Voice of the demon, p.12
Voice Of The Demon, page 12
part #2 of Elita Series
Sinking to a chair opposite, Robert took in a deep breath. It was so strange seeing this face – in this room. They had always been so far apart, but now the two very different parts of his life had become twisted together, like strands of rope. ‘Was it worth it?’
At this, Patric laughed. ‘You live in a very strange world, Robert. So many people – the country is so big – I never dreamed . . .’
‘Micah, could you organize some food and a bath – and some fresh clothes?’
‘Of course, my lord,’
But Patric wasn’t finished. He held up his hands again, his smile vanishing. ‘Wait. I’m sorry, Robert, but this isn’t entirely a social visit. I’ve come with some news and to beg your help.’
‘My help?’
Patric nodded, his face clouding over. ‘It’s Ayn, Robert. She’s been taken.’
‘Ayn?’ Robert’s enthusiasm abruptly dried up. No – not that. . .
‘Finnlay was trying a new method of Seeking in the hope of finding the Calyx. Instead, he got a clear vision. He saw Ayn in terror, her ayarn destroyed. At the end, she collapsed unconscious. He’s positive that the man who did it is the one she was looking for. When I left the Enclave, Finnlay was certain Ayn was still alive.’
Robert sprang to his feet, his left hand automatically flexing to release his ayarn – but he didn’t have it any longer. He strode to the window, pushed the shutters wide and flung his senses out across the land. Where was she? She had to be alive. She had to be.
‘I . . . can’t tell . . . without her ayarn, I may not even be able to find her.’ He drew back in and snapped an order. ‘Micah, have Deverin prepare my horse, food for the journey. I’m going to Marsay.’
Micah frowned, but he knew better than to argue. As the door shut behind him, Robert turned back to Patric. ‘All right. What else have you got to tell me?’
‘That’s it.’ Patric said, pulling off the filthy cloak.
‘Oh?’ Robert raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve always been a terrible liar, Pat. Tell me the rest. What’s this new method of Seeking my brother was attempting? How did he manage a proper vision? Why is he certain that it’s accurate?’
‘Because . . .’ Patric began – shot Robert an apologetic look and paused.
‘Well?’
‘He . . . tried it the night before and got a vision of Jenn coming up the mountain.’
‘Jenn? She went to the Enclave?’ Robert’s breath faded away and he sank into the nearest chair.
‘Don’t worry, Robert. She didn’t go near the Key. Finnlay kept his promise. She left with me, showed me how to get down the mountain. She’ll be back home in a few days. She was quite safe the whole time, really. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘Worry? You have no idea what you’re talking about! Every time she goes near the Key she’s in danger. What was she trying to do, going to the Enclave like that?’
Patric shrank further into his seat and swallowed loudly. ‘She needed help. Apparently Fiona couldn’t teach her some important things: setting a Seal, making a Mask. Finnlay showed her before we left. He had no trouble at all and . . .’
‘And?’ Robert prodded. Did he really want to hear the rest?
‘By the gods, Robert,’ Patric shook his head and stiffly leaned forward, ‘I just wish I knew what was going on with all this. Finnlay taught Jenn these things so quickly you’d think she was already a master. She’s amazing. She faced down the council when they wanted to force her to take the oath. But I have to tell you, warn you, really. Finnlay didn’t want me to say anything, but Jenn herself said I should. She said that if we were all going to work together you must always be told the truth. Of course, I had to agree, but I also think Finnlay had a point. I’m not sure you really want to know all this, do you?’
Patric was rambling – probably with exhaustion, but also because he was avoiding something. Robert didn’t even want to guess what it was. Three shocks in one day was enough for any man. Still, it had to be done. ‘Go on. Tell me.’
Taking another deep breath, Patric said, ‘Wilf threatened to throw Finnlay out of the Enclave and banish Jenn if she didn’t take the oath. Like an old warrior, she refused to be threatened but . . . in return for Wilf’s co-operation she vowed to Stand the Circle next time.’
No.
