Ferkle, the shy, younger feral gave one of Brint’s long ears a tug. ‘Have ears even the walls.’ He giggled as Brint scowled and slapped him away with both her hands.
Dougray peered at Ferkle. ‘What do you mean?’
From behind Brint, Ferkle gazed up at him. ‘An intruder it gets angry at, but not us. Silent are we, like shadows.’
Dougray’s jaw dropped. The magic was alive. That explained a lot of things. Up until then, he’d always believed it was used by Magic Men. How wrong he’d been. It used them! So far, he’d picked up from the ferals’ unusual conversation that magic could hear, see and detect the presence of intruders. Ferkle nodded and giggled and clapped his hands as he stared at Dougray.
‘Understand now you do.’
Dougray nodded. ‘Yes, I understand.’
Griff shoved Ferkle away. ‘Into the palace something dark has come. Very bad.’
‘Very dark, very dark, something very dark...’ the ferals sang in unison; their singsong voices hinting of fear.
Melenor looked grim. ‘What do you mean, Griff?’
Brint answered in a low, grim voice. ‘Ancient evil. Swallows everything. Its name us not know.’
Belle’s fingers grasped Dougray’s arm. ‘Morgranus! The spirit of the Sorcerer.’
Her hissing whisper awoke memories of it on the edge of the gulf as it consumed Navarre. His blood chilled at the thought. Was it now roaming about the palace? If so, Robbie wouldn’t even know that Morgranus was there until it was too late. How long would he be able to avoid such a demon when he was a prisoner? If Navarre could not withstand such evil, Robbie certainly couldn’t.
What if Morgranus has already discovered Robbie—?
Belle nudged him. ‘Do not let fear rule your heart, Dougray. Nothing is certain.’
The dismal thoughts fled. Once her uncanny ability to foresee the future had infuriated him; now he clung to her words and they steadied his crumbling emotions.
Then Runkle and Griff took hold of Brint’s hands. ‘Come on! Hurry now. Must go, just we three! Not Ferkle. Magic’s looking. Whispers must we.’
Ferkle stepped in front of them and pointed to the trees. ‘Fog in the forest there is. Can’t see. Come with you.’
Runkle sniffed. ‘No, Ferkle. Too young. Too scaredy. Go home.’
Ferkle stamped his feet and put his hands on his hips like a petulant child. ‘Not too young! Not scaredy! Brave Ferkle.’
Brint touched his arm but he brushed it away. She smiled. ‘Poor Ferkle. Go home now. There safe.’ The young feral turned and with a loud wail, disappeared among the trees.
Griff looked at Melenor. ‘Changes things, fog does. Safe paths we follow. Yes. Above the paths of the dead take we. Know them well.’
Mouse gave a loud groan as the ferals chanted, ‘Above the paths of the dead take we, take we. Not the paths of the dead take we. He he he. He does not see. He cannot see.’
Mouse looked distressed. ‘This is clearly not a good idea.’
Runkle looked back and waved to Mouse. ‘Follow you must, if safe paths you need. No others follow. Lost you’ll be if safe paths you leave. Guides you, the singing. Correct way it teaches.’
They turned and vanished into the night. Melenor shrugged at Dougray, then sprang after them. They clambered to their feet and hastened after her. The ferals led the way with Melenor and Rory marching ahead.
Dougray limped behind Belle and the inventor with all the speed he could muster. He grasped the edge of his sodden cloak and pulled it about himself, but it did little to keep the chill out. To top off the bizarre night with its outlandish denizens, his breeches were wet through from sitting on the damp ground, adding to his growing discomfort. And underlying it all, he couldn’t shake a premonition of great evil stirring in Morgran’s cauldron. It was bubbling somewhere inside the palace where Robbie was a prisoner. The feeling was as strong as the taste of curdled milk. But would they locate Robbie before Morgranus discovered him? All he had was faith in the Morning Star. It would have to do.
Chapter 30
Pursuit
Robbie jumped up from where he was sitting on the bed as the key turned in the lock. He faced the door as one of Caiwen’s guards opened it. A young maid carrying a covered tray of food followed the princess as she entered the room, her long gown sweeping about her slippered feet.
