19
Trapped

Lauryn watched the servant’s graceful, economical movements as he prepared a small breakfast of fruit and cheeses which had been brought to their cabin. They were on a ship and for the past few days she had refused all food and drink, but this morning had relented and agreed to a few sips of water from the man who called himself Titus. The effects of fear and no nourishment had left her light-headed, to the point where she could not remember how long they had been on horseback or even which direction they had headed. She had no recollection of boarding a ship.

He knew she watched him. ‘Sip that water slowly,’ he said softly, not expecting a reply.

Lauryn had not spoken a word since she had woken from the magical stupor into which Orlac had put her. She had screamed once at the sight of Orlac and then drifted into a contained silence in which it seemed she did not hear a thing. Orlac had shown no regard for her weakening health, pushing them onwards towards the north where he intended to board a ship to the Exotic Isles. Adongo noticed that the horses travelled faster than a horse should and could sense the powerful enchantment cast over them. They reached Caradoon at impossible speed. It did not take Orlac long to negotiate a crossing with the amount of coin he was bandying about.

‘Where is he?’ she said in a flat voice.

Hearing her speak took him by surprise but he did not show it. ‘Not far away.’

‘And where are we going?’

‘To Cipres.’

‘People will follow,’ she said, pushing at a wisp of hair.

‘He knows this.’

‘It’s what he wants. Is that right?’

‘Perhaps,’ Adongo said carefully. He had to be very cautious about what he said. He knew full well that Orlac could and would eavesdrop on any conversation. He had been briefed by Orlac to win the girl’s faith. So, they trusted him. But somehow he needed to convey that he was more than a friend to her. And yet he could not reveal himself—must be seen to be playing along with their plan. He could not risk contacting Tor again. The first attempt had been exquisitely dangerous and he had only just survived that scrutiny. Orlac would not permit more use of magics.

‘He is not whom he pretends to be, Titus.’

‘I am only a servant, mistress. I have no knowledge of these things,’ he lied.

‘He is empowered.’

‘I understand it is so and I would caution you not to test it.’ Adongo did not know what else to say. He hoped somewhere in his words a couched message would be heard by Lauryn. ‘My master prefers that his magics are not listened upon by others, especially those who may be empowered themselves.’ He glared at her, imploring her to understand but Lauryn looked away, already her mind wandering in a different direction.

She sighed. ‘What will he do with me?’

Adongo shrugged, hating the fact that he could not tell her more or reassure her of his bond with her. ‘We shall be there shortly.’

Orlac and his guest had heard the conversation between Lauryn and the Moruk. The red mist which was Dorgryl shimmered. I do not trust him.

He is a tool.

So you say. Do you trust him?

I have no reason not to. A servant is no threat to us.

Dorgryl grudgingly agreed but did not give up his argument without making a final thrust. Then mark my words, nephew. He sighed and changed the subject. How long before we reach port?

Orlac was in no mood to talk. He looked out at the sea which buffeted the ship’s sides and wished they were on dry land. A few hours.

After they docked, Lauryn was left in her cabin. She had finally agreed to down a few morsels at the constant nagging of the servant, Titus. He had now gone on deck to take instructions from his master. She thought of the master as Sylc but now wondered at his real identity and the hidden magics he had wielded in her room many nights previous. Gyl was ever in her thoughts. How could she have thought it was a good idea to create such pain for him? She could still see his hurt expression at the attention she had paid Sylc. More to the point, how could she have been so infatuated with the Regent and encouraged his attentions?

In the sharp light of day, when her emotions were not being churned by jealousy, she could see she had behaved with great stupidity and now she threatened everything her parents, brothers and the Paladin had worked so hard to do, which was to reunite everyone. So far she had kept her fear at having been stolen from the palace tightly strapped down within herself, but it constantly threatened to take flight and burst from her. In withdrawing herself from everything, including sound, she had survived this far but she knew in her heart worse was to come.

To this moment, though, the man called Sylc had asked nothing of her. He had hardly spoken more than a dozen words to her, travelling in silence. She sensed he was constantly using his powers but she could not trace them as he expertly shielded himself from her probes. It seemed odd they had travelled so far in such a short time. She had always believed the far north was an Eighthday or more away by horse and that the port in the far west was another Eighthday on top of that. For some reason she had it in her mind that they had only travelled for a few days by horse…or was she imagining it? Lauryn could not be sure.