Like the first breath of winter, Robert trembled with an icy shiver and he could feel the demon shake within him. If she Stood the Circle . . . if she did that . . . Oh yes, she would be Chosen. And then . . . then . . . he would have to stand against her.
‘Serin’s blood!’ It was all going wrong: the whole point of his sacrifice, his banishment. He’d given up the Enclave so this very thing would never happen. He was Jenn’s only real link with the Enclave and he’d been so sure that with him gone, she would never go back.
He had to see her, talk to her, find some way for her to renounce her vow . . .
But – how could he, of all people, try to talk someone out of a solemn oath?
Then how else to stop her?
A knock at the door and Micah entered with Deverin close behind. Robert stood, put a reassuring hand on Patric’s shoulder and turned to face them.
‘Your horse is ready, my lord,’ Micah said quietly. ‘I suggest however, you may want to leave after sunset.’
‘I agree.’ Robert felt as pale as the veiled sun. ‘Deverin, would you take my friend to a room near my own. Take good care of him, he’s had a hard journey.’
Deverin nodded and helped Patric out of the room. Micah closed the door behind them and once again waited patiently. Robert moved back to the window and gazed out.
So much of this room was exactly as his father had left it. The warm oak panelling, the thick padded chairs by the fireplace, the bookshelves by the door. No fewer than four windows completed the gallery, looking out on to the courtyard and the moor beyond. On a clear night he could often see a glow in the sky from the town of Loch Feer, half a league away. On market days when the wind was southerly, he could smell the bread being baked, the smoked fish on sale.
Closing his eyes, Robert relaxed his breathing and let his senses drift out of the room high in the tower. Behind him he could sense the empty space hidden behind the panelled wall and the secret passage which led out of the castle. This was how he’d first found the room, some sixteen years ago. Wandering in this study when his father had been out, he’d toyed with his powers and caught the feeling of vacancy behind the fireplace. It had taken him three days to work out the lock on the panel, with Finnlay’s help. The room beyond was a nightmare of cobwebs and broken furniture. No windows, but instead, another door leading to a damp spiral staircase. At the bottom was a tunnel.
He’d used that exit before, to get Finnlay out to the Enclave when his powers had first manifested. They’d only been back a week before Selar had come. What would have happened if Selar had come and Robert had not been there?
‘You said you would never go back to Marsay.’
Robert started. He’d forgotten Micah was standing there. ‘No, you can’t go with me. Not this time.’
Micah shrugged and moved over to stand beside the window, his shoulder leaning against the stone support. ‘It was just an idea. Do you think you’ll find her?’
‘I don’t know. I only hope she’s still alive when I get there.’
‘And if Finnlay is right? What if it is this rogue sorcerer who’s taken her? What will you do then?’
Robert frowned and glanced at Micah. ‘If he is evil as Jenn said, and if he has destroyed Ayn’s ayarn – then surely he must be the Enclave’s enemy – not me.’
Micah shrugged again. ‘Well, perhaps we don’t fully understand what the Key means by enemy. If you find him, you’ll fight him, won’t you? I should come with you.’
‘You can’t. This is too dangerous. Besides, I need you here. My mother sent word she would be returning tomorrow. You’ll have to find some excuse for my absence. On top of that, you’re the only one I can trust to look after Patric. Keep him out of trouble. You’re bigger and stronger than he is – he’ll do what you tell him. If he doesn’t. . .’
‘I’ll throw him in the dungeon.’
Robert laughed involuntarily. ‘We don’t have a dungeon!’
‘I can arrange something.’ Micah smiled briefly, then lapsed into silence. His eyes turned towards the window, his thoughts obviously elsewhere.
Yes, there was something wrong – and it wasn’t just Patric’s sudden appearance. Robert turned to the table and poured them both some wine. ‘Your father?’
‘Aye,’ Micah said, taking the cup. ‘My father. Lanette thinks if I left your service he would at least listen to me.’
‘Then,’ Robert hesitated only a moment, ‘you must go.’
‘Either that or you must take arms against Selar.’
‘Which you know I won’t do.’
