Beyond the torches the tunnels stretched black, empty and unknown. No one ever went further than the wine — no one ever needed to. There was something forbidding about the cold, dark tunnels. But now, in my dream, I felt called by their shadow.
In the distance, water dripped. Plink, plink. Plink. I walked towards the sound and the night swallowed me.
The glow of the torchlight faded and the floor of the passageway became hard-packed earth. The path angled downwards, so I seemed to be walking down the spiral of a snail’s shell, drilling deep into the depths; moving into the mountain itself. I felt like a ghost, gliding unseen, unfelt, through time.
Down here, the world was still. No wind, no sound save the droplets of the water. Under my fingers the walls were hard stone, rough and uneven, the rock of the mountain. I should have been scared of the dark, I suppose, but this was a dream, and I was within the mountain, the heart of the Kingdom. Cradled inside my homeland, I felt secure.
Eventually the path grew level and the cave floor became sticky clay. A breeze brushed my cheek. Judging by its whispering echoes, I must be standing at the edge of a large chamber. Water fell into water, drip, drip; there must be a pool nearby. There were springs under the Castle. Long ago they had been channeled to form the moat.
I crouched beside the wall, listening to the water. A rhythm seemed to live within the drops, first faintly heard, then growing stronger: a sighing of breath, a beating of a drum. The pulsing of a heart. Scrambling to my feet, I found the wall, turned and ran up the spiral track towards the wine cellar. I did not want to know what had been entombed in this vast chamber at the base of the mountain.
After ten steps I was panting and the only pulse I could hear was my own.
***
Light fell from above in thin strips; I could see my feet and legs. In the dim light my skin seemed dirty or bruised, and I wore only rags. Where had my clothes gone?
Water dripped onto my chest. Cold. I’m thirsty. I touched the drop, put my finger to my mouth. Salt. The ground shifted; I rolled again. A loud splashing, echoing through the straw, a creaking, like a monster moaning in pain. I’m on a boat, at sea. How had I got here?
‘Dana.’ A soft voice.
Slowly, I lifted my head. It hurt to move. Saw a nexus of gold, lines of light that shimmered into the shape of a woman.
‘Rosa. What?’ My throat was too dry to talk.
‘Dana! You are awake!’
‘Am I?’ Men, falling through empty space like leaves from a tree. ‘There were soldiers,’ I said, ‘and magicians. They fell.’
There had been another man, too. TeSin, lying in darkness. He hadn’t fallen, for I had helped him, brought him back from death. I was a fool for doing so. It must have been he who had brought the enemies that had kidnapped me, taken me here to this boat.
I curled up on the straw and watched the cracks in the roof. It must be raining outside for when I licked the drops from my arms they tasted sweet. When I looked back again, there was no one there, but the pain in my head had eased.
What had happened to Will? Was he well? It seemed like fate didn’t want us to be together. I wrapped my arms around myself, tried to stop the shivering. If only the world would stop rolling. If only the ship’s creaking would cease. If only I could turn back time. I closed my eyes and for a time, I dreamed.
***
It was the singer again. I didn’t want to listen to this peaceful, melancholy music, but he continued anyway. Evidently I had no control over his singing.
‘In a cage of bone
Sat a bird made of stone
And a magic that cried to be free.’
Stay! I knew this song. He smiled, bowed and continued singing.
So it happened one day
That the walls fell away
And the bird flew outside, to be free.
Now, the words were unfamiliar.
And, my lady, be sure
There’s no chains anymore
That can bind you inside, so be free.
Fine words, I thought, for a fine singer. But what did they have to do with me? I clapped, nonetheless, for he plucked the strings most keenly.
‘Thank you, Princess.’
He appeared familiar. Was it his eyes, or his nose? The light about us was so bright, his skin and hair so fair, he seemed to shine.
‘Are you an angel?’
He laughed. ‘I have been called many things, Lady, but not that.’ He turned. ‘What think you Adannia? The little one calls me an angel.’
A woman with flaxen hair stepped forward from the glaring light. She held out her hand. ‘I am Adannia. This is Phileas.’
