Destiny (22 page)

Finish it,
Figgis suggested.

You spoil my fun, dwarf.

Remember Orlac. We have a job to do and need to be on the road early tomorrow.

It was Gidyon’s turn to sigh across the Link. He looked towards one of the innkeeper’s daughters—the one with the lovely smile —and winked. She looked confused, noting that Gidyon’s fist was barely a whisker from touching the red ribbon. How could he be so cocky? She could hardly hear her own final encouragement to him over the monstrous din of the crowd. Men were now standing on chairs and tables; several of them, in fact, had even clambered onto the serving counter for a clear look at the boy’s defeat.

Gidyon turned back to Londry, who was leering at him with his horrible teeth.

‘What will you tell your ma and pa at losing their money?’ the Strongman taunted.

Gidyon broke into the widest of grins. ‘But I haven’t lost yet, Londry,’ he said and pushed ever so gently with the tiniest amount of the Colours. They responded, subtly surging against the weak power of Londry which had been pouring through Gidyon’s arm. Londry’s expression changed dramatically as he felt his arm weaken. What was happening? This was not right. He looked towards his grinning opponent as their locked fists gradually swayed away from the red. They held momentarily in the centre, fully upright where the contest had begun.

Londry cast a terrified glance towards the innkeeper and then felt the ghastly sensation of his own rigid arm moving inexorably towards the blue. The crowd became hysterical. The boy had found some deep hidden strength and was fighting back courageously. It was
slow and graceful, the movement down to the blue ribbon. Londry wanted to believe his eyes tricked him. He tried to double his power but he had long ago used its full strength and this lad before him did not seem to be affected by it any longer.

And then something extraordinary happened. Londry had never felt such a sensation before. A sense of something cold sliced open in his head and he heard a voice.

Cheats cannot be allowed to prosper,
it said.

It was the voice of the lad. He was still grinning. Londry looked at his fist, knowing he was a beaten man, as it experienced its first ever touch to the blue. He could not hear his own thoughts as the inn seemed to explode. Men were cheering and thumping each other’s backs; others leapt from tables and jumped on one another. Londry, numb, felt his fingers being unlocked from the tight grip of his opponent who was being showered with kisses by one of the innkeeper’s daughters.

‘How did you do that?’ he said, quietly.

Gidyon’s superior hearing heard him. ‘I cheated,’ he said, and stood.

Londry watched all of his night’s winnings disappear into Gidyon’s hands and he looked towards the innkeeper, who wore a murderous expression as he was inundated by demands for payment from boisterous men, looking forward to clutching their winnings. Londry knew it would be a long time before the Strongman from the Freak Show would be welcome at this alehouse again and he had to wonder whether the innkeeper would even survive the huge payout he would be making tonight.

Gidyon pushed some coin into the hand of the girl that was still clinging to his neck. ‘I have to go, but this is for you,’ he said.

Let’s get out of here, Gidyon,
Figgis said, keen to get his companion away from the hysterical congratulations of all those who had placed their money on him. Figgis was relieved when Gidyon nodded.

Let’s go,
he said, piling money into his pockets and waving at his supporters.

It was a cool, clear night and they sucked in the fresh air.

Another night under the stars, then,
Figgis said.
Let’s head towards that small copse on the other side of town.

I suppose it is,
Gidyon said, referring to a night under the stars.
I don’t feel like going back in there. The innkeeper looked ready to kill me.

Figgis chuckled.
I reckon he got what he deserves.

They’ve been running that trick for years and cheating honest men from their money. I presume they could only have devised it since the fall of the Inquisitor.

Yes, you’d be right there. Saxon told me that Goth punished people for many years. It’s only recently that sentients have been able to proclaim their powers.

Are they always that weak?

I think so. Wild magic is never strong. It’s just a trace of something passed down through generations.

And this is what King Lorys feared and had people persecuted for?

Figgis shook his head.
It’s terrible what was done to them.

Father said that he and my mother have the wild magic. But they are both so strong with it.

This is true. Torkyn Gynt is the One and your mother is special. None of us really understands. Their magic is perhaps an individual gift. Without either of them there is no Trinity.

