Destiny (49 page)

It bewildered those around him to hear Tor sneer. It struck them as pointless to stoke the fury of this already-enraged god. Yet he persisted and they trusted.

‘Is that it, Dorgryl? Is that the best you can achieve with all that power at your fingertips…and the King a mortal at that?’

‘Time for you to die, Gynt,’ Dorgryl announced.

‘I’m ready. We all are, coward,’ Tor shouted back. ‘But let me look on my brother. Let me see with my own eyes this wretch you inhabit.’

They all felt Orlac’s true presence pushing angrily against Dorgryl’s.

‘Clever you are, Gynt, playing us against one another,’ the elder god said.

Tor ignored Dorgryl. ‘Do you hear me, Orlac? Cast this demon out and face me—or is it that you fear me so much you hide?’

They watched the red mist of the eyes dull slightly and something else momentarily shone through.

‘I see you cringe behind your uncle. So, all those centuries of struggle for this? You’ll allow
him
the pleasure of defeating us? We go to our deaths knowing you are, and probably always were, a coward.’

Cloot no longer thought this wise.
Tor—

Hush. Look.

The golden man’s body began to shake. The face contorted horribly as an internal struggle began to take place. The Paladin and Trinity watched in a horrified fascination as two gods warred within one body for supremacy. A terrible guttural sound came from Orlac’s mouth but they suspected the noise was Dorgryl’s as he wrestled desperately to hang onto his possession.

Across the Link Tor heard the Paladin’s frightened questions.

Trust me. Lys once told me it was Dorgryl’s arrogance that won him his place in the Bleak. Arrogance will be his undoing again she has counselled.

No one understood but their faith in Torkyn Gynt held strong.

What do you propose to do?
Cloot asked privately.

Invite him out.

Where to?

Into me.

Have you gone mad as well?

It’s the only way.

Why?

I’m strong enough to overcome him.

He heard Cloot click angrily in his head whilst they watched the monstrous battle taking place before their
eyes. Orlac’s body was sheened with the sweat of his exertions to oust his uncle. For the moment it looked as though he might be gaining the ascendancy, as the eyes now showed a definite violet hue.

What makes you so sure?
the falcon demanded.

Because I’m smarter than my brother and…

And what, Tor?
Cloot was shouting into his head now.

I have nothing more to lose.

Other than your children?

Other than my children,
he echoed, before adding sadly,
and my friends.
He reached up and briefly patted his falcon.
You have to trust me.
He looked again to his brother as the trees around them creaked and groaned with sickening force.

‘
Welcome to the Heartwood, Orlac,’ Tor called and the golden god stared back, blazing fury through violet eyes. He was breathing deeply.

‘I will show you no more mercy than Dorgryl,’ Orlac’s real voice said.

‘I’m not interested in your mercy.’

The god nodded. ‘Perhaps you are interested to learn that your Alyssa died bravely. She lured Xantia and Dorgryl away from your daughter for long enough to permit Lauryn’s escape.’

Orlac watched Tor flinch at his wife’s name. He knew he had hurt him.

Tor clamped his jaw hard. He would not allow his resolve to be undone so easily. He took a deep breath and pressed on. ‘Dorgryl, I know you can hear me. I know what you want. All I want is to destroy my brother. I will give you my body, if you will help me.’

A Link opened in his mind and an ugly voice spoke.
Why?

You have knowledge. You have power. Combine them with mine— we can defeat him. And then my body is yours to command.

I ask again, why?

Because I have already lost what I love.

Ah, Alyssa. She was very brave to her end, you know.

It took all his will to respond without showing despair.
So I hear.
Tor fought the urge to ask more. He bit back on the rush of questions and forced his manner to be calm. He watched Orlac raise his arms high and Tor immediately created a mighty shield about them so he could buy some time to ward off whatever was about to be hurled.

He tried one last time.
Come to me, Dorgryl.
He stepped forward.
I open myself to you. I am a god. I am what you want, surely? I can give you what you crave and in my body you can be all-powerful.

