Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (61 page)

Robert was unbending, his face like solid stone. ‘Why tell me?’

‘Because you have to help her.’ Finnlay steeled himself against Robert’s reaction. ‘You have to ease her pain.’

For the first time in his life, Finnlay saw real raw fear in Robert’s eyes. ‘No!’

‘You must. If you don’t, the baby will die – and Jenn will die trying to save it.’

‘And they’ll die if I do!’ Robert hissed. ‘Do you think I
learned nothing from Berenice’s fate? I killed her when she was having my child. They both died and all I did was try to ease her pain. I will not –
cannot
– endanger Jenn like that. I . . . I can’t, Finnlay, and that’s all there is to it.’

‘Well, I can’t and you know it.’ Finnlay reached out and caught Robert’s sleeve, tried to impress in his voice as much urgency as he could. Robert
must
believe. ‘Robert, Berenice died because your powers interfered with the child’s own developing ability. Even so young. It was because it
was
your child that Berenice died.’

Robert’s eyes widened and he shook his head, struggling. ‘You don’t understand, Finnlay . . . I can’t try this because there’s a chance that . . . that—’

‘Jenn’s child might be yours?’ Finnlay murmured, trying to put Robert out of his misery.

Robert froze.

‘Please, Robert. You must try. If you do nothing, she’ll die. Jenn will die. If you make the attempt, at least there’s the chance she will live. If the child is Eachern’s, Jenn will live. Surely that’s important to you.’

‘Important?’ Slowly, painfully, he turned towards the bed. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He moved around to the side opposite Bella and Finnlay could see his face again. As Robert knelt beside the bed and took Jenn’s hand, his expression was nothing less than a man who was staring at his own damnation. Robert took a deep breath and held it.

And Finnlay sensed the power flow from Robert. A warm, gentle, tender comfort like mother’s love and soft down. It was directed towards Jenn, but it was so strong that Finnlay’s pain also began to fade.

In seconds, Jenn’s breathing had slowed and each new intake was deeper, stronger, more determined. Gradually, her colour changed and lost the deathlike pallor. Most of all, her cries were silenced. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and looked up at Robert.

Like shattering stone, he let go her hand and got to his feet. He took first one step back and then another. Then,
without a word to anyone, Robert turned and strode out of the room, leaving an abrupt emptiness in his wake.

‘Finnlay,’ Bella began, ‘I think you should go now.’

With a nod, Finnlay gestured his helper over and together they shuffled out of the room. With any luck they would all live long enough for him to pay for that lie.

*

In a hastily erected tent far beyond the walls of Elita, Nash opened his eyes and swore. ‘Damn! The Enemy was not so seriously wounded after all.’

Lisson came across the tent with a cup of wine in his hand. He held it out to Nash. ‘What happened?’

‘I can’t reach her. Something’s blocked the path. I was so close and then – gone. Just like that.’

Nash took the wine and swallowed deeply. He came to his feet and slapped the cup on the table to his left.

‘Then the baby won’t die?’

‘If it does, it’ll be an accident. Still, it doesn’t really matter. It’s Eachern’s child, not the Enemy’s. Nevertheless, I have to get inside that castle. He may not be mortally wounded, but he’s still weakened. I have to get to him before he can get his strength back.’

Nash walked to the door of the tent and pulled the flap aside. The castle stood before him, lit only by the perimeter fires. He had neither the men nor the time to mount a full-scale siege. Killing the Earl had done nothing to break the loyalty of his soldiers. The gate remained firmly shut, the Enemy safely inside. If Nash didn’t resolve this soon he’d lose the opportunity. Reinforcements would come to aid Elita – and the King would send soldiers down to help Nash out, believing he needed it.

But he didn’t. He didn’t need any of them. He had all he required clothed in the garb of ordinary Guilde soldiers. So far they’d obeyed his every order, just as DeMassey had instructed. Now was the time for them to do more – and if they were clever about it, nobody would even know Nash had employed sorcery in the downfall of Elita.

The night was dark and cold. It was time.

*

Micah tried not to follow Robert about the castle, but he couldn’t help it. At first, he’d even tried to keep some sort of distance between them, but it was impossible. For the first time in his life, Micah didn’t trust Robert, didn’t trust him enough to let him out of his sight.

