Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary (14 page)

‘Stranger?’ Nardin was prepared for the
obvious question but continued to feign stupidity. It was a dangerous situation
and the Abbott appeared as much a pawn in it as him.  He kept dagger sharp
relief hidden in the depths of his thoughts – at least the body had not been
Malkrin’s. ‘I know nothing of a stranger and knowing Cabryce she would not
invite a stranger into her home. He must have forced his way in.’

‘For what reason would he do that?’ The Abbott
glanced at Rantiss as if to say, I told you he knows nothing.

‘I don’t know.’

Rantiss leaned over the desk and
interrupted menacingly, ‘you conspire with her and her banished husband to put
the security of the Seconchane at risk.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
And with minor reservations Nardin really did not know. ‘I wish to serve the
priesthood by learning to be a scholar and worship Jadde with you.’

Rantiss emitted a scoffing sound, and
another came from behind him.

The Abbott said in a firm voice, ‘I told
you he knows nothing, he is merely a lector and learner and means no ill to the
Seconchane.’

Moleskin walked to the desk and leaned
close into Nardin’s face. ‘Then why would she make a scene and struggle when we
arrived to invite her.’

That was typical Cabryce; she would not
have given in to the Brenna lightly, Nardin thought, but kept his voice even.

‘I know Cabryce; she would only have the
Seconchane’s interest at heart.’ At the same time he thought, Malkrin’s and the
ordinary folks interests anyway.

‘She could not have, or she would not have
sought the company of a fugitive. There are dangerous scavengers beyond our
safe and prosperous lands. As you know they seek to take our food, children and
freedom from us. I ask the question again: what business would the stranger
have had with Cabryce Owlear?’

Nardin held Moleskin’s eyes defiantly, and
answered truthfully, ‘I really do not know.’

Moleskin grabbed Nardin’s tunic. ‘And if I
told you she would have been tried for treason and the penalty would have been
death, what will you say then?’

Would have been?
 The words hit
Nardin with the force of a spear thrust through the heart.
What had they
done to her
? He just stood before his inquisitor open mouthed and felt a demoralising
dismay of a kind he had never felt in his life before.

‘I really do not know,’ he repeated again
and again.

Moleskin hauled on his tunic and stared
into his eyes. Nardin held his breath to avoid the rancid sweat smell of Moleskin’s
face.

‘You don’t know. Now you’ll never know.’ A
flicker of a psychopath’s lust crossed Moleskin’s eyes. ‘You’ll never know
because she’s dead. Cabryce Otterpaw drowned while trying to escape.’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

T
he band of Wolf men staggered across the
bridge. Before Malkrin’s dismayed eyes their faces hung with exhaustion. They
stared fixedly ahead at nothing, as if bewitched by an evil god. The men shuffled
along as if carrying a dead weight – the encumbrance of failure. But also it
was a weight of horror, for in their midst they pulled along a nameless thing
drawn from the memory of ancestors. Malkrin tore his eyes from the creature to
the warriors. At the head of the column a Wolf warrior held aloft a broken spear.
The symbolic shaft appeared to signify defeat, but held aloft with grim dignity.
 Two others limped while supporting each other. Another had lost his headdress;
it had been replaced with a dirty dressing.

A vast crowd, almost the whole population
of the Brightwater villages lined the road from the bridge. But this time the
atmosphere was sombre as the Wolf men trudged by. As the band came level to the
crowd the people gasped with fear at the constrained creature that they dared
not name aloud. It was not only dark in appearance but also in temperament. Its
snarling and hissing chilled every watcher to his or her very soul.

Malkrin watched from the library window.
Then as the caged horror went past below the Light Bridge, he rushed down the
spiral stairs, out of the hollow bridge abutment. He ran fast through the
silent crowds and jumped up a grassy hillock above the crowd for a better view.
Chained and trapped within a sapling lashed cage was the Wolf men’s captive. It
was as if a demon from the heat of a cursed fire had been beguiled by some
powerful enchantment. The cage it occupied looked too weak to hold even a goat.
Two poles jutted out from front and rear, these were held by Wolf warriors. Ropes
stretched from within the cage to other warrior’s fists should the beast within
break free. Malkrin noted every detail of the creature. Its muscular and barbed
legs protruded through the bars. Malkrin thought that it walked upright as men
would. But now trussed with thick ropes holding its arms firmly to its hideous
chest it was immobile. The creature had a black shell forming its back; it
looked as hard as metal armour. The shell projected over its head to form a
protective helmet. Involuntarily imitating the whole crowd, Malkrin stared,
hardly believing the captured horror was for real.

He had recently skimmed an ancient book on the
biology of animals and insects hoping unsuccessfully to find the Archgry
creature. He compared the brute before him to what he had learned from pictures
illustrating the text. He recognised the armour as a carapace protecting the
internal organs in the same way beetles, other insects and crustaceans were
formed. A rostrum was the name given to it by the entomologists of ancient times.
 

