Each had a bag filled with birch twigs slung across his body. They collected sticks and branches from the dunes and set them in a pile by the rocks not far from where Oland and Delphi were hiding. One of the Pyreboys took out a tinderbox and, before long, the fire was lit and the boys’ faces were illuminated.
They each held a twig to the flames, then set about lighting all the torches along the shore. They returned and gathered around the fire. One of the boys, who looked to be about seventeen, sat cross-legged, clutching his ankles. His hunched shoulders and sunken chest making him appear more timid than he sounded when he spoke.
“Welcome,” he said dramatically, and as if he had never met his fellow Pyreboys before. He raised his eyebrows, and looked each one of them in the eye. “Have you ever heard the legend of… Praevisia?” He said the name in a whisper.
“No,” said the other boys.
“Blaise, it’s my turn to tell a story,” said the smallest boy. He was waiflike, like something carved as an almost life-sized figurine. As he turned, it was clear that he was missing his right forearm.
“It’s not your turn,” said Blaise. “The last time you told a story, Frax, it was about the drogues. Again. Not tonight. Tonight you need to listen to a different legend.”
“Sorry, Blaise,” said another boy. “It is Frax’s turn.” He gave Blaise a worried look over Frax’s head, as if it would be wise to do what the small boy wanted.
“Frax it shall be!” said Blaise, his eyes wide in mock enthusiasm.
Frax leaned into the circle and began, his lips barely parting as he spoke. “On a wild, hot night, a prison ship rocked up on an island shore, and a stowaway emerged from below deck with a box under his arm. He was met by a band of dastardly boys! But then he knew he would be met by them! They were no surprise. They were exactly what he was here for. They were the Pyreboys of Curfew Peak.
“‘For the volunteer brave among you,’ said the man, opening his box and revealing rows of glass vials, filled with a cloudy liquid. He pulled one out. ‘Try this,’ he said. ‘It has the power to transform your miserable lives. If the magic captures you, you shall have the chance to leave this island before your sentence ends.’
“Four boys stepped forward and each drank a vial. The man smiled, and it was a terrible smile.
“‘But what do we do next?’ said one of the brave boys.
“‘You simply wait, and you will know,’ said the man. ‘Ownership of Curfew Peak has passed on to me. I will return, and I will assess your… transformation.’
“‘What kind of transformation?’ said one of these four boys.
“‘If I told you that you would forever be free,’ said the man, ‘what would you say? If I told you that you could go to places where no one else had been, what would you say?’
“‘I would say “yes”,’ said two more boys, stepping forward to join the others. Only a handful remained behind – they were the older ones, close to being released, with no need to take a risk.
“The man with the magic began to leave, but turned towards the peak instead of the sea.
“‘Wait,’ said one of the boys, ‘where are you going?’
“‘To explore my island,’ said the man.
“‘No one explores Curfew Peak,’ said the boy. ‘It’s not safe.’
“‘I’m not afraid of criminals,’ said the man.
“‘There are more than just criminals to fear,’ said the boy.
“The man laughed. He grabbed a bunch of birch twigs from one of the boys and took a light from the fire. Away up the peak he walked with his makeshift torch. Before long, he was just a shadow.”
Frax turned and traced his hand across the dunes behind him.
“But,” he said, as he turned back to them, “the story was not over yet! For, high on a ridge above him, one by one, six silhouettes slowly filled the dying white circle of the moon; drawn to him like… drogues to a flame.”
The Pyreboys gasped.
“You just threw in that last part about the drogues!” said Blaise.
“And what of it?” said Frax. “Did I not end it in style? Or do you want to hear what happened after the drogues pounced?” Frax’s eyes moved as if they were each travelling to different parts.
Blaise stood up. “I’m hungry,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“But wait!” said Frax. “Don’t you want to hear the cruel, cruel trick that the magic man played—”
“Why would we want to hear that?” said Blaise, turning on him. “You are insane!”
