Sean Russell - River Into Darkness 2 - Compass of the Soul

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Book Information:

Genre: Fantasy

Author: Sean Russell

Name: Compass of the Soul

Series: River Into Darkness 2

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Compass of the Soul

River Into Darkness 2

By Sean Russell

Chapter One

She was reborn from the earth, emerging from a dark womb of stone into the ancient light of a new

morning. A shaft of diffuse light lanced through the trees to caress her skin. Warmth…

Let it sink into my very bones, Anna thought, almost certain she would be cold to her center for the rest

of her days.

A bird lighted on a branch not a yard away, regarding her with a darkly glittering eye. “Chuff,” it said,

the single syllable floating up like a bubble of sound.

“Shoo,” she responded. There was something about its bill— blood-red and decurving, like a scimitar.

“Chuff,” it said again, though less surely this time, and took two steps closer, shuffling its red legs along

the branch.

“I am not food for you yet,” she whispered, and managed to wave a hand, driving the bird from its perch.

It settled a few yards away, staring back at her with its head cocked, an eerily intelligent look in its

glittering eye. And then it fell to flight and sped off into the heart of the forest.

Anna closed her eyes. Sleep. She must sleep. Sleep for years, she was sure. And thinking that she drifted

into a nightmare: swept

helplessly along the course of an underground river, fighting for air… struggling to live.

Something bounced off her temple, and Anna opened her eyes to find the sun higher, providing a coverlet

of delicious warmth. She had stopped shivering.

“Chuff…”

The bird perched above her. “Whose pet are you?” she asked, then realized an acorn lay but an inch

away. Had it dropped that for her?

She turned her gaze back to the bird, and then sat up, suddenly filled with wonder. “But you are no one’s

pet, are you?” she whispered. “Flames!” She patted a pocket in her waistcoat and removed a square of

wet linen, then glanced back at the bird.

“Farrelle’s ghost, but it must have begun already.” Tentatively she reached out a hand to the

dark-feathered bird—crowlike with a red bill and legs of the same hue. But the bird hopped away, only a

foot; and there it stayed. “Chuff,” it said again.

Anna laughed. “ ‘Chuff’ yourself.” Gingerly, she unfolded the linen and spread it out on the ground in the

sun. She separated each precious seed, blowing on them gently. The seed had been her salvation;

without it she would never have found the resources to survive the trip out of the cavern, even though

eating it raw produced only a fraction of its power.

The bird began to hop about excitedly, and she turned a warning gaze upon it. “This is not for you,” she

said.

Overwhelmed by sudden weariness, she leaned back against the bole of a tree, but kept her eyes open,

afraid the bird might make free with her seed. Where were the others? Certainly they must be some

hours ahead. She had waited as long as she possibly could before following them out.

Anna had arrived at the pool and collapsed, too exhausted to start back up the tunnel in search of

another passage. There her candles had burned to darkness. Not knowing what to do when she heard

the others approaching, she had crawled into a crevice and lay still, sure anyone could hear the pounding

of her heart. By the poor candle light, Erasmus and the others had not seen her nor had they the energy

or inclination to search. She had watched them go

into the watery passage. Heard them shouting back and forth between the chambers. And when she

thought she could wait no longer and still have strength, she had followed.

The thought of that water-filled passage caused her to pull her limbs close. She trembled.

“Do not think of it,” she warned. “Do not.”

She had survived! And here she was… on the surface of the world once more. Reborn to the light.

Reborn—for certainly she had been in the netherworld these last days. Days! Could it have been only

days?

“But what to do?” she whispered. Deacon Rose had been with the others, and she knew that he would

soon be hunting her. Hunting her even now, perhaps. Did he think she had escaped ahead of them?

“What to do?” she whispered again, feeling her eyes ease closed. She forced them open. Up. She must

press on. As soon as the seeds were dry, for she could not let mold touch them. They were more

precious than diamonds. Almost more precious than life.

