Fell (The Sight 2) (27 page)

Fell knew that this was not so as soon as he stepped towards it. Suddenly he felt the cords beneath his pads, before they moved under him and around his back legs. Two humans had emerged from the trees ahead, holding in their hands the end of the rope that they were pulling at violently. Fell found himself spinning round, and he was lifted into the air by his back paws. The black wolf let out a cry, half bark, half howl, as much to alert Alina and Catalin as to frighten the attackers.

The wolf was suddenly hanging in midair from the lasso, hidden in the grass. Alina heard the desperate snarls and yelps in her sleep and woke with a start. Instinctively, she grabbed for her sword and sprang up and towards the sound. She saw Fell hanging there and three more men racing towards her from the cover of the forest.

“Quick, Catalin,” she cried, “an ambush.”

As Alina swung round, she was startled to see that where Catalin had been lying there was just his blanket. The young man had bolted. Alina felt a sword tip at her back, between her shoulder blades, and she heard a familiar voice.

“Put down your weapon, changeling.”

Thinking of Fell as much as herself, Alina lowered her sword slowly and heavy arms grasped her, binding her wrists behind her back.

“So we have you again,” said the soldier—one of the soldiers from Lescu’s cottage—and smiled as they spun her round. “And no wolf demon to help you now?”

Alina glared at this human, but felt that ache and heard Fell’s thoughts.

“Alina, forgive me. I should have sensed the trap.”

“Hush, Fell. Don’t struggle. It will hurt you.”

“There’s nothing for it now, human cub. No one to help. And that boy, that cowardly Sikla. He’s run for his life. Perhaps this has all been a trap.”

Alina felt an awful sadness, and a shame for Catalin too.

“But, Fell, can’t you try and get to the soldiers? Control them with the Sight.”

“I can’t, Alina. I’ve told you, I can’t control humans.”

“What are you looking at, witch?” cried the soldier, clasping Alina’s chin. “Your familiar? The devil in the shape of a wolf, eh.”

“If my hands were free, you wouldn’t touch me like this,” hissed Alina angrily.

“That I’ve seen, changeling,” said the soldier, “so your hands shall never be free again. And as for this beast, take a good, long look at him. Your last, Baba Yaga.”

They began dragging Alina towards Fell, hanging hopelessly from that rope like a living trophy.

Alina wondered were Catalin was, but realised that Fell had been right. The frightened boy had probably run far away by now, even faster than Vasilissa. She was glad at least that Catalin was free and safe. It had been her fault that Lescu had died and that poor Catalin had been drawn into a story that he wanted nothing to do with.

“What do you want with us now?” she whispered.

“Only your deaths,” answered the soldier coldly, “here in the forest, and long overdue. Say farewell then to your friend. He goes first, but you’ll follow the wolf into the darkness.”

“Oh, Fell, I’m sorry I’ve brought you to this.”

Fell was growling and his body twisting and struggling in the air.

“Kill the demon. Now.”

The soldier was looking at one of his men, but the other seemed frightened and hesitant.

“What’s wrong, man?”

“The Helgra,” answered the man timidly. “We’re in their territory now, and they revere wolves. Their elder lives in the village below the castle to the south, where the baby was stolen.”

Alina looked up. He was talking about the village from where her half brother had been taken. Then it was a Helgra village.

“It might go hard for us if they knew we’d killed a wolf in their lands.”

“Don’t be foolish,” said the leader scornfully. “Vladeran broke the Helgra’s power long ago. These are no longer their lands, and they’d not turn a hand against us.”

Still the soldier hesitated, for in truth he was just as frightened at getting anywhere near Fell, and the leader turned to another.

“You do it then,” he grunted. “Cut the wolf’s throat. Take out his entrails.”

The other man had few reservations, and Alina dropped her eyes as his sword came swinging round towards the black wolf. Fell had no escape. It was finished.

She heard it before she saw it, a strange swishing through the air. Alina looked up and saw the arrow pass straight through the soldier’s throat and out through his neck. His eyes never even closed as he hit the ground and his sword fell from his grasp.

As quick as lightning another arrow took the soldier who had mentioned the Helgra, straight in the heart. He died without even knowing who had finished him. The others were turning right and left, twisting their swords, looking in vain for their invisible assailants.

