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

by Barclay, Alex

  “I was healthy for a time, but within weeks of my birth…” Malben shook his head. “I displayed behaviour that concerned them. They called me ‘wild and two-sided’. The world is a battle of good and evil and is won and lost across different terrains. But, for me, the fight was in my very soul; a fight so intense that it became unbearable. Sometimes good triumphed, sometimes evil. But the unpredictability was devastating for me and everyone around me. The turmoil in my soul could not be sustained by my heart, Oland. The turmoil is breaking my heart.

  “Unbeknownst to Malcolm Evolent, on my anguished nights, a young woman was brought to the laboratory by Benjamin Evolent to watch over me. She thought it was nothing more than a hospital for sick animals. She had no fear – no matter how restless or distressed I was, she would take me in her arms, hold me and sing me to sleep. And one day she was gone. Malcolm Evolent told me that he had sent her away, and that I would probably be dead by the time she returned. And so I was in a cage, with no hope of anyone to come and comfort me.

  “It was not long afterwards I heard that the Thousandth Soul was created, and I knew that the Evolents would have little use for me. But then the Thousandth Soul disappeared, and they turned their attention back to me. Fearful of what they would do, I decided to help them find the Thousandth Soul. I believed that they would be grateful and, if they studied the Thousandth Soul, that they would be able to fix me, make me one spirit instead of the two that fight inside me. The night of the Villian Games, when you fled from the castle, Oland, I followed you. On our journey, when I disappeared, it was to return to Malcolm Evolent and show him on the map where you were or where I had heard you plan to go…

  “When I returned after fleeing Dallen Falls, you had found Delphi. And, on the way to Galenore, when I heard her sing, it was so beautiful, so pure… and it stayed with me… but… then, then I let Malcolm Evolent know you had gone to Galenore. I couldn’t help myself! This is the fight I speak of! And then I left Pinfrock’s to tell him where you were!” He looked as shocked at his own actions as Oland and Delphi were. “I didn’t know what Malcolm would do!” Malben continued. “I knew he would come for you, Oland, but… not that he would kill Pinfrock! He killed him! Just like that! To make you think it was the archivist… he wanted you to mistrust everything and everyone… he followed us to the Oxlaven border. I tried to pull you into the woods that day, Delphi, to spare you being taken away by Malcolm Evolent. I knew he was coming. I tried to, but then Malcolm Evolent appeared. When I saw how you only went with him because he had a knife held to my throat, I could no longer bear who I had become…

  “I betrayed you, but it may not be too late to save yourselves from him. You must leave the woods immediately. There are creatures who hibernate here, and you do not want to be here when they awaken. It will be within the hour. Come with me; there is a horse waiting for you.”

  Oland and Delphi struggled desperately not to interrupt Malben, not to ask him a hundred questions after what he had just revealed.

  “Villius Ren and the Evolents know things about each other that each uses against the other. I know that Villius Ren encouraged them to start the experiments; he was nineteen years old at the time, and believed himself to be sick. He wanted their help. The Evolents began their experiments, but ten years later, King Micah uncovered their work and called on a magistrate to try them in court and send them to prison. Villius Ren saved the Evolents from this fate when he overthrew King Micah. It meant that the Evolents could leave Decresian, and that no one would ever know that it was Villius’ idea to start the experiments. But King Micah took something away from Villius Ren before he died. He protected more than just the history of Decresian from him. Whatever it is, they all want it. It’s something to do with the experiments. It’s something to do with extracting the traits of animals. There are distillations, extractions, essences and infusions. They don’t require breeding in a laboratory. These are simple liquids, Oland. They are in vials, they can be injected, they can be drunk, they can be… devastating. They have never been used,” said Malben. “All I know is that they are volatile, that in order to survive, they have to be kept in a controlled environment. And where they are, no one knows. But, in the wrong hands, they could destroy Envar. Whatever your quest is, Oland, wherever it shall lead you, you must find them, wherever they are.”

