Destiny (10 page)

Goth had wasted no time since his audience with Orlac. He had been given freedom to assemble a dozen or so men and money was plentiful in his purse from the royal coffers. He told the soldiers that, at Orlac’s bidding, he was leading a raiding party into Tallinor to track down the killer of their Queen Sylven. More than enough men volunteered their services and he was careful to take one of the officers who would command these soldiers.

He explained that someone had left the palace in a hurry—a servant called Hela—who had information leading to the Queen’s murderer, a man called Torkyn Gynt. Some of the men knew Hela and he noticed their look of surprise at the mention of her name. He quickly quashed any doubts they had, suggesting that it was she who had first encouraged the Queen to meet with this Tallinese physic. It did not help that one of the officers expressed his shock, saying that he knew Hela very well and that she was the most loyal of all of her majesty’s
confidantes. Goth swiftly laid his most damning accusation, announcing that Hela had captured the Princess Sarel and had taken her prisoner with her into Tallinor to meet up with Gynt, holding the heir to the throne of Cipres to ransom. He was making it up as he went along, his mind sliding this way and that around every objection—if only he had known that Hela was indeed fleeing to the safety of Torkyn Gynt it would have amused him.

When questioned about the fearful stranger he reassured the men that Orlac had every intention of putting Sarel on her rightful throne and that he was their only hope against the conspiracy which had been uncovered —that Tallinor had designs on Cipres. Killing the Queen and imprisoning her heir was the first step towards the Tallinese success. He was rather pleased with himself that all of this fakery had been contrived as he stood there in front of these men. His fabrication was thin: Orlac had killed so many. When further objections ensued, he reminded them of what they were dealing with—magic beyond understanding; powers they could not fight. Better to have him on their side, he reasoned, as he played on the Cipreans’ shock for their dead Queen and now their stolen Queen. He knew he was clutching at straws and needed more time to come up with a better rationale for them, but he had his own pressing mission and that was to track down the heir to the throne. Beyond that task he envisioned unimaginable riches but mostly power, which was what he craved more than anything.

The men were readied; they would begin to sweep the city for news —any clues at all which might lead to Sarel’s whereabouts.

A man was dragged up in front of Goth. He had been beaten badly and was favouring one side of his body. The soldiers who held him upright threw the man down in front of Goth.

‘He knows, sir,’ one of the soldiers said.

Goth gestured for the injured man to be lifted up again. When he faced him, he could see his lips were so badly wounded, they were almost shredded. Someone had either worked him over very well in anger or the man was too courageous for his own good.

‘If you have information on the maid, Hela, it is best you tell us now,’ Goth said in a pleasant voice.

The man spat the blood running freely into his mouth at Goth’s face. The former chief inquisitor did not react predictably. Instead, he pulled his horrible sneer-like smile and motioned for silence.

‘Who knows this man?’

A soldier stepped forward. ‘I do, sir. His name is Garth; a good man, just a lowly guard.’

‘I see,’ Goth said, turning back to the soldiers who held the man. ‘What makes you think he knows something?’

‘He was boasting at the guardhouse that Hela owed him a roll between the sheets because of a favour, sir.’

‘Ah, good.’ Goth returned his attention to the soldier who knew Garth and whispered something to him. The man nodded and disappeared with another soldier.

‘At ease, men,’ Goth said, ‘we have a little while to wait.’

Puzzled, the men dropped their cargo to the dust, where Garth now lay in silence, bleeding.

A short time later the soldiers returned; this time they carried a child with them; a little girl of around six
or so summers. She was crying. The mother had come too and was wailing. Both men looked uncomfortable and frightened.

‘Get him up,’ Goth said and watched Garth being heaved back to his shaky feet.

Garth immediately recognised his sister and his niece. The woman was screaming at her brother and the child’s crying grew louder. Goth could not help but enjoy this pathetic scene. He wished he had a branding iron handy because this so reminded him of the good old days in Tallinor.

He finally spoke above the din. ‘Now, Garth. As you can see, I care not for your suffering—as indeed neither do you, it seems. But if you do not tell me what you know of Hela’s disappearance, then I will cut off the finger of your sister’s child here and I will continue to cut off fingers until she is left with two stumps at the ends of her arms.’

