Bloodstone

by Gillian Philip

  He gave me a wry look. ‘I don’t think Stella recognises that any more. Do you? Listen, Finn’s got a friend now. That boy sees her better than most. I don’t know why, but he does.’

  ‘That boy’s a feral thug. And a thief.’

  ‘No. He’s a thief, but he’s not a thug. He’s got a good heart. He’ll be good for Finn.’

  And how could he be so sure? I shook my head, but I left it. ‘You remember what you always told me? We’re inconspicuous, not invisible. We’ll slip from their minds, but only if we keep our heads down.’ I nodded at the drinkers again. ‘Finn won’t slip from anybody’s mind if she kills somebody.’

  ‘She couldn’t,’ he said stubbornly. ‘It won’t come to that.’

  I found I couldn’t look at him. Whose child was she, for gods’ sake? Her whole ancestral gene pool was muddied with the blood of enemies. And he didn’t think she was capable of killing?

  Hell’s teeth. My brother’s belief in humanity. To stop myself yelling at him, I turned my head. I was about to take another drink but I paused with the glass at my lips. ‘Gocaman,’ I said.

  Conal started. ‘What?’

  The tramp had come in through the front door on a gust of cold breeze, stopping to tip his leather hat back from his eyes and squint at us through his sellotaped glasses. He came straight to the bar and stood between us.

  We watched him, a little wary. It wasn’t like him to leave his post in the woods, and he didn’t look happy. Mind you, he never did. Surly bugger.

  ‘Gocaman,’ said Conal. ‘Drink?’

  He shook his head, almost dislodging his glasses, and readjusted them irritably. ‘You’d better be leaving yours.’ His voice was croaky from disuse. ‘Someone has breached the watergate.’

  Conal shut one eye. ‘That’s bad. But isn’t it your problem?’

  ‘Certainly your problem if you let one through,’ I added. ‘What’s it to do with us?’

  ‘Everything.’ Gocaman cracked a smile. ‘Wasn’t no Lammyr. And I wasn’t about to stop her.’

  I swear it took a few seconds to sink in, while we stared at each other in dawning horror.

  ‘Shit,’ hissed Conal, standing up so suddenly he swayed.

  I got two more swallows out of my beer. And then I was at his heels, and running for our weapons and our home.

  My whole being knew I was back where I belonged. The air crowded into my lungs, crackled against my skin. Bubbles of it hit my brain and raced into my blood, and home howled and bayed inside me as it always did: What took you so long?

  Conal looked too preoccupied to enjoy it. ‘Where’s your horse got to?’

  I shrugged, slapped the glossy flank of his black. ‘Killing something, I expect. Where’s your mother? More to the point, where’s your goddaughter?’

  As soon as we were inside Tornashee we’d known there was more wrong than we’d realised. Leonora was gone, and that we’d expected, but Finn too was gone from the otherworld. Not a trace of her left, not even her mind, though Conal had hunted wildly for that when he could ransack the house and grounds no more. Nothing. She was dead, or she was with Leonora, and Conal refused to contemplate either option.

  ‘It’s a coincidence,’ he said. ‘It has to be.’

  ‘She wasn’t on that side, Conal. At. All.’

  ‘She could have been blocking...’

  ‘She doesn’t know how.’ I left the criticism hanging unsaid; he looked tormented enough.

  ‘Gocaman would know if she’d gone through.’

  ‘Gocaman came to the pub for us as soon as Leonora went past him. And you know as well as I do Finn used to spy on your mother. She watched her going out at night. Wasn’t hard to work out where she’d been, with all that mud on her breeks. Finn’s followed the old bat and she’s been pulled through the watergate, intentionally or otherwise. She’s gone, Conal.’

  He was too unhappy even to rise to old bat. ‘Finn’s forbidden to go there. It’s out of bounds and she knows it.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Yep, that always works. Always did it for me. Listen, why don’t you go on?’

  ‘I’ll have to, if the roan doesn’t show soon.’

  ‘That’s okay.’ I wasn’t too pleased myself, but I wasn’t about to admit that in front of Conal. If the roan was a delinquent, he was my delinquent. We’d delayed enough by going back to Tornashee to collect our weapons and packs. The gods knew where Leonora was by now. It looked to me like a lost cause, trying to talk her out of returning and staying in the otherworld; I wouldn’t let anyone do it to me, not once home was back in my bloodstream. Besides, even Leonora didn’t have the willpower to stay alive forever. But Conal was desperate. I couldn’t blame him.

