Curse of Kings (The Trials of Oland Born, Book 1) (28 page)

LAND AND
D
ELPHI STOOD AT THE CENTRE OF A
long-abandoned cell in the dungeons underneath the castle arena. Their hands were shackled behind their backs and they were face to face, as far away as they could be, from its damp, rat-infested walls. In the corners, rancid pools of water had collected, their surfaces speckled with dead insects. They glanced at the door and its newly welded bolts and locks.

“They can't have just left us here,” said Oland. “They'll have to come back for us. And when they do…”

“When they do,” said Delphi, “I'll…”

“You'll…”

Delphi began to rotate the cuff that had been locked on to her wrist and was attached to a chain in the wall.

“I forgot,” said Oland. “I forgot your… flexible bones.”

Now that Delphi knew the truth about who – or
what
– she really was, her bones disgusted her. They were not bones any more, she knew. They were just cartilage. She had always thought that being flexible was an exotic gift… not an abomination.

“The Craven Lodge could just leave us here,” said Delphi. “Who would care? They could leave us here to rot. They want you dead. And I'm no one to them, just a girl you met along the way.” She pulled her hand free from the cuff and began to work on her left hand. “Or worse,” she said, “they have discovered that I'm Chancey the Gold's daughter… and that's all the more reason for them to want me dead too.”

“That won't happen,” said Oland. “I won't let that happen.”

Delphi pulled her left hand free. “I won't either,” she said, smiling.

The door rattled, and rattled again. Delphi grabbed her chains and hid her hands behind her back. The bolts were unlocked. It was Viande who pushed his way in.

“Welcome home,” he said to Oland, and laughed. Then he turned to Delphi. His face lit up. He leaned in to her, his lips nauseatingly wet, his breath rank.

“Aren't you a sweetling?” he said.

Sweetling.
Oland's stomach turned. It was the same hideous way he spoke to and looked at the women who came to the castle; the women he bullied and tormented and pawed. And now it was Delphi. Oland's fists clenched, but, as he moved, the shackles took his arm only far enough to make Viande turn and laugh at him.

“But she
is
a sweetling… look at her,” said Viande. “Even a boy with long blond hair can see that…” He stood back and laughed again. “Well, look at that – she's got the boy's hair, and you've got the girl's.”

Delphi dropped the chains, but just as she was about to lash out, Viande grabbed her and pulled her towards him. He had hooked his arm under her chin. He started to squeeze. Delphi struggled hard against him.

“Little sweetlings don't fight back,” he said. “That's not what little sweetlings do.”

“You are an ignorant savage,” said Oland.

Viande raised his eyebrows. “I still know when a pretty girl stands before me,” he said.

Oland struggled against his chains, yanking hard at them.

“She needs a pretty dress,” said Viande.

Oland looked at Delphi. She was staring at Oland, half frowning, as if she was in deep, conspiring thought.

Then, without warning, Viande threw the key to the cuffs at Oland.

“Unlock yourselves. We're all going to go for a walk, and no one is going to cause any trouble. I'm still going to hold you against me, though, if you don't mind,” he said to Delphi.

Oland's stomach turned again.

All three walked to the door.

“After you,” said Viande, nodding at Oland.

Oland hesitated.

“I said, ‘after you',” said Viande, squeezing Delphi's throat. She made a terrible choking sound.

Oland stepped into the hallway and, in a flash, Viande threw Delphi back into the cell and locked the door.

“Sweetling,” he called. “I will return for you.”

He grabbed Oland by the arm. “Now,” said Viande, “let's be on our way.”

Oland's veins filled as they had in the arena and that same sensation rose up through his body. He didn't understand where this power was coming from, but this time he knew that he would release it without question.

Viande, oblivious to what was happening to Oland, spun towards him. He threw the key up into the air and caught it in his mouth like it was one of his Brussels sprouts, swallowing it in one go.

“Now,” said Viande, “only I know where the second key is, so you better not have any plans other than to keep nicely in line with mine.”

IANDE AND
O
LAND WALKED BY THE CELLS WHERE
only months earlier Oland had tended the starving animals. Jerome Rynish appeared from the darkness, running towards them.

“Viande, Villius wants you,” he said. “You must go to him immediately.”

“With the boy?” said Viande.

“Alone,” said Jerome.

“Before or after I take the boy to the slaughterhouse?”

Oland froze.

“I am to take the boy,” said Jerome. “According to Villius, you are to be at his side for today's coronation. It appears he has decided to have a warrior at each shoulder.”

Viande's eyes lit up.

“You need to see the Tailor Rynish immediately,” said Jerome. “He is preparing Villius' robes and needs to do the same for you. They're in his quarters. I am to take the boy.”

Viande nodded. “I'll go at once.” He strode down the hallway out of sight.

“Warrior…” said Jerome. “What a fool. And I've told each member of The Craven Lodge the same story, and each fool has believed it. Arthur will keep them contained.”

“But,” said Oland, “I've seen everything – I know everyone has been turned by Villius Ren. I know what's happening.”

“Oland, despite your wisdom,” said Jerome, “you have no idea what is really happening.”