Feeling like a maid meeting a Queen, I bobbed a curtsey.
‘Don’t you recognize us?’
I shook my head, uncertainly, for in truth they seemed familiar.
The lute player, Phileas, smiled. ‘We are the Guardians about your wrist.’
It is a strange moment when things half-felt begin to speak directly to you. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said uncertainly.
‘She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?’ said blue-eyed Adianna.
Phileas took my hand. ‘We wanted you to know — you are not alone.’ Lifting his lute, he set his fingers against the strings. ‘Sleep, Princess. Pleasant dreams.’
Tumbling headlong into black, I felt I was falling through the center of the world. I heard a baby cry, a woman scream; a long wail of terror and agony. Music played, small notes on tiny bells. I heard a man weeping as though all his world had been destroyed and he alone remained. As though he wished for death, but death refused to come.
***
‘Did you sleep well?’ asked Rosa.
It was still dark, but at least the water dripping through the roof had stopped. The sloshing against the hull was gentler, more like the water in a bathtub than a violent shaking. And the creaking had ceased.
‘Why are you here?’ My voice was hoarse.
‘They gave you strong drugs. So probably I’m just a memory, speaking to you.’
‘Am I going mad, then?’ I didn’t think I was going mad. But then, mad people never do.
‘All roads have an ending. You are young, you are strong. Remain positive. Who knows — you may survive this.’
‘That’s heartening.’ I could make out Rosa’s shape against the grey. I swallowed. ‘I’m thirsty.’
‘There’s a bucket,’ she said, pointing to a basin half full of sloshing water. ‘Drink it slowly. It’s not refilled that often.’
‘Have you seen them?’
‘Your captors? No. Just the bucket, and some food. They lower it down through the hatch.’
‘There’s food?’ I felt suddenly ravenous. When had I last eaten? Locked in this hold, drifting in and out of dreams — how much time had passed?
Beside the basin were two small balls. Soft, squishy under my fingers, smelling like bread.
‘I don’t know what it is,’ she said, ‘but it’s not as though you are in a position to choose.’
I bit into one. Salty, tasting of nuts and ... beans? Unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant.
‘Eat it slowly. You won’t get fed that often.’
I chewed, trying to piece events together. A haze of light and screaming and men, dying. Another man, tangled in shadow. And N’tombe, resting in a cave. N’tombe. Oh my lord! Surely, they could not have hurt her? Not killed her?
‘What did you say?’ Rosa asked.
‘N’tombe. Is she ...’ I could hardly say it, ‘dead?’
Rosa tipped her head on one side. In the half-light of the hold she seemed to glow, like a ghost or an angel. ‘I do not think ...’ She shook her head. ‘No.’
Even if this figure of Rosa was only my imagination, I still felt some comfort at this assurance.
I sipped some more water, chewed the bun. Keep your strength, Dana. ‘What do these men want with me?’
‘They’ve not said.’
I had a dim, uncertain memory of leavi
ng the cave and stepping into darkness.
‘They have taken your knives, but you are not without weapons,’ she said. ‘Sleep, child. Husband your strength. Who knows? When you wake, the day may be brighter.’
I finished the bread, took another sip of brackish water. I am here, I thought, and I am still alive. Undamaged and with all limbs working. I lay back on the dirty straw and stared out at the dark. If those who had taken me were errand boys, what was their errand? And who had sent them?
As my eyes closed I thought I heard Rosa say, ‘Stay strong, little one.’
***
The darkness seemed to grow. A black shape formed against the walls. It lifted its arms, spreading poison. Agony, like the cutting of a thousand knives, lanced through my legs and arms. Wet blood trickled down my face.
The shadow pressed closer. It had eyes. They were red, without pupil or lids. Its face was that of a skull. It wore a tattered cloak and stunk of decay.
When I screamed it smiled, rushing towards me like smoke, like death. ‘I come to you, my dear.’
