“You carry a weapon on you.”
“Dana!” Will stepped forward, but the darkness surrounded him and he stopped.
There was a quiet shimmer in the corner of my mind. So quiet, I barely heard it, but I put one hand over the other, clasping my wrists in front of me, hiding the beads from view. “I have nothing.”
The voice sounded uncertain. “We do not believe you. Remove your clothing.”
Will took a deep breath. I smiled sadly at him. This should have been a private moment between the two of us. Not in this cave, not in front of these shadows that cared naught for love.
A tiny whisper, from the guardians about my wrist. “We are with you, child.”
I was not alone. And naked, I would be fully clothed.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, tugged off my rags. They were not much to speak of; just an old linen shift and a thread-bare robe. And they were smelly and full of lice. I would not miss them. I threw the sword down, turned in a circle and felt the night air on my skin.
The shadows encircled my waist. “We accept.”
I looked down at my hands. The beads had gone. Two black lines encircled my wrist; a tattoo of thorns and five small roses. In my head the echoes of the Guardians remained.
“Be well, lady,” said N’tombe, in the silence of my mind. “We will come for you. Fear not. And stay strong.”
I clasped my palms together, bowed in the manner of TeSin’s people. “I will be strong,” I said. “I am no one’s sacrifice.” I straightened my stinging spine and stared at the night. “You must leave my friends and trouble them no longer.” The power had returned to my voice.
The darkness paused. There was uncertainty now, and wariness. “We agree,” said the shadows.
Then came a pause. A wave of darkness washed over me, dragged me under. And the cave and everything within it disappeared.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cold Breath Calls
Will sat on the steps of the cave, staring out at the night. In the clearing below lay the corpse of TeSin’s horse. The breeze stunk of death and dust. Bats, too small and fast to see, whirred overhead, their high squeaks sounding faint warnings. A shadow moved.
Will stiffened, one hand to his knife, then relaxed. It was a fox tugging at the dead horse’s hooves, scavenging the carcass.
This is the world, he thought. All in its place. This is how things should be. Death is normal; naught to be afraid of.
He felt numb. What would Jed do if he were here? Ah, I hope Ma Evans is kind to you, he thought. For I can’t see that fishing vessel returning any time soon.
The rock beneath him smelt of ash. The fire must have fairly raced through here.
Will caught his breath, remembering the fear, the anger. He had known the fire was coming; he could smell the smoke, hear the crackle of the flames. Yet, they wouldn’t let him even try and fight. Instead, N’tombe had forced him into that tiny space. It was like being thrust alive into his own tomb.
Will had scratched at the rock with his fingers. I’m going to die here. He must have dislodged something, because finally some stones tumbled loose and the air rushed in. Smelling of smoke, it made him cough, but at least he could breathe. He had wriggled his limbs free and, covered in dust, picked his way out of the cave.
* * *
Was that water on his cheeks? Will blinked it away. It can’t be tears, he thought. You need to feel something to cry.
* * *
Stumbling from the cave, he had stood just here, just beside this rock and looked down at the clearing. In the smoke-haze the scene below had seemed surreal, like a performance or a dance. For a crazy moment he’d felt like applauding. Then the world had snapped to reality and he’d near to thrown himself down the stairs. Those creatures, with their staves and their swords! And Dana, with only that small knife he’d lent her! What hope did she have?
“Stop!” N’tombe had put out her hand. “Don’t distract her.”
Dana seemed like a polished statue, her skin bronze in the sunlight. Beautiful, graceful, deadly; she seemed to blur, flowing in and out of time. He caught a sense of power, tightly held. Hers or theirs? For a moment he thought he detected something else. Something … more. Will had held his breath. N’tombe was right – any distraction could be fatal.
But was that really the reason that he’d stood so still? Perhaps the truth was something bleaker. Because those dark figures had wrought such fear that he had felt like a coney caught within a trap; afraid to breathe, afraid to turn. He, Will Baker, was a weakling and a coward.
