Labyrinth (67 page)

Finally, two figures emerged from the cover of the trees. Oriane and Bertrande. As Guilhem had thought, they were alone. He could see Guilhem staring at him, warning him not to move yet, to wait until Oriane was in striking distance and they could get Bertrande safely away.

As they got closer, Sajhe clenched his fists to stop himself roaring out in anger. There was a cut on her cheek, red against her white frozen face.

Oriane had tied a rope around Bertrande’s neck, which ran down her back to her hands bound at the wrists behind her waist. The other end was in Oriane’s left hand. In her right, she had a dagger, which she used to jab Bertrande in the back to keep her moving.

Bertrande was walking awkwardly and stumbled often. He narrowed his eyes and saw that, beneath her skirts, her ankles were tied together. The loose measure of rope between them allowed no more than a stride.

Sajhe forced himself to remain still, waiting, watching until they reached the clearing that lay directly beneath the cave.

“You said it was beyond the trees.”

Bertrande murmured something too quiet for Sajhe to hear.

“For your sake, I hope you’re telling the truth,” Oriane said.

“It’s in there,” Bertrande said. Her voice was steady, but Sajhe could hear the terror behind it and his heart contracted.

The plan was to ambush Oriane at the mouth of the cave. He was to concentrate on getting Bertrande out of Oriane’s reach, Guilhem on disarming Oriane before she had the chance to use the knife.

Sajhe looked at Guilhem who nodded, to let him know he was ready.

“But you mustn’t go in,” Bertrande was saying. “It’s a sacred place. No one but the Guardians can enter.”

“Is that so,” she jeered. “And who is going to stop me? You?” A look of bitterness came down over her face. “You are so like her, it disgusts me,” she said, jerking the rope around her neck so Bertrande cried out in pain. “Alais was always telling everyone what to do. Always thought herself better than everyone else.”

“That’s not true,” shouted Bertrande, brave despite the hopelessness of her situation. Sajhe willed her to stop. At the same time, he knew Alais would be proud of her courage.
He
was proud of her courage. She was so much her parents’ child.

Bertrande had started to cry. “It’s wrong. You mustn’t go in. It will not allow you to enter. The labyrinth will protect its secret, from you or anyone who seeks it wrongly.”

Oriane gave a short laugh. They are just stories to frighten stupid little children like you.“

Bertrande held her ground. “I will not take you any further.”

Oriane raised her hand and struck her, sending her flying back against the rock. A red mist filled Sajhe’s head. In three or four strides he threw himself down upon Oriane, a visceral roar issuing from deep inside his chest.

Oriane reacted too quickly, pulling Bertrande to her feet and holding the knife to her throat.

“How disappointing. I thought my son might have coped with so simple a matter. You were already captive - or so I was told - but no matter.”

Sajhe“ smiled at Bertrande, trying to reassure her despite the hopelessness of their situation.

“Drop your sword,” Oriane said calmly, “or I will kill her.”

I’m sorry I disobeyed you, Sajhe,“ Bertrande cried, ”but she had your ring. She told me you’d sent her to fetch me.“

“Not my ring,
brava
,” Sajhe said. He let his sword fall. It fell with a heavy clatter on the hard ground.

“That’s better. Now come out here where I can see you. That will do. Stop. She smiled. ”All on your own?“

Sajhe said nothing. Oriane flattened the blade against Bertrande’s throat, and then nicked her skin beneath her ear. Bertrande cried out as a trail of blood trickled down her neck, like a red ribbon against her pale skin.

“Let her go, Oriane. It’s not her you want, but me.”

At the sound of Alais’ voice, the mountain itself seemed to draw breath.

A spirit? Guilhem couldn’t tell.

He felt his breath had been sucked from his body, leaving him hollow and weightless. He did not dare move from his hiding place for fear of setting the apparition to flight. He looked at Bertrande, so like her mother, then down the slope to where Alais, if it was she, was standing.

A fur hood framed her face and her riding cloak, dirty from the journey, skimmed the white, hoary ground. Her hands, warm within leather gloves, were folded in front of her.

“Let her go, Oriane.”

Her words broke the spell.

“
Mama
,” cried Bertrande, desperately reaching out her arms.

