Betrayal (41 page)

‘He speaks true,’ she cried. ‘The child is being born.’

Tor fell at the god’s feet. ‘How do I thank you?’ he mumbled, his head bent in awe.

Tor,
spoke the great and gentle voice of Darmud Coril into his mind.
You are the One who will save us all. We will one day thank you. But first you have much to overcome and great pain to endure. Instead of you giving me thanks, I must ask your forgiveness for what the Heartwood must do.

Tor looked up into the sad eyes of Darmud Coril; he saw the colours of the forest there and endless compassion. He could not imagine why the Heartwood should ever need to seek his forgiveness.

He frowned.
I don’t understand.

You will, my son,
the god said even more sadly. The flames flickered to black and Darmud Coril disappeared.

‘Tor!’ called Arabella. ‘Your child is almost here.’

Tor turned to see the holy woman and Saxon holding one another, tears coursing down their cheeks. And then the most amazing sound he had ever heard broke through the silence of the Heartwood.

It was the sound of his child crying.

‘A boy,’ Sorrel said, her voice thick with her own emotions. She was kneeling between Alyssa’s bent legs and holding up a baby towards him.

Arabella handed Tor a length of soft cloth. He took the little boy from Sorrel’s hands and he wept, unashamedly this time. ‘Oh, Gidyon,’ he whispered, ‘your mother is going to be so proud of you.’

Exploding into the high emotion and celebration of that moment, creatures of the forest broke from the bushes and ran in all directions.

Solyana spoke.
They have been startled,
she warned and trotted quickly in the direction they had broken cover.

Saxon’s face was suddenly grim and Tor realised what the Paladin had been keeping from him.

Goth was here.

‘Wait here with Alyssa and Sorrel!’ Saxon ordered Tor and followed Solyana. Arabella ran behind them.

Cloot!
Tor yelled across the link,
what’s happening?

The nightmare has begun. You must get Alyssa and the child to safety.

Tor had no time to think. Sorrel was screaming at him. ‘There is another!’

He thought he had misheard her in his panic, thought she had yelled that there was another baby. He walked closer but was shocked to a standstill when she lifted another whimpering infant in her arms. He was lost for words amongst the wonderment.

‘A sister. A twin,’ Sorrel offered hoarsely. She too was shocked. Alyssa was no longer conscious.

Tor’s voice was as cold as his question. ‘Is she dead?’

‘She lives still,’ Sorrel said, no longer looking at him. ‘Here, take your daughter. I must attend to your wife.’

Tor tenderly took the tiny child. Her face was red and screwed up and a soft down of strawberry-coloured hair was matted to her head with birth fluids. She was the complete opposite of her brother, whose thatch of dark hair stood up in thick clumps. Where her features were fine and elegant, like her mother, the boy was dark and angular.

‘Gidyon…we welcome your sister,’ Tor said, his voice trembling as he watched Sorrel trying to rouse Alyssa. ‘Her name is Lauryn.’

Cloot demanded his attention.
Tor, listen to me, you have to get the children to safety.

How close are they?

Too close. The others are trying to draw them away. You must take the children and flee.

No!
Tor shouted.
All Goth needs is to see me and he will hunt me down. I’m the best diversion we have. He doesn’t care about Arabella or Saxon. He wants me; if he finds me he thinks he finds Alyssa.

Cloot did not disagree.
What do you want to do?

How much time do we have?

Minutes perhaps. Saxon’s got them herded off in the wrong direction now.

Keep the link open. Keep me advised.

Tor wasted very little time telling Sorrel of events. It seemed she too already knew of Goth’s presence.

‘You must go,’ she said.

‘What about my family?’

‘Listen to me, Tor, and listen well. I will take the children away to a safe place. But you must give me time by keeping Goth away from here. As far away from the Heartwood as possible.’

‘Alyssa?’ he whispered, shattered at this turn of events.

