Curse of Kings (The Trials of Oland Born, Book 1) (16 page)

Oland and Delphi approached the cart. Pinfrock was in it.

Pinfrock was dead.

ROM HIS GRUESOME PALLOR AND THE DARK, DRIED STAINS
of blood on his wool coat, it was clear that Pinfrock had been dead for some time.

“I think he was dead before his journey ever started,” said Oland.

Delphi was crying. Even Malben looked troubled, and had retreated into a tree, wrapping his arms around himself.

Oland reached down to Pinfrock's body.

“Don't!” said Delphi.

“He's got some paper in his hand,” said Oland. He turned to Delphi.

“Don't touch him!” she said.

But Oland pulled the paper free. It was the corner of a white page and, in the moonlight, he could make out the tiniest speck of teal ink.

“This was the archivist's letter,” said Oland.

They stared at each other.

“It seems that this is what happens if you betray an Archivist Ault,” said Oland.

With that, all thoughts of finding the census and finding his parents were gone.

“How could the archivist have known that Pinfrock had shown anyone the letter?” said Delphi.

“He must have been closer than we thought,” said Oland.

“Which means, at least, he is still alive,” said Delphi.

“And murderous,” said Oland. “Someone who has put a dead body in our path to deter us.”

“We can't stay here,” said Delphi.

“Pinfrock was a good man,” said Oland. “We shouldn't leave his body out here. He has a family.”

“But what can we do?” said Delphi. “We can't bring him back to Galenore.”

“We can do something,” said Oland. “We have to.”

Delphi shook her head.

“Let's rest for the night,” said Oland. “We can go back to the stream, build a fire. We can decide in the morning the best thing to do.”

“But… what if the archivist comes here,” said Delphi, “and wants to find out who Pinfrock was telling tales to?”

“The archivist has no need to come here,” said Oland. “He has sent his message.”

They stood in silence for some time.

“Can we trust the word of a murderer?” said Oland eventually.

“But he has said nothing to us,” said Delphi.

“Nothing but the words he wrote in a letter claiming to be signed by King Micah…” said Oland.

 

They sat, without speaking, by the fire, the stream the only sound in the forest. Delphi held Malben in her arms. Oland studied the map of Envar he had taken from King Seward's Hospital, hoping that there was something in it that would guide them closer to Sabian.

“There is nothing here,” said Oland, “nothing that is telling me where to go, nothing that is giving me a sense of where Sabian is.”

“I wanted to say I'm sorry about the census,” said Delphi. “But I'm sure there's another way to find out more about your parents.”

Oland nodded, then turned back to the map.

The heat eventually lulled Delphi to sleep. Oland got up and found a spot far enough away that he would not wake her, yet close enough that she was still in his sights. Then, with nothing more than a sharp rock and his bare hands, he dug a grave for Pinfrock, a name he had seen so many times in The Holdings, a name that had meant little then, but now meant more than he could bear.

Oland patted down the mound of earth covering Pinfrock's body. He stopped as he heard the sound of singing through the trees.

It was as pure a voice as could ever be, yet with its own spirited peculiarity. He realised it was Delphi, singing a tragic ballad about a woman and a man forced, by others, to part.

Oland walked back to where she sat, with Malben asleep in her arms. Delphi stopped singing when she saw him.

“Your singing is amazing,” said Oland. I have never heard anything quite like it.”

Delphi blushed. “Really? Chancey the Gold didn't allow me to sing anywhere else. He told me that singing was only for inside the house.”

“Well, it shouldn't be,” said Oland. He pointed at Malben. “Look at the effect it's had on him.”

“What happened to your hands?” said Delphi, frowning.

“I… hurt them,” said Oland.

“How?” said Delphi.

“From… from moving the cart.”

“They should be bandaged,” said Delphi.

“I have nothing to bandage them with,” said Oland. He went to the stream and began to wash his hands. “You should really try and get some sleep,” he said, “and I'll do the same.”

 

The following morning, Oland woke first, after a fitful sleep. He looked down at himself. Though his hands were clean, the scratches, bruises and rawness of his palms were a sorry sight.

Malben was swinging back and forth between the trees, quicker than usual.

Delphi sat up, “What's wrong with Malben?” she said.

Oland looked over at him.

“He looks agitated,” said Delphi.

Malben moved faster and faster, then he jumped, landing in front of Delphi, hugging her leg, then climbing up into her arms.

“I think he's perfectly fine,” said Oland, smiling.

Delphi hugged Malben. He squeezed his paws against her cheeks and opened his eyes wide.

“Malben, you are so funny,” she said.

He let go quickly and swung backward, his little legs still gripping her waist. Oland and Delphi laughed. Malben jumped down and started to pull at Delphi's hand.

“Are you bringing me to the trees?” said Delphi.

Malben opened his mouth then closed it. He tugged her arm.

“All right,” said Delphi, “I will follow you.”