But Dana had risked her life. And now she’d gone. He wiped his cheeks, smearing ash across his face.
Look at those stars. Nothing troubled their light. He wished he could be up there among them, free of the knowledge of his cowardice.
But it had been worse later. Something horribly dark had oozed across the cave floor. It had stunk of decay. And when it touched him – ah, the pain! Like his legs were held in a vice. There had been a voice, too. Harder than any stone, ancient and powerful and cruel. It had whispered into his mind, “A coward, boy. You’re just a coward.”
Worse than the pain had been the knowledge that the voice spoke true.
N’tombe laid a hand on his shoulder. “I can follow her.” Her voice was quiet in the night. “They cannot hide. Not from me.”
Will took a deep breath. “No,” he said calmly. Inside he felt a wrench of fear. “No. They’ll kill you. She wouldn’t want us following.”
The fox slunk away into the shadows. It would return when they left. Scavengers could be patient, for their time would always come. Like the animal, Will wanted to creep away and hide – from enchantment, from all knowledge of mages and the supernatural. There was comfort in ignorance.
Comfort, but no security. Better to face the darkness; better to attack the evil. What would Jed do? Well, that was easy enough to figure. He’d get drunk and then he’d pick a fight. But there was no ale here, so that left only fighting. He turned to N’tombe. “Can you teach me to fight like her?”
“I teach,” TeSin bowed his head to Will, like a combatant at the beginning of a contest. “I fight like bright one.” He paused. “A little.”
“But not now,” N’tombe said. “Tonight, we rest. Regain our strength. We leave at dawn.”
“We find her,” said TeSin.
She nodded. “We find her. But Will is right. We must not follow too close.”
“No need be close. She, I: we joined,” TeSin put his hand over his heart, closed the hand into a fist. “I find her.”
* * *
Wrapped in his cloak, Will lay on the hard dusty stone of the cave’s floor. He thought about the journey ahead. They would leave at first light, walk to the nearest village. N’tombe had enough coin remaining to buy some horses. But TeSin said they should consider camels, as they were faster. Camels? Will couldn’t imagine himself sitting on the back of such an odd-looking animal.
Mind, he’d never imagined himself traveling with a Noyan and a magic worker. When he was young, he’d thought the world was no bigger than a village by the sea. That he would grow up and be a baker, just like his parents. But the world was far, far larger than he’d imagined – already he had traveled much further across it than he had ever dreamed possible.
Not that this was a bad thing – ah, look what he’d learned. He knew how to calm a horse, how to clamber down a cliff. How to fight and not fear death. And he’d learned … was it love? Possibly, it was. Although love seemed too small a word for the feeling he had for Dana.
She was strong. She would survive. If only he knew where she was.
He looked forward to beginning training with TeSin. The man had rare talent and fighting was something Will was good at. He wondered how far his new skills would take him.
I am not a coward.
Somehow he doubted it would be so easy. But they had N’tombe, and a Noyan. And him, if he was worth anything. They would find the princess, sure enough.
&n
bsp; Dana, he thought, and remembered what she had said: A fountain of silver. And a dagger made of stone.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dreaming
I felt them with me: Phileas, strumming his lute, Rob and Suzanna, their fingers intertwined. Adianna, silent and powerful. And Wynne, the storyteller.
“Close your eyes, child,” Wynne whispered. “I will tell you of a time, long ago.”
The moon peeped out between silver-edged clouds, lighting the courtyard. A stone plinth stood in the center of a new-built pond. Shrouded in a cloak, a man stepped hesitantly into the courtyard. He crept softly, keeping to the shadows. The jade beads on his wrist gleamed in the moonlight. Half-hidden under his cloak, he held a leather satchel. It was Master Yang’s apprentice.
I drifted closer, but he did not see me. I was a ghost to him, something from another time, another place.
