I found some new animals in the carvings of my bed: a walrus, an elephant and a fantastical beast that, as far as I knew, had no name — a wingless bird with a protruding beak and great, clawed feet. I ran my fingers over them, fantasizing that they were a code to an escape route. If I only had the key, I could escape.
Maybe these beasts were real creatures somewhere. But I, destined to a lonely life in a stone tower, would never see them. I was confined to the Kingdom and this Castle forever. Gradually, the self-pity faded from lacerating pain to background ache, leaving me room to think.
Why had N’tombe supported my training? Why, if I were never to need them, had she encouraged me to learn the skills of fighting? And Will. What of him? It was a puzzle, and I spent long, sleepless nights pondering it.
Finally, N’tombe dragged me from my bed by threatening to link my legs to a thread of her mind, commanding me to walk. Despite my anger — a dull anger, everything was dull — the fighting did help. Concentrating on the flash of blade forced me to live in the moment.
Someone, probably N’tombe, had told Will of my news. So, even though there was ‘no right mood for fighting’, he seemed unusually gentle, sparring slowly, avoiding hard throws. For once, I would have welcomed being dumped on the sand. Throwing myself hard against things appealed.
After training we sat together beside the practice ground. I blinked in the spring glare, dimly surprised by the sun; my mind was a whirl of darkness.
‘I’m sorry, Princess,’ Will said.
I stared at him. ‘Why? It’s what you need, isn’t it? A land free of plague and famine?’ I shouted, my voice echoing from the stone walls. ‘It’s what everyone wants!’
‘But what about you? What do you want?’
I turned towards his face, but didn’t see him. ‘I want,’ I whispered, ‘to live my own life.’
He nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ We sat together in silence and watched the sun lift higher. Birds sang in praise of its warmth. Stupid birds.
I trudged up the stairs to Rosa’s tower. My tower.
The old woman looked up when I opened the door. Again, she was seated at the table, her gnarled hands resting on its smooth wood. In front of her was the leather box that housed the necklace.
‘Your father told you then.’ She eyed my melancholy face and added conversationally, ‘You know, you’ve been very lucky.’
‘What?’ I flopped into a chair.
‘You grew up thinking you’d have a normal life.’
I didn’t think this made me lucky. It just made me ignorant.
‘I always knew that I would be the next Guardian,’ said Rosa.
I was thinking about Will’s question. What did I want to do? I’d never thought about what I’d do when I was older.
‘We all get older, child. Like it or not.’ She opened the leather box. The glowing necklace seemed like a magnificent snake, coiled and ready to strike. I bent to look at it, but kept my hands still, my head readied to move away. The analogy of a serpent was strong; I didn’t trust this thing.
‘You’re right not to. I don’t.’ Rosa rubbed her chest. ‘But it has its uses.’
‘What was it like? When you first put it on?’
She thought for a moment. ‘Comfortable. As though I had a little kitten around my neck. Cosy. It cuddled up to me. It whispered; it loved me, needed me. I was beautiful and wonderful and powerful. That was at first.’ She sighed and reached into the box. ‘Then the pain started. And the voices.’
‘The voices?’
‘It’s powerful and very old,’ said Rosa. ‘That’s one of the reasons I’m so keen on you learning to fight. Combat teaches you to think on your feet, to keep your mind calm under pressure.’
Her fingers ran over the stones, fondling each in turn between thumb and forefinger, like a priest telling a rosary. Every one was different: blue, red, orange. Not all were multi-faceted gems. There were glass beads, delicately embossed with intricate golden detail, semi-precious, faceted stones and, sprinkled among the bright beads, some plain, unadorned: gold, copper, wood.
She never touched the ruby.
As though hearing my thoughts, blood-red shards of light scattered from its heart, falling on the table and walls. For a brief moment the room seemed to flame.
I pointed to the stone. ‘This rests on your heart.’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was grim. I had a sudden vision of the thing against my chest. What happened to her would happen to me. Would it burn?
Rosa seemed to be searching the glowing chain. ‘Here he is. He always does this to me.’
‘What?’
