The Forbidden Land by Kate Forsyth
When he was ready, she slowly eased open the door and checked outside. All was quiet, the two sentries snoring away. Finn chewed her thumbnail thoughtfully. The plan had been for her to steal one of the soldier’s uniforms and to pretend to be a guard escorting a pastor through the prison. Such a sight was not uncommon in the prison, apparently, since the pastors spoke rites over those close to death, and many in the prison died every day. The prophet’s filthy, emaciated state would not occasion much surprise, since many of the Tìrsoilleirean pastors starved themselves wilfully and refused to wash the filth and lice from their bodies, considering such peculiar behaviour holy. Finn was hesitant to strip the guard, however, in case the one whose sleep was natural should wake.
After a moment she decided to take the risk, however. Indicating the prophet should wait inside the cell, she stripped the drugged guard of his armour as quietly as she could. It was impossible to avoid some clinks and clanks, however, and once or twice the other guard stirred and once half-opened his eyes, only to mutter something incomprehensible and close them again. Finn dragged the half-naked guard within the cell, dressed herself rapidly in his unpleasantly smelling chain-mail armour, then put his helmet on her head and his gauntlets on her hands. It was all very heavy and very smelly, and Finn wrinkled her nose in distaste. At last she was ready and able to lock the cell again, hanging the keys on her belt.
The prophet was very unsteady on his feet and Finn was beside herself with impatience as he shuffled along the corridor. She took his arm and tried to urge him along faster. There was no hurrying him, though, and so she stamped down her anxiety and helped him as best she could.
It was in the wee small hours of the night and all was quiet. Finn managed to avoid most of the guards and those they did pass did not pay them much attention, even though the prophet was so clearly barely able to totter. Once they reached the stairs it was easier for he was able to lean heavily on the balustrade, and she was able to push him from behind.
They were on the top floor when Finn heard again the sound of singing. She stopped in her tracks, once again entranced by the power and beauty of the voice. It sang of running along the sea-strand, the wind in her hair, the birds calling in her ears, finding shells that sang of the ocean. Some sound must have penetrated the old man’s maimed ears as well, for he lifted his grime-caked face to hers and said softly, ‘Be that the sea-witch I hear?’
It was the first time he had spoken and Finn gaped at him in surprise. He frowned a little and said, ‘They may have cut off my ears but I can still hear, lad. I hear sounds, though indistinctly, and I hear with the ears o’ the spirit. That is something they could never take away from me, no’ till they took my life. And then I’d be with God and should hear the singing o’ angels, which indeed I long to do.’
He sighed. ‘I remember the sea-witch, though. I used to be in the cell next to hers. I’d press my ruined ear against the wall and hear her as she sang. How sweetly and how sadly she would sing! Indeed, I do no’ think the singing o’ the angels could be as sweet, for she sang o’ things I love, spring and apple trees and children playing …’
Finn nodded and smiled. She listened to the pure, angelic voice a little longer, her mind racing. She had been present at many of the early war conferences, when the Bright Soldiers of Tìrsoilleir had first attacked the free lands of Eileanan. There had been much puzzlement as to how the Bright Soldiers had managed to sail the Skeleton Coast, with the seas thick with Fairgean and the coast unknown to any living sailor, since it had been three hundred years since any merchant ships had sailed from Bride. Once Meghan had said, ‘If it was anyone else, I would think they must have had a Yedda to sing them to safety, but I ken the Bright Soldiers abhor all witchcraft and would never have a trained sea-witch to help them.’
Lachlan had replied, ‘Unless they captured that ship I sent to Bride five years ago. It had on board the last remaining Yedda that I had been able to find. They may have forced her to sail with them and sing the Fairgean to death. If that was so, it would also explain how the Bright Soldiers kent the way through the Bay o’ Deception, for there were many canny sailors on board that ship that kent that coast like the backs o’ their hands.’
No Yedda had ever been found on board any of the Tìrsoilleirean ships captured during the war and Finn had never heard her mentioned again. Now she remembered, however. She stood and listened, and wondered, and somewhere inside her a germ of an idea took root.
