by Martin Ash
ENCHANTMENT'S REACH
Volume Four:
INTO THE DARK FLAME
MARTIN ASH
Enchantment’s Reach Volume 4: Into the Dark Flame
© Martin Ash 2013
© Outside Publishing 2013
Cover design & artwork: Alexia Dima, Michail Antonellos
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, other than brief quotes for reviews.
Other works by Martin Ash in eBook
Enchantment’s Reach One: The Orb Undreamed
Enchantment’s Reach Two: The Orb and the Spectre
Enchantment’s Reach Three: Orbelon’s World
‘Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.’ Friedrich Nietzsche (1844 - 1900)
ONE
i
The image of Nothing remained, a maddening and perplexing question, a paradox of bewildering intensity in Leth's mind. It was not clear why, but he could not free himself of it. Perhaps more than anything else that he had experienced on his journey with Lakewander - the horror of the Plain of Imprisoned Souls, the numbing shock of the Sufferer and his self-inflicted agonies - more than either of these, the Nothing held him spellbound. It was ungraspable. Even to himself he could not explain what he had witnessed - or more precisely, what he had not witnessed - when he had emerged onto the end of the long, hazily-coloured beach and found himself staring into the End of the World.
Eternity? Infinity? Such words each defined a phenomenon, albeit one in the abstract, but he had gazed upon no phenomenon. What he had seen could not be defined - to attempt any form of definition implied the existence of something, a place or thing to which a label might be attached. But what he had gazed upon. . . .
In his memory Orbelon's dry, distant voice drifted, talking of Mystery and madness, of defining principles and the mind's inability to comprehend. But Leth could not hear him. He shook his head. Even the word Nothing served inadequately to explain what he had witnessed, for equally, in application, the word quantified some kind of phenomenon: the absence or lack of something. But he had gazed into complete and absolute vacancy. Not absence or lack, but something which no intellect or emotion could embrace.
It had waged war upon him now, broken through his resistance and entered him. He was giddy and sick at the recollection of it, at the awareness of it inside him. It was as though he, as a mere human, was thwarted by a sensorium and faculties too limited to assimilate it. He felt he was losing his ability to reason, that this unwelcome non-thing had lodged itself within him and was growing, becoming too big to contain.
So went his thoughts as he lay upon his bed that night, his last night in the haunted place called Orbia. He could not sleep, and more than once in his torment he remembered Lakewander's nakedness and her warm, lithe body against his, her hands, her lips, and he wondered whether he could reject her now if she came to him again offering solace and passionate diversion.
But she did not come. Leth remained alone and acutely wakeful. At one point, in frustration, he stole from his chamber and sought to engage once more with the ghostly presence in the chill stone walls. But his efforts were fruitless, for no voice responded to his petitions, neither in the corridor nor, subsequently, back in the chamber.
*
The first tones of early morning light touched the alien sky. Leth sat resplendent upon his sleek black stallion, Swiftwind. He was clad in the ribbed sapphire blue armour and fabulous helm of the god he had never been. The helm, like the armour, fitted lightly and comfortably, seeming to mould itself to the contours of his face like a second skin. The Sword of the Orb, another legacy of a past he knew nothing of, slanted back from his waist, Swiftwind was clad in barding of the same lightweight, flexible, ribbed sapphire plate. To the side of the yard stood Master Protector, supported by a servant, and Summoner, waiting to see Leth off.
The morning was becoming mild and bright, the strange sky clear, as it always seemed to be. Leth could not see the Orb of the Godworld, nor the World's Agony; both were obscured by the high screen of dark trees which massed beyond the outer wall of this other Orbia.
As he sat, absorbed in troubled musings, awaiting the arrival of Lakewander from within, Leth slowly became aware of a curious, almost subliminal, distraction. He glanced up and thought to half-see a brief blur of motion in the air close before him. It was gone before he could focus upon it, so that he wondered whether he had seen anything at all. But then it recurred, slightly off to one side, and elsewhere.
It was the merest inkling of a disturbance. The air seemed to have shifted momentarily, in the way the surface of a pool of water might show the faintest stirring as something unseen had flickered or twisted suddenly below.
He thought of invisible wings. There was a shadow of movement against his cheek, and yet he could not be certain that he had felt anything. He was reminded of the last hours in Orbelon's blue domain, before he and Jace and Galry had stepped through the glimmering arch and found themselves before Summoner and his nervy followers. He had been famished, weak and angry, and had seen, or had thought he had seen, a similar brief motion, an instant of flux in the air before him. Galry had noticed it too, though it was gone before either could focus on it. He had thought then, as now, of the stirring of unseen wings, without knowing precisely why that image came to mind.
Quite suddenly the air was filled with such movements. Leth blinked to clear his vision and gazed around him in some bewilderment. Swiftwind shied slightly and tossed his head, but otherwise showed no alarm. Master Protector and Summoner remained as they were, watching Leth, both smiling slightly, almost blithely, as though nothing at all were amiss.
