by Martin Ash
She twisted her head. On the crest of a bank rising behind a thicket of hazel bushes, two figures stood. The first, who called to her, mocking and laughing, was small of stature, just a child: Moscul, her own nephew. Tears of laughter streamed down his cheeks.
'Yes, run! Run! That's it, Aunt Issul! That's the way!'
And beside Moscul was a man. His crazed features were contorted in jubilation and contempt, his feet planted firmly apart, and his hands, free of restraining bonds, were raised high as if calling down wrath from the skies. Grey Venger's tongue flew back and forth inside his mouth, and from his throat there issued a shrill, warbling ululation of victory.
ii
Issul's wild flight took her far into the forest. She weaved between the trees, took advantage of clumps of dense undergrowth where possible, spurred her horse into a swollen stream-bed and followed its course for some hundred or more yards, all the while scanning the banks to either side for fear of the sudden appearance of grullags. At length a channel presented itself, cutting up from the stream through the high bank. A mass of rhododendron bushes provided further cover. She galloped on, deliberately changing course several times, and finally slowed her panting mount to a walk.
Her heart hammered. She carefully watched the woods at her back. It seemed she was not pursued. The forest was silent. How far had she ridden? Not even the sounds of fighting reached her ears.
Issul struggled to take stock. Had she acted wisely? Should she not have stayed, or at least waited until some of her men were able to ride free with her? She was alone now, and quite possibly lost.
But she had had no choice. The grullag assault had been so sudden and savage. She had been isolated. There was a real threat of being overwhelmed.
But she had deserted her soldiers!
Issul shook her head, seeking to expel the thought. Her loyalty at this time had to be to Orbelon and the blue casket. There could be no question. It was not for her own sake, nor for even Leth's and the childrens'. It was for Enchantment's Reach, its future and the future of her people. She had run, though under different circumstances she would have stayed and fought. The grullags had been far too close to seizing the casket.
Had that been their intent? Specifically, had that been the intent of the force that commanded them and threw them against her? It was impossible to know whether Moscul had knowledge of the casket or its contents, but the consequences of his having gained, or even inadvertently destroyed it, were too terrible to contemplate.
Now Moscul and Grey Venger were united: the Legendary Child brought together with its most fanatical apostle. Issul felt her blood run cold.
And Shenwolf!
An anguished sob escaped the young Queen's throat. This was perhaps the bitterest blow.
She pushed her horse on. Her immediate concern now was to speak to Orbelon. She would put more distance between herself and the Legendary Child and his grullags, then find a suitable spot in which to summon forth the god.
A little while later she noticed that her horse had developed a limp which was becoming more pronounced the further it bore her. She dismounted, found a bloody lesion and swelling low on the animal's right foreleg. It must have smashed it against a boulder, or perhaps had been struck by a weapon.
With a sigh Issul led the horse into a natural grove of dense shrubbery and tethered it to a branch. Then, checking once again that she was not observed, she seated herself upon a rock and took the blue casket from its chest.
Orbelon manifested almost upon the instant. 'Child, you are in turmoil, I can tell.'
Recalling the questions that Arene's tale had engendered in her mind the previous day, Issul found her words stilled upon her tongue.
'Is it that you doubt me?' Orbelon enquired. 'I sensed this when we spoke last night. I tried to reassure you.'
'Yes, you said you are fragile in my hands, and I may destroy you at any time. But you know I cannot, Orbelon. You know I cannot. You have my husband and children.'
'It was not by my design.'
'That is irrelevant.'
'I am not your foe. I have said it before, and there is little else I can say or do to reassure you.'
'And I can only hope that what you say is true.'
Orbelon hovered in silence, observing her, then said, 'I want you to understand that it is not only myself that I am trying to save. Nor is it specifically Leth or your children.'
She returned his gaze. He seemed to be reflecting the very thoughts that had driven her. 'And it is not the future of Enchantment's Reach. So, then. . . what?'
'Do not speak too soon. There are still many things of which you are not aware.'
