Chapter 14
Magdoor
The birds began to sing a little earlier that day. Even before the glow of dawn, their chorus had begun. Alison lay beneath a warm layer of sheepskins, knowing it would soon be time to go outside and rekindle the fire.
She pushed at the mat that served as the door of their hut and looked out. The weather had turned cold and frost covered the ground.
Four moons had passed since they had arrived on the island. She had often asked Miralda when they would be able to leave and deliver the burden of Balduur's head to its final resting place. The old woman always said that the time had not yet come and they would know when it had arrived.
She replaced the mat and returned to her bed. She liked the little hut that Fury had built. He was good at things like that but he wasn't the man of her dreams. Time and experience had taught her that. Fury was timorous and knew little of the real world. His songs of love were just songs. He knew no more about making love than she did.
He awoke and looked outside anxiously.
'The birds ... that's a warning call.'
He often took fright. Alison had got used to it. She watched as he squeezed through the narrow doorway, pulling on his clothes. The birds were squawking louder now. She could tell something had caused them to take fright.
Fury reappeared.
'We've got to leave.' He tugged at her feet. 'You get Miralda. I'll take our things down to the coracles.'
'What's happening?'
'Someone's coming.'
'Shouldn't we find out who it is?'
'No.' Fury shook his head. 'By the time we've done that it could be too late. Do like the birds. They take flight when danger approaches and they don't return until it's safe.'
What Fury said made sense. Alison dressed hurriedly and went in search of Miralda. She found her beside the creek. The old woman was dressed in her hooded gown and carried Balduur's head in a bag that hung about her neck.
'We must leave at once,' Alison said.
'Why is that, my child?'
'Our friends, the birds, are warning us.'
'I hear them,' Miralda replied, 'and I hear another sound.'
Alison listened. 'All I can hear is a sort of squeaking.'
'Yes, my child. It is the sound a weasel makes. Do you think a weasel is coming in a boat?'
Alison shook her head.
'I think we should return the call.'
The old woman put her fingers to her lips and made a series of high-pitched squeaks. Moments later, a coracle appeared. It left the main channel and came towards them through a gap in the reeds.
'We're over here,' the old woman shouted.'
'I see you, Sister.'
Alison thought the voice belonged to a girl. Then, as the coracle drew near, she realised the occupant was a boy. He ran the craft ashore and waded towards them. Frost covered his outer tunic down to his thighs. Below that he was soaking wet.
'Sister.'
He ran forward and grasped the old woman's hands.
'The princess is badly hurt. There's been a great battle. The Sky Warrior has beaten Morgon but he's escaped into the marshes with his men. We've got to get to Adrina before it is too late.'
The boy's teeth chattered. His face was blue and the ends of his fingers were deadly white. Alison ran to the fire and blew it into life. Then she shouted to Fury to get some dry clothes. Adrina had been given a tunic that was too small for her but it would fit the boy.
The lad was stockily built with fair hair and freckles. Alison pulled at his outer tunic, which was caked in ice. He tried to help her undo the toggles but his fingers were numb. After a struggle with ice-encrusted leather, she freed the toggles and pulled the tunic over his head.
Alison was filled with admiration. The boy was suffering from the cold yet he'd kept going. She undid the belt that secured his trousers. For a moment she felt shy. He was hardly a mature adult; but he wasn't immature either. She wondered how he must feel, being undressed by two women, one not much older than himself and the other old enough to be his grandmother.
Weasel didn't seem to notice. He was either too cold or didn't care. She dried him with a linen cloth and helped Miralda dress him in dry clothes. He wanted to leave at once but the old woman said they should wait for the turn of the tide. She gave him something to drink and he was soon asleep.
The tide turned towards midday. Weasel had the two coracles on the mud flat and shouted for them to join him. Fury and Alison ran down and the boy told her to get into the coracle beside him.
Fury began to argue. 'Little Cat comes with me.'
'It's best she comes with me and you follow behind in the other coracle,' the boy replied.
'She comes with me,' Fury insisted.
'Brother. There are things I must teach her.'
'Don't tell me what to do.'
Alison got out of Weasel's coracle and led Fury aside.
'What's the matter?'
'I'm not going to be told what to do.' Fury shook with anger. 'I'm a prince of the royal blood. I don't take orders from little boys.'
'Are you jealous of him?'
Fury stood knee-deep in water. He seemed at a loss for words. Alison waited and, when he said nothing, she climbed back into the coracle beside the boy.
