Wolfking The Omnibus: Books 1-4

by Sarah Rayne

  “Not,” said Joanna, “if the person creating the diversion was not in possession of his sanity.”

  This time the silence lasted longer. They stared at her.

  Then Dubhgall said, in a low voice, “But your ladyship, begging your pardon, but — he’d never do it. He wouldn’t understand what was wanted.” He stole a glance at the blank staring eyes; John Grady had barely moved since they were put in the cell, he had grunted once or twice, but he had stayed lying slumped against the cell wall. “It wouldn’t work,” said Dubhgall.

  “He’s right,” said Muldooney, unexpectedly speaking out. “The poor man couldn’t be made to understand.” Muldooney had followed the conversation carefully; he had not said very much, because he had not been able to think of anything to say, and he had been told that a still tongue meant a wise head. He had only dimly grasped the business of this cloak they all seemed to set so much store by, but he had certainly grasped Joanna’s idea about creating a diversion, and he thought it a sound one. But he agreed with Dubhgall, and although he dared say it was not his place to speak out, speak out he had. You had to have the courage of your convictions sometimes. And it was a remarkable thing, but when he had spoken out, voicing his agreement with Dubhgall, in a firm voice, they had all turned to look at him, and they had listened and nodded their agreement. Muldooney was not very used to people according him this degree of attention, and it occurred to him that it was rather pleasant. And although it would be too much to say that it lent him confidence (because there was never a Muldooney born yet who lacked confidence, of course), he found himself able to join in the discussion that followed and to feel that he was a part of it all.

  Joanna said, very calmly, “But I did not mean him to do it. Of course he could not. One of you must pretend to be witless.”

  “But,” said Gormgall, “that would mean there’d be two. And the guards and Morrigan and the hunchback all know that when they brought us here there was only one.”

  “Yes,” said Joanna, and looked at them all very steadily. “We cannot trust him to carry out our plan, and so one of you must take his place.

  “And since, as Gormgall says, we cannot have two idiots, then the real one will have to die.

  “We shall have to kill him.”

  *

  Cormac thought that if he had never loved Joanna before, he loved her in that moment, her little face white, her eyes huge and fearless, her voice steady. But Cormac could feel, as the others could not, that she was burning up inside with horror, and he could feel that every nerve in her body was alive with pain. Even so, he thought, she understands that if we are all to live, then one must die.

  If they all died, Tara would be within the Erl-King’s grasp at last …

  Cormac looked at Joanna and remembered the old word kingship, and the new one statecraft. She has both, he thought, and remembered again the old stories and the old beliefs in Dierdriu: The High Queen would return when her people were in their darkest hour …

  Joanna said, “It, is the only way, you know,” and there was a silence, while each of them absorbed the plan, and each of them saw that it was indeed the only way.

  Gormgall said, “Who is to take his place as the — the witless one?” and they all looked at one another.

  And then, quite without warning, entirely without anyone suspecting, Muldooney said, “I will.”

  And Joanna leaned forward and took his hands, “Oh will you? Will you really?” and Muldooney turned beet red and patted her hands, and tried not to hear Dubhgall who had snorted disgustedly.

  In fact, Brian Muldooney, respectable, unimaginative pig-farmer, was becoming genuinely appalled at the mess they were all in. He had by now grasped that they had all fallen into the hands of a very evil being, and he quite saw that Joanna’s plan was their only chance of escape. As for playing the fool a bit when the time came, well, they might all of them find it hard to believe, but Muldooney could cut a bit of a caper with the best. Ah, Muldooney might not be one of your fine handsome gentlemen (although there were those who had considered him not so dusty in his time!) but when a bit of the fool-playing was needed, Muldooney was your man! He squared his shoulders in manly fashion and cracked his knuckle joints a few times, just to show them all how formidable he was, until Dubhgall said, “That’s a terrible sick-making sound. Is it some kind of affliction you have?”

  They discussed the plan from all angles, and Muldooney was careful not to miss a thing, because it was best to know what was expected of you on these occasions; and finally, Joanna said, “I cannot see any other way. I wish I could.” And her eyes went to the figure in the corner.