‘Just place it on the desk and leave,’ Caiwen ordered.
The girl cast furtive glances in Robbie’s direction as she curtsied and hurried to the small oak desk beside the window. Robbie returned the stare. Men in Dwellinfrey must really be a rarity, an odd mixture of repulsion and curiosity for the women. Everyone stared at him, from the guards to the lowliest of servants.
Once the maid left, Caiwen beckoned. ‘Come and eat, Robbie.’
He walked to the desk as she spread her skirt about herself on the chair. There was no time for a tea party when all he could think about was Morgranus. At any moment, Elimas would come for him. Caiwen smiled and gestured to an empty chair opposite her. He sat down, aware of her nearness, aware of her watching him. She uncovered a platter of mixed meats, sliced bread, cheeses and various fruit. A grumble came from Robbie’s aching stomach.
Caiwen sat back in her chair. ‘Well, eat what you like. Go on.’
He instinctively reached out and picked up a slice of bread and some cheese and meat. He’d eaten several by the time he realised the princess had only picked at her food. Her jewelled fingers took up a long-stemmed cup and she turned it around in her hands. She placed her lips to its rim and stared over the top at him. Glancing up, he swallowed the last mouthful and wiped his mouth with a napkin he found on the tray. He took the liberty of pouring the mint tea into a cup. Its scent was strong and the hot liquid was delicious as it warmed him. He looked at the princess as he clutched his cup.
‘Why are the men treated the way they are here in Dwellinfrey?’
Caiwen’s crossed leg kicked back and forth beneath her gown as her gaze drifted to the garden. He didn’t think she’d answer, but then she turned and gave him a tentative smile.
‘It’s one of Elimas’s laws, not my mother’s. She had all the men banished or enslaved before I was born.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Even my father.’
‘Do you know if he’s still alive, or where he went?’
‘I wasn’t born when he left, so how should I know?’ She folded her arms and gazed at him.
Careful.
A strained silence passed. Light-headedness washed over him and he placed the cup down. He cleared his throat. ‘How long has Elimas been here?’
She yawned. ‘A few years before I was born.’ Her hair fell across the left side of her face like white silk, reminding him again of Sojourn.
Robbie took a new direction. ‘King Morgran rules the land where I come from. Have you heard of him?’
‘Of course I’ve heard of King Morgran. Who hasn’t?’
‘But do you know that he sends Magic Men and Women to deceive the kings and queens.’
She shook her head. ‘You had better hold your tongue, young man! You are speaking treacherous lies about our king.’
‘I have passed through three lands that have fallen under his spells. We destroyed a black dragon from the Abyss not many days ago that he released to destroy the Elves. Your mother’s kingdom is the fourth that lies beneath his spells! He plans to destroy all in his path, Princess, including you and your mother.’
He didn’t know where his boldness came from and it left him feeling dizzy.
Furious, she placed her hands on the edge of the desk and pushed herself upright. She glared at him; her mouth set in a thin, hard line.
‘You had better stop right now before I call the guards! You have no right—!’
Caiwen touched her head and staggered forward. Robbie leaped to his feet and caught her as she fell. Something was wrong. He could barely hold her up. She pushed him away and he let her go. If he didn’t make her see the truth now, he never w
ould. Time was slipping away. Clutching the table, she turned and took an unsteady step towards the door.
‘Princess, look at us!’ She halted. ‘We shouldn’t be like this. I think someone’s tampered with the food.’
Anger blazed in her eyes. ‘No one would do such a thing. I am the princess. I’m calling the guards!’
Robbie’s teeth grated in his jaw as she started for the door. She had taken no more than a few steps when a loud scuffle broke out in the corridor and she halted. Furious shouts and then the violent clash of steel upon steel rang outside the door. Stepping back in alarm, Caiwen stumbled and landed on her backside with a shrill cry. Robbie hurried to her side, but his own legs were unsteady.
‘Princess, we have to get out of here. They’re coming!’
