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My fingers seemed frozen around the hilt of my sword, with all my joints locked and shrieking in pain. I could not even blink my eyes. My heart, though, still beat within me, quick and hard and hurtful, almost as with a will of its own. At last I found my will, and I raised back my sword.
‘Val, do not!’ Atara called out from somewhere near me. ‘Do not!’
I could not listen to her. I looked on in loathing as Morjin smiled at me and his features took on their true cast to reveal the hideous man that he had become: sagging flesh all pale with rot, stringy white hair and bloodshot eyes raging with hate. I struck out with my sword then, driving the gleaming point straight into his face. Nothing stopped this murderous thrust; it was as if I drove my sword through pure black air. And yet I felt a resistance to my sword’s silustria and its cutting edges, not of flesh and bone, but of spite and pain and cold. I fought this piercing numbness, and pulled back my sword. I stared at it in fury, for somehow the Ahrim’s substance had turned it black, like frozen iron. Then I stared at Morjin in horror, for even as I watched, his face became as my own, only blackened and twisted with hate.
‘You cannot defeat me,’ he said to me again.
Or perhaps it was the Ahrim that spoke these words to me, or myself – I could not tell. But some irresistible force moved the features of the thing standing before me.
There is a fear so terrible and deep that it turns one’s insides into a mass of sickened flesh and makes it seem that life cannot go on another moment. I stood there shaking and sweating and wanting to vomit up my very bowels. I knew that the dark thing standing before me had the power to kill me – and worse. But I seemed to have no power over it.
‘Val, fight!’ Maram shouted out from my left.
I was vaguely aware that he had sheathed his sword and taken out his firestone, for the long ruby crystal caught the sun’s rays in a glint of red light. And then, guided by Maram’s hand and heart, the crystal drank up the sun’s blaze and gave it out as a bolt of pure fire that streaked straight into the Ahrim. I felt the heat of this blast, but the Ahrim felt nothing. The face that seemed so very much my own just smiled at Maram as the black cavern of its mouth seemed ready to drink up more of Maram’s fire and his very life – and the lives of Master Juwain and Atara, too.
‘Yes, Val, fight!’ Atara called out to me, as she stood in a spray of crushed flowers by my side.
I stared at the dreadful thing wearing my face, and I wanted to fight it with every beat of my heart and down to my last breath. But how could I destroy something that was already nothing?
‘You know the way!’ Atara called to me again. ‘As it was at the farmhouse with the droghul!’
I glanced off into the trees, where Estrella stood looking at me. She seemed to have no fear of the Ahrim, but a great and terrible concern for me. I could feel her calling out to me in silence that I must always remember who I really was.
Then the Ahrim moved nearer to me – drawn, I sensed, by my blood and the kirax burning through it. Burning, yes, always hot and hateful, but something in this bitter poison seemed to awaken me to the immensity of pain that was life. And not just my own, but that of the trees standing around me tall and green, and the birds that made their nests among them, and the bees buzzing in the flowers, and everything. But life is much more than suffering. In all the growing things around me, I felt as well a wild joy and overflowing delight in just being alive. This was my gift, to sense in other creatures and people their deepest passions; Kane had once named this magic connection of mine as the valarda.
‘Valashu,’ the Ahrim seemed to whisper to me as it raised up its arm and opened out its fingers to me. ‘Take my hand.’
But Atara’s words sounded within me, too, as did Estrella’s silence and the song of the tanager piping out sweet and urgent from somewhere nearby. I finally caught sight of this little bird across the clearing to my right, perched high in the branches of a willow tree. It was a scarlet tanager, all round and red like the brightest of flowers. In the way it cocked its head toward me and sang just for me, it seemed utterly alive. Its heart beat even more quickly than did my own, like a flutter of wings, and it called me to take joy in the wild life within myself. There, too, I remembered, blazed a deep and unquenchable light.
‘Valashu Elahad.’
The Ahrim, I sensed, like a huge, blood-blackened tick, wanted my life. Very well, then I would give it that, and something more.
‘Val!’ Maram cried out to me. ‘Do what Atara said! What are you waiting for?’
At the farmhouse, Morjin had been unable to bear my anguish of love for my murdered family. What was it, I wondered, that the Ahrim could not bear? Its immense and terrifying anguish seemed to pour out through its black eyes and outstretched hand.
