Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘Let’s not hang around,’ Kylen muttered. They left the crowded quayside, Ithgol bringing up the rear to make sure they were not followed. It was dusk by the time they reached the secluded cove allotted for the rendezvous. The Obala had not yet arrived and so they made a rude shelter from some driftwood and settled down to wait.

  ‘At least I can finally get out of this uniform,’ Dalbric said, removing his jacket. Zastra followed suit. She had hated every moment spent wearing her uncle’s colours. Now there was no need for the disguise and they didn’t want their friends to mistake them for their enemies. Zastra wouldn’t put it past Nerika to shoot her and plead a case of mistaken identity.

  ‘Dalbric!’ Hanra glowered at them from the entrance to their makeshift shelter. ‘Come inside at once. And avert your eyes. Zastra may be happy flaunting herself for anyone who cares to look, but there’s no need for you to ogle.’

  ‘I wasn’t doing anything!’ Dalbric protested.

  ‘Have you forgotten, you’re a married man? Or the promises you made to me on our joining day?’

  Dalbric flushed and disappeared into the driftwood shelter. Kylen guffawed.

  ‘By the stars, I’ve had enough of this stupidity. Hanra, you’ve no need to be jealous of Zastra. She has no interest in Dalbric. Not in the way you are worried about.’

  Hanra pursed her lips as if she wanted to say something, but settled for another glare at Zastra before she followed Dalbric inside. Zastra scratched her head.

  ‘Is that why Hanra’s always so rude to me? Because she’s jealous?’

  ‘It’s plainer than a fellgryff’s horn. I can’t believe you didn’t realise.’

  ‘How do you know I don’t have feelings for Dalbric? I do care for him, but like a brother, not… what Hanra was thinking.’

  Kylen smirked. ‘That’s even easier. It’s obvious that you are desperately in love with Ithgol.’

  Zastra grabbed Kylen by the waist and wrestled her to the ground. ‘Take that back!’ She pinned Kylen against the sand.

  ‘Fine. Enough,’ protested Kylen, laughing. ‘No need to be so sensitive about it.’

  Zastra continued to hold her down until she obtained a declaration from the Sendoran that Zastra had absolutely no romantic interest in the Kyrg and that to suggest such a thing was not only ridiculous, but could also be considered treasonous.

  ‘Although I don’t know if it can be treason if you don’t actually rule anywhere,’ Kylen remarked with a sigh.

  That night, Ithgol and Zastra shared the watch. Near dawn, a light flashed four times from the sea and Zastra responded with their own pre-arranged signal. A little while later, a boat pulled up to the beach and took them to the ship. As she climbed aboard, Zastra was surprised to find that it was the Wind of Golmeira, helmed by Mata. Even more strangely, her deck was packed full of people.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘These are Far Island traders,’ Mata explained. ‘They were bringing goods into Port Trestra, unaware that Thorlberd had declared war. They were attacked with no warning, their ships taken or destroyed. These poor souls were left to die, floating on makeshift rafts or clinging to bits of wood. I’m glad you were not delayed. With all these extra souls, we’ll be lucky to make it back to Uden’s Teeth without running out of food and water.’

  ‘Where is the Obala? We expected them, rather than you.’

  ‘Nerika hadn’t returned to Uden’s Teeth by the appointed time. I suspect they had to divert south to avoid the fighting. Thankfully, your old crewmates were happy to come and fetch you.’

  ‘What about my people at Mortality Gorge?’ Kylen asked. ‘They’ll be waiting for us.’ Mata frowned as Zastra explained the situation.

  ‘I’m sorry, but we can’t take any more. Look around you.’

  ‘We can’t just leave them!’ exclaimed Kylen.

  Zastra looked at the crowded decks. Mata was right. How could she keep her promise if the Obala was lost and the Wind of Golmeira already full to bursting? And yet she couldn’t leave the Sendorans to starve.

  ‘We need another ship,’ she said. ‘Two would be better. And I know just where to find them.’

  The distant sound of sea shanties broke from the shore. Zastra sat stiffly in the prow of the Wind of Golmeira’s gig as they rowed towards Castanton. If they were lucky, most of the sailors in Thorlberd’s fleet would be celebrating. They had chosen two trading vessels moored a little way apart from the others as their targets. The Far Islanders proved eager to assist in the recovery of their ships. The gig eased its way towards a vessel whose hull was painted in blue and yellow check. Barely a stone’s throw to starboard, Mata guided the yacht towards the second target. There was a heavy splash off their port beam.

