4
Flight
Saxon gave a shrill war cry and tossed the orange. Gyl spun. The kerchief blocked his vision but over these past few months he had been learning to rely on his other senses. He judged, struck with the sword and heard a satisfying squelch as his blade sliced through the fruit.
‘Bravo!’ Saxon called. ‘Another!’ He moved hard to his right, giving the lad no time, yelled again and threw a lemon.
Gyl was not fast enough. The lemon hit him on the chest.
‘Woeful!’
Gyl pulled off the blindfold, laughing. ‘I won’t be blindfolded in battle, Sax.’
‘Let’s hope you never have to face battle, boy. But should you, I want you to be able to cut a man down when you have time only to hear the whoosh of his sword coming towards your head.’
‘I know. I almost had it though,’ Gyl said, picking up the lemon and tossing it back.
Saxon spat. It was a curious Kloekish habit. ‘Almost is not good enough.’
‘Oh, Saxon, I remember you punishing me like this,’ admonished Alyssa, who had arrived quietly.
The older man grunted. Alyssa smiled at Gyl. He had grown tall and his boyish features were hardening into the handsome man he would become. She wondered at how any mother could have abandoned this beautiful child. He reminded her so strongly of someone, but that person had always eluded her. Perhaps it was the distinctive walk. Gyl walked with purpose, with a jaunty, almost arrogant swagger. It was as though he knew he was a fine specimen of manhood—or even born to greatness.
She shook her head at such fanciful thoughts. Saxon shouted at him again.
‘Saxon, enough!’
‘Don’t namby-pamby the boy, Alyssa. He’s learning sword skills.’
‘And what makes you think he’s ever going to square up against someone on a battlefield who just happens to be blindfolded or balancing on a tightrope?’ Her hands had settled on her hips; a dangerous sign.
Gyl laughed. ‘Touché, Lyssa!’
Saxon scowled. ‘Oh, go on with you both then. We’ll leave you knitting for the children, Gyl, whilst the rest of us worry about the security of the Kingdom.’
Gyl rarely took offence. He worshipped Saxon. Instead he clapped the older man on the back good-naturedly. At fourteen summers he was almost as tall as the Kloek. ‘I already know how to knit, Sax! I’ll be back for more this evening with the company, if that’s all right with you?’
‘It’s all right with me if your mother there hasn’t got plans to plait your hair.’
Alyssa did not give Saxon the courtesy of a response. Her dark look was sufficient, though she could not help but feel a quiet thrill at the word ‘mother’. It was the first time anyone had recognised her as Gyl’s mother, including herself.
Saxon raised a hand in the air, feigning defeat. ‘I’m going, I’m going,’ he said. ‘Alyssa, my love,’ more sweetly this time. It was the voice she adored. ‘A quiet word tonight. Meet me later?’
She nodded, wondering what the secrecy was about. Saxon was recently back from a scouting mission with Herek and company. Although he was not a fully fledged soldier of the Shield, he lived on its fringe and was arguably its most popular member. Perhaps he had some juicy gossip for her, she decided.
‘Supper?’
Saxon nodded. ‘I’ll be late though.’ He headed out of the courtyard.
Gyl dragged her attention back. ‘Did you want me?’
‘Yes, Gyl. There are some books in our rooms which I’ve been working on. I hoped you might carry them up to the King’s private chambers for me?’
‘Please.’ He was already taller than her and she had to look up at him when he stood this close. ‘You know, Saxon really did curse and yell at me like that when I was young.’
Gyl linked her arm with his. ‘Surely he wasn’t teaching you swordplay?’
‘No. He taught me how to fly.’ She enjoyed watching his puzzled expression.
‘I’ve never really told you about Saxon and myself in the early days, have I?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve never dared to ask. It always seemed to be some great secret between the two of you.’
She was amused by his caution. ‘Well, remind me to reveal that great secret to you. But come now, the King awaits.’
It was a balmy night and the scent of early summer flowers hung sweetly in the air around them. Alyssa inhaled it and sighed. She felt intensely happy and peaceful. Life had taken an unexpected and lovely turn. Her work with the children enriched her life, whilst nurturing Gyl fulfilled it. She realised she had not thought of Tor in many months, where before she had counted such times in minutes. She felt safe with Sallementro and Saxon close by, her loyal companions. But the sweetest surprise of all, one she barely allowed herself to admit, was daily life alongside Lorys. It was already early summer and she had joined him at the beginning of spring. Three moons ago.