'Explain.'
'In due course. If the right time arises. But the point I wish to make is this: I love my world. Very, very deeply. I do not understand it; it is something that astonishes me, fills me with wonder. I do not know how it came to be; I am cut off from it and do not even know what it truly is. But I created it and I do not know how, but now it is, and I want it to have the opportunity to become, to discover itself. I want it to have a chance, just as you want your own children to grow and prosper and discover their own destinies. But it is in your hands, not mine, and all around us men make war. It could be destroyed at any time, and I exist only in the hope that that can be prevented.'
Issul, tears stinging her eyes, pursed her lips and nodded to herself, saying nothing.
'You do not believe me?'
'You are my only hope, Orbelon. I have to believe you.'
'That is hardly declaration of trust. Still, let us continue. What was the disturbance that interrupted us last night?'
'Someone approached by stealth.'
'Were we observed?'
'No. The intruder was discovered in time, though not apprehended.'
'Do you know who it was?'
'There are numerous possibilities. Any one is as likely as any other.'
'What of the old woman of the Hir'n Esh? You were to have her speak with me, yet I do not see her.'
Issul gave a disconsolate shake of her head. 'Arene is injured; she may even be dead.' In leaden tones she told Orbelon of what had just occurred. When she reached the point of Arene's revelation about Shenwolf her voice cracked; she felt herself begin to tremble uncontrollably.
'Oh, this is grave news. Grave news indeed,' intoned Orbelon. He moved off a little way across the grove, deeply pensive. When he returned he said, 'Issul, child, we have to cover this in detail. Are we safe here?'
'As safe as anywhere, I think. Wait a moment. I will make sure no one approaches.'
She made off through the shrubbery to the edge of the grove, and there stopped and listened. Other than the whisper of the breeze through the forest the only sound was of birds - itself a reassuring sign. She crept a little further into the trees, mounting a rise that permitted her a view for some considerable distance through the wood. She waited, watched; the forest was still. In similar manner she scouted all around the shrub grove, halting to look and listen every fifteen paces or so. Eventually she was satisfied that she was alone, and slipped back into the bushes to Orbelon.
'We are safe, at least for the present.'
'Firstly, then, tell me of this legend which the old woman of the Hir'n Esh related to you.'
Issul recounted the legend, sticking as closely as she could to Arene's exact words.
'Interesting indeed,' said Orbelon. 'But not a cause for alarm, I think. Certainly it appears to refer in its broad detail to my own defeat and vanquishment. In itself, that is perhaps not surprising. The event was without precedent. I blush to admit it, but no other before me had been bested so. No doubt my enemies boasted mightily of how they had robbed me of my soul, and the tale spread. . . . Yes, this is the very stuff of legends! That it should also refer to my return and subsequent search for my soul is perhaps more intriguing. Still, the Hir'n Esh, so I understand, are witnesses of the future, or of the strands of potential futures.'
'Arene explained as mu
ch.'
'Then there, surely, is the wellspring. But I don’t understand. What is it in this legend that so troubles you, Issul?'
Issul swallowed. 'It’s the mention of the false god who becomes a true god.'
'Ah. You think of the One True God, spoken of by your True Sept. Such a being, by their account, is destined to destroy you and your kingdom. So Leth told me. And you wonder, 'Can this be Orbelon?''
'You have us in the palms of your hands, Orbelon.'
'As you also have me, quite literally. In this respect neither of us holds the advantage. We need each other, Issul. It is as simple as that. What more can I say to put your mind at rest? Leth was similarly troubled when I revealed my true nature to him. I said to him, as I say to you now: I mean you no harm. Eons of solitude have deeply impressed upon me the folly of my former existence, and that of my kind. I seek now only to be whole again, and for a way to bring this terrible business to an end without further conflict, though I fear conflict is unavoidable.' He paused. 'You have to accept that what I say is true, Issul.'
Issul lowered her gaze. 'I want to. But I’ve discovered that to be sure of anything or anyone is to invite disappointment, and more.'
