Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (52 page)

Finnlay sat back and shook his head. ‘I don’t know. It doesn’t seem likely. I mean, Robert could have done something about McCauly a long time ago. He’s always blamed himself for McCauly being arrested in the first place.’

‘And there was always that rumour that Robert had helped Rosalind escape. These people think that Kenrick was returned because Robert was busy getting McCauly out of prison.’

Pursing his lips, Finnlay stared into the fire. ‘I suppose there’s always a chance that Robert might have done something – but I would have guessed in his current frame of mind it would be most unlikely.’

‘Then you still think we’ll find him?’ Fiona was watching him carefully, and carefully, Finnlay replied.

‘It might take a long time, but yes, I’m convinced he’s still in Lusara. I think that’s the penance he’ll make himself pay.’

‘Penance? For what?’

Finnlay smiled abruptly to cover the mistake. ‘For whatever crime he feels he’s committed. Now we’re so close to Elita, I don’t see much point in you trying to Seek him tonight. Have a rest instead and we’ll start again after we’ve seen Jenn.’

Fiona folded her arms. ‘I don’t know how you expect me to find Robert. You’re far stronger than me – and if he’s shielding, I won’t have a hope of locating him. Others have been trying this for months, Finn. Why do you think I’ll have any more luck?’

With a smile, Finnlay shifted closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘I just have a feeling about it, that’s all.’

‘Well, feeling or not, this is getting harder every day. There are just as many patrols to dodge now that McCauly’s missing as there were with the Queen’s disappearance. We can’t keep this up for ever. One day somebody is going to recognize you and then what will you do? Hell, it’s not even safe for Churchmen to travel any more.’

‘What do you mean?’ Finnlay stiffened.

‘Oh, some priest has been arrested by the Guilde. I saw them taking him to the garrison as I was leaving town. An old man.’

‘You saw him?’ Finnlay sat upright. ‘What did he look like?’

Fiona frowned at his sudden urgency. ‘Short, almost completely bald. A round face, kindly, I suppose.’

Scrambling to his feet, Finnlay strode out of the shelter and stared into the forest as though he could see as far as the town. ‘Hilderic.’

‘Yes. How did you know his name?’

‘Archdeacon Hilderic. You remember a few weeks ago Father John sent a courier to say that Hilderic had gone on a mad quest to Mayenne? The Guilde must have found out and arrested him for treason. Fiona, we must do something!’

Fiona grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face her. ‘What can we do? You dare not show your face in public – even in disguise.’

He gazed at her a moment, his mind racing. Then he turned swiftly to the clearing and lifted the first saddle at hand. ‘We’ll leave the horses on the edge of the forest. I’ll put a blanket on the pack horse. If anything goes wrong, head straight for Dunlorn. Don’t stop for a moment. My mother will help you. Tell her to hide Hilderic. Deverin will know when it’s safe to move him. Trust him. He trained Robert. He knows what he’s doing. If things get too difficult, you may have to take Hilderic to the Enclave.’

‘Finnlay, stop!’ Fiona strode towards him and tore his hands away from the saddle. ‘This is mad! How can you rescue this priest? You’ll be captured yourself! I won’t allow this.’

Finnlay dropped the saddle and took her hands in his. ‘My love, I have no choice. Hilderic will die if we don’t get him out now. The time for waiting is over. We can’t afford to sit back any longer. We have to do something – and now. Hilderic will be easier to rescue here than if they take him to the dungeons of Marsay. You know that.’

Fiona’s eyes grew flinty and hard. ‘I can’t stop you, can I?’

‘No. But you can help. Stay with the horses and take care of Hilderic. If all goes well, we’ll have breakfast together.’

‘And if it doesn’t?’

She was hiding her fear well, but not so well he couldn’t see it. He leaned down and kissed her cheek gently. ‘I survived my encounter with Carlan. I lead a charmed life. If we get separated, I’ll go to Elita first, then see you back at the Enclave. Now, we’d better pack up.’

*

Nash leaned back in his chair, planted his elbows on the arms and steepled his fingers together. The tent was very well lit, but the four tall lamps in each corner also made the air thick with heat. The guards on either side of the door were already sweating and even DeMassey, standing at his side, wiped his hand across his brow to remove the moisture.

Nash felt no such discomfort. If he had, he would certainly have had better sense than to show it to the prisoner before him. The old priest was on his old knees, his hands bound in front of him. His face was fixed straight ahead, looking neither left nor right.