The King had welcomed her warmly to his staff. Although Alyssa had tried hard to maintain her cool approach, the man possessed the most infectious good humour. Try though she might to avoid it, she found herself falling into his smile. Against her consent, it dragged her in and made her smile back…shyly. She had always considered Lorys to be dull and arrogant; however, he was anything but.
The King’s humility towards his own people was astonishing. That he adored his subjects and his Kingdom was obvious to his new secretary and she felt moments of great shame about her attitude towards him in years gone. He was a man of peace, clearly, though she sensed enormous strength in him and felt he would not shirk battle if it was the only solution.
Lorys treated her with utmost respect and often took her breath away during meetings with his advisers—all men—when he would turn to where she sat quietly in the shadows recording the details and ask her opinion. This obviously made the group of nobles most uncomfortable and initially Alyssa had shied away from such attention. Now, however, she offered her views when asked.
Nyria had begged her to put Tor’s death behind her and give Lorys a chance. It had seemed a far simpler thing to suggest than to do and yet, somehow, the man she had once vowed to stab in the heart should she ever get the chance had plunged a blade into hers…except his was one infinitely more subtle.
The first realisation came when she felt gooseflesh as Lorys accidentally brushed against her arm.
She had only felt such a sensation with Tor.
Lorys had reached across to take some papers and their arms had touched. His tanned skin was warm and the soft black hairs tickled for that instant. Alyssa did not think she could have reacted more loudly inside if she had been struck by lightning. Outwardly, she blushed, apologised and pulled her arm back. He hardly noticed her discomfort yet her heart had begun to hammer in her chest, like it was hammering now recalling the incident.
It was as if Saxon read her thoughts. They were sitting back to back against each other on a small hillock behind the palace.
‘How goes it with Lorys, Alyssa?’
She gulped her wine, trying to mask her embarrassment. Surely it did not show? It must not show. Lorys already had a Queen; one she loved dearly.
Saxon did not sense her anxiety. Good job he had his back to her, she thought. He continued speaking. ‘I mean, I know how you’ve felt about him all these years so I’m very proud of you for working alongside him so harmoniously. I’m sure it takes great courage. But how do you truly feel about this relationship?’
‘Saxon, I have changed a lot over these years, you know. Since Gyl. The school. Working with their majesties. It’s been a time of growing up for me. I have new responsibilities, ones I care passionately about. There is a reason to live again.’ She hugged her arms about her before adding, ‘There is so much to look forward to and I want to put the past behind me.’
Saxon turned to face her and pulled her against his chest. He hesitated momentarily before speaking. ‘Well said, brave Alyssa.’
She leaned back comfortably against the broad chest of this man she loved enormously; he was like a father to her…more so than her own father had been.
‘I am happy, Saxon. Truly. Torkyn Gynt is behind me. I am definitely looking forward.’
She felt him tense slightly.
‘That’s good, my girl. I need you to feel secure because I have to go away briefly. And I have some news which I will not keep from you a moment longer.’
His voice sounded strange all of a sudden. She swung around. He was looking at the grass.
‘Look at me, Saxon!’
He did so and she saw pain in his eyes.
‘Tell me. Nothing you say could be worse than what I’ve already faced in years gone.’
Saxon could not think of an easy way to say it so he chose the one word which he knew would sum it all up. ‘Goth,’ he whispered.
‘What?’ Alyssa grabbed his face so she could stare into his eyes and search for the truth. He felt hairs rip from his beard with the force of her grip but he did not flinch. Instead he sighed.
‘Goth is dead,’ she said flatly, already disbelieving her own words because of what she could see in his troubled gaze.
‘Maybe not,’ Saxon replied carefully, taking her hands from his face and wrapping them in his own. He pulled her close again. Alyssa began to tremble. The joy of moments earlier had fled, to be replaced with horror.
Saxon spoke softly, close to her ear. ‘I have just learned that Goth escaped the night before Tor’s death, but it was hushed up. The Shield was confident of tracking him down within hours.’ He sensed a torrent of questions and squeezed her to prevent them pouring out. ‘He escaped with the help of an accomplice. Xantia.’
