Exile's Return (Book 1) (17 page)

‘A birthmark? Of course it’s a birthmark … by the gods! Don’t you know what it is?’

Jenn shook her head, not understanding Ayn’s reaction at all. ‘No, I …’

‘No, of course you don’t. I can see it in your face. I’ll have to call the Council …’ Her voice trailed off as she moved quickly to the door of her rooms.

Jenn could hear her calling out into the cavern and as she waited, a shiver ran down her spine. She pulled the dress up around her shoulder, but the sense of foreboding which gripped her was all-consuming. She looked rapidly around the room. There must be some escape. Some way out … But there was no window and only the single door through which Ayn had just gone. Even now Jenn could hear feet on the steps outside and voices raised in question. Ayn was trying to explain to them.

‘I tell you she has a House Mark, on her shoulder, right where it should be.’

Then Wilf’s voice, ‘But that’s impossible! A girl with her birth can’t have a House Mark. What kind of trick is Dunlorn trying to play here?’

‘Calm down,’ Henry said quietly. ‘Do you want the girl to hear you? Ayn, are you certain about this? You know what it could mean? It’s a serious matter if Robert has lied to us.’

‘I can’t imagine he would lie, not about a thing like this.’

‘Then perhaps it’s the girl,’ Wilf added ominously.

Jenn listened and her stomach went cold. They were coming again, just like last night. They would push her, hurt her, trap her … What were they talking about? It couldn’t be good, not judging by their tone.

As they came closer and closer, Jenn felt more and more like a trapped animal, and the moment the faces appeared at the door, she reacted from pure instinct.

Her hands flew up in front of her and a wall of sheer white flame filled the doorway.

Ayn cried out a warning just in time, dragging Henry back from the edge of the flame. Around the doorway, the stone was already going black and the smell of burnt lime filled the little room.

‘What in the name of the gods is she doing?’ Henry demanded, examining his clothes. ‘She can’t do that in there. She’ll kill herself! She’ll kill us all!’

‘We have to stop her.’ Ayn turned quickly to Wilf. ‘I’m no good at this sort of thing …’

Wilf shook his head and stepped as close to the flames as he dared. Raising his left hand, he brought his
ayarn
up. He stood there for a few moments, then stepped back. ‘No, sorry. I don’t know what she’s doing exactly, but I can’t break it.’

‘This is my fault,’ Ayn drew them back across the sitting room away from the door of flames. ‘I shouldn’t have reacted so badly when I saw that House Mark on her shoulder.’

‘Did you catch which House?’ said a voice from the door.

Ayn turned to find Finnlay moving through the gathering crowd. She shook her head. ‘I don’t know all the Marks, I can’t tell one from another.’

‘What did it look like?’

Ayn replied shortly, ‘Two circles interconnecting with a diagonal bar through the lower. Look, I know you find all this very interesting, but if we don’t do something soon she will incinerate not only herself but the whole Enclave. We have to get her out of there.’

Finnlay moved forward. He paused a few steps short of the fire and gingerly put out a hand to the flames. He remained there for a moment, then turned his head and said
over his shoulder, ‘She’s not that strong. I could break this without much effort.’

‘Such arrogance!’ Wilf grumbled.

Henry held out a restraining hand. ‘There’s a chance you can, Finn, but the question is, should you?’

‘Oh, don’t be so lame!’ Finnlay broke away from the older man’s grasp and moved forward again. With a flick of his left wrist, he produced his
ayarn
and held it up to the flames. For a moment they seemed to flicker and a tiny hole appeared in the centre. Then they brightened again and the hole disappeared.

Finnlay dropped his hand and shrugged. ‘Oh well, I guess she’ll just have to burn.’

‘Oh Finn!’ Ayn spat in anger but didn’t waste any more time on him. She turned to the crowd behind her. ‘Get Robert in here. Now!’

*

Robert had heard the sound of people moving towards the upper galleries but he didn’t think much of it until Micah came running to him, a look of urgency on his face. Robert knew something was wrong with Jenn; in seconds he was across the hall and taking the steps two at a time. As he neared the top, the crowd pressed back against the walls to let him pass. A narrow corridor led to the door of Ayn’s sitting room and as he gained it, breathless, Micah arrived behind him.

