The Map Maker's Daughter Page 10

She was so captured by the cat that she didn’t hear the sound of hoof beats until the rider was almost upon the farm.

  ‘Hi, Mabel! Open yon gate!’

  Sharra’s heart jumped unpleasantly. She knew that voice. The farm door opened. ‘Well, look what the cat dragged in. What yer been doing, Dale lad? Your face wasn’t never that pretty, but I can’t say I like it purple.’

  ‘None of your cheek, woman! I’ve no patience left. Open the gate.’

  ‘I’m baking and I’ve no mind to dirty my hands.’

  ‘I need to search the farm. There’s a dangerous criminal on the loose. Lost her last night. I’ve been searching since dawn and I’m bone weary. Girl. Looks harmless, but you see my face. She did that to me.’

  ‘A girl? Did that to you?’

  ‘Mabel, open this gate or I’ll jump it and you know how good I am at jumping. Reckon my brother will have something to say when he comes home to a busted gate.’

  ‘I reckon your brother will have a lot to say to his little brother for threatening his wife, Dale boy.’

  Sharra didn’t wait to hear more. Mabel might resist a little longer, but she was unlikely to choose a strange girl over her own brother in law; no matter how rude he was. She pulled the cat quickly off her skirt, no longer taking the time to be gentle. The cat hissed. Sharra ignored it and began to work her way through the bales and out the back of the barn. She heard the creak of the gate and knew Mabel had given way.

  Once out of the barn she headed down a small gully, and keeping as low as possible, she made her way quickly away from the farm. It was horribly reminiscent of last night, except that this time she could see. Behind her Dale began to search the outbuildings. Sharra crossed the burn and made her way through the thickest trees she could find.

  Two hours later Sharra had lost all sense of where the farm once was, but the horseman, Dale, had not found her. She was tired and frightened, but at least this time there was no fog. Finally she came to the decision that she could no longer carry on weaving her way aimlessly across the countryside to try and dodge Dale. She needed to find help, but she had no idea who to trust.

  The wind grew stronger as she climbed, whipping at her skirt and stealing her breath. When she reached the summit her eyes were streaming. She blinked several times and looked out onto the brilliant green view beneath her. In the far distance she could see the azure and crystal sparkle of the sea against the horizon. All around her ranged countryside, a patchwork quilt of lush verdant wildness, sandy squares of tilled soil, dark patches of woodland and scattered with the golden blocks of farm buildings. Through it all ran a dark, snaking line; the burn growing gradually larger until it reached the sea. And there far to her left was a darker brown block of colour. Atop a hill it stood alone with nothing but green surrounding it. That had to be Camden’s Hold. It hadn’t escaped Sharra that the plans to harm her had ensured she was alone in an unknown part of the country. If she arrived publicly at Camden, if she made sure as many people in the Hold knew she was there, then surely that was her best hope for safety. Wandering alone out here, anything could happen.

  Sharra checked the position of the sun in the sky. The height suggested it was early afternoon, which meant the Hold was directly west. It would be easier to work out the direction once the moons were up, but for the rest of the day if she headed into the sun she’d be roughly on track. She could drink from the burn. Food was going to be the problem.

  It was a long way. Guessing wildly, she estimated the Hold was twenty miles away. If she walked straight for the rest of the day, rested at night, and started off early she should reach Camden’s Hold in time for lunch. On this cheery thought she set off down, what she was pretty sure, was the west side of the hill.

  Going downhill was easy and she made good time. The land ahead of her was mostly open with the occasional patch of forest. It had to be this section’s time for fallow. Hopefully, this meant it would be untended and largely devoid of life.

  Sharra reached the bottom of the hill and the wind eased dramatically. It was a cold day, but walking briskly kept her warm. It was also making her thirsty. She stopped on the rise of a slope and looked out for the burn. Ah, there was the snaking line. If she went off slightly to her right she should reach it quickly.

  The hairs on the back of Sharra’s neck rose. Something was wrong. She whirled round. No one. She was alone. And yet something . . . something . . .