Weasel cast off.
'Start to paddle, Sister.' He thrust his paddle into the water. 'You must learn because I won't be with you when you go back.'
Alison felt a tinge of alarm.
'Why?'
'Adrina has a friend. He's badly wounded. You'll have to take him with you ... there won't be room for me.'
'How will I know the way back?'
'Fury will take you.' Weasel smiled. 'He's good at things like that.'
Alison was stung by the reply. It wasn't so much what the boy said ... it was the way he said it. It was like he was telling her that Fury wasn't good at much but he was good at running away from danger.
She tried not to think of it. The tide was coming up the channel in a series of waves. The first struck the coracle and it almost capsized. She paddled furiously, helping the boy to steer through a tangle of fallen branches.
They entered clear water and her mind turned to questions. The lad was clearly intelligent and probably had a good understanding of the mysterious world she had entered. There was a lot she wanted to know. It was no good asking Fury. He'd been raised by a bunch of priests. And Miralda lived the life of a hermit.
'How do you know Adrina?' she asked.
'We were both adopted by King Pius,' Weasel replied. 'Adrina is of noble birth. I'm of the third rank.'
'How is that?'
'My mother died when I was born and I was left on the steps of the temple of rebirth so the sisters could look after me. Today it's different. The Duideth are in control and people leave babies at the shrine of the Lord Sun. It doesn't make any difference. They all end up with Pius unless they're boys and the Duideth want to keep them.'
'It sounds a very good system,' Alison said. 'The way King Pius looks after unwanted children.'
'The clan chieftains don't think so.' Weasel looked ahead and continued to paddle. 'They think it makes the royal clan too big and powerful. The chieftains want to bring Pius down to size. That's why he needs Morgon and the Duideth.'
Alison had thought that the politics of her new realm was simple. Now she realised that it was as complicated as that of the realm she had left.
'What's going to happen now that Morgon has been defeated?'
Weasel negotiated a floating log. 'Adrina thinks that Ardolf will take over. He'll get himself made War Master. He's a friend of the Duideth and an enemy of all who walk in the light of the Blessed Lady. That's what Adrina says.'
Alison was about to reply when she saw something that sent shivers down her spine. She pointed.
'What's that?'
'Keep paddling. Act like you've seen nothing.'
Alison dipped her paddle and took a couple of strokes. There were things on the island ahead. They looked like men but there was something very odd about them. She turned her head as she made the next stroke. This time she got a better view. Shields and body armour ... her instinct was to paddle into midstream. She took a stroke in that direction and heard Weasel's voice.
'Nay, Sister. Keep going like I said.'
The boy was calm and collected. Alison felt silly. Tom had taught her the martial arts. He'd told her to recognise people who were good and Weasel was good. One day the boy would be a great leader of his people. She placed her paddle on her knees and let the current carry them forward.
The island loomed up. First mudflats then a tangle of willows. She glimpsed a military cloak and a shield emblazoned with a smiling face. But there was nothing friendly about it. The face was menacing ... the sort that enjoyed inflicting pain.
She looked to Weasel for guidance.
He kept paddling as if nothing was happening. The men in the trees were soldiers but they were nothing like Fury's people. They must be the southerners Fury talked about. Tom had defeated them in battle. Now they were waiting in ambush. Their two coracles would be valuable assets.
'Keep your eyes forward, Sister.'
Weasel stuck his paddle into the water.
'Keep going.'
Alison stole another glimpse at the willows.
The grey-clad forms were more distinct now. Some were draped over branches. Others lay in pools of mud. Suddenly, she realised what the boy must have known all along. The soldiers weren't lying in ambush. They were dead and their heads were missing.
Fury came alongside. Alison expected him to be unnerved by the bodies but he was worried by something else. He pointed ahead, towards a junction of the waters.
'Can you see the boat?'
Weasel looked into the sun. 'I see it, brother. Under the clump of willows ... up where the channel divides ... four men in grey cloaks.
'Morgon's men.' Fury was deadly pale.
'We'd better get into the reeds where they can't follow.'
'We don't know they're Morgon's men,'
'They're wearing his cloaks.'
'Lots of warriors are wearing cloaks they've taken from the soldiers.' The boy spoke in a steady voice.
Fury wasn't listening. 'Be like the birds. Flee when danger threatens ... return when it's safe.'