Orbelon swung his great bundled head from side to side. 'No. You are certain of your love for your husband and your children, and your country and its peoples also. Hold to that love, Issul, and let it be your staff and your guide.'
Her eyes prickled wetly; she could not speak.
'Last night you were on the point of showing me something,' Orbelon said, 'before our meeting was cut short.'
'Yes.' Issul delved into her tunic and brought forth the fateful leather pouch. She revealed to Orbelon the little ivory carving. 'Can you tell me anything about this?'
Orbelon leaned forward and studied the carving. When he straightened again his voice came from faraway. 'How very strange. Where did you get this?'
'It came to me by roundabout means. Orbelon, what is it? You know, don't you?'
Her pulse had quickened. Was she on the verge of discovering some vital clue in this cursed mystery?
'Many ages have passed since I last set eyes on one of these. Many ages.'
'What is it, Orbelon? Tell me!'
'In the far and distant past before my fall, when I was active in Enchantment, articles such as this were associated with one of my adversaries, a dark-minded creature named Urch-Malmain. He was one of a cabal who put their scheming minds together to lure me into a trap and bring about my downfall. It is most curious, but despite eons having come and dwindled away since that time, Urch-Malmain has been very much in my thoughts of late. I cannot say why, but I have scarcely been able to rid my mind of him. Even now, as we speak, I feel his presence, as though he watches me. That you should bring this object to me now is an uncanny coincidence.'
'Has this thing power, or import?'
'That is hard to say. Most commonly Urch-Malmain forged these objects as talismans. That is to say, their purpose was largely protective. He bestowed them temporarily upon servants he had brought from beyond Enchantments borders. The talismans emit an aura which can counteract the effects of certain magics, at least to some degree. In particular, a non-denizen of Enchantment wearing this talisman would, for a time, gain immunity to Enchantment's natural energies, which would otherwise have harmful, and quite probably deadly effects.'
Shenwolf carried this! Issul could barely think. 'These servants of Urch-Malmain,' she said, 'what would be their function?'
'That is impossible to say. What would anyone employ a lesser being for? The possibilities are endless.'
'Is Urch-Malmain alive now?'
'I have just said I sense him. It is a queer, uncomfortable feeling, unlike anything I have known. In such a span of time anything might have happened, yet I would say without a doubt that Urch-Malmain exists today, in some foul form. How did you come upon this object, Issul?'
Issul's mind was in a slow, sickening spin. Haltingly she told Orbelon of the talisman's history, as it was known to her.
'Shenwolf. . . . Is he the young bodyguard you brought to me before we departed Enchantment's Reach?' enquired Orbelon when she had concluded. There was a sternness to his tone that she had not heard before.
She nodded, filled with self-reproach. 'I trusted him, utterly. He had proved himself so many times! Now I think, what was it for? What was he really doing?'
'What of the other man you brought to me?'
'Pader Luminis? No. Orbelon, no. He is incapable of deceit. That much I do know.'
She stared imploringly at Orbelon's brooding phantom form, then twisted her head from side to side, her jaws tightly clenched, fists also. Her limbs were tense and shaking; she was held in the terrible grip of anger and agony. Orbelon stood over her, his arms helplessly extended. 'Oh, Issul, child. Would that I could do something to ease your pain.'
'Can you forgive me Orbelon?'
'There is nothing to forgive. You acted in what you truly believed were our best interests. If you have been shown to be mistaken, it is through the pernicious machinations of others rather than through any fault or failing of your own.'
Her tears flooded forth, quite suddenly. She stood, her head bowed, and stomped to the edge of the grove, furiously wiping her eyes with her sleeves. 'I do not want to go on, Orbelon. I have had enough.'
'Child, I have told you before what I think of such sentiments.'
'I no longer trust my own judgement. I am afraid.'
'Then what do you intend to do? Abandon me here in the woods?'
She turned and fixed him with an anguished stare.
