Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (37 page)

‘What time is it?’ Finnlay mumbled. His mouth felt like it was full of sand, his head rattling with rocks.

‘Sunrise was an hour ago,’ Arlie replied, moving to the side of the bed. He glanced at Martha, then looked back at Finnlay. ‘You’ve been asleep for almost a whole day. How do you feel?’

Struggling to sit up, Finnlay replied, ‘I’ve felt worse. Have you got any food? I’m ravenous.’

Martha smiled, disappeared out of the room for a moment and returned with a bowl of the most delicious-smelling stew he’d ever had the pleasure of encountering. She’d barely placed it on his lap before he tucked into it with relish. Martha moved about the room tidying up here and there while Arlie just watched him. It seemed they were waiting for something. As Finnlay scraped the last out of the bowl, he looked up at them, already feeling better.

‘Well? What’s wrong?’

Martha came and sat on the bed, took the bowl and cradled it in her hands. ‘You were calling out in your sleep. You sounded . . . terrible.’

Finnlay shook his head, rubbed his hands over his face. ‘It’s just the same nightmare. It’ll wear off.’ He paused and turned to Arlie. ‘Well? Am I well enough to get up?’

Arlie shrugged. ‘If you can ask the question, then I guess you must be.’

With that, he came around the bed and took Finnlay’s arm as he came to his feet. The moment he let go, however, Finnlay’s legs turned to water and he sank backwards on to the bed. With a grin he held his hand out to Arlie again. ‘You really must get around to finishing your Healer’s training, my friend.’

‘I know, I know. There just never seems to be the time.’

Martha disappeared as Arlie helped Finnlay wash and dress. Finnlay hated having Arlie fuss over him, but he began to feel his strength slowly returning. Another bowl of that fine stew and he’d be as good as new.

In the living room, Martha must have read his mind. She had a place laid out for him, some bread, wine and more stew. As he took his seat, he glanced over at the crib in the corner. The baby was asleep, her tiny eyes screwed up in concentration, dreaming of the gods knew what. ‘She’s still ugly.’

With a laugh, Martha slapped his shoulder and dumped the huge plate on the table in front of him. ‘That’s gratitude for you. We take you in, nurse you back to health and all you can do is insult our child. Wait until you have one of your own, my dear. Then you’ll change your tune.’

Finnlay spoke between mouthfuls, ‘Speaking of changing tunes, has there been any further word from Wilf or the council?’

Arlie took a seat opposite him and sipped a cup of brew. ‘Not that I’ve heard. I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you again – you were a little shy on details when you arrived yesterday. When you can fill in the rest, I think they’ll be a little more receptive.’

‘I don’t know why it’s such a hard story to trust. As if I’d make such a thing up,’ Finnlay said bitterly. After all he’d gone through, the terrible journey back to the Enclave and
the trial of telling his story to the council, their reluctance to act rankled badly.

‘Oh, you know how Wilf feels about you and Robert. This whole thing has just got under his skin. He does believe you – he just needs to calm down a little. You’ll find his attitude has changed since yesterday—’

There was a knock at the door and Arlie broke off to open it. ‘Oh! Fiona! Come in.’

Finnlay dropped his fork and scrambled to his feet. He quickly swallowed the food in his mouth, but couldn’t come up with anything like the shy smile she greeted him with.

‘Hello, Finnlay.’

‘Hello.’

‘Are you feeling any better? You look better.’

‘Do I?’ Probably not. Still, he shuffled around the table, sort of showing her to a seat and feeling like an idiot at the same time. Arlie and Martha were watching him with something that should have been amusement – but wasn’t. But then, they’d always been good at keeping a straight face.

‘Here,’ Martha murmured warmly, ‘have a cup with us. It’s freshly brewed.’

Martha was such a natural mother – always had been, even before the baby. She was always able to make people feel welcome and wanted. Perhaps that’s why she took such good care of Finnlay.

‘And how’s little Damaris?’ Fiona ignored Finnlay and leaned over the crib. ‘My, she’s grown already.’

‘Yes, hasn’t she,’ Martha replied with a smile. ‘But Finnlay here just keeps telling us she’s ugly. If he says it again, I’ll have to get Arlie to take him outside and teach him a lesson in good manners.’

