Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (38 page)

*

‘By the gods, I wish Patric was here!’ Finnlay strode up and down the room like a cat stepping on hot coals.

Arlie settled Damaris into the crook of his arm and glanced up. ‘Why?’

‘Because he’s always so full of nervous energy that when he’s not around I feel like I have to make up for it.’

‘Try sitting down. It does help.’

Finnlay looked around the long sitting room that Fiona had decorated herself. One entire end was covered by a tall bookshelf, but the rest of the room was almost bare of furniture. In pride of place, however, was a series of five scenic tapestries given to her by a family she’d taught for a whole winter. Aside from the chair Arlie sat on, there was only one other by the fire – but Ayn had always used that
and Finnlay resisted the temptation to be the first to sit on it.

‘Please, Finnlay,’ Arlie urged. ‘All this pacing up and down is going to wake the baby.’

Finnlay stopped and planted himself on the end of a stout wooden chest by the door to the bedroom. Martha was with Fiona and it was all he could do to keep himself out of there.

‘Fiona will be fine, Finnlay.’

‘Will she? Will any of us?’ Finnlay strung his fingers together and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘Don’t you understand what’s happening here? Carlan abducted Jenn and the others because he knew about the prophecy. He was looking for both the Ally and the Enemy.’

‘You don’t know for certain that Carlan is this Angel.’

‘So why was Keith Campbell guarding Ayn, eh? How did he get there when he disappeared fifteen years ago? Ayn spoke of a demon. It has to be the same man. By the gods, why won’t anybody understand?’

‘Please, Finn, keep your voice down. If not for my daughter, then at least for Fiona. I think she has enough to worry about as it is.’

Arlie was right. Getting worked up about it now was not going to help. But it was so hard knowing all this and being unable to do anything about it, knowing Fiona was in pain but being unable to go in and comfort her.

‘I’m going to write to Robert,’ Finnlay said eventually. ‘He has to know what happened.’

‘Is that wise?’

‘He has to be warned, Arlie. He has to know about the danger. He’s my brother. Wilf may be happy to sit by and let this prophecy run its course, but I refuse to leave Robert to fend for himself. There’s too much at stake.’

‘My, you’re making enough noise to wake the entire Enclave!’ Martha came through the bedroom door and pulled it shut behind her.

‘How is she?’ Finnlay blurted, coming to his feet.

‘Quiet now.’ Martha busied herself around the fire, putting water on to boil. ‘Some of her friends stopped by, but she
wouldn’t see them. She doesn’t want to see anyone at the moment. Perhaps tomorrow.’

‘Oh.’

Martha straightened up. ‘No. I mean, anyone else. She’s asking for you.’

Finnlay started. ‘For me?’

With a smile, Martha came across the room and put her hand on the door latch. ‘Finnlay, are you . . . Yes, I suppose you are. Well, you’re the best person to talk to her right now. Go on, go. I’ll bring a brew in for you soon.’

*

The room was dark. A single shaded candle stood on the cabinet by the opposite wall. Fiona lay on the bed, her hands across her stomach, clenched. Her eyes opened as he shut the door behind him. He hesitated.

‘Finnlay?’

‘I’m here.’ He went to the bedside and he sat in the chair Martha had just vacated.

Fiona watched him for a moment, then her eyes returned to the ceiling. ‘What did Wilf say?’

‘Nothing much, really. He admitted it was a mistake to send Ayn to Marsay in the first place.’ Too late now, of course. Too late for Ayn and Fiona.

‘But he won’t bring Robert back, will he? Even though he tried to save my mother?’

‘No.’

A deep shuddering sigh wracked her body, but she was beyond tears now. ‘It must have been so hard for Robert to give her Convocation. I know he loved her. They were very close. I suppose part of it was because he was her candidate and there’s always a certain bond that lasts for years. But then, I remember him coming to visit, years later, when he could get away from court. He and father would talk for hours, arguing, discussing. Mother just sat and listened to both of them, voicing her thoughts when they paused long enough to take a breath. They loved him, both of them. And he always stood by them. Even to the point of risking his own life to go to Marsay. Even when he knew . . .’

Fiona’s voice trailed off and she closed her eyes for a
moment. Only then, when she could no longer see him, did she speak again. ‘Finnlay . . . what you did? That night when I found you?’

