It seemed they were safe for now. They only had to get to the place where they were to meet the katra. Runa had suggested a headland called the Beak, west along the coast from Gurn. No-one would expect them to head to a place where they could be cornered; they should be safe there for as long as the night lasted. And if they were found…

  Talorc heard shouting and the thrum of horses’ hooves.

  ‘They’re coming!’ he hissed. Runa dug her things deeper into Farla’s sides and Talorc held on tight to Runa’s hips, avoiding her wound as Farla tore down the road, while pinpricks of light appeared behind them and the shouting grew louder.

  ‘There’s the marker stone!’ said Runa, stopping at a dark lump to the right of the road.

  They dismounted. Runa gave her horse a quick stroke and swatted her rump, urging her away. Once Farla had disappeared into the shadows they ran, Runa clutching her stomach, following the winding, narrow path that led up the headland towards the sea.

  ‘Stop!’ said Runa.

  Talorc halted and stood beside her, looking over the cliff’s edge at the surf beating against the rocks beneath. There was no sign of the katra. Of course, they couldn’t have got here as quickly.

  Runa lay down on the grass, wrapped her cloak around her and closed her eyes.

  ‘What can I do to help you?’ Talorc asked.

  Runa shook her head. ‘I just… need to rest. I’m not dying… until this is over.’

  So Talorc stood and waited, shivering and soaking in the rain and the wind, praying to the Sea Mother for Runa to live.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘Talorc.’

  Talorc’s head whipped round. He had sat down close beside Runa in a vain attempt to keep her warm, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. How long had they been there? It felt like an age. He didn’t dare touch Runa’s wound, and knew nothing of how to treat it. She was awake, though; she muttered and moaned and shook as the rain fell on her.

  Runa was alive. But she was dying.

  Three dark shapes clambered over the clifftop.

  Talorc breathed a sigh of relief. When the katra had assured him and Runa that they could climb up the cliffs to the meeting place, after swimming through a storm, they had both been sceptical; yet here they were. How did Valdar manage to win a war against these creatures?

  No. Not creatures. People.

  The three katra gathered around Runa, hissing as they saw her wound.

  ‘We should have done better,’ said Nalga.

  ‘You could have done a lot worse,’ said Talorc. ‘We never would have made it out of there without you.’

  ‘No,’ said Skeen, ‘you wouldn’t.’

  ‘How long does she have?’ asked Talorc.

  ‘The wound is bad,’ said Nalga. ‘She might live if we could get her to a healer, but our healers are all dead.’

  Talorc thought of Skelda. ‘I know someone,’ he said. ‘But I have no way of finding her.’

  ‘The princess has to live,’ said Nalga. ‘For now.’

  The katra hadn’t forgotten the blood-debt. Talorc hadn’t forgotten either.

  ‘Her spirit is strong,’ continued Nalga, ‘it will carry her a little further. Do you have the skull?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Talorc. ‘But –’

  ‘Wait.’ Nalga held up a hand and sniffed the air.

  ‘What?’ Talorc searched the darkness but saw nothing.

  ‘Dries!’ said Nalga. ‘They’ve found you. We need to move now.’

  As she spoke Talorc saw a prick of light in the distance. The guards had found their trail. This was it.

  ‘Are you sure this will work?’ he asked, already knowing the answer.

  ‘Not if you don’t on hold tight,’ said Rugi.

  ‘But what about Runa?’

  ‘Not if she doesn’t hold on tight,’ said Skeen.

  Talorc glared at him and nudged Runa. ‘Can you hear me?’

  Runa nodded. Her eyes opened. ‘I heard. They’re coming.’

  Talorc and the katra stood back as Runa got to her feet, almost falling as she did so.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, in response to the question in their eyes. ‘I can hold on.’

  There was no more time to waste. As the torches drew closer and voices arrived on the wind Talorc and Runa followed the katra to the edge of the cliffs. Talorc looked down at the swirling waters and wished he hadn’t.

  ‘Hurry!’ hissed Nalga.