The desire to cast out to Gidyon or her father was tempting and yet she resisted, despite her fear. Something nagged at her, suggesting that her casting might put them in danger. And there was something about the way Titus looked at her. It was as though he was saying one thing but actually meaning another. The business about Sylc being empowered— Titus had not shown surprise and he had reacted with great caution. She had run over what he had said to her several times and she could not help feeling that what Titus actually meant was that yes, the man called Sylc is sentient and does not like to have his magics noticed, and the glare he had given her seemed to implore that she—or was it he—should not display any magical ability.

Was she imagining this? Was Titus communicating a hidden message and, if so, why? Who was he if not a paid servant of Sylc and therefore dangerous? What was his interest in her? She could not help but notice how he took care of her, fussed around her. What was that about? Why should he care if she lived or died? Perhaps his life was on the line if she did sicken too much and die, hence his keen interest in keeping her well nourished. She sat in her stuffy cabin and pondered, her mind finally coming around to Sylc and what he might really be. He was hugely empowered. Sentients with the wild magic—as her father had explained —had only weak powers. But when the Regent had used the stuporing force against her he seemed to but gently push his powers and yet as they touched her she felt their incredible potency.

Likewise, when Sylc disappeared and reappeared, she felt the enormous concentration of magic at his call although he seemed hardly to tap what was available to him. This then, she decided, biting her lip and feeling more than just a vague fear grab at her throat, was no ordinary sentient soul. His looks set him apart from most men; taller than any man she knew and very strongly built, he was like her own father, Torkyn Gynt. And his eyes, those strangely violet and compelling eyes, they were so unusual as to be commented upon by all who met him—as was his appearance. How was it that one of the ladies of the court described him at the time of his arrival? Lauryn remembered the woman’s whispered words. He is a god, she had murmured with awe.

The lady of the court was referring to his stunning looks, of course, but it seemed now to Lauryn that it had been a well-chosen turn of phrase. Lauryn felt the thought snap into place and her blood felt suddenly icy. This was no ordinary man, indeed. This was in fact no man at all. If she trusted her instincts—and she felt they served her well now—she was in the presence of a real god. An angry one, whose true name was Orlac.

Orlac! She felt sick.

So, he had come amongst them already and he had stolen her. Why? Lauryn began to pace to stop herself from trembling. He must have worked out that she was Torkyn Gynt’s daughter. He would use her as a lure for his bigger prize, knowing full well that when her father found out he would leave the Heartwood and come after her. But how would her father know, unless someone who knew of her plight could contact him?

She thought of Gyl. Her disappearance would have been discovered by now and, presuming he did not assume she had left without word with a stranger in the dead of night, then Gyl would begin a search and he would follow every clue. There could not be many of those. Who else would know? Not her mother, she had already left before the theft had occurred and would by now, she hoped, be reunited with her father, bringing Saxon, Cloot, Arabella and probably Solyana together again. Sallementro? No, he could not use the Link—unless her mother had removed the disk which, now she thought about it, was not so unlikely given where she was and with whom. So that was a possibility. If Alyssa’s archalyt had been removed by Tor and the Link was open to her Paladin, he could relay the news of Lauryn’s snatching. It made sense.

Her mind revolved around the Paladin now and she went somewhere with her thoughts that she had not permitted before. Gidyon had already been found by one of his Paladin, Figgis. Was it so improbable that she too could have been discovered by one bonded to her? She counted them off in her head. The only Paladin yet to show themselves were Cyrus, Themesius, Juno and Adongo. Two of these belonged to her but which two? Her father had spoken of Adongo, whom he had met when they were both being transported to Cipres as slaves. He had described him as a man of few words, always carefully chosen. He was a Moruk of the nomadic tribes from the Exotic Isles. Swarthy and long-limbed they were, according to her father, with hairless faces and long dark hair.

Was it such a leap?

As she turned this new thought over in her mind, the man she was thinking on entered.

‘We must leave. Regent Sylc awaits you outside.’ It was a deliberate warning to stop her saying anything further. ‘Please follow me,’ he said.

