Bea had forgotten that Fergus was there. He beckoned her to him and, keeping his voice low, told her how Marcel had skimmed across an entire ocean in a single day to reach her as fast as he could. Then, in less approving tones, he described how they’d sailed the same ship up a river that had only ever seen barges and single-man coracles.
He told the stories well and in a deep voice that soothed her after the edginess of speaking with Marcel. Then he asked about her, and she found herself liking the way his face crinkled around the eyes when she told him of the tricks she and the two elf-girls played on unsuspecting woodsmen.
‘I didn’t like you much back at Mrs Timmins’ house,’ she told him with an honesty that surprised them both. Oh well, she’d said it now, so she’d better explain. ‘You were a bit bossy and always looking for a fight.’
‘Yes, I suppose I was,’ he agreed cheerfully. ‘Single-minded, you might say.’
Bea couldn’t stop herself from glancing over her shoulder towards Marcel. ‘Single-minded, yes, but you seem different now. Nicola said you’d gone to live on a farm.’
‘In Grenvey,’ he told her eagerly, and after that there was no stopping him. ‘The farmer’s name was Stig. There was a little girl, Annabel, who’s sort of my little sister now. She used to follow me all around the farm. Her mother is sort of my mother too. I’ve had a lot of mothers, haven’t I,’ he said. ‘The first two are gone and I don’t remember either of them. This one is still alive and, believe me, that’s much better.’
There was sadness in what he’d said, especially for Bea whose own mother was dead as well, but as she listened to him speak so brightly about how his life had turned out, that didn’t seem to matter.
‘Living on a farm sounds wonderful,’ she said.
‘Lots of hard work.’
‘Yes, but I still think it would be better than here.’
The words were out before Bea had even realised she was saying them. Well, there it was. There was no taking them back, but for now she wondered why she could speak so freely to Fergus, yet barely a word to Marcel.
She stole another look over her shoulder, lingering this time. When she turned back, Fergus was watching her, questioning. ‘He’s different somehow, don’t you think?’
Fergus hesitated, but his face had given him away and he knew it. Finally, he nodded and let his eyes drop to stare at his shoes. ‘Different, yes. You know, Bea, the way he drove that ship upriver to Elstenwyck, it wasn’t just that he wanted to get here as fast as he could to help your grandfather. I think he did it that way simply because he could.’
FERGUS WAS SOON ASLEEP beside Marcel so Bea went to help Nerrinder, who wasn’t impressed by the extra work the intruders brought her.
‘A meal for humans, and growing boys at that. Fetch the largest plates you can find.’
Later, when Bea volunteered to carry the tray to the cottage, Nerrinder had something else to say. ‘You’ve shared adventures with these two, I know, and you call them your friends. But I saw the way you looked at the thin one. You’re an elf who belongs on this mountain, Bea. Remember your mother.’
Bea nodded silently and hurried with the tray along the dark lanes of the Hidden Village.
Marcel and Fergus had barely begun to eat when the cottage door opened to admit what seemed like half the village, the male half anyway. Kertigan was among them, but most of the other visitors were elders, led by Ebert.
‘What have you done so far to get Long Beard back?’ Marcel asked them. When his only answer was silence, he turned to Bea, eyebrows raised.
Fergus let them know what he thought a little more directly. ‘Nothing! You’ve done nothing!’
Ebert nodded without even a hint of shame. ‘Long Beard gave his life to a task he was sworn to uphold. He wouldn’t want us to go after him. The breach is closed and that’s all that matters.’
‘Breach?’
‘An opening through the rock into —’ Ebert stopped himself before uttering the name. ‘We don’t know how it happened and we don’t know what dangers lurk beyond it.’
‘They must be terrible if you’ve done nothing to rescue your leader,’ said Marcel, but this time he spoke without anger, Bea noticed, and wondered why.
‘They are indeed terrible. The risk is too great that another breach will bring havoc to all the Mortal Kingdoms. We wouldn’t be able to make a new opening anyway. The place is protected by the strongest wards.’
