Voice of the demon, p.17
Voice Of The Demon, page 17
part #2 of Elita Series
‘About an hour after dawn.’
‘Then, yes, I’ve been here all night.’
‘And how is my translation going?’
Finnlay closed his eyes. Acelin was a slave-driver, never satisfied with anything Finnlay did. It was a good job that the librarian didn’t know what Finnlay had spent the entire night working on – or the night before. ‘I told you at the start. Saelic is not my best language. It’s going to take me time. Do you want me to finish it quickly or do you want it correct?’
Acelin straightened up, thumped the lamp down on the table. ‘So high and mighty for one so ignorant of Saelic grammar. You’ve been working on this for days and yet you still won’t show me your progress.’
Hunching over the table with the cup between his hands, Finnlay grimaced, but didn’t look up. ‘Is there any wonder with the way you stand over me? I’m only here to help you, after all.’
‘Well, don’t expect gratitude from me, Finnlay Douglas,’ Acelin grunted. ‘You have a lot of work to do before I’ll forgive you for what you did to the Jaibir.’
Finnlay stared at Acelin’s back as he loped away to his precious map room. After a moment a yellow glow flooded through the door and on to the cold stone floor as Acelin lit a lamp ready to start work.
With a sigh, Finnlay lifted his arms from the table and surveyed the mess. The last few lines of his notes were unreadable and he’d managed to spill wax all over two of Patric’s drawings. Still, the loss of sleep had been worth it. There was no precedent, no record of anyone ever having had a proper vision during a Seeking, but his research had turned up one interesting fact. Once, long before the birth of the Enclave, Seekers had sometimes worked in tandem to search a greater distance. There was supposed to be some way to link the focus. Although there was no actual instruction on how to achieve this link, it was obvious to Finnlay that this was the starting point for some explanation of how he’d managed to see both Jenn and Ayn.
But how to take it further, that was the problem.
‘Finnlay?’
He looked up. Fiona came through the door, her eyes reflecting the light from the candle she carried. For once, there was no frown on her face. In fact, she was smiling.
‘Be careful Acelin doesn’t catch you with that in here.’
‘I’ll be gone before he sees me. I just came to tell you. It’s Martha.’
Finnlay would have sprung to his feet if his legs hadn’t been half-asleep. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Fiona laughed. ‘She’s had a little girl. They’re both fine.’
‘That’s wonderful! How’s Arlie?’
Fiona glanced down at his papers. ‘Why don’t you come and see for yourself?’
He didn’t need further encouragement. He scraped his books and notes together in a bundle and tucked them under his arm. He paused long enough to blow out the lamp, then followed Fiona out the door.
*
Wilf trotted down the steps into the refectory, waved a breezy good morning to the cook and collected his breakfast. Thick oat porridge and cream, two wedges of brown bread and honey and an enormous mug of lemony brew. He called out a few more greetings as he wound his way between the tables and took a seat opposite Henry. Immediately he tucked into his food, relishing every mouthful.
‘Go on, give me the report,’ he said through a mouth of bread.
‘Those traders reached the saddle before dark last night, but by dawn this morning, they’d moved on west without stopping. Callum followed them for a while until he was sure they wouldn’t come back this way. Apart from that, there’s been no traffic through the Goleth in the last day.’ Henry looked tired. His breakfast plate was small and although he’d obviously finished eating, there was still a lot of food remaining.
‘Anything else?’
‘Sebastian has cleared the heating vents ready for the cold weather. I think he wants to open them up early this year so he has time to trace back any problems to the Firelake before we really need them.’
‘Good idea. I remember what happened last year. Those gears are getting too old and worn. Perhaps it’s time we thought about replacing them.’
Henry sighed and ran a hand over his face. ‘Grolandy has taken a turn for the worse. They had to send for a Healer in the night. They think she won’t last another day.’
‘Oh. I’ll stop by when we’ve finished here.’ Wilf stuck his spoon into the porridge and lifted forth a lump of creamy grey stodge. ‘And what’s the good news?’
