by Martin Ash
How can this be? What does it mean?
Before he could dwell any further on this his attention was drawn by the sudden realization that this time he was not alone within the blue domain. Not entirely. Below him as he descended, and some distance away, he perceived a dim wash of pale orange pigment staining the blueness. A small island of concentrated colour which, as his descent brought him nearer, became a single bright flare upon the surface of the Orb, piercing the blue. He stared in perplexity, unable to make out details beyond an intense orange-yellow flickering. When at last his feet alighted upon the ground he began to advance warily towards it, gripping the Orbsword.
Dimension could not be determined initially, for there existed nothing to measure it by. Leth had the disconcerting sensation of not knowing if he was close or far away; was this flaring thing tall, as an ancient tree, as a man? Or was it no greater than a small post or shrub?
Drawing closer he was able to divine by his motion and the thing's apparent increase in size that it was in fact approximately man-sized. But what was it? Its brightness and the haze surrounding it prevented him from making out its form, beyond the fact that it had the appearance of an upright column seeming to break into two extensions or wings which branched from its upper part. It remained motionless, and he presumed inanimate, a burning statue radiating its light into the surrounding blue.
Then Leth gasped. He saw now that the bright form was an almost human figure, and the extensions that spread from its upper back were indeed wings. A winged human, fabulous, molten, incandescent and literally ablaze! He stood still in awe: a winged guardian, perhaps, in flames, garbed in bright armour of breastplate, vambraces and helmet, around which the fabulous flames licked. It gripped a flaming sword and kite shield.
And as he watched from a distance now of about ten paces, he was visited by a greater surprise.
The figure was not inanimate.
It blinked its eyes lazily, then raised an arm, thrusting the incandescent blade aloft, and spoke. 'Why do you come here?'
Leth's throat was dry, and at first he could not find his voice. 'I come in humility, seeking the Soul of this world.'
'For what purpose?'
'That it may be reunited with the world's creator, that by such agency the liberation and salvation of this world may be achieved.'
The blazing figure came forward with quick, gliding steps, its flames humming. Leth winced, raising an arm to shield himself from the heat.
'You bear a weapon.'
'The Sword of the Orb, in which is held the essence of the force that would destroy this world.'
The angelic creature studied the sword, then his eyes within the helm. 'What is your name?'
Leth considered for a moment, then replied, 'I am Leth, king of Enchantment's Reach. In this place I have been known as the Swordbearer.'
Abruptly the guardian brought forward its sword and touched it against Leth's blade. Leth steadied himself, anticipating combat, but he felt only a shudder, as though some unknown energy passed through him. The Orbsword twisted slightly in his grip, and the blazing angel vanished, as if it had never been.
Leth was stunned. He stood again in the vast, silent blue emptiness, gazing around him, an unsettled feeling beginning to rise from his gut, accompanied by a hail of doubts.
The being had gone without trace. Had it really been here, or had he imagined it.
Had he ever truly left this place?
He spun around. Had all that he had experienced, or believed he had experienced, in the past days and weeks been an illusion, a dream? Was he still here, lost and abandoned in Orbelon’s empty blue world?
He was aware only of himself - the roaring of his breath, the deafening surge of his blood pounding through his veins, the hammering of his heart - and his fear, and the vast empty blueness with its endless surrounding wall.
'Orbelon!'
His voice was absorbed into the rarefied blue mist. He tore off the sapphire helm and hurled it to the ground.
'Orbelon!'
Silence.
From Nothing to nothing. Trapped, as he had been before. And where were the children? What had happened? Were his memories all betraying him?
Leth fell to his knees, letting the Sword of the Orb drop beside him. 'Is this a game you play with me?'
And then, through the roaring silence, the voice, soundless in his ear or his mind. 'Leth, have you still not learned to have faith in me?'
Orbelon? Are you here?
'Where else can I be?'
I'm sorry. I believed--
'Believed? You, the king who does not believe in belief? You, the righteous ruler who pursues only Truth, Knowledge and Wisdom; you, the self-professed enemy of ignorance and blind, unquestioning belief, are yet ready in an instant, at the slightest apparent setback, to believe that I have abandoned you? It is almost as if you desire it, Leth. As if the ordeal and the trial are greater than you and you seek only the excuse to abandon them, to give up hope, to take succour in the conviction that you are not up to the task that lies ahead and declare jubilantly that Orbelon has abandoned you. No, Leth, it is not I who have abandoned you, but you who are ever eager at the slightest provocation to abandon me.'
Leth wiped the sweat from his brow, shaking his head. No. No. It is not like that.
'Then get up, you fool! Get up off your knees!'
A surge of burning anger started in his breast, tempered with shame. He rose, chastened, and calmed his breathing, looking around him. There remained nothing to be seen, but a great question hung large in his mind.
Orbelon? What are you?
There was silence, then the voice came back: 'Leth, what are you?'
I do not understand. Orbelon, you seem to be within me, as you say I am also within you. But this is your domain. If you are here, why are you not here physically, as before?
'When we first met I told you that you asked too many questions. Not a lot has changed.'
Why will you not answer me?
Orbelon's answer was no answer.