‘I am a sorcerer, Lord Ebert,’ said Marcel, giving the elder a title that elves didn’t use among themselves. ‘Mortregis is not the only evil I’ve defeated. The strongest wards can only be broken by the strongest magic. I can do it. If Long Beard is still alive, I can bring him back.’
‘No, his fate is sealed,’ Ebert said firmly. ‘There will be no rescue, and before you try to convince me of your great powers, young sorcerer, I’ll tell you this. The greater your magic, the more reluctant I am to agree. I’m glad to see you’re well fed. This meal will sustain you on the journey back to your own land.’
‘But we’re not going yet,’ Marcel objected. ‘We came to help Long Beard and —’
Ebert cut him off. ‘The matter is settled. Kertigan and his companions will lead you back to your horse, blindfolded in the same way you arrived. If you still refuse, I’ll have you trussed up and carried to the escarpment on poles.’
Bea felt the tension inside the cottage and gasped when the elves slipped their bows free from their shoulders. ‘Marcel, be careful,’ she warned. ‘Ebert means what he says.’
‘And so do I. Only my magic can save Long Beard and I’m not leaving until it’s done.’
More arrows appeared, each fitted to a waiting bow before Bea could blink. What was Marcel doing? He knew how deadly an elf’s aim could be and at this range …
Then came the first cry of surprise. ‘My bow — the string has broken,’ said one of the elves, holding it uselessly across his hands.
‘Mine too!’
‘And mine!’
There wasn’t a bow still ready to fire and, in stunned embarrassment, each of the elves quickly scrambled to pull a replacement bowstring from his pocket.
Ebert’s eyes narrowed in anger, tinged now by fear.
‘Yes, I disabled your bows,’ said Marcel calmly. ‘And those new strings will break just as quickly. Fergus and I are going into the mountain whether you give your permission or not.’
Bea was startled by the casual way he made his demand. He was trying to save her grandfather, but this wasn’t the way to go about it. Ebert would never concede now that he and the other elves had been humiliated with the very things they prided themselves on most dearly — their bows.
‘No, Marcel, we do need the elves,’ said Fergus, not with any heat in his voice but calmly, as though he was considering the best way to build a new cottage.
When Marcel looked like interrupting him, Bea put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Let Fergus speak,’ she whispered.
‘Firstly, they can show us where these tunnels into the mountain begin. They’re fine fighters too, Marcel, as we both know and skilful with their hands. One of them should come with us,’ he said, nodding at Kertigan. ‘In fact, he should be the leader, so you are free to use your magic when we need it.’
The broken bowstrings were forgotten for the moment. Faces softened, one or two heads began to nod.
‘No, the risk is too great,’ Ebert repeated, stubborn as ever. ‘I won’t allow it.’
‘Is it your decision alone?’ Fergus asked him, again without any intent to embarrass the old elf. ‘Bea says there is no one chosen yet to be the new Long Beard. The elders decide together, all of you,’ he said, appealing around the room to the many aged faces. Some sided with Ebert still, but others nodded towards Fergus.
‘The young human has a point,’ one elder said to Ebert. ‘It’s not up to you alone.’
When the votes were tallied, the decision was made and Ebert had been overruled. There was hope for Long Beard after
all. Bea’s next words were free of her mouth before she’d even known what they were. ‘I want to come with you.’
‘No, the party is complete,’ was the first response.
‘But Long Beard is my grandfather.’
‘We don’t send women to hunt in the forest. Why would we send a girl on a mission like this?’ said another of the elders.
Bea was opposed at every turn until Kertigan spoke. ‘The way this girl can handle a bow, maybe we should,’ he told them.
‘Bea’s the bravest being I’ve ever known, human or elf,’ said Fergus. ‘I say she comes with us.’
Matters had turned in an instant. It was up to Marcel then, for the decision must be unanimous. Bea turned to face him, aware of her own misgivings. Until these last hours she would have bet her life on his answer, but now she sensed the first hint of doubt in herself. She watched him stare back at her, contemplating, each second an agony until he spoke in the deep voice that reminded her so bluntly of how much he had changed.
