Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (26 page)

The Angel of Darkness had caught him. That was all he knew. A figure out of some half-imagined prophecy had overpowered him and brought him here. But why wasn’t he dead? Why was he kept here, left to slowly starve to death?

There was a noise. To his right. Footsteps, slow and deliberate. And light, a flickering candle dancing shapes on the vaulting. Finnlay struggled to turn his head, but a rope crossed his forehead, tied to something he couldn’t see. The footsteps came closer, bringing the blinding light. Then a face, ancient and wrinkled, leaned over him. Was this the man?

‘You’re awake, you’re awake!’ the old one cried. His eyes were flat and dull, the voice creaked with age. This was not the Angel of Darkness.

Abruptly the old man scurried away, calling out to somebody else. ‘Master, master! He’s awake now! The Enemy is awake!’

Finnlay held his breath and tried to concentrate. His hands were bound to the bed, his feet also. He squirmed a little to feel his left wrist – but his
ayarn
was gone! The Angel must have taken it.

‘Yes, Stinzali, he is awake.’ That voice again, cold, dominating
and utterly terrifying. ‘I wonder if that means he’s ready?’

‘Shall I get the orb, master?’

Finnlay couldn’t see either of them, but he could feel their presence. They were close. He strained against his bonds with what little strength remained, but achieved nothing.

‘Look, there’s still some fight in him. No, Stinzali, don’t bother with the orb just yet. There’re a few things the young Douglas and I must discuss first.’

The old servant scuffled away, leaving Finnlay alone with his nemesis. His stomach tightened against hunger and fear. He would have done anything for a few drops of water. Anything but give in . . .

By the mass! Fiona – had she been captured too?

No. Impossible. She’d been too far away. By now, with any luck, she would have returned to the camp by the river and found Finnlay gone. She should already be on her way back to the Enclave. She would be safe – even if she never knew what had happened to him. Not that she would care.

‘How are you feeling?’

The voice came close once more, close to his ear. Deliberately out of sight, though. Finnlay didn’t answer – couldn’t. His mouth and throat were too dry.

‘Thirsty, perhaps? Here, have some water.’

Something moved at the edges of his vision – and he was abruptly doused with a bucket of icy water. Desperately he licked his lips, trying to drink as much as he could. The shock of the water cleared his head too. Whether it had been deliberate or not, Finnlay felt a little better.

‘First of all, you can tell me how you got out of the prison in Kilphedir without being seen by the guards. I realize it must have been an illusion of sorts – but I don’t understand how you could have operated without your little stone, nor why you waited for the second night before you tried something. Did you work it all out by yourself – or have you a cohort who aids you in such things?’

Finnlay swallowed and took as deep a breath as his bonds would allow. His voice croaking, he replied, ‘I have a hundred thousand cohorts at my command.’

Laughter. The Angel of Darkness fancied himself to have a sense of humour.

‘Funny, I didn’t think you’d tell me, but I just thought I’d begin with an easy question. Now, I should warn you, I’ve waited a long time for this moment. Longer than you could possibly imagine.’

How much worse could it get? Finnlay was going to die. That was the only fate left to him. All this monster could do to him was kill him slowly, with a lot of pain. At least he would get no other satisfaction from Finnlay. Finnlay relaxed back as much as he could and focused on his Seal. For the first time in his life he was truly glad to have it: one of many gifts Robert had blessed him with over the years.

‘So, I take it you were Seeking for the old woman when I caught you,’ the voice began again, all businesslike. ‘I’m not sorry to tell you that she’s well and truly dead by now. And just in case you were wondering, I had my people dump her body in the Vitala. She was stubborn and wouldn’t tell me anything – but the old and infirm can often be like that. Did you know her well? Was she important to you?’

‘Go to hell!’

Laughter again, and then a blinding bolt of pain shot down the right side of his body. For long seconds, Finnlay creased up against the agony. Gasping for air, he closed his eyes, focused once again on his Seal.

‘I did warn you.’

The monster moved around the pallet Finnlay lay on, lighting candles. Now Finnlay could see more of the room. Stone walls on either side, covered in tapestries, bookshelves, lances and swords. Part of a siege arm and something that looked like a bridge support stood up against a window on his right. Decorations he couldn’t even recognize hung from the ceiling. Rich and ancient, all of it. A clutter of hoarded wealth.