He could sense the horror of the men around him at such a suggestion. Cowards, he thought. The Cipreans, like the Tallinese, had grown soft. He continued. ‘And then I will start on her toes, Garth. But you can save her becoming a cripple and no small amount of pain if you offer up immediately what you know. It’s really very simple.’ He even tried to grin although his twitch had become extremely pronounced and frequent now…it always did when he was excited like this.

Garth hung his head. Goth counted silently to five and then grabbed the child. In a flash he had removed a wicked-looking knife from a pocket. The girl was screaming so loudly he wanted to thrust it straight into her heart but he resisted. Men closed around him murmuring angrily.

‘Back off, you men,’ he warned. ‘I have Orlac’s authority here and you would do well to show your respect. He will not look upon you with any favour for interfering with the safe return of her majesty, Queen Sarel.’

That seemed to have the desired effect.

‘Garth?’ he called and was pleased to see the man had the decency to look at him.

‘What’s it to be? Finger or information?’ The little girl was just whimpering now and her mother was chalkwhite, staring at her brother and continuing a stream of desperate cajoling to get him to deliver the information.

Goth was not prepared to be patient. He wasted no further time. Garth would need to be reminded that Goth never made empty threats. He bent the child’s tiny hand across his own thigh and without further warning had sliced off the smallest finger of her left hand. The scream meanwhile sliced through the heart of every man around and several retched.

The mother shrieked and fainted, as did the child finally, which was a mercy. Goth returned his cold stare to Garth, as he handed the man his niece’s finger.

‘A memento for you,’ he said.

Garth broke down and told him everything. In moments they had the story of Hela’s strange departure from the palace with a cloaked friend. Garth explained she was a maid who was pregnant with no idea of the father and that Hela was taking her home to prevent tongue-wagging and a cloud hanging over a good family.

Goth laughed. ‘And you never saw this friend?’

Garth watched his shocked sister and her screaming, bleeding daughter being led away. ‘No. I believed Hela.
She had no reason to lie but I did have her followed for her behaviour was strange. She met a man and my only information is that she and this companion were taken aboard a ship.’ All of this was said haltingly and with difficulty but Goth held his patience.

‘And the ship’s name is?’

‘
The Raven
. It belongs to a Captain Quist of Caradoon.’

Goth was pleased. He recognised the name from his time in Caradoon; knew the pirate’s formidable reputation as running the most successful ship in the archipelago. Now they had a path to follow.

‘Thank you, Garth,’ he said before slashing the blade of his knife across the guard’s throat. The man died quickly and quietly. Orders had already been given to a paid mercenary by Goth to rid Cipres of Garth’s sister and niece. The mercenary was, in fact, waiting for their return home now to finish Goth’s ugly work.

Goth wiped at splatters of Garth’s blood. ‘Get rid of his body —and I want a ship readied immediately. We are bound for the Kingdom of Tallinor.’

Soldiers unhappily but obediently snapped to his command.

Goth turned away satisfied. But next time he headed into Tallinor, he vowed, it would be with an army and the sorcerer, Orlac, for protection. He would see Torkyn Gynt’s severed head sewn onto the body of Alyssandra Qyn’s and he would burn the single corpse and scatter its ashes to the very corners of the Kingdom and he would then assist his new master raze it to the ground.

Gidyon was told he would find his mother with the King. Making his way up the beautifully sculpted stone staircase to the royal chambers he felt the Link slicing open, cool and sharp in his mind.

Figgis!
It had to be.
Where are you?

In the bailey. They will not permit me to enter the palace…good afternoon, by the way.

Gidyon grinned.
Good afternoon, my friend. Stay there. It is too complicated to explain why. I’ll be with you shortly.

No hurry. I’ve spent several centuries in wait for you.

Gidyon had arrived at the chambers which were now permanently guarded. He announced himself and it seemed they were expecting him. He was led by one of Gyl’s men into the room where he found his mother sitting straightbacked, perhaps a little tense, speaking quietly with the King. They both turned at his arrival. Alyssa beamed, whilst Gyl nodded. Gidyon bowed out of respect for both.

