Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  At last, she was called in. Thorlberd was alone with his son. Rastran looked distinctly less cocky than usual. Shifty, even. Brutila would have loved to dig into his mind but she wasn’t so foolish, not with Thorlberd in the same room. Besides, Rastran would never have helped Zastra escape. One thing they shared was a deep hatred for Leodra’s daughter.

  ‘Well?’ Thorlberd snapped. ‘What is so important that you interrupt our search?’

  Brutila got straight to the point.

  ‘I have chased Zastra before. I know how she thinks. She will make for the coast. No doubt her rebel friends will be waiting with a ship.’

  ‘I’ve already sent word to Port Trestra. Everyone trying to pass through will be stopped and questioned.’

  ‘She won’t risk the port. I’d bet my fur cloak the rendezvous will be further along the coast, at some hidden inlet. Let me have a migaradon. I’ll find her.’

  ‘I’ve heard that before, Brutila. And you failed.’

  ‘She got lucky. That won’t happen again.’

  Thorlberd leaned back in his chair.

  ‘Very well. You shall have one last chance to redeem yourself. But do not hurt the unproven girl. I believe she may be useful to us.’

  Chapter Forty-six

  By late evening, they had run the new horses into the ground. The only building in sight was a farmhouse some distance from the main road. It was approached by a track of broken stones, pressed deep into the mud by the passage of heavy carts.

  ‘Perhaps we can exchange the horses for something to eat?’ Zastra suggested. Her stomach rumbled loudly. There was no sign of a staging post and the others had nothing better to propose. As they neared the farmhouse, a young girl came to greet them. She couldn’t have been more than eight years old. Polina greeted her in a friendly manner and asked if her parents were at home. The girl scowled in return.

  ‘What d’you want?’

  ‘We wondered if your parents might be in need of horses. We have booked passage on a ship and wish to sell these before we get to port.’

  The girl screwed up her face. ‘Aye. They know you ain’t got much choice, down at the port. Tis a buyer’s market. You’d be lucky to get more’n three tocrins a nag.’

  She took hold of Zastra’s filly and ran a hand over its forelegs and examined its hooves in a professional manner. Kylen raised an eyebrow in amusement.

  ‘Three tocrins, eh? I think you take us for fools, child.’

  The girl wrinkled her nose and rubbed it furiously.

  ‘You’s the ones lookin’ to sell. Ain’t no difference to me. ’Sides, we ain’t got no tocrins to spare.’ She started back to the farmhouse.

  ‘Wait!’ Kylen called her back. ‘I demand to speak with your parents.’ The girl turned back.

  ‘They ain’t here. You deal with me or git.’

  ‘I’ve a mind to take the flat of my sword…’ Kylen began, but Zastra reached out and restrained her, trying to suppress a grin. The child may be young, but she was someone to be reckoned with.

  ‘What would you give for them?’ she asked.

  The girl pursed her lips and jerked her head towards a rickety shed. Inside, a weather-beaten cart lay on its side. Ithgol and Kylen levered it up. Judging by the number of slugs and beetles clinging to the frame, it had been there a while, but the wheels spun unhindered, although the front two had a noticeable wobble.

  ‘You can have the cart an’ them pair.’ The girl nodded towards a pair of ancient carthorses that stood dolefully at the back of the shed, chewing at some hay.

  ‘We want to get rid of our horses. Why would we want two old nags that can barely stand?’ Kylen exclaimed.

  The girl wrinkled her nose again. It seemed to be her favourite expression. ‘You ain’t foolin’ me. You’ve ridden these hard. You’re runnin’. I saw that thing in the sky. Reckon that means soldiers is looking for you. Reckon you might want this cart after all. ’Specially once I tell you the secret.’

  ‘What secret?’ asked Zastra.

  ‘We got a deal?’

  Zastra scratched her head. The cart would save them having to walk. She was bone tired and all she wanted to do was sleep. Myka and Kastara, too, looked barely able to stand.

  ‘Throw in some bread and a jar of honey and we’ve a deal,’ she offered.

  The girl thought for a moment and then nodded. She pointed to a paddock where they should put their exhausted horses and disappeared into the farmhouse. She emerged with a burlap sack and some worn traces made from plaited rope. Myka proceeded to hitch the carthorses to the rickety wagon. The girl jerked her head up the track, away from the main road.