“Oh, Blaise, we all know it has a happy ending!” said Frax. “After, of course, the six brave boys were caged. Yes! Can you imagine? The magic man offered them freedom, but when he saw how well his magic worked, how free they would really be, they were all caged… them and all the brave boys who followed them!” He howled with laughter.
“Blaise, sit down, tell us your story,” said another of the Pyreboys.
“Later, Stoker,” said Blaise. He began to walk away.
“I’m sure it will be gripping,” said Frax, darting in front of Blaise, shooting forward and clutching his throat with his one hand.
Blaise pushed him away, knocking him off balance. “Get away from me, you lunatic.”
But Frax was already running ahead, laughing a high, curious laugh.
HE PYREBOYS DISAPPEARED, LEAVING THE LIGHT OF THE shore behind them.
“If that boy Frax just added that last part,” said Delphi, “does that mean the first part was true about the magic man?”
“There is something unhinged about that boy,” said Oland. “As for the first part of his story, I have no idea.”
“None of the Pyreboys acted like it was new,” said Delphi. “What could the magic have been, I wonder.” She paused. “Does it not sound like what Malben spoke of: the distillations, extractions, essences and infusions?”
Oland had no desire to answer that, because he thought that to answer yes would be of no reassurance to either of them.
“For now, all we know is that it’s a story,” he said.
“I wonder what happened to that boy’s arm,” said Delphi.
“Maybe he was snatched by a drogue,” said Oland, laughing. He paused. “Now, how are we to know where to go in the dark?”
“By taking a torch?” said Delphi.
They laughed. The wind whipped up and blew black dust into their eyes and mouths. They coughed and wiped at their eyes.
“This dust is terrible,” said Oland.
“We can only hope that the wind dies down,” said Delphi. She paused. “We should have approached the Pyreboys.”
“We’re not supposed to be here,” said Oland. “And you’re forgetting they’re criminals.”
“What can they do?” said Delphi.
“Any number of things,” said Oland.
“They don’t seem like they would hurt us,” said Delphi.
“Even if they didn’t,” said Oland, “who knows what else is on Curfew Peak?”
“I’m not listening to you when you talk like this,” said Delphi. “You brought us here. I was the one who didn’t want to come, so you are obliged to stay positive. Otherwise, we have no hope.” Delphi had already started to walk ahead. “I’m following them,” she said. “Because they are the only people we have seen.”
Oland caught up with her and they walked the path the Pyreboys had taken. The wind did not die down as they had wanted. Instead, it continued to rise in gusts, swirling the dust around them. They turned away from it, but it seemed to encircle them. At first it made them cough, but, as the dust was so fine, they became used to inhaling it and it was only their eyes that seemed to be affected. They bowed their heads and kept moving.
“This won’t end well,” said Delphi.
“Stop,” said Oland.
“But it won’t,” said Delphi. “I feel like this island is crawling all over me and pulling me in.”
“It’s just an island,” said Oland.
“It’s not
just an island,” said Delphi. “I have a bad feeling.” She walked faster.
“What would you know?” said Oland. His voice was like a whip.
Delphi stopped dead. She turned to him, her eyes flaming red, her pupils huge. She drew back her hand and slapped Oland hard across the face.
He gasped.
“What did you say to me?” she said.
“Delphi…” said Oland. He moved towards her, his eyes wild. He was suddenly overwhelmed with rage. He pushed her hard. She fell backward on to the ground, throwing up a cloud of black dust. All Oland could see through the darkness were Delphi’s eyes, burning like flames. She jumped towards him and kicked him hard in the stomach. Oland gasped as he rolled on to his knees, coughing and spitting. His heart was pounding, his hands shaking. He rose slowly to face Delphi. Water streamed from his eyes and nose. Delphi wiped the back of her hand across her face and spat on the ground. She stepped towards him, her fists already raised.
“I said,” shouted Oland, “what would you know? You’ve barely been outside your door all your life!”
Delphi went to punch him.
