Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘We have another problem besides the migaradon,’ said Dobery. ‘As Justyn says, there’s only myself, Pol and Drazan against twenty mindweavers on Murthen Island. We cannot block all of them. How many of your crews can resist mindweaving?’

  ‘Not many,’ admitted Zastra. ‘Most of my crew were disabled when we attacked the transports.’

  Justyn shook his head. ‘Same for the Darkhorse, and you know I have little power to fight them myself. I shall need you or Pol by my side, Dobery, when the time comes.’

  ‘Sendorans have strong minds,’ said Kylen. ‘We can resist the mindfoggers. But we are not sailors.’

  ‘Then you must learn,’ said Zastra. ‘We can split the Sendorans across each ship, ready to take over if the mindweavers interfere with our crews.’

  ‘It might work,’ said Justyn. ‘If the Sendorans agree to take orders from our captains.’

  Kylen frowned. ‘Taking orders from a Golmeiran will not come easy to my people.’

  ‘There is no other way,’ argued Zastra. ‘You must persuade them, Kylen. No one is asking them to swear loyalty to Golmeira, but we must be together in this, or we will fail.’

  Kylen inclined her head. ‘Agreed.’

  Thanks to the organisational skills of Justyn and Pitwyn, all four ships were ready to leave only two days after the Wind of Golmeira returned from the Pyramid Isle. Zastra was on the jetty with Justyn, supervising the loading of the last batch of supplies, when a short woman with grey hair rushed towards them. Looking ready to drop with exhaustion, she placed a bulky package in Lord Justyn’s arms.

  ‘Vingrod!’ Justyn exclaimed. ‘Please tell me you’ve got something?’

  ‘We’ve been working non-stop since Lady Zastra returned. As we suspected, none of our normal weapons will work. We tried to mould the scales themselves into weapons, but they are so hard that they wrecked the grindstone. By a lucky accident we discovered that the scales melt in a firedust furnace. It’s the intense heat, you see, it’s—’

  ‘Get to the point,’ Justyn interjected. ‘We are about to leave.’

  ‘Apologies, my lord. We used the melted scales to make spear tips and arrowheads. In tests, we found that arrowheads can penetrate the scales as long as the crossbow is fired at close range. We hadn’t time to test the spears, so I can’t say if they will work. This bundle contains everything we could make in the time.’

  Justyn weighed the bundle thoughtfully.

  ‘Gives us half a chance. Good work.’

  ‘Remember that the beast has three hearts,’ Vingrod warned. ‘One shot will not be enough. You will need a good aim.’

  They crossed the southern expanses of the Golmeiran Sea, giving the Sand Islands of the Skurgs a wide berth. Zastra left most of the sailing to Mata. Her shoulder was still sore and she needed to be fit for the assault on Murthen Island. The Sendorans being were taught the basics of sailing, but progress was slow. Jerenik, promoted to Watchmaster, was among those giving instructions. When he pointed out the difference between two almost identical ropes to a confused Sendoran, cursing her for her incompetence, Zastra couldn’t help a private chuckle. She remembered when they had both been novices, every bit as confused as the Sendorans were now. Jerenik winked at her, but displayed little sympathy for his new charges as he chivvied them along. Kylen kept her side of the bargain, stamping down on any disobedience from the Sendorans and insisting they did as their Golmeiran officers instructed.

  As they approached the Mongrels, Justyn called a conference on board the Darkhorse. Zastra took Kylen and Ithgol with her. Various schemes to attack Murthen Island, from the improbable to the ridiculous were thrashed around, but none seemed to leave much hope for success.

  ‘If Orika was here, we’d have a better chance,’ Nerika remarked. ‘She gave us an advantage over the migaradons. I can’t believe Zastra let her stay behind.’ It was not the first time she had voiced this opinion.

  ‘She wasn’t fit to come,’ Zastra responded wearily. ‘She would have been a danger to herself and the ship.’ In spite of all Zastra’s reassurances, Orika had convinced herself that it was her fault Zastra had nearly drowned at the Pyramid Isle and had reverted back to her terrified, timber-shivering state. Zastra had insisted that it would be wrong to force Orika to come along. Needless to say, Nerika had not agreed. Zastra changed the subject.

  ‘Polina, tell us again what that Golmeiran captain told you.’

  ‘He said there were twenty mindweavers and the Bractarian Guard, who are Thorlberd’s best soldiers. That’s in addition to the normal garrison and the migaradon.’

