I tried exploring the ship with my mind. I sat cross-legged and told my legs not to cramp, my nose not to itch. Sometimes this worked; the world began to glow and it seemed this ship that confined me so closely was just a bark chip tossed about in a great teeming ocean. But then something would happen to bring me back to myself; a tickle, a sudden rock of the boat. The shock of returning to the darkness of my prison was worse than not being free at all.
So most of the time I preferred to rest in the dark and husband my strength. I dreamed a lot, also. My dreams were most instructive. It was in my dreams, I felt, that I was truly alive. Eventually, my imprisonment in the darkness began to feel like just another dream.
Chapter Ten
The Final Bead
It was daylight outside. Feet paced on the deck above, thump, thump. Where they walked, dust fell through the deck planks. You could see it twisting in the light. Dust falling! So exciting! Ignore your tears, Dana. They will pass.
Using knotholes in the wooden walls, I clambered up the sides of the cabin, pressed my face to the deck slats. Above me, red sails turned in the wind. Barrels, full of oily-smelling liquid, dripped onto the deck. A rope flicked across the deck and I flinched backwards, falling into straw.
I lay there for a time, just watching the light. My dreams were certainly becoming very strange. It was the beads about my wrist — now they’d established themselves they seemed to see my head as their own territory. Phileas, the singer, visited my dreams often. As did Robert, Suzanna and Adianna; a constant parade of people capering through my head.
Adianna had been the regent nearly four hundred years ago. Her husband had died fighting on the mainland, leaving her in charge of the Kingdom and their five-year-old son. And after the son had grown, she’d taken on the role of Guardian.
‘The current Guardian was growing frail. So I stepped in.’
‘You volunteered?’ I asked.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘what else could I do? My son, Owein, had grown and the Regency had long been dissolved. It seemed the best for all of us, really. Besides, I couldn’t stand his wife.’
I couldn’t imagine why someone would volunteer to be a Guardian, but to Adianna, becoming a Guardian wasn’t a death sentence; instead, it offered her independence.
‘I’d become used to being in charge,’ she said, ‘becoming Guardian was a natural progression.’
Phileas told me more of the history of the Guardians. Originally the Guardian was the person best fitted for the role — male, female, royal or common. Anyone was acceptable, provided they had the gift.
‘But the gift was most commonly found in those of the blood,’ Phileas said.
‘The blood?’
‘The royal family. Usually, that is. There are exceptions, of course. Rinpoche was one.’
‘I thought that the Guardian had to be the daughter of the King.’
Phileas laughed. ‘You’ve met Rinpoche?’
I nodded sadly. I missed the small man’s jolly smile, his laughter.
Phileas touched my hand gently. ‘Don’t be sad, Dana. He is one with the world now. Rinpoche was there when the necklace was newly made. Oh, there have always, always been Guardians. But the necklace — ah, now that came much later, with Rinpoche, for it was he who brought the ruby to the Kingdom. The ruby changed everything, of course. Rinpoche was one of the first of the souls who formed the Necklace. And he was male. Of course a Guardian can be a man.’
The evil dreams had not returned, but I still felt permanently on edge, like a thread that is pulled so tight it might snap. I was restless from inactivity. I needed an outlet — I needed movement. This room was so damn small.
When Will and I had begun sparring, we’d done slow exercises, a way of stretching into the activities. I could do this now. So I began to drill: lifting arms, breathing in; pushing down, breathing out. Twisting, rotating head and neck as far as one could go. Calming my breaths to match the movements. It was difficult to keep my balance against the movement of the ship, but that was good, because it added to the challenge.
What was it Will had said?
‘Imagine you are carrying a sword in two hands.’ He had lifted my arms above my head. ‘Bend your elbows. Turn your head. Now, lunge sideways, point the sword at the target. Slowly, slowly, breathing all the while.’
I had felt like an idiot at the time, as if I was dancing without music. Now, I was grateful for the teaching, because although I had no partner, I could still dance. I could still move. And when I moved, I felt that I was still me.