It doesn’t make sense to me, Figgis. There’s more to it. If sentient people are weak in their powers, passed as wild magic through generations, then how do my parents possess such immense abilities— enough to consider taking on a god?

I’m not sure they are being given much choice.

Gidyon refused to accept it.

Well, what do you think it is then, if not the wild magic?
Figgis asked.

Has it occurred to you that my parents may also be from the gods?

No it hasn’t. It’s an impossible notion.

Why?

Well, explain how?

I don’t know. It’s just a thought.

They were both so deep in their thoughts and private conversation across the Link that neither had paid much attention to the fact that they were now on the open road again, headed out of town and towards the motley set-up of carts and stalls which they presumed was the Freak Show. As they rounded one of the alleyways which would lead them towards the copse and shelter for the night, Figgis suddenly hissed.

We’re being followed.

They swung around and saw half a dozen men approaching them.

Wait!
Figgis cautioned, sensing the Colours flare in his companion.
Your powers are more than enough
defence. Let’s see what they want of us. If it’s money, just give it to them.

Pigs bollocks I will! But I’ll hear them out.

It was Londry leading the pack.

‘We want no trouble,’ Londry said to them.

‘Why are you following us? Surely you don’t plan to steal my money?’

‘We’re not here to steal from you. I want you to meet someone.’

That’s novel,
Figgis murmured.

A ruddy-faced man stepped out of the shadows. He was as broad as he was tall, with a bulbous nose. ‘I’m Vyk Tyne, proprietor of the Freak Show,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘Shall we move out of the alley and into the open?’

No harm done. Might as well hear him out,
Gidyon said.

They turned and followed the men back up the alley and into the main street.

Tyne turned towards Gidyon. ‘Londry told me what happened back there in the alehouse.’

Gidyon shrugged.

‘You are sentient and you travel with a dwarf,’ the man said with some wonder. ‘We haven’t seen his kind in decades. I’m offering you a place in our show.’

Gidyon was taken aback. This was the last thing he had expected. He looked towards Figgis and they both burst out laughing.

‘Why is it funny? You’re both perfect!’

‘Perhaps we are, but we are on a journey to Brittelbury and must make haste. I thank you for your
interest,’ Gidyon replied, with genuine politeness. ‘Good luck, Londry.’

They both made to leave.

‘Wait…please!’ Tyne called. ‘Brittelbury is one of our stops. We should reach there in a few nights. What harm then to travel with us? Help us earn some coin and earn some yourself.’

Gidyon turned. ‘I’m not sure I need to earn coin, sir. Londry will testify we have enough to see us through.’

Londry nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Vyk. I thought he may say yes.’

Tyne shrugged. ‘Are you walking through the night?’ he asked.

‘Probably,’ Figgis said.

‘I thought you were mute,’ Tyne said, incredulous.

‘No, I can sing and dance too,’ Figgis said, effecting a comical jig. He was relieved that the confrontation was not what he had imagined.

‘Well, don’t go yet. Please. Why not stay the night at our camp and we can talk some more? There’s food for the morning and some manner of bed for the night. I’ll be happy to extend some hospitality. Perhaps you can teach Londry here a few tricks,’ Tyne offered graciously, nodding towards Gidyon.

He seemed genuine enough. They sensed no guile in this man.

‘Come and share a drink with me before you rest. Your money’s safe, I give my word. Who knows, I might persuade you to travel with us.’ He smiled big-heartedly.

‘All right,’ Gidyon said. ‘I could use a soft pallet.’

‘Come,’ Tyne said. They walked with the group. ‘Let me introduce you to a couple of our performers: you
know Londry, and this is our contortionist, Elby.’ A slim man with a liquid walk smiled at Figgis who grunted a greeting. ‘On the end over there is Selwyn, who you can see has no arms but balances on a tightrope. And in between them is Caerys…he’s a snake swallower.’

Caerys held out a hand. ‘I used to be with Cirq Zorros.’

Gidyon grinned. ‘I’m not from these parts, I’m sorry.’