“The wolf,” hissed the leader. “Finish it. If it’s the Helgra, this devil summons them to its aid.”

As the archer heard the order, from just behind the brow of the verge, he tried to calm his breathing and, with an expert hand, strung another arrow. He raised the bow and took aim once more.

The streaking arrow bolt took the soldier holding Fell’s rope deep in the gut, and although it would be a slow death, it ended his fighting forever. He let go of the rope, and Fell came crashing to the ground, just safe of a slicing blade. But before Fell could struggle up and launch himself at the closest soldier, the man was dead, too. The archer’s arrow had searched out the hard red muscle of another angry heart.

There were only two soldiers left now, the leader and the last of his men, who was killed by an arrow through his neck. The leader grabbed a sword and raced at Alina. She was defenceless, her hands bound, but the soldier never reached her. The hidden archer had released a last arrow, which grazed Alina’s cheek in its flight. She froze and felt the leader stiffen behind her, then crash to the ground too, the arrow in his face.

Alina’s heart was thundering, and all she could think was that the mysterious Helgra had saved them.

“Who are you?” she called. “Show yourselves!”

As the figure rose on the brow of the little hill, Alina Sculcuvant gasped in utter astonishment.

“Catalin!” she cried. The young man stood there, her bow in his hand.

Catalin began to walk slowly towards them, as Fell gave a low, approving growl. The young man bent down wordlessly and took the sword from the dead leader’s hand, then, with decision, cut Alina’s bonds. She was free too.

“Catalin,” she whispered, rubbing her wrists painfully. “But how? I thought you’d …”

“Run away?” said the young man, thrusting the sword into the ground. “Because you think me a coward, Alina WovenWord?”

“I … I’m sorry. But the bow. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what? That I’ve a skill too? Or that for years I’ve honed it on my own in the hills?”

“Of course. Why didn’t you join your father and me in the training?”

“So as not to encourage this path you’ve taken,” answered Catalin sadly. “Perhaps I would have thought differently if I’d known you are the heir to Castelu. But Father never wanted me to be a warrior, Alina. I think it would have broken his heart. He hated what he’d seen.”

“But all these weeks in the wild. You could have hunted for us.”

“I didn’t want to touch my bow,” said Catalin.

“Your bow?”

“I made that bow myself, but these past weeks I’ve been too angry at Father’s death to use it.”

Alina remembered Lescu’s warning about hate. She thought how much taller Catalin looked, and how fine and intelligent were his blue green eyes.

“Besides,” said Catalin, shrugging, “you had your wolf to hunt for you, didn’t you?”

He was staring at Fell. He held the wolf’s gaze now, and Fell suddenly looked away.

“Fell saved my life too,” he whispered, “and for that I’ll always thank him.”

Fell began walking towards the young man, his tail lowered. He padded straight up to Catalin Fierar, and then, very gently, the wolf licked his hand, just as he had done to Alina in the forest. Here were a Dragga and a Drappa indeed.

“You say you’re no changeling,” said Catalin, as Fell padded away and lay down at a distance, watching them both, “but you’re surrounded by a kind of magic. Although now I know that there is none of Baba Yaga’s witchcraft in it.”

“No,” said Alina softly. “When I touch the wolf’s mind, I realise that Fell thinks his own heart black, yet he struggles towards the light too. His heart has been wounded badly by life.”

“Then the three of us have something in common, Alina,” said Catalin. Alina gave a little cry of gratitude and compassion, and threw herself on his neck, kissing him on the lips.

Catalin held her, and in that moment he felt prouder and happier than he ever had in his life. He looked into her beautiful hazel eyes and felt the fear of it and the excitement too, as if he were travelling to another country.

The young man had often walked out in the dewy mornings, with the soft, fresh grass wet under his bare feet. He had watched the morning mists kiss the mountaintops and the sun glitter on dancing rivers, and felt the wild mystery of the forest. He had seen horses drop their fowls at dawn, and watched them struggle into painful life, and held newborn chicks fluttering in his tender hands. He had hunted the Lera too with his bow, though always with respect for the animals he took. But none of it did he think as rare and beautiful a magic as the creature that he now held in his arms.

“Thank you, dear Catalin,” she said as he stood back. She held his hand.