  ‘Let me have another look at that map of the fortress.’

  They all pored over the piece of paper, and after more discussions, a plan was agreed.

  ‘Are we sure we want to do this?’ Nerika asked. Justyn stood back.

  ‘We have our plan. It might just work. As long as there are no surprises.’

  Chapter Forty-six

  Rastran was bored. He decided to visit the dungeons where the Sendorans were stored. He took a perfumed handkerchief with him to cover the foul smell. The brat Zadorax was in a special cell of his own, lying half naked on the floor. Rastran nudged the boy with his foot, turning the body over. Furrows of white skin ran down his dirty cheeks indicating the passage of tears.

  ‘Have you been crying again, boy?’

  Zax gave him a glassy, uncomprehending look. Rastran kicked him again.

  ‘Wake up. I want to have a look inside your head.’

  The boy coughed weakly, his ribcage heaving unevenly against his dirty skin. Rastran delved into his thoughts, sidestepping the remnants of the nightmare of a Sendoran village being razed that had obviously been planted by one of Linsak’s mindweavers. The boy’s mind was difficult to penetrate but some images leaked out.

  Show me the Caves of Karabek. Rastran extracted an image of torchlit caverns and huddled figures. Sendoran faces lined with exhaustion.

  ‘Yes!’ exulted Rastran, but even as he tried to pull out the images they faded. The brat was resisting. The further Rastran pushed, the more the caves receded from view. Blankness descended. The boy had passed out. Rastran balled his fist in frustration. An unconscious mind could not be penetrated. He asked for a bucket of cold water and had it thrown over the boy. Zadorax spluttered into life.

  Rastran tried another approach. ‘We are expecting your sister to try and rescue you.’

  The boy scrambled to his feet.

  ‘She’ll make you pay for this.’

  Rastran flicked his hair from his forehead. ‘I hardly think so. My father has sent me twenty more mindweavers, double what we had. Oh, and another migaradon. My cousin and your sister will die trying to rescue your worthless carcass.’

  The boy backed away. Rastran pursed his lips.

  ‘What, are you crying again, little boy?’

  As Zadorax fought against his emotions, Rastran burrowed into his distressed mind and extracted images of secret signs and hidden entrances before the brat could stop him.

  ‘That’s more like it!’ Rastran cried in triumph. ‘I’ll be sure to tell your sister how helpful you were when I catch her.’

  Zax balled his fists, but was unable to stop tears leaking down his cheeks. A guard rushed down the steps. Rastran snapped round in annoyance.

  ‘How dare you interrupt? I’ll have you flogged.’

  ‘Sails,’ the guard said hurriedly. ‘Flying the flag of Leodra.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Four, my lord.’

  Rastran turned back towards Zax.

  ‘Your sister and my cousin are even more stupid than I thought. They will soon be joining you. Only, since I have obtained the information I needed from you, I won’t be as gentle with them.’

  He stepped lightly up the stairs, calling for a draught of cintara bark to be prepared, just in case he needed it. If anything went wrong, the special power it gave him would guarantee victory. He was going to enjoy this immensely. You’ll be beggi
ng me for mercy, Zastra, before the day is over.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  The rebel convoy headed towards the harbour that lay below the gates of the fortress. Unnoticed, a small boat skirted the far side of the island, shrouded in sea mist. Abruptly it changed course and headed for the island. Five figures leapt out and made for a postern door hidden behind an artfully constructed buttress.

  ‘Just where Polina said it would be,’ murmured Dobery, in satisfaction. ‘The information from the Golmeiran captain has all been accurate so far.’

  ‘He didn’t have much choice, faced with a mindweaver,’ Kylen remarked. Jerenik stepped past her to work on the lock. The door sprung open. Four guards and a black-cloaked woman scrambled to their feet.

  ‘Too much to hope this entrance was unguarded.’ Dobery wore a mask of intense concentration. The mindweaver crumpled to the ground without making a sound. Zastra reached for her sword, but Hylaz had disposed of two of the guards before she had released it from its scabbard. Kylen and Jerenik lost no time incapacitating the others. Zastra unhooked a jula lantern from the wall of the guardroom.

  ‘We must get to the tower before they can release the migaradon.’