‘I’ll get her to somewhere safe in the forest. I can’t carry all of us. Remember what Darmud Coril said—she will survive. She will heal and she will remember nothing. Tor, are you paying attention? If Goth finds these children, he will execute them without mercy and make you and their mother watch him do it. Then he’ll crucify both of you. He has ancient law on his side and a King who will sanctify it. Alyssa’s status has not changed in the outside world. These children are a monstrosity to the likes of Goth.’

‘What are you telling me this for, Sorrel? Do you think I don’t know it!’ he shouted at the old woman.

She spoke quietly now, not much above a whisper. ‘Tell no one of this. Only you and Cloot and I know of the girl. We will say the boy died. As far as
everyone is concerned, there are no offspring of Tor and Alyssa Gynt.’ She looked hard into his uncomprehending eyes. ‘Not even their mother will know,’ she added.

Tor looked at her aghast. A pain knifed through his head as he tried to grasp the meaning of her words.

‘Betray her?’ he whispered.

‘Save her!’ she snarled. ‘Save your wife, save your children and, with luck, save your skin too.’

Tor’s head reeled. Somewhere in that horribly cold plan of Sorrel’s lay truth. Her eyes blazed.

‘Go!’ she screamed again. ‘Save your family. Get Goth away from us!’

Tor stepped back a few paces in shock. The link was open; Cloot heard the conversation and was stupefied by it. The infants began to whimper again. Sorrel could almost read Tor’s thoughts as his expression shifted from shock to despair and finally to acceptance.

‘How will I find you?’

‘You will find us.’ She turned; the two bundles were beginning to cry. ‘You have to leave, Tor, or we will all die—all of it will have been for nothing. If you do as I say, there will be no killing. I know you can wield magic; I know you can kill them all if you wish. But you don’t wish. You can keep these children a secret and we can preserve you and Alyssa. Please, Tor, let me go with them to safety.’

‘Wait,’ he cried. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a small leather pouch. He tipped out three blazing orbs. ‘Take these. One for each of my
children and one for you. Wherever you go, keep them safe and near to you.’

‘What are they for?’ she asked, taking them. As she did so their colours died and they became dull stones again.

‘I don’t understand them yet but I believe they will protect you. And…I don’t know,’ he said tiredly, ‘perhaps I can use them to reach you.’

Sorrel gave the loveliest of sunny smiles Tor had ever seen on her. He had not known she was capable of such warmth. It seemed almost ugly amidst such despair.

‘I’ll be waiting for you, Tor. I will keep your children safe.’

She reached up and kissed him. Then she hugged him fiercely. ‘Now you must go, my son,’ she said gently.

Tor knelt by his unconscious wife and pulled something from a tiny pocket of his clothing. As he kissed her farewell he pressed the archalyt disc onto her forehead. Should Goth find her, it would offer some small protection. He hurriedly kissed his son and daughter then stood. There was nothing more to be said. He spied the sack containing Nanak’s books, which he grabbed, and, without a glance behind, disappeared into the black of the Heartwood, relying on his faithful falcon to guide him towards their enemies.

Sorrel, alone with the children and their unconscious mother, wasted no time in casting to Merkhud. This was a dire change of events and it was critical he knew of it.

There was no response.

She frowned, cast again. This time, she realised with deepening fright, it was not that there was no response; she was reaching into nothing. She cast again and once more felt her link shatter and disappear into a void.

Alarm turned to terror when the trees began to close around her and she became aware of the shimmering, almighty presence of Darmud Coril.

‘You will do as I command,’ he said.

They spent two days playing cat and mouse in the Great Forest. With Cloot’s help, Tor allowed himself to be sighted several times and each time Goth hungrily gave chase. Their manoeuvres managed to draw the Inquisitors and the King’s Men entirely away from the Heartwood.

Tor did not spy Saxon, Arabella or even Solyana during this time. It was just him and Cloot again. They spoke so little it made them even more depressed, but they kept the link permanently open and an exchange of moods and emotion rolled between them.

