An armed figure slipped between the bushes.
Shadows danced, and from the throats of the monks a chant of devotion began smoking its way up into the trees. Like a grey and torpid thing, it rose over them all. Tey shuddered.
A light winked out.
‘I ... I didn’t know...’ the boy stammered fearfully. ‘I didn’t mean for him to see me...’
His mother didn’t move, her eyes were seeking any hint of movement from between the huts.
‘What are you saying?’ She gripped his hand tighter.
‘He was following me,’ Tey whispered, tears springing to his eyes, ‘I didn’t know what to do…’
‘Who?’ asked Ba Set turning. ‘My son, tell me. Who was following you?’
‘Him,’ whispered Tey. His gaze shifted to where Ulrick was kneeling, his eyes wide to the heavens. ‘The knight.’
Ba Set stared. She dropped her son’s hand and in one fluid motion rose to her feet. ‘It’s you? You? This… This… Knight of the faith,’ she spat the word out, ‘has been searching for you, and yet you kept silent?’
She stared, incredulous. ‘Why Tey, why didn't you say anything?’
Tey hung his head in shame, thinking of all the reasons but not one of them made sense anymore, not now.
Ba Set raised her chin at the mournful, chanting monks, her mouth twisted, appalled. ‘What have you done? They seek to destroy us, and all we hold dear.’ She said flatly as she gazed into the cold eyes of the black-hooded abbot.
Tears stung his eyes. Around them, movement shuddered as the monks’ song rose and settled thickly over the camp. A spark of energy flared through the soil then was still, suffocated by a devotion that would negate any belief but their own.
Behind, a single wild spirit sang out a bell-like note of sorrow, and evaporated into the chilled air of the clearing. A delicate being standing close to Tey shivered and winked out. Then another larger, flaming faery leaned in low from the shadows, its great eyes begging for forgiveness, before it too vanished.
One by one, as the monks’ fervour and chanting increased in intensity, the great beings disappeared back into the hidden shadows of the forest, until Tey was left on his knees. His small, crouched form watched over zealously by Ulrick, Defender of the Faith.
‘Search the camp!’ A shout erupted from out of the dark, as a forest warden – a great bear of a man, emerged from the trees with a whetstone brandished high above his head. ‘Search the camp,’ he bellowed once more. ‘This is no haven of the holy.’
✽✽✽
Hew and Martin had been lying stunned in a pool of shadow, far from the torchlight. Now, they stirred.
‘No,’ Tey breathed, terrified, as his father struggled to his feet. The woodsman was beside him, moaning and clasping his head in pain. Hew clutched the trunk of a small tree as if to stop himself from falling, and shook his head. Lifting his eyes to Tey, he smiled gently, and then turned his gaze to the direction of the storehouse.
Hidden well, the grey slab hut resembled a slender grove of saplings. Leaves stirred gently amid lengths of struck branches. All were dark, silhouetted by the light thrown by the fires. Tey moaned; it was hard to see, but a figure was heading towards the shadows, swinging a double bladed axe with nonchalant ease. A few steps ahead, came another, a sharp-faced wiry fellow. He gripped a thick cudgel in his hand and in his other he held a flaming torch that he plunged into the shadows, searching for evidence that would damn them all.
Energy flicked, cool and sure as Ba Set crouched to the ground. She raised her hands towards her husband, moving them as though she was pushing her beloved away, willing him to melt into the safety of the forest. Her breath was loud; the in breath sucked in like it was never enough, and the out breath was long and urgent.
Tey clenched his eyes shut. ‘Please, please, please,’ he whispered desperately. ‘I am not afraid…’ Gritting his teeth, he willed the energy of the earth into his hands. But he was too late. As his palms touched the soil, fire erupted from the camouflaged huts, searing high into the night.
Crowing in triumph, the rat-faced warden swung his cudgel hard into the burning saplings, and knocked them to the ground. The weathered walls of the storehouse gaped, exposed in the flames.
Hew leapt to his feet and with his sword held high, ran towards the hut, slashing at the warden, driving him away from the door. The man spun sharply, and with a laughing sneer, smashed his weapon towards Hew’s head. Tey screamed, but his father dodged and struck, whipping up the edge of his sword. Stepping back, the warden wiped his face with the back of his hand and it came away sticky with blood. Smiling disdainfully, he raised his cudgel and aimed a swift blow to Hew’s kidneys.
