Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary (13 page)

Cabryce suddenly remembered the moment when
she had just arrived in this dark pit.  The cell walls had vibrated when Bettry
had screeched in frustration and madness. She had to get out, and to do so
would involve Bettry. A desperate plan germinated.

The next meal tray slithered under the door
and anonymous feet stomped off. She grabbed the tray and gave her share to
Bettry after extracting a bargain in return.

They sat in the cells driest corner and
Cabryce cuddled Bettry to her as she quietly whispered instructions.

‘You mentioned about your anger, and how
you fought back against the Brenna so bravely. I really admire you for doing
that. Do you think you could summon that anger again?’

‘For you Mother . . . yes, for you.’

Would you like to escape from here Bettry?’

‘Yes. I’ve been dreaming of staring to the
mountains and up the great Shimmerrath falls again, then playing amongst the
trees with my friends. Yes please Mother, can we go now . . . please?’

‘Very, very soon Bettry. Now listen
carefully. You have the energy from the extra food. Do you feel up to a
practice now?’

‘Yes Mother, what shall I do?’

‘Summon that feeling of anger. With the
intensity you felt when you saw your poor husband crumpled and the Brenna
rushing over to grab you.’

In the gloom Cabryce saw Bettry’s face
assume a mask of throbbing anger.

‘
Expand it Bettry, now
.’

The old woman started perspiring and her
gnarled fists clenched.

‘Look at the wall Bettry, under the misty
slot. Focus on the wall.’

Bettry shook and perspiration trickled down
her cheeks.

‘Now my dear –
release it
,’ Cabryce
hissed.

A loud crunch drowned the sound of water; the
wall wobbled and seemed to shimmer. Dark spidery cracks appeared. Another creak
and larger gaps appeared. Water started to hiss into the cell through the lower
part of the widest crack. The vibrating and grating faded and the cracks closed
up.

‘Relax for a moment Bettry.’

Cabryce listened and forced herself to calm
her thumping heart. No guards had been alerted, so she walked to the wall and
pushed then thumped with all her strength. Her legs were instantly soaked. The
wall remained solid and her wrist throbbed. The water was icy and she started
to shiver.

She sat next to Bettry and put her arm
around her shoulders again.

‘That was nearly enough Bettry, you almost
did it. Now think of the waterfall and the mountains, think of freedom and your
friends, think of the revenge we’re going to wreak on the Brenna.’

Cabryce gently removed a lock of Bettry’s
hair from her cheek, and then looked into her wild eyes. ‘When I say push, you
shove with all your anger. Summon everything you can muster against the cruelty
of separating you from your husband and child. Think hard about our captors and
their nastiness, their lack of concern for your grief and how they’ve kept you
here all this time against your will.’

Bettry was shaking now. Her eyes bulged, and
her face glowed like the searing centre of a log fire. Heat radiated from her
frail body, she started wheezing and panting.

‘Now Bettry, now.’

A high pitched crunch sounded, and then a
deep grating roar filled the cell with an earthquake of sound. The cracks
reappeared and grew wider. More water hissed into the cell. The walls shook and
small fragments of blocks fell into the water swirling across the floor. Larger
fragments splashed into the foaming flood. They were waist deep now. Cabryce
glanced at Bettry’s face, it was livid red as if her heart was about to burst.
Cabryce gripped her tightly and shouted above the hissing water.

‘Push Bettry, push hard,
hard
.’

The blocks of the wall exploded outward and
disappeared into the raging torrent that swept into the cell.

‘We’re free Bettry. Breathe deeply my dear
– then when I say, hold it in.’

Cabryce held the old woman firmly round the
waist with one arm and grabbed the jagged opening with the other. She hauled
Bettry onto the broken wall above the torrent. Then looked beyond to where the deluge
disappeared in a surging never ending wave down into the dark depths.

‘Hold your breath Bettry. Now.’

Cabryce summoned her highsense and took in
a massive breath, willing her lungs to hold for longer than her forty-five
breath record.

She leapt with Bettry held firmly in her
arms – into the unknown.