Had Halsey escaped, she wondered? Did Eldrich think they had all died in the cavern? Difficult to

answer. She no longer presumed to have even the slightest knowledge of the mage’s mind. He had

deceived them—trapped them with disturbing ease—and only she had escaped, and that only by a

near-miracle.

The Entonne border was nearby, and Anna could almost feel it offering haven. If only her resources were

not so depleted! Food and rest were utterly imperative, for she had endured beyond her limits. Food and

rest and clothing. And money. Anna had not a coin in her possession. But where? Where could she go

that Eldrich would not suspect?

Perhaps Halsey had escaped unnoticed. He was wary and meticulous in his precautions. Eldrich might

well have missed him. Flames, if she had only paid heed!

No use flogging herself with this. Survive. That was her task now. Her obligation.

Carefully she rolled the seed around on the linen, which lured the bird nearer, extending its neck to

watch.

“What bird are you?” she asked. “Not a rook, I think, but some distant cousin. Cousin to the carrion

crow. Dark-eyed and cunning.

Cold-hearted, too, I’ll wager. Perhaps you are the perfect familiar for me, then. For all those who were

close to my heart are gone, and they will never be replaced. Not if I am to succeed in what I must do.“

Saying this she wrapped the seed up again and buttoned it carefully into her pocket before rising stiffly.

Her mind was made up. It might be dangerous, but she could not proceed without knowing what had

befallen Halsey. If he had fled, he would leave signs. Things so subtle that even a mage might miss them.

And if he had been discovered… Well, if he’d been able, he would have left signs of that, too.

A waning moon sailed west until cast up on a shoal of cloud: stuck fast in the heavens.

Anna crouched in the midst of a stand of shrubs, watching. The house that Halsey had leased was just

visible through the branches. At intervals she could see the old man pass before the window, pacing, his

stooped carriage unmistakable. It was his habit to pace when problems beset him. Perhaps the pain

clarified his mind somehow, or maybe it was penance.

But still she watched, and had been doing so for several hours. He was alone, she was sure of that. Some

time earlier, a local woman had arrived with his dinner, stayed to clean the rooms a little, and then

departed, carrying away the tray of dishes she’d brought. No others had come or gone, or even strayed

nearby. Still she waited. Impatience had been her undoing once. Their undoing.

When Halsey began to blow out the lamps, she moved from her place, still stiff and weakened by her

ordeal. A woodsman had fed her the previous night; fed her and set her on the path to Castle-bough. She

had made a slow journey through the woods, accompanied by her chough, for that is what the

woodsman called the bird—the obvious appellation.

She had hidden herself here earlier in the day, and had she the resources, would have watched another

day yet, but her exhaustion was too complete. Knowing that warmth, food, and company in her sorrow

lay so near weakened her resolve.

Before the last lamp was doused she tapped on the window. Silence from within. She tapped again.

“Chuff,” said her familiar, somewhere in the darkness.

Halsey appeared, standing well back from the glass, looking very unsure.

“Halsey… ‘Tis I. Anna. Can you not let me in?”

She saw him reach out to support himself, and then he hurried toward the door. A moment later she was

inside where the old man took both her hands in his own and kissed them, as though she were a daughter

returned from the dead.

“My dear girl. My dear Anna…” He looked at her, words clearly failing him. “What of the others?” he

said, his voice almost disappearing.

She began to speak, but her own voice failed, and she merely shook her head and looked down,

expecting tears to come—but they didn’t. She was too exhausted to mourn. Farrelle’s oath, but she felt

empty.

He kissed her hands again. “Come inside, child. You look like you have survived the ordeal of

Helspereth. Come in and I will bank the fire.”

She left Halsey bending awkwardly before the hearth while she found clean clothing. Returning a few

moments later, she wrapped herself in a thick blanket and curled into a chair before the flames.

“I am warming some soup,” he said solicitously, “and there is bread and cheese. Not much, I’m afraid.”