A small copper bead, as long as a fingernail, as wide as my thumb. It looked like one of the clips that N’tombe wove into her braids.
‘He’s a tricky one. He changes.’
‘Changes?’
‘He is the oldest,’ she said in everyday tones, as though she was pointing out dust in the corners of the room. ‘He’s playing with me. He loves to play, this one.’ She touched a copper bead. The metal was so shiny it was almost pink. ‘The ornate ones are more recent. Plain ones are older.’
She frowned. I felt, rather than heard, an answering sigh from the necklace.
‘Here he is,’ she said, handing me the bead. ‘Careful. He won’t like it if you drop him.’
How had she taken it off?
Rosa held the necklace high, so it became a frame for her face and smiled at me through its circle. There was no clasp; the necklace was an unbroken circle of beads.
‘It’s not just a necklace,’ she said. ‘What you are seeing is not as it appears. Remember that, when you lie awake, fearing your future. Nothing is set in stone; all fates lie open to you.’
‘What?’
‘What I’m trying to say is, nothing is what it appears to be.’ She patted my hand. ‘And don’t worry so much. Believe me, it will all come out all right.’
‘Will it? Will it really?’ My voice was harsh and I didn’t care because I didn’t believe her. Nothing would ever be right.
‘Well,’ she shrugged. ‘I hope it will, anyway. There are alternatives, of course. But I prefer not to dwell on them.’
I peered at the copper. There were marks etched on it, faint black lines. A small, smiling face. A round face with no hair and slanted eyes. Maybe. Or perhaps it was just old, and had gotten scratched over time. It seemed to quiver in my hand. Fearful it might fall, I closed my fingers tight around it. When I opened them again, the face seemed to be winking.
‘You should be able to wear it as a ring,’ said Rosa. ‘Your little finger, maybe?’
It fitted perfectly. I tipped my hand, watching the light change against the metal. Its colour matched my hair.
‘It’s not about the looks, dear.’ Rosa tipped the necklace back into the box. It hissed as she clicked the lid shut. ‘You need to wear him for the next month. Then come back to me. Tell me what you’ve learnt in the while.’
A crow cawed from the windowsill and black feathers clattered as the bird, folding its wings, landed clumsily on the table. Rosa turned to the bird. ‘News?’
I didn’t like the crows. Their great beaks looked able to peck out eyes and they stared at me as though I was an intruder. It wasn’t until I reached the first landing that I realized I was moving with more energy. The light from the torches glinted on the copper band. How had she managed to pry it loose?
22
Not As Easy As It Seems
We’d been practising with blades. They’d been bound with leather, blunting the edges so we didn’t accidentally maim or kill each other. I couldn’t see why we bothered. ‘We may as well use short sticks,’ I grumbled.
‘It gives us the right weight,’ Will said. ‘Helps us get used to the feel.’
I kicked at the sand, watching it spray. What was the point? Like a medieval princess, I’d one day be locked in a tower. All my skills with sticks, feet or blades would be useless.
Will put an arm around my shoulder. ‘Hey, are you alright?’<
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I would not cry, I would not cry. So why, despite these thoughts, did my eyes fill with tears?
‘Come here,’ said Will and pulled me into his arms. Even while I sobbed I could feel how strong he was, how calm. And kind. So kind. I sniffed and looked up at him. He smiled down, the dimples in his cheeks deepening to creases that lifted along his mouth.
I wanted to lift up, touch his mouth with mine. His eyes widened, the pupils enlarging, darkening. He sighed, a tiny puff of soft air. Then, carefully, Will took his arms away and stepped backwards. I stood alone.
‘I’m sorry, Princess,’ he said, turning away. ‘I didn’t mean …’
Didn’t mean what?
Wrapped in thick wool, I shivered beside the practice area. N’tombe had pulled me out of bed with the lauds bell. The days were lengthening, so the bell was ringing ever earlier.
‘What’s the point?’ I grumbled to her. ‘I’ll never use this anyway. You know that.’
‘Can you see the future?’ N’tombe asked.
I shook my head.
‘Then, wise are you to know what you will and will not need.’ She cocked her head to one side. ‘Hurry, Princess. Will has an idea.’
