“How?”
“I was surrounded by mountains of corpses. All accusing me of - of…an ancient crime. Then I seemed to lose my way, to forget who I am.” I shivered. This was not a comforting Vision. I have had frightening Visions - plenty of them - but with a sense of purpose about them, whether as a warning or as - advance notice, I suppose. While death was possible and I had seen it in other Visions I had never before had that sense of being lost, of forgetting who I am. This was a new experience.
“Did you see a way out?”
“Not really. In fact, the child was insistent that I should head towards whatever it is that’s going to happen. To the north. I don’t really want to go north.”
“Why not?”
“Give me a beakerful of the warm south. I’ve had a bucketful of the cold north. I want to go to Spain,” I replied. But the child was insistent. “Why can’t I make up my own mind?” The horses whinnied, as if they could understand. They had made very clear that they would not go south. I explained to Dougald what had occurred before he arrived at my camp, that the horses would rather have attempted to swim the raging torrent than head south. “I don’t like being forced along a particular path. It makes me feel that I have no choice - that I’m nothing more than a puppet, a marionette, with someone I can’t see pulling the strings.”
“But you do have a choice,” Dougald said. He suggested that I could leave the horses and walk to Spain.
“How would I carry my packs? My fortune?”
“You could carry your own tent, easily. And enough gold coins to look after yourself, so long as you weren’t too eager for comfort.” And he smiled, then. “It’s not too bad - living as a monk. Women aren’t all that interested, though, I have to confess!” I looked at him, sharply. Did he know that there was a woman in Spain - Valeria, the Cardinal’s niece - who I could never fully get out of my mind? Even after all these years? He was not looking at me; he was looking at the fire. It must be no more than a coincidence.
I have had enough experience of the Otherworld to be very cautious of coincidences.
“So I can exercise free will if I give up everything?” Dougald threw back his head and laughed.
“By all that’s sacred, Ciaran, I think you’ve got it! Give up all you have and win everything!” he said. I was nowhere near as amused as he was.
“What sort of religion is this? Give up everything? How do you get any converts?” I shook my head. “It’s a joke. A divine folly.”
“It would take a long time to explain,” he said, still chuckling. “But yes, it does sound crazy, doesn’t it? It sure isn’t a religion for the rich.” It was my turn to laugh. I had seen enough gold and jewels draped over prelates in Rome and along the Mediterranean coast to be very firmly of the opinion that riches were at the heart of it. Same as all the others, pretty much. Wealth and power. And sex, of course. Dougald was talking again.
“You have the choice. You can give up everything and head for Spain, which is what your heart wants, I think. Or you can follow what seems to be the plan for you, which is to go north. And face whatever your destiny turns out to be.”
As if I really had any choice.
The sun had galloped through the sky while we had been talking; it was already evening. Dougald accepted my offer of a place near the campfire and we settled down for the night.
Chapter Three
Touched by Evil
While I was sleeping I experienced something that was not the normal Sight, nor a dream. I felt very cold for a moment and there was - just for a moment - an unpleasant smell. But it passed. It was warm and a young man was walking towards me. He was very good-looking - he looked very much as I imagined Lugh, the sun-god, and he slid into what looked to be an open and welcoming smile. I felt something not quite right - something cold - but he seemed very pleasant. He invited me to sit beside him. I didn’t need to tell him anything - he already knew.
“It gets cold in the north, does it not? It’s rather an imposition to require you to go - who knows where? And for what reason?” I was about to say that Spain was much more pleasant and I wanted to go there but he was nodding already.
“Yes it is. So what is stopping you?” I started to explain about the horses but he was nodding again. He understood. He understood everything.
“That can easily be resolved. There are always horses available. Does your companion have a horse?” He was quite reasonable when he asked but when I shook my head I thought a flicker of anger crossed his face.
“A strange person to be out and about without a horse.” I explained that he was a monk and they walked everywhere. They were determined not to set themselves above anyone. The youth laughed. It had a sharp edge to it.
“A monk! They can be a nuisance, can’t they? All that stuff about riches being a burden, and damnation to anyone who has a bit of fun. Not the most cheerful of companions. What are you doing with him?” I explained that the horses would not go south and so I had settled down and cooked some food. He had arrived just in time to eat.
“Ha! Excellent timing on his part. You might think he had planned it. Was he hiding in the woods, do you think? Watching while you caught your rabbit, gathered wood, made a fire and then cooked it - and then revealed himself, just in time to get the reward without work?”
I shook my head and defended…Do..Du…whatever his name was. That monk. Or I started to but - maybe the youth had a point? He seemed to know a lot about things. He knew that the horses would not take me to Spain. It wasn’t fair, I thought. Why did I have to go to the cold stars and the dark woods of the north? Why couldn’t I go to Spain? It’s not fair!
