Читать книгу The Witch’s Blood - Katharine Corr, Katharine Corr - Страница 7

ACK.

Nearly five months had passed since they’d last stood face to face. But Merry would have known him anywhere. Sure, his hair was shorter. And his clothes were different. Gone were the princely garments with the rich embroidery and fur trimming. Instead, he was wearing coarse woollen trousers, a cloth shirt and a ragged leather tunic. His forearms were painted with patterns and symbols, dark blue lines swirling and interlocking. The only hint of luxury was a gold belt buckle, which gleamed with hints of red and green, despite the dull grey light. And he looked older. Wearier.

Still, she knew him.

He was the same boy she’d fallen in love with. The same cursed prince who had been put into an enchanted sleep fifteen hundred years ago and had woken in her own time, still possessed by a creature summoned from the shadow realm. Of course, he’d been a corpse the last time she’d seen him. Actually seen him, not just dreamt about him. His dead body had been lying on the floor of the wizard Gwydion’s chambers, beneath the Black Lake. She’d knelt by him, wept over him, kissed him –

The temptation to run to him now, to throw her arms round his neck, was almost too strong to resist.

But Jack – this Jack – was holding a long, angular knife to Finn’s throat. Finn was on his knees in the snow, panting, his face pale and rigid. Jack had hold of Finn’s hair, and as Merry stepped forward he yanked the wizard’s head further back, making the other boy cry out in pain. The blade was hard against Finn’s skin now, and Merry could see a bead of blood welling up against the dark metal.

Jack frowned at her. There was no recognition.

‘Who are you? And how do you know my name?’

She tried to read his feelings, to use that ability to pick up emotions that she’d gained a few months ago. But there was nothing. Either the people were different here – wherever here was – or the passage through the point of intersection had done something to her. She could sense her magic clearly, running like a current beneath her skin. But nothing else.

Finn whimpered as Jack pressed the knife further into his flesh.

‘Answer me!’

Jack had forgotten her. Or …

Or maybe, in this place, he and I have never actually met.

‘Jack, please—’ She stopped short, felt her eyes widen. The unfamiliar syllables of Old English felt strange in her mouth, just as they had done under the lake all those months ago when she’d confronted Gwydion. Her magic must have just taken over, and her brain switched language automatically. She didn’t know how it had happened, any more than she knew where she was, or why Finn – a powerful wizard himself – hadn’t disarmed Jack with a spell, or why Jack seemed so different from the gentle, sad prince that she remembered. Any more than she knew what to do next.

Merry pressed her hands to her eyes. The frost-laden air hurt her nose and throat. The dense forest that surrounded them breathed out a dark, velvet silence that seemed to suck at her eardrums. Still, with her eyes closed, she could almost imagine she was back home in her room in the middle of the night, Mum asleep at the other end of the corridor and Leo in the room opposite hers, even the cats quietly dreaming on top of the boiler in the kitchen …

‘Well?’

Jack’s voice jerked her back to the present. She had to get Finn away from him. Not through magic, though: whoever this Jack was, she didn’t want to hurt him.

‘We’re not enemies. We just need your help.’ Merry spread her hands wide, palms up. ‘Please, let him go.’

Jack didn’t release his grip on Finn’s hair. But he did shift the knife slightly, loosening the pressure on Finn’s neck.

‘You have not answered my question. How do you know me? And what manner of creature are you?’

‘I’m not a creature. I’m just a girl.’

Jack looked her up and down. ‘You are not clad as a girl.’

‘Well, I am a girl. You’re going to have to take my word for it. I’m not … I’m not from around here. And as to how I know you –’ Merry paused, thinking quickly – ‘I have a friend who knows you. She’s called Meredith.’ Meredith, her ancestor, the witch who had placed both Jack and Gwydion into the enchanted sleep. The witch who had sworn the oath that had got Merry involved with Jack in the first place. Merry peered into Jack’s eyes, looking in vain for a reaction. Perhaps in this reality he hadn’t met Meredith yet, or perhaps she didn’t even exist in this world. Or maybe he did know her, but he had a really excellent poker face. ‘Finn’s my friend too, so if you could just—’

‘What are you doing here? Were you following me? Spying on me?’

Merry pinched the bridge of her nose; she was starting to develop a headache.

