Griff took a step, clutching Helys tight and, holding his breath, gave a tight grin to the young man, who stopped abruptly before him. ‘Er, hello Merl.’ He tried to make it sound as casual and friendly as possible.
‘Is that you, Griff?’ Merl slurred.
The wolf was coming, Griff could almost smell it but he could also hear the deranged thoughts in Merl’s mind warring with all the gentle, kind thoughts that normally marked this man.
‘Yes.’ He froze to see Merl lick his lips at the sight of Helys, who flashed red momentarily. Fear. She knew. ‘Er, are you alright?’ he tried.
‘It’s happening,’ he groaned. ‘We’re late.’
There was no point in pretending any longer. ‘We’re not too late, Merl. We can get you back to the wagon and do what we have to do right now. I’ll help. Come on.’
Merl pushed his hand away. ‘No!’ he snarled. Then relaxed. ‘Sorry, Griff.’
Griff nodded. This felt dangerous. The wolf thoughts were dark and angry. He wanted to eat Helys.
‘That califa looks tasty.’
‘Not as tasty as the hunk of ox I could fetch you right now, Merl. Shall we go and find it? I know where the food is stored. You can eat everything.’
‘I think I want some califa tonight. Perhaps even some sagar,’ he said, his voice sly.
‘I can’t let you do that. Surely you wouldn’t hurt me would you, Merl?’
‘I don’t want to,’ he slurred. ‘You know how it is.’
Griff nodded, looked around nervously.
‘You might as well give her to me,’ Merl said, his mouth salivating, ‘Or you may get hurt when I have to take her from you.’
‘I can’t, Merl,’ Griff repeated, his voice filled with fear but nonetheless firm. ‘She’s my friend and I’m her protector. I can’t let you touch her. She’s small and helpless and truly not much of a meal.’
‘But she’s tasty and here, and I’m famished.’ Merl’s voice seemed to have dropped an octave lower. There was cunning in his body language now. Suddenly Griff felt Merl was huge as well as menacing. He was still slow, though, and Griff could hear that his thoughts remained muddled. The wolf had not yet fully emerged.
‘You’ll have to get past me then, Merl, because I’m not giving her to you.’ Griff pointed anxiously. ‘Merl, look! They’re after you!’ he yelled and as the young Man-dog turned, frowning and confused, Griff ran headlong in the opposite direction, gripping Helys tightly, who was pulsing red now.
He ran as hard as he could but soon enough heard the growl and lunging footsteps behind him. Merl was slow but he would be strong and Griff would be no match for him. He paused, unsure of whether to hide Helys, tell her to run on alone while he faced Merl or whether to hang onto her while he tried reasoning again. He was just about to bend down and tell her to run for it when Merl blundered into the clearing.
‘That wasn’t a good idea to trick me,’ Merl snarled.
‘I had to do something,’ Griff said, desperately keen to keep the Man-dog talking while he strained to think of another diversion, something to buy him just a few more moments.
‘Now I’m going to take her!’ the Man-dog promised and then he howled to the moon. It sent a shiver of terror through Griff, who could feel Helys trembling in his arms and he hated feeling so helpless.
Just as Merl was lowering his head, his gaze narrowed and fixed on Helys, no doubt preparing to pounce and rip out both their throats, Griff felt the presence of someone new.
Next to him stood Davren. Taller than Merl and looking very strong, his muscles were outlined clearly in the moonlight and he was wearing a look of such loathing that Griff stepped back.
‘Davren—’ he began.
‘Let him be.’ It was Tess. ‘He refused to leave you. Now he’ll fight for you and Helys…for all of us.’
‘But this is Mad Dog Merl. The Man-dog is—’
‘No match for the centaur,’ Tess cut across his words. She sounded calm behind him. ‘Trust Davren, Griff. You have no idea how strong he is. He comes from a warrior-line, I know that much. He would fight to the death.’
‘I don’t want him to die for me!’
‘He has just told me he won’t have to.’
Griff watched confusion flit once again across Merl’s face.