‘Forgive me for interrupting you,’ he began.

‘No, it’s good to see you, Gidyon. I am sorry you meet us all under such troubled circumstances,’ the King said. ‘It feels like just a moment ago we were strangers, then brothers…now King and subject. It’s all very confusing.’ His mouth stretched into a lazy smile and Gidyon knew exactly what Lauryn had meant about it changing Gyl’s demeanour. He must try harder to get to know this man.

He dragged his hand through dark hair and returned the smile. ‘I think we may have got off to a difficult start.’

‘But no fault of yours,’ the King said, gesturing towards a chair for Gidyon. ‘Can I offer you wine? Mother?’

‘I’ll have an ale,’ she said and Gidyon was puzzled that both she and the King laughed. The sound seemed to release the pervading tension.

‘Gidyon?’

‘Same as her majesty,’ he said, shrugging.

And so mugs of ale and Gyl’s wine were delivered together with savoury wafers and before Gidyon knew it, he was relaxing in the company of the King and feeling a lot easier about the decision he had reached.

How much longer do you suppose?
a voice asked in his mind.

He jumped and his ale spilled on his hand. The others in the room noticed it and shot him puzzled looks. Alyssa’s expression suddenly relaxed into comprehension.

‘Once you get used to it, that won’t happen again,’ she said, wryly.

‘Used to what?’ Gyl asked, putting his wine down.

‘To the voice in his head,’ she replied.

Gyl turned to his mother, gently exasperated. ‘Whatever are you talking about?’

‘Let Gidyon explain,’ she said, relaxing back into her chair.

The King looked towards his stepbrother.

‘Er…well, it’s Figgis, you see. He’s arrived at the palace and anxious for us to be on our way.’

Gyl nodded, not understanding a word of this but humouring his mother. ‘I see. And Figgis is who?’

‘My Paladin.’

‘Ah good, I’ve heard this word before. You are bonded. Am I right?’

‘Yes. As Sallementro and Saxon are bonded to our mother.’

The King nodded once again, a somewhat fixed grin on his face. ‘And the connection between him and the ale on your hand is?’

The question hung between them as Gidyon looked from the King to his mother and back again, before answering. He felt suddenly foolish. ‘Figgis spoke to me and I wasn’t expecting it.’

‘Ah, now you’re losing me you see, brother.’

Alyssa knew she must come to the rescue though she had been amused these past moments watching Gidyon’s increasing discomfort and Gyl’s very best attempt to sympathise with all this magical stuff unravelling.

‘Gyl,’ she said, and he turned to her. ‘Figgis can link with Gidyon. This means he can talk to Gidyon over a distance by communicating directly into his mind.’

The King stood and waved his arm theatrically. ‘Well, why didn’t you say that beforehand? That makes all the sense in the world to me now.’

It was time to rein him in. ‘Listen to me. Tor and I spent years speaking to one another in this manner without meeting. We both lived in separate villages, you see,’ she said, remembering those early, wonderful days. ‘I fell in love with him through the Link. We can all speak with those we are bonded to through the Link and I suspect without the archalyt I could communicate with Gidyon, Lauryn, Tor, Saxon, Sallementro and possibly a number of others connected through the Heartwood.’

Gyl noticed she was no longer smiling; there was an intensity gleaming in those green eyes which he had learned over the years meant: I make no jest.

‘And whom do
you
speak to like this?’ He was intrigued, imagining how powerful such a skill could be on the battlefield or even simplified as a communication tool for his men.

Gidyon realised the King was talking to him again. ‘My father, Lauryn, Figgis…so far.’

‘It is a talent I wish I had,’ Gyl replied, meaning it. ‘You said you were leaving us?’

His switch of subjects caught Gidyon by surprise. He was glad the cup of ale was already to his lips. Being able to take a draught and swallow it earned him a fraction of time to think.

‘Yes. That is why I came to you. I wished to say thank you for your hospitality,’ he directed this towards the King and then glanced towards his mother. ‘I must find Yseul and my stone.’

