Revenge

by Fiona McIntosh

  Orlac said nothing for a few moments. He carefully considered all that he had just learned from Dorgryl. And you? he said finally. What do you get out of this?

  Fun!…And the chance to strike back at Darganoth. With your powers and my cunning, we can wreak havoc on Tallinor. It will be everything he fears. We will make all of its people suffer and you will enjoy your sweet revenge.

  Dorgryl laughed. The sound had an edge of madness.

  That’s how I must have sounded, Orlac thought to himself. But I was never mad. Dorgryl surely is. He decided to push his point. And afterwards, Dorgryl? After we have razed Tallinor, destroyed the Land, dealt with Gynt and all he loves—what happens then? What will you ask of me next?

  It was Dorgryl’s hesitation, just for a moment, which confirmed for Orlac that he must never trust him.

  You will help me. Together we will kill your father for the wrongs he has done you…and me.

  How? It is my understanding that a god cannot be killed.

  It is my intention to use his body as I use yours now. When you have helped me to achieve his possession, we will both be free of one another to do as we please.

  Orlac considered again. He must tread carefully now. He was trapped. It was clear that Dorgryl had no intention of leaving his body for the time being, and he could not dislodge him. Perhaps there might come a time when his uncle was not so watchful and he could be rid of him. But for now he was stuck with his voice inside his head and his spirit travelling within him.

  He decided he must be seen to be going along with the plan. He even grudgingly acknowledged that Dorgryl would be a boon in finding his enemy. Now that he was back in the Land, he must travel and live as a mortal. He had many leagues to cover and many fruitless years could be spent searching. With his uncle’s knowledge, tracking down his target would be easier. He would make his own plans, though. He knew that he would have to destroy Dorgryl somehow, for he sensed the god would never leave him. The notion of possessing Darganoth’s body was nothing more than a ruse. For now, though, he must be seen to be playing along with Dorgryl.

  All right. But you will leave my body once we re-enter our world. Orlac knew only too well that it was a hollow pact he was making.

  Agreed. Dorgryl laughed maniacally again in Orlac’s head.

  Orlac began walking down the hillside. So, what first?

  Dorgryl was in his element now; plotting was his favourite pastime. You must not rush into anything. You have warned Gynt of your coming. Let him stew on it for a while. Allow the anxiety to build within him.

  You misjudge him. He is not scared of me.

  This is possible, Dorgryl replied evenly. His life is not his own, it is true. It is committed to the moment when you and he will do battle—and you will. But he has friends whom he loves, nephew. Even better, he has a family he cherishes. His children and he have been reunited in the Heartwood. They represent his greatest joy but also his worst fears.

  Orlac felt confused by the web of thoughts Dorgryl was weaving in his mind.

  The senior god continued. Do not go after Gynt immediately; go after the ones he loves first. He will be so busy trying to protect them that he will lose the offensive. Nothing will prepare him for the devastation of losing loved ones. He will be in no position to attack and will go entirely on the defence, which will give you the opportunity to destroy him.

  Orlac was impressed. Dorgryl’s mind was indeed dark and clever. Where do we begin? he said.

  Time is on our side, boy. First we find ourselves some fine surrounds to live within. I have been too long in the Bleak; I want some luxury again. We should take the chance to enjoy life before the killing begins. And I think I know just the place. Dorgryl was enjoying himself immensely.

  Where?

  A place called Cipres; we are not far from it. The country is in chaos because their Queen has been newly murdered. The place is ripe for the taking and its palace and riches will suit us perfectly. It will be an ideal location from which to plan.

  To Cipres then, Orlac said.

  His uncle chuckled, delighted with his day’s work. He settled back comfortably into the body of the god he intended to destroy.

  33

  Unexpected Visitors

  Alyssa sat in her favourite armchair and ignored the food laid out in front of her. Even the waft of Cook’s special chicken broth could not entice her. Hunger was not her companion this evening. Her mind was preoccupied with the startling event which had occurred just over an Eighthday ago. She traced it over and over in her thoughts. She had been dancing and jesting with Gyl. True, she had been fatigued from the day’s activities followed by the dancing, but not so exhausted that she should collapse so dramatically.