  Malben’s breath was failing him. Oland panicked. “But why was Malcolm Evolent looking for me?” he blurted.

  Malben howled in sorrow. He spun round and round in frantic circles, his eyes wild with pain. It was too late. He had lost his power of speech. He started to run, gesturing for them to follow him. The three moved silently through the woods, but by the time they reached the gates, Malben was trailing weakly behind them. And, as they turned to thank him, he was lying curled on his side on the grass as if he were sleeping.

  LAND AND DELPHI RAN THROUGH THE EASTERN GATES of The Shadowed Woods and stopped to catch their breath.

  “I can’t believe that Malben reported back to Malcolm Evolent,” said Oland.

  Delphi was crying. “Poor Malben. It wasn’t his fault. He was… just… used. And now he’s gone.”

  Oland’s thoughts turned to what Malben had told them. He could barely believe that there were transformative liquids out there that were the result of such grotesque experiments. The weight of being told by Malben that he must find them felt like too great a burden.

  He heard the stamping of a foot behind him and turned to see the black horse that had fled from Malcolm Evolent. He was tethered to one of the bars, his head held high. They went over to him.

  “What is this?” said Delphi. From the base of the horse’s neck to the tops of his legs, he was encased in the hardened plates of a pangolin.

  Oland ran his hands the length of the horse. “He has his own natural armour. He’s incredible.”

  “He needs a name,” said Delphi.

  Oland smiled. “Standback,” he said. “His name is Standback.”

  Delphi stroked his mane.

  “Climb up,” said Oland, holding out his hands, boosting Delphi on to the horse’s back.

  Without thinking, she pulled Oland up in front of her. Neither said a word, but they were both surprised at the strength in her skinny arms.

  Oland had never ridden a horse with another rider, and it took him some time to move his elbows away from his side so that Delphi could put her arms around his waist.

  Standback began tentatively, but quickly reached his full potential, carrying Oland and Delphi away at an unimaginable speed.

  *

  When they reached Pallimer Bay, Oland and Delphi looked across at the black island-mountain that was Curfew Peak. Standback stood quietly by their side. The remaining light overhead would soon leave, and Curfew Peak would be in darkness. A sailing boat was nearing the pier from the east.

  “This is one place the Evolents will not expect us to go,” said Oland. “Malben never heard us saying we’re looking for the Crest of Sabian; perhaps he doesn’t even know that Curfew Peak was once part of Sabian.”

  Delphi stepped a little closer to the edge of the pier. Under its calm, glassy surface, the water was beginning to churn. Delphi beckoned Oland over. They watched as pockets of dark sand began to burst under the surface.

  “Something is happening under there,” said Delphi. “It’s like the marsh.”

  They looked again at the distance they had to travel to Curfew Peak.

  “We’re not going,” said Delphi.

  “We have no choice,” said Oland.

  The sailing boat pulled up alongside a stone boathouse to their right. As it docked, they could see a sign on the side: CURFEW PEAK. NO BOARDING WITHOUT MAGISTRATE’S PAPERS.

  The captain jumped down on to the pier. He had smooth, rich-brown skin and green, copper-flecked eyes that appeared to change colour in the fading sunlight. He had the build of a man who hauled heavy loads. He frowned when he saw Oland and Delphi, and how they were gazing out towards Curfew Peak
.

  “Surely you’re not volunteering,” he said, smiling.

  Behind him, forty young men and women, all dressed in white, disembarked and stood beside the boat in four parallel lines of ten.

  He turned to them. “Go, eat, and I will join you shortly.”

  Without a word, they walked up the slipway, disappearing out of sight.

  The captain turned his attention back to Oland and Delphi.

  “What are you doing here?” he said.

  “We need your help,” said Oland.

  “Who are you?” said the man.

  “I’m Oland. And this is Delphi.”

  “My name is Bream,” said the man. “Tell me how I can help you.”

  “We need to get to Curfew Peak,” said Oland.

