Still, Vandal was an unknown asset who might help tip the balance in her favour. His wild Guardian power, born out of the union of Magoria and Ennae, had made him particularly receptive to the life-force the dwelt within Ennae. Perhaps that connection might be shaped to aid her, just as the memory stone could be used to focus the energy it encountered.
Emotional energy?
Glimmer was starting to favour that premise, and was wondering how her emotions could be better used to fulfil her destiny. She had once told Breehan, In the history of man the spirit always triumphs. Had the answer to this mystery lain inside her memories of mankind all along? Soon enough the serpent would come to them. Only then would she discover if her strength was equal to the task.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
R adio International, Blair Thompson reporting from the UN base in Turkey. Any survivors of the inundation receiving this message are warned that a further climatic situation has arisen. A huge crevasse has opened in the floor of the North Atlantic Ocean between what was Bermuda and the Florida coastline. Tide levels are dropping around the world as water is sucked below the crust of the planet. Should this cold water reach the molten core, an explosion is inevitable. Before losing radio contact, the last helicopter messages from above the growing whirlpool indicated that not only water but clouds were also being sucked in. Scientists here confirm that the atmosphere is diminishing. It appears that the earth is about to implode.
Those citizens of earth left alive are advised to pray to their respective deities and prepare for the end.
May God have mercy on our souls …
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
‘The hold. The mirror,’ Barrion’s lieutenant whispered. ‘Gone.’ He lifted a wavering arm to point at the uninterrupted surface of the loch which now swirled with dark otherworld hues.
Barrion was lowered to the ground yet he barely felt the sensation of it beneath his buttocks. His people had run for over an hour in strengthening winds, only to return too late. The sky-mirror was gone, which meant Magoria had been destroyed. There was no sign of the ventilation shafts that normally protruded from the loch surface. His submerged hold was either smashed or flooded. Sobbing around him was testament to the loss of those who had been left behind — infants and the aged, too feeble to help search for their lord. All dead.
‘My loch,’ he said, and nodded towards the dark waters.
The lieutenant turned, wiping his cheeks. ‘My Lord?’ he said dutifully.
‘I must speak to the Spirit of the Loch,’ Verdan said, his voice growing in strength. The loch had survived the destruction. It may yet be able to serve him. The winds were growing stronger and his people had no shelter now. ‘Immerse my lower body,’ he said, but when they lifted him, he added, ‘Keep hold of my shoulders.’ It would not serve his purpose to drown, and his men could not go in after him. Only those of the pure Verdan line could withstand the waters of the loch. For the rest its embrace offered pain and death.
‘Very good. My Lord,’ the lieutenant said, and instructed his men to lower Barrion into the edge of the strange swirling water.
It was Barrion’s genitals that struck the water first. He winced, expecting the immediate sensation of physical pleasure that usually accompanied contact with the loch, but although there was a gentle feeling of awakening, the strong touch of the loch was gone. He had feared his reaction to the Spirit’s caress, but now his concern was all for its safety. He urged his men to continue lowering him until the water swirled around his midriff. Pleasure grew slowly and Barrion struggled not to be distracted, but it had been so long since he had felt any pleasant sensations from what remained of his body. It would be easy to give himself up to the mindlessness of it if he did not have his people to consider.
He closed his eyes and sought communion with the loch.
You have returned, it whispered inside his mind, and though its voice retained its sensuous timbre, it was weak. I am changed.
As am I, Barrion replied silently. The waters of the loch caressed the stubs where his legs had once been and Barrion felt his cheeks flame. Though the Spirit of the Loch was neither male nor female, in his mind he had linked it with the pleasures of the flesh, and to be less than a man in its presence seemed shameful. Are you harmed? he asked.
I am bathed in Magoria’s demise, the loch replied. My brother, the Forest of Desire, is dead also. I cannot long survive.