‘No. We’re not spies. I’m looking for my brother. He was taken against his will, and I think he might have been brought here. Maybe a few days ago.’ She glanced at the brooding forest around them, hoping for some sign that she was right, that Leo had been here too. The daylight was fading quickly, and the darkness of the forest was nearly impenetrable. Merry shivered, wrapping her arms round herself; she had two jumpers and a long-sleeved T-shirt on, but still the chill was worming its way into her bones. ‘Please, Jack. I need your help.’

Jack gazed at her for a few seconds. Then he let go of Finn and stepped away. But he kept his knife drawn, his stance suggesting he could spring into action in the space of a breath. Finn sagged forward, clutching at his neck.

Merry edged closer. ‘Do you need help?’

Finn pushed himself upright and staggered over to stand next to her. He was trembling. She took his hand, peering up into his face, but he avoided her gaze. ‘Finn?’

‘Just, um … just give me a minute. I’ll be fine.’ Sliding down against the trunk of a tree, he dropped his head into his hands.

Merry turned back to Jack. ‘Leo, my brother – he’s blond, like you, and he’s wearing trousers, and has this strange mark on his chest …’ She winced, remembering the ugly scrawl that Ronan had burnt into Leo’s skin. ‘And he was with another guy who has dark, curly hair, and he calls himself Ronan, but—’

‘Ronan?’ Jack laughed, but there was no humour in it. The sound seemed dead in the cold air. ‘I know of Ronan. Everyone does. There’s neither a village nor a hamlet in the land that has been left untouched by him and his … creatures. He turns all to darkness and ruin. The kingdom was cursed from the moment he came here.’ He thrust the long knife back into the scabbard that hung at his waist. ‘I am sorry for you. Truly. But if Ronan has taken your brother …’ He shrugged. ‘There is nothing you can do. Apart from pray to whichever gods you serve that your brother is already dead.’ He brushed his fingers across marks tattooed on to the insides of his wrists. Runes of some sort, Merry thought, though she couldn’t see them clearly. ‘You should leave whilst you still can. The borders are closing fast as the black holly spreads.’ Jack turned and pulled something out of the undergrowth: Finn’s bag. ‘Here.’

Merry made no move to take the bag. Jack had to be mistaken. He was making it sound like Ronan had been here – wherever here was – for ages. But Ronan and Leo had only left Tillingham and their own world a few days ago …

‘You must go.’ Jack thrust the bag into her arms. ‘The king …’ Jack’s voice faltered for a moment, ‘King Aidan still holds Helmswick. But Helmswick has been under siege from Ronan and his forces these two months past. The citadel cannot hold out much longer.’

Two months?

‘But – but what about Edith?’ The Helmswick Merry knew of, the place Jack had told her about, had been ruled by a queen: by his mother, Edith, not by his father, Aidan.

There was a pause. Merry heard a shriek in the distance – some sort of animal, or bird. The first living sound she’d heard in this place apart from their own voices.

‘The queen is dead: Ronan murdered her. A few weeks before the siege began.’

Merry stood there, struggling to comprehend. Jack’s voice was flat, emotionless, almost as if he didn’t care. Didn’t he know that the queen was his blood mother? Or was he just as heartless as he seemed?

He swung away from her. ‘The road to the Kentish border lies there. I suggest you take it.’ Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he began striding in the opposite direction.

‘But you’re wrong: the Ronan I’m talking about can’t possibly be the same person who’s attacking your lands,’ Merry cried out. ‘He isn’t that powerful.’ She’d fought with Ronan at the lake and had almost destroyed him – until Finn had got in her way. Finn had been trying to save his own brother’s life; she knew that now. But still, Ronan had escaped and he’d taken Leo with him. ‘And besides, Ronan would only have arrived here a few days ago. Days, not months.’

Jack didn’t respond – he just kept walking.

In desperation, Merry hurried after him. ‘Wait!’ She hooked the necklace out from beneath her T-shirt and opened the locket that was hanging from the chain. ‘This is my brother. Are you sure you haven’t seen him?’

Jack glanced at the photo in the locket. His eyes narrowed. ‘I have seen him. I saw him with Ronan.’ He ripped the chain from her neck and hurled it away from him. ‘Standing next to Ronan, as a free man.’

Merry raised her hands and started to back away.

‘No, it isn’t like that: my brother isn’t with Ronan through choice. He was kidnapped! Whatever you think you saw, you’ve got it wrong.’

‘You’re lying.’ Jack drew his knife again.

In the next instant Finn was at her side. He looked ill, and there was a streak of blood on his neck, but he held Leo’s sword – the one they’d brought with them – firmly in front of him.