‘Sorry?’
‘You always finish your nightly reports with good news. What is it?’
Henry actually smiled – though slowly. ‘Martha had a little girl just after midnight. I’m told it was an easy birth – but having witnessed one of those, I’m not exactly sure how to take that.’
Wilf grinned and lifted his cup to Henry. ‘It always happens on your watch. Have they given her a name?’
‘Not that I know of. However, I believe Arlie’s already had a word with Father Vernon. The Presentation is to be this afternoon – so make sure you’re around for that. I’ll be sleeping.’
Henry picked up his plate and cup and stood to leave. His eyes left Wilf for a moment – then widened in shock. ‘By the gods!’
‘What?’ Wilf twisted around in his seat, but he couldn’t see anything unusual. ‘What is it?’
Henry dropped his dishes and tore off through the rapidly filling refectory. By the time Wilf gained his side he could finally see what had caught everybody’s attention. Young Ben, white-faced and on the verge of collapse, sat hunched on a bench by the wall.
‘I saw him come in,’ Henry murmured, now wide awake. He crouched down as somebody put a cup to the lad’s lips. ‘Ben? What’s wrong? We hadn’t expected you back for weeks. Has something happened?’
Ben lifted his head. His eyes were glazed, but he could speak. ‘It’s Ayn, Master Henry. Murdoch sent me back to tell you. She’s disappeared.’
*
The Enclave chapel was awfully small for such a population; that didn’t mean it wasn’t pretty. As Finnlay waited for the ceremony to begin, he stood in the centre of the cave and stared up at the painted ceiling. There in the foreground was the famous scene where Mineah and Serinleth were born out of the fires of creation. Further along, a depiction of the Dawn of Ages where the gods first discovered their place in the world. Then, closer to the altar, was the most popular setting, when Serinleth and Mineah joined together to drive out the evil Broleoch and douse the fires of hell on earth.
Along the walls were some more spirited interpretations of the various legends of incarnation of the goddess. Even today, a number of these were accepted to be mythological only. But the theme remained the same. She was always with them. No matter how bad things were, Mineah would never leave them alone.
Candles were lit in all four corners of the chapel – within the Enclave, these were dedicated to only four of the saints – those who had, for one reason or another, some special relationship with sorcerers. The only chair in the room was the one used by Father Vernon during mass. While the choir sang the liturgy, the old priest sat; his legs barely capable now of taking him up and down the myriad stairs within the caves.
Yes, it was a nice chapel. Certainly nice enough for Arlie, Martha and their baby. He could hear them coming now. The little girl was crying – or rather, screaming at the sudden change of surroundings. Martha entered the chapel with the child in her arms. Arlie hovered beside her, a stupid grin on his face. Father Vernon brought up the rear, leading the other witnesses into the chapel.
With a twinkling smile at his congregation, Father Vernon turned to the altar and began the first prayer. The ceremony of Presentation was the only really informal religious ritual Finnlay could think of. It was also quite possibly the most important. Every child born had to be Presented to the gods so that Mineah and Serinleth would know there was now another soul to be loved. It was imperative that the child was Presented before it was a day old. One of the best parts about it was that the actual Presentation itself was done not by the priest, but by the child’s father – or closest male relative. The presence of a priest was not required, but it did add a little grace to the occasion.
Father Vernon completed his prayer and turned around to face the proud parents. Martha smiled and handed the baby to Arlie. The man’s face became serious at that moment and his hands trembled as he took the tiny bundle and lifted it towards the trium above the altar.
‘Blessed Mineah and Divine Serinleth, I call upon you to witness a new soul amongst your flock. This is your child. This is my child and the child of my beloved Martha. I Present you to my daughter, Damaris. I pray you keep her safe within your love, the love you hold for all our souls.’
Then, his hands still trembling, Arlie held the baby in the crook of his arm and traced a trium on her forehead. She’d stopped crying now, only letting out the occasional muffled gurgle. When he turned back to Martha, he smiled to find she had tears in her eyes.