Leth impatiently shifted his stance, struggling to put aside his frustration. Presently he asked, What now? Where do we go from here?
'Nowhere.'
Nowhere?
'Where is there to go?'
To find your Soul.
'Oh yes. And so intent are you upon the search that you fail to perceive when it is over.'
What?
'It is here, Leth. The Soul of the Orb. The Soul of Orbelon. Where else could it be? It was here all the time, but we could not know each other. Something was missing.'
What?
'You, Leth. And that which you carry. And the entire process that brought you and it and I here.'
That which I carry? The blue casket?
'The blue casket, which is also the Orb, which is I, who am also my world, all it is and all it contains. The casket was without itself, now it is within. You - and Issul before you - have brought it here. The process is almost complete.'
Mystified, Leth unslung his backpack and drew forth the chest containing the blue casket. He laid it beside him, unfastened its hasps and brought out the casket. He held it in his hands, examining it, marvelling again.
How can it be here?
'Do you see now, Leth?'
I-- I'm not sure. What must I do?
'Wait.’
For what?
‘My Soul resides here, within the light of my World, and it waits, not yet certain. Be seated. Place the casket before you, but do not open it. Be patient.'
Leth did as he was bidden, seating himself cross-legged with the casket on the ground before him. It struck him that he was like a child in Orbelon's hands, wholly reliant, eager to know and unable to grasp. Time passed; he became absorbed in his musings, and eventually lost all conscious awareness of the world around him. He entered a place of emptiness and silence as profound and complete as the soundless blue world that was reflected outside of him.
He may have dozed, or perhaps
been transported to some region far beyond the realized realm, but he came to himself with an awareness that something had changed.
It was a sound, initially. Unusual, but not entirely unfamiliar. Distant, and reaching him only barely audibly through the blue haze. He raised his head in anticipation, peering in the direction from which it came. The sound became slowly more audible: a shuffling, swishing rhythm as of something dragging upon the ground, accompanied by an even, staccato tapping. As Leth watched, marvelling, sensing what was surely about to happen, a bent, hunched figure broke through the strange twilight and hobbled on towards him, labouring as it leaned upon its staff.
The ragged creature arrived before him.
'Orbelon, how are you here?'
Orbelon seemed to hesitate, then replied, 'Leth, how are you here?'
He lowered himself cross-legged onto the ground opposite Leth, so that the blue casket rested between the two of them. He laid his staff across his thighs. Though his face, as always, remained hidden, Leth sensed that his attention was upon the casket.
'What now?' Leth asked.
'We wait. All is changing, all is becoming. The process is almost complete.'
Leth had grown stiff, his buttocks numb from sitting in one position for so long. But he sensed a change in the air around him, and was reluctant to move lest he disturb some subtle transpiration that he was, as yet, incapable of fully appreciating.
And then:
'Observe!' said Orbelon in a low whisper.
A diaphanous cloud was slowly forming in the space between them, directly above the blue casket. Colourless at first, as it slowly condensed it took on a deep, warm orange hue and formed itself into a perfect, slowly rotating sphere.
'Breathe upon it, Leth.'
Leth glanced across at Orbelon questioningly.
'Breathe upon it. It requires something of you.'
Leth inclined his upper body forward, opening his mouth, and slowly exhaled upon the gaseous body. As he drew back he saw Orbelon lean forward and do the same, his rags tinted by the delicate orange glow. The sphere began to attenuate, forming into a slender rotating plume, orange at its centre but a deep rose colour about its edges. It descended slowly and was absorbed through the closed lid of the blue casket.
When it had gone Orbelon drew forward and reached out with his ragged, bound hands. He raised the casket and drew it to his breast. He held it there for a moment, and let out a long breath. 'It is over. I have clarity. I am One again.'
*
He began to rise, and Leth, stiffly, did likewise.
‘Why are you weeping, Leth?’
The king of Enchantment’s Reach shook his head, unable to speak. Eventually he said, 'Orbelon, are you able to help us now? Can you help Enchantment's Reach?'
'I must consider what can be done. In the first instance I must notify Triune of what has occurred. The two of us have to guard Urch-Malmain as we permit him to return to Enchantment. We have to be certain that he does all that is necessary to dismantle the Portal and restore the balance between worlds.'
'I can take no part in that.'
'No. You are to return to Orbia.' Orbelon held out the blue casket. 'Leth, this must be returned to your world now. It can't remain here. You are to be its custodian, knowing that I and this world reside within it.'
'But Orbelon--'
'Take it, Leth. It is the covenant between us. I give you custody of my world, to protect and revere it as simultaneously you work to shape and transform your own. And as you hold my world in your hands, I also hold yours. This is how it must be. We are forever interdependent.'
Leth accepted the casket, mystified still, and bent to put it into the wooden chest. Then he turned. 'Orbelon, both Triune and Urch-Malmain speak of a secret beneath Orbia. Something known to you, which Strymnia seeks.'
Orbelon bowed his head. 'It may be, or it may not. The secret is, Leth, that I created Orbia.'
'You?' Leth was astounded.
'Many eons past, when it was part of Enchantment, before the borders withdrew. Orbia was my home.'