‘Now, Val!’ Master Juwain called to me. He stood staring at the Ahrim as he lifted his glowing, emerald crystal toward me in order to quicken the fires of my life.
Kane had told me, too, that I held inside my heart the greatest of weapons. It was what my gift became when I turned my deepest passion outward and wielded the valarda to open others’ hearts and brighten their souls. As I wielded it now. With Master Juwain feeding me the radiance of his green gelstei, and my other friends passing to me all that was beautiful and bright from within their own beings, I struck out at the Ahrim. Master Juwain believed that darkness could never be defeated by the sword, but he meant a length of honed steel and destruction, and not a sword of light.
ELAHAD!
For what seemed an age, all that was within me passed into the Ahrim in a blinding brilliance. But it was not enough. The Ahrim did not disintegrate into a shower of sparks, nor shine like the sun, nor did it disappear back into the void, like a snake swallowing its own tail. I sensed that I had only stunned it, if that was the right word, for it suddenly shrank into a ball of blackness and floated over toward an oak tree at the edge of the clearing. It seemed still to be watching me.
‘You have no power over me!’ I shouted at it. But my angry words seemed to make it grow a bit larger and even blacker, if that was possible.
Atara came up to me then, and laid her hand on my ice-cold hands, still locked onto the hilt of my sword. And she said to me, ‘Do not look at it. Close your eyes and think of the child that someday we’ll make together.’
I did as she asked, and my heart warmed with the brightest of hopes. And when I opened my eyes, the Ahrim had disappeared.
‘But where did it go?’ Maram asked, coming over to me. ‘And will it return?’
Daj came running out of the trees toward me, followed by Liljana and Estrella. All my friends gathered around me. And I told them, ‘It will return. In truth, I am not sure it is really gone.’
As I stood there trying to steady my breathing, I still felt the dark thing watching me, from all directions – and from my insides, as if it could look out at me through my very soul.
‘But what is it?’ Daj asked yet again. He turned toward Alphanderry who had remained almost rooted to the clearing’s floor during the whole time of our battle. ‘You called it the Ahrim. What does that mean?’
‘Hoy, the Ahrim, the Ahrim – I do not know!’
‘I suppose the name just came to you?’ Maram said, glaring at him.
‘Yes, it did. Like –’
‘Drops of blood on a cross!’ Maram snapped. ‘That thing is evil.’
‘So are all of Morjin’s illusions,’ Liljana said. ‘But that was no illusion.’
‘No, certainly not,’ Master Juwain said. Now he, too, touched his hand to my hands. He touched my face and told me, ‘Your fingers are frozen – and your nose and cheeks are frostbitten.’
I would have looked at myself in Alkaladur’s shimmering surface, but the silustria was an ugly black and I could see nothing.
‘It was so cold,’ I said. ‘So impossibly cold.’
I watched as the sun’s rays fell upon my sword and the blade slowly brightened to a soft silver. So it was with my dead-white flesh: the warm spring air thawed my face and hands with a hot pain that flushed my skin. Master Juwain held his green crystal over me to help the healing along. Soon I found that I could open and close my fingers at will, and I did not worry that they would rot with gangrene and have to be cut off. But forever after, I knew, I would feel the Ahrim’s terrible coldness burning through me, even as I did the kirax in my blood.
A sudden gleam of my sword gave me to see a truth to which I had been blind. And I said to Alphanderry, with much anger, ‘You do know things about the Ahrim, don’t you? It has something to do with the Skadarak, doesn’t it?’
At the mention of this black and blighted wood at the heart of Acadu, Alphanderry hung his head in shame. And then he found the courage to look at me as he said, ‘It was there, waiting, Val. During our passage, it attached itself to you. It has been following you ever since.’
‘Following!’ I half-shouted. ‘All the way to Hesperu, and back, to the Brotherhood’s school? And then here, to my home? Why could I not see it? And why could Abrasax not see it – he who can see almost everything?’
Again, Alphanderry shrugged his shoulders.
‘But how is it,’ I demanded, ‘that you can see it?’
It was Daj who answered for him. He passed his hand through Alphanderry’s watery-like form, and said, ‘But how not, since they are made of the same substance!’
Master Juwain regarded the glimmering tones that composed Alphanderry’s being. He said, ‘Similar, perhaps, but certainly not the same.’