“Don’t thank me for anything, Alina,” Catalin said softly, feeling that they walked as equals again. “And I’m sorry, Alina, about your parents. We have much to face still, and I’ve been thinking we need some help.”

“Yes, that’s what Fell thinks. But from who?”

“The Helgra, Alina. I heard what that soldier said and they must hate Vladeran as much as you. Perhaps we should go to this village below the castle on the mountaintop.”

“Yes,” said Alina, stroking Catalin’s hand, “the village where it all began.”

“My father told me about the Helgra. He said they’re mercenaries, so perhaps we can buy their assistance.”

“Buy it with what?” said Alina in surprise.

Catalin was reaching into his pocket, and suddenly he pulled out the bag of gold he had taken from the dresser before he left.

“There’s this. If it helps you, Alina WovenWord, you’re welcome to it.”

Alina smiled and nodded gratefully, but her fear returned.

“When they spoke of them in Moldov, they said terrible things, Catalin. That they worship the dark one too.”

Catalin had been emboldened by what he had done, but his eyes flickered fearfully, and as Fell watched them there together, these strange humans, he whimpered and laid his head on his paws and sighed.

FELL SAW THEM BELOW HIM IN THE COMING light, Alina WovenWord and Catalin Fierar, walking down a narrow gorge. He growled softly, and not without jealousy, for they looked very fine together, but he was glad that his human friends were safe, as he shadowed them on the mountain. They had travelled far together, trying to keep their spirits up by telling each other stories again, and now they were nearly at the Stone Den.

The sun was rising as he reached their side, and Alina’s sword was strung across her back, Catalin’s bow on his arm, as they saw it high on the craggy precipice opposite them—the outline of a vast, ruined castle. The castle that had become the very symbol of Castelu, for it lay in Castelu’s domain.

Dawn was spreading around its sombre walls and the great stone stairway, which rose up and up towards it through the vaulting pines. The huge weathered steps sparkled in the sunlight, and the splinters of light that were reaching out from the forest below it wrapped themselves around a little village, nestling just beneath the cliffs.

“At last, Alina,” growled Fell proudly, “the Stone Den.”

“Yes, Fell. We’re nearing my home.”

The wolf’s black muzzle dropped to the sight far below them—a group of wooden dens with smoke curling from rooftops.

“That village, Alina. The Varg took your brother from there, and there I returned him too.”

Fell was suddenly thinking of something else. The cave where he and Larka had been born. It was nearby too, and he wondered if he could remember where it was.

“It’s the Helgra village,” said Alina aloud, almost remembering herself.

Fell growled as he thought of his long connection with humans, and how he had led Alina and Catalin back to this place. And as he realised that everything Skart had told Kar seemed to be coming true, the worries that had begun to consume him returned. Fell seemed to be on a path that was guided by more than his own will, and if he trusted the visions of the Sight, it was a path he already feared the end of. A path that led to Alina’s death at his own jaws.

Fell looked up again at the castle high above, and felt desperately small. At least he knew that the tales that had been told of that fearful place, tales filled with darkness and superstition, that had kept men’s hearts in the shadows in Transylvania for generations, had been a lie. Fell knew from his own history that there was nothing up there at all, no demons or vampires, nothing but human brick and stone, and he was glad of it. He lifted his muzzle and howled, and when his song was finished, the place was no longer quite as lonely as it had been. Fell turned to Alina, and she spoke again with her thoughts.

“This Guardian, Fell. You still have not found him?”

“No, Alina.”

“Then perhaps he doesn’t exist.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Or perhaps you’re the Guardian, Fell. You’ve guarded me.”

The wolf growled at the strange thought.

“But now we must face this alone,” said Alina, as boldly as she could, “and have courage together.”

Fell’s sleek black fur was suddenly quivering.

“Oh, dear Alina.”

“What is it, Fell?”

“I’ve feared to tell you before, but it’s time to now. Not
we
, Alina. I’ve brought you safely this far at least, and we’ve shared the wonders of the wild, but now I must leave you.”

Fell’s mind was filled with guilt, and Alina swung round and stared in amazement at her friend. She felt sick to her soul.

“Leave us, Fell? But why?”

Fell’s shadowed thoughts gave only part of the answer, and he whimpered softly.

