The Seventh Daughter Read online

  “Brython and I cannot be spared,” Hopie said. “We do not know whether more serpent ships will come, and we cannot leave Caer Kymry without leadership. But if we are to solicit Valentyne’s aid, we must send an emissary of high rank. A member of the Royal Family.”

  “Earl Valentyne is the head of an ancient and noble Faerie house,” Brython explained. “When the Great Twilight came and Eden retreated into her solitary tower, he quit the Court and returned to Caer Mynwy. He has dwelt there ever since, refusing all contact with the outside world.”

  “He will make a great ally in our fight against Lyonesse,” said Zara. “He commands a loyal army. I must go and speak with him to ensure he joins us to defend his King.” She rested her hand on Tania’s. “Be not sad at this parting; we will meet again soon in merrier times.” She squeezed Tania’s fingers. “We shall defeat this evil, Tania—I know we shall. And you and I will dance again in the Great Hall of the palace and play duets upon the spinetta and the lute once more.” Her eyes glowed. “This I promise!”

  Tania took a long breath. “Yes,” she said. “Of course we will.”

  The sun was still hidden behind the mountain, but Half Moon Peak was edged with light, and the eastern sky was glowing with the dawn as Zara stood on a tall, smooth-topped rock outside the castle and began her song. Tania had heard her sister sing many times, even a song that had caused fish and dolphins to dance in the sea, but she had never heard such strange and uncanny sounds come from Zara’s throat before.

  Zara faced the ocean with her arms outstretched, her voice soaring and swooping, sometimes singing a high, keening melody that was like the crying of seagulls, sometimes descending to a low-pitched note that seemed to make the rocks tremble beneath their feet. While she sang the daylight grew and color began to seep back into the world. The gray sky blushed with a clear, bright morning blue, darkly mirrored by the rolling sea.

  Tania saw shadows go leaping westward and felt a sudden warmth on her back. She glanced around and saw that the sun had rounded the shoulder of the mountain and was throwing out a diamond white light, so bright that it made her eyes water.

  Suddenly, she felt Edric’s hand in hers. “Look!” he murmured, pointing. “Can you see it?”

  The sunlight was dancing dazzlingly bright on the waves, but she could just make something out—a movement too solid for waves, far, far out to sea.

  “They come,” Cordelia whispered, standing beside her. “Oh, merciful spirits of water, look how they come to her!”

  The disturbance on the face of the ocean began to draw slowly nearer.

  “Our sister has a powerful gift, indeed,” Hopie agreed.

  Tania saw two dark shapes racing landward in a fury of white foam. When they were some twenty yards from the shore, they came to a long, curving halt. Now Tania could see two smooth gray-blue mounds, each with a single dorsal fin cleaving the water.

  She gripped Edric’s hand. “They’re humpback whales!”

  One of the whales lifted its long barnacled head clear of the water, showing them its wrinkled white throat. The other dove, the great fan-shaped fluke rising high before slapping the surface of the ocean, sending up a spout of spray. A few glorious moments later the whale breached, surging out of the waves, its huge gray body more massive and wonderful than Tania could ever have imagined. It came almost clear of the water, curving and turning onto its side and then crashing down, so that the sky was suddenly full of white water.

  Zara’s song ended and Cordelia went bounding up the rocks to stand at her side. The whales moved closer to shore now, their heads lifted above the waves. Tania was fascinated by their eyes, strangely small in their great heads but filled with intelligence.

  “Hail to thee, wise wanderers,” Cordelia called. “Deep drinkers, great hearts, warm-blood brethren, we crave a boon of thee.”

  Tania glanced at Hopie. “Do you think they’ll help us?”

  Hopie nodded. “Yes,” she said. “They will help us.”

  Tania gasped. “I didn’t know whales could swim so fast!”

  She and Edric were at the prow of the Serpent ship, clinging tightly to the spars, the wind and spray fierce in their faces and the boards thrumming beneath their feet.

  “I told them that speed was of the essence,” Cordelia shouted down from her perch on the sinuous neck of the snake figurehead. “This journey would have taken us ten or twelve days by horse but while we have these Vahlkin lords at our service, my hope is to see the Black Isle three days hence!”