She nodded. Had expected as much. ‘And Lauryn?’

Once again Gidyon looked to the King. ‘I am hopeful your hospitality will extend longer for her.’

‘She is most welcome to remain as guest in the palace for as long as she wishes. I am very happy for her to stay. It will be rather nice to have some family around for my coronation ceremony.’ Despite the stab at her, he avoided his mother’s gaze.

Gidyon immediately looked at Alyssa. ‘Lauryn was right, then. You are leaving?’ He did not miss the King’s face darken at this.

‘I must,’ she said, flicking a glance towards her royal son. ‘Gyl understands. He just has to make the people understand.’

‘How do you propose they will accept that yesterday’s Queen of Tallinor…my own mother, the woman married to the King who died just days ago, is not present for the coronation…what possible excuse can you come up with, Mother?’

Gidyon realised he had reopened a wound. ‘I’m sorry, I —’

Alyssa did not permit him to finish. ‘It’s all right. Gyl is correct, I am putting him in a very difficult situation but Gyl has accepted my reasoning.’

‘Rubyn?’ Gidyon tactfully did not add the name of the other person he believed she would seek.

She nodded. ‘And so, Gyl, I am proposing that we use the excuse that your mother is so traumatised by the death of the King that I have taken ill and you have seen fit to send me to a convent to recuperate.’

Gyl snorted his derision. ‘And you think all the courtiers will accept that, after you stood in the Great Hall like some sort of imperious ruler, composed and dignified, beautiful and serene…not sick and sobbing —’

His mother refused him the chance to continue his tirade. ‘Gyl, every married man in this city will know there is no benchmark for a woman’s emotions, particularly someone who has had to face what I did. You forget I am not pretending this, son. I am not acting out a piece of theatre. I am living it. Your father has died and I did carry myself stoically earlier and it took every ounce of my strength to do it. It is not contrived…it is who I am. And now I am asking you to lie for me. They will accept it because you say so and because they know how much I love you and would under any other circumstances be there for your coronation. No one will question you, son. You will tell them I have been sent away to regain my sanity if you must…but you will spin the tale and ensure it is credible.’

Alyssa watched her son, the new King, nod his agreement, and she took his hand and squeezed it. It was a private moment between them and Gidyon felt embarrassed to be sharing it. She is amazing, he thought, and then realised she was speaking to him now.

‘I shall leave today. You say Lauryn knew?’

‘She guessed you would want to help find our brother. She is not happy about my decision.’

Gyl moved towards the window. ‘Well, I for one shall be delighted to have her sit with me as my private guest at the coronation feast. I promise she will not be allowed to be lonely. There are sovereigns and officials travelling from far and wide. In fact I received confirmation today that a Ciprean delegation will be joining us.’

‘Light! They won’t make it here in time, surely?’ Alyssa said.

The King shrugged. He suddenly reminded her of that small bright boy with no cares or worries of just a few years ago. ‘We shall wait. Another few days will not matter and I am honoured they are joining us.’

Gidyon stepped towards his mother. He bowed, rather wishing he was able to hug her but feeling that might be unseemly, their having only met so recently. It must have been written on his face, however, for Alyssa, after taking his hand, pulled him close. Gidyon was amazed at how tiny she really was and how fragile she felt in his arms.

Alyssa desperately wished she could link with Gidyon, offer him something special and private from mother to son. Instead she said: ‘May the Light guide you, my son, and bring you back to me swiftly and safely.’

Gidyon bent to kiss her hand and felt a thrill as she touched his bowed head, burying her hand in his thick dark hair. He hoped his voice would not choke now. ‘I shall return with my stone urgently, your majesty,’ he added quickly. ‘Your light will be my beacon.’

Alyssa felt herself filled with love for this young man. She did not trust herself to say another word to him at this moment and was relieved when he moved away to speak with the King.

‘Thank you for taking care of Lauryn, your highness.’ He bowed.

Gyl saluted Gidyon in the Tallinese way. ‘It is no effort. She makes fine company. I promise you she is safe here. Travel safely in the Light. I’ll instruct my stableman to give you Tully. She’s a sweet-tempered mare who will gallop all day if you ask her to.’