  Talorc made sure his pack was secured tightly upon his back and turned to face Nalga. She turned her back to him; he placed his hands upon her shoulders and hoisted himself up, locking his hands together beneath her neck. Underneath her tunic he could feel the amulet she wore.

  They turned to watch as Skeen helped Runa hoist herself onto Rugi’s back.

  ‘Don’t ask me if I can hold on,’ said Runa, her voice pained. ‘Just move.’

  They did. Talorc’s stomach did somersaults as Nalga approached the cliff-edge, turned and swung herself down.

  ‘Quickly!’ she called out.

  Skeen followed, then Rugi. Runa had pulled her hood over her head; Talorc was almost glad he couldn’t see her face. The pain she must be feeling was too much to think about. The only thing he should think about was holding on.

  The katra picked their way down the cliff-face as the wind tore at them and the sea surged beneath them. Talorc clung on with his hands, arms and thighs, marvelling at Nalga’s strength while worrying for Runa’s. But strength wasn’t enough. They needed to get out of sight. If they could get beneath the overhang that Runa had described then the pursuit would give up. No-one would guess they had gone down the cliff-face. Then they could climb back up, find a bone-house to hide in and move onto the next stage of the plan.

  It had all sounded so simple back in the katras’ tent.

  The voices were clear now. Looking up, Talorc could see torchlight. If the guards were to look over the cliff-edge now…

  Nalga gave a low growl. ‘Here,’ she whispered. Her breath quickened as she found footholds and moved in under the overhang.

  Talorc’s muscles screamed as he clung on tighter. Under the overhang, the wind eased and they were protected from the rain. To his right, he saw Rugi climb down beside them, Runa still clinging to her back, Skeen beyond them.

  They held still.

  The voices above them became clearer. Talorc struggled to make out what they were saying.

  Would they guess? Could they know somehow? What if Sariad was with them? She must know what katra were capable of…

  The voices grew fainter.

  Vanished.

  Talorc gave a sigh of relief, just as Runa fell from Rugi’s back and plunged into the sea.

  He didn’t think.

  Talorc let go of Nalga and fell. He twisted in mid-air and brought himself into a dive as the sea rushed to meet him.

  With a crash he passed from one world into another. He was at home again, his senses exploding into life, the tendrils of his power unfurling and searching the jagged rocks, the pounding water and the seabed beneath. The death-stone cloaked his power but couldn’t contain it.

  He found her almost instantly. But what good was it? The water tossed her back and forth like driftwood or a dead animal, held under by the immense currents of the stormy sea. He pulled his boots off and kicked out, aiming for her. It was no good. Fin-feet couldn’t power him through a sea like this. He went where it willed, and at any moment it might dash him or Runa against the rocks.

  He felt another life-form appear in the water, then another, then another. The katra had dived in. They could swim through this; but could they get him and Runa out of there?

  The current pushed Talorc to the surface. He opened his mouth to gulp down air and instead gulped salty water. Before he could spit it out he was forced under again.

  Something else was in the water.

  He sensed it but couldn’t see it in his mind. Was it a sunshark? A sea-wolf? Some other servant of Sariad's, come to finish them off?

  Whatever it was, it surged through the sea at astonishing speed. Talorc had no chance of escaping it. Even the katra could not escape this. Could he distract it, lure it away from Runa and the katra? They could finish this without him, if they had the skull…

  There was no time. It was upon him. It filled his senses and he felt his tunic seized and pulled. As Talorc choked on seawater another presence seized Runa and pulled her away.

  The sea went dark.

  Salt water plumed from Talorc’s mouth as he awoke.

  He twisted over and heaved more liquid onto a rock floor. After emptying his lungs of water and filling them with air he looked around him.

  They were in a large cave. Runa lay close beside him, her wet cloak bundled at her side, her tunic rolled up to reveal the dark mass of her belly-wound. Her eyes were closed but her chest rose and fell. She was breathing.

  Beside them, a roaring peat-fire gave off a sweet smell that soothed his aching lungs. Nalga, Rugi and Skeen sat around the fire. Sat by Runa was an old woman with milky-white skin. She was naked but for the briefest of fish-skin clothes covering her chest and loins. Though she was old, her flesh was tightly-muscled and her bone-white hair shone in the firelight. Her bold, brown eyes followed her gnarled hands as they worked at preparing a herb-bundle.