  It had taken Cordelia only a short time to get the humpback whales to agree to aid them. In fact, from the way the two enormous animals had cavorted in the water, splashing with their flukes and sending fountains shooting from their blowholes, Tania got the impression that they were glad to be asked to help against the evil of Lyonesse.

  It took a little while for strong ropes to be found and tied together so they would be long enough to form a makeshift harness. Then Cordelia had stripped off her outer clothes and had performed a perfect swallow dive off the rocks, swimming with the whales and helping others in rowboats to secure the ropes around their huge bodies. The ropes were tied to the front of the remaining Serpent ship and the whales hauled it effortlessly off the beach.

  Then it was time for parting. Tania found it hard to say good-bye to Zara—of all her sisters, it was lighthearted Zara who was most able to lift her spirits. The thought of journeying on without her was a gloomy one and it was with a heavy heart that she gave a final wave to those left on the rocks when the whales pulled tight on the ropes and towed the ship out of the bay.

  They had traveled west for a while, skirting the forested island of Ynis Tal with the open ocean to their left. But all sight of land had been left far behind them now, and they were speeding north on a featureless expanse of empty blue water.

  “We are on the Bight of Damask,” Cordelia called. “By the time the sun is at its zenith we shall see on the horizon the great island of Chalcedony. Beyond that is the coastline of Weir, where three-hundred-foot cliffs plunge sheer into treacherous waters.”

  “And then?” asked Tania.

  “After that, there’s a long inlet called Beroald Sound,” Edric told her. “It’s the north coast of Weir, and if we followed the coastland east, it would take us to the mouth of the River Lych and close to Caer Liel itself. But we’ll cross the mouth of the sound to Gallowshead.”

  “Aye, Gallowshead, indeed,” Cordelia said, climbing down to where they were standing. “Prydein’s southernmost promontory. Beyond that is Hob’s Tongue and the barren wastes of Highmost Voltar and Rhoth. And beyond Rhoth is the long black coast of Fidach Ren.” She wiped the fine spray off her face. “I am famished; this sea air hollows me out like a gourd.” She strode sure-footedly along the deck to a chest that had been filled with provisions for their voyage.

  Edric peered northward with narrowed eyes. “I don’t like the look of that sky,” he said.

  Tania followed his gaze over the prow of the ship. The horizon was filling with layers of thick dark gray cloud, like a grim barrier stretching across the sea. “Is it a storm?”

  “Yes. And it looks like a bad one.”

  For some time they watched the storm clouds gathering ahead of them while the notched coastline of Weir slid cheerlessly by on their starboard flank. As the afternoon progressed the sky turned slate gray above them and the sun became at first a watery disk, and then a foggy smear, before finally being swallowed by the rearing clouds. A chill air hissed in the rigging and icy raindrops needled their skin.

  “There are havens along the north coast of Weir,” Edric said. “If we follow the coast to the east, we may find shelter.”

  Cordelia gave a curt nod and climbed onto the neck of the snake figurehead to call out new instructions to the whales.

  They had been moving steadily eastward along the harsh coastline for some time, and it was clear now that the storm had no intention of allowing them to escape. They found no chance of sh
elter in the brutal saw-toothed line of cliffs; all they had encountered so far were black rocks that lifted out of the sea like fangs and claws. Tania stared into the dark throat of the approaching clouds. Gray veils hung over the somber sea, curtains of slanting rain that fell as thick as fog. The sea became choppy, white spume capping the rising waves. The ship began to lift and fall, the towropes sometimes stretching taut and at other times hanging loose as the whales fought the swell. Suddenly a wall of white water reared over the prow; Tania had no time to react as several tons of icy water crashed down on her.

  She fell, slithering across the deck, scrabbling wildly for a hand or foothold. She hit blindly against something solid and managed to catch hold of it as the water flooded around her.

  “Tania!” She heard Edric shout above the growing noise.

  “Here!” she yelled back, shaking her head frantically to get her saturated hair out of her eyes. She had slipped half away down the ship and was clinging to the mast. Edric was crawling along the deck toward her while at the prow; Cordelia was hanging on to the knotted ends of the towropes.

