The Third Door

17 - Upstream

In seconds, arrows were flying into the air. The soldiers’ aim was deadly. If it had not been for the armour shell, Rye and Sonia would have perished at once. As it was, the arrows simply bounced away from them. The crowd cried out in terror and disbelief. The soldiers cursed, fitted fresh arrows to their bows and tried again, just as uselessly.

Rye struggled to pull on the hood, but it was flapping behind him in the wind and the silk kept slipping through his fingers. Desperately he scanned the ground, and at last caught sight of Dirk and Sholto edging back towards the little park, their shocked faces upturned.

What a fool they must think me, Rye told himself. How could I have forgotten the hood? He felt the power of the feather waver and heard Sonia catch her breath. Grimly he thrust his shame aside and focused his mind on his brothers, on reaching his brothers …

‘No!’ Sonia cried, hearing his thoughts. ‘Leave them, Rye! They are safe here. No one saw them with us. And neither of them is fit to fly!’

Rye shut his mind to her. His faith in Farr had been badly shaken but part of him still could not believe the man was his enemy. In Fell End he would find out for sure, and whatever happened after that, he wanted Dirk and Sholto with him.

He swooped downwards, shouting to Dirk and Sholto to be ready. His eyes stung and watered as the air beat into his face. The ground came rushing up to meet him—a blur of green, a blur of stone, his brothers’ faces, their mouths gaping. And then he was off the ground again, with Dirk and Sholto clinging to him, and was hurtling above the heads of the crowd through a hail of stones and arrows.

‘Rye, this is madness!’ Sholto roared. ‘Dirk cannot—’

‘Hold onto him,’ Rye roared back. ‘Just a few more seconds …’

They were soaring over the pipeline, skimming over the road. And there was the river, its rippling surface gleaming in the sun.

As they flew over the bank, Rye pushed the red feather deep into his pocket and pulled out the sea serpent scale he had put there in readiness. An instant later his companions were yelling in shock as they all ploughed into the river. Cool water opened to receive them, rose to cover them as they sank.

With elation Rye felt the pain in the palm of his hand that told him the serpent scale had sunk into his flesh. Strength flowed through him. Effortlessly he twisted in the water and slid beneath Sonia till in her panic she caught hold of his shoulders. He wrapped one arm around Dirk, the other around Sholto. Then he shot to the surface, dragging them all with him.

‘Swim!’ he ordered. ‘Feel what you can do!’

He barely heard the bellows of shock from the riverbank as he surged forward, carving through the water as if it were air, leaving a trail of foam behind him. His companions were no weight at all, and soon they were all helping him, feeling what he felt, revelling in their mastery of the current that pushed vainly against them.

It did not matter that Rye could not use his arms, or that Dirk and Sholto were injured. By the power of the enchanted scale they all streaked through the water like serpents, more often below the surface than above, leaving their pursuers far behind.

So they passed through low hills without seeing them, passed fields of green and gold without knowing it, passed Farr and his companions who turned in their saddles to stare. And in what seemed the blink of an eye, the Fell End jetty was beside them, and they were gliding to a stop behind a half unloaded barge.

No one in Fell End had seen them arrive. People were working far too feverishly on land to notice a disturbance in the river. Rye pulled the hood of concealment over his head and the companions peered over the flat deck of the barge.

The Fell End riverbank looked very different from the way it had when they had first seen it. Then the bank had been green and peaceful, a welcome banner had fluttered over the jetty and music had filled the air. Now the riverbank was churned mud, and crowded with barrels that were being rolled and hefted onto carts. Hundreds of loaded carts already stood in lines along the metal barrier that separated the town from the Fell Zone. Soldiers were labouring side by side with pipeline workers. People not strong enough to work with the barrels were scurrying around with drinking water for those who were. It seemed that every soul in the town was on the riverbank, engaged in this one, mighty task.

And above them the pipeline soared, complete. Clutching the side of the barge, looking up, Rye felt his mouth go dry. The vast silver pipe continued almost all the way to the metal barrier then tilted steeply upward, so it looked like the neck of a giant sea serpent rising high above the waves. It even straightened at the top, stretching over the fence like the serpent’s head.

But the ‘serpent’s’ gaping mouth was rimmed in black. And sealed to the black rim was a great length of broad, clear tube. The tube was not rigid like the pipeline. It dangled from the black circle like a snake the ‘serpent’ was swallowing, trailing down to coil on the Fell End side of the barrier. It was so enormously long that the coils formed a mound as large as the chieftain’s lodge in the city by the sea.

Sonia, Dirk and Sholto were staring, aghast. Like Rye, they had seen tubing like that before. They had seen it, in miniature, attached to skimmer cages in the testing hall of the Master. They had seen skimmers hurtle through it and burst out into the air in a frenzy to feed.