By the gods! Now he would have to explain – apologize. How could he answer with the truth when she was so vulnerable?

‘Did you . . . mean it?’

He couldn’t answer. He wanted to, longed to – but he couldn’t. His silence forced her to look at him, and gazing into those sad hazel eyes only made it worse.

‘You think I’m in love with your brother, don’t you?’

‘Oh, hell,’ Finnlay whispered, dropping his gaze to his hands. ‘I’m sorry, Fiona. I was sick that night, exhausted, injured . . . I thought I was dreaming when you found me. I don’t know what I was—’

‘I’m not.’

Finnlay paused, then slowly looked up.

‘I never have been.’

Meeting her gaze, his heart skipped a beat. What should he say now? He let his instincts guide him. He reached out and took her hands, held them in his own. His reward was a tiny smile that went through him like lightning.

‘Oh, Finnlay Douglas,’ Fiona murmured gently, ‘you’re such a fool. Why did it take you so long?’

‘I was afraid. I thought you hated me.’ He smiled and shifted from the chair to the side of the bed. With his heart beating like a hammer, he leaned forward and kissed her. He let go of her hands and instantly they came up around his neck. Almost unbelieving, he swept her up and held her, kissing her again in complete confusion. After a while, he sat beside her, his back resting against the bedhead, with her lying alongside.

‘I know this is not the right moment, but I have to at least ask. You don’t have to answer right now. Just when you get around to thinking about it.’

‘What?’ she murmured, not moving from the safe confines of his arms.

‘You will marry me, won’t you?’

She didn’t say a word. All she did was nod. He knew – he
could feel it. The gesture left him grinning like a schoolboy. Yes, he would write to Robert – and now he had the perfect excuse.

The most wonderful excuse in the world.

There was no rain, but this constant fog was even worse. Sometimes it was so deep that Nash had to ride with his senses extended just to avoid the sharp dips in the landscape. It was tiring travelling in such a manner, especially after the business with Selar. He’d had no time to rest, no time to recoup his energies. A week on the road gathering Pascoe’s men together, getting them organized, had all but drained him. Still, it was all for the best. He’d finally taken Selar to the first level of Bonding – and the Enemy was safely dead, his blood in store for Nash to use when he needed it.

Now there was only DeMassey to deal with.

He’d made better time than Nash. He and a dozen of his men were waiting on the road from the village. Bairdenscoth Tower stood bleak behind them in the grey haze.

‘I thought it might be you coming up behind us,’ DeMassey began, gesturing in the air languidly. He wore a smile of instantly irritating proportions. He would be in a good mood, wouldn’t he!

‘I’m surprised you waited for me,’ Nash grunted back, bringing his horse alongside.

‘Now that would hardly be fitting, would it? Riding into your palace without you there to welcome us. We Malachi are well versed in all the forms of polite behaviour. Such a thing would just not be done.’

Nash ignored the jibe. He couldn’t afford to snap when he had to ask something of this man.

‘Your messenger said it was urgent? Important?’ DeMassey
continued, obviously enjoying himself. ‘What were his exact words again?’

‘You don’t need to go on any further.’

‘But I must be sure I understood your man correctly. He said you needed my help?’

‘I’m in no mood to play games,’ Nash replied as they approached the tower. ‘I have a job for you if you want it. But that smile might disappear when I tell you what it is.’

DeMassey opened his eyes wide in complete innocence. ‘Well?’

‘The Queen has absconded with the heir to the throne. She’s not been sighted for almost a month. I want you to find her and bring the boy back alive – to me.’

‘You want me to what?’

Nash turned his horse into the gate and indulged in a brief smile at DeMassey’s reaction. Powerful Malachi he might be, but that woman could be hiding anywhere – and with the most powerful of friends. It was a task even a man of DeMassey’s enormous ability would find difficult.

‘Find the Queen, bring the boy back alive. That’s all. It doesn’t matter what you do with the others. Kill them if you like. The King doesn’t really care – although I’m sure he would reward you handsomely if you brought back Kandar’s head wrapped in a hessian bag.’

Nash jumped down from his horse and glanced around. Stinzali was nowhere to be seen, but he had to be here somewhere. The gate was open and the door to the stairs ajar. Leaving the others, Nash ran up the stairs two at a time, calling out for the old man. He got no response. Nor was there any sign on the first floor. Where was he?

