Samples from books that we have published at Eartherean Books.
This is another in a series from the fourth book in the 4-book series The Doom-Quest of Ara-Karn: Darkbridge.
© 2009 by A. Adam Corby
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License.
The Ancient Path
ALLISSÁL strained her eyes in the gloom. God was but a sickle. His brightness danced coldly off the waters of the sea and the snow-mantled hills, and a sea-mist spread the light.
Stretched at the foot of the slopes below her, the silver ribbon of the beach sundered sea from land. At one point the ribbon was broken by a rocky outcrop shaped like a rude quay thrusting into the surf. Iron rods, shining with a skin of ice, were driven deep and twisted fast into the rock, and from those innumerable rods stretched the strands of an immense cable that ran through a ship grounded upon the shallows. From the first ship the cable ran to a second a few feet beyond, also parallel to the line of the shore. Beyond the second ship lay a third, beyond the third a fourth. So a train of ships curved across the deep swells of the sea. As far as her eye could see, the cable ran from ship to ship, vanishing at last in the glimmering mist.
‘Darkbridge,’ murmured Estar Kane. For the first and only time she heard in the Madpriest’s voice a note of respect – almost of religious reverence.
Then his horse stirred and one of his mongrel dogs growled, and he gestured roughly. ‘Come, will you stand here till the end of time?’
Wordlessly she followed him.
They rode down the slick ledges. The outcrop grew as she approached it: she had misjudged the stone’s immensity, and the number of rods fastened to it. As they neared the outcropping a dozen low shapes sprang from crevices in the rock.
‘Your name,’ the little figures cried, ‘and your goal!’
‘I am Estar Kane,’ the Madpriest answered in tones used opon inferiors. ‘I bring an exile who seeks the world beyond.’
They clapped their hands and piped, ‘The fee, the fee, great Estar Kane!’
‘Take it,’ he said, and threw them the pouch of jewels. ‘For my own part I take only a single diamond with the glitter of the Eye of God. Do you likewise take but a gem to share amongst you. Pay the rest to Darkbridge.’
‘It shall be done, it shall be done,’ they said, examining the jewels. ‘Is it not always so? But what else do you have, Great One, for Darkbridge?’
‘This, and these,’ he said, drawing from his belt a small pouch of bandarskin. He rode to the point where the great cable twisted together from the union of the many strands anchored on the rock. He leaned down from the saddle, and shook out the pouch over the joining-point, where the strands twisted into one.
Something shook out of the pouch, and entered the twisting maze of strands. It was not a thing Allissál could see – rather she heard it, like a hundred voices of men, groaning, fiercely striving, and dying.
The sounds faded, and seemed to echo from deeper in the cable where it passed away from ship to ship.
‘Souls for Darkbridge!’ the hooded creatures sang. ‘Truly, Great One, to take life is to give life to dark God!’
The Madpriest rode back down before Allissál. ‘They will take you the rest of the way. I do not go to the world beyond, or nearer to the sea than this. A prophecy once warned me I would meet my death from water. Go beyond and find your doom, O golden slayer of Al-Tah.’
He brought his horse about and whipped the dogs up the slope, galloping after them. She heard the clatter of his hooves upon the icy stone but did not watch him leave. She had a great desire to shout some parting curse upon his back, but as she considered her choices her detestation for him wilted. He had not molested her, had shared his food and drink, and had kept straitly to his bargain. It was true, he had also insulted her beyond all measure, but when she considered this world in which he lived, she did not wonder he was insane.
A wave of sudden understanding, almost of sympathy, washed over her. That man took no women he could not buy or beat into submission. She had seen with what respect he had treated the body of his friend. How lonely and pained must be the existence of such a man, who dwelt only with his own arrogant pride as a substitute for friendship! The thought of Ara-Karn occurred to her, alone in the Hall of Justice of the Black Citadel; then she looked up and saw the falling moon, an aged crescent ready to die.
‘Come, come!’ the voices chirped. Little bent hands tugged at her boots and black hose. ‘Come, the tide is high!’
‘Truly, yours is a handsome horse. A great beast, a noble beast! Will you take it Beyond?’
‘There will be danger is she does.’
‘But truly, she has paid well. Look at this jewel! Surely enough for two. Truly, Darkbridge receives his fees! He is thankful for these gifts from Ara-Karn!’
It was a shock to hear that name spoken so familiarly even here, far beyond the world. ‘What do you know of Ara-Karn?’