  ‘Go ahead, then,’ I told him. ‘It might be better if we split up anyway. We can rendezvous later.’

  ‘Don’t block, then.’ He flicked the black’s reins to turn it. ‘You’ve been kind of obstructive lately.’

  I winked at him. ‘Shouldn’t be so nosy.’

  He grinned, and nudged the black to a gallop.

  I watched him for a few seconds, a worm of guilt gnawing at my gut. There had always been things we kept from each other. It would be odd if there weren’t. And I didn’t think he’d see the joke where my adolescent Kate-dreams were concerned. Not that I did, either. I wished I didn’t look forward to them, and I wished I felt more remorse afterwards.

  And I very much wished I could stop worrying about it. For gods’ sake, it wasn’t serious.

  I forgot Kate, and dreams of Kate, when something prickled in the nape of my neck, something that might have been familiar or perhaps just opaquely threatening. And a few seconds later, there were distant hoofbeats.

  I didn’t like to test the unseen riders’ minds with my own; that would have been a dead giveaway. I’d just have to wait and see, so I drew back into the copse of wizened rowans, trusting them to shield my mind while I unsheathed my sword. Gods, it was good to see it back in its proper world again. It glowed and quivered like a live thing, catching the last twilight, as if it too was happy to be home.

  I was so busy admiring it I didn’t realise the sound of horses had not only drawn closer, one of them had stopped. I didn’t like horses that could be so silent. Well, I liked it that mine could, but this one wasn’t the roan. Its partner had galloped on, but this one, or its rider, had sensed me. Uneasily I edged closer to the brink of the rowans.

  Steel whispered past my ear. My mind was open in an instant, luckily for the big English twit. I spun round, batting his sword away from my face.

  ‘Torc, you bloody lout! Nearly had my head off!’

  Torc’s blade trailed an arc in front of him, as lazy as his grin. ‘Shouldn’t sneak up, Murlainn.’

  ‘I’m not the one who – oh, what the hell.’ I returned his grin, then stepped clear of the rowans. Sionnach had swerved and ridden back fast; he was off the grey before it had clattered to a halt, and giving me a happy ferocious hug.

  ‘Murlainn, you infidel hound!’

  I had to submit to a hug from Torc too, though it nearly crushed the breath from my lungs. I slapped his ribcage as I drew away, and in return he whacked my skull fondly.

  I rubbed my ringing head. ‘Sight for sore eyes, the pair of youse. What are you doing this far over?’

  Sionnach shrugged. ‘The usual.’

  ‘Kate’s boys and girls have been misbehaving,’ added Torc. ‘And last night, of course, we get a summons from her ladyship Leonora. I assume that’s why you’re here, shortarse.’ He winked.

  I shot him a glower, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was too happy to see them. ‘Yes, damn her eyes. We go out for one lousy drink, which we richly deserve, and the old bat sneaks through the watergate.’

  ‘Well, she’s with Eili now.’ Sionnach raised his eyes heavenwards.

  Torc grinned. ‘Yeah, and they’re giving each other an earful. We came out to look for you guys. Not that we were worried. Just wanted some peace, y’know?’

  ‘Oh g
ods, do I know.’

  ‘And where’s Conal?’

  ‘Went to look for his mother. He’s probably with her and Eili by now.’

  Sionnach’s version of a dirty smirk was distorted by his scars. ‘At least that’ll shut my sister up.’

  I raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘Not in front of the child, I hope.’

  And Sionnach said, ‘What child?’

  If I’d been blood-related to Finn I could have found traces of her mind and I’d have known roughly which direction to take, but I wasn’t, and I didn’t. Since she hadn’t caught up with her grandmother, she could be anywhere. The only thing we could do was ride hard to where Eili was waiting, and hope for the best.

  I knew that baby would be trouble from her first blood-curdling squall.