  Sat with them at the fire was the creature that had rescued them.

  He was a man; or at least, he looked like a man in some ways. Like the old woman, he had long, fine hair and thick muscles, but his hair, skin and eyes were all silver. He wore a slight smile as he watched Talorc, his bright eyes emanating warmth and kindness. But Talorc had learnt not to trust appearances.

  The creature wore, like a cloak, the skin of a dolphin.

  Beyond him, around the edges of the cave, were other fires. Around the fires sat women and men and children. They were purposefully not looking at Talorc. Others had gathered around him, wary parents clutching their children close to them, staring at the strange newcomers with a mixture of curiosity and anger.

  One corner of the cave had been painted, depicting a many-limbed, fearsome creature. Candles burned beneath it, on either side of a bowl full of fish; an altar to some god of the deep sea.

  Hung from the rock walls were row upon row of sealskins.

  Silkies.

  ‘Yes,’ said the dolphin-man. ‘Silkies.’

  Had he read Talorc’s mind?

  ‘Did you wonder if they were real?’ the dolphin-man asked. ‘I know Pem told you silkie stories. Some people think they are just stories. The people of the sea rarely let themselves be seen by the Orkadi; let alone allow them into their homes. Your being here is a great privilege.’

  Talorc looked around again. The silkies sat at the fires were looking everywhere but at him. The ones gathered around him did not look friendly.

  ‘As you can see, not all of the people welcome you here,’ said the dolphin-man.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Talorc.

  ‘Because your kind kill their kind. Before the dark sky war there was friendship between your races. Seals were hunted but never silkies. That all changed, and now they fear and despise you.’

  One of the silkie men stepped towards them, waving his hands and ducking his head as he spoke in a strange, guttural tongue. The old silkie woman held up a hand and he fell silent.

  ‘What is he saying?’ asked Talorc.

  ‘It is bad enough, he says, that I brought you here; now we are speaking words he cannot understand in his home. He takes this as an insult,’ said the dolphin-man.

  ‘How do you understand what he is saying?’ asked Talorc.

  ‘It is given to me to speak many tongues. Ogluk is an old friend and ally of mine.’ He indicated the old silkie woman. ‘She carries great authority among her people, which will hold them back awhile. But soon you will have to leave.’ He turned and addressed the assembly in their language, mimicking it with uncanny precision.

  ‘What are you saying?’ asked Talorc.

  ‘I am reminding them who sent me here, and threatening them with the consequences of displeasing her.’

  ‘Who –’

  ‘The Sea Mother.’

  Talorc stared at the dolphin-man.

  ‘You don’t recognise me, do you?’ the dolphin-man asked.

  ‘I’ve never seen you before,’ said Talorc.

  ‘Not so close, no. Yet I’ve stood beside you. I’ve watched you from close and afar; watched you grow and kept you safe.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Do you remember the night after the Azawan came to Odhran?’

  Talorc remembered it well. Rowing through the mist, seeing a figure that he took to be the finman watching him from the shore. Lying under the boat, the crunch of footsteps on the stones. Playing his flute, closing his eyes, dolphins circling, his skin healing.

  This was the watcher on the shore.

  ‘Why?’ said Talorc.

  ‘Because I serve the Sea Mother, and she wishes for you to succeed. But I would help you anyway.’ He reached out and took Talorc’s hand in his cold, silver hands. ‘Because I’m Loth. I’m your Grunda.’

  Talorc felt the world spinning around him.

  ‘I suppose I shouldn’t have hoped you would know me. I thought you might see something in my face. I see a little of myself in yours. A lot of myself, in your spirit. And Pem. You are so like her, though I don’t think you ever realised it. And like your father too. You get your worrying from him, and your mother.’

  ‘How –’

  ‘Your father loved the sea when he was a boy. Loved adventures. Torma’s favourite thing to do was to take the boat out to some bay we had never visited. We’d get out and go walking and climbing and exploring. He would walk into any home we came to and talk to its owners like he had known them all his life. He would ask them for stories, saying he was looking for new ones to gift to his Mam.