‘Davren’s talking to him,’ Tess explained. ‘He can reach the animal side of this man. He’s suggesting that this meal is not worth pursuing.’
‘I can’t be sure that Merl is hearing him, though.’
‘No, that’s probably true, but Davren wants us to move now. He wants us to go.’
‘I won’t leave Davren.’
‘I thought you’d say that. Give me Helys.’
Griff did so.
‘I’m going to take the others. Davren tells me Merl wants to fight.’
‘And I was afraid you’d say that. Go, Tess.’
And then in a blur of snarls and fur and rage, before Griff could say another word, the Man-dog lunged at the centaur.
But Davren was fleet of foot on his four legs and danced out of the way, landing a blow with his fists that Griff was sure must have made Merl see stars. Without giving the Man-dog a chance to recover, Davren reared up and bashed him in the chest with his front hooves.
Merl doubled over but though hurt he was not finished yet. He ran at Davren, still bent over, and tried to ram the centaur. He made heavy contact but Davren’s fists were large and as hard as stones and they boxed Merl so hard that the Man-dog fell to his knees.
Griff hated to watch the beating. He had always liked gentle Merl but Mad Dog Merl was capable of harming anyone and had no ability, it seemed, to reason through his moon-calling. He watched with horrified fascination as Davren turned and then, using one back leg, kicked viciously and precisely at Merl’s large chin. As soon as he connected, the Man-dog went down—for the last time—and lay heavily, unconscious.
Tess crept out. ‘He’s not dead,’ she reassured Griff, who was now kneeling beside Merl looking appalled.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
‘Davren is. He was careful to just hit him in the right spot to knock him out. He’ll sleep for a while I suspect and wake with a fearful headache.’
‘By which time, hopefully, Tyren will have found him and secured him.’ Griff stood up from the prone Merl and regarded Davren. ‘You’re magnificent,’ he said, helplessly.
Davren smiled gently.
The crickets began to sing again. ‘We have to go,’ Griff said. ‘I hate leaving him here but he’s strong and fit, and breathing properly.’
Tess looked up. ‘It will be dawn in about two hours, I reckon.’
‘How do you know?’
She sighed but there was pleasure in it. ‘I know the open skies, I know how the forest feels at all times of the day or night. We should travel as as far as we can while we still have the cover of darkness. And you need to know I brought only some bread and a small flask of water.’
‘We’ll be fine. Let’s go. Tell the creatures we have to move as fast as possible.’
‘Let’s strap Helys to Davren’s back. He doesn’t mind. She’s as light as a feather anyway. Elph is generally the slowest but if he knows what we’re up against he’ll move surprisingly swiftly.’
‘Go ahead: that’s a good idea. And Rix is safe?’ he said, pointing at the veercat high in the trees.
She smiled. ‘He’s loving being free. Yes, he’s safe. He’ll glide from now on probably—he won’t want to touch the ground for fear of being trapped.’
‘Who could blame him,’ Griff muttered and then he froze.
How dare you! Griff heard in his mind.
He knew it was the Whisperer and instantly raised his shields to every other sound so that he was a receptacle only for this boy, wherever he was. He wasn’t going to lose him this time, no matter what. He had never done this before but somehow he understood that he must try, and equally startling was the knowledge that he seemed to know how. The Whisper
er’s trace was there and Griff realised all he had to do was follow it. And so, as though reeling in thread, Griff wound in the Whisperer’s trace until he felt like he’d arrived at a point where the boy was near him.
He was blind and deaf, though, to everything but this strange sort of silver void he was suddenly standing in. He could no longer see the woodland or Tess. His pulse quickened. Was he dying?
With relief he noticed a soft blaze of colour glow momentarily on the fringe of his mind. It reassured him that he wasn’t dying, nor was he blinded in the traditional sense but there was actually just nothing to see. The sense of deafness passed the moment he heard a familiar voice.
Don’t be alarmed, Griff, it’s Davren.
What…what’s happened?
I can’t say for sure but you seem to have tapped into a vein of magic that has brought us into your mind. We are in a new plane, one I don’t understand but have heard about.