She glanced up at him, as if seeing him for the first time, her face frozen with indecision. A moment of carelessness allowed her hair to fall away from her face. An old scar from a burn had disfigured all the left side of her cheek. The delicate flesh had melted, rucking up like crumpled parchment. The sight moved Robbie.
Risking all, he reached out and helped her up. ‘Princess, is there another way out of here?’
Someone tested the latch. Beside himself, Robbie glanced at the door. A sense of panic came over him.
‘Caiwen, is there another way out of here?’ He looked back at the princess, at her ashen face and sinking eyelids. ‘Caiwen!’
He caught her by the wrist and spun her around, but his own faculties were growing sluggish. Then he shook her shoulders hard. She giggled, her head drooping like a wilted flower. She didn’t get it. Someone had poisoned their food and now they were coming to kill them.
He pinched himself on the arm to stay awake. At once, his weariness left. It worked so well that he pinched Caiwen on the arm, too. She yelped and glared at him.
‘What did you do that for? How dare you—!’
Something heavy smashed against the door. Caiwen stifled a scream as the whole frame shuddered and bits of plaster fell onto the bedroom floor. One more time and the door would splinter. Outside in the garden came the sound of hurrying feet and shouting voices as soldiers raced towards the princess’s room. Exiting that way was out of the question. It wouldn’t take much to shatter the glass window and clamber inside.
‘This way.’ Caiwen stumbled to the huge, stone fireplace. Her searching fingers located a hidden catch beneath the mantelpiece. It clicked as it released and the wall moved aside to reveal a dark crack. A secret passageway! Robbie pushed against the wall with his shoulder and it slid open far enough for Caiwen and him to slip through. He pushed the wall back into its slot in the floor, drowning out the noise as the door was battered apart and soldiers rushed inside. Chest heaving, Robbie was aware of the princess clutching his arm.
He reached inside his tunic and pulled out his light stone. Its glow illumined the walls of the tunnel and the inky corridor that disappeared before them. He turned and looked at Caiwen’s sleepy face. They couldn’t afford to stop now, not with Elimas so close on their heels. She would use magic to discover the hidden catch and soon the tunnel would be crawling with soldiers.
‘Where does this tunnel lead?’
‘Outside. It goes out…into the garden…where the trees start.’ Her voice slurred.
‘Come on then. Stay close.’
Robbie knew they had to keep moving to stay awake. He led the way through the dark tunnel, its faint, dank smell barely noticeable. Muffled sounds became lost in the shadows behind them as they rounded a corner. Sweat trickled down his face and pooled on his back. His chest heaved and a desperate weariness overcame him. His laboured breathing sounded harsh in his ears and his eyes burned as he stared into the darkness ahead. Aching all over, he forced his legs to keep moving. It was the sound of fabric tearing and the loud moan from Caiwen that forced him to stop.
He turned as she tugged at her long gown that had snagged. She gave a loud, frustrated groan as the cloth ripped when she yanked it.
‘Your dress is too long.’
Her hand reached up and rubbed her eyes. ‘I’m too tired to worry...I have to sleep.’
‘I’m sorry, Princess, but I have to tear the bottom of your dress...so you can move easily.’
Without looking at him, she nodded, swaying backwards and forwards on her feet. He grabbed the bottom hem. He felt her hand resting on his shoulder and then he pulled the fabric apart. It took longer than he imagined and by the time he’d torn it off, sweat was streaming down his face. He clutched at his chest as pain stabbed him. The poison—or drug—was affecting his coordination and he couldn’t think straight. Caiwen’s hand shifted to his arm. It was hot, sweaty.
‘Robbie...help me off with it...I’m suffocating.’
He blinked at her, but she had turned her back to him, where a complicated knot of crisscrossed ribbons bound her inside the dress. He rubbed his hand across his eyes as he stared at them, trying to unravel them in his mind first. It seemed to take an age for his fumbling fingers to untie them. Caiwen let out a deep breath when the last ribbon unravelled and the gown fell onto the floor. Caiwen was standing in a shorter white petticoat version of it.
‘We have to keep moving.’
