Devastation

by Jane Dougherty

  “It’s a flute,” Jack said.

  “I made it,” Jim said proudly.

  “How?” Jeff asked, blowing a shrill squeak out of it.

  “I remodeled a wooden spoon from the kitchens.”

  “Do you think you could remodel a bazooka out of an old U-bend?” Tully asked, impressed. “Seriously, that kind of talent could come in very useful.”

  Jim reflected. “I could give it a try. You got one handy?”

  Tully tapped his pockets. “Not on me, no.”

  Kat tapped her foot impatiently. “Tancred wants us ready to leave in five minutes. He said that if we want to get out before the modelers put the final touches to the barrier in the west, we have to go right away. And you heard what he said, about what happened in those villages on the edge of the forest?”

  “And if we missed a word of it the first time round, we know it all off by heart now,” Jack muttered darkly.

  Tully couldn’t help smiling to himself. “I do believe you’re jealous, Dad.”

  “Jealous?” Jack bristled. “Of that humorless pain in the hole?”

  “Just because he doesn’t crack fifty jokes a second like you, doesn’t make him humorless.” Tully snapped back.

  “It makes him bloody hard to get on with, though!”

  “Oh, pack it in, Jack! We’ve got half the Old Testament on our heels, and you’re arguing the toss about who would make the best stand-up comic. Don’t be so juvenile.”

  “Well said, Kat.” Tully clapped loudly while Jack turned to pick up his bag and hide his red face. Jeff stopped struggling with the buckles on his bag and touched Jack’s arm.

  “It’s because she hasn’t found her talent yet,” he whispered.

  Jack gave him a sheepish grin. “Maybe. But when she does, will she have time for any of us?”

  Jeff didn’t hesitate. “Kat has a big heart. I think there’s plenty of room in it for us too.”

  Jack mussed Jeff’s hair. “You’re getting to be quite the little philosopher, aren’t you?”

  “Sage.”

  “Sage, sorry.”

  “When you two have quite finished the man-to-man talk, perhaps we could go?” Kat was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. The others were all making their way down the corridor.

  “Just lead us to the yellow brick road.” Jack offered Kat his arm.

  “Good thing I packed my ruby slippers,” Kat said, taking it.

  “Come on, Dusty.” Jeff scooted out of Jack’s room.

  “Last one outside’s a Munchkin,” Kat called after him.

  Yvain was waiting beneath an overcast sky on the steps of the Assembly building. Alinor was with him, of course, and Adelle with her baby, Carloman the healer, Raulf and Edgard the modelers from Roland’s bridge, the sages, Jehane and Amaury, and Tancred the Traveler. At the edge of the group, a slim girl stood, rather self-consciously, twisting the front of her skirt.

  Tully smiled to himself as Jeff’s face lit up.

  “Morgaine!” Jeff caught at the girl’s hands and held them tightly. “I’m glad you could come to see us off.”

  Morgaine blushed and looked at the ground. “Take care,” she said in a tiny voice, and pulling her hands free, turned and fled. Jeff looked after her in consternation. Jim patted him on the back.

  “Never mind, Casanova. She’ll be back. You’ll see. When the conquering heroes return, the girls will be throwing themselves at us.”

  Jeff gave him a strange, empty look. “If there are any girls left.”

  Jim took his hand from Jeff’s shoulder.

  “You’re the one with the visions,” he said, with a frown.

  Alinor put her hands together. That was all she had to do, and all eyes were on her. A quiet authority exuded from this slight woman who represented all that was calm and reasonable and protective in the peaceful Gaulish society. Tully could easily understand why she’d been elected head of the Assembly.

  “My friends, much as we would like to keep you with us, the time has come for your journey to continue. The countryside is emptying fast, as Lutecia and the other cities create their barriers, but there will inevitably be country people who refuse to leave their homes…for one reason or another. Because of the hazardous times that are upon us, it would be better if you avoided contact with the people you may come across outside the city.”

  Tully glanced discreetly at Carla and saw that she had understood too. The countryside was infested. The worms had done their work.

