by Mark Hayden
To do that, they’d had to release her hands, and now she was fighting for her life. The Silence was gone, too, and I heard Vicky screaming defiance. And then I heard something else. The bump under Adaryn’s cloak was a harp. She began strumming it and singing, a piercingly beautiful song of power. In Welsh.
Was it the song or bad luck? Vicky’s bare feet slipped on the wet rock, and Iorwen pinned her down, pulling a cable tie around her hands. Iorwen was smaller than Vicky, but Vicky had no magick and Iorwen had clearly trained in martial arts. Vicky struggled for a second, then Iorwen punched her head down into the rock and Vicky went limp. It was time to close in.
I kept my eye on the women, and didn’t see the bog leading up to the improvised chimney. I staggered and fell forwards just as Iorwen grabbed a carabiner at the end of a climbing rope. Vicky had recovered enough to get to her knees, but couldn’t stop Iorwen clipping the carabiner to a climbing harness fastened roughly round her waist.
I levered myself out of the bog, and Adaryn saw me. She stopped singing long enough to shout a warning. Iorwen turned to look at me, and that was Vicky’s chance. She’d picked up a rock when she was knocked down, and swung it in her bound hands into Iorwen’s face with a crunch that felled the Druid. I’d have finished her off, but Vicky took a step back, allowing Iorwen to sweep Vicky’s legs from under her.
In two more steps I was with them. Adaryn started singing again, a different song, and one I’d heard before, at Lunar Hall. Not a song, a sonic assault, an unbearable pain that drilled through your brain. I stumbled, Vicky clapped her hands to her ears, sinking back to the ground, and Iorwen moved away to where the rope was coiled, next to a great iron spike that anchored it to the rock. Iorwen clipped herself to the rope and fiddled with a belay brake – the device that would allow her to lower Vicky into the Dragon’s chamber without killing her. With no Ancile to protect her, Vicky could be blasted into the chimney like clearing your patio with leaf blower.
The pain got worse, and I almost wished my ear drums would burst to stop it hurting, even as I took another useless step. Then Iorwen panicked, moved too quickly and the rope jammed in the belay brake. I had a few more seconds of agony to go before it was over.
Or a few more seconds to tap into that Lux and do something about it. Yesterday, I’d put a Silence on Gwyddno. I had no idea how it worked: I’d just summoned the magick from the Badge on my gun. But it was in there somewhere. I staggered left, to where the Lux was flowing like a brook over the edge of the chimney, and fumbled the Hammer out of its holster. I focused on the patterns under the magick and touched the Badge.
I tasted Nimue’s Well. Under the sweet water was the peace of the lake, and under the peace was a protective … Silence. I wove the peace around me and Adaryn’s Song was snuffed out.
Vicky was rolling in agony, only feet from the chimney, and Iorwen had nearly got the belay brake fixed. I took two of my biggest strides, and dived forward like I was trying to make the crease and score the winning run in a cup match. Instead of bringing my bat down, I stretched out to slam the machete into the rope. Sparks flew when the metal hit the rock, and the impact jarred up my arm. I must have put something extra into the strike, because the rope both severed and burst into flames. Vicky was safe. For now.
‘Run!’ I shouted, turning my head to see if she was OK.
Duh. She couldn’t hear me, of course. Silence cuts all ways. The Work had spread to her, and she was no longer in agony. When she looked up, I pointed left, jabbing for her to move. She nodded, and I started to get to my feet. With no noise to distract me, my sense of smell kicked in. The wind wafted some air from the chimney, and I smelled the Dragon for the first time – a throat-gagging combination of burnt meat and more sulphur.
Adaryn was still making the Song, and it seemed to absorb all her attention. Iorwen, under her own Silence, had been concentrating on the belay rope, and only looked up when she was ready to blast Vicky down the hole. Instead of a powerless Mage, she saw me.
Iorwen stepped back quickly, and her Silence brushed against Adaryn. There was a flash of light and the two Druids flew apart like opposing magnets, both collapsing into the mire. The pain behind my eyes was so intense, I could barely open them.
I stopped focusing on the Silence and brought up my machete in defence, slashing the air in front of me while my eyes recovered. I stopped waving it when I heard voices.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ said Adaryn.