Tey shrieked and jumped to his feet, but before he could take a single step, a hand grabbed him. Tey tugged with all his strength but Ulrick, his face calm and full of the glory of the divine, forced him to his knees.
‘This is not for one such as you,’ he whispered, his light-blue eyes glinting in devotion.
‘Help me!’ Tey cried to his mother, but Ba Set seemed to be entranced. Her beautiful face was still, and her golden eyes dulled as she watched her husband fighting for his life.
Tey kicked hard, but Ulrick only held him tighter, calmly ignoring the blows against his shins as though taking the pain as penance. Tey kicked until his bare feet ached and all he could hear was the ragged sound of his own breath, as a shriek rent the air.
Lit red by the flickering of a torch, Martin lay against the wall of a second hut, pinned down by the huge bear-like warden. Blood seeped unchecked down the side of his head.
The man raised his powerful arm, his sword flashing in the light ready for the final blow, but Martin, with a quick lithe movement, twisted his body away. He almost made it to safety, but for his foot catching on the twisted tree root that snaked its way through the clearing. He stumbled, and the big forester took his chance. He plunged his sword into Martin’s chest and twisted it with a satisfied grunt.
The woodsman shuddered, his eyes finding Ash Kit. He smiled, revealing his love and adoration, before falling forward, impaled on the forester’s bloody sword.
Tey screamed for help and the sound tore the night air. Horror clouded his vision, but this time no beings came to his aid. The faeries of the forest were powerless against the hard, thrust of iron.
Ba Set stood frozen, mute with dread as Ash Kit fell to her knees, moaning in agony. Tey’s grandmother, Au Set, keened an ancient word of power into the air. Rising to her feet, she grabbed Ash Kit’s hands and snarled, jerking both of the women into life.
‘Daughters!’ she roared. ‘What are we doing? Are we not of the Blood? Why do we lie defeated and powerless!’
Ignoring the frailty of her tiny body, hobbled and twisted by the vast years of her life, Au Set stamped her foot on the ground, crying out, demanding the earth heed her call. With a sharp hiss at the still chanting monks, Tey’s grandmother shouted a single bright word into the sky.
In the shadows, Hew was tiring. His breath was coming in rasps, and he favoured his left side where his tunic was stained dark with blood. A clink of movement, and the fight was joined by the bear-like warden, his eyes gleaming with victory. Two on one, the men circled Hew, closing in for the kill.
Tey’s father clenched his fist on his sword, holding it steady and chuckling as though it was all a huge joke. The dark of the trees flickered with the watchful eyes of the few faeries that remained. They streamed through the air as though desperate to lend their magic, twisting their light-filled bodies to avoid the odious chants that were still rising from the throats of the monks.
Below, the air quaked as the rat-faced warden darted in to attack Hew’s exposed left side.
‘Ah. Kah. Neh. Mah!’
The word erupted. Au Set raised her hand, her body quivering with a word as ancient and as powerful as the earth herself. The cry prickled the hair on the back of Tey’s neck; he saw no blue-light energy this time but he could feel it. Each t
ime she uttered the word, molten, turbulent fury gathered from the earth beneath.
‘Ah Kah Neh Mah!’ Ba Set’s voice joined her mother’s, crying the great word to the heavens.
Grunting with exertion, the fighters’ weapons were a blur of light and blood. Hew slashed and parried for his life, with the huge warden forcing him back.
‘Ah Kah Neh Mah!’
Like a charge of lightning, radiance blazed upward, thick and sure, enfolding Tey’s father in a wave of protection as strong and as unstoppable as the tides.
He seemed to grow twice in size and twice in strength. With blood seeping from a fresh wound in his side, Hew attacked his opponents with his movements strong and sure. Laughing his bellowing, vital laugh, he struck the bear-like warden with such ferocity that the man fell lifeless to the ground. Giving no quarter, Hew surged forward, and the smaller warden staggered and hit the earth. In the coiling brightness of the flames, Tey could see the skin exposed on the back of the warden’s neck. Smiling grimly, Hew raised his sword and, with a single blow, his opponent’s body fell to the ground.