  “We will keep your departure a secret as long as possible, and of course, no one, except for the people you see here, knows where you are headed, and I do not have to remind you to keep it so. If Wormwood were to waylay you…” Alinor’s voice trailed off, and she let her eyes rest on each one of them in turn. “Tancred will go with you. He knows the land from here to your destination.” Jack’s eyebrows shot up, but he quickly composed his features when Kat glared at him. “And Eirian Arvelsdaughter, whom you’ve not met before, one of our most gifted healers.” Eirian, who looked to be not yet out of her teens, gave a slight curtsy and smiled warmly. She had strong, round arms and a broad, open face, with eyes as blue as forget-me-nots, and she radiated an aura of calm and wisdom.

  “Horses are waiting for you at Edmond’s stables. My duty now is to my people, their protection and their comfort in the dark times that lie ahead. Our barrier will be a strong one, as our sages and modelers are not without talent, but it will not hold the scourges indefinitely. Go quickly, now, and go safely,” she whispered. “Lead Wormwood to Mount Ardar, but please”—her eyes softened—“he must not know your destination. If he were to head you off…”

  Tancred took Alinor’s hand and kissed it. “I know the region well, Mistress of the Assembly, and all the paths to the north. As long as we do not stumble across any new wormholes, we will be safe.”

  “Excuse me.” Jack raised his hand. “But how do we ‘not stumble across any new wormholes’?”

  Tancred looked surprised. “Why, the hound will tell us, of course!”

  Jack looked at Dusty. Dusty raised her ears questioningly.

  “That?”

  “You have a blessed hound, master traveler.”

  “I know we have a bloody hound!” Jack said in exasperation.

  “No, Dad, he means that Dusty is blessed. She has a talent.”

  “The hound is blessed because she can scent evil, master traveler. You have discovered the gift of traveling. Your dog is able to smell evil. She is a valuable asset.”

  Jack looked skeptical and Kat snorted, but Jeff beamed with pride and scratched Dusty’s ears.

  Yvain looked at the sky and frowned. The light was thickening, taking on a sinister yellow color, as if a violent storm was on the way. Tully followed his gaze, to the birds that flocked, circling the city in silent, dark clouds. He sensed their unease at finding themselves hemmed in by the invisible barrier so close to the city dwellings, and their fear of the strange changes in the countryside. Yvain took Alinor’s hands in what was obviously a familiar gesture, at once tender and respectful.

  “Hold firm,” he said simply before turning to Jehane. “The sages have a terrible task. The mistress of the Assembly is counting on you to protect the people. And I am counting on you to protect her.”

  Jehane nodded, and the smile she returned was grave. “Your trust is well-placed, master traveler.”

  “The same burden falls to the modelers—Raulf, Edgard.”

  “We will keep hold until your journey reaches its end. Have no fear.”

  Yvain smiled wanly and slowly loosened his clasp of Alinor’s hands. She let them fall to her side and watched them leave, her back straight and her head high. But Tully thought he caught the reflected brilliance of tears just before the green tunnel caught them and carried them to the outskirts of Lutecia and Edmond’s stables.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Journey Begins

  The horses were waiting in the stable yard, nine ridin
g horses and three pack animals. The black stallion whinnied in recognition when Yvain stroked his nose, and a bay nuzzled Tancred’s shoulder. The others approached, running their eyes along the line of horses, aware that a selection process was going on, but Kat hung back, her old fear resurfacing now that a long journey on horseback was involved and no other solution was possible. The horses waited, swishing their tails and occasionally tossing their heads. Finally, Jeff put out his hand to a little palomino, and the animal trotted forward as if wondering what had taken him so long. A black gelding with a white blaze and socks nudged Jack. A gray mare, two chestnut mares and a bay gelding sorted out Jim, Carla, Tully and Eirian. The animal that remained, a beautiful pure-white mare, gave an impatient snort, shook her mane and trotted over to Kat, who felt slightly sick. With a bit of prompting from Jack, she held out a hesitant hand. The mare nuzzled it gently and placed her head on Kat’s shoulder.

