Revenge

by Fiona McIntosh

Tor was frightened. His trust in the Trinity, his faith in Lys and even his courage seemed to seep away. Then he thought of Cloot, of all the brave Paladin, and how much they had suffered for his sake. From them he drew strength, found his courage again.

  He stared at the god who, for Tallinor, was only legend and he understood why he had been chosen. Only his powers, combined with those of the Trinity—whatever it may be—could fight this strength.

  He took stock of the god who stood before him and committed everything he could to his memory before he spoke in a measured tone.

  As Themesius said, we shall meet again.

  Orlac had sensed the remarkable change within the stranger. What power had allowed this man to find such valour at a time when he should rightly be cringing at the feet of a god? He could not imagine, but he was impressed. The man spoke like the Paladin, fearlessly. This would make their clash interesting. He acknowledged Tor’s words with a nod, as two fencers might touch swords before a duel.

  Now, go and hide. You may await my coming, he said.

  Orlac felt the breeze blow around him now. He lifted his arms to embrace its reality and stamped his feet on the grass of the hillside where he now stood. He was back. Back in the Land he intended to destroy.

  He flicked the spirit away and suddenly Tor was travelling again.

  Tor had no idea where he was going, except that it was fast. When he finally lurched to a sickening stop, he heard Lys’s voice.

  Tor! How can you be here?

  Tor’s unexpected arrival in the Bleak distracted Lys’s attention and Dorgryl took advantage of that split second of time. The mist of red whooshed past Tor’s consciousness and was gone from the Bleak.

  Lys—

  But Tor did not get his words out.

  No! Lys’s scream was so loud that he cringed.

  Tor instinctively turned away from her to follow her gaze. From the Bleak they were privy to all worlds and he shared Lys’s horror as Orlac, still standing on the hillside in Cipres, was enveloped by a red mist. The god convulsed, then began to growl and thrash, his beautifully muscled body contorting into impossible positions. It was horrifying to witness.

  Tell me it isn’t so, Lys whispered, each word laced with terror.

  I don’t understand, Tor replied very softly.

  Dorgryl has escaped. Orlac has broken free and Dorgryl has merged with him.

  Tor turned his attention back to the shimmering, radiant presence in front of him. She was weeping.

  This should not have happened. I have failed the Host, she cried.

  It dawned on Tor that he was finally laying eyes on the Custodian, the Dreamspeaker who had manipulated all of their lives. She reminded him strongly of the only woman he had ever loved. That golden hair and that small, almost fragile-looking body. He was bewildered. Lys, I see you.

  I know. You should not be here, Tor. How is it that you are here? Her words rushed out on top of one another.

  Orlac. He took me from the Heartwood. We spoke briefly and then he pushed me away. I ended up here. What was that red mist? Was it the thing you told me would never concern me the last time I spoke with you?

  Lys wept harder. Perhaps it was just the golden hair, or maybe the grey-green eyes he had glimpsed, or possibly the long fingers held in just such a manner that prompted him to say it. The words spilled out before he could pull them back.

  Lys, are you related to Alyssa?

  She lifted her head from her hands in a manner similar to how Alyssa had lifted her head as she stood on the balcony, forced to watch his execution. As Lys fixed his impossibly blue eyes with her own, Tor saw how familiar in shape they were.

  I am her mother, she said firmly. The fear in her voice was gone; the Custodian was back in command of herself. Come. This spiritual plane is dangerous for you and we have much to discuss.

  Tor re-entered his body and sat up with a jolt. His face filled with dread when he saw the bodies of his children and Cloot lying on the forest floor.

  They all sleep a special healing sleep, Lys reassured him.

  Tor looked over in surprise. She sat fully visible in the hollowed area of a tree.

  How is it that I can see you even though I am not asleep?

  She smiled sadly. A special treat, shall we say. Do not ask me to move; I cannot. I am allowed to visit a world physically only once. I am only able to return if I keep contact with the trees: it is through the generosity of the Heartwood and the magic of its god, Darmud Coril, that I am permitted to be here in this way.