Fiona shot Finnlay a glance, but it wasn’t as unkind as it could have been. Inwardly, he relaxed a bit. If only he’d had the chance to talk to her properly on their trip back. If he could have just told her . . . well, everything . . . then . . . Oh, what was the use! She’d looked after him, nursed him through the worst of his injuries and brought him back safely to the Enclave, but that was probably more because she felt responsible in some way rather than because she’d stopped
hating him. Still, there had been that look in her eyes the night she’d found him . . .

Another knock at the door. Finnlay was closest, so he opened it. It was Wilf.

‘Oh, good, you’re up.’ Wilf nodded at him, then glanced beyond to where the others stood. Finnlay moved back. There was something very subdued about the Jaibir this morning.

Wilf came into the room holding a folded piece of paper in his hand. He glanced once at Martha, then turned to Fiona. ‘I’ve just . . . er . . . received a letter. A courier, from Marsay.’

Fiona’s smile instantly dissipated and instinctively Finnlay moved closer to her.

‘The courier took a long time to get here. There’ve been patrols out covering the whole country. The word is that there is a hunt on for sorcerers as a result of Finnlay’s adventure at Kilphedir a few weeks ago.’

‘And,’ Fiona took a deep breath, ‘is there any word of my mother?’

‘Yes,’ Wilf replied, his gaze dropping to the letter in his hands. ‘Murdoch has written a full account. I’m sorry, Fiona, but Ayn is dead.’ Ayn had been a close friend for over thirty years. This news must have been difficult for him to deliver. ‘It appears Patric was successful in getting Robert to try and rescue her. Together with Murdoch, Robert got Ayn away from her captors, but she was too seriously wounded for them to help her. Ayn asked Robert for Convocation.’

‘By the gods,’ Martha murmured.

Fiona said nothing. After a minute, Wilf put the letter on the table. ‘I’m very sorry, Fiona. Your mother was loved by us all. I personally shall miss her friendship and her wisdom. Please, read the letter when you’re ready. Murdoch says she died with great courage, choosing Convocation rather than risk being a burden to them. He says she was dying and nothing short of a miracle could have saved her.’

Fiona just nodded vaguely. Wilf glanced at them all once more, then turned and made his slow way out of the room.

For a moment, nobody moved. Then Arlie stepped forward
and picked up the letter, turning it over in his hands without opening it.

‘My mother . . .’ Fiona whispered. ‘Oh, Mineah!’ With that, she flew into Finnlay’s arms. He held on to her as her whole body shuddered with sobs. He said nothing to her, no words of comfort. After all, what comfort could he give her? He’d known about Ayn. The Angel of Darkness had told him, but he’d refused to pass on a spiteful boast like that to Fiona, not when they’d gone out there in the first place to try and find some trace of Ayn.

But Ayn was dead, and so was Marcus. Fiona, crying uncontrollably into his shoulder, was utterly alone.

*

Wilf stared at his plate, but despite the appetizing aroma and the rich sauce melting across the beef, he couldn’t really bring himself to eat. He sat alone in the refectory. Almost everybody else had long since finished their evening meal. He’d deliberately waited, partly to avoid having to talk to people, but mostly with some vague hope that he’d have some appetite. Neither had worked.

‘I guess that’s the price of being Jaibir.’

Henry had come up from behind. He walked around the table and sat on the end of the bench, in profile to Wilf. ‘Not that it would have made a difference. The whole Enclave is in shock. First we get Finnlay’s extraordinary tale and now this, with Ayn. All in all, it’s not been a good year.’

‘No.’ Wilf gazed at his plate a moment longer, then put down his knife and pushed the meal away. Instead he poured out some more wine. ‘I didn’t want to believe Finnlay, I admit, but now?’

Henry glanced at him with a frown. ‘Now what?’

Wilf sighed. ‘I was ungenerous with him and he didn’t really deserve it. I just found it impossible to believe that he’d actually met this Angel of Darkness – and then went on to escape. And the detail! Four generations? Back to the creation of the Key? Is it even possible that this Carlan was telling the truth?’

A movement in the corner of his eye made him pause. Finnlay. He made no show of getting food – he just spotted
Wilf and Henry sitting together and made his way across the wide, low cavern. The young man looked a lot better than he had coming through the gate yesterday morning. There was even a little colour in his cheeks now, some life in his eyes. Within a week or so, physically, he would show no signs of his most recent adventure. Even the scar on his cheek had healed completely, leaving only a pale pink line from his cheekbone to his chin.

Finnlay picked up the flask of wine and a spare cup and helped himself. Then he perched on the table, his feet resting on the bench beside Wilf. ‘Well? What’s the verdict?’

