31
A Summoning

Tor was travelling again. He remembered this sensation from his escape from Caradoon, when he had been forced to leave Cloot’s body and return to his own, but he was more frightened this time. He knew with certainty that he was travelling towards terror rather than away from it.

He stopped suddenly and found himself watching a magnificent, golden-haired stranger. Tor realised it must be Orlac, and the huge man nearby was Themesius the Giant. Strangely, Tor was privy to Orlac’s words and thoughts, as though himself a part of the young god.

Orlac sensed that final hold over him give and he felt great sorrow for the giant who had been the Paladin’s anchor over so many centuries. Orlac had overcome the members of the courageous group, one by one, with his mind’s strength. But all the time this battle had raged across the enchanted link, somehow both he and Themesius had known it would come down to the two of them. And Themesius also had understood he would eventually be defeated.

In a way, there was a special bond between them. A bond of hatred, no doubt, but a noble bond nonetheless and their respect for each other was deep. Which was why Orlac felt pity for his foe now: it took immense bravery to fight when you knew the battle was lost.

The pain became so intolerable for Themesius that he crouched to the floor and let go of Orlac’s mind. The link was severed. The hold was gone. As the young god finally stepped free of the cursed ledge where he had been held through their magics for so many centuries, he considered how, in another situation, he and the giant could have been friends. Love and hate—there was such a fine line dividing the two emotions. In a different lifetime, in a different existence, perhaps all of them could have been something more than enemies.

He looked over at Nanak, the Keeper. ‘Be gone, old man. You are done here.’

It was not said cruelly; he simply stated a fact. Nanak, his face a mask of despair, disintegrated to dust, which dispersed as the god walked through it to reach Themesius. He felt the need to say something to the giant; some last few words to respectfully herald his passing.

There was no longer any need for Orlac’s mad giggle; it had been an affectation employed purely to annoy his captors and insinuate himself beneath the Paladin’s guard. To laugh in your captor’s face was to feel powerful. Orlac had learned this over the ages he had been imprisoned. He took no pleasure in seeing this strong man crumpled before him. In that moment, Orlac vowed to make Merkhud’s man pay all the more for forcing him into this terrible humbling of those more worthy of his friendship than his spite. In the earlier days it had been easier to watch them fall. He recalled the beautiful one, the one known as Solyana, and how he had taken great delight in seeing her own failure reflected in her large, deep eyes. But now—the sight of Figgis’s pain and especially that of Themesius made him feel the tragedy of the situation.

The giant was spent; Tor could see he was dying. Themesius rallied one last time to respond to his victor. ‘It is not over, Orlac. This is the beginning of your end,’ he croaked.

Tor expected Orlac to laugh, but when he spoke the god’s voice was even and sober. There was no trace of arrogance.

‘You have battled bravely, Themesius. I honour you and all the Paladin.’

‘We will meet again,’ the giant said. The last breath wheezed from his body and he winked out of the Bleak, his body disappearing from where it had crouched at the god’s feet.

Tor heard Orlac sigh. It seemed genuinely laden with regret. He could still sense the god’s thoughts, share in his memories.

Orlac was remembering the moment when his mortal father had died. The man had lived for centuries, a gift bestowed upon him by Orlac’s true father, Darganoth, but when his final time had come, Orlac had sensed it. That Merkhud could escape his wrath had enraged him, the idea was unthinkable. But then, he had sensed a spirit within Merkhud that was not his father. That spirit had lifted itself from the body of his despised, cheating father and had gone…to where? To another host, no doubt, but Orlac did not know where or who. All he knew was that this person was now his enemy and would be the target of his revenge before razing Tallinor.

The moving of that spirit had created a powerful trace. He would always remember it. He had decided that it would serve the impostor well to see him as he stepped free, and so Orlac had summoned it, locking onto the unsuspecting spirit with ease and wrenching it free, dragging it without care to where he was. And he knew it was present now, could taste its trace.

Watch me now, impostor! he shouted.