He was interrupted by a dull thumping noise. Something formidable was coming towards them and it was propelled by oars. Alison had never heard anything like it. Boat races in her former realm were feeble in comparison. The oars sent shock waves through the water. She clung on and watched as a dragon prow appeared against the winter sky.
It made straight for them. Alison thought they'd collide. Then the steersman shouted a command. The water boiled and the vessel swung round. Ropes were thrown down and the coracles were pulled to the side.
The steersman wore a cloak trimmed with fur and carried a sword with a jewelled pommel. He threw out his arm in salute and announced his name, saying he was Tempest son of Storm Cloud, Prince of Galboreth.
Alison waited for Fury to reply. He was a prince of the Catti and the boatmen were his mother's allies. But not a word came from Fury's lips. He sat in his coracle: eyes focused on a row of heads that hung from the dragon prow. The steersman glared at him.
'What's your name?'
Fury pulled back his hood. 'I am Little Bear, also known as Fury son of Great Fear, Ap-Bronwyn, Ap-Cronwyn, Prince of the Catti, by grace of our Most Holy Mother.'
He blurted out his reply.
'It's the little prince.' One of the oarsmen rose from his bench. 'I thought I recognised him.' He swirled his cloak in an exaggerated show or respect. 'Pray, little prince, introduce us to your two companions.'
Fury opened his mouth but Weasel didn't give him a chance to speak. The boy rose and gave a warrior's salute. 'I am Broyan son of Malduur, companion of the Princess Adrina and a loyal servant of Our Lady.'
The boy sat down and Alison stood up, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder to steady herself. She decided to follow his lead and not mention her totem name.
'I am Alison.' She threw back her hood. 'I came here as companion of the man you know as the Sky Warrior.'
The effect was electric. Men crowded to the side of the boat and the vessel leant over.
'What are you doing with the little prince?' one of them asked.
Alison ignored him.
'Are you a princess?'
'My father is a famous healer,' Alison replied, aware that the clansmen held the medical fraternity in great respect.
'Lady, would you do us the honour of coming aboard?'
The invitation came from the steersman. He swirled his cloak elegantly and held out a hand. His good looks and fine manners impressed her. She turned to Fury. 'Let's go and talk to them. They can help us rescue Adrina.'
Fury looked aghast. He opened his mouth to speak. But, before he could get out a word, Weasel dug his fingers in Alison's arm.
'Adrina doesn't want to be rescued by them.' The boy spoke in a whisper. 'She wants you and Miralda ... no one else.'
Alison took the cue. 'Thank you.' She waved. 'We are on our way to give blessings at the shrine of the Good Mother for the Sky Warrior's victory.'
'Be careful. Morgon's men are everywhere.'
'I thought he was beaten.'
'Morgon might be beaten but he's not destroyed. His men are trying to regroup and we're here to stop them.' The steersman pointed to the row of heads. 'Those fellows won't be with them when they return to rape our women.'
He turned to Fury as the coracles drifted away.
'They won't be with them when they hunt for you and your lovely companion ... will they, Little Bear?'
Alison paddled in silence, humbled by the contempt the boatmen had shown towards Fury. She wondered what she was doing with him. His totem name had once seemed so beautiful. Now it made him sound like a child.
He'd called himself Little Bear. There was a time when she'd been attracted to it. In the beginning she'd thought everyone had a totem name and sang songs about love, peace and happiness. Now she knew her new world was full of problems ... just like the one she'd left.
'Please, Sister, you're in my way.'
Alison moved over and gave Weasel more room to move. She watched as he took the coracle back into the main channel. He was a good boy, the sort you would want as a little brother. But she needed someone older. She needed the companionship of a strong mature male: someone like Tom but younger. Her thoughts returned to the steersman. He was tough, handsome, charming and only a few years older than herself. She imagined being with him on the dragon ship.
Then she remembered the row of heads. Was she really contemplating a life with a head-hunter?..She felt confused. All the things that had held her life together were gone. It wasn't like she was back in Cheltenham, arguing with her mother. It was a new ball game. There was nothing to hang on to. She buried her face in her hands and shook uncontrollably.
Weasel touched her arm.
'Sister, don't be frightened.'
'I'm not frightened.'
'What's the matter?'
'Nothing ...'
She heard the boy but was consumed by her thoughts. Fury was a wimp. She'd made a terrible mistake when she'd been attracted to him. Miralda had spoken about the burden they had to carry. The old woman's words were beginning to make sense. Weasel aroused her from her thoughts.