“My father, Huttser, is dying.”

“Dying?”

Alina felt for the dear wolf. Thinking of her own dead father, she wondered again if death and misfortune surrounded her wherever she went.

“That Vengerid pack told me about his wounds,” came Fell’s trembling thoughts, “and he has challenged their leader. Perhaps he’s gone already, but I must hurry to him now. I’ve kept my word at least, and brought you to the Stone Den, while the Great Waterfall where his pack are is not too far from here. Besides, Alina, perhaps a wild wolf has spent too long near your kind.”

Alina felt something struggling in Fell’s thoughts, something she could not see, and it frightened her as she stared at her friend.

“But without you, Fell? What will we ever …”

“You’ll be safer now you’ve the Dragga to aid you.”

The three of them stood there, just little specks in the immensity of that beautiful, mysterious landscape, and Alina wrestled with the loneliness that had suddenly come on her again. Darker fears were around her too, fears of where her journey would take her next, and what it would tell her of her mother. Yet the young woman stood resolute.

“The Helgra,” thought Alina suddenly, shielding the sorrow in her heart. “They revere the wolf, Fell. They’re friends to your kind.”

“Man revere the wolf?” came Fell’s growling mind. “That I’d see with my own eyes.”

“Then come with us, dear Fell, just to the village at least. We may need you there to help gain the Helgra’s trust, if you can wait a sun or two more to see your father.”

Alina felt guilty at trying to delay him, yet it was true that she needed him to face these mysterious men.

“Perhaps your presence will help, Fell, although it may be dangerous.”

Fell was torn, but at last he answered. “Very well then, human cub. One or two more suns I can spare, and so will go with you as far as this village, but no further. Then I must be gone to my own kind. I’ve spent too long away.”

Alina was desperately relieved, but miserable too that their parting had only been delayed awhile.

It took the travellers another day to descend the mountain, and at first their path took them away from the Helgra village and down onto a stony road. It was night by the time they reached a large stone building set back from the road, with stabling for horses and smoke curling from its chimney. It was an inn. The comforting glow of firelight shone in its grimy windows, and the human sounds of song and laughter crept out into the night.

Alina and Catalin left Fell in the field beyond, by a willow tree with branches that trailed like a witch’s hair, and stowed their weapons in the grass for him to guard, then drew up their hoods, approached the inn, and pushed open the door.

The shadowy room was thick with smoke and full of rowdy drinkers, as boys and serving girls carried tankards of frothing ale about the place. They all looked up warily as the two young friends entered, but seeing little threat in the hooded figures, they returned to their conversations.

Catalin bought two mugs of beer, and they sat in a corner by the window, at a low wooden table, listening to the talk and a storyteller in the corner, who was spinning a yarn rather badly, much to the anger and irritation of the others. It was strange indeed to be amongst people again. A couple of soldiers were playing at dice nearby, and one of them began to speak of the wars.

“It goes hard for the King,” he said. “The Turk push him back to the borders of Moldova.”

“Stefan needs more men,” said the other soldier. “Draculea and Lord Vladeran ride to aid him again?”

“They send soldiers, yes, and so the King had better watch his back.”

“True enough. He should call on the Helgra too.”

The other soldier looked up in surprise, and let out a great roar of laughter.

“The Helgra? Vladeran’s long turned them into a pack of bleating sheep.”

“Wisssst,” hissed the first. “Don’t say it so loudly, man. This road skirts Helgra lands, and some in here may be Helgra spies.”

Some of the drinkers in the tavern were indeed looking their way, but the other soldier stared challengingly around the room.

“What of it?” he said loudly. “What has a Saxon soldier to fear from Magyar scum?”

“You know the stories of them,” murmured the first soldier.

“Some say they eat human flesh, and torture any who enter their lands, then strip their bones and put their heads on stakes to warn off intruders. They’re not Magyar alone. They’ve Dacian and Roman blood.”

Alina’s eyes were flickering nervously at Catalin. This fence sounded like the one round Baba Yaga’s house. She suddenly feared the help they sought.

“Fairy tales to frighten children,” said the other soldier. “The Helgra have nothing now, not even honour. Vladeran razed his vassals’ homes, and burnt their villages. He stole their livestock, sent half of them to rot in his dungeons, and confiscated their weapons too. Vladeran even killed their blacksmiths, so that they can forge no more, and they’re starving.”