Turning, he stumbled deeper into the subterranean tunnel. Caiwen staggered after him. Robbie felt as if his body had somehow separated from his thoughts and was trudging onward by itself. A dizzying, light-headedness was swiftly overwhelming him and he was starting to see double. He knew it was the effect of the poison or the drug. Something bitter curdled inside his stomach. All his reserves of strength drained from his body and then he found himself lying on the ground.
It took a monumental effort to raise his head to look for Caiwen. The princess was lying on the stone floor behind him, either fast asleep or sinking into permanent oblivion. The cold, sharp rock scraped his knees as he crawled towards her. His throat and lungs burned when he inhaled.
Then the sound he dreaded boomed through the corridor and increased in volume. Soldiers were hurrying into the tunnel after them. It hadn’t taken Elimas long to discover the way in. He had barely moments to act. Hands under Caiwen’s arms, he hauled her over to the wall. His breath was ragged and his movements awkward.
Struggling against blacking out, he sank beside Caiwen and threw out his thoughts, seeking a way to hide them both. He began to imagine that they were part of the dark rock. It was easy. Magic flooded them, transforming the texture of their bodies. It was odd how it happened. Grey shadow fell upon Caiwen’s petticoat and he realised it had turned hard, the soft folds of fabric frozen in sharp angles of stone. He could no longer see her; imprisoned within the rock, she would be kept safe until he released her.
Pursuing feet scuffed against the rocky floor as soldiers hastened into the tunnel. Seconds remained. Time and space merged as Robbie blended with the stone in the wall, with the coarse gravel and the sand. The wall rippled as he moved through it. Or was it moving through him? It was a stomach-turning sensation that left him feeling queasy, but he could achieve it with minimal effort once inside. Exhaustion quickly overcame him and his eyelids slammed shut against the commotion without.
Chapter 31
The Stone Garden
They moved in silence. When anyone spoke, it was in a low, hushed voice. It was a strain trying to listen for other sounds when the strange breathing of the trees persisted. They made Dougray’s skin crawl. It was an odd place and he was certain worse was to follow. The arrival of Morgranus had changed everything. His brother’s safety was paramount, but fear mocked in the back of his mind. It reminded him of what the demon was capable of doing with images of Navarre being swallowed up at the edge of the forest.
Belle would be thinking about it too, except her heart was ruled by her faith in the Morning Star, an elusive deity they’d all grown up hearing about. Robbie, the naïve one, had believed in him from the beginning, as a child. But Dougray needed to see something to believe in its existence. He was still thinking
about all this when he was aware of soft singing up ahead. Belle halted and waited for him.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘The ferals have begun to sing. The way ahead is dangerous. Stay close.’
Tendrils of white mist wrapped about their legs. Ferkle’s fog. Within minutes, it became thick like soup and he had difficulty seeing Mouse and Belle in front of him. Reaching up, he touched his hair. His fingers came away damp.
The trail was barely visible. The forest, shrouded on either side of him, was like a curtain from where the occasional ghostly arm of a stark branch reached out and made him start. Ahead, the singing persisted, a faint chant that lifted above the dizzying whiteness. The sound was comforting, even if he didn’t understand it.
Soon the muddy trail grew slippery and progress slowed. Tumbles and falls sent Dougray’s temper flaring. Growling under his breath, he clambered to his feet and followed the sound of the ferals’ singing. The fog swallowed everything else. They could have been tramping for minutes or several hours. He halted.
‘Belle!’
The singing continued.
He raised his voice a little louder. ‘Belle! Mouse! Are you there?’
Silence.
‘Belle!’
He could hear the ferals singing, so why hadn’t anyone answered him? The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He turned about. The voices were clear and audible, each note oddly familiar as he recognised the same words.
The same, repeated words.
A thrill of fear passed through him as he realised what had happened. The ferals had moved along with everyone else and he’d been left alone, believing he was still following them, still on safe paths. The deception made him giddy.
The magic that guarded the city had somehow by-passed the ferals’ singing. The fog, too, must have been conjured up to work against them. Hadn’t Griff warned them of the arrival of something very dark? What if Morgranus’s magic was countering their whisperings, projecting it like an echo and making it ineffective?
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