'There are soldiers on the island ahead and they're not dead like the others.'
Fury came alongside. 'Have you seen them?'
'Aye,' Weasel nodded.
'Morgon's with them.' Fury stammered. 'He's up by that big willow. I can see the sun on his bald head.' He grabbed the boy's paddle. 'We've got to get further out. If we stay inshore they'll reach us with their arrows.'
'They can do that now,' Weasel said quietly. 'If we move out they'll know we've seen them ... that'll give them a reason to shoot at us.'
'They don't need a reason.' Fury pulled the boy towards him. 'I know them. They'll kill you just for fun.'
Weasel raised a hand to quieten him.
'It's best we let the current carry us on. Morgon's not stupid. He's not going to give his position away.'
Fury's face reddened. 'You stupid little boy. If we're dead, it won't matter. We won't be able to tell anyone.'
'He can't be sure he'll hit us.'
'It won't be one shot. He's got hundreds of archers with him ... hundreds. You listen to me. I'm older than you. I'm a prince.'
'Shut up.'
Alison's hissed.
'Shut up ... you silly little blub.'
She thrust a finger at Fury and he sank back as if stunned by a mortal blow. He let go of Weasel's paddle and the two craft drifted apart.
Alison sat in silence as the coracles were carried along. They passed the island without incident. Morgon's men melted into the trees. She guessed they were a well-disciplined force and weren't going to do anything that would betray their position to the dragon boats.
Plumes of smoke rose in the distance. Weasel said they came from the port of Dunavon. Alison wished she were there, lying on a pile of furs in a snug little house, listening to tales of Tom's victory. But Dunavon was not on their agenda. The port was a stronghold of Adrina's mother and Adrina was determined to have nothing to do with the lady.
They were now entering a region that had been cleared for farming. Homesteads stuck up in the marshes. They were built on islands and had once been prosperous. Now that had changed. Pleasant dwellings had been ravaged. On one island a dog was tethered, howling miserably. On another she saw a body ... a woman in a brightly coloured dress. She looked again and decided it was discarded clothing. Then she saw something sticking out from beneath a bush.
'One of Morgon's men,' Weasel whispered.
Alison leant forward. 'I see his sword ... it looks very valuable.'
The boy let out a low whistle. 'It's a long sword. Only the officers carry long swords. That one's got a gold sheath. He must be very important.'
'So it will be a good sword.'
'Aye.' The boy nodded. 'The officers with the gold come from rich families. Most of them are stupid ... that's what Adrina says.'
Alison felt a strange force take hold.
'I want it. And I'm going to get it.'
Her lips moved and she heard herself speak.
'But you're not trained, Sister.'
'I am trained.' She glared at the boy. 'The Sky Warrior trained me. He is a servant of the Holy Mother. It was She who brought us here to this realm.'
Weasel was surprised by the sudden transformation. He'd been told how strange forces could possess women. It hadn't meant much to him in the past but he was beginning to get a feel for it.
Alison stood up in the coracle to get a better view. The soldier was on his back and covered in blood. But his head was still attached to his body. She wondered if it was a trap. The coracle was valuable. It gave you a big advantage over anyone trapped on land. Her eyes scanned the scene, peering into every nook and cranny. Convinced that the soldier was alone, she stepped ashore.
The man wore a crimson cloak and his helmet bore a gigantic plume. Alison eyed him suspiciously. His armour and quilted tunic were covered in blood, but his complexion looked healthy. She held her paddle like a sword and advanced with slow, gliding steps.
The plumed man opened an eye ... just a fraction. She knew he was looking at her and sensed he was planning something. The muscles on his neck tensed and she prepared to deliver a deadly blow.
'Noble Lady.' He opened both eyes and attempted to rise.
Alison grabbed his sword. 'Unfasten your harness.'
'Noble Lady ...'
'Take it off.' She swept the sword through the air, getting the feel of it.
The plumed man looked terrified. 'Noble Lady. I friend.' He stammered then strayed into a language Alison could not understand.
Weasel came forward. 'He thinks you're a princess because of the cloak you're wearing. It's got Pius' emblem on it.'
'Yes. Please.' The plumed man propped himself up on an elbow. 'Take me to noble Pius. My family much rich.' He pulled a leather pouch from his tunic. Coins spilled onto the mud.
Alison was repulsed. 'I'm not a princess,' she hissed.
