Destiny (48 page)

It was a happy scene which Gyl drank in. The sight of Darmud Coril had made his jaw drop. He could not imagine he would ever behold such a vision again. He, a mortal, could feel the throb of a powerful magic as the Paladin were finally reunited beneath the canopy of the Heartwood.

Where was his mother?

He was desperate to see her again. He even leaned towards Torkyn Gynt to ask after her whereabouts, but pulled back for some reason. Something about the way the tall, dark man carried himself told him to wait. She would show herself soon enough. He imagined she was probably picking some flowers for Lauryn’s welcome or, more likely, leaves for her herbals. He smiled, watching the Paladin embrace. Gyl suddenly felt he had so much to say to her. Well, with his father gone, she was all he had now. She and Lauryn. Precious Queens of Tallinor—that made him smile again. He was already thinking past the fear everyone else was feeling. He knew Tallinor would survive Orlac and he would see Lauryn on the throne at his side. He could not have said why, but Gyl did not doubt this picture which had come into his mind at the same moment Darmud Coril had appeared.

Tor was experiencing muddled emotions during the Paladin’s reunion. He found himself standing so still, withdrawn, because it seemed the best method of handling this internal chaos…which was the only way he could describe what he was feeling. And all the while something insistent called to him. He was not sure what it was—but it was powerful, tapping away, trying to win his attention. Sparks of Colours came to mind, brilliant and dazzling. They spoke to him but he pushed them aside for now.

Alyssa. He could not bear to think on it. His heart would slowly bleed him to death at her loss but whilst he still had the strength, he must set his mind to Orlac.
Alyssa and the bleeding would come later…if there was a later. He wanted to feel the same joy that the Paladin were experiencing but instead felt sadness. It was his fault —his fault that all of these fine souls had borne so much pain and grief. It was because his father, Darganoth, had delivered him up that all these people would now bravely sacrifice their own lives…for the second time.

He absently noted the golden puppy sniffing around the heels of Gidyon, who had introduced himself to Rubyn. Tor felt the keen cut of disappointment that he had let his own children down. Two brothers who had never set eyes on one another and now, awkwardly and urgently, would have to build the trust which would bind them. Who knew what they might face? Who knew what their purpose was? Lauryn, standing so close, had already paid a costly price on his behalf. In protecting him she had given the most precious and intimate part of herself over to a madman.

The anger arrived. He must not give in to it. Not yet. Everyone needed to know the reason for his grief first.

He spoke for the first time. ‘We have grave news.’

A hush fell over the Paladin. Tor spoke aloud so Gyl could also hear. He was frightened for the King. After all, Alyssa was his mother, in all but giving birth to him. He reached for Lauryn’s hand. He was frightened for her too.

‘My lord,’ he said, turning and bowing reverently to his sovereign.

Gyl was taken by surprise at Gynt’s courtesy. He had pushed aside all thoughts of royal protocol in such surrounds and under such strange circumstances. He gave a short nod in return to the man who had stolen his mother’s heart.

‘Thank you. May I ask where her majesty is?’ He had not meant to reinforce her ties to himself but in regard to his mother he felt helpless—she was the former queen, married to his father, Lorys. They were his parents. He would not let her absence go unremarked without showing his own distress. Gyl sensed a nervous shifting amongst some of the people gathered before him at his enquiry. For his part, he noticed Torkyn Gynt’s incredibly blue eyes held his fearlessly.

‘It is that I wish to speak of, sire,’ Tor admitted.

‘Good,’ Gyl replied, confused. ‘Call her, then. Let us all be together. I keep being told that time is our enemy and yet we stand here amongst polite introductions and touching reunions. Surely plans need to be made?’

He was disturbed to see Gynt shake his head. ‘No, sire. No plans. He will come and we will react.’

Lauryn took the King’s hand again and flicked a glance towards Gidyon. Something was wrong with her mother. She was sure of it now for there was no reason in the Land that Alyssa would not be here to see them back to safety within the Heartwood. She felt her stone burning whilst her heart thumped in her chest. What was the grave news?