  ‘One day we set out for the western cliffs to take guga eggs. I knew I needn’t worry for him, as he was always a fine climber,’ he glanced at the katra, ‘on account of his feet.’

  Talorc’s mouth hung open as his mind raced to catch up.

  ‘Aye, your father had the feet like you do. Neither I nor your Grunna minded, we just made sure he kept them secret. He was a great climber, Torma, better than me, and he knew not to take risks up there on the cliffs.

  ‘But a fog blew in, fast as it does on Odhran, without warning. There was nothing we could do but sit there huddled on the ledges, birds squawking and squawling all around us, waiting for the fog to blow off. Only it didn’t. Right on the back of the fog came a storm.

  ‘It blew the fog away but it looked set to blow us away too. Or me, at least; wee Torma could hold on better than I could, what with his feet. But the cold and the rain sapped at my strength and I knew I was done for; at any moment I was going to fall. Torma saw it, he cried and cursed me, told me to hang on, if he could hang on then I could hang on, but I couldn’t.

  ‘That’s when she came.

  ‘I’d always imagined her as a woman. What greater arrogance is there than that; to see the gods as reflections of ourselves? When I beheld her I thought she was a monster. She climbed the cliffs until she was right beneath us, looked each of us in the eye, and told Torma she was taking me. Said to him that his Da had work to do for her, important work. That he would have to say goodbye to his Da.

  ‘Torma wouldn’t say goodbye. He wailed and cursed and threatened her, but there was no swaying her. She plucked me off the cliff, pulled me to her and carried me under the sea. I learnt that she chooses people and creatures of all races to serve her as Silvers, and I had been chosen.’

  Talorc glanced at the three katra. All were listening intently. Did they believe him? Was this creature mad? Could this possibly be the truth, that this creature was a servant of the Sea Mother, and his Grunda?

  Aye, of course I miss Loth, Grunna had said. But I believe he’s out there somewhere, watching me, watching you. I know he loves me still.

  ‘I’ve watched you all your life, Talorc. It wasn’t easy, given you weren’t allowed in the water,’ he said with a laugh, ‘but I watched as best as I could. The Sea Mother bid me keep you safe and keep you safe I did. And before all this happened,’ he went on, ‘I saw you walking with your Grunna on the beach. I heard whispers of the stories she told you, felt the fire they kindled in your heart. You were good to her. She remembers it well.’

  ‘What do you mean –’

  ‘I’ve spoken too long already,’ said the dolphin-man. ‘The Sea Mother didn’t send me here to reminisce.’ His expression changed. ‘The Azawan is coming, Talorc. It will be back by dawn. It is time to rid Orka of this evil.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Exactly as you planned. Ogluk?’ Loth – for Talorc realised he believed the story, that this Silver was his Grunda – turned to the old silkie woman.

  Ogluk shook her head. She spoke some words that Loth translated. ‘Her spirit is a boar. It fights; but too much blood is gone.’

  ‘Can we wake her?’ asked Nalga.

  ‘Yes,’ Loth said after Ogluk had spoken. ‘But she will go quicker if you do.’

  They all turned to Talorc. He looked at Runa, her hair glowing in the firelight, her eyes closed as if in peaceful sleep.

  ‘She would kill me for not waking her,’ he said with a faint smile. He looked at Loth, who nodded his approval.

  Talorc turned to Runa and put a hand upon her shoulder. He squeezed gently, then firmer.

  Runa’s eyes opened and found Talorc. ‘Are we dead?’ she asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘Good,’ said Runa. ‘I’m not dying… unless Sariad dies first.’

  ‘Can you sit?’

  ‘Help me.’

  Talorc put a hand behind her shoulders and helped her up, noticing how she tried to disguise her pain. Loth held the bundle against her chest while Ogluk went to get some cord before using it to secure the bundle to Runa. Ogluk passed Talorc a waterskin with something warm inside it, which Runa gulped down greedily.

  ‘Where is it?’ Runa asked as she passed the skin back to Talorc.

 

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