Celandine (36 page)

It was Corben, again. How long had he been standing there?

‘Una.’ His voice was soft. ‘To your rest, I say. No daughter could do more.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But he improves, I know it.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘He improves, and he will be well again. But Corben – if my father should waken, let him take no water to drink. The pools here be fouled – I see it now, and know ’tis so. We must collect from the lands below, not from these woods.’

‘The water? Have this been the cause of our ailing? Such a wise chi’ ye be. Aye then – I shall see it done. Now rest.’

Una awoke in fright as the chilly light of dawn crept through the branches of her shelter. She had entered into another life during her sleep – a dreaming – and was startled to find herself back again. The sounds and images of that other world still danced around her. Her wings still ached.

Across the universe she had been flying, a moth amongst many moths. She had led them all, beating through the velvety darkness towards a far-off light. They travelled beneath a fiery orb, a jasper moon, that both sheltered them and guided them onward. Her father’s voice echoed about her: ‘
Briefly parted, soon united
.’ She could not see him anywhere, but she heard him clearly. ‘
All are one, Una, all are one. And on
and
on we live. I am gone, but shall return, though many and many a fourseason pass. And you shall not age, Una, as others age, though aged you will seem. Briefly parted, soon united
.’

The echoes of the turning seasons fell upon her ear again and again, the sounds of summer birdsong and winter storms circling her in the darkness of her dreaming. Onward she flew among the other moths, exhausted beneath the looming orb, yet the light ahead drew no closer. A Gorji maid she saw, and then another, sleeping giants that drifted among the cloud of moths for a while. Una saw their faces – and knew that she would always remember them – but soon they were left behind. Who they were she could not tell, nor what part they might play in this endless journey. She felt that they were somehow important to her.

At last it seemed that she and all her kind must fall into the black depths for ever, their strength gone. And then a flying horse appeared – rounding the curve of the great red orb on silvery wings. ‘
Briefly parted, soon united
.’

It was the shock of this that brought her back – the familiar voice, and the fear that came over her as she understood its meaning. She awoke and knew that she was now alone in this world.

Dazed and fearful, she stumbled from her shelter. The early morning light filtered down through the trees, and she drew her shoulder-wrap close about her as she hurried to the spot where her father lay. She must see him.

Too late. Even as she arrived she met Corben,
stooping
beneath the woven arch of hazel branches to emerge from the shelter. Una halted in her tracks and stared at him. He appeared surprised to see her – irritated but his expression quickly changed to one of sorrow. In his hands he carried the Touchstone, cradling it to him as though it were the head of a child.

‘Una. I was coming to seek for thee. Here is a black morn indeed – and I am saddened to see it. All our care has been in vain – the King . . .’

‘No!’ Her voice was cracked and not in her control. ‘No . . .’

‘Aye, though it pain us all. He is gone.’

‘But he
improved
 . . .’

‘Yet not enough. He is gone, Una. The fever has taken him in the night. And now ye must take this.’ He held out the Touchstone, offering it to her, the hand steady but not fully outstretched – as though it might be snatched back at any moment.

‘Come to me, Una. Ye be Queen now, and the Stone belongs in your care. Take it, child, and then kneel with it before your poor father. We shall look upon him together.’

There was something dangerous in Corben’s expression, some deadly purpose in the grim set of the mouth, the hint of a sneer about the cruelly hooked nose, and Una backed away. She looked up into Corben’s narrowed eyes and felt a creeping horror of what she saw there. If she entered that shelter she knew that she would never emerge alive. Those powerful hands, reaching out towards her, meant her
nothing
but harm. They had killed once – she was certain of it now – and they would kill again.

Una glanced behind her, quickly judging her best path, then ducked back into the undergrowth.

At the edge of a high woodland ravine Una sat and stared down at the rocky pools far below. From here the tribe had collected their water, and from here they had brought the Gorji sickness upon themselves. Too late she had understood. But for her slowness of thought they might all be safe, and her father still strong and well. Now her father was dead, murdered by his own brother, and her own life under threat. How long had Corben waited for his opportunity? Had he planned this from the very start of their journey – that he would wait until the end was in sight before seizing his moment? Or had her father’s illness given him a chance that had been unlooked for?

