The Forbidden Land

by Kate Forsyth

  Their path led them to a black cleft in the rock-face called the Cloven Hoof. It reminded Finn of Ogre Pass at Cairncross, for the walls of the cliffs rose up high on either side, casting the pathway into deep shadow. It was an eerie, uncanny place. The downs fell away on either side, empty of any life. Tall grey rocks rose out of the rippling grass like crooked fingers, casting sinister shadows across the path. No birds sang. No coneys hopped about. No lizards baked in the sun. There was only the melancholy sigh of the wind amongst the time-weathered rocks.

  Lachlan surveyed the Cloven Hoof grimly, saying, ‘I dislike the look o’ this, my lad. Is there no other way through?’

  Tam shook his head.

  ‘Och then, happen we should hurry through afore we begin to lose the light,’ Iseult said. ‘Tell everyone to make haste and keep a close eye out, for I’ve never seen a likelier spot for an ambush.’

  ‘But who would ken we came this way?’ Tam objected. ‘And if they kent, who would tell?’

  Lachlan and Iseult exchanged a glance. ‘There are spies and traitors everywhere, Tam,’ the Rìgh said grimly.

  The young sailor swallowed, losing some of his sunburnt colour.

  ‘Let us hope none have betrayed us, though,’ Lachlan said with a smile. ‘Our luck may still hold. Come, lead the way, lad!’

  As the soldiers began to march through in single file, all keeping a cautious eye out, Lachlan beckoned to Gwilym who limped forward, leaning on his staff. ‘Ugly, can ye sense any hostile minds about? I have an uneasy feeling about this.’

  ‘So do I,’ Gwilym answered, his beetling brows drawn down upon his hooked nose. ‘This be an evil place, though. There has been murder done here before, and much blood shed. And ye ken as well as I do that it be difficult to sense an ambush when there already be such a crowd o’ people here, all jostling with thoughts and emotions. If ye would all draw away for a while, happen I could get a clearer idea.’

  ‘Too late,’ Iseult said. ‘Already we have begun to march through and, besides, we do no’ have time for loitering. Already the sun is beginning to go down and we want to reach the Greycloaks while there is still light, if we can.’

  Duncan Ironfist trotted up beside them, saying with a smart salute, ‘Are ye ready to ride through, Your Highness?’

  Lachlan nodded and the captain of the Blue Guards wheeled his horse about so he rode before the Rìgh, his sword drawn. Dillon rode next with his hand clasped on Joyeuse’s ornate hilt, his big shaggy dog loping along at his horse’s heels. Iseult fell into place behind her husband, and Dide spurred forward his mount, the big chestnut Harken, so that he too guarded her back. The other officers trotted close behind, surrounding Iain and a pale-faced Elfrida, all with swords drawn or bows at the ready.

  Finn was at the rear of the company with Ashlin, Brangaine, Jay, Enit, Killian, Nellwyn, Tòmas, Johanna and the other healers, all of them crowded into three wagons drawn by big carthorses donated by the village of Kirkclanbright. They had their own guard of twenty-five soldiers, led by one of Lachlan’s officers, a young man called Sweeney. Although Finn had protested when Lachlan had insisted her horse be given to Dide, she was secretly rather glad to be travelling in the wagon with her friends instead of battling the big chestnut. It was like old times, having the League of the Healing Hand back together again, after so many years apart.

  At last it came time for them to move forward into the Cloven Hoof. Jay slapped the reins on the carthorse’s brown rump and clicked his tongue, and the horse strode forward, the little wagon bouncing over the ruts of the path, already greatly churned by the boots and hooves of those that had gone before.

  The sunlight was blocked out and a chill fell upon them. Brangaine pulled her plaid more tightly about her, saying, ‘Ooh, I dinna like this place. I’ll be glad when we are on the other side and safe within the army camp.’

  Finn nodded her agreement, cuddling Goblin up to her neck. She stared back at the narrow gash of sunlight behind them. Her heart suddenly lurched. ‘Look!’ she cried. ‘Flaming dragon balls, I just saw …’

  Jay quickly turned round. ‘What?’

  ‘I do no’ ken … movement … a flash.’