The water was icy and threatened to squeeze
the air from her expanded lungs. The current threatened to rip Bettry from her
grasp but Cabryce held on for all she was worth. The water sucked at her then
swirled them around and around. They were swept along like leaves in a
whirlpool, making her dizzy. She struck her shoulder on a solid object and pain
lanced down her arm loosening her grip on the old lady. Cabryce was whirled
down and down still holding Bettry. The old lady was squirming and panicking in
Cabryce’s grip but she held Bettry with superhuman strength. Their legs and the
old ladies arms were thrown in all directions by the swirling torrent like a
couple of shaken rag-dolls.

Then Bettry was gone, ripped from Cabryce’s
arms by a jagged impact.

Bubbles seemed to be dancing all around her.
It felt as if she was trapped in a cauldron that was simultaneously boiling and
freezing. Cabryce flailed legs and arms to find the surface – but to no avail.

It seemed to go on forever, but eventually
she glimpsed a light far below. She was dropping like a cormorant diving
through water to catch a fish. The light grew closer, and then a dark rugged
shape rose up in the swirling haze to meet her. She struck it hard. Bubbles
popped in her head and whirling away in dizzy redness. To be extinguished by
the icy flood of oblivion.

CHAPTER TWELVE

N
ardin stood under the thatch overhang
opposite Cabryce and Malkrin’s dwelling. He dared not move a muscle as the Brenna
guards dragged Cabryce struggling from her home. He sifted the possibilities in
his head as he watched. In a second he had the answer – the Brenna were fearful
that she would leave Cyprusnia to follow her husband. So they were abducting
their only surviving citizen with a highsense talent to force her into
accepting a remarriage. He could just imagine the proclamation in the open area
in the middle of Edentown. A Brenna spokesman would stand there reading from an
elaborately written parchment.

‘On the orders of Bredon the Fox.

High-lady Cabryce Otterpaw has been offered
help and support by the honoured Council of Elders. She is in consultation with
them regarding finding a new husband from amongst the most talented of citizens
of Cyprusnia. When her audience with the council is complete she will be entertained
lavishly. Shortly the high-lady will be back to help you all in our service to
the great Goddess Jadde.’

He noticed Cabryce held her head high,
glaring at the Brenna horsemen in contempt. He was proud of her, but without
his bow or spear he seethed helplessly. It would be futile though to intervene;
he would have been arrested as well, or worse, run through with a bronze tipped
lance. In frustration Nardin watched as the Brenna pushed Cabryce up the
cobbled street and out of sight.

They had left one guard behind, who scanned
his surroundings as if searching for more unfortunates to arrest. After an
interminable time the guard strode to the side of Cabryce’s dwelling to check
the side passage. Nardin steeled himself to dash from cover and run. Then as
his legs tensed, he stopped, as if tied to the spot. A grinding creaking sound
arose from the quiet night and a pony pulling a cart came round the corner led
by two Brenna. The guard stopped them and the three conversed for a while.
Nardin could just hear the whispered conversation between his own panting
breaths. The guard was embellishing his account of the arrest and boasting of
stabbing an attacker. Then the cart-men disappeared inside the dwelling and
Nardin felt a chill run up his spine as they emerged with a heavy bundle and
heaved it into the cart. An arm flopped over the open rear and the men heaved the
corpse further into the cart then threw straw over it. One smacking the pony’s
rump and they drove the cart in the same direction as Cabryce had been herded.

What had happened? Scenarios buzzed through
his head. He discounted them all knowing he had to get home to Rose his wife
before he was discovered missing and implicated in the murder or execution or
poisoning or. . . He finally got a grip on his frenzied thoughts and threw a
dog chewed bone into the opposite side passage, distracting the guard so he
could run silently into the night.

The arrest and the sight of the body
repeated over and over in his head and would not let up. Had it been Malkrin’s?
No he would have slain all the Brenna with Palerin, Nardin was convinced of
that. The images continued to return even when he lay next to Rose in the warm
bear-fur covered bed. He lay awake too wrought-up to sleep and only relaxed
when he resolved to quiz Cabryce’s neighbours.

The next day he contributed little to the hunt,
lagging behind the others, fumbling snares and accidentally activating trip
wires. He took his share of the game from his disgruntled companions and
sneaked back to town. Then he traded a pheasant for some oat cakes, and paid
two rabbits as tax to the Brenna collector. Rose snatched the meagre food from
him and silently stomped off to prepare it.