I had hoped for rescue, a plan for escape or at the least a vision on how to get out of my future. But there, out of the early morning gloom, came Will. He seemed to have a hunchback.
‘You done much archery?’ He threw the hump down. Quivers. So much for escape.
I shook my head. ‘Not really.’
‘I have,’ said N’tombe.
Will and I started. It was as if a carving on the Castle wall had come to life. She was usually so quiet at our practices that sometimes I felt she’d made a statue of herself and placed it beside the practice ground.
‘Did you like it?’ Will asked.
‘It was not a question of like or dislike. It was simply something one did.’ N’tombe smiled, a flash of white teeth. ‘My cousins taught me. They lived in the jungle, where every child has a little bow and arrow. Boys practise shooting leaves, then birds. As soon as you are old enough, around four, you are given a bow. Because I am so tall my cousins said I was a boy and I could have a bow. So I learnt to shoot.’
Maybe she had been tall once, but now, though, I could look down into her eyes. If I dared. She had a way of intimidating people; one forgot she was short.
As usual, she knew what I was thinking. ‘To my cousins, I am very tall. But then, my cousins are very, very small people. How I would tease them for that! And they would tease me back, call me “elephant foot” and “rhinoceros”.’
‘She’s fae!’ muttered Will.
I nodded. That would explain her magic powers. No-one really believed the fae were real. Even so, the superstitions persisted. Nurse left saucers of milk out, even though I told her that the cats drank it.
‘Oh no,’ said N’tombe, laughing. ‘My cousins are human. Just very short.’
Tiny people living in the forest seemed fae to me.
‘Now,’ said N’tombe, briskly. ‘What about the archery?’
Will shook his head. ‘Yes. Archery. Princess, have you used a bow and arrow?’
‘Sometimes. But I’m not very good.’
‘I thought we should practise.’
‘Why?’
He looked down at his feet, speaking fast. ‘I was thinking; what’s the point of practising hand-to-hand fighting if your opponent has a bow and arrow? You’ll never get close enough. He’ll always have the advantage.’
He looked up and saw me staring at him. ‘What?’
‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’
He flushed. ‘You’ll laugh.’
‘Tell her,’ said N’tombe.
‘I had a dream,’ he muttered. ‘There were horsemen. Galloping across flat, grassy plains. A city burned. The horsemen killed everyone.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘It doesn’t sound like much, does it? But it felt so real, as though I was there. A man ran towards me. He had a forked beard. The soldier shot him. The arrow stuck out of his back.’ He swallowed. ‘I could even see the fletching on the arrow. It was black and grey.’
‘Last year,’ I whispered, ‘I had a dream like that.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘You told me.’
He told me of the sergeant, how together they had been practising their archery, and considering how such an army could be beaten. ‘The problem is the types of bow,’ said Will, looking excited. ‘Here, we use a long bow. It can shoot a long way, can puncture armour. But what if your enemy moves fast? A long bow’s not much good for close-up work. And you can only use them on foot. You can’t draw a long bow on a horse. So the sergeant and me, we’ve been talking with the Master Bowmaker. We’ve got some different types of bows here. For practice.’
Two dreams of such similarity made me uneasy. ‘Did you do this?’ I asked.
N’tombe looked at me, her face blank. ‘What makes you think that?’
I huffed at her and picked up a bow.
I was good at archery. Finally, I had some power in my life, even if it was only over the poor practice dummy. It was fatally damaged now, its straw leaking out of the leather covering.
‘Well done,’ said Will.
My forearm stung. ‘I forgot the arm guard.’
He nodded and stared at the dummy. ‘I think you’ve killed it.’
Will took my arm, rubbing his hand along the red welt. His callused fingers seemed to trail fire down the soft skin of my inner arm.
‘What’s this?’ he pointed to the copper ring on my little finger.
His soft touch made me shiver. ‘It’s a ring.’
‘You’ve not worn it before.’
I shrugged, lost in wonder at his gentle hands. ‘Just something I picked up.’ I rubbed the copper, making it shine.
