The Road to Bedlam cotf-2

by Mike Shevdon

  "I'll do it," said Jeff, reaching for the box.

  "No," said Blackbird. "It's me he wants. If you challenge him, he will kill you first and still come after me. Give me the knife."

  Ben opened the box. Blackbird's expression soured.

  "Are you going to be able to do this?" asked Ben, holding the knife by the blade, offering the handle to Blackbird.

  She reached out her hand, the distaste written plain on her face. The moment she touched it she gasped, dropping the knife with a clatter on to the tiles and crumpling over.

  Meg was at her side, "Just breathe. Give it a second. In and out, that's it, one at a time."

  "It's too much, even now," said Blackbird, shaking her head. "Get me a cloth. I'll hold it in a cloth."

  "Put it away, Ben," said Meg. "Can't you see, it's upsetting the baby. Put it away, now!"

  Ben recovered the knife and slotted it back into the box, closing the lid with a dull thud. Blackbird relaxed visibly.

  "I need it," she said. "I need the knife. I have to finish this."

  "You can't touch it, don't you see?" said Meg. "Even having it near is upsetting the babe. You'll do more harm than good with that and no mistake. It's not meant for your kind."

  "Get me something else, something iron." whispered Blackbird. She sat on a chair, breathing slowly, bringing herself back under control.

  Lisa ran upstairs.

  "Where are you going? Come back down here right now!" said Meg.

  By the time Meg had reached the bottom of the stairs, Lisa was on the way down again. She came back into the kitchen holding a long-bladed knife in her hand, its blade dark but for the bright metal at the edge, the wooden handle burnished to a dull gloss.

  "I made it myself," she said, passing it carefully to Blackbird. "It's too soft to keep an edge properly, but it was the first one I made, wasn't it, Grampy?"

  Blackbird tested the weight of it. The iron in it still made her bones ache, but it would do.

  Lisa went back to her grandfather and eased in under his arm. Ben ruffled her hair. "The metal's a bit soft. It's hand-beaten, closer to wrought iron than steel, so it should serve your purpose well."

  Lisa raised her chin. "Use it for Topaz." She stared at the body of the dog on the table, eyes dry.

  Blackbird stood, easing the cramps from her back. She lifted her bag and took the horseshoe from it. "Might as well go for broke," she said.

  She went to the kitchen door. "Once I'm outside, bolt and bar the door and don't let anyone in, not even if you think it's me." She paused and then said, "It won't be."

  She looked around the room as if memorising the faces, then opened the door, stepped out into the darkness and closed the door behind her. Standing in the dark, she waited until she heard the bolts shoot home while her eyes adjusted. The sky had been clear black and starlit, a good night for a fight. Now a mist had risen, clinging to the ground, swirling around her ankles, rolling away as she moved into the open yard. She stood in the middle where she could see all around her.

  "You're going to have to come and get me," she called out to the dark. "I'm not playing hide and seek."

  The words sounded muted and close, making her seem small and frightened. She uncurled and curled her fingers on the handle of the iron knife.

  Over the building to her left, something large sailed out of the night. It bounced once and landed in a floppy bundle near her feet. It was the other dog, what was left of it.

  "It's not my dog and I don't care," she called, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue.

  The dog had come from the left. She watched the right carefully.

  The minutes stretched out. She waited, feeling the sweat condensing cold and running down her spine. For a moment there was a shadow where there was no moonlight to cast one and then there he was, walking out of the mist into the yard, clothed in black silk, a long blade hanging easily from his right hand. His hair fell over his eyes in a way that was almost feminine. Dark eyes glinted from beneath his fringe. He stopped, some way away.

  "You're going to have to get closer than that," she said, shaking her head.

  She blinked and he was yards closer. She hadn't even seen him move. The damned mist hadn't even stirred.

  "Closer than that," she said. "I have something for you." She tightened her grip on the horseshoe, setting her feet apart. The sword would give him reach. She wanted him in close where she could use the knife.