  They headed along a narrow passage that curved inside the wall of the fortress. It ended in a spiral staircase, cut from the same yellowish stone as the fort itself. Zastra led them up. There must have been a hundred steps at least, and she was breathing heavily by the time she reached the top. The stairs opened directly into and a large, circular room. A square opening in the ceiling was open to the sky, but she was more interested in what lay directly in front of her. A migaradon, asleep, attached to the wall by a chain with links thicker than Zastra’s arm. There was no sign of a rider. The others came up behind her. As Jerenik stoop on tiptoes to look into the chamber, the tip of his sword scraped against the stone door frame. The harsh grating was surprisingly loud.

  ‘Shh!’ hissed Zastra, but it was too late. The migaradon snapped its huge head towards the source of the noise. Zastra pressed her back against curved stone wall of the room and began to edge around it. Her crossbow was already in her hand. The migaradon’s silvery eyes followed her as it yawned, revealing rows of packed teeth glistening with saliva. Without warning, it struck. Zastra ducked and splinters of stone rained down on her back as the migaradon’s teeth clashed against the wall. She rolled to her left and fired into the huge body, aiming just behind the foreleg. The bolt burst through the scales and the migaradon howled in a mixture of pain and surprise. It slashed out wildly, and Zastra was sent diving as its double-taloned claw scraped along the wall. Blood pulsed from the wound caused by Zastra’s bolt. She pulled the lever to set another bolt in the chamber and unleashed her second shot, then the third, trusting that the anatomy of all migaradons was the same as the one from the Pyramid Isle. The beast reared up on its hind legs with a high-pitched squeal. Zastra froze, defenceless. There were no more bolts in her crossbow and she knew her sword was useless. With a keening wail, the migaradon crashed to the floor, blood pooling around its belly. Zastra exhaled slowly and nudged the inert body with her foot. It didn’t move.

  ‘That’s one job done. We need to get down to—’

  She was cut off by a familiar metallic cry.

  ‘It can’t be!’ she cried in disbelief.

  ‘Look! There. Another one.’ Jerenik pointed at the square of blue sky above them. A huge winged form blotted out the light as it glided past. Across the room, a ladder lay on its side. Zastra skirted the dead migaradon and levered the ladder into position against the rim of the skylight. Jerenik held it firm as Zastra clambered up and out onto the open roof of the tower. The second migaradon was heading straight for Justyn’s ships. She knelt down to reload her crossbow, losing precious seconds as she fumbled one of the bolts. She sighted quickly and fired. Her first bolt struck home, but the migaradon was at the edge of her range and the other two bolts, even with their special tips, bounced off the side of the migaradon and fell harmlessly to the ground. The beast did not falter or change course. Zastra cried out in frustration.

  Kylen grabbed her arm. ‘There’s nothing more we can do here. We have to get Zax. Remember, Justyn has those spear heads. They still have a chance.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ Zastra followed the others back down the spiral staircase. At the bottom, two soldiers tried to block their way.

  ‘Wait! Let me see what they know,’ cried Dobery, as Kylen and Hylaz were about to strike. Both guards glanced at Dobery with fear and then collapsed to the ground, clutching their heads.

  ‘This way.’ Dobery made for a set of worn wooden steps that led down into the bowels of the fortress. At the bottom, a pair of huge blackwood doors studded with iron barred their way. A smaller door was cut into it, with a metal grille near the top. A face almost as square as the grille peered through it.

  ‘Yes?’ The fleshy face was clearly annoyed at being disturbed.

  ‘Er… food for the prisoners,’ said Jerenik.

  The face snorted.

  ‘’ardly. These animals were only fed yesterday. Are you tellin’ me Lord Rastran’s goin’ soft? What’s the password?’

  Hylaz lifted a large axe. ‘How’s this for a password?’

  Dobery stepped forward. ‘I’ll handle this,’ he said. ‘There’s no need for violence.’ He peered at the grille with an expression of good-humoured confusion.

  ‘Let us in, my good fellow. You can see we are friends.’

  The face turned away. ‘Oy, you lot!’ he called. ‘Intruders. Stupid ones too, thinkin’ Lord Rastran’d trust the prisoners to some weak-minded cretin.’

  Zastra felt a painful probe dig into her mind and Dobery staggered backwards as if punched. Jerenik slumped to the ground in a stupor.

  ‘Mindweavers,’ gasped Zastra, struggling to repel the attack on her mind. ‘Strong ones, too.’