How little she had seen of what was happening about her. For all she knew, the whole tribe might have plotted in this – Peck and Rafe, Corben’s archers, the King’s Guard . . .

She could trust nobody, could go to nobody for help, until she learned more. In the meantime she must remain hidden, watching and listening to all that she could. She must stay close to the tribe, yet become invisible. And she must somehow get back the Touchstone . . .

The faintest rustle of leaves broke the eerie silence about her, as of a whispered breeze through the low foliage of the hawthorn bushes. And yet the air was
still.
Una slowly turned her head. Maven-the-Green was standing beside her.

Corben held his brow in deep sorrow as the Ickri elders took their turn to look upon the dead body of Avlon.

‘A dark day for our tribe,’ he said, ‘and one I hoped never to see. I thought that he improved. The child bade me give him water – but then he fell worse in the night and was gone.’

‘Where is she now – Una? She should be here, to claim the Stone.’

‘She ran into the woods at the news, and has not been seen. I held the Stone out to her, but she would not take it. If any should find Una, then they must bring her to me – to gain what is rightfully hers. Until she returns, the Stone shall be safe in my charge. Tonight I shall lay beside my brother, and tomorrow we shall carry the Stone forth to seek for the child.’

But when the morning came, the Touchstone had gone.

Stolen in the night! The word quickly spread. Corben had awoken to find the jasper globe no longer at his side. Had the child crept into the shelter and taken it? Why would she do such a thing when it was rightfully hers? And why did she not show herself? The scouts and the Guard were dispatched into the surrounding woods to find Una.

Corben spoke to his own archers. ‘She’ll not be far away – though I doubt the Guard’ll catch her. Too slippery she be, for their like. Come the night, ’twill be our turn.’

‘Why’ve she run, though?’ said Berin. ‘She be Queen, now.’

‘She runs from me,’ said Corben. ‘And if the Guard cannot find her by nightfall, then I shall tell why.’

As evening began to descend, the archers of the Guard returned. There was still no sign of Una, and the Elders’ talk became more agitated. Where could the child be, and why had she run away? Without her, and the Stone, they were surely lost. The King was dead, many of the tribe were ailing, and their destination was still unknown. Who else but Una had the power to guide them from this place? They might all die before an answer could be found.

Corben had taken up a humble position, sitting among his own archers, and patiently listening to the Elders’ talk. Eventually, with the reluctant air of one who must speak out even though it pain him to do so, he rose to his feet.

‘My friends. I fear that I have been foolish. I thought to protect my brother’s child until she were found and able to give account of herself, but now I see that truth must be told before more harm comes to us. Yesternight, when I held the Stone in my hands, it spoke to me. Aye, it spoke to me, and it told me much. I know now what ails our tribe, and brings us sickness – ’tis the water in this place. And I believe Una knew this also.’

‘The
water
?’

‘Aye, the pools that we take from be fouled by the Gorji. They bring this plague upon us.’

‘And ye think Una
knew
of this? Why would she not have told us?’

Corben looked uncomfortable. ‘My brother lies dead – poisoned by the water from the pools. And who is now become Queen because of his death?’

‘You say Una would have seen her father
die
that she might become Queen? This could never be!’

The Elders were horrified, and the surrounding archers of the Guard muttered threateningly. Even Corben’s own archers looked shocked.

Corben’s voice was low and regretful, yet persistent.

‘Believe my words. When Una went to her rest she bade me give Avlon water to drink, as she had done, and as much as he might take. ’Tis often said that the chi’ has the Touch, and so I did as she asked. I saw my brother grow ever weaker, and I feared for his life, yet I kept faith in his daughter and let him drink as he would. And so at last he died, in my arms, and at my hand. Aye, at
my
hand – though another guided it. From moon-wane to sun-wax I sat with him, and wept for him. Then I lifted the Touchstone, thinking to rightfully place it at his side. ’Twas then I first felt its power, and so held it awhile in great wonder. I saw many visions, my friends, and much became clear to me. I learned that our journey’s end is hard by – aye, we may see it from these very woods – ’tis but a step beyond here to where the Naiad now dwell. This the Stone told me, and Una surely knows it too, she with her witchi ways, yet she has said nothing. I learned that all our sickness be from the water we
drink.
This also Una must know, and yet she has said nothing.’

