The Diamond Isle

by Stan Nicholls

‘I think I’ll stick with it for a while,’ Serrah decided.

  ‘Me too,’ Kutch agreed.

  ‘Suit yourselves.’

  A moment passed in damp silence.

  ‘Reeth…,’ Kutch began.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I think…I think I can sense something.’

  Serrah and Caldason straightened, weariness cast off.

  ‘What is it?’ Serrah asked.

  ‘It’s nothing specific, and I wasn’t sure at first. But…I can feel an increase of magical discharges. Like mild pins and needles.’ He grinned at them, half afraid.

  Serrah laid her hand on his arm. ‘You mean greater than you normally pick up as background noise?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Lots.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you cast one of Phoenix’s detection spells?’ Caldason suggested.

  ‘I don’t think I need to. Then again, it could help with location.’

  ‘Best to try,’ Serrah said. ‘Is there anything we can do?’

  ‘No. I just need a little quiet time.’ He started to get up.

  She hung on to his arm. ‘Kutch, are you certain about this?’

  ‘Pretty much. At any rate, something’s going on. Let me check.’ He ducked into the rain, hurrying across deck with his head down.

  Dawn was beginning to break. The sun’s rim pierced the horizon, turning it cherry red.

  ‘Perhaps this won’t take as long as we thought,’ Caldason remarked.

  ‘You be careful with that boy, Reeth,’ Serrah came back sternly. ‘Keep him from harm.’

  He was stung. ‘Do you think I’d let anything happen to him if I could help it?’

  ‘If you could help it, no. But we haven’t a clue what we’re dealing with. Who knows what’s guarding the Source?’

  ‘It wasn’t my idea to have Kutch on this voyage. Or you, come to that. But now you both are, I’ll do everything in my power to look after you.’

  ‘I can look after myself, thanks very much.’

  ‘Will you look after me too, then?’

  She smiled. ‘Buffoon.’ Her tone softened. ‘Of course I know you wouldn’t willingly put Kutch in danger. Sorry.’

  He slipped his arm around her. ‘Forget it. We’re all on edge.’

  ‘It’s because he’s so young and vulnerable. When I look at him I can’t help thinking of…’

  He had to say it for her. ‘Eithne.’

  She nodded. ‘I failed her. I won’t do the same to Kutch.’

  ‘You didn’t fail her. Let go of the guilt; you can’t bear it forever.’

  ‘That’s strange advice from somebody carrying so much himself,’ she replied gently.

  ‘We both wear our pasts like millstones. But what we’re heading for could help us cast them off.’

  ‘Don’t put too much hope in the Source, Reeth. Chances are you’ll be disappointed.’

  ‘Then I’ll be no worse off than I am now. Better. I’ve got you.’ He made to kiss her cheek. She turned and waylaid his lips.

  After a moment, she said, ‘Do you really think we’ve a chance of finding the Clepsydra, and whatever the Source may be?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have set out if we didn’t. Though granted it’s a slim chance.’

  ‘Do you reckon it’s going to be guarded?’

  ‘We have to assume it will be. But you know all this, Serrah. Why the inquisition?’

  ‘I like to understand what I’m getting myself into, believe it or not.’ She paused for a second. ‘And I suppose I want convincing. No. Reassuring. I need to be reassured that what we’re doing makes some sense.’

  ‘I’m not certain I’m the one to do that. But I think this makes as much sense as anything we’ve done.’

  ‘That isn’t saying a lot, Reeth.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed, ‘it isn’t, is it?’

  They laughed.

  The packet kept moving, slowly, through lessening rain. Dawn was in full flush now, though its light was dismal. The islands they passed, dark bulks rising out of untrustworthy waters, grew larger.

  Kutch hurried back, his breath white steam.

  ‘Learn anything?’ Caldason said.

  ‘I didn’t bother casting more than a couple of the spells, but they confirmed the high level of magic around here.’

  ‘What about the direction it’s coming from?’

  ‘There are no specifics on that. The atmosphere’s so saturated, it’s hard even for a clever spell to locate,’ Kutch said, frowning.