  “Ah, get up on it, will you, Kat? Before you have us all in tears.”

  Jack held the mare’s bridle and helped Kat into the stirrups, as she settled herself in the saddle. The mare waited patiently, flicking her ears at the flies but otherwise motionless. Jack stroked the horse’s neck admiringly.

  “Beautiful animal. Make a good statue.” Jack heaved himself up onto his mount and gave Kat a salute. “We’ll see you on the way back then, Kat. I think yours has taken root.”

  Reassured by the placid nature of the mare, Kat nudged her with her heels and the animal ambled up to join Jack’s horse.

  “This is a serious and supposedly secret mission we’re embarking on,” she said. “Not the Arc de Triomphe. There’s no champagne and big prize money for the one who gets there first.”

  “If I were you, I’d just be worried about getting there at all,” Jack retorted.

  The others mounted, with a little help from the grooms, and Edmond, a short, rotund man in a leather apron, fussed around, giving them impossibly detailed instructions about the care of his precious animals. They all had names that the group promised to use. Each horse had its little foibles and preferences that they promised to remember. It was Kat who had the idea of taking notes, which raised her to dizzying heights in Edmond’s esteem. Yvain, Tancred and Eirian, being the most experienced riders, took charge of the pack animals, and, giving a last affectionate slap on the rump to Yvain’s black stallion, Edmond waved them off.

  * * * *

  The sun, when it came out from between the clouds, cast long spindly horse-legs of shadows on the track before them. Jim looked over his shoulder at the pale sun and frowned.

  “I thought the Poll Ifrinn was in the north?”

  “It is, but so is the agricultural land. The forest to the west will slow the demon down, and his army will do less damage, so we’ll take a little detour.”

  “We’ll meet fewer people too, won’t we, Yvain?”

  Yvain gave Jeff a shrewd look and a paternal smile. “And why would we want to avoid meeting the good folk of Gaul?”

  “Because the people who refuse to shelter in Lutecia are likely to have listened to Wormwood’s whisperings, and they could betray us.”

  “Wormwood, the Light-Bringer, has a very persuasive way with him.” Yvain tapped the side of his nose. “Especially when it coincides with our hearts’ desire. There are, unfortunately, many people who would like to believe that finding a scapegoat will solve all their problems.”

  “And like my Grandma Quinn used to say, there are people who would blame the Lamb of God for an outbreak of foot and mouth,” Jack chipped in.

  Tully cringed but Kat couldn’t stop herself giggling. Eirian picked up the explanation. “The healers can force out the thoughts Wormwood places in a mind, but only with the cooperation of the hearer. If Wormwood’s suggestion finds an echo in the mind, the suggestion grows into an idea, and the mind accepts it as its own. Then, there is nothing we can do.” Eirian’s soft features contracted as she spoke, as if the idea of defeat was painful to her.

  “You mean,” Kat asked, “that if someone was already thinking along the same lines, Wormwood’s words would only reinforce what was already potentially there?”

  “That’s the worst of it,” Eirian said sadly. “When we realize that someone is in difficulty, it is often too late to heal them. Once the dark thoughts take hold, we cannot pry them loose.”

  Kat thought she understood. “So Bohemond—”

  Eirian stopped her with a grave shake of her head. “Bohemond is a good man at heart. The wellbeing of his people is his first concern. But he believes that the end justifies the means, and Wormwood has profited from his convictions.” She shook her head again. “He will do evil and believe he is doing good. Soon, he will lose sight of the end, and the means, however brutal they are, will be all that matters.”

  Unwillingly, all eyes were drawn to the dirty smear along the eastern horizon, a stain that crept stealthily toward them, sucking in the light and letting none escape, for all they knew leaving a trail of death and desolation as it advanced.

  Kat shivered and turned her horse’s head away from Lutecia and toward the wooded slope before them. “The sooner we get moving, the quicker we’ll be there.”

  The white mare swished her tail and trotted down the grassy bank. The other horses followed, Dusty close on their heels, and in a few moments the hilltop was empty.