Hearing the sound of marching feet behind her she hustled the old man along the corridor and into the safety of the side hall. The patrol marched past. Once they were safely gone, Finn harried the old prophet up the narrow flight of stairs to the battlements. They stepped out into the fresh air, both taking deep gasping breaths, relief buoying their blood.
Finn was a little dismayed to find the darkness was already fading. A few sea birds wheeled overhead, screaming plaintively. It was light enough for her to see the shape of the battlements dark against the sky. She led the old prophet across to her tightrope, still stretched between the two buildings. On the other side she could see the dark shape of Dide and Dillon as they rose from their hiding place behind the crenellations. Although she could not see their faces, their hunched stance and urgent movements told her how tense and anxious they were.
‘Shut your eyes,’ Finn told the old man, rifling through her bulging satchel for the leather harness and then fastening it securely round his skinny body. She led him to the wall and made him climb on top of it, clipping the strap of the harness to the tightrope. The old man opened his eyes and gave a shriek of dismay as he realised he was standing on the very edge of the battlement.
‘Sssssh!’ Finn hissed urgently and Goblin hissed as well, lashing her tail. ‘Shut your eyes and keep your mouth shut too, unless ye wish to betray us all!’
Trembling, the old man obeyed. Finn gestured to the two men on the other side and then gave the old man a vigorous push. He fell, whimpering. The rope jerked and held. Hanging from the tightrope by his harness, he sailed across the distance, his bare legs kicking wildly. Dide caught him at the far end and hauled him up and over the wall.
‘Go! Go!’ Finn made wild gesturing motions with her hands and Dide nodded and half-dragged, half-carried the old man across the battlements to where the rope hung all the way down to the sea, past seven hundred feet of sheer rock.
Finn waited till they were busy strapping the old man to Dillon in preparation for the long descent back to the boat, then ran back to the door and down the stairs, her mind scurrying with excitement and fear. As she ran she dragged out the magical cloak and flung it around her once more. It was almost dawn and soon the prison would be stirring. If Finn was to rescue the Yedda, she would have to be quick.
The sea-witch was singing no longer but Finn knew where she was incarcerated and wasted no time getting there, clanking in her borrowed armour as she ran. Goblin bounded before her, ears pricked forward. Finn reached the door, which was unguarded, knelt outside it and picked the lock with her tools. Within seconds the lock had flown open and she was able to swing open the door.
A very thin, pale, haggard woman sat on a low trestle bed, her blonde-grey hair hanging free all around her, a comb in her hand. She looked up in surprise and stared, puzzled and frightened, her hand to her sunken cheek. Finn realised she still had the hood of the cloak over her head and pushed it back. The Yedda gasped.
‘Witchcraft!’ she cried. ‘It must be. One minute there was no-one there and now, here ye are! Who are ye?’
‘My name is Finn. There’s no time for chitchat. I have come to rescue ye. Quickly! Ye must come with me now.’
‘But I …’
Finn seized her hand and dragged her to her feet. ‘Quickly! The guards will patrol past soon. We must be gone. Come on!’
‘But I be in my nightgown … just let me …’
‘For Eà’s sake, will ye no’ come?’
The Yedda was dragging on her stockings but at Finn’s
She thrust her feet into shoes and caught up a plaid from where it hung over a chair. As she flung it round her, she seized a few belongings from the low table and tried to shove them into a reticule. Finn dragged her away. ‘Come away!’ she cried in a frenzy. ‘Do ye no’ realise it is dawn?’
‘What about the others?’ the Yedda cried, suddenly dragging back against Finn’s hand. ‘Do ye no’ save them too?’
‘What others?’ Finn asked as she pulled the door closed behind them.
‘John and Peter and Captain Banning, and auld Ballard, and Ferris …’
‘I do no’ ken who they are,’ Finn said indifferently. ‘Come, let us no’ tarry.’
The Yedda stood firm. ‘They are the crew o’ the Sea-Eagle. We have suffered much together and I canna be leaving them. Come, they are in the next rooms, it will no’ take but a minute!’