  ‘You can follow this all the way to the coast. Comes out west of the port. Saves you needing to go through the gates. That’s the secret.’

  ‘And thus bypassing the tax collector,’ Polina remarked. ‘No wonder this track looks so well used.’

  Ithgol took the reins and everyone else piled into the back of the cart. As Kylen climbed in, her boot went through a rotten board. She cursed and retracted her foot carefully. The others looked for a place to sit that wasn’t riddled with wormholes or damp with rot. At Ithgol’s urging, the carthorses put their shoulders to the traces and eased into a slow walk. The little girl watched them all the way up the track, a look of smug satisfaction across her face. Kylen reached into the burlap sack and extracted two small loaves with burnt crusts. With them was a jar so small it fitted snugly into the palm of her hand.

  ‘We’ve been had for fools by a child. I bet they’ve been trying to get rid of these old nags for years and this old cart is too rotten for anything but hay.’

  Zastra settled back and closed her eyes. She felt tired enough to sleep for a year. ‘If this track really does get us to the coast, it may turn out to be the best deal we’ve ever made.’

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Zastra woke, blinking in the morning light. For a moment, she wondered where she was. Beside her, Ithgol was snoring. Myka and Kastara were huddled together, asleep. Kylen was driving the cart with Polina next to her. Zastra yawned and began to stretch, but stopped short as her joints cracked in protest. If anything, she was even stiffer than yesterday. She could barely flex her fingers.

  ‘Morning sleepyhead,’ Kylen remarked. ‘You’ve been out of it all night and most of the morning, you and the youngsters.’

  ‘Where are we?’ Zastra squinted at the sky. By the sun she could see it was almost noon and they were still heading south.

  ‘I caught a glimpse of the sea a few moments ago,’ Kylen said. ‘These old horses may be slow, but they’ve kept going all this time. We might yet make it.’

  Zastra laid back down. She still felt drowsy. Surely there was no harm if she dropped off again, just for a little while. Something glinted high above her, like a star twinkling. Odd, she thought, as her heavy eyelids began to close. A star in the daytime. Unless…

  She jolted upright. There it was again, a brief glare, like sunlight reflecting in a mirror. Or a telescope lens. She rummaged around in her own pockets but found nothing.

  ‘Kylen, do you have my telescope?’ Kylen pulled it out of her jacket and tossed it back. Zastra’s hands were so stiff, she had to catch it in the crook of her elbows. With some effort, she opened it out, and trained it at the point where the last glint had appeared. A dark shape burst through a cloud.

  ‘Migaradon!’ she cried hoarsely.

  Ithgol jerked awake and reached for his scythals, howling when he found his scabbards were empty. Zastra focused on the rider, who was training a telescope right back at them. Her grey hair was pale against the blue sky.

  ‘Brutila,’ Zastra said grimly. The migaradon began to dive. Kylen flicked the reins, trying to urge the carthorses into a trot, but they plodded on at the same steady pace.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Kastara had been roused by the commotion.

  Zastra reached into her pack and pulled out her crossbow. She loaded three bolts into the chamber as fast as she coul
d, but her fingers were so clumsy she dropped one. It disappeared through the hole Kylen’s foot had made in floor of the cart before she could grab it. With some difficulty, she managed to load three bolts, the maximum capacity of the bow. Brutila and the migaradon were barely a hundred paces above them, descending rapidly.

  ‘Get down!’ Zastra cried, shifting herself onto one knee and bracing herself. She sighted along the chamber. If she shot too soon, the bolt would not penetrate the migaradon’s hide, but she needed enough time for three shots if she was to kill it. Usually, the crossbow felt like part of her, but today her fingers were so numb she could barely feel it. When she gauged the distance was right, she aimed for the upper heart, just below the beast’s neck. Her bolt flew harmlessly beneath it. Not even close. The unsteady motion of the cart didn’t help, but that was a shot she would usually make. She fired again, and missed once more. They only had three bolts left. One in the chamber and two more in her backpack. She regretted now leaving so many with Moreen.