Lauryn touched his arm and when he turned at that touch, he saw her put her finger to her lips to hush any query as she dipped her finger into the cup of water nearby and then scribed Adongo? onto the wooden bench. When she had finished, he looked up from the bench at her, gravely. He nodded once slowly, almost imperceptibly, but it was enough. Her heart leapt and she mouthed thank you to him, her eyes beginning to water as she felt a sense of safety wrap itself about her. He was here to protect her. Her Paladin had found her. Adongo shook his head to prevent her spilling any tears and then pointed to the wet patch on the bench. She hurriedly wiped the letters away with her skirt.

‘After you, my lady,’ he said and this time it was he who felt his spirits lift, as she gave him a gentle smile.

Adongo prayed that Lauryn would not try to open the Link; he was still not sure whether Orlac would be able to hear them. They had arrived on deck and Orlac ignored them. A carriage awaited and Lauryn was told to get inside. His master followed, but Adongo was required to sit outside with the driver. He felt afraid for Lauryn and decided to take a chance with the Link, recalling that Tor had once mentioned that he could not hear what Alyssa and Saxon said to each other. Perhaps the Link between Paladin and bonded were special, whereas on the occasion of his casting to Tor several nights back, it had been a very public use of his magic. Anyone with Orlac’s power and sensitivities to magic would be able to tap into such a random cast.

He risked everything in the hope that the conversations between Paladin and bonded were private as he sliced open a cautious Link with Lauryn.

Try not to show your fright.

I am no longer scared, she answered surprisingly calmly, now that I know you are here. Is it dangerous talking like this?

I’m hoping he cannot listen to our Link. We’ll soon know.

It seems we’re safe. He’s not reacting at all.

What is he doing?

Staring.

At what?

Me!

I shall keep the Link open.

Don’t leave.

Not until death, child. You are my reason for being now.

‘What are you smiling at?’ Orlac asked.

‘Apologies, Regent Sylc. It is a private thought.’

He was taken by surprise when she answered him. She had shared not a single word with him since her capture. He wondered what had brought about the change.

‘My name is not Sylc,’ he said softly, still staring at her, a little sad to see the dark smudges around her hollow eyes. She was thin, too. But the beauty still glowed back at him and he admired the new defiance in her voice. He would enjoy her.

‘What would you have me call you?’

‘By my true name.’

‘Then I shall call you Orlac,’ she said, hoping it shocked him.

It did. She also heard Adongo’s sharp intake of breath. Was that wise? he asked.

I don’t know but I’ll be damned if I’ll cringe before him.

Adongo did not have time to answer. Orlac spoke again.

‘How do you know this?’

‘Let’s say we’ve been expecting you.’

‘You and…?’

‘We have.’

The god smiled. There was real grit in this girl and if she was empowered, well…she had not even tried to use it against him. Clever and beautiful.

She makes a mockery of you! hissed Dorgryl, incensed by this girl’s hold over his nephew.

Orlac ignored him. ‘And what should I call you?’ he said to Lauryn instead.

‘You already know my name. I do not hide behind disguises,’ she sneered.

‘I like the name Lauryn, though I keep wondering what your father will think of me when he learns I am enjoying carnal knowledge of my niece.’ Orlac did not look away as he said it. He had intended it as a blow.

Until that moment Lauryn had felt strong again but suddenly her fragile defence crumpled. He was staring at her in that way he had that seemed to drag her into a private cocoon.

‘Oh, you didn’t know?’ he added, feigning innocence, once he noticed that the barb had struck home. ‘Your father, Torkyn Gynt, is my brother. Isn’t that cosy?’

‘You lie!’ she shouted, her voice sounding suddenly ragged.

‘Do I?’ he said. ‘Think about it. You’re a very clever woman. You worked out who I was…now work out how it all fits together and I think you’ll agree that we are very much family.’

He took her hand and kissed it. ‘We are here. Welcome to my palace,’ he said and alighted from the carriage.

Orlac heard a deep chuckle from within himself.

A masterful move, Dorgryl admitted. She will not recover swiftly from that.

As Adongo stepped down from the carriage and bowed to his master, he kept his face deliberately devoid of all emotion, although inside he was anything but calm. Torkyn and Orlac were brothers! So, the King of the Host had sent his second son. He closed his eyes with silent grief at this news and what lay ahead.

Tor and Alyssa had spent a joyful night of rediscovery, giving themselves completely over to one another. They bathed in the pool where they had first made love and sat naked against each other’s body, revelling in being able to share this special time.

‘You’ve learned some new tricks,’ Alyssa admitted, her eyebrow arched slightly.