Finnlay was the first to congratulate them, then others moved forward, kissing Martha and slapping Arlie on the back. Finnlay couldn’t help taking a good look at the child. She was lying in Arlie’s arm, her face screwed up like a sun-dried apricot.
‘Are you sure that’s your baby?’ Finnlay whispered to Martha. ‘She’s ugly!’
‘No, she’s not!’ Martha laughed back and gave his arm a playful slap. ‘And she’s got talents, too.’
‘How can you tell? She’s only a few hours old.’
Martha gave him a wise smile. ‘Mothers know these things.’
They all filtered out of the chapel and headed towards the refectory where there would be almond cakes and spiced wine in celebration. Finnlay began to follow them, but before he could get too far, an arm shot out of a side passage and pulled his sleeve. He stopped. It was Fiona.
‘Where did Patric go?’
Finnlay frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Patric left the Enclave two weeks ago. Where was he heading? Was he going to Marsay?’
‘I don’t understand.’ Finnlay glanced over his shoulder at his departing friends, then stepped further into the other passage. What could he tell Fiona? She was obviously suspicious.
‘Don’t play the fool with me, Finnlay Douglas!’ Fiona hissed. ‘My mother’s gone missing and I think you know something about it. I think that’s why Patric went off. There’s no other reason why he, of all people, would just up and leave the Enclave. For pity’s sake, Finnlay. Patric was born here, grew up here. He’s never been more than a hundred yards from the gate. Now tell me, where has he gone?’
Finnlay swallowed. ‘To Dunlorn.’
‘Why?’
‘I . . . saw your mother – just like I saw you and Jenn coming up the mountain. Ayn was in trouble.’
‘So you sent Patric to get your brother to go and help her?’ Fiona stared at him a moment longer, then turned away, hissing a curse. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘We didn’t want to worry you.’
‘When has that bothered you before, eh?’ Fiona closed her eyes, pain and fear at war on her face.
Hesitantly, Finnlay reached out to touch her shoulder, but she jerked away.
‘Could you do it again?’
‘Do what?’
‘Seek my mother. Could you get another vision of her like you did before? Can you find out if she’s still alive?’
Finnlay stepped back, half-afraid to answer. ‘You must have tried yourself.’
‘Finnlay,’ Fiona groaned, ‘you’re a much more powerful Seeker than anybody else. Just tell me, could you do it again?’
‘Not if she’s unconscious . . .’
‘Or dead?’
‘And if I was right,’ he continued, without acknowledging her interruption, ‘then her ayarn has been destroyed. I might be able to find her, but without that to focus on, I could never do it from this distance.’
Fiona almost smiled, but the expression got twisted into a grimace. ‘Then we’ll have to get you closer, won’t we?’
*
‘This is mad, Finnlay,’ Arlie whispered, pulling the last saddle strap tight. ‘When Wilf finds out you’ve gone, he’ll kill you.’
Finnlay glanced over his shoulder to where Fiona was tying a bag to her saddle. ‘What choice have I got? She’s right. We should have told her. We included her at the beginning, then made the decision for her afterwards.’
‘But what if somebody recognizes you?’
‘Who’s going to know me? We’re only going to get close enough to Marsay so I can try this tandem link with Fiona’s ayarn. She can get a lot closer to Marsay than me. I’ll still be a hundred leagues away. We’ll stay away from any villages, any people at all. There’s no danger, Arlie, really.’
Finished with the saddle, Arlie straightened up and held the horse’s head so Finnlay could mount. ‘You just be careful, Finn. I don’t want to have to try explaining to your brother how those rumours of your death were not false after all.’
‘Don’t worry, Arlie,’ Finnlay replied, swinging up into the saddle. ‘Everything will be fine. We’ll be back inside a week, no more. By then, you’ll probably have heard from either Robert or Patric. Tell Martha I said goodbye.’
With that, Finnlay kicked his horse and led Fiona through the gate.
