She winced as the tender flesh of her palm pressed against the keyhole and across to the doorframe. Then a fury of heat broke free, burning fast. She gasped, pain screaming through her skin, but rather than drawing her hand away, she pushed it forward. The wood gave way, flames just visible around her hand but, as she’d hoped, not spreading, just eating away at the wood she touched. In seconds, her hand met the air on the other side. It was over. The hole in the shed glowed in the shape of her hand.
The door eased open but, at the same moment, there was a strange sound, like a strangled cry of a seal. Not a seal. A seagull.
“Wait,” she said. “Go back until I say it’s safe.”
She could hear the rustling of someone walking through the long grass between the forest and the village. It was lucky that Donnan had spotted them. Crouching, she edged around the corner, out of sight of the stranger. In time, the sound of walking faded. Had they gone? Slow as a snail, she peered around her. The drifting clouds let through just enough moonlight for her to glimpse a figure coming towards her. She hid again, reaching for the knife at her belt.
“Kaetha?”
She sighed as Donnan appeared.
“I saw a cloaked man. He seemed to disappear but I don’t know where he is. We need to go. Now.”
“Right.”
Donnan sniffed the air, then coughed. Prepared as she was for the foul smell inside the hut, it hadn’t particularly bothered her.
“It’s alright,” she said, stepping past him into the hut. “We’re going to take you into the forest but we need to be out of here now.”
“Come on, little man,” said Donnan, ushering the child out after the woman Kaetha assumed was his mother. He looked to be about seven at most. The quiet woman stared at the burnt door as she walked out, her dark eyes wide.
As she ran, Kaetha glanced over her shoulder, smiling at the sight of the women and the boy, running free from their cramped prison, into the open grass, through the fresh, blowing wind, into the cover of the forest.
The woman with the boy spat. “I never want to set my eyes on Doocot again,” she said. “We’ll find a new home, lad. You wait and see.”
The rain from earlier was still trickling through branches and dripping from leaves and she stopped when she splashed into a puddle, plunging her hand in the water for some momentary relief from the pain but it swiftly grew hot again. However, despite the pain and the wave of tiredness that came over her from her use of magic, she felt elation rippling through her. They had succeeded. They had saved these innocent people from death.
Through a cluster of criss-crossing branches, she saw a dim light. Our fire’s closer than I thought. Then the light shifted in the darkness. She froze. It’s coming towards us.
“Get down – everyone! Down!” she breathed, flattening herself to the ground.
“Ma,” squeaked the boy.
“Shh.”
Kaetha’s heart beat harder and harder in her chest. There was a swishing of leaves close by. She saw now that it was a torch ahead, brightly blinking as it passed tree trunks, creeping closer. She gripped Donnan’s sleeve. Torchlight reflected in his eyes, his skin brightening in its amber glow.
A chill flooded through her as she saw that they were surrounded by many cloaked figures. Some carried torches, all had their faces hidden under their hoods, swords glinting at their sides.
TWENTY TWO
The Silent Ones
One of the cloaked men pulled back his hood, revealing a hard-angled face, half of which was marked with a strange tattoo which reached up across one side of his bald head. It might have depicted tree branches, antlers or a bear’s claw marks. She couldn’t tell which. In Morwena’s old Edonian tales, a person with a tattooed face was likely to be a great warrior. She looked again at the sword at his side and knew that there was no point in trying to fight. Neither, surrounded as they were, would they get far if they tried to flee.
Flickering torchlight fought against the shadows as they were led through the forest. Tam was out there, surely not far away. Yet, if she called out for him to help, Mairi might come too. She didn’t want to risk her being captured or anyone she cared about getting hurt if it came to a fight.
“Where are you taking us?” she asked.
No reply.
“Why don’t you speak?”
Silence.
“For God’s sake!”
The only response she got from him was a frown.
She trudged through the darkness as if in a strange dream, thistles scratching her ankles, branches jabbing at her like spears, all the time a hand gripping her shoulder, leading her on and on.
