A Necklace of Souls

by R. L. Stedman

  ‘The cave,’ N’tombe called, pointing to the far end of the beach where high cliffs, golden in the sun, hovered above the haze.

  The ears of the horses pricked at her call, and they pranced on the harder sand of the beach, eager to run. I clicked to my mount and she picked up speed, so we galloped through the surf, water flying behind us. The fast travel was a relief; it kept my mind focused on the present, where we were going to, so I couldn’t dwell on the Kingdom, the army around us, or the blackened spars of ships that lined the tide mark like a stain.

  Grey birds wheeled about the cliffs, their calls echoing from the stone. A stream fell from the meadow above, pouring down in a small waterfall, shielding a low opening in the rocks. A cave. Without thinking, I directed the horses towards it. They were breathing hard from the run, their coats shining, and suddenly I wondered about practicalities like food and water for the animals, and shelter. But then I looked again at the darkness of the cave and I forgot all concerns, for there stood someone. And he was waving at me.

  I jumped from the horse and ran. His arms opened. I leapt into his embrace and, feeling his breath on my cheek, the familiar warmth of his arms, I thought: I’m home.

  ‘Good to see you,’ said Jed, shaking N’tombe’s hand.

  Will, his arm about my waist, walked me over to them. ‘We’ve been waiting for you.’

  ‘We’ve been looking for survivors,’ said Jed, indicating the refuse-strewn beach.

  ‘Are there any?’ N’tombe asked.

  ‘Not any more,’ he said grimly, putting his hand on his sword.

  Will’s green-flecked brown eyes were unchanged, but the rest of him — ah, that had altered. Always taller than me, now he towered above me. He was broader of chest and shoulder too, so when he put his arms about me and I leant back on him I felt enfolded, protected by his warmth.

  ‘Thank you,’ he murmured in my ear. I twisted, nestling against him.

  ‘What for?’

  He nuzzled his mouth against my jaw. ‘Saving us. Jed and I, we’re not good sailors.’

  I looked up at him, forgot what I was about to say. His mouth quirked, and a dimple peeped beside his lips. Such soft lips. I sighed and stood on tiptoe to reach them.

  Jed glanced at us. ‘Are they going to be like this all the time?’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry,’ N’tombe said. ‘They’ll grow out of it. Eventually.’

  Jed stepped out of the shade of the cave, over to the horses, which were drinking from the stream. ‘These for us?’

  ‘These two,’ said N’tombe, indicating the chestnuts on the leading reins. ‘There’s food in the panniers.’

  Jed ran his hands down their legs. ‘Nice lookers. Hey, Will! When you can spare a moment.’

  Sighing, Will lifted his mouth from mine. I sighed too.

  ‘You need anything to eat?’ called Jed. ‘Apart from her, I mean?’

  With a wrench, I stepped away from Will, the distance between us a physical pain.

  Munching a cold piece of pie, Jed sat on a rock, regarding me with lazy eyes. ‘You’re Dana,’ he said, and put up a hand. ‘Nice to meet you. Properly, I mean.’

  I put my palm into his, pumped my arm up and down. ‘Likewise,’ I said. The skin of his hand was dry and hard. This man seemed strangely self-contained and he moved with economy; not a movement wasted.

  ‘She says you saved my life,’ he said, between mouthfuls, nodding his head at N’tombe.

  I nodded. ‘Several times.’

  He swallowed and wiped his hands on his trousers. They were leather, stained white with sea salt. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ I said and smiled.

  He blinked. ‘Well,’ he grinned at me. ‘Guess I see what Will here was talking about.’

  N’tombe came back with the horses. ‘We need to go.’

  Will slipped his arm about my waist again. ‘Where are we going?’ He ran a palm down my shoulder, along my forearm, and I shivered, not wanting him to stop, knowing N’tombe was right. We had to go. ‘What’s this?’ he said, stopping at my wrist.

  I’d almost forgotten about the bracelet of beads. Even in the darkness of the rocky overhang they shone; out in the sunlight they sparkled. As I looked at them they seemed to heat up, until my skin burned. Was it my regard that made them warm? I put my hand behind my back. ‘A present.’