  I rode behind Sionnach on his horse; it wasn’t the size of Torc’s huge iron-grey but it was big enough. When I’d gripped Sionnach’s arm and swung up behind him, the creature had plunged and bucked for four or five paces, but then gathered its dignity and raced on. It knew me, and its acquiescence made me even more resentful of the roan. What was the beast playing at? It had been a few years, for sure, but there were times when I was sorry about the independence of that horse’s mind. Imagine making such a strenuous effort to dodge me, even when it was drawn relentlessly by my calling.

  ~ I suspect, Sionnach pointed out dryly, ~ that it has prey.

  ~ Still and all. It’s an ill-schooled disobedient brat.

  ~ Ah, your brother was so right about that horse and you. You’re made for each other.

  He didn’t turn, but I knew he was laughing. I couldn’t help grinning too. ~ I’ll let that one go. What’s with the detour?

  He’d nudged his grey to the east and south; we were skirting the edge of a pinewood and cutting down a rough track. This wasn’t the way to the rendezvous he’d mentioned.

  ~ Dughall Reid. If anyone’s seen anything of your Finn, it’ll be him.

  ‘Might even have taken her in,’ shouted Torc cheerfully from behind.

  ‘Gods help him. And she isn’t my Finn.’

  Sionnach reined in his horse hard. ‘What—’

  ‘I said she isn’t my Finn. Gods forbid.’

  But I saw straight away that wasn’t Sionnach’s point.

  Sionnach’s grey picked its delicate way through a black wasteland. What had once been a farm was a desolation. I drew my sword, but there wasn’t any point.

  Where beasts should have huddled in a field, steam rising off their hides in the cold air, smoke rose instead from butchered corpses. Whoever had done it wasn’t interested in stealing the cattle, so we knew what we’d find before we got to the steading yard.

  Timber smouldered underfoot, the smell of charring catching the back of our throats. Burnt wood, burnt stone, burnt meat; and not only beef. A roof beam and its last precarious slates creaked, then collapsed. Behind us Torc was silent, except for his ragged breathing.

  Sionnach drew his horse to a halt before a heap of smoking logs. It backed and snorted, bared its canines. The smell of burning meat was stronger now, and beneath it a deadlier stench. The logs had limbs. Or the stumpy remains of them.

  I slid off Sionnach’s horse, crouched over the pyre and poked at the remains of fabric. I’d smelt burnt human more than once; it never got any sweeter. Once it was in your nostrils, you couldn’t ever get the stink out.

  I stood up, sheathed my blade, waited for the sting of a hundred memories to fade.

  ‘This is Reid?’ I asked.

  ‘And his family.’ Torc brushed his arm once, hard, across his face.

  Sionnach said nothing. He was absolutely still on his horse, reins in one hand, staring at the steading, the only building left half-standing, and only because the fire hadn’t caught so well.

  ‘There’s someone alive,’ he said, and his tone was deadly.

  Torc nodded as I glanced at him. His colossal horse made barely a sound as he swung its head and rode it round to the back of the barn. Sionnach stayed on guard at the front, both swords drawn.

  The collapsed steading walls were scaleable, but not easily; if the skulker tried to escape sideways we’d catch him, no problem. Once again I drew my sword, and trod carefully across charred rubble into the half-roofed ruins.

  ‘Come out or I’ll cut you out,’ I called pleasantly.

  The fear, the staccato aggression: it felt so familiar, my spine rippled with apprehension.

  It couldn’t be...

  A movement in the remnants of shadow. He must have known he was rumbled. A deep and audible breath of courage, and then the boy staggered up abruptly, fists clenched, skin filthy, teeth bared in nothing like a smile.

  No. He was the last person I’d expected or wanted. It couldn’t be, but it was.

  Jed was coiled like a snake, every muscle taut for a fight. I’d have liked to tell him to for gods’ sake at least unclench his teeth, because in that state he couldn’t fight a lapdog for more than two minutes. But something in his eyes stopped me: a diamond ferocity.

  I should get him back to his mother. Lammyr or no Lammyr, she’d be fine with him.

  For a few seconds he stared at me. There was a high edge of panic in his voice. ‘Where am I?’

  ‘That’s original.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Keep your feckin’ voice down.’

  He gave me a look of such hatred I almost flinched. Almost. But I couldn’t afford that.

  Jed looked from me to Sionnach and behind him to Torc. From Torc to me. And on me his gaze stayed.

  ‘I know you,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I lied. ‘Oh yeah. I saw you at Tornashee with the idiot Finn. Where is she?’