“Anything will be welcome. Only two days past I thought I should starve to death… A crust would have

seemed a cake then.”

A blackened pot was suspended over the flames, and a board of cheese and bread produced. Again,

Anna was surprised at how quickly her appetite was slaked. For a few moments they sat, saying nothing.

Each time she looked up, Halsey was staring at her, the unspoken questions held in check only by

compassion and concern for her.

She took a long draught of wine, and then resettled herself in the chair. “It was a long journey…” she

swallowed the last word, and continued in a near-whisper, “down into the cavern.” For a moment she

closed her eyes, thinking of Banks drowned and the others buried alive. But she forced herself to go on.

Forced some substance into her voice. “Long, arduous, and filled with wonders, though we had little time

to stop and marvel. As we traveled, I sensed a vision, and despite our haste, we stopped so that 1 might

search for it. None of us believed what I saw. Not even me…“

The story took some long time to tell, and Halsey nodded in wonder again and again. When she spoke of

the collapse of the cave and the murder of their companions, he rose from his chair and paced off across

the room, shaking his head and raising his hand to stop her when she started to admit that he had been

right. And then he came and settled painfully back into his chair and motioned for her to continue.

When the tale was finally told, they sat watching the flames inexorably consume the logs, turning them first

to glowing coals and then to ash.

“He is a monster,” Halsey said at last. “He…” but the old man did not finish.

“So he is,” Anna whispered.

“Have you the seed still? Did you preserve it?”

She produced the small bundle, unwrapping it with extreme care, and held it out to him. In all the years

that she had known Halsey, Anna had never seen him react so. His always stiff, unreadable countenance

seemed to dissolve, and his eyes glistened suddenly. For a moment he sat unmoving, not even breathing,

she thought, and then he reached out slowly. But just as his hand was about to close over the seed, he

drew it back, and placed it tight to his heart.

“No. You keep it,” he said. “You risked everything to possess it. And the others… they made the

sacrifice so that you might have it. No, it is meant to be yours.”

“But you have talent, as well. Talent and far more knowledge. Certainly we should cultivate it and both

attempt the transformation.”

He shook his head. “No. I am too old. Too old and no longer strong. It falls to you, Anna. That is clear

to me now.”

She sat quietly, trying to absorb what he was saying. Certainly this is why she had taken the risk of

coming here. To find an ally, and to have his council.

“There is something more,” she said. She went to the window and threw it open. Making the noise one

might make to attract a pet, she leaned out, searching the shadows. “There! Do you see?”

Halsey came and stood beside her. “I can’t make it out. What is it?”

“A chough, I was told. Much like a rook or a crow. It greeted me as 1 left the cave and has

accompanied me ever since.”

Halsey stared out into the darkness. “A familiar,” he said. “Teller be praised. Such a thing has not

happened since the days of Alan Dubry.” He looked at her, his eyes shining. “Perhaps your vision was

not wrong. Skye opened a door, and see what we have found?” He shook his head. “Who among us

would not accept the greatest sacrifice to make a mage? A mage at this point in history.”

She turned away from the window. “Don’t say such a thing. Everyone, even Banks… No, I could not

live with such a thought. That I had sacrificed them all to my vision…”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “But you did no such thing, Anna. You could not have known. But even

so, no one would have hesitated. A mage. A mage who will live beyond Eldrich. It is the dream we

hardly dared to dream. You, Anna, will preserve the arts. You will rediscover what has been lost.”

She moved away, perhaps unable to accept the responsibility.

“The cost was too great,” she whispered.

“It was great, yes, but all the more reason to seize this opportunity. Let no one’s sacrifice be in vain.”

She nodded. There was wisdom in this, she was sure. Such a cost. Something must come of it. “Then

what are we to do?” she said softly. “How must we proceed?”

