Revenge

by Fiona McIntosh

  All except these two.

  Merkhud had not known about these books. Alyssa had discovered them beneath the old catacombs of Caremboche and carried them with her to the Heartwood when she escaped the clutches of Chief Inquisitor Goth.

  When Tor and Alyssa were captured by the King’s Guard and a triumphant Goth, it was Kythay the donkey who had rescued Alyssa’s precious books, casually strolling away from the scene with them strapped into the basket on his back.

  Tor had no idea how the books had come into his possession but he had found them by his side when he awoke from the ministrations of the Heartwood which returned him to health. Whilst Merkhud’s tomes were devoted to the wielding of strange magics, which certainly fascinated and occasionally inspired him, Alyssa’s books—the Writings of Nanak—were infinitely more disturbing. He had not opened them since his awakening from death. They reminded him too powerfully of Alyssa and it was hard living with the guilt of being alive when she thought him dead. Tor wanted to put the Trinity out of his mind for ever. His old disquiet over Lys had returned. He knew she was leading them all somewhere and even though he relied on her help and guidance, he hated the manipulation. The books were part of the complex plot, he was sure of it.

  Read the wretched books, Cloot said from his nearby perch. He had been hunting again and was cleaning his fierce beak of some poor animal’s entrails, an occupation that never failed to make his friend wince.

  Tor touched the pale thin scar which streaked across his own forehead, a legacy of the stones and a constant reminder of his grief. It reinforced all that they had come through to get this far. He had nowhere else to go but forward. As he opened the first book, a faint scent of lavender and violets wafted briefly into his senses, lingering just long enough for him to smell Alyssa. She was the last person to have fingered these pages. He tried desperately to catch the fragrance again but it was lost for ever.

  He stared at the first page for an hour or more, seeing nothing but her face. Finally, he began to read.

  3

  Forgiveness

  Alyssa was the happiest she could remember since those early days in the Heartwood after her marriage to Tor. At last she felt as though her life had a purpose again. Working directly with Queen Nyria was challenging and always busy but she thrived in the political environment and she loved the Queen. Despite the difference in their ages, they shared a similar sense of humour and an irreverence for protocol, though Nyria was always careful never to abuse her royal status. She knew how to have fun and the pair would share great private jokes and, more often than not, if the Queen was not dining with the King, she enjoyed taking a late supper with Alyssa.

  Nyria found her new assistant to be hardworking, intelligent and perceptive, as well as a wonderful mimic of the obsequious courtiers around them. She learned a great deal about the girl during their evening meals. There were only two subjects they never discussed: Torkyn Gynt and King Lorys, though the Queen intended to address the latter.

  Alyssa was closed on the topic of her lover and would not be drawn, but Nyria noticed that the girl listened with shining eyes and a fascination reserved just for these moments when she told her stories of Tor during his apprenticeship. It was sad to think that this lovely woman had missed out on so much of her love’s life and was forced to learn of his past from others.

  Alyssa’s hostility towards the King was obvious, even though Nyria could never accuse her of any direct criticism. No, it was more the cool contempt she displayed which troubled Nyria. In truth, the Queen was tired of the tension that arose whenever her two favourite people were in the same hall, let alone a smaller chamber. Lorys pretended he did not notice but she knew he found it difficult too.

  Alyssa’s work in her small school was testimony to the Queen’s faith in the young woman. The palace children adored her and clamoured to attend her afternoon lessons, keen to please their teacher. It was a joy for Nyria to hear the children singing or reading aloud and she had even been invited to view some of their drawings and writings. Primitive though much of their work was, it thrilled Nyria nonetheless.

  Alyssa’s greatest success, though, was with the boy, Gyl. The child now displayed the full breadth of his bright personality and wit, which had been dulled by the shock of losing his mother at such a young age. There was no question in Nyria’s mind: the boy was a born leader. He already knew how to read and write and so Alyssa’s work with him was one of enrichment. They would spend long evenings together reading poetry or creating their own stories.

