Destiny (38 page)

Tor smiled. ‘Arraq. It is incredible. You will take some before we set out.’

‘What now?’ she asked, her head nodding towards Goth but still her eyes not touching him.

‘We waste no further time. I know everyone is weary but we push on. I just feel that we must get everyone back into the Heartwood as fast as we possibly can.’

She nodded. ‘I agree. But we need to give the horses a proper rest. I’ve suggested to Gidyon we eat something, however paltry, even if just to kill some time for the beasts.’

Tor took her arm. ‘Come then,’ and led her to where her son had laid out food.

Later, when everyone was resaddling the horses and Goth had been placed back in the cart, it was Gidyon’s turn to take his mother aside.

‘Did you tell my father what ails you?’

She gave him a firm look of admonishment. He had seen her give Gyl this similar look. It meant she would brook no further discussion on a subject. He refused to be cowed by it.

‘Tell me.’

She sighed. ‘It is nothing, son.’

‘Please.’

Alyssa looked at Gidyon’s earnest expression and was transported back to that day at Minstead Green. He truly was a copy of his father. Something about that happy memory of dancing with the other spinsters and laughing as Tor caught her posy cut through her resolve not to share the reason for her troubled mood with anyone.

‘I am dreaming too much.’

He moved his head to one side. ‘Lys?’

Her brow creased. ‘No. Xantia.’

‘The woman from the Academie?’

Alyssa nodded. ‘She keeps baiting me…laughing at me.’

‘About what?’

‘Lauryn.’

Gidyon took her hand. ‘Mother, for the time being we know that Lauryn is about as safe as she can be.’

They heard Tor call them. Gidyon looked over and motioned that they were coming.

‘In the arms of a mad god. Safe?’ The fear which crossed his face stopped her saying more. ‘It’s a dream, Gidyon. I told you it was nothing.’

‘Tell me what frightens you in it.’

She took a long breath and looked back towards the loaded cart. ‘Coming,’ she called, before answering his question. ‘That I believe I will be forced to face her again and fight her to save my daughter.’

‘Tell the others.’ He saw her baulk. ‘At least tell him. Let Father help you,’ he all but begged, now feeling her fright although not really understanding it.

‘Not yet. I will await Lys, first.’ She put her finger to her mouth to show him she would not say any more on this. ‘Come. Your father wants us to make haste. We must travel.’

Gidyon and his Paladin had made the journey east from Brittelbury in surprisingly fast time, thanks mostly to the trees which guided them. Most Tallinese had to
travel around the Great Forest because of their fear of it but the trio were able to cut straight through and were welcomed by its tall, leafy sentries which opened up new paths, ensuring their swift arrival at where Alyssa and Saxon waited.

Alyssa was overjoyed to see them, if not a little overwhelmed by Themesius who towered above her.

Saxon too was still clearly hurting but he refused any fuss being made of his wound—in fact he seemed embarrassed by it. His emotional reunion with Themesius also created some sorely needed amusement as the huge man tried to hug the Kloek gently so as not to make his wound bleed again.

The tender reunion between Paladin was being repeated now, as Themesius wept at the sight of the magnificent falcon—his great friend and fellow warrior…was this really brave Cloot? And when Cloot travelled on his tall shoulders no one believed the grin of pleasure would ever leave the giant’s face.

Reunited, the group let the Forest guide them on their way, rapidly shortening their journey to hours rather than days, until they could sense the mysterious Rork’yel Mountains closing in around them. The trees began to thin as daylight broke over the vast northern finger of the Great Forest.

Home,
Cloot sighed softly across the Link. Everyone but Goth heard.

They settled at the fringe of the Forest. The horses could be taken no further and were safest there.

Rest everyone,
Cloot said.
Let me scout and get our bearings.

The falcon’s wings beat powerfully and Cloot very swiftly disappeared over the first tall ridge. Themesius immediately began to tend to the horses having noticed how weary Saxon appeared. When the Kloek moved to help, he waved him away, suggesting he tend to Alyssa who looked exhausted. Tor had noticed it too but had not said anything. He would keep his worries to himself for now. They left Figgis in charge of their captive.