  ‘Stop!’ Zastra whispered urgently. Her crew backed oars. Straining her ears, Zastra made out the creak of oar against rowlock. A guard-boat bobbed into view, a lamp hanging from the prow. One of the occupants called out to the trading vessel and received a bored acknowledgement. The guard-boat continued ponderously past their other target and then rowed towards shore. Zastra shivered as a stiff breeze began to whip up the surface of the sea and the gig rocked in the swell. Ithgol was beside her, his silent solidity strangely reassuring. As the light of the guard-boat receded, Zastra gave the order to continue. The gig eased forward until it nudged up against the blue and yellow hull. A cry of alarm from the other vessel was quickly stifled. Mata had made her move. Kylen and Polina were with her, so Zastra knew she would be well supported.

  Zastra threw up a grapnel. Beside her, Ithgol did the same and they climbed rapidly up and over the bulwarks. A figure dashed towards them. Ithgol stopped him dead with a flying uppercut. There were no other sentries. The gig’s crew clambered up to join them and Zastra led them to the captain’s cabin. She had her sword ready, but it proved unnecessary. The three occupants were asleep, two snoring loudly. An empty cask lay on the floor and the aroma of spiced wine was strong.

  ‘They won’t be celebrating tomorrow,’ Zastra remarked.

  They tied and gagged their prisoners and lowered them and the unconscious sentry onto a makeshift raft constructed by tethering four barrels together. The guard-boat would no doubt discover them on its next patrol. Ithgol used one of his scythals to saw through the anchor cable and they slipped silently away from the shore. It had been surprisingly easy. Zastra put them on a heading for Mortality Gorge.

  ‘Let’s hope the Sendorans have made good time,’ she said, as the vessel began to gather speed. ‘Come the morning, every sailor in Castanton will know what we have done. They are bound to come after us.’

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Flags displaying the gecko and hawk standard flew proud above each of Golmer Castle’s five towers, a stiff breeze whipping them into a colourful display. The courtyard was already filled with guards in dress uniforms. Mindweavers were dotted about, gleaming in their golden ceremonial robes. Frequent wind-gusts plucked at the heavy damask cloth to reveal flashes of scarlet lining.

  For the hundredth time, Joril leaned over the balustrade of the first tier balcony and looked towards the main gate. She had been so excited that she had barely slept. Unfortunately, that meant she had been dozing when dawn finally arrived. When she roused herself, Berynder had left without stopping to wake her, despite knowing how much Joril wanted to get a prime view of the parade. Joril splashed water on her face, sprayed a liberal dose of perfume on her neck and wriggled into her best gown, a patterned yellow silk. She elected to miss breakfast in order to get a good position, but she wasn’t the only one with that idea and there was already a crowd four deep around the edge of the courtyard. Berynder waved at her smugly from a position on the front row, close to the main gate. Joril ground her teeth in frustration. Trust Berynder to have bagged herself one of the best spots.

  Since there was no way she would be able to worm her way to the front of the people assembled in the courtyard, Joril had positioned herself on the first floor balcony, where at lea
st she would get a good view, even if she would not be able to reach out and touch the victory party. All was not lost. There was always the chance Rastran might look up and see her. She smoothed the front of her gown, considering how she might attract his attention. Soon all the balconies were full, even those of the top tier. Joril could feel the excitement running through the crowd. She hadn’t realised so many people lived at the castle, but then she remembered that marls had been arriving from across Golmeira, along with their entourages. Additional servants had been conscripted from among the castle villages to help with all the guests. No wonder the castle was crowded. A wave of cheering broke out somewhere in the distance. Those at the top of the towers turned to face east and began to point and wave.

  ‘They’re coming!’ A shiver of excitement ran through the crowd. Joril was shoved in her side by someone trying to get a spot at the front. She shoved back firmly, determined not to lose her place.

  ‘Joril! I thought it was you. Budge up, will you?’

  The intruder was Lylian, covered in flour as usual. As Joril shrank back in surprise, Lylian took the opportunity to wriggle into position next to her.