‘Are you complaining?’ Tor countered, as he kissed her full and perfect breast.

‘Not at all. I’m just wondering where you gained such experience.’

‘Well, they say practice makes perfect and so I kept practising over and over and over again until I knew it was just right,’ he said, a look of innocence on his face.

‘Oaf!’ She threw a stick at him. ‘I hate you!’ But she laughed anyway.

‘But I love you,’ he said, pulling her close again and kissing her softly.

‘Have you loved anyone since me, Tor?’

‘No.’

‘What about that girl you were so distraught over…will you tell me about it?’

He became suddenly serious. ‘Eryn—she was a very special friend. I still can’t believe she’s dead, and so horribly. Goth will pay with his life this time, I swear it.’

‘We must make him pay for all the lives he’s taken or ruined,’ she said sadly. ‘Tell me about Eryn.’

And so he did. Alyssa felt a stirring of jealousy, not that he and Eryn had been intimate, but that she had shared part of his life that Alyssa had not been permitted to enjoy.

She stroked his cheek. ‘Don’t be sad about her. Be angry. We’ll avenge her death, I promise you. Don’t let’s spoil these few precious moments we have.’

‘Are you sure you want to hear this?’ he asked.

‘I do. I hold no grudge, Tor. I just feel cheated that we were kept apart.’

‘I know. And of course then there was Sylven…’ he continued, a wicked undertone to his voice, goading her into asking more.

‘The Queen!’

‘No less.’

‘Tor! Who haven’t you bedded?’

‘Well, let’s see now…I’d always hoped I might sneak between the sheets with the Lady Augusta. I never got the chance though I got close once. She was—’

Alyssa punched him this time. Hard. ‘Stop it! Vile man.’

‘Well, you asked,’ he said plaintively, trying to force down the smile bursting from him.

He hugged her, then stood, theatrically, moving his arms for effect. ‘The truth is I have bedded plenty of women but I have loved none of them. I have only ever loved one girl, since she was nine and I not much older. Alyssandra Qyn of Mallee Marsh—be she Queen of Tallinor or simply Naked Wench of the Heartwood—is my true love; my heart’s desire, the reason I breathe.’ He grinned then. ‘And you’ll note I’m far too much of a gentleman to even mention the slight indiscretion of bedding a king or falling in love with him.’

She looked at him seriously now. ‘I do thank you for that. It was never the same love as I experienced for you.’

He took her hand and lifted her to her feet, wrapping a cloak they had been lying on around her slim shoulders. ‘I already know it.’ He kissed her. ‘There is nothing to forgive.’

They heard a sound and turned to find Solyana staring gravely at them.

Is it time? Tor asked, hoping Rubyn had been found.

Strangers approach…you are needed, she replied and loped away into the undergrowth. They heard her as she disappeared. Meet at the clearing.

They dressed and quickly made their way to the meeting spot where they found Arabella and Saxon waiting.

‘Have you heard anything?’ Tor asked.

Saxon held up a brace of rabbits. ‘I was hunting just outside the Heartwood. Solyana summoned me.’ He shrugged and threw the rabbits down. ‘Plenty of rabbit stew tonight for all.’

Arabella nodded when Tor looked towards her. ‘Solyana called me. Do you know who comes?’

‘No,’ Tor admitted.

‘Is it Goth?’ Alyssa said.

No one answered, for they heard the sound of people crashing through the trees and the snap and crunch of twigs and branches breaking underfoot. And then suddenly three figures emerged into the clearing, fright written over their faces.

‘Locky!’ Tor exclaimed.

He looked towards the lad’s two companions. ‘The Light save us! Is that you, Hela?’

Alyssa saw a handsome woman curtsy. She looked dishevelled but relieved to see them. She did not miss the glint in the woman’s eye as she looked upon Torkyn Gynt again.

‘It is me, Tor. And I bring with me, her majesty, Queen Sarel of Cipres.’

Tor looked aghast and turned his gaze fully on the statuesque young woman before him. The last time he had seen Sarel she had been sobbing over the body of her dead mother and seemed to be just a young girl with ribbons in her hair. Here stood a proud young woman.

There was a defiance in her stance which shone through the obvious fear they were all emanating. He bowed. Saxon followed suit he noticed, though Alyssa he saw remained upright. He smiled inwardly; so the Queen of Tallinor does not bow to the Queen of Cipres. No time to think on it. He strode towards them.