  Physic Kelvyn had insisted on rest for several days. He had given her a vile-tasting tonic in which she recognised all the herbs of an infusion which would help her rest. She hated to take any stupefacient but with Lorys and Gyl grimly standing by, she had obliged.

  Perhaps it had helped; her body did feel rested for the two days’ forced confinement to her bed, although she hated the fussing. Lorys had left his own chambers to move into hers and she loved the way he held her close each evening and gave the order not to be disturbed. Alyssa knew she had terrified him by passing out like that. She guessed it brought back horrible memories of Nyria dying in his arms.

  She was not dying. But she knew it was not exhaustion either, nor could it be passed off as the result of a bad batch of quail eggs. It was a convenient excuse but highly unlikely, as no one but she and Sallementro had been affected. It was curious that Sallementro had shown the same reaction. Something had happened in the Heartwood; she was sure of it. It was the only connection between them. The only possible explanation. Which was why she had banished everyone from her chambers this evening, claiming a headache. She hated to lie but Lorys, much against his will, had travelled west on Crown business and now that the main fusspot had departed, she needed the rest of the attention to stop. She needed peace to think.

  What could have happened to cause such a massive disturbance to the Heartwood that the shock should reach out this far to affect her and her Paladin? She wondered about Saxon, wherever he might be right now; perhaps he too had collapsed? And Cloot. Had Saxon found the falcon? Had the falcon felt the shift?

  As she expected—and this time she did not fight it—her thoughts turned to Tor. She missed that lovely voice in her head. She would welcome his companionship right now; she felt very scared. She had avoided it for as long as she could, but as she sat there, the broth cooling at her side, she finally allowed the dread thought to surface.

  The last of the Paladin had fallen. Orlac was free.

  Was this truly the case? Surely nothing else would cause the Heartwood to scream and all those connected with it to feel its pain. And the voices in her head—had she heard Orlac delivering his killing blow?

  Alyssa shivered. There was no other explanation.

  She heard a soft knock at the door and her new, rather nervous maid tiptoed into the room and asked if she wished to see Sallementro at this late hour.

  ‘Yes. Bring him in. I’ll be right out. Dismiss everyone for the night, Tanya. I shall be needing nothing further, thank you.’

  The maid bobbed a curtsy and disappeared. Alyssa took a few minutes to tidy herself, then stepped into her salon, where the musician stood at the window. He turned and smiled although his expression was sad. ‘Are you well, your majesty? It is so good to see you.’ He bent low and kissed her hand.

  She did not let go of it. ‘I feel fine, Sal. And you?’

  They spoke as friends now.

  ‘It wasn’t quail eggs, Alyssa.’

  ‘I know,’ she replied softly.

  ‘I don’t understand it properly; I never really have. But I sense it was connected with the fact that I am Paladin and bonded to you.’

  Alyssa stepped up and put her arms around him. ‘I believe,’ she said haltingly, ‘that Orlac is free.’

&n
bsp; She felt his body tense.

  ‘Then you are in danger, my lady. I must protect you as I promised Saxon,’ he said, not feeling especially brave.

  ‘I don’t really understand it either, Sal. I think that all of us involved in this strange quest are in danger now: Saxon, Cloot, you, me…all of those who may still be alive in the Heartwood.’

  ‘What should we do?’

  She sighed and let her arms drop away, then stared out of the window with him.

  ‘Without Torkyn Gynt, I am lost, Sallementro. He was the One. He was the only weapon we had against this foe. I don’t know who we turn to or even who we can tell. I would like to tell the King but I just can’t see Lorys believing such a tale. Can you?’

  The musician turned and put his arms on her shoulders. ‘An Eighthday ago we were given a sign. I think we must wait for the next one.’

  Alyssa grimaced. ‘But who has the power to stop a rampaging god?’ She felt a flutter of panic.

  Sallementro surprised himself at his conviction. ‘None of us. Which is why we wait, your majesty. Other forces are at play here. We cannot control them. They seem to control us. I am hopeful that Lys will visit soon and tell me what I should do next.’

