The Forbidden Land (19 page)

Still the wind roared about the ship as the sailors fought to bring her upright again. Bran tied another knot, chanting:

With a groan, the ship slowly regained an even keel as the sailors managed to shift the ballast in her hull. The wind still screamed in her ropes, however, and the rain lashed their faces with slivers of ice. ‘It’s no’ working,’ Finn whispered.

Bran tied a third knot in her sash, chanting loudly:

She then lifted the knotted sash to the turbulent heavens, shouting:

They all stared out into the storm. The waves still rose high on either side, turbulent and white with foam. The wind roared in the rigging.

Bran’s face was screwed up with tears of disappointment. ‘I told ye, I canna do it!’ she cried.

‘I do no’ think it rains so hard,’ Jay said after a moment.

‘I canna hear any thunder,’ Dide said. ‘And look! The ship does no’ roll as far.’

Bran pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. ‘Really?’

Slowly the waves gentled and the wind dropped till the ropes no longer screamed with the strain. Slowly the mad headlong pace of the storm-driven ship slowed. The helmsman was able once more to control the wheel, bringing the ship back under control. Although the sea all about was still wild and white, waves no longer sought to drag the little ship down. Gradually the storm blew over, and they could see stars above the ragged clouds.

‘I kent it would be useful to have the NicSian along!’ Dide said with a smile, clapping Bran on the back. She blushed and smiled, dropping her lashes over her eyes so that Finn had to hiss at her, ‘Stop acting like a silly lass, Bran, ye’re meant to be a lad, remember?’

The next morning, the
Speedwell
limped to safety in the bay of a small island. They rested there for close on a week while the ship’s carpenter laboured to mend the broken mast. All were glad of the chance to rest and recover, and set foot on dry land once more. Finn was amazed to feel the sand rocking under her feet, as if the island were afloat upon the restless sea and not their storm-battered little craft.

The island had a spring of fresh water to replenish their water barrels and plenty of birds to catch and small crustaceans to gather. With nothing to do but rest and eat, Ashlin regained some of his vitality, though Enit remained frailer than ever.

Freed from her usual duties, Finn practised her cartwheels and tightrope walking, her rope tricks and dagger throwing, and pestered the crew with questions about every aspect of the repairs. She grew more accurate than ever with her crossbow, for the birds of the island were small and quick and very nervous, and Finn was very tired of fish.

As soon as the mizzenmast was repaired, a good number of feet shorter than it had been originally, they set sail once more. They had been blown many leagues off course and Alphonsus the Sure spent a great deal of time peering through his cross-staff, and scribbling equations on paper. Having to tack against the wind, the
Speedwell
nonetheless lived up to her name, bringing them within sight of the coast of Tìrsoilleir by the time the sun was setting the next day.

It was a stark, desolate landscape, the cliffs towering hundreds of feet above the rocky shore, and strange contorted rocks rising high out of the sea. Alphonsus the Sure was visibly relieved to have familiar landmarks once more to set his course by, and the wind swung round to the right quarter so that the
Speedwell
was able to sail confidently up that inhospitable coast.

‘Hard to believe that on top o’ those cliffs is some o’ the best farming land ye could hope for,’ one sailor confided to Finn and Bran. He was a tall brown young man called Tam, who had been kinder with the novices than many of the other sailors. He had taken the time to teach them all the different kinds of knots and to explain the use of the lead-line and the log-line.

‘I was dragged up along here somewhere,’ he continued, ‘until I was pressed for the navy. One minute I was a farmer lad, thinking o’ jumping the fire with the lass from the apple orchard, the next I found myself in the service o’ the General Assembly, setting off to war against the witches.’

‘That must have been awful,’ Bran said.

‘Aye, that it was, Bran,’ Tam said. ‘I cried like a babe when I woke, a day out o’ Bride Harbour and a million miles from all I kent. I be content now, o’ course, and do no’ think o’ Bessie o’ the Apples any more, at least no’ often.’

‘How do ye feel about us going back to Bride?’ Finn asked, the elven cat on her shoulder cocking her head at exactly the same inquisitive angle.

