3
Forgiveness

Alyssa was the happiest she could remember since those early days in the Heartwood after her marriage to Tor. At last she felt as though her life had a purpose again. Working directly with Queen Nyria was challenging and always busy but she thrived in the political environment and she loved the Queen. Despite the difference in their ages, they shared a similar sense of humour and an irreverence for protocol, though Nyria was always careful never to abuse her royal status. She knew how to have fun and the pair would share great private jokes and, more often than not, if the Queen was not dining with the King, she enjoyed taking a late supper with Alyssa.

Nyria found her new assistant to be hardworking, intelligent and perceptive, as well as a wonderful mimic of the obsequious courtiers around them. She learned a great deal about the girl during their evening meals. There were only two subjects they never discussed: Torkyn Gynt and King Lorys, though the Queen intended to address the latter.

Alyssa was closed on the topic of her lover and would not be drawn, but Nyria noticed that the girl listened with shining eyes and a fascination reserved just for these moments when she told her stories of Tor during his apprenticeship. It was sad to think that this lovely woman had missed out on so much of her love’s life and was forced to learn of his past from others.

Alyssa’s hostility towards the King was obvious, even though Nyria could never accuse her of any direct criticism. No, it was more the cool contempt she displayed which troubled Nyria. In truth, the Queen was tired of the tension that arose whenever her two favourite people were in the same hall, let alone a smaller chamber. Lorys pretended he did not notice but she knew he found it difficult too.

Alyssa’s work in her small school was testimony to the Queen’s faith in the young woman. The palace children adored her and clamoured to attend her afternoon lessons, keen to please their teacher. It was a joy for Nyria to hear the children singing or reading aloud and she had even been invited to view some of their drawings and writings. Primitive though much of their work was, it thrilled Nyria nonetheless.

Alyssa’s greatest success, though, was with the boy, Gyl. The child now displayed the full breadth of his bright personality and wit, which had been dulled by the shock of losing his mother at such a young age. There was no question in Nyria’s mind: the boy was a born leader. He already knew how to read and write and so Alyssa’s work with him was one of enrichment. They would spend long evenings together reading poetry or creating their own stories.

Gyl flourished in his new life and his growing relationship with Alyssa. Nyria realised that Alyssa’s dashed hopes of motherhood had been rekindled. She had slipped immediately and with ease into the role of big sister to Gyl, but recently the Queen had noticed a more maternal attitude from Alyssa towards the lad, who was now fourteen summers.

They had certainly been two lost and damaged souls who had healed each other. Yes, the Queen was pleased with her achievements and if she could just sort out this business between Alyssa and Lorys she would be very happy indeed. Secretly she wondered if Lorys admired Alyssa for more than her able skills as a secretary. The young woman was in the prime of her life. At twenty-four summers, she was by far the most gorgeous creature who roamed the palace corridors; she turned heads wherever she went and was able to twist the pages and young squires around her finger for any little jobs she needed done. The lovely part was that she was not a vain woman. If she knew she was delicious to the eyes, then she hid the knowledge well. Petite and slim with honey-coloured hair and pale green eyes, Alyssa was surely irresistible to any red-blooded man…including her husband?

Nyria pushed the notion away. Lorys had never given her cause to doubt his fidelity and after so many years of marriage they still enjoyed their lovemaking. No, she must not doubt him, particularly now, as her plan was to encourage Lorys to take on Alyssa as his own private assistant. Nyria did not really want to relinquish Alyssa’s companionship or her unrivalled clerical skills, but the King’s faithful old secretary had died suddenly and it seemed there was no one else in Tal capable of stepping into the man’s shoes with speed or competence.

Alyssa did not hide her shock well enough. ‘Work as the King’s private secretary?’

Nyria took a steadying breath. ‘Yes.’

‘Am I not pleasing you, your majesty?’

‘Alyssa, don’t. You know how highly I consider your help…but the King needs you more.’ Nyria touched Alyssa’s hand across the table. ‘In helping him, you help me far more than you can imagine.’

Now Nyria could see the initial alarm snapping into petulance—or was it defiance—as Alyssa’s full lips thinned slightly. She rushed on. ‘And my plan is that you will continue with the school, perhaps look at taking on and training an assistant teacher.’

‘To take my place?’

Nyria spoke calmly. ‘No. To help.’

There was an uncomfortable silence, which Alyssa filled by nibbling nervously on her bread.