The trees began to murmur their own despair and the Flames of the Firmament appeared, the normally sweet chimes discordant and angry. They rushed about Tor begging him not to do this. The Paladin intensified their Link, bonding themselves powerfully to one another. They had no idea what might happen but they did know they would need their combined strength to fight it. Pelyss began to bark and the three children called anxiously to their father.

Amongst this cacophony of sound, the people fell silent, transfixed as they watched a bloody red mist lift itself out of Orlac’s body, and sway above him.

Are you ready?
Cloot asked Cyrus privately. His voice had an urgency.

Cyrus bent and picked up the bow at his feet, resetting the arrow in position.
I can’t do this.

You will!
the falcon commanded.
You may be the First. But I am First Paladin to the One. You will do exactly as I say.

Cloot’s voice was hard and angry. Cyrus did not like the plan one bit. But he nodded, frightened by what he had been told to do.

Orlac staggered, breathing deeply. The sense of freedom from the thing inside was intoxicating.

The burning of the stone in his pocket pulled Gidyon out of shock.

Rubyn! Lauryn! The stones. They’re calling to us. Where are your stones?

They looked at him, stupefied, not having been sure whether they should tear their eyes from the red mist. Gidyon looked so intense they finally obeyed, digging deep into their pockets and lifting out their stones to match his. The trio of dull-coloured stones was blazing iridescent rainbow colours with such a fierce intensity, they were blinded.

The Stones of Ordolt were finally reunited but this time they were in the hands of gods. In these children ran the blood of the King of the Host and the ancient blood of the Custodian. They alone had the power to command the Stones.

The red mist which was Dorgryl faltered, hanging in the air as he too felt this immense new power present itself amongst them, but it was Orlac who was transfixed by the blazing orbs.

What now?
Lauryn asked as the Colours blazed so strongly about the trio it almost hummed.

We must wield its power,
Gidyon said.
But I don’t know what it is.

Think!
Lauryn yelled.

Their father spoke.
They were his flowers. You alone can command them.

They looked towards Orlac. He was reaching his hand towards the Stones. ‘They are mine!’

The flowers! They belong to the Glade. The Stones can summon the Glade!
Rubyn suddenly yelled.

Join minds,
Gidyon said and the Link immediately changed into something more intimate. It was as though he was Rubyn and he was Lauryn. His brother and sister felt likewise.

It frightened the Paladin to suddenly hear a strange and ancient language issuing from the three children. They began to murmur words of magic not uttered in countless centuries.

It was a language not of this world. It was the ancient language of the gods.

A vast power of a magnitude none present had ever felt before began to gather about them. The Flames of the Firmament intensified in brightness; no longer hundreds of them but now thousands, chiming in harmony but ferociously, now in a deafening chorus as the power continued to pull and centralise to a mighty shimmering by the great oak behind the three children.

But Cloot had eyes only for the red mist as Tor once again offered Dorgryl his body. The falcon took his chance while the mist hesitated as Ordolt, the Glade, suddenly winked into existence.

Leaping strongly into the air the majestic bird beat its wings angrily, covering the distance between itself
and the mist in a blink and gathering up Dorgryl. Cloot lifted, higher and higher in what looked like an impossible ascent, his captive screaming into his mind and fighting violently. But Cloot’s talons held on. He could hear the cries of his friends below and the soft encouragement of the trees.

He passed the gentle face of Darmud Coril who smiled his serene smile and whispered,
Fly bravely, precious Cloot.

He went higher still, the thing writhing but still he dragged it with him. He could do this. Finally they were far enough away.

Now you must enter me, beast,
he told it.

Cloot knew it had no other option. It could not survive outside a body for longer than moments. It had to use his body. As Cloot had anticipated the mist shimmered with rage as he felt the vile chill of it enter his bird’s body.