“No, it isn’t fair. You’ve had a bucketful of the cold north, haven’t you? Isn’t it time for a beakerful of the warm south? You have earned it. You deserve it. What sort of creature would stop you doing what you owe yourself?” Yes - he was right. Who kind of person would stop me?
“Is it just for the warmth you want to go there? For the sun? Is there anything else?” I was about to deny it but he was looking at me with a knowing smile. I had to smile back.
“I thought so. There’s someone special, isn’t there? I can see it in you - in every fibre of you. She must be very special.” I agreed - she was (is) very special. I could see her before me now, as beautiful as the first time. The fall of her hair onto her shoulders. The flow of her dress from her soft, slim shoulders over her full breasts, in at her waist and flaring gently over her hips…
“She is beautiful. How could you ever have left her?” I shook my head. I couldn’t remember why I had left. I could barely think of anything beyond how much I wanted her. The youth leaned towards me.
“She can be yours. She can be yours again. All you have to do to claim her -“
“She can’t,” I said. The youth looked surprised that I had spoke out loud. I remembered. “I can never have her heart. She will never be truly mine.”
“Her heart? What does her heart matter when you can have her body? I will give you her body; I will have her soul. You can truly possess her.” The image of Valeria slipped off her dress and stepped towards me, smiling. I was confused. This was not how we parted. I shook my head and turned towards the youth. His smile was still pleasant but a little less broad. A bit less confident - a little thinner, now.
“What is the point if I can’t have her heart?” The smile resumed. If anything, even more confident.
“You will win her over, in time. While you are waiting you can have whoever else you want. Any number. The women grow on trees down there, don’t they? And they will all be dying to give themselves to a fine, strong, rich warrior.” As he spoke, I realised that there were any number of women, right there, just waiting for me to notice them. I smiled - but then I frowned. There was really only one I cared about.
“Care about? What does that matter? You are above caring - you deserve your reward. Take it! It’s yours! Take all of them!” I shook my head. It seemed to be full of treacle. It was thick and I fo
und it hard to think. Just one word. I could form just one word.
“No.”
“Don’t be a fool - don’t deny yourself.”
“No.”
“You fall straight into their trap. They want you to be miserable.
“No. I won’t do it. She wouldn’t want me to. She would think ill of me.” The young man stood up. He towered over me and his face was contorted with contempt and hatred. He thrust his face into mine. A thin, dark, glistening tongue licked across rows of teeth. Faecal breath. Something was slipping between the teeth. Cleaning? Maggots? They had legs - did they have legs? He licked again.
“You fool. You are well-named. You are indeed Damned, you know. You might as well enjoy life while you can. It is the only one you will have.” He hissed on a steady intake of breath and then seemed to swill something around in his mouth, like a sommelier sampling a wine. He swallowed and then made a sound as if he was clearing his throat. He opened his mouth slightly and hissed again, with a long intake of breath. His face was close to mine once more. The thin, grey, glistening tongue flicked again - slowly, like a whip. The movement between his teeth was more clear; small, bleached white creatures. They definitely had legs. “I let them come up to have a glimpse outside, from time to time. These are the most favoured of my servants. Others…” He pulled back a little and smiled again. “The choice is yours. Eternal darkness or a glimpse of the greater world outside.” I thought that being close to freedom and then to lose it again could be even worse than never seeing it at all. And at what cost? I had noticed the price. Two souls for one. At least two. My mind was less thick than before. I could stand a little straighter. I shook my head again.
“No,” I said. More definitely. He sniffed slowly and stepped back.
“You will regret this with every fibre of your being. Don’t forget what I offered you, what you rejected.” His face was in mine again. The smell was overwhelming. “When you play the Blood Red Game - you will lose. Everything.”
And then he was gone and I was awake. Covered in sweat, coughing, and with a foul taste in my mouth. Dougald was the other side of the fire, watching me with a very measured gaze.
“I think you have come through some kind of crisis. I prayed for you - I didn’t ask first and I hope you don’t mind. But I think you needed it.” I was shaking, now feeling the cold of the night air, through my sweat. My clothes were almost soaked through. I could hardly speak. The monk went to my horses and got a blanket. “I think you should get out of those clothes if you can - do you have any spare? You will catch a severe cold or even a fever if you stay in them.” I told him where he would find a change of clothing and I got into my fresh linen, shirt, breeches and hose. I was soaked to the skin - or from the skin, rather. He wanted to know what had happened but I put him off till the morning. I was exhausted. I rolled up in the blanket and fell into a deep and - thankfully - dreamless sleep that lasted till the morning.
Chapter Four
The Rich Man’s Burden
I slept an hour or so beyond sunrise, which was not like me at all. The monk had found some eggs and was frying them with a few mushrooms folded in.