I was bound to a hard, cold slab; ropes bound tight across my neck, my hands, my feet. I couldn’t move. When I swallowed, coarse fibers pressed against my throat. I could hear myself, gasping.
A black figure loomed above me. Skull-faced, cloaked and hooded, with long, bronze-tipped nails. I focused on my breathing: in, out, in out. Gentle breaths so I would not suffocate. No air, no air!
The figure held a knife. Sunlight glinted from the blade, and its edge was thin and keen. The figure made no sound, but lifted the knife high, higher, until it could go no more.
A chorus of harsh voices. ‘Now.’
It plunged the blade, down, down.
When I woke, coughing, my mouth tasted of blood.
***
I rubbed my chest where the knife had pressed home. Tears pooled, dripped down my cheeks. Pulling myself upright, I huddled in my blankets, waiting for daylight.
After a time the sun rose, it’s light lancing through the decking. Dust fell through the planks, looking like scattered gold.
‘Are you there?’ I thought, fiercely.
No answer.
‘Hello!’ I cried, into my mind.
I had hoped there might be someone to help, to stop these nightmares. But there was nothing, nothing. Just me, huddled into my sacking, and the dust and my heart pounding.
‘There you are,’ A man stood above me. Through the decking slats I saw black boots, a black shape against a blue sky.
‘What?’ I had to shield my face against the dust.
‘You were a ... challenge.’ The man dropped to one knee, regarding me through a slat in the deck. Hooded and cloaked, I could barely see his face. ‘But do not worry, little one. We have you now.’ His speech was strongly accented.
‘What do you want with me?’
He smiled. ‘Oh, nothing yet.’ He pressed his face closer to the deck. ‘We just wanted you to know — the Great One does not forget. All those men, those horses. Your debt to us is growing. The Great One does not forgive, either. You will repay this debt in full. The Kamaye are coming.’ He licked his lips, his tongue pink against his brown skin. I could not see his eyes. They were shadowed by his hood. ‘Ah, yes. The Kamaye. You are honored, indeed.’
I swallowed.
‘So you will be watched. Remember that, as you seek to escape.’ When he stood, his body blocked the sun. ‘You appear to be a girl of spirit. Somehow, I am sure you will try to do the impossible. At least, we hope you will. We require ... entertainment.’
‘How many of you are there?’ I asked ‘What do you want?’ But he had gone, vanished like water dried by the sun.
I lifted my arm. The beads seemed to droop from my wrist. I touched one, gently. It was bright blue; as blue as the sky, as the summer sea. With the thought of color, the world seemed to lurch and ...
I don’t really know what happened. It was as though the sun came out from behind a cloud. As though someone had stepped into my mind and whispered, ‘Hush, child. Don’t fear.’
The shadows seemed to fade away.
Eventually, I lay back and stared up the shafts of light. Strangely, I felt quite peaceful. Let them watch me. There was little enough to see. And now I knew that they would keep me alive, for a while anyway. Eventually, my eyes closed.
***
This dream had no singing and no bright light — just two people seated on stools regarding me. A man and a woman, both in white. I was beginning to recognize the plain shifts worn by the Guardians. And these two had the look that went with the wearing of the Necklace; the sense of a soul, changed forever into something more than itself.
‘Welcome,’ said the woman.
I stood in front of them, feeling like a small child. The woman took my hands and sighed over my broken fingernails, the roughness of my palms.
‘This capture may prove useful,’ said the man. ‘This way, they take us to themselves.’
‘Please,’ I asked, ‘who are you?’
The man stood, bowed. ‘I am Robert.’
‘Suzanna,’ said the woman.
‘And you were Guardians once?’
‘We still are, Dana,’ said the woman. Her brown hair, tied in a braid, hung over a shoulder. She was small, tinier even than N’tombe. But the man was tall, with large shoulders and a rich red beard. He regarded me impatiently from hazel eyes.
‘We brought you here to meet you,’ said Robert. ‘And to help you. Dana, the people who have you don’t understand who you really are.’
‘They watch me, they watch my dreams.’