I practiced constantly, inventing new poses based on fighting postures. I had no weapons, but I imagined that I did; knives or staves. I imagined an opponent sometimes, which made the practice seem more like combat. At times, I could almost see my adversary and feel my weapons. One day the ship would reach the end of its voyage. When that day came, I wanted to be ready.
The exercises were tiring. Which was a good thing, for when tired I slept deeply. But not too deep for dreams; dreams came still, regardless.
***
A canal ran through the town, its calm waters reflecting the sky. Wearing embroidered robes, men and women passed along stone paths beside the water. Trees arched over plastered walls and their blossom fell on the paths like snow.
It should be a peaceful scene: the blossom, the people in bright clothes, this gentle lapping of the stream against the walkway. Yet I felt tension, like the pressure of a storm building on a hot summer’s day. Something ominous and unseen was growing.
‘Here you see the town of Gusu.’ A woman in a white robe sat down beside me. She indicated the water at our feet, and the waves, splashing against the stone. ‘Famous for its canals and waterways.’
‘Are you a Guardian?’
She turned her head, smiled. ‘I am Wynne.’
Her face was lined, her hair silver-white. Her eyes seemed strangely aware and intensely blue against her pale face
Grasping my hand, she turned my palm over. ‘There are five of us on your wrist. I am the oldest.’ Lifting her face to the sky, she breathed in deeply. ‘It is pleasant to sit here. You miss the sun, don’t you, when the world turns dark?’
I nodded. Yes. I missed the light.
As she spoke, the calm waters of the canal trembled, creating tiny ripples. In the distance, thunder rumbled. The trees shook, scattering blossom. As the light leached away their branches looked like skeletons.
My pulse began to race. ‘What? What’s happening?’
Wynne squeezed my wrist tight. I couldn’t move. ‘Wait!’
Suddenly, the world turned pitch black. The thunder rolled again, louder and louder, as the ground rocked. I cried out, but could not hear my voice.
Wynne pulled me to my feet, dragging me along the pathway. ‘Careful! Behind you there’s a gate. Can you feel it?’
My fingers found cool smooth plaster — the wall.
Wynne stroked my hand across the plasterwork until I felt wood, slippery with polish. ‘Feel for the latch. So. Open the gate. Tell me, what do you see?’
I stood at the open gate and waved my hand in front of my eyes. ‘Nothing! It’s too dark. Please, can we go?’
A sudden gust of wind lifted my hair. I smelt smoke. Something was burning, but I could see no flames. The wind smelt of cooking flesh, pork roasting on a spit. I coughed, put my hand over my nose, trying to stop the stench. Ashes blew against my face like feathers. The air felt greasy.
‘Not yet. Feel along the inside of the wall. Careful how you go; you don’t want to trip.’
In the darkness, I stumbled and nearly fell. No. This was a dream. This was my dream. And, as though the dawn was coming, the world lightened to a pearly grey and I could see.
‘Very good. You are learning. Now tell me, what do you see?’
We stood in front of the smoldering remains of a house. Charred beams lay among piles of stone and shattered tiles. A blackened window frame stared out of the ruined house like an empty eye. Once, this h
ad been a garden; the remains of trees and pots were broken on the cobbles. A heap of rags lay against the wall.
‘It’s all burnt down. There’s nothing here.’
But I was wrong. As if in answer to my voice, the rags moved, groaning. Against the bone-white wall crouched a man. He seemed to be trying to hide beneath his cloak. As if aware of our presence, he turned his face toward me.
Oh my God! His face!
‘Enough!’ I said. ‘Enough!’ I was sick of these Guardians, with their cold manner and their evil dreams.
Feeling nauseated, I rushed back through the door in the wall. I didn’t want to know what had happened in that horrible house that smelt of roasting flesh. I didn’t want to know about the town. And I definitely didn’t want to know about the man who crouched in the corner like a shivering dog.
He probably didn’t even know I was there. He certainly could not have seen me. Streams of thick red blood ran down his face, from the empty holes where his eyes should have been.
Chapter Eleven
An Old Enemy
‘Lad, lad,’ Jed shook his shoulder. Will ignored him.