“I hope you don’t mind - I helped myself to some of your eggs. The mushrooms were just lying around,” he said. I smiled and said there was no problem. I was looking forward to it, if it tasted half as good as it smelled. It did, and we wolfed it down pretty quickly.
“Are you recovered after last night?” he said. I asked him what he meant. “After that dream or whatever it was.” I looked at him, puzzled.
“I slept like a log,” I said. “Nothing disturbed me. Best night’s sleep I have had since I don’t know when.” He looked at me oddly.
“You were woken by a very bad dream that left you covered in sweat.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” I shook my head, and smiled at his foolishness. “It must have been you who was dreaming. I slept the sleep of the just!” I grinned again. He was insistent.
“You didn’t, Ciaran. You woke up in the middle of the night. You woke me. You were muttering and thrashing about.” I felt a surge of annoyance.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I would have remembered something like that. I always remember my dreams.”
“This one had a touch of evil about it. More than a touch. I was worried for your very soul.”
“Well stop worrying,” I snapped. “My soul is none of your interfering business.”
“Ciaran - ”
“What?” I snapped.
“Look at your clothes. You were so drenched with sweat you had to change them.”
I was brought up short. He was right: these were not the clothes I had gone to sleep in. He pointed to my kitbag, which was lying close to where I had slept. It should have been by the horses. I checked inside and there were the clothes from yesterday. Damp. And maybe with a musty, sweaty air. I didn’t say anything. What could I say? We tidied up the camp in pretty much total silence.
“Ciaran -” he said at one point. I shook my head.
“Don’t. No.” I was trying to work out what had happened. I was disturbed by the fact that I had no idea, no recollection of anything. I was reaching into the furthest-flung corners of my mind, trying to bring up the slightest hint of what had happened. And what I had apparently gone through. I could not deny the evidence of my still-wet clothes. All the way to the skin. Or from the skin. This had never happened to me before. As far as I was aware… maybe it had, and I had no recollection of it? What if -
“That way madness lies,” Dougald said.
“What?”
“What if I did, what if I didn’t. What if I can’t remember but what I know is what I remember. What if I don’t know what I remember. And what if what I remember is false. That can drive you mad,” he said. “Forget it.”
“You don’t understand. I rely on my mental powers. My memory. What if I can’t rely on it?”
“This is a single incident, Ciaran. And remember who - or what - is at the bottom of it. The Enemy is not called the Master of Lies for nothing. The Prince of Deceit. He wants you to be confused and to doubt yourself. Don’t.”
I should have been reassured but I wasn’t. I always remembered my dreams and Visions - the more disturbing they were, the more clearly I remembered them. But this time - I had no recollection at all. What if it was the monk who was misleading me? What if he had thrown water on my clothes and -
No, no, no. That didn’t hold water. Whatever else the monk was, he was honest. It shone out of him - it was almost blinding. But maybe he was the one who was confused… I was still disturbed and it didn’t make any sense. I gathered up my things and stowed them in their bags. I was in the process of saddling Sage when Dougald spoke again. He said something about a crimson flood.
“Crimson flood? Where did you get that from?” I said. “It means nothing to me.”
“Maybe I misunderstood. Or misheard,” he replied. “No. That was the Vision, yesterday. I’m sorry.” I adjusted the girth, pulling it tight. Thought about it. Something came out of the depths - it wasn’t associated with anything, it didn’t make the picture more clear or cast any light on what had taken place last night. But an image - or just words, no image - took shape. I stopped, in the very act of pulling myself up onto the horse.
“Blood Red Game,” I said.
“Yes, that was it, I think. I misheard. Thought you said something about flood, or something. But no - or rather, yes. That’s it. Does it mean anything to you?” I shook my head. Not a thing. I had no idea what it meant at all. I hauled myself up into the saddle and thanked Dougald as I took the reins for the pack animal from him. “Where are you going to go? Have you decided?”
“North,” I replied, with a bitter smile. “I don’t think I have any choice, do you?”
“Oh, there is always a choice, as I said yesterday,” he smiled back. “But the one may be less attractive than the other.” I grunted, and asked him where he was going. “South,” he responded, with a
sheepish smile. “That’s where I feel impelled to take my mission. I’m embarrassed, I must confess.”
“Don’t be. The gods are capricious. I’m not surprised that they would rub my nose in it.” He said something about one God alone and how everything was for our own good. I wasn’t in the mood for Theology. South. South was still attractive - very much so - but so many obstacles had been thrown in my way that it would probably work out to be somewhat less than I hoped. I made to urge the horses back along the way we had come - it would be quite a few miles before we would be able to cross the river - but stopped. I considered the bags on Onion’s back and called Dougald. The bag of baubles - the rings, pearls, jewels and torcs - was on his side of the horse and I invited him to take them.
Lockeran (Prince Ciaran the Damned Book 2) Page 3
