The Circle of Stone (Darkest Age) (22 page)

The old man clapped Fardi on the shoulder. Edmund guessed he was praising the carter’s loyalty and bewailing the untrustworthiness of the runaways. Edmund did not even pretend to follow what was said. Fardi had said that some of the men stole boats – might they be in Sussex by now, attacking his home? He had a sudden urge to jump from his seat; to use his father’s name and money to get them a boat at once. But how could they rush home when he had promised to wait for Elspeth?

There was no opportunity to talk to Cathbar or Eolande while they were under the fisherman’s roof, and Edmund felt he was on fire until they could leave the next day. Eolande seemed to share his urgency. At first light, she thanked the old couple for their kindness. ‘We must not add to your burden,’ she said, ushering Cathbar and Edmund to the door.

Once outside, she led them towards the seafront. Edmund saw Fardi looking up from his wood-chopping to watch them go. Eolande took them past the harbour, along a deserted stretch of sand where no boats were tied. When the last hut was out of sight she turned to them. ‘Edmund,’ she said, ‘I want you to use your sight now. Make sure that nothing overhears us – not so much as a bird or a beetle.’

Edmund was so startled by her tone of authority that he obeyed without protest. When he had checked in all directions and nodded, Eolande went on.

‘Cluaran told me to wait only three days for him and Elspeth to join us – three days from the time we left them. If they’re not here today, we must take ship tomorrow.’

‘But how could they possibly catch us up in that time?’ Edmund cried, outraged.

‘They don’t follow us on foot,’ she said. ‘If we are not here when Cluaran arrives, we have agreed to meet in Wessex.’

‘Where in Wessex?’ Cathbar asked, but the Fay woman shook her head.

‘It’s best not to name it. We think that the Chained One can tell wherever Elspeth is when she’s in the world of men. He’ll attack her as soon as he can. This is where we mean to draw his attack: to a place where his power will be weakened. He must not know where we’re going until we are there.’

She turned and began striding back towards the harbour.

‘You coming, lad?’ Cathbar said to Edmund. ‘It goes against
my nature to be led blindly, but if you think what the creature might do to stop us if he knew where we were going...’

Edmund thought of the sea journey that lay ahead. Loki had nearly drowned him once; would he try again? But this was his best – his only – hope of seeing Elspeth and his home again. He nodded and followed Cathbar down the beach.

They found Fardi waiting for them at the harbour with Eolande. He called to Cathbar as they approached. ‘My master has a smaller boat that could make the voyage with only six oarsmen, and three of his crew are still here and in need of work. If you and the boy would be willing to take an oar, he says he’ll hire you boat and men for a good rate.’

‘It’s a generous offer,’ Cathbar said. ‘But that’s only five rowers.’

The carter spoke stiffly. ‘I’ve served my master without pay for half a year now, and gladly. When he saved me from drowning, I swore I’d never go to sea again. But the truth is, he never wanted me as a bondsman. He says he’ll release me if I wish to go. And I can handle an oar.’

Cathbar looked astonished. ‘You’ll go back to sea? We’d be grateful to you, of course – but man, we’re strangers to you!’

‘He’ll likely have no work for me anyway, until all this trouble blows over,’ the carter said. ‘But the truth is, it’s this boy here.’ He gestured at Edmund, who looked at him in bewilderment. ‘Maybe he reminds me of someone . . . I’ve a wish to see him safely home, that’s all.’ When Cathbar did not answer
at once his strained expression turned to a scowl. ‘If you don’t trust my seamanship...’

‘No!’ the captain said hastily. ‘We’ll be honoured to have your help, Master Fardi.’

‘It’s settled, then,’ Fardi said. ‘I’ll fetch the men, and my master will show you the boat. When do you want to leave?’

‘At dawn,’ said Eolande.

Beneath
Eigg Loki
, the fire dragon writhed.

Smoke hung about the mountain and cloaked the ground for leagues around it, and still the fires poured forth. The dragon roared flame; spat rage and frustration, and yet his prison would not be consumed.

But something was changing, out there in the world beyond the coils of smoke. The fiery point that was his master was always there, darting at the edge of the dragon’s awareness. Now there was a pull – a voice that tugged him towards that distant point – and for the first time since he had awakened the dragon felt the sense of freedom just above him, limitless space, waiting for the flames to burst out and fill it.