‘Your highness, there is no need…’ Gidyon began to say, but he was touched by the King’s offer. After his
conversation with Lauryn he knew how hard it must be for Gyl to be acting so reasonably in such strange and challenging circumstances.

Gyl smiled and once again Gidyon was reminded of Lauryn’s comment. ‘Nonsense. I insist. It’s the least we can do for people we’re counting on to save our world.’

Neither the King’s Mother nor his stepbrother could be sure that he offered this last comment without irony.

Alyssa made haste. She could hardly wait to depart now that the worst was over—her farewells to her children. Farewelling Lauryn, strangely, had been the hardest of all. The young woman had remained composed but Alyssa sensed there was something of desperation in their final embrace. In truth they were still strangers and yet connected so strongly that Lauryn, though not surprised to hear her mother’s news, felt bereft: in a matter of two days she had been deserted by her father, brother and now her mother.

‘Still,’ the King’s Mother had added a little too brightly, ‘Gyl is determined to ensure you enjoy your introduction to courtly life at Tallinor.’

Lauryn looked confused at this.

Alyssa pressed on. ‘He intends you to be his companion during the coronation. Oh Lauryn, you will meet several of the surrounding realms’ sovereigns and so many colourful and influential people. Your next few days will be so lively and busy, you will hardly notice us gone.’

Even Alyssa could hear the hollowness of her words.

‘May I not come with you?’ Lauryn asked in earnest.

‘No, child.’ She gave no further explanation and Lauryn had not added any more to her argument. ‘You will be our family’s representative at Gyl’s coronation. I’ll tell you something now, Lauryn, which you may surely sneer at, but I believe Gyl needs you more than anyone right now.’

‘Me?’ Lauryn wanted to laugh at such a suggestion.

Alyssa’s face remained grave. She nodded. ‘I mean it. Gyl has lost someone incredibly important in his life. Lorys…’ She hesitated as she heard that name from her lips again. ‘The King was more important to Gyl than even I had imagined and the series of shocks he has been hit with this Eighthday is taking its toll.’

‘I don’t see how I can help,’ Lauryn shrugged.

‘No, I’m not explaining myself well,’ Alyssa admitted, taking her daughter’s hand. ‘You are a complete stranger to him. That means you won’t judge him nor do you come with any pre-knowledge of court gossip and whisperings. You may well prove to be a good friend to Gyl, who, like his father, can be a bit of a loner. I sense he already likes you very much and feels badly that he did not do more for you at your first meeting.’ Alyssa saw Lauryn’s smile twitch at the corners of her mouth. ‘I suspect you’ll be just what Gyl needs around him. Far more companion than I could be right now,’ she said. ‘So will you do this for me, Lauryn? Will you be Gyl’s friend?’

‘Of course. You and Father, and even Gidyon, at least feel useful rushing off and doing what you have to do…’ She wanted to say more but her mother’s look stopped her.

‘And you will do more good than you can imagine
by remaining here. In fact,’ she said, arching her eyebrows, ‘from a distance you could pass as me!’

They shared a laugh. Alyssa was so used to her closest friends being men, surrounded as she had been by Lorys, Gyl, Saxon, Sallementro and even Herek to a lesser extent, that she had forgotten the grand fun it could be to laugh with a female companion.

But right now she had to leave. The page had already carried down her small bag of belongings. Where she was headed, Alyssa knew she needed no fancy gowns nor satin slippers. She also knew Saxon would be waiting somewhat impatiently with the horses.

It was as if Lauryn had read her thoughts. ‘Will Saxon go with you?’

‘Yes, we are bonded. He is compelled, if I travel, to travel with me.’

‘And Sallementro?’

‘Will remain. He is required to sing at the coronation.’

‘As your Paladin, is he not compelled in the same way?’

A slight frown creased Alyssa’s brow. ‘Yes, it’s an interesting question. I asked Tor a similar one before he left and he believes that one of each of our Paladin is more strongly bound to us than the other.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s a reasonable guess.’