  "Come to mommy," she said, bracing herself.

  "I can taste your scent," he said. His voice was high and light. It added to the impression of delicacy.

  "Good for you," she said. "But you can't smell me to death. Come closer."

  He sighed, softly. "Not you," he said. "Them."

  On either side of her two shapes coalesced out of the mist.

  Amber held a long straight sword casually, allowing it to swing gently from her hand as she walked forward. Slimgrin stepped forward, circling the long double-ended spear around until it pointed directly at Deefnir's feet.

  "You waited for your moment," said Blackbird.

  "We wanted him to show himself," said Amber. "Time to go home, Deefnir. Your master is calling."

  "And the others," said Deefnir. "Show yourselves."

  From behind him, Tate and Garvin moved out of the shadows.

  "We're not going to have any trouble, are we?" rumbled Tate.

  Garvin spoke. "I think our visitor knows when he is outnumbered."

  There was a strange mewing sound from Deefnir, prompting Amber to lift the tip of her blade. It resolved into tinkling laughter.

  "There, you see? It wasn't that hard in the end." His amusement was at odds with the tension.

  "We are arresting you in the name of the High Court of the Feyre," called Garvin. "You are charged by your Lord to return to the High Court peacefully and await his pleasure."

  "Not before I complete my mission."

  He blurred into motion. Blackbird flinched as she found him kneeling before her. Amber's blade was across his throat, the end of Slimgrin's spear pressing under his ear.

  "For the runaround you've given me, I'd cheerfully kill you," said Amber. "Go ahead, give me an excuse."

  Deefnir ignored the threats and reached towards Blackbird slowly and gently with his empty left hand. Blood ran down his throat where the pressure of Amber's blade increased.

  "It is good fortune," remarked Deefnir, "to touch the place where the child rests; good both for the mother and for the one who touches."

  "It won't be good luck for you," said Amber quietly. "I'll send you back to Altair in two pieces. Hear my words."

  "I am charged by my Lord Altair," said Deefnir, "to bring to you, Blackbird, the felicitations of the Seventh Court."

  "What?" said Blackbird.

  "My Lord Altair sends his greetings. He would present them himself but he is otherwise engaged, so in his stead he sends me, his grandson, to carry his good wishes and congratulations to you for the coming of your child."

  "One more move and you die, Deefnir," said Amber. "Stop playing games."

  "I swear on my honour that I will not harm anyone here gathered, most particularly the half-breed Blackbird and her unborn child. Even if I wished to, I could not. It is foretold."

  "What's this about, Deefnir?" Garvin stepped in, turning aside the blades, placing himself between Deefnir and Blackbird.

  Deefnir remained kneeling. "The son will rise and they shall fall," he intoned.

  "What? What is he talking about?" demanded Blackbird.

  Garvin raised one eyebrow. "I'm not following this any more than you are."

  "What are you saying?" Blackbird moved around Garvin, tightening her grip on the knife. Slimgrin stepped in close to her, his hand wrapping gently around her wrist where she held the iron knife, preventing her from using it.

  Garvin glanced at the hand with the iron knife. He nodded to Slimgrin. "We don't want any accidents, do we?"

  "He's talking about my baby, Garvin
. I want to know what he means!" said Blackbird.

  "Deefnir?" said Garvin. "You want to explain why we're running around the country so you can bring Blackbird a greeting?"

  Deefnir smiled. "What hour is it?"

  Garvin's expression darkened, "It's after midnight, why?"

  Deefnir stood, slowly and cautiously, leaving the sword lying on the ground beside him. He opened his hands, showing he was unarmed.

  "My tasks are complete. I have brought the felicitations of the Seventh Court to the mother and to the son, and brought the Warders to me. Four Warders here, Fellstamp and Fionh with Lord Altair and the High Court. That makes six."

  "We are seven," said Garvin.

  "Not for long."

  "What do you mean?" asked Blackbird. "Where's Niall?"