Don’t let him speak to Alyssa,
Tor cautioned.
He will do his best to unsettle her. She is ailing enough without his mischief-making.

Figgis nodded.
I’ll see to it he speaks to no one.

Tor and Gidyon set off in search of the water they could hear not far away and firewood, in case.

Alyssa watched her two precious men disappear into the Forest. She knew all too well what would be discussed during their private time together.

Are you worried for her?

Is it that obvious?
Tor asked.

Only because I am too.

Has she said anything to you?

Perhaps you should urge her to speak with you about all that troubles her.

Tor stopped walking. He knew they were out of earshot of the others. ‘What do you know, son?’

‘She won’t tell me much.’

Two pairs of remarkably blue eyes regarded one another. Tor realised his wife and son had entered into a confidence. He was mindful of not breaching their trust
in each other. ‘Is there anything you believe I can do to help her?’

Gidyon shrugged, started to walk again and was relieved his father followed suit.

‘
I think the arrow has injured her more than we realise.’

‘
No. I have seen to that wound. It is clean. Painful, certainly, but healing. That is not what troubles your mother.’

Gidyon stayed quiet.

Tor tried another approach. ‘Ah, there’s our stream. Let’s fill these skins first.’

As they bent to their toil, he added, ‘I keep wondering if Lys is visiting her dreams and troubling her.’

‘Oh no, it’s not Lys, it’s Xa—’ Gidyon stopped, angry with himself.

Having got closer to the truth Tor covered the mistake expertly, talking over his son as though he hadn’t heard him. ‘It’s just that when Lys visited her for the first and only time, she upset your mother so badly, Alyssa became remote and untouchable…just like now.’ He dropped a full bladder on the ground and cupped his face to his hands. ‘Ah, that water’s chill and delicious.’ He smiled at his son. ‘Thirsty?’

Gidyon took a drink as well, glad to have glided over his error with such ease.

‘Is she a secretive person?’ he asked his father.

‘Light, no. Alyssa is very open, very direct. I don’t understand her reluctance to share her worries. Perhaps she has spoken to Saxon?’

Gidyon shrugged again. ‘Perhaps.’

They stood and collected kindling and some larger branches in their sack, Tor talking softly all the while to his son, searching gently for the right way to ask the hard question he needed answering in full.

He watched Gidyon’s expression change from troubled to one of relief, as though he had made a decision. ‘Father…’

Just when he thought Gidyon might yield he felt the cold slice of the Link open and recognised Cloot’s distinctive cast.

I’ve found it!

They spoke no more of Alyssa; instead gathered their load and hurried back to the others.

Goth’s time had come.

It was as though they were stepping into a new world. Led by Cloot, they went on foot. Goth walked slowly in pain; his arms tied and tethered to Themesius in front, his every move scrutinised from behind by Gidyon, who had taken an intense dislike to this vile man with the twitching face and permanent sneer. Figgis led with Saxon. Tor brought up the rear with Alyssa, who pretended she needed no help and yet gladly accepted his hand to clamber over most of the ridges. They had to trust the falcon for none of his suggested twists, turns and periods of what felt like walking back on themselves seemed to make any sense. He insisted they follow his instructions precisely.

A few know these mountain passes. But only a Brocken can find the one we move towards. Trust me.

They had been trekking for several hours now, glad that the sun was not yet high in the sky and of having set out at dawn. If Cloot had not flown down to Tor specifically to direct their gaze to an exact spot, they would certainly have missed the narrowest of passes. It had a cunningly concealed entrance and the track ahead was overhung by branches from either side which formed a cool and dark canopy for several hundred steps.

Goth could not fathom what was to be done with him. It was as though they all knew something which he was not privy to. Could they all speak without sound, using some sort of magic? He dismissed the thought as soon as it bubbled up and yet he had already convinced himself of the same between the falcon and Gynt. Why he was being led here baffled him. If Gynt wanted him dead, then why not kill him now…or even yesterday, when he had Goth at his mercy…or indeed long before that when he was first captured by the trees? It was as though Gynt did not want to dirty his hands.