  * * * *

  In the green lanes, dog handlers moved silently, waiting patiently before certain doorways, letting their dogs sniff out the right direction at each crossroads. A small but growing group of gray-faced individuals was escorted to the cells beneath the Assembly by a master modeler, to prevent tampering with the locks. Alinor gathered modelers and sages in the Assembly cloisters, and they concentrated on their barrier, closing the way to the demons, using the deepest magic of the creation of the universe, the magic of equilibrium, to keep out what should not get in. She sent healers from house to house, to counsel those who showed signs of despair and cast out their doubts and dark thoughts. Guardians of the peace patrolled the deserted lanes with their cannons that thickened the air and caught their suspects in an invisible glue. Alinor was preparing Lutecia for a siege, where the enemy was already within.

  She sighed. It was time to visit Bohemond in the cells. He had been caught attempting to open a tunnel in the barrier, and Alinor wanted him to tell her why. Who was waiting at the other side to be let in? It was pointless, she knew. He wouldn’t tell her, and in any case, she could guess the answer.

  * * * *

  At midday, Tancred called a halt in a small glade. They made a light meal of bread and cheese and let the horses rest. Then they pushed on. Tancred had no need to say anything. Nobody needed telling that the menace was close behind them. He didn’t have to spell out what would happen should the pressure on the barrier prove too great.

  Before leaving the glade, Eirian ‘tidied up’. When she’d finished, not a branch was left broken, not a plant crushed. The glade was as they’d found it, no more disturbed than if a family of rabbits had passed through.

  Kat watched. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why did you do that? I mean, we didn’t make such a mess, did we? The things that got crushed would have grown back eventually.”

  Eirian just smiled her broad, selfless smile. “Probably. But if you get into the habit of healing everything that gets hurt or broken, it becomes second nature, and when you have a big job to do, it isn’t so tiring.”

  “It must be a wonderful feeling to be able to do that,” Kat mused.

  “It’s heartbreaking sometimes too. When we arrive too late to heal a complicated wound or if a patient is too weak to combat several different infections. The most rewarding aspect is working with doctors, teaching them what we know instinctively, complementing their scientific knowledge.”

  “It’s what the modelers do too,” Jim said, “when they work with artists and architects. The modelers help make an artist’s idea reality, and the artists teach the modelers about color, propor
tions and composition so they…we don’t just create things that are functional but hideously ugly.”

  “You’re lucky, you know,” Kat said with a great sigh. “Sometimes, when I touch living things, you know, like just patting a horse’s neck, I can feel what’s underneath. I think I can feel the blood racing, the muscles shifting, the bones moving in time to the blood and the muscles.”

  Jim pulled a face.

  “Exactly,” Kat said bitterly. “Can anybody explain to me how being in touch with a horse’s blood could be considered a talent?”

  “It’s just the start, Kat,” Jim said. “You’ll see what it’s leading up to soon, I’m sure.”

  Kat shrugged. “Maybe. You already have a talent, and you’re learning to use it. Soon you’ll be a master modeler, able to build and create things of your own.” Kat bit her lip. “I’d give anything for my talent to appear—to even know that I have a talent! Sometimes I think there must have been a mistake, that somebody else should have been saved, not me.”

  Jim hesitated a moment then, with a gesture that surprised everyone, he put an arm around Kat’s shoulders and whispered, “You’re special, Kat. None of us would be here if you hadn’t led us to the hole. You had to practically drag us. Remember? Nobody wanted to risk it, but you insisted it was the only way.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts! You saved us. You were meant to be part of this group, so just be patient, will you?” Jim grinned. “Don’t you go all mawkish on us. It’s bad enough having Jack contradicting everything Tancred says, complaining and bellyaching about everything. Sometimes I wish he’d use his newfound gift to open up a hole and chuck himself down it.”

  Kat laughed, but she didn’t convince anybody, least of all herself.

  * * * *

  “It’s a shame you didn’t have time to sit in on some of the lessons at the conservatoire.” Tully had been improvising on the same theme for hours while Carla listened.