  Tor felt weak from the trauma he had just experienced but he wanted to be closer to her. He walked over to the tree and sat down opposite the shimmering Custodian.

  She looked towards Lauryn. Beautiful, like her mother.

  And her grandmother, he observed, gently.

  She smiled.

  Will you tell me the truth? he asked.

  Predictably, she made him earn it. What is it you wish to know?

  Alyssa—why did you abandon her?

  I am not a mortal, Tor. I could not remain in Tallinor.

  Then why did you come to Tallinor?

  You will understand soon.

  So Alyssa and I were meant to be together?

  As designed by the gods themselves, she said, cryptically. Be patient, Tor. All your questions will be answered.

  May I tell her?

  That she has a mother who watches over her but never visits? A mother who is a god? Lys laughed. I think you have enough on your plate with Alyssa, without complicating the issue further.

  Then will you tell her?

  Yes.

  When?

  When the time is right for her to learn such news.

  More secrets. Tor hated it. He sighed. He knew Lys would not change her mind for him, and she was right. Just thinking about how to approach Alyssa with the news that her son was alive and that she had a daughter she had never known about would be more than enough for him to cope with.

  Tell me of Dorgryl, he said.

  It was Lys’s turn to sigh. He tricked me. All these centuries he has fooled me with his petty conversations and moans about his existence, when in fact he was lulling me into believing he was helpless. She spoke angrily.

  Lys, you will have to explain from the beginning. I have none of the background; I don’t know what you are talking about.

  The Custodian took a deep breath. Dorgryl is a former member of the Host. He was brother to King Darganoth and, like most younger brothers— her tone was deliberate —he coveted the crown.

  Tor nodded although her comment was lost on him. Go on.

  He devised a cunning plan which would see the King dead and him crowned, but Evagora’s announcement that she was with child threw those plans awry. Now Dorgryl had to rid himself of both King and heir.

  Orlac? Tor asked.

  As you know him, yes.

  Dorgryl obviously failed then.

  Only just, Tor. He came within moments of achieving his dark goal of slaying the King and the infant prince but, when the Queen announced she was with child, he hesitated. It was his arrogance which betrayed him: his own wife spilled the news to the King when she learned of her husband’s treachery.

  When he discovered his brother’s betrayal, Darganoth refused to kill Dorgryl but there was no precedent to follow to punish him. Gods do not fight gods; they certainly do not kill one another, but Dorgryl was dangerous. Much too dangerous to be allowed to remain within the Host. And so Darganoth devised a plan to banish him to a place known as the Bleak; a place of nothingness. His spirit was banished from his own body and for centuries he existed only in the form of that red mist you saw.

  She stopped to allow Tor time to consider what he had heard and hoped he would ask the right question next.

  Tor’s mind was racing. Every conversation with Lys felt like some sort of test. You said ‘infant prince’. So Orlac was no longer a babe in arms?

  Lys was pleased. She had taught him well.

  You are
perceptive, Tor. Dorgryl was banished a very short time before the child was stolen from Ordolt, The Glade.

  Why did Dorgryl falter when he heard the Queen was with child?

  Lys cheered inwardly.

  You must understand, Tor, that births within the Host are often decades in the coming. Some couples live several lifetimes before they achieve a family; some never do so at all. For the royal couple to produce two heirs in such a short time was truly incredible, and Dorgryl hesitated. He did not know whether the child would be a son or daughter, of course, but his arrogance led him to believe that if he destroyed the entire royal family he would come out of it as the newly crowned King. In re-planning, he lost momentum and his secret was exposed by his wife, Yargo.

  Tor was shocked at the mention of Yargo’s part in this but he sensed time was too short to follow tangents. He must focus his attention on finding out more about Orlac.

  And how do you fit into this, Lys?

  She was impressed by Tor’s strength of purpose. Once Orlac had been Quelled, the Host needed one of their own to watch over him. Orlac is a god, but he is also a prince and, as such, he deserved respect and care. He was also dangerous and, because he was living as a mortal, his emotions and therefore his powers were out of control. The Quelling and then the enchantments by the Paladin were all we had to keep him safe from himself and the Land safe from his powers. At that time, we had no answers for a long-term solution.