‘Oh well, it’s a very famous circus. It used to boast the Flying Foxes. But they broke up when Saxon left…and then Greta married Zorros…’

‘Saxon,’ Figgis said, ‘the Kloek?’

‘That’s him,’ Caerys replied, beaming that they might have a mutual friend. ‘How do you know Saxon?’

‘We go back a long way,’ Figgis admitted.

They had arrived at the Green. ‘This way,’ Tyne said.

The group broke up, headed towards their own caravans, but Caerys followed with Gidyon and Figgis as they ducked beneath awnings and stepped over rugs and various pockets of hastily made habitation. Tyne led them to the most ornate caravan and gestured for them to join him inside.

‘I know you’re both in need of rest but join me in a nip of something stronger than ale. It will see you both off to a good night’s sleep.’

Figgis eyed him suspiciously.

Tyne laughed. ‘Nothing sinister, I assure you, dwarf. Just some excellent liquor I picked up on our last visit to the south.’

Caerys nudged Gidyon. ‘You can trust us.’

They sat back in the relatively salubrious surroundings of Tyne’s caravan and listened to his tales
of how the Freak Show came into existence more than a decade ago. Gidyon was enjoying himself, letting down his guard, but Figgis kept a close watch on the door and on his bonded’s state of mind. One more glass and he was sure the lad would pass out.

‘Tell me about your circus, Caerys,’ Gidyon slurred.

‘They were wonderful days they were. We travelled up and down the Kingdom performing for the royals many times. You know, it’s impossible to think it, but our Queen…well, King’s Mother now, once lived with us.’

Gidyon nearly dropped his cup. ‘Who are you talking about?’

‘Queen Alyssa. She lived and travelled with us. She and her friend, old Sorrel.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘It’s true, I swear.’

Gidyon was just about to press the young man for more information when they heard an almighty roar.

‘Apologies. That’s our very big friend. He gets himself horribly drunk every night after a show.’

‘Big friend?’ Figgis enquired, putting down his cup and removing the one listing on Gidyon’s lap.

‘Yes, my word. He’s enormous. The complete opposite of you, my friend. The two of you would make a fine double act.’

‘A giant you mean?’ Figgis said, feeling a knot twist in his stomach.

‘Giant? No, I don’t think so. Giants were a tale from our imagination, weren’t they? But he’s a huge man. I’ve never seen the like of him. He draws enormous crowds.’

‘What is his name?’ Figgis demanded.

‘He can’t pronounce it until morning when he’s sober again,’ Caerys laughed.

Tyne offered to refill the cups but Figgis refused for himself and on behalf of Gidyon.

‘He calls himself Themesius, which is such an old-fashioned name don’t you think?’ Tyne said, filling his own cup, not noticing the dwarf was on his feet and making for the door.

‘I want to see him,’ he said.

Gidyon yawned.

Up, lad. Now! We’ve found Themesius!

Tyne did not fully understand the urgency to meet with the ‘Big Man’ as he was known. They had always steered away from calling him the obvious title of Giant because it might scare the little ones. Themesius was scary to look at, with long, dark hair and an equally long dark beard. His huge arms were covered in thick black hair, as were his legs, and his voice was so deep you could almost hear it rumbling from any part of the camp. Yet, despite his terrifying appearance, he was a gentle soul who had wandered out of the Great Forest one day, disorientated.

It just so happened that the Freak Show had been travelling on a relatively unused track of the northwest, hugging one of the famed fingers of the Forest, and everyone had been edgy at being in such close proximity to the supposedly enchanted place. When a huge man had suddenly lurched from the trees he had startled the first caravan so badly that the horses had shrieked and reared, breaking the axle. They had had no choice but to make camp in the very place they had wanted to leave far behind. As it turned out, the stranger had lost his memory and had no notion of his home, any family or
why he had been in the Forest. All he knew was that his name was Themesius.

He had intended no harm and his strength had helped them make repairs to the damaged wagon in order to be on their way—this time with the big man in tow. He preferred to lope alongside the train of wagons and very quickly became a popular member of the travelling troupe, winning notoriety wherever they went.