Heart of Shadows

by Martin Ash

  There was no time for further thought. On instinct, Meglan dropped to the floor and rolled away. Her flesh prickled, for she was expecting to be hacked to pieces by sabres. But she came up somehow behind a guard, and pointed, yelling, ‘He is not Sir Cantharo! He’s a demon called Skalatin! Look, he does not die!’

  To her surprise the Revenant guards responded almost as one. A female voice shouted, ‘Sko-ulatun!’ The guards, sabres drawn, turned upon the figure of Sir Cantharo.

  He had wrenched the blade from his bloodied face and now stood clenching it, glaring at his enemies, his back against the wall. His features were set in a grimace of fury, his eyes glittering in the light that lanced through the open portal. For a moment he seemed of two minds, then a queer smile began to form on his lips, even as the blood continued to pour down his cheeks.

  He straightened. His body appeared to swell. Before their eyes he was changing. His flesh shivered and writhed, gobbets dropping away or re-forming as something else pushed through.

  ‘I’m back!’ he said in a voice resonant and harsh, recognizably that of Skalatin.

  Before he could complete his transformation the guards were on him. Meglan did not wait to witness the outcome. She turned and fled blindly into the half-dark of the passage.

  What now? She had alerted the Revenants to Skalatin’s return, but she had to find Sildemund and the Heart, and separate them – if they remained together – at all costs. But where should she go? Sildemund could be anywhere in Garsh, though she acted on a hunch, or a wild hope, that he was still with the royal party. It was to Prince Enlos that she and Skalatin were being taken, so he could surely not be far away? Might he be here, in this same massive building?

  Numerous doorways and sub-passages led off the passage along which she ran, sparsely illuminated by torches set in wall-brackets at wide intervals. Randomly, she ducked into one. The howls and yells of combat receded behind her. She rushed on, disorientated, with no idea of where she might be headed. A short flight of steps took her upwards, then left her with a choice of two directions. She went right. Suddenly she heard the sound of hurrying footsteps, several persons running towards her.

  She threw herself into the shadowed recess of a doorway. Moments later a group of Revenant defenders rushed past, racing to join the fray that she had left behind.

  When they had passed, Meglan came from her hiding place and moved on, cautious now. She listened at the first door she came to, heard nothing, tried the handle, but the door failed to give. She did the same at the next door, and the next, with a similar result. Then, entering another passage, she came to a door that was not locked. She eased it open and peered warily through.

  She was looking into a short corridor. Pale, misty light filtered in through a narrow window, showing another door in the far wall. In the centre a flight of wooden stairs descended to a lower level. She moved tentatively to the head of the stairs and peered down. As far as she could see, there was no one below. She eased past and approached the door, reaching forward to turn the iron hoop that was its handle. Before she reached it the ring turned and the door swung open.

  A young woman stood there, clothed in a short red tunic, hose and studded leather overshirt. Before Meglan could respond she had whipped free the sabre that hung at her waist, and advanced threateningly.

  ‘Who are you?’

  Behind her came others. One… two…. Meglan thought there might be a third.

  ‘My name is Meglan-‘ she began, but got no further. Without warning the woman darted forward, raising her weapon, and brought the hilt down hard in the centre of Meglan’s forehead.

  Her senses rang, a flashing pain blinding her. She reeled back. A massive jolt spun the world around her. She perceived dimly that she had been struck a second time, and that she was falling. Then she knew nothing more.

  XXVI

  Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

  Sildemund knew it without knowing how. He could not sit still. Something gnawed deep in his thoughts, just out of conscious reach. Something had shifted out of kilter. He knew it as surely as he knew that he still lived and breathed.

  But for how long might he expect to live and breathe now that he had relinquished the Heart of Shadows?

  ~

  The Darch/Tulmu party was held in enclosed chambers somewhere within the same complex in which they had been received by the Revenant Elders. Guards were stationed outside their main door, and it was plain that, although they were accorded the status of honoured guests, they had become little more than prisoners, or perhaps hostages.

  Furnishing was no more than adequate, and the chambers were below ground, lacking windows or grilles through which natural light and hence a sense of the time of day might be perceived.

