Destiny

by Fiona McIntosh

  Alyssa caught Sallementro’s eye. ‘Sal, my son and daughter would probably appreciate a bath, fresh clothes, a look around the palace. The King will be back soon and I will want to present them later in the day. Would you help?’

  ‘Of course,’ the musician replied, a brief bow to his Sovereign. ‘It would be a pleasure to take you two under my wing.’ He smiled kindly at Gidyon and Lauryn. ‘Let’s make a start by heading down to the castle baths.’

  Tor did not wait for his son to cross the room. He beat him to it, pulling the boy close. ‘I shall be back soon, I promise, with your brother.’ Stay close to Lauryn; she’ll need your strength. Get to know Gyl.

  ‘Figgis?’ Gidyon said quietly.

  ‘He’ll journey straight here, I’m sure. He won’t wish to be separated from you now or ever,’ Tor replied. ‘Look out for him.’ He looked towards Lauryn who appeared remarkably composed.

  She stepped up and he held her close, whispering, ‘Back soon, I give you my word. I need you to be brave now. Get to know your mother a little more,’ he said smiling. She’s very nervous about you both, he pressed into her mind. That won him a short grin from Lauryn.

  Stay close to Gidyon; he’ll need your strength, he added as he pulled apart from her.

  She mentioned what had been niggling at the edges of her mind. ‘Father, how will you know who Rubyn is? I mean, are you counting on him bearing a strong likeness to us?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought beyond finding a young man in the Heartwood, to be honest.’

  ‘How about the stones?’ Gidyon suggested.

  Tor frowned. ‘How do we know he would have one?’

  Gidyon could only just remember a conversation with Sorrel. ‘I think it was when we were preparing to leave with Sorrel—this is all a bit hazy I have to admit—we demanded she prove we were sister and brother. She achieved this through the stones which we both had on us and had both cherished since childhood. She told us how you’d given her the three stones when she fled with us from the Heartwood.’

  Tor nodded and Lauryn picked up the story, frowning as she strained to recall that conversation.

  ‘You’re right, Gidyon…I can remember that too, and I think I’m right in saying that when you asked Sorrel where the third was, she said not to worry, it was in a very safe place.’

  They both looked back at their father. He was beaming. ‘Clever old girl she was. She must have left the third stone with Rubyn. She wouldn’t have known what they’re for—as I don’t—but perhaps she thought it might protect him. This is excellent news. You must both keep them very safe…we are yet to find out their purpose.’

  Gidyon suddenly looked sheepish. ‘Um…I have to admit something.’

  Eyes turned to him and lingered on his discomfort.

  He cleared his throat, his eyes searching his father’s face for understanding. ‘When I left Yseul we had both just survived a traumatic experience.’ As he paused Tor looked towards Alyssa’s puzzled face and shook his head just enough to tell her this was not the time to go into it.

  The look was not lost on Lauryn. She enlightened her mother. ‘Yseul is Gidyon’s friend.’ She loaded the word ‘friend’ with all sorts of meanings.

  He squirmed a little more, glaring at Lauryn. ‘Er…yes she is. Anyway, it was a difficult time for us and…’ Awkwardly, he looked again at his father before taking another deep breath. ‘Well, I wanted to give her something from me…of me…and I gave her my stone.’ He did his best to ignore the audible gasp from his father. ‘I told her I was lending her my stone and that I would find her and collect it one day.’

  Tor was shocked. ‘What was in your head, son?’ he asked quietly as he tried to assess the loss of one of the Stones of Ordolt— what it might mean to their success or failure.

  His softly spoken rebuke was enough to crumple Gidyon’s already fragile confidence. Gidyon ran his hand through his hair, totally crestfallen as he searched for a suitable answer. It was his mother who came swiftly to his rescue.

  ‘Tor, don’t you dare use that accusatory tone. Gidyon has been ripped out of everything familiar and deposited back here with a group of strange people he has to trust —even accept as family. A meaningless, harmless looking stone, supposedly left with him by his parents, has no significance to him other than the sentimental value it represented in his life.’

  Tor was about to say something but the Queen refused him any opportunity.

  ‘No! He is not to blame in this. I can’t imagine what the traumatic incident is that Gidyon’s referring to but I expect to learn it soon. This Yseul will presumably keep it safe will she not, Gidyon?’ Her son nodded, eyes turned to the floor. ‘Then there’s nothing lost, Tor. To her it’s a harmless stone as well, with sentimental value, given to her by someone I am assuming means something to her.’

  Now she saw her son’s colour rise. So Gidyon had wasted no time finding a young woman upon whom to work his charm. My, my, she thought, I wonder who he takes after. She looked back at Tor, her expression forbidding him to take this matter any further. ‘The stone is safe, Tor. Where does she live?’

  ‘A place called Brittelbury,’ Gidyon replied, grateful for his mother’s support. Watching her now take command he appreciated her for the Queen she was. He liked her like this; had hated seeing her so filled with despair and grief the previous night. His father had told him she was a formidable person. He could believe it now.

  ‘Well, that’s several days’ ride west of here. If you don’t say something nice right now, Torkyn Gynt, I shall spend the rest of my time in your absence telling the children every embarrassing tale I can think of about you including that time you—

  Alyssa was not permitted to finish outlining which of the humiliating tales she would start with.

  ‘It’s all right, Gidyon. Really. Your mother is right and I’m sorry to have doubted you. You were not to know about the Stones of Ordolt and I’m as much in the dark about them as you, so let’s think about getting the stone back.’ He turned his blue gaze towards Alyssa. Thank you. I’d forgotten how very beautiful and desirable you are when you’re cross.

  She felt a little lightheaded when he turned that look on her. ‘Well,’ the Queen said brightly, trying to lighten the pang of separation she was trying to convince herself was being felt only by the children. ‘Why don’t you two go on with Sallementro and I’ll see your father on his way?’ Please let me have just another minute on my own with him, she begged silently. ‘I’ll find you both afterwards and we can spend some time together.’ Please…oh please. Just once more in his arms and then I shall give him up, she promised herself.

  Sallementro and the younger Gynts departed with one final searching look at their father. Tor felt a searing grief at leaving them, recalling his own father’s anxiety when he had finally ridden away from Flat Meadows so full of the desire