  “Are you hurt?” Edric called.

  “No.” The ship ploughed into another huge wave, and the deck plunged away. As the vessel stood on its nose all Tania could see was a maelstrom of turbulent green water rearing up in front of her.

  The ship rose again with a sickening lurch, water swirling over the deck. Moments later, the full wrath of the storm struck them, howling across the sea like a furious demon. The wind screamed and the rain lashed them like whips, buffeting the ship. Coughing up sharp seawater, Tania saw Cordelia, her face twisted with terror as she clung on at the prow.

  “Hold on!” Edric shouted. “I’m coming!”

  The deck pitched downward. Behind Edric a solid wall of water came thundering over the prow with a noise like an avalanche. When the wave broke apart Tania saw with a jolt of horror that Cordelia was no longer there. The wave had ripped away a whole section of the prow—and the princess had been swept away with it.

  XIV

  “Cordelia!” Tania screamed. Panic sent her staggering across the flooded deck, crawling on hands and knees to get to the place where she had last seen her sister.

  “Tania, no!” She heard Edric’s voice above the roar of the storm, but it didn’t stop her. She snatched at a broken end of timber—a remnant of the gunwale that had circled the prow. The whole of the serpent figurehead was gone, broken off low on the keel. Lost also were the towropes and the forespar.

  Tania stared into the cauldron of the sea. “Cordelia!” The tempest threw her scream back into her throat. Cold water dashed in her face and the deck heaved.

  She felt Edric’s arm clamping around her waist. “We have…to get away…from here….” He clungon to her. “Too…dangerous…”

  She looked into his white face. “Cordelia!”

  “I know. There’s nothing…we…can do….”

  He kept one arm coiled around her as he began to edge away from the broken prow. The ship pitched again and suddenly they were in water up to their chests. The sudden knowledge that they could die cleared Tania’s mind. She hung on to the ship’s side, fighting the sea as it tried to sweep her from the deck. A deep, stomach-churning groan filled the air. The ship was dragged to one side, the deck tipping. There was the noise of splintering timbers and the whole ship shuddered.

  Tania saw rocks like huge black teeth rear up through the rain. A gush of white water blinded her. The deck shook. Edric’s arm slipped away and she heard him shout. The piece of wood to which she was clinging came loose in her arms. She felt herself falling in a vortex of white water and suddenly realized that she was under the surface of the sea, being tossed about like a rag doll beneath the waves. She let go of the timber and tried to swim, holding her breath, her eyes full of rushing bubbles.

  She was thrown against something hard and sharp. It was rock. She tried to snatch at it, but the sea tore her away. The noise of the foundering ship beat at her ears, magnified almost beyond endurance by the pounding water.

  I’m going to drown….

  Something bumped against her back. More rock, she thought hopelessly; she might as well have her brains dashed out by a rock as anything else. There was no point in fighting it. Everything was wrong and broken and impossible.

  The thing bumped her back again—harder this time, pushing her forward and upward until she became aware of a greenish light above her head. A new hope stirred in her and she kicked and swam for the surface. With a gasp she broke through the skin of the sea, filling her lungs with air. Mountainous waves seethed all around her, the air full of teeming rain and whirling spindrift.

  There was nowhere for her to go. She was alone in the storm and her strength was failing.

  She felt something brush against her legs. A broad, triangular shape clove the water. She grabbed at it and found herself being hauled along in a fume of white water. She would have laughed with relief if she’d had the strength. She was being dragged through the water by one of the whales.

  It was too dark for her to have any clear idea of where she was being taken, but in flashes of lightning she got an impression of tall black cliffs looming to her right. Suddenly the whale slid away from under her, leaving her treading water and gasping for breath. A great blunt snout nudged her, pushing her toward the rearing cliffs. It’s too far! she wanted to scream. But the snout nudged her again, and she began to swim.

  She felt something solid under her feet. The waves slapped at her as she scrabbled over a smooth, slippery surface. The surf rolled her over and over. She dragged herself out of the sea, and lay gasping for breath on a shining spit of black rock.