  ‘So,’ he murmured into my ear. ‘Someone gives you presents?’ Was that jealousy I heard? I giggled, and grinned up at him. ‘Not like that,’ I said and he smiled.

  Jed cleared his throat. ‘Will. You want anything else to eat?’

  Will looked down at my face. ‘Oh yes,’ he said, then put his mouth on mine again.

  Dimly, I heard Jed complaining. ‘Are they going to do that all day?’

  ‘You have a point,’ said N’tombe, sighing. A sudden pain shot up my feet, into my back.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘That’s enough,’ she said. ‘We must go.’

  ‘Enough for now,’ murmured Will. ‘Don’t worry,’ he muttered in my ear, ‘I’m still here.’

  I smiled at him and stepped away from his warmth. ‘I like your hose,’ he said appreciatively, running his eyes over my legs, up to my waist. ‘Suits you. Makes you look like a boy,’ he laughed at my indignant gasp, ‘almost.’ He put his hand briefly on my backside, and I gasped again, but not, this time, in indignation.

  ‘Children,’ said N’tombe, ‘come.’

  And so we turned our faces towards the Crossing. And all the way, I rode beside Will, and despite my concern for my family, for my Kingdom, I felt surges of such happiness that, in some small part of me, I was terrified. For such joy does not last. And still there was an enemy massing on our border, and the night would be dark.

  38

  Calls in the Darkness

  Five leagues of hard riding lay between Shipwreck Cove and the Crossing. Circling the edge of Castel Fens, we were to cross the low mound of Jenkins Hill down to the ferry where, roused by the Guardian, the Ferryman would be waiting.

  It was good to leave the beach. Viewed at a distance in the sun light, it seemed a gentle, pleasant place, but on the sand dried hunks of wood served as a reminder of the storm’s violence. Worse than the wood and the sea-wreck, though, were the bodies in the surf.

  A rough track meandered up through the dunes, sloping upwards to the top of the cliff. We dismounted, leading the horses up the last wild stretch.

  N’tombe shook her head when I asked her if she could shorten the roads again. ‘I would rather not.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Can’t you feel?’ She sounded surprised. ‘It’s easy with a road. But on this rough country, it takes much concentration to shorten the way.’

  The journey could almost have been pleasant if we hadn’t had to move quickly. So long confined to the Castle walls, it seemed strangely unreal to be able to stare across the empty waves to the west, where all was sea and sky.

  ‘Look,’ said Will, pointing. Distant specks of black, far out on the horizon. Some boats had survived the storm.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ N’tombe’s voice was calm. ‘The Guardian is prepared.’

  How could I not worry? Those boats meant many men with swords and knives and the will to use them. My wrist warmed in a gentle heat that throbbed with the pounding of my heart.

  We reached the Fens in good time and, following a rough track, skirted about their muddy edge, where birds with long, bent legs waded and watched for prey. The horses had to walk, for the ground was uneven and pools of stagnant water obscured the track. Shadows lengthened and clouds of insects lifted from the mire, settling on our faces and hands. The land was silent and brooding and Jed and Will rode alert in their saddles. Restless, the horses swished their tails.

  Finally, we left the marshlands and their mosquitoes and clambered up the long low slope of Jenkins Hill.

  ‘Who was Jenkins?’ asked Jed. Will shrugged but I, cursed with governesses, knew t
he answer.

  ‘He owned great stretches of land along the coastline,’ I said. ‘There’s a nursery rhyme:

  Jenkins had some land,

  A green and gentle strand,

  But Jenkins’ will

  Lost him his hill.

  Now no more Jenkins stand.

  ‘Daddy used to say it was a warning. Jenkins didn’t care for his land and now it’s barren, fit only for sheep. We say someone is “another Jenkins” if they’re stubborn or tight-fisted.’

  Will laughed, a strangely carefree sound that echoed across the blowing grasses. ‘The boys in the dormitory said Cook was “doing a Jenkins” when she skimped on the spice. I always wondered what that meant.’

  ‘Don’t you say it on the mainland?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not that I recall.’

  It was a relief to talk of things like sayings and nursery rhymes. We reached the top of the hill in good spirits and stood, looking down at the mainland and the straits that lay between. Such a narrow strip of water, to mark such an important boundary. On the far side of the straits were the tumbled willows of the Crossing, and the long low slopes of the downs, lit gold by the setting sun.