Warily, he walked to the waterless pond, stepped onto the stone plinth. He opened the satchel and unwrapped the small package within. The dagger! In the white moonlight the jade seemed as delicate as porcelain. He stroked the pommel gently, then wrapped it again, tucking the cloth into a neat package. The young man put it back into the satchel and slowly unhooked the satchel from about his shoulders, as if reluctant to let it go. Then he sighed and bent forwards to the dry pond.
Feeling for the join at the base of the stone, the young man pushed the satchel into the crack. He must have measured it carefully, for it fitted perfectly.
The moon shone into my eyes, and I blinked.
* * *
And now it was daylight and the sun was high. The courtyard was full of bare-chested tradesmen, sweating in the noonday sun. In the empty pond stood a man with a flat board piled high with white mortar. He troweled it onto the plinth.
The apprentice fussed about him like a gnat. “Careful. It needs to be watertight. Are you sure it will be watertight?”
Wearily, the mortar-man nodded. “Let me do my task, master, as you do yours.”
Grunting, slaves pushed a cart into the courtyard. Its wheels rattled over the stone cobbles. On it lay something tall and heavy and shrouded in white cloth. Sweating, they lifted it slowly from the cart. The cloth fell away, and there it stood on the courtyard: a silver statue, carved in the shape of the tree. The apprentice hurried toward it, rubbing his hand along its shiny surface, caressing the whorls and curves engraved along its branches.
“Lift the statue, like this. Carefully.”
Grunting, the slaves lifted the heavy thing and placed it on the plinth. They worked it carefully into position, until it stood like a tree in the center of the courtyard. The hollow at its heart met the hollow in the stone, where the pipe emerged.
The sun struck the silver, blinding me. I blinked.
* * *
Eventime, and the courtyard was crowded with bright-robed people. Jugglers tossed balls and minstrels played on strange stringed instruments. Stallholders served food from steaming pots. Laughing, children clambered on the pool’s carved edge and reached into the water to throw it at each other. There was an air of festival, of expectation; heads turned to one end of the courtyard as if watching for something.
Suddenly, there was a blare of trumpets. The children ran back to their parents and clambered onto their shoulders. It was a procession; a cavalcade of horses dressed in fine cloth and bright metal. Their hooves smacked sparks from the cobbles and they trotted proudly in the sun. The crowd cheered and tossed flowers.
Slaves carrying a palanquin enshrouded in white silk followed the horses. The crowd grew silent, then fell to the ground, prostrating themselves on the cobbles. The fountain burst into life, spraying water like a fine mist. And the light from the setting sun struck the water, turning it to gold, as the curtains of the palanquin blew open. The old man within stirred and the water drops swirled around him, so for a moment he seemed wreathed in light. He yawned and stretched and the curtains heaved like wings. This was the Eternal One, the dragon at the heart of the Stronghold. I blinked.
* * *
And the people were gone, the courtyard empty. Only the fountain remained, standing like a silver tree shining in the sun. There was a secret in the roots of that tree. A secret meant for me.
“And now you know,” whispered Wynne, “where the dagger has gone.”
I roused, waking into darkness. There was no noise save my breath and the thudding of my heart. There was only I and the Guardians, who were part of me.
“Sleep,” they murmured. “Sleep, child.”
And I slept; and I dreamed.
Rosa stood at her window, staring out at the Castle walls and the forest beyond. The leaves were winding toward autumn, the first faint touch of yellow lightening the green.
She didn’t move. “Hello, Dana.”
“Rosa.”
Crows cawed and faintly, I heard the sound of axes. The woodsmen were preparing for the coming season. She wore the necklace. The light scattered from the gems, casting rainbows on the ceiling, and the blood-red ruby swung at the end of the chain.
“I’ve been dreaming …” I rubbed my eyes. “Have I been asleep?” Seemed that this whole dratted journey was one long nightmare. Maybe I would wake and find myself in my own bed. Suddenly I felt desperately homesick. “How is Nurse?”
Rosa smiled. “She’s worried about you.”
We sat in silence for a time. Around the tower crows circled, crying their news to each other. The air was fresh, the breeze cool.