Tam grinned. ‘Terrified, lad. And so should ye be. If any elder should see ye wi’ that cat o’ yours, they’d think ye a witch for certain.’

Finn went white and shrank a little, the cat hissing and arching her back.

‘I be no witch,’ she said, rather shakily.

‘Och, lad, I’m no’ accusing ye. If anyone is to burn, it will be that auld witch with her voice full o’ sorcery, and those lads with their fiddles and pipes. In Bride, the playing o’ tools like that would be enough to see ye charged, let alone the ensorcelling o’ the sea demons, marvellous as that be.’ There was wonder and fear in the young sailor’s voice.

Finn was suddenly aware of dangers that she had not yet worried over. She exchanged a fearful glance with Bran and made some light-hearted comment that fooled the young seaman as little as it deceived herself.

Cape Wrath was the eastern-most point of Eileanan. A great jutting peninsula, it was renowned for its ferocious storms and a dangerous passage between tall abrupt cliffs on one side and a series of towering pinnacles of rock on the other, ominously called the Teeth of God. The only way to avoid that narrow stormy passage was to sail weeks out of the way, for all the sea here was broken up with islands and reefs that tore the water up into contrary waves, whirlpools and rips.

With all hands on deck, the helmsman steered the little caravel through that dangerous passage. Alphonsus the Sure hunched over his maps, the sand trickling through the sand-glass by his side, the bosun shouting out the length of the log-line. As the navigator shouted out his instructions, the ship gybed from side to side, narrowly missing one cruelly sharp rock after another.

At last the
Speedwell
had sailed safely through the Teeth of God. Finn had no sooner taken what felt like her first real breath in hours when she realised they now had to circumnavigate the great spinning whirlpool called the Devil’s Vortex. This was the last great obstacle between the caravel and its destination, the harbour of Bride. Again all the sailors were lashed to the ship and many calculations of time and angle were taken, Alphonsus bending to peer through his cross-staff again and again.

Finn had been frightened many times during their danger-fraught journey. When she saw the great dark whirlpool, however, its breathtaking headlong speed, the churning of the sea all about, the terrible central vortex where the ocean was spun into a mouth of sucking air, her knees just gave way beneath her. She squeezed her eyes shut and put her head on her knees.

The ship was caught and spun like a child’s whirligig. Finn’s stomach flipped, the ropes cutting deep into her arms and legs as the centrifugal force dragged at her body. The elven cat struggled desperately to be free, drawing blood as she dug her claws deep into Finn’s forearms. Finn held onto her tightly, though, holding her securely between her body and her bent legs. Her ears were buffeted by a deafening roar as if a thousand lions sought to tear the ship to shreds. Spray lashed her body, wetting her to the skin. She clutched Goblin closer, wishing she had kissed her mother goodbye.

Much, much later, it seemed, she heard Jay’s voice in her ears, and felt his arm about her shoulders. ‘It be grand, Finn, I promise; we are all safe; everything is grand.’

Finn opened one eye and then the other. Above her the proud spread of the
Speedwell
’s sails billowed white against the sky. The sea creamed under the caravel’s bows. ‘Grand as a goat’s turd stuck with buttercups,’ Finn said, releasing her clutch on the squirming cat. ‘I canna believe it.’

‘Alphonsus says he has navigated the Devil’s Vortex five times now. That is more than any other living man,’ Jay said.

There was no sign on his face that he had faced the possibility of his own death, as Finn had. Since the singing of the song of love, Jay had been haloed by an aura of grandeur and invincibility that Finn recognised and was humbled by. She was not the only one. The sailors all gave him the deference due only to an officer, and Bran had been all shy, admiring lassie, causing Finn to frown at her several times.

Once clear of the Devil’s Vortex, the caravel made quick progress up the coast, the land gradually gentling down into smooth green hills, a tall pointed spire marking every village.

‘They be the steeples o’ the kirks,’ Tam told Finn and Bran. ‘They all build them as high as they can, to give all honour to Our God the Father, who dwells in the sky.’

The sea rounded into a wide firth that lay blue and gentle between green headlands, each guarded by a tall lighthouse. In the mouth of the firth was a tall peaked island, its cliffs as steep as any castle wall and more than five hundred feet high. An ugly square fortress was built at the very pinnacle of the rock. Finn swallowed when she saw it, knowing without being told that was the prison compound frowning down upon them.