I waved my hand at such useless speculations, and I called out to Alphanderry, ‘But why did you never tell me of this thing?’
The look on his face was that of a boy stealing back to his room after dark. He said to me simply, ‘I didn’t want to worry you, Val.’
‘Oh, excellent, excellent!’ Maram muttered, shaking his head. ‘Well, I am worried enough for all of us, now. What I wonder is why that filthy Ahrim, whatever it is, attacked us here? And more important, what will keep it away?’
But none of us, not even Alphanderry, had an answer to these questions. As it was growing late, it seemed the best thing we could do would be to leave these strange woods behind us as soon as possible.
‘Come,’ I said, clapping Maram on the shoulder. ‘Let’s go get some of that roast beef and beer you’ve been wanting for so long.’
After that, I pulled myself up onto Altaru’s back, and my friends mounted their horses, too. I pointed the way toward Lord Harsha’s farm with all the command and assurance that I could summon. But as we rode off through the shadowed trees, I felt the dark thing called the Ahrim still watching me and still waiting, and I knew with heaviness in my heart that it would be no easy task for me to become king.
2 (#ulink_a548d4a9-02c2-54b9-a77a-f68534768573)
We came out of the woods with the late sun touching the farmland of the Valley of the Swans with an emerald blaze. To the west, the three great mountains, Telshar, Arakel and Vayu, rose up as they always had with their white-capped peaks pointing into the sky. Lord Harsha’s large stone house stood framed against the sacred Telshar: a bit of carved and mortared granite almost lost against the glorious work of stone that the Ieldra had sung into creation at the beginning of time. We caught Lord Harsha out weeding his wheatfield to the east of his house. When he heard the noise of our horses trampling through the bracken, he straightened up and shook his hoe at us as he peered at us with his single eye. He called out to us: ‘Who is it who rides out of the wildwood like outlaws at this time of day? Announce yourselves, or I’ll have to go and get my sword!’
Lord Harsha, I thought, would prove a formidable opponent against outlaws – or anyone else – with only his iron-bladed hoe to wield as a weapon. Despite a crippled leg and his numerous years, his thick body retained a bullish power. And even though he wore only a plain woolen tunic, he bore on his finger a silver ring showing the four brilliant diamonds of a Valari lord. A black eyepatch covered part of his face; twelve battle ribbons had been tied to his long, white hair, and in all of Mesh, there were few warriors of greater renown.
‘Outlaws, is it?’ I called back to him. ‘Have our journeys really left us looking so mean?’
So saying, I threw back the hood of my cloak and rode forward a few more paces. I came to the low wall edging Lord Harsha’s field. Once, I remembered, I had sat there with Maram, my brother Asaru and his squire, Joshu Kadar, as we had spoken with Lord Harsha about fighting the Red Dragon and ending war – and other impossible things.
‘Who is it?’ Lord Harsha called out again. His single eye squinted as the sun’s slanting rays burned across my face. ‘Announce yourself, I say!’
‘I am’ I called back to him, ‘the seventh son of Shavashar Elahad, whose father was King Elkamesh, who named me –’
‘Valashu Elahad!’ Lord Harsha shouted. ‘It can’t be! But surely it must be, even though I don’t know how!’
I dismounted and climbed over the wall. Lord Harsha came limping up to me, and he embraced me, pounding my back with his hard, blunt hands. Then he pulled back to fix me with his single, bright eye.
‘It is you,’ he said, ‘but you look different, forgive me. Older, of course, but not so much on the outside as within. And something else. Something has lit a fire in you, like that star you were named for. At last. When you skulked out of Mesh last year, you did seem half an outlaw. But now you stand here like a king.’
I bowed my head to him, and he returned this grace, inclining his head an inch lower than mine. And he said to me, ‘You have his look, you know.’
‘Whose look?’ I asked him.
‘King Elkamesh’s,’ he said. ‘When he was a young knight. I never saw the resemblance until today’
I smiled at him, and told him, ‘It is good to be home, Lord Harsha.’
‘It is good to have you home.’ His gaze took in Maram and my other companions, who had nudged their horses up to the wall and dismounted as well. And Lord Harsha pointed at Alphanderry and said, ‘I count eight of you, altogether, and eight it was who set out for Argattha. But here rides a stranger in Kane’s place. Don’t tell me such a great warrior has fallen!’