‘And you’ve discussed this with his majesty?’ she asked finally.

‘I have and he admits he would be fortunate to have your service. It will throw you into all sorts of situations, Alyssa, that you will thrive in. I know how you enjoy even the small amount of political intrigue which knocks at my door. At his side you will be amongst it all. And you would have the King’s ear; Lorys would be turning to you constantly for support.’

Alyssa knew the Queen was genuine. She felt torn. She would be lying if she did not admit that being privy to such elevated matters as the running of the Kingdom excited her. However, the idea of working alongside a man she despised second only to the former Chief Inquisitor, Goth, made her stomach turn.

At least Goth was dead now. How many times had she thought about killing the King in those early days? Too many. Saxon had sensed her rage and cautioned her. There was nothing to be gained by it, he had said. Why become like him, a murderer? It would not bring Tor back. And there was an even worse end than crucifixion and stoning for those who would commit such treachery.

Alyssa imagined herself being hung upside down, her belly split open and her entrails pulled out to lie steaming on the dusty earth whilst the scavenger dogs and crows feasted on them. She shivered.

‘Take this chance, my dear, with both hands and clasp it tight. You will soon become a force in the Kingdom.’

The Queen held her breath. She had played her trump card.

‘Nyria…’ Alyssa had never addressed the Queen so intimately before, ‘if someone killed your husband—’

‘But he was not your husband, child,’ the Queen interjected.

Alyssa bit back the obvious retort. She would keep that secret. ‘Nevertheless…what would you want to do if someone killed Lorys?’

‘I should immediately wish the person killed in return,’ the Queen replied flatly. ‘But then I might think about it. I would measure the situation. If it was an eye for an eye, that would be retribution. But in Tor’s case it was not so. He was convicted of a very serious crime against the Kingdom. He knew what he was doing; I gather he was well counselled prior to his departure. And Tor was ever the one for the ladies, Alyssa—I’m sure you already know this. He left a scattered trail of broken hearts across the capital, which made it all the more important for him to understand and abide by the ancient laws of Caremboche. Precautions were taken.’

Alyssa nodded sadly. ‘Your majesty…he saved my life.’

‘He saved my life too and I will admit it has never sat comfortably with me that we took his life from him.’

Alyssa was shocked to hear this. ‘Why didn’t you stop him, your majesty? A word from you would—’

‘I did try, my child. I begged him. It was to no avail. Lorys has faithfully followed in the footsteps of his forebears. He is a good King, and a good man. I believe he thought it was the right thing to do, even though I imagine he has not slept comfortably since he executed a person he admired very much. He lost his best friend through it, too. Merkhud left Tal moments after Tor’s death and there has been a mighty hole in Lorys’s life since then. I’ll say this only for your ears, child. I believe that if Lorys could have that moment again, he might choose differently.’

Nyria looked at Alyssa hard. She took her hand and squeezed it for emphasis. ‘I want you to forgive him…as Tor forgave his King before he died.’

It all came back to Alyssa in a rush: that terrible moment when she heard Tor’s lovely voice offer his forgiveness. She began to cry. ‘I don’t know how to forgive him,’ she whispered.

The Queen took Alyssa into her arms and soothed her. ‘You will learn how when you start to give him a chance. See him for the good man he is, and for the excellent King he is to his people. He has compassion, Alyssa. Trust me, just give him a chance. This is all I ask of you. Nay, child, I beg it of you. He needs you and I need you to find the strength to try.’

Alyssa sniffed. ‘I’m frightened by my feelings towards him, your majesty.’

Nyria snorted. ‘Don’t be. Use that emotion. Lorys will benefit from having a female perspective in the throne hall. I’m not suggesting that you will be able to behave differently immediately. I’m just asking you to try. Take on this position. Embrace the opportunity, use it wisely and perhaps somewhere along the way, you might start to allow that old wound to heal.’

She watched Alyssa struggle with the decision and decided to press her point one last time. ‘Tor broke our most sacred rule and was punished to the full letter of our law. He’s dead, Alyssa, and you continuing to hate the King will not bring him back. So turn it around. Make something of yourself that would make Tor proud. Become someone the sovereign can lean on. You will have everything you’ve ever wanted for yourself and for Gyl.’

They both smiled at the mention of Gyl.

‘He’s wonderful, isn’t he?’ Alyssa said shyly.