Some had fallen to their knees. Tor gaped, distracted by the scene before him. Ordolt was here, summoned by the Trinity and their power over the Stones and their ability to speak Ordolt’s ancient language. He glanced towards the children, blazing amongst the fantastical colours radiating from the orbs which held the Glade here in its return to claim back the three dried and hardened magical flowers which belonged to it.

Staring back out at him from the impossibly beautiful scene which Ordolt was wearing this day, stood two familiar figures amongst many others. He remembered
them from his vision in the dreams which Lys had showed him.

They were Darganoth and Evagora. Orlac’s parents. His parents.

Orlac too was mesmerised. He was back on his feet, his attention riveted on the tall dark man in the Glade who looked like his brother and the beautiful golden-haired woman at his side. The royal pair looked up towards Cloot who had now stooped into one of his dives.

It was only then that Tor realised Cloot had left his shoulder and understood what had happened. Darganoth was looking towards Cyrus now and nodding. Tor saw that Cyrus held a bow. He knew Cyrus was a deadly shot with an arrow.

And suddenly it all came together.

‘No!’ he yelled.
Cloot, no!
he screamed across their Link.

Farewell, Tor,
Cloot whispered.
I have loved you in my lives; I will love you in my death. Heartwood, I humbly ask that you accept me for the last time.

Cloot began his steep dive, Dorgryl screaming angrily in his mind.

Cyrus let loose the arrow. It impaled the falcon through its breast, killing the man that was once Cloot of the Rork’yel. The First Paladin to the One died and the god, Dorgryl, trapped in a dead, falling body howled his despair as the trees of the Heartwood reached hungrily now to grab their own.

The falcon’s corpse was still too high in the air for Dorgryl to escape to a new host. Between their hard fingers of wood, they crushed the fragile bones and feathers of the majestic Cloot until he was pulp. Finally
the tallest of all the trees took the bird’s remains and absorbed Cloot into itself, returning him to the sanctuary of the Heartwood and Dorgryl to a dark and desolate prison.

No one in the Heartwood that terrible day would ever forget the bleak expression on Torkyn Gynt’s face when the Light died within and he knew his falcon, his bonded one…his beloved Cloot, was gone. He was bereft. Alyssa and Cloot. There was a hole too big now in his heart and the only thing he could fill it with at this moment was rage. He turned back towards Orlac and allowed all of his Colours to loose themselves. He was no longer thinking rationally.

Each of the Paladin and his children felt the bristling of another mighty power as the Colours of Torkyn Gynt combined into a pure white rage of throbbing magic.

Darganoth nodded and whispered out of the Glade into Tor’s mind.
Use your anger, son. Destroy him. We will help you.

The Paladin closed ranks behind Tor into a single line whilst Gidyon, Lauryn and Rubyn instinctively understood their part in this. They opened themselves up to the Host.

Orlac roared. ‘Destroy me, then. Try. I will best all of you in your attempt and leave this place a smoking ruin. Let loose your power, Father, Mother, murdering brother!’

And Darganoth did. Using the Stones of Ordolt to channel not only his power but all the power of the gathered Host in the Glade, he cast with a frightening bolt of Quelling magic. As it touched the Stones the rainbow colours intensified and the Trinity allowed its
linked powers to be tapped. Now it passed through the Stones becoming a silvery light as it touched the Paladin.

And as it passed through each of them harmlessly, they contributed their own powers, doubling and quadrupling its ferocity until it passed through Tor. Now it became a fierce, radiant white as all the Colours combined to produce the most pure of the gods’ magics.

It was travelling so fast now and so savagely it created a hum.

It shot from Tor’s fingertips, luminous white and angry, to hit Orlac in the chest. He tried to stand strong against it but this was like no other power he had experienced. Even the original Quelling had not felt like this. He staggered and bent beneath its brutality, trying to fight back but beaten down by wave after wave until his own powers were numbed.

Lauryn wept to see him pushed so violently and without even knowing she was going to do it, she linked to her father.

Does it have to be like this?

She heard her father groan; knew how much he detested killing with his power.

Orlac began to writhe on the ground, his death moments away.