  Jay stared back, then suddenly he dropped the reins to lift both hands to his mouth, giving a long resounding cry like that of a hunting horn. The sound bounced around the narrow canyon, causing horses to sidestep uneasily and men to cry aloud in alarm. Anyone who still had their weapons sheathed drew them and Lachlan launched Stormwing up into the sky, the hawk giving a long whistling cry as it flew up into the bright slit of sky.

  Suddenly it shrieked a warning. In response, archers stood up all along the ridge and shot a deluge of arrows down into the ravine. Luckily Lachlan’s men had had time to lift their shields or take cover behind the wagons, but the air was still rent with the sound of men and horses screaming as arrow after arrow found a target.

  Then soldiers began to pour along the canyon, attacking the calvacade from the rear. They all wore heavy metal armour with long white surcoats emblazoned with a scarlet fitché cross.

  ‘Bright Soldiers!’ Johanna screamed. She had been present at many a battle between the Greycloaks and the Bright Soldiers and knew they were in acute danger indeed. She thrust Tòmas behind her and drew her dagger.

  The gyrfalcon was harassing the archers with its swift, sudden descent, knocking down one after another with its clenched talons, slashing at their faces with its beak and blinding them with a flurry of white wings. One of the archers lifted his bow and aimed straight for the great white bird’s breast. Just as he pulled back the string, an arrow from Lachlan’s longbow struck him through the heart and he fell with a cry.

  Many of the Blue Guards were attempting to swarm up the steep sides of the ravine so they could grapple with those attacking from above. Both Lachlan and Iseult flew straight up out of the ravine, as swift as any bird, and began shooting the enemy with their bows and arrows. There were so many of the Bright Soldiers, however, that even with their deadly accuracy both Lachlan and Iseult were soon out of arrows and had to land on the ridge and fight hand to hand.

  Meanwhile, the Bright Soldiers attacking from the rear were getting ever closer to the wagons. Sweeney and his men were fighting desperately to protect the wagons’ precious load but they were being overwhelmed by the sheer force of numbers. Finn had her crossbow to her shoulder and was firing bolt after bolt at the attacking soldiers, but she was hampered by the heads of her friends which kept getting in her way.

  ‘Get down, get down, ye gowks!’ she screamed.

  To her horror she saw Sweeney fall, then the Bright Soldiers were reaching up their gauntleted hands for the sides of the last wagon in the calvacade. In that wagon were Johanna, Tòmas, Killian and the team of healers. All it would take was a few quick strokes and all would be dead.

  Finn leapt across the narrow gap between the two wagons, landing nimbly on the swingletree slung between the two carthorses harnessed to Johanna’s wagon. The carthorses were all rearing and plunging in wild distress, for none were trained to battle, being only gentle farm animals more used to pulling a plough than hearing the screams of wounded men. Clinging to their harness, Finn swarmed across their backs and over the driver’s seat, her dagger in her hand. Behind her, Jay was attempting to dodge the enormous flailing hooves, at last managing to dart past, attacking one of the soldiers with his narrow sword.

  Johanna was slashing at the soldiers’ hands with her knife but they all wore steel gauntlets and she could do no damage. One already was throwing his mail-clad leg over the side of the wagon, though the healers sought to throw him down again with all their strength. The wagon lurched forward as the carthorse tried to bolt, and the soldier fell back to the ground, screaming as the wheel of the wagon rolled over him.

  Finn looked about her wildly, then glanced up. The deluge of arrows had faltered as the archers converged on Lachlan and Iseult fighting desperately further along the ravine. Quick as a thought Finn seized the coil o
f nyx-hair rope that she wore at her waist, knotted it to one of her crossbow bolts and fired straight up. The bolt flew up and embedded itself in a rock at the height of the cliff. She tested it swiftly, then bent and dragged up Tòmas, crouched white-faced against the floor.

  ‘Cling to me, laddie,’ she cried. ‘Do no’ let go.’

  With the slight weight of Tòmas hanging about her neck, she swarmed up the rope. A soldier grabbed her leg. She kicked him in the face and he let go, clutching at his broken nose. Another thrust at her with his sword but she swung out of reach. It seemed to take her mere seconds to reach the top of the cliff. She crawled over, heaved Tòmas off her back, and peered over the edge. Down below all was chaos. Finn lifted her crossbow and fired at a soldier about to run Jay through. The soldier crumpled back, his sword falling from his lifeless hand.

  ‘Jay! The prophet!’ she cried.