‘Your majesty.’ He took her hand and kissed it.

She smiled. ‘I’m glad we found you.’

He led her towards Alyssa. ‘Sarel, this is her highness, the King’s Mother; our former Queen of Tallinor, Alyssa.’

Sarel felt herself blush—she had been thinking how impudent of that golden-haired woman not to curtsy before royalty. Oh, she had a lot to learn about curbing her impetuous nature. She nodded graciously, bending very slightly to the older woman.

‘Your highness.’

Alyssa followed suit Tor was relieved to see. ‘Welcome, Sarel. But you arrive in such haste—are you being followed?’

Locky was at Tor’s side in a few strides and Saxon joined them.

‘Tell me quickly,’ Tor said.

Locky rubbed his face. Curiously, he was suddenly very distressed now that he felt safe. Until this moment, he had found steely courage in getting the women into the Forest and to sanctuary. He felt as though he could pass all the fear of responsibility over to Tor now. The relief was huge and he found his knees were trembling; in fact he fought hard not to break down.

Saxon laid a huge hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘Calm, lad. You’re safe now. Tell us, but fast.’

Locky took a deep breath. ‘Goth follows. He nearly had us just past the last village. Janus,’ he gulped and then found his composure. ‘Janus forced us to leave him behind. He hit the horses, made us gallop at breakneck speed towards the Forest. I…I don’t know what’s become of him. He stayed to fight them…delay them I suppose, alone. Eryn will never forgive me.’ He looked devastated.

Tor stiffened at the mention of Eryn’s name and was glad when Hela came up beside them and took his hand, preventing him from further explanation to Locky. Alyssa, who had encouraged Sarel to sit and catch her breath, did not fail to notice the intimate gesture but she forced herself to rise above the jealousy it provoked.

‘Hela,’ Tor said, and embraced her. ‘What has happened here?’

They all gathered near Sarel, sitting down and allowing racing pulses to slow in the warmth and safety of the Heartwood as Hela related their story as quickly as she could, beginning with a dream visit from a woman called Lys.

Goth was furious. He was down to just a pair of men, having left the two horseless men behind to bury their dead and make their way back to the north. He could not care less what happened to them, in truth. His duty was to find the Queen and he simply could not wait to dispatch the troublesome maid. The head of Quist banged unhappily beside him in the sack, blood leaking through the loose weave of the hessian, but it gave Goth comfort that it was another of Gynt’s supporters dead and done with.

They were upon the Forest now. Rather impossibly a donkey stood grazing ponderously at the fringe. It reminded him of the bastard creature that had created havoc at Caremboche all those years ago. He ignored it and spurred his horse on, kicking and whipping at it viciously to go straight towards the trees which it seemed disinclined to do.

He entered the cool of the dark Forest at high speed, ahead of the other riders, knowing the branches were more than high enough for a mounted man to pass beneath. And so it came as a powerful shock when he felt his cloak snag on a branch and lift him from the saddle. He wrenched at the cloak but more branches seemed to entangle and entwine him and suddenly his horse was gone from beneath him, galloping into the depths of the Forest, riderless and with no direction. He found himself swung about, which was odd for there was no wind, and the trees began to pinch his skin where they held him.

He screamed to the man racing behind but was stopped in his command by the sight of the donkey suddenly kicking with its back legs, high enough to connect with the rider who had no chance of staying in the saddle. He dropped like a stone to the Forest floor where the donkey, more than just reminiscent of the one at Caremboche, waited until the dazed guard staggered to his feet. Then with one more well-aimed and very powerful kick of his hind legs, laid the man out cold…dead, Goth presumed from the trickle of blood he could see emerging.

He yelled to the final rider who had slowed his horse.

‘Get me down, you cur!’

The man cast a glance towards his fallen companion and then back to Goth. ‘You can hang there and die for all I care, you scum. You are not one of us. You are a murderer and a coward to boot. Our men die and you care not. You torture women and kill without mercy.’ He spat towards Goth. It was an empty gesture for Goth was way up in the trees. ‘I go no further in this place. I’ve heard the legends of the famous Great Forest of Tallinor. I hope you rot in its branches,’ he said. The man turned his horse and led it out into the sun.