“Don’t worry lad. We’ll be alright,” she heard the woman from Doocot saying to her son. Kaetha was impressed by how convincing she sounded.
Eventually a torch was raised up ahead of them and they came to a stop. Flickering light cast jagged shadows high before them, revealing a wall of rock. Several cloaked figures gathered before it, including the bald man. Perhaps it was the flickering of the torch but Kaetha thought that patches of light and shadow were shifting oddly, as if the rock were moving. Clunking and scraping sounds cut through the stillness.
“Did you see that?” said Donnan. She shared a confused look with him before someone prodded and pushed her between the shoulder blades.
“Stop it. Alright. We’re walking on,” she said. Only when she was up close to the rock did she see the entrance yawning before her. She shivered, certain it hadn’t looked like this a few moments ago. Her footsteps made a hollow tapping as she walked in and the air tasted stale. Torchlight danced up stone walls, stretching up the steep tunnel. Blisters rubbed sore on Kaetha’s feet as she climbed on and on for what felt like hours, led by the strange, silent people.
When air swirled fresh and cool against her face, she glimpsed a pale light ahead. Dawn had crept, cold and grey, over the Gormanaich Mountains. Her heart beat faster as she stepped from the tunnel, gazing at the soaring slopes and her stomach lurched at the sight of the sharp rocks which plunged down into the mist and shadow below.
They were ushered to a clear mountain stream. Kaetha caught water in her cupped her hands and drank thirstily. Then they were brought mules to ride on as the path which hugged the mountainside rose increasingly steeply. As they rode, a haze of mist clung damply on Kaetha’s skin, then, with a swirl of wind, the air cleared and the sight before her snatched away her power of speech.
Steps were carved in the grey rock ahead, branching into more staircases which led to covered walkways and exquisitely carved wooden doors, framed by stone pillars and arches. Arched windows were cut into the mountainside and walled platforms jutted out from it, holding arrays of colourful plants. Beautiful as all these signs of human habitation were, they were dwarfed by great images carved into the mountainside: sun, moon and stars; giant human figures; trees, birds, fish, and beasts, including mythical dragons and firebirds.
They walked up the central staircase to a set of doors as tall as her house in Braddon, doors which were carved with intricate symbols and which creaked open onto a cavernous room. She stepped inside. They room was like a kirk or a great hall but larger and grander than any place she had seen. Pillars soared high, spreading outwards like tree branches. She was transfixed by the light which filtered through four great arched windows plated in many colours, falling upon the stone floor like a carpet of jewels. In the centre of the room was a square dais, a high backed chair at each corner, facing into the centre.
A gong sounded, making Kaetha jump, and then two women and two men swept into the hall from an archway at the far end, their robes flowing behind them. They took their seats on the four tall chairs and Kaetha, Donnan and the group from Doocot were led into the centre of the dais, their escorts bowing and shuffling away after they’d been deposited.
Someone took a slate with chalk writing to one of the seated women. She had white, close cropped hair. On her cheek was a tattoo of a feather which curved with the contours
of her face. Taking the slate in her bony fingers, the woman held it out at arm’s length to read in silence. She studied their faces, her gaze lingering longest on Kaetha’s.
Kaetha stared back. “Is someone going to explain all this?” she asked, flinging up her hands in an impatient gesture.
“Welcome to Neul Carraig,” said the woman, as if Kaetha hadn’t spoken. “The fortress of cloud and rock. I am Branna, Chosen by Air.” She signalled to the silent ones with a wave and stools were brought for Kaetha and her companions. “Sit. You’re tired after your long journey. Tea,” she said and someone disappeared through a door, returning shortly afterwards with a tray bearing a jug and five drinking horns. “Mountain tea will help revive you, apparently you’ve had quite an ordeal.”
Kaetha hesitated before putting the drinking horn to her lips, glancing up at Branna. Looking into her eyes was like looking into a storm and a shiver gripped her as if she faced a biting wind.
