ Merlan asked.
Tayven stared at him for some moments. ‘We both know it, Merlan.’
Merlan sighed and shook his head. ‘It would kill Taropat. How can we do this to him? He is helping us assist his greatest enemy. How can this quest succeed based on such deceit?’
Tayven studied the pearl in his hand. ‘Taropat is governed by his bitterness. For a great magus, he lets too much of his past incarnation colour his present one. Khaster may loathe and detest Valraven, but I’m hoping that Taropat will eventually see the truth.’
‘Oh, so now you’re the expert in letting go of the past, eh?’ Merlan said, grinning. He began to laugh, and the laughter was infectious. Tayven reached out for him and they embraced. For a moment, Tayven felt the true joy of spontaneous unity between them. They were surrounded by an aura of innocence and relief.
Tayven drew back. ‘You were with Valraven in Caradore, when he went to the old domain. Has he really changed, Merlan? Is he really the true Dragon Heir once more?’
Merlan did not answer immediately. ‘I saw him wake up,’ he said, ‘that’s all. The man who went to the shore that evening to invoke the dragon queen was very different to the one who left it. He and Varencienne went into a trance. Their experience was private. I’m not close to him, Tay. He didn’t tell me what happened. I can’t give you the reassurance you want. Maybe all we have is faith. I just hope we’re not deluded by wishful thinking.’ He gazed around the tiny island. ‘We are all changing. Perhaps we can become the worthy men we aspire to be. I had no hope, I was willing to die, yearning it even. But here I learned that Rubezal is the mirror of the soul. My vision was true of this place. We were separated, lost and wandering. But what I didn’t realise was that it was an essential sequence of events. A person has to face the guardian of Rubezal alone. There is no other way.’
‘How did you conquer it?’ Tayven asked. ‘What form did it take for you, Merlan?’
‘It was always myself, only that. Inertia, pessimism, fear. I was alone with myself, almost satisfied that I was lost in an eternal hinterland. But it didn’t come to me, Tayven, and I realised this was because I had no desires, no illusions about myself or this quest. It wanted nothing from me and I from it.’
‘But what made you come for me?’
‘Because in my mind I saw you wrestling with a great beast of many faces. I saw your strength trickling away. At Malarena, and since, you tried to give me your hope. It was as if it was in my keeping, in a way. I had to give it back. I had to become involved again, and in doing so, fought the lethargy within me. But for you, I would have been lost, because I was unwilling to continue.’
‘But for you, so would I,’ Tayven said, ‘so perhaps we were not as alone at this place as you foretold.’ He glanced around. ‘Was Shan really here? Did I really have the Claw? We should go and look for the others, find out.’
‘If it is over for them,’ Merlan said.
They walked to the shore of the island and saw that the mist was now only a thin veil over the water. A vast bloated sun of crimson red hung among the mountain peaks beyond the Vale of Rubezal. It hung in a dull white sky.
‘The sun sets,’ Tayven said. ‘We have to leave.’
They made their way as quickly as they could towards the far side of the swampy lake. There was no sign of Taropat or Shan, or even the mad guardian. Then they saw someone sitting among the trees beside the shore and made their way over. It was Shan. He seemed dazed and was wet through, his hair dark and matted against his head and shoulders. When he saw Tayven and Merlan his expression changed and he jumped to his feet.
‘Thank all the gods!’ he exclaimed. ‘I thought I was the only one. Merlan, it pleases me beyond measure to see you.’
‘Where is Taropat?’ Tayven said.
‘I haven’t seen him,’ Shan answered. ‘Do you thinkc?’
‘We wait,’ Tayven said, ‘but we don’t have much time. I feel strongly we need to leave here before nightfall.’
‘I agree,’ Shan said.
‘What happened to you, Shan?’ Tayven asked. ‘Can you tell us?’
Shan took a deep breath. ‘I had to fight myself. I was a black knight, but no great hero. I was full of resentment, convinced Taropat and the rest of you were using me. I wasn’t being trained to be a great warrior, merely a lackey. I felt I, of everyone, had the right to be king, and that you all knew it, but were trying to stop it happening. I found myself back at Doon Pond, where I acquired the Claw. King Morogant hung in the water, taunting me. He told me I could never be king, that I was not even a warrior, just a bitter man’s menial. A poor peasant boy. Peasants don’t become kings except in fairy tales. I was so angry, I took the Claw from my neck and threw it into the lake. I screamed that I didn’t want it, that I’d find my own way, independent of everyone else. I could be king of my own life; that was all that was important. I realised that the secret fantasy I had of conquering the Malagashes and becoming king was an illusion. I wanted to be so much more than I had been. I was haunted by the past, feeling that it was some kind of trap, waiting to take me back into itself and hold me there forever. I imagined being an intelligent mind bound within an ignorant one, looking out. A scholar trapped inside a peasant, mute and powerless. It was ridiculous. I can be whatever I want to be. We create ourselves constantly.’ He smiled. ‘So, my less than noble origins no longer matter. I can face being my father’s son again. I could return to Holme and take up my life there, enriched by everything that has happened to me. I would still be who I am now. My lesson here was that I had to overcome my vanity. Once I’d relinquished that, I opened my eyes and found myself here. I thought I’d lost the Claw, but it was still in my hand.’
‘You lent it to me for a while,’ Tayven said.
‘What?’
Tayven explained what had happened to Merlan and himself.
As he finished the tale, a voice said behind them, ‘We all fought illusion!’ Taropat h
ad joined them. His clothes were dry, his expression was grim.
‘Where’s that damn fool?’ he said. ‘We must leave here at once.’
‘Don’t you want to know what happened to us?’ Tayven asked. He held out the pearl. ‘Look, the Dragon’s Breath. A real artefact.’
‘Of course I want to know,’ Taropat replied, taking the pearl and examining it in a cursory manner. ‘But we must converse on the way. I’m uneasy about remaining here.’
‘Can’t you tell us a little about what you saw?’ Tayven said. He folded his arms. ‘We won’t move until you do.’
‘Deceit crowned and throned,’ Taropat said shortly. ‘My worst fear. That’s all you need to know.’ He handed the pearl back to Tayven. ‘Come on.’
‘You must tell us more than that,’ Merlan said.
Taropat sighed impatiently, spoke briskly. ‘First, I met a dozen trickster serpents, who foxed me with intellectual riddles, all of which I answered. When this ruse failed, I was beset by incubi wearing faces I knew. These I dismissed. Then I saw it. The Crown. It was on the head of an enemy, and no matter what I did or thought or felt, the image would not change. In the end, I simply walked away from it.’
‘That sounds a bitc strange,’ Shan said.
‘Who wore the Crown?’ Tayven asked.
‘No one,’ Taropat said. ‘A phantom, a lie.’
‘Who was it?’ Tayven persisted.
Taropat hesitated, then said, ‘Some things it is best not to speak aloud. I will not give that preposterous illusion reality by uttering the words to form it. It was obviously my greatest fear and I conquered it by negating it, and that’s that.’
Merlan and Tayven exchanged a glance, and Tayven blinked slowly to indicate he knew what Merlan was thinking. His silent message was: don’t speak, not yet.
Shan was frowning. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘How could you walk away from the serpent, without being engulfed or swallowed up?’
Taropat sniffed. ‘I came prepared, of course. A true magician always has some means to overcome a menace. That’s the difference between us. It’s why you are an apprentice and I the master.’
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