The
Speedwell
sailed past the prison into a long wide harbour, near as well protected as the Berhtfane. There the city of Bride nestled into a fold of the downs, tall slender spires of golden stones rising into the sunset sky. With all the towers and buildings built square, unlike the roundness of the Coven’s architecture, the city had a foreign look about it that had them staring.

‘Why, she be a bonny city,’ Ashlin said, leaning on the rail between Finn and Bran. His bony, long-fingered hands were more nervous than ever, pleating his shirt-tails together.

‘Hell’s bells, the city be large,’ Finn said, unable to help remembering the sailor’s warning about witch fires. ‘What do we do now?’

‘Lower anchor,’ the young sailor Tam said, ‘and wait for the harbour master to come. It’ll be too soon for me.’

They dropped anchor some distance from the shore and all were given a double ration of rum to celebrate their safe arrival. All were tense and jumpy, feeling the weight of uncertainty now the journey was at an end. Finn was jumpiest of them all, the sheer height of the island’s cliffs reminding her what a time it had been since she had had to climb a wall.

It did not take long for the harbour officials to row out to the resting caravel. It was suggested, without much subtlety, that Enit and the others should take the opportunity to rest below decks. They agreed with alacrity, hiding in one of the storerooms until the officials had gone.

‘They have ordered us to appear afore the General Assembly tomorrow, to explain how we come to be here and to assure them we are free o’ any form o’ heresy or witch-taint,’ Captain Tobias told a tense and silent little group. ‘Ye have one night and one night only, to do what ye came here to do. Tomorrow we flee, regardless o’ your success. Trust me when I say none o’ us wish to appear afore the General Assembly.’

‘But why do they mistrust ye?’ Enit asked, her dark-skinned face as pale as it was possible to be. ‘Should they no’ be welcoming ye wi’ open arms, a captain with the courage to flee the Rìgh’s fleet?’

‘They do no’ think it is possible for us to have sailed the Skeleton Coast without witchcraft,’ the captain replied tersely. ‘And though I tried, I fear my eyes fell and my cheek whitened. I am no’ used to lying.’

They waited until night had fallen. Dide sat and strummed his guitar as if nothing could go wrong, but the others found it hard to endure the hours. Ashlin gnawed his knuckle raw, Bran fiddled with her short blonde pigtail, and Dillon bent his head over the shaggy white dog and said not a word, while Finn paced back and forth like a caged wolf.

At last all was dark and still. The prison loomed over the ship, more impregnable than any building Finn had ever seen. Now that she was here, the cat-thief was prey to gnawing doubts. Despite the dark, heavy presence of the magic cloak in her pocket and the warmth of the elven cat around her neck, Finn was cold and light-headed with fear. Dide had worked out every step of the operation, every variable, every trick Lady Luck could play, but still Finn could not sit still.
We have come so far
, she thought.
I could no’ bear it if I was the one to fail …

As soon as it was fully dark they took the long boat and rowed with muffled oars to a place where the cliff hung over the sea with a dark and frowning aspect. Dillon sat in the prow with his hand on his sword, while Jay and Dide worked the oars and tiller. All were dressed in black, with their faces and hands blackened with soot.

‘Finn, are ye sure ye think it wise for ye to free the prophet yourself?’ Dide whispered. ‘I’d be much happier if ye’d let us come into the Black Tower wi’ ye.’

‘Ye with your great clumping boots and propensity to burst into song at the drop o’ a hat?’ As Dide protested, she went on, ‘Nay, believe me, it’ll be much better if there’s only one o’ us to attract attention. I’ve been trained to this; ye three have no’. If I have need o’ ye, I’ll call ye through the golden ball ye gave me, as ye taught me.’

Dide nodded reluctantly.

‘Have a care for yourself, Finn,’ Jay said urgently, as the boat bumped against the rock.

‘Och, dinna ye worry about me,’ Finn answered, heaving her bulging satchel onto her back and checking the rope was secured to her waist. ‘Though if I am no’ back by dawn, make sure ye are gone from here, do ye hear me?’