Curse of Kings (The Trials of Oland Born, Book 1)

by Barclay, Alex

  “We can do something,” said Oland. “We have to.”

  Delphi shook her head.

  “Let’s rest for the night,” said Oland. “We can go back to the stream, build a fire. We can decide in the morning the best thing to do.”

  “But… what if the archivist comes here,” said Delphi, “and wants to find out who Pinfrock was telling tales to?”

  “The archivist has no need to come here,” said Oland. “He has sent his message.”

  They stood in silence for some time.

  “Can we trust the word of a murderer?” said Oland eventually.

  “But he has said nothing to us,” said Delphi.

  “Nothing but the words he wrote in a letter claiming to be signed by King Micah…” said Oland.

  They sat, without speaking, by the fire, the stream the only sound in the forest. Delphi held Malben in her arms. Oland studied the map of Envar he had taken from King Seward’s Hospital, hoping that there was something in it that would guide them closer to Sabian.

  “There is nothing here,” said Oland, “nothing that is telling me where to go, nothing that is giving me a sense of where Sabian is.”

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry about the census,” said Delphi. “But I’m sure there’s another way to find out more about your parents.”

  Oland nodded, then turned back to the map.

  The heat eventually lulled Delphi to sleep. Oland got up and found a spot far enough away that he would not wake her, yet close enough that she was still in his sights. Then, with nothing more than a sharp rock and his bare hands, he dug a grave for Pinfrock, a name he had seen so many times in The Holdings, a name that had meant little then, but now meant more than he could bear.

  Oland patted down the mound of earth covering Pinfrock’s body. He stopped as he heard the sound of singing through the trees.

  It was as pure a voice as could ever be, yet with its own spirited peculiarity. He realised it was Delphi, singing a tragic ballad about a woman and a man forced, by others, to part.

  Oland walked back to where she sat, with Malben asleep in her arms. Delphi stopped singing when she saw him.

  “Your singing is amazing,” said Oland. I have never heard anything quite like it.”

  Delphi blushed. “Really? Chancey the Gold didn’t allow me to sing anywhere else. He told me that singing was only for inside the house.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t be,” said Oland. He pointed at Malben. “Look at the effect it’s had on him.”

  “What happened to your hands?” said Delphi, frowning.

  “I… hurt them,” said Oland.

  “How?” said Delphi.

  “From… from moving the cart.”

  “They should be bandaged,” said Delphi.

  “I have nothing to bandage them with,” said Oland. He went to the stream and began to wash his hands. “You should really try and get some sleep,” he said, “and I’ll do the same.”

  The following morning, Oland woke first, after a fitful sleep. He looked down at himself. Though his hands were clean, the scratches, bruises and rawness of his palms were a sorry sight.

  Malben was swinging back and forth between the trees, quicker than usual.

  Delphi sat up, “What’s wrong with Malben?” she said.

  Oland looked over at him.

  “He looks agitated,” said Delphi.

  Malben moved faster and faster, then he jumped, landing in front of Delphi, hugging her leg, then climbing up into her arms.

  “I think he’s perfectly fine,” said Oland, smiling.

  Delphi hugged Malben. He squeezed his paws against her cheeks and opened his eyes wide.

  “Malben, you are so funny,” she said.

  He let go quickly and swung backward, his little legs still gripping her waist. Oland and Delphi laughed. Malben jumped down and started to pull at Delphi’s hand.

  “Are you bringing me to the trees?” said Delphi.

  Malben opened his mouth then closed it. He tugged her arm.

  “All right,” said Delphi, “I will follow you.”

  “What about me?” said Oland.

  Malben pulled Delphi’s hand harder.

  “I don’t think I’m invited,” said Oland, laughing.

  “Well, we won’t be long,” said Delphi. “Maybe we’ll find us some food.”

  “I’ll come with you, then,” said Oland.

  “Yes!” said Delphi. “Do!”

  “Why does it look like Malben is actually shaking his head?” said Oland. “Malben, have I offended you in some way?”

  Malben gave him the closest to a sad smile he imagined a monkey could give.