‘And the Stone told thee all this?’ Haima glanced at his fellow Elders.

‘Aye.’ Corben’s voice grew defiant. ‘The Stone spoke to me, as it will speak to any who have the right to bear it, and are able to listen. ’Tis not only Una that has the gift of seeing what will be. I too have such powers, though I make less play of it. When the child returned and saw that I held the Stone, and saw that at last I understood her wiles, she feared my anger – and the anger of all here. And this be the reason she ran away. Now she has stolen the Touchstone for herself and hides from us yet.’

Corben sighed, and bowed his head amid the shocked silence. ‘Una be nought but a chi’. We must mind this in our judgement of her, and be not too harsh. Her head be weak and fey, and her senses were turned by the Stone – and her wish to be Queen. Aye, the Touchstone has more power than we had thought, and Avlon should never have trusted it to her. ’Twere not for a child to hold, but for a king.’

By degrees, and with much apparent regret, Corben persuaded the gathered company that Una had betrayed the faith that had been put in her. She had been swept away by her own childish ambitions. She had come to believe that the Touchstone was hers by right – and this had led her to use her gifts to do a great wrong. Avlon had been foolish to place in the hands of a maid that which was meant for a king alone. He had paid a terrible price for his
doting,
and had left the Ickri weakened and leaderless.

The furious Elders demanded that Una be found at all costs, and brought to swift justice, but Corben raised a plea for calm.

‘Give me the task of seeking for her. She be yet my kin, and I would see no harm done to her – nor see her driven into deeper hiding. If we lose her, we may also lose the Stone. Let us see what soft words and a gentle hand may do.’

‘Do as thee will, then,’ said Haima. ‘But be wary. If what thee say is true, then the child is evil. She has learned too much from Mad Maven, aye, and I have always advised Avlon of this. Yet he would not listen – and now see how soft words and a gentle hand have served him.’

Corben later summoned his own archers to the king’s shelter, and spoke to them privately.

‘So then,’ he said. ‘Here my brother lies, dead, and it is now our task to seek the one who has murdered him. What should we do with a child who would slay her own father so that she might bear the Stone?’

‘Cast her from the tribe,’ said Dunch, and spat on the ground. ‘She’m not fit to be Queen.’

‘Yet she is Queen,’ said Corben. ‘And none may cast her out. Perhaps she should be sent to her father, for him to judge . . .’ He watched the archers’ faces, as they slowly caught his meaning. ‘Perhaps she should be joined with him.’

‘If she were gone to where her father be, then she’d be dead also,’ said Dunch. ‘And thee’d become King, Corben. We sees that plain enough. But to slay her? A queen?’ Dunch shook his head. ‘This be no small task . . .’

‘She murdered her
father
,’ Corben’s voice was angry now. ‘My brother. Your king. Does she not deserve the same?’ Corben leaned across and grasped Dunch by the forearm. ‘A strong hand is needed now,’ he said, ‘with other hands as strong about. If I were become King, then thee, Dunch, would be King’s Guard – and thee Tuz, and thee Berin – all of ’ee here. No more would ye carry the bindle-wraps, and walk with the ruck o’ the tribe. Thee’d walk with me – the chosen ones. And when the Stone was restored, then those who were my Guard would share in its power, for I would raise thee high. Together we would stand at the gates of Elysse, returned to our own. This my brother saw in all his visions, and I believe it also – the Stone and Orbis together have the power to take us back to Elysse.’

‘This Orbis have yet to be found, Corben. And now the Stone be lost to us also.’

‘Do thee not reckon theeselves to be hunters? Both are but a step from here, Dunch. But a step. Only bring me the Stone, and I shall lead us to the Orbis.’

‘And Una?’

‘Her father calls her. Send the little witchi to him and see his cruel death paid for.’

The archers were persuaded. They strung their bows and prepared to search the darkening woods.