  Gathering her remaining strength, she stumbled to her feet and staggered up the slippery rocks to a vertical cliff face. Here at least there was some respite from the rain and the biting wind. Tania sat with her back to a rock, her knees drawn up, her arms around herself. The euphoria of her miraculous escape quickly evaporated. Her sword was gone. The ship was gone. Cordelia was gone. She was alone and defeated on an unfriendly coastline—and Edric was…No, no!

  Don’t think about that. It’s too much.

  Perhaps it would have been better for her to have drowned after all.

  But even as despair threatened to overwhelm her, she saw two dark shapes moving toward her through the rain.

  “Tania!” One of the shapes called out to her—and it had Cordelia’s voice.

  Tania got to her feet with a shout of joy as a flash of lightning revealed Cordelia and Edric. The three of them fell into one another’s arms. Tania clung to both of them, burying her head in Edric’s shoulders. “I thought you were dead!”

  “A whale brought me safe to land,” said Cordelia, hugging her tightly. “Did I not say they are noble beasts?”

  “They saved me, too,” Edric said. “Then they saved all of us.” He stared out at the tumbling sea. “I hope they’re all right.”

  “They will not be harmed,” said Cordelia. “They will seek deeper water now.” She frowned up at the sheer cliff. “But what of we three? This quest is dogged by ill luck.”

  “We need to get off the beach,” said Edric. “This isn’t the wilderness of Prydein. We’re on the coast of Weir. There will be roads and villages and hill farms. Someone will help us.”

  “And yet the Queen warned us against hoping for aid from Drake’s father, the lord Aldritch,” Cordelia reminded him. “Will two princesses of Faerie find sanctuary in this place at such a time?”

  “They will if no one knows who they are,” Edric replied. “If asked, we’ll say that I’m Edwin Poladore, and that you’re my sisters, Dorimar and Brosie. We can say we come from the south and that we’re refugees escaping from the horrors of Lyonesse. But don’t mention the ship. Say our wagon lost a wheel and the horses bolted. Say that we’re making for the village of Lud.”

  “Is that a real place?” Tania asked.

  “Yes, it’s a remote hamlet up in the hills near the risi
ng of the River Lych,” Edric said. “We can say we have distant relations there.” He shielded his eyes from the rain as he studied the cliff face. “But first of all, we need to get off the shore—and that’s going to be enough of a challenge.”

  In the event, the climb wasn’t as difficult as Edric had feared. They quickly found a place where the black rock face was broken apart and crumbling to scaleable rubble. It was a steep climb, but they were soon making steady progress through a rugged landscape of rain-wet boulders and water-filled gullies and wind-whipped scrub.

  Tania was chilled to the bone. She walked along with her eyes screwed to thin slits, her arm linked with Edric’s. Cordelia walked slightly ahead of them, her shoulders hunched against the weather. Suddenly Tania was aware that the ground beneath her feet had become smoother—hard and solid and no longer scattered with ankle-twisting stones. She forced her eyes wider. They were on a roadway that wound through the hills, a simple rutted earth track bubbling with rain, but it was the first sign of habitation that they had seen.

  Cordelia looked at Edric. “Which way will lead to our respite, think you?”

  “I don’t know, my lady,” he admitted.

  There was a pause.

  “This way,” Tania decided, heading off to the left and pulling him with her.

  “Why?”

  “It’s downhill.”

  “Harken!” Cordelia’s sharp command was the first word that had been spoken between them for a long time. The relief of finding the road had faded as it had led them on and on through featureless hills for what seemed to Tania like hours.

  They stopped. Tania tried to listen for any sound above the whine of the wind and the hiss of the rain. “What?” she said.

  “Hooves,” Cordelia replied. “And wheels. And song. On the road behind us.”

  They turned and stared back the way they had come. After a few moments a pair of harnessed horses came around a shoulder of the hill, heads down as they pulled a wagon along the road. It had high wooden sides and a stretched tarpaulin for a roof—and seated in the front was a man in a heavy oilskin cloak who sat spread-legged and sang raucously as he flicked the reins.