On the third day, hungry and cold—for the Great Forest did not provide like the Heartwood and winter existed again—Tor made a bold decision.

He took Cloot by surprise when he spoke.
I’m going back.

Tor, no.

I am. You can come or you can stay. I care not. I have to find Alyssa. She may be dead. I may never know.

She won’t be dead, Tor. Darmud Coril would not let that happen.

Tor looked up to the branch where Cloot sat and pointed angrily at him.
Oh no? He let the butchers in to come after her. Why not help them kill her?

Stop!
the falcon ordered.
This is madness talking now. All right. I’ll come with you—if just to prove you wrong.

He snapped the link shut.

Tor stood wearily and began to backtrack. Strangely, it took them a much shorter time; only a day and a half. But then everything about the Heartwood was strange and neither commented.

It was dusk when they arrived back in the clearing. What Tor saw there astounded him. There was not only no sign of Alyssa; there was no sign that anyone had ever lived there. He swung around to where the lean-to had been: a tree now stood in that spot. The areas they had cleared were densely covered with foliage and undergrowth. And in the place where Alyssa had lain and given birth grew perfect white blooms unlike any ever seen before in the Heartwood.

Tor’s resolve crumpled with his tall body which he curled around the white flowers and mourned his family.

The silence was disturbed by an unhurried thrashing through the bushes. Cloot knew who it was before Tor saw Kythay amble into view. Tor was glad to see the beast again; he knew how much Alyssa had loved this old donkey. He stroked Kythay’s neck. Normally the grumpy creature would not allow anyone to touch him like this except his beloved Alyssa, but perhaps he too was missing her.

Kythay took a few steps forward. Tor remained still, trying to gather his thoughts. What to do next? Find Arabella perhaps? Maybe Saxon was near?

The donkey brayed at him and moved a few steps forward again then turned to look at him.

‘What’s going on, old fellow?’ he said kindly.

If I’m not mistaken, I think Kythay wants you to follow him,
Cloot suggested tentatively.

Where could he be going?

Cloot clicked his tongue in admonishment.
Let’s find out, shall we?
He flew down and settled on the donkey’s back.
Come on, Kythay.

As if the donkey could understand this, it proceeded and the trio headed out of the Heartwood again, in a new direction. This time they were making for one of the fingers of the Great Forest.

A day later they emerged from the forest to find themselves on the bank of a narrow, rushing river. On the other side of a rickety bridge stood a cottage, smoke snaking from its chimney. Tor, chilled to the bone, was heartened at the thought of warming his hands and perhaps sharing some food. He wondered what he could pay with and digging inside his
pockets found a few coins he had not needed since his afternoon in Ildagarth so long ago.

He was reminded of Alyssa and pushed the thought away lest he become upset again. This was all about survival now. He must plan his next move carefully. Eating was a priority…and sleep.

Cloot echoed his next thought.
Why has Kythay brought us here?

A man stepped out of the cottage to relieve himself and was startled to see a stranger standing at the river’s edge.

‘Please,’ Tor said, ‘I’m alone. A weary traveller in need of a bowl of broth and a moment to warm myself, if I may?’ He blew on his hands, suddenly realising how cold they were. He reached into his pockets and dragged out the money. ‘I can pay,’ he offered.

The man said nothing, just stared. A movement at the cottage door caught Tor’s eye. Alyssa stepped out as if in a trance. Tor could not believe it. He ran towards her and then stopped as his relief turned into watery panic.

Right behind her, his hand nonchalantly guiding her elbow, was Chief Inquisitor Goth.

A
lyssa looked straight through Tor. It was if she did not see him at all.

Goth’s ugly voice snapped his attention away from her. ‘Don’t do anything foolish, Gynt. There are twenty-five men ready to loose arrows into you, your whore and your fucking donkey for that matter.’

He giggled. It was not a pleasant sound.

‘What do you want, Goth?’