  Gyl flourished in his new life and his growing relationship with Alyssa. Nyria realised that Alyssa’s dashed hopes of motherhood had been rekindled. She had slipped immediately and with ease into the role of big sister to Gyl, but recently the Queen had noticed a more maternal attitude from Alyssa towards the lad, who was now fourteen summers.

  They had certainly been two lost and damaged souls who had healed each other. Yes, the Queen was pleased with her achievements and if she could just sort out this business between Alyssa and Lorys she would be very happy indeed. Secretly she wondered if Lorys admired Alyssa for more than her able skills as a secretary. The young woman was in the prime of her life. At twenty-four summers, she was by far the most gorgeous creature who roamed the palace corridors; she turned heads wherever she went and was able to twist the pages and young squires around her finger for any little jobs she needed done. The lovely part was that she was not a vain woman. If she knew she was delicious to the eyes, then she hid the knowledge well. Petite and slim with honey-coloured hair and pale green eyes, Alyssa was surely irresistible to any red-blooded man…including her husband?

  Nyria pushed the notion away. Lorys had never given her cause to doubt his fidelity and after so many years of marriage they still enjoyed their lovemaking. No, she must not doubt him, particularly now, as her plan was to encourage Lorys to take on Alyssa as his own private assistant. Nyria did not really want to relinquish Alyssa’s companionship or her unrivalled clerical skills, but the King’s faithful old secretary had died suddenly and it seemed there was no one else in Tal capable of stepping into the man’s shoes with speed or competence.

  Alyssa did not hide her shock well enough. ‘Work as the King’s private secretary?’

  Nyria took a steadying breath. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Am I not pleasing you, your majesty?’

  ‘Alyssa, don’t. You know how highly I consider your help…but the King needs you more.’ Nyria touched Alyssa’s hand across the table. ‘In helping him, you help me far more than you can imagine.’

  Now Nyria could see the initial alarm snapping into petulance—or was it defiance—as Alyssa’s full lips thinned slightly. She rushed on. ‘And my plan is that you will continue with the school, perhaps look at taking on and training an assistant teacher.’

  ‘To take my place?’

  Nyria spoke calmly. ‘No. To help.’

  There was an uncomfortable silence, which Alyssa filled by nibbling nervously on her bread.

  ‘And you’ve discussed this with his majesty?’ she asked finally.

  ‘I have and he admits he would be fortunate to have your service. It will throw you into all sorts of situations, Alyssa, that you will thrive in. I know how you enjoy even the small amount of political intrigue which knocks at my door. At his side you will be amongst it all. And you would have the King’s ear; Lorys would be turning to you constantly for support.’

  Alyssa knew the Queen was genuine. She felt torn. She would be lying if she did not admit that being privy to such elevated matters as the running of the Kingdom excited her. However, the idea of working alongside a man she despised second only to the former Chief Inquisitor, Goth, made her stomach turn.

  At least Goth was dead now. How many times had she thought about killing the King in those early days? Too many. Saxon had sensed her rage and cautioned her. There was nothing to be gained by it, he had said. Why become like him, a murderer? It would not bring Tor back. And there was an even
worse end than crucifixion and stoning for those who would commit such treachery.

  Alyssa imagined herself being hung upside down, her belly split open and her entrails pulled out to lie steaming on the dusty earth whilst the scavenger dogs and crows feasted on them. She shivered.

  ‘Take this chance, my dear, with both hands and clasp it tight. You will soon become a force in the Kingdom.’

  The Queen held her breath. She had played her trump card.

  ‘Nyria…’ Alyssa had never addressed the Queen so intimately before, ‘if someone killed your husband—’

  ‘But he was not your husband, child,’ the Queen interjected.

  Alyssa bit back the obvious retort. She would keep that secret. ‘Nevertheless…what would you want to do if someone killed Lorys?’

  ‘I should immediately wish the person killed in return,’ the Queen replied flatly. ‘But then I might think about it. I would measure the situation. If it was an eye for an eye, that would be retribution. But in Tor’s case it was not so. He was convicted of a very serious crime against the Kingdom. He knew what he was doing; I gather he was well counselled prior to his departure. And Tor was ever the one for the ladies, Alyssa—I’m sure you already know this. He left a scattered trail of broken hearts across the capital, which made it all the more important for him to understand and abide by the ancient laws of Caremboche. Precautions were taken.’