Ba Set and Ash Kit screeched their triumph to the heavens, their bodies contorting in the darkness, their fingers raking the sky. In the wavering heat of the fire, the womens’ forms shuddered, changing, appearing huge and feathered one moment, then flicking back to human the next, with only their huge golden eyes remaining the same.
As one, they turned with their mother, three powerful priestesses gathering all the terrible powers of the earth. Wind surged through the branches overhead as the women clasped hands, locking in as one, readying for another surge of power.
‘Harpies!’ A shriek cut through the clearing as Ulrick stormed towards the women, a thick branch flaming in his hand. ‘Harpies!’ He screamed again, his mouth contorted in revulsion.
With a cry, the knight lifted the torch and brought it down on the women with all his strength. Tey’s grandmother took the full force of the blow. Her body crumpled, her bones shattered and she collapsed, broken, to the ground. A brace of a dozen tiny faeries hiding in the branches above, flared in terror and vanished.
‘Bless me, Holy Child!’ cried Ulrick, dropping to his knees in supplication. ‘For I have ridden the world of a great evil.’ He bowed his head.
‘No, no, no.’ Tey stared, stricken at his grandmother’s shattered body.
The circle of protection collapsed. Hew dropped down to his knees, his hands useless by his sides. It happened so fast. Tey tried to shout, but the words of warning stuck fast, unable to push past his terror. Agonised, he could only watch as the one remaining warden emerged from the woods. Over one shoulder he gripped the carcass of the spotted deer, and in his hand the double bladed axe swung free. In two strides, he was upon Hew, and without pausing he raised the blade high and severed his head in a single stroke.
Praise bolted, exultant, towards the heavens. The monks crossed themselves, their faces glowing beneath the dark fall of their hoods. Dazed, Tey watched his mother scream her agony, her fingers clawing into her skin until great rivulets of blood coursed down her cheeks. Crawling over the ground to her husband’s body, she gathered his head from where it had fallen and cradled it lovingly in her arms, her eyes dark with horror.
Tey couldn’t move, his heart frozen, trapped in this nightmare without end.
Strong arms grasped him in a punishing grip. He struggled weakly. Under the oak tree, Ulrick climbed onto his warhorse, his mouth grim. ‘Bring the Holy Child to me.’
‘No!’ cried Tey. Finding his voice he kicked, lashing out with all his strength.
The face of his father’s murderer bent down and hissed. ‘I’d stop that if I were you, boy,’ he spat. His foul breath washed over Tey’s face. ‘You’re not so holy to me.’
Tey lunged, but the warden caught him and hauled him roughly to his feet. ‘Mother,’ he cried, his voice choking in sobs, ‘Mother. Help me!’
But Ba Sat said nothing as she huddled, crooning and rocking, surrounded by the twisted body of her mother and her fallen husband.
‘Mama!’ With a final twist, Tey slipped out from his captor’s grasp and ran across the clearing, throwing himself at his mother’s feet. ‘Mama!’ he cried, ‘Help me.’
Ba Set said nothing, locked in her own world of pain.
Grabbing her, Tey shook her arm desperately. At last she looked up and her eyes flared gold.
‘This. Is. Your. Fault. Foolish. Unthinking stupid boy!’ She hissed. ‘Curse the day I bore you!’
Her voice rose to a shriek so agonised that it seemed it would crack the very sky. Raising her arms once more, Ba Set tipped her head back, and with her long hair rippling and crackling with power, she keened out a stream of heartbreak. Ignoring her son, she rose to her feet and, tearing off her grey woollen gown, she tossed it disdainfully to the ground.
Proud and naked, Ba Set stood in the dying light, her body lean and powerful. She glared at the watching gaggle of monks and men, her great eyes raking each and every one as though marking each face for retribution through the eons.
Then, crying out one last divine word of power, Ba Set leapt into the night sky, her body shuddering as she transformed, her golden skin darkening, her dark hair feathering behind her. On powerful wings she climbed into the wind, into the blackness, into the very arms of the sky itself.
Soundlessly, a sparrowhawk, the fastest of all the birds of prey, sprang up banking higher and higher until, without a sound or cry of farewell, Ash Kit vanished, following her twin into the night.
Tethered uselessly to the ground, Tey stared with his arms raised up into the darkness. A heartbeat passed and out of the night a rough hand hauled him to his feet, but Tey no longer had the will to struggle. In a blur, the warden half dragged, half carried him, and hauled him onto Ulrick’s muscled horse.