This time a shriek escaped her but he continued. ‘The Shield has not relented in its efforts to find him and has kept a constant vigil in all parts of the Kingdom for years now, but with no success. I want to help them search, which is why I leave tonight.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You’re going to hunt him down?’
‘Now that I know he lives, I must.’
‘Where are you going? Why must you leave now?’
‘No time to waste, Alyssa. I’m heading north, to Caradoon.’
‘Alone?’ She looked disturbed.
‘Only initially. Herek is headed north as well; the Shield is at Kyrakavia.’
Alyssa shook her head. ‘Why Caradoon? Actually, I don’t think I’ve even heard of it,’ she added.
‘Good thing, too. It’s inhabited by the dregs of Tallinese society, those who don’t necessarily stick to the laws of the Land. It’s just a feeling I have, Alyssa. I tried to work out where I might head if I was a notorious outlaw like Goth and it occurred to me that Caradoon is just the sort of place where someone on the run, who also has such a distinctive face to hide, might go. People keep themselves to themselves up there—everyone’s secrets are safe.’
He had more to say but was annoyed to be disturbed by a page running towards them, calling breathlessly for Alyssa to present herself in the royal chambers. Saxon let his irritation show. ‘At this hour?’
‘Hush,’ Alyssa said quietly, ‘it is the King’s summons.’
The page said nothing further; his large eyes darted between them. He had his orders and did not know how to respond when questioned about them. He was just a lad.
Alyssa stood and pushed her hair back from her solemn face. ‘I’m coming, Edwyd. You go ahead.’
The page ran off and she turned back to Saxon, who was on his feet now and clearing the remnants of their supper into Alyssa’s basket.
He kissed her quickly. ‘I’ll be back soon. You are safe—don’t worry.’
He left her inside the palace gates, calling
back to her, ‘Tell Gyl to practise his sword skills. The Swan, in
particular—he’s hopeless at it.’
Tor and Cloot were deep in the Heartwood, surrounded by the Flames of the Firmament. Solyana and Arabella were there too, silent in the shadows. They had been summoned to keep vigil over Tor’s body. For now, however, all were listening to Darmud Coril.
‘I will keep your body alive, Torkyn Gynt, but mark my words: you have two sunsets to complete your task. Once the sun sinks on the second evening, so will your spirit…beyond my reach. You must return to your body by that time or you will be lost.’
Tor never failed to be fascinated by the hypnotic chiming of the Flames and their dazzling colours but this night he gave his full attention to the god of the forest. There was no mistaking the grave warning which had just been delivered.
‘I hear you, Darmud Coril. I will heed you.’
‘Cloot,’ the god addressed the bird, ‘is this your wish too?’
Cloot leapt to Tor’s shoulder. Tor instinctively touched him.
The god spoke before the falcon could. He needed no answer. That brief gesture between the two had said enough. The barest of smiles creased his face and flickered in his soft, gentle eyes.
‘Brave Cloot of the Paladin, our strength will travel with you. You will need it. The Heartwood will speed you on your journey. Let it guide you.’
There was nothing else to say. Tor linked with the Flames, having memorised their special trace.
Keep me safe, beloved Flames, he whispered to them.
He was rewarded by their chiming in unison, a note long and loud.
Solyana spoke for the first time. Listen for our call, Tor. Please return to us.
Arabella added a final warning. ‘Don’t be reckless, Tor.’
He nodded solemnly and then lay down on the spongy forest floor. The Flames followed, dancing around him. Cloot flew to a branch hanging overhead. The cluster of Flames split into two, one group remaining with Tor, the other sweeping to encircle the falcon in a similar blaze of fiery tongues.
Tor closed his eyes and spoke gently to his friend. Ready?
As I ever will be, the bird replied.
The Flames of the Firmament increased in intensity in both colour and sound, surrounding Tor and Cloot with coloured light so bright that neither Solyana nor Arabella could see their shapes any longer. Tor summoned his own Colours and allowed their purity to roar through him. He let them mingle with those of the Flames and felt such an enormous well of power at his call that he suddenly knew the Spiriting itself would be very simple.
