The Third Door

19 - Magic

Rye’s first thought was for Dirk and Sholto, and in terror he looked down, tensing himself to fly to his brothers’ aid. But the riverbank was deserted. There was nothing to be seen but churned mud, loaded carts and dark rows of barrels. Of course, Rye told himself dazedly. Everyone would have sought shelter long ago. They all know that skimmers take flight after sunset.

And they all know where the skimmers come from, his thoughts ran on. They must have seen the swarm rising from the forbidden forest often, when the attacks first began.

For years they had been tormented by the creatures they called slays. For years the stragglers of the swarm had swooped on Fell End, ravaged the fields and herds of the inland and destroyed the peace of summer nights in Riverside.

But never had the people outside the Wall felt an attack like the one there would be tonight. Tonight, repelled from their usual feeding bowl, the whole, hungry skimmer swarm would fall upon the larger hunting ground that only a few hundred strays had tried before.

Rye tried to pull himself together. He knew perfectly well that the shock of having all his beliefs overturned had numbed him to his own danger, and to the danger of his companions. The sky over the Fell Zone was black with skimmers. The swarm was like a broad, wavering spear, aiming directly at the warm human flesh the skimmers could sense clinging to the highest point of the pipeline in Fell End.

Jett had stopped screaming. He was staring, his face shiny with sweat, as certain death flew towards him.

‘Jett, give me your hand,’ Rye shouted, reaching out. ‘I can protect you!’

Jett shook his head violently, showing the whites of his eyes and crossing his fingers and his wrists. Grinding his teeth, Rye reached forward and seized the edge of the man’s jacket. Jett quaked and moaned but did not try to pull away.

The Fell Zone, Rye! Safe there. Safe …

Too late …

Too late to fly. Too late to escape. Rye’s heart sank as he remembered the skimmer attack at the Harbour, the violent battering as the creatures dashed themselves senselessly at the invisible shield thrown up by the armour shell. How long could he hold onto Sonia, Jett and Farr under that relentless buffeting? Farr would not be able to help himself. He was plainly under some sort of enchantment. But if he was not a servant of the Master how could that be?

The swarm was almost upon them. The rasping of leathery wings filled Rye’s ears. In fascinated horror he saw the pale eyes, the flaring ears and snarling snouts of the leaders, saw the needle teeth, the great spurs curving, ready to strike.

Then suddenly he could not see them any more. Suddenly they were hidden behind a swirling cloud of thick, white smoke.

He could hear them still. He could hear their high, chittering shrieks of confusion and baffled hunger, hear the uneven flapping of their wings as they veered clumsily away from the smoke that drugged and slowed them.

For an instant Rye thought he had lost his senses. This had happened at the Harbour! A cloud of smoke, just when it was needed! But where had smoke come from here—all the way up here, where there was nothing to make it, no one but …?

And suddenly, Rye understood. Suddenly he understood many things. His eyes streaming, he turned his head and looked at Sonia. And through a veil of smoke he saw Sonia staring back at him defiantly, her eyes glittering green, sparks shooting from the hair that flew and crackled about her head like fire.

‘Sonia!’ he croaked. ‘The smoke … you …’

Sonia’s grip on his hand tightened. He felt her voice.

Yes. But I cannot hold it in place much longer. We must go!

The images of towering trees, banks of ferns and a rushing stream flashed into Rye’s mind, so clearly and powerfully that they engulfed every other thought.

The feather, Rye! Now!

Then wind was howling in Rye’s ears, and smoke was stinging his eyes. And the next moment he was no longer high above Fell End, but deep in rustling darkness.

He knew Sonia was with him, and Farr, and Jett. He could feel them all. The skimmers had been left behind. The smoke had been left behind, too, though traces of its smell hung about him, mingling with the scents of damp earth and growing things.

The Fell Zone.

He became aware that he was still clutching the red feather, and stuffed it into his pocket. He would have liked to get rid of the armour shell and speed ring, too. It made him sick to feel them on his fingers. But he forced himself to leave them alone.

He felt Sonia’s hand slide out of his. ‘We need light,’ she said stiffly. She pulled out the brown bag and thrust it at Rye. He unwound the broken cord from its neck and pulled out the crystal.

Light flooded the fern bank where they sat, and the stream that rushed beside them. It shone on Farr, still staring sightlessly ahead. It shone on Jett, crawling to his knees and looking around fearfully. It lit up Sonia’s pale, expressionless face, her glowing emerald eyes, her hair glittering like tangled copper wires.

‘Witch!’ Jett hissed.

He lunged at Sonia, gibbering with hatred. Sonia’s lip curled in contempt. And before he could lay a finger on her, Jett was writhing on the ground, groaning and fighting for breath.