  Oland sat down beside the fire. “Go, then,” he said. “Go without me.” He laughed, but he was suddenly struck by how different his journey would have been if he hadn’t met Delphi. Or Malben. He didn’t want them to go, and it unsettled him.

  Delphi held up her hand. “Shh!” she said. “I hear something.”

  Into the clearing charged a horse and cart, this time with a driver, one whom Oland recognised only too well.

  It was the man who had come to Castle Derrington on the night of The Games, wrapped again in black gauze bandages – the intruder who had pulled him into Villius Ren’s forbidden throne room. In one quick move, the man jumped down from the cart, grabbed Malben by the neck and threw him into a cage. Oland and Delphi lunged towards him. He swung the cage at Oland, knocking him to the ground. With his free hand, he pulled out a knife and held it to Delphi’s throat.

  HE MAN THREW THE CAGE IN THE FRONT OF THE CART and marched Delphi to the back, where he tied her wrists and ankles and secured them to the timber behind the driver’s seat. He turned around as Oland was struggling to his feet. Pointing the knife towards Delphi, the man guided Oland, with little effort, into the cart and bound him alongside her. He unrolled a length of canvas to cover them. The man took the driver’s seat, with Malben in the cage beside him, and they moved off, slowly at first, and then at an alarming speed. Oland and Delphi struggled to steady themselves against the motion.

  Oland whispered to Delphi. “He came to the castle the night of The Games to try to take me away.”

  Delphi’s eyes were wide. “Who is he?” she said.

  “I don’t know,” said Oland. “I don’t know.”

  “I know how to get free,” said Delphi.

  “Then do it!” said Oland.

  “Not without you and Malben. When the cart stops, I’ll have to find the keys to release you.”

  They travelled through the night and, within hours of dawn breaking, the cart finally came to a stop. The man jumped down from his seat and walked to the back. He untied the covering, and looked in at Oland and Delphi. He was carrying Malben, whose face was stricken.

  Delphi tried to kick out at the man. “Give him back!” she said. “Don’t touch him!”

  The man laughed a low, throaty laugh, and he walked away.

  Delphi turned to Oland. Her eyes were black. “I will kill him if he lays a finger on Malben.”

  Oland started pulling at the chains, rattling them hard.

  “Shh…” said Delphi. “Let me do this.”

  Oland watched, wide-eyed, as she used her left hand to squeeze the fingers of her right, pushing it slowly through the cuff, squeezing again until she had pushed it further through. She stopped then wriggled her right hand the rest of the way out of the cuff.

  “How did you do that?” said Oland.

  “I have flexible bones,” said Delphi.

  “Flexible bones?” said Oland.

  “Yes, I always have,” said Delphi. “When I was a child, I could squeeze through the bars of my cot.” She pulled her other hand free, then pulled her feet through the cuffs at her ankles. Oland couldn’t bear to watch.

  “I’ll get your keys from the front,” said Delphi.

  “Grab my bag too,” said Oland.

  Delphi moved up to the front of the cart and unhooked the keys from where the man ha
d hung them. She climbed back down to Oland and unlocked his hands and feet. She stopped when she heard the rattle of locks, and the piercing sound of rusted hinges. Footsteps rushed towards them.

  Oland and Delphi froze. The cart jerked and began to move forward.

  “Move!” the man was saying to the horse. “Move!”

  The horse did as it was told and, from the back of the cart, Oland and Delphi watched the towering iron gates they had come through growing smaller and smaller, as they went deeper and deeper into peculiarly dark woods. The air was filled with the sound of birds, animals and insects in motion: beating wings, buzzing, scurrying feet, broken branches, rustling leaves.

  With a sudden jolt, the cart began to move backward, and rock from side to side. The horse started to whinny.

  “Shh,” said the man. “Shh. Calm down! Calm down!”

  But the horse was clearly trying to shake himself free. The cart rocked violently.

  “Hold! Hold! Hold!” the man was saying. “Hold!”

  But the horse gave one final thrust and the cart crashed to the ground, shattering the timber shaft. Oland and Delphi fell out and rolled into the undergrowth. They could hear Malben crying out. They could see a magnificent black horse galloping away. As the man followed, Oland and Delphi took the chance to escape. They watched from behind a tree as the man in black returned to the cart roaring that they had gone. There was no sign of Malben.

