A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

Eldor had said so little, and he was disconcerted by the two people with whom he was expected to travel. Instinctively he felt he would be stronger alone. Estarinel at least had a genuine motive for wanting to destroy the Serpent; but the Forluinish were a gentle, peaceful people with little knowledge of travel, and none at all of war. No amount of fervour could make up for inexperience or cowardice, he thought. As for Medrian, no one could have more reason for loathing him than an Alaakian. He did not trust her. His only choice was to confront her.
    He turned to her and said, ‘How can you, an Alaakian, consider going on a Quest with any Gorethrian, let alone me?’
    She looked up, her shadowy eyes meeting his. He resisted an impulse to avoid her gaze. ‘It was a long time ago,’ she said thinly. ‘Eight years; nearer nine.’
    ‘So time excises patriotism?’ he demanded sharply.
    ‘Apparently.’ The merest hint of a cold smile touched her face.
    Ashurek let out a slow breath.
    ‘As I said, the Gorethrians are now my enemies also.’ The sardonic note in his voice gave way to regret. ‘I need to be sure that we can ignore enmities between our countries for the duration of the Quest.’
    ‘Then be assured. I no longer care about Gorethria. I don’t care about anything, except this Quest,’ Medrian said in the same faint, icy tone.
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    Estarinel, meanwhile, witnessed this exchange with increasing foreboding. He did not know what he had expected to find at the House of Rede; certainly not these two cold strangers, who apparently hated each other on sight. He longed for the warm companionship of his friends. He was acutely aware that in some twelve hours’ time he would be truly severed from them, perhaps never to see them again. Had he been rash in agreeing to travel with Ashurek? Perhaps his Forluinish instinct to trust and befriend strangers had betrayed him already. He began to feel less and less fitted for the Quest, more and more uncertain of himself.
    ‘Listen,’ he began. ‘We three are now committed to undertake a journey together. We must learn something of each other, understand each other’s motives so that…’ he trailed off as he saw the dangerous narrowing of Ashurek’s eyes and the even bleaker cold of Medrian’s.
    ‘Very well,’ said the Gorethrian. ‘You are right, of course. I said I would explain myself to you. But tell us of Forluin first; then I will relate my story, and then it will be Medrian’s turn.’
    So Estarinel repeated the sad story in full to the two, who had previously heard of his country only as a distant and fabulous green land, of no importance in world affairs. And as he spoke he saw not the dark and the pale faces before him, or the recesses of Eldor’s kitchen, but the land he had recently left and perhaps lost forever.

Chapter Two. The Coming of the Worm
    Forluin, Maerna and Ohn were lands of legend, half-forgotten by the rest of the world. Few foreigners ever went there, and those who did tended not to return. Forluin was indeed a place of beauty and peace, and so remote from any other land that even the voracious Gorethrians had never made the long sea-voyage to conquer it. Tearnians regarded it with awe and longing, whereas those of the Gorethrian Empire dismissed it as a country of cowardly farmers and peasants, barely worth invasion. Yet there was more, which none would admit: that Forluin and its neighbours were somehow protected by enchantment. Their very names seemed to induce a dream-like apathy that washed away any idea of making war upon the lands, or even of visiting them. And this, it was whispered, was because of their enigmatic connection with the Blue Plane H’tebhmella.
    The Forluinish themselves rarely ventured from their country, except for the occasional horse-trading expedition to An’raaga, the nearest tip of the Gorethrian continent, or visits to the more hospitable parts of Tearn. Those that met the Forluinish spoke warmly of their