Catalin found himself staring into the flickering firelight nearby, thinking bitterly of his dead father, and the forge where they had worked so happily together. How strange and terrible life could be. But inside, Alina’s emotions were mixed, for if she had hoped that their friendship with the wolf might have brought Helgra aid, it sounded as if there was little aid to be gained. Yet it made it less fearful approaching their pack.

“Well, perhaps there’s some justice in it,” said the first soldier, “if what they say of the Helgra has any truth.”

“Justice in Vladeran and Romana’s lands? You’re drunk.”

The heir to Castelu felt a sharp pang in her heart and with it a new emotion. Guilt for the peoples of Castelu. The soldier laughed again, taking a great draught of beer and hurling two dice into the box, which clattered against the side and came up on three.

“There’s no justice in the lands beyond the forest,” the soldier went on. “Stefan’s too hard-pressed and his nobles too greedy. The Courts are a mockery, and all do as they please.”

“Perhaps the Orders shall bring some justice,” said the first soldier suddenly. “The Order of the Griffin, or the Dragon. They’re sworn to protecting the world forever.”

The man’s voice had dropped to a whisper as he mentioned the secret Orders, and Alina turned her head sharply. The soldier had leaned forwards.

“They say the Griffin’s leader has heard of Vladeran’s ways, and wants accounting.”

“Who is he?”

The soldiers huddled even closer over the box, and the one who had talked of accounting picked up the dice.

“Some say the Impaler himself, Draculea, but such things are not for us. His identity has always been a hard-held secret.”

“Who cares if there’s no justice, when there’s gold to be had. This girl they hunt. The bounty’s risen to a hundred gold pieces.”

Catalin shot a glance at Alina immediately, and she stirred warily in her seat.

“Well, we’ve no time to win it. Hey, you, what are you staring at?”

The man was glaring at Alina angrily, for he had suddenly noticed her listening.

“Nothing sir,” she answered as gruffly as she could, shielding her face from the firelight and taking a swig of beer.

The men went on with their game, and Catalin and Alina finished their drinks quickly and slipped outside. Fell was still by the willow, and they gathered their weapons, and were about to make camp for the night when they heard a rumble in the heavens and the lowering clouds above them broke.

The downpour was torrential, and they ran into the lee of the cliff for better shelter, but as they came to a stream, rising steadily all the time, Alina noticed that something strange had come over Fell. The wolf kept sniffing the ground and whining.

“What is it, friend?” asked her mind, as she noticed that the stream looked a sickly brown colour. “Is it the Helgra?”

Fell didn’t answer her.

Suddenly Alina heard the sound of a little waterfall, and Fell went as rigid as a pointer, his tail raised and his muzzle pressed forwards. Alina was greatly relieved to see what Fell was staring at, for they were all soaked, and there in the rock face, partly obscured by a tree, was the entrance to a cave. She rushed forwards with Catalin, and they found that it was warm and dry inside, and a good place to sleep.

“What’s wrong, Fell?” she asked again, as Alina saw the wolf still hanging back in the pouring rain. “There are no Lera here.”

Fell blinked and padded forwards, brushing past her and standing in the cave mouth.

“No Lera, Alina,” he answered sadly. “But many memories. For this is where Larka and I were born. Our birthing den.”

Alina was amazed, and the three of them sat together in the cave that night, under the stone roof where Fell had been born, wondering at the strangeness of it. Fell didn’t talk to Alina at first, and the mystery somehow added to the fear that the young people now had for the Helgra, despite their need for help.

“Shouldn’t we make some kind of plan, Alina,” asked Catalin nervously as they huddled together, “of what we tell them? From what those soldiers were saying, trust isn’t strong in these parts.”

When Fell had first spoken of finding a pack, Alina had clutched at the idea, as she had always wanted real friends. Then Catalin had suggested going amongst the Helgra, and it had seemed the right course. But now Alina was not so sure. She had kept moving towards Castelu, longing to know the truth of her mother, but thinking of her rightful inheritance too. She hardly knew what path she was on.

“I don’t know, Catalin.”

“Do we take Fell with us? If they revere the wolf.”