But this insect was human-sized, well
muscled and with a face that was almost human.

The creature seemed to sense his horror and
flexed its head in Malkrin’s direction. Its face wrinkled with hatred as its
ferocious yellow fangs glinted with saliva. Red eyes glared with a ferocity
that chilled him, it was as if the creature recognised a powerful enemy.

Bevin Talgour the senate officer approached
the procession. Their exhausted march paused whilst he conferred with the Wolf
Chief. Then he led the procession to the punishment cells set into the high
hillside above the twin villages. The rigid iron-barred caves usually housed
citizens who’d committed misdemeanours but now Talgour must have decided one
was to be the creature’s cell. Not a single Brightwater citizen followed, most
stared in dismay at the now undeniable evidence of evil legions approaching
their once safe lands.

Malkrin was so engrossed he’d completely
ignored his companions who had joined him on the hillock and were whispering
heatedly to each other. Halle had his daughter’s arm in a tight grip.

‘Is there a problem my friends?’

Seara and her father lapsed into a guilty
silence.

‘It’s Seara,’ Halle admitted, ‘she’s
adamant she should treat the Wolf warrior’s injuries. I have informed her of
the dangers. We don’t know their moralities and beliefs. They could resent
outside interference, their religion may forbid treatment. Or treatment by a
female may be seen as a commitment to that man. Who knows the dangers, they are
numerous.’

Malkrin thought about Halle’s anxieties
then came to a decision. ‘Seara has done well healing the sick in Brightwater
these last few months. We must extend her highsense skills to other strangers.
I‘m sure it will be seen as the mercy of Jadde.’

‘But what if they discover she is
Seconchane?’

‘I will accompany her.’

Seara inclined her head to her father in a
silent plea. Malkrin sensed her healing highsense brimming over like never
before. If she could heal the injured warriors it would surely be an initial
gift to help placate the age old feud between the Seconchane and the Wolf people.

Halle still looked uncertain.

‘I will accompany her – with Palerin
ready,’ he said again to reassure Halle. ‘They will see me as a powerful warrior
like them. Her healing will be a gift of peace from us to them. When they
realise we are Seconchane it will show our compassion and put across a message
of reconciliation.’

‘I must accompany my daughter.’

‘No, you are too close, too protective, and
you may emit suspicion. We don’t know if they can highsense us as we can them.’

Halle hesitated; a frown creased his face
with indecision. Then his features relaxed.

‘Very well, I see your line of thought. My
daughter is now an adult, at home she would have been granted her first
highsense sun. I still treat her as a child needing a father’s protection.’ He
stepped back, ‘I will continue my duties.’

Malkrin nodded, his friend had become well
respected by the Brightwater people as a teacher of hunting lore and recently
as a wise interpreter of their scripts.

Malkrin and Seara followed the Wolf warrior
procession toward the punishment cells. They were soon close enough to see the
creature being dragged to the largest cave, fronted by the thickest bars. It
was complete with a mildew covered sleeping mattress and cobweb hung table and
chair.

He heard Talgour explain to a Wolf warrior,
‘this cell is rarely used. It is reserved for the most dangerous criminals.’

The creature struggled like a rabid dog. It
was taking a number of Wolf warriors and Brightwater officials to haul the trussed
demon from its wheeled prison cart through the open cage door. Finally the
barred gate crashed closed. A long knife was thrust through the bars to sever
the demons restraining ropes. Instantly it began gnashing at the bars, saliva
dripping from its jaws. Suddenly it spun toward the crude furniture, and with a
flick of its limbs, sent wood splintering around the cave-cell. Malkrin looked
on dispassionately; it was a demonstration of raw power. Armoured arms had looked
feeble within the thick rope restraint, now free, the creature was a lethal force
– an adversary to be feared.

All the warriors not involved in caging the
demon had sat dejectedly in a grassy hollow. Malkrin looked quickly around the
exhausted men, alert to any hostile move. Could the Wolf warriors tell he and
Seara were Seconchane? His highsense could only detect the frustration of proud
but defeated warriors and images of a black horde advancing like a nest of
disturbed and angry ants.

Malkrin directed Seara toward the exhausted
Wolf Chieftain. She pressed her hands together before her face in the
traditional greeting she had taught her Brightwater friends. Malkrin stood
behind her, alert and stern faced but also performed the greeting.

Then as if pricked by a dagger tip he felt
animosity emanating from someone nearby. He glanced around, the Wolf warriors
still rested in exhausted postures. To one side, three had returned from caging
the demon. One of them stood rigidly upright and stared, his eyes locked on
Malkrin. The man had a close trimmed beard, and his startling blue eyes were
set in a prominently boned face framed by greased flat locks tied behind his
ears. Even worn out he was a formidable warrior. They exchanged glances summing
up each other’s abilities. Then purposefully the Wolf tribesman looked away to
the demon. Malkrin knew he did not rest, but was on a warrior’s knife-edge.