  Straightaway the Darch party had allocated one of the rooms for the exclusive use of Queen Lermeone. She was in there now, alone and out of sight of the others. Sildemund, Gully and Picadus had been placed in another, with King Lalvi, Prince Enlos, Kemorlin and the Supreme Haruspices, plus their guards, occupying the last.

  Hours had passed. It was impossible to be sure how long. Food and water had been brought to them. Gully had cleaned his plate, but Sildemund’s lay untouched on the floor, for he was too agitated to eat. Likewise, Picadus had not looked at his.

  Sildemund paced the chamber, tormented by the twin certainties that there was something vital, dark, mysterious that neither he nor anyone else had yet perceived, and that his life and those of his two companions were now directly imperilled.

  Would the Haruspices risk killing them here, in Garsh, even within this chamber? Or would protocol oblige them to wait? The royal party would be wary of offending the Revenants of Claine, but would the Revenants care one way or the other about his death?

  The door opened. Sildemund flinched, and shifted into a defensive stance, for he had agreed with Gully that if death was coming for them they would fight it to the last. But it was the Zan-Chassin sorcerer-shaman, Dinbig of Khimmur, who entered.

  Is this man our assassin?

  Dinbig smiled and crossed the room to take a seat on the bench from which Gully had just risen. He indicated that the two should join him. Picadus lay curled asleep in one corner.

  ‘Are they plotting our deaths?’ Sildemund enquired, sitting, still unsure of the Khimmurian.

  Dinbig shook his head. ‘They’re more concerned just now with the uncertainty of their own predicament. But be sure, a decision will have been made. At an appropriate moment they will strike.’

  ‘In here?’

  ‘Possible, but unlikely, I think. At least for the present.’

  ‘Why so?’

  ‘You may still have a part to play. Until they’re assured otherwise it’s unlikely they will risk losing you.’

  ‘Do you mean I may be expected to carry the Heart again?’

  Dinbig shrugged. ‘The Revenants’ response to the Heart is curious. We’re left knowing nothing.’

  Sildemund tried to cover his nervousness. He trusted no one, other than Gully, but he sensed openness and genuine puzzlement in the Khimmurian. He found it hard to believe this man might be the instrument of their deaths.

  ‘Did you see the Heart when I laid it before the Elders, Dinbig? It was alive.’

  ‘I saw it.’

  ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ The Khimmurian sat pensively for some moments, then said, ‘Tell me once more: when you disinterred the Heart, there was a mark, an emblem of some kind engraved upon the exigen cage, was there not?’

  Gully nodded. ‘It wasn’t clear. It had been worn away by ages.’

  ‘I can verify that,’ added Sildemund. ‘I looked at it in my father’s workroom, when we had it back at home. It appeared like nothing more than a sinuous line, with perhaps another shape behind, but it was impossible to identify. Why? Is it important?’

  The Khimmurian slapped his hands upon his knees and pushed himself to his feet. ‘I don’t know. I’m curious, tha
t’s all. But if we enter that chamber again, where we spoke with the Elders, and if an opportunity arises, try to get a good look at the surface of the table at which they sit.’

  He said no more, but bade them a temporary farewell and left the chamber. Sildemund and Gully sat in silence for a while. Presently, Gully said, ‘Are you going to eat that?’

  Sildemund stared at his plate of untouched food. The meal was basic – mashed grain with some dried vegetables, gone cold now. There was no meat but the plate was full enough to disabuse them of any notion that the inhabitants of Garsh suffered a serious shortage of food, the Tulmu siege notwithstanding.

  ‘How can you even think of your belly in circumstances like these, Gully? You amaze me. Go ahead, take it. I can’t eat.’

  Gully leaned forward and picked up the plate from the floor. He took up the spoon that lay at its rim and dug into the mash. As he raised the spoon, Sildemund suddenly placed a hand on his thick wrist, preventing the spoon from reaching his mouth.

  Sildemund stared at the food. There was no meat!

  The thought struck him with a powerful resonance, though he did not know why. He frowned, unable to take his eyes away.

