Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (22 page)

‘Where did Patric go?’

Finnlay frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Patric left the Enclave two weeks ago. Where was he heading? Was he going to Marsay?’

‘I don’t understand.’ Finnlay glanced over his shoulder at his departing friends, then stepped further into the other passage. What could he tell Fiona? She was obviously suspicious.

‘Don’t play the fool with me, Finnlay Douglas!’ Fiona hissed. ‘My mother’s gone missing and I think you know something about it. I think that’s why Patric went off. There’s no other reason why he, of all people, would just up and leave the Enclave. For pity’s sake, Finnlay. Patric was born here, grew up here. He’s never been more than a hundred yards from the gate. Now tell me, where has he gone?’

Finnlay swallowed. ‘To Dunlorn.’

‘Why?’

‘I . . . saw your mother – just like I saw you and Jenn coming up the mountain. Ayn was in trouble.’

‘So you sent Patric to get your brother to go and help her?’ Fiona stared at him a moment longer, then turned away, hissing a curse. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘We didn’t want to worry you.’

‘When has that bothered you before, eh?’ Fiona closed her eyes, pain and fear at war on her face.

Hesitantly, Finnlay reached out to touch her shoulder, but she jerked away.

‘Could you do it again?’

‘Do what?’

‘Seek my mother. Could you get another vision of her like you did before? Can you find out if she’s still alive?’

Finnlay stepped back, half-afraid to answer. ‘You must have tried yourself.’

‘Finnlay,’ Fiona groaned, ‘you’re a much more powerful Seeker than anybody else. Just tell me, could you do it again?’

‘Not if she’s unconscious . . .’

‘Or dead?’

‘And if I was right,’ he continued, without acknowledging her interruption, ‘then her
ayarn
has been destroyed. I might be able to find her, but without that to focus on, I could never do it from this distance.’

Fiona almost smiled, but the expression got twisted into a grimace. ‘Then we’ll have to get you closer, won’t we?’

*

‘This is mad, Finnlay,’ Arlie whispered, pulling the last saddle strap tight. ‘When Wilf finds out you’ve gone, he’ll kill you.’

Finnlay glanced over his shoulder to where Fiona was tying a bag to her saddle. ‘What choice have I got? She’s right. We should have told her. We included her at the beginning, then made the decision for her afterwards.’

‘But what if somebody recognizes you?’

‘Who’s going to know me? We’re only going to get close enough to Marsay so I can try this tandem link with Fiona’s
ayarn.
She can get a lot closer to Marsay than me. I’ll still be a hundred leagues away. We’ll stay away from any villages, any people at all. There’s no danger, Arlie, really.’

Finished with the saddle, Arlie straightened up and held the horse’s head so Finnlay could mount. ‘You just be careful, Finn. I don’t want to have to try explaining to your brother how those rumours of your death were not false after all.’

‘Don’t worry, Arlie,’ Finnlay replied, swinging up into the saddle. ‘Everything will be fine. We’ll be back inside a week, no more. By then, you’ll probably have heard from either Robert or Patric. Tell Martha I said goodbye.’

With that, Finnlay kicked his horse and led Fiona through the gate.

*

Getting down from the mountains was easy. Making a passage through the boggy moorlands immediately north of the range was not so simple. All the heavy late summer rains had drained into this one area, turning it into a quagmire. They tried to keep riding, but for long stretches they were forced to walk, pulling the reluctant animals behind them. Through the whole journey, Fiona only snapped at Finnlay when he tried to make conversation.

On the other hand, it was good to be out of the Enclave – if only for a few days. Finnlay found himself stopping every few hours to smell the peaty air or to stare at the wide open plains, bare of any trees but graced with extraordinary rock formations. Although it had been only a few weeks since his arrival at the Enclave, it had felt like months to his wandering heart. These few days were a balm and he was determined to enjoy every last minute of them.

By the time they’d crossed the worst of the moorlands they were both tired and worn out. Finnlay found a spot and made camp where shoulders of hard rock leaned over a small river, one of the tributaries of the Vitala. From here, heading due east, Marsay was about three days’ journey. But Finnlay wouldn’t go that far. He would stay here, where the only sign of civilization was the tiny village of Bairdenscoth, two leagues upriver.