‘Direct and to the point as ever,’ Henry murmured.

‘It’s all right, Henry,’ Wilf raised his hand. ‘For once, I think Finnlay is quite right to take that tone. Even though he shouldn’t have left the Enclave in the first place, I concede he only did it for Fiona’s sake. How is she, by the way?’

Finnlay shrugged, his eyes going dark. ‘How would you expect? She’s lost both father and mother in the space of a year. Both unexpectedly. She’s hurt, lost, mourning. Like everybody else, really.’

He dropped his gaze to the cup in his hands. He turned it around, toying with the liquid. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘There’s nothing we can do. You don’t know what Carlan looks like – and he’s hardly going to go around admitting that he’s the Angel of Darkness, is he?’

‘No, but we could try getting hold of the Malachi, Valena. I’m sure she knows where we could find him.’

‘And what do we do then?’ When Finnlay frowned, Wilf sat forward earnestly. ‘I’m sure we all had our doubts about that prophecy, but as each day goes by it appears there is more and more truth to it. If this man you encountered is indeed the Angel of Darkness, then we’re not up to dealing with him. Yes, I admit, it was dangerous to send Ayn to Marsay and yes, I will even admit that we should have listened to Robert’s warning – but that doesn’t really make a difference, does it? The Key has given us no instructions about what we are to do.’

Finnlay groaned. ‘Since when have we become only the slaves of the Key? Are we not capable of thinking for
ourselves? Out there is a sorcerer of incredible power, wholly and completely evil. He named the Ally and the Enemy and tortured me to find out where the Key was. Are we supposed to just sit back and wait for him to come and get it – simply because the Key hasn’t mentioned this little matter? We need to do something, if only to stop the fear which will roll through this place as easily as thunder on a winter’s day. We can’t just sit here and wait to be slaughtered.’

‘Finnlay,’ Henry turned around and faced him squarely. ‘We cannot do anything. We have no weapons to fight something like this.’

‘We have Robert. At least, we used to.’ Finnlay frowned. ‘You must bring him back, Wilf. Carlan is afraid of him – of the Enemy. Carlan thought that I was the one he was looking for, which means he’ll never suspect Robert. Surely that’s an advantage we should make the most of, while we still can.’

‘What?’ Wilf grunted, ‘and you really believe your brother will take Carlan on? The man who has sworn to stay uninvolved regardless of the provocation?’

Finnlay leaned forward slightly. ‘He went to Marsay, didn’t he? He risked his own life on the chance that he might save Ayn. Surely that counts for something.’

‘It does,’ Wilf nodded. ‘But not enough. No matter what you say, son, I can’t trust your brother. The Key has said he’s the Enemy – and for all we know, he may indeed be our only hope against the Angel of Darkness. But the point is: as long as Robert chooses to be uninvolved, as long as he refuses to trust us with the truth, he can’t be our friend. Unless he changes his mind, I cannot risk rescinding his banishment.’

Finnlay held his gaze for a long time, then stood up. He pulled his jacket down and folded his arms. ‘Very well, don’t bring him back. But even if you won’t use the one weapon the Key has given us, you still have to take this threat seriously.’

‘What do you suggest?’

‘Set up combat classes.’

‘What?’ Henry’s wedge-like eyebrows shot up. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Absolutely. Oh, I know we all get some training at some point, but it’s not enough. Not now. We’re in deep trouble. Deeper than we’ve ever been before. We need to be ready if that monstrosity of a sorcerer ever does find us. If we’re not, we will perish.’ Finnlay drained his wine and put the cup back on the table. With a nod to both of them, he turned and left the refectory.

‘Well, of all the . . .’

‘No,’ Wilf murmured, ‘he’s right. We must do something. I just wish I’d come to that conclusion myself, without having to be prodded into it by one of the Douglas brothers. I tell you, Serinleth was really putting us on trial when he created those two sorcerers.’

‘Well, if Carlan is the Angel of Darkness and Robert the Enemy – where does that leave Jenn?’

‘The Ally?’ Wilf came to his feet and collected up his forgotten meal. ‘I don’t know. Standing somewhere in the middle, I should think. Judging by the way this whole thing is working out, I wouldn’t be surprised if she turns out to be the Ally of the Angel of Darkness – and she’s promised to Stand the Circle, remember? Fortunately, I’ll be gone by the time that happens so I won’t have to listen to a Douglas saying “I told you so”!’