‘Merry, I don’t understand whatever language he and you are speaking, but this … this isn’t the Jack you described to me. He isn’t kind, or compassionate. Hit him with a binding charm, quickly!’

Merry still hesitated.

‘But we need him to help us –’

‘He can’t! Or he won’t.’ Jack was circling them, looking for a way past Finn’s blade. ‘Hurry up!’

An unearthly wail split the stillness of the forest. Jack swung around, scanning the treetops. Finn grabbed Merry’s hand.

‘If I didn’t know better,’ he murmured, ‘I’d say that was a banshee.’

‘A banshee?’ Merry peered into the shadows around the edge of the clearing. ‘But they don’t exist.’

Another long, drawn-out shriek, nearer this time. Finn shifted so he was back to back with Merry.

‘Are you sure about that?’

As he finished speaking, a creature exploded out of a clump of dark fir trees. Merry gasped and flinched, raising her hands in defence even as her brain clamoured in denial. She recognised this creature. She’d seen it in a school library book about ancient Greek myths. Wide, bronze-feathered wings, monstrous sickle-shaped talons, and the head – the head of a woman, with feathers for hair. Its mouth was open, screaming, revealing razor-sharp, needle-like teeth.

Not a banshee. A harpy.

The creature swooped towards Jack. He threw his knife at it, but the blade missed. Screeching with rage the harpy banked and descended again, raking Jack’s up-flung arm with its claws, forcing him to his knees.

Finn grabbed Merry by the wrist. ‘Let’s go.’

‘No.’ She wrenched her hand free. ‘We can’t leave Jack. We need his help …’

Finn gritted his teeth, but he raised the sword again. ‘Fine. Go on, then. Help him.’

The harpy had started shredding Jack’s arms and neck, scattering dark red droplets of blood across the white snow. Merry summoned two balls of witch fire and launched them at the creature. The seething, coruscating violet strands encased the harpy and it screamed again – screamed in pain, this time. As it flapped around, trying to shake the magic from its wings, Finn leapt forward and brought the sword round in a great arc, slicing the creature’s head from its neck. Body and head tumbled to the ground.

Jack, still crouched on the snow, dragged his gaze away from the dismembered remains and the pool of blood that was rapidly sinking into the frozen earth, and stared at Merry and Finn.

‘You saved me.’

‘Yeah.’ Merry sighed. ‘We saved you.’

All three of them watched the dead harpy for a bit longer. Merry had no idea what to do next.

Finally, Finn bent down to clean the blade of the sword on a bit of moss that was sticking up out of the snow. Jack’s knife was lying nearby; Merry picked it up. ‘If I give you this back, will you promise not to attack us?’

Jack hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Merry handed him the blade. He pushed himself up off the ground and shoved the knife into its scabbard.

‘So,’ he looked at her, the hint of a smile on his lips, ‘just a girl?’

‘I am a girl.’ Merry shrugged. ‘But I’m also a witch.’ She glanced up: two large carrion crows had settled on the branch of a nearby tree, eyeing the bleeding carcass. They were probably just regular birds, but she hadn’t forgotten the crow that seemed to be following her and Leo through the woods a few weeks back.

‘We’re attracting attention.’ She nodded towards the harpy. ‘Let’s get rid of this thing.’

Twenty minutes later, Merry had magically incinerated the remains of the harpy and had healed the injury to Finn’s neck. She walked over to Jack, the pot of Gran’s healing salve still in her hand. ‘Here: this will help.’

Jack peered at the jar. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s an ointment my grandmother made. It will heal the cuts on your arms.’

He drew back. ‘How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?’

‘Poison you?’ Merry shook her head, slipping back into modern English as she exhaled sharply. ‘And why would I be trying to poison you?’

Finn was sitting beneath a tree nearby with his arms wrapped round his legs and Leo’s sword stuck into the ground next to him. He glanced up. ‘If she wanted you dead she’d have let the harpy kill you. Idiot pleb.’

Jack flushed. He couldn’t have understood Finn’s words – and it was doubtful he had ever heard the word pleb used the way wizards used it, as a dismissive term for a non-magical person – but he obviously recognised Finn’s tone of voice. Still, he held out his arms and allowed Merry to dab some of the ointment on to the gashes dealt out by the harpy’s claws. Almost immediately, Merry could see the wounds begin to heal as his skin puckered and pink scar tissue formed: Gran’s potion was working.