  ‘Oh, what a lovely gown. I love yellow.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Distressed, Joril attempted to brush away a streak of flour that had rubbed off Lylian and onto her beautiful gown. Lylian was too busy beaming with delight to realise what she had done.

  ‘I helped Ma and Da with the flour delivery and when they said they wanted more help in the kitchens, I volunteered, quick as blinking. I’m going to get a quarter tocrin, but best of all, they said I can watch the parade. Ain’t it wonderful? They’ve been lining Highcastle road since last night, but no one will believe me when I tell them about this. Shift along, won’t you? I can’t hardly see.’

  Lylian elbowed herself forward, displacing Joril from her position at the front.

  ‘Lylian!’ she cried in dismay. The cheering got louder and louder, until it reached the castle. Joril squeezed her shoulder between Lylian and her neighbour and craned forward to get a partial view of the gate. It seemed an age before the first horses trotted into view. A broad-shouldered man with a thick black beard led the way on a white stallion. Joril recognised Thorlberd from his picture. A huge roar went up.

  ‘Who is it?’ Lylian yelled, over the hubbub.

  ‘Grand Marl Thorlberd of course.’

  Joril thought he looked a fine figure, strong and powerful. No wonder the Far Isles had been defeated. A trumpet blared and the ceremonial blackwood doors to the great hall began to open. It took five soldiers to push open each door. A pale-faced woman, her red hair styled in elaborate swirls, emerged and stood as straight as a flagpole. Next to her a shorter figure plucked nervously at his silk cape as it fluttered in the breeze.

  ‘Why it’s Yldred!’ Joril exclaimed. Her classmate appeared distinctly uncomfortable as he followed Consort Jintara down the wide stone steps to greet her husband. But where was Rastran?

  Joril leaned out even further, but everyone else was doing the same, and the backs of their heads obscured her view of the horsemen and women that followed the Grand Marl into the castle. Screams began to circle the courtyard and below her, Joril saw a young girl slump to the ground in a faint. And then she saw Rastran. Tall, although not quite as tall as his father, he rode his satin black mount with a casual elegance. Hands reached out to touch him and the handsome young man smiled and waved. His boots were polished to such a shine that they reflected the sunlight as he followed his father into the centre of the courtyard. There he paused and pulled his horse into a tight circle, acknowledging each side of the courtyard as he received their cheers.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Lylian cried.

  ‘Rastran,’ Joril breathed.

  ‘Really? The grand marl’s son?’ Lylian began screaming Rastran’s name, shrieking so loudly that Joril thought her eardrums would split. Thorlberd reached the foot of the wide steps, dismounted and strode forwards to give his wife a peck on the cheek. Jintara did not move, even as the crowd roared its approval. Joril couldn’t tell from this distance whether she said anything, but the royal couple turned and proceeded up the steps and disappeared through the giant doorway. Yldred followed a few paces behind. Joril wondered why he didn’t wait for his brother. Following the grand marl’s entourage, four mindweavers escorted an open cart. Inside, two women and a man were tied to a stout wooden pole. They were dressed in clothes that had once been bright, but were now dirty and water stained. They were not joining the celebrations.

  Once he had accepted the acknowledgment of the crowd, Rastran led his horse to the steps and dismounted, handing his reins to a man with ginger colouring. With a shock of recognition, Joril realised it was Tomik.

  ‘Father! Father!’ she cried, but she was drowned out by the screams of delight from Lylian and from other parts of the crowd. As Tomik led the horse away, Rastran raised his hands and the courtyard went quiet.

  ‘Rastran! Over here!’ Lylian screeched over the silence, jumping up and waving in a fever of excitement. There was laughter and heads turned to stare at them. Joril shrank to the rear of the balcony in horror. What if they think it was me, screaming like an idiot? Worse still, what if Lord Rastran saw? She had never been so embarrassed. The titters subsided and Joril tried to regain her position. Unfortunately, a thickset man had taken advantage of the opportunity to seize her place at the front. All she could see was the back of his jerkin. There was another loud cheer.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she cried, but everyone’s attention was focused on the courtyard. The crowd quietened again and Rastran began to speak.

