A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2) (32 page)

This has gone too far, my Medrian
, said the Serpent.

‘Let me alone. Don’t speak to me. You will never weaken me like that again,’ she replied, hugging herself against the mole-black, icy pain in her head.

But I will. Like that and worse. Again and again until you surrender. Again and again until the two humans die by your own hand. And until you tell me about the weapon, and until you give up this pitiful Quest. Again and again and again and…

‘No. Damn you,’ she whispered.

You are becoming very weak. There is a limit even to your stubbornness, my Medrian, and you know that in only a short time you will be able to tolerate this pain no longer. Accept this.

‘No,’ she croaked. But she knew that M’gulfn was right. Her dreadful battle against it had continued without relief since the night of the bears, all across the hills and through the forests and over the crags and the rock-bed and the river... and all the time she had deluded herself that she had it in check.

Ever since she had first learnt to suppress M’gulfn, when she was very young, she had had confidence in that control. She had never considered that the Serpent could so determinedly erode it, chipping at her wall of ice day after day until it was hardly stronger than a sheet of frost about to shatter.

Perhaps M’gulfn had never been this afraid before.

She had put absolute faith in her ability to operate independently of the Worm. Now the unthinkable was in view: her imminent surrender. Her faith in herself was gone. She had turned with the Serpent raging in her and tried to push Ashurek to his death. He had seen the corpse-light in her face. She had nothing left to fight with.

This pain, this humiliation
, said the Serpent as if reading her thoughts – had she lost even that now? –
are the inevitable results of trying to fight me. You have chosen a hard way to learn this. Only let me into your heart, and you will find release.
Its thoughts were blunt, almost soothing.

‘Release! Just as all your other hosts found it?’ she replied. ‘Their agony was worse than mine, because they found no way to resist it! You think, having come this far, I would condemn generations more to this unspeakable abuse?’

You will always be my favourite
, the Serpent mused, like a benevolent old man misunderstanding what was being said to him. But it understood well enough. It was mocking her.

Then Medrian made a decision, and managed to stop herself running. Calmly, despite her violent trembling, she put her boots and cloak back on and ran her fingers through her hair to tidy it. And she stood and waited until she saw Ashurek and Estarinel coming through the trees.

She was going to tell them everything.

It had always been her intention to wait until the very end of the Quest, but that was no longer possible. At least now they would understand her strange behaviour and her purpose. And then, even if the Serpent conquered her completely, they would understand what was happening, and they would be able to bind her and take her with them like a prisoner, and so defend themselves from M’gulfn’s power in her.

‘Medrian!’ Estarinel called as he reached her. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m sure she is more than all right,’ Ashurek said brusquely, laying a long-fingered, dark hand on her shoulder. His gaze knifed into her, but she did not look up at him. ‘Medrian, do you deny that you made a fair attempt to murder me just now?’

‘No,’ she muttered.

‘Might we be permitted to hear some sort of explanation?’

Medrian, as Ashurek had expected, remained silent. ‘Listen to me,’ he went on, softly menacing. ‘We have borne with your silence thus far, just as you requested when we first met. That was one thing. But attempts to sabotage the Quest are quite another. You’ve no right to expect them to go unremarked. Indeed, you have forfeited your right to keep your motives secret. Do I make myself clear?’

She nodded. Her lips parted and she drew an uneven breath.

‘Well?’

‘Ashurek–’ Estarinel began, unable to forget how Medrian had implored him not to question her, as if questions could impale her flesh like barbs, and answering would make her bleed to death from those tears. His heart went out to her. He had never seen her look more alone. But Ashurek only waved a hand to quiet him.

‘You can begin by telling us who you are.’

Her eyes flew open, agate and black, rimmed with darkness.

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I want to tell you. It was never my intention–’

No
, screamed the Serpent.
You know that you are not permitted to speak of this
.

