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

by Barclay, Alex

  “Ah,” said Quintus, “did you suffer a burn?”

  “No, not me,” said Oland, “but let’s just say I once met a terrible man with cinderberry-soaked bandages.”

  “Strange that a berry can taste so good as a juice, and transform into something so pungent as an ointment,” said Quintus. “The patient man’s ointment, as it is known.”

  “Why?” said Delphi.

  “Well, there are more effective ways to treat burns, ways that heal them quicker. Cinderberry takes many years, but will ultimately leave no trace of a scar. None whatsoever.” He looked from one to the other. “So shall I make lemonade for you both?” he said.

  “I’ll try cinderberry, please,” said Delphi.

  “Lemonade for me,” said Oland. “Thank you.”

  “Bad memories spill from all the senses,” said Quintus as he left the room.

  “Is it true that you have made all the crests of all the lands?” called Oland.

  “In the last fifty years,” said Quintus. “Yes.”

  “And before that?” said Oland.

  “My ancestors did,” said Quintus. “Where are you from?”

  “Decresian,” said Oland.

  “Aha!” said Quintus. He reappeared with Oland’s drink and handed it to him. “Come with me.”

  They went to a table in the corner, where a giant book lay.

  “What a fine king you had in King Micah,” said Quintus. “I was saddened by his passing.”

  He heaved the book open.

  “Here I have all the crests ever made – in Envar and beyond.”

  He beckoned Oland and Delphi to his side as he opened up the contents page. He held two bony fingers to the corner of the book and flicked so quickly through the pages that they became a blur.

  “Here we are,” he said. “The Crest of Decresian, and its beautiful gold and teal. This was a very special crest, designed by my grandfather,” said Quintus. “Did you know that the teal and gold of Decresian was to mark King Micah’s birth? When his mother, Queen Amber, knew that she was with child, she wanted the official colours of the kingdom to change to reflect his birth, and she wanted a colour that had never before been used. My grandfather travelled the length and breadth of Envar, and he returned with the most magnificent teal dye. It was used for the king’s robes when he was born, and for the Crest of Decresian. That was over one hundred years ago…”

  Delphi pointed to it. “Where did he find the colour?”

  “From a flower, I was told,” said Quintus.

  “I know the flower,” said Delphi. “It was taken from the petals of a camberlily.” She paused. “Well, that’s the name I gave them.”

  Oland was nodding as she spoke. “It’s that exact colour.”

  “Well, that’s extraordinary!” said Quintus. “Are you from Dallen Falls?”

  “Yes,” said Delphi.

  “Well, would you believe, my grandfather went back there – we’ve all been back there to look for them, every year – and we’ve never seen them since.”

  “They’re there now,” said Delphi. “In one of the caves.”

  “That would be them indeed,” said Quintus. “My grandfather found them in the cave, quite by chance, floating by. How could we have missed them, in all our pilgrimages?”

  “I only saw them for the first time a few months ago,” said Delphi.

  “Well, I might take a trip to Dallen Falls once more,” said Quintus. He smiled, and his eyes sparkled with all the glorious colours around him.

  “Thank you for showing us the crest,” said Delphi.

  “But we’ve been sent to find the Crest of Sabian,” said Oland.

  Quintus frowned. “Sent?” he said. “By whom?”

  “King Micah,” said Oland.

  “King Micah? But surely he died before you were born…”

  “He left a letter for me,” said Oland. “That is all I can tell you.”

  “Sabian, you say?” said Quintus.

  Oland nodded. “Yes. We came here because we wanted to see the crest, or find out where it is.”

  Quintus’ face fell. “Oh, Oland Born, Delphi, dear,” he said.

  Oland felt a stab of panic.

  “It is with a heavy heart I tell you: there is no Crest of Sabian,” said Quintus. “There is no Sabian – not any more. Sabian is the land that fell into the sea.”

  Oland stood, motionless. It was as though he hadn’t heard Quintus’ words, yet had heard them so loudly that they became unbearable. He was surrounded by more crests than were imaginable, yet the room might as well have been bare. It was not that he was here to prove that he had achieved something, or reached somewhere, or deciphered something. He had left an entire kingdom behind, and though its people scarcely knew him, and certainly did not know of his quest, he had a loyalty to them that he could feel like a flame burning inside him. He had never envisaged a future that the past had already destroyed.