He turned back to the fire, but his eye lit upon the seed and lingered. “We must vanish again. Perform the

rites that will hide our escape from anyone using the arts to seek us. We must begin tonight.”

“But I am so tired—” Anna began to protest, and Halsey turned on her.

“Tonight!” he said firmly. “Eldrich is near. Already he has almost destroyed us. I fear that it is this seed he

seeks. Perhaps it has been this seed all along, for let me tell you something, Anna; this seed must be

Landor’s own. Do you understand? Not seed that was cultivated in this world, but came from beyond.

We have long known that the seed lost its power from one planting to the next—

but this…“ He gestured to the precious bundle. ”Use it sparingly. And it must be cultivated—as soon as

you can manage.“

Saying nothing, Halsey disappeared, returning a moment later with a book. This he passed to her. “Here

are some few things I’ve set down these past years. Knowledge that you do not have. It is in Darian, so

there was little chance that it would have been understood if it had fallen into the hands of another.”

“But why give me this now?”

“We cannot know what might happen. Now come quickly. We will perform the ritual and leave no trace

of our flight for the mage or his servants. No one will be aware of us again until it is too late.” Quickly,

they prepared the few things they would need to travel at speed. Horses were saddled, burdened with

baggage, and led away from the house lest they sense the arts and bolt.

Halsey began to light candles. Seven tapers were arranged in a pattern on the floor, and then he took a

scented oil and marked the walls with Darian characters. Using the same oil he began a pattern on the

floor, chanting as he did so.

“You will perform the enchantment,” he said as he completed the pattern.

“But…” she began to protest, and then realized that he was right. She was the mage emerging: the spell

would facilitate the process, and certainly now her powers outstripped Halsey’s own.

She took up ashes from the fire and sprinkled the still warm powder evenly over the pattern. When she

was finished, she made seven marks upon her face with the ash and then moved to the pattern’s center.

“Curre d‘ Efeu,” she began. “Heart of flame…” The enchantment was not long but it was rather intricate

and required precise motion and control. Once Halsey prompted her, for her mind still suffered from

fatigue, but she carried on, knowing the importance of what she did.

Fire erupted in the hearth again, and when she placed a hand near the floor and spoke, she drew a line of

flame out from the logs. It spread around the pattern.

She was into the spell, to the point where it would be dangerous to stop, when a fierce tapping drew her

attention. The chough was

at the window, frantically beating its wings and beak against the glass.

Anna blocked out the sounds, the questions.

Halsey spoke unexpectedly, his deep, gravelly tones forming Darian with an authority that none of the

others had ever mastered. But what was he doing?

The room seemed so far away, the world so remote, so dreamlike. Halsey sprinkled something over the

pattern, holding an object in his hand—an object of dread.

And then the realization gripped her, dragging her back to the world, to the present.

“Halsey!” she called out, but he raised the hand that held the dagger and continued in his

efforts—sprinkling blood from the wound at his wrist along the pattern.

“What are you doing?”

“Do not stop,” he said, not looking up from his task. “Go on, child. You will ruin us both.”

And so she continued, chanting a long string of words, drawing up the candle flames.

Halsey stopped, suddenly, just as she reached the spell’s end. “Eldrich found me,” he said, his face

contorting in pain and guilt, “I was to wait here to be sure that none of our people emerged from the

cave—a simple task, for Eldrich was all but sure no one had survived. For this small service I would be

rewarded—something greater than I would have expected.” He shook his head, a tear streaking his

cheek. “But when I saw you… alive.” He met her eye for a second, begging something. “Eldrich has put

his mark upon me, Anna. I can never escape him.” He began to speak Darian, a spell she did not know.

The fire in the pattern rose up suddenly, and the characters on the walls burst into flame. He called out,

and before Anna realized what he would do, the old man plunged the knife into his own breast.

He turned toward her as his knees buckled. “You are free,” he whispered, and toppled into the rising

flames.