‘Ara-Karn, Son to Kaan!’ they chanted. ‘Such fees for Darkbridge! First the lord gives us Ul Raambar, and then he sweeps the lands, and so many wish to escape him – many rich enough for Darkbridge, the rest rich enough to rob!’
Clustering about Kis Halá’s flanks they brought her to the end of the huge rocky outcropping, where heavy planks led to the edge of the first ship.
‘Decide now, the tide slips. Will you take your horse? If so you must ride it all the way you can, and it will be your own charge. Few horses like the roll of ships and sound of water all around.’
‘I cannot leave her here.’ She looked back. Kis Halá in the hands of these starving, stunted wretches? – or worse, stumbling about in snowbound darkness until she was devoured by some great beast of prey? ‘Give me a moment to muffle her eyes and ears with this wrap.’
‘Yes, yes, but hurry, the tide beckons.’
‘…I am ready. Show me the way.’
They led Kis Halá across the planks. The deck of the ship was planked and re-planked many times, covered with damp straw and sand. Musty odors arose from it as of some well-traveled road in the rain.
The sound of the hooves on the planks brought other dark-robed figures from hatches on the ship. They stood in groups, gesturing and muttering in low tones.
‘What do they here?’ she asked her guides.
‘Truly they live here, woman with a shadow.’
One of the newcomers came forward. Larger than the others, still he would only have risen to the belt of Estar Kane. Her guide went to him, or her; they embraced and conferred. Kis Halá grew nervous, and stamped a hoof and shook her head as if to be rid of the wrappings over her eyes. Absently Allissál stroked the broad warm head. She tried to catch what the stunted people said. The words were hushed and spoken in that strange dialect of the barbarians’ tongue, but there were two words she caught: her guide saying ‘—Kane!’ and the other gasping in amazement, ‘No!’ Apparently her warrior-guide was feared throughout these dark lands. For a moment she wondered who he really was, and what he had been before he had gone mad and fled the Sun.
‘Haste, haste!’ urged another guide. ‘The tides move whether we do or not!’
The leader rejoined them and they started forward again. Across to the second ship they took her, then to the third. Here more of the creatures labored, repairing a hole in the prow. Her curiosity increased. ‘Who are these people?’ she asked.
‘Truly, we are the fleas in the mane of Darkbridge,’ they replied. ‘We are not like the warriors, the holy brigands like the great Estar Kane. We are humble folk, fishermen and carpenters and the like. We guide folk across and they make sure Darkbridge is well. Others still repair the Cable that is the spine of Darkbridge, twining rope and covering the cable with resin. And all is done in accordance with His will, with what we buy with fees and loot.’
‘There must be a good deal of that if you can maintain this great bridge against the storms,’ she said. Now they had reached the sixth ship.
‘Enough – and more than enough, since he came!’
‘Why are the ships not turned end to end? It must require many more ships this way.’
‘Truly. But only thus may Darkbridge ride the storms and currents without the Cable snapping like a hair from woman’s brow. Darkbridge is great, but greater still is the God-swollen Sea.’
‘How many ships are there in all? How far have we to go?’
‘Far, far, O woman with a shadow!’ They laughed. ‘Would you skip from world to world in a twinkling? And then, when the swells grow dangerous, we must stop and wait for the sea to rise again.’
‘How was Darkbridge built?’
‘It was long ago, lady with a shadow. Long, long! We were giants in those times, when they drove us from our lands. They chased us into the darkness to our deaths, and all in Her name – Hers! That is why we curse Her and spit upon Her robes! Oh, but they were giants then. Warlord Borun-Kane built it, bridging the seas in seven strides, gathering whole ships under his arms. Have you never heard of Borun-Kane?’
‘Never.’
‘Truly? Not so much as even his name?’
‘Never. Not a word.’
‘Blessed are the ignorant! Truly it was said that those who cast shadows are rendered mad by the blinding light. Never heard of Borun-Kane! – But then, you must have heard of the wizard Enpsit Ennahael who made the Cable, and put into its heart a single strand of Borun-Kane’s hair so long it spanned the distance, so that never has the Cable parted?’
‘No, nor of the wizard either.’
‘Truly, truly!’ They seemed amazed at her answers.
‘And do you do all these things,’ she asked, ‘—Repair the ships, fish, give birth, grow old and die – all in darkness hidden from the Sun?’
‘Ah! Do not speak that name! We spit upon Her skirts, we curse Her name! Speak not of Her lest you bring down His wroth and we be forced to throw you over the side in apology to Darkbridge!’ So they cried in terror and anger; and afterwards went on in stony silence as if she had offended them.