You’ll have to explain that.
Although Griff couldn’t see Davren, he was sure he could sense him smiling. I recall my grandfather talking about this once. If I’m right it’s called the Silvering.
You seem very knowledgeable for a young centaur.
Griff heard a sigh. By centaur standards I am still very young, Griff. But in comparison to you or Tess, I’m really quite old.
That made sense to Griff because Davren seemed to speak with maturity, even though he had been led to believe by what Tess had said that Davren was almost childlike. It was reassuring to know he was in the company of someone with knowledge for he was now entering pathways he had no understanding of and it was unnerving. Alright. So what happens in the Silvering? I should tell you, now that you mention it, that whenever I’m hearing thoughts, my mind is rimmed by a sort of sparkling quality. It’s hard to explain.
That’s interesting. Davren frowned. You know it might be that our magics are connected. It’s not easy to explain the Silvering but let me try.
According to my grandfather it is a place in the mind that is locked away to most people. Very few can find it and for most, if they stumble across it, they don’t recognise it, rarely have any inkling of how to use it, or even how to find it again.
What am I doing here?
Is this the first time you’ve found this place?
Yes.
Then you must remember how it feels. Lock all of your senses into it so you can always find it again with ease.
Why do I need to?
Because, Griff, this is a magical place. This is no ordinary part of your mind. It is a place where you can be touched by gods, where the extraordinary can happen and I think your gift of hearing people’s thoughts gives you a special entry to the Silvering. It is silent in here. You let in only the people you want. Perhaps you haven’t realised it yet but you let me in. Your mind reached out and found us. You are using the Silvering without realising it.
You say ‘us’. Are the others here, too?
Elph, Helys, even Rix are all present and listening but they are remaining quiet. They do not want to startle or crowd you.
Was that Helys I sensed glowing just now?
Yes.
Tell her I’m pleased she is feeling brighter and turning pink.
She hears you.
It is you, then. It is because of you creatures that I can hear him.
Griff, you are welcome to whatever magic you can draw from us.
Thank you.
But Griff, I think you will find that the magic is all yours. Perhaps our ‘otherness’ has simply helped you to navigate your way to the Silvering.
How long have I been here?
I cannot measure time in the way of people. Long enough, shall we say.
Is Tess alright?
She’s fine, worried at first when you wouldn’t respond, but I’ve assured her you’re not unwell and that she must be patient. She knows I’m speaking to you and that you are safe. Are you trying to reach this person that Tess has told me about?
Yes. I am near enough now that I feel as though I can touch him.
You can, with your voice. Are you going to try?
I’m scared.
Don’t be. Speak to him now.
23
In the cavern three people stared at Lute, their mouths slightly open, their expressions ones of disbelief.
‘Are you saying that Duke Janko is taking the crown by force?’ Bitter Olof demanded.
Lute nodded. ‘As I explained, he tried to have me killed and I watched his men advance on Pilo. I know for a fact that everything Bran says about the army is true and that if my father is no longer alive then, natural or not, his death was helped along by my treacherous uncle. And that this same betrayal stretched to attempting to murder me. What’s more, he must have sent riders ahead long before he attacked me, for people at Tarrow’s Landing to have heard of my father’s heart quake and my supposed death before I arrived. I’ve been travelling all day. They couldn’t have gotten here first unless they left before I did.’
The dwarf began to pace, his activity making the inks on his arms appear to be moving and telling their stories. ‘Janko is dangerous. I have no respect for him.’
Bran nodded. ‘Not that he cares what you think, Olof, for you are an outlaw of the realm with a very high price on your head, but I agree that Janko is all bad news for Drestonia. He may be a good general but his methods do not suit kingship. And your father’s death aside, if he’s tried to kill you, majesty, then he’s already a criminal.’
‘The problem is,’ Lute said, ‘right now he’s very popular. The people don’t know the ruthless side of him. They see him only as a hero.’
Bitter Olof banged his fist on the table. ‘But he plans to tell the realm that their Crown Prince died in a riding accident, am I right, Bran?’