‘What is it?’ Robert said, but then he saw the door to the bedroom and the wall of white flame.

‘I’m sorry, Robert,’ Ayn approached him, her voice frantic. ‘I said something that must have scared her. Wilf and Finnlay have tried to break it, but they can’t get through.’

Robert took a few steps forward and paused, concentrating on the flames and trying to see through them. He could sense a vague presence on the other side, but nothing more. ‘She’s all right at the moment but if she keeps it up much longer …’ He whirled around. ‘What did you say to her? Why would she do something like this?’

‘Does she even know what she’s doing?’ Finnlay replied caustically.

Ayn ignored him. ‘Robert, she has a House Mark on her shoulder.’

‘What?’ Robert froze.

‘I was so shocked, I must have startled her …’

‘Obviously! We’ll discuss it later.’ He turned back to the door and brought out his
ayarn
, but he didn’t do anything immediately.

‘I’ve already tried that, Robert,’ Finnlay murmured. ‘Not even you can break that wall.’

Robert’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Who said anything about breaking it?’ Without another word he raised his hand and concentrated. Within seconds a clear bristling shield surrounded the burning doorway, strong enough to contain it. Satisfied with that, he took another two steps forward and walked right through the flames to the other side, arriving untouched as though the fire were unreal.

Jenn stood in the middle of the room, her face white and gleaming with perspiration. She watched him intently, her blue eyes glazed and bright.

Robert smiled gently, hiding his concern with a calm shrug. ‘Thank you for letting me in.’

‘I wasn’t sure … But you took my side against them last night so I thought …’ Her voice trailed off as her eyes left him for a second to glance at the door.

‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ he asked carefully.

‘No. But it’s keeping them out. I don’t trust them.’

This time Robert’s smile was genuine. ‘I don’t much either. They’re a strange lot, but they mean you no harm.’

‘Really? What are they saying? What does it mean to have a House Mark? I just don’t understand any of this. Why did you bring me here in the first place?’ Jenn’s voice rose in pitch.

Robert held up his hands to calm her. ‘You know I had to bring you here – for your own sake, no one else’s. But if you want to leave, we’ll do so – right now. Just drop the flames.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’ll kill yourself, me and everybody within a hundred paces if you try to keep this up much longer. There’s a lot you don’t understand about sorcery, so you’ll have to take my word.’

Her eyes were bright and burning. ‘Trust you? Can I trust you? Will you tell me what a House Mark is?’

‘Of course. I’ll tell you anything you like. Just put the flames out first.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Tell me first. What is a House Mark?’

‘All right,’ he nodded slowly. ‘Actually, I’m surprised you haven’t heard about them before, but I guess it’s possible. You know the twenty-three major Houses in the country, those families whose ancestry goes back to the old empire and beyond? Every one has a birthmark, significant to their House. Every child born in the direct line has one, with their own individual variation, but still clearly that of their House. The House Mark is always on the left shoulder, small and there from birth. This is what I am told you have.’

‘But how can I have one of those? My father was an innkeeper.’

‘We’ll have to investigate that later but right now …’

She shook her head again, ‘No. I don’t believe you. I have a birthmark, yes, but it’s not anything like that.’

‘How do you know? Look, I promise you, I’m telling you the truth. I have a House Mark myself, so does Finnlay.’

‘Show me.’

Robert unlaced the collar of his white shirt and pulled the cloth back to reveal his shoulder. There beside an old battle scar was a mark, a triangle split with a double bar from top to bottom. ‘That’s the Mark of Dunlorn,’ he said quietly, his eyes on hers. ‘I am telling you the truth. Please drop the fire. I promise I’ll protect you.’

She was silent a moment, then she nodded mutely. Suddenly a breath of fresh cool air wafted through the room and Robert realized the wall of flame blocking the door had gone. He turned quickly back to Jenn, half-expecting her to collapse again but she kept her steady gaze on him.

‘I’m fine and – I’m sorry.’

Not taking his eyes from hers, he nodded, ‘That’s all right.’