Orbelon's voice softened. 'Issul, dear child, listen to me. When it seems that the entire world and the gods themselves are against you, when all you see is darkness and all you feel pain and confusion, then you must reach within. Deeply and trustingly, for there you will find a light; it only waits to be found. Hold onto your love and with that as your staff, seek your inner light. Once found it will never be extinguished. It will illuminate your way, no matter the darkness; it will be your guide. Sometimes to find it your need must overcome all else. You must know that it is the one thing you seek, and you will be tested. Your sincerity and intent will be put to the trial. But if you are truly determined, you will never look back again. I know you are sincere, so look, look again for that light which only waits to be found. Never give up!'
For long moments Issul was still, her look questioning. At last she nodded. 'I cannot allow them to defeat me. Not as long as the blood still runs in my veins.'
'Exactly so. Now, tell me again - and be exact in detail - of the encounter between the old woman and Shenwolf, and the grullag attack that followed.'
Issul recounted her tale, taking care to recall every nuance to mind.
'So Shenwolf offered no account of why he had given the talisman to the Legendary Child?' Orbelon queried.
'There was no time. The grullags were upon us.'
'How did he react to Arene's accusation?'
'Blankly. He was bemused.'
'But he admitted the charge readily, making no attempt to deny or cover up his guilt?'
'That is so.'
Orbelon pondered a moment. 'Do you think you might have judged him too harshly?'
'What do you mean?'
'You have no firm evidence that he acted with malign intent.'
'But why else would he do it?'
Orbelon shrugged. 'I do not know.'
'It makes no sense.'
'Still, I would prefer to keep an open mind. Too much is still unknown. The business is ever more perplexing. When the attack came, what happened to Shenwolf?'
Issul shook her head. 'I lost sight of him almost immediately in the mêlèe.'
'So he could be alive or dead.'
'Or walking at the side of Moscul and Grey Venger!'
'Issul, you are letting your emotions rule you. I think we should defer judgement until we have a clearer picture.'
'That is a charitab
le approach.'
'And a pragmatic one.'
Issul drew in a great breath and released it in a long sigh. 'Orbelon, I do not know where to go now. I feel lost.'
'You go on, surely? Nothing has changed in regard to your goal, after all. You have to continue to the Karai camp and the Farplace Opening beneath it.'
Issul was uncertain. Orbelon said, 'Perhaps I can lift your spirits, at least a little. I have something interesting to report. I have made strenuous efforts to sensitize my awareness to Leth's presence.'
'And you have had success?' Issul was suddenly enlivened.
'Of a modest kind, I think. I have heard, or sensed, Leth's appeal, and his recrimination.'
'Recrimination?'
'My perception is that he may not know how he has come to be within my domain, or why it is that I am not there to assist him. He thinks I have forsaken him, possibly deliberately. I have tried to impinge my thoughts upon his consciousness and reassure him that he is not abandoned. I cannot tell whether my efforts have had an effect.'
'What of Jace and Galry?'
'I can say nothing with certainty, but if Leth lives then it gives me confidence that they are with him.'
'Keep trying, Orbelon! You must reach them!'
Orbelon half-turned, tilting his head to one side. 'Hark! What is that sound?'
Issul was still, her senses attuned to the forest. It was silent - even the birds held their voices.
'What did you hear?' she whispered.
'Someone or something is nearby. That way!'
'Quick, begone!'
Orbelon faded. Issul pushed the casket and chest deep into cover beneath the bushes, pulled moss and leaf litter to further conceal it. She moved to her horse, took bow and arrows from behind its saddle then stole silently through the bushes in the direction Orbelon had indicated to the edge of the little grove.
Crouching, she scanned the forest, then slipped forward, placed herself behind a boulder. She waited, eyes and ears pared. Nothing moved or made a sound. Satisfied that she was not observed Issul moved again, creeping soundlessly up a rise to take cover behind the decaying, fallen trunk of an oak clad in dense ivy and sodden moss. She raised herself a little to peer over the trunk, and froze.