The man nodded. ‘I believe that’s what is occurring. Liam will be here soon with the news.’
The dwarf continued pacing. ‘Assuming he does, then we know for sure that his heart is black. I’ve always liked our King and Queen, even though some would argue I work against them. I prefer to think I simply work on the other side of their law. It’s nothing personal.’
Little Thom grinned, then glanced at Lute. And Lute felt his spirits soar. Suddenly the men who had been his captors felt like his friends. For it seemed they alone knew the secret of his survival and he could rely on their support to reclaim his throne.
‘What can be done?’ he asked into the quiet that had suddenly surrounded them and then deliberately added, ‘For although my parents were relatively patient with the realm’s bandits, I doubt very much that Janko will be. I suspect he will hunt down known offenders.’
The dwarf stopped his pacing and swung around to face Lute. In that moment they seemed to share an understanding. Lute knew that if the dwarf helped him, then a debt was owed. ‘We have no choice. We must show the people the real Janko,’ Bitter Olof said. ‘We alone know the secret of his deeds because we have you alive and well. We must protect your identity until such time as it is helpful to reveal it.’
Lute nodded. ‘That’s precisely how Pilo saw it and likely why he sent me to find you. He knew you’d hide me.’
‘What are you cooking up now?’ Bran asked his leader.
The dwarf tapped his big nose. ‘Just hatching a plan to bring down our murdering Duke.’
‘It will make my father’s and Pilo’s deaths count for something if we expose him for the evil man he is.’
‘And what’s in this for us, Prince Lute, should we be able to help you restore your throne?’ Bitter Olof asked directly now. ‘Or should I address you as King Lute?’
A fresh, tense silence descended around the cave as all of them, including Lute, accepted for the first time that he was no longer the heir, but the monarch.
He’d only known the dwarf a short while but it was the story of Pilo’s connection that assured Lute that, although he was dealing with a known bandit of the realm, this was someone he could trust. And suddenly L
ute realised he had very few people he could count on.
He swallowed, the weight of responsibility and title so very heavy on his young shoulders. ‘Help me restore the throne to its correct blood line and I will restore your good name and declare a pardon for you, Bitter Olof, and for all of those in your clan who assist me.’
Bitter Olof’s mouth widened into a beaming, gap-toothed smile. ‘Gentlemen, pay homage to our new King.’
And in his shock at watching the dwarf, Little Thom and Bran all bowing low to him, Lute hardly noticed the curious sensation as though someone was slicing into his thoughts. But the voice certainly snapped him from his shock into fresh alarm.
Hello? it said hesitantly into his mind. This is Griff. Are you there?
Then chaos descended. The door to the cave burst open and Mungo charged in, clearly stunned to see the three men bowing to the boy. He stood there, momentarily speechless, until Little Thom growled at him.
‘Mungo! What’s the meaning of this?’
‘Riders. Lots of them. All soldiers. They’ve brought dogs.’
Suddenly everyone’s attention was riveted on the huge man blocking the doorway.
‘How long have we got?’ Little Thom asked.
Mungo shook his head. ‘Minutes at best.’
‘Go!’ Bitter Olof said, taking charge. ‘Bran, get out of here. Mungo, round up everyone. I presume they’re already on the move?’
Mungo nodded. ‘Fleeing as we speak, sir.’
‘Good. Cover your tracks as best you can and we’ll regroup at The Devil’s Smile. Got that?’
‘Devil’s Smile, got it,’ Mungo said. ‘I’ll spread the word.’
‘Everyone be careful,’ the dwarf warned. ‘These are Janko’s men.’
Mungo ran back out. Bran squeezed Bitter Olof’s fist.
‘You be safe, Olof.’
‘I have Little Thom. I couldn’t be safer,’ the dwarf said, grinning.
‘What about the boy?’ Bran asked, jutting his chin towards where Lute stood, swaying slightly.
‘His majesty stays with me. The Devil’s Smile, remember. Make no move until I get there.’
Bran left the cave.
‘Ready?’ Little Thom asked, pulling on a strange sling.
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