That explained why the loch’s caress lacked its usual intensity, although the slow build-up of pleasure he was experiencing was most exquisite. Barrion felt it rise in waves from his groin, and he struggled to concentrate on his task. I need shelter for my people, he told the loch.
I am ready to repay the debt I owe you, the loch said, and into Barrion’s mind came an image of his men floating burning braziers on its surface when the Maelstrom had been new and ice had formed on the placid water. You saved me from the creeping sleep of death when I longed to avoid it. Now I want nothing more, yet I would sacrifice my own deliverance from pain to offer an innocent death to your people.
Death! Barrion felt the pleasure peaking and did not want it then but was unable to stop himself shuddering with the force of his release. He felt his men’s hands slip as he slid into the water.
I will support you, the loch said.
Barrion opened his eyes. ‘I am safe,’ he called to his men before they could venture in after him and lose their lives. He bobbed for a moment, then the loch proved true, supporting him on its surface. Floating on his back with his ears below the water he heard a strange low moan. The usually placid surface swirled around him and swept him away from the shore, away from the worried faces of his people. Why must they die? he asked.
Because the Maelstrom demands it. We all must die. I offer them a quick painless death.
Barrion saw the clouds above them swirling and darkening even as he watched.
Your hold was safe while the anchor lasted, the loch said. There is no safety now. You must choose their deaths.
Barrion turned his head slowly to look upon the hundred or so who stood on the shore gazing at him expectantly, some with faces still wet from lamentation. Should he let them die, terrified, in the storm, clutching each other and fearful of their ending, or let them sleep in the bosom of the loch? Choosing his people’s death was a duty of care he’d never imagined he would have to fulfil. You offer them a painless ending? He had to be sure.
The slow death of sleep.
And for me? Barrion held his breath.
You must accompany me into the death of the elemental, the loch said. You will not find your sister on the other side of it.
I must give up my soul? Barrion knew he would do anything to ease the burden of his people, but to give up his dream of seeing Ellega again? To die and never be reborn? Barrion had faced death many times at the hands of the Northmen and then again when the Be’uccdha physician had been forced to remove his limbs to save him from infection. But always he had done so in the sure knowledge that he would join Ellega on the other side.
‘My Lord, are you safe?’ his lieutenant called.
Barrion closed his eyes. I will do as you ask, he said. What must I tell them?
The loch was silent and again Barrion heard moaning in his ears. It was oddly disorienting, like the vibration that had accompanied the striking of boulders on their underwater hold in the Northman attack so many years ago. It was a sound he associated with fear, and he tried not to let it influence his thoughts now.
‘Lieutenant!’ he shouted, lifting his head. The water had swirled him around and he could no longer see his people on the shore.
‘Here, My Lord!’ a voice called a distance behind him.
‘The loch has spoken to me,’ Barrion called. ‘It is safe to enter the water. We will be protected from the Maelstrom here.’
‘My Lord?’ the lieutenant called back. ‘You want us to enter the loch?’ There was fear in his voice and Barrion heard muttering from the shoreline.
&nbs
p; ‘The winds quicken,’ Barrion shouted. ‘You must move quickly. All step to the shoreline and enter together.’ Barrion had no idea how they would be accepted into the loch, but he feared that if one tested the water and fell into slumber, the others might not follow. ‘Hurry now,’ he called.
‘Yes, My Lord,’ the lieutenant replied.
Barrion’s head fell back into the water to rest his aching neck. He would not hear their footfalls above the growing screech of the wind in any case. Yet he knew they would be lining up, trusting their lord to safeguard them, and the wetness on his cheeks was not of the loch.
‘We are ready, My Lord,’ the lieutenant shouted.
‘Then join me … in safety,’ Barrion called, his voice breaking with emotion. He swallowed hard and said again, ‘Join me now.’
‘My Lord, we come.’
Barrion closed his eyes and heard nothing more. No splashing or sounds of distress. No cries of wonder or despair. Nothing but the low moaning in his ears until the loch said, It is done.