Goth twisted and cursed but he was well and truly held. He had no idea how it could be so but he stopped struggling and set his mind to work out an escape. No brilliant idea had leapt to mind after several minutes. He was in trouble and alone.

Without warning and hardly daring to believe it was happening, he witnessed a large branch reaching towards him. He took a sharp breath and tasted fear—a rare sensation for Goth—as the branch wrapped sinews of itself around him. He could not cry out; he felt frozen and his throat too dry to make a sound. And then he was being whipped savagely from tree to tree. He lost all sense of which way was up or down. All Goth could focus on was the next fierce and unpredictable movement he would travel in. He felt like a child’s rag doll as the strength seeped from his body and the trees had their fun with him. At one stage he felt his arm dislocate from its shoulder socket and the pain was immense but the trees cared not. They continued to sometimes throw, sometimes stretch him impossibly, but mostly whip him from branch to branch. Sometimes they grabbed him by the leg, other times the damaged arm and he screamed out in agony but no one heard.

Goth lost track of how long the punishment lasted. He was beyond registering the pain now. His body was so racked with it, everywhere hurt. The magic of it stunned him. At one point he thought he heard the trees whispering, laughing at him. He thought he must have passed out because he suddenly felt the huge thump as his broken body hit the ground with force. He lay there dazed and confused. Somehow he knew he could still move his legs and one arm, though all movement was painful. The other arm was useless. He wondered if the trees somehow knew not to break him completely.

Goth opened his eyes and stared into the pair of bright blue ones he hated more than any eyes in the Land…it was Torkyn Gynt.

‘Welcome to the Heartwood, Goth. I’m delighted you could join us. There are others here who wish to offer their warm welcome too.’

Alyssa came into view. He felt a pang…was it a thrill, hate? He knew not. She said nothing, just stared at him with disdain.

He looked beyond her, squinting through his pain. The bastard Kloek stood looking pleased by her side, as well as a woman he did not recognise. Quist’s brother-by-marriage, the lad, stood next to the despised Ciprean maid, Hela. They both had hate written on their faces.

‘Greetings, Goth,’ Hela sneered.

And then finally the Queen. The young woman he had been told to retrieve by a vengeful master. It was all over now.

‘We beat you, Goth. You’re pathetic,’ was all she said before turning her back on him.

And in that moment of desperation as he realised he was indeed beaten he somehow found he could laugh.

‘I’ve brought you something, Gynt,’ he said in his effeminate voice, having noticed that the sack was still tied to his side. ‘Open it.’

Tor would never know why he did as Goth suggested. He was still quite shocked that the former chief inquisitor had been delivered to him with such ease and in such a manner. The Forest must have dealt with any of his companions.

He tipped the sack’s contents onto the ground. Janus Quist’s bloodied head rolled to rest by his feet. He heard Locky retch and he presumed it was Sarel screaming behind him.

Goth laughed through his pain. Even now he impressed himself at the effect he managed to have on people. ‘Like my gift?’ he asked. ‘I wish I could have brought you a trophy of the pirate’s wife. But most of her is lying in a puddle providing a feast for the scavengers,’ he said. ‘Pretty body. Plucky thing, told me nothing; didn’t even give me the satisfaction of a scream when I slit her belly open.’

He was able to say nothing more. Locky’s boot connected so hard with his head, Goth was unconscious and motionless on the floor a moment later.

Alyssa’s chest heaved up and down with the effort of staying calm as she and Saxon rushed to Locky’s side. The lad buried his face in Alyssa and she soothed him as best she could. His sobs broke everyone’s hearts.

‘She was all I had,’ he kept repeating.

Kythay reappeared, strolling towards the prone body of Goth. He shocked all gathered by urinating on the former chief inquisitor’s head. It had the desired effect. The burning, acidic liquid brought the hated man back to consciousness, but only just. He groaned and the donkey strolled away into the undergrowth. It was a comic gesture but no one smiled.

‘What now?’ Goth said, his mind very blurred and his body in pain.

Torkyn Gynt’s blue gaze of wrath burned into the mauled face of Almyd Goth and answered the question with two words. ‘Your death.’

It was no surprise to Alyssa when Sallementro appeared a few hours later; another dishevelled and distressed rider. He refused all sustenance but asked for a few minutes to catch his breath. He had ridden, without stopping, until he reached the Great Forest.

He began to explain the situation back at the palace. Alyssa hushed him, explaining that they knew about the Regent Sylc.