'Not princess?'
'No.' Alison flicked the sword back and forth, bringing the razor-sharp blade to within a fraction of his nose. 'I am a companion of the Sky Warrior. He taught me how to use a weapon like this.'
'You ... friend ... Sky Warrior?'
'Aye. He trained me as a warrior.'
The plumed man tried to rise.
'Please, Lady. Take me to noble Sky Warrior.'
Alison turned to Weasel.
'Unfasten his sword harness.'
The boy's fingers darted to the buckle.
'Now pick up the coins.'
'No, Sister. We're not after booty.'
'Pick them up,' she ordered. 'We may need them. Never lose an advantage. That's what the Sky Warrior taught me.'
'Aye, Sister.'
Weasel snatched up the coins and thrust them into his pouch.
'You.' She pointed her sword at the plumed man. 'Don't move until we're gone. If you do, I'll come back and take off your head.'
Adrenalin coursed through Alison's veins. All doubts and uncertainties had gone. Only one thing mattered. Adrina had to be saved. She sat in the coracle with the sword across her knees and let Weasel paddle.
It was important to conserve strength and it was important to think ahead. Tom had told her that. He'd been her martial arts instructor. She heard him now, talking to her, telling her what to do. Or was it Tom?..The voice sounded oddly feminine.
'How much further?'
'About two thousand paces,' the boy replied.
Alison sat back. She felt a presence within her. Miralda had said that, in times of crisis, the goddess would enter into women and work her purpose through them. In her former realm people talked about being possessed. Alison had a feeling for what that might mean.
An island came into view.
Weasel said it was one of three and Adrina was on the last.
Crows circled overhead.
'Do you see the ferrymen?' the boy asked. 'They release the soul lights and carry them away on their backs up into the Void.'
The coracle drifted past the first island. The birds were pecking at corpses, fighting over scraps, making a tremendous noise. Alison ignored the carnage. The presence was stronger now ... benign and immensely powerful.
She heard the boy's voice.
'There's a strange light about you, sister.'
'Keep paddling.'
'Sister. It's like in the stories.'
'Keep paddling.' The words flowed from Alison's mouth. 'Take the coracle past the third island and let it drift back in the wind.'
'The tide has not yet turned.'
'Do as I say, young brother.'
They reached the third island. It was smaller than the others and had fewer trees. Alison's eyes moved back and forth. There were two men in the reeds, waiting to spring out at her. She couldn't see them but she knew they were there.
'Sister. Those reeds ... they don't look right.'
Weasel dug his paddle in the water and backed off.
'Let the wind take us to shore as I told you.'
The boy placed his paddle on his knees and they were blown towards a muddy shore.
Alison rose and drew her sword. Weasel watched it move back and forth as if searching out an enemy. Then, her muscles tensed and she sprang. For a moment he lost sight of what was happening. The coracle rocked and he struggled to stop it capsizing. When he next looked, Alison was standing on a log, confronting a soldier in grey.
The man had his shield at arm's length and was advancing with short, jerky steps. Weasel knew the technique. He'd seen it practised on the parade ground and knew it was difficult to counter without a shield. He tried to warn her but the words stuck in his mouth.
Alison sank down lynx-like.
'Psss.' She sprang onto a branch and spat like a wild cat.
A second figure emerged from the reeds.
'Psss.' She raced up and down the branch.
The men struck out. One came close to hitting her. His blade sliced into the branch and stuck there. He struggled to remove it and her sword found a chink in his armour. It sank deep and he collapsed into the mud.
The second man grabbed the branch.
'Die. Little She Whore.'
He worked the branch up and down and let go.
The branch sprang up and Alison rose with it.
'Magdoor!'
She shouted the battle name of the goddess and flew through the air. Her sword pierced the man's throat and he fell. Her feet returned to the log and she perched there, cat-like.
Weasel approached cautiously. 'Sister, we must go.'
She stared at him as if awakening from a dream.
'The sword's got blood on it.' She pointed to the blade. 'Why's that?' She reached for the grey military cloak of the dead man and wiped the sword before returning it to her sheaf. Weasel saw the vacant expression on her face and ran to where Adrina and Alvero were lying, both badly injured.
Fury brought the coracles round. They put Adrina in one and Alvero in the other. Then they went back for Alison and bundled her into the second coracle beside the young man. Weasel waded into the freezing water and pushed them off. The coracles entered the main channel and were carried away on the outgoing tide.