Suddenly he looked inexpressibly sad.
‘You have been planning to attack the Fellan,’ Rye said. ‘Carryl did not want you to do it.’
Farr sighed. ‘She believed it would be wrong. Dangerous. She said there was an ancient treaty—a spell that bound both parties. Well—’ He shrugged his powerful shoulders. ‘We all heard that tale in our youth. Dorne’s a strange island, with a strange history. Legends are bound to grow up in such a place.’
‘But this is not a legend.’ Bracing himself, Rye picked up the disc. It burned in his hand. Its surface rippled and the words appeared.
Farr stared silently at the rhyme. Gradually his eyes hardened and he turned away.
‘Fine words! But the spell has worn out, it seems. The Fellan broke their pledge when they began sending those creatures of sorcery to prey on us.’
‘The skimmers are no more creatures of sorcery than Fell dragons or bloodhogs are,’ Sonia said quietly. ‘And the Fellan did not breed them. They could well claim that they have not broken their pledge in deed, even if they have broken it in spirit.’
‘Again, you’d know that better than I would,’ Farr muttered, without turning round.
‘And do not forget that the charm has been lost for centuries,’ Rye urged. ‘It was hidden away in a wall, behind a statue made of iron. It is possible that the Fellan could no longer sense it fully. Metal affects their magic.’
‘That I do know.’ There was a grim note in Farr’s voice. The back of his neck was stiff, his shoulders tense.
Rye thought of the metal barrier fence, the metal slay shields. Yes, Farr and his people had done what they could to protect themselves from the Fellan. They relied upon metal as those in Weld who followed the old ways relied on salt to protect them from evil magic. But salt and metal would not ward off the Master. The Lord of Shadows had grown too powerful, too ancient in wickedness, for that.
The disc was scorching his fingers. Hastily he returned it to the casket. The rippling words vanished, but he knew they were there, hidden as the Fellan were hidden in the depths of their forest.
‘It is not too late to mend this,’ he said urgently. ‘The spell endures while the charm endures—and the charm is here! It can save us all, Chieftain Farr … if only you will listen to me!’
20 - The Pool
Farr did not turn, but neither did he make an angry reply. He remained silent, waiting. Rye felt his mouth grow dry. What he had to say was so important, and time was so short, that he hardly knew how to begin. If only he could speak as persuasively as Dirk—or as Farr himself!
Well, there is no point in crying after things I cannot have, he thought. All I can do is to keep the story as simple as possible and trust Farr to recognise the truth when he hears it.
‘Attacking the Fellan will not help your people—or our people either, Chieftain Farr,’ he began. ‘The Fellan are not acting alone. Olt is dead. His death has allowed his brother, the evil sorcerer they call the Lord of Shadows, to invade the east of Dorne and take control of the exiles’ settlement there. The Lord of Shadows is using jell to breed skimmers—slays—that can attack by day as well as by night.’
The muscles in the back of Farr’s neck twitched as if he was about to speak, but he seemed to think better of it, and remained silent.
Wishing he could see the man’s face, Rye made himself go on.
‘You will never defeat the Lord of Shadows by force of arms. You need powerful magic on your side. You need the Fellan! They are our only chance, but if you attack them tomorrow, you yourself will have broken the treaty, and the chance will be lost forever.’
As he spoke, the thought of the pipeline flitted across his mind. He knew now that the pipe and the tubing attached to it were not to be used to deliver skimmers to Weld. What, then, was their purpose? He longed to ask, but did not dare. The question might well convince Farr that he was a Fellan spy after all.
‘I see,’ Farr said tonelessly. ‘You advise me to cancel the attack, Keelin, defying my council and acting against the will of my people. And then what?’
‘Then you come back into the Fell Zone with me, we meet the Fellan face to face, and we confront them with this!’ Rye pointed to the disc. ‘When it is before their eyes, they will be forced to accept that they are still bound by their pledge. They will have no choice but to join with us and help us to defeat the enemy.’
For a long moment Farr did not move, and as the silence lengthened, Rye became aware that the forest, too, had become very still. There was not a sound except the rushing of the stream. His skin prickled.
Why have you returned, Rye of Weld? You are not wanted here!
Leave him be! He is the one! He will do what he must.
The Fellan voices hissed in Rye’s mind. They were coming from somewhere upstream, he was sure of it. He glanced at Sonia, but she had felt nothing, it seemed. She was watching Farr’s rigid back, her eyes very grave.
Then, abruptly, Farr turned to face them.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I’ll do as you ask, with one small change in the order of things. We’ve the whole night ahead of us. Take me to the Fellan now! We’ll show them the charm and see what they make of it. If they convince me they’ll move to my side, I’ll cancel the attack. Not before.’
We have nothing to say to the human who wishes to make war on us, just as we had nothing to say to the six who came before him only to die in the nets of Fell dragons. Remove him from our place, Rye of Weld!
Leave him be! Trust! He carries the Sign.
We have trusted too long!
This time the whispers pierced Rye’s mind like arrows. Tears of pain sprang into his eyes. He bowed his head, fighting not to let Farr see what he was feeling.
You will speak to the chieftain! he told the Fellan furiously. By this token, you must! He wiped his eyes, snatched the disc from the casket and held it high. The charm flashed in the light of the crystal and the words on the rippling surface seemed to writhe. The whispering voices fell silent.
‘Well?’ Farr demanded.
‘I will lead you to them,’ Rye replied. ‘Take hold of my shoulder, and you will be safe from harm.’
Rye, beware! Sonia’s message was sharp with fear and warning.
There is nothing else to be done, Rye answered briefly.
He cast the gold casket aside and slid the disc into his pocket. Then he drew the bell tree stick from his belt, and with it and the light crystal held in front of him, led the way upstream.
They walked in silence, the stream rushing away beside them. Once before, Rye and Sonia had followed a Fell Zone stream, but this time the experience was very different. This time the water was no babbling companion, travelling in the same direction they were. This time they were walking upstream instead of down, and though they were on dry land their steps dragged as if they were wading against a strong, invisible tide.
And this time there were no stealthy rustlings in the undergrowth that lined the stream banks, and no unseen creatures howled and screeched. The stillness was unearthly. It was as if the whole of the forbidden forest was waiting—and waiting in dread.
It was like walking in a dream. The light of the crystal was like a bubble that enclosed them. The rushing of the stream filled Rye’s mind, drowning thought, drowning even fear.
And suddenly the sense of being in a dream was overwhelming. For without warning the stream vanished under a shelf of rock, and Rye found himself entering a mossy clearing with a small, dark pool in its centre.