  ‘Sil?’ Gully eyed him uncertainly. ‘Is something wrong?’

  Sildemund looked at him dazedly. In his mind something strove to break through to clarity, but failed. He could not grasp it. He shook his head, releasing Gully’s wrist. ‘No, I’m sorry. Eat.’

  ‘You are thinking it may be poisoned?’

  ‘If it is, you have already downed a plateful. But no, that’s not what worries me. Dinbig has already indicated we may still have a part to play. I don’t know. I just don’t know.’

  He stood and with worried thoughts resumed his pacing.

  ~

  A short time later the door opened again. This time a Revenant guard stood there, a female. She beckoned them out. Gully roused Picadus, who came from sleep muttering and swearing. They filed into the next room to find the others assembled. In the company of their guards they were escorted back to the candle-filled reception chamber.

  The three Elders – a title that again struck Sildemund as incongruous – awaited them as before, their fighters ranged before them. The Heart of Shadows rested on the table where Sildemund had placed it. It had been rebound in its cloth bandage so its state could not be discerned.

  The Revenant crone who had spoken earlier addressed them again. ‘Honoured guests, we would wish to conclude this matter as swiftly as possible, so that you might return to your rightful places in the palaces of Dharsoul and Pher. Do we have your assurance that we will suffer no further persecution, and that your troops will be withdrawn immediately?’

  There were brief murmurs among the assembled, then King Lalvi, thrusting forward his chest, declared, ‘You are still in contravention of the terms of your confinement!’

  ‘There should be no confinement!’ replied the Revenant, with indignation. ‘Have we not convinced you of our innocence?’

  ‘You cannot walk free among the people!’ Lalvi began. ‘Your influence is – ‘

  Prince Enlos interrupted, darting a vexed frown at the Tulmu sovereign, and turning to the three Elders. ‘We have discussed this matter in recent hours. There are one or two points we seek clarification on, but that done, there should be no reasons why the siege cannot be terminated immediately. We will then initiate discussion in regard to your future and rights, if this is agreeable to you.’

  ‘To what points do you refer, Prince Enlos?’

  ‘In the first instance there is the Heart of Shadows. When it came to Dharsoul we were quick to understand that we should bring it without delay to you, who know its full secrets. We came at speed, and as a demonstration of our sincerity and the urgency with which we regarded the situation, placed ourselves at your mercy by entering Garsh virtually unprotected.’

  The Revenant gave an arch smile. ‘Unprotected but for an army parked at our walls! You suggest we might have killed you here, and that is so, but it would have been in the sure knowledge that our own deaths would swiftly follow.’

  ‘Ah, but death holds no fear for you,’ responded Enlos, equally sardonically. ‘Unlike ourselves, for whom death is unconquerable, summarily revoking all plans, for you it presents no obstacle. The contrary, in fact, if I understand correctly. For you it is the way forward.’

  The crone considered this for a moment. ‘It is an inconvenience, nonetheless.’

  Enlos grinned. ‘Ah, if only I might confront Death and say: “Sir, you are but an inconvenience! A temporary digression. Away with you, then, for I’ve had enough of you!”’ He shook his head. ‘Instead, I know and respect Death for what he is. I know he waits for me somewhere, and though I endeavour to keep my distance from him, it is with the understanding that he knows where I am at all times and he will be drawing closer with every passing day.’

  ‘If you would prefer to meet him on more equitable terms, might I suggest that you join us here, Prince Enlos? Become one of our number. You will discover a new understanding.’

  ‘Is it so simple to cheat Death? I think not.’

  ‘The Revenants of Claine do not cheat Death. He cannot be cheated. Rather, we establish his acquaintance, walk at his side, become familiar with his ways. We see that Life is but the obverse of Death: one cannot exist without the other. The two together comprise the whole, the phenomenon. Life and Death are one, alternating through the eternal cycle, just as you and I sleep, then wake, then sleep once more.’

  ‘But that cycle is not eternal. Death waits somewhere to mark its end.’

  ‘Death waits, but as I say, he need not be what he appears. And he is not the end – rather, he is the next beginning. The Revenants have learned to merge consciously with the whole.’