  As Sharra watched the snake of the burn came alive. The furthest end she could see wiggled slightly, almost imperceptibly. But the kink in the snake moved on along its body, becoming stronger, wilder, bolder. Sharra rubbed her eyes. It made no sense. She must need water badly.

  Then the ground beneath her feet began to shake. A feeling of wrongness shot through her.

  Some instinct warned her to get off the crest. She ran down towards the field, leaning forward, her arms flailing as she tried to keep her balance on the shifting earth.

  The stronger it shook the faster she ran until it felt that her feet were no longer under her control. From all around her came a low rumbling. It was as if the world was breaking apart.

  Sharra fought for her balance. All her attention was focused on staying upright. She was leaning so far forward. Her feet flashed beneath her. The rumbling grew stronger. Then a growling rumbled up through her feet. Her whole world vibrated, shook, trembled and groaned. Sharra fled as fast as she could, faster than she could. She fell, tumbling down and down as the world around her spun. Completely disorientated she had no sense of which way was up or how to right herself. She wrapped her arms around her head in protection. Over and over she went until finally she stopped.

  The trunk of the tree pressed hard into her back. Everything was still. Everything was quiet. But the feeling of wrongness overwhelmed her. Her body shook so badly she couldn’t stand.

  There was a crack of thunder beneath her and the world fell away.

  Instinctively she reached out. Grabbing at anything. Grabbing at air. Her finger snagged in the tree’s roots. Earth fell across her face. She grasped more tightly at the roots. All her weight was suddenly on her arms. She looked down. The last fragments of earth were gone. Instead, below her, was a swirling pool of darkness. Shades she could never have imagined circled fiercely between lines of silver. So this was what black fire looked like. It was mesmerising. It was awful. It should not exist. It waited maw-like and hungry for her tired body to fall.

  A thousand thoughts shot through her mind; Ivory’s pleasure at her death, her father’s despair that she would never be able to help Jayne, that there had been so much more she wanted to do. A shadow licked out at her shoe and pain like lightning shot through her foot. The agony stole her breath. It shocked her to her core. She had felt this before. She had been touched by black fire before. She didn’t remember how or when, but she knew with blinding clarity she had felt that pain before.

  It gave her hope. Whatever had happened before she had survived. With a huge effort she hoisted herself higher.

  ‘Help me! Help!’ Her voice disappeared down into the darkness, echoing, mocking her. ‘Help me!’ she shouted more loudly. ‘Help me!’

  The darkness pulled at her. It reached up in shadows and tore again at her feet, shredding her other shoe. It was rising like a tide and it would destroy her.

  Sharra struggled, but the roots began to slip through her fingers.

  ‘No. No. Not like this.’ Again the hungry darkness, the wrongness, stole her words. ‘You shouldn’t have me!’

  Sharra fought to live. She held on as hard as she could. She strained to bring herself higher. She kept her feet a moment longer above the rising shadows. But this time she could not win.

  The roots ran through her fingers.

  Sharra screamed.

  She started to fall.

  And then a hand wrapped around her arm, fingers like steel and she felt herself steady. Her shoulder burned with pain.

  ‘Wait!’ said a commanding male voice. ‘Stead
y or you’ll have us both in.’

  ‘Help me,’ screamed Sharra.

  ‘I am. Wait.’

  Light flashed, blinding her. A sound of mountains crashing. The hand released her. She fell –

  – She fell a few inches onto the ground below. As her sight cleared Sharra saw the hollow was no longer, flatter and her tree was gone. The feeling of wrongness had vanished. Standing in front of her, a rope around his waist and tethered to a tree, stood a young man. He was darkly handsome, wiry and fit. He was dressed in the jerkin, tunic and trousers of a worker and his face was stern.

  ‘What in the world’s name did you think you were doing?’

  Chapter Eight

  Sharra lay on the ground shaking. The last vestiges of pain faded. Gingerly, she reached down to feel her feet. The soles of her boots were gone, but her flesh was firm against her fingers. She looked up at the young man who had rescued her. He was perhaps two years older than her, about the same age as Jion, but there all resemblance ended. There was nothing of Jion’s preening arrogance about him. He was tall, wiry and a cluster of dark curls crowded around his weather browned face. He was dressed in peasant clothing and when he spoke his voice was rough.