Just as Themesius had vanished from the Bleak, so now did the Bleak itself as Orlac transported himself from where he had been incarcerated. Tor was carried along with him and saw that the god was now standing on a tall hill. The scenery looked familiar but there was no time to focus on anything other than the fact that Orlac had returned to the world he had been banished from centuries before.

Orlac’s liberation was not Tor’s worst surprise, however. The god spoke directly into his head.

I have brought you here to witness this, whoever you are. I know not your name, only that you are my mortal enemy and I will track you down. No power you possess can ever match mine. The hated Merkhud has escaped my wrath by dying, but you are his man and I shall make you suffer. You have become Merkhud in my eyes and you shall pay the price I demand.

Tor was frightened. His trust in the Trinity, his faith in Lys and even his courage seemed to seep away. Then he thought of Cloot, of all the brave Paladin, and how much they had suffered for his sake. From them he drew strength, found his courage again.

He stared at the god who, for Tallinor, was only legend and he understood why he had been chosen. Only his powers, combined with those of the Trinity—whatever it may be—could fight this strength.

He took stock of the god who stood before him and committed everything he could to his memory before he spoke in a measured tone.

As Themesius said, we shall meet again.

Orlac had sensed the remarkable change within the stranger. What power had allowed this man to find such valour at a time when he should rightly be cringing at the feet of a god? He could not imagine, but he was impressed. The man spoke like the Paladin, fearlessly. This would make their clash interesting. He acknowledged Tor’s words with a nod, as two fencers might touch swords before a duel.

Now, go and hide. You may await my coming, he said.

Orlac felt the breeze blow around him now. He lifted his arms to embrace its reality and stamped his feet on the grass of the hillside where he now stood. He was back. Back in the Land he intended to destroy.

He flicked the spirit away and suddenly Tor was travelling again.

Tor had no idea where he was going, except that it was fast. When he finally lurched to a sickening stop, he heard Lys’s voice.

Tor! How can you be here?

Tor’s unexpected arrival in the Bleak distracted Lys’s attention and Dorgryl took advantage of that split second of time. The mist of red whooshed past Tor’s consciousness and was gone from the Bleak.

Lys—

But Tor did not get his words out.

No! Lys’s scream was so loud that he cringed.

Tor instinctively turned away from her to follow her gaze. From the Bleak they were privy to all worlds and he shared Lys’s horror as Orlac, still standing on the hillside in Cipres, was enveloped by a red mist. The god convulsed, then began to growl and thrash, his beautifully muscled body contorting into impossible positions. It was horrifying to witness.

Tell me it isn’t so, Lys whispered, each word laced with terror.

I don’t understand, Tor replied very softly.

Dorgryl has escaped. Orlac has broken free and Dorgryl has merged with him.

Tor turned his attention back to the shimmering, radiant presence in front of him. She was weeping.

This should not have happened. I have failed the Host, she cried.

It dawned on Tor that he was finally laying eyes on the Custodian, the Dreamspeaker who had manipulated all of their lives. She reminded him strongly of the only woman he had ever loved. That golden hair and that small, almost fragile-looking body. He was bewildered. Lys, I see you.

I know. You should not be here, Tor. How is it that you are here? Her words rushed out on top of one another.

Orlac. He took me from the Heartwood. We spoke briefly and then he pushed me away. I ended up here. What was that red mist? Was it the thing you told me would never concern me the last time I spoke with you?

Lys wept harder. Perhaps it was just the golden hair, or maybe the grey-green eyes he had glimpsed, or possibly the long fingers held in just such a manner that prompted him to say it. The words spilled out before he could pull them back.

Lys, are you related to Alyssa?

She lifted her head from her hands in a manner similar to how Alyssa had lifted her head as she stood on the balcony, forced to watch his execution. As Lys fixed his impossibly blue eyes with her own, Tor saw how familiar in shape they were.

I am her mother, she said firmly. The fear in her voice was gone; the Custodian was back in command of herself. Come. This spiritual plane is dangerous for you and we have much to discuss.

Tor re-entered his body and sat up with a jolt. His face filled with dread when he saw the bodies of his children and Cloot lying on the forest floor.