‘He’s magnificent. I’ve seen him sparring with the guards and I’ll be damned if I didn’t see him learning how to balance on Saxon’s shoulders and walk blindfolded along a rope stretched above the ground.’

Alyssa laughed. ‘Saxon says it will make him the most balanced swordsman in the land.’

Nyria shared the moment of mirth. ‘You should have plans for Gyl. He is Prime material if ever I’ve seen it.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘The Light strike you, girl! Don’t you?’

‘I dare not wish too much for him. We are both so indebted to your majesty for her generosity.’

‘Oh, really? Then repay it!’

Alyssa looked sharply at the Queen and then relaxed; she knew exactly what the other woman meant.

‘Will you repay me?’ Nyria asked, softly this time.

The Queen’s heart leapt at the single word she heard in response. It was everything she had hoped Alyssa would say.

Tor had spent the past several moons stewing over the contents of Nanak’s books. Everything had been quiet in the Great Forest. No further disruptions to the life force of the Land. The Heartwood was in harmony once again. But Tor’s emotions were not.

It had been a chilling reminder to read the story of Orlac. Cloot recognised this and, finally, had begun encouraging Tor to talk about all that he knew of the tale from Lys. They had never discussed it during their reclusive years since the execution, for Cloot had devoted himself to helping his companion remain optimistic and had deliberately avoided talk of Orlac and the Trinity or the hard times which may lie ahead. For himself, Tor had focused on the peace and solitude of the Heartwood and was glad to avoid all discussion of the Trinity. And Cloot was patient; he was of the Rork’yel, after all, and that heritage ran strongly through his blood, despite his transformation from man to falcon. But now the time to talk was upon them.

So the Paladin were selected by the Custodian of the portals, he prompted.

Yes. Lys is the only member of the Host who can safely roam between worlds.

Go on, Cloot urged.

On rare occasion worlds can touch, and at such times passage between them is possible via a phenomenon known as The Glade. That’s how Orlac was stolen from the Host.

Tor put the books carefully back into the sack.

Tell me what you’re thinking, said the falcon, swooping down to the forest floor to glare with one beady yellow eye at his friend, who was sitting leaning against a tree.

All right. What we suspected about Merkhud and Sorrel being Orlac’s mortal parents is confirmed in Nanak’s writings. After Orlac wreaked havoc at Goldstone, now known as Caremboche, he was Quelled by the mighty power of the Host, wielded through Merkhud. Nanak, one of the Masters still alive, was nominated as Keeper of the Paladin, who were chosen from the ten major races alive in the Five Kingdoms at the time. They were empowered by the gods with magical talents which might stand them in good stead for their undertaking.

Cloot clicked his approval in bird-speak.

Tor continued. We know the Host transported Orlac to a secret place, which is not named and, I presume, not of this Land. He has remained there ever since, guarded by the complex and combined magical strength of the ten Paladin, whom he has gradually overwhelmed one by one over the centuries.

How do you imagine the books came back into Tallinor? Cloot asked, switching thoughts as his mind raced.

Tor was used to this habit. Yes, that’s a mystery. Perhaps via Lys, though I have no idea whether she can physically enter into Tallinor. Companions, like Yargo, are not of the flesh so they could not carry objects between worlds. I don’t know. He shrugged.

So that’s all the ancient history. Right now, we know the Paladin are re-emerging.

Yes, Tor replied. So far we have yourself, Solyana, Arabella, Saxon, Cyrus and Sallementro accounted for. Nanak names the other four…people…creatures—I’m not sure—Juno, Themesius, Figgis, Adongo.

Cloot hopped closer. Tor could almost hear him thinking across the link. I see that Arabella and myself belong to you, whilst Saxon and, I imagine, this songster Sallementro stay close to Alyssa. What of Solyana and Cyrus—the ones we know of? And these others yet to reveal themselves?

I don’t know. Lys did say that Cyrus is Paladin and has his own important role to play, but whatever she knows, she is not telling me yet.

Why does Arabella not travel with us if she is bonded to you?

Yes, I puzzled over that too. Lys told me that each of the Paladin have their own special magic and role to play and when I spoke to Arabella about this it did not surprise her. She believes her major role has been fulfilled.

And that is?

Marrying Alyssa and myself…watching over me as my spirit crossed back into my body after the execution and then helping to restore my health as well as she did. There may be more though, I’m not sure. If she knows, she is not saying.

