The Enchanted Quest Page 17

  Tania looked at her, startled by this. “You can still sense the Dark Arts in him?” she whispered back, careful that Edric should not overhear.

  “Aye, as thick and deadly as quicksand.” She looked into Tania’s eyes. “But I think you need not fear him, Tania. His oath holds true, I believe . . . for now—but still the Dark Arts cling to him.”

  “Is it definitely Edric you’re sensing?” Tania asked softly. “It couldn’t be Balor or the Salamander?”

  Rathina frowned. “Mayhap you are right, sister,” she murmured. “I had thought the danger to be from the Dark Arts, but now that you speak, I begin to wonder.” She shivered. “If it is not Edric, then it is something else close by. Be wary. . . . We have not outrun our danger.”

  Tania glanced over her shoulder. Edric was only a few paces behind them, but his head was bent down, as if he was nodding in the saddle. Connor was a little farther back, and she could make nothing of him except a moving silhouette.

  “Sister?” Rathina’s voice was no more than a breath.

  “Yes?”

  “If the Dark Arts take Edric and he betrays us, we will have little time to act,” Rathina whispered. There was sadness in her eyes. “Do you understand what I am saying to you? We will have to be swift and sure if we are to prevail.”

  Tania swallowed hard. “You mean . . . to stop him. . . .”

  “Indeed. A sword to the heart is surest, Tania—if it comes to it.”

  Rathina’s words chilled her through and through. “Oh god,” Tania whispered. “I hope not.”

  Rathina reached out and gripped her hand, her voice trembling as if she understood perfectly the terrible pain that such an act would cause. “As do I, sweet sister.” She sighed. “As do I.”

  We’ll ride until we can’t follow the road anymore.

  Through the ever-deepening night, the gloomy path through the forest lay clear ahead of them.

  Tania caught herself almost falling asleep on several occasions.

  Just a little farther—then we’ll stop.

  Just a few yards more.

  At last she saw ahead of them a patch of starry sky through the forest roof. There was the sound of water gurgling and splashing. And then the jagged hump of a wide, broken stone bridge, jutting out over a broad, dark river.

  “The Blackwater, I deem,” said Rathina. “Can you see anything of yonder bank?”

  “No,” Tania said. “Nothing, really. It might be more forest.”

  “How wide is it, do you think?” Edric asked, bringing his horse alongside the two sisters.

  “I’m not sure, maybe fifty yards?” Tania ventured.

  “At least that,” said Connor, and now the four of them were side-by-side where the forest gave way to the rushing river. “Didn’t someone mention a ferryman with a boat?”

  Tania saw a lump of darkness rise from beside the ruins of the bridge and come moving slowly toward them, one hand grasping a long staff, the head deeply cowled.

  The horses whinnied and backed away.

  Tania felt a cold terror snatch at her heart as the dark figure stopped in front of them. The keeper of the Blackwater bridge.

  “Well, now,” said a voice. “Who comes hither to offer up the secrets of their souls and to pass through into the land of Erin?”

  Part Four:

  Of Witchcraft and Wonderment

  Chapter Twenty Three

  The speaker threw back the cowl to reveal the young face of a woman, round cheeked and smiling, her eyes clear blue, her brown hair curling down over her shoulders. Tania found it impossible to guess the woman’s age—there was something almost childlike in the wide-eyed candor of her gaze, but there was wisdom there, too. This didn’t look like a dark enemy in search of the secret of their souls.

  “We want to cross the river,” Tania said in surprise. From Lord Cillian’s words she had expected something . . . less . . . human. “My name is Tania, and this is my sister Rathina.” She motioned to the others. “Edric . . . and Connor.”

  The young woman nodded to each in turn, smiling still. “I am called Coriceil,” she said, “although that is not my name. The ferryboat is ready if you can pay the toll.”

  “Excuse me,” said Connor, leaning forward in the saddle. “We were told this road hasn’t been used for hundreds of years.”

  “That is true,” replied Coriceil.