Medrian froze in mid-sentence, no breath passing through her waxen lips. Her eyes turned glassy.

‘Go on,’ said Ashurek, gripping her shoulder. A thin moan came from her throat and she slid from his grasp and fell like a stone to the ground. At once Estarinel knelt by her and lifted her head. Her eyes were wide but she was unconscious. Swiftly he removed her pack and loosened her jacket.

‘Just like Skord,’ Ashurek observed. ‘She tried to speak and something stopped her. Or she inflicted this trance on herself, to avoid having to explain.’

Estarinel was cradling Medrian in his arms so that her head rested back against his shoulder. He felt how weak and rapid the pulse in her throat was.

‘Will you pass me some water?’ he said. Ashurek took a leather flask from Medrian’s pack and handed it to him. Estarinel began to bathe her face.

‘You were able to break through Skord’s trance,’ said Ashurek.

Estarinel stared at him, aghast. ‘Don’t even think of it!’

‘But this is important, far more important than Skord. Estarinel, whatever Medrian is concealing, it is vital for us to know. You have a very particular technique of hypnotism.’

‘That technique is only supposed to be used for the purpose of healing,’ Estarinel said grimly. ‘I should never have hypnotised Skord. It was wrong. After what happened to him, I swore I would never risk misusing the art again. Especially not on Medrian.’

‘Even though the risk of not doing so may be greater?’

‘No! Ashurek, I will not do it under any circumstances. Don’t ask me again.’

‘Very well. What do you suggest instead?’

‘I suggest you just leave her alone!’ Estarinel blazed. ‘I never really believed you were evil, Ashurek, but I am beginning to have my doubts.’

The Gorethrian sighed and turned away, his cloak swinging behind him. He leaned against a nearby tree and stood glaring down at Medrian, his lean arms folded.

Presently she began to recover. Her eyes fell shut and some colour came into her cheeks. Estarinel got her to drink some water, and she began to breathe evenly.

‘Yes, it is cold, isn’t it?’ she murmured. He bent his head to hear her, but she seemed to be talking to herself. ‘I am not yours, but I am hers, and the more you hate her, the more she will give me healing. You have not destroyed the wall yet. It is colder than you know…’

She awoke with a start and looked up in confusion at Estarinel. In one sinuous movement she drew herself out of his arms and stood up.

‘Now what?’ said Ashurek, looking levelly at her.

‘What do you mean?’ she said.

‘I hope you are not about to conveniently forget everything that has just transpired. I still require an answer.’

‘Then I must disappoint you,’ said Medrian curtly, picking up her pack. ‘I wanted to say something, but as you have observed, I cannot.’

‘In that case, don’t assume that we can still risk you coming with us.’

‘How do you propose to stop me?’

‘I don’t know,’ Ashurek said. ‘As you have the enviable talent of receiving fatal wounds without dying, I may have to think of something else.’

‘Understand,’ she said softly, lowering her eyes, ‘I never had any intention of harming you. I apologise for what happened. But I must come, Ashurek. I swear that you have no hope of finishing the Quest without me.’

‘And less hope of finishing it with you, apparently.’

‘Ashurek, let her alone and let us carry on,’ said Estarinel. ‘We all need to eat and rest by a good fire. Let’s forget all this and find somewhere to camp.’

‘Very well; I will say no more about it for the time being. But I will be watching you, Medrian – and be warned, I will see this matter resolved before ever we set foot in the Arctic.’

#

They spent one night in the forest with the sound of the distant river echoing as if through a great cave. In the morning they moved on. Forest gave way to a barren terrain of rock that changed gently from black to brown to russet as they crossed it. The ground became flatter, the trees sparse and stunted. The cold had only come in biting gusts before, but now it became constant and they knew that the true tundra was not far ahead.