The rock was still there over his head, hateful and solid. But there would be a time when the rock would melt. The dragon would fly upwards; he would take the air to himself, and fill the world with his fire.

Not yet
, the voice whispered.
But soon
.

Elspeth stared at her right hand, disappointment weighing in her stomach like a stone. The crystal sword had not reappeared since that first explosion of light, and Ioneth had not spoken again, for all their calling.

‘We’ve stayed too long already,’ Cluaran said. ‘Our companions will be on their way to Wessex, and we must meet them.’ He stood up. ‘We’ll visit Ainé before we leave,’ he told Elspeth. ‘She’s one of the three who left the Fay to join the fight against Loki when he last freed himself. She knows what it is we face: she may have some help for us.’

He embraced Roslyn as they parted, and to Elspeth’s surprise the Fay woman kissed her as well.

‘Greet my sister Eolande for me, child,’ she told her. ‘Tell her I long to see her again.’

‘I will,’ Elspeth promised. ‘And thank you for healing me.’ Her hands no longer hurt, though since the momentary return of the sword her right hand had been filled with a strange prickling.

Cluaran took her back into the trees, where the green foliage of summer was mixed with silvers, yellows and reds. The trees seemed to stretch around them for leagues in all directions, but only a few hundred paces later they emerged into fields again, with rolling hills in the distance. At the foot of one of the hills a small lake reflected the blue of the sky. A group of young men and women were swimming in it and lazing on its banks; the first people Elspeth had seen here, aside from Roslyn. She thought they might greet Cluaran, but they paid him no attention, and he hurried Elspeth past them.

‘Don’t draw attention to yourself,’ he said in a low voice. Elspeth shot a nervous look behind her, but the bathers were already a long way behind, well out of earshot. The hills were suddenly behind them, too: like the woodland, they had appeared much wider while she was passing them.
Everything here is smaller than it seems. I wonder how far we’ve really come?

She thought it must be half a day at least since she had awakened, but there was no day or night here; no sun or shadow; nothing but the steady, golden light of a perpetual dawn or early evening. Only the smallest white clouds drifted over the sky; only the mildest breeze ruffled the surface of the pools and lakes they passed.

‘It’s so beautiful here,’ Elspeth said. More green hills were unfolding around them now, dotted with purple and white flowers. She wondered how Cluaran could bear to leave it behind.

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘But we have no seas, Elspeth; no snowlands or deserts. . . and no journeying.’

Ahead of them the grass stretched out in a rippling plain that seemed limitless, but suddenly figures appeared on the distant horizon and moved towards them, far too quickly.

It was a group of young men, talking and laughing. Cluaran pulled Elspeth closer to his side. ‘Keep your eyes down,’ he murmured.

The men had seen them, and one of them raised a hand in a half-greeting. His gaze fell on Elspeth and he let his hand fall back. One of his companions spoke to him in a low voice, his face twisted in distaste. Then all four turned to walk in a different direction, shooting glances of hostility at Cluaran as they went.

Elspeth glared at their retreating backs. ‘What had we done to them?’ she demanded.

Cluaran laid a finger to his lips. ‘Outsiders are forbidden here,’ he said. ‘Unless they’re brought as infants, as my father was – and even then, many do not tolerate them. You’ll meet the same reception, and worse, in the place where I’m taking you. They won’t offer you violence – most would not lay hands on you – but many will be angry. Do not look them in the eye, don’t speak unless someone speaks to you first, and return courtesy even to rudeness. Do you understand?’

Elspeth had transferred her glare to Cluaran, but the seriousness in his face quietened her, and she nodded.

Something else had appeared on the horizon now. Elspeth thought of ships’ masts until she saw that they were buildings:
slim towers, some straight and others at strange angles. As they approached she saw that they were made of pale wood, gold- or silver-coloured, with generous shutterless windows which must let the wind in cruelly at night. Someone was sitting in a window at the very top of a tower, his legs dangling down; he did not look their way, but gazed out through the other towers. Elspeth could hear the sound of water splashing, and somewhere far off, someone singing.