  Bream’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  “Because…” said Oland.

  Bream waited.

  “Because I have to find something there,” said Oland. “That’s all I will say.”

  Bream shook his head slowly. “I have lived on Pallimer Bay for twelve years, so you better listen carefully.”

  His tone was enough to make the hairs on the back of Delphi’s neck stand up.

  “Curfew Peak is called Curfew Peak because the sun goes down early, earlier than anywhere else,” said Bream. “The island itself has a curfew. At six o’clock it plunges into darkness. But,” he said, “can you see how dark it is now, even in daylight?”

  Oland and Delphi nodded.

  “The island is covered in a fine black dust,” said Bream. “Finer than sand. And that dust is stirred up by the wind and it will blow into your eyes and will be sucked into your nose and mouth and lungs. It is an unpleasant dust with unpleasant effects. If a person holds anger within, this dust will give it an easy path to the outside world and, once released, it will be directionless.

  “The only lights that can burn on Curfew Peak are along its shore,” he continued. “They are lit by the Pyreboys. They descend from the mountain top at dusk and light a row of torches along the shore to keep any boats from crashing there.”

  “Who are the Pyreboys?” said Delphi.

  “The criminal children,” said Bream. “Any child who commits a crime gets shipped off to Curfew Peak from the age of twelve to twenty-one. If they’re under twelve, their name is written in a magistrate’s ledger and they are collected on their twelfth birthday and off they go – to stay there until their twenty-first. Oh, they can roam somewhat freely, but, if they are caught by the guards making any attempt to escape, they are jailed in cells on the northwest of the island for the rest of their lives.” He paused. “Not that you could really call them guards; they’re paid handsomely to work there, but they have little to do… the wild waters that surround the island might as well be bars. It is said that some Pyreboys have escaped, but I’ve yet to see proof…

  “Anyone unfamiliar with the island and unfortunate enough to end up there is told that, once they leave the shore, they are never to light their way.”

  “Why?” said Delphi.

  “Drogues are attracted to light,” said Bream. “But they don’t approach the shore lights, because they too fear the wild waters.”

  “Drogues?” said Delphi. “But drogues are not real.”

  “Not real?” said Bream. His gaze drifted out towards the island.

  LAND AND DELPHI STARED AT EACH OTHER.

  “I can’t say whether or not a drogue is real,” said Bream. “The most I can say is that I’ve seen strange things. Inexplicable things.”

  “Like what?” said Oland.

  “Movement,” said Bream. “Shadows.”

  “But… have you been on the island?” said Oland.

  Bream shook his head. “Apart from the prisoners, anyone who has to go there goes no further than the shore.”

  “Can you please take us there?” said Oland.

  Bream shook his head slowly. “Travellers have gone to Curfew Peak,” he continued, “and never returned, and for that reason I won’t be taking you there,” he said. “You’re too young and I couldn’t have it on my conscience were you not to make it back alive.”

  “But we will make it back alive,” said Oland.

  Bream shook his head. “There is something terribly wrong with Curfew Peak,” he said. “There is a dark secrecy that seems to come from the earth itself. It’s as though an illness is rotting the island from the inside out.” Bream pointed to the sky. “Not to mention The Great Rains are coming… the weather is too fraught.”

  “What?” said Oland. “The Great Rains?”

  “Yes,” said Bream.

  “When?” said Oland.

  “It won’t be long. Days…”

  “Days?” said Oland. They had travelled for so long that even if they took a more direct route back to Decresian it would be too late.

  “Why don’t you join us for supper?” said Bream. “There’s nothing more for you to do here.”

  “Thank you,” said Oland. “But we won’t stay here for much longer.”

  Bream paused, then nodded and left them behind to join his crew.

  Oland turned to Delphi.

  “So are you coming to Curfew Peak with me?” he said.

  “To the drogues?” said Delphi.

  “Movement and shadows are not drogues,” said Oland.

  Delphi shook her head. “This is where my journey ends.”