“Delphi!” said Oland. “My friend Delphi. Viande locked her in the cell. She's—”

“We've freed her,” said Jerome. “She's in very safe hands.”

“Who's hands?” said Oland. “Where is she?”

“She is with Prince Roxleigh,” said Jerome. “He knows the castle inside out. He'll keep her safe.”

Oland smiled. “Thank you Jerome.”

“No,” said Jerome, “Thank you for bringing Prince Roxleigh home.” He laid his hands on Oland's shoulders and looked him in the eye. “It's nearly over,” he said.

“What do you mean it's nearly over?” said Oland.

“Come,” said Jerome, “we have been waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?” said Oland.

Jerome Rynish said not another word as he led Oland through the castle grounds and they walked up the first hill. Where earlier there was a sea of people preparing for the coronation of Villius Ren, there was now a sea of soldiers, dressed in uniforms of gold and teal – the colours of King Micah's Decresian.

Jerome turned to Oland. “Yes,” said Jerome. “We have been waiting for you.” Tears shone in his eyes.

“There must be a thousand men!” said Oland.

“There are two thousand,” said Jerome. “Two for every one of Villius' men.”

All at once, they raised their lances to Oland Born.

LAND RETURNED THE SOLDIERS' SALUTE
. H
E SAW THAT,
like the tin soldier Frax had stolen from him, some held arquebuses, the weapons that fired balls of lead.

He could barely speak. “I… I thought everyone had turned; I thought everyone had vowed their loyalty to Villius Ren.”

“Oh, no,” said Jerome. “All of it, the feigned loyalty, everything, is so that the people of Decresian can finally reclaim their kingdom.”

“I… I have no words,” said Oland.

“The livelihoods of almost everyone in Decresian were destroyed,” said Jerome. “The farmers' lands were taken from them. We were all cast aside. But we wanted to fight, for ourselves, for our wives, for our children. So that is what we did. Yes, the souls screamed from midnight until daybreak every night, but those screams at least drowned out what we were doing: while The Craven Lodge were rampaging across the land, we built underground rooms where we made weapons and trained our men. We started our campaign before you ever received King Micah's letter. But, from the night you arrived at my door onward, we worked harder and faster than we ever had. And what you see before you is testament to that.”

Oland thought of his life at Castle Derrington. How could he have stayed so long, passing, as he did, from one miserable experience to the next? In the time he'd been away, he had seen a world that, despite the dangers it presented, was an amazing world, and it was a free world, and it was nothing like the only world that he had known.

Jerome took out a map of the castle grounds.

“A cavalry of one thousand will charge the castle from the north,” he said, “while the infantry will move to the east and west of the outer walls. Do you see those wooden towers by the castle walls? Villius Ren thinks they are platforms from which to view the festivities. But they are siege towers and they will allow us to drop bridges to the battlements. The trebuchets will launch their attacks here, at the northern corners of the castle. Our men can enter the outer ward through the breached walls. Chancey the Gold is considering access through the moat.”

“Chancey the Gold is here?” said Oland. “He's alive?”

“Yes,” said Jerome. “He is.” He paused. “I'm sorry we couldn't let Delphi know, Oland. But she will, soon.”

Oland nodded. He pointed to the map. “The northeast tower,” he said, “that's the library… and my room… None of The Craven Lodge will be there. There is no reason to attack that.”

“I'll see to it that it remains untouched,” said Jerome. “As we speak, Villius Ren, in his dazzling new robes, will be reading the letter that will offer him the chance to surrender.”

Oland turned to him. “I know Villius,” he said. “I know what he's going to do. He won't surrender. He'll find a way to stall things for nine days and nine nights… he will wait for his Fortune of Tens. And, on the tenth day, he will welcome an attack.”

“Ah, he has no supplies,” said Jerome. “He has no sense that this is upon him. Today, his castle was stripped of all food and water right before his eyes – after all, he was hosting an outdoor banquet. His soldiers helped a great deal.”

Oland laughed.

“In fact, some of them may not be feeling too well after the food they ate,” said Jerome. “Our wives made some interesting dishes.” He paused. “So, Oland, Villius Ren and his army will fight today or they can starve to death.”

From above came an inhuman howl. Everyone looked up as Villius Ren charged to the edge of the parapet.

“I am The Great Reign,” he roared. “I am The Great Reign.”

Below, from a trebuchet manned by Malachy Graham's sons, the corpse of a dead panther was launched, and sent flying over the parapets to land at Villius' feet.

He jumped over it and disappeared from view.

Within minutes, Villius Ren's patchwork army began to rush into the grounds from their garrisons. Oland Born rode his horse to the head of the cavalry. He raised his lance and charged towards them.

Everything Oland had taught himself in all his locked-away hours had come to life around him. Here he was, on a battlefield, with the cold air rushing through his lungs and the strength of a loyal army behind him.

And so, as the two groups came together, the battlefield became a fight for survival on one side, and for freedom on the other.

Oland was fuelled by the people's belief in him, by the Rynishes', by Roxleigh's, by Delphi's. He could never have imagined how all his worlds would collide and that, if they did, how truly spectacular it would feel.