  ‘Isn’t it logical that the origin of all this magic is going to be at the centre of the island group?’

  ‘Logic doesn’t necessarily come into it. The magic could as easily be coming from the outskirts as the heart. It could be a speck of land or one of the biggest islands. It could be coming from a number of islands. The size or location doesn’t really matter; it’s the nature of the magic that’s important. Mind you, having said that…’

  ‘You do think it’s coming from the core?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So do I.’

  ‘I sense it,’ Kutch said. ‘What are you basing your feeling on?’

  Caldason shrugged. ‘Just a hunch.’

  Serrah stared at them, pensively.

  ‘So we start at the centre and work our way out?’ Kutch asked.

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ Caldason told him.

  Cheross was passing, looking as wet and tired as the rest of them. ‘It’ll be a couple of hours before we reach the inner group,’ he said. ‘You should try to get some sleep.’

  Less than two hours later, and scarcely refreshed, they gathered again at the prow. The morning light was insipid this far north, and the air was desperately cold, but at least it had stopped raining.

  The packet was anchored near an island. It had sheer cliffs and granite peaks, and they could see a stretch of pebbly beach.

  ‘Do they have names?’ Serrah asked.

  ‘The islands?’ Cheross said. ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘I wonder if the Founders gave them names,’ Kutch reflected.

  ‘Why wouldn’t they?’ Caldason asked.

  ‘Some scholars think they developed a culture that went beyond words and images as we understand them. Perhaps the Founders felt no need to label the world the way we do.’

  Cheross shook his head. ‘A world without names? That’d be chaos.’

  ‘They had a different way of looking at things.’

  Serrah chimed in with, ‘Clepsydra’s a name, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but we don’t know if the Founders coined it,’ Kutch explained. ‘There are very few words in our language inherited from them, and they’re all contentious.’

  ‘What are you saying? That they didn’t have words for anything at all? Cheross is right; that would be chaos.’

  ‘Not to the Founders. Anyway, I’m not saying they didn’t have words for some things. Perhaps they named what had particular significance for them. The scant evidence they left, the fragments of their knowledge, seem to back that.’

  ‘What does it look like? This evidence they left.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t in its original form. These scraps, which is all we’re really talking about, have been copied many times over the centuries. We’ve got them on paper; we don’t know what their original form would have been. As to the language…well, language probably isn’t the right word. The Founders’ writings are a mixture of symbols, mathematical allusions and…magicky stuff.’

  ‘Your use of the correct technical terms must make Phoenix proud.’

  They all laughed, though there was a nervy edge to it.

  Kutch was red-faced. ‘I just didn’t want to bore everybody.’

  ‘We know,’ Serrah mouthed kindly.

  ‘The Founders might not have left names for these islands,’ Caldason reminded them, ‘but they could have left something else.’

  ‘Like booby-traps,’ Serrah offered, sobering.

  Caldason nodded. ‘If the prize is as important as a lot of peo
ple think, it’ll be guarded. The question is, with what?’

  ‘Magic,’ Kutch stated matter-of-factly. ‘We’re talking about the Founders, remember.’

  ‘What form could it take?’

  ‘Who knows?’

  ‘Would it still be potent after all this time?’ Serrah wondered.

  ‘I can’t answer these questions,’ Kutch admitted. ‘All I can do is try to detect any magic with evil intent.’

  ‘With all this other background magic going on?’

  ‘I’ve been trained to filter it out. Besides, it’s of a different nature. The textures vary.’

  ‘As to the matter at hand,’ Cheross said, ‘we’ll keep a skeleton crew here and send the majority of the men with you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Caldason replied, ‘but no. All we need is a rowing party to get us over there.’

  ‘But surely, in the face of–’

  ‘I don’t want to put your crew in greater danger. And unless any of them happen to be master wizards, or have a spotting talent like Kutch’s, there’s not much they can do to help us. Whatever’s out there, Serrah, Kutch and I are going to be looking for it alone.’

  ‘Every member of my crew would gladly volunteer to go with you.’

  ‘I know, and we’re grateful. If we need them, they can come later, when we’re certain everything’s clear, but we take the initial risk.’