‘We do no’ have a minute!’ Finn cried in a frenzy of impatience. The Yedda pleaded with her though and so Finn flung herself to her knees before the next door down and manipulated the lock with hands shaking with fear and haste. ‘Goblin, keep watch!’ she hissed through her teeth and the elven cat slunk away down the corridor, her aquamarine eyes narrowed.
At last the door swung open. Within was a long room, all crowded with trestle beds upon which men lay sleeping, or sat up, yawning and questioning. At one end was a barred window and through the grime Finn could see the wall opposite, just fingered with light. ‘The sun is up!’ she cried. ‘Come on, come on, all o’ ye!’
As the men woke, exclaiming in surprise, Finn motioned them all forward. The men quickly began to scramble into their breeches and shoes, and she waved her arms furiously. ‘Hurry!’
Without waiting to see if they obeyed her, Finn bent over to pick the lock of the next door along. She roused the men within with a hiss and a shake, then hurried along to the next door, her heart hammering. At last the final door was unlocked and the man within, a tall man with a weather-beaten face and an air of command, was woken by Finn’s urgent hand.
The Yedda leant past her. ‘Captain Banning, come on; we must flee. They have come to rescue us at long last!’
The captain did not ask for an explanation, nodding and pulling on his breeches. ‘We do no’ have time!’ Finn cried, hurrying back out into the corridor. ‘Please, please, hurry!’
‘They bring us some food in the early hours,’ the Yedda whispered, her hands shaking. ‘They will find that we have gone then. How are we to escape?’
‘Follow me,’ Finn said as they all hurried along the corridor, boots clattering against the stone. ‘Canna ye walk more lightly?’ Finn hissed and they tried to tiptoe, making even more noise in the process. Finn rolled her eyes.
From behind her came a squalling mew, as loud and high as the little elven cat could manage. Finn dragged one slow man out of his room with a determined heave.
‘The guards come!’ she cried. ‘Be quick! Be quiet!’
She heard the sound of marching feet and looked about her in despair. There were over twenty men milling about in various states of undress, some wearing nothing but their shirts. The marching grew closer. Everyone froze, panic on their faces.
Stall them! She projected her urgent mind-message to the little cat, while beckoning the men forward, a finger held against her lips. They hurried round the corner into the little side corridor. They heard a cat yowling, then laughter and a scuffle. Finn was white to her lips. ‘Please, Eà, keep Goblin safe,’ she whispered.
The yowling faded away, and after a confused moment, the marching resumed, accompanied by low voices and laughter. There was no time for them all to get out onto the battlements and in the growing light, it was too much to hope that none would notice them huddling in the antechamber.
So Finn motioned them all close to her. ‘Huddle in under my cloak,’ she whispered frantically. ‘Creep in as close as ye can get and make sure no hands or feet stick out. Oh, blessed Eà, let the cloak stretch far enough!’
Miraculously it did. The stretch of black silk that could fold up small enough to fit inside Finn’s pocket billowed out to cover twenty-four men and two women with ease. Finn did not stop to wonder how. She merely gave fervent thanks to Eà as the patrol marched straight past them, then urged the freed captives up the stairs and out onto the battlements.
‘Dide is going to kill me!’ she mouthed, then shrugged, calling out anxiously to Goblin with her mind.
‘Who is this goblin that ye call to?’ the Yedda asked, causing Finn’s eyes to widen in amazement. ‘Do ye have faery assistance?’
‘Goblin is my cat,’ Finn explained, urging them to hurry.
‘Ah, your familiar,’ the Yedda replied. Finn nodded, calling to Goblin again. As the Yedda went through the door Finn turned back anxiously to look behind them and saw the elven cat turn the corner and come limping up the corridor. Hoarweasels follow … the cat said, her mind-voice wincing with pain.
Are ye hurt, sweetie?
Those feral hoarweasels kicked me! the cat answered, her mind-tail lashing. They are close behind me.