  ‘At least you have Lys.’

  He ignored her bitter comment. ‘Saxon would have felt it too. Wherever he is, I think we can count on his fast return to you. Let us wait for that.’

  ‘And then what, Sal? The three of us fight a god…with what? My powers are stymied for ever.’ She pointed to the green disc on her forehead.

  ‘I sincerely believe we will be given a sign; we will be shown our next step.’

  There was another soft knock at the door. Alyssa swung around.

  ‘No one leaves me alone any more. Everyone thinks I’m about to die on them.’

  She marched towards the door. ‘Another Queen of Tallinor gone!’ she said, hating the nastiness in her voice which was born of the fear she was suddenly feeling.

  She pulled the door open and Tanya bobbed a terrified curtsy.

  ‘Well?’ the Queen said.

  ‘Your highness, forgive my disturbance. This has arrived for you. The bearer said it was urgent and for your eyes only.’

  Alyssa looked at the scruffy note in her hands. ‘Who brought this?’

  ‘Um…an old man, your majesty. He…er…he said I was to tell you that Rufus Akre’s teeth finally fell out.’ The maid shrugged. It was a stupid message but she had been directed to deliver it.

  Alyssa was shocked. She covered her surprise with a nervous laugh. She had not heard that name in years. Rufus Akre, the lad with gravestones for teeth, who had so desperately wanted to catch her posy during the Floral Dance at Minstead Green. It was the day she expected Tor to ask for her hand. She shook her head with no understanding. Only she and Tor knew of Rufus Akre and his intentions.

  Tanya held out the note. ‘Um…the Under Prime spoke with the old man and said it would be all right for me to deliver this, your majesty. He says the old fellow is probably just batty and harmless. Gyl…er, that is, the Under Prime, your majesty, says he believes it could be a note from your father.’

  Alyssa took the note, still shaking her head at the old memories which the name of Rufus Akre dredged up. She thanked Tanya and closed the door whilst the maid was still trying to effect another nervous curtsy.

  ‘Not bad news, I hope?’ Sallementro enquired.

  Alyssa walked to her desk. ‘No. But very strange,’ she said, frowning and reaching for her blade to break open the sealing wax.

  She read it, her eyes widening. ‘Sal…it’s from Saxon.’

  ‘What news?’ said the musician, hugely relieved.

  ‘It’s so odd,’ she said, looking up. ‘He wants me to meet him in the small wood just to the west of the palace.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, that’s just it. He doesn’t really say. There’s someone he needs me to meet but he cannot bring this person to the palace.’

  ‘You mean he’s here…now? Waiting for you?’

  ‘He must be.’ She showed him the note.

  Sallementro read it quickly. ‘He’s quite firm that you’re not to bring anyone but me with you.’

  ‘Now, isn’t that bizarre?’ Alyssa exclaimed. ‘Why the secrecy? And why the odd reference to Rufus Akre? He doesn’t know Rufus Akre any more than you do.’

  ‘Who is Rufus Akre?’

  ‘Precisely my point!’ she said impatiently. ‘Only Tor would dream up that sort of password to get my attention. And he’s dead.’

  The musician bit his lip in thought. ‘Perhaps he mentioned him to Saxon at some stage and Saxon realised you would consider the name a safe code, one you could trust. He must have good reason to use it, Alyssa. I would trust my life to Saxon.’

  She looked at him. ‘I do trust him with my life. We’d better go.’

  ‘How do we get out without being noticed?’

  She thought swiftly. ‘I know a way out.’

  Sallementro hesitated. ‘You don’t think this is a trap? I mean, should we perhaps tell Gyl?’

  She shrugged. ‘It is Saxon’s writing. He would sooner die than lead me into a trap, even if someone was holding a knife to his throat. No, I believe it is genuine, but I am certainly intrigued by the covertness. And, to be frank, Gyl is the last person to bring in on this. He’s worried about me already; this would send him frantic. He would immediately order the Shield to search the woods. Gyl would not be able to tolerate such a shrouded message.’

