The Forbidden Land (16 page)

Arvin spat contemptuously. ‘Ye canna serve both God and Mammon,’ he answered.

There was a stirring and a muttering. Then the outspoken sailor cried, ‘But this be mutiny against the crown, sir! We canna be allowing ye to take the MacCuinn’s ship and give it to his enemies!’ He drew his cutlass with an oath and leapt for the first mate.

There was a deafening bang and a black cloud of evil-smelling smoke belched across the aftercastle. Finn cried out and shrank back against Dide who was standing stiffly, watching and listening intently. When the smoke cleared they could see the sailor had fallen back onto the deck, his cutlass dropped from his hand, blood staining his shirt. His comrades knelt around him, trying to staunch the flow of blood, one cradling his head. Arvin had staggered back against his companions with the shock of the recoil, but almost immediately recovered his balance, and was calmly reloading.

‘There be no need for all this excitement,’ he said when the task was done and the pistol was once more pointing at the group of dismayed sailors. ‘We do no’ want the ship, nor do we wish to turn ye landlubbers over to the General Assembly. We just need to get to Bride. I can promise ye that ye can have the ship back once our task is done. Ye can all set sail for the safety o’ the Berhtfane just as fast as ye please. We’ll even let ye keep the Yedda to keep your journey home safe, if ye keep your hand to the wheel now.’

The sailors all looked at each other and muttered among themselves. The injured seaman moaned and clutched at his shattered shoulder with one hand.

‘Ye all have two choices,’ Arvin said. ‘Ye can accept the captain’s decision to change course and work to keep us all safe on this journey, or ye can take your chances in the long boat and row for shore. I’ll warn ye though that the lookout has seen a sea serpent in the distance that could mean a pod o’ Fairgean swim this way.’

The sailors were white and frightened. ‘We should never have left the safety o’ the fleet!’ one burst out. ‘We do no’ have the firepower to defend ourselves against a sea serpent!’

‘Especially no’ if ye are afloat in the wee long boat,’ Arvin said with a slight lifting of his lip that could have been mistaken for a smile under different circumstances. There was a long pause and then the first mate lifted the pistol slightly. ‘Happen I should warn ye that all the firearms on board ship are being kept in the captain’s cabin for safety. I ken none o’ ye will be stupid enough to try and stage a mutiny o’ your own. If ye decide to throw your lot in with us, then ye may keep your own knives in case we should be attacked by pirates or by the Fairgean. It is your decision though. What canna be cured must be endured.’

Dide had prised Finn’s fingers from his sleeve and had unobtrusively joined the group of sailors confronting the first mate. Cowering back against the bulwark Finn saw him whispering to the sailors and wondered what he said. The muttering went on for some time, with many evil glances at Arvin, who regarded them unwaveringly. At last there was a begrudging agreement among the seamen to take their chances at the journey to Bride. They all knew they would have little chance of survival if put afloat in the long boat.

Arvin nodded, thrusting his pistol into his wide leather belt. ‘Glad to have ye on board, lads,’ he said with another lift of his granite-hard lip. ‘Now, let us hoist full sail, laddies, and put as much water between the
Speedwell
and that sea serpent as we can!’

The sailors ran to obey. Finn took a deep breath, the first she had taken in what seemed like ages. It seemed the crisis had passed, at least for the moment.

She swung up into the rigging, determined to check the truth of the sea serpent sighting herself. Up the mainmast she climbed, past the yardarm and through the rigging, past the main topcastle halfway up, heading higher still. Refusing to look down at the deck that tilted so far below, she let her body sway with the mast until she swung her leg over the side of the topmast topcastle, a tiny wooden nest at the very apex of the topgallant mast.

There she clung, looking about her, her hand shading her eyes. For as far as she could see the sea rippled away like crumpled blue satin. All about tall crags of rock thrust up through the water, some steep and bare, others round and green with high cliffs falling down to wicked-looking rocks where the water creamed.

Far below her, the deck of the ship swung to and fro as the mast swayed. The white sails billowed, filled with wind. Here and there a bare-chested man hung in the shrouds, tightening tackle or repairing rope. She was so high the blue line of the horizon seemed to curve.