They marched on for several more days, their isolation from each other growing more acute. The air between them seemed threaded with black wires of tension that both bonded them together and kept them apart. Medrian became totally withdrawn and barely spoke at all to either of them. Since the return to Earth she had become so thin it seemed impossible that she could walk such a distance every day. It was as if something had sucked from her the last remnant of the Blue Plane’s healing strength. The way she still carried on was unnatural. With her gaunt, white face and dark eyes, Estarinel, if he caught a sideways glimpse of her, often got the horrible impression of a walking skeleton, animated by some unknown, demonic purpose.

Almost as distressing was the way Ashurek kept her under observation, like some silent, omniscient bird of prey.

Estarinel had no real fear that Ashurek actually meant to harm Medrian; but sometimes he wondered if he should be more worried. He thought he’d grown to know Ashurek quite well, but now he realised he hardly knew him at all. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so sure that the Gorethrian’s behaviour would be predictable or even reliable.

Nor could he be certain that whatever madness induced Medrian to attack Ashurek would not possess her again. So he found himself watching them both, not with Ashurek’s suspicion, but with the love he had come to feel for both of them like a perpetual cold ache in his chest. And the invisible wires thickened and tightened about them like a bizarre, meshed cage that might exist in the Dark Regions.

Sometimes, in the darkest moments of the night, Estarinel would rest his hand on top of the Silver Staff and feel a sense of peace. The Staff’s innocence and power would flow into him until he felt reassured, purposeful, free from doubt and pain. The mood was transient; as soon as he broke contact with the Staff, his calm strength eluded him, not to be recaptured. So he viewed it as a false feeling. He could place no reliance on it. He came to avoid touching the Staff, lest it prove as treacherous and addictive as a drug.

In a cold blue morning they crossed an area of coppery rock patterned with concentric circles. The terrain was rough, dotted with windblown trees, with grass and hardy plants growing in every crevice. The rock blended gradually to pale red as they walked, and presently the landscape through which they were travelling became unearthly. The stone beneath their feet changed to a delicate pinkish mineral, rising all around them in strange, lacy formations like coral. It was fascinating to see, but hard to traverse. It yielded no vegetation for them to build a fire.

A couple of days further on, unusual plants appeared. There were huge pitchers, the height of a man, with gaping green mouths angled towards the sun. They had a smooth, sculptural beauty. There were fleshy obelisks with silver-blue tendrils writhing around them like mermaid hair in an eerie dance. Another sort bore flower-filled horns that lay along the ground, exuding sticky nectar to attract insects and rodents. Small decaying corpses were glued to to the lolling flower-tongues. The pitcher plants contained a viscous yellow fluid full of half-digested of birds and flies, and the tendrils of mermaid-hair were tangled with sparrows, bats, even owls.

All around these voracious organisms lived armoured insects the size of lobsters, scavenging whatever bits of flesh the plants dropped.

The travellers kept well clear of this carnivorous flora.

The tundra, which they’d dreaded reaching, now seemed enticing compared with this exquisite, venomous landscape. Further on the plants grew in thick profusion and the coral-pink rock was choked with the slimy remains of those that had died. Where there were too many, they sprang up and faded rapidly. The stench of decay was choking.

On the fourth evening, at sun set, they saw a boundary to the poison forest and clear land beyond. Relieved, they hurried through a final stand of mermaid-hairs, only to find themselves on the shore of a strange lake.

The far shore appeared about a mile distant, but to right and left, water stretched as far as the eye could see. However, it appeared only a few inches deep. A flat, sandy-gold lake bed gleamed just under the clear water, and the lake was dotted with cushiony clusters of stones. The air was ripe with sulphur. In the distance, mist curled from the water.

‘It looks shallow,’ said Estarinel. ‘Can we wade?’

‘I hope so,’ Ashurek replied. ‘The sooner we’re away from these ravenous plants, the happier I shall be. But we must be cautious. The floor of the lake could be quicksand.’ He knelt on the rock and touched the water, jerked out his hand with a curse. ‘It’s hot – boiling.’