Seconds later Ayn and the others rushed into the room.

*

Micah lifted the earthenware jug of wine and moved around the room filling the goblets with rich, spicy mead. Jenn, seated on a chair by the fire, watched him move carefully and discreetly from Ayn to Finnlay and Henry, to Wilf, Patric and Robert. She noticed the way the candlelight flickered across his freckled face, making his red hair a burnished gold. For all his sombre expression, Jenn got the impression that he was not deeply concerned over all that had happened, as though his belief ran so deep that he just knew it would all work out for the best. It was not the first time she had found his calm comforting.

Robert resumed his seat beside her and glanced at her with reassurance. He’d not left her side since she had dropped the wall of flames that morning, but she couldn’t tell whether it was from concern for her welfare or for fear of her doing it again.

Right now she just didn’t care. She was angry. Not just with these strangers, but also with herself. In all her life she had never felt fear strong enough to control her actions. But this morning, with those people … and what they had said … The worst part of it was, she really couldn’t work out what they’d said that had frightened her so.

She never liked to admit she was scared, and had never done so aloud. She doubted she ever would – because it would be like giving up. Not just the situation, but a part of herself would be lost if she ever admitted to anybody that she was afraid. It was part of her shield, her armour against the world. Jenn is never scared, people said, and strangely enough, the less she showed fear, the less she thought about it, the less she felt it.

For a moment, Jenn closed her eyes and wished herself back home. Back in the taproom of Father’s inn. The noises, the smell, the heat. So comforting, so familiar. The greatest
danger was a fight breaking out and tables being broken. Father had always protected her from anything truly dangerous, so fear had never been a major part of her life. Only that day when the grey-haired man had come to visit Father, only then had she been deeply afraid – but then, she’d been only seven at the time. He’d come, talked to Father, watched Jenn. He’d stayed a week and never said a word to her, though his eyes were always on her. Jenn had hidden from him in the end until he’d left, but that dark piercing gaze remained with her to this day. It reminded her so much of the way these people looked at her.

They were different, these sorcerers, different to normal people. At first she’d thought it was because they were sorcerers and she found herself understanding why people had always been afraid of them. Then she’d thought that perhaps it was because they lived way up here, away from normal society. But then she realized it
was
because they were sorcerers after all.

And now she was truly one of them.

Any last vestige of doubt she’d had disappeared as surely as if those flames had burned them away. So, they’d been right after all. She had moved that bridge and split the stone – and put it back together. It had been her. But why hadn’t she known? Why had it just started? What had made it happen in the first place? She’d been in difficult situations before and nothing like that had ever happened. There had even been a couple of times when she’d wished …

She folded her hands on her lap and willed herself to be calm. It would not do to go losing herself again at this stage. No. Now was the time to hold on to her anger and to use it. This time she was determined to get some answers. For the moment she couldn’t decide which was worse, being caught by those Guilde soldiers – or being saved by Robert Douglas, Earl of Dunlorn. Since the former would have lost her at least an arm and the latter, it seemed, her freedom, it was a difficult choice. So she kept her eyes on the comforting presence of Micah pouring wine.

‘You all know what happened this morning,’ Robert began.

Jenn nodded absently as Micah finished and took up a place behind Robert’s chair. She turned her attention to the faces around the room. Wilf, with his creased and podgy face screwed up with what she could only assume was anger, kept his eyes firmly on the wall behind her. Henry was more subtle. His expression was one of sincerity, as though this was all just some huge misunderstanding that could be easily cleared up. Patric appeared merely interested but Ayn kept brushing her hair back from her face. Of all of them, she looked the most uncomfortable.

Finnlay sat by the opposite wall, eyes downcast and grim. Although there was a very close resemblance between the brothers, at this moment, Finnlay looked like a complete stranger. His dark hair fell across his face, obscuring his burning brown eyes. She knew they were burning – what else would they do? Without thinking, she said, ‘What are you going to do now?’

Finnlay started, assuming – correctly – that the question was meant specifically for him, but before he could answer, Henry sat forward and spoke.

‘Well that depends largely on you, my dear. On what you want to do.’