  ‘People of Golmeira.’ The crowd whooped. ‘Today, we celebrate our victory. There will be feasting and music and fire-fountains. Let all men and women know that Golmeira has again been victorious. No one can withstand our power. Our rule will be long and prosperous!’

  Joril ran along the balcony behind the crowd, jumping up to try and see over people’s heads. She caught a glimpse of Rastran running up the steps before her view was blocked again. There was another cheer and then the crowd began to disperse. At last Joril was able reach the front of the balcony, but by then the huge doors had closed and Rastran was gone. The three prisoners that had been brought in on the cart were led to the southwest tower, beneath which lay the dungeons.

  ‘Gosh, that was exciting!’ exclaimed Lylian, hurrying towards her. ‘I can’t believe I actually saw Grand Marl Thorlberd! And Lord Rastran too. How handsome he is. I wonder if he saw me. I waved like mad.’

  ‘I’m sure everyone saw you screaming like an idiot. Honestly, Lylian, you are such an embarrassment. You made me miss everything,’ Joril said bitterly.

  Lylian’s lip began to wobble.

  ‘Joril. There you are! Who’s your friend?’

  Joril jerked round in horror. If any of her classmates saw her with Lylian, she would be mortified. But it was only Myka.

  ‘Oh, this is Lylian. Just someone from the village.’

  Myka gave a small bow, took Lylian’s hand and raised it to his lips.

  ‘Honoured to meet you, Lylian. Have you been helping prepare the celebration meal?’

  Lylian gawped up at him, awed by his politeness and his purple shirt. ‘I’ve been making the batch rolls. How did you know?’

  ‘Lucky guess.’ Myka discreetly wiped a speck of flour from his lips. ‘Well, I love fresh rolls, and if you’ve made them, I’m sure they’re wonderful.’

  ‘Where were you?’ Joril asked. ‘I didn’t see you.’

  Myka shrugged. ‘I overslept. Besides, I’m not a big fan of crowds.’

  ‘You are odd. How could you miss the most exciting thing that’s happened all year?’

  ‘You poor thing,’ Lylian added sympathetically.

  ‘There’s no need to feel sorry for me. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it. But it’s kind of you to be concerned.’

  Joril was sure Myka was being extra polite to Lylian just to annoy her. Beyond
his shoulder, she saw Fester and Florian. The twins were heading straight for them. She couldn’t afford to let them catch her with Lylian and all her flour. She’d never live it down.

  ‘Lylian, haven’t you got to get back to the kitchens?’ she said.

  ‘Oh, no, not until the gong goes. Ma said she’ll cover for me so I can see everything. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been doing? I’m longing to hear what it’s like being a blueblood.’

  The twins were coming closer. Any moment now, they were bound to notice Joril. And Lylian.

  ‘Sorry, but we’ve got lessons,’ Joril said abruptly.

  ‘No, we haven’t.’ Myka looked at her in surprise and Lylian began to snuffle. Joril knew the signs. It would not be long before the miller’s daughter began to wail in that embarrassing way of hers. And her nose was bound to run, too.

  ‘Sorry, but I’ve got to go!’ Joril dashed away to the far staircase, away from the approaching twins. She could only hope that she had avoided detection.

  The gong sounded three times and the doors to the great hall were opened again. Joril was at the front of the queue, eager for a glimpse of Rastran, but the opening doors revealed a hall already packed with marls, mindweavers and other important people. She looked eagerly for the grand marl’s party, but it was impossible to see anything through the mass of bodies.

  Tables had been laid out at regular intervals to serve as food stations. There was cured trout, smoked yellow perch and countless other Golmeiran delicacies. In each corner, hogs and vizzal steamed on spits. Other tables displayed strange dishes that Joril had never seen before. ‘Sea turtle with ginka, a speciality from the Far Isles,’ the serving girl said as Joril asked about a pungent brown paste topped with orange flakes. ‘Try some, it’s lovely on a fresh roll.’

  The heap of batch rolls made Joril feel queasy. She couldn’t help recall Lylian’s wobbling lip and tear-filled eyes. There was no sign of her. Joril supposed she must be back in the kitchens. There were so many people piling into the hall that once Joril had collected her food she was forced to carry her plate into one of the side corridors and back into the courtyard. Berynder was sitting on one of the wide steps with a couple of her friends. She waved at her. Joril went over, surprised at such unusual attention.