‘There’s no one else I’d rather have with us,’ he told them, and all the uneasiness Bea had felt as they fumbled for things to say and all her misgivings at how he’d treated Ebert were swept away with those few simple words.
CHAPTER 13
The Use of Spies
PRINCESS NICOLA WAS ON her way from Lady Ashlere’s grave among the rose gardens when she saw the chancellor emerge onto the terrace. When he stepped into her path at the top of the stairs, she guessed what was on his mind and decided to confront the issue head on.
‘About last night, my lord, I know you and Father are angry that I helped —’
The chancellor held up his hand to stop her torrent of words. ‘I do want to speak to you about last night, your highness, but not about your brother.’
Nicola let some of the tension drain from her body, though not too much, for it paid to be wary around this man even when his voice was measured and his manner polite, as they were now. ‘Go on,’ she said.
‘Princess, I have spies spread throughout the Mortal Kingdoms who report to me all sorts of information.’ He paused and permitted himself a catlike smile. ‘I see by the look on your face that this shocks you. It shouldn’t. There’s nothing sinister in what I’m telling you. It’s part of my role as advisor to your father. The more I know of events in other lands, the better advice I can give.’
‘Why are you telling me this now? If there’s something you know about Long Beard’s disappearance, you should have said so at yesterday’s meeting.’
The chancellor shook his head gently. ‘What I have to say has nothing to do with the elves or Marcel’s adventure to the high country. Some weeks ago, I had news from Tamerlane. It said that before my son died in the Battle of Cadell, he had become devoted to a young woman. My spies aren’t entirely sure who this woman was, but they’ve passed on enough to let me guess.’
Guess! He already knew, Nicola decided. There was no point denying the truth. ‘Yes, it was me, Chancellor. A strong attraction had grown between us.’ She didn’t dare call it love; this man would only laugh at her. Such feelings were too precious to see them mocked by someone who seemed to have no use for them.
‘Ah, I had guessed as much, especially when I saw you at the tapestry last night,’ he said, and, instead of fixing her with the disdainful eye she was expecting, he looked away into the rose garden, as though the sight of her face was too much for him. When he did turn back to her, there was no disapproval, no mocking sneer. ‘We share a common grief then. Finn is remembered as a hero who gave his life for the kingdom. Only you and I remember him with love.’
Without another word, he left her at the top of the stairs and returned to his duties.
CHAPTER 14
Into the Dark
THEY WERE TO LEAVE immediately, with torches and rations to last four days, but first Kertigan brought a long leather sack to the cottage where Marcel and Fergus were still confined. Bea knew what was inside and helped him widen the opening to get them out.
The clink of metal against metal helped Fergus guess as well. ‘I’d rather have my own sword back,’ he said.
Kertigan picked up the first weapon to slide free of the sack. ‘These are shorter, better for fighting in confined spaces.’
Fergus thought about this for a moment, then picked up one of the smaller swords to weigh it in his hand. ‘Nice balance. Perhaps you’re right.’
Kertigan hung a similar sword from his own belt, then reached for a bow. ‘These are smaller too, so they won’t catch on the rock when we have to squeeze through tight spaces. Just as deadly though,’ he said, pulling back the string to test it. ‘Find one that feels right, Bea, and take some arrows to go with it.’
Finally he turned to Marcel. ‘Which would suit you best, sword or bow?’
‘My best weapon isn’t made of steel or wood,’ Marcel replied.
Kertigan grunted and made a face at Bea. ‘I hope his magic is half as good as he says it is,’ he muttered under his breath.
‘You can trust him,’ she whispered in return. ‘I do.’
‘Well, if he’s not going to carry a weapon, he can carry half the food,’ and he handed Marcel a pack similar to the one already strapped to his own shoulders.
It wasn’t the best start to their journey, especially when the elders once again insisted that the two humans be blindfolded until they were well clear of the Hidden Village.
‘So much for trust,’ Bea heard Marcel grumble under his breath. He must have been listening to Kertigan’s complaints back in the cottage.