‘Who are you? Are you Malachi?’ Finnlay grunted, his eyes straining to see the face of his torturer.

‘Who am I?’ The voice was light this time as the Angel moved back to his former position, to Finnlay’s right and just behind his field of vision. ‘My name is Carlan. I am the
son of Sistema who was the son of Eina, the son of Edassa who was the one who created the Key. His father, the great Bayazit of Yedicale, was the sorcerer who made the Word of Destruction. I am the last of the greatest line of sorcerers who ever lived – and I am no Malachi.’

The Key . . . The Word . . . But . . . so few generations! Five hundred years. Was this man serious? Had he really lived so long?

‘What do you want from me?’ Finnlay kept his voice steady, though his heart was hammering in his chest.

‘I would have thought that was obvious. I want your blood. You will die here, Finnlay Douglas, and you won’t even scream. The Enemy will die and there will be nobody left who can stop me.’

The Enemy? But . . . the Key had said
Robert
was the Enemy! Thank the gods! As long as Carlan thought Finnlay was the Enemy, then there was still a chance. Robert would crush this monster without a second thought. Robert would . . .

‘I must say, though, I hadn’t thought you’d be so easy to catch. A little careless, weren’t you? Still, that’s nothing now, and since I don’t have all day, I suggest you start answering my questions – unless, of course, you prefer the pain?’

That terrible voice came closer again. ‘Tell me how you know the Ally.’

Finnlay crushed any reaction. ‘Ally? I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Your brother knows her. He helped take her back to her damned father. What have you had to do with her? Did you help awaken her powers? Come, tell me.’

Steeling himself against the inevitable onslaught of pain, Finnlay replied, ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’

It came like lightning, fast and powerful, blinding and burning. When it was gone, Finnlay could hardly see the banners hung from the ceiling.

‘My patience is wearing thin, Enemy. I want some answers. You can try protecting her all you like, but I will know what you’ve had to do with her.’

The pain came again and this time Finnlay let himself
drown in it. He dropped so far below the surface that everything went black and he stopped feeling altogether.

*

Nash strode through the door and up the spiral staircase which ran to the top of the Round Tower. Tiny windows flashed daylight at him, but he paid no attention. When he arrived at the first floor, the door was already open to the anteroom. Stinzali was sitting at his table, spooning an evil-looking broth into his mouth.

‘Well? Is he awake yet?’

‘Yes, master. Just now. Should I get the orb?’

Nash shook his head and drew the cape from his shoulders. ‘I told you, not yet. He’s not ready.’

Nash tossed the cape into a corner, then grabbed the wine flask from the table and took a large swig.

‘Is he strong, master? Strong enough to refuse to answer?’

‘There’s some little will left in him. That will die quickly enough. His problem is that he has no idea of his destiny – or rather, the destiny he might have had if he hadn’t been so stupid. I must say, I expected more of a fight out of him.’

‘But he’s not answered . . .’

‘No, you idiot! Sorcery. He’s supposed to be very, very powerful, but apart from the strength I sensed while he was Seeking, he hasn’t moved a muscle to stop me.’

Stinzali smiled, a toothless gape. ‘Then you will surely succeed, master. I am honoured to be the one to serve you at this time.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Nash grunted, planting himself down at the table. ‘Stop fawning and get me something to eat. I can’t face that weakling on an empty stomach.’

*

Finnlay awoke to a terrible calm.

He hadn’t given in. His Seal would stop him talking involuntarily – but if he wanted to, he could have told Carlan everything he knew.

But he hadn’t – and he wouldn’t. If that pain was the worst the Angel of Darkness could offer, then Finnlay could stand it. He knew it would kill him – and soon – but in this
world, with such evil free to roam, death was the preferred path.

Oh, if only he could tell them all: the Enclave, Robert and Jenn. They would find Carlan. They would hunt him down. They would destroy him.

But the truth would die with him. There was no escape from this place. Only more pain and, finally, death.

Something snatched at the edge of his awareness. That presence, coming again. Carlan. Sweet Mineah, it was starting again!

