The Coming of Dragons: No. 1 (Darkest Age) (10 page)

They sat down by the water. Elspeth sighed and leaned back, and Edmund felt some of his anxiety ebb away.

‘This is the edge of the kingdom of Wessex,’ Cluaran told them. ‘We’ll not enter the kingdom by the road. We’ll need to tread warily from now on.’

Edmund looked at the minstrel with renewed suspicion. Why was he so sure that the horsemen were coming for them? He had hidden them in the chieftain’s grain store as if he
knew they were in danger all along. He clearly did not fear for himself, or he would have hidden too.

‘Who were those men at the house last night, Cluaran?’ Elspeth asked suddenly, echoing Edmund’s thoughts so closely that he jumped.

The minstrel frowned. ‘They are men of Wessex, known as the Guardians of the Realm. They travel as the king’s men, but they do not serve him. Instead they are in the pay of a lord at King Beotrich’s court, one of the King’s Rede.’

‘Orgrim!’ murmured Edmund.

Cluaran gave them an odd look. ‘Aagard has told you more than I thought.’ His eyes narrowed, exaggerating his pointed features. ‘Orgrim is an ambitious and cunning man,’ he said, ‘and the king’s most trusted counsellor. He set up the Guardians with Beotrich’s agreement, claiming that times had become so lawless that an extra force was needed. They go armed with swords, and are known throughout Wessex by the silver boss on their shields – known and feared.’

‘But we weren’t in Wessex last night,’ Elspeth protested.

‘It’s Orgrim’s purposes they serve, not the king’s. Orgrim is persistent, and his reach is long.’

Edmund shuddered. ‘But what does he
want
?’

‘Power.’ Cluaran’s voice was quiet, and Edmund had to strain to hear. ‘More power than he has now, more than you could ever imagine.’ He stared at the lake for a moment, his face set like stone. ‘If he is sending his men out of the kingdom, he must be close to achieving his goal, of holding more
power in his hands than any mortal man before him. Aagard has sworn to stop him. And for my own reasons, so must I.’

‘And that’s reason enough for us to trust you?’ Edmund challenged.

Cluaran raised one eyebrow. ‘Trust me? I’m not asking for that. I have my own ends, which are nothing to do with you.’ He gave them a brief, cold smile, but when his gaze rested on Elspeth, there was something else there, close to confusion and even fear. ‘Aagard has bound me to protect you so I’ll stay with you for now, and I’ll keep you safe from Orgrim as long as you don’t walk into his hands by yourselves. That’s all.’

Edmund opened his mouth to retort, then stopped. Something had changed in the air around them. He stiffened – was someone listening? There was no sound apart from the minstrel’s quiet voice and the lapping of the water. He sent his sight out a little way to search; it was becoming easier to do this each time, although still the thought of what he was doing made him queasy. There was no one around.

But –

Without warning, the intruder was in his head again. Panic shot through him. He recognised it instantly: the foggy miasma stretching itself into the corners of his mind, and at its heart the cold, metallic sense of purpose.

Try to close your mind
, Aagard had said. Edmund strained to find the source. For an instant he stood on the edge of the chasm in his mind, fog pouring around him like smoke,
before he leaned forward and pulled the edges closed. He felt a flash of fury, then nothing.

Trembling, he opened his eyes. His companions were looking at him; Elspeth with concern, Cluaran with sharp interest. But before either of them could speak, a new sound came to them, a distant drum of hoofs.

It’s too late
, Edmund thought in terror.
He’s sent them back for us!

‘It’s not the Guardians,’ Cluaran said calmly. ‘Wrong direction. But still –’

He gestured behind them to where the trees were thickest, and picked up a fallen branch to wipe their footprints from the muddy shore. Edmund staggered to his feet and followed Elspeth, who had snatched up their packs as she darted for the trees. Cluaran joined them a moment later, and led them further into the undergrowth.

Branches whipped Edmund’s face at every step. Elspeth seemed to move as clumsily as he did, but Cluaran slipped between the thorns with ease. Before long he stopped, a finger to his lips, and gestured to them to crawl into a thicket of bramble. The spikes tore at Edmund’s clothes, but he hardly felt them. The ragged thunder of the horses was drawing closer, drowning out even the thudding of his heart.