Like the grey guard who attacked me at the Harbour, Rye thought.

Sonia nodded, very slightly.

Four-Eyes the trader’s sudden headache after cheating the people of the Den … The slave-hunter Kyte missing her aim again and again when she was trying to kill Sholto. The smoke. Your escape into the waiting room under the Warden’s nose. The unlocking of the secret door. Jett’s sudden sleep in the Watchtower …

Again, that slight, stiff nod.

Rye took a deep breath, remembering. The feather, so much more powerful when you are helping me …

Tie Jett up, Rye. He is a danger to himself and to us. Use the cord.

‘She is speaking to you in your mind,’ Jett cried hoarsely. ‘I can see it in your face! That is what Fellan do! By the Wall, Keelin, she has bewitched you! Fight her! She is our enemy! She is Fellan! Fellan!’

‘I am not Fellan,’ said Sonia, pale as moonlight. ‘I am of Weld. I am an orphan of Weld.’

‘Who were your parents then?’ Jett demanded. ‘Name them! I challenge you to name them!’

‘I do not have to answer to you, Jett of Northwall,’ Sonia answered coldly.

There was a roaring in Rye’s ears. Numbly he began untangling the faded cord from Farr’s ankles. He had to wrestle with it, but Farr seemed to feel nothing. He sat motionless and staring, like a dead man.

Bent over Farr, Rye could feel Sonia’s eyes upon him. Confused thoughts were flitting through his mind one after the other. Sonia had powerful magic at her command. Sonia could see the Fell Zone paths. Sonia had led him to the meeting with Edelle and the other Fellan. Sonia had been able to find the Doors to Weld when no one else could see them. Sonia had made it her business to become close to the daughter of the Warden of Weld, and thus gained knowledge of the Weld volunteers.

It was with Sonia’s help that Rye had caused the death of Olt.

Rye knew what Dirk would say if Dirk were here, on fire because his gullible young brother had been used as a pawn by the beings of the forbidden forest. He knew what Sholto would say, after putting his feelings aside and coolly considering the evidence.

But Rye looked straight into Sonia’s green eyes, and smiled.

‘And you do not have to answer to me,’ he said. ‘I know who you are. You are Sonia, and I would trust you with my life.’

Sonia’s tense face softened. Her pale lips parted in a long sigh. And Rye felt the icy shell that had held her rigid crack and melt away, and into his mind flooded the warmth of her overwhelming relief.

‘The people of Weld were magic once, or so the old tales claim,’ he said softly. ‘Perhaps some of Dann’s followers were part Fellan. Over time the magic faded, but it is still in our blood. No doubt it shows itself in a child every now and then, but inside the Wall it … is discouraged and kept hidden. Outside the Wall, it is set free.’

Yes. Sonia sighed again. ‘I did not know it at first,’ she said aloud. ‘I had no idea why I felt so alive outside the Wall. I—I did things without realising it, and then would be so tired I could not stay awake. It—was like using a muscle I had never used before, I suppose.’

‘But at the Harbour, in the testing hall, you understood what you could do.’

The girl nodded, waiting.

‘You saved us, but you did not tell us,’ Rye went on in a low voice. ‘You were afraid to tell—even me.’

Pictures rushed from her mind into his. Some were memories: The Warden anxiously crossing his fingers and his wrists. A haggard woman shrieking in hatred. A small man shrinking away in fear. Jett’s face, twisted with loathing. Some were imagined: Rye, Annocki, Sholto, Dirk and Faene staring and pointing at the stranger among them.

Witch! Witch! Witch!

Rye straightened, holding the freed cord in his hands. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘But it is a gift, Sonia, not a curse. Where would we have been without it?’

He drew breath, and made himself go on. ‘Sholto would agree,’ he added steadily. ‘Sholto does not trust magic, but—but he respects the truth. He would never blame anyone for being what they were born to be.’

A sudden, frantic scuffle made them both jump. They swung round just in time to see Jett splash across the stream, plunge heedlessly into the undergrowth on the other side, and blunder away into the darkness.

‘Let him go!’ Sonia snapped, as Rye made to follow. ‘If he prefers to risk the forest rather than stay with us, that is his choice! No matter what we say, he will never believe we mean him no harm. His mind is fixed. He is a true hero of Weld.’

‘What … is Weld?’

The voice was deep and puzzled. Rye and Sonia exchanged a startled glance, and turned to Farr.

Farr was sitting up, blinking and rubbing his forehead. ‘What—is Weld?’ he asked again. ‘Where am I?’ He caught sight of Rye and Sonia and his brow furrowed.