  Alyssa nodded sadly. ‘Your majesty…he saved my life.’

  ‘He saved my life too and I will admit it has never sat comfortably with me that we took his life from him.’

  Alyssa was shocked to hear this. ‘Why didn’t you stop him, your majesty? A word from you would—’

  ‘I did try, my child. I begged him. It was to no avail. Lorys has faithfully followed in the footsteps of his forebears. He is a good King, and a good man. I believe he thought it was the right thing to do, even though I imagine he has not slept comfortably since he executed a person he admired very much. He lost his best friend through it, too. Merkhud left Tal moments after Tor’s death and there has been a mighty hole in Lorys’s life since then. I’ll say this only for your ears, child. I believe that if Lorys could have that moment again, he might choose differently.’

  Nyria looked at Alyssa hard. She took her hand and squeezed it for emphasis. ‘I want you to forgive him…as Tor forgave his King before he died.’

  It all came back to Alyssa in a rush: that terrible moment when she heard Tor’s lovely voice offer his forgiveness. She began to cry. ‘I don’t know how to forgive him,’ she whispered.

  The Queen took Alyssa into her arms and soothed her. ‘You will learn how when you start to give him a chance. See him for the good man he is, and for the excellent King he is to his people. He has compassion, Alyssa. Trust me, just give him a chance. This is all I ask of you. Nay, child, I beg it of you. He needs you and I need you to find the strength to try.’

  Alyssa sniffed. ‘I’m frightened by my feelings towards him, your majesty.’

  Nyria snorted. ‘Don’t be. Use that emotion. Lorys will benefit from having a female perspective in the throne hall. I’m not suggesting that you will be able to behave differently immediately. I’m just asking you to try. Take on this position. Embrace the opportunity, use it wisely and perhaps somewhere along the way, you might start to allow that old wound to heal.’

  She watched Alyssa struggle with the decision and decided to press her point one last time. ‘Tor broke our most sacred rule and was punished to the full letter of our law. He’s dead, Alyssa, and you continuing to hate the King will not bring him back. So turn it around. Make something of yourself that would make Tor proud. Become someone the sovereign can lean on. You will have everything you’ve ever wanted for yourself and for Gyl.’

  They both smiled at the mention of Gyl.

  ‘He’s wonderful, isn’t he?’ Alyssa said shyly.

  ‘He’s magnificent. I’ve seen him sparring with the guards and I’ll be damned if I didn’t see him learning how to balance on Saxon’s shoulders and walk blindfolded along a rope stretched above the ground.’

  Alyssa laughed. ‘Saxon says it will make him the most balanced swordsman in the land.’

  Nyria shared the moment of mirth. ‘You should have plans for Gyl. He is Prime material if ever I’ve seen it.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘The Light strike you, girl! Don’t you?’

  ‘I dare not wish too much for him. We are both so indebted to your majesty for her generosity.’

  ‘Oh, really? Then repay it!’

  Alyssa looked sharply at the Queen and then relaxed; she knew exactly what the other woman meant.

  ‘Will you repay me?’ Nyria asked, softly this time.

  The Queen’s heart leapt at the single word she heard in response. It was everything she had hoped Alyssa would say.

  Tor had spent the past several moons stewing over the contents of Nanak’s books. Everything had been quiet in the Great Forest. No further disruptions to the life force of the Land. The Heartwood was in harmony once again. But Tor’s emotions were not.

  It had been a chilling reminder to read the story of Orlac. Cloot recognised this and, finally, had begun encouraging Tor to talk about all that he knew of the tale from Lys. They had never discussed it during their reclusive years since the execution, for Cloot had devoted himself to helping his companion remain optimistic and had deliberately avoided talk of Orlac and the Trinity or the hard times which may lie ahead. For himself, Tor had focused on the peace and solitude of the Heartwood and was glad to avoid all discussion of the Trinity. And Cloot was patient; he was of the Rork’yel, after all, and that heritage ran strongly through his blood, despite his transformation from man to falcon. But now the time to talk was upon them.

