CHAPTER NINE
Cabryce felt a guards’ fetid breath on her neck as her wrists were bound together. Rough hands shoved her to the open door; they burst from her comfy fire-lit home into a gale which blew leaves and straw up the muddy street. A Brenna soldier was ordered to guard her cottage and she was led past the dense hovels at speed. Her mind was racing fit to burst as she glimpsed Nardin retreat into a shadowed doorway. Old Ned came out of his cottage wide-eyed and quickly slammed his door when he saw her being dragged along. Strangely, she was pleased two friends had witnessed her arrest. At least the Brenna could not spread any stories about her leaving Edentown after her husband.
For a moment she hoped Nardin would rescue her then just as quickly realised the futility of any such bravado. Nardin had been lucky to be late or the Brenna would have had him as well. Then a terrible thought crossed her mind. Had Nardin known she would have a visitor? Had he informed the Brenna? Immediately she dismissed the idea, her life-long friend would not ever consider betraying her and Malkrin.
But surely someone had. And who was the brave rebel she had met so briefly? Had one of his brethren set up her arrest or was it all a terrible coincidence?
She had no way of answering the hammering questions, so she put them to the back of her mind and resolved to escape at the first opportunity.
Five horses awaited them outside the twisting alleys. Horses were a rare form of transport reserved by the Brenna solely for their use and Cabryce realised she would be forced to trot alongside like a common criminal. It will be less humiliating on foot; she thought as she contemplated falling from a horse. A commoner was never taught to ride.
The Brenna Officer climbed onto a large dappled grey stallion. His men mounted four chestnut mares, using the saddle pommels to heave themselves up. The Officer issued an order and the horses trotted forward, forcing Cabryce to run and stumble in front of them. They all took great pleasure in Cabryce’s every wrong footing, one kept prodding her back with the butt of his lance. Then he howled each time with cruel laughter.
Shadowed figures looked out of yellow fire-lit windows and open doors at the commotion. They quickly darted away, silently closing doors in case they were the next to be arrested.
The uneven cobbles and occasional ruts of the town’s streets gave way to a hard surface known as crete. This firm road gave her feet grip so she no longer stumbled in the blackness. She ran in rhythm to the horses shod hooves. The Brenna guard gave up prodding her, bored with the lack of response. Before the lights of the town had faded her heart was racing fit to burst and her legs felt like dead sticks. Soon she fell for the first time. Eventually her legs would not go many steps without folding. A gruff order sounded, her hands were untied and she was hoisted behind one of the mounted soldiers. She had to grab his unwashed cloak to keep astride the horse. The smell of the rancid cape, his sweat and the odour of horse made her stomach churn. She tried to keep facing toward the breeze, but that, combined with the jogging motion of the horse made her neck ache. So she resigned herself to breathing the combination of unpleasant odours.
After some time the moon emerged from the clouds and gave faint colour to the rock-face and ferns on her left. To her right the cliff fell sharply below and all she could make out were the lights of crofter’s cottages beneath. As they travelled higher the air grew colder but fresher. They were far above the town now. She had only been to the Brenna’s fortress homesteads once before, when they had endowed her with her highsense sun. But this journey would hardly end in honour and reward. With a sense of foreboding she wondered what trial she was to endure.
In the distance the roar of water grew steadily louder. They rounded a corner and the grey sparkling mass of the Shimmerrath waterfall appeared far above her where it emerged from high in the steep mountain slopes. It fell in seemingly endless cascades behind the plateau occupied by the Brenna’s homesteads. Then fell further in a series of still massive falls into the dark Fethwerth Pool. This deep lake fed the river Kryway flowing to the lower valleys she knew so well.
A mist from the falls swirled around the party. Soon the whole troop was wet, even the horses glistened and steamed. As they left the roaring falls behind, her legs, arms and back began aching with the lurching motion of the horse.
The road ran in tight turns past the first fortress. The high walls were steep, featureless and foreboding. She could just see lights in the encircling walls and in the grim outlines of lookout turrets.
Another fortified home emerged from the blue-black night. A sun yellow pennant decorated with white doves fluttered in the breeze – the emblem of the Gamlyn family. Flickering torches lit more windows in larger turrets. A great studded door was opened to let the entourage through.
Erich Gamlyn was second in command of the Brenna, with Bredon the Fox his only master. Cabryce recalled people saying; no more pompous and conceited a man had ever lived up the mountain. Cabryce realised she was about to find out if the rumours were true.
She shook her hair and ran her fingers through the matted strands then straightened her back and held her head high.