  ‘What’s that?’ said N’tombe, pointing at a ruined pile of stone.

  ‘A watch tower stood there,’ said Jed. ‘Marked the road into the interior. Was a big trading post once. The Crossing came later.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Arguments between the landowner and the local king, or some such.’

  N’tombe nodded bleakly. ‘Always, there are wars.’

  ‘Are around here,’ said Jed. ‘Plagued by battles, this land.’

  She turned to him. ‘My friend, apart from this small island, I have not seen anywhere at peace.’

  ‘Some towns are peaceful,’ said Will sadly.

  I trotted up to him and put my hand on his arm, and for a moment we jogged along side by side, until his mount stumbled on a stone.

  The Ferryman’s cottage, as every child in the Kingdom knows, stands at the mouth of Bright Stream and the entrance to the Straits of Terenu, a strange place where the tide arrives in a great whirling rush. In the setting sun the stream was red, the narrow stone bridge spanning it dark orange. But the evening shadows were menacing and the place seemed eerily silent.

  ‘Come,’ said N’tombe, and we picked up our pace.

  The horses were restless; even at a canter their ears twitched, turning towards noises they alone could hear, and they shied at leaves or wind or a branch blowing across stone. When we reached the bridge they slowed to a walk.

  ‘Be quicker on foot,’ muttered Jed, and kicked his gelding. ‘Get on, will you?’

  But I couldn’t blame the horses; there was movement at the edge of my vision, a restless circling, a strange swooping, as if some giant bird of prey was readying its wings for flight. Rosa had said that I, native to the Kingdom and carrying the necklace, or the bracelet, would be safe. Would it be enough? For as the day darkened to twilight and the evening mist rolled, silent as death, across the roadway, I felt tremendous fear.

  ‘Night’s coming,’ said Jed.

  ‘Faster,’ said N’tombe.

  The horses needed little encouragement, trotting quickly towards the ferry.

  ‘Hsst now,’ said Jed to his horse.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Will, pointing at the churning grey water of the straits. Small black objects floated on the tide. In the dusk it was hard to see. But N’tombe had senses other than eyes.

  ‘Rafts,’ she hissed.

  ‘Soldiers,’ said Will.

  ‘Must have been chopping down trees,’ agreed Jed.

  I’d forgotten that I, too, could see without my eyes. What a fool. Trying to calm myself, breathing deeply, in, out, thinking of the wind in the oak trees of my little, wall-enclosed woodland. Don’t think of your family hiding behind stone walls. Think instead of the light in the trees, and the joy that arches between them. My breathing calmed. And then, seated on a trotting horse on a stony road, fearful of the unknown pursuers, I had it!

  Fountains of golden light, arching across the roadside trees, lifting, spreading over the shadowy fields, pouring like a river along the road until, despite the falling night, all about us was etched in brightness.

  ‘Well done,’ said N’tombe. She was a golden web of light outlined against the glow.

  ‘Do you see like this, always?’ I asked, awed.

  She smiled. ‘Of course.’ The mass of lines that was her head twisted as she looked about her. ‘You get used to it, after a time.’

  I could never become used to this glory.

  ‘Lift up your wrist,’ she said. ‘It would be good to show them the soul beads.’

  ‘Them?’

  ‘Those who travel behind.’

  I lifted my wrist, a line of shimmering light, and spread my hand wide. The beads were warm and glowed white against the gold of my skin. Behind us I heard a roar and felt a sudden draught. Above, a thing made of fangs and multi-pronged claws lifted into the air.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘You asked about the land’s defences. There they are,’ said N’tombe.

  ‘They? There’s more than one?’

  She nodded, a wavering in the brightness. ‘I’d keep your arm out ready, if I were you.’

  I’d seen these things before, carved in wood, on my bed. They were my guardians too. I shouldn’t fear them. Yet that shadowed thing was no carving. It was larger than a horse!

  The road turned down the hill and the rocky track was steep, so the horses slowed and picked their way with care. We travelled in single file, silently. Below we could hear harsh calls from the men on the log rafts and the clamour of the waves against rocks.

  ‘They’re brave,’ whispered Will. ‘Crossing the straits in the darkness.’