“No, Kaetha,” said Branna. “It’s not poisoned.” She got up, took the cup from Kaetha and drank.
Kaetha blinked, shocked that this woman knew her name, and then, seeing that all eyes were on her, she took a sip too. The mountain tea had a fresh herbal flavour and a calming fragrance.
“Brothers, sister,” said Branna, looking around at the others seated on the high backed chairs, “introduce yourselves to our guests.”
“I am Naru, Chosen by Fire,” said a bald man with skin that was dark, like that of the merchants Kaetha used to see in Orach Bay who had sailed from Shamlakah with their spices and precious metals. His accent also reminded her of them. He bore a black tattoo of flames on the side of his face but it also put Kaetha to mind of the dragon scales she’d seen in a carving on the mountainside.
“I am Deorsa, Chosen by Earth,” said a tall man with refined features, blue eyes and lank, brown hair. His name might be Dalrathan but there was something more Edonian about his appearance, she thought. His tattoo was like antlers or branches, similar to that of the bald man’s.
“And I am Meraud, Chosen by Water,” said a woman whose pale, heart shaped face was framed with a mane of flowing black hair. Her accent was vaguely familiar to Kaetha. It put her to mind of Angaulish nobles who had visited the Trylenns once at Feodail Hall. She remembered the strained politeness of Gwyn and the barely concealed animosity of her mother towards those guests. This wasn’t surprising considering the many Edonian settlements they’d witnessed being invaded by armies from Angaul. She studied Meraud’s face without returning the sweet smile she offered.
“Well,” said Kaetha, looking at Branna. “It seems you already know our names.”
Branna smiled. “The others do not have my gift. Perhaps you could tell them who you are.”
“I’m Catrin and this is my son, Roddie,” said the woman from Doocot, her expression stony as she put an arm around her son, drawing him close to her. “And this is Meg, our friend. We’re from Doocot. These two,” here she indicated Kaetha and Donnan, “they saved our lives last night. I’d like to know that it wasn’t in vain.”
“Rest assured,” said Naru, “we will take care of you here.” He looked at Kaetha.
“My name is Kaetha. As she said.” She glanced at Branna, not only cross that her name had been taken rather than given, but also that Branna had most likely looked into her thoughts.
“And I’m Donnan Brodie from Braddon. We’re travelling south and Kaetha happened to see the trouble these three were in. We wanted to help them,” he said, glancing at Kaetha. “Though we should like to be on our way again as soon as possible.”
“And why do you head south?” said Meraud to Kaetha.
She did not answer.
“You seem less talkative than your friend,” said Naru.
Donnan snorted. “Not normally.”
Kaetha scowled. “Strange that you point out my lack of talkativeness,” she said, looking around at the people surrounding the dais.
“To speak at their stage of training would be to break their vow,” said Branna.
“What is this?” asked Kaetha. “Some kind of monastery?”
“Not exactly,” Branna replied. “We are the Order of the Appointed, gifted ones, here to develop our magic in to its full potential, in secrecy and safety, and to use it in service of others.”
“Is that what you were doing by bringing us here? Do you mean to help us?” asked Donnan.
A muffled gong echoed from another room.
“Come,” said Branna. “It is time to eat. And you can see others who have benefited from our service.”
The four rose as one and led them down a corridor and into a round room. Grey-cloaked silent ones set baskets of flat breads and berries and dishes of cheeses and cured meats onto tables. From another doorway, about a dozen people filed in, mostly women but a few children and men as well.
“Look, Kaetha,” whispered Donnan. “They’ve all been marked.”
Some of them had cuts on their cheeks, some on their foreheads and many faces she saw were bruised. However, despite their injuries, people talked, smiled, even laughed as they ate. Clearly they were being well looked after. A man with dark hair and a close cropped beard sat a little apart from the others. There was no cut on his face. Kaetha frowned, wondering if she’d seen him before, but looked away when she caught his eye.