  “Hundreds of years ago,” said Quintus, “there was a battle for control of Sabian. It lasted for many, many years and it was the ruin of many. Only one army was left standing, led by a man named Obuled – a dangerous and ignorant man. For years he ruled Sabian with a crazed mind and a violent hand.

  “One night, during a banquet he threw in honour of himself, Sabian was plunged into darkness. The ground started to tremble. Cracks broke out all across the land and, before long, they became huge crevices. Within minutes, every last trace of Sabian disappeared into the sea.

  “So I would imagine,” said Quintus, “that there was little chance that a crest survived and little chance that anywhere outside Sabian the crest of such an evil man was ever preserved.” He paused. “I am sorry, Oland, Delphi.”

  “But… the letter says… it’s a blue and white crest.”

  “There are no crests of blue and white,” said Quintus. “In heraldry, blue represents truth and loyalty and white represents peace and sincerity, but, at that time, hundreds of years ago, it was the colour of the flags used by the army of Obuled. Of course, it was a mockery: Obuled was an evil man, who knew nothing of truth and loyalty. He lied, cheated and betrayed his way through life. He found it amusing, therefore, to have a blue and white crest. My father, my father’s father and every generation of heraldists before me refused to allow blue and white to be used in a crest ever since.”

  “But where was Sabian?” said Oland. “I’ve never seen it on a map.”

  “But you may have heard of it,” said Quintus. “Or what’s left of it.”

  “No,” said Oland. “I haven’t.”

  “It used to be the southernmost tip of Envar…” said Quintus.

  Oland knew then where Quintus meant. He closed his eyes. “It can’t be.”

  Quintus nodded gravely. “I’m afraid so,” he said. “Sabian is now Curfew Peak.”

  “Curfew Peak?” said Delphi. “The prison? The drogues…”

  Oland quoted his book. “‘One mythic beast was four engulfed: vulture, bull, bear and wolf.’”

  “If the crest is there,” said Quintus, “it should remain there. As it is said: ‘If you disturb the grounds of Curfew Peak, the grounds of Curfew Peak will disturb you tenfold.’”

  UINTUS’ SHACK SUDDENLY KEELED SHARPLY TO ONE side, sending him, Oland and Delphi sliding along the floor, crashing into the wall. They could hear the sound of the wooden stilts creaking, and the window frames start to rattle. Quintus edged closer to it, ignoring Delphi’s pleas to stop.

  “What’s happening?” said Delphi.

  “I don’t know said Quintus.

  The house shifted and this time all three struck the glass, Quintus head first. Blood poured from a cut above his eye. Delphi cried out. The house shifted again, and all the stacks of papers collapsed. Quickly, Oland and Delphi blew out all the candles, and they were plunged into darkness. Again, the house tilted sharply. Delphi and Oland grabbed on to each other. Quintus grabbed on to his giant book.

  “Go,” said Quintus. “Please, go.”
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  “But… you’re coming too…” said Oland.

  “Yes,” said Quintus. “But please, go first. I need to collect some of my things.”

  “We’ll help you gather,” said Delphi.

  “Yes,” said Oland.

  “Thank you, but no,” said Quintus. “I will follow you. Please. Please take yourselves to safety.”

  The house rocked again, throwing Oland and Delphi to the floor.

  “Run,” shouted Quintus, dragging his precious book towards him. “Run.”

  “We can’t leave you,” said Delphi. “We’re not leaving without you.”

  “You have to,” said Quintus. “Go. Please. There is a boat tied to my cabin that I can drop into the water if I have to. I can make it to safety in that. You can climb down the ladder faster; you can run along the jetty to the bank. I can’t fit you both in my boat with all my books. You’ll be doing me a great service.”

  Oland and Delphi looked at each other.

  “Will you be safe?” said Delphi to Quintus.

  “Yes, go,” shouted Quintus.

  Oland pulled Delphi by the hand. “You can’t fall into the water. We have to go. Now!”