Unseeing, unfeeling, Tey sat in shock, aware of nothing - not the sweep of faeries undulating in misery in the air, nor the urgent voices around him gathering the bodies of the fallen wardens.
Nodding in satisfaction, Ulrick gathered his mount’s reins and climbed behind into the saddle, his bulk dwarfing the stricken boy. Clicking softly, the knight rode from the clearing, his head held high, leaving the embers of the huts and the slain bodies to the night, and a single bluebell lying in the dirt.
✽✽✽
Trailed by a fleet of shadows, the party rode at a swift pace - the abbot on his red mare and the monks following as fast as they could on foot. Tey slumped against Ulrick; his eyes were clenched shut as he was pummelled by the jolting gait of the horse. The road was fast and straight, mirroring the watercourse that cut its way through the trees. Tey moaned, leaning to the low gurgling sound of the river, and if the knight’s arms hadn’t gripped him so tight, he would have thrown himself into its depths to drown.
A quarter moon rose above the trees as the priory gates opened. Metal jangling, the horses cantered into the receiving area. A stone gargoyle leered from its high vantage point..
At once, a door swung open in the walls and a trio emerged, clad in simple white. Hoodless, the novices bowed low, and in the flare of the torchlight, Tey wondered dully at the blooded nicks in their freshly shorn crowns.
He flinched as hands reached for him, lifting him off his mount. Ulrick dismounted with a flourish. He bowed low, dropping to one knee, and brushed his lips reverentially against the abbot’s proffered ring. Tey gazed at them blankly, his legs shook and his shoulders sagged; he felt as though at any moment he might crumble, collapsing to the straw covered stone.
Ulrick turned, his size looming over the boy as he crossed himself, clasping his hands together in an attitude of prayer. The young knight waited, but Tey did nothing. After a long moment, Ulrick bowed sharply and swung back up on his mount. He rode out into the night, his proud back framed by the grand arch of the gateway.
Tey moaned, the sky was empty of stars and the air was cold. Unexpectedly, a hand clasped his, warm and narrow and with dry rough skin. He couldn’t see th
e man’s face, but he was taller and older than the novices, and his abbot’s ring gleamed in the light. A torch flared and a youth emerged out of the darkness, and ushered them through the double doors into the heart of the monastery. In single file, they swept through the maze of silent passageways, the stone walls absorbing every scrape and thud of their footsteps.
At last, the trio halted in front of a door like all the others - solid wood and braced with iron. At a gesture, it opened, revealing a simple straw pallet and a narrow window that was cut high within the whitewashed walls.
The abbot gestured Tey inside. ‘They left you,’ he crooned, his voice was soft and unexpected, rising like smoke through the quiet of the enclosed space. ‘Didn't they? The harpies, the witches, sooner or later they always show their true colours.’
Tey didn’t reply. He dropped onto the bed, and lay unmoving with his eyes tightly closed.
‘Bless the Lord we found you, Holy Child, nested within that patch of adders you surely would have perished.’
The abbot patted his shoulder and blew out the candle on a single breath. A moment later, the cell door thundered shut.
Left in the darkness, Tey lay as still as he could, trying hard not to even breathe - knowing that if he let himself move, even by the slightest amount, he would be cracked open by a grief so overwhelming that he would surely be lost forever. He lay with his arms locked by his side and his fists clenched, as the abbot’s footsteps faded to silence.
A whimper escaped as Tey squeezed his eyes tighter shut, huddling as deep as he could into the pallet.
Outside, the crescent moon rose higher, its faint light angling in through the cell window. In the quiet, a soft, almost soundless pop erupted and a faery appeared, his great warty face ashen with the strain of being caught within the heaviness of the stone walls.
Gimbal turned a single, sad somersault before straightening his body out flat, and floating down with the lightness of a leaf, he landed beside the stricken boy. Curling his length around Tey, like the warmth of a comforting puppy, the forest faery hummed a single vibrating note and, imperceptibly, a glow hinting at the cool green of summer filled the tight confines of the cell. Still with his eyes tightly closed, Tey sighed, his fists relaxed and he slipped into the relief of dreamless sleep.
Soul Flyer Page 17