They crossed over many ships. When the tide fell they stopped in the hold of one ship, ate hot food and slept in small dark bunks beneath thick blankets. She refused such comfort, preferring the open deck by her mare, so that Kis Halá might not grow too afraid. The little people seemed to respect her moods without understanding them, treating her with as much real courtesy as she had ever received at court.
When the tide rose they went on. She became more and more impressed with Darkbridge and the knowledge required to construct and maintain such a formidable structure. Yet the little people seemed more interested with tales and legends of Ara-Karn; they asked her of him so many times that in the end she had to answer them.
‘I will tell you of him,’ she said, ‘if first you tell me what you know of Elna.’
‘Al-Nah, Al-Nah!’ they chanted. ‘Do you know nothing of the Traitor either then? Al-Nah was a mighty killer, and he won to chieftain of his tribe red-handed when he had but twelve winters. He led raids and was honored in blood-brotherhood by Tont Ornoth and Borun-Kane himself; but in the mountains of Bolla-Kar, Al-Nah was bewitched by the Whore-Priestess. She seduced Al-Nah from God, so that to become her consort he betrayed his tribesmen to the other priestesses, who slew them all with golden needles. Then Al-Nah led the Low Peoples against the tribes, and drove us into darkness.
‘Borun-Kane called down the Jade Eye from heaven, but even its magic was to no avail. So with their powers Borun-Kane and Enpsit Ennahael made the Darkness flower, and delivered us from the clutches of the women’s-cult, all thanks be given to the Two! But Al-Nah lost the battle in his heart, and grew weak. He came to depend upon the women’s-cult in all things; and when he woke from his sleep, he found that the Whore-Priestess was no longer beautiful but old and wrinkled and toothless, and serpents oozed out of her belly. Then in fear Al-Nah would have repented, and went to the mountains crying to Borun-Kane to admit him into the Darkness. But Borun-Kane his brother only laughed, and told him, “With women have you cast your lot, and betrayed your brothers – therefore with women you may stay, and watch them betray you in the arms of others.” So you are answered, O woman with a shadow. Now tell us truly of Ara-Karn. Has he indeed risen from the shores of the dead?’
‘So he says,’ she answered at last.
‘What it must be like to meet the Son of Kaan! Have you ever seen him? Is he truly without shadow even in those blinding lands? And does his touch bring death?’
‘He is a man like any other man,’ she said. Her tone admitted no further conversation – moreover they did not believe her.
They journeyed on over the ships rocking and groaning against one another, the sound of the waters in their ears.
A light snow began to fall, so that the moon above, starved to the thinness of a nail, gave but a faint glow in the darkness. A great wave swelled beneath them, sweeping by, swinging the planking back and forth, stretching without parting. Kis Halá became alarmed, and swung her head violently, shaking loose the muffler. She grew stiff with terror at the sight of the waves below: neighed, stumbled.
Another wave swung past; Allissál took Kis Halá’s head firmly in hand, trying to put back the wrappings, but it was too late. The mare’s left foreleg plunged over the edge of the planks, the ships rocked as a new wave passed. Kis Halá neighed with terror, Allissál screamed and there was a loud splash.
Again she screamed, her fingers bleeding from cuts the reins had left. There was a mad plashing from the ice below; a choked whinny. Then a loud thump sounded, as of a body knocking against the side of the ship.
And silence.
She was gone, now. Kis Halá was dead.
Gently, fearfully, a hand plucked at her robes. ‘Haste, haste,’ they murmured. ‘Did we not say that there would be danger? Perhaps the fee was not enough. Anyway now Darkbridge has your horse: you cannot have it back. The tide falls quickly. We go.’
‘Yes,’ she said. She did not move. The tears were falling blindly from her eyes, but otherwise she was strangely calm. What had she ever done, she wondered, to warrant such punishments? But she knew, she knew, and was transformed in suffering. And then it seemed all right. It was as if she had always known it must happen so.
She straightened, pushing back the hood from her head. The little flakes of snow bit the back of her neck. She looked up into the falling snow. Another wave rocked the ship. What was it he had said about swells of destiny? She took a step, feeling his dagger chafe her thigh. Once she had been a queen with handmaids at her call, once she had been the rider of a great horse. Now she was only a wretched woman standing in the cold.
She looked back to the ships stretching behind her, back to the world she had known, back where swift black currents carried Kis Halá’s corpse to the mouths of the great reptilian fishes of the Dark Seas.