‘You’re a fool, Archdeacon,’ Nash breathed. ‘How could you, with so many years at court behind you, truly believe you could make your own private embassy to Tirone without anyone knowing about it? Eh? Did you really think you could just wander back home and have no one the wiser?’

Hilderic didn’t answer. His jaw was firmly shut, the muscles of his cheeks taut against temptation.

‘I could make you speak, Father, really I could – but is there any point? Would you tell me something I didn’t already know? My spies at Tirone’s court have already informed me of how you went to plead with our sovereign’s brother to free the traitor McCauly. I was also told how you clumsily hinted at Selar’s plans to invade Mayenne. I was even told how upset you were when Tirone turned you down.’

Nash leaned forward now, his eyes fixed on Hilderic’s. ‘Have you any idea how upset the King will be when he hears what you’ve done? When he hears what Tirone has done? Have you any idea how upset I am?’

‘I care not for any Guildesman,’ Hilderic spat.

Instantly Nash was out of his chair and standing on the ground before him. ‘But I’m not just any Guildesman, priest. You will understand that all too well, soon. Just before I order your execution.’ Nash gestured to the guards. ‘Take him away. Tie him to his tent post at throat and foot. If he moves in the night, let him strangle himself.’

The guards came forward and dragged Hilderic to his feet. The old man did not struggle as they took him away. Nash turned to face DeMassey.

‘You’re not really going to let him die, are you? What will your precious King say?’

‘I don’t really care,’ Nash said. ‘I can’t see Selar being too upset. He’s always despised Hilderic – and now that the meddling fool has warned Tirone of the coming war, Selar will loathe him even more. By Broleoch’s breath, how can we invade now that Tirone is moving troops to cover the border?’

DeMassey strolled forward and delicately removed the Guilde cloak from his shoulders. He draped it carefully over the back of the chair and straightened his richly embroidered jacket with hands gleaming with rings. ‘There are ways around such things. It just means you’ll have to wait a while longer. My men will deal with it.’

‘You mean those that aren’t already within the ranks of the Guilde? I’m surprised you have so many at your beck and call. Is there anyone left at home?’

DeMassey grinned. ‘Plenty. As many as we need. So, what do you plan to do with the priest?’

‘Well, dead or alive, he’s already been useful. I’m glad my men had the sense to inform me the moment Hilderic was caught on the border. By now half the country will have heard about his arrest. Hilderic would hate it, but he could be instrumental in the return of McCauly – but I don’t have time for any more of this tonight.’

‘Oh? Have you a more pressing engagement?’

Nash glanced at the handsome young Malachi. The light of speculation was there in his eyes. Nash was almost sorry to disappoint him. ‘The King is due here any minute. He’s
on his way back to Marsay. Having paraded his heir around the country, he’s anxious to do the same at the capital.’

‘Ah,’ DeMassey smiled. ‘I see. So you do have a more pressing engagement. It is to be tonight, then?’

‘Yes. I won’t get another chance for a while. While I’m with Selar, I want you to keep an eye on the boy. He’s my key to controlling the father. Make sure nothing happens to him.’

‘Of course,’ DeMassey nodded. ‘Anything you say, Governor.’

*

Finnlay kept to the shadows cast by torches scattered through the camp. There was no moon, favouring his intent. After the onslaught of rain an hour earlier, he was cold and wet and no longer entirely sure this was such a good idea.

Keeping to his hiding place, Finnlay scanned what little of the camp he could see without moving. He had his
ayarn
out and was ready to pull together a Mask if needed, but there were few people about. At this late hour and in this weather, just about everyone of the hundred or so Guilde soldiers were either out on patrol or in their beds, dry and warm. There would be no better opportunity for the rescue. But he would have to wait a little longer, until Hilderic’s tent was completely quiet and empty of everyone but the ancient priest. Then all Finnlay had to do was slip into the tent, cut the bonds and slip out again with Hilderic in tow. It was only a hundred yards between the camp and the forest – he could carry the old man if he had to. And if there were any problems, he could send Hilderic on towards Fiona and stay here himself to Mask their escape.

Yes. No problem at all.

He settled back into the shadows and gripped his
ayarn
hard against the uncontrollable trembling.