The hoof beats seemed to stop just yards away, though by their muffled sound Edmund guessed they were on the softer ground beyond the lake. A gruff voice shouted an order, and he heard men dismounting.

‘Right, this is as far as we go. Let the horses drink and fill your bottles.’

‘We’re not going on, sir?’

‘We’re outside the king’s realm already. The Guardians might go further, but our duty’s in Wessex.’

There was the sound of splashing as horses were led into the water. Two of the men had wandered into the woods; their voices carried clearly to Edmund.

‘I can’t believe we’ve been sent all this way after an old man! What’s this one done, d’you think?’

‘Hah! Not paid his dues to the Guardians, like as not. Or looked squint-eyed at Lord Org—’

The other man shushed his companion as a third set of footsteps came up to them. A moment later the gruff-voiced captain spoke.

‘Is there a problem with your orders, Tib?’

‘No, sir!’ said the man.

‘Good. I’ll have no disrespect here. We may not be Guardians, but we can still do our duty by King Beotrich and his Rede.’

As Tib stammered an apology, new hoof beats came cantering through the trees. To Edmund’s ear the sound was sharper than before, in a way that made his skin prickle. He heard a gasp from one of the men, then a frantic scrambling to attention as the horseman approached.

‘Captain Cathbar?’

There was a ring of something familiar in the voice, but
it was not the voice that froze him. The presence of the man beyond the trees hit Edmund like a wave. This was the force that had tried to possess him twice before; that he had only just shut out; that had howled at him with such malice.

Orgrim.

Keep him out!
Edmund thought desperately. He pressed his face into the hard-packed ground, squeezing his eyes closed and throwing his arms over his head. He could feel the cold tendrils of thought reaching for him; frantically, he tried to shut his mind, lying still as a fox who hears the hounds scratching outside the earth.

‘I have new orders for you, Cathbar. The old man is accompanied by two others. A youth, pale of skin and hair, blue-eyed, small in build. He is more powerful than he appears. And a girl, also young, a little taller. Black hair, amber eyes. Treat her with caution too; she may be a witch.’

Captain Cathbar’s reply was so muted that Edmund could not make out the words. But the cold, refined voice of the Ripente was as clear as before.

‘They are certainly near this place. Your orders, captain, are to find them and deliver them with all speed directly to the Guardians. I wish to question these traitors
myself
. Do you understand?’

The captain muttered an assent.

‘And, Cathbar – I must make one thing quite clear. In the past, I believe, you have had some sympathy with the old
man; even fondness for him, perhaps? But that was long ago. Now he is a traitor to his own king. I hardly need to tell you the penalty for aiding a traitor, captain.’

The captain did not reply. There was a scuffling as the men came to attention again, then another sharp clatter of hoofs as the Ripente rode off.

At the same moment, Edmund heard the beating of wings. As the hoof beats faded, he looked up to see a great black bird soaring away from them over the trees.

There was a brief, heavy silence.

‘Looks like we’re here for a while longer, then,’ came Cathbar’s voice.

He began to give orders to groups of the men; some to return to the road, others to start beating the woodland fringes.
We should run!
Edmund thought desperately. But then he realised that Cluaran was whispering to himself. He tried to signal to the minstrel to be quiet. Had he not heard that the men were coming for them?

The air grew cold. On the ground around them, the dust stirred. The wind began to rise as Edmund watched, and the dust with it, blowing over the bushes towards the lake. Next moment, the branches above them were rattling, the air full of whirling leaves. From the shore of the lake he could hear the horses stamping uneasily and the sharp calls of the men; one trying to calm his mount, another crying that he was blinded by dirt. The cries grew louder as the gale rose, sweeping up twigs to dance head-high.

Cluaran tugged at his arm, and Edmund jerked upright. As the wind became a howl, the three of them wriggled out from their hiding place, grabbed their packs and fled into the forest.

The captain’s voice rang out behind them: ‘I said stand
still
, you lackwits!’

They forced their way on, careless of the thorns and the whipping branches. Then even the shouts faded. The wind shrunk to a steady moan, and the first fat drops of rain plummeted through the leaves. They ran on, through taller trees now, and easier going, while the storm drummed and hammered over their heads.