The light snow fell like a wet mist upon her lips. The line of ships stretched before and behind, vanishing behind the veil of snow. The land was gone as utterly as the Sun. Only ships and waves existed. She stood there, her short hair wet with melting snow; unbound, without place or home or hearth, past or future or name or face in that onetime world, as she trod upon hollow planks at the side of dark unknown creatures going whither she knew not. A great, abiding emptiness filled her.
‘It is enough,’ the little ones were saying. ‘The tides are down and it is the last pass of God. It is the pass of the ritual! Go below and rest, but give over this weeping, O woman with a shadow! Do not act as though Darkbridge has offended you! Below, below!’
Passive and uncomprehending, she let them usher her below deck. The ancient hold was covered over to keep it dry from the storms. Yet it was visible to her eyes now. They had divided it into a rude hall, with sleeping-berths open to both sides. At the far end an open space was strewn with bundles of rope, used in repairing the cable.
Weary now beyond measure, Allissál sat upon the edge of one of the berths.
The melting ice slid from her hair to her shoulders and naked neck like cold, close kisses. She noticed she was weeping. Putting off the cloak, she curled up on the berth and slept.
And for the first time since she left Goddess, she dreamed.
§
SHE STOOD in the White Tower, hearing again the tread of the barbarian guards beyond the doors. Once again she gave Emsha instructions and had herself arrayed in a lora belonging to one of her maidens. Once again she went below, beneath the guardians’ watchful eyes, and once again she found the secret hollow and went beneath the earth.
She followed the caves and reached at length a vast hall arched over beneath the streets of High Town, near to the end of the road. Upon either side of that hall a row of ornately-carven stone benches stretched. And sitting hugely on the benches, all her ancestors, the Emperors and Queens nal Bordakasha, turned their heads and regarded her. There were Ilazrius and Phorantilar and Velarion and Merriskil and Jarilharijen and the others. And at their head Elna himself bestrode a great gold throne.
In deathly stillness they regarded her as she passed down among them. When she reached the throne she stopped. Elna looked into her eyes, put his huge hand over her head, and said in a great, booming, melancholy voice,
‘O Daughter, and will you let us all now die?’
‘But Father,’ she answered, ‘And was it all a lie?’
He bent his huge head and let close his broad moon’s-eyes; and she knew that the tales of the Madpriests were true. So she lowered herself before him and passed through the door in the wall between his legs, and awoke miserable and bereaved.
§
THE SOUND of the rituals of the little folk rang in her ears. Silently she gathered her cloak and went up on deck.
They sat in a circle in the main deck. Muffled in green robes, they wore about their waists a green-dyed rope that tied them in a circle, so that, from above, they would have appeared as the outline of the jade Orb itself. The snow was still falling, making of the masts and riggings and coils of ropes and the railings spectral lines glowing in the darkness of Earth’s eternal shadow. Already the snow had coated the concealing cloaks of the small men and women, yet strangely, in the very center of their ring the snow melted and dried as soon as it fell. It seemed to Allissál as though that central dark circle was slowly, inexorably growing.
She sat behind them, unnoticed. In the snow she crossed her legs tight and close to her hips, so that she rested her forearms upon her knees and sat quite straight. She felt neither sadness nor dread, nor loneliness, nor joy, but she felt the alien beauty of the scene and was bound by it. She knew she would never behold its like again. There upon the snowy deck of a ship tied to a thousand others all rocking on the belly of the deep black sea, the Madpriests of Darkbridge chanted their old, old song:
O God, do not give off Wandering.
O God, do not leave us so.
Return once more
Renewed and strong,
To axe in twain the sky
And rain its blood your bounty in our mouths.
O God, do not weaken in desire.
O God, do not leave us so.
Renounce those suits,
Grow strong in lust,
And take from her your right.
So let her cries be music for our ears.
O God, do not grant them peace.
O God, do not leave us so.
Loose all the hates
And sicken them
With envy and your rage
Make them cut and make them howl,
Their war and death shall clothe and prosper us.
O God, O God, our only God:
We follow you and offer you
Blood and fire and largess of the slain,
Corpses high and deep.
O God, O God, our only God:
Lacking you we have lost all,
Our mind, our heart, our very flesh:
There is naught but you.
Rise up anew,
Be freed of death,
Hide not but hoe
And leave those weeds in slaughter.
O God, do not give off Wandering.
O God, do not leave us so
Return once more
Renewed and strong.
To axe in twain the sky
And rain its life our bounty on our heads!
Again the little folk sang their verses. She heard the same song echoed and re-echoed by all the circles on all the other ships; and the chant of them went aloft against the muffling silent snow, forlorn as the call of a maimed gerlin to its lost mate.
And Allissál thought of him.