Cloot voiced what Tor had often suspected. I sense that Arabella is strongly attached to the Heartwood. I’m not sure she would be comfortable to leave it…perhaps she can’t? The falcon noted Tor’s nod of agreement and moved on to his next thought. You know, I’ve never understood why, if we are all so strongly linked, we don’t feel one another or recognise one another? he puzzled.

I think you will in time. There must be a connection…maybe a place or an event…something which will realign you all, Tor said. When I swapped bodies with Merkhud, we exchanged minds and experiences briefly. Just for a moment, I glimpsed his thoughts and possibly he did the same with mine.

You’ve never mentioned this before, Cloot said, sounding indignant. What did you perceive?

It was fleeting. I sensed he knew that only Figgis and Themesius remained to fall. The way the Heartwood groaned recently though, I fear there is now only one left.

And after the last Paladin falls?

Orlac will be free. Lys told me that he will destroy Tallinor and all surrounding Kingdoms in his fury. He will raze the Heartwood, Cloot. He will sense its magic; that it is a special place of the gods. It will be his revenge against the Land which claimed his life; his vengeance against the man who bought him as a child and made him live as a mortal. Perhaps it is also his chance to point a finger at the Host, to show the gods his strength and make clear that the havoc he wreaks on them is in revenge for their failure to protect their prince.

Cloot hopped onto Tor’s shoulder. But Merkhud is gone, Tor. Who will Orlac hunt down to vent his anger?

Silence hung heavy between them momentarily. Across the link Tor’s voice sounded small. Me.

You? But why?

Because I am linked to Merkhud. Lys has warned that Orlac will not be satisfied to learn of Merkhud’s death. He will fasten onto those whom Merkhud loved.

Can we hide you? Or can you not become the hunter instead?

To what end, my friend? No. Orlac will come. Of this we are sure. All we can do is prepare for that time. I am the prey and we must use the quarry to trap the hunter. Lys has brought us all together for a reason and we must try to work out what she wants us to do with our combined powers and knowledge.

Has it ever occurred to anyone just to ask her? Cloot said, unable to hide his sarcasm.

That is not her way. She wants us to figure this out. If we ask the right questions, we will get the right answers.

All right, the falcon said, stretching his wings and swooping into the centre of the clearing to face his friend. I gather you are well enough now, and in sending Yargo to find Sorrel and the children, you have obviously made a decision that it is time to move on. So what do we do first?

Well, Lys once said something cryptic to me, which has only recently surfaced again in my mind. She told me to look to those who would be easily corrupted by power and promises of revenge. She impressed upon me, in her strange, vague way, to think on those who would most enjoy seeing me and those I care for hurt.

Tor, you would make a superb tooth doctor with your fine ability to extract maximum agony. And so?

It’s so obvious, you mad bird. Goth! Xantia! That charming couple with nothing to lose any more and everything to gain.

You’re right. Goth is evil and Xantia is his pawn.

Oh no, Cloot, she’s more than that. Xantia is a master of the Dark Arts. If Orlac reaches them and releases her from the archalyt barrier on her forehead, we might as well burn down Tal ourselves and save them the trouble.

So your plan is…? Cloot prompted, hoping there was one.

We go after Goth. Better we stay close to our enemies.

How?

I’m thinking on it, Tor said quietly.

No, I’m not sure I caught that, Tor. I thought you said we were going to fly.

Tor knew very well that Cloot’s hearing was almost as acute as his own.

I did say that.

Ah, said the falcon from the overhanging branch. He began to sharpen his beak, as was his habit whenever he felt uncomfortable or needed time to think. And how will we accomplish such a feat? he said carefully, emphasising the ‘we’.

Well, I have no magic that will sprout me wings, old friend.

So I presume I shall be doing the flying?

Correct. And I shall be doing the accompanying.

I see. So you plan to ride me like a horse then?

Tor did not respond to the sarcasm. From within my body. It was not a question this time.

Cloot was incredulous. You will use the Spiriting magic again?

It will be no different to when I inhabited Merkhud’s body, Tor replied, his voice very quiet.

Cloot stopped his cleaning. Nothing had prepared him for this.

Tor, when you walked in Merkhud’s boots, you knew his spirit had already died within your body which was hanging off that cross.

Tor pushed away from the tree he had been leaning against and stood.

Cloot, come to me.