Startled, Oland blocked it, grabbing her wrist and holding it firm between them. Delphi stood staring through him, almost in a trance.
“Get out of my way!” she roared, pulling her arm back. Her eyes bored through him. A shiver ran up his spine.
“No wonder your father had to lock you up—”
“Because he was worried!” said Delphi.
“And did you believe that?” said Oland. “Did you believe everything that Chancey the Gold told you?”
“Of course I did!” said Delphi. “Why are you asking me that?”
“You told me that you fell ill in Galenore when you were young, and that there were no doctors there to treat you,” said Oland. “We passed three doctors’ rooms—”
“They might not have been there six years ago!” said Delphi.
“They were!” said Oland. “They were all established at least nine years ago – it said so on the plaques beside their doors.”
“I was only telling you what I remember…” she shouted.
“Or what you made up,” said Oland. “Or what Chancey the Gold told you. Maybe you’re both liars!”
Delphi’s eyes widened. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said. “You don’t know what it feels like to have no freedom, to be forced to stay—”
“Everything I did I was forced to do!” said Oland.
“You’ve never had a father to answer to,” said Delphi. “And The Craven Lodge never cared what you did. You had the run of a castle, you could come and go as you pleased as long as you polished their boots—”
“Polished their boots!” said Oland.
He stood watching Delphi, feeling the anger that radiated off her churning with his own rage. It was disturbing. He wanted her to get away from him. He couldn’t comprehend it.
“Well, whatever you did for them, you were free,” said Delphi.
“Oh, yes,” said Oland. “How wonderful it was to be able to run free in the pitch dark of a miserable kingdom—”
“Then why didn’t you leave?” said Delphi. “I don’t understand why you didn’t run from that life if it was so terrible.”
“I don’t expect you to understand after the cosseted life you’ve led!” said Oland, his voice rising. “Are people slaves because they choose to be? You have no idea how The Craven Lodge can torture a mind. And it’s not just mine. It’s the entire kingdom! Why didn’t the whole of Decresian just leave?” He paused to draw breath, sucking in more dust. “And on top of everything, I have drawn the wrath of Villius Ren even more than usual, just by going into his private room. And let’s not forget his reaction to me slaying those panthers—”
“And weren’t you lucky,” said Delphi, “that glory was the prize?”
“A man’s life was the prize,” said Oland.
He remembered how Malachy Graham had lived for just one more day after what happened in the arena. Everything that Oland had been trying to bury came rushing back to him.
“Why does it matter to you whether I left the castle years ago?” he said.
“Because it would have shown that you were—”
“What?” said Oland. “Brave?” He had begun to shout. “And what if my mother had come back? What if my mother had come back to find me? And I was gone! Then what?”
They stared at each other. Moments passed.
“Go away,” said Oland. “Just leave me alone.”
Delphi turned around towards the peak. Oland watched as she pulled up her hood and ran ahead, the wind with its swirling black dust sweeping her oilskin cape up behind her. He called to her. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t even break her stride.
The wind whipped at Oland’s hair and stung his eyes. Then he remembered what Bream had said. It was the dust. The dust was causing their anger! The Pyreboys had kerchiefs around their necks. They must have been to wrap around their mouths to stop them inhaling it.
Oland ripped a strip of fabric from the bottom of his tunic.
“Delphi!” he shouted. “Delphi!”
He started to walk towards her, but she had moved so quickly ahead, his words were being carried away. “Delphi!” he shouted. There was no reply. He couldn’t tell where she had gone. He pulled out his tinderbox and, using the flint and steel, showered sparks on to the sand. He wanted to make her laugh; he wanted to see her face. Delphi turned around and smiled. Oland waved the fabric at her and pointed at his face. She watched as he wrapped it around his mouth. She ripped a piece from the bottom of her top and did the same. Oland was relieved to see that she stood waiting for him. He could feel his own anger ebb away.