‘What does this mean?’ Dirk whispered.

Rye swallowed, struggling to find an answer that would allow him to keep his faith in Farr. ‘It may not mean anything. New Nerra is a trading port. Goods come to it from all over the Sea of Serpents.’

‘Oltan is a trading port too,’ Dirk muttered. ‘Yet there is nothing like that soft, clear pipe there. I have only ever seen it in one other place before.’

‘That piping, and the black seal, are the Master’s work,’ Sholto said evenly. ‘Farr could not have obtained them from anyone else.’

Rye could not speak. It was left to Sonia to tell what Jett had said in the watchtower. When she had finished, there was silence. Dirk and Sholto were both staring in horror at the rearing pipeline and at the great mound of tubing that, uncoiled and stretched to its full length, would surely reach all the way up through the Fell Zone, to Weld.

‘So now we know why the soldiers are armed with flamers,’ Dirk said heavily at last. ‘They are going to burn a track through the forest, to make way for the people dragging the tube.’

Sholto’s face was haggard. ‘And they will be beginning that task very soon, no doubt. They have left it till the last minute, but, after all, the skimmers cannot be released before sunset.’

In dread, Rye looked up at the dimming sky.

‘Rye,’ Sonia whispered, clutching his cold hand. ‘We must go to the Fellan—all of us! The disc is our only chance! You know now that there is no point in trying to talk to Farr.’

And at that moment, with a great flurry of hooves, Farr himself rode in, with his windblown councillors and guards trailing behind. A few men and women hurried to greet him.

‘Where are they?’ Farr thundered, leaping from his horse and drawing his sword.

‘Who, sir?’ one of the men asked in confusion.

‘Copperheads!’ Farr shouted. ‘Four of them! Swimming upriver like a shoal of serpents! We saw them from the road. They passed us! They are here—they must be here! Look alert!’

Copperheads. As the soldiers on the riverbank scattered, Rye turned to Sonia. She stared back at him, her eyes wide and dark, her drying hair tumbling about her shoulders, a mass of coppery red. The river had washed away the brown dye.

Rye knew the same thing must have happened to him. He raised his hand to his head. The last of the bandage was gone too, stripped away by the current. At last he understood why Petronelle had insisted he keep the bandage on. Bathing his wound while he was unconscious, she had washed away some of the dye—seen the real colour of his hair. She had kept her discovery to herself to protect him.

‘They fear red hair,’ Sonia murmured, picking up his thoughts. ‘It reminds them of the Fellan, no doubt. Yet in Fleet red hair was not frowned upon. Faene told me she envied my hair—except that it was dangerous, because Olt prized copperheads so highly. How could two places on the same island be so different?’

‘If the people who came here were fleeing from Olt and his sorcery it is not so strange,’ Dirk said. ‘No doubt they had learned to fear all magic. And Olt and his brothers were said to be half-Fellan.’

‘Half-Fellan?’ Sholto asked sharply. ‘Did they have red hair?’

‘I cannot tell you.’ Dirk grimaced. ‘Olt was so ancient when we saw him that he had no hair whatever. Why?’

‘It does not matter,’ Sholto muttered. But Rye could see in his face that it did matter. And suddenly he knew the reason.

‘It is the book!’ he exclaimed. ‘The Three Brothers! You read it, Sholto, and—’

‘I read some of it,’ Sholto said uneasily. ‘It tells the story of three sorcerer brothers, half-Fellan, with red hair … but what of it? It could be simply coincidence.’

The riverbank was thick with people hunting for intruders. Farr and his councillors were standing beside the end of the barge, scanning the river. A whole troop of soldiers had drawn their weapons and run to surround the giant mound of tubing as if to guard it from attack.

‘Do not move,’ Sholto warned softly. ‘They will see the ripples.’

‘But we must move!’ Sonia hissed. ‘We must get to the Fellan before—’

‘Then it is simple,’ Dirk cut in. ‘I am not fit to fly so I will stay here. You three use the feather to get yourselves out of the water and into the Fell Zone.’

‘Farr and his people will see where we have come from,’ Rye protested. ‘They will find you, Dirk!’

‘Dirk will not be alone,’ Sholto said calmly. ‘I will stay too. I doubt I would be of much help in the forest, but here I might be useful.’

Racked with doubts, Rye clutched the edge of the barge, staring across the rough deck at the seething riverbank.

Dimly he saw that two plainly dressed women were edging out of the crowd and making their way to Farr. One of the women was sturdy, with fluffy white hair. The other was taller, younger. A drab shawl hid her hair and partly concealed her face, but to Rye her straight back and springy walk were unmistakable.

‘Janna!’ Farr’s face was a mask of shock. He took his wife in his arms and scowled over her head at her companion. ‘What do you mean by bringing her here, Petronelle!’