  ‘On second thoughts, Hylaz, a little violence may be just what we need,’ Dobery said with a grimace. The big Sendoran set about the door with a will. Splinters flew in all directions but the wood was thick and he made slow progress, sparks flying whenever his axe encountered one of the metal studs.

  ‘Hurry,’ Kylen urged. Golmeiran soldiers, drawn by the noise, charged down the wooden steps towards them. Hylaz turned towards the oncomers and brandished his axe.

  ‘No.’ Kylen gestured him back. ‘Keep at the door. Zastra and I can take care of this.’

  Zastra wasn’t sure she shared Kylen’s confidence. The entire flight of steps was filled with soldiers. Kylen flew towards the foot of the stairs. Zastra followed, joining Kylen as she mounted the first step. If they could engage the soldiers while they were still bunched together, they had a chance. If they let them reach the bottom of the stairs, where they could spread out and surround them, they would be done for. Zastra’s head throbbed. Somewhere a powerful mindweaver was attacking her, but she refused to let that distract her. A body tumbled past her, and then another. Kylen was making progress up the stairs and was in danger of being surrounded unless Zastra caught up. She thrust, parried and ducked, forcing herself up the stairs until she was once more side by side with the Sendoran. It was similar to the close quarters fighting on board the Wind of Golmeira, and her previous experience helped her fight her way to the top of the stairs. The last two Golmeirans took one look at Kylen’s face and fled.

  ‘My lady!’ Hylaz’s shout was followed by a loud splintering sound. A large hole appeared in the middle of the dungeon door. Hylaz put his broad shoulders through it, making the opening even wider. Kylen and Zastra ran down the stairs, jumping over the fallen bodies and followed Hylaz through the gap.

  ‘Zax,’ cried Kylen. ‘Zax, where are you?’

  Zastra grabbed the back of Kylen’s shirt, pulling her up short. In front of them, five hooded figures stood in a line, holding hands. Kylen’s cry was choked off and Zastra found herself pinned to the spot as if she were wrapped in invisible chains. Dobery was kneeling on the stone floor, doubled
over, sweat pouring from his face.

  ‘They are too much for me,’ he gasped. ‘I’m can’t hold them.’

  Zastra felt an arm circle around her neck and cut off her breath.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Rastran watched through his telescope in disbelief. Someone aboard the leading rebel ship had killed one of his migaradons. Impossible. The ships that dared fly the flag of Leodra had ploughed through his own and were closing on the harbour.

  ‘Where is the other migaradon?’ he demanded. ‘Get it in the air. Now!’

  A soldier disappeared, reappearing a few moments later.

  ‘It’s dead in the tower, my lord.’

  ‘Dead? You lying scum. No one can kill a migaradon.’ And yet, one had just been slaughtered in front of him.

  ‘Um, there’s something else, my lord.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Someone has broken into the dungeons.’

  ‘The dungeons? Must be that Sendoran bitch. Send the Bractarian Guard to kill her and then bring me my cintara bark.’ The soldier scuttled from the room, bumping into Linsak on his way out.

  ‘Someone will pay for this incompetence,’ growled Rastran. ‘And if you don’t come up with a plan, it’s likely to be you.’

  Linsak looked as if she might protest, but thought better of it. ‘There’s no need to panic. We still outnumber them. Remember, we also have the sintegrack.’

  Rastran clenched his fist. ‘Of course. We’ll blast them off their feet if they try to attack the fortress.’

  ‘I’ve already stationed some men and women on the western promontory,’ said Linsak. ‘They will have a perfect view of the road up to the main gate.’

  Rastran waved her away.

  ‘Command them yourself. If you fail to stop them, I’ll have your head.’

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Zastra was being strangled from behind. She tried to reach up to fend off her opponent, but it felt as if a large rock had been tied to each of her wrists. She couldn’t move her arms so much as an inch. Whatever the mindweavers were doing, they were too strong. Beside her, she heard Kylen growl in frustration. The arm around her neck tightened, choking her. Her vision began to swim and blur. A large shadow stumbled past her and towards the increasingly hazy outlines of the five mindweavers. One of the outlines seemed to melt away, and then another. The excruciating weight on Zastra’s mind lifted a fraction and she was able to repel the probe. Released, her hands flew to her neck and she crouched down and threw her opponent over her head. She had her sword to her assailant’s throat before she realised it was Jerenik. He was blinking in dazed confusion.