The Wolf Chief spoke to Seara, and Malkrin ripped
his eyes from the blue eyed warrior. He would have to be permanently on his
guard whilst the Wolf brethren stayed in Brightwater. The Wolf Chief talked in
a garbled version of Seconchane – it was a repeat of their experience with the
Brightwater accent. He concentrated hard and tried to remember the few words of
Wolf dialect he had picked up from elderly Seconchane hunters. Seara listened
intently then began a halting conversation. Malkrin chose not to interrupt as
she became quickly more proficient. He looked on in amazement, how had she
picked it up so quickly? He concentrated his mental gift, instantly forming a
highsense rapport with her. He already knew Seara had an incredibly quick mind even
without any highsense being used. He suppressed his surprise at the small
highsense he’d just created to link with Seara.

He refocused on the Wolf Chief, copying her
technique. The chief’s words astounded him; it was as if he were speaking pure Seconchane.

‘. . . I am touched to be offered such
assistance from a beautiful woman. But will your warrior partner permit it?’
The chief nodded respectfully to Malkrin.

Malkrin bowed slightly in respect. ‘Sire,
it would be an honour to allow my kinswoman to heal your companions’ injuries.’

‘Friend, I thank you on behalf of my men.’

Seara took this as permission and bent over
the most serious of the wounded men.

Malkrin nodded to the Wolf Chief, ‘leader
of brave men, when you have rested I would like to converse with you. Meanwhile
with your permission I will observe my young companion for she is greatly
gifted.’

‘Stay as long as you wish friend. I look forward
to speaking with a fellow warrior later, for Indeed I am tired. I recognise
something in you, but at present I am leaden with the travelling away from our
sacred tradition and must rest.’ He glanced appreciatively to Seara. ‘I believe
my men are in soothing hands.’

Malkrin bowed slightly and moved off to
stand a distance behind Seara, allowing his highsense to observe waves of her healing
compassion.

Soon a man was walking normally on a once
severely injured leg.

Her second patient had received a slash
across his forehead that almost scalped him, his features were so blood covered
it was hard to discern his age. The warrior cradled his left arm limply, his
face distorted as Seara gently held the ruined limb. Two minutes later she
indicated for the man to stop examining his pain free arm, then laid her hands
to his head. The man released a deep sigh and settled into the grass as if he
was lying on the most comfortable of beds.

Through his highsense Malkrin observed the
miracle of Seara’s healing. Energy flowed from her in a miasma of curative
power. Ethereal wisps swirled around the warriors head, settled onto the
injured area then were absorbed. Before his eyes the wound scabbed then hair
began to grow in the healing scalp. The scab fell away to reveal a long pale
scar and Seara moved her hands back to the man’s arm and the same ethereal mist
soaked into it. Malkrin looked closely; the warrior’s face had relaxed into
that of a teenage man. He smiled contentedly lifting both arms and placing them
under his cheek and slept.

Seara moved to her next patient. Malkrin
looked on in awe; he would never tire of seeing her practice her gift. The
speed at which she was accomplishing the healing amazed him. Just viewing the
sad state of these warriors earlier must have triggered an increase of her
highsense.

The last few months he had observed her
heal many of the Brightwater people and now she was treated with near Goddess
status amongst them. In their eyes her skills surpassed Malkrin’s scholar-warrior
aura.

Finally she was finished and the wounded
slept, their minds healing to match their bodies. Seara rose and stood in
surprise as she glanced behind Malkrin. He turned and for the first time
noticed six of the uninjured Wolf warriors standing reverently behind him. They
watched Seara’s every move as if she had descended from the Goddess’s abode
purely to bless them.

Malkrin perceived no threat and Seara moved
to them. She rested a hand on a warrior’s shoulder and smiled. ‘Time to rest
brave soldiers,’ she said in a soft but commanding voice. The men meekly nodded
and laid themselves down. Malkrin could see she was worn out, but looked fulfilled
with the many successful healings. Seara didn’t speak a word as he guided her
back down the slope to her and her father’s accommodation.

As the sun went down Malkrin returned again
with Seara accompanied by three Brightwater people assigned to attend the Wolf
warriors. The Wolf fur clothed men had scavenged firewood from the surrounding
woodland and a fire was blazing. The Wolf warriors had erected thick cloth
enclosures from small packs. They were neat and efficient structures just big
enough for one man to sleep shielded from the elements. Malkrin remembered one
of the few things the Seconchane knew about the Wolf people was that they camped
primitively owing to the necessity of travelling without unnecessary burden.