‘And you know I won’t leave.’ Micah folded his arms and turned a troubled gaze out the window. ‘You’re not the only one who’s stubborn, my lord. Given enough time, my father will see the truth – I’m sure of it. He’s just waiting to see how determined I am.’
‘Then he’s already fighting a lost cause. Perhaps I should write to him and tell him what a nuisance you are in that regard.’
Micah fought it, but his smile won. Before he could reply, there was a discreet knock at the door and they turned to find Deverin standing there.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, my lord. I . . . er, just wanted to ask you something,’ Deverin began, clasping his hands in front of him. ‘Something of a personal nature.’
It was obvious that the big man was bothered about something. Robert glanced at Micah, but he was equally mystified. Nodding, Robert closed the door and turned back. ‘Go on.’
‘I would know, my lord,’ Deverin spoke quietly and carefully, ‘how I have failed you that you no longer trust me.’
Robert frowned, completely thrown. ‘Failed me?’
‘Aye, my lord. I’ve done my best to serve you, but I know I have had little effect on those raiders. Is that the problem?’
Robert shook his head. ‘I don’t understand, Deverin. Why do you think I don’t trust you?’
Suddenly uncomfortable, Deverin shot a glance at Micah before replying, ‘I know what you did, my lord. When Governor Osbert was here. It was Micah in that casket, not Lord Finnlay. I don’t understand how you did it, but I do understand why.’
‘You do?’ Robert asked faintly. Why did the world suddenly feel like it was spinning around him, out of control?
‘Aye, my lord,’ Deverin nodded with subtle confidence. ‘You are a sorcerer.’
A failure, incompetent – and now a fool into the bargain. He should have seen this coming. He should have known Deverin would have put the pieces together. By the gods, what an idiot!
Robert walked to the end of the table. ‘It is I who have failed you, Deverin. I should never have placed you in a position where you could guess the truth. My only excuse is that I was not thinking clearly. If I’d had time to prepare before the Guilde arrived, we could have buried the casket before Osbert got here and then no Guilde law in the country could have opened the grave. I am sorry.’
‘No, my lord,’ Deverin grunted. ‘You did what you had to do. I would rather that than go on believing that Lord Finnlay is dead. As it is, I know he’s safe.’
With a smile, Robert asked, ‘And how do you know that?’
‘You wouldn’t have left him otherwise.’
Robert nodded and glanced at Micah. ‘So what do I do now? He’s too big to beat into submission.’
‘Well,’ Micah replied, folding his arms with something like a self-satisfied smile on his face, ‘I can’t offer you any suggestions, my lord. You know I can’t say anything about this in front of him. You also know why.’
‘Which in itself is a suggestion, right? But I don’t know if I can Seal him. Without an ayarn . . .’
‘May I respectfully remind you, my lord, of something you’re always telling me? You don’t know everything.’
Deverin was staring at them both, unable to comprehend either the conversation – or Micah’s lack of respect. It was time to put him out of his misery.
‘I should really ask you if you want to do this, Deverin.’
‘Do what, my lord?’
‘There’s a process I can perform, to protect you from the knowledge you hold. It’s called a Seal and Micah has just displayed how useful it is. He’s completely unable to mention anything about my powers in front of anyone who’s not also Sealed. That way you can’t say anything by accident – nor be forced to admit the truth. Of course, it also protects me in the process, but whereas I might one day be found out, you’ll always be able to say you knew nothing about it.’
‘Very well, my lord.’
Robert frowned and took a step closer. ‘I have to ask this – are you not bothered by all this? You’ve known me a long time. Doesn’t it worry you to find out that I’m a sorcerer?’
‘Why should it? You are a good man, my lord. This power is no better or worse than the way you wield a sword. You’ve never used that for ill – and I bear the scars to prove it. I trust you to use your other weapons in the same way.’
If only everybody in Lusara could have the same attitude. The Enclave could open up, Finnlay could come home and sorcerers could once again walk the country without the threat of certain death. All this could be achieved without ever finding the damned Calyx. Hell, that would really make Finnlay’s day!
