The Circle of Stone (Darkest Age) (17 page)

‘
Must
you go back?’ Elspeth had not intended to say it, but the words flew out of her. ‘If Loki wins, we’ve all lost. There won’t be a kingdom for you to rule!’

Edmund turned to her, and she recoiled from the anger in his face. ‘I’m lost already,’ he said. ‘It was Loki who killed my father, not Haaksen – he was just the tool. Up in that temple, I swore to destroy him – but I don’t know how. We can’t even find him!’

‘Maybe we can,’ Elspeth argued. ‘We know now that he’s getting followers... worshippers. They’re killing in his name: the Burning Man. He must have won them over somehow – maybe their leaders have met him. If we can find some of them, and talk to them . . .’ she shuddered, ‘maybe pretend
that we believe in him too, we can find out where, and what form he took.’

Edmund was staring at her. ‘As he did in the fishing village in the Snowlands, you mean? Making them see him as a miracle-worker?’

‘Yes, and the healer in Alebu. If we talk to people, just as travellers...’

But Edmund was looking away again, the hope dying in his face. ‘It’s no good,’ he said. ‘I have a duty to my men. What would they think if I abandoned them? I have to be a king now.’

He did not look like a king, Elspeth thought. Sitting here in the dark, his thin arms around his knees, he was more like the boy she had first met on the
Spearwa
: lost and afraid. And he bore the weight of everyone’s expectations, on top of his grief. She could not burden him with more demands.

‘Father told me to take them home,’ Edmund said, very low.

‘That’s for tomorrow,’ Elspeth told him. She put an arm around his shoulder, and he sagged against her. ‘You should rest now.’

He nodded slightly. In a few moments his head fell forward and his breathing became soft and regular. Elspeth lowered him to the ground and wrapped his cloak around him before creeping away.

In her dream that night, Elspeth stood on a steep hill, ankle-deep in snow. A chasm gaped at her feet, its depths rumbling
with unseen fires – and from the far side, someone was calling to her. She made out a tiny, distant figure; black-haired, clothed in white.

Ioneth!
she shouted over the ravine. The little figure answered, gesturing downwards at something. Try as she might, Elspeth could not make out the words: only the faint, sweet sound of Ioneth’s voice. She ventured closer to the chasm’s edge, but the roaring from the depths grew louder, drowning out all other sounds. Ioneth seemed further away now, her frantic warning fading into the distance. And in the chasm, something stirred: something fiery and raging, too huge to be contained. An answering jolt of fire shot down Elspeth’s arm and burst painfully from her hand.

She started from sleep. Her hand tingled, but she could not tell whether the jolt had been real or imagined. Light from a blue sky stung her eyes, and the makeshift camp was filled with quiet bustle as the Sussex men rolled their blankets. Elspeth pulled herself up, reassured by the bright light and the orderly preparations. Then she saw the freshly made grave-mound, and remembered. King Heored was dead – and today Edmund would leave to take his men home.

Teobald and the other captains were calling the men into marching order. Elspeth looked for Edmund but did not see him.
It’s probably best
, she told herself.
We said all we needed to say last night
. She tried to shake off the heaviness that dragged at her, and set off to find Cathbar and Cluaran. She
would tell them her idea of using the Burning Man’s converts to lead them to Loki.

But she still had to find a way to fight Loki. She remembered her dream: Ioneth’s fading voice, and the impossibly huge distance between them as the fire rose against her.
I won’t let you vanish!
she vowed, clenching her right hand.

Cluaran came striding towards her, propelling Wulf by his shoulders. ‘I found the imp playing around the king’s grave,’ he said. ‘We’re nearly ready to go, if you are.’

Elspeth nodded. ‘We should say farewell before we go.’

Cluaran gave her an odd look. ‘Edmund’s here now,’ he said.

Edmund was running up to them, his face touched with colour. He was no longer wearing the fine clothes his father had given him, but his old fur cloak and heavy boots. He looked better, Elspeth thought; no longer lost as he had seemed last night.

‘I wasn’t sure if we’d have the chance to say goodbye,’ she greeted him.

‘I’m not saying goodbye,’ he told her. ‘I’m coming with you.’

Elspeth stared at him.

‘You were right,’ he said. ‘While Loki lives, there’s no safety for my people, or for anyone. We have to fight him.’

‘And what of your promise to your father?’ Cathbar asked.

