2
Departures

Lys did visit Hela that night and was pleased that the maidservant was finally responsive. So far she had been mute; the conversation so one-sided it sounded ridiculous even to her ears. Until the girl began to ask questions it meant she was not taking to heart anything which Lys was saying. Time was short; she needed Hela to take action immediately. Orlac was about to enter the city, bringing with him the demonic mind of Dorgryl. It was obvious they had designs on Cipres; an ideal place from which to access Tallinor whenever Orlac was ready to make his move.

She knew Dorgryl too well, assumed he would want to play for a while and resume his former debauched habits. It would be novel for him to have a body again and he would indulge it to its fullest. Time was clearly on his side: Tallinor could fall just as easily later as now.

The Prince of the Host might feel differently, of course. In fact, she was counting on Orlac to fight back. Oh, she was happy for any additional time she could win, but her last hope for saving lives curiously relied on Orlac ignoring Dorgryl’s demands. How odd that she found herself on the side of the young god; perhaps they might even find themselves united in the struggle to rid all worlds of Dorgryl.

She pushed these thoughts aside and concentrated on Hela’s tentative voice; good, the girl had found the courage to ask a question in her dream.

Who are you?

My name is Lys. I am a friend of Tor.

Why do you visit me in my dreams?

It is the only way I can reach you, Hela.

What do you want of me?

I have already told you. I need you to get Sarel away from Cipres.

What are we running from? Surely she is safest in her own country?

Under normal circumstances she is. But right now, Hela, there is evil headed into Cipres. Evil’s name is Orlac. He intends to snatch the throne of Cipres.

Hela smirked in her dream. We don’t have kings in Cipres, Lys, we only have queens. How can he hope to rule?

He will rule by giving Cipres the new Queen it needs, craves…but it won’t be Sarel.

How can you know this? She sounded angry now.

Because I know him. He is clever, interminably patient and he is fuelled by a terrible hatred. Hela, I want you to listen to me now…I have a story to tell you. Will you hear me out?

Yes, came the firm reply.

Lys told the maidservant the tale from ancient times, bringing her up to date with Tor’s escape to Tallinor and why he had had to run away and not return to the site of Sylven’s death. It took some time to relay this and when she finally finished, there was silence.

She pushed Hela. Do you believe this story?

I believe in Tor. I knew there had to be a reason why he didn’t come back. Everyone said he was involved in the killing but I never accepted this.

You like him, don’t you?

I defy any woman to say differently.

Lys laughed. It was a lovely warm sound in Hela’s dream and she joined the Dreamspeaker in her mirth before the woman spoke again, seriously.

Tor is the only one with the knowledge to fight Orlac.

So why are you here talking to me and not helping Tor fight this Orlac?

Because Orlac is almost at the gates of the city and I am responsible for his arrival, shall we say. I want to restore order to the world he invades. If something should happen to Sarel by his hand, then I will not be able to right things. She must be protected whilst the fight between Orlac and Tor is dealt with. I promise you, Hela, if you cooperate we will return her to her rightful throne, but first we must keep her life whole.

And Tor will be able to do this?

Tor and his supporters, yes. I believe Sarel is much better off amongst the Tallinese than with her own kind right now. Cipres is not safe for her. Lys held her breath.

I shall do as you ask.

The Dreamspeaker felt relief flood through her. One step at a time, and this was the first in the right direction, the first step towards keeping everyone she could safe from the threat of Orlac and, more so, the evil Dorgryl.

When must I leave? It will not be easy.

You must make your preparations immediately. You have access to Sarel and, most importantly, you have her trust. Use that now and get her away from this place. Take only what you can carry. Jewels and gowns are not necessary. Wear peasant clothes but carry money. Pay for passage across the seas and when you reach Caradoon, look for a woman there called Eryna—she runs a brothel. She will help you. You must tell her you are a friend of Tor. You can tell her the truth and your secret will be safe.

How will I find Tor? Hela asked.

He will be making his way into the Great Forest—I know this means nothing to you but all will be plain when you reach Tallinor. The Heartwood, within the Forest, is a sacred place—it is where you will find him. Right now Tor is back at the palace in Tal.

With the Queen he loves?

You know about that?

Before she died—that same morning in fact—Sylven mentioned something to me about a proclamation that King Lorys had married a beautiful, young commoner. She remarked that this woman was Tor’s former lover.