‘I warn you, serving a sorcerer is no easy task. Just ask Micah. No, don’t bother, he can’t answer you. At least, not yet.’ Robert held out his hand, hoping he could empower the sequence without the aid of his ayarn. Deverin glanced once at Micah, then reached out and touched Robert’s hand.
Robert felt nothing different to the way a Seal usually felt – but that was no guarantee of success. ‘Micah? You’re the best test I have handy. Go on, say the magic word.’
‘Oh? Which one is that?’ Micah tried his best to look innocent. ‘Could you perhaps mean the Enclave?’
‘That’s the one!’ Robert laughed and clapped the bemused Deverin on the shoulder. ‘Congratulations. You’re now one of the damned.’
Deverin was smiling now and shaking his head ferociously. ‘I don’t think so, my lord. Far from it. However, I should warn you that you may have to go through this . . . process again quite soon. I think old Owen may have put a few pieces together himself.’
‘Has he said anything?’
‘Not directly. I can sound him out if you like.’
‘Go ahead, Deverin.’ As the big man reached the door, Robert added, ‘And since you asked – I’ve always trusted you.’
Deverin bowed. ‘Thank you, my lord. If you’ll permit me, the feeling is entirely mutual. I’ll wait with your horse. If you go out with our patrol tonight, no one will think it unusual.’
8
Selar paced up and down, dragging his robe behind him. The candles had burned low, leaving thick yellow lumps of wax on the table by the bed. Every time he turned, they shimmered and jumped, but they never spoke back. Just like his court. Back and forth he paced, with such precision he could almost predict how the candles would flicker. They were so pathetic. One blow would send them flying. One puff of air would extinguish them for ever. His power over them was complete, his dominance total.
Osbert had said Finnlay was dead. He saw the body with his own eyes. There was no sorcery in Lusara. Those woodsmen had been drunk, the villagers fooled. There was nothing for Selar to worry about. The little stone they’d kept was nothing. Completely useless. He’d even given the ring back to Robert. It was now surely buried with the boy’s body, deep beneath the stones of that pretty chapel at Dunlorn. No sorcery. . .
So why couldn’t Selar sleep? Why were his dreams so invaded with images he wanted to forget? Why did Carlan’s face keep reappearing? The old traitor was dead. He had to be now, fourteen years later. Nobody had seen him, heard of him, since the night of the battle. He had disappeared. He had already been old, probably past eighty. How could he be alive now?
Well, he wasn’t. That’s all there was to it. And these dreams were just some part of his memory resurfacing with those rumours of sorcery. Now that Osbert had declared them dead, he would be able to sleep. Perhaps not tonight, but soon, when the truth sank in. Yes.
Selar stopped pacing and sat on the end of his bed. He should call Nash and get the man to make him one of those potions to help him sleep. At least they worked. But how long could he keep doing that? What would happen to his authority if his court discovered he was so close to breaking? How could he keep control if he was always afraid to shut his eyes at night?
He had to lay the ghost of Carlan to rest. He had to make sure the old magician was not now working against him. He could have survived, changed sides and befriended Tirone. Together they could be behind these raiders, deliberately destabilizing the country in preparation for an invasion.
But there were no troops along his borders. No escalation of hostilities and nothing his informants could tell him was proof that Tirone was ready to invade Lusara.
There were just the nightmares: the night of his triumphant battle, his mentor, Carlan, had gone missing. Selar found him by the river. Then Carlan admitted he was a sorcerer. His wizened face leered over Selar, laughing at him, devouring him. Selar would become Carlan’s tool, his zombie, mindless, obedient. He’d known that in a moment. He’d felt such an overwhelming stench of evil he’d stepped back, his foot slipping on the muddy river bank.
Then Carlan had pushed him in.
Then he’d almost drowned.
Then Robert, a mere boy, had saved him, not knowing the man he saved was . . .
The nightmare was always the same. In truth, Robert had saved his life – but in the dark depths of his sleepless nights, the boy’s face turned into a twisted copy of Carlan’s. Selar would never be free of him. Never . . .
Selar stood, walked the length of the room and opened the chest with the ivory inlay. He lifted out two flasks of wine and went back to bed. There was one other way he could make sure he slept tonight.