‘Sal, listen to me now,’ she said to her babbling musician. ‘Sylc is not whom he pretends to be. We believe he is Orlac.’

Sallementro’s mouth opened and closed and then his eyes grew wider. ‘Impossible! How can that be? He was amongst us!’

Tor nodded. ‘Can you describe him?’

The musician gave a detailed summary of the man he knew as Regent Sylc and with each word Tor felt his already battered spirits spiralling downwards.

‘It is him,’ he said.

‘How did he get her away without a fight?’ Alyssa asked, seeing Tor’s crestfallen expression.

Sallementro told them all that they had gleaned and managed to piece together. ‘Gyl is wrathful. He has already left for the north with Herek and a full retinue of the Guard.’

Tor shook his head. ‘He has no idea what he’s dealing with. They are all doomed.’

‘A boy is dead and if Sal’s interpretation is right, then the woman he may love has been stolen from his own palace. What do you expect him to do? Cringe and hope someone else rescues her?’ Alyssa sounded angry.

‘No, I’m sorry, Lyssa. Of course he’s doing the only thing he can do.’

‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘If only to save face. I warned him about this, though. He is not completely ignorant.’

‘Does he believe it?’

‘He’s sceptical but there’ve been too many strange occurrences for him to ignore the story I gave in colourful detail. If we could just intercept him somehow.’

‘I’ll go,’ the musician volunteered.

‘No, I will,’ Locky said. ‘I insist, Tor. I know the north better than most and I’ll wager I’m a better, faster rider than the singer,’ he said, his chin jutting towards the everpresent lute strung on the singer’s back.

Sallementro did not have the strength to bristle at the insult. And Alyssa spoke to him. He is young. He is not careful with his words…and he’s just learned that his sister and her husband have been murdered.

Tor asked Sallementro how long ago Gyl had left for the north.

The musician shrugged. ‘We all left the same morning. He headed for Caradoon and I made for the Forest. I would estimate he is still two, possibly three days away.’

‘Then I can make it back there in time,’ Locky said. ‘If I leave now.’

Tor walked away from the clearing. He needed to think. He hated the thought of Locky racing off alone to who knows what.

He is safest with the King’s Guard. Cloot’s reassuring voice entered his head.

I know…and it’s everything he’s ever dreamed of doing.

Let him go. Let him feel he is doing something towards avenging his sister’s death.

Tor turned back to Locky. ‘All right. Head off now.’ He saw Sarel’s face crumple. It could not be helped. ‘I hope Gyl believes you.’

‘Here,’ Alyssa said, pulling something from her pocket. ‘Give him this, Locky. Then he’ll know you have come from me.’ She handed the lad a small green disk.

‘What is it?’ he asked her.

‘Something I will never need again. But the King will know you have come from his mother and that what you say is true. Tell him everything you know, including that we have Goth and will deal with him and that he should remember everything that I warned him about is coming true.’

She saw Sallementro cast a glance towards the bundle of black on the floor. ‘Is that the famous Goth?’ He had not noticed him until now.

‘Not for long,’ Tor said, his voice as hard as anyone had ever heard before.

‘He’s alive still?’

‘Just,’ Alyssa replied. ‘His life must be ended, Sal. He is evil.’

‘Oh, I agree. I was just thinking that it might be a waste to kill him here and now.’

Locky busied himself checking the saddle on a horse which between them Kythay and Solyana had managed to coax beneath the trees.

‘What do you mean?’ Tor said to the musician.

‘Well, several years ago I was travelling through the furthest northern climes. Don’t ask why, it’s a hellish place. I met a man who said he had once worked for Goth and knew some of the secrets. I think he may have been a man on the run because the inquisitors had been disbanded.’

He saw irritation cross Alyssa’s face and knew to get on with his tale. ‘Anyway, I was on the run too from my family and we ended up getting drunk together and he said he wanted to show me a place. I thought it wouldn’t be far but we ended up travelling for two days into the mountains and there I witnessed the most incredible thing.’

Alyssa thought she might have to slap her Paladin if he drew this tale out much longer. Sal, people could be dying whilst you tell this story, certainly many lives are in peril. Can you get to the point!

He shrugged. ‘Apologies, I tell stories with my music. Habits die hard. The man showed me the place where all the sentients are taken who didn’t die from Goth’s torture or bridling process. It just occurs that those survivors should have the satisfaction of seeing Goth’s end.’