  They had made some further attempt to bathe Grady’s poor wounded mouth, although there had not been very much they could do.

  “But I have a lotion that will soothe it,” said Gormgall.

  “If he’ll take it,” said Dubhgall.

  Grady would not take it. He had lapsed into a kind of stupor, but when Gormgall tried to sponge his mouth and Joanna held his hands down, he backed away, glaring at them with such maniacal fury in his eyes, that they stopped. He was a pitiable sight by this time. His hair was lank and matted — “And somehow greyed,” said Joanna — and his clothes were muddied and bloodied, and really rather sordid.

  “We are all muddied and bloodied, of course,” said Gormgall always sympathetic.

  “There’s a difference,” said Dubhgall.

  But the greatest and the worst difference was in Grady’s face. Joanna, who could hardly bear it, thought it was as if his features had collapsed in on themselves, as if his bones had all been extracted along with his power of speech. His eyes were dull and staring, except for the brief occasions when they became filled with a mindless fury. It was this that tore Joanna apart with pity and revulsion. She thought she might have coped with the pity, but to recognise the revulsion was barely endurable. Several times she tried to talk to him, searching for a flicker of recognition, but there was nothing. John Grady simply sat dribbling and staring at nothing, soiling himself where he sat, utterly beyond their reach.

  “He is gone,” said Cormac when Joanna wept on his chest. “Human Child, he is for ever in the dark, and he is forever lost to the world of men. We will make an end to his suffering, and his death will help Ireland.”

  Joanna said, “Yes, of course. Forgive me. And I hold by my plan.” She sat up and wiped her eyes, and everyone tried not to look, although Dubhgall blew his nose rather loudly. Gormgall and Muldooney both assumed an air of hopefulness, and Muldooney had the mien of one who carries a weighty responsibility. A feeling of optimism pervaded the cell. “Although,” murmured Gormgall to Dubhgall, “there’s the actual disposing of the poor man to be done.”

  Cormac, who heard him, said at once, “That is not the least bit difficult. There is a pressure spot on the neck. A few seconds only. Quick and clean. He will never know.” He looked at them rather haughtily. “And only a High King may decide when to take a life,” he said, and Gormgall and Dubhgall both backed off.

  Cormac turned to Joanna. “All right?” he said gently.

  Joanna gulped and said, “Yes. All right,” and Cormac moved swiftly to where Grady sat, and reached out his hands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Flynn and the others stood on the ridge of rock that led across the chasm and stared ahead of them. “Scáthach,” said Conaire softly. “The Fortress of Shadow.”

  “Ireland’s place of exile,” said Oscar, from behind him. “And,” put in Sean, “it looks deserted.”

  “It is deserted,” said Etain. “I told you.”

  Scáthach was very deserted indeed. They walked warily through the echoing chambers and halls, and peered into the empty galleries, and heard their footsteps echoing rather forlornly in the huge old fortress, and tried not to remember that the Wolfking had lived here for five long years after he had been cast out of Tara.

  “Unbearable,” said CuChulainn.

  “He did bear it, though,” sa
id Conaire.

  “Did he?” said Etain.

  But the signs of departure were there, and the signs of recent occupancy were there as well. Oscar laid his hand against the chimney breasts — “Warm,” he said. “My friends, it is not so long since fires were kindled here.”

  And Sean, descending to the kitchens — “By instinct,” said Conaire — reported that the bread in the crocks was still fresh, and that honey and cheese and milk were all there. “And the side of a nice piece of pork as well,” he said, and CuChulainn looked hopeful, and said he did not see why they should not spend a night’s rest here.

  But at length, they stood facing one another in the dim sunken hall that Joanna had entered, and when Conaire said softly, “He has broken the Enchantment,” a great delight flared between them.

  Flynn, watching, standing between Amairgen and Portan, thought: yes, but how has he broken it? “Open locks, to the Human’s hand …”? Oh Joanna, my love, were you here? And did you in truth dissolve the Enchantment? He closed his eyes, and for a moment, Joanna was with him, so that he could hear her laughing and see her eyes narrowed against the sun, and he could smell the clean hair and the sweetness. An ache of longing rose up in him, but he listened to their plans, and agreed, quite calmly with CuChulainn that they might as well rest inside Scáthach before going on.