The inner courtyard was lit with fish-oil lamps on iron poles giving a cloying aroma to the enclosed space. The flickering light gave an intermittent view of a lush space planted with flowering shrubs which masked the outlines of stables, barracks and servants quarters. She was taken to a bare room in a thatched lean-to against the homesteads high inner wall. Without any conversation she was pushed in. The door slammed shut behind her. Cabryce surveyed the room; it contained a clean hearth with a smouldering log fire for heat and two old and worn padded leather stools. A tapestry containing many letters filled one wall, she was too tired to work out the words so ignored it and added a couple of logs to the fire. She drew up a stool and sat warming her weary legs.
She waited expectantly. Her head drooped in the warmth. Nothing happened, so she rested with her head in her folded arms.
A voice interrupted her dreams, and she woke with a start, still seated before the hearth. The fire had burnt down to a dull glow.
‘Come’, the voice ordered again.
Cabryce turned sharply, blinking to clear the sleep from her eyes and mind. A Brenna guard waited for her just inside the room. He wore the same nondescript soldier’s clothes as the ones who’d arrested her. But over this drab uniform he wore the ornate crimson cloak of trusted Brenna servants. On the left shoulder was a bright yellow slash with the same dove decoration that fluttered on the castle walls. He was a high ranking inner-guard; she knew, sworn to protect his master with his life.
Meekly she followed him out into the courtyard and looked up. By the position of the sun it was midmorning. Her stomach rumbled and her legs felt weak reminding her of last night’s strenuous journey.
The guard led the way up a long flight of steps then along a cold stone corridor. Another flight led ever upward. The Gamlyn family’s living areas in timber framed rooms were situated high up and overlooked the view to the distant town and valleys below. As they climbed she peered quickly out of slit windows. The view took her breath away, each fortified home was set into the slopes of the higher plateau in a random but somehow designed manner. Each building had its living accommodation high in the walls, and set to overlook the town and valley exactly as this Gamlyn family residence did. Behind the buildings the Upper Shimmerrath waterfalls thundered. A light breeze carried spray from the torrent and threw it against the cliff walls creating rainbows which floated down to the sparkling Fethwerth pool. She had fond memories of swimming the pool, but from below the rainbows had never been visible. She stopped; it was one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen. Even Jadde had no better view unless she was flying astride her bird servant, she thought in awe.
‘Come on,’ the guard shouted gruffly, oblivious to surroundings he had known all his life.
Glancing behind her she entered a warm room. The guard stayed outside. She smelt the scent of fresh bread and goat’s milk with honey. Her mouth watered,
reminding her of how well the Brenna lived. She hesitated, and then walked ahead past a rich blue velvet curtain and into a large living area. All around her were vast padded seats and ornate cabinets. Paintings in frames hung around the colour washed walls and many woven tapestries covered the floors. She stared, awed at the opulence of the ruling sect. She touched a gold frame containing the image of Jadde magically creating her holy altar, and looked in awe at the image of the majestic Goddess.
‘Seen enough Cabryce Otterpaw?’ a smooth voice asked.
She spun round to view a large corner desk set at an angle before glass windows overlooking the lower valley. A large rounded figure sat with a faint smile set within a carefully trimmed beard. She could barely see him through the glare of blazing sunlight bursting in through the window. It was a magnificent view, suitable for one of the rulers of the Seconchane. She felt the building was floating in the clouds above the simple town she knew. Cabryce composed herself ready to meet the expected interrogation.
‘Take a seat dear Cabryce. Oh . . . and welcome; my name’s Sire Gamlyn.’
She sat on the edge of the padded chair expecting some magic to lock her wrists to the wooden arms. Nothing untoward happened so she squinted and shielded her eyes to see the silhouetted figure before the bright sunlight. The well dressed Gamlyn sat legs crossed and lounging in a leather-upholstered swivel chair behind a polished desk the size of her kitchen area. He held up loosely linked hands to his chin, but succeeded in looking as if he was about to swat something.
‘I don’t expect you’ve eaten yet. Can I offer you breakfast?’ He reached across to a table and removed a cloth from a silver tray full of goat butter, honey and choice cuts of cold meat neatly laid beside slices of bread. A jug of lemon water stood next to a cut glass goblet. She stared, not daring to touch the delicious food.
‘Help yourself. I must apologise for your treatment before you arrived last night. Think of this small meal as some recompense for your ordeal.’
Gingerly she took a piece of bread and spread it with butter and honey. Erich Gamlyn doesn’t match the tales, she thought as she poured herself a glass of lemon water.
She was on her second piece of sliced pork and third piece of bread when the man asked quietly.
‘Who was the man with you last night Cabryce?’
Her mouth was full of meat so she just shook her head.