  ‘And the King?’ he asked, reminding her of her status.

  ‘The King is not here, Sallementro. I am the only sovereign in this palace right now and I shall do exactly as I please.’ She grinned. ‘I’ll get my cloak.’

  They listened at the door and could hear nothing. The palace was always quiet when Lorys was away. Alyssa was sure he single-handedly created all the noise and bustle of the royal household. She lifted the latch and opened the door slowly. Two guards sprang to attention outside, giving both her and Sallementro a fright. She had not expected to be supervised quite so closely.

  ‘Your highness,’ one said and nodded.

  Alyssa composed herself. ‘Who ordered this guard at my door?’

  ‘Under Prime Gyl, your highness.’

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Eamon of the Shield, your majesty.’ He bowed stiffly again.

  ‘Well, Eamon of the Shield. I am not a child, I am not sick and I will not be supervised like this. I simply fainted, for Light’s sake! Now, I wish to take a night stroll with Sallementro and I do not wish to be followed. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, your majesty. I will inform only the Under Prime.’

  She swung around. ‘You will do no such thing. In fact, Eamon of the Shield, I shall go directly to him and tell him myself. Perhaps you forget that he is my son; he, like you, will do as the Queen commands.’

  The guard was mortified. He nodded. ‘As you wish, your majesty.’

  ‘I wish,’ she said and marched away.

  Sallementro scuttled after her. ‘So, you can be tough when you want to,’ he whispered, impressed.

  ‘Oh, you don’t know the half of it, Sal,’ she replied, stifling a laugh as they escaped the watchful eye of the Shield.

  She led Sallementro towards the kitchens. Those people still up and around the palace were surprised to see her walking the corridors and especially at such a late hour. Alyssa adopted a haughty air and even gave a couple of pages some errands.

  She is magnificent, Sallementro thought, seeing her through new eyes as the distinguished sovereign she had quietly become. She was not a girl any more; she was not even just a beautiful woman any more, or aide to the King. She is our Queen, he suddenly articulated in his head. She is truly aristocratic.

  ‘Someone is going to tell Gyl. Too many people have seen us,’ he warned.

  ‘Let them,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘I am not scared of Gyl. And we will be long gone before he catches up with
us.’

  It was a boring evening. He did not feel tired enough to sleep but he was certainly tired of patrolling the grounds and battlements. His captains were already well in control of tonight’s watch and Gyl felt decidedly redundant. He wished he had accompanied the King when given the opportunity, but he could tell that Prime Herek preferred him to remain behind to keep the command strong. He did his duty but he felt restless. And the Light strike him if his mind did not keep flicking back to that young woman heading off into the hills on her own towards Axon. He wondered what had become of her. Had she perished?

  Lauryn—a pretty name. He wondered if the face matched. He shook his head clear of such thoughts and decided he would visit his mother. The episode on her NameDay feast was still bothering him. The Queen was in excellent health and this strange incident yielded no explanation around which he could comfortably wrap his mind. He had allowed Physic Kelvyn to pass it off as a mild poisoning from a batch of quail eggs gone bad, but he knew his mother hated eggs. She never ate them unless they were disguised in cakes or pastries.

  And he had seen it in her eyes that she tolerated the explanation for his and the King’s sake but inwardly dismissed it. And what about Sallementro? He had reacted at almost the same instant in an identical manner. Why was no one asking questions of this? When he tried to question the King, Lorys had not permitted any further discussion. Gyl realised Lorys could not tolerate any suggestion that anything might be wrong. Well, Alyssa was strong enough now. He would go up to her rooms to share some supper with her. Perhaps she might shed some light on the incident in private.

  When Gyl arrived at the Queen’s chambers, both of the guards he had personally posted were not there. He stopped a passing page and asked him to immediately fetch Eamon of the Shield. In the meantime, he knocked softly on the door. There was no response. He listened at the door. Silence. Gyl tried knocking again, wondering why no maid answered. Perhaps the Queen had gone to her bed early and dismissed her staff? It was plausible but did not explain the absence of the guards.