  Conaire said, “Yes, we could certainly start for Gallan in the morning. We could be quite comfortable here,” and Sean and CuChulainn went off to see about the food and discuss could they find any apples to go with the pork.

  Flynn, seeing Portan lead Amairgen to a fireside seat and then turn to mend the fire, felt suddenly and sharply lonely. He thought: I believe Joanna was here, and the wish to have her with him, to share this strange beautiful cruel world with her, was so overpowering, that for a moment he felt he could not go on. And then confidence came rushing back, and with it strength: I will find her if I have to tear Ireland apart with my bare hands! and he was able to sit with Amairgen and discuss the journey, and speculate on what might be ahead.

  After supper, which CuChulainn and Sean prepared between them — “And very good it was as well,” said Oscar, who believed in praising people as often as you could — they sat together to discuss their plans.

  “Gallan,” said Conaire firmly, and the twins nodded in agreement. “At daybreak,” said Conaire. “Because it’s a long journey we’ll have.”

  “And,” put in Sean, “it means going through Muileann.”

  A sudden silence fell. Finally, Oscar said, “We could go round Muileann.”

  “Could we? How could we?”

  “Where’s a map? Hadn’t the Wolfking ever a map in this forsaken place? What? Oh, a map room. Well,” said Oscar, “I’m rather surprised to find such a thing in Scáthach. I’ll wager that Eochaid Bres and Bricriu didn’t know about it when they brought the King out here.”

  “Eochaid Bres and Bricriu don’t know everything,” said Midir.

  “They only think they do,” put in Etain.

  “Yes, but are the maps any use?” said CuChulainn.

  “Let’s find out,” said Flynn, and nearly the entire party got up and tramped off through the castle, making, said Sean, a great to-do and raising a good deal of quite unnecessary noise.

  “Of course, it all comes of bringing CuChulainn and those unruly twins,” he explained to Amairgen who was sitting in the sunken hall, with Portan nearby. “They’re the King’s men, you understand,” added Sean, “and they’ll be very useful in the battle, well, so will all the creatures of the Bloodline. You wouldn’t believe the havoc that the Swans can cause, and of course, as we all know, there’s not many that can hold back a stampeding team of Chariot Horses.

  “But they’re so noisy,” said Sean, lifting his head complainingly, as the rest of the party stamped about overhead, punctuating their search for the map room with cries of “Who’s got the key?” and “Don’t trip over that bearskin,” and “While we’re at it, let’s raid the wine cellars.”

  “They’re so loud,” said Sean. “They have to be off doing things. Finding things. It’s very tiring.”

  “I’m sure it must be. Tell me, is Gallan a great journey off?”

  “Well I have to say it is,” said Sean.

  Amairgen said rather wistfully, “I should like to have seen it. Is it as beautiful as they say?”

  “Yes,” said Sean. Portan reached out for Amairgen’s hand.

  “You will see it,” she said softly. “For I shall see it for you,” and Amairgen smiled, and returned the pressure of her hand, and Sean, who was not, of course, the smallest bit sentimental, had to blow his nose rather violently, and interpose a question about the world Amairgen and Portan came from.

  “Not,” he said earnestly, “that I’d pry.”

  “Of course not,” said Portan politely.

  “No, but I have to be always on the alert for new ideas,” said Sean seriously. “You never know what mightn’t be useful.”

  Portan said, “You would not like our world, Sean. It is cruel and harsh and — rather bleak.” And she leaned back against the warm brick of the chimney breast and smiled at Sean, and Sean smiled back.

  The others, in the meantime, had finally discovered the map room. “And a fine gloomy old place it is,” said CuChulainn, disgustedly surveying it. “I don’t suppose the Wolfking entered it from one year’s end to the next.”

  “I don’t suppose he knew it was here,” retorted Etain.

  “Well now we’re here, let’s see what we have,” said Flynn, turning his attention to the maps they had unrolled on the table, and to the quarrel that was now being happily waged.

  The twins and CuChulainn were all for going openly through Muileann. “Never mind the Miller,” said Etain, “we can deal with a dozen Millers,” but Oscar was inclined to opt for a discreet journey across the plains.