‘Oh, sorry, don’t you know? I’m forgetting my manners. Captain Herek, if you don’t mind…’

Captain Herek of the King’s Guard came out of the cottage. Tor recognised him.

I wonder if the entire army is in the cottage,
Cloot remarked.

Where are you?
Tor said, not taking his eyes from
Alyssa who stood meekly beside Goth. He noticed the Inquisitor whisper something to the captain.

Not far.

Stay covered. You’ll have to be my eyes.

He allowed the Colours to surface. They felt safe.

Captain Herek approached. He was a decent man, a good soldier. Cyrus had always spoken well of him. He stood in front of Tor and blocked Goth from seeing Tor’s face or hearing what he said. He wasted no words.

‘I’m here to see that you are brought safely to Tal. This is our sovereign’s instruction. Please co-operate so that the rotting flesh behind me has no excuse to hurt you or the woman.’

Tor thought quickly. If the soldiers could keep them safe, it would be worth getting back to Tal whole and having a chance to speak with Lorys. A series of wild ideas flitted through his mind in those few seconds, from pleading clemency to escape. He finally nodded and the soldier stepped aside.

More soldiers showed themselves from hiding positions around the cottage. Tor was furious with himself for not sensing them. Captain Herek was pronouncing his capture in the name of King Lorys and the Kingdom of Tallinor but Tor was not listening. He no longer cared.

Kythay’s leaving,
Cloot said quietly.
Ambling off back in the direction we came from.

And they’re letting him?

No one’s bothering with him.

He has the books?
Tor asked anxiously.

Yes.

Tor realised Goth was walking towards him, bringing Alyssa. The soldiers, meanwhile, seemed to be readying to leave. He heard Herek say something about having the horses fetched and then he was staring into the face of evil.

‘Did you two want to greet one another?’ Goth said, airily. ‘It’s just that—and I could be wrong—it appears that Alyssa may have recently given birth. Now isn’t that just a recipe for death, Gynt? Untouchable, run off with Royal Physic, pregnant. Wonderful stuff. Can’t wait to hear what Lorys makes of it.’

Tor bristled. The Colours flared.

Don’t, Tor,
cautioned the falcon.
Herek’s right. You have a chance if you go back.

Tor’s throat dried when Alyssa looked at him. Her eyes were focused but they lacked the brightness he remembered.

‘Where’s my baby?’

He swallowed. The lie came easily in this moment of threat. ‘Our son is dead. It happened within moments of his troubled birth.’

‘Oh Alyssa, my dear, that is a shame. I told you we found the dead baby but you wouldn’t listen.’ Goth patronised her in a sickly sweet voice. ‘Such an awful thing, but looks like you’re lucky to be alive.’

She had not flinched. ‘I wish that I weren’t,’ she said, looking at Tor.

They were the last words she spoke to him before he died.

It took six days to make the long journey back to the capital. During that time only the soldiers spoke to Tor with civility. Their memories were long and all recalled how Prime Cyrus had boasted that Torkyn Gynt had saved his life. For that alone, Tor was given decent treatment whenever possible.

Alyssa rode stiffly ahead with Goth’s men. Once or twice the Chief Inquisitor forced her to ride with him. It tired his horse but, Tor realised with despair, it gave Goth the opportunity to touch her and whisper his wicked words into her ear. For all that, she did not react. Tor did not once see her exchange a word with her captors. She somehow managed to achieve an air of nobility with her stony silence, despite her bloodstained garments and bedraggled look.

One thing alone kept Tor from unleashing his Colours and that was the startling reappearance of Lys in his dreams. She had wrung a promise from him that he would not, under any circumstances, display that he even possessed sentient powers. No one in this company, bar Alyssa, was aware of his ability; to this day Goth believed that Alyssa had somehow been indirectly responsible for the bizarre events on the night of the Czabba Festival.

The Inquisitor had not been able to explain it, of course, but he hated all Untouchables and it did not take much for him to convince himself that someone more powerful in magic had acted for her. That it
might be Gynt never entered his mind. And, confusing though it was that his scrying stone had not helped him track down the culprit, he still believed blindly in his own invincibility.