For a moment Anna stood transfixed. Unable to believe what she saw. Unwilling to believe the horror of

it. All of them gone. Every one.

Alone. She was utterly alone.

And then a crashing against the window drew her, and she saw a tiny dark eye beyond the glass, and

realized that the spell no longer offered protection. With one final look back at Halsey, enveloped in

flame, she swept up her skirts and fled.

Chapter Two

Without a sign from anyone, the mage’s procession of two carriages had rolled to a sudden stop, leaving

the countess wondering what apparition they had encountered now.

Eldrich stepped down to the gravel and disappeared soundlessly into the wood.

The countess watched him go. As silent as a shadow, she thought, and shivered.

For the first time she saw all of her traveling companions: Walky, of course; a darkly handsome man of

perhaps thirty; the drivers; and four other servants. The mage’s entire entourage.

The drivers saw to their teams, and the others stood about in isolated silence, as though casual speech

were forbidden to the followers of a mage.

Silence, the countess thought. He lives in the silences.

Under the pretense of finding the least obstructed view of the stars, she edged closer to Walky, finally

catching his eye.

“What goes on, Mr. Walky?” she whispered.

The little man shrugged, put a finger to his lips, and slipped away before she might speak again. Thus

chastened, she found an out-

S ean Russell cropping of stone at the roadside and made it her seat, vowing that she would never

become as servile as these others.

Why have I agreed to this? she wondered again, though not yet sure what she had involved herself in.

The ancient woman at the roadside—herself: the Countess of Chilton—the mere thought of this

apparition quelled all of her doubts for a moment. She closed her eyes, trying to drive out the image—a

woman pathetic in age and loss of mental faculties.

Better any fate than that, a voice inside her warned.

But there was more. A certain feeling of inevitability, a crumbling of resistance—the feeling of giving

one’s self up to a seduction, to another. And to desire.

Desire.

But was it real, or was she merely under some form of enchantment?

A shadow flowed out of the wood and onto the road: Eldrich’s wolf.

She heard her breath catch and she froze in place, as though it were a wild beast and she its prey. For a

moment it paused in the starlight, slowly turning its head as though searching, and then it darted into the

wood again.

The countess let out a long breath. What did he want of her?

The moon sailed among the stars, illuminating the solitary clouds that passed before it. From deep within

the wood a nightingale burbled its liquid song. The countess tried to silence her inner voice. To be aware

of the night. Traveling with a mage would require that she learn patience and attentiveness. And silence.

She did not know how long she listened to the winds’ whispered conversation, observed the heavens,

before Eldrich reappeared— two hours, perhaps three.

The stooped silhouette crossed to Walky and the handsome man. She could hear them speaking; words

like stones dropped into a brook and just as comprehensible. The three conferred briefly, and then

Eldrich went directly into his coach.

Walky came to her.

“What is it?” she asked. “What has happened?”

“The unforeseen,” Walky said hoarsely. “Come. I will ride with Lord Eldrich and the countess, if you will

allow it.”

She nodded, smiling at this odd gesture of consideration. As he took her arm and led her toward the

carriage, the countess could see the others releasing the team from the second coach, which they began

to turn around in the narrow road.

They are going back, she realized, as she stepped up into Eldrich’s carriage.

They moved off as she settled herself.

At last, she could bear this dismissive silence no longer. Her anger boiled up, and she drew a long breath.

“What has happened?” she asked, feeling her heart beating—like a child asking forbidden questions.

Dark silence was her answer, and she felt her anger boil over. Did he treat everyone with such disregard?

“There is a hunting lodge,” the mage announced, his musical voice betraying no trace of emotion. “Not

distant. We will stop there.”

It was a concession, she knew, though hardly informative. Only where and what, not why.

he countess should not have been surprised to find that mages cared little for the niceties of property

rights. Walky and the servants quickly had the building open and began setting it to rights, as though it

were their own. Lamps were lit, fires built in the hearths, sleeping chambers aired and beds prepared.

