‘You … offer no proof of what you say,’ Farr said, plainly groping for words.
‘You will have your proof,’ Rye replied quietly. He hoped fervently that he was right. There was not much time left. The taste of honey was still sweet in his mouth, but he could feel that the little golden square was melting away.
‘The Lord of Shadows has never forgotten the oath he swore as he was banished from Dorne’s shores. He vowed revenge. He vowed one day to return, to punish the people who had rejected him and to plunder Dorne’s riches. But standing between him and his goal was a magic greater than his own—the protecting magic of the Fellan. So he made a plan to trick you into destroying that magic for him, and put spies among you to carry the plan out.’
He took a breath. This, he knew, was the moment when his gamble would either succeed or fail. The last possible moment …
‘The latest in that long line of traitors is with us now,’ he said. ‘It is—’ He had had no idea how he was to finish that sentence, but as he had hoped and prayed, he did not have to. As the words left his lips he felt an iron nerve break. The smoky air shimmered and thickened, there was a sudden, violent scuffle, and a snarling beast with bark-like hide and flaming hair leaped for him.
And in that instant, Rye’s mind exploded with vivid memory. Screams of terror ringing in his ears, Sonia standing her ground by his side, he remembered at last what he had seen before the attack at Fell End. He knew who had tried to kill him on the barge, in the chieftain’s lodge, in the museum. He knew his enemy.
Swiftly he raised his hands. Between them hung the faded drawstring from the little brown bag—the string of plaited Fellan hair that was Sonia’s cord belt in miniature. He saw the beast’s eyes blaze as it realised its danger too late. He felt Sonia’s magic flow into his fingertips like prickling heat. He knew what to do.
‘Be still!’ he shouted, and pulled the string taut.
And the beast froze in the air and crashed to the ground, its form changing rapidly as it fell.
There was a small, sickening crack. Ash rose in a choking cloud. People were still screaming. Someone was wailing hysterically. Coughing and cursing, Farr stumbled to Rye’s side.
Rye’s legs were shaking so badly that he could hardly stand. He was still too shocked even to feel relief. ‘I promised you proof,’ he said, gesturing at the still figure on the ground. ‘Here it is.’
Farr looked down. His eyes bulged.
‘Barron!’ he breathed. ‘But … I can’t believe it! By the heavens, why would Barron betray—?’
Barron’s eyelids fluttered. ‘I told you, Farr,’ he mumbled. ‘I like to support the winning side. There’s a lot more money in it.’
And that was all. He did not move again. Rye’s throat tightened. He had not meant Barron to die. He had meant only to stop and secure him so Farr could see—so everyone could see—what he was.
‘The fall killed him, Rye,’ Sonia said. ‘If he had not flown at you he would be alive now.’ She looked at Farr. ‘Was it Barron who told you how to destroy the Fellan?’ she asked abruptly.
Farr nodded, licking his dry lips. ‘He knew—had met—many strange people on his trading voyages. He took—he said he took—the best advice …’
‘The very best, it seems,’ Sonia said grimly.
The people who had begun crowding around them silently parted to make way for Councillors Sigrid and Manx. Sigrid was limping and her iron grey braids hung raggedly around her shoulders. Manx was shaking all over as if he had a fever. He suddenly looked years older, and far more human.
‘We cannot find Barron,’ he croaked. ‘He was right behind me when the Fellan beast attacked. I fear he has come to harm.’
Sigrid snorted. ‘Oh, he has only run away, depend upon it,’ she said. ‘For such a fat man he is very light on his feet. No doubt he will come strolling back any moment, red-faced and mumbling apologies for his cowardice.’
‘I daresay that was his plan,’ said Farr, and stood back so they could see the body.
Barron lay on his back, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. He had died before his change of form was complete. One of his beefy arms was still covered with bark, the hand a hideous mass of thorny claws.
Sigrid froze. Manx choked and turned away.
Farr ran his fingers roughly through his hair. ‘I—I have heard of humans selling themselves to the Shadow Lord in return for magic and power. But never did I think such a thing could happen in Dorne. By the heavens, how many of the other terrors we’ve suffered have been Barron’s work?’
‘Almost all, I am sure,’ Rye said. ‘You already distrusted the Fellan. Barron made you hate and fear them. He convinced you that the slays were part of a war they were waging against you. When the time was right, he told you how to destroy Fellan magic and the Fell Zone itself. And when you hesitated, Farr, he tried to kill Zak and Janna. He knew you. He knew that far from making you draw back, those attacks would spur you on. But he protected you. He needed you.’
‘And if … if we had succeeded in carrying out our plan, the Shadow Lord would have swooped,’ Sigrid muttered. ‘Ah, Keelin, what a debt we owe you! What would have become of us?’
Rye exchanged glances with Sonia, his mind filled with chilling images. Dry, tortured land. The horrors of the Diggings and the Harbour. Desperate people, starving and enslaved. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. If he even hinted that he had seen what might have been, Farr would start doubting his sanity all over again.
They will never know what they have been spared, Rye. But we will.
Sonia’s relief and thankfulness flooded into Rye’s mind, sweeping the ghastly images away. Dorne is safe, he told himself. Safe! Elation rose in him, steeling him for the last great effort that lay ahead.
‘We’ll dismantle the pipeline,’ Farr said, squaring his shoulders. ‘We’ll start at once.’
‘No!’ Rye exclaimed.
Farr stared at him. So did everyone else, Sonia most of all.
‘You are forgetting the skimmers—the slays,’ Rye said quietly. ‘The nest must be destroyed before another night comes. I will speak to the Fellan and ask if we can trespass in their territory a little longer. Meanwhile, your people can fetch some blasting powder from Fell End, and also, if you please, release the two men locked in the guardhouse. I will need their help—and Jett’s help, too.’
He turned to Sonia and her eyes widened in shock as she shared the memory he had kept from her, locked away in the darkest corner of his mind, till now.
For a moment he was back floating above the treetops in the dimness just before daybreak. He was seeing something that Farr had seen time and again, no doubt, from the Riverside watchtower. He was watching skimmers soaring to the highest point of the Fell Zone. He was watching them landing, scrabbling, fighting each other for space as they scrambled into the ragged holes and crevices of their warm, dark refuge.
Into the vine-clad cracks and caves that pocked the outer surface of the towering Wall of Weld.
25 - The Wall
Rye and Sonia found the Fellan waiting for them in the clearing where Dann’s Mirror glimmered in the soft green light. Little needed to be said. The Fellan had understood their danger the moment they realised that Rye had been through Dann’s silver Door and seen the Lord of Shadows in Dorne’s future. Before that, they had thought only that the humans with whom they shared their island were breaking the treaty to gain more land. It had not occurred to them that the invaders could actually be seeking to destroy them.
‘Eldannen told our sister Edelle and the others who have gone before us that Annoltis was lying to his people,’ said one. ‘Those words were passed down to us, but we thought little of them. We have been the guardians of Dorne since time began. That knowledge lives in every tree, every blade of grass, every grain of earth and sand. How could the humans here have forgotten it? It is in the very air they breathe.’