  All around the room, the wooden crests began to drop from the walls. Plates and glasses and tankards shattered on the wooden floor.

  Oland turned to Quintus. “Thank you for your kindness,” he said. “We will meet you on the bank.”

  “Until then,” said Quintus. He bowed. “And good luck to you both.”

  Oland and Delphi ran, pushing their way through the creaking door out into the night, sliding halfway down the ladders and running along the walkway. They heard a huge crash behind them. They turned and saw Quintus’ boat falling from where it hung at the side of the shack. It shattered as it struck the water. They ran faster and heard the creak of the stilts, then a crack, then another, and the deafening sound of Quintus’ home crashing down into the wild waters. When they looked back, they saw the jetty begin to break up behind them.

  “Faster,” roared Oland. “Faster.”

  Everything was a blur as they fled the collapsing jetty. The sound of shattering timber grew louder behind them. Delphi was running ahead. The plank of wood behind Oland’s heels exploded. Oland pushed Delphi hard, sending her flying through the air towards the bank of the marsh. There was no more jetty beneath Oland’s feet and he tumbled into the water, crying out when he hit the surface. He plunged quickly down into the darkness. When he reappeared, he could see Delphi standing by the edge, her face stricken.

  “Oland,” she screamed. “Swim! Swim!”

  Though Delphi was close, the distance between them felt insurmountable as Oland struggled desperately to escape the viscous, stinking water. As the last of his strength began to slip away, Delphi reached out towards him, but her feet slid closer to the edge. The only way Oland could stop her was to get to her first. Just when he thought he had no more fight left, he gave one final burst, and he collapsed, exhausted, on to the bank beside her.

  LAND LAY AT THE EDGE OF THE MARSH, STARING UP at the sky. Delphi sat beside him, picking at the damp grass. “When I get back to The Falls,” she said, “I’m going to take a camberlily and let it float through The Straits in honour of Quintus – through beautiful water, instead of this.”

  Oland could hear the crack in her voice.

  “Curfew Peak,” he said eventually. “I can’t believe it was once part of Sabian.” With his arms outstretched above him, he held out the map. “The southernmost point in Envar is a place called Pallimer Bay. Maybe there is a crest of Curfew Peak…”

  “You’re not thinking of going there?” said Delphi.

  “Why? The drogues?” said Oland, laughing. “You do know they’re not real? But, from the illustrations in my book, they are ferocious.” He laid down the map and held up his hands like claws.

  Delphi laughed. “I know they’re not real. It’s just the idea of them…”

  She stood up. “Oland,” she said. “Look!”

  Oland looked out across the marsh to where the contents of Quintus’ home floated across the surface.

  “Can you see?” said Delphi.

  Oland nodded. “I can,” he said. “There is not one remnant of Quintus’ shack or the jetty.”

  Suddenly, Delphi slapped her own wrist. She cried out. When she pulled her palm away, she could see that something round was embedded in her skin. She pinched it between her nails, pulled it out and held it up. It was a plump, orange insect with a bloated brown abdomen the size of an acorn. Its head came to a sharp point.

  “So this is Malcolm’s creation,” said Oland. He put the map in his bag, then grabbed a branch from under the tree beside them. Delphi lay the insect on top. In seconds, the entire branch was dust, and the insect was gone.

  “We need to leave,” said Delphi. “Now. Let’s retrace our steps, then, when we reach Benjamin Evolent’s laboratory we go straight ahead, instead of going left like we did the last time.”

  They disappeared into the trees and walked on in silence.

  “To think,” said Delphi eventually, “that Valle da Cossima was a beautiful gift that must have been filled with love and with happiness. And this is what it has become.”

  Oland nodded. “Do you think we’re going the right way? Is there anything here that’s familiar to you?”

  “Not yet,” said Delphi.

  They reached a clearing.

  “Look!” said Oland.

  At the centre of the clearing were Benjamin Evolent’s gloves and mask. There was a terrible twitching sound from the trees, like the flapping of the wings of a trapped bird. Oland and Delphi looked up slowly. Three thick-snouted boars hung upside down like bats from one of the tree branches. Blood dripped on to the ground from their fangs.

  Delphi held her hand to her mouth.

  In front of them, each boar dropped slowly to the ground. What looked like wings were just stretched flaps of flesh that the boars snapped out like a cape, and they sped, on hooves, through the trees ahead, flying only at intervals.

  Oland and Delphi stood, shaking in the hot darkness.

  “What have the Evolents done?” said Delphi. “What have they done?”

  Oland pointed to a small pool of light on the ground in front of them, where they saw the battered leather-bound book that Benjamin Evolent had been clutching earlier. It was titled: A Truant Kingdom: Dark Crossings.

  Oland took the heavy volume and opened it. A map stretched across the inside cover. It was divided by a forest that snaked down the centre. To the right was a vast area bounded by a curved path, with four paths running off it towards the centre to sections numbered one to four.

  “It’s a map of the woods,” said Oland.

  The key to the map was in the bottom right-hand corner under the heading ‘Animal Enclosures’.

  “One: snakes/lizards,” said Oland, “two: birds/insects, three: primates, four: lions/tigers.” He paused, then turned to Delphi, his eyes filled with horror. “And we’re here.”

  He pointed to a fifth area, coloured in red, that spread like a pool of blood across the map, larger than all the others combined. Arrows pointed from all the other areas towards it. There was no key for number five. Instead, across the crimson expanse, was one word: ‘Unknown’.

  Oland turned the pages slowly, but his pace accelerated as he moved through the drawings and diagrams and notes.

  “These are Benjamin Evolent’s notes on the creatures,” he said. His face had turned white. He closed the journal.

  “Oh, Delphi. It’s worse than we could ever have imagined.”

  Delphi tried to take the book from him.

  Oland pulled it back.

  “Let me see,” said Delphi.

  Oland shook his head. “No. You don’t want to see.”

  “I do!” she shouted. She took the book and flipped past the map to the following page. “This book is volume three?” she said, her eyes wide.

  “Yes,” said Oland. “There ap
pear to be three volumes. This one is about what lives in the red area on the map.”

  “There aren’t many entries,” said Delphi.

  “Yet,” said Oland.

  “What about the humans they experimented on in Decresian?” said Delphi. “And the screaming souls? And the Thousandth Soul?”

  “Maybe they never documented them,” said Oland.

  “What were they trying to do to the world?” said Delphi.

  Oland was reminded of how safe Delphi’s life had been, where the only world she knew was one carefully constructed by Chancey the Gold. Even if, at times, she had felt trapped, at least she knew that she had always been safe.

  “Let me take that,” said Oland.

  Delphi handed him the book and he put it in his bag.

  They walked on, side by side.

  “I want to go home,” said Delphi suddenly. Tears welled in her eyes. “I want to go home.”

  Oland too felt the urge to be in The Holdings, master of a battle of his own creation. He wished that he was standing as the powerful leader of a fearless army. He could guide his soldiers across familiar terrain to face an enemy he knew, an enemy whose actions he could predict. Outside that tiny room, there was nothing or no one for Oland Born to trust. The world was a bleak and hopeless place.

  It was at his darkest moment in these darkest woods that Delphi reached out and took his hand.

  They walked, hand in hand, for some time. Oland was extremely conscious of the fineness of Delphi’s bones. Despite himself, and despite her strength, he had never felt she was so breakable.

  “Look!” said Delphi, releasing his hand. “It’s a dog. He’s been hurt.” She started to run towards a small slumped shape up ahead.

  Suddenly, Malben jumped from the trees and landed in front of her. His eyes flashed with fright. He opened his mouth. “Delphi, no!” he cried. “Don’t touch it! It’s poisoned!”

  All Oland and Delphi could do was stare at him. He had looked so close to speaking so many times, and now, finally, he had.

  ALBEN STOOD IN FRONT OF OLAND AND DELPHI, holding up a finger.

  “You cannot interrupt me,” he said. “My power of speech is like a bee’s sting and, once it’s released, I will die. So, with my dying breath, I want you to know that I have betrayed you, Oland. I am the animal who is closest to the perfection of the Thousandth Soul. The Evolents didn’t think that they would fail with me, so they called me Malben – the perfect combination of their names and their work.