‘It’ll be hard going in places,’ Finnlay said, standing on the rock overhanging the water, ‘but you can virtually follow this course all the way to the Vitala. If you start out early in the morning and find a place to stop before dusk, we can try it then.’

Fiona stood beside him, frowning into the darkening sky. Her hair was pulled back from her face, making her expression hard and uncompromising. It was as though she did it deliberately, afraid that Finnlay wouldn’t take her seriously. ‘Very well. But how will I know if it does work?’

Finnlay raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s a good question. I’m not sure. The first time I tried it, I was holding Martha’s
hand. She’s a pretty good Seeker, but she said she didn’t sense anything unusual. The second time, Jenn helped . . .’

‘But Jenn can hardly Seek to the end of her nose.’

‘But she does have a link with the Key,’ Finnlay added, trying to keep his temper. ‘Even though she doesn’t work with an
ayarn
, she did have some influence on the Seeking. She didn’t notice anything unusual, but perhaps, because she’s not much of a Seeker, she didn’t really know what to look for.’

‘And I will?’

Fiona was watching him now, waiting for him to falter. Finnlay stuck out his jaw. ‘If you have all these doubts, why are we here?’

‘Because your stupid antics got my mother into trouble and I expect you to help get her out of it.’ With that, Fiona turned away and began to build a fire against the chilly evening air.

Finnlay sighed. There was just no talking to the woman. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get past that wall of stubborn dislike – not even now, when he was risking his life to help her. And now she’d found something else to hate him for. Not directly, but his association with Jenn and her discovery of this presence at court had put Ayn in danger. It didn’t matter to Fiona that Finnlay had fought alongside Robert to stop Ayn from going to Marsay. No. With Fiona, everything was always straightforward. Black and white. No grey to be seen anywhere.

They ate supper in silence, allowing the dusk to descend upon them like a calming blanket. After the dishes were packed away, Finnlay banked up the fire and sat down with his back against a rock. Fiona sat opposite him with her eyes closed, shutting out conversation once more.

Why did he keep trying? What was he trying to prove? That he was just as good as Robert?

But he wasn’t and he knew it. Robert was taller, stronger, more powerful than he – and always had been. Finnlay didn’t mind. He’d never wanted to be the same, never even imagined the possibility.

So why did Fiona keep comparing them? Was she still in love with Robert?

Not that Robert had ever known about it. He’d always been the kind of person who found it impossible to believe that anyone could have so high an opinion of him. But just about everybody else knew. Perhaps that’s why Fiona was so prickly. It must be very awkward to have everyone around you knowing your heart’s desire was out of your reach.

‘Are you asleep?’

Fiona opened her eyes and looked at him warily. ‘No. Why?’

Finnlay came to his feet, glanced up at the stars and replied, ‘Because I think we should have a try at this tandem link. To see if you can sense anything now, while we’re still in the same place. It would be pointless trying to find Robert because he doesn’t have an
ayarn
either. We could try to find Murdoch.’

Fiona nodded. ‘Very well. What do I do?’

Forcing a casual smile, Finnlay sat cross-legged on the rock beside her and held out his hand. ‘Just monitor my trance, make sure I don’t drop my
ayarn
– and, I guess, keep your mind clear.’

Without waiting for her to reply, Finnlay closed his eyes and concentrated on steadying and slowing his breathing. Then he felt her hand in his, her cool flesh gripping his with surety. For a second, he was distracted by her touch, but then he regained control and sent his senses way out into the night.

He didn’t try to go too far, nor to stretch himself. He just wandered in the darkness, trying to capture every single nuance of Fiona’s aura. The next time they tried this, that’s what he would focus on, placing his Seeking within the sphere of her
ayarn.
The more he knew her, the stronger that link would be.

After a while, he struck out again, trying to relax, but finding it difficult. He moved east, further and further, but there was no sign of Murdoch – nor even of Robert. Finally, disappointed, he came back to himself and opened his eyes.

‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t find him.’

Fiona tilted her head sideways. ‘How well do you know him?’

‘Well enough to Seek him.’

‘Then perhaps it did work.’