Barrion was forced to accept this. His people were dead, his hold destroyed. The House of Verdan was no more.
1 grow weak, the loch said, nearer to his ear than before. I cannot live amid so much death.
I am here, he said by way of comfort. You are not alone.
The water caressed Barrion’s back with gentle eddies, reinforcing the idea in his mind that the spirit was feminine. Above him the wind roared, and though his eyes were closed against it he felt the water thrash around him, and he wondered whether it hurt the loch.
I am beyond pain. But not beyond suffering.
Barrion’s mind sank into a deeper level of awareness. He too felt that no amount of torture could offer him any more pain, yet he continued to suffer.
How can I help you die? he asked.
Be with me, the loch replied softly.
And Barrion said, Yes. He sank then, not fearfully with a gasping of breath, but as though he were sliding from fear into freedom. He opened his eyes and saw that beneath the water there were individual fingers floating past severed heads and bloated bodies. The loch was right, death permeated its very being.
Close your eyes, the loch said, and Barrion obeyed. He felt her next to him then, her fluid arms around him, cradling him close, her cool lips against his cheek. Lie with me in death, she said and Barrion knew he would gladly.
This is my love, he said. This is why I never took a wife.
I know, the loch replied, and then Barrion felt the breath from his chest ease out and drift away as his lover’s lips met his, filling him with her watery bliss. I’m not afraid to die, he said.
Neither am I, she replied.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Noola needed Mooraz, and she hated that dependency. A Plainsman’s only needs should be food and water. To need a person was to put your life into their hands, allowing them any liberty with your emotions.
‘Look at me,’ he said from behind her, but Noola steadfastly refused to turn.
She remained staring at their canopied bed, her arms crossed. The musty sheets and carved timber framework had felt decadent and exciting when they had first claimed this suite. Now she longed for the open Plains, the wind in her face and a light shelter strapped to her back. Possessions were poison and she was sure the luxury of Fortress Sh’hale had tainted her soul.
‘I will not leave you,’ Mooraz said. ‘I have given my pledge. And I do not ask this for myself, but for the tribe. The Catalyst and her party are leaving for Be’uccdha and we can go with them. I beg you to reconsider.’
She turned back to face him. You are the only one who wants to go. You go with them, she signed and pointed at the door. I release you from your ‘pledge’.
Mooraz waited, his gaze fixed on her eyes, as though he would wait forever.
She slapped her hands across each other. Go!
He shook his head.
A knock on the door. ‘Now, Be’uccdha.’ Kert of Sh’hale. Noola hated the very air he breathed. His House had taken delight in persecuting her people. But now he was allied with Talis who was her friend. So much of their lives had changed. Once she had hated those of Be’uccdha. But though she still feared his kinsmen, she had come to love Mooraz whose skin was as black as any of that House.
Love. Why didn’t it make her decisions easier?
‘Now, Noola,’ Mooraz said patiently.
She shook her head.
‘I want us to live,’ he said.
She stared at him resolutely, knowing she could not bend. The future of the tribe depended on her. Despite Talis’s reassurances, she knew they would not be safe at Be’uccdha. The Dark’s men had been trained to exterminate Plainsmen. They would not welcome them and share their food. Her tribe would be slaughtered and Pagan would kill Mooraz.
His assertion that Fortress Sh’hale would be destroyed before Castle Be’uccdha did not ring true for Noola either. Here her people were safe. She would not move them into danger simply because Mooraz wanted to return to his beloved Lady Lae!
The door banged open. ‘They are ready for you,’ Raggat said to Mooraz, bitterness in his voice. ‘You must hurry now to abandon us.’
‘Get out,’ Mooraz said, but kept his attention on Noola. The door slammed shut.
I am the leader, she signed, her hands trembling. I say the Plainsmen stay.