Robert patrolled the walls, speaking to the men with all the charm he was so blessed with. The Guilde archers had ceased their bombardment and the night had become eerily quiet. Robert gave a word of encouragement here, a quip there. He paid attention to everything that was said to him, displayed his understanding of their fear – and he was out there, on the battlements along with them. He was in fine form, so fine that only the experienced eye could see the danger.

Robert was brittle, so brittle that Micah dared not say a word to him. He knew that his continued presence was probably adding to Robert’s mood, but what else could he do?

They had almost completed the circuit when it began. Another volley of fire-arrows, wave after wave. The men on the wall took shelter, but it wasn’t enough. One close by was hit and as Micah rushed to his aid he caught his first glimpse of the damage. Almost every building lining the courtyard was on fire. Within the space of a few heartbeats, straw and thatching and dry ancient timber caught alight, turning the darkness of night into a weird and terrible daylight. Then there was another noise. Low and vibrating beneath his feet.

‘The gate!’ Robert cried, already moving. ‘The Malachi are going for the gate! Fall back. Everybody get inside the keep!’

Micah dodged running soldiers, nearly falling off the parapet. He tore after Robert, drawing his sword as he leaped down the stairs to the cobbles. Chaos reigned as men scrambled for safety within the keep, their way lit by the burning stables, the kitchens and storerooms. Huge beams fell around him, but he pushed his way forward until he could see Robert standing before the portcullis. Already a huge crack had appeared in the wall above, some unbelievable force pushing it inwards. Stone showered down while
the ground trembled. Robert had his hands raised as though to ward off the heat of the fires, but he stood his ground.

‘Get back!’ Micah yelled.

‘I can’t hold it very long,’ Robert called, strain showing in every word. ‘Get everyone into the keep.’

Micah moved back a little until he could see the state of the withdrawal. Almost everyone was inside now, with only Neil and Shane waiting by the door. ‘Come on!’ Micah bellowed to Robert. ‘Everyone’s in!’

But Robert didn’t move – and Micah didn’t wait. He ran forward and grabbed Robert’s arm. With every ounce of strength he had at his command, he dragged Robert back from the crumbling wall and across the courtyard. He didn’t let go, he didn’t let up. Together, the two of them made the door of the keep. Micah pushed him inside as Neil and Shane swung the doors shut and slid bolts and bars across. It would hold – but only for a few minutes.

Micah turned swiftly to find Robert had already made his way through the crowd gathered in the hall. He called out no orders, gave no instructions on what they were to do next. He headed straight for the stairs like a thunderstorm waiting to break.

Terrified, Micah tore after him.

*

Finnlay got up again the moment he heard Jenn scream. Over McCauly’s protests, he made it to the door of his room and stumbled into the corridor. And then he heard something else. The mighty crash of stone, so close he almost jumped. The walls trembled around him and from the hall below he heard cries of terror. He glanced down the corridor as Robert appeared, heading for the stairs up to the roof.

‘What’s happening?’ Finnlay called.

Robert was like a man in a dream, seeming incapable of speech. Just then, the door opposite opened and a face appeared. It was Addie.

‘My lord,’ she began, ‘Lady Bella said to tell you. It’s a boy. My lady has given birth to a boy. She’s fine.’ Addie smiled shakily. ‘They’re both fine.’

‘A boy?’ Finnlay murmured, for a moment forgetting everything else. ‘Robert? Did you hear . . .’

Robert stiffened and straightened up. He turned on his heel and strode back along the corridor just as Micah turned the corner. Robert reached out almost in reflex and pushed Micah back against the wall. He left his hand on Micah’s chest long enough to get his message across, then leaped up the staircase on his right. Micah didn’t follow him.

*

Like a dark beast he climbed the stairs, one at a time. Each step he took brought him closer, higher, fuller. Every muscle, every sinew shrank and grew, taut against the pressure, straining against his flesh. His feet climbed without volition, spurred on by an ebony fire at his heels, smoking and smothering, drowning and defeating.

There was nothing in his mind. No sound, no light, no image to deflect his compulsion. It grew within him, untethered. It drove him to the top of the stairs and out into a darker blackness, out into the night.