  ‘Let me try.’ Kylen handed the reins to Polina and climbed into the back of the cart. Zastra hesitated. Kylen was a good shot, she had proved that when they had hunted together, but was she good enough? They couldn’t afford to waste any more bolts.

  ‘Trust me,’ Kylen said firmly. ‘I can do this.’

  Zastra relinquished the bow, gave Kylen the last two final bolts and joined Polina. Kylen leapt off the back of the cart.

  ‘Kylen, what are you doing?’ Zastra cried, as the gap between them and the Sendoran began to widen. Kylen knelt down, sighted along the barrel and fired. A spurt of blood showed her bolt had hit home. The migaradon squealed, but did not falter. Brutila must have bent it to her will. Kylen started to reload, but Brutila was heading straight for her. Zastra’s blood turned to ice. She thinks Kylen is me.

  The shadow of the migaradon swooped over the cart as it charged towards Kylen. The Sendoran raised the bow to her shoulder, but then the wings of the migaradon blocked Zastra’s view. She could no longer see Kylen. The migaradon stretched out its huge claw.

  ‘No!’ Zastra yelled. She jumped from the cart. The beast hit the ground where Kylen had been standing moments before and skidded down the track, screeching in pain. A body lay in its wake.

  ‘Kylen!’

  Zastra hobbled to where the Sendoran lay. Blood poured from a gash in the top of Kylen’s head. Zastra whipped off her shirt and pressed it against the wound to staunch the flow. Ithgol appeared beside her. With a quick movement he lifted Kylen and carried her back to the cart. Shivering in just her vest, Zastra looked back at the migaradon. It was lying motionless, jets of blood pulsing from its belly. Kylen had been accurate with her shots. There was no sign of Brutila.

  ‘Zastra, we must go!’ Polina cried and Zastra returned to the cart. Brutila was due a reckoning, but it would have to wait. Kylen needed a healer, and fast.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Kylen’s wound was deep and it proved difficult to stop the flow of blood. Myka had attempted to heal it, but without success.

  ‘My talent must only work on broken bones,’ he said mournfully. ‘I’m sorry.’

  As her shirt turned red with Kylen’s blood, Zastra grew sick with fear. Kylen was shockingly pale and still as death. Mercifully, Mata was waiting at the rendezvous. They got Kylen aboard the Wind of Golmeira, but to Zastra’s dismay there was no healer on board.

  ‘I can try and sew up the wound,’ Ithgol offered. Zastra recalled that he always had been the neatest sail-worker in the whole of Dastrin’s crew. She held the wound shut as the Kyrg got to work. He made a tidy of job if it. As Zastra applied clean bandages, she was thankful that Kylen’s lack of consciousness meant she wouldn’t have felt a thing. All they could do was wait and hope. Zastra left command of the ship to Mata, remaining below with Kylen. The Sendoran lay in a stupor for three days, before at last she began to regain some colour. Zastra took this as a good sign, until the Sendoran’s skin became hot to the touch. The heat turned into a full-blown fever. Zastra refused to sleep, tending to the Sendoran night and day. She would never forgive herself if Kylen died. As they passed through the channel in the Western Spur, Kylen’s fever broke, and, for the first time, Zastra dared to hope she would recover. Polina, who had often popped down for a progress report, offered to sit with the patient, and Zastra took the opportunity to go on deck. It was late in the afternoon and they were just entering the Serene Sea, which for once lived up to its name. A fresh breeze was blowing and Mata put the Wind of Golmeira on starboard tack under full sail. The three lateen sails pulled taut, thrumming as the ship sliced through the water. As the bowsprit rose in the gentle swell, she saw Kastara and Myka standing at the prow, silhouetted against the sky. Myka pointed towards the horizon. It was too soon yet for the jagged outline of Uden’s Teeth to be visible, but it would not be long before her family was reunited. For the first time since her parents had been murdered, Zastra felt as if she might be truly happy. If only Kylen could be well again. She returned below and was overjoyed to find Kylen awake. Together, she and Polina helped her sit up.

  How long?’ Kylen asked hoarsely.

  ‘Five days.’

  ‘Did I kill it? The others – did they make it?’

  ‘Easy now. Everyone is fine. And you hurt the migaradon more than it did you. Just about. Good thing you’ve got such a hard head.’