All eyes now watched Torkyn Gynt take a steadying breath. Cloot had arrived to sit on a nearby branch.

Show courage,
the bird whispered into his mind.
Like she did.

Tor set his shoulders, pushed all other thoughts from his mind and began to tell his tale of grief.

They await us,
Orlac said suddenly.

How do you know?

I have my ways.

Tell me.

No.
He stared again through the eyes of Pelyss towards Lauryn, watching her grieve.

Bad news, then. She has heard of her mother’s courage. He saw that on one side of her stood the King, shocked and pale. If he listened carefully he could even hear the Tallinese sovereign’s outrage at the news just received. Through the golden pup he noted another familiar person who stood on Lauryn’s left. Saxon. The Kloek. The Sixth.

Pelyss sniffed amongst a circle of people and a wolf. Is the animal Cloot or Solyana he wondered? That was the final pair of Paladin he had not accounted for. He had checked off eight of the ten and for some inexplicable reason had felt his heart swell at the sight of them. Old Nanak, the Keeper, had once whispered
that there was a fine line between love and hate. Orlac, in his rage, had never understood such a sentiment but increasingly he did now. He knew Lauryn hated him but perhaps she could not help but love him ever so slightly. And whilst he hated the Paladin—they had imprisoned him for centuries—he also loved them in a strange way.

He admired them for their courage and tenacity and respected them for going to their own deaths so resolutely. They had known only pain and despair at the end of the magics he wielded and still they were prepared to face him again. He felt a certain elation at their dedication to their cause and to those they protected. And so yes, he believed he loved them for that commitment. He wondered sadly what it would be like to be loved in return by anyone. He would never know, he decided.

Orlac noticed that Pelyss was scared of the wolf. He pondered this as he spied again the majestic falcon which was always close by. He dragged his mind back, searching for any clues as to why the pup would be scared. It was obvious this was no ordinary wolf. He knew if he considered it for long enough, it would come to him.

What are we waiting for?
hissed his uncle.

Quiet!
he roared.
Let me think!

And he was right. It did come to him. Solyana, the Third. She had been a magical beast who had taken many forms over the centuries. He recalled a silver horse and later a silver-flecked bear. And now a wolf. The young dog would not like another beast as magically endowed as Solyana. Their senses would be familiar to each other. That would explain the puppy’s obvious reluctance to go near her.

So Cloot was the falcon. When and why that had happened, he could only wonder, remembering the not-so-comely features of the man of Rork’yel.

His thoughts ranged further. The Ten. They were no match for him before and they would be no match for him now. So why did they think they could overpower him? He remembered Rubyn’s words. He searched through the eyes of the animal and saw the young man. He sat nearby to the soldier he had once known as Cyruson and yet Rubyn seemed to sit apart from everyone. Remote, silent. The Three. We will destroy you, he had declared. How?

And now his attention came to rest finally on Torkyn Gynt. His brother. The man who had been sent to kill him. He had a kind face…a sad face. They both knew what it was to lose the woman they loved. His brother was his opposite in colouring. Where he was golden-haired and violet-eyed, his sibling was dark with an arresting pair of blue eyes. He too felt sad. In another lifetime, a different context, they might have been close brothers, good friends. A strong fraternal love might have existed. Instead they were pitted against one another. One must destroy the other in order to survive. He hoped his father would pay that visit and watch what he had contrived.

Next to his brother sat a younger version of Gynt. It was uncanny. Ah, Orlac thought, staring intently through the vision of Pelyss, this is the third child; Lauryn’s other brother.

All accounted for. All waiting.
He hadn’t realised he had spoken the thought in his head.

What? Why are you staring out so intently? What do you see?
Dorgryl exclaimed, his exasperation beating him.

Hush now, uncle, we are close.

Their initial shock had been replaced by tears. And when the weeping was done, the Friends of the Heartwood sat in an awkward pause. Solyana’s usual suggestion to eat had failed to entice anyone towards the food laid out. Now they murmured quietly amongst themselves, wondering what might happen. At the back of each of their minds was the question of what would trigger the commencement of the final battle—for surely this was what they were facing? Orlac was coming—when and how no one knew—but they all understood this was it. This final confrontation within the Heartwood had been centuries in the making, during which time spirits had been broken and lives had been lost and won again. Orlac would die or they would. There was no turning back now; no escape.