  Oland and Delphi crouched, deathly quiet, in the hot darkness. A dark green shimmering snake unfurled slowly from a tree beside them. It spiralled down to the ground and, as it landed, a plume of violet feathers shot up from its head. It paused then slithered away.

  LAND AND DELPHI STARED AT EACH OTHER.

  “Where are we?” said Delphi. She knew Oland would have no answer. “Did you see Malben?” she said.

  “No.”

  “Who’s there?” said the man. “Is someone there?”

  Oland and Delphi froze, but, as he walked slowly past them, they realised it was not them he heard. A muttering sound was coming from the clearing ahead. Oland and Delphi saw butterfly nets scattered on the ground, and a man dressed in a heavy green protective suit and a beekeeper’s hat.

  He stabbed a gloved hand towards the man in black. “Did you take the horse?”

  “Yes!” said the other man. “And who cares, Benni?”

  “Who cares?” said the man. “Who cares? And you think I’m the fool! And you can stop calling me Benni. Where is the horse now?”

  “Gone!” said the man. “Gone!”

  “You took him from the woods, Malcolm! Of course he’s gone!”

  Oland knew then the men who stood before him. His heart started to pound. His stomach churned.

  “They must be Malcolm and Benjamin Evolent,” he said, his voice low and trembling.

  Delphi moved closer to him, gripping his arm.

  “I brought him back!” said Malcolm.

  “Why are you here?” said Benjamin. “Why aren’t you on your own side?”

  “I just wanted to—”

  “You need to understand that the animals cannot under any circumstances leave these woods. You see the gates. You know that there are fences deep underground. I am beginning to build a cage over the entire woods. The entire woods. Can you understand that if you let out anything… even one creature – and they are creatures, you know this – that you have the potential to destroy everything?”

  “Of course I do,” said Malcolm.

  “Then why do it?” said Benjamin.

  Malcolm shrugged.

  “And speaking of destruction,” said Benjamin, “what happened to my watchtower?”

  “Well, you’ll have to tell me, won’t you?” said Malcolm.

  “It’s gone!” said Benjamin.

  “And what do you think I did?” said Malcolm. “Chop it down? Because one can hardly carry away a watchtower.”

  “It’s completely gone,” said Benjamin. “As if it never existed.”

  Malcolm frowned. “Oh…” he said. “Maybe there is one thing.”

  “What?” said Benjamin.

  “A new insect I… discovered. It appears to have quite the appetite for wood.”

  “And you let this ‘discovery’ loose?” said Benjamin.

  “No,” said Malcolm. “I contained it. Well, there were two of them. Each in a glass jar… that they managed to knock over and smash. Quite a feat for such tiny things.”

  “Where were you keeping them?”

  “In one of my timber buildings, unfortunately…”

  Benjamin’s eyes widened.

  “I know!” said Malcolm. “We’re both so used to you being the fool!”

  “Did they damage the building?” said Benjamin.

  “Well, they damaged the contents,” said Malcolm. “The building, they simply devoured.”

  “What?” said Benjamin.

  Malcolm nodded. “It took no more than minutes.”

  “For two of them?” said Benjamin.

  Malcolm nodded, his eyes bright.

  “This is nothing to be proud of,” said Benjamin. “This is a catastrophe.”

  “Apart from your watchtower, I don’t see anything else they’ve done,” said Malcolm. “I’m sure their stomachs have exploded by now.”

  “You have no idea what has become of them,” said Benjamin.

  “But I will follow their progress with interest, said Malcolm.”

  Benjamin stared at the ground. “At least, for the sake of the larger creatures, go back and lock the gate,” he said, his voice weary.

  “Me?” said Malcolm. He snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Get one of your minions.”

  “Fyles!” called Benjamin. “Fyles! Can you please go and close the gate? My brother saw fit to leave it open.”

  A man appeared from the building behind Benjamin Evolent. He had a long narrow body and short squat legs. He moved slowly, his body rolling left and right.

  “Yes, doctor,” he said, barely glancing up, his brow hidden under a filthy pile of dark hair.

  “Look out for a horse!” said Malcolm.