‘He has not fallen,’ I said, ‘as far as I know. But circumstances called him to Galda. And as for Argattha, we did not journey there after all.’
‘No – that is clear. If you had, we would not be gathered here having this discussion. But where then did you journey?’
I looked at Maram, who said, ‘Ah, that is a long story, sir. Might we perhaps discuss it over dinner? For more miles than I can tell you, I’ve been hoping to sit down to some of Behira’s roast beef and few glasses of your excellent beer.’
At the mention of his daughter’s name, I felt something inside Lord Harsha tighten, and he said to Maram, ‘It’s been a bad year, as you will find out, and so you will have to settle on some chops of lamb or perhaps a roasted chicken. But beer we still have in abundance – surely Behira will be glad to pour you all you can drink.’
He motioned for us to follow him, and we led our horses around his field toward his house. Although I still felt a dark presence watching my every movement, Lord Harsha seemed completely unaware of the Ahrim or that we had fought a battle for our lives scarcely an hour before. As we passed the barn and drew up closer to the house, he called out in his gruff voice: ‘Behira – come out and behold what the wind has blown our way!’
A few moments later, the thick wooden door of the house opened, and Lord Harsha’s only remaining child stepped out to greet us. Like Lord Harsha, Behira was sturdy of frame and wore a rough woolen tunic gathered in with a belt of black leather. With her ample breasts and wide hips that Maram so appreciated, my mother had once feared that Behira might run to fat. But time had treated this young woman well, for she had lost most of her plumpness while retaining all that made her pretty, and more. Her long hair gleamed a glossy black like a sable’s coat, and her large, lovely eyes regarded Maram boldly, and so with the rest of us. I might have expected that she would run out and fall into Maram’s arms, but time had changed her in other ways, too. The rather demure and good-natured girl, it seemed, had become a proud and strong-willed woman.
‘Lord Marshayk!’ she called out to Maram with an uncomfortable formality. ‘Lord Elahad! You’ve come back!’
So it went as she greeted all of us in turn, and then her gaze drew back to Maram. I sensed in her a churning sea of emotions: astonishment; shame; adoration; confusion. I felt hot blood burning up through her beautiful face as she said, ‘Oh, but we’ve much to talk about, and you will all want a good hot bath before we do. I’ll go and heat the water’
And with that she bowed to us, and went back into the house. The explanations for her strange behavior, I thought, would have to wait until we cleaned ourselves. After Behira had filled the cedarwood tub in the bathing room, we went inside the house and took turns immersing our bodies in steaming hot water: first Atara, Liljana and Estrella took a rare pleasure in washing away their cares, and then Master Juwain, Maram, Daj and I. While Master Juwain and Daj were pulling on fresh tunics, Lord Harsha came into the wood-paneled bathing room to inform us that dinner would soon be ready. He eyed the strange, round scars marring Maram’s great hairy body, but did not remark upon them. He seemed to be waiting for a more appropriate moment to tell of things that he was loath to tell and to hear of things that he might not want to hear.
At last, when we were all well-scrubbed and attired in clean clothing, Lord Harsha called us to dinner at his long table just off his great room. As we were about to take our seats, the clopping of a horse’s hooves against the dirt lane outside made me draw my sword and hurry over to the door. I said to Lord Harsha, ‘We have enemies we haven’t told you about, and we are not ready to make our presence known.’
‘It’s all right,’ he said to me as he stood by the window and peered out into the twilight. ‘It’s only Joshu Kadar – in all the excitement, I forgot to tell you that we’ve invited him to dinner. Surely you can trust him’.
Surely, I thought, I could. Joshu had been Asaru’s squire, and he had stood by the horses that day when Salmelu had shot me with his poisoned arrow – and he had served my brother faithfully at the Culhadosh Commons as well.
‘All right,’ I said, sheathing my sword and leaning it against the side of the table. ‘But please let me know if you are expecting anyone else.’
Lord Harsha opened the door and invited Joshu inside. The youth I remembered from the days when Asaru and I had taught him fighting skills had grown into a powerful man nearly as tall as I. He wore a single battle ribbon in his long hair. With his square face and strong features, he had a sort of overbearing handsomeness that reminded me of my brother, Yarashan. But in his manner Joshu seemed rather modest, respectful and even sweet. The moment he saw me, he nearly dropped the bouquet of flowers that he was holding and called out happily: ‘Lord Valashu! Thank the stars you have returned! We all thought you were dead!’