Gradually their attention fell back upon Tor. The One. He alone would guide them now.

Tor looked up from his quiet thoughts. He had been experiencing the sensation for some time now that eyes were upon him; probing, searching. When he saw all of them staring in his direction he put it down to that and yet a vague sense of being ‘touched’ by someone else was still there—he could not shake the notion.

Can you feel it?
he asked Cloot.

The eyes? Yes. Strange. What is it?

I don’t know but listen to me now, no heroics.

What do you mean?

You know exactly what I’m saying. I want you to live, Cloot.

Not at your expense, my son. You forget. I am Paladin…and more, I am bonded to you alone. I would die before I would see you harmed.

Cloot, please I—

Hush, Tor. There is no more to be discussed. The moment has arrived. We face our destiny now. I have mine and you have yours. Let’s walk towards it bravely. Life or death change not how I have loved you over these years or love you now. I feel your grief. I also feel your anger. Don’t let’s allow her death to be in vain. Don’t let’s allow our deaths—if that’s what is asked—to be in vain either. I am not afraid.

Tears welled in Tor’s eyes. Cloot’s nobility was always so potent and inspiring.
I am not afraid either.

Then guide those now who would follow you blindly and faithfully no matter what stood before them. Don’t waste their precious blood in indecision. Be true to yourself. The answers lie within you. Remember, Tor, you are the One.

Tor looked around. ‘Does anyone have anything to share? Now perhaps will be our last chance.’

Faces still pinched from the shock of Alyssa’s death stared back at him. Tor felt their emptiness keenly. Everyone, including himself, had worked towards this time and yet now that they were here, none of them knew what was expected of them; how to wield their magic effectively. They were looking to him to show them and he felt helpless.

All the Paladin were as still as statues—the only erratic movement being from the dog, Pelyss, who scampered
around their feet— all, that is, except Solyana. Tor had not noticed until now that the wolf had been restless for several minutes. She had begun to sniff the air and pad silently around the outside of the circle in which Pelyss played, the circle the Paladin and the Trinity formed. A low rumble had begun to issue from her throat—so soft at first as to be hardly noticeable—but it built gradually in intensity until they were all looking towards the wolf. Her lips had begun to pull back to reveal long, menacing teeth.

This further disturbed everyone and the two soldiers amongst them instinctively reached for their swords. Somehow Cyrus knew it was useless but he liked the comforting feel of the blade in his hand. He noticed the King had even brought along a bow from amongst the weapons he had stocked on
The Raven
. Cyrus could see the beautifully fletched arrows in a quiver nearby. He loved to shoot with a bow. In his days as Prime, no one bar the King even came close to matching his skills. He could shoot down birds on the wing with such mastery that Lorys had good-naturedly proclaimed him a freak and refused to shoot against him. He wondered now, vaguely, amongst this fresh fear at Solyana’s behaviour, whether Gyl was adept with the bow too. He promised himself that if they lived past this day, he would make a point of finding out.

Solyana was no longer just making noise. Her strange yellow eyes seemed to be riveted on the golden puppy playing happily amongst their feet.

‘What is it?’ Tor asked her. ‘Is he coming?’

No,
she growled—it was a chilling voice none of them had heard from her before.
He’s already here,
and she sprang towards Pelyss, her large and powerful
jaw clamping around the puppy’s neck. Pelyss screamed in terror.

Orlac rocked backwards as his spell on Pelyss was broken.

It is time,
he said quietly before taking one last long breath of the fragrance of the Ciprean royal gardens and casting out powerfully.

Dorgryl, caught unawares, felt the air around them sizzle. He knew he had but seconds now and with every last ounce of strength he could muster, forced the red mist to flow angrily through his host. Orlac, who was guiding them in a massively potent transporting magic, was momentarily weakened by his efforts. More importantly, he was diverted as he focused all of his energies on moving his body through the magical planes which would take him from Cipres to the Heartwood in moments.