'What-- What is happening here?' queried Leth. The air was roiling all around. He sensed a flow; the motion issued from within or about Orbia or beyond and converged upon the yard where he waited, in fact he felt that he or somewhere close upon him was its focus. The hairs at the back of his neck prickled. He was within a sea of silent flutterings, whose touch was more gentle than that of a butterfly's wing. And then all was still once more, and Leth could not be sure that anything had happened at all.
Lakewander appeared from within. She strode purposefully to her horse and mounted. She looked at Leth, smiled, then regarded him quizzically. 'Swordbearer, are you ready?'
Leth gazed about him. Master Protector and Summoner still smiled at him, slightly vacuously, seemingly aware of nothing out of the ordinary.
'Is something wrong?' Lakewander enquired.
Leth began to speak. 'I saw something. I think. . . .'
Two vertical furrows appeared upon her brow. 'Something?'
'Phantom forms in the air. Ghosts, or things that dwell beyond the normal ken of man.'
Her brow cleared. She smiled, as if pleased with what she heard. 'Do not be alarmed.'
'Did my imagination or perception play me false?'
'I think not. I certainly hope not. Some things we can never be certain of. They reach us though perceptions not yet wholly realized.' She looked away, to Master Protector, and Leth saw her eyes mist over and her proud face grow sorrowful. 'Father, we are ready now.'
The old man nodded. His jaw trembled and he seemed to have difficulty finding words. Finally he said simply, 'Go well.'
Lakewander turned her horse about. Her features were strained. She headed towards the gate. Leth followed, unclear as to his goal, his purpose here. He could think only that everything had the character of an unending dream in which he had become trapped.
He glanced at the two men as he passed. Summoner gazed at him, no longer smiling, but transfixed, as th
ough with wonder or awe. And old Master Protector trembled, his eyes ancient and sorrowful, filled with tears he would not permit himself to shed.
Dream or not, as he rode through the gate Leth told himself, as he had told himself over and over, that this was not his land. No matter what others might claim, he had not been here before. He would fight for them if he had to, but with the unbreachable certainty that his true striving was to be reunited with his children, by whatever means, and then to find the way back to Enchantment's Reach.
ii
'If we are parted, that is the direction you must go, always,' said Lakewander. 'Remember that. It is the one constant.'
She gazed towards the World's Agony which gleamed in the low sky in front of them, a tiny bright golden pinpoint.
Her words seemed to Leth to hold a weight of premonition. 'Is it likely that we will be parted?'
Lakewander gave a quick smile. 'Who knows what will happen?'
'You shouldn’t have accompanied me.'
'Lord, you will not lie with me.'
'That is no answer.'
'Without me, how do you propose finding your way?'
He shook his head. 'You and Master Protector were perfectly happy to let me proceed alone. You could have provided me with a map, or sent someone else with me. Your decision to come was based solely upon my refusal to take you to my bed.'
'There is no other way.'
'But it will change nothing. I’ve told you, I love another.'
'I understand.'
'Then why. . . ?'
Lakewander turned her eyes from him, back to the World's Agony. Her lower lip drooped in contemplation. 'Because this is how it must be.'
Leth felt a spasm of irritation. Every conversation he engaged in here, with Lakewander, her father, Summoner or any other, seemed replete with evasion and mystery, every question was answered obliquely. Acutely conscious of this, he asked, 'What of the Shore of Nothing, which I may walk upon but which robs others of their minds? How will you survive?'
'I will have your protection, Lord. That is my hope.'
'How? How am I to protect you?'
'We must see.' Lakewander urged her mount into a trot, obliging him to give Swiftwind rein to keep pace with her.
Later they rested in the same dell where they had paused the previous day. Lakewander brought forth dried meat, cheese and bread from her saddlepack, with a flask of watered wine. She spread a cloth upon the grass and laid these out.
Leth sat with his back against a fallen tree, watching her. Was she all that she seemed, or was she keeping something from him? He stabbed at a strip of meat with his dagger. 'This world, Orb, seems a wild and unnaturally empty place.'
'Is your own so different?'
'In some ways. There are vast, unpopulated expanses, yet even they contain a greater diversity of life than I find here. Many species of birds in the air, perched in trees or upon lofty crags; creatures large and small inhabiting the undergrowth.'
'There are birds and wild beasts here.'
'In some small number, so it seems to me.'
'Perhaps.'
'For my own part I live in a bustling, crowded citadel. I am accustomed to seeing many people at all times, from many different walks of life.'
'And it does not oppress you?'
'There are times when one needs solitude or recreation, yes. But there are opportunities for such. Here your lives seem almost monastic. I see little in the way of diversion. Your own lifestyle is frugal, from what I have witnessed. Others here live only to inflict suffering upon themselves, and to have that suffering impress itself upon the consciences of their fellow folk. Overall, a pervasive melancholy and sense of angst and loneliness imbues the air.'
Lakewander cast her eyes down. 'I have told you, it was not always like this. There was once a city. I remember so much, when I was a child. It was very different. Everything was different. We laughed, we played. But now. . . . it’s a long time since I have done either of those things.'
'But the Sufferers and the Souls, they have always been with you?'
'For many generations, yes. Though in greater number these days, as the end approaches.'