  "He's in Ravensby, in Yorkshire," said Garvin.

  "Not any more," said Deefnir. "It is the solstice day. Your last Warder is far from there and beyond all aid."

  TWENTY-THREE

  Blackbird tried to wrench her wrist away from Slimgrin without success. "What have you done with him? What?"

  "Calm yourself," said Deefnir quietly, "for he has chosen, and there is nowhere he would rather be. He is fulfilling his destiny."

  Garvin turned to Amber and Tate. "Find Niall. Go."

  They vanished into the mist.

  "You have some explaining to do," said Garvin to Deefnir.

  "My Lord Altair awaits your pleasure," said Deefnir with a smile.

  "You can let go of me now." Blackbird tried to twist out of Slimgrin's long fingers.

  "You'd better go tell the Highsmiths that you're alive," said Garvin. "We will accompany Deefnir back to the High Court."

  "Where's Niall?" said Blackbird to Deefnir. "Where is he?"

  "All in good time," said Deefnir.

  "Don't worry," said Garvin. "We'll find him."

  "You'd better," said Blackbird. "You'd bloody well better."

  "If this is one of your games, Raffmir…"

  "I swear by my life, the hour is upon us. Hear the truth in my voice. Your daughter is in gravest peril and will die without aid. I have made preparations, but what must be done cannot be done alone. If you would have your daughter back, it must be now, before midnight."

  I stood and looked at him. I was dead tired, bruised from the jump to the boat, desperate for a change of clothes and a hot shower. Even so, the truth rang in his words. I sifted through them, searching for the double meaning, the lie within the truth that would give his plan away. I could find none.

  He offered the sword again and I took it.

  "Where is she?"

  He squeezed my shoulder. I stared at his arm until he removed it.

  "I will take you to her. Come, we must use the Ways."

  He strode away towards the town, confident that I would follow. I trailed after, unwilling to catch up with him, but drawn along all the same. When he reached the road leading up the hill past the church he waited for me and then walked alongside. We passed the church, where the lights blazed inside through the great east window.

  "Give me a moment," I said. "I need to deliver some news."

  He grasped my arm and hauled me up the hill. "We do not have a moment, Dogstar. If you can travel faster then do so. Our time is slipping away and we have much to achieve before the night turns into tomorrow. We must go now."

  I allowed him to draw me on, wondering why, after all these weeks, it was so critical now. The pace meant I felt every ache as we mounted the hill behind the town. We reached the Way-node and he barely hesitated before stepping on to it.

  "Follow swiftly."

  He vanished in a swirl of air and I stepped after him.

  The Ways are dangerous when tired, they sap the will and divert the attention. It took every fibre of concentration to follow the path left by Raffmir. Gritting my teeth, I swerved around the nodes, whipping tight around the Way-points. I was only barely aware that we headed south, focusing only on the chill path left behind him. We veered past node after node. Then we were there.

  I staggered forward on to solid ground, wrong-footed by the sudden return of gravity and space. Raffmir watched me, his smile loaded with mute sarcasm.

  "If you say anything about style, I will kick you," I said.

  "It never crossed my mind to comment." The lie was obvious in his voice, as he must have known it would be.

  I looked around. We were in a forest on high ground. I could see distant lights through the trees, but there was no obvious sign of civilisation. We were in the middle of nowhere.

  "My daughter is in the middle of a wood?"

  In response, he caught my sleeve and, despite my efforts to shake him free, led me through the trees until we emerged on a clear hillside. Below us was a broad expanse of heath land scattered with small dark buildings and what looked like abandoned vehicles. Beyond the heath was a complex of buildings, white lights arrayed around them. They glowed with industrial brightness, stark against the neglected landscape.

  "There," he said, "we will find your daughter."

  I watched for a moment. There was no sign of occupation, no movement of people or vehicles. The place appeared deserted but at the same time lights blazed in all the offices. Didn't these people know how to switch a light off?

  "Where are we?" I asked.

  "Wiltshire."