  Connor frowned. “Have you been here all that time? Just . . . waiting?”

  Coriceil laughed gently, one hand gesturing toward the river. “The ferryboat awaits those who are willing to pay,” she said.

  “And how is the payment exacted, lady?” asked Rathina.

  Coriceil turned and walked back to the river’s edge. “Will you come or stay?” she called. “The choice is yours.”

  “The river guardian gives little away,” murmured Rathina. “It seems we must take a leap of faith.”

  “Either that or find another way to cross the river,” said Edric.

  “No, we cross here,” said Tania. She slipped out of the saddle and led her horse down the gentle slope to the brimming river. The boat lay in the shadow of the broken bridge: a long wide vessel with a flat bottom and no obvious means of propulsion.

  A leap of faith, Rathina had said—yes, that was exactly what was needed here. Coriceil stood to one side, watching her without any expression, neither of warning nor encouragement.

  Tania paused before stepping down into the boat. “If angels existed, I think they’d look like you,” she said. “Who are you?”

  “I am the river guardian,” said the young woman. “The keeper of the secret temple, the dancer on the sea, the wanderer who has come home.” She held out her hand to Tania. “You of all people need have no fear of me.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Tania said, scrutinizing the woman’s face, seeking for any sign of malice or deceit. But in the end what else could she do but put her trust in this enigmatic creature? All of Faerie depended on the quest—she had to move forward, despite her doubts and fears.

  She took Coriceil’s hand and stepped aboard the ferryboat. Her horse balked for a few moments at being led from firm ground, but Coriceil touched a hand to his neck and he quieted and walked aboard with a hollow clatter of hooves.

  One by one the others followed, and once Connor’s horse stepped aboard, the ferryboat slid out into the black river and the waters slowly widened between them and the land of Alba.

  Coriceil took Tania’s hand again, gazing deep into her eyes. Although the woman’s hand was warm, Tania shivered at the touch. A painless but disturbing sensation traveled up her arm and into her chest, like ice threading through her veins.

  “Ah, your wounds are deep, Tania,” Coriceil said, her smile saddening. “Your soul is divided and you are at war with yourself.” She sighed deeply.

  Tell me something I don’t already know.

  “But do not fear,” Coriceil continued. “You are strongest where you are split—and I see your many selves, plucked out of time, coming together to heal you when your need is greatest.”

  Coriceil released Tania’s hand.

  “No, wait!” said Tania. “What does that mean? I don’t understand.”

  But Coriceil had already taken Rathina’s hand. “Such sadness,” said Coriceil, and her other hand also came to hold Rathina’s. “Such grief and loss and remorse. You are dying of love, and I can see no end to it, no cure, no respite.”

  Rathina’s face contracted in pain. “Never?” she whispered.

  Coriceil looked into Rathina’s face, holding her gaze. Tania felt sure something passed between them, although nothing was said aloud.

  Rathina dropped her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “There is some comfort in certainty, even a certainty as bitter as wormwood.”

  Now Coriceil moved to stand in front of Edric. He offered his hand and she took it. A flicker of pain or unease crossed her face. “You know that you cannot keep your promise,” she said. “You kno
w that you do not have the strength. And yet . . . and yet there is a towering love in your soul, a deep devotion that nearly tips the scales.” She shook her head. “It will not be enough.” She sighed. “It will not save you from what is to come. Another must save you; another must try. . . .”

  Tania bit her lip. Edric’s face was unreadable, as if his features had turned to stone. She thought she understood what Coriceil meant: that he would use the Dark Arts again. She could not trust him to keep away from them. Another must save you.

  Now Coriceil was standing in front of Connor. He seemed reluctant to give her his hand, and for what seemed like a long while, she stood with her hand open in front of him.

  “Connor?” Tania said.

  Connor’s eyes flicked toward her, then he put his hand in Coriceil’s.

  There was silence, broken only by the slap of water on the hull of the ferryboat. They were in midstream now, and the darkness of Erin was drawing closer.