  ‘And you’re sure this is the island?’ The Captain nodded at the looming rock.

  ‘We can’t be sure,’ Kutch replied, ‘but this is where the magic feels strongest.’

  ‘Let’s not get too carried away,’ Serrah cautioned. ‘The very first island we land on? And the most conspicuous? It’s unlikely to be that easy.’

  ‘We have to start somewhere,’ Caldason told her. ‘And I’ve got an instinct about this island too.’

  She gave him a curious look, but said nothing.

  ‘I’ll arrange to have you taken across right away,’ Cheross announced. ‘Once you’ve disembarked, the boat will wait for a couple of hours. If you need us after that, we’ll come at your signal. But if we’ve heard nothing from you after twelve hours, this ship sails back to the Diamond Isle.’

  Caldason nodded. ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘Then let’s get things moving.’ Cheross turned away to give out orders.

  ‘All right, you two?’ Caldason asked, keeping his voice low.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Serrah replied.

  ‘I’m quite excited,’ Kutch admitted.

  The crew were scattering to various tasks, and the noise level went up a notch.

  ‘It could be an idea to take some extra weaponry along,’ Caldason suggested.

  ‘Against magic?’ Serrah said.

  ‘That might not be all we run into.’

  ‘I’m taking a set of throwing knives, along with a couple of my usual blades,’ she said, eyeing him. ‘If that’s not enough, nothing will be.’

  ‘What about you, Kutch? Can I persuade you to carry another weapon?’

  ‘I already do, Reeth.’ The boy slipped a hand into his fur jerkin and brought out a dagger. ‘Recognise this, Serrah? You gave it to me the day we got out of Bhealfa.’

  ‘I’d forgotten it. You didn’t have to use it that day, thank the gods. But be prepared to.’ She looked to Caldason. ‘What about supplies? Are we going to load ourselves down with those, too?’

  ‘A canteen of water each and a little hardtack. Not much point in taking more.’

  ‘You don’t expect us to be there very long?’ Kutch supposed.

  ‘We’ll return soon, or we’ll be dead. Either way, there’s no sense in burdening ourselves.’

  They were called. The boat had been lowered, and its eight rowers waited. Caldason led Serrah and Kutch to the rail, where they collected water pouches. Then they descended rope ladders to the bobbing craft.

  Their journey across was short, and the sea had settled down, but they were tense, expecting some kind of ambush or trick to foil them. Although the biggest of the group, the island was of a modest size. Serrah, the urban dweller, would have described it as being equivalent to nine or ten city blocks. Kutch would have seen it in terms of so many fields for ploughing. To Caldason, its widest point corresponded to three good spear throws.

  There were cliffs at one end of the island, and a couple of modest rocky crests further inland, but basically it was flat, with shingle beaches fronting most of its shoreline.

  They landed without incident. The rowers were thanked and left on the beach. Caldason, Serrah and Kutch could feel the crew’s eyes boring into their backs as they set out.

  Out of the men’s hearing, Kutch said, ‘The magic…I can feel it. It’s very intense.’

  Serrah shot him a concerned glance. ‘Are you all right to go on?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I’ll be fine.’

  They came to the top of the beach. Over a ridge, where they couldn’t be seen by the nervous band of rowers, lay a scrubby plain.

  ‘Which way?’ Serrah wondered.

  Reeth and Kutch pointed simultaneously, and unerringly. North. Towards the interior.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘that seems fairly clear.’

  ‘It’s where the magic’s coming from,’ Kutch explained.

  Caldason said nothing.

  As they travelled, the scrub gave way to grass, and bushes and trees started to appear.

  ‘You wouldn’t have thought vegetation could take hold in a place like this,’ Serrah remarked.

  ‘It’s the magic,’ Kutch told her. ‘There are very strong energy channels running through these islands. They bring fecundity, particularly where one or more cross. Haven’t you noticed how mild the temperature is?’

  ‘Now that you come to mention it–’

  ‘What’s that?’ Caldason said.

  In the undergrowth there were fragments of whitish stone.

  ‘Could be a path of some kind,’ Serrah decided.