  ‘No, that’s not – who are – where —’

  ‘Where are you? Nowhere you know. Where’s Finn?’

  Sionnach shot me a frown, half confusion and half disapproval. ‘Finn?’

  ‘Finn’s gone,’ Jed blurted.

  I took two steps towards him and grabbed him by the collar. ‘She’s gone? Where?’

  He flinched, but the loathing didn’t leave his eyes. ‘A horse. There was a horse. It was tame and we were tired and she got on it and —’

  ‘She what?’

  ‘Are you frigging deaf? She got on it! She rode off! She feckin’ left me here!’

  Oh, gods. No matter what I thought of Finn, she wouldn’t do that. Friends, for her, were too hard to come by. ‘What colour was the horse?’

  ‘Feckin’ weird. It was blue.’

  We shouldn’t have caught up with the roan as fast as we did, though I called it with a savage insistence and Sionnach knew better than to distract me. All the same, the fool on its back must have fought like a demon all the way for it not to have reached the Dubh Loch by now.

  Wind pummelling my face and cold singeing my lips; ah, I could almost enjoy the wild ride if I wasn’t imagining what Conal would have to say about my horse eating his goddaughter. Torc had stayed at the farm with the boy; I was glad I didn’t have to be part of that conversation, but I still wasn’t enchanted by this job.

  When we first caught sight of her she was a blur on the crystalline air close to the horizon, but that definitely wasn’t as fast as the roan could run. As we drew closer, I saw Finn clearly: a thin figure crouched on the roan’s back, all tangled black hair, and terror mixed up with a raging dark resentment. She was unmistakeable: I knew that hair. I knew that temper. No wonder the roan was having problems.

  I banged my head between Sionnach’s shoulder blades in lieu of the nearest wall, but he was still all concerned with catching up. And thanks to the girl on its back we were, finally, abreast of it, both horses racing across the moor as the Dubh Loch’s shining shore grew closer, and broader, and brighter: so close now I could hear the song of its waves.

  Dorsal wasn’t paying us any attention. She crouched low across the horse’s neck, straining to bite at her hands. Instinct, I thought: born instinct. The horse threw her off balance and her head
jolted crazily but when she leaned forward and snapped her teeth again, she caught the base of a finger and bit, tearing at the skin.

  We were so close I could nearly touch her, and spattered blood from her hand hit my face like rain.

  Oh, great. The smell of blood was going to make this so much easier.

  ‘Don’t do it!’ yelled Sionnach.

  ~ So help me, you brute, you are in SO MUCH TROUBLE –

  Through her raggedly billowing hair she flicked a look at us, but she took as much notice of Sionnach as the horse did of me. Her jaws worked savagely at her forefinger.

  ‘Stop!’ bellowed Sionnach.

  She spat blood and skin, looking more frustrated than afraid. ‘I’d love to!’ she screamed.

  ‘He ISN’T TALKING TO YOU,’ I yelled, and then, ‘YOU DISOBEDIENT BAG OF WOLFMEAT.’

  I’ll be honest, that wasn’t aimed entirely at the roan. But I was furious.

  As Sionnach nudged us closer still I reached out an arm and grabbed the girl by the waist, buffeted by her rage and confusion. She thought I was trying to pull her off, and she fought me as well as the horse: livid at my interference, obviously willing to lose her fingers but not both arms. She’d never have all three trapped fingers off in time, but give her credit, she was trying. She gnawed savagely at her own flesh.

  ‘For gods’ SAKE.’ I let go of her, got my balance on Sionnach’s horse and made the leap to my own, with a lot less grace than I’d have liked.

  As Sionnach veered his grey away, I reached round the struggling girl to grab the roan’s mane, but now I was astride it, it was already slowing. A fast canter eased to a playful bouncy trot, and then it stood stock still, flinging her forward to bang her face against its arched neck. It angled its head back for a last look. There was mischievous disappointment in the black eyes as her fingers slipped smoothly loose from its mane.

  If Conal had heard the language that came out of her, she’d have been grounded for a week. I sat there with my arms folded and waited till she’d finished, because I knew instinct and adrenalin would have only a limited life. Sure enough her cool dissolved as soon as she ran out of curses, and she started to shake.