Reluctantly, I realized the truth; I was still inside my dream. The waking had yet to happen. “Is Will all right?”
Rosa smiled, nodded. “N’tombe is with him.” She lifted the glass globe from its resting place on the shelf. You can see him, if you wish.”
I stared into the globe. The whole world was reflected in here, turned upside down inside the glass. Small bubbles, tiny imperfections in the glass, looked like falling snow. They seemed to spin as I watched, and I followed their dancing, trying to track their path.
And then the image cleared and I saw Will, standing on the deck of a ship, his eyes covered with a blindfold. Sea foam sprayed about him and the wind blew his hair into his face. There was a knife in his hand and a sword at his side.
“What’s he doing?”
“Learning to see,” she said.
“How can he see when he’s got a blindfold on?”
“Because, child, sometimes the eyes are a distraction.”
In the glass Will brandished his sword. It looked like he was waving at me. I smiled, and dipped a finger back. He lifted his knife in salute, or in defense. My vision widened and I saw the ship, bobbing on the waves, two figures dancing with blades toward each other. TeSin and Will.
“Will!” I called in warning. His head jerked up as though he heard me, and he lifted his knife. I saw then that he wasn’t holding a knife at all, it was just a stave, made of wood.
“He’s training,” I said, relieved.
“Yes. He’s beginning to see.” The ruby sparked in the sun, sending color into her cheeks. For a moment, she looked almost young.
I looked back at the globe but now it was just glass, speckled with small bubbles of air, and all I could see within was the view from the window – the forest, the mountains, turned upside down and infinitely small. I bent over it, trying to find him again, but Rosa reached over, took the globe from my hands. The ruby swung as she stretched, and its edge clinked against the glass.
“You must listen to me, child. For you; ah, the world spins quickly. The seasons change and the grasses will soon be dying. Then the snow will fall. And after winter comes the spring.” She pushed back her chair, went to the window, and looked out at the early autumn forest. “In the new growth of the grass, Dana. Do you remember?”
How could I forget? “After the snow has melted and the grass begins to grow. The time of sacrifice.”
“You must be ready, Dana. Are you ready?”
I felt again the burning, a soft stroke of fea
thered wings across my back. “I think so.”
The world seemed to move sideways and she gasped and reached out for the sill to steady herself.
“And you?” I asked. “Are you ready?”
She smiled at me. “Little Dana. Almost grown up.” She stretched her fingers toward me. “Take care, child. You are strong, much stronger than you know. Have faith in your strength.”
Outside the sun went behind a cloud and the room appeared suddenly dim.
“Rosa?”
I felt the distance between us growing. “Tell her,” she called, “tell her …” Her voice was faint now.
“What?”
“Love …” she whispered, “tell her love.”
It was as though I stood at the opening of a tunnel and watched the figure of a woman walking within. As the darkness collapsed around her, my homeland disappeared.
It was light when I woke. I lay on a soft mattress under smooth-woven sheets. I stretched, sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Wooden floors, polished to a shine, reflected my feet. The place was clean and sparsely furnished with a carved chest beside the bed and a red lantern swinging from the roof.
I wore a white robe, open at the throat. Plain and unadorned, with wide sleeves, it reached to my feet. I fingered the fabric; so soft. Who had put this on me? The room was empty and quiet, save for the soft hum of distant voices.
I walked across the shiny floor to the sun-filled window. It was barred with a stone lattice. Outside, the air was dry and warm and there was a curious smell of rancid butter and horses. The sky was bright blue and, blown by a strong wind, clouds washed against the sun.
This window was set high in a smooth, unbroken wall. Far below lay a city that sprawled toward the horizon. Walls and roofs, streets and narrow alleyways; it was like looking at a living map. There was movement in the streets, people and carts and livestock and laundry blew in the wind. Walls split the city, so the place appeared ringed like an onion, dropping away in steps below me.
The SoulNecklace Stories Page 54