  Kylen coughed. ‘I remember you nearly drowned taking on your first migaradon. I think I did quite well in comparison.’

  Zastra hid a smile as she held a flask of water to Kylen’s lips. Kylen explored the white bandage round her head with her fingers.

  ‘Leave that alone,’ Zastra remonstrated. ‘Ithgol will be upset if he has to redo his work.’

  ‘So you let him help? I’m glad of it. I’ve seen your attempts at sewing.’

  ‘What were you thinking, drawing the migaradon towards you like that?’

  Kylen licked her dry lips.

  ‘I’ve been spending too much time with you – your lunacy is rubbing off.’

  Zastra held out the flask again and Kylen sipped gratefully.

  ‘I’m sorry you got hurt,’ Zastra said quietly.

  ‘Are you kidding? Most Sendorans would kill for a scar like this.’ Kylen’s attempted grin turned into a wince of pain.

  ‘You need to be more careful. Who would lead the Sendorans if you died?’

  Kylen looked at her strangely.

  ‘You’re a fine one to lecture me about taking risks. You could have been killed at Finistron, and Rastran very nearly did for you at Golmer Castle.’ She paused for breath, clutching at the sides of her bunk to steady herself. ‘There are plenty of bull-headed Sendorans who can take my place, but no one else could gain the support of Golmeirans, Sendorans and Kyrgs as you have done. You don’t realise how special you are.’

  She sank back and closed her eyes. Zastra looked at Polina in bemusement.

  ‘Her injuries must be worse than we thought. She’s not herself. She’s never this nice.’

  Polina laid a hand on Zastra’s shoulder.

  ‘Or perhaps the migaradon did us a favour and knocked some sense into her. If only we could persuade another one to do the same for you.’

  Chapter Forty-nine

  It seemed that everyone in Port Krysfera had come to greet them. The jetty was packed with well-wishers, eager for news. Zastra and Ithgol helped Kylen through the crowd, deflecting questions as they eased her towards the safety of her cabin. They had barely enough time to place a cushion on one of the chairs and deposit Kylen in it before Hylaz and Zax burst through the door.

  ‘What’s going on? Why are you wearing a bandage?’ cried Zax.

  ‘Lady Kylen, you’re hurt!’

  The Sendorans were followed by Dalbric, together with Hanra and Fin. Zastra gathered them all into a hug.

  ‘You don’t know how happy I am to see you. Even you, Hanra.’

  Questions were fired from all directions. Zastra answered as best she
could. Kylen chipped in every now and then, mainly to make a remark regarding the stupidity of Golmeirans, and Zastra in particular. They had almost finished the tale when Polina brought in Myka and Kastara. Zastra performed the introductions.

  ‘You’re my sister? You’re not dead?’ Findar asked.

  ‘Why does everyone keep asking me that?’ Kastara protested. ‘Do I look dead?’

  Fin looked to Zastra for confirmation. She nodded encouragingly and Findar turned to his twin and gave a small bow.

  ‘Pleased to meet you.’

  Kastara giggled. ‘You’re so sweet. I can’t wait to see this place. Do you have a house? Do I have a house? Is there a castle?’

  Despite Findar informing her that there were no castles on Uden’s Teeth, Kastara was pleased to take his hand and permit him to show her round the island.

  ‘She’ll have the poor lad wrapped round her finger by sundown,’ Polina remarked.

  ‘Don’t be so sure,’ said Zastra and Dalbric, both at the same time. Another knock made Zastra groan. ‘Can’t we be left in peace, for even a moment?’

  A familiar face with a brown birthmark peered round the edge of the door.

  ‘I heard that,’ he said in mock indignation. ‘I seem to remember asking the same thing some years ago, but this young girl was always hanging around wanting to be taught to resist mindweaving.’

  ‘Dobery!’ Zastra waved him in. He was followed by Justyn and Nerika, who was moved enough by the general mood of celebration to observe that she was glad neither Kylen nor Zastra had got themselves killed, contrary to her expectations. Then Pitwyn arrived with three of his helpers, each carrying a tray filled with steaming bowls of savoury delights. The hut was soon full of people, talking, eating and laughing. Zastra looked around. She felt at peace. These were her family now, old and new. For the first time in years, it felt like she was truly home.

  THE END