  ‘Whatever you thought you were doing you’re a lucky one.’ He untied the rope from around his waist. Then he turned his back on her and started to work on the knot around the tree.

  Sharra sat up. She didn’t think she could stand yet, but it would be too embarrassing to be lying at his feet when he turned round. Unconsciously she wrapped her arms around herself. ‘Was that black fire?’

  ‘You must be from a Hold,’ he said over his shoulder.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘The only folks nowadays who’ve never seen the darkness are from the Holds. Only place the black fire doesn’t go. Reckon they were built where the Map Makers knew it would never go.’

  ‘But I have seen it before, or felt it, I remember the pain . . . the pain when it touches you.’

  He finished untying his rope from the tree and turned back towards her. ‘It didn’t touch you.’ He began to recoil the rope. He did so slowly and carefully as if it was the most important thing in the world.

  ‘But the pain?’

  ‘Shock most like. If the black fire touches you – well, the lucky ones die at once.’

  ‘The others?’ Sharra’s voice sounded tiny to her own ears.

  ‘Takes ’em some days.’

  Sharra panicked. ‘Oh my world, I’m going to die!’

  He tied off the loop of rope and slung it over his shoulder. ‘You ain’t going to die. You weren’t touched.’

  ‘But I felt it!’

  A note of contempt crept into his voice. ‘You have not been touched. You are not going to die.’

  ‘You can’t know that!’

  For a moment the young man seemed to look past her into the distance. ‘I’ve seen those ravaged by black fire.’ He focused back on her. His lip curled slightly in a sneer and Sharra suddenly became aware of how dishevelled she must look. ‘We’d both have no doubt,’ he said.

  Sharra gasped at his rudeness. ‘Well of all –’

  He interrupted her. ‘Don’t mention it. I was passing by anyway.’

  ‘What? No, I meant . . .’

  ‘You’re not hurt?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then you’ll excuse me if I’ll be on my way.’

  ‘Wait! No! Please don’t go.’ Sharra got up too quickly. She stumbled forward and her legs gave way beneath. He caught her in his arms and lowered her back to the ground.

  ‘You need to rest.’

  ‘But what if it comes back?’

  He gave her an odd look. ‘It’s done here now. This is the safest place you can be. Do you Hold folk know nothing about the real world?’

  ‘I know plenty,’ began Sharra.

  He cut her off. ‘But not about the ways of black fire. Right, lesson one, don’t enter the fallow fields if you want to avoid the darkness. It’s the area designated by the blighted Map Makers as most likely to Shift this season.’

  ‘I was lost . . . and what the world do you mean by blighted Map Makers! Without their warnings we’d all be lost!’

  ‘Like the folks at the farm that vanished recently? I heard they had no warning.’

  ‘Harrbourgh Farm?’ asked Sharra in a shaky voice. ‘No one was hurt.’

  ‘So they’d have us believe. I need to get on.’

  Sharra got up slowly and leaned against one of the remaining trees. ‘Do you always carry a rope? Do I need one?’

  ‘I’m intending on hanging someone. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to get on with that.’

  Sharra grasped the tree behind her. ‘Who?’ she asked shakily. ‘Me?’

  ‘You? Has the black fire stolen your wits? I don’t even know who you are. Listen, lady, I did you a favour. I got you out of the pit. Let’s pretend you thanked me politely and we can both be about our business.’

  He turned to go.

  ‘I need to get to the Hold. Please help me.’

  ‘Tides preserve us,’ muttered the young man.

  ‘I’m meant to be overseeing a landowners’ meeting.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘I scrub up well.’ Sharra tried to smile, but to her horror she felt her eyes filling with tears.

  ‘Where’s your escort?’

  ‘There was a problem.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘They tried to kill me.’

  He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Do you think your story sounds believable?’