‘I promised him I would send our men home, and I will. Teobald will lead them back to Sussex, and bear a letter to my
mother. Father charged me not to waste any more of our men’s lives, but he didn’t forbid me to attack Loki myself. You may think I’m a fool, but I have to try.’

Cathbar looked serious. ‘I don’t know how you’ll succeed,’ he said, ‘but I won’t call you a fool, Edmund Heoredson.’ He turned to Elspeth. ‘Well, my girl, our party is complete again – and it seems our task is to catch the wind and tie up the lightning.’ He swung his pack to his shoulders. ‘So we’d best make a start.’

They started by returning to the road.

Both Cluaran and Cathbar approved of the idea of looking for the god’s followers. ‘I thought of something of the sort myself,’ the captain said. ‘But we’ll have to watch our words, and lie skilfully.’

‘Trust me for that,’ Cluaran said.

The trees by the roadside were in full leaf, and loud with birdsong. The fields that they passed seemed deserted, and Elspeth began to fear that it would be a long search for anyone they could question. But the road was still churned up with footprints, and Cluaran, inspecting them, said that some at least were recent.

It was mid-morning when they found their first opportunity. Cathbar, who was up ahead, stopped and called back to them. ‘Over there!’ he said, pointing.

Just visible down the road was a thin plume of smoke. It came from a settlement a little way from the road: small, poor, and apparently deserted. All the people they could see were gathered
in the field at the roadside. There were around two dozen of them, all poorly clothed. Near the road, a scrawny donkey cropped the grass. Its cart had been set up in the middle of the field, with a small fire lit in front of it. A man stood on the cart to address the crowd, who listened with rapt attention.

‘And he shall come to them in flame!’ the speaker shouted. ‘Then all shall know his glory. He will rule over all the earth. From east to west, there shall be none but the Burning Man!’

There was a clumsy response of ‘Praise him!’ The listeners were mostly young men, with a few women and children at the back. Elspeth guessed that most of them were from the village, but a few of the men, and two women, stood in a separate group close to the cart, leading the responses. They were even more ragged than the rest of the crowd: beggars, Elspeth would have said, but for the fierce pride on their faces.

‘Who will come with me?’ the speaker cried, his voice rising almost to a scream. ‘Who will join in the work, and spread the word of the Burning One?’

The group near the cart cried out together, and some of the young men among the villagers joined in, but not all.

‘What about our fields?’ called one woman, and an old man near the back spat disgustedly.

‘Load of nonsense, if you ask me,’ he shouted. ‘Leave my crops to go traipsing round the countryside? Be off with you.’

‘You talk of fields?’ the preacher cried. His voice dripped scorn. ‘What are cabbages and corn to the glory of the spirit? Our god can nourish us with a word.’

‘Have you tried eating your own?’ the old man jeered. There was a nervous laugh among the listeners. Three of the men by the cart detached themselves and made for the back of the crowd.

‘We will rise up with him!’ the preacher vowed. ‘No more poverty, or hunger, or disease. The Burning Man will heal all ills for those who truly believe in him. We have seen it!’

‘We have seen it!’ echoed his followers by the cart. The three who had moved away were making their way purposefully towards the old man now, and Elspeth saw the flash of knives in their hands. She cried out, but Cathbar had already started forward.

‘But the scoffers,’ the speaker’s voice was suddenly deeper, ‘those who will not take him into their hearts, they will be cast out.’ As if on cue, the three men raised their knives – but Cathbar was there in front of them, taking the bewildered old man by the elbow and propelling him away from the crowd. One of the men gave a roar of anger, and all three started after Cathbar, but Cluaran stepped into their path.

‘He was not worthy to hear your words,’ the minstrel said. ‘Speak to us instead.’

The men stopped, looking bewildered. Eolande stepped up to join her son, and Elspeth followed with Edmund, holding Wulf tightly by the hand.

‘Who are you?’ one of the knifemen asked suspiciously. The preacher on the cart had stopped speaking and all eyes were turned on them.

‘We’re travellers,’ Cluaran replied. ‘We passed this way by chance, and were caught by your leader’s golden words. Tell us more!’ he called to the preacher.

But the man on the cart scowled. ‘Beware of the stranger,’ he warned the crowd. ‘Beware of those who invade our land from outside, bringing evil customs. Let no such man into your midst!’ The villagers began to mutter, and one or two of the men turned threatening stares on Cluaran.