'Then what is it that she seeks there?'
'I cannot be certain, for I no longer know what lies there. But there may perhaps be items of mine. Items of power, instruments, artifacts, things you would consider to be magical paraphernalia that could greatly enhance the capabilities of any being knowledgeable in their function and application. Oh yes, and there will be a link between this world and yours, for I understand now that Orbia is the heart of both. If Strymnia finds the hidden heart, she may yet kill it.'
Leth absorbed this slowly. Images flashed through his head, of his home, his kingdom, of Issul and their children. It seemed salvation might yet be so far away and perhaps unreachable. 'Orbelon, what of Issul? Can you tell me anything of her?'
Orbelon slowly shook his great blind head. 'I know nothing of Issul, though with Triune I will endeavour to do anything I can. Providing Triune has continued to track her, we may be able to intervene in some limited manner. Much depends on Moscul's inherent powers, and the resources that Strymnia pits against us. A greater problem is that, until you return the casket to Enchantment's Reach I cannot enter your world. I am held here by the laws that bind our worlds. The only way I can re-enter is through the casket.'
Leth nodded. 'I will return immediately.'
'Once you are there, you may summon me as before, in the accustomed manner. But Leth, before you return, I have unhappy news to impart. While you have been here in my world, days have passed in Enchantment's Reach. I am sorry, Leth, but Enchantment's Reach has fallen. It is now in the hands of our enemies, Strymnia and the Karai.'
Leth stared at him in horror. 'How? How can you know this?'
'Now that I am One again, I am capable of knowing much more than before. I have contact, still, with Orbia. My heart yet resides in its walls. Believe me, Leth, it is true. Enchantment's Reach is in the hands of our enemies.'
SEVEN
i
The first snows of winter fell upon Enchantment's Reach on the night that Prince Anzejarl committed the full force of his Karai army in a final, overwhelming assault upon King Leth's capital.
The decision to assault was not entirely his. Experience cautioned him towards prudence and patience for at least a few more days. He had not yet received word from within, and could not know if the True Sept was fully prepared to rise and strike - though he acknowledged that, with the city-castle sealed, the Sept might now be prevented from getting word out to him. Nor were the city-castle's defenders at the low ebb he desired for fullest advantage. His own hardy Karai warriors would be little affected by the harsh conditions, providing their bellies were full and sufficient camp-followers were in attendance to satisfy their carnal appetites. Likewise, the trolls and slooths were virtually impervious to the cold. Storehouses had been established in and around Willowmere, crammed with the pickings from the surrounding countryside and the towns and villages the army had razed along the way. Anzejarl's vital supply lines from the south were well-protected. But the defenders of Enchantment's Reach were also well-fed. They had suffered some losses and erosion of morale from the repeated slooth-raids and the recent infiltration by the unit of war-trolls, but they remained battle-ready, disciplined and determined. Anzejarl would rather have worked some more upon their spirit, perhaps gained better intelligence of their weak spots, before committing himself to the decisive assault.
Some brief skirmishes had reoccurred. The guerrilla force positioned by King Leth outside the capital had launched surprise attacks, fleet and silent, against Anzejarl's troops. The first raid had taken Anzejarl by surprise, but he was quick to take precautions, and in subsequent forays the enemy was driven off, causing some nuisance but little damage. It was an irritant, demanding certain attention, but scarcely anything more. However, it required more of his troops for guard- and escort-duties and supply-line protection, as well as strong units committed to the task of hunting down and eliminating Leth's force - so far without
avail. With such deployments Anzejarl would again have rather delayed his main assault for some days, at least. But it was not to be, for Olmana had other, more pressing considerations.
Olmana's moods had grown ever more intense and violent. Anzejarl genuinely feared her. He knew something of what she was capable of. She no longer took heed of any opinion or advice he might offer, and he was not willing to defy her.
Fear!
He could scarcely admit it. A Karai knew no fear. Fear was the territory of the lower races. The Karai knew only duty, accomplishment and the pride of victory. Yet he, Anzejarl, feared - as much as he loved; as much as he angered; as much as he wondered and doubted and desired and hated.
Woman! Woman! What have you done to me? Am I no longer Karai? What have I become?
'Anzejarl, your Awakening is almost complete,' Olmana told him, again and again. She said it now in such a way that it taunted him. There was a savage glint in her eyes. No longer did it have the character of a gift, if ever it had. Now it was a sword poised above his head, ready to descend at her fiat or whim.
And he could do nothing but obey her.
They no longer coupled. The joy and exaltations he had known with Olmana were ecstasies of the past. She seemed not to want to be near him, not to be able to bear his physical touch. If he approached her she rebuffed and mocked him, or flew into a howling rage. This aroused yet more unfamiliar sensations in Prince Anzejarl's breast. He was confused, angry, bitter, unsure and morose. He was hurt.
Hurt!
Alone, Anzejarl would succumb to paroxysms of bewilderment and grief. Clapping his hands to his temples he would stagger under the power of the internal forces that seized him, double over, sink to the floor. He would hammer the floorboards, punch the walls until his knuckles bled raw, but still the pressure built.