‘Then I will stay with you,’ he said, but even as the words left his mouth Noola knew his decision would lead him to resentment. If she forced him to stay with her when he so clearly longed to return to Be’uccdha, whatever caring there was between them would be destroyed. Noola had lost Breehan and Hanjeel through no fault of her own. She would not be responsible for losing Mooraz’s affection, even if it meant never seeing him again.
I don’t want you to stay, she signed before she could change her mind, and was surprised at how calmly her mind was working. It reminded her of Magaru’s prophecy. Mooraz would abandon them.
Because Noola would order him out.
‘I don’t understand.’
You are not one of us, she signed slowly, so he would not miss her intent. You have never been one of us. I no longer want to lie with you. You are of no further use to me. Her lips trembled now, along with her hands, and for once in her life Noola was glad that she could not speak, that he could not hear the pain in her voice.
‘I don’t believe you.’
She shrugged, a jerking movement. Go to someone who wants you. Your Lady Lae.
Mooraz shook his head but Noola had seen the flare of emotion in his eyes. It was true. He loved Lae, and now Noola was sure he had always loved Lae. Even when he had been joining with her, when she had been falling in love with him, Mooraz had been thinking of his lady.
We will not share food with you, she signed. If you want to eat, you will have to go with them. She nodded towards the door.
Mooraz was nodding too. ‘Very well.’ His face was closed, just as it had been when he had first become their prisoner. Noola felt as though she was looking at another man.
She slapped her palms against each other again and turned her back on him.
‘If you cast me out, I will go,’ he said.
Noola squeezed her eyes shut and stood as still as the stone her heart had become. The door behind her opened and closed. She breathed then, trying to still the pain in her chest, to survive the feeling of suffocation that all but overwhelmed her. When the worst of it had passed, she raised her chin and glared at the bed drapes until her breathing was steady. Then, when she was sure Mooraz would be in the main hall where The Catalyst’s party was gathering, she set off for the children’s quarters to help Eef prepare the evening meal.
A practical Plainsman leader.
Two corridors from her rooms Raggat materialised at her side, but she did not look at him and he merely kept pace with her while she strode on. Noola waited for him to say something about Mooraz, an insult, or to gloat that he had been right, giving her a reason to beat him for insolence
, but he said nothing.
They fed the children, pausing only when they felt a soft vibration beneath their feet. The Catalyst and her party’s departure. Noola made no comment on it and so the others continued in their tasks. When the children were fed and ready for sleep, Raggat told them a story of the Plainsmen’s courage and determination, struggling against the pogrom Be’uccdha had inflicted on them, reminding them that it was not the number of their warriors that counted, but the courage in those warriors’ hearts. Noola remembered it as a story Breehan had told them once and she marvelled at Raggat’s memory. He had indeed been destined to become their storyteller, and even now his maturity belied his age.
Eight.
The oldest male in their tribe.
Noola feared returning to her quarters, feared that the loneliness of her bed would devour her, yet she would not show these fears to her tribesmen. So she left Eef with a smile, taking a candle from the table to help guide her steps, making no comment about Raggat’s silent presence at her side. She knew she should berate him for his presumption and send him back to the children, but instead she pretended to herself that he, rather than Eef, was her Left Hand, and that it was only natural that he would escort her to her rooms.
At the door of her chambers she found she simply could not enter without acknowledging his kindness, so she turned to him and signed, You are a valuable member of our tribe, Raggat, touching his chest with a finger to personalise his name. And a good storyteller.
He did not smile, but merely gazed up at her with solemn eyes and said, ‘I will not leave you.’
Noola’s hand began to tremble and she dropped the candle, then turned blindly away, into her room. She pushed the door shut behind her, but in the sudden silence she heard no footfalls disappearing into the distance. Instead, there were the small sounds of a boy settling himself onto the stone floor outside her door.
Guarding her.
Noola covered her eyes and wept.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
‘Now here’s a dilemma for you, Father,’ Vandal said, his knife at Lae’s throat.
Glimmer in the Maelstrom: Shadow Through Time 3 Page 38