“It cannot be…” Oriane said, narrowing her eyes. “You died. I saw you die.”

Sajhe lunged toward Oriane and tried to grab Bertrande, but he wasn’t quick enough.

“Don’t come closer,” she shouted, recovering herself. She dragged Bertrande back towards the mouth of the cave. “I swear, I’ll kill her.”

“
Mama
!”

Alais took another step forward. “Let her go, Oriane. Your quarrel is with me.”

There is no quarrel, sister. You have the
Book of Words
. I want it.
C’est pas difficile
.“

“And once you have it?”

Guilhem was transfixed. He still dared not believe the evidence of his eyes, that this was Alais, as he had dreamed her in his imagination so often, in his waking hours and when he lay down to sleep.

A movement caught his attention, the glint of steel, of helmets. Guilhem peered. Two soldiers were creeping up behind Alais through the heavy scrub. Guilhem glanced to his left at the sound of a boot against the rock.

“Seize them!”

The soldier nearest to Sajhe grabbed his arms and held him fast, as the others broke cover. Quick as lightning, Alais drew her sword and spun round, slicing the blade into the closest soldier’s side. He fell. The other soldier lunged at her. Sparks flew as the blades clashed, right, left.

Alais had the advantage of the higher ground, but she was smaller and weaker.

Guilhem leaped from his hiding place and ran towards her, just as she stumbled and lost her footing. The soldier lunged, stabbing the inside of her arm. Alais screamed and dropped the sword, clutching at the wound with her glove to staunch the blood.

2>“Mama!” 2>

Guilhem launched himself the last few steps and thrust his sword into the soldier’s stomach. Blood vomited from his mouth. His eyes bulged with shock, then he fell.

He did not have time to draw breath.

“Guilhem!” Alais shouted. “At the rear.”

He spun round to see two more soldiers running up the slopes. With a roar, he withdrew his sword and charged at them. The blade sliced down through the air as he drove them back, striking randomly, mercilessly, first one, then the other.

He was the better swordsman, but he was outnumbered.

Sajhe was now bound and on his knees. One of the soldiers stayed guard, the point of his knife at Sajhe’s neck, as the other came to help subdue Guilhem. He came within striking distance of Alais. Although she was losing blood fast, she managed to draw a knife from her belt and with her remaining strength, drove it with force between her assailant’s legs. He screamed as the blade sank itself into the top of his thigh.

Blindsided with pain, he lashed out. Guilhem saw Alais fly back and hit her head against the rock. She tried to stand, but she was disorientated, and staggering, and her legs gave out. She sank to the ground, blood flowing from the cut on her head.

The dagger still embedded in his leg, the soldier lumbered towards Guilhem, like a bear in a baiting pit. Guilhem stepped back to get out of his way and skidded on the slippery ground, sending stones skeetering down the hillside. It gave the two others the opportunity they needed to jump him and pin him, face down, on the ground.

He felt his ribs snap as a boot connected with his side. He jerked in agony as they kicked him again. He could taste blood in his mouth.

There was no sound from Alais. She didn’t appear to be moving at all.

Then he heard Sajhe shout. Guilhem lifted his head just as the soldier struck Sajhe sideways with the flat of his sword, knocking him senseless.

Oriane had disappeared into the cave, taking Bertrande with her.

With a roar, Guilhem summoned every last bit of strength left in him, hurled himself to his feet, sending one of the soldiers flying backwards down the hill. He grasped his sword and drove it into the throat of man left standing, as Alais staggered to her knees and stuck the other in the back of the leg with his own knife. The howl of pain died in his throat.

Guilhem realised everything had fallen silent.

Fore a moment, he just stared at Alais. Even now, Guilhem was terrified to believe the evidence of his eyes for fear she would be taken away from him again. Then he held out his hand.

Guilhem felt her fingers entwine with his. He felt her skin, torn and battered, like his, cold like he was. Real.

“I thought—”

“I know,” she said quickly.

Guilhem didn’t want to let her go, but the thought of Bertrande called him back.

“Sajhe’s hurt,” he said, striding up the slope towards the entrance. “You help him. I’m going after Oriane.”

Alais bent down to check Sajhe, then immediately ran to catch him up.