‘No. The Diwethaf isn’t finished,’ said Iorwen.
Adaryn and I both heard the sound of the fanatic in Iorwen’s words. One of the spots in front of my eyes resolved itself into a white shape – Adaryn was picking up her harp and getting ready to scarper on her own. Iorwen was getting undressed.
What? No – she was taking off her harness, with the belay brake still jammed in the rope. When she’d freed it, she threw the harness overarm, above my Ancile, and used a blast of magick to push it in an arc that ended at the chimney. The harness plunged down the chimney, pulling the rope behind it. The cord unravelled until it was stopped by the metal anchor.
I took two paces forward, and Iorwen pulled out a short dagger that pulsed with magick. She was a master Artificer. She had made her son’s shield and spear. I did not want to get stabbed by that dagger.
She circled left, trying to get a line on Vicky, so I moved to block her. She moved left again and swapped the dagger to her left hand. I’d clocked that she was right-handed, so what was she up to?
She feinted with the dagger, then bent down to pick up a bowl that was hidden behind a pile of Vicky’s clothes. She tipped the bowl down her chest, covering herself with a viscous yellow goo that soaked her Druid’s robe like a stain of insect blood. I got an immediate hit of sulphur.
She swapped hands with the dagger, then threw it straight at my heart. I ducked.
One day, I won’t duck, when I’ve practised a bit more. My Ancile deflected the blade, because it was a missile, and I’d been in no danger. My bad leg spasmed, and I couldn’t get up before Iorwen reached the chimney. She grabbed the climbing rope and jumped down, using her bare hands as a brake.
I winced in sympathy. If she held on to that rope there would be no flesh left on her hands when she got to the bottom… but there would be a Dragon. Welshfire would get her anointed Diwethaf. Iorwen was no longer a problem for me.
Where was Adaryn? Over there, crouched over Vicky, with a knife to her throat. I took a deep breath and walked towards them.
‘You’ve over-played your hand, Imogen,’ I said. ‘You said that only both our deaths would keep you out of the shit, so I’m not going to surrender.’
Vicky’s eyes were closed. I knew she wasn’t faking it.
Adaryn gave me a game grin, the sort you give someone before a hand of poker. ‘You’d let me slit your bitch’s throat? Not very chivalrous, Sir Conrad. Don’t you fancy her enough to save her life? Are you frightened your “girlfriend” might find out you’ve been mooning after the little pikey? Unless your “girlfriend” is just a figment…’
‘Don’t bother, Imogen.’ I interrupted her bile, and took another step towards them.
Adaryn sliced the robe and revealed Vicky’s naked breasts. She gripped one of them in her left hand and held the knife to it. ‘Another step and I’ll slice it off. Not fatal, but…’ She saw the look on my face. ‘You’ve never seen her tits before, have you? Dragons don’t like artificial fibres, so we cut her bra off.’
I held my hands up and theatrically took a step backwards. ‘I’ll answer your question, Immy. It might help you understand your position.’
‘My position?’
‘Yes. Yours. For your information, if it was a choice of saving Vicky or my future wife and unborn children, I’d save Vicky. Every time.’
She relaxed her knife hand a fraction. ‘Why?’
‘Because I’m Vicky’s Commanding Officer. I wouldn’t follow a CO who wouldn’t give their life for mine, so why should anyone follow m
e unless I set the same standard? The trouble is, you can’t let either of us live, so you haven’t gained anything.’
She let go of Vicky’s breast. ‘How did you do it? Yesterday, you couldn’t light your own farts, so how did you pull that off just now?’
‘Blame Iorwen. That Ley line she created up the hill was so crude I could almost drink the Lux. That and the gift of a branch from MADOC’s Grove.’
‘Harry gave you a cutting?’
I nodded.
‘Et tu, Pennaeth? It wasn’t Iorwen who made the Ley line. She’s a perfectionist. Was.’
I took a moment to look round the hillside. We were in the middle of the lambing season, yet all this grass was far too long, and there wasn’t a Black Welsh Mountain sheep in sight. Or a Texel Cross.
Adaryn wasn’t looking at me any more. Maybe the isolation of her position was sinking in. I tried to engage her a bit more. ‘Have you fed all the sheep to the Dragon?’