‘Very well,’ Carlan began, taking up his familiar position where Finnlay could only hear him but never see him. ‘I’ll make this very simple for you. One question. That’s all I have for you today. If you give me an answer, I promise to make your death painless. I can’t, of course, offer you your life. I’m sure you understand. But if you give me an answer you will feel nothing as your life slips away. You’ll get no better offer from me.’

‘Can I . . . have some water?’ Finnlay struggled to speak, lifted his head – then deliberately sank back down, feigning collapse.

‘Certainly. Though I suppose you actually want to drink it this time. Well, all right – but only a little. It would spoil things otherwise.’

Finnlay waited until the cup was at his lips. Took one swallow – then hit out with the only power left to him. The blast was hopelessly ineffectual and only engendered laughter from Carlan.

‘Oh, how pathetic! If that’s the best you can do, then I wonder why I bothered to find you in the first place. Now, enough of these heroics. Answer my question.’

‘What?’ Finnlay whispered, no longer feigning collapse. What little he could do he had done. He’d failed. Now there was nothing left.

‘Tell me where the Key is.’

Now he was beyond reacting. His response was murmured and entirely lacking in purpose. ‘Key? What key is that?’

More pain. This time it lasted so long, Finnlay almost blacked out again.

The voice came so close to his ear, he could feel the breath on his face. ‘You know damned well what Key I’m talking about! You’re Salti Pazar. You must know. Your people stole the Key from my ancestor and vanished into the land. The Malachi have hunted you down over the centuries, vainly trying to get it back, but they’re such a hopeless bunch they’ve failed again and again. Their bloodlust is too great. They’re more interested in wiping out every Salti in the world. If they had any sense, they’d get the Key back, discover the Word of Destruction and get rid of the lot of you in one go. Now’ – Carlan paused, taking a deep breath. His anger was seething now, reaching out to course through every bone in Finnlay’s body – ‘you will tell me where the Key is. I don’t really care how long it takes you to die. I have all the time in the world. Not just days, but weeks, months. Every day like this one, filled with pain. On and on. All of it for you. And I won’t give up, believe me. My family has waited five hundred years for this. You will not stop me. Where is the Key?’

This time, Finnlay did pass out, but for only a few moments. When he opened his eyes again, the room was lighter and the old man was moving around him, draping something over his legs.

‘As soon as you’ve finished that, Stinzali, go and get me the orb.’

‘Yes, master.’

Finnlay burned with curiosity. That was about the only thing left to him now. His whole body was numb, beyond feeling anything at all. Even the pallet beneath him seemed insubstantial.

The old servant came back. He moved close to the bed with an insane smile on his creased face, holding something up for Finnlay to see. A black ball – orb. Almost exactly the same as the Key, but smaller, with a dulled surface as though worn by time. It was held reverently between the old man’s hands.

‘I suppose you want to know what this is?’ Carlan began again, all civility. ‘And of course, you’re curious as to how I can live so long, how my father and grandfather lived so
long. Well, it’s very simple. A process discovered by the D’Azzir – but of course, you wouldn’t know them either, would you? That’s what you get for being Salti – you’ve missed out on so much of your heritage. Anyway, the D’Azzir discovered a way to heal wounds using the blood of their dying adversaries. My ancestor, Eina, perfected the technique. You wouldn’t believe the difference it makes when you use the blood of a powerful sorcerer.’

A sharp pain dug into Finnlay’s right arm. Quickly he could feel the wound begin to bleed. The old man placed the orb on the ground, beneath Finnlay’s arm. He grinned again and disappeared. Carlan leaned close.

‘Your blood will drain very slowly, Enemy. I don’t want to kill you too quickly. The longer it takes, the more your body will try to replace it – giving me more blood to use. Pure blood, untainted by food or water. I will keep it here and use it when I need to bring myself back to life again. Think on that, Finnlay Douglas, as your life drips away from you. Your blood will help secure another seventy years of my life. You will help keep me alive for ever.’

*

The afternoon rain stopped before Nash finished climbing the stairs. By the time he pushed the last door open there were only puddles of water on the tower roof for him to splash through. Even the clouds had given up, whipped away from the sun by a hard wind.