Fergus didn’t seem to mind, however. ‘How can you possibly find your way ahead so quickly,’ he asked in admiration once the blindfolds were removed and both he and Marcel had to scurry to keep up.
Bea shared a wink with Kertigan. To an elf, each tiny part of the forest and the mountainside had features as distinct as a face. Places were as easy to recognise as old friends; although their destination was no friend to any elf.
‘I’ve known about this cave all my life,’ said Kertigan when they stood before an opening into the mountain shaped like a grimacing mouth, ‘but I’ve only been inside it once and that was to help Ebert.’
For longer than they intended, all four stood enjoying the daylight and the breathtaking view of the Mortal Kingdoms in the distance. Then Kertigan lit the first of the torches. ‘Into the dark,’ he said and set off. The others closed up behind him so they didn’t stray too far from the light.
‘I thought these tunnels would be harder to get through,’ said Fergus after a few minutes.
‘They aren’t tunnels, not like you’re thinking of,’ Kertigan corrected him. ‘It seems that way because we can only see part of what we’re walking through.’ He held his torch high above his head and said, ‘Look up.’
Tilting her head back like the others, Bea saw there was no end to the open space above them, not as far as the torchlight extended anyway.
‘We’re walking through a huge fissure between the rock,’ Kertigan explained. ‘The mountain is riddled with spaces like these, some only a few inches wide. My father told me they were cut through the rock a long time ago, by streams of rainwater.’
‘It’s certainly taking us downhill,’ Marcel commented.
They were an hour into the darkness before they met the first tight squeeze; the massive walls on either side came so close each of them lost skin forcing a way through. The two humans, being bigger, suffered most, particularly Fergus who was broader in the shoulders and chest than Marcel. After this, such obstacles became more frequent, and then the steady downward path changed to sharp falls, which demanded nimble rock-hopping. Bea’s hair fell loose from its plaits, a problem quickly solved when she took the forbidden headband from her pocket. At last she could wear it without a look of disapproval, for in this light its cheerful colours were invisible, even to another elf.
Long legs were an advantage for Fergus and Marcel, but their smaller bodies just as often let Bea and Kertigan sk
ip from perch to perch without fear of cracking their heads on outcrops of unforgiving stone that lurked in the shadows. The mountain echoed with cries of ‘Ouch’ and a lot worse. When Fergus gashed his head just above the hairline, they rested until the bleeding stopped.
‘I can’t see well enough,’ he complained.
‘Yes, I’m the same,’ Marcel agreed. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad if we could just see the rocks around us.’
‘You need elvish eyes, like ours,’ said Kertigan, with a wink towards Bea. She couldn’t resist a smile, until she saw the withering look Fergus turned on them both.
‘Sorry. Would it be better if you two shared the torch?’ she said.
Marcel took it from Kertigan’s hand but this didn’t prove any better. ‘Now I’ve only got one hand to climb with,’ he said after they had started downwards again. He sat on a ledge and waited for Kertigan to take the torch back.
‘What’s that in the rock?’ he asked, pointing.
‘Where?’ Kertigan raised the torch, as though he was looking for an image carved into the solid wall.
‘All those little lights,’ said Marcel, and now Bea could see what he meant.
‘Tiny crystals of quartz,’ she said. ‘They’re reflecting light from the torch.’
‘They’re pretty, aren’t they,’ said Marcel wistfully, earning a dismissive snort from Fergus.
‘What use is pretty?’
‘More than you might think,’ said Marcel and, from the lilt in his voice, Bea guessed he had something in mind. She was close beside him, as she’d been since they started out.
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.
He was already concentrating. A sweep of his hand before his face left it solemn and close-eyed, while his lips murmured too softly to be heard.
‘There. Done,’ he announced.
‘What have you done? Nothing’s happened that I can see,’ said Kertigan.
‘Put out the torch,’ Marcel told him.
‘The torch! No, we’ll be in pitch black.’
The Book from Baden Dark Page 10