And where am I expected to sleep! the countess wondered. She stood before one of the hearths,

warming her back, her arms crossed stiffly before her. / feel as uncertain as a young girl, she thought.

But there is not a petal of romance in the air.

Will he want me? That was the question. The desire was there; palpably so, but would Eldrich give in to

it?

With other men she would know. Their intentions were easily divined, but the mage was not like other

men.

Walky appeared from a dark hall. It seemed that Eldrich and his servants had no need of light—a strange

thought. No need of light.

“A chamber has been readied for you, Lady Chilton,” he said, taking up a candle.

She remained by the fire a moment more, suddenly reluctant to leave its warmth.

“Where is Lord Eldrich?” she asked, her voice oddly hollow in the massive room.

“Engaged,” Walky replied.

Still the countess did not move.

“The mage is involved in matters of great import, m’lady,” he said. “Matters that are little understood by

others.”

“So you do not know what goes on?” the countess asked.

Walky nodded. “I know very little, I’m afraid. Best Lord Eldrich answer your questions.”

“He does not seem much inclined to answering questions.”

“All in good time, m’lady,” he said. “All in good time. One cannot rush a river, but wait and the stream

will carry you where you wish.”

“Rivers flow in only one direction, Mr. Walky,” she said, not heartened by his choice of metaphor. “And

I fear I have the patience of a mortal: I like my answers immediately.”

“It is something you will adjust to, m’lady,” he said softly and gestured for her to follow.

“Perhaps,” she whispered to herself. Eldrich’s words came back to her. / am one hundred and

thirty-three; all other estimates you have heard are wrong.

The countess was but five and twenty.

ohe sat in a window seat before the open casement, her knees drawn up and clasped by woven fingers.

A nightingale trilled its melodious song, and unknown insects added strange counterpoint.

The hour was unknown to her. Late, no doubt, but still she did not proceed to bed. She perched in the

window listening to a nightingale offer enticements to a mate.

At least he sings, she thought. A shred of gallantry.

The bed, with its curtains and coverlets folded back, took up a much greater place in her consciousness

than in the room itself. And it offended her somehow, like a statement of presumption.

“What does he want of me?” she asked the night, and leaned her head back against the cool wood. She

closed her eyes and felt such sweet relief. The air seemed seasoned with such a complex fragrance. She

drank it in deeply, as though hungry for it. Late. So late. And she was but five and twenty.

She awoke to a touch on her cheek. A kiss? Opening her eyes, she found Eldrich standing between

herself and the bed. Oddly, this did not startle her at all. Indeed, she did not feel quite herself—as though

she floated in time, somehow.

“Do I dream?”

“There are those who claim that life is nothing else,” he answered, the music of his voice touching her,

stripping away the last cords of gravity binding her to the world.

“The nightingale… he has stopped.”

“Yes.” His eye did not waver, but remained fixed on her—not unkindly, but not kind either.

“What will you do with me?”

A smile, like the shadow of a winging bird. “What would you have me do?”

Yes, what? “I cannot bear to be left wondering. I cannot…”

His gaze did not waver. “No,” he said quietly, a voice like a soft wind, “it is a terrible thing.”

Chapter Three

%

Kent walked his lame gelding along the black river of road, and contemplated his own recklessness. One

did not canter by night along a road known for its potholes and washouts. Not with the moon hidden by

overcast, stars visible only through tears in the cloud.

He patted his mount’s nose, trying to calculate the distance to the next travelers’ inn. Not far in miles,

though several hours at this pace. Some knight off to save the fair lady he had turned out to be.

Kent crept along the road in the faint starlight, aware of the precipice to one side. The sound of flowing

water floated up to him and increased the illusion that he walked along the dark surface of a river.

He stepped, mid-calf into water, and brought his lame mount up short. Cursing, he peered into darkness,

Sean Russell - River Into Darkness 2 - Compass of the Soul

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