  Benjamin scowled at him. “Who knows what problems that horse might have!”

  Malcolm readjusted one of his bandages. “That horse’s only problem was—”

  “Shh!” said Benjamin.

  Malcolm ignored him. “I’m simply saying—”

  “Fyles!” hissed Benjamin. “Fyles – stop walking! Don’t move!”

  Fyles turned towards him. “What?” he said. “What is it?”

  “What is wrong with you?” said Malcolm. He looked to where Fyles was standing. Oland and Delphi did the same. Oland’s eyes shot wide as a towering form peeled away from one of the tree trunks past Fyles’ shoulder.

  “What is that?” said Malcolm.

  “I don’t know,” said Benjamin. “It’s… it’s… tall… over six feet tall…” He frowned. “It’s the colour of the tree trunk, but now it’s changing…”

  Fyles started to shake. The creature moved closer. There was something so wrong about it. It seemed to appear and reappear as it changed with its surroundings.

  Benjamin struggled to speak.

  Fyles was quaking. Malcolm Evolent just stared.

  “It’s changing again,” said Benjamin. “To… the colour of the leaves.”

  Suddenly, two arms shot from the creature’s sides and two huge pincers started to snap at the air as it moved slowly towards Fyles.

  Fyles stood, whimpering, his face contorted in terror.

  “Oh, no,” said Benjamin.

  “What?” said Fyles. He was barely moving his lips.

  “It’s a scorpeleon!” said Benjamin.

  Fyles’ voice trembled. “Part scorpion, part chameleon?” he said.

  “I’m sorry, Fyles!” said Benjamin. “I’m so sorry!”

  Behind Fyles, the creature was rising to its full height. Its long black tail curved into the air behind it. A strange sound was building in the back of it
s throat.

  “Oh, no!” said Benjamin.

  “What?” said Fyles again.

  “It’s… it’s just turned the colour of your tunic,” said Benjamin.

  With that, the scorpeleon pounced, swiftly latching a pincer around Fyles’ waist, shaking him wildly and carrying him away through the trees.

  ELPHI PRESSED HER HAND TO HER MOUTH TO STIFLE her screams. As the howling Fyles was being carried away, Oland and Delphi took the chance to run in the opposite direction. They charged ahead, ducking under branches, sidestepping the rocks and knotted roots. They ran until they could barely breathe.

  “The experiments,” said Oland when they stopped. “That giant scorpion. This is one big laboratory. That’s why the Evolents said the word ‘discovery’ so strangely. It wasn’t just a discovery – Malcolm had clearly experimented on those insects. How else could they have destroyed an entire building so quickly?” He paused. “Delphi – how long had we been travelling in the cart do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” said Delphi.

  “Long enough to have passed into Garnish?” said Oland.

  “Yes,” said Delphi. “Definitely.”

  “Then I think I know where we are,” said Oland.

  “Hell,” said Delphi.

  “No,” said Oland, “I think where we are might, in fact, be useful. I think we’re in Valle da Cossima, Queen Cossima’s woods. Tell me again what the scryer said to you about them.”

  “She said that they were filled with all the beautiful plants and trees I told you about… and… oh, she said, ‘Their myriad hues swathed the whole of Envar… and told us of their kings.’”

  “That’s it!” said Oland. “‘Swathed the whole of Envar’ – the Tailor Rynish told me that he used to get fabrics from a man in Garnish, Gaudy Dyer, who no longer provides them. He dyed fabrics, therefore he had to use plants, flowers and barks. And ‘told us of their kings’ – the scryer was talking about crests!”

  Delphi’s eyes were bright. “You’re right!” she said.

  “All along, we’ve been trying to find Sabian the place,” said Oland. “What if we find out about the crest itself? I was told to find the crest, not necessarily to go to Sabian…” He paused. “If you were a heraldist, where would you live? In a place filled with colour, where you have all the tools to make your dyes. Like here. That’s why Pinfrock said that inks are no longer coloured and that only one man is brave enough to work in colour. Why would he say brave, unless, of course, it was a place he shouldn’t be? A forbidden place? These woods are owned by Villius Ren and have clearly been taken over by the Evolents. Would it not be brave to trespass on the land of men so evil?”