By the time he reached the second floor, DeMassey was with him. Nash burst through the door to the anteroom and came to a complete halt.

Stinzali was here all right. Lying on the floor by the door. Dead. A pool of dried blood made a pillow for his ancient head. Already the smell was thick in the air. But Nash didn’t stop. He sprang across the room and kicked open the door. Terrified of what he would – or wouldn’t – find, he dashed
from one end of the room to the other, but what he saw only confirmed his greatest fear.

The cot was empty. Finnlay Douglas had escaped. Somehow, bleeding, tortured and dying, the Enemy had eluded him. And at his feet lay the orb, shattered in two, the meagre blood it had collected already dust.

‘Damn him!’ Nash bellowed and kicked one half of the orb. It went flying across the room. He picked up the cot and tossed it end over end to crash against the wall. ‘I’ll pay him for this if I have to rip this land apart to find him!’

Seething, Nash whirled around, ready to blast DeMassey to cinders. The man stood by the door, waiting. For once, there was no smile on his face.

Nash strained to control his anger. DeMassey moved into the room, studying everything with a careful eye. Eventually he stopped.

‘You really have kept a lot of secrets, haven’t you? And all this stuff hoarded over the centuries? An interesting bequest from father to son. But Edassa never did pass it on, did he? Not this rubbish here – but the most important thing. The Word of Destruction.’

DeMassey looked at Nash, appraising and measuring. ‘I wonder what you would do if you had the Word. Would you use it and destroy everything around you for a league or more? Would you go on using it, watching it gather strength each time? Would you practise with it, enjoying the power, until you had the ability to destroy the whole world?’

‘I don’t have the Word of Destruction, Luc, so your questions are entirely pointless.’

‘They won’t be if you find the Key.’

Nash turned away and wandered across the room. He picked up the cot and set it back on its legs. ‘You know, when my great-great-grandfather, the mighty Bayazit of Yedicale, created the Word, he passed it to both his sons. As you know, Haliel fought in the Battle of Alusia, but died before he could test out his strength by using the Word. Bayazit was killed by Edassa himself, the night the Key was created. The only man left alive who knew the Word passed it to the Key and was struck down for his efforts.’

‘Edassa was struck down months later, for trying to take the Key from the Salti Pazar.’

‘And your ancestor was one who stood by him that day – so you can stop being righteous about it.’

‘Then get to the point!’

‘The Word was never used,’ Nash said. ‘We have no proof that it would ever work. Don’t set too high a store by it.’

‘Oh?’ DeMassey smiled, ‘then why do you want the Key so badly?’

‘Why do you want it?’

‘I never said I did.’

‘You’re Malachi, aren’t you?’

‘And though you try to forget it, so are you, deep down inside.’

Nash moved back across the room until he stood before DeMassey. ‘What do you want?’

‘A condition. That’s all.’

‘You’ll be paid for your efforts.’

‘I should hope so. But the condition is separate. Nothing will be done for you by any of my men – in fact, you will never receive succour from any Malachi without my condition being met.’

DeMassey stood with his hands behind his back, patient, as if ready to wait until the seas dried up and the deserts blew away.

Nash sighed. ‘Very well. What is it?’

‘I will see Valena.’

‘She’s not here.’

DeMassey laughed. ‘Ah! He tells the truth at last! Still, we must be grateful for these little gems as they come to us. No, what I had in mind was something more interesting. I will help you, put all my resources at your disposal – but I will see Valena, alone. You’ll make no effort to keep us apart.’

‘What if she doesn’t want to see you?’

‘She can tell me to my face. I’ll know if the desire is hers alone.’

And what would Valena choose? Once she heard about this disaster with the Enemy, would she begin to doubt
Nash’s strength, his ability to give her what he’d promised? Would he risk losing her if he agreed?

It was a chance he had to take. Selar would be useless to him if Kenrick was not returned. The boy’s appearance would help break down the last of Selar’s armour and provide the only opportunity Nash would need to complete the Bonding.

‘Very well. I agree.’

DeMassey smiled. ‘Yes, I thought you might. Now, I’ll get my men to clear up the mess in the anteroom. We’ll stay the night and move out tomorrow. But don’t expect any miracles. Finding the boy will take time. I don’t want nasty messages from you about some perceived laziness on my part. Nor do I want you questioning my motives.’