‘Wha’ do ye think ye’re doing, ye gowk!’ The lookout turned with a shout of surprise. He was a skinny boy, not much older than Finn herself, and considerably smaller. He wore a large tricorne hat to shade his face from the sun and carried a spyglass which he had been holding to one eye as Finn climbed into his little crow’s nest. He had lowered it at her sudden appearance and was glaring at her angrily. Despite the protection of the broad-brimmed hat, his face was burnt red from the sun, and his freckled nose was peeling.

‘I wanted to have a look,’ Finn replied, grinning at him.

‘There be no’ enough room in here for a donbeag, let alone a great tall lad like ye!’ he protested. ‘Do ye no’ understand it be dangerous up here? They shouldna be allowing a raw recruit like ye to just climb on up.’

‘I dinna exactly ask permission,’ she answered. ‘Please, canna ye just let me have a squint through that spyglass o’ yours? Then I promise I’ll slide on down and leave ye in peace.’

After a moment’s hesitation he let her have it, only warning her not to drop it, ‘else the captain’ll have ye keel-hauled, that I promise ye!’

Eagerly she lifted the farseeing glass to her eyes and peered through it. At first all she could see was blueness, but she lifted the spyglass and swung it until suddenly the steep cliff of an island sprang towards her, bare and rocky. The lookout showed her how to focus the spyglass and she was amazed to see a bird crouching on a shaggy nest of twigs on the side of the cliff. As she watched two white fluffy heads with gaping beaks suddenly thrust out from their mother’s feathers, squawking for food.

She watched for some time, smiling, then swung the glass around slowly, amazed at how clearly she could see things many miles away. At last the lookout said gruffly, ‘Give me it back, porridge-head. It is no’ a plaything. I’m meant to be on the watch for sea demons and the captain will have my hide for a floor mat if I miss their approach.’

‘They said ye’d seen a sea serpent. Couldna ye just show me that? Then I’ll go, I swear.’

‘Och, I suppose so,’ he answered unwillingly and took the spyglass from her and focused it on the curving blue line of the horizon. ‘There it be,’ he cried in excitement. ‘Quick, look—do no’ move the glass, for Eà’s sake!’

Finn peered through the spyglass again and sucked in her breath in amazement. A great sinuous creature was undulating through the waves, its glossy spotted scales shining in the sun. A vivid green in colour, it had a small graceful head crowned with spiny fins that ran down its curving neck. Spectacular flowing fins surrounded its gaping jaws and sprouted from its shoulders like wings. It swam with its head held high out of the waves, its immensely long body coiling behind, its finned tail creating a powerful wake.

She ran the spyglass along its serpentine length, marvelling at the speed with which it coiled through the water. Suddenly she froze, the spyglass trained just above its soft orange and yellow wings. On the monster’s neck rode a man. All she could see of him was a bare chest, wet flowing black hair and a raised trident, but it was enough to cause her heart to slam sickeningly, her stomach to lurch.

‘A Fairge be riding it!’ she gasped.

The lookout seized the spyglass from her and raised it to his eye. He stared through it frowningly, then said begrudgingly, ‘Aye, ye be right. Ye have guid eyes. Happen ye’d better scoot and tell the captain.’

Finn slid down the ropes, landed with a thump in the main topcastle, and began the long descent down to the deck with quick and easy agility. Men sat crosslegged on the wooden boards with canvas draped over their knees, repairing a long rent in the mizzen sail. She swung down onto the deck and looked about her for someone in authority to tell. She might still be a landlubber but she knew better than to try and see the captain herself.

The fourth mate was standing by the helmsman, watching the horizon for any telltale break of water that might indicate a reef ahead. Finn told him about the Fairge she had seen and saw his sunburnt face crease with concern. He cast a quick glance up at the full-bellied sails, nodded and thanked her brusquely.

With the little elven cat riding in the crook of her arm, Finn went in search of Dide. Their watch had finished and so he was not on duty any more. She found him up in the forecastle with his grandmother, Jay and Dillon playing trictrac at their feet.

Enit’s chair had been wedged right up in the bow of the ship, so that she looked rather like another figurehead with her wood-brown face all carved with deep lines of age and her twig-like knotted fingers so stiff she could barely hold a spoon any more. Seabirds floated around her head and perched on the bulwark before her, some sitting along the back and arms of her chair so that she was surrounded by their white feathers like a living cloak. The sound of the birds’ quarrelling was deafening and Finn felt no hesitation in telling the others what she had seen, sure that none could overhead their conversation.