In his dreams Tor saw himself walking in the Heartwood. He was accompanied by Lys but, as usual, could not see her.

What did he mean about the dead baby?
he demanded of her.

A trick. I’m sorry to have frightened you.

He was glad to hear of the skullduggery. This might make his case easier to argue at the Palace. A thin plan was threading itself together in his mind.

Tor, do you recall Darmud Coril’s warning that there was still much to overcome and pain to be endured?

He sighed in acknowledgement.

This is the beginning of a very long journey for you and you must trust me. I will not let you down. Will you follow me? Will you obey my requests?

Do I have a choice?
he questioned angrily.

Of course.

And if I deny you?

Innocents will be killed. The land will perish. The Heartwood will die. And the Paladin, who have endured for centuries, will fail.

All of this because of me,
he said, this time with disdain.

Lys’s voice did not falter, though he wished he could provoke her.
Everything we do, is because of you, for you. You are the One.

Is Goth the reason why Darmud Coril asked my forgiveness?
He changed tack, hating where their previous conversation was headed.

You know this to be true already,
she replied, patiently.

So he let Goth find us?

You could view it that way.

Why, Lys? Why would the Heartwood turn on us?

It did what it had to to protect your children. The correct decision was made. You must trust.
She emphasised her words carefully now.
Certain events must occur in order for the Trinity to succeed.

He made a sound of disgust.
When do I learn what this famed Trinity is?

You will discover as you journey, Tor.

Lys visited him nightly; again and again they talked, treading the same ground. She was relentless. His power must not be used, no matter what eventuated. By the time he saw the outlying villages of Tal he was exhausted by her demands. He could not sleep by night or feel comforted by day.

On the outskirts of the city itself, they were met by a fresh contingent of soldiers who would escort the prisoners to the Palace. Goth made sure the captives were paraded through Tal as though they were his trophies. Tor saw shock register on the faces of all the folk they passed. He was so well known in the city that word spread like wildfire and soon there was an excited mob escorting the escorts to the Palace.

They entered the Palace gates and Goth rode triumphantly into the bailey. King Lorys and Queen
Nyria were standing dressed in full regalia on the Palace stairs. As at their farewell, Lorys found it difficult to look Tor straight in the eye. Nyria tried to conceal her feelings, wringing her hands under the cover of her long sleeves but Tor saw her discomfort. He would use that.

It took only a cursory glance at Alyssa for Nyria to demand the girl be taken to a room immediately. Before he was dismissed to a holding cell to await his summons from the King, Tor glanced towards the West Wing. His sharp eyesight picked out Merkhud looking from the window in the highest room. Most would not have been able to see him; Tor could clearly make out the expression of despair on his face.

Tor was surprised when the Queen swept into the small tower where he was being kept. He had been allowed to wash and change into fresh clothes. A small mercy. She demanded privacy and when they were alone, she turned on him.

‘You fool!’

‘My Queen, I—’

‘Any woman you’ve ever wanted in your life has been yours. And you choose an Untouchable!’ she ranted.

He bowed his head and let her rage.

‘Lorys tried to forbid it but I have to hear your reason for throwing away a fine life over a slip of a girl, beautiful though she is, I’ll admit.’

He opened his mouth to say something but she continued.

‘And my ladies are whispering that the blood on her skirts is birth blood. Tell me this isn’t true, Tor. My heart couldn’t take it.’

‘Where is Merkhud, your majesty?’ His voice was raspy.

‘Answer me, damn you, Tor!’ Her eyes filled with tears but she fought them back, staring him down.

He searched her face then gestured to the hard chair. After she was seated, he told her of his beloved Alyssa. How they had been childhood friends, then young sweethearts with dreams of for ever. He told how his appointment to the Palace had taken him away suddenly and he had been unable to get word to her. He watched the Queen’s expression soften when he explained how he had lost track of her and spent years and years of torment at the Palace, loving his work and the people, but grieving over his lost love; finding his comfort in the arms of many but never the one.