  Jay cast her a wild glance but bent and picked up the old man, who was shrinking back against the headboard in bewildered fear. Jay staggered under his weight but managed to heave him over his shoulder. He then seized the rope and tried to swarm up it as Finn had done. He was no trained cat-thief, though, and frail as the old prophet was, he was still far heavier than Tòmas.

  As Jay struggled with the rope, a soldier cut his way through the healers and raised his sword high, about to bring it down upon the young jongleur and his burden. Suddenly a small black fury leapt for his face with sharp claws raking. The soldier screamed and clutched at his bleeding eyes, and Goblin dashed away into the shadows again.

  The elven cat had bought Jay a few seconds and in that time Finn desperately began to haul on the rope, even though she knew she did not have the strength to drag both Jay and Killian up the cliff. To her surprise, the rope was as light and easy to haul as if two men did not dangle on the end of it. She looked down with her heart springing into her mouth, afraid that they had fallen down, but Jay still clung to the rope, Killian draped over his shoulder.

  Nyx magic! Finn thought with a glad spring of her heart. In seconds Jay was heaving himself over the lip of the cliff, dropping Killian to the ground. The young jongleur was panting with the effort but his hazel eyes were alight with triumph. ‘Well done, Finn!’

  ‘We have to save the others too, if we can,’ Finn cried and leant over to call, ‘Johanna! All o’ ye! Grab the rope.’

  She tossed the rope back down and Johanna seized it with one hand, ordering her healers to grab hold of it.

  ‘Pull them up,’ Finn ordered. ‘It’s a nyx rope. It’s magic! It’ll help ye. I’ll guard them.’

  She raised her crossbow and shot down a soldier thrusting his sword at one of the healers, then another seeking to drag down those clinging to the rope. Slowly at first, then more swiftly, the rope slithered up the side of the cliff, three young women clinging to it. Jay helped them over as Finn continued to harass the soldiers below with her crossbow, then tossed the rope down again for Johanna and the other two remaining healers.

  The ferocity of the battle in the ravine was beginning to die down. Many of the Rìgh’s soldiers had managed to scale the cliffs and were fighting with those that had been concealed along the ridge. Others had run back to help protect the defenceless passengers in the wagons. Lachlan and Iseult were still fighting back to back, surrounded on all sides by a great pile of dead and wounded Bright Soldiers. The gyrfalcon fought with them, a bolt of white lightning that struck without warning from the twilight sky.

  In the other wagon, Nellwyn and Enit had joined hands and raised up their enchanting voices. Sleeping soldiers were draped all round her wagon, their armoured chests rising and falling peacefully. Among the sleepers were Brangaine and Ashlin, both looking altogether too comfortable. Finn grinned when she saw them. ‘Think o’ how we’ll be able to tease them when they wake,’ she panted to Jay. ‘We’re fighting to the death and they’re snoring!’

  ‘The fight’s no’ over yet,’ Jay said grimly, picking up his sword from where he had dropped it. ‘Finn, look out!’

  Finn spun round and saw six Bright Soldiers racing to attack them, deadly intent on their faces. They had seen the white robes of the old prophet and knew they would achieve great distinction if they were the ones who managed to kill him.

  The healers were not armed and Finn had used up all of her crossbow bolts. She drew her dagger with a curse, and stood shoulder to shoulder with Jay and Johanna, all of them without shields or armour and untrained in the art of war. Suddenly a slim figure somersaulted over their heads and stood before them, a glittering eight-sided star in her hand. One arm was bleeding and her red braid was unravelling wildly, but Iseult was otherwise as cool and unflustered as if she was out for an evening walk.

  ‘So, ye attack bairns and auld men, do ye?’ she asked. ‘Cowards!’

  The six soldiers yelled in response and charged. The reil spun out of her hand, circling round to slice through two of the men’s throats, cutting through the heavy chain mail like a knife through butter. They fell, gurgling horribly, and Iseult drew her long skewer, the only weapon she had left in her belt.

