The Place of Dead Kings (38 page)

Cormac stared at the manuscript, his face solemn. ‘The Bible.’

‘The Bible?’ Jack leant closer. The pictures were so ravaged by time it was impossible to make out what they were. But it could be a Bible. ‘Can she read it?’

‘Read?’ Cormac said. ‘No. No Mar read. This book of ancients. From time of dead kings who build tower to moon. No read. But gives blessing. Blessing of God.’

‘Whatever is he talking about?’ Rao asked.

‘It’s the Christian holy book,’ Jack said. ‘They’ve kept it here like a kind of relic. It must be hundreds of years old.’

‘Extraordinary.’ Rao bent over the book. ‘A vestige from another era.’

The seer gripped Rao’s sleeve and pointed repeatedly at the book.

‘Touch it,’ Cormac said. ‘It give blessing of God.’

‘Very well.’ Rao gently rested his finger on a page.

‘You also.’ Cormac motioned to Jack.

Jack touched the edge of the page and a small piece of the parchment broke free.

The seer closed the book, crossed herself several times and said a few words to Rao.

‘You blessed now,’ Cormac said. ‘Come. We go.’

‘To the Place of Dead Kings?’ Jack was half expecting some further delay.

‘Aye. We go now.’

They walked back through the trees. Chief Domnall, his daughters and many of the Mar were waiting in the village centre.

When she saw Rao, Eva rushed across to him and took his hand. ‘Careful, Great Shee.’

Rao cleared his throat and gently removed her hand. ‘We’ll take care. Don’t you worry.’

‘You come back?’ Eva’s eyes glistened.

‘Yes. Of course.’

‘Then we marry. Forget other.’

Rao gave a nervous laugh and glanced at Domnall, who just smiled back at him. ‘Um, I don’t think so, Eva.’

But it was unclear whether Eva understood, because she grasped his arm. ‘I wait.’

Domnall stamped his spear into the ground and said a few words, which Cormac translated. The Chief wished them success, prayed for their safety and longed for the time when the Great Shee would return to the village.

Jack and Rao said farewell. Then Cormac led them and three Mar warriors off towards the hills.

As they reached the edge of the village, Jack heard singing and a blast of pipes. He and Rao glanced over their shoulders and saw the Mar chanting and dancing in the village centre. The villagers waved, smiled and cheered when they saw the Great Shee look back.

‘It really will stick in the throat to let these people down,’ Rao said.

‘I know.’ Jack turned back and marched on after Cormac. ‘But forget that for the moment. Right now we have to find our friends and get them out. I’ve got a feeling that’s going to be quite a challenge in itself.’

C
ormac and the three warriors flew like spirits through the darkness. The moon was faint and often the only thing Jack could see clearly of the Mar was the pale quiver bouncing at Cormac’s side.

At first Jack managed to keep up. The pain in his chest was slight, his breathing was clear and his legs felt strong. The wind cooled his face and fluttered his long hair behind his head. He’d left the knapsack behind – he had no use for it at the moment – and was only encumbered by the scimitar swinging at his waist.

Rao also kept up the pace, although perspiration broke out on his forehead and glistened in the pallid light.

All about them, the mountains were hulks against the night, phosphorescent snow crowning the peaks. Jack heard no sound, save for the wind in his ears, the crunch of his and Rao’s boots and his own shivery breath. The Mar were silent, even their footfalls muffled by their hide shoes.

Jack constantly passed through sattva streams, each one seemingly stronger than the last. His skin rippled, his scalp tingled and the sweet scent burnt his nostrils and the back of his throat.

About twenty minutes after leaving the village, they came to a shallow river where the water rushed and danced over stones. Cormac said a prayer to a monster who lurked within, and then they splashed across and set off up a hill. They paused twice in the next hour, once to say a prayer outside a grove of trees and another time to bow and chant to the moon when it sailed free of the cloud for a few minutes.

After an hour and a half, Jack noticed the pain beating in his chest and his breathing growing more shallow. Rao wheezed and tripped at times on rocks and clumps of heather. Jack was considering demanding a rest stop, when the Mar ahead of him suddenly halted, dropped to their knees and slipped behind a gorse bush. Cormac looked back, put his finger to his lips and gestured frantically for Jack and Rao to stay low.

Christ. What now? A Cattan patrol?

Jack and Rao jogged silently across to the Mar. Cormac had already raised his bow and drawn out an arrow.

‘What is it?’ Jack whispered.

Cormac pressed his finger to his lips again and pointed through the thorny branches of the bush.

Jack stared hard into the darkness. At first he saw nothing, but then noticed a pale wisp flitting across a stretch of open ground. Gradually, he traced the outline of a deer with a white marking on its back.

A deer? Was that it? Why were the Mar hunting now?

Cormac nocked the arrow, drew back the bowstring and stared at the deer, his face like stone. The other Mar watched him intently, their features drawn and grey, as if their lives depended on what happened next.

Cormac took at least a minute to line up his shot. Jack shifted on his haunches. He was about to say they shouldn’t waste any more time, when Cormac loosed the arrow. The bowstring quivered and sang, and the arrow whistled through the dark.

The deer jumped, squealed, tripped, then got up again. It tried to run, but kept falling.

Cormac grinned, tossed aside the bow, sprang out from behind the bush and sprinted across to the deer. His comrades followed, smiling and giving little whoops. The creature flailed on the ground, clambered up and ran a few feet further. Cormac charged at the beast with incredible speed, whipped out his knife, dived on the animal and slit its throat. The deer bucked a few times and then fell still.