Oh, she is far more than that, Hela. Alyssa is Tor’s wife.

Tor took his leave of the Queen and their children just prior to daybreak. It was the hardest of partings. Gidyon was stoic but Lauryn’s face betrayed her feelings; they both understood the need to remain at the palace whilst their father completed this journey to find their brother. They had learned the incredible news of their brother’s existence while huddled over tea and honeycakes in their mother’s rooms. Sallementro and Saxon had rejoined them and even Gyl, in better humour, was permitted to join this intimate gathering.

There had been silence when Tor told Sorrel’s tale.

It was Gidyon who gathered his thoughts first. ‘So do we presume that Lauryn, Rubyn and myself form the Trinity?’

Tor nodded. ‘It is my belief that once we find Rubyn, yes, we will have assembled the Trinity.’

Lauryn looked alarmed. ‘But what is expected of us?’ She gazed at the Queen as she said this.

Alyssa shrugged slightly, a faint smile playing around her lips. ‘When you start to hear a woman speaking in your dreams, then you’ll know more.’

‘You mean Lys? This woman who speaks to Father and Sax?’

It was Tor who nodded. ‘And Cloot, Sallementro, Arabella, Solyana, Figgis…all of the Paladin. I agree with the Queen, Lys will probably advise what is required of the Trinity.’ He ignored Alyssa’s slight scowl at his formality. Considering they had only recently kissed so tenderly, it did seem a fatuous pretence, but she understood the need for his caution.

Lauryn’s eyes narrowed. ‘Does she speak to you, your highness?’

‘Please, Lauryn…I would like it if you called me Mother.’ Alyssa looked hopefully at her daughter. Even though she was a queen and used to giving orders, it was a difficult request to ask of someone who was still very much a stranger to her. ‘No, Lys has never spoken to me,’ the Queen answered, brushing the crumbs of her light meal from her gown. ‘I don’t know why this is so but I have given up wondering over it.’

Gyl’s patience was wearing thin. He had made a silent promise that he would try very hard this morning to find a level of understanding; one which was generous enough to cope with all these strange stories and concepts. He clamped his jaw tight for fear of saying something he might regret and yet all of this was so far-fetched. And now the conversation was drifting into banality. An old woman had died on this very seat before him just hours ago—where the corpse had disappeared to remained a mystery and although her death had set off some frantic decisions, here they all were sipping tea, munching honeycakes, politely talking about strangers being allowed to call his mother, ‘Mother’!

Gyl’s eyes inevitably strayed back to Lauryn; he was angry with her. How could she be his sister…halfsister, that is—or was it stepsister? What ludicrous series of events had led to this? Mind you, he had to admit it, she was worth all this frustration. What a beauty— and to think this was the girl he had met on that terrible day on the road to Axon. She had been heavier then, he thought, and dripping in mud so the beautiful face was shielded from him. She was deliberately avoiding his gaze now, he knew this. That boded well—if she had not found him attractive, she would have been able to stare straight back at him. As for the brother—his stepbrother he conceded with slight bitterness— he did not give much away; held his thoughts close and yet seemed fairly at ease with the supposed strangers around him.

Gyl’s own thoughts turned outward again, back to the gathering which seemed, finally, to be on the move. The man, Gynt, was pulling himself to his feet, his incredibly blue eyes always glancing back to the Queen. Gyl imagined these two people together, and their love which had produced three children—real children; not like him, an orphan welcomed into the palace. His mouth tasted suddenly sour. He must not start to think like this. The King would be home shortly—any hour in fact—and all would be put right.

He stood too, glad for the movement. ‘Can I organise an escort for you, Physic Gynt?’

Tor smiled at the old title; he had not heard it in so long. It was not hard to see that the young man, not that much older than his own children, was struggling to cope with what had presented itself at his door last night. Tor could not blame him—all sentients, but especially Tor and the Paladin, lived with the strangeness of their lives, accepted each new curiosity for what it was and rarely thought to analyse it. Young Gyl over there would be trying to rationalise everything and yet it was not possible—none of this was rational. Gyl must learn to accept that now, and it was to be hoped that his mother, the Queen, might help him to achieve the level of understanding he would require as Under Prime to assist rather than fight them.

‘Thank you, Gyl, but I shall be fine.’