'Do they think that by their actions they can avert the end?'
'They believe, or desperately hope, that through being aware of their suffering the Creator will be moved to act. If they establish and communicate enough pain, the Creator will be conscience-bound to respond. And if they atone for their sins in sufficient manner, the Creator will consider us worth saving, and hence move to prevent Ascaria from taking any more of our world.'
'You - or they - are attributing human qualities to your Creator. By what criteria do you make such a judgement?' Leth felt some confusion as he said this, for he knew that in essence the creator of this world was Orbelon.
Lakewander shrugged. 'It’s not I who have judged.'
'But your words imply that if I succeed in slaying Ascaria, the Sufferers will cast off their bonds, the Imprisoned Souls will step free from their metal prisons.'
'It may be so.'
'That places an even greater burden upon me. Do you consider me some kind of representative of your Creator?'
'You came from beyond the Sign, Swordbearer, in answer to our call.'
'I heard no call.'
Lakewander concentrated upon her food. The topic seemed to discomfit her. Leth wondered whether to pursue it, to probe more deeply, then opted for another approach. 'Lakewander, I know so little about you or your family. I have met your father, if briefly, but what of your mother? Does she dwell with you in Orbia? Have you siblings? What of suitors? Surely you can’t lack for them?'
Lakewander grew troubled and distant. 'My mother. . . my mother was very beautiful, and a renowned artist. Her paintings were displayed in municipal galleries and private businesses and homes throughout the city. But she was given to fits of depression, alternating with periods of frenzied activity wherein she might become obsessed with some received idea or sudden illumination, which she would usually integrate with great success into her work. Some years ago she fell under the influence of the Souls. Quickly they became, more and then more, the predominant focus of her life. She ceased working, and one day gathered all her available artworks together and set them ablaze. She told us that such works were frivolous, that her life to date had been without meaning. No matter our remonstrations, after the city was destroyed by Ascaria she had herself encased in lead and placed out upon the Plain of Imprisoned Souls. She said that her life had to become her art, and vice versa. She believed she had been the recipient of a message from our Creator, who had told her in a vision that her suffering and eventual death would help cleanse us all of sin. Such, as I have said, is the reasoning of the Souls.'
Lakewander paused, her eyes upon the ground. Her voice came again as a hollow whisper. 'It took her almost two years to die, Swordbearer. Every day I or my two brothers or our father would take food and drink to her. Every day we pleaded with her to change her mind. But she was resolute, and would not be swayed. One day. . . one day my brothers could bear no more. My mother had ceased speaking, either because she had lost her voice through weakness or because she no longer wished to acknowledge us when we came. My brothers elected to cut her free. This they did, though she screamed at them to leave her be. When she emerged she was hardly more than a cadaver. Her limbs had wasted, she could barely stand. But she was angry, oh so angry.'
Lakewander emitted a sob. She put her hand to her mouth, then to her brow. 'As we were bringing her home she somehow found strength. She took a knife and stabbed my youngest brother - her own son! The blade pierced his heart. He died instantly. She turned upon my other brother - truly she would have murdered us all had she been able. We overpowered her, but she screamed incessantly and begged us to let her return. Eventually we did. We were faced with the choice of convicting her for infanticide, in which case she would have been executed, or letting her go back to the Plain of Imprisoned Souls, where she would ev
entually die anyway. She went back, had herself encased in metal once more and put back upon the Plain. None of us visited her again. She remains there still. That is, what is left of her remains sealed within its metal armature.'
'I’m sorry,' said Leth in a murmur.
'I can never forgive her,' Lakewander asserted, her voice quavering. 'That’s perhaps the worst part of it. Not only for the death of my brother, but for the terrible agonies she inflicted upon us all through her martyrdom. She declared that what she did was for our eventual good, yet the truth is she had no real thought for anyone. Not us, not herself. She was consumed by a belief, seduced by those who promulgated it. Like all such believers she became incapable of questioning or looking beyond it. She is gone now, but we must live with the memory of what she did: her own appalling suffering, and ours. I have tried, but I cannot find it within me to forgive her.' Lakewander turned her face to Leth. 'What kind of Creator can allow its people to suffer so?'
Perhaps a Creator who does not even know that he has created you, thought Leth, but he said nothing. He glanced up at the Orb of the Godworld which blazed with a fabulous intensity high overhead. He shook his head slowly, then looked back at Lakewander. 'What of your other brother, the one who survived?'
She smiled distantly, sorrowfully. 'He left us and became a wanderer and vagabond. He had been a great and noble spirit, a superb warrior, a young man greatly loved and who could inspire men and women alike, effortlessly. He was to have been the next Protector, after the transition of our father. But the events with our mother and younger brother changed him. His mood grew dark, he drank and brawled and shut himself away - things formerly alien to his nature. And then he left us, without notice or farewell. From time to time we hear reports of him. He has travelled widely, if aimlessly. The last we heard was that he had taken up with a Noeticist named Urch-Malmain, who is said to have penetrated all the secrets of the workings of the mind. He claims the ability to rid the mind of its store of painful experiences and to replace them with more palatable memories.'