Goth smiled to himself. Perhaps he could survive this after all. And yet Gynt doggedly pushed him towards something. What was he doing here?

His question was partly answered as one by one they emerged into a sun-drenched valley surrounded by soaring rockface on all sides, including the slim precipice upon which they all now stood. Below them they could see people moving about. There were not just a few either—a population as thick as that of any big village seemed to be roaming down there.

Cloot arrived on Tor’s shoulder. No one said anything. Even the Link which was open between them all remained eerily quiet.

It was Goth who broke the awed silence. ‘Why am I here, Gynt?’

‘For justice,’ Tor replied, his voice cold. ‘Look more closely. I suspect I have better eyesight than you, Goth, but as we get nearer pay attention to some of the children whose faces you took great delight in disfiguring with your branding iron.’

They all turned to look at Goth, who felt as though his blood had turned to ice. ‘The sentient ones?’ he whispered.

For the first time since clapping eyes on him again, Alyssa addressed the man she hated most in the world. ‘They alone are qualified to judge you.’

‘But they’re dead!’ he screamed. ‘I was told they all died for their sins and from my punishment.’ His voice lifted higher, drawing attention from below as it echoed around the walls of rock.

Alyssa poured all her years of hate into her scorn. ‘You were given false information, Goth. At King Lorys’s behest, the ones who could survive were treated and then brought here to live in secrecy and peace, away from your cruel horde.’

The tic on the side of his face was jumping again to the point where Alyssa became blurry. His fury was such that he could not respond in his usual articulate manner and it came as a relief when he felt Themesius roughly tug him and shove him forwards.

‘Walk!’ the giant said.

It took them an hour, following Cloot’s instructions, to wind their way down to the valley floor via precarious tracks and unexpected openings, which included a short trip via a cave. And all of this time the sentient ones below were gathering, a hush falling over
them as they watched the strangers descend. None of them had seen people from the outside world since their arrival. They believed the Tallinese inquisitors were finally back to kill them.

Tor could feel their magics pooling, culminating in the more aggressive amongst them organising some sort of retaliation. He understood why but nevertheless he allowed the Colours to rise up. The others sensed it too and stopped walking.

Are we in danger?
Alyssa asked first.

I imagine they would consider us enemies. Inquisitors even,
he answered.

Saxon halted everyone.
Shall I go out first? Talk to them?

Tor smiled.
No, we should not fear them.
Then he grinned.
As a precaution I shall shield for all of us. They cannot hurt us.

Not even combined?
Figgis asked.

Tor shook his head.

Goth watched these strange and silent proceedings. He noticed their eyes moved constantly as though communicating. Some nodded or smiled. He saw Gynt shake his head. They were talking! Their evil magic allowed them to talk to one another without speaking. It offended him so deeply that he could feel his anger returning. The shock of knowing that many of those whom he had thought dispatched to their gods were alive and living in this valley had passed. Now fury replaced it. He had been lied to by the cowardly king he had served. A king who had loved his pathetic subjects more than that which his crown had stood for. His predecessors had done their best to rid the land of
sentients and Goth thought Lorys had been following suit. Clearly not. His blood boiled.

Themesius pushed him again. He trudged on with his bleak, angry thoughts. They finally emerged from the cave into sharp sunlight. The sentients had obviously expected them to appear from the direction in which they had first spotted them. But Cloot’s clever design had brought them through an opening which allowed them to get used to the brightness and gather their wits.

‘We come in peace,’ Tor cried and they all turned swiftly, looking around to see where the voice had come from.

They were spotted and many cried out in awe at the sight of Themesius, standing so much taller and broader than Tor or Gidyon. An older, strong-looking man pushed to the front. One whole side of his face had been melted and fused by the branding iron. He regarded them silently with his one eye, taking in the fact that they carried no weapons— nothing, in fact. They were a motley collection—hardly soldiers or the strutting peacocks of the inquisition.