  Then the Elders of the Host devised the Trinity. It was an audacious plan which is now coming to fruition, where you find yourself now. We always knew the Paladin could only hold Orlac for a short time. That we have survived so many centuries is testimony to the Paladins’ immense courage and strength.

  My role was to watch over all that occurred between the Paladin and Orlac, and to watch over you. As Custodian of the Portals, I have access to all worlds. When Dorgryl was thrown into the Bleak, I also became responsible for guarding him, although we did not really believe he was still a threat. How wrong we were.

  Tor hurried her story forward. He was gradually adding new pieces to the jigsaw of his own life. So what is Dorgryl’s intention, do you think? What does he gain from merging with Orlac?

  A body to begin with. Dorgryl was alive only in spirit; his own body was permitted to wither as part of his punishment. He was forced to live only in his mind; the ultimate humiliation for a god. He showed not the slightest interest in his nephew’s fate, until the moment Figgis fell. But then he began to comment on the progress of the battle. I should have suspected something then, but I just did not pick up on the signs. He is cunning, Tor. And he is far more dangerous than Orlac, because he is driven by pure evil.

  At this Tor’s head snapped up. He looked bewildered.

  Lys shook her head in disgust. I was stupid. I was the arrogant one. Centuries of imprisonment and I just assumed we had Dorgryl completely at our mercy; that he would never again be a threat, just a nuisance in my existence. Now, Tor, we face even greater jeopardy.

  Tor wrapped his long arms around his knees. How bad is it? he asked, not really wanting the answer.

  How bad? She barked an angry laugh. Dorgryl has possessed Orlac. Orlac is driven by a need for revenge and is single-minded about this; nothing will get in his way. At least we know his intentions. But with the addition of Dorgryl, with his agile and sinister mind, who knows what he might achieve in Orlac’s body. With such power at his disposal, I am terrified for Tallinor and its world. I am terrified for all of us.

  You mean if he totally overwhelms Orlac?

  She nodded, staring at the ground.

  What does Dorgryl want? Tor said, frustrated now.

  She looked at him with disbelief. How could anyone not know what the mad god wanted? Power! He craves power. He lusts to rule. And if he cannot rule the Host, he will rule weak mortals instead. He will keep Orlac quiet by helping him to achieve his aims, but all the while he will be using Orlac to achieve his own agenda. What that is, I can only guess. His initial triumph is that he is free from the Bleak, as his nephew is free from his enchanted prison.

  Tor rubbed his eyes. This was too much to take in all at once. So what do we do now, Lys? he asked tiredly, desperately hoping she had an answer.

  I must think on it. I will also consult the Host. For now, you must continue with your plan. Orlac knows of you but not who you are. He will need to spend time tracking you down. But Dorgryl knows more about you. He will lead Orlac to you and your family. We shall have to move much faster than we had originally intended, Tor.

  They will not harm my children, Lys. I will die fighting them.

  She mustered a sad smile. Perhaps you might. I am sorry I have let you down, Torkyn Gynt.

  He reached out and touched her shimmering hand. It was not your fault. You did not expect Orlac to summon me as he did. Could he do this again?

  You must shield at all times now. Remember his trace and keep all senses casting for it all the time. Even I am unsure of his powers now. Combined with Dorgryl…She shook her head in defeat.

  I remember his trace perfectly. It felt familiar.

  She did not answer this. Instead she pulled the branches of the tree around herself. I must leave you now, Tor. We may not meet like this again.

  He stood and bowed to her. I am honoured to have met you in person, Lys.

  She smiled her radiant smile. Be brave, Tor. We will triumph.

  Keep your promise to me. Speak with Alyssa.

  She nodded once and then shimmered out of his world.

  32

  Possession

  Orlac sensed rather than saw the red mist but, before he could react, it enveloped and entered him. The pain was immense. What was it?

  He began to fight the invader. Growling and thrashing, he used everything he had within him to force the strange thing out. He must have wrestled with it for hours…he could not tell. When he lay on the hilltop, all his energy sapped, it spoke to him.