  The four remaining soldiers had not even faltered, merely leaping over the fallen bodies of their comrades and thrusting their swords straight towards Iseult’s heart. She spun round on one foot, knocking one down with a powerful kick to the head and disarming another with a skilful flick of her wrist. His sword spun up into the air and she caught it and engaged the other two soldiers in a flurry of thrusts and feints too fast to follow with the eye. The disarmed soldier tried to grasp her from behind, and she kicked back with her boot, striking him in the groin. He wore heavy armour though, so he hardly flinched, smashing her in the face with his gauntleted fist. She fell, and Jay lunged forward with his narrow sword, shouting in horror. He stabbed the soldier right through the visor of his helmet, and the Bright Soldier fell back, the sword embedded in his eye. The other two soldiers were upon them, though, and they had only Johanna’s and Finn’s daggers left.

  Finn tossed hers to Jay and then quickly knelt and tugged at her rope. To her amazement the knot slithered free instantly. I canna have tied that very well, she thought. Lucky it did no’ come undone afore!

  She spun round, her nimble fingers tying a running bowline so that the rope was tied into a loop that could be loosened and tightened at will. Then she spun the rope as she had seen the horsemen of Tìreich do and threw it at one of the soldiers. To her delight, it fell down about his shoulders and tightened with a jerk that knocked him off his feet. As he went down his flailing legs caught his comrade behind the knees and he fell too with a great huff as his breath was knocked out of him. Iseult had staggered to her feet, blood masking her face from her nose and mouth. She brought her sword to rest on the soldier’s throat. ‘I would no’ try to rise,’ she said conversationally and he lay still, staring up at her through the slits in his visor. ‘Good decision,’ she said, and wiped her bloody mouth with the back of her hand. Then she glanced across at Finn. ‘Nice rope trick,’ she said. ‘Where did ye ken to do that?’

  Finn was still rather astounded at the success of her stratagem. ‘Saw a Tìreichan spinning a rope like that and thought I’d give it a go,’ she answered rather breathlessly. Iseult raised one thin red brow and Finn confessed, ‘Nyx rope. I think it’s magic.’

  Iseult nodded. ‘The gifts o’ the nyx are like that, it seems. Well, quick thinking anyway, Finn! Ye’re a worthy addition to the company indeed.’

  Finn flushed with pleasure as Dide came running up behind them to help disarm the remaining soldiers and march them away with the other prisoners. Despite having every advantage of surprise, numbers and terrain, the Bright Soldiers had proved no match for the Blue Guards. They had suffered heavy losses indeed and, although many of Lachlan’s supporters had been killed or wounded, the key players were all still alive. Tòmas was able to lay his hands upon the injured and heal them, and within half an hour all were almost ready to march on again, the dead laid out on one of the wagons and the pris
oners all bound and herded together in the centre.

  After close questioning, one of the Bright Soldiers had let slip the name of the man who had betrayed them. To no-one’s surprise it was Dick Dickson and Lachlan had sent back a messenger to the pastor of Kirkclanbright with the news, knowing the people of the valley would exact their own rough justice.

  Finn and the others were all sitting on the edge of the ridge, recovering their strength after the strenuous battle and teasing Brangaine and Ashlin about having slept through it all. The sun was now very low in the sky, and the downs were all lit with a dim red light while to the east stars were already beginning to prick through the twilight.

  Tòmas was lying with his head on Johanna’s lap, his hand over his eyes. As usual, the effort of healing so many had exhausted him and he was looking very white. Suddenly he lifted his head and said in a small voice, ‘Something bad is happening.’

  ‘What, dearling?’

  ‘Something bad is happening.’

  Finn and Johanna exchanged worried glances. They had heard the little boy say that before.

  ‘Where, dearling?’

  Tòmas raised himself on the elbow and pointed back the way they had come. ‘Over there.’

  Finn stared off into the twilight. With a sinking heart she saw a faint smudge of smoke, almost invisible against the twilight sky. They all stared at it for a few minutes, then Finn got slowly to her feet. ‘Toasted toads, I’d best go tell Lachlan and Iseult.’

  She found the Rìgh and Banrìgh on the far side of the Cloven Hoof, making the final preparations before giving the order to ride out. They looked at each other in dismay at the news.

  ‘Kirkclanbright?’

  ‘I hope no’,’ Lachlan replied. In all of their mind’s eye was a picture of the serene little valley with its slow river and the tall spire of its kirk soaring above the golden-brown trees. ‘I fear it is but a vain hope, though, leannan.’ Suddenly he smashed one hand into the palm of the other. ‘I should’ve kent, I should’ve suspected! Damn that Dickson and his nasty sly face.’