*

Despite the evening’s bad news, Nash had to smile. Selar was stretched out on the bed, his eyes closed and his wrist laid bare. Blood seeped from the shallow wound Nash had made and each drop drew the King closer to a complete and permanent Bonding. He would do anything Nash told him
to do. After tonight, even if Osbert failed to discover the library’s whereabouts, Nash would find a way to use Selar’s authority. He’d pull the Guilde Hall down stone by stone if he had to.

Nash rested back on his heels and closed his eyes, trying to conserve his energy. This would almost drain him. But he had plenty of time to recover. He would rest here a while and then gather his men and make steady progress towards Marsay. He would give Selar a week of peace with his son before Nash returned to start work. Very generous, when he thought about it. . .

What . . . was that. . . ?

Familiar . . . and very close.

Nash’s eyes snapped open. The Enemy! Here. In his camp. What the hell was he doing here? Nash had to move. He had to get out there and find him. But if he left Selar now—

No. It was done as much as it would ever be done. The Bonding would hold as long as Nash would need it.

Moving swiftly, Nash bound up Selar’s wrist and quickly absorbed the blood on his ring. Then he stood and threw a cloak over his shoulders. He strode out of the tent and into almost total darkness. Only a few guards patrolled the area, saluting as they saw him.

Calling two men to follow him, Nash ran the length of the camp to the tent where Hilderic was being held. The guards outside were startled at his appearance, but he didn’t stop. He tore the door open to find the tent as empty as he’d suspected.

But the Enemy was still close. He could feel it.

He dashed around the back of the tent to find a huge rip in the cloth, and footprints of two men in the mud. Calling out to the guards to follow him, Nash ran into the darkness. Douglas was not going to get away this time. He would be alone, with the old man slowing him down. This time, Nash would kill him.

*

Finnlay struggled desperately to get Hilderic to move faster, but hours of imprisonment had left the man’s legs numb.
Then, before they were even halfway to the forest, Finnlay heard the shout. The escape had been discovered.

‘Go on,’ Finnlay hissed, ‘as fast as you can. Fiona is straight ahead. She’ll get you to safety.’

Hilderic grabbed his arm. ‘But what about you?’

‘Just go!’ Finnlay almost pushed him, then turned back towards the camp. He had to get the guards to move away from where Fiona was hiding. He ran forward a little until he could just see the outline of figures moving towards him, then darted off to his right. Another shout from behind and he knew they were following him, not Hilderic.

Finnlay kept running, stumbling downhill on the thick grass. Behind the garrison he could see the lights of Calonburke. If he could get close enough, perhaps he could lose himself in the back streets.

With his lungs fit to burst, he scrambled into the shadows of the first building he came to. From the smell, it was a stable. He chanced a glance over his shoulder. Four – no, five men following him, that was all. At least for the moment. He didn’t wait any longer. He kicked in the door of the stable and ran along the stalls until he found a huge, powerful stallion. He didn’t have time for the niceties of a saddle. He just grabbed the horse’s halter and pulled it out of the stall. He got as far as the door.

‘At last, Enemy!’ came a voice from the darkness. ‘Like a fool, you’ve come right back to me – and this time, you won’t get away.’

And then Finnlay could feel it. The same reeking stench of evil he’d learned to fear. Carlan.

Yes, he had been a fool, but he didn’t have time for lengthy reflections now. He had to get away before the monster could get hold of him again. Without speaking, Finnlay let go of the horse and drew his sword.

‘I doubt even you will be able to fight your way out of this, Finnlay Douglas. Go on,’ Carlan urged his men, ‘kill him.’

Finnlay could hardly see a thing in the darkness. There were just shapes and movement. He heard a rush of air and brought his sword up to block the blow. Twisting around
before another could close in, Finnlay pushed the man back, then sliced across his waist. Another immediately filled his place, striking Finnlay before he could bring his sword to bear. Pain tore down his left shoulder and he stumbled forward.

‘Now move in and kill him!’

Carlan’s voice was enough on its own to make Finnlay move. He straightened up at the same time as he swung his sword diagonally across, striking both men at the same time. One fell to his knees, but the other pressed in closer, exchanging blows with Finnlay that made him shudder to his bones. He was cut again, a stab to his thigh. And again, a ringing stroke to his head, just above his eye. Blood poured, blinding him on that side. He struck out again, stumbling over his feet. The horse behind him reared up, screaming at the smell of blood. Finnlay took one more shot, cutting the sword from the soldier’s hand. He roared in agony and fell back. But there was still another to replace him.