“What about me?” said Oland.

Malben pulled Delphi's hand harder.

“I don't think I'm invited,” said Oland, laughing.

“Well, we won't be long,” said Delphi. “Maybe we'll find us some food.”

“I'll come with you, then,” said Oland.

“Yes!” said Delphi. “Do!”

“Why does it look like Malben is actually shaking his head?” said Oland. “Malben, have I offended you in some way?”

Malben gave him the closest to a sad smile he imagined a monkey could give.

Oland sat down beside the fire. “Go, then,” he said. “Go without me.” He laughed, but he was suddenly struck by how different his journey would have been if he hadn't met Delphi. Or Malben. He didn't want them to go, and it unsettled him.

Delphi held up her hand. “Shh!” she said. “I hear something.”

Into the clearing charged a horse and cart, this time with a driver, one whom Oland recognised only too well.

It was the man who had come to Castle Derrington on the night of The Games, wrapped again in black gauze bandages – the intruder who had pulled him into Villius Ren's forbidden throne room. In one quick move, the man jumped down from the cart, grabbed Malben by the neck and threw him into a cage. Oland and Delphi lunged towards him. He swung the cage at Oland, knocking him to the ground. With his free hand, he pulled out a knife and held it to Delphi's throat.

HE MAN THREW THE CAGE IN THE FRONT OF THE CART
and marched Delphi to the back, where he tied her wrists and ankles and secured them to the timber behind the driver's seat. He turned around as Oland was struggling to his feet. Pointing the knife towards Delphi, the man guided Oland, with little effort, into the cart and bound him alongside her. He unrolled a length of canvas to cover them. The man took the driver's seat, with Malben in the cage beside him, and they moved off, slowly at first, and then at an alarming speed. Oland and Delphi struggled to steady themselves against the motion.

Oland whispered to Delphi. “He came to the castle the night of The Games to try to take me away.”

Delphi's eyes were wide. “Who is he?” she said.

“I don't know,” said Oland. “I don't know.”

“I know how to get free,” said Delphi.

“Then do it!” said Oland.

“Not without you and Malben. When the cart stops, I'll have to find the keys to release you.”

They travelled through the night and, within hours of dawn breaking, the cart finally came to a stop. The man jumped down from his seat and walked to the back. He untied the covering, and looked in at Oland and Delphi. He was carrying Malben, whose face was stricken.

Delphi tried to kick out at the man. “Give him back!” she said. “Don't touch him!”

The man laughed a low, throaty laugh, and he walked away.

Delphi turned to Oland. Her eyes were black. “I will kill him if he lays a finger on Malben.”

Oland started pulling at the chains, rattling them hard.

“Shh…” said Delphi. “Let me do this.”

Oland watched, wide-eyed, as she used her left hand to squeeze the fingers of her right, pushing it slowly through the cuff, squeezing again until she had pushed it further through. She stopped then wriggled her right hand the rest of the way out of the cuff.

“How did you do that?” said Oland.

“I have flexible bones,” said Delphi.

“Flexible
bones
?” said Oland.

“Yes, I always have,” said Delphi. “When I was a child, I could squeeze through the bars of my cot.” She pulled her other hand free, then pulled her feet through the cuffs at her ankles. Oland couldn't bear to watch.

“I'll get your keys from the front,” said Delphi.

“Grab my bag too,” said Oland.

Delphi moved up to the front of the cart and unhooked the keys from where the man had hung them. She climbed back down to Oland and unlocked his hands and feet. She stopped when she heard the rattle of locks, and the piercing sound of rusted hinges. Footsteps rushed towards them.

Oland and Delphi froze. The cart jerked and began to move forward.

“Move!” the man was saying to the horse. “Move!”

The horse did as it was told and, from the back of the cart, Oland and Delphi watched the towering iron gates they had come through growing smaller and smaller, as they went deeper and deeper into peculiarly dark woods. The air was filled with the sound of birds, animals and insects in motion: beating wings, buzzing, scurrying feet, broken branches, rustling leaves.

With a sudden jolt, the cart began to move backward, and rock from side to side. The horse started to whinny.

“Shh,” said the man. “Shh. Calm down! Calm down!”

But the horse was clearly trying to shake himself free. The cart rocked violently.

“Hold! Hold! Hold!” the man was saying. “Hold!”

But the horse gave one final thrust and the cart crashed to the ground, shattering the timber shaft. Oland and Delphi fell out and rolled into the undergrowth. They could hear Malben crying out. They could see a magnificent black horse galloping away. As the man followed, Oland and Delphi took the chance to escape. They watched from behind a tree as the man in black returned to the cart roaring that they had gone. There was no sign of Malben.

Oland and Delphi crouched, deathly quiet, in the hot darkness. A dark green shimmering snake unfurled slowly from a tree beside them. It spiralled down to the ground and, as it landed, a plume of violet feathers shot up from its head. It paused then slithered away.