He imagined where Cloot was perched, pulled all that was himself into a tight ball and lifted from inside. It felt effortless. For a moment he floated, but he knew not to linger and within another blink he opened his eyes and saw the black and white of Cloot’s world through the bird’s vision. It was an odd sensation, yet familiar. He recalled this awkward discomfort from when he had thrown himself into Merkhud’s body all those years ago.
Welcome, Tor. Cloot’s voice sounded even deeper and smoother from within.
Tor felt Cloot stretch his wings and he stretched with them. It was a marvellous sensation.
I am honoured to be here, Tor replied with genuine humility.
Make yourself at home, Cloot said as they lifted off gracefully into the night.
Tor just had time to look down at his own body. The Flames continued to burn brightly around its form. Solyana and Arabella had taken up their vigil and sat one on either side of his body. There they would remain until he returned.
They flew higher. Tor was amazed to see through Cloot’s eyes that the Heartwood seemed to be leading them.
Cloot read his thoughts. We must follow that finger.
But what happens when we leave the Heartwood?
The Great Forest will guide us. It will show us the fastest way to Caradoon.
Until there is no more forest, Tor thought. But he refused to entertain any pessimistic thoughts. Cloot, this is the most exhilarating experience ever. He whooped loudly into Cloot’s mind.
The falcon chuckled with him, enjoying his friend’s pleasure at something he now took for granted. His keen eyes picked out the sudden movement below.
Hold on. I see dinner.
Before Tor could protest, Cloot had banked up high, turned almost on himself and swooped into a sharp dive which would have made Tor close his eyes if only they were his. He felt a momentary nausea, which vanished in the fascination and thrill of the hunt. He could see the prey now. A young hare.
It had broken cover of the trees and was nibbling on some juicy grasses which were luring it further and further from the sanctuary of the forest. Tor shared Cloot’s knowledge and realised it was the young creature’s inexperience showing. No adult hare would be this daring…or stupid, he thought sadly.
Once again it was as though Cloot was reading his mind. We have to eat, Tor. It will be over quickly, I promise.
Their speed was as fast as Cloot would ever go. Shaped like an arrow, the falcon dropped silently from the sky, judging the quarry perfectly and giving it no chance to flee. When the hare realised its fatal error, it was already too late. It turned and made for the trees but Cloot used his immense speed from the descent to swoop, claws outstretched. Tor could almost smell the young buck’s fear as it zigzagged instinctively. They hit the hare with terrible force. The falcon’s sharp claws ripped through its fur and sunk in deeply, tearing flesh as the bird continued its momentum. Finally they stopped, just inches from the trees. Tor remembered Solyana’s warning: no animal may be killed in the Heartwood. Cloot had been very careful.
The dying hare struggled bravely, yet knowing that death was but a breath away. Cloot kept his word. It was over quickly and once his razor-sharp beak had ripped into the creature’s neck, Tor had the sensation of tasting blood. It was warm and rich, pumping still as the heart of the hare—now in its death throes—slowed.
A mixture of fascination and horror claimed Tor’s consciousness. There was something primeval about this feast which he did not feel he should share. He was an intruder in Cloot’s body. This was not his business. He tried to shield. He could not. They were one right now. And so he did what he could and withdrew, pulling himself as far back into the spirit of Tor as possible. Small and silent he waited whilst Cloot fed for both of them.
Later, Cloot perched on one of the highest branches of the tallest tree and cleaned himself of the hare’s entrails.
That was not fun for you, Tor. It was not a question.
Is it for you?
More than I could tell you. I feel invincible, all-powerful, during the chase.
Flying with you is amazing. Feeding with you is not. Thank you for making it quick.
Cloot began sharpening his beak. We’ll be off shortly but I must complete my ablutions.
Don’t hurry for me, old friend. My body’s just dying back there.
They shared a laugh together. It felt almost like old times when life had not been quite so complicated.
Do we have a plan, Tor?
Not really. Languishing back in the Heartwood felt wrong. Reading those books seemed to snap me out of a stupor. Goth is dangerous and still at large. Orlac is still coming. Alyssa remains in danger and ever apart from me. Nothing has changed.
And we are still none the wiser about the Trinity.
Well, doing something at least feels as though we’re trying.
I agree. So let’s get on with it.
Cloot lifted effortlessly from his perch and suddenly his wings were beating smoothly and strongly in glorious flight again. Relax now, he said gently. We shall be flying steadily for a few hours.