Rob shook his head. ‘They play with you. Despite what they say, they are not all-powerful. And, fortunately for us, they are lazy; they do not seek to understand.’
Suzanna smiled. ‘As they watch you, we watch them. You should take heart, Dana. Things are not as bad as they appear.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘For a start, there are only four of them.’
Four magicians seemed more than enough. Besides, there were the sailors.
‘The sailors do not concern us,’ said Rob. ‘They are puppets only. Their sole purpose is to keep the ship sailing and seaworthy. Dana, the magicians can be fooled.’
‘How?’
‘They do not know who you are — they think you are just an ordinary girl. So we will feed them false images — Dana eating. Dana sleeping. And one of us will always stand on watch.’
I felt such sudden relief that I wanted to cry. ‘Can you really do this?’
Suzanna looked at Rob. ‘Of course. We are Guardians, after all.’
‘Thank you.’ Tears ran down my eyes, but I smiled, anyway. ‘Oh, thank you!’ I stopped. ‘They spoke of something, or someone. The Kamaye. Do you know what that is?’
Rob shook his head. ‘There is naught else on this ship beside yourself, the sailors and the magicians. But if we find anything, we will let you know. Likely, they were trying to scare you.’
Suzanna and Rob appeared familiar. ‘When were you Guardians?’
Robert looked surprised. ‘Near on three hundred years ago. Suzie came after me.’
‘I was his wife.’
‘She follows me everywhere.’
‘Someone needs to tidy up after you, you great lummox.’
‘I’ve heard of you,’ I said, staring at Robert. That beaked nose, the craggy eyebrows. There was a portrait in the long gallery. He had worn a green doublet, and carried something. What was it? A square, or a sextant, or something.
‘You were the craftsman king,’ I said, suddenly. ‘You built the outer walls.’ I turned to Suzanna. ‘And you designed the pleasure wood.’
‘Fancy that, Rob! All these years gone by, and still they remember.’
The King touched his wife’s cheek gently. ‘Ah, no one could forget you, Suzie.’
***
The time seem to creep by. During the day, light filtered through the deck planks so the world seemed bounded in strips of su
nshine. But when night came the darkness engulfed me and I felt that I was in a living tomb.
I thought of Jed, with his leathery face, his sudden, unlooked-for smile. I worried about N’tombe. Mostly, though, I thought of Will. I tried to remember each conversation: the lightness of his hands, his mouth, the joy of standing beside him. I missed him. Sometimes, the ache of his absence hurt so badly that I burrowed into the straw like an animal. Those times were the worst.
The ship seemed alive. The hull creaked, the water sloshed against the side. Feet trod the deck above. Some moved slowly, heavily, and others were light and quick, like a lad running a fast errand. I grew to know the footsteps of the sailors, heard them groaning as they pulled on a heavy rope, or calling sharply to each other in a strange tongue. There must be some sort of mechanism on the deck; from time to time I heard it clacking as feet trod a circle on my roof.
I saw nothing more of my captors. If I hadn’t been fed and watered I might have thought they had forgotten me, except sometimes I felt their attention, a brief regard. This did not concern me overly; there was little enough to see, and besides, the Guardians had promised to keep them occupied.
My prison was not large. Seven paces long, three paces wide; a compartment below the deck. Sometimes I wanted to scream, or throw something at the walls, or beat my fists against the wooden decking. Anything to get a response. Anything would be better than this living burial.
But each time I drew breath to scream, I felt an invisible hand press over my mouth, and heard in my ear a soft whisper, ‘Be strong’. I tried to remember that although I felt most lonely, I was not alone. I had five souls about my wrist and sometimes they spoke with me. So I bit my lip and kept silent, but tears still filled my eyes, and sometimes I hid my face in the straw to keep from crying out.
Despair can only last so long. I began to chart some order to my world. I started scratching notches on the roof with an old nail to mark the days, adding a few scratches to mark the days I did not remember. The scratches amounted to seven. Only a week! But it felt much longer in my memory.
A Skillful Warrior (SoulNecklace Stories Book 2) Page 8