He bowed his head to me, then greeted Master Juwain with the great affection that many of my people hold for the masters of the Brotherhood. With perfect politeness he likewise said hello to the rest of our company, but when he came to Maram, I felt the burn of embarrassment heating up his face, and he could hardly speak to him. He gave his flowers to Behira, who put them in a blue vase which she set on the table along with platters of food and pitchers of dark, frothy beer.
There came an awkward moment as Lord Harsha took his place at the head of the table and Joshu sat down in the chair to his right. I had the place of honor at the opposite end of the table, with Maram to my right and Atara at my left. It seemed a strange thing for Alphanderry to join us, for he didn’t so much sit upon his chair as occupy its space. He could of course eat no food nor imbibe no drink, and soon enough we would have to explain his strange existence as best we could. But as Behira seated herself across from Joshu, it came time for other explanations.
‘Well, here it is,’ Lord Harsha said, looking at Maram. Lord Harsha was not a man of subterfuge or nuance, and he had put off this unpleasant task longer than he had liked. ‘We did think you were dead, and too bad for that. And so I had to promise my daughter to another’
As Behira looked across the table at Joshu, and Joshu lowered his eyes toward the empty plate in front of him, Maram’s ruddy face flushed an even brighter red. And he called out, ‘But you said that you’d wait for our return!’
Lord Harsha sighed as he rubbed at his eye, and then said, ‘We did wait, for as long as seemed wise. Longer than a year it was. But you had told us that you were going to Argattha, and so what was there really to wait for?’
As Maram fought back his rising choler, he fell strangely silent. And so I spoke for him, saying, ‘We had indeed planned to go to Argattha, but in the end we set out on a different quest. My apologies if we misled you. It seemed the safest course, however, for then you could not betray our mission should any of our enemies come here and question you.’
Now Lord Harsha’s face filled with a choler of its own. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, which he too had leaned against the edge of the table. He said, ‘I have taken steel, wood and iron through my body in service of your father and grandfather, and have never betrayed anyone!’
I said to Lord Harsha: ‘My apologies, sir. But you know what the Red Dragon and the Prince of Ishka did to my mother and grandmother. Don’t be so sure you would be able to keep your silence if he did the same to your daughter.’
Lord Harsha removed his hand from his sword and made a fist. He looked at it a moment, before saying to me, ‘No, my apologies, Lord Valashu. These are hard, bad times. You did what you had to do, as we have done. And it’s good that we’re gathered here together, for this is a family matter, and you and your friends are like family to Sar Maram. And so you should advise him on what our course should be.’
‘What can our course be?’ Maram said. ‘Other than this: you promised Behira to me first! And promises must be kept!’
Lord Harsha pressed his hand against his eye patch as if he could still feel the piercing pain of the arrow that long ago had half-blinded him. And he said to Maram, ‘On the field of the Raaswash more than two years ago, you promised to wed my daughter, and I still see no ring upon her finger’
Now it was Behira’s turn to make a fist as she set her right hand over her left.
‘But I had duties!’ Maram said to Lord Harsha. ‘There were quests to be undertaken, journeys to be made, to Tria, across the Wendrush – and beyond. And the battles we fought were –’
‘Excuses,’ Lord Harsha snapped out. ‘For three years, you’ve been making excuses and putting my daughter off. Well, now it’s too late.’
‘But I love Behira!’ Maram half-shouted.
At this, Behira lifted up her head and turned to gaze down the table at Maram. Her face brightened with hope and longing. It was the first time, I thought, that either she or any of us had heard Maram announce his affection for her so openly.
‘Love,’ Lord Harsha said to Maram, ‘is the fire that lights the stars, and we should all surrender up our deepest love to the One that created them. And a father loves his daughter, which is why I promised Behira to you in the first place, for every hour I had to bear my daughter’s talk of loving you. But everyone knows that such love matches often end unhappily. That kind of love is only for the stars, not for men and women, for it quickly burns out.’
At this, I reached over and took hold of Atara’s hand. The warmth of her fingers squeezing mine reminded me of that bright and beautiful star to which our souls would always return. I did not believe that it could ever die.
‘Are you saying,’ Maram asked Lord Harsha, ‘that a man should not love his wife?’