There was no palisade around the settlement: they could simply walk in, over the springy turf that stretched to the very doors of the houses. Elspeth looked through an arched doorway to see a sleeping-pallet and a slender-legged table holding a cup.

‘Don’t stare!’ Cluaran snapped, dragging her forward.

But Elspeth still gazed about her: she could not help it. They passed houses with brilliantly coloured flowers and leaves growing from the walls, or festooned with vines. Others were covered with carvings of swirling lines, or images of beasts, birds and human faces. There were no people about, though: even the man she had seen at the top of the tower had vanished, and the singing had fallen silent. Cluaran was almost running now, his hand gripping her arm.

‘Remember what I said!’ he hissed at her, as they rounded a house grown about with glossy green bushes and came on to a wide grassy space.

It looked like a town square. The tall houses surrounded it, and in the centre was a fountain ringed with smooth
white stones. And there were people here: half a dozen men and women standing in front of the fountain and glaring at them.

Cluaran had stopped dead and placed himself in front of Elspeth. An angry buzz came from the Fay and one of them, a tall, dark-skinned man, stepped forward and addressed Cluaran.

The language of the Fay sounded harsher in his mouth than it had in Roslyn’s. Elspeth could not understand a word he said, but the anger in his face and his sweeping hand gestures made it clear that he wanted them to be gone. As his voice rose, more Fay came into the clearing by twos and threes, until there was a crowd around them, all facing Cluaran, their faces set in various expressions of anger and disgust. None of them looked at her, Elspeth realised; there were just a few furtive glances, quickly withdrawn.

The speaker paused for breath and Cluaran spoke, his voice soothing. He gestured towards Elspeth and towards a point behind the crowd, and held up his hand, palm out.

The tall man strode forward and grabbed Cluaran by both shoulders, shouting into his face. The minstrel stared back at him calmly, and the man’s voice became a roar. His hands moved to grip Cluaran by the throat.

Elspeth gave a small cry, but before she could move Cluaran threw his arm out to block her. He was on tiptoe now, pulled upwards by his assailant’s grip. His face was turning red, but
he made no move to defend himself. The crowd was yelling almost as loudly as their leader.

There was a flash of white light, and then silence. The tall man’s grip slackened and Cluaran crumpled to the ground, gasping and clutching his throat.

The crowd parted and a woman walked through. She wore a long cloak with a hood, and was shorter than most of the people there, even shorter than Cluaran. She came over to the minstrel and raised him to his feet. She made a small sound of concern as she looked at his face. Then she pushed back her hood, and Elspeth saw with a shock that she was old: grey-haired and wrinkled, with deeply sunken eyes. No one she had seen in this land had been anything other than young and beautiful.

The crowd had begun to melt away. The woman turned to the man who had attacked Cluaran and snapped a few words at him which made him duck his head and stalk off without a word. She called after him, something that Elspeth took to be a warning. Then she turned back to Cluaran.

‘Well, Ainé,’ the minstrel croaked as she shook her head at him, ‘you took your time. Another moment and I would have had to fight.’

‘I came as soon as I heard the racket,’ the woman said. ‘You must allow an old woman to move slowly.’

Cluaran snorted. ‘You don’t need to be old, Ainé!’

‘No,’ she agreed levelly, ‘I don’t. I choose to show my years.’
She turned to Elspeth. ‘So this is the girl. You’re welcome here, child – by me, if by no one else.’

She took them to a house on the edge of the settlement, a lower and simpler building than the others. She sat them on stools in a corner, out of view from the outside, and offered them oatcake and berries.

‘Take your fill,’ she said when Elspeth hesitated. ‘I know there are some who claim that our food harms outsiders, or gives them uncanny powers, but I’ve never known either to be true. Eat: you’ll need all your strength in the days to come.’

Elspeth realised she was ravenous. As she filled her mouth with the sharp-tasting berries, the old woman looked at her appraisingly.

‘It was not wise, bringing her to the town,’ she said to Cluaran. ‘I could have met you at the gateway. But it’s true that time is short. The Chained One gathers strength as he draws men’s belief to him.’ She looked searchingly at Elspeth. ‘You’ve been hurt, child; I fear you’re not yet at your full strength. Do you feel ready to meet him?’

‘No,’ Elspeth admitted.

She heard an exclamation from Cluaran, immediately bitten off.