Dimly, he heard Jed telling the puzzled villagers about Dana, explaining she’d been taken captive by enemies who meant her harm. They murmured their sympathy as Will watched the empty sea. He’d been so foolish, thinking that all would be well. Nothing went well for him, ever.
‘Come on,’ said Jed, pulling Will around.
Will turned slowly, reluctant to stop staring at the distant horizon. You never know, he thought, maybe the ship will turn around. Maybe, I’ll see those sails reappearing. As they walked back along the rough beach, he stared at the sea, but saw only the unending waves and the wind.
‘We’ll find her, don’t worry,’ said Jed.
How would they find her? That ship could be heading anywhere in the world.
Will barely noticed when they reached the alehouse. Just an hour or so ago, he’d been drinking light-heartedly, thinking all the world was fine. What an idiot he had been.
‘Sit down, lad,’ Jed pressed him onto a bench and went inside.
Dully, Will watched the harbor. The sun was burning into the sea and the clouds were streaked with red and gold. The tide was coming in; more boats were afloat.
Jed came out of the pub with a glass of brown liquid. ‘Get this down you.’
Will sipped, choked. ‘What the hell is that?’
‘Whisky. Look like you could do with it.’
Will doubted it would help, but he drank some, nonetheless. Jed meant to be kind. It tasted like liquid fire and settled in his stomach like a flame.
Holding a foaming tankard, Jed sat beside him. ‘Strange. Those fisherfolk said they knew the men that took the Princess. Yet now, when I ask, that barman shakes his head and says he knows naught.’ Frowning, Jed sipped his beer. ‘Something strange about this place. Look, Will, don’t you fret. We’ll find her. A ship that large must have taken on provisions somewhere. Sure to be a chandlery that will know something. We’ll start asking questions first thing in the morning.’
Will took another drop of the firewater. He felt dead inside. Everything was broken. All he’d been looking forward to, now vanished.
Jed shook his head. ‘Mind, I can’t understand it. What happened to the Enchantress? How could she be taken so unawares like, her, with all her magic? And,’ he added, ‘You know what really puzzles me?’ He turned to Will. ‘How the hell did those men get the Princess down those cliffs? I mean, it took us the better part of a day and we weren’t carrying no captive. And that ship. The speed of her. No boat leaves a beach that fast. T’aint natural. How you going, lad?’
Will shrugged. Not much to say, really. He supposed he was grateful for Jed, for his presence, his rough attempts at sympathy.
He wasn’t so grateful on the morrow when he tried to rouse. His head ached and his mouth was dry, as if someone had stuffed straw in it.
‘Awake, Will?’ Jed ducked under the low door.
‘Where are we?’
‘At the inn. Thought it best to stay here, until we find a little more of that ship.’
Will nodded, then wished he hadn’t. His head ached something awful. Jed handed him a glass full of some liquid. Warily, Will sniffed at it.
‘Try it,’ Jed’s mouth twisted in amusement. ‘’Tis only a hangover cure.’
‘What’s in it?’ asked Will suspiciously.
‘Milk, raw egg, some spices and such. Drink it back. Then we’ll be up and doing.’
Will sipped cautiously.
Jed sighed. ‘Not like that. Come now, knock it down.’
‘Where did you learn this?’
‘My old sergeant. He was a terror, all right, but he knew a thing or two about curing a hangover.’
What did it matter if Jed poisoned him with some foul drink? Right now, Will didn’t see much to live for. He drank the liquid quickly, trying not to think of the taste — dirty feet, rotten cheese.
‘Good lad.’ Jed picked up the glass. ‘Come on down when you’re ready.’
Will stood slowly, trying to ignore the giddiness in his head and the sickness in his gut. The floor of the small room was uneven, so he felt even more unsteady when he took a step. A small double-sashed window set deep into the white plasterwork overlooked the harbor. He had to stoop to look through it. Outside, the weather was still fair, the tide out, ships resting on mud. Fishermen sat on low benches, mending nets. Don’t they get sick of fixing those nets?