The soldier nodded curtly. ‘Then if you’ll all excuse me, I must do my rounds. If I can be of any help, please don’t hesitate to seek me out.’ Gyl cringed inwardly at how hideously polite and restrained he sounded. He could not help but cast another glance her way. Lauryn was looking at the floor, but a brief smile flitted across her mouth. She felt embarrassed for him. So be it. He bent and kissed his mother’s hand.

‘Your majesty,’ he said, not looking at her. ‘I shall contact you immediately your husband, the King, returns. Try and rest, Mother.’ He felt pleased with himself that in one brief phrase he had managed to remind everyone in the room—including the Queen—of who she was, to whom she belonged and to whom loyalties must lie. He closed the door behind him.

Alyssa leapt straight in. ‘Gyl will be finding this extraordinarily difficult. I hope you will all forgive his gruff manner. Saxon, perhaps you should…’

Saxon nodded. ‘I’ll speak with him,’ he said. Saxon walked over to Tor and hugged him hard. ‘Send us word,’ he said. ‘Use Cloot if necessary, and his wretched question-and-answer system.’

Tor grinned. ‘Look after everyone, Sax.’

The Kloek nodded formally. ‘You have my word. The Light guide you safely, Tor.’ He followed Gyl’s footsteps out of the Queen’s chambers.

Alyssa caught Sallementro’s eye. ‘Sal, my son and daughter would probably appreciate a bath, fresh clothes, a look around the palace. The King will be back soon and I will want to present them later in the day. Would you help?’

‘Of course,’ the musician replied, a brief bow to his Sovereign. ‘It would be a pleasure to take you two under my wing.’ He smiled kindly at Gidyon and Lauryn. ‘Let’s make a start by heading down to the castle baths.’

Tor did not wait for his son to cross the room. He beat him to it, pulling the boy close. ‘I shall be back soon, I promise, with your brother.’ Stay close to Lauryn; she’ll need your strength. Get to know Gyl.

‘Figgis?’ Gidyon said quietly.

‘He’ll journey straight here, I’m sure. He won’t wish to be separated from you now or ever,’ Tor replied. ‘Look out for him.’ He looked towards Lauryn who appeared remarkably composed.

She stepped up and he held her close, whispering, ‘Back soon, I give you my word. I need you to be brave now. Get to know your mother a little more,’ he said smiling. She’s very nervous about you both, he pressed into her mind. That won him a short grin from Lauryn.

Stay close to Gidyon; he’ll need your strength, he added as he pulled apart from her.

She mentioned what had been niggling at the edges of her mind. ‘Father, how will you know who Rubyn is? I mean, are you counting on him bearing a strong likeness to us?’

‘I hadn’t thought beyond finding a young man in the Heartwood, to be honest.’

‘How about the stones?’ Gidyon suggested.

Tor frowned. ‘How do we know he would have one?’

Gidyon could only just remember a conversation with Sorrel. ‘I think it was when we were preparing to leave with Sorrel—this is all a bit hazy I have to admit—we demanded she prove we were sister and brother. She achieved this through the stones which we both had on us and had both cherished since childhood. She told us how you’d given her the three stones when she fled with us from the Heartwood.’

Tor nodded and Lauryn picked up the story, frowning as she strained to recall that conversation.

‘You’re right, Gidyon…I can remember that too, and I think I’m right in saying that when you asked Sorrel where the third was, she said not to worry, it was in a very safe place.’

They both looked back at their father. He was beaming. ‘Clever old girl she was. She must have left the third stone with Rubyn. She wouldn’t have known what they’re for—as I don’t—but perhaps she thought it might protect him. This is excellent news. You must both keep them very safe…we are yet to find out their purpose.’

Gidyon suddenly looked sheepish. ‘Um…I have to admit something.’

Eyes turned to him and lingered on his discomfort.

He cleared his throat, his eyes searching his father’s face for understanding. ‘When I left Yseul we had both just survived a traumatic experience.’ As he paused Tor looked towards Alyssa’s puzzled face and shook his head just enough to tell her this was not the time to go into it.

The look was not lost on Lauryn. She enlightened her mother. ‘Yseul is Gidyon’s friend.’ She loaded the word ‘friend’ with all sorts of meanings.

He squirmed a little more, glaring at Lauryn. ‘Er…yes she is. Anyway, it was a difficult time for us and…’ Awkwardly, he looked again at his father before taking another deep breath. ‘Well, I wanted to give her something from me…of me…and I gave her my stone.’ He did his best to ignore the audible gasp from his father. ‘I told her I was lending her my stone and that I would find her and collect it one day.’