  So the Paladin were selected by the Custodian of the portals, he prompted.

  Yes. Lys is the only member of the Host who can safely roam between worlds.

  Go on, Cloot urged.

  On rare occasion worlds can touch, and at such times passage between them is possible via a phenomenon known as The Glade. That’s how Orlac was stolen from the Host.

  Tor put the books carefully back into the sack.

  Tell me what you’re thinking, said the falcon, swooping down to the forest floor to glare with one beady yellow eye at his friend, who was sitting leaning against a tree.

  All right. What we suspected about Merkhud and Sorrel being Orlac’s mortal parents is confirmed in Nanak’s writings. After Orlac wreaked havoc at Goldstone, now known as Caremboche, he was Quelled by the mighty power of the Host, wielded through Merkhud. Nanak, one of the Masters still alive, was nominated as Keeper of the Paladin, who were chosen from the ten major races alive in the Five Kingdoms at the time. They were empowered by the gods with magical talents which might stand them in good stead for their undertaking.

  Cloot clicked his approval in bird-speak.

  Tor continued. We know the Host transported Orlac to a secret place, which is not named and, I presume, not of this Land. He has remained there ever since, guarded by the complex and combined magical strength of the ten Paladin, whom he has gradually overwhelmed one by one over the centuries.

  How do you imagine the books came back into Tallinor? Cloot asked, switching thoughts as his mind raced.

  Tor was used to this habit. Yes, that’s a mystery. Perhaps via Lys, though I have no idea whether she can physically enter into Tallinor. Companions, like Yargo, are not of the flesh so they could not carry objects between worlds. I don’t know. He shrugged.

  So that’s all the ancient history. Right now, we know the Paladin are re-emerging.

  Yes, Tor replied. So far we have yourself, Solyana, Arabella, Saxon, Cyrus and Sallementro accounted for. Nanak names the other four…people…creatures—I’m not sure—Juno, Themesius, Figgis, Adongo.

  Cloot hopped closer. Tor could almost hear him thinking across the link. I see that Arabella and myself belong to you, whilst Saxon and, I imag
ine, this songster Sallementro stay close to Alyssa. What of Solyana and Cyrus—the ones we know of? And these others yet to reveal themselves?

  I don’t know. Lys did say that Cyrus is Paladin and has his own important role to play, but whatever she knows, she is not telling me yet.

  Why does Arabella not travel with us if she is bonded to you?

  Yes, I puzzled over that too. Lys told me that each of the Paladin have their own special magic and role to play and when I spoke to Arabella about this it did not surprise her. She believes her major role has been fulfilled.

  And that is?

  Marrying Alyssa and myself…watching over me as my spirit crossed back into my body after the execution and then helping to restore my health as well as she did. There may be more though, I’m not sure. If she knows, she is not saying.

  Cloot voiced what Tor had often suspected. I sense that Arabella is strongly attached to the Heartwood. I’m not sure she would be comfortable to leave it…perhaps she can’t? The falcon noted Tor’s nod of agreement and moved on to his next thought. You know, I’ve never understood why, if we are all so strongly linked, we don’t feel one another or recognise one another? he puzzled.

  I think you will in time. There must be a connection…maybe a place or an event…something which will realign you all, Tor said. When I swapped bodies with Merkhud, we exchanged minds and experiences briefly. Just for a moment, I glimpsed his thoughts and possibly he did the same with mine.

  You’ve never mentioned this before, Cloot said, sounding indignant. What did you perceive?

  It was fleeting. I sensed he knew that only Figgis and Themesius remained to fall. The way the Heartwood groaned recently though, I fear there is now only one left.

  And after the last Paladin falls?

  Orlac will be free. Lys told me that he will destroy Tallinor and all surrounding Kingdoms in his fury. He will raze the Heartwood, Cloot. He will sense its magic; that it is a special place of the gods. It will be his revenge against the Land which claimed his life; his vengeance against the man who bought him as a child and made him live as a mortal. Perhaps it is also his chance to point a finger at the Host, to show the gods his strength and make clear that the havoc he wreaks on them is in revenge for their failure to protect their prince.