She laughed. ‘Not personally. Rhein did that. And a cow, and some deer. Mostly sheep, though. You wouldn’t believe how much a Dragon can eat.’
It was time to get back to business. ‘You’ve got two choices, Imogen. Either three people come off this moor alive with one of them in custody, or you die. Look at it that way, if it helps.’
She reached under her robe, the knife never moving from Vicky’s throat. She pulled out a walkie-talkie and pressed Send. ‘Adaryn to Rhein. Over.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘…’
She’d switched to Welsh. I think I heard Blasu Diwethaf at one point. I definitely heard the note of triumph in Rhein’s reply. Adaryn clicked off the handset and dropped it on the ground. ‘Creative talents are seriously underestimated, don’t you think? You did well at school. I didn’t, because they don’t like creative types. I didn’t fit in their neat little boxes. Here’s a third option.’
She began singing a gentle song, still holding the knife in a threatening position. Something was happening, and I had to stop her. I started to jog forward just as Adaryn dropped the knife and laid her hand on Vicky’s chest. My partner’s muscles spasmed, and then she flopped back. Adaryn stood up.
‘I’ve stopped her heart, Conrad. You can chase me or try to save her. I kind of hope you do save her. And that the Dragon eats both of you.’
She lifted her robe and ran.
I ran, too, and the first thing I did was use the machete to free Vicky’s hands, then cut off the Druid robes they’d put on her. I dragged her to a boggy pool and dumped her in it. Then I looked at my watch. She was cold before and the icy bog would quickly lower her core temperature, helping to slow decomposition. All in all, I might have another nine minutes before massive brain damage occurred.
A roar came from down the hill. Of course. Quadbikes.
I wasted three seconds collecting things, then scooped up Vicky’s body. Sometimes you can’t unsee things that your eye thrusts into your brain, and I would never unsee the tattoo just to the right of Vicky’s Brazilian Strip. Ouch.
Iorwen’s bike was just below the crest of the moor, less than thirty seconds away. As I placed Vicky in the trailer, I noticed that it had stopped raining. The key in the ignition saved me another minute.
Adaryn had followed one set of tracks, north west. A second set led south west, and those were the ones I took. Vicky’s best hope was tied to the door of a green Golf.
25 — A Palate Cleanser
There were five minutes left on the clock when I roared up to Myfanwy’s car. I left the bike’s engine running and pulled open the door. The terrified Druid shrank as far back as she could with her arms nearly pulled out of their sockets.
‘Adaryn stopped Vicky’s heart. Can you restart it?’
‘I … I don’t think I can. I don’t have the power.’
‘I can get you the power. Don’t move a muscle.’
I slid the machete carefully between her hands, hoping the blue in her fingers wasn’t a sign of incipient gangrene. The rope and gaffer tape parted, and I swung her legs out of the car to release her feet. Four minutes.
She gave a cry of pain when the blood rushed back and she fumbled to rub life into her extremities. I jerked open the back door and grabbed her chain of Artefacts. ‘Here. Don’t try to stand. I’ll lift you on to the bike.’
I rolled her out of the car in a fireman’s lift and swung her on to the bike seat. There was just enough room for me to fit in front. I put the bike in gear and turned to the path I’d taken to find the Ley line.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Ley line up there.’
‘There’s another one to the mouth of the chamber. Follow the track.’
Three and a half minutes left. It was a gamble. I swung the machine round and roared on to the track, straight into the path of a red sports car.
Adaryn was getting away, and I swerved to avoid her, just as she swerved to avoid me. We passed in a shower of mud, and I was round the corner. The track only ran another hundred metres before the valley levelled out in an opening, and Myfanwy grabbed my shoulder. ‘To the left. There.’
I glanced to the right, and got an impression of buildings and a bite taken out of the hillside. I turned left and stopped when an inbreath gave me a waft of sulphur.
With two minutes left, I handed Myfanwy off the bike. She’d torn the tape off her wrists, taking skin with it. There was blood, and it was red. Good. I left Vicky where she was, and took out my dowsing rod. It took me another thirty seconds to find the exact run of the Ley line because this branch was much better crafted and better hidden. It also had even more power running through it.