The Mar gathered about Cormac and appeared to jab the fallen creature with their spears.

‘What on earth are they doing?’ Rao asked.

‘Let’s find out,’ Jack said.

They walked across and saw the warriors were dipping the ends of their weapons in the dead animal’s blood.

Cormac raised a red-stained arrow and beamed. ‘Blood give good luck.’

Jack put his hands on his hips. ‘Is this going to happen all the way to the Place of Dead Kings?’

‘No. Just first animal. See first animal on journey. Kill it. Good luck.’

Jack rolled his eyes and glanced at Rao, who shrugged and said, ‘I needed a break anyway.’

When the Mar had finished their ritual, they squatted on the ground and rested for a few minutes. They fingered their amulets, muttered prayers and pointed towards a rocky outcrop about two hundred yards away.

Rao asked Cormac, ‘What are you pointing at?’

‘Bad place,’ Cormac said. ‘Evil spirits live there.’

‘You see spirits everywhere?’

Cormac blinked. ‘Of course, Great Shee.’ He waved his arm across the shadowy landscape. ‘Many spirits.’

Rao gestured at a grove. ‘What about those trees over there?’

‘Forest spirit live there. Like old man.’

‘And that mountain?’

‘Big monster. Lizard.’

‘Fascinating. You seem to know every bit of the landscape around here. And every bit is associated with some creature.’

‘Aye. Ken all land. All spirits.’ Cormac pressed his hand to his chest. ‘All land in here. In heart. Long time ago, I go south. No see land.’ He opened the palm of his hand as if catching liquid. ‘My heart. Like blood.’

‘I think I understand. You suffered when you were away from this place.’

‘Aye. We call
duthchas
. Not ken word in English. Land in heart. When away from land, heart bleeds.’

Rao sat up straighter and stared into the night. His voice was husky as he spoke. ‘Yes, I believe I do understand. When one is away from one’s home, one’s heart can certainly bleed.’

‘I agree with that.’ Jack stood and picked up his scimitar. ‘But we should get moving again. We have to reach the Place of Dead Kings before dawn.’

They ran on through the night, with the wind streaming over them and the jagged backs of the mountains filing past. In the darkness, the landscape, with its hollows, dells and clefts, seemed to contain endless secrets. As if spirits and monsters really did dwell within the shadows.

At about five o’clock, Cormac paused them with his hand, crouched and led them to a line of rocks running along the top of a ridge. Jack peered over a boulder and spotted dim figures crossing a valley below. He took the glass from Rao, stared through it and made out the white skull on the men’s tunics.

‘Cattans.’ He offered the glass to Cormac.

Cormac shook his head. ‘No need. I ken Cattans. Many Cattans here near Place of Dead Kings.’

‘How far away is it?’ Jack asked.

‘Not far. We go slow now.’ Cormac went to stand, then squatted down again. ‘Bad magic starts soon.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘This land. Bad magic from Demon. You will see.’

Cormac stood again and led them to the right, staying below the crest of the ridge.

Jack followed, looking about him, searching for any sign of Cattans in the dark.

Bad magic starts soon.

What was Cormac talking about? Was this just superstition or something more?

They jogged into a birch forest, which enclosed them in a mist of naked branches. The trees rattled and scraped in the breeze and the damp mulch of leaves underfoot smelt faintly of wine.

Cormac slowed the pace to a walk and they crept ahead stealthily.

Jack kept glancing around and couldn’t get it out of his head that there were Cattans waiting nearby with arrows pointed straight at them. They passed into yet another stream and he sensed the sattva rushing around him. His nose ran as the scent scorched his nostrils.

He noticed Rao sniffing. ‘You smell it?’

‘Yes,’ Rao said. ‘It’s like the mills back home.’

One of the Mar gasped and sprang away from the track, slapping at his cloak with his hands. The other two warriors cowered beside a birch.

Jack’s heart spiked. They were under attack. He tore the scimitar from his belt, slipped to the side of the path and scoured the darkness for enemies. Rao gave a small yelp and scrambled across to him.

But Jack saw nothing. Heard no sound.

Then Rao nudged him and pointed at the Mar. ‘Look.’

Cormac stood about twenty feet away, staring at what looked like a tiny star drifting down from the treetops. The speck gave off a silver glow and made a faint tinkling sound as it descended. Cormac’s eyes were wide and his mouth half open, while the crouching Mar warriors’ faces were stricken with terror. The light made the lines on their faces appear deeper and cast their skin a sickly white.

Jack frowned. What the hell was that?

He took a few steps up the track. The shining dot was now level with Cormac’s head. Up close, Jack could see it was like a flake of snow or scrap of tissue. And it smelt so strongly of sattva it made him reel.

The thing spun to the ground and melted into the leaf litter, disappearing completely.

One of the Mar cried out. Another speck had fallen on his cloak and he shook it off. Looking around, Jack saw more of the things twirling down, some overhead, some further up the track, some far off in the depths of the forest, where they lit up the tangled branches and gnarled trunks.

‘Bad magic,’ Cormac said. ‘I see before.’

‘I’ve seen it before too.’ Rao’s boots crunched as he walked up the track. ‘There was an accident at a mill once, near where I lived as a child. I saw these that night. It’s a kind of ash.’

‘Is it dangerous?’ Jack asked.

‘I don’t think so. We were told to stay indoors and not touch them, but I put my hand out of a window and grabbed them anyway.’

Jack looked up and saw thousands of shining fragments floating down, as if the heavens were falling. ‘Looks like we’re not going to be able to avoid the stuff anyway. Let’s go.’