  “You are a man of great secrets,” Coriceil said coldly. “You bear with you a stolen treasure. Ah, and another secret, buried even deeper—a secret too dark to speak!” Her eyes shone with a sapphire light. “Give up your secrets willingly, stranger to this domain, or suffer the consequences.”

  Connor tugged his hand free, frowning, massaging his fingers as though the woman’s touch had pained him. Coriceil gently shook her head and moved glidingly to the prow of the boat.

  “It is done,” she said. “All have paid. Erin awaits.”

  Great secrets? A stolen treasure? And a secret too dark to speak? Tania stared at Connor, but he had turned away, his hands in his pockets. She could not see his face.

  The ferryboat bumped softly against the far bank of the Blackwater. Tania had guessed right: A thick forest pressed against the river on this side as well, the trees crowding against the bank, their branches overhanging the flowing water. Willows dipped their long, mournful branches into the inky glide, their leaves rustling softly. A dark slot among the trees suggested the continuation of the road.

  Tania led her horse off first, followed by her sister and then by Connor, and finally Edric.

  “Connor?” Tania said, trying to catch his eye. “Can we talk?”

  He shook his head and moved a little way off, as if by putting distance between himself and the others, he hoped to avoid the questions that were growing in Tania’s mind.

  As the last hoof of the last horse left the boat, the vessel slipped silently away from the bank. Coriceil stood in the center of the wide deck, her cowl lifted again, her back to them as the ferryboat was lost in the shadows of the fallen bridge.

  “A strange creature, indeed,” said Rathina, turning from the river. “Some ancient river spirit given Mortal form, I deem her. Neither evil nor good but filled with power, nonetheless.”

  Tania walked to where Connor was standing. He was staring into the forest, his arms folded over his chest, his face stiff.

  “What was she talking about, Connor?” Tania asked, her voice calm but firm. “What did you steal?”

  “I didn’t steal anything,” Connor replied. He turned to her, his face suddenly angry. “It was all nonsense. She was just saying whatever came into her head. I’ve seen it on TV a dozen times. It’s called cold reading; it’s a magic trick, that’s all.”

  Tania looked into his eyes. “What did you steal?” she asked again. She knew the other two were watching.

  Connor tried to outstare her, but in the end his eyes flicked away from her face, and the anger was replaced by a look of shame. He thrust a hand into his pocket and brought out a round object that filled his palm.

  “It’s nothing,” he blurted, looking from face to face. “It’s just an old brass compass. I thought it would be useful, that’s all.”

  “You brought it through from London?” Edric asked, stepping forward to look at the thing in Connor’s hand. “No—it’s old, too old for that.” His voice became sharp. “Where did you get it?”

  “I don’t have to answer to you,” Connor snarled. “Who do you think you are? I heard what she had to say about you,” he said, pointing across the river. “We all heard it. You can’t be trusted; you’re too screwed up to keep your word. Let’s talk about that for a minute, shall we?”

  Rathina had also come closer now. She gazed at the brass compass, her eyes wide. “I saw such objects,” she said. “In Helan Archaia—in the Hall of Archives in Caer Regnar Naal.” Her eyes darted to Connor’s face. “That is where you found this thing!” she cried. “You took it despite the edicts of the King that nothing should be removed from that place. You stole it and kept it hidden in your shame!”

  “Okay, I didn’t tell you about it,” Connor admitted, his cheeks flushed. “I knew you’d make a big deal out of it. It’s only a compass, okay? It’s not a doomsday weapon or anything.” His voice became a little more conciliatory. “I didn’t mean any harm—what harm could a compass do? I thought it would come in handy.”

  “No wonder you always knew which direction we were traveling in,” Tania said, remembering his comments about their routes both on the Blessèd Queen, and since. “I can’t believe you could be so stupid!”

  Connor’s eyes blazed. “Stupid, am I?” he shouted. “I’m not the one who insisted we bring a voodoo junkie along with us.” He pointed at Edric. “Remember what she had to say about him while we’re at it!”