They all sleep a special healing sleep, Lys reassured him.

Tor looked over in surprise. She sat fully visible in the hollowed area of a tree.

How is it that I can see you even though I am not asleep?

She smiled sadly. A special treat, shall we say. Do not ask me to move; I cannot. I am allowed to visit a world physically only once. I am only able to return if I keep contact with the trees: it is through the generosity of the Heartwood and the magic of its god, Darmud Coril, that I am permitted to be here in this way.

Tor felt weak from the trauma he had just experienced but he wanted to be closer to her. He walked over to the tree and sat down opposite the shimmering Custodian.

She looked towards Lauryn. Beautiful, like her mother.

And her grandmother, he observed, gently.

She smiled.

Will you tell me the truth? he asked.

Predictably, she made him earn it. What is it you wish to know?

Alyssa—why did you abandon her?

I am not a mortal, Tor. I could not remain in Tallinor.

Then why did you come to Tallinor?

You will understand soon.

So Alyssa and I were meant to be together?

As designed by the gods themselves, she said, cryptically. Be patient, Tor. All your questions will be answered.

May I tell her?

That she has a mother who watches over her but never visits? A mother who is a god? Lys laughed. I think you have enough on your plate with Alyssa, without complicating the issue further.

Then will you tell her?

Yes.

When?

When the time is right for her to learn such news.

More secrets. Tor hated it. He sighed. He knew Lys would not change her mind for him, and she was right. Just thinking about how to approach Alyssa with the news that her son was alive and that she had a daughter she had never known about would be more than enough for him to cope with.

Tell me of Dorgryl, he said.

It was Lys’s turn to sigh. He tricked me. All these centuries he has fooled me with his petty conversations and moans about his existence, when in fact he was lulling me into believing he was helpless. She spoke angrily.

Lys, you will have to explain from the beginning. I have none of the background; I don’t know what you are talking about.

The Custodian took a deep breath. Dorgryl is a former member of the Host. He was brother to King Darganoth and, like most younger brothers— her tone was deliberate —he coveted the crown.

Tor nodded although her comment was lost on him. Go on.

He devised a cunning plan which would see the King dead and him crowned, but Evagora’s announcement that she was with child threw those plans awry. Now Dorgryl had to rid himself of both King and heir.

Orlac? Tor asked.

As you know him, yes.

Dorgryl obviously failed then.

Only just, Tor. He came within moments of achieving his dark goal of slaying the King and the infant prince but, when the Queen announced she was with child, he hesitated. It was his arrogance which betrayed him: his own wife spilled the news to the King when she learned of her husband’s treachery.

When he discovered his brother’s betrayal, Darganoth refused to kill Dorgryl but there was no precedent to follow to punish him. Gods do not fight gods; they certainly do not kill one another, but Dorgryl was dangerous. Much too dangerous to be allowed to remain within the Host. And so Darganoth devised a plan to banish him to a place known as the Bleak; a place of nothingness. His spirit was banished from his own body and for centuries he existed only in the form of that red mist you saw.

She stopped to allow Tor time to consider what he had heard and hoped he would ask the right question next.

Tor’s mind was racing. Every conversation with Lys felt like some sort of test. You said ‘infant prince’. So Orlac was no longer a babe in arms?

Lys was pleased. She had taught him well.

You are perceptive, Tor. Dorgryl was banished a very short time before the child was stolen from Ordolt, The Glade.

Why did Dorgryl falter when he heard the Queen was with child?

Lys cheered inwardly.

You must understand, Tor, that births within the Host are often decades in the coming. Some couples live several lifetimes before they achieve a family; some never do so at all. For the royal couple to produce two heirs in such a short time was truly incredible, and Dorgryl hesitated. He did not know whether the child would be a son or daughter, of course, but his arrogance led him to believe that if he destroyed the entire royal family he would come out of it as the newly crowned King. In re-planning, he lost momentum and his secret was exposed by his wife, Yargo.

Tor was shocked at the mention of Yargo’s part in this but he sensed time was too short to follow tangents. He must focus his attention on finding out more about Orlac.

And how do you fit into this, Lys?