‘Can I have a try?’ asked N’tombe, startling us both. Will let go of my fingers.
We played with our archery for a fortnight. In the pleasure wood we shot at knotholes on the trees and at small birds. I didn’t like doing that, but Will insisted. We tried with different bow sizes. I favoured a flatter bow, with edges that curved back. With this, I could still puncture the dummy, but the bow was lighter, easier to draw. N’tombe preferred a smaller bow; it was what she was used to, she said, and good in a forest.
‘Good in a forest,’ said Will, thoughtfully. He turned to N’tombe. ‘It would be interesting to try these bows on horseback, wouldn’t it?’
‘I didn’t know you rode,’ I said. I’d never seen him in the arena.
‘Everyone can ride,’ he said, then smiled. ‘Nay, I’ve been taking lessons, lady.’
N’tombe talked to my father. It took some coaxing, she said, but she and the sergeant were persuasive. The sergeant was interested in how the bows would perform in a forest; my father, perhaps, felt guilty. Maybe he realized I might never have another opportunity to leave the Castle.
It was pleasant to be outside the stone walls of the Castle, pleasant to be in the woodland. The air smelt damp, as though rain was coming. Soon, it would be midsummer, my birthday. I was nearly fifteen and I’d only left the Castle twice.
‘Let’s just ride for a while,’ called Will. ‘Get a feeling for the land. I want to see what shooting from a horse is like.’
We trotted along forest tracks, Will in front, N’tombe at the rear. His seat was good, but at times he gripped the reins too hard. An agreeable thought, to know I was better at this thing than him. Above us, branches stirred in the wind as we rode, hoods pulled up. The track led out from the trees into a small moorland clearing, where the bracken grew high. The Castle and the tower were hidden. I felt free.
In a whir of wings, a heavy body flashed past my face. On reflex I nocked arrow to bow. Too slow. The pheasant crashed into the undergrowth, escaping to safety.
‘Good try,’ said N’tombe.
‘The wind throws me off.’ The bow had twisted in the slight breeze, slowing my draw. ‘We should have brought dogs.’<
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‘Let’s make for the trees,’ called Will. ‘I want to see if we can find some deer.’
The sun grew brighter. I should have worn a hat. We turned onto a small side track that steamed slightly in the sun’s warmth.
That was when it happened. That was when the world changed.
I had little warning. The sun seemed to lurch. Then, from the empty sky, a bolt of light fell towards me; a spear of hissing fire.
‘Ware!’ called N’tombe.
I pulled my horse to one side.
Beside me, a golden spear had thrust into the ground, its handle quivering. The sun’s heat beat down, the steam lifting up, drifting like a dream. Hissing, another ray of golden fire fell, piercing the soil.
N’tombe stared up at the sky, her expression fierce. ‘So, it begins.’
I pulled my horse around. Back, away. Who was throwing these things? They were transparent, like golden glass, like no spear I’d ever seen. For all they seemed to come from the sun, they gave off no heat. I reached out to it.
‘Don’t touch it!’ N’tombe called.
Hissing like water on a hot pan, more spears fell, their tips digging into the ground until they looked like a line of golden staves pointing upright to the sun.
Our horses startled, turning with a clattering of hooves and snorting of nostrils. My mount put her head down and charged back along the track, Will’s mare galloping behind. Mud sprayed from their hooves and their breath was harsh, urgent with fear. My mare’s ears were back and she pulled at the bit, trying to bolt. I fought with the reins, sitting upright in the saddle, clinging tight with my legs. N’tombe’s left foot had slipped out of the stirrup. She clung to the pommel, trying to keep her balance as her mare surged forward, trying to bolt. In a moment she’d be off.
I pushed my horse forwards, off the track, crashing through the deep bracken. We drew in front of N’tombe. I sat straight, pulling the mare to a canter and then to a trot. Calmed by my mare, N’tombe’s horse gradually slowed.
‘What was that?’ I called.
‘I’m not sure,’ she said, trying to untangle her reins.
Will pulled up behind her, panting. ‘My saddle’s twisted. I think my girth is loose.’
A Necklace of Souls Page 17