The Forest of Peldain

The mind in the lake had begun its disintegration. Undisturbed for thousands of years, its substance was moving, whirlpooling, draining away. Vorduthe’s consciousness went blank; involuntarily he found himself entering trance state, and before him there seemed to hover a gigantic face.

Momentarily he saw it clearly: vaguely of Peldainian cast, chalk-white, with straw-colored hair and glaring blue eyes. It was this face that emitted the emotion Vorduthe had been feeling. The eyes were desperate, savage in their protestation of what was happening. The lips moved, mouthing an accusation he could not hear.

For the huge visage was distorting. It was a face drawn on water, and the water was moving, streaming, pouring and whirling toward some outlet to one side.

Vorduthe came to normal awareness. He had not filled his lungs properly when he went under but did not have the strength to regain the surface. He realized that his best chance of survival would be to go with the stream and hope to be carried through the tunnel. He began to swim, trying to reach the center of the maelstrom whose outlet was at the far bottom of the lake.

His lungs strained for air. He bumped into something, was sucked into a thick confusion of mud and detritus. Vaguely he was aware of being carried along at speed, then his senses gave out.

When he came to, Donatwe Mankas and Wirro Kana-Kem were dragging him clear of a widening swamp of moss and green fluid. He forced himself to his feet, waved them away and looked out over the scene, breathing deeply.

The green lake was still pouring through the tunnel mouth. Hours would pass, perhaps, before it all drained away. Kana-Kem indicated a limp figure lying some distance from the tunnel, gradually being pushed down the slope by the flow. “That is Askon Octrago, my lord. Washed out like a dead fish. He could not dive like an Arelian!”

Vorduthe looked at the pathetic form with mixed feelings. “In some ways he was noble of soul,” he admitted. “He achieved remarkable things, despite his methods… such determination has to be admired.”

“His father, King Kerenei, died last night,” Mankas added. “He was a king himself, yet he came and fought you personally. That, too, was brave.”

Vorduthe sighed. “What of the rest of it?”

“We have won the day already, my lord. The heart went out of the Peldainians when the lake started to move, and even more so when their King Askon failed to surface! Most are dead, a few are taken prisoner.”

“Then it is all ours,” Vorduthe said. He stared into the rising sun. “This land was falsely promised to our monarch. We shall take the liar at his word. I claim Peldain in the name of King Krassos, his heirs or successors.”

“We still are few—even fewer, now. It is a big place.”

“Who is there to oppose us? The common inhabitants have no spirit of resistance, and besides their god has been destroyed.”

How could he explain what he knew, and how he knew it? That King Krassos was dead, the Hundred Islands torn apart by insurrection, Arcaiss sacked. Peldain would have to be put to work, a path cleared through the forest, ships built, an army of warriors trained. It was their task now to return to the Hundred Islands and restore Arelian greatness.

How long would it take? No matter. They would do it.

“First we secure this country,” he said. “Then back to the Hundred Islands. Arelia needs us.”

The strengthening sun was beginning to hurt his eyes, but he did not remove his gaze. He was glad of the excuse for tears.

For his thoughts were in Arelia. He was thinking of the villa on the headland. And only now could he dwell on his grief.

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Also by Barrington J. Bayley

Age of Adventure

Annihilation Factor

Collision with Chronos

Empire of Two Worlds

Sinners of Erspia

Star Winds

The Fall of Chronopolis

The Forest of Peldain

The Garments of Caean

The Grand Wheel

The Great Hydration

The Pillars of Eternity

The Rod of Light

The Soul of the Robot

The Star Virus

The Zen Gun

The Knights of the Limits

The Seed of Evil

DEDICATION

For joan