‘Will we be able to outrun the Fairgean?’ Dillon asked soberly, smoothing Jed’s silky black ears between his fingers. The hound looked up at him with adoring eyes, his shaggy white tail beating the wooden boards.

Dide was frowning. ‘No’ here amongst the islands,’ he answered. ‘I be surprised already how many sails we are carrying. It be dangerous indeed to whip the ship along at this rate in such treacherous waters.’

Jay and Enit were looking very troubled indeed. ‘Can we no’ sail out to deeper waters and leave the Bay o’ Deception behind?’ the fiddler asked.

Dide nodded. ‘That is the plan soon enough. The problem is once we lose sight o’ the coastline we canna use landmarks to help us navigate and must rely on the stars and the sea, a chancy business at best. The other thing is, we have a better chance o’ staying hidden among the islands, since once we’re on the open sea our mast and sails can be seen for many miles.’

‘Still, if the Fairgean have spotted us, happen we’d best change course now and head for the open sea where we have some chance o’ outrunning them,’ Enit said. Her voice was heavy with dread.

‘Happen ye be right,’ Dide answered, caressing the hilt of one of his silver daggers.

‘The first mate told the sailors no’ to fear the Fairgean, that the Yedda would sing them to death,’ Finn said. ‘Did he mean ye, Enit?’

Enit nodded, though her face was pinched and white. ‘Aye, he meant me,’ she answered. ‘Wha’ do ye think I do here, an auld crippled woman like me, Finn? I am no use in fighting off pirates, like young Dillon here, or climbing into the Black Tower like ye. Do ye think the captain would ever have let me on board his ship, given how he feels about women being bad luck, if he had no’ thought I’d be some use?’ Her voice was bitter.

‘I did no’ ken ye were a Yedda.’ There was awe in Finn’s voice. Although the sea-singers of Carraig had all died in Maya’s witch-hunts long before Finn was born, she knew all about them, as any child who listened to the old tales and songs must know. The Carraigean witches had been the main line of defence against the Fairgean for centuries, for they had the power to sing the sea-faeries to death. Before they had been massacred by Maya and her seekers, no ship had ever left harbour without a Yedda on board, no seaside town or castle had been without its sea-witch, no prionnsa’s retinue had been complete without a musician trained at the Tower of Sea-Singers.

‘I am no Yedda,’ Enit replied wearily, ‘though I have been taught the songs o’ sorcery. They would have had me, if I had been willing to submit myself to the Coven. I was never interested in being a witch, though, and I feared the power o’ the songs o’ sorcery. I still do.’

‘Yet ye’ve been teaching them to Jay,’ Finn said, staring at him with new eyes. Sudden realisation brought her gaze flying back to Enit. ‘And to Ashlin!’

‘Aye, both the lads have talent,’ Enit said. ‘I could no’ refuse to teach them what I ken, although my heart misgives me.’

‘But why?’ Finn asked. ‘Toasted toads, what I would no’ give to be able to sing or play like ye do! I have seen ye bring tears to the eyes o’ the roughest soldiers and why, Dide can even make Arvin the Just smile with his songs, and he be the dourest man I’ve ever seen.’

‘Aye, music has the power to move,’ Dide replied when his mother did not, her sombre black eyes gazing out to the tumult of waves ahead. ‘But like all power, it can be misused and misunderstood. The songs o’ sorcery are specifically designed to compel and constrain.’ She heard the stress of subtle power in his voice, the lilt of enchantment. ‘With the songs’ o’ sorcery ye can seduce and bring to love, ye can incite war and revolution, ye can stupefy and confuse, ye can kill. No matter how much ye wish to use your powers only for good, always ye may find ye have moved a man in ways he would no’ wish for or look for. We all must choose our own path.’

‘But surely all art is designed to move people, to make them think and feel things they have never felt and thought afore,’ Jay argued. It was clear this was a discussion they had had many times before, for Dide gave a little grin in response. ‘Did Gwenevyre NicSeinn no’ say that if ye can just stretch a man’s mind in a new direction, it shall never return to its old dimensions? Surely that is a good thing, to make people’s minds and souls greater than afore?’

‘Aye, that it is,’ Dide responded warmly. ‘Why else do we sing and play and tell tales o’ valour and gallantry and compassion, if we do no’ want to move our listeners to high ideals and aspirations? It is just that granddam has seen the evil that can be done with such power …’