Janna pushed herself away from him. ‘Do not blame Petronelle! I told her I would make the journey with her or without her. I had to come, Farr! I am quite recovered, Zak is safe with your parents, and—’

‘How could you do this, Janna?’ Farr barked, but as his wife’s eyes widened with startled hurt, he sighed and reached for her hand.

‘I’m sorry, dear heart. But you shouldn’t have come. It’s dangerous—oh, in so many ways! Didn’t you hear what I said? There are copperheads here—hidden somewhere near. They may try to abduct you, use you as a tool against me.’

He glanced at the sky. ‘It’s too late to send you away now. I’ll call some men to escort you and Petronelle to a shielded hut. Lock yourselves in. I’ll join you when I can.’

‘Listen to your husband, Lady Janna,’ Councillor Manx said coldly, as Janna drew breath to speak. ‘By now the enemy is aware that an attack is underway. They do not know what form the attack will take, but they fear it, and will do anything they can to stop it.’

He paused, then went on deliberately. ‘For example, you will not have heard, I know, but today the man Jett tried to kill the chieftain—and Sigrid, Barron and me with him.’

He watched with satisfaction as Janna gasped in horror.

Farr shrugged. ‘It’s all right, Janna. There was no harm done—except to my pride. It seems I was as wrong about Jett as I was about Keelin.’

‘I do not believe Keelin was an enemy,’ Janna murmured. ‘Neither does Petronelle.’

‘Indeed?’ Manx sneered.

Janna ignored him. She looked only at her husband. ‘I will do as you ask, Farr, but not before I have said what I came here to say. Please, I beg you, do not go ahead with this attack. It is wrong—I feel it in my bones.’

Farr gritted his teeth. ‘It’s too late, Janna,’ he said harshly. ‘I’ve struggled with this decision, but now it’s made I won’t turn from it.’

Watching intently, Rye caught his breath. If this was acting, Farr was the best actor he had ever seen. The man’s face was anguished.

‘The council, too, is agreed.’ Councillor Sigrid stepped forward with a crisp swish of skirts.

‘The council has always wanted this,’ Janna snapped back. ‘But the final decision is Farr’s. He is the elected chieftain.’

Sigrid lifted her chin. Angry scarlet stained her high, sharp cheekbones. ‘The council, too, was elected by the people, Lady Janna. You were not!’

‘Now then, Sigrid!’ Barron chattered nervously, glancing at Farr’s rigid face. ‘Surely Janna has a right to try to influence her husband as she sees fit?’

Sigrid turned on her heel and stalked away. With an icy glare, Councillor Manx followed her.

‘Sorry, Farr,’ Barron mumbled. ‘I seem to have put my foot in it again. But I don’t like it when they say your wife and the old nurse lead you by the nose.’

Farr pressed his lips together, clearly biting back an irritated retort.

‘Never mind,’ he said curtly. ‘Manx and Sigrid will soon discover that I make my own decisions. Just as our enemies will learn that I can’t be frightened into sparing them. On the contrary, their attacks on me and those I love have made me even more determined to do what must be done.’

‘He is not pretending,’ Rye said slowly. ‘Jett was wrong about that, at least. Farr truly believes that Weld is his enemy. We must tell him it is not true. We must tell him—’

Dirk shook his head. ‘He will not listen to us, Rye.’

Rye set his lips. ‘I will make him listen! Sholto, give me the book.’

‘The—’ Sholto gaped at him. ‘Rye, the book will be nothing but pulp by now!’

‘Give it to me anyway,’ Rye said, and taking the sodden mass Sholto passed to him, he pushed it inside his shirt.

‘What are you planning, little brother?’ Dirk growled suspiciously.

‘In a minute, every eye will be on Farr,’ Rye said, pushing the loosened serpent scale into the bag of charms and digging the draggled red feather from his pocket. ‘That will be your chance to get out of the river and lose yourselves in the crowd. Many of the workers are almost as wet as you are. You will not be noticed. If things go wrong, get to Janna and tell her who you are. She will help you.’

‘And what of Sonia?’ Sholto murmured.

‘I will be with Rye, of course,’ Sonia said without hesitation.

Of course. Warmth flooded Rye’s mind.

‘Rye—’ Dirk began.

‘There is no time,’ Rye said, shaking and blowing on the feather in an effort to dry it. ‘Keep safe.’

He did not have to say anything to Sonia. She had shared his thoughts and knew his plan as well as he did. Already she had taken off the faded cord she wore around her waist and was holding it in readiness. If she had any doubts about the plan’s wisdom she was keeping them to herself. He felt nothing from her but that same, steady warmth.

Quietly they hauled themselves onto the damp, splintery deck of the barge. Silently they crept towards Farr. And when they were close enough, but not too close, Rye pushed back the hood.