It took all her concentration to try and block him out, but the old priest was skilled and his mind twisted around her defences, oozing, like tar, into her thoughts. Somewhere she was aware of her father. He was screaming but the voice seemed faint, as though far away. Jezi Baba, help me, she cried: but there was nothing, only the song and a cold, clammy sensation as Wislaw crawled further into her mind.
Then the song stopped and she felt him fall away. ‘So this Lord Bethrayal has a helpmate,’ the priest muttered. ‘I should have expected as much. I doubt that even one so powerful as this Lord Bethrayal obviously is could break into our world without assistance. Though I never realised that there was a hidden place nearby. It must hold great magic, or else I would have sensed its presence. It is a pity you had not the wit to find out how close he is to entering our world. His power grows, but I doubt he is strong enough for that yet.’
‘But he will be powerful enough soon and when he breaks into this world he’ll destroy you all.’
‘I doubt even he would find it easy,’ Wislaw said.
Suddenly Iwa remembered the prison ship. Now she realised what had troubled her. It wasn’t the ship at all but the line of skulls that had run round the entire perimeter of the camp, the stakes placed deep along the shore.
‘So finally you understand.’ The old priest chuckled. ‘I have created a barrier to keep this Lord Bethrayal at bay.’
Iwa turned and tried to shake the sense of disgust. She could still feel his presence pawing at the back of her mind, but she was not so easily controlled and there was much she’d kept hidden. So long as he doesn’t find out about the amulet. She pulled away from the thought lest he detect it, but if he did, the priest showed no sign. Wislaw placed the manikin back in his cloak and, almost at once, his presence slipped from her. The doll was not the subtlest of instruments and she doubted that he’d learnt much. She felt the rope bite hard around her wrists as she struggled to free herself: the thought of that man wandering around in her mind again was almost too much to bear.
‘Perhaps you could help me defeat this Bethrayal,’ Wislaw said almost to himself. Now he had the look of a hunter about him. Outwardly he’d been calm but, when he’d entered her mind, she’d felt the desperation burn deep within him. Desperation and fear – she could almost smell it on him, like a wounded elk hearing the wolf call.
Yes, the woyaks were hunted but only he really had an inkling of the forces that ensnared them. He’d always stood alone from the others, marked out by his powers. Iwa could feel his loneliness. At least the rest could huddle together and cower behind their spears. But for Wislaw there were no illusions, no comforting thoughts of escape.
Around his neck another tattoo twisted, some lizard that wove its tail thickly about his throat, its scales glistening wetly in the half light. No, it could not be a trick of the light. She recoiled as the thing moved its head towards her, rows of barbed fangs gleaming from a gaping mouth, the lips shining dull red as the twin tongues flickered across the man’s wizened flesh.
Quietly he looked her over, this forest wretch who’d hardly guessed at anything beyond her pitiful existence scrabbling out a bare life amid the trees, yet he’d felt her craft as he slipped inside her mind and she learned more from him then he’d ever bargained for. Could he have underestimated her still?
But there’d be more important things to think about. For all his guile and cunning he’d entered the hut as a hunted animal, trapped behind his own spells. Now, in the most unlikely of ways the dim possibility of release had presented itself. He’d have to be cautious with this one. His mind reeled with plans and possibilities. Already he’d begun to weave his schemes.
And what if he could bring an end to all this? No, it was too early to plot the krol’s downfall. He’d never imagined such a thing before, but what if he could do it? Now the prospect dawned and, no matter how much he tried to calm himself, he could feel the excitement rise within him. Suddenly from the pits of despair a new possibility had opened up before him. He’d never had much interest in ruling men – there were so many greater powers to be had, far more than the krol had even begun to dream of. But now the possibility lay before him. He could have it all, the kroldom of the forest.
And yet he was not one for betrayal. Grunmir, yes, he’d deal with that old woyak, but that was different. How often had the old woyak stood in his path? He could still hear the man’s easy laughter, the way he’d belittle him in front of the others. And so it had become easy for him to make Grunmir the object of all his hatreds, the cause of all his disappointments.
But the krol was different. True, he trusted that old battle hag too much, always falling too readily under his sway. But Gawel had been good to him, stood by him even when the others had blamed him for unleashing the terror upon them. Few had ever expressed such faith in him as the krol, and few had such a memory for either a slight or a kindness as Wislaw.
Yet the thought would not leave him but lingered as a vague disquiet that he pushed to the back of his mind. If only the krol would see his worth. And that day would surely come. Then all would see.
‘If you think that