  ‘Perhaps so, but I say again, it cannot be so simple.’

  ‘Simple, no. One might take a lifetime, or several lifetimes, to acquire the art. But development begins from the moment you declare yourself one of us. Once among us, you will never be lost. The Daughters of Claine protect her children.’

  ‘I shall give it thought,’ mused the Prince. He swivelled, to survey his company momentarily, and his eyes came to rest upon his mother, Queen Lermeone. Sildemund, watching, saw the Queen give a brief nod.

  ‘Let me return to the matter at hand,’ said Enlos, again facing the three Elders. ‘We have brought you the Heart of Shadows, an artefact, plainly, of immense power. What will be done with it?’

  ‘We shall ensure that it is kept from the one who has sought it throughout the ages: Sko-ulatun.’

  ‘How will you achieve this?’

  ‘We have the ability, but it is not something to be discussed with outsiders.’

  Dinbig of Khimmur stepped forward, saying, ‘By your own confession, Sko-ulatun has infiltrated your ranks in the past. He lived as one of you without your knowledge. He could do so again, could he not?’

  The three Revenant Elders returned him icy stares. ‘We will be ready for him this time.’

  Sildemund, listening and observing, frowned deeply. Something… something… nagging.

  There was no meat!

  ‘I’m curious,’ Dinbig continued. ‘Are the consequences of Sko-ulatun’s regaining the Heart so much more grave than his being deprived of it? In deprivation, it seems, he is a frenzied murderer, a demonic hunter who takes pleasure in the suffering he creates. What will he be if reunited with that which he seeks?’

  ‘Something far, far worse, believe us! Sko-ulatun seeks Life, for he exists as Death incarnate, feeding on the life force of others. Made whole again he will become almost as a man, but with the power of a deity. Then he will exact full revenge for the injustices he perceives as having been committed against him. He will do as he did before, turn man against man, woman against woman, woman against man, child against parent... He will demand to be worshipped and obeyed at any cost, and there will be no end to his corruption. Believe us, the price humanity will pay should he take power
again will be more terrible than you can imagine, and could endure for eons.’

  The blood pulsed in Sildemund’s skull. He almost had it. Something! Something!

  He feeds upon the life force of others!

  ‘There is another matter to be resolved,’ said Enlos. ‘One reason for Darch’s close interest in your affairs, as you must be aware, is concern over the welfare of two of your members. They were brought to you at separate times, with emphasis placed on our concern for their wellbeing. We would see them now, if you will.’

  The old Revenant stared at him with a puzzled expression. ‘To whom do you refer?’

  ‘Surely you are aware?’

  A new tension charged the atmosphere of the chamber now. Sildemund looked at the faces of the Darch company. On each was etched an expression of deep concern. Master Kemorlin pressed his long beard to his chest, his eyes upon Enlos, then the Elders, with frowning intensity. The three Revenant Elders appeared nonplussed.

  ‘We are not aware, Prince Enlos. Perhaps you would enlighten us.’

  ‘This is disturbing,’ replied Prince Enlos, plainly taken aback. ‘When these two were brought here it was on the strictest understanding that Darch held a particular interest in their welfare.’

  ‘Are we to understand from your words that they were brought to us clandestinely?’

  ‘That is so. But documents were exchanged between our officials and yourselves.’ Enlos gestured to one of the two Haruspices, who stepped forward, taking from his robe a pair of scrolls. These he unfurled and placed before the Elders. The Elder who had spoken took up the scrolls and studied them. Then a faint smile relieved the grim expression on her ancient face, and she passed them on to her two younger colleagues. ‘Forgive me, Prince Enlos. The fact is, I am not one of the Elders with whom your officials would have dealt. She has passed from us. She will be a child among us now, or is perhaps still in transition between rebirths.’

  ‘What of the two wards of whom I speak?’

  The Elder regarded the scrolls again. ‘A maiden named Epta, brought seven years ago at the age of nineteen, and a babe with the given name of Lucel, who came to us some twelve or thirteen years past. I shall have the counterparts to these documents delivered, and these two persons shall be brought to you.’