Finnlay frowned, but couldn’t catch her train of thought. She was still holding his hand and he didn’t want to move in case she let go. ‘I don’t understand.’

With half a smile, Fiona said, ‘I’ve never met Murdoch. If you linked through my
ayarn
, perhaps that’s why you didn’t find him.’

She was right. If he’d been Seeking on his own, even from this distance, he would probably have found a shadow of Murdoch’s aura. Obviously it was necessary for both Seeker and link to know the object of the search – at least, Finnlay prayed it was that and nothing else. ‘Let’s hope you’re right.’

Sombre again, Fiona retrieved her hand and got to her feet. ‘Well, we’ll find out tomorrow night. I’m going to bed.’

*

Nash took a deep shuddering breath and opened his eyes. Where had that come from? Was it really as close as it had felt? And so very, very strong! It had to be the Enemy. Nobody in the world could Seek that strongly. And in what direction? Towards Marsay. Yes, definitely east. Who was he looking for?

The old woman? So she had known the Enemy!

With a smile, Nash climbed to his feet and walked the length of his tower room. He stopped before an angled desk covered in maps, some illuminated, others no more than sketches. Nash pulled one out from the bottom of the pile and placed it on top. With a finger on the vellum, he traced the Vitala backwards until it diverged into a dozen little streams. Bairdenscoth village sat beside the westernmost of these, his home lying just outside the village.

The Enemy couldn’t be more than a few leagues away. He’d been Seeking towards Marsay – in the opposite direction. It had been the sheer strength of that Seeking that had caught Nash’s attention in the first place.

The Enemy was out there, close by.

Nash turned his head and shouted, ‘Stinzali!’

A moment later, the small, wizened figure appeared in the doorway, his bald head shining in the bright lamps. ‘Yes, master?’

‘Bring my supper in here. I’ll be working through the night.’

*

It had been a long day, waiting for sunset alone by the river. Finnlay had spent his time reading, swimming and going for little walks along the bank, until the clouds drew over the sun, threatening rain. Then he spent the rest of the afternoon hunting for something to make a shelter out of. The pickings were lean and the shelter sparse at best. If the rain turned into a storm, the whole thing could fall down about his head.

The first shower came an hour before sundown. He scrambled under the lean-to and wrapped his cloak around him. It was cold, too. In a few weeks the worst of autumn would be upon them and the weather would close in for months. And once the snows came he really would be trapped within the Enclave – along with everybody else.

Would Patric be back by then? How long did he plan to stay at Dunlorn – had he even got there?

A rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, heading south, but there was no lightning. Finnlay huddled under the shelter, but he was getting wet anyway. If it rained too much, it would make the journey back to the Enclave even more difficult. Perhaps even impossible.

The gods must have been listening, because after only half an hour the rain stopped, leaving the air fresh and revitalized. Finnlay brought the fire back to life and settled down, ready.

Fiona must have stopped by now. She should be in place a day’s journey closer to Marsay. Finnlay breathed a silent prayer to Serinleth and closed his eyes.

Fighting against the storm activity took a few minutes, then he was free and moving east. He took his time, ranging north and south of the river, testing his strength by catching every little aura he could taste. Further and further he went until—

Yes. There she was. Glowing in the night, familiar and warm. For a moment, he allowed himself the indulgence and
wrapped himself around that aura. Then he concentrated again and focused his Seeking through her
ayarn.
There was still a long journey ahead of him.

It wasn’t until he was some distance away from Fiona that he noticed the difference: he was sensitive to it this time. There was more power at his command, a better reach. There was also a different. . . colour? Tone? What was it. . .

He couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, all the power, all the strength vanished, like a door slamming shut. He struggled, gasping, but the glow behind him where Fiona waited began to dim. He’d gone too far. He should have brought somebody else along to monitor his trance . . .

‘Come back to me, boy!’

The voice screeched across his fading senses and dragged him back into his body. Aching, searing pain wracked him as he opened his eyes. He could see nothing but the fire, a pile of glowing coals in the night. He tried to move and instantly felt the cold steel at his throat.

‘Yes.’ The voice came again. ‘That’s right. One move and your throat will be cut so deep you won’t live long enough to watch your blood soak into the ground.’