It was late into the night before they rested. Fear had kept both Edmund and Elspeth on their feet, and Cluaran seemed to be able to find his way as well by dusk as by day. Eventually exhaustion made them stumble over every root and twig in their path, and Cluaran looked around for a place to stop. He found them shelter in the hollow of a giant yew, its foliage thick enough to shelter them as the storm blew itself out.

Elspeth sank gratefully on to the carpet of needles beside Edmund. When that cold-voiced man had spoken, she was sure Edmund had recognised him – she had seen him stiffen. And in the same instant she had felt the weight of the sword hilt in her hand. It had grown heavier and more distinct as the man spoke and, by the time the raven had flown down to him, she could see the gauntlet emerging from her skin and
the faint edge of the blade shimmering through the brambles. What did it mean? The sword had faded as they ran through the wood, but her hand still tingled with it.

But she could not ask Edmund about any of this while Cluaran was listening. She turned to the minstrel instead.

‘So where do we go now?’

‘I have told you,’ he said, stretching out on the damp ground as if it were a bed. ‘We are heading for Glastening. We are in Wessex now, and there is danger everywhere. Stay on the road and we’ll meet with soldiers. Be caught off the main highway and we’ll be hanged as thieves. Glastening holds no more danger than anywhere else, and I have business there that I cannot now put off.’

Glastening was bigger than any town Elspeth had visited before. The three travellers paused at the edge of the forest and looked down on the settlement. Below them were neat wooden houses surrounded by well-tilled farmland, and in the centre of the houses was a stone church with market stalls set up in front of it. Elspeth was eager to reach the town now. At least they would not stand out as much as they had done at the thane’s house and at the place where they had hidden in the store pit. Cluaran had made sure of that.

He had left them in the shelter of the trees that morning and returned later with a bundle under his arm. ‘These should fit you,’ he’d said to Elspeth, holding out a boy’s woollen tunic and leggings. ‘The Guardians are looking for a boy and a girl. Let’s show them two boys instead. We must cut your hair,’ he added, pulling his knife from his belt. ‘Edmund, this is for you.’ He took out a little bottle that looked black in the trees’ shadow. ‘Walnut juice,’ he explained, ‘to dye your face and hair. You heard the soldiers – they are looking for a pale-haired
boy and a girl with long dark hair. Well, they’ll not find any such in this town while we are here.’

The boy’s clothes felt strange to Elspeth, but they fitted well enough. She tried a nautical swagger as she strode down the hill towards the town. She saw Edmund laughing, and grinned back. It was the first time she had seen him really smile. His eyes looked light as water on his darkened cheeks and beneath his new peat-brown hair.

‘You could be a peddler,’ she joked, and then, when she saw Cluaran was not near enough to hear, she added, ‘What would your parents think if they could see you now?’

‘I think my father would disown me,’ Edmund replied, his eyes dancing.

Cluaran came over. ‘While we’re at Glastening, you two are my apprentices,’ he told them. ‘We may stay a day or two, so be sure you do everything I say. I’ll get us horses for the rest of the journey. There’s still a fair way to go to Venta Bulgarum.’

Elspeth stopped walking. ‘To Venta?’ she echoed. ‘But that’s where Orgrim lives.’

‘I never said you would enter the town with me.’ Cluaran’s voice was calm. ‘I’ll find you somewhere to hide outside while I conduct my business.’

The busy streets of Glastening were daunting after the quiet moors. Elspeth’s eyes widened at the stone church tower that dominated the market square, and the crowds of people
milling outside it. Brown-robed monks with shaven pates slipped through the crowd like dark-scaled fish, sometimes pausing to exchange a word with a tradesman in a leather jerkin, or a woman clad in fine-spun coloured tunic. Elspeth was so busy gawping at a woman’s amber necklace that she collided with a boy who was staggering under a woven hamper. The basket squawked wildly and as she dodged the cloud of feathers that pursued her, she almost fell under the wheel of a passing cart.

Cluaran hauled her clear and gave her a hard look.

Just then a bell rang out, and for a moment the din quietened. The crowd thinned as monks and some of the townspeople left their business and streamed towards the church. Soon the sound of men’s voices came from within, raised in a chant.

Elspeth’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Evensong,’ she breathed. She remembered the nights between voyages when her father had taken her to pray for calm seas. ‘
Father!
’ she murmured, and without a second thought, she ran to the great doors of the church and slipped into the candle-lit shadows.