  I am Dorgryl, it said, the voice deep and cultured.

  Orlac spoke breathlessly. What are you?

  I am a former member of the Host of the Gods. I am presently a guest of its son and heir. In between, I was nothing but anger.

  Who are you? Orlac asked, stupefied by this intruder.

  I am your uncle, it said, smoothly.

  Orlac felt a familiar panic grip him. He recalled this sense of despair from the day he was Quelled by the Host. Were they here to destroy him already? Was this the messenger of death?

  Get out! Orlac screamed.

  The voice was amused. I have no body of my own. Yours suits me. We are family, after all.

  Orlac tried to calm himself. He remembered how Merkhud’s man had pushed away the fear to find control and he steadied himself, wondering how much the invader could share of his thoughts. He took some moments to consider. His guest remained silent. Orlac knew instinctively that he must not show his fear. He must play along, learn as much as he could.

  What do you want, Dorgryl?

  That’s better, nephew, the thing said firmly. I want to be your partner in destroying Tallinor. That is what you want, is it not?

  How do you know what I want? Orlac snapped.

  I know because I have watched you for centuries fighting to get it. As each of those stupid Paladin died, I cheered. I only wished you could have heard me out there in the Bleak, with that wretched Lys watching over my every movement. But I was more artful than she could ever have imagined. I pretended not to notice anything about you, yet I fed off your triumphs, urged you on, yearned for your victory, boy. I knew you would do it. Knew you would win our freedom.

  I won my freedom, Dorgryl, not yours.

  Call me uncle, child. Your father and I are brothers.

  Then why are you not counsel to his majesty…uncle? The last word was said as though tasting a poison.

  An indiscretion. Darganoth felt he needed to punish me, make an example of me, Dorgryl sneered. Darganoth felt threatened by me when we were chil
dren. We are twins, you know. It was a tragedy that the weaker child was born first. If I had been King of the Host, life would be very different for all of us.

  Orlac had recouped his energy. You cannot stay in here with me. He began to struggle again, yelling for the creature inside to leave. He loosed his magics but still the horrible thing clung tightly within him. The pain of his own power loosed against him prevented Orlac attacking Dorgryl any further. He lay on the ground once more, panting. He had been possessed and now he was doomed.

  Dorgryl waited. This was a shock for the youngster, who had not aged a day since he was Quelled. He must pick the right moment. He stayed still and silent, waiting for the young god to calm down again. When Orlac’s breathing subsided to a more normal level, he made his move.

  I can help, you know.

  How? Orlac said sullenly.

  I know the person whom you seek.

  You know nothing! Orlac countered, angrily. At that moment he felt he could throw himself off the hilltop in despair. The fight over the centuries had been for nothing. This thing now held him in its power; he was trapped again.

  I know plenty. I know the name of the person you summoned to witness your final blow to Themesius. I know what he looks like. I know the people he loves and who love him.

  This won Orlac’s attention. How?

  He felt the thing inside him shift, as if to make itself more comfortable, as if it relished the chance to tell its tale.

  I have not only been watching your progress but that of one Torkyn Gynt as well. It is true my first few centuries in the Bleak were spent in complete desolation. I was bitter and uninterested in everything. Dorgryl laughed harshly. There was nothing to be interested in, except my own downfall. Lys told me a little about you but I cared nothing for your struggle. I could see you were there for eternity. And then you started to win and those stupid Paladin began to fall. I had to admire your single-minded commitment.

  When I learned your full story, I became intrigued. Perhaps you would topple your captors. I started to follow Merkhud; watched his interminable search although I had no idea what it was he looked for. Lys would tell me nothing.

  And then one day I noticed that he had taken an apprentice: a young village scribe called Torkyn Gynt. It became clear that Gynt possessed rare magics; I presumed it to be the wild magic. He is powerful, though of course no mortal power can match that of a god. However, the Host believe he will save Tallinor from your wrath. All your enemies are relying on him. I shall help you find him and I shall help you to destroy him. Nothing would give me greater pleasure.