But, drawn by the smallest of sparks, a band of drogues leapt from the darkness. It was Delphi they were closest to. And it was Delphi they encircled.
HE BREATH RUSHED FROM OLAND’S LUNGS AND HIS head filled with a terrible icy weight. He was transfixed. These creatures that they had only ever thought of as myth stood before them, dark and grotesque: ‘One mythic beast was four engulfed: vulture, bull, bear and wolf’. In the flesh, they were beyond their worst imaginings. They towered over Delphi, stamping their sinewy, hoofed front legs, their eyes small and shining, casting a hazy silver light in front of them in the darkness. Their long snouts were covered in short sharp spines that looked like a thousand tiny needles..
Oland, stirred from his paralysis by the drogues’ snarling and grunting, began to run towards Delphi.
“Delphi!” he roared, the sound muffled by his mask. But right before him, Delphi disappeared, screaming, into the circle of beasts. He could scarcely make out the shapes and shadows ahead, but he ran desperately towards them. It was too dark for him to see what was happening, but he was overcome with a terrible sickness at the rawness of the sound. If the drogues were everything it was said they were, Oland knew that there was no way they would make it away from this alive. Overhead, a dark cloud drifted from the charcoal moon and, for an instant, he watched as one of the drogues reared up on its hind legs and dived into the circle. Oland heard Delphi roar. A cloud of dust exploded from the earth, engulfing her, engulfing the beasts.
“Delphi,” Oland shouted. “Delphi!” All he could hear were her cries, and the desperate howling of the drogues. As quickly as the violence erupted, it ended. There was an eerie silence, followed by the sound of the creatures darting from the scene towards the top of Curfew Peak. Oland ran to where Delphi lay, her small body limp and covered in blood.
He knelt by Delphi’s side. Her cape was twisted around her, one of the sleeves was ripped and her hood was pulled to the side of her head. Her hair was matted and stuck to her face. Oland turned her head towards him, smoothing the hair gently back. Her eyes were closed. The material that had covered her mouth was in shreds on the ground beside her. But Oland could see that her chest was moving up and down. She was breathing. They were shallow breaths, but she was alive. She was still alive. Suddenly, her eyes
flickered open. Oland jumped, and staggered backward. Delphi sat up. Her face was filled with terror. As she looked down at herself, she cried out, wiping at the blood on her face, streaking it with her panicked fingers.
“Quick,” said Oland. “Don’t breathe in any more dust.” He ripped off more of his tunic and wrapped it around her mouth.
She twisted and turned, searching her body for wounds. They both gasped when they saw one of the drogues, lying still behind a huge boulder beside them.
“What happened?” said Oland. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” said Delphi. “They must have turned on each other.”
“How strange,” said Oland. “According to the stories, they don’t to do that.”
“I don’t know why they attacked each other,” said Delphi, “but I’m grateful they did. I… I can’t believe I’m alive.”
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” said Oland. “Stand up… slowly.”
Delphi stood up, and Oland turned her around to see if there was a wound that she had missed.
“Your oilskins may have saved you,” said Oland, trying to smile. He could barely look at her. He took a flask of water from his bag. “Do you want to wash your face?” he said.
“Thank you,” said Delphi. She held her breath, then pulled off her mask, and stared at the ground as he poured water over her hands and she washed the blood away. Oland helped her put on her mask again.
“Do you still want to go on?” he said. “We can go back, if you like. I’d rather that you were—”
Delphi shook her head. “Let’s go. Let’s keep going.”
“I should go first,” he said. “If I had gone first the last time, you wouldn’t have been in danger…”
“You can barely see where you’re going,” said Delphi. “That’s the only reason I went first. I’m used to the darkness of the caves; my eyes have adjusted.”
Oland again followed her, almost kicking her heels as he walked. Despite his covered mouth, he was trying desperately not to choke on the terrible stench of the drogues’ blood that Delphi was trailing behind her.
Curse of Kings (The Trials of Oland Born, Book 1) Page 16