‘You!’ he hissed, trying to rise, feeling for the sword that no longer hung from his belt.

‘Stay where you are, Chieftain Farr,’ Rye said hastily. ‘We are in the Fell Zone. Here you are safer with us than without us. It is night. The skimmers—the beasts you call slays—are abroad.’

Farr stared at him, clearly trying to concentrate, to make sense of what had happened to him.

‘Janna …’ he managed to say.

‘The lady Janna is safe in Fell End,’ Rye told him. ‘You do not need to fear for her.’

Farr looked around. His eyes narrowed. ‘But it seems I should fear for myself.’

‘No!’ Rye swallowed, hoping desperately that he could explain in a way the chieftain could understand. ‘We are not your enemies. We are not Fellan. We are your allies!’

‘You’ve regained your memory, then, Keelin,’ Farr said dryly. ‘You know who you are, at last.’

‘I have regained most of my memory, but not all,’ Rye said. ‘I still do not remember the moments just before the beast attacked Zak.’

‘How convenient.’ Farr’s face was expressionless, but his every nerve was alert, Rye could feel it.

‘My name is Rye,’ Rye went on doggedly. ‘Sonia and I came here to try to stop the skimmers—the slays. They prey on our home, too. We had no idea that they rose from the Fell Zone until we saw them take flight tonight.’

‘Why have you brought me here?’ Farr asked tonelessly.

‘To save you from the skimmers,’ Sonia said. ‘They do not hunt on the floor of the forest. The Fellan prevent it.’

Farr cocked an eyebrow. ‘And how do you know that, if you are not Fellan yourself?’

‘I just know it,’ Sonia muttered.

‘Indeed.’ Farr straightened his shoulders and seemed to make a decision. Rye could feel his tension, his muffled fear and his determination. There was a strange sort of excitement too. It was as if the man had vowed to follow a perilous path without knowing where that path might lead.

And perhaps, Rye thought slowly, I should do the same. The risk is great, but it is worth taking.

Beware, Rye, Sonia whispered in his mind. Do not trust him!

‘Very well,’ Farr said loudly. ‘You’ve captured me, Keelin. You’ve brought me here. Now what’s to be done?’

Rye took a breath. ‘I have something to show you,’ he said, untying the red bundle at his belt. ‘Something that Carryl would have liked you to see.’

He pulled the gold casket from its wrapping, opened it, and displayed the glimmering disc to Farr.

Farr stared at the disc but made no attempt to touch it. ‘So,’ he murmured, ‘it does exist. Carryl told me, but I didn’t believe her.’

Suddenly he looked inexpressibly sad.

‘You have been planning to attack the Fellan,’ Rye said. ‘Carryl did not want you to do it.’

Farr sighed. ‘She believed it would be wrong. Dangerous. She said there was an ancient treaty—a spell that bound both parties. Well—’ He shrugged his powerful shoulders. ‘We all heard that tale in our youth. Dorne’s a strange island, with a strange history. Legends are bound to grow up in such a place.’

‘But this is not a legend.’ Bracing himself, Rye picked up the disc. It burned in his hand. Its surface rippled and the words appeared.

Farr stared silently at the rhyme. Gradually his eyes hardened and he turned away.

‘Fine words! But the spell has worn out, it seems. The Fellan broke their pledge when they began sending those creatures of sorcery to prey on us.’

‘The skimmers are no more creatures of sorcery than Fell dragons or bloodhogs are,’ Sonia said quietly. ‘And the Fellan did not breed them. They could well claim that they have not broken their pledge in deed, even if they have broken it in spirit.’

‘Again, you’d know that better than I would,’ Farr muttered, without turning round.

‘And do not forget that the charm has been lost for centuries,’ Rye urged. ‘It was hidden away in a wall, behind a statue made of iron. It is possible that the Fellan could no longer sense it fully. Metal affects their magic.’

‘That I do know.’ There was a grim note in Farr’s voice. The back of his neck was stiff, his shoulders tense.

Rye thought of the metal barrier fence, the metal slay shields. Yes, Farr and his people had done what they could to protect themselves from the Fellan. They relied upon metal as those in Weld who followed the old ways relied on salt to protect them from evil magic. But salt and metal would not ward off the Master. The Lord of Shadows had grown too powerful, too ancient in wickedness, for that.

The disc was scorching his fingers. Hastily he returned it to the casket. The rippling words vanished, but he knew they were there, hidden as the Fellan were hidden in the depths of their forest.

‘It is not too late to mend this,’ he said urgently. ‘The spell endures while the charm endures—and the charm is here! It can save us all, Chieftain Farr … if only you will listen to me!’