Vicky’s naked body nearly broke my heart when I laid it on the gravel. Dirt would be pressing into those open wounds on her back. She’d need a visit to the hairdresser as well. ‘You make a start. I’ll tap the line.’
Myfanwy knelt by Vicky, placing her hands by the right shoulder and the bottom left of the ribcage. ‘She’s still in there, Clarke, but she’s wavering at the edge. I need enough Lux to create an electric current.’
I held the rod and tried to draw up the power like I had on the moor, but all I got was another waft of sulphur. Damn.
‘Now would be good,’ said Myfanwy.
I had one shot left. One choice. My left foot sank into a boggy puddle, and I knew what that shot would be. I shuffled so that my left hand was on Myfanwy’s shoulder, holding one end of the yew rod in my right. With a prayer to Odin, I jammed the rod into the puddle, down towards the power line.
Lightning flashed up my arm, scattered over my body and down into Myfanwy. Blue sparks flew off her hands as she jerked them away from Vicky, whose chest spasmed and lifted off the ground.
‘Stop,’ said Myfanwy.
I let go of the dowsing rod and dropped to Vicky’s side. Where the Druid had touched her, bright red burns were blossoming. Myfanwy stroked Vicky’s forehead gently as I reached for her wrist. I let out a sigh when a faint pulse kicked against my fingers.
‘She’s here. She’s back,’ said Myfanwy.
‘And she needs to get to hospital,’ I said. I went to pick out my rod, and felt a huge puddle of electricity gathering around it. I removed the rod gingerly, and the accumulated electrons flowed to earth through the pools of water.
I took it more slowly going back to the ruined cottage, and told Myfanwy to stay on the bike while I searched her battered VW. Myfanwy was wearing her street clothes, which meant her Druid robes must be nearby. I found the warm, dry garment in the boot and shoved it under my arm, then drove on to the Mercedes. I placed Vicky in the back, covered her with the robe and started the engine, turning the heat up to maximum. The cold on the moor had saved Vicky’s life, but it would kill her soon. Only when I’d shut the doors did I turn to Myfanwy.
‘Thank you. That was well done.’
She looked down. ‘I’m sorry it was necessary.’
‘So am I. Not only that, she’s going to die again very soon if we don’t act. DS Helen Davie
s is waiting at the main road, and you’re going to take Vicky to her in this car. After that you’ve got a choice. You can take the Mercedes and run, or you can go to the hospital with Vicky and hand yourself in. If you run, I’ll make sure no one chases you until tomorrow. Free and clear until then. If you surrender, I’ll put in a good word. I’ll do more than that, if I can.’
She rubbed at the sticky residue on her hands, reopening a wound. Her fingers weren’t burned, and she wasn’t even that wet. I got ready to count to twenty before taking action.
‘I won’t do more than my twenty-eight days in Blackfriars Undercroft.’
‘You’ve lost me, Myfanwy, but don’t take all day explaining it.’
Her cornflower blue eyes widened. ‘Adaryn said you were wet behind the ears, but you must know about the Undercroft.’
‘It’s a prison. So what?’
‘It’s more than a prison. It’s a sentence of death or madness to a Mage. I can do my month on remand, but any sentence has to be Seclusion under house arrest.’
‘Don’t ask for the impossible. You must know that I have no say in sentencing.’
‘Adaryn also said your motto was A Clarke’s word is Binding.’
I nodded.
‘Then give me your word that if I’m sentenced to the Undercroft, you’ll break in and release me.’
Vicky was dying. She needed me. ‘Very well, but the bond only covers the offences I know about. Anything else and it’s void. Deal?’
‘Deal.’
‘Get your phone out and video me. Make sure the sound is working. Quickly.’
She did what I asked with raised eyebrows, but she did it. I wiped my face and stared into the lens.
‘Helen, listen carefully. Vicky needs to get to an ICU urgently. She’s suffered cardiac arrest and may have hypothermia. Myfanwy will go with the ambulance or drive her in the Mercedes. Whatever you think is quicker. After that, Myfanwy needs to be taken into custody. When you’ve sorted Vicky, put out an alert for that Range Rover and the red Audi, if they passed your way. The occupants are not to be approached by the mundane police. Call Rick and tell him what’s happened. I’ll see you when it’s over. Do not attempt to come up here.’