He poured water from the jug into the washbowl and blinked at his reflection in the little mirror. He needed a shave. Where was Dana? Was she well? Was she thinking of him at this moment? Inexplicably, he felt cheered by this thought, and ducked his head into the basin, wetting his hair. He was still toweling it dry when Jed came back into the room.
‘How you feeling?’
Will thought about that for a moment. ‘Better,’ he said, slowly. ‘Thank you.’
Jed smiled briefly, but Will could see the concern in his eyes. ‘You owe me one. That whisky was damn expensive. And I didn’t sleep a wink, thanks to your snoring.’
There were two beds in the small chamber. Will’s, closer to the window, looked like a giant had twisted in it all night. The other, neatly made with a pink counterpane, appeared to have been unslept in.
‘You slept in that one?’
‘Not paying for two rooms. Been up for a while now. I’ve ordered breakfast.’
Breakfast. Will closed his eyes. ‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Course you are.’ Jed clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Come on, lad, she’s been taken captive, not you. You’re not doing either of you any favors by not eating.’
The serving maid, a sturdy girl with red cheeks and strong arms, cleared the breakfast dishes away. ‘Travelers, are you? You’ll be wanting to see the tower. All visitors to Towyn do.’
‘Towyn? That the name of this village?’ said Jed.
The girl looked surprised. ‘Of course.’
‘We’re more interested in that ship,’ said Will.
‘The one that appeared yesterday? The Evanses carried a girl on board, folk say. She your lass?’
Will nodded.
‘Ah, the world is a harsh place, and men do evil things, so they do.’
‘Evanses?’ asked Jed. ‘Who be they, now?’
The girl froze, stared wide-eyed at him. Then, shaking her head, she turned away.
Will coughed. ‘Ship that size, must be provisioned somewhere. Where’s the nearest chandlery?’
The girl looked relieved at the turn of question. ‘That would be south, at Abervale. So it’s off to Aber with you, is it? Will you be wanting a packed lunch?’
Will looked at Jed. The older man had been right; there was something not right here. Who were these Evanses? What had they done, that folk were so afraid of them? Jed nodded at him. Go.
‘I’ll get the horses ready,’ Will pushed back his stool. Dana was traveling further and further away, whi
le all he did was sit and eat. The girl watched him leave. Her eyes were troubled and a little sad.
The weather held fine, clear and sunny, and the sky was clear all the way to the horizon. Perfect sailing weather, thought Will bitterly.
‘The girl mentioned a tower. Let’s go up there,’ said Jed. ‘Need a view of the land hereabouts.’
They rode to the hilltop. The tower was naught but a ruin; grey stones rising from a green field. Sheep grazed amongst the walls and larks trilled, rising towards the sky in song.
‘Wonder what happened here?’ Jed stared at the broken stone.
‘More wars, no doubt.’
If one was in the mood for gazing at scenery, there was a fine view from this castle mound. Far behind Will, in a haze of blue, were the high moorlands and the great jagged cliffs they’d come down so recently, when everything had seemed so fair and wonderful.
Will turned, not wanting to think of the speed at which his world had shifted. Southwards, the coast undulated gently; folding into beaches and yellow bluffs. Birds, dark specks in the sky, circled over the fields. And far in the distance, set into the coastline, stood a watchtower. Grim and grey, connected with the mainland by a thin arched bridge, it seemed to merge with the breakers. Waves fell and broke against its edge, streaking it with foam. In a storm, it would be near to swamped by the surf.
Beyond the watchtower a muddy river twisted slowly through the fields to the sea. Roofs clustered against the north bank, and the air was hazy with chimney smoke.
‘There’s the town,’ Jed pointed. ‘What did she call it? Abervale? A goodly size, ain’t it? I’ll warrant there’s a chandlery there, right enough.’
‘It’s a fair ride.’
‘Do you have any other thoughts?’
Will shrugged. Not really, although he wondered about that tower, set into the sea. What was its purpose? Then he stared. The birds that had been wheeling in a dark cloud had altered their flight. Now, they were diving down onto the field, as if something had caught their eye. ‘What’s that?’
‘Probably a farmer plowing.’
A Skillful Warrior (SoulNecklace Stories Book 2) Page 9