  "No, I meant, where in particular are we? What is that place?"

  "That is where your daughter is being held. This is the facility in which she is imprisoned. Tonight we must break in to release her. I warn you, it is well guarded."

  "You didn't answer my question."

  "They call it after this heath on which we stand. It is called Porton Down."

  I glanced at him, wondering whether this was some kind of wind-up. "Porton Down? That's the chemical warfare place. The one where they develop nerve gas."

  "And for that reason alone, I would watch where you step. They test fire ordnance on this heath and you might lose a leg if you were to wander unwary, but chemical warfare is not the only thing they do here. There is research into all manner of things. It is true, though, that defence against chemical and biological weapons is their primary purpose. It is the biological aspect that concerns us. This is where they take the dangerous mongrels, the half-breeds out of control, the ones that cannot be contained through other means."

  "How do you know my daughter is in there?"

  "Are you doubting me?"

  "I'm asking how you know. You don't even live on this world. I've been trying to find her for weeks and yet you know where she is?"

  "Ah well, there fortune has smiled upon me. It has gifted me the ability to grant you what no other can. Your daughter's location came to me by happenstance, one of those moments of chance when you know that fortune does indeed play dice, and she always wins."

  "You came upon her by accident." I could not keep the sarcasm from my voice.

  "Not an accident, but I swear that I did not seek her out. Her name came up in conversation with regard to other matters. I made the connection and once the connection was made, it was obvious what must be done."

  "Which is?"

  "That I must bring you here to release her, so that you may be reunited."

  Once again I could hear the clear and perfect truth in his words and yet I felt that there was more that he was not telling me.

  "Swear to me that you are not intending her harm."

  He looked offended. "Have I not already sworn? Would you have me repeat my vow?"

  "I would remind you of it."

  "The reminder is unnecessary. I have already sworn not to harm your daughter or by my actions to allow either you or her to come to harm, but I face a dilemma. What we attempt is not without risk."

  He gestured at the complex of buildings. "If we do not rescue your daughter then she will die tonight, but releasing her is not without danger for you and for her. We may attempt a rescue and in so doing put your life and hers in jeopardy, but witho
ut the attempt you will surely lose her. Do you see my quandary?"

  "I understand, Raffmir. Though the question that remains is: what do you get out of this? The way I see it, you could stand aside and let matters take their course. If my daughter is dead, why do you care? Isn't that one less mongrel to pollute your precious bloodlines? With a free hand, you would kill her regardless, so why the effort to save her?"

  "Is it not enough that I would see you unharmed?"

  I thought for a moment. "No," I said. "I want to know why you're helping me."

  At that he looked at his feet and then sidelong at me.

  "Then I must confess my unwitting involvement in the harm that may come to her."

  "Unwitting?"

  He threw his arms wide in a gesture of innocence. "I swear I did not know she would be part of what is done here. There was never any intention that she would become involved. She was brought here without my knowledge or approval and it was only after she was within the establishment that I discovered she was here."

  "You? What would you be doing at Porton Down?"

  "That I am not at liberty to divulge."

  I turned to face him and poked him in the chest with my finger. "Oh no. You don't get out of it that easily. If you are involved, you can't just deny all knowledge and expect me to accept it."

  "It is not my secret to tell." He looked down at my finger and it was my turn to remove it.

  "But you know what's going on. Come on, Raffmir, what are you up to?"

  He shrugged and turned to face the distant buildings.

  I stepped into his line of sight, forcing him to look at me. "You've done something that caused my daughter to come to harm in direct contravention to the vow you made. Otherwise I would not be here. I think you'd better tell me what you've done. Either you explain it to me or I'm going for Garvin and the Warders."

  "By the time you return she will be dead."

  "And you knew that would be the case."

  He sighed. "I suppose that one way or another it will be known tonight. By the time this night is over, what is done will be done."

  I waited for an explanation.

  "The Seventh Court have been funding research into a cure for the condition with which your daughter is afflicted."