Later he arrived home from his enquiries in
Cabryce’s street. No one knew why she had been arrested although the whole town
was buzzing with rumours. It was with a heavy heart he returned to the Priests
Keep that evening. The only saving grace – no Brenna had come to arrest him or
anyone else.

He wandered through the scriptorium feeling
lost and thinking of the terrible events leading to the downfall of his
friends. He found himself a new script to study whilst waiting for Sire Steth
to find him. Nardin forced a cold smile; Sire Steth normally dozed when he Nardin
chanted text in his best boring tone. Then when the old man couldn’t be stirred
he would sneak off to explore hidden corners of the library, drawn to the dusty
volumes untouched for decades. The routine had gone on for months, but tonight
would be different.  Nardin concentrated as best he could; learning was the
only way he could obliterate the anxiety of watching Cabryce hauled away. He had
decided to risk quizzing Sire Steth when he arrived to see if he could be
trapped into disclosing the priesthood’s knowledge of the event.

Luckily the new script was interesting. An old
dissertation on individual gods and how each one served the Seconchane and methods
to appease each with offerings should they be angered. The gifts to the gods
were given by the ordinary people to the priests, who incanted the correct
appeasement in return.

Nardin couldn’t concentrate so let his mind
follow its own path while he waited. In recent times most of the offerings had been
abandoned as they were deemed a waste of food. The Brenna had recently gone so
far as to declare that offerings made little difference to any outcome. Apparently
the Brenna still offered bountiful gifts in private, what they received in return
no one knew. Obviously why the priests were fat and prosperous, Nardin thought contemptuously.
He looked forward to the time he could prove or disprove the ordinary people’s suspicions.

He kept an eye on the clock which ticked on
the wall. A month before he had watched bemused as Sire Steth wound it with a
key. Every click of the mechanism had increased his inquisitiveness until he
had exploded with curiosity.

‘What is the purpose of that device Sire,’
he had enquired? Then spent the rest of the evening engrossed, listening to an
explanation on how time was measured. He learnt in wonder how the days were
divided into units and sub-units called hours, minutes and seconds; all shown
on the clock face. It was a device from better times, he had stayed awake at
home that night recapping the revelations – and had again been useless in the
hunt the next day. But he’d learnt another new concept, and the knowledge had thrilled
him.

At last Sire Steth shuffled into the room. All
Nardin’s urgent questions escaped his mouth in a rush.

‘Let me sit and think about what you say,’
Steth sat down as if his legs had given way. Despite his apparent age his
analytical mind ticked through the information as precisely as his accurate
clock. He sought more information and Nardin answered his questions as
truthfully as he could without giving away his real motivations. Steth’s
curiosity was sharp beyond the restrictions imposed by the priesthood. Nardin
knew he was sympathetic as well as curious. Eventually he stopped stroking his
beard and looked at Nardin.

‘I will enquire about any secretive goings
on within the Brenna. I have heard rumours they are concerned over something,
but my brothers have been unable to discover the cause. Maybe this is their
first overt move to investigate.’

‘I would appreciate any information you
feel able to divulge Sire.’

‘I will do my best young Apprentice.’

Apprentice was the old man’s affectionate
label he had allocated Nardin. It was always spoken with fondness and Nardin believed
the priest now viewed him as his adoptive son.

‘Times are changing,’ the elderly priest
mused. Then his head snapped up and out of his reverie. ‘How are you
progressing with the evening vespers chants, Apprentice Nardin? You must know
each one before you can even be considered a Lector in the priesthood. You
remember me stating their importance?’

‘Yes Sire I do. Test me and I will prove my
progress.’

Two days passed and Sire Steth had met a
silence more complete than was even normal in the priesthood. He had drawn Nardin
into a quiet corner of the scriptorium where they had a good view of all the
doors.

‘Apprentice, I have not dared press the
matter further lest suspicions are aroused, and someone with hidden allegiance
to the Brenna reports me.’

‘I am grateful that you have done all you
can for me and for Cabryce, Sire.’