Jack winced, flinching from Merry’s touch.

‘The pain won’t last long,’ she reassured him.

He nodded and gritted his teeth. ‘Tell me: are you and Ronan kin? Is that why you speak the same strange language as him?’

Merry stiffened. ‘Can you understand what Finn and I are saying to each other?’

Jack shook his head. ‘I merely recognise some of the words. Ronan’s creatures speak the same way, and I have spent time around them.’ He shuddered, either with discomfort or remembrance – Merry wasn’t sure. ‘Too much time.’

‘Well, Ronan and I are definitely not kin. But we’re both witches.’

‘He is a witch? Not a wizard?’

‘No. Ronan is a male witch – there’s a difference. He inherited his magic from his mother. Male witches are really rare, and they’re usually unstable and have some sort of magical … deformity …’

Jack was looking confused.

‘But Ronan and Finn and me, we do all come from the same place.’

‘But he,’ Jack nodded towards Finn, ‘is not a witch.’

‘No. He’s a wizard.’ More confusion. ‘And no, I don’t know why he didn’t just put a spell on you.’

Jack gasped as Merry spread the ointment on a particularly deep cut. ‘Neither of you dress like any other witch or wizard that I know of.’

‘Really?’ Merry said, trying to appear thoroughly absorbed in what she was doing. ‘How many other witches and wizards do you know?’ The line of Jack’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply. ‘There. All done.’

Jack closed his eyes and slumped against the tree stump behind him as Merry sat back on her heels. ‘Now, you need to tell me a couple of things,’ she started. ‘When did Ronan arrive here? And when exactly did you see him and my brother together?’

‘How long has Ronan been here? I do not know. But I do know that he began his attacks around harvest time, and the year is nearly over. As for your brother, I saw him the day Ronan and his creatures first attacked Helmswick. The day the queen died.’

Merry’s stomach lurched. If Jack was right, at least three or four months had passed since her brother had arrived here, possessed by the King of Hearts. She couldn’t bear to think about what Leo might have suffered during that time. She’d seen Jack possessed, of course; had seen him slowly consumed by the King of Hearts, but she’d been able to cast the creature out and had broken Gwydion’s curse. Still, the King of Hearts had survived. Which meant that Ronan had been able to summon it, and place it inside her own brother.

What if the King of Hearts had already taken Leo over entirely? Perhaps there was nothing left of him. Perhaps he was already dead.

‘What was Leo doing, the day you saw him?’ Merry asked. ‘Did he look ill?’ Fear turned her stomach. ‘He didn’t … He didn’t help Ronan murder Edith, did he?’

Jack glanced up at her. ‘No. The queen died by Ronan’s blade alone. Your brother’s hands were not tied, that much I know, but he could have been under a spell …’ He shook his head. ‘I cannot say for sure.’ He sat up straighter, looking about him and frowning. ‘The morning is wasting. I must find my horse. She bolted when your friend blundered into the clearing.’ Jack got to his feet and wandered off into the forest. Soon he was lost to view, though Merry could still hear him calling out the horse’s name.

Finn hadn’t moved all this time.

Merry went to sit next to him. ‘I’m going to try a spell on you, like I did on Leo once. It was so he could understand what Jack and Gwydion were saying. Hold still.’ She pressed one fingertip lightly against his forehead. Finn’s eyes widened as Merry used her power to reach into his mind and share her understanding with him. There was probably a more orthodox way of doing such magic, but she hadn’t learnt a formal spell for it yet. ‘Hopefully that’s worked. I suppose we’ll find out when Jack comes back.’

‘If he comes back,’ Finn murmured, running the tip of one finger across the old scar on the inside of his wrist.

‘What happened before I arrived? Why didn’t you disarm Jack when he attacked you?’

‘I tried to, but …’ Finn shuddered. ‘I couldn’t cast properly. None of the spells worked.’ He clutched her hand. His skin was clammy, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly, as if he couldn’t quite catch his breath. Merry realised that he was scared. Terrified. And that frightened her, because she’d never seen him like this before. Not when they’d first met, and he’d been trapped by a binding charm. Not when they’d found her friend Flo’s body in the woods. Not even when – overwhelmed by anger and grief – she’d attacked him at the Black Lake.

‘Finn, what is it? What’s wrong?’

He gripped her hand even more tightly.

‘I think I’ve lost my power, Merry. I think it’s gone.’