Tor was shocked. ‘What was in your head, son?’ he asked quietly as he tried to assess the loss of one of the Stones of Ordolt— what it might mean to their success or failure.

His softly spoken rebuke was enough to crumple Gidyon’s already fragile confidence. Gidyon ran his hand through his hair, totally crestfallen as he searched for a suitable answer. It was his mother who came swiftly to his rescue.

‘Tor, don’t you dare use that accusatory tone. Gidyon has been ripped out of everything familiar and deposited back here with a group of strange people he has to trust —even accept as family. A meaningless, harmless looking stone, supposedly left with him by his parents, has no significance to him other than the sentimental value it represented in his life.’

Tor was about to say something but the Queen refused him any opportunity.

‘No! He is not to blame in this. I can’t imagine what the traumatic incident is that Gidyon’s referring to but I expect to learn it soon. This Yseul will presumably keep it safe will she not, Gidyon?’ Her son nodded, eyes turned to the floor. ‘Then there’s nothing lost, Tor. To her it’s a harmless stone as well, with sentimental value, given to her by someone I am assuming means something to her.’

Now she saw her son’s colour rise. So Gidyon had wasted no time finding a young woman upon whom to work his charm. My, my, she thought, I wonder who he takes after. She looked back at Tor, her expression forbidding him to take this matter any further. ‘The stone is safe, Tor. Where does she live?’

‘A place called Brittelbury,’ Gidyon replied, grateful for his mother’s support. Watching her now take command he appreciated her for the Queen she was. He liked her like this; had hated seeing her so filled with despair and grief the previous night. His father had told him she was a formidable person. He could believe it now.

‘Well, that’s several days’ ride west of here. If you don’t say something nice right now, Torkyn Gynt, I shall spend the rest of my time in your absence telling the children every embarrassing tale I can think of about you including that time you—

Alyssa was not permitted to finish outlining which of the humiliating tales she would start with.

‘It’s all right, Gidyon. Really. Your mother is right and I’m sorry to have doubted you. You were not to know about the Stones of Ordolt and I’m as much in the dark about them as you, so let’s think about getting the stone back.’ He turned his blue gaze towards Alyssa. Thank you. I’d forgotten how very beautiful and desirable you are when you’re cross.

She felt a little lightheaded when he turned that look on her. ‘Well,’ the Queen said brightly, trying to lighten the pang of separation she was trying to convince herself was being felt only by the children. ‘Why don’t you two go on with Sallementro and I’ll see your father on his way?’ Please let me have just another minute on my own with him, she begged silently. ‘I’ll find you both afterwards and we can spend some time together.’ Please…oh please. Just once more in his arms and then I shall give him up, she promised herself.

Sallementro and the younger Gynts departed with one final searching look at their father. Tor felt a searing grief at leaving them, recalling his own father’s anxiety when he had finally ridden away from Flat Meadows so full of the desire for adventure. Tor wondered how he would find the reserves of courage required for what was ahead of them all. He put that aside as the door closed and he felt Alyssa’s eyes turn towards him.

‘I must go,’ he said, reflexively, but made no move.

‘I know.’

‘Will you be all right?’

‘With Gidyon and Lauryn?’

He nodded.

‘Of course. I intend to spend every spare minute catching up on all that I’ve been denied with them. They are wary of me. That’s hard.’ She said the final words wistfully.

‘They will fall hopelessly in love with you as I did…as I still am.’ He did not mean to say it but the words had a life of their own, rushing out and serving no other purpose than to foil the Queen’s resolve.

‘Oh, Tor, why does this happen to us?’ Alyssa could not wait another moment.

She stepped into his embrace. He kissed her hair and stroked her cheek as she hugged him harder, loving the familiar feel of his tall, broad body.

‘We must not risk this, Alyssa. I…I must stop touching you like this. It’s dangerous…and embarrassing,’ he said looking down at himself, trying to lighten her despair. He was pleased to see the ghost of a smile come to her face at the mention of his discomfort. ‘I can sense Gyl’s fury when I merely look at you—and if he could see this!’ he said and tilted her face so he could kiss her lips.

She pulled away finally. ‘Gyl will not know how it feels until he experiences his first love,’ she said.