She was impressed by Tor’s strength of purpose. Once Orlac had been Quelled, the Host needed one of their own to watch over him. Orlac is a god, but he is also a prince and, as such, he deserved respect and care. He was also dangerous and, because he was living as a mortal, his emotions and therefore his powers were out of control. The Quelling and then the enchantments by the Paladin were all we had to keep him safe from himself and the Land safe from his powers. At that time, we had no answers for a long-term solution.

Then the Elders of the Host devised the Trinity. It was an audacious plan which is now coming to fruition, where you find yourself now. We always knew the Paladin could only hold Orlac for a short time. That we have survived so many centuries is testimony to the Paladins’ immense courage and strength.

My role was to watch over all that occurred between the Paladin and Orlac, and to watch over you. As Custodian of the Portals, I have access to all worlds. When Dorgryl was thrown into the Bleak, I also became responsible for guarding him, although we did not really believe he was still a threat. How wrong we were.

Tor hurried her story forward. He was gradually adding new pieces to the jigsaw of his own life. So what is Dorgryl’s intention, do you think? What does he gain from merging with Orlac?

A body to begin with. Dorgryl was alive only in spirit; his own body was permitted to wither as part of his punishment. He was forced to live only in his mind; the ultimate humiliation for a god. He showed not the slightest interest in his nephew’s fate, until the moment Figgis fell. But then he began to comment on the progress of the battle. I should have suspected something then, but I just did not pick up on the signs. He is cunning, Tor. And he is far more dangerous than Orlac, because he is driven by pure evil.

At this Tor’s head snapped up. He looked bewildered.

Lys shook her head in disgust. I was stupid. I was the arrogant one. Centuries of imprisonment and I just assumed we had Dorgryl completely at our mercy; that he would never again be a threat, just a nuisance in my existence. Now, Tor, we face even greater jeopardy.

Tor wrapped his long arms around his knees. How bad is it? he asked, not really wanting the answer.

How bad? She barked an angry laugh. Dorgryl has possessed Orlac. Orlac is driven by a need for revenge and is single-minded about this; nothing will get in his way. At least we know his intentions. But with the addition of Dorgryl, with his agile and sinister mind, who knows what he might achieve in Orlac’s body. With such power at his disposal, I am terrified for Tallinor and its world. I am terrified for all of us.

You mean if he totally overwhelms Orlac?

She nodded, staring at the ground.

What does Dorgryl want? Tor said, frustrated now.

She looked at him with disbelief. How could anyone not know what the mad god wanted? Power! He craves power. He lusts to rule. And if he cannot rule the Host, he will rule weak mortals instead. He will keep Orlac quiet by helping him to achieve his aims, but all the while he will be using Orlac to achieve his own agenda. What that is, I can only guess. His initial triumph is that he is free from the Bleak, as his nephew is free from his enchanted prison.

Tor rubbed his eyes. This was too much to take in all at once. So what do we do now, Lys? he asked tiredly, desperately hoping she had an answer.

I must think on it. I will also consult the Host. For now, you must continue with your plan. Orlac knows of you but not who you are. He will need to spend time tracking you down. But Dorgryl knows more about you. He will lead Orlac to you and your family. We shall have to move much faster than we had originally intended, Tor.

They will not harm my children, Lys. I will die fighting them.

She mustered a sad smile. Perhaps you might. I am sorry I have let you down, Torkyn Gynt.

He reached out and touched her shimmering hand. It was not your fault. You did not expect Orlac to summon me as he did. Could he do this again?

You must shield at all times now. Remember his trace and keep all senses casting for it all the time. Even I am unsure of his powers now. Combined with Dorgryl…She shook her head in defeat.

I remember his trace perfectly. It felt familiar.

She did not answer this. Instead she pulled the branches of the tree around herself. I must leave you now, Tor. We may not meet like this again.

He stood and bowed to her. I am honoured to have met you in person, Lys.

She smiled her radiant smile. Be brave, Tor. We will triumph.

Keep your promise to me. Speak with Alyssa.

She nodded once and then shimmered out of his world.