*
Getting down from the mountains was easy. Making a passage through the boggy moorlands immediately north of the range was not so simple. All the heavy late summer rains had drained into this one area, turning it into a quagmire. They tried to keep riding, but for long stretches they were forced to walk, pulling the reluctant animals behind them. Through the whole journey, Fiona only snapped at Finnlay when he tried to make conversation.
On the other hand, it was good to be out of the Enclave – if only for a few days. Finnlay found himself stopping every few hours to smell the peaty air or to stare at the wide open plains, bare of any trees but graced with extraordinary rock formations. Although it had been only a few weeks since his arrival at the Enclave, it had felt like months to his wandering heart. These few days were a balm and he was determined to enjoy every last minute of them.
By the time they’d crossed the worst of the moorlands they were both tired and worn out. Finnlay found a spot and made camp where shoulders of hard rock leaned over a small river, one of the tributaries of the Vitala. From here, heading due east, Marsay was about three days’ journey. But Finnlay wouldn’t go that far. He would stay here, where the only sign of civilization was the tiny village of Bairdenscoth, two leagues upriver.
‘It’ll be hard going in places,’ Finnlay said, standing on the rock overhanging the water, ‘but you can virtually follow this course all the way to the Vitala. If you start out early in the morning and find a place to stop before dusk, we can try it then.’
Fiona stood beside him, frowning into the darkening sky. Her hair was pulled back from her face, making her expression hard and uncompromising. It was as though she did it deliberately, afraid that Finnlay wouldn’t take her seriously. ‘Very well. But how will I know if it does work?’
Finnlay raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s a good question. I’m not sure. The first time I tried it, I was holding Martha’s hand. She’s a pretty good Seeker, but she said she didn’t sense anything unusual. The second time, Jenn helped . . .’
‘But Jenn can hardly Seek to the end of her nose.’
‘But she does have a link with the Key,’ Finnlay added, trying to keep his temper. ‘Even though she doesn’t work with an ayarn, she did have some influence on the Seeking. She didn’t notice anything unusual, but perhaps, because she’s not much of a Seeker, she didn’t really know what to look for.’
‘And I will?’
Fiona was watching him now, waiting for him to falter. Finnlay stuck out his jaw. ‘If you have all these doubts, why are we here?’
‘Because your stupid antics got my mother into trouble and I expect you to help get her out of it.’ With that, Fiona turned away and began to build a fire against the chilly evening air.
Finnlay sighed. There was just no talking to the woman. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get past that wall of stubborn dislike – not even now, when he was risking his life to help her. And now she’d found something else to hate him for. Not directly, but his association with Jenn and her discovery of this presence at court had put Ayn in danger. It didn’t matter to Fiona that Finnlay had fought alongside Robert to stop Ayn from going to Marsay. No. With Fiona, everything was always straightforward. Black and white. No grey to be seen anywhere.
They ate supper in silence, allowing the dusk to descend upon them like a calming blanket. After the dishes were packed away, Finnlay banked up the fire and sat down with his back against a rock. Fiona sat opposite him with her eyes closed, shutting out conversation once more.
Why did he keep trying? What was he trying to prove? That he was just as good as Robert?
But he wasn’t and he knew it. Robert was taller, stronger, more powerful than he – and always had been. Finnlay didn’t mind. He’d never wanted to be the same, never even imagined the possibility.
So why did Fiona keep comparing them? Was she still in love with Robert?
Not that Robert had ever known about it. He’d always been the kind of person who found it impossible to believe that anyone could have so high an opinion of him. But just about everybody else knew. Perhaps that’s why Fiona was so prickly. It must be very awkward to have everyone around you knowing your heart’s desire was out of your reach.
‘Are you asleep?’
Fiona opened her eyes and looked at him warily. ‘No. Why?’
Finnlay came to his feet, glanced up at the stars and replied, ‘Because I think we should have a try at this tandem link. To see if you can sense anything now, while we’re still in the same place. It would be pointless trying to find Robert because he doesn’t have an ayarn either. We could try to find Murdoch.’
Fiona nodded. ‘Very well. What do I do?’