“He’s unconscious only,” she said. “You stay. Tell him what’s happened.

I have to find Bertrande.“

“No, it’s what she wants. She’ll force you to reveal where you’ve concealed the book, then she’ll kill you both. I’ve a better chance of bringing your daughter out alive without you, can’t you see?”

“
Our
daughter,” she said.

Guilhem heard the words, although he could make no sense of them.

His heart started to race.

“Alais, what—?” he started to say, but she had ducked under his arm and was already running down the tunnel into the darkness.

CHAPTER 80

Ariege

FRIDAY 8 JULY, 2OO5

They’ve gone to the cave,“ shouted Noubel, slamming down the receiver, ”of all the stupid—“

“Who?”

“Audric Baillard and Alice Tanner. They’ve taken it into their heads that Shelagh O’Donnell is being held at the Pic de Soularac and are on their way there. She said someone else was there too. An American, William Franklin.”

“Who’s he?”

“No idea,” said Noubel, grabbing his jacket from the back of the door and lumbering out into the corridor.

Moureau followed him. “Who was it on the phone?”

The front desk. They took the message from Dr Tanner at nine o’clock, apparently, but “didn’t think I’d want to be disturbed in the middle of an interrogation!”
N’importe quoi!
Noubel mimicked the nasal voice of the night sergeant.

Both men automatically glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was ten fifteen.

“What about Braissart and Domingo?” said Moureau, with a glance the corridor to the interview rooms. Noubel’s hunch had been right. The two men had been arrested not far from Authie’s ex-wife’s farmhouse. They’d been heading south towards Andorra.

“They can wait.”

Noubel threw open the door to the car park, sending it flying back against the fire escape. They hurried down the metal stairs to the tarmac.

“Did you get anything out of them?”

“Nothing,” said Noubel, jerking open the car door, slinging his jacket on the backseat. He forced himself in behind the steering wheel. “Silent as the grave, the pair of them.”

“More frightened of their boss than you,” said Moureau, slamming his door. “Any word on Authie?”

“Nothing. He went to Mass earlier in Carcassonne. No sign of him since them.”

“The farmhouse?” suggested Moureau, as the car jumped forward towards the main road. “Has the search team reported in yet?”

“No.”

Noubel’s phone started to ring. Keeping his right hand on the wheel, he stretched into the back seat, releasing a smell of stale sweat from under his arms. He dropped the jacket in Moureau’s lap and made frantic gestures while Moureau fished through his pockets.

“Noubel,
oui
?

His foot slammed down on the brake, sending Moureau flying forward in his seat.
“Putain!
Why in the name of Christ am I only hearing about this now! Is anybody inside?” He listened. When did it start?“ The line was bad and Moureau could hear the signal breaking. ”No, no! Stay there. Keep me in touch.“

Noubel tossed his phone on the dashboard, turned the siren on and accelerated towards the motorway.

“The farm’s on fire,” he said, putting his foot to the floor.

“Arson?”

The nearest neighbour’s half a kilometre away. He claims to have heard a couple of loud explosions, then saw the flames and called the firefighters. By the time they’d arrived, the fire had already taken hold.“

“Is there anybody in there?” said Moureau anxiously.

“They don’t know,” he said grimly.

Shelagh was drifting in and out of consciousness.

She had no idea how long it had been since the men had gone. One by one her senses were shutting down. She was no longer aware of her physical surroundings. Arms, legs, body, head, she felt as if she was floating, weightless. She wasn’t aware of heat or of cold, nor the stones and dirt beneath her. She was cocooned in her own world. Safe. Free.

She wasn’t alone. Faces floated into her mind, people from the past and present, a procession of silent images.

The light seemed to be growing stronger again. Somewhere, just out of her line of vision, there was a juddering white beam of light, sending dancing shadows running up the walls and across the rocky roof of the cave. Like a kaleidoscope, the colours were shifting and changing shape before her eyes.

She thought she could see a man. Very old. She felt his cold, dry hands on her brow, skin as dry as tracing paper. His voice telling her it was going to be all right. That she was safe now.

Now Shelagh could hear other voices, whispering in her head, murmuring, speaking softly, caressing her.

She felt black wings at her shoulder, cradling her tenderly, like a child.

Calling her home.