He could not fight off the monstrous effort of Dorgryl
and
achieve the transportation.

He had to choose.

Panic gripped the Heartwood’s own as Lauryn began to scream, terrified for her dog. However, the huge wolf released the pup almost as soon as she had struck because she felt the spirit of the god who used his eyes and ears disappear.

He’s left the dog,
Solyana said quietly across the Link.

Everyone began speaking at once. They were stunned by this news.

‘Silence!’ Cyrus ordered, the first to recover from the shock of Solyana’s revelation. ‘Form a circle and turn outwards.’

‘Be vigilant,’ Saxon said
,
his nervousness making him speak his thoughts aloud.

Silence gripped them as they waited. The old fear at facing Orlac came home to roost amongst the Paladin. It was a familiar feeling.

The falcon felt it too.
Be strong now,
Cloot whispered to his companions.
Our task is done now, Paladin. It is up to Tor and the Trinity—we must help them achieve what they were sent here to do. Hold the Link open, no matter what.
And then on a private Link to Tor he added:
This is your time, my son.

Tor had no time to respond. He felt it first.
Orlac comes,
he said, looking at each one slowly in what felt like a farewell.
Brave Paladin, thank you,
he called gently. He glanced to each of the children he loved.
Trinity…you must do whatever it is you were meant to do. I know not what that is. But you will when the moment arrives. Trust yourselves. Avenge your mother.

Tor felt the reassuring thump of Cloot landing on his shoulder. He sensed Gidyon, Lauryn and Rubyn moving towards each other. Meanwhile the nine other members of the Paladin gathered, fanning out instinctively in the shape of an arrow behind him. Gyl melted back into the bushes, directly behind Lauryn, his sword and his bow at the ready. He would save her; fight for her—die for her if it was asked.

Trees began to shudder about them and the soft sunlight which had filtered through seemed to dull, plunging them into a false darkness. Below them the
land rumbled as if it might crack open. They held hands and opened their minds to each other.

The Light guide us,
Cyrus said.

The air ahead began to spin, whipping up dust from the earth and leaves which had fallen from the trees in their mighty distress. It began to shimmer, ghostly pale at first but gathering in a golden intensity until they could make out the shape of a man. He was tall and broad…and possessed by madness.

His eyes glowed red.

It was Lauryn who screamed.
Dorgryl!

The noise about him died down. The earth stopped its rumbling but the trees of the Heartwood still groaned softly. They did not like the beast amongst them.

‘Greetings One and all,’ Dorgryl said, smiling broadly with Orlac’s mouth.

Tor seized control. ‘I will not speak with you,’ he said and watched the smile die on Orlac’s face.

‘Not speak with me?’ the thing raged in its deep and ugly voice. ‘Do you know who I am?’

‘You are Dorgryl. Sad possessor of tragically fallen gods. You have no place amongst the Host and you have no place here. Begone beast!’ Tor spoke angrily.

Enraging him is a clever tactic,
Cloot offered sagely into Tor’s mind only.

‘I would speak only with Orlac,’ Tor persisted.

‘You will speak with me, fool, before I destroy you and all your pathetic protectors. Ah, Lauryn, my dear, have the bruises healed? I did not mean to push against you quite so hard when we lay together.’

Lauryn felt her bile rise but her brothers squeezed her hands so tight she could not move. No one had considered
Gyl, who, hearing Lauryn so taunted, broke cover from the bushes, brandishing his sword. The bow and single arrow he had nocked dropped as he ran towards the god. They landed at the feet of Cyrus.

Orlac’s hand twitched and the King of Tallinor was flung clear across their heads with such force there was little chance he could have survived the impact against one of the great oaks if that same tree had not deftly leaned down its branches to capture him in the air. The branches quickly lifted the limp body into their highest reaches and away from trouble. He was useless against Orlac. He was a liability amongst the Friends.

As Lauryn wept it was Rubyn’s calm voice which helped her.
The trees will protect him. Fear not for him…only for us.