The falcon landed on his outstretched arm. Tor stroked the majestic bird and poured his complete loyalty and love for his strange friend across the link. He waited until he felt Cloot relax, mind and body, before he spoke again.

But you will not be dying. I have given this much thought and in Nanak’s books I read of a notion held centuries ago that two could share one host for a short time. I accept it may only have been a notion and never attempted, but I believe it will work.

Tor, my beloved friend, it is not my life I fear for. I am Paladin. I have already died once for you and I will surely face death again to save you. You are everything we have strived for. All of this—this strange life, these terrible ordeals—have been to preserve your life and ensure you meet your destiny. No, Tor. Never think that I care a whit about my life compared with yours. It is you I fear for. I am shocked that you would risk your life with such a dangerous idea.

Tor lifted Cloot close to his face so he could look at him directly. The bird cocked his head to one side and eyed him back.

Don’t do this, Tor.

Trust me.

Let’s wait for Lys, at least. She set you on this course of thinking; she may have some suggestions, Cloot offered hopefully.

No. Alyssa’s life may be in danger from Goth. Lys has conveyed as much to me. I must know Goth’s whereabouts. I will feel safer knowing where the enemy is.

Cloot hopped back onto his friend’s shoulder. Goth is not the enemy. You must not lose sight of who your real foe is and where the real danger lies. Orlac!

Tor sighed. Well, until that particular enemy shows himself, I must content myself with the one I do know about. Cloot, I’m not saying I’m going to do anything. I just want to know where he is.

All right. Let’s pretend I agree to this folly—no, this lunacy. What do we do with your body…your cooling, dying body?

This was a great step forward. Tor wasted no time.

The Heartwood will keep my body safe for a time.

He moved on quickly to outline his thoughts. He did not want Cloot dwelling on possible death; he had already spooked himself enough over the frightening thought of leaving his body once again.

The way I see it, when Goth escaped from the palace prison, he would probably have been ghoulish enough to hang around amongst the mob for my execution. Then he would have used the cover of the crowds to get himself as far away from the capital as possible.

Agreed, Cloot said.

The King’s wrath aside, he would have grasped that Herek’s pride alone would demand that the Shield track him down, whatever it took, however long it required.

Go on.

Well, I’ve been thinking on where I would go if I wanted to get as far away from the reach of the palace as possible.

North, of course, Cloot said.

Yes, north. But more than that. It would have to be a quiet backwater, somewhere the threat of the Inquisitors was unlikely to have reached. Goth is too readily recognisable to risk a city or town.

Cloot picked up this thread. Or a place where criminals can move freely…somewhere with an underworld where secrets are kept and officialdom is unwelcome.

Tor felt the idea slide into place. You’re right! Goth could not survive in a village. His appetites are too large.

Cloot was silent. He was thinking. Tor knew this because the falcon had a tendency to stand on one leg when deep in thought. It amused him and he smiled warmly for the first time in many weeks.

Well, my friend, he said finally, the north is your country. Where do you think he hides—Rork’yel?

Cloot returned to stand on both legs. Rork’yel is closed to all but my own people. Without a guide who is of the Rork’yel, Goth would get lost amongst the rocks. But I agree with you. His appetites are such that he would need the trappings of a town. However, he could not risk going back to Ildagarth or anywhere nearby.

How long do we have to search? he suddenly asked Tor.

You mean before my physical body dies? I would say two days, possibly less. Darmud Coril might tell us. We should summon Solyana and beg an audience.

Cloot swooped up to one of his favourite branches. He will not like it.

He wants the Heartwood to survive, Cloot. He will help us.

Then, if you are set on this course, my best guess would be Caradoon.

I’ve never heard of it. Tor was intrigued.

And that’s how its inhabitants prefer it. It is a trading post. You’ve heard of Kyrakavia, of course? He saw Tor nod. Well, that’s the shipping hub for all regular trade from the northern Kingdoms into Tallinor. Caradoon is a thriving town on the very outreaches of the city of Kyrakavia where all the…shall we say…irregular trade is done.

Like what?

Spices, herbs, gold…even wine.

That sounds fairly regular.

Cloot continued as though Tor had not spoken. Children, slaves, the forbidden stracca.

Tor had never seen stracca but had heard of the secret dens where the leaf was smoked or the sap swallowed. He stood. His jaw was set in a fashion that told Cloot his mind was also set.

Let’s find Solyana and you can tell me more about this Caradoon on the way.