  He was right; there were enough tales of currents and tidal maelstroms to give anyone pause.

  ‘Or else,’ muttered Jed, ‘they’re just plumb stupid.’

  ‘Quiet,’ whispered N’tombe.

  With my new sight I could see the soldiers clearly. And on the cliff tops something else. Twisted shapes, staring down at the invaders in awful hunger. I felt a strange pity for these men. Enemies they may be, but they were still just soldiers, following orders. And then I remembered the line of singing villagers and the sound of the swords cutting spines, and my sympathy vanished.

  We reached the bottom of the cliff and the wooden shack of the Ferryman. Despite the danger I felt a weird thrill; every child knows of the Ferryman and his tumbledown hut.

  ‘Let’s hope he’s home,’ muttered Will. ‘He’s got a habit of wandering.’

  ‘He’s home,’ said N’tombe, pointing to the boat that rested against the jetty.

  ‘We’ll need to lead the horses,’ I said.

  We dismounted slowly, trying not to make a noise, but my tack jingled as I pulled on the mare’s bridle. As if in answer, there came a shout from the beach and the harsh scrape of metal: a sword pulled from a scabbard. One of the shapes on the cliff edge crouched and flung itself out into space, a twist of light on golden air. It glided onto the stones below and leapt on the man with the sword.

  He screamed, a terrible howl that stopped abruptly as the winged monster pulled his head from his shoulders. I covered my eyes, wishing that just for a moment I could not see.

  ‘No!’ called N’tombe. ‘Let the others come ashore first.’

  Too late. As though the first attack was a signal, down from the cliffs poured the shapes; some flew, like the first, others scrambled down the cliffs like giant spiders. Still others bounded in leaps that took them down the rocks in jerks, as if they were on springs. The men on the beach screamed. Again, I felt pity. Again, I pushed it away.

  ‘God’s breath,’ swore Jed. ‘What in all the hells is that?’

  Lifting my right arm in glowing protection, I held Will’s hand and led him gently forwards. N’tombe took Jed’s elbow and we shuffled
slowly to the end of the track, along to the rickety jetty and onto the ferry that bobbed up and down in the rising tide. A golden net of mist lifted from the water and curled around the wooden keel.

  ‘Rough night,’ said the Ferryman. He put his face close to mine, peering at me in the dark. ‘Princess,’ he said, not sounding surprised. ‘Guardian told me you was coming.’

  39

  Mist and Memory

  As the boat slipped away from the jetty, the screams on the beach faded until all we could hear was the lapping of the waves against the wooden hull. My sight came and went, flickering between golden lines of energy and mist-wreathed black. I sank onto the hull with a sigh. Will and Jed sat beside me, stretching their long legs.

  ‘What,’ said Jed, ‘was that?’

  ‘Do you really want to know?’ asked N’tombe.

  ‘Perhaps not. But whatever attacked those soldiers, will it come after us?’

  The Ferryman was a dark shape against the fog. ‘They will not trouble you here.’

  ‘And you,’ said Will, squinting up at him. ‘Will they trouble you?’

  The man laughed, a dry sound without humour. ‘No.’

  ‘The fae are bound to the land,’ said N’tombe. ‘When the land is attacked, they rouse.’

  ‘The fae?’ I asked. They couldn’t be the fae. The fae aren’t real.

  ‘What did you think they were?’ N’tombe sounded amused.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said tiredly. Really, it didn’t matter what these creatures were, as long as they were on our side. And they appeared most effective protectors.

  ‘Whatever they are,’ said Will, ‘they’re our allies.’

  I leant against him. Despite the terror of the beach, the concern for my family, I was enjoying his warmth.

  ‘This was but a part of the army, though,’ said Jed grimly.

  We sat, listening to the harsh grunting of the Ferryman as he pulled on the ropes. Ghostlike strands of mist touched my face and I felt as though I was passing through a curtain into another world. I settled into Will’s embrace with a sigh and thought of Rosa, standing alone in her tower. A vivid, pain-filled image; she breathed quickly and, beneath the pad on her chest, fresh blood oozed. She smiled and raised her hand to me. I roused, startled, as the ferry shuddered and grated on stones. Had I been asleep?