Creatures around him shrank back, mere shadows of the raven sun flowing from his body. He stood there, hanging, drifting, until he was alone.

And alone he grew, filling his soul with a demon kept alive by prophecy and damnation, futility and impotence.

There was no seed of hope left, no hope at all. Alone, terribly alone, he looked to the sky – and straight into the eye of the abyss.

With a roar of defiance, the dam inside him burst and seething fury flooded his body, coursed through his veins and consumed his blood with a deadly poison. It filled his ears, nose, mouth and poured out through his eyes. A bubbling blackness, searing and seething, stinking with evil and centuries old.

An inferno of anger and hatred, a blazing corruption, the Enemy thrust his hands towards the black sky, clenched his fists—

—and spoke the Word.

As Robert disappeared up the stairs, Aiden reached out to steady Finnlay. He was pale and sweating and should never have left his bed. Aiden put his arm around the young man, but Finnlay tried to push him away.

‘I have to go after him,’ Finnlay murmured, his eyes on Micah down the corridor. ‘Robert!’

Aiden held on, but Finnlay was too weak to struggle. Instead he pulled in a wheezing breath. ‘Micah. Go! You have to stop him!’

He would have said more, but at that moment, the floor beneath their feet began to tremble and groan. Doors and window casements started to rattle and from somewhere came the sound of shattering glass. Voices from the hall below cried out in fear and Aiden clutched the wall to steady himself and Finnlay.

‘By the gods,’ the young man breathed, his voice shaking with awe and dread. ‘He’s done it. Serin’s blood,
he’s used it!’

The building around them shook more and more, shuddering and creaking with an unknown force. An unholy moan sang through the stone, deafening, protesting. Clouds of dust filled an air pierced by screams of terror.

‘Hold on!’ Finnlay yelled and instantly a blaze of incandescent light shrieked through the windows, searing and blinding, blasting all in its path. Before it could even begin to fade, another howl tore through the castle: a wind so strong it blew Aiden and Finnlay against the wall. Furniture, plates, anything that wasn’t tied down flew through the air.

Aiden dragged Finnlay to the ground, covered his head with his hands. The gale roared around them, thunderous. On and on. It screamed through the castle, blasting all in its path. They huddled against the wall as the wind whipped up its fury, threatening to tear them away from their place. Then, suddenly, it stopped.

Silence. Silence and darkness.

Terrified to his very soul, Aiden gingerly lifted his head and opened his eyes. At first he could see nothing, but then, in the inky blackness, he saw movement down the corridor.

‘Micah?’

The young man climbed unsteadily to his feet and stumbled towards him. Aiden unfurled himself and looked at Finnlay. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Jenn!’ Micah cried suddenly, lurching past Aiden into the other room.

‘It’s all right,’ Bella called through the open door, her voice tremulous and pale. ‘We’re fine.’

Aiden turned his attention back to Finnlay. ‘What happened? What was that?’

Finnlay pressed himself up to sit against the wall, his face a grimace of pain. ‘My brother.’

‘But . . . that? Was that sorcery?’

‘No,’ Finnlay grunted and tried to get up. ‘That was something we’d all thought was nothing more than a myth. Help me. I have to go to him.’

‘No,’ Aiden replied, his hands still shaking. ‘You stay where you are. I’ll go.’

‘You can’t – you don’t understand.’

Aiden unpeeled Finnlay’s fingers from his arm and stood up. ‘I don’t need to.’ He turned and wound his way along the corridor until he reached the stairs. A cacophony of shock and fear rose from the hall below, but Aiden didn’t pause. He climbed the first level to find three men huddled on the landing. They watched him like dumb creatures, but he continued on, relentless.

The door to the roof was open, gaping towards the night, blown off by the gale. Aiden crept out into a darkness which stretched as far as he could see. Neither light nor sound reached him. He might have been the only man alive in the world.

With his heart beating like a drum, he inched forward, blind against the blackness, until his knees touched cold stone. The keep wall. He looked down, but still could see nothing. No more fires, no more attackers. Nothing.

He swallowed his fear and turned to his left. Gradually his
eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness and he scanned the top of the keep, looking for something, someone. There was no movement, no life – but there in the far corner was a shadow, more substantial than the mere absence of light.