  ‘No.’ Sharra let out a little sob and sank back down to the ground. ‘But it’s the truth.’ Her shoulders slumped and she put her head in her hands. He took a step towards her. Sharra lifted her head quickly, ‘He’d pay you. I’m sure Lord Camden would pay you for escorting me.’ The young man froze. He took a deep breath. Sharra carried on quickly, ‘A lot. I’m sure he’d pay you a lot. I’m reasonably important. I’m a Map Maker’s daughter. My father is Lord of Milton Hold.’

  ‘You think you can buy me?’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean . . .’

  ‘I have no love of Hold folk and even less of Map Makers and their kin.’

  ‘I’m sorry for that. I really am.’ Beneath his harsh words and sullen manner Sharra thought she glimpsed pain. Without thinking she said, ‘Did you lose someone in a Shift? Do you blame us for not warning you? I know it does happen no matter how hard . . .’

  She trailed off. The young man’s eyes blazed. She felt anger and grief boiling in the air between them. She met his gaze and read the loss in his eyes. ‘I am sorry. I know what it is to lose someone you love.’

  ‘What are you Hold folk? Witches? How dare you . . . ?’

  Sharra felt his anger increase. Frightened, she pushed herself along the ground, away from him. ‘Please don’t hurt me. Please.’

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he snapped. ‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ he put his hand out to the cowering girl, ‘get up. I’ll take you to Camden Hold. You’re not fit to be out on your own.’

  Sharra gingerly accepted his hand. ‘Thank you. I’m Sharra.’ She looked up into his face as she felt him shut his emotions down again. Just like Ivory, she thought, he’s closed them down into a knot somewhere deep inside himself. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Maven.’

  ‘I should tell you they may not welcome us at Camden.’

  ‘Is he the one you think is trying to kill you?’ asked Maven showing more intelligence than she had expected. ‘Because if he is it would be stupid even . . . it would be stupid to go there.’

  Sharra shook her head. ‘He might know about it, but I don’t think he would be seen to harm another Lord’s daughter. Especially when my father has just been elected . . .’ she broke off under Maven’s puzzled and annoyed gaze. ‘It’s all politics. I’m only just old enough to be involved and I don’t understand it at all.’

&
nbsp; Maven scowled. ‘I’m making one condition on taking you to the Hold.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘No more words.’

  They had been walking for hours in silence seeing no one and nothing more than grass and trees, when Sharra spotted a dark patch on the ground. She shrieked and ran over to Maven, clutching him by the arm. ‘It’s back! It’s back!’

  Looking down at her in astonishment, Maven untangled her fingers from his arm. ‘It’s a puddle,’ he said. ‘It rained yesterday.’

  Sharra went forward gingerly and dipped the tip of her foot in. She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘You’re right.’

  Maven was watching her with a curious expression on his face.

  ‘What?’ asked Sharra.

  ‘I can’t decide if you are foolishly brave or bravely foolish.’

  Sharra bridled. ‘I don’t see there is much difference.’

  ‘Probably not.’ Maven walked on, quickening his pace.

  ‘Hey! Wait! I can’t keep up,’ Sharra called, but Maven kept resolutely three paces ahead of her. When they came across the broken remains of an old stonewall whose boulders had scattered across the ground in untidy heaps, he didn’t stop to help her. Sharra, whose feet were bloodied and sore, had to scramble up as best she could. By the time she reached the top Maven had moved even further away.

  ‘If I didn’t owe you my life,’ muttered Sharra under her breath. ‘Hie! Wait! I’m . . .’ the rest of her words descended into a squeal as she tripped and bounced down on her bottom.

  Maven ran quickly back towards her. ‘I can’t go as fast as you. My boots are shredded and I’m . . . I’m neither dressed nor accustomed to being in a field!’

  A slight smile curled Maven’s mouth. ‘If you’d been paying attention to what you were doing instead of gabbling that wouldn’t have happened.’ He offered her a hand up. Sharra refused.

  ‘Right. Fine. I release you from any obligation. Go off and find your victim.’

  Sharra shuffled to a more comfortable grassy bank. She waved impatiently at Maven. ‘I meant it! Off you go. I’m not moving another inch today.’

  ‘I guess this is as good a place as any. We’ll camp here. Do you know what a dry stick looks like?’