‘Praise the Burning One!’ It was Eolande’s voice, loud and piercing. ‘Praise him, night and day! Tell us your words, and save us!’

The women by the cart joined in: ‘Save us!’ and the crowd turned back to the preacher. After a moment the man began to speak again. Elspeth shot a grateful look at Eolande.

The next time the preacher demanded that his listeners follow him, the men all yelled as one, punching the air and stamping in their eagerness to volunteer. Elspeth joined in the general clamour, and worked her way around the side of the crowd until she reached one of the ragged women standing by the cart.

‘Now we follow the Burning Man, where will he lead us?’ she asked.

The young woman turned to her as if in a trance. ‘We follow the preacher’s word,’ she said. ‘We go wherever he does.’

‘But where?’ Elspeth persisted. The woman seemed to consider her question for a long time.

‘South . . . west, maybe . . . Some will sail to other lands. What does it matter? The Burning One is here; he’s all around
us.’ She looked at Elspeth with bright, vague eyes. ‘Can you not feel him?’

Elspeth had to repress a shudder. While she tried to think of a reply, the young woman took hold of her arm. ‘Why do you ask so many questions?’ she said. ‘Are you with us? Only call on him – he will put an end to all your searching.’

He might, at that
, Elspeth thought with a flash of panic. Suddenly she wanted to be away from these people. She thanked the woman and returned to the back of the crowd.

‘It’s useless,’ Edmund sighed. ‘I asked one of them if they were going to meet this Burning Man, and he told me that he is everywhere. They don’t know where he is, Elspeth.’

Elspeth nodded. ‘They say they might go south, or west – and to other lands. There was nothing useful.’

‘The men who attacked the villages were heading south,’ Edmund said. ‘I’m for carrying on that way – but not with these madmen.’ Elspeth nodded vehemently.

‘In that case, we should leave now, while they are distracted,’ Cluaran said quietly.

He pointed to a clump of trees on the other side of the road, where Cathbar was standing, signalling to them. The preacher’s voice had risen to a shriek, and his hearers were shouting back at him. Elspeth grabbed Wulf by the hand and the five of them walked quickly into the trees, the preacher’s fervour fading behind them.

Elspeth’s mind raced as she walked. They had risked their safety and gained nothing useful. If only they could find
someone who had met Loki – who could describe how he looked now!

Cluaran was behind her, speaking animatedly to Eolande – no, arguing. His voice was irritated; his mother sounded anxious.

‘There are those among them who have the power, certainly,’ Eolande was saying. ‘But you know they don’t want to get involved this time.’

‘But what about Ainé? Surely she...’

‘She least of all!’

‘She fought Loki before. And her loss was no greater than yours,’ Cluaran insisted. ‘She would listen to you, if you asked her.’

‘No,’ Eolande said, and her voice was choked. ‘You can’t ask that of me. I cannot go back.’

Cluaran shrugged. ‘Then I’ll go myself,’ he said.

‘What are you planning, Cluaran?’ Elspeth asked when they stopped to rest. ‘Do you know of someone else we can ask?’

She could not read Cluaran’s expression as he looked back at her. ‘You heard that, did you?’ he said.

‘Well, do you?’ she persisted. ‘If there’s someone who can help us, we have to find them!’

‘It would not be as simple as that,’ Cluaran said. ‘But yes, I may have a better way to find Loki.’

Edmund and Cathbar looked up from laying the fire, and even Wulf put down the stick he had been shredding.

Cluaran looked pointedly at Eolande, who sighed and nodded. ‘My mother and I have . . . countrymen who might help us, if they choose,’ Cluaran said. ‘We will have to continue through the forest for another day.’

‘Do they live there?’ Elspeth asked, surprised that he had not mentioned kin living among the trees before.

‘Let’s just say that I can reach them more easily from there,’ the minstrel said.

Cluaran led them rapidly through the trees, heading south. ‘We’re looking for water,’ he said.

The sound of running water drew them to a muddy trickle which Cluaran followed upstream until it joined a wider brook. They followed the brook while the blue sky overhead gradually paled and the sun sank out of sight below the tree-tops. At last they came to a river: still narrow enough to jump, but flowing swiftly between deep banks. Cluaran struck his hands together in satisfaction and quickened his pace.