  “We have not forgotten, Connor,” said Rathina. “But do not seek to deflect your own blame.” She had her hand out. “Give me that thing, which you should never have taken in the first place. Give it to me now!”

  Shrinking back, Connor handed the compass to her.

  She looked at it. “This thing of Isenmort should not have been removed from the Helan Archaia,” she said. “I cannot return it—but we shall at least be rid of it!”

  She twisted around and hurled the thing out over the river. It hit the water with a loud splash. A fluke of white foam rose and ripples spread.

  “There let it lie,” she said. “For all eternity.” She glared at Connor. “And now for your other secret. Your more dark and sinister secret.” Tania saw her hand move to the hilt of her sword. “What is that, pray?”

  “There’s nothing else,” Connor said. “Search me if you don’t trust me. Go on—go through my pockets if it’ll make you happy.”

  “A secret need not be a thing that can be kept in a pocket,” growled Rathina. “You will tell us this secret, or by all the spirits, I will hold your head under the water till your mind is swept away on its dark flux.” Her eyes narrowed. “Believe me in this thing, Connor Estabrook. I do not lie.”

  Alarm filled Connor’s face. “It’s nothing!” he said, his voice quavering. “I promise—on my mother’s life— it’s nothing bad.”

  “Tell us,” said Tania. “We’ll decide whether it’s bad or not.”

  He looked at her, and she could see the conflict in his face.

  What has he done? Oh god, what is it?

  “I never meant to tell you this,” he mumbled, his voice cracking. “I promised myself I would never tell you.” A kind of desperate defiance came into his eyes. “Okay,” he said, swallowing hard. “You want to know my greatest, darkest secret, do you?” He stared around at them. “All of you? You all want to hear it?” Now his eyes were back on Tania. “I love you,” he stammered. “That’s all it is. . . . I’m in love with you.”

  Tania stared at him. Appalled.

  “Connor . . .”

  “I hoped that if I helped you out and stayed with you . . . you might end up loving me back,” Connor said. “And it was almost happening. . . . I know it was. And then magic boy turns up and—” He came to a choking halt. “That’s my big bad secret. Happy now, all of you? That’s what that woman was talking about!”

  He turned away, releasing the reins of his horse, walking a few steps along the riverbank and then sinking to a crouch, his head down, his hands over his face.

  A dreadful silence fell. Tania could hea
r the blood beating like drums in her head.

  How did I not see this coming? How could I have been so stupid?

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Tania turned away from Connor. She could think of nothing to say to him.

  Rathina stood with her eyes cast down and her lips a thin, pale line. Tania guessed she was thinking of her own unrequited love. She knew that black abyss all too well.

  Edric looked into Tania’s face. There was sadness in his eyes, and a kind of dull resignation.

  She released her horse’s reins and walked up to him.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “For what?” he whispered.

  “For not enjoying what just happened.” She flicked a glance over her shoulder to where Connor crouched under a willow tree.

  Edric shook his head. “Everything’s wrong. Connor is wrong—I’m wrong. The whole world is wrong.” Anguish filled his eyes. “I’m going to fail you, Tania. You heard what she said. I’m too weak.”

  “She also said someone else would come to your rescue.” She forced a smile. “That’s me.” She touched her fingertips to his chest. “Don’t worry,” she said, her heart swelling in her chest. “When the time comes, I’ll be there for you.” She lifted her hands to his face, tenderly tracing the contours of his lips, his cheeks, his eyebrows, her hands trembling. She could hardly speak now for the emotion that flooded through her. “I love you,” she said breathlessly. “I will save you.”

  He gazed intensely at her, and she all but drowned in his eyes. She swallowed, pulling away, afraid of losing herself so completely to him that nothing else would matter.

  Rathina had taken the reins of Connor’s and Tania’s horses and she was crooning softly to them. She lifted her head. “We have traveled far after a disturbed night,” she said. “Mayhap we should rest here awhile and continue on the morrow.”