'I only used a tiny fraction of the power,' Jack said with dismay. 'Only a tiny, tiny fraction. But it still shouldn't have killed them. I can't understand it. Where are they?'
They all moved aft to stand at the rail. There was definitely no sign of the little men. The sun had almost disappeared behind the tree line and the bats were now loosing themselves from branches to skim across the water, scooping up the flurrying insects.
'Something's wrong here,' Crowther said.
Chapter Ten
'Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me, The carriage held but just ourselves, And Immortality.'
The moon glinted off the water like glass. Sunchaser rocked soothingly on the currents, moored for the night in mid-stream. Ahead lay a steep-sided gorge where the river turned white and turbulent as it gushed through rapids so dangerous Triathus would only navigate them in the light of day.
For the first watch, Caitlin had taken a position aft on a carved wooden chair. The tranquillity of the night did not move her, for she could not escape the feeling that something was amiss. She watched like a hawk, shifting her gaze from one bank to the other, paying attention to every splash and gurgle, every movement of branch and leaf.
At the same time, her mind worked overtime trying to understand her mysterious skill at archery. She had trained at it before, but her display during the attack had been that of a master, her reactions instinctive. All she could think was that it had something to do with her heritage as a Sister of Dragons, whatever that really meant. And then she recalled the casket she had come across in the Wildwood. The plaque said it belonged to a Brother of Dragons. Coincidence? Or was it a warning to her about what happened to all the mysterious champions of life? Her constant companions didn't help the growing apprehension she felt. Amy, Briony and Brigid had all slipped into a troubled silence as they watched the figure in the shadows preparing to emerge. And what would happen when she did?
Before Caitlin could consider an answer, an arm clamped around her chest, another around her shoulders. A knife pricked her throat. She tried to throw off the assailant who had come up as silently as a ghost, but the jabbed response of the blade stilled her movement.
'I hate you, you bitch.' It was Mahalia. Her hissed words carried the weight of desperation and fear and loneliness.
'I'm not your enemy,' Caitlin said. 'I don't know what-' The stabbing pain grew more intense; blood tricked down to her clavicle.
'I've seen what you're doing, how you're manipulating everyone, trying to get Carlton on your side. No one does that to me. No one!'
Caitlin felt the subtle tensing of Mahalia's muscles and knew in that instant that the girl intended to carry out her murderous threat. The revelation came like a douse of cold water. Despite all she had seen, Caitlin had never thought that the teenager would really hurt those who had been her friends.
As Mahalia prepared to slice, Caitlin smashed the back of her head into Mahalia's face. Mahalia howled and the knife slipped from her fingers.
Caitlin's action threw her wildly off-balance. Unable to control her momentum, she rolled over the top of the rail and plummeted the short drop into the water. The currents in that part of the river were strong and she was sucked under before she had time to grab a mouthful of air or call for help. Adrenalin and the shock of the cold water gave her a tremendous surge of energy. Battling her way to the surface, she managed to fill her lungs before going down again. This time, though, she caught sight of something in the depths that made everything else recede: colour, several splashes of it, visible in the beams of brilliant moonlight that penetrated to the reedy bottom.
The current whisked her away and once again she was fighting for air. With an effort, she clawed her way to the surface, sucked in more breaths, and then fought her way to the slow, steady movement on the periphery of the flow. In the shallows, fallen trees and branches lay half- submerged where she could anchor herself to recover.
She couldn't be sure; she had to see again.
Steeling herself, Caitlin took another gulp of air and plunged beneath the surface. In the ghostly underwater world of shadows broken by moonlight beams, she once again glimpsed the colours: drifting gently above the swaying vegetation like oil paints spilled in the water. She struck out towards it. Not colours, but one colour in various shades. One colour. Purple.
Her heart began to thump wildly. In the back of her head, Amy came alive, her searching questioning — ' What is it? What is it? — gradually turning into a frightened keening. Desperately, Caitlin fought to keep the little girl contained. She couldn't afford to give herself up to Amy, not there; the girl would panic and they would both drown. Even if she did survive the river, Amy couldn't be allowed to take over with what lay ahead. She'd never escape.
Still not quite believing her eyes, Caitlin swam on, hoping to prove herself wrong. Gradually, indistinct grey shapes emerged from the surrounding murk like spectres. Marching laboriously along the river bed towards the boat were the Lament-Brood, their ranks now swollen by others who had fallen to their corrupt influence. They ranged across a portion of the river bed as wide as a football pitch, and more ranks were emerging from the depths behind them. All of them were twisted and broken, shambling, the purple light leaking from their eyes. At the front were the little men who had attacked Sunchaser — the reason why they had not surfaced now clear — and in the centre Caitlin could just make out the leaders, riding their lizard-horses.
The silence of the approaching army was eerie, but then Caitlin began to hear their incessant whispering filtering through the water like the susurrations of malignant phantoms, spreading their message of despair and pain and death.
They saw her, but they didn't increase their pace. They would not be deterred; they would reach their prey sooner or later.
Amy surged to the front of Caitlin's head and her childlike terror brought a brief convulsion before Caitlin forced her back. Not now, she prayed, before turning in the water and striking out for the shore. Anxiety turned to panic; her lungs burned.
She broke water in the shallows and instantly yelled out. At first she couldn't make out the boat, but then she saw its silhouette a little further ahead; they had a few minutes before the Lament-Brood would reach them.
'Wake up!' she screamed. 'For God… for God's sake! Danger!' Amy scrabbled again at her defences; pressing, pressing.
There was movement on deck. It looked like Triathus at first, followed by Matt and Crowther.
'Caitlin?' Matt called.
'I'm here, on shore! Get the boat moving upriver. Quick! The Whisperers are in the water… coming up on you fast!'
'Where are you?'
'Just move!' With relief, she saw the boat start up. Cloudy purple light began to drift up from the water, like an early morning mist. She would have to head into the trees and do her best to keep pace with the boat, if Amy let her. But just as she clambered out on to the muddy bank, she glanced back to see Sunchaser moving towards her, and picking up speed.
'No!' she screamed. 'Forget about me! There's no time-'
'Don't worry,' Matt shouted. 'We'll be with you in a second.'
The heads of the Lament-Brood began to break through the surface of the water as they moved into the shallows. The violet light was everywhere now, like licking flames of marsh gas, or as if someone had lit scores of candles and set them adrift. The whispering rose up into the still night air and Caitlin felt her heart sink the moment she heard it.