 Nardin forced the anxious memories away
and crept into the library beyond the arch from the scriptorium. He knew the
place well by now, he’d examined about half of the volumes. They ranged from
dull lists drawn up by ancient accountants to covenants signed by rich Brenna
benefiting the priesthood. A whole shelf was devoted to volumes of rules and
regulations governing the Seconchane and another shelf on how to grow and care
for a variety of crops, shrubs and fruit trees. He’d quickly scanned each
volume to ensure the contents were the same as each leather bound cover
specified.

He picked up a volume entitled Waterwheels
and How to Harness Water Energy when the scriptorium doors opened with more
than the usual subdued creak. A voice echoed loudly splitting the silence
asunder.

‘Priest
Harefoot where is your trainee?’

‘I . . . I believe him to be in the library
Sire Moleskin.’

‘The Abbot has requested his presence
immediately.’

Nardin sat quickly at the table and opened the
book, put his finger unnecessarily to the text and muttered the words without
taking them in. His heart pounded, the dozing priest knew he was in here all
along. The other more commanding voice meant trouble.

A rustle of gowns approached. The scrape of
a sword being removed from a scabbard sounded deafening. Nardin had never been
introduced to Sire Moleskin, but had seen him in the cloisters walking slowly
and silently pretending to be deep in contemplation. But Nardin had seen his
eyes flicking alertly around. They were the eyes of a predator, brutal, alert
to danger and ready to afflict a wolf’s justice on weak prey.

Nardin felt Moleskin’s presence behind him
and carried on running his finger across the page confidently.

‘Leave your work Nardin of Seconchane and
follow me.’

He feigned a jump of surprise and rose from
the chair, noticing another priest behind Moleskin as he did so. This one was
not at all priestly with an iron sword extended ready to strike. He was an enforcer;
one that ensured the people paid their taxes. No one knew their names, the Enforcers
did not want to be identified so were usually given derogatory nicknames which
cheered the people when they handed over their dues. Nardin recognised this one
who had a superior and arrogant manner and was known as Swollenhead.

‘The Abbott wishes to speak with you,’
Moleskin demanded.

‘I am about to leave for my home and bed
Sire.’

‘He will speak with you now.’ The enforcer
moved closer and raised the sword threateningly.

Having run out of excuses Nardin muttered,
‘very well,’ and followed Moleskin from the room with the enforcer falling in behind
lest he tried to run.

Sire Steth stood in the scriptorium
doorway, his face taut and mouth thin.

Nardin sought to put him at ease. ‘I will
see you as usual tomorrow Sire.’

With the enforcer prodding Nardin from
behind the three walked numerous dark passages which were unknown to Nardin.
The never ending walls were all lit by occasional fish-oil lamps. Nardin
rehearsed his story; after all he did not know the reason for
Cabryce’s arrest.
He really needed to go home to Rose and his children. For the first time he
began to regret his decision to educate himself for the benefit of the people.

Nardin expected Moleskin to knock
respectfully on the Abbott’s door and wait for permission before entering. But
he just thrust the door open and Swollenhead pushed Nardin in.

The Abbott sat looking uncomfortable behind
his ornate desk, beside him stood
Sire Helm Rantiss trying hard not to gloat
but failing.

‘Nardin Fleetfoot you seek entry into the
priesthood as a lector and according to your mentor you are a willing and
intelligent pupil. But a matter has arisen – there are strangers infiltrating
our good lands.

‘Ask him,’ hissed Rantiss impatiently to
the Abbott.

The Abbott hesitated and a resigned look
filled his face.

‘Cabryce Owlear has always been dear to you
has she not?’

‘Yes,’ Nardin guessed where this was going
but feigned a note of confusion.

‘Well she . . . err . . . was escorted to
Erich Gamlyn’s homestead
to discuss her future pairing options.’

‘Pairing options?’ Nardin felt genuinely
confused.

‘Yes, I mean . . . to discuss the prospects
of her future betrothal to a suitable husband – one who shows a developed
highsense.’

Taken forcibly more like, Nardin thought, he
kept his face baffled.

‘Do you know of any strangers in our lands?
She was found conferring with a lowly character when the Brenna arrived to
offer her
Erich
Gamlyn’s invitation?’