Finn pushed the last man through the door, and scrambled through herself. As Goblin leapt up the stairs to join her, she saw a guard turn the corner. Goblin whisked through the door and Finn slammed it behind her.
‘Hold this shut for me!’ Finn cried. ‘Quick! Ye must swing across that rope to the far side! Make haste!’
As some of the men put their shoulders to the door, Finn hastily locked it with her lock-picking tools. Blows began to fall upon it from the other side. ‘We are discovered!’ Finn cried. ‘Oh, Eà, make haste!’
One by one the men swung across the rope to the battlements of the opposite tower. Dide stood there, livid with anger, but he helped them over the wall and then instructed them to start climbing down the rope. The Yedda could not swing hand over hand across the rope and so Finn ran lightly over the rope and seized the leather harness that had been strapped to Killian the Listener. Dide tried to grab her arm, hissing angry questions at her, but she shook him off. ‘We are discovered!’ she panted, before running back across the rope as swiftly and easily as if it were a plank over a burn. She strapped the Yedda into it and pushed her off vigorously. As she hung over the battlements she saw soldiers down below pointing up at them and shouting. Some were running into the outer fortress and Finn had no doubt they would soon be attacked from within.
Then the door splintered and broke. Soldiers in white surcoats poured out, but those men still remaining on the battlements grappled with them fiercely. Finn leapt out of the fray and hastily drew her crossbow, firing bolt after bolt at the attacking guards. With shouts of pain they ducked for cover. Those she did not shoot down were battered into insensibility by the freed sailors, who seized the guards’ swords before swinging across to the opposite battlements. Finn picked up Goblin and ran across the tightrope after them, just as more soldiers burst out onto the rampart. With a single slash of his dagger, Dide cut the rope free.
‘Ye porridge-head,’ he snarled, seizing Finn’s arm so tightly she thought he would break the bone. ‘Wha’ are ye about?’
‘They are Lachlan’s men,’ she panted, wincing and trying to drag her arm free. ‘She be a Yedda. I could no’ leave them.’
‘How are we to save them all?’ he cried. ‘Once the soldiers get out onto the heights, all they need do is cut the rope and we shall all die!’
‘We had best get down quickly then,’ Finn said and pushed him towards the rope still hanging over the wall. ‘No time for squawking, Dide, climb!’
He tried to make her go first but she shook her head. ‘Do not be a porridge-head, Dide! I have secured the rope just below. Once ye are past that point, I can cut the rope here free. Then they canna stop us! I can climb down without it. Do no’ argue! Climb!’
Dide swore at her, swung his leg over the rampa
One, two, three bolts slammed into the running soldiers. They fell, screaming. Finn loaded again, and wound on the crossbow as fast as she could. The bolt took the soldier in front between the eyes and he fell, right at Finn’s feet. Then the others were upon her. She thrust them off with the crossbow, and Goblin leapt for them, claws raking, hissing like a snake. For a second they faltered. It was time enough for Finn to leap onto the wall, seize the rope in her hand and swing out and down. The cat leapt with her, landing on her head and digging all her claws deep into Finn’s skull. Although she shrieked with pain, Finn slid down the rope as fast as she could. There was no time to hammer in any spikes so as soon as she was past the overhang, Finn simply let go of the rope, clinging with all her strength to a tiny ledge of rock where moss had crumbled away the cement. The rope slithered down past her, cut by the soldiers above who now hung over the battlement, trying to see if she was falling. Finn hung there, all her muscles screaming, and looked down herself.
Relief flashed through her. Dide hung on the rope, just below the belay hook where Finn had fastened the rope. He looked up at her, his face white. Finn jerked her head at him urgently, mouthing, ‘Go! Go!’
He nodded and began to slide down once more. Below him Finn could see other men, all hanging onto the rope for dear life. She began to feel about with her feet for another ledge, her fingers white with the strain. Just as she thought she could not support her own weight any longer, she found a little crack in which to rest her foot. Letting go of all her breath in a gusty sigh of relief, Finn eased one hand down and then her other foot. Slow inch by slow, painful inch, she climbed down the wall.