‘I’ll ask again, who was the man with you last night?’
Swallowing quickly, she spluttered ‘I don’t know, he just turned up and I let him in.’
‘I know you would not dishonour your husband. You are not a fallen woman – try again.’
‘I don’t know who he was.’ Cabryce was suddenly aware of the gold sun the rebel had given her. It still sat like an incriminating weight in her skirts pocket. She thought quickly, and realised a plausible story may satisfy her inquisitor. ‘He asked to speak to my husband, said Malkrin had promised to hunt a fox that’s been killing his hens.’
Gamlyn rose suddenly from his seat and bent toward her over the desk. His hands slammed the top. ‘Enough, you expect me to believe such a feeble excuse?’
‘It’s the only one I have. I’ve never seen the man before.’ She was getting heated now and her fiery side that Malkrin dreaded seeped through. ‘You’ll have to ask Malkrin who the man was.’ She stood in spite of knowing it was the wrong thing to do. ‘Oh, I forgot, you exiled him, didn’t you.’ She felt like a defiant child before its teacher.
Gamlyn calmed and sat rigidly. ‘Sit down, you know more than you’re saying, and I will extract it from you. Or you’ll rot in the lowest, dampest, rat infested dungeon at the very bottom of my castle-home. A week in there and you’ll be ready to admit to anything.’ He glared and Cabryce glared back and said nothing.
‘Who was he?’
Cabryce stared out the window. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Come clean and you’ll be free to start your life afresh. You are a high-person with a registered highsense.’ He raised his eyebrows expecting the truth.
‘I know nothing. I’ve never set eyes on the man before.’
‘You are still a high person – for now. Tell me.’
Cabryce wondered whether ‘for now’ meant she could be discredited, and sent on her way from Cyprusnia. It would be her chance to follow Malkrin.
‘I don’t know the man. He wanted my husband.’
‘You need not want for anything, you can still have children, help develop their highsenses and live a fruitful life. Yet still you defy me.’
He came to a decision, slamming his hands flat on the table top.
‘Finish your food and reflect on what I have said. I’ll return in ten minutes to receive your information.’
Gamlyn strode to the door and Cabryce heard him talking quietly to someone. She finished the food and drink and waited. There was little else she could say without breaking the dead man’s trust. Intuitively she believed the rebel man’s sincerity, and Gamlyn’s falseness.
The door opened and another man strode in. A change of tactics, she thought in alarm. This man scared her. He was unshaven, stunk of sweat with a healed scar across his left cheek. His hands were large and hardened with calluses; he rubbed them together as if relishing some act to follow. He ran his eyes up and down her entire body as if assessing her for a certain size coffin or length of rope for the gallows. There was no sexuality in his stare, just coldness. Her skin crawled as she recognised cruelty written in his face and hands.
‘The name of the intruder and what he told you?’ The scarred man demanded in an icy tone.
‘Who are you to ask?’ Cabryce returned defiantly.
She saw his hand coming but it was too fast for her to avoid it. The slap sent her crashing against the desk. She stood up and wiped blood away from a cut cheek.
‘I don’t know; he never had a chance to say a thing.’
Seconds later she was on the floor with her other cheek stinging. She decided not to move, hoping he would think her unconscious. A kick winded her and distantly she felt his hot breath on her face. A malicious laugh echoed in her ringing ears.
‘I love playing this game woman – tell, or I’ll enjoy myself further.’
Cabryce rose unsteadily to her knees and focused. She stared into cold eyes and held them silently – for her love of Malkrin, the memory of her parents and for the truth the dead rebel had convinced her of.
He slowly gathered her hair in a fist and wrenched it. Her head made contact with the desk leg and she involuntarily screamed.
‘Wonderful, now I’m going to really . . .’
‘Enough Janna,’ a commanding but distant voice shouted.
Gamlyn bent over her. ‘Are you ready to tell me?’
She spat blood into his face.
‘Throw her in the dampest, deepest cell. We’ll see what a few days there will do to her defiance.’
The room spun, but Cabryce managed to get to her feet. A brutal hand propelled her from the room. She was pushed and shoved along endless corridors dimly lit by flaming oil lamps. Then the burning oil smell was replaced by dank mildew and decay as she stumbled down endless flights of echoing, faintly lit stone steps. She had descended into the bowels of the earth. Another short corridor and the gloom closed in. A heavy sounding door creaked open before her. She was thrust through and the door slammed with echoing finality.
It was pitch black. The unknown was laced with sounds of dripping water and with the boom of a river in full flood. A terrible damp stench filled the cell and she wrapped her arm around her mouth.
And then very close she heard heavy wheezing breath.