  “We’d be more noticeable crossing the plains,” objected CuChulainn.

  “Not if we went by night,” said Oscar, and a sudden silence fell. To journey across the countryside in the bright clear day, hailing chance-met fellow travellers, taking meals in the high noon, was one thing; they were all used to that. They rather enjoyed it. But to go by night, secretly and furtively, not able to see an enemy creeping up behind you, well, that was another thing entirely. They looked at one another, and several of them remembered that the Morrigna were said to scour the countryside for victims by night, and several more remembered that in all the old stories, the Erl-King walked abroad after nightfall.

  Flynn, holding on to patience, said, “But which is the quickest route?” and they all turned to look at him, and Oscar, the most perceptive of all these very perceptive creatures, said, “Flynn, we had almost forgotten —” and Etain came to sit beside Flynn and said, “But we had not really forgotten.”

  Flynn said, “I suppose it does not really matter where I go, because she might be anywhere,” and hoped this did not sound as desolate as it felt.

  Oscar said thoughtfully, “But, you know, I don’t think that’s entirely so,” and Flynn looked up.

  “‘Open locks, to the Human’s hand,’” said Oscar softly.

  “Then you do think she is with Cormac?”

  Oscar said, “Cormac escaped from Scáthach somehow.”

  “And,” said Conaire thoughtfully, “he escaped quite recently.”

  “So he did,” said CuChulainn, and they all looked hopefully at Flynn.

  “Could Joanna have broken the Enchantment?” said Flynn, but even as he said it, he was remembering the etched gold of the portrait deep beneath Tara.

  Dierdriu, the High Queen who would one day return …

  “Why not?” said Conaire lightly, and Flynn thought: yes, after all, why not?

  “And,” said Conaire, “if Joanna is truly with Cormac, then we are almost certainly going in their footsteps at daybreak.”

  “We are following them,” said Midir, and Flynn looked at them, and felt again the strange sense of
comradeship, and thought: yes, I was right. They do understand. And with an effort turned his attention to the maps again.

  Oscar was explaining carefully that they would not be going anywhere near to the Erl-King’s Citadel. “You see?” he said, spreading out the map and setting weights on it because it had been rolled up so tightly for so many years that it kept springing back. “Here is Gallan.” He indicated the jagged mountain range. “And here is the Erl-King’s Walled City. There’s at least two days’ journey between the two.”

  “I’ve often wondered,” said Conaire, “how Cait Fian has managed to live so close to the Erl-King and escape him.”

  “Cait Fian’s got nine lives,” said Midir and grinned.

  “He’s got good sorcerers,” scoffed Etain.

  “Well you should know.”

  “Everyone knows,” said Etain. “And anyway, there’s the mountains, very nearly encircling Gallan. You hardly need sorcerers to protect you with those. They’d be nearly as good as the Girdle of Gold. All Cait Fian has to do is station the Panthers at the mountain passes to keep an eye out for intruders.”

  “But supposing an intruder killed the sentry Panthers?” said CuChulainn.

  Conaire said, “Have you ever tried to kill a Panther?”

  CuChulainn said, “Oh. Oh yes, of course.”

  “You’ve got to catch it first,” put in Midir.

  “And Cait Fian would only send out the best,” added Conaire.

  “Cait Fian only has the best anyway,” said Etain.

  Flynn said, “Aren’t we wandering from the point?” He could see with surprising clarity that the best route to Gallan was around the Muileann Valley and through the Morne Mountains, and he thought that Cormac would certainly have taken that route. But although he wanted to throw the maps back into the cupboard and set out for Gallan there and then, he knew that without the others, he would be at the mercy of this unknown, wild land.

  But once you would not have been, said his inner voice and although the longing to be up and off and find Joanna was still gnawing at him, he felt a sudden surge of excitement. Because I made this journey once before perhaps? Because I planned this route in another life and in another world and in another time? Yes, perhaps. And, Joanna, my darling girl, he thought, if I cannot find you, then for sure the great Finn can. With the thought came the confidence again. Yes, she is here, and yes I am going to find her. Finn will not let her be lost,