“How many Murdo Macomrags are out there?” Kaetha felt like she would burst with anger at the injustice of it all.
“Murdo Macomrag?” asked Naru as he poured water. “Was he the one who did that to you?”
“Aye,” she replied. “He’s Thane of Mormuin now.”
“It’s the king’s new decree,” said Naru. “People like us have long been misunderstood and feared in Dalrath. In some parts of Shamlakah too.”
“Cutting above the breath was something done long ago,” said Branna who took a seat opposite Kaetha. “Like now, it was said to protect people from the witch who was cut. Though, in fact, it simply served to identify people who could be blamed for all manner of misfortunes and grievances. Surely that’s what Svelrik’s decree is really about.”
“Perhaps he feels genuinely threatened by the idea of people using magic wrongfully,” said Meraud.
“Or maybe he’s creating a tempest of fear to serve his own purposes,” said Branna. “But whatever the reason behind it, we’re living through dark times.”
“So we must be the light,” added Meraud, bowing before walking away to serve food to others.
“We broke those two out of a gaol in Calamor.” Branna nodded towards a man and woman sitting together at the end of the table. “But we couldn’t save the eight who were hanged the day before.”
“We listen out for news,” said Naru, “and, whenever we identify a good chance of saving people, without being discovered ourselves, we go in.”
“You were going to break Catrin, Roddie and Meg out of their prison,” Kaetha realised.
Naru smiled at her. “Only you got there first.”
“You’ll have hot food later,” said Branna, handing them bread.
“Goat stew, I believe,” said Naru.
“Goat?” said Donnan.
“It’s mostly either goat or hare up here,” said Naru.
“And the odd dragon, I expect,” said Donnan.
Naru chuckled, slapping his hand on the table. “Are you ready for some dragon hunting then, young Donnan?”
Kaetha was watching Deorsa and Meraud across the room. They were discussing something, their eyes flitting now and then to look at Kaetha. When she stared back at them, Deorsa walked away but Meraud kept her eyes fixed on hers. She tried to read Meraud’s thoughts, whispering her name under her breath, yet she heard nothing clearly, perhaps because the roomful of people was too distracting. However, she suspected that Meraud’s calm, swan-like languor belied a fevered racing of thoughts.
“So, you want to leave, Donnan,” said Branna matter-of-factly.
“Did you hear that from his thoughts?” sa
id Kaetha with a scowl.
“I apologise. Those in the Order are generally used to it; they know I never pry too far. Though it’s easy for me to forget how uncomfortable it can make normal people feel.”
“I wouldn’t quite class this one as normal,” muttered Donnan.
“No,” agreed Branna with the hint of a smile. “Perhaps not.”
“As if it’s normal to send people out with weapons to capture unsuspecting travellers?” said Kaetha. “To send people who don’t say a word so their captives go along with them, afraid for their lives?”
Branna’s smile faded. “You may not have known it then but the important thing was that you were safe. We usually send out others who are granted permission to speak, in fact I thought I had, only something went wrong with our organising.”
“One of our group is still out there in the forest,” said Kaetha. “She’ll be worried. We have to find her. Besides, we don’t have time to waste, we must continue on our journey south.”
“You would do better to wait until you were healed and strong,” said Naru. “But I will go now, in search of your friend.”
“She’s my stepmother – Mairi Baird – and I’ll come with you.”
“Let Naru lead a search party. He’s most capable. You need treatment for your burns and breaks,” she said, looking at Kaetha’s and Donnan’s hands before letting her gaze linger on Donnan’s face, “amongst other things.”
Naru got to his feet.
“If you take one of the—,” she stopped herself from calling them ‘silent ones’, “Appointed who brought us here,” said Kaetha, “tell them our shelter was a little north-west of where they found us, not more than a couple of hundred yards. And she may have a— a dog with her. And, Naru?” She looked into his big, dark eyes. “Thank you.”
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