  ‘It’s the remains of a road,’ Kutch confirmed, ‘and it looks really old. What sort of stone is that?’

  ‘One I’ve never seen before,’ Serrah replied, excavating it with the toe of her boot. ‘If it is a road, it seems to start about here; and it’s going the same way we are.’

  They followed it. The landscape became increasingly lush, and the air warmer. Bizarrely, trees were in leaf, and there was an abundance of unseasonable wild flowers.

  At length, they saw the road’s destination. It terminated at a tall outcropping, and there was an opening in the rock. Not a natural fissure, of the sort leading to a cave, but a cut entrance, large enough to comfortably drive a wagon through. If there had ever been doors, they had rotted away long ago.

  A jumble of debris was scattered around the outcrop. As they approached, they could make out fallen pillars, broken plinths, and what might have been the remnants of an arch.

  ‘This looks like the way into a temple or something,’ Serrah said.

  ‘It’s hardly a place to hide anything,’ Caldason agreed. ‘All it lacks is a sign.’

  ‘Perhaps whatever’s in there wasn’t hidden,’ Kutch ventured.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We’ve assumed that the Clepsydra, and the Source, were deliberately concealed. But maybe they weren’t so much hidden as just…left. Abandoned.’

  Serrah was doubtful. ‘And no one’s come here before us and found them?’

  ‘What if we’re the only ones who can see this?’

  ‘That doesn’t make sense, Kutch. I’m not a spotter, and neither is Reeth.’

  ‘Forget my spotting talent. Suppose us being able to see this place is a function of Founder magic.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Maybe we were meant to find it.’

  ‘How could that be?’ Serrah’s brow wrinkled.

  ‘As I said, they didn’t think like us.’

  ‘We’re jumping to conclusions,’ Caldason said. ‘Serrah could be right; somebody might have got here first. Let�
��s check the place.’

  They stood in front of the entrance, gazing at a pitch-black interior. Kutch and Serrah took out small glamour orbs, and Caldason spent a few seconds patting pockets before producing one himself. Then they stepped inside.

  A musty smell hit them. The dust of ages. Twenty or thirty paces in, they came to a set of broad stairs that swept down into deeper darkness. Clutching the hilts of their swords, they warily descended.

  One hundred and thirty-five steps later, they arrived at a level, and ahead of them was a wall that didn’t quite reach the ceiling. There were two doorless entrances in the wall, to right and left.

  ‘Which one?’ Caldason wondered.

  ‘Give me a leg-up,’ Serrah told him. Boosted to the top of the wall, she peered in, holding out her glamoured orb. She saw more walls, and passageways that zigzagged. ‘It’s a labyrinth.’

  ‘How big is it?’ Caldason asked.

  ‘I can’t see its end. It’s too far, too dark. But in the distance…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There’s a kind of glow. That’s all I can make out. Watch yourself, I’m coming down.’

  ‘How do we handle this?’ Caldason said. ‘If there are traps in there or–’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Kutch interrupted. ‘We’re assuming things again. It looks as though this was some kind of public place, a memorial or something, not a secret to be defended. You know what mazes are for? They’re a path to enlightenment, a map of higher states of consciousness. It’s a symbolic journey, not a trap or a barrier.’

  ‘So what do you suggest?’

  ‘I’m not saying we shouldn’t be ready for trouble, but let’s try walking it the way the Founders would have. As pilgrims or adepts, or however they thought of themselves when they came here.’

  ‘We just walk it?’ Serrah said. ‘Is there any special way of getting through?’

  ‘The tradition with labyrinths is to take left turns on the way in, right turns coming back.’

  ‘That sounds vaguely impossible.’

  ‘It’s as good a plan as any,’ Caldason decided. ‘So we go in by the…left door?’

  ‘The right,’ Kutch corrected. ‘Think about it.’

  ‘I’m trying not to,’ Serrah told them. ‘It makes my brain hurt.’

  Caldason went first, but most of the paths were wide enough for them to walk abreast. The shimmer of their glamour orbs lit walls, floor and ceiling of a uniform whitish-grey and unwavering evenness.