Apart from the noise of their surprise at his suggestion, both Tor and Alyssa took steps forward. He thought both were going to hit him.

‘Sallementro, where is this place!’ Alyssa said. ‘Could you tell us how to find it?’

‘Um…’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Yes, I think I could, though we would need someone who knew the mountains well.’

‘You need Figgis!’ Saxon said. ‘If only we could make contact with him and Gidyon.’

I could fly to Brittelbury, Cloot suggested.

Tor noticed Locky was ready and keen to leave. ‘Let’s see Locky on his way and we’ll make decisions.’

Locky left without further delay. He hugged Hela and bowed low to Sarel before kissing her hand, promising they would see each other again. The Queen had gathered her composure, Hela was glad to see, and was showing that she had the mettle to make a strong monarch. Alyssa too had hugged him hard. Although they hardly knew one another she remembered the numb feeling of abandonment and loneliness, with everyone you love dead. Locky seemed to understand this, accepting her affection with a sad grin. Saxon wished he could go with the lad but his place was now at Alyssa’s side and together with Sallementro they would put her life before theirs.

‘Don’t forget all I taught you on our first journey here,’ he said, squeezing the boy in a bear hug. ‘Remember me to Herek…perhaps you can make an impression on the man and make your dream come true.’

‘I intend to,’ Locky said. ‘You watch me, I’ll be Prime one day.’

Arabella and Sallementro hoped the Light would guide him safely and then only two remained to farewell.

Locky stroked Cloot and said something just for the falcon which he knew the bird could hear.

‘He says likewise,’ Tor replied on behalf of Cloot.

‘Tor, we will avenge her, won’t we?’ Locky suddenly urged.

‘I promise you, Locky, what you do now is part of that vengeance. Goth is merely a pawn in this much bigger game. Forget him. You get word safely to the King and Herek and you will have single-handedly made a major mark in helping to save Tallinor. I give you my word, Eryn will not have died in vain. She saved three lives by her incredible bravery and sacrifice…one of those lives is a Queen’s. Quist too. His courage had no bounds when it mattered—he also gave his to save your life. Both of them will be remembered by the gods.’

Locky felt the grief gather and constrict his throat. But he also felt pride that he was part of this now and he would not fail them—as Eryn and Janus had not failed him.

‘May the Light guide you, Locky.’

‘And you,’ he replied, hugging Tor. ‘We’ll meet again soon.’

He climbed onto the horse which seemed curiously refreshed and noticed his saddlebags were bulging with fresh stocks for his journey. He looked towards Tor.

‘The Heartwood provides,’ Tor said with a shrug and then Locky was turning his horse and moving away from them. He cast a single glance back for Sarel and waved once. Then he was gone.

He’ll make it. Cloot said.

I believe he will, Tor agreed. He’s a brave lad.

Everyone gathered around a meal which Arabella insisted they eat.

‘No good decision can be made on an empty stomach,’ she cautioned and despite their low spirits, they all tucked into the food which had miraculously been laid out beneath a tree near the pool.

As they ate, they talked softly. Tor reached over and took Alyssa’s hand. It was then that he heard Solyana’s soft voice in his head.

It is time.

He turned and saw the wolf. She wanted them to follow her. He squeezed Alyssa’s hand and when she smiled gently at his touch he told her.

My love. I believe our son is due. He was amazed at how steady his voice sounded whilst his heart thumped against his chest.

Alyssa’s eyes immediately misted. Where? Her voice was not so steady.

Come. Solyana wishes us to go with her. They stood and when the others looked towards them, he explained that the wolf had come for them. Saxon, Sallementro and Arabella nodded with understanding.

‘We shall wait for you here,’ Saxon said.

As soon as Solyana saw them approaching, she turned and led the way. Tor knew Cloot followed silently amongst the trees and he was glad. He dared not look at Alyssa. She held tightly to his arm and willed herself to stay calm. They walked, without talking, for what felt like a long time until they were in a part of the Heartwood neither had seen before. Tor commented on this to the wolf.

The Heartwood retains many mysteries, she replied. Now we wait.

Tor was holding his breath. The anticipation of this moment was too great and he expected it was the same for his wife whose fingers were digging into his arm as she clutched him close.

Cloot landed gently on his shoulder. They waited.