‘Well, if I’m not mistaken it was happening in front of our noses!’

She loved to see that broad smile which touched his eyes; made the blue spark brighter, if that was possible.

‘No…not Lauryn. Surely not?’ she said, enjoying the intrigue.

‘Mark my words,’ Tor said. ‘I’d bet on it being confirmed with a kiss or more by the time I return,’ he added, eyebrows arching theatrically.

Alyssa laughed. ‘Ten sovereigns that you’re wrong.’

‘I don’t have ten sovereigns,’ he replied, ‘but I’d be happy to take that bet.’

Their laughter was short-lived.

‘Let’s not prolong this pain,’ Tor suggested. ‘I love you, Alyssa but you are no longer mine to love. We must remember who you are now.’

‘Can you forgive him, Tor?’

‘You may recall I already did…years ago.’

‘No, I mean for this…for loving me?’

I already did…years ago, he whispered into her mind.

She felt the sting of tears. So Tor knew as much as she had suspected—even as he went to his death—that Lorys had had designs on her.

‘He loves me so much, Tor. I’m good for him too. I can change the way he looks at things. I can help him to be a better King. But I’m so torn.’

He kissed her mouth to stop her talking. ‘Don’t be. You have responsibilities now. I understand why he loves you because I do too. I forgive him and I forgive you for loving him. It is our children who matter now, Alyssa. Help him to grasp their importance. I believe the time has come for our King to learn everything. Tell him all you know. Make him understand the need to help us achieve our ends…or Tallinor will die and so will its people. That’s your task now.’

Tor took from his pocket the disk of archalyt he hated and with her pained nod of authority he pressed it back against her forehead where it adhered. She hated the sudden absence of his magic and spirit surrounding her. Alyssa felt the loss keenly.

Then he bent and kissed her hand very tenderly. ‘I take my leave, your highness.’

As he did so, she sadly touched his soft, beautiful hair in reply, permitting his departure.

Despite the sickening feeling of having to leave Alyssa once more, Tor was relieved to be gone from the palace again—and from all of its reminders. He could still taste her on his lips, smell her perfume on himself, and he realised with deep regret that he may never do so again. With the King back at Tal, he would not have such intimate access to the Queen again. And, he decided with a sigh, that was as it should be. His children were safe; she would now protect them with her own life if necessary. He must journey back to the Heartwood and find the boy, Rubyn. It lifted his spirits to think of the other son and he felt happy when Cloot finally showed himself at the tops of the trees.

How is she?

Unnervingly beautiful.

Well, she was always that, Tor. Will she be all right with Gidyon and Lauryn?

She’s already in love with them, though it will take longer for them to accept the Queen of Tallinor as their long lost mother than it did for them to accept me as their father.

Possibly, the bird conceded. I presume Saxon remains?

Yes, he will stick close to Alyssa now.

Tor’s exceptionally fine hearing picked up the sound of a horse galloping towards them. Alone? he asked, knowing Cloot could hear just as well and see far more easily from his treetop perch than he himself could from the ground.

Solitary rider travelling at breakneck speed. Must be urgent news for the palace.

Tor moved to the side of the dusty road. At this speed the rider would hardly have a chance to swerve; he took the precaution of getting well out of the horse’s path. The rider was upon them in seconds. He did not so much as glance his way but Tor noticed his teeth were clamped together in grim concentration—and were those tears streaming down his face or just the rain?

Cloot landed silently on his shoulder.

He’s moving so fast his eyes are watering, Tor commented.

Did you notice the stallion? It had the King’s personal insignia on it. Rather regal for a messenger don’t you think?

I can’t say I noticed but then you have a knack of spotting these things, Cloot. If a bird could shrug, Cloot would have.

Tor considered the import of this rider. Must be very urgent for him to have clearance to travel so dangerously fast. Saxon told me the Shield lives by a very strict code of rules. Riding like the wind is only permitted in hunts, competitions, emergencies and war, I believe.

He might simply have been enjoying the chance to let such a fine horse have the rein—it’s not often a messenger would have such an opportunity.

Yes…you’re probably right. The King is due back any hour, apparently, and I don’t want to go back there to be honest.

He imagined the King’s return and how his Queen would be waiting on the steps to throw her arms around him and welcome him home with some alarming news.

Except Alyssa never did get the chance to speak to Lorys again.