Nyria marvelled when he told how they had met again and under such strange circumstances; how he had learned that Alyssa had been forced to flee from the Inquisitors and had chosen first the anonymity of a circus and then the Academie’s enclosed safety because of Goth. When he told of the rape, her face hardened again. Nyria hated Goth.

Tor stood and began to pace as he described how it felt to be with her again and how, even though he fully understood the consequences of loving an
Untouchable, he refused to be separated from her. They had hatched no plan to be together. Their disappearance had been forced by Goth appearing again to trouble her.

‘What was I to do, your majesty?’

‘Ask for our help perhaps, Tor?’ she replied.

‘There was no time. She was so terrified. We ran for the forest and found it to be an agreeable place. We were left to ourselves, lived humbly and loved.’

She smiled at his last comment. It was sincere but it was also a trap. He began to relax but her next comment was a dagger.

‘I was told of the powerful magic used to spirit you both away, Tor.’ She stared intently at him. The Queen had not forgotten his miracle healing of her.

Tor paused to consider his options. He could continue the elaborate lie or he could add some truth and bring the Queen into his camp as an ally. He felt he could trust her. It was an all-or-nothing situation anyway; he took the risk.

‘Your highness,’ he said, dropping to one knee, ‘I will not lie to you. I am sentient.’ He saw her eyes light up with this confirmation.

She began to speak but Tor stopped her. He had more to say.

‘Whatever the penalty is, it is mine to bear alone. I seduced Alyssa from the very start. She resisted. I’m sure Elder Iris will verify this. We had been apart for years and she had learned to respect and love her life with the Elders. Her only sin, my Queen, is to have loved me since childhood. She did not pursue me. The
only reason she agreed to come with me was her fear of persecution from the Inquisitors.’

There. He had played his hand. He was counting on friendship now to save Alyssa.

Laying her hand on his bowed head, Nyria finally spoke.

‘I know what it is to love a man with my whole being. Unlike Lorys, I do not fear your powers or those of people like you. How could I? I owe you my life. I have felt the touch of that magic and it was wondrous.’

She stood. ‘I will protect your secret, Tor. And I will speak for your woman. Your fate, though, is in the hands of the King.’

Still kneeling, he took her slender hand and kissed it. ‘I ask no more. My Queen is merciful.’

‘There’s a condition.’

‘I will do whatever you ask if it saves Alyssa.’

‘You must not use your powers against Tal. I will instruct one of my own loyal courtiers to have Alyssa killed swiftly if you move a hand against Lorys or the people of Tal. That does not include the Chief Inquisitor. Feel free to carry out whatever terrible idea comes to mind regarding Goth,’ she said darkly.

‘You are ruthless, your majesty,’ he said, respect in his voice.

‘Do not forget, Tor, that I am Queen. My King and our Kingdom is whom I serve. And never forget that I love Lorys as much as you love Alyssa. I would protect him with whatever is in my own humble powers. So, do we have an agreement? I would warn that you will not know to whom I have given my
instructions. You would have to kill us all to be sure Alyssa was not harmed.’

‘I give you my word,’ he said.

That was sufficient for Nyria. Her voice softened. ‘And your child?’

‘Dead, your highness.’ The lie sounded like truth now; he could believe it himself.

Nyria squeezed the healing hand which held hers. ‘It is, perhaps, for the best.’

She left quietly.

The hours moved slowly. Life below him in the bailey had not altered its routine in the fourteen or so moons since his departure. He saw soldiers changing watch; pages scurrying about like busy mice; kitchen hands emerging hot from the huge ovens to drink from the castle well; and once he even saw Goth striding across the courtyard—all pomp and arrogance. The Chief Inquisitor glanced towards the tower. They saw one another. Tor’s expression steeled. Goth simply sneered.