  “No,” said Oland. “It can’t… we are right there.” He pointed across at the island. “We can’t give up now after everything we’ve done.”

  “Curfew Peak is not a stinking marsh or a scryer’s cave, Oland. It’s much worse,” said Delphi. “I have the worst feeling in the world about Curfew Peak and I think Bream is right. I don’t think we will make it out alive. Please, please, Oland, don’t go. Because I won’t be coming with you, and I don’t want you to go alone.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to go, whether you come with me or not,” said Oland. “This feels like my last chance to find the Crest. I won’t give up.”

  “Please,” said Delphi. “I have never begged for anything in my life, but I am begging you now. Do not go.”

  “I have to,” said Oland.

  Delphi gripped his arms. “You are making a huge mistake.”

  Oland pulled gently away from her. “Will you wait for me?”

  Delphi paused. “But what if you don’t come back?”

  “I will come back,” said Oland.

  “But how are you even going to get there?” said Delphi. “Bream will never take you.”

  Oland lowered his voice. “I’m going to find another boat…”

  “But… do you even know how to sail?” said Delphi.

  “A rowing boat,” said Oland.

  “But what if there are drogues?” said Delphi.

  Oland shook his head. “That’s just to deter people from going there. I can’t understand why there are no boats here. There would have to be boats on a pier like this.”

  “You’re not listening to me,” said Delphi. And she knew he hadn’t even heard that.

  Oland and Delphi sat on the edge of the pier. Minutes passed in tense silence.

  “Surely people deliver supplies to Curfew Peak,’ said Oland. “Or… people sail from here to other places.” He paused, then he shifted backward and lay on his stomach so he could look under the pier. “I knew it!” he said. There were five rowing boats sheltered underneath. He reached down and started pulling at one of the ropes.

  “Please, Oland,” said Delphi, “we can’t do this.”

  “I have to,” said Oland. “I have to continue on my quest.”

  “Yes – your quest,” said Delphi. “Not mine. I just helped you.”

  “And have stopped helping me when it mattered most,” snapped Oland.

  “It mattered most every step of the way,” said Delphi. “It always matters when someone’s life is at stake. And yours is at stake now.” She stabbed a finger at the sea. “And mine too, Oland. Mine. You want me
to travel across water for you, in a boat you have never helmed. On a strange, strange sea.” She turned and walked away.

  “I’m sorry, Delphi,” said Oland. “I can’t come this far, be within reach like this, and just walk away…”

  She could hear his footsteps on the timber behind her and the sound of them landing in the boat below. She turned back and watched as it pulled away from the pier. The oars looked huge in Oland’s hands.

  Delphi took a deep breath… and ran as fast as she could the length of the pier, jumping high and landing behind him.

  HE BOAT ROCKED WILDLY FROM SIDE TO SIDE AS DELPHI landed. It tipped down into the ocean, taking on water as it righted itself. An oar slipped from Oland’s grip with the fright. Delphi caught it before it fell. But there was no laughter. Oland knew that Delphi had just risked her life by jumping across water on to a moving boat. And Delphi had just encouraged Oland to carry on with a journey she felt was doomed.

  “Thank you,” was all Oland said.

  “I hope Standback will wait for us,” she said. Then she looked out at the sea, quietly troubled by the pockets of black sand bursting beneath the surface.

  They reached Curfew Peak as darkness was falling. Their faces were rough with sea salt, their eyes stinging. Their arms ached from rowing, but still they pulled the boat to the shore and secured it in a sheltered cove. A line of wooden stakes stretched along the beach, just below the dunes. As the sky was turning its darkest grey, the sound of half-broken voices drifted down from behind them.

  “The Pyreboys,” said Oland.

  Oland and Delphi crouched down and watched as six skinny boys in long grey robes appeared at the stakes. They all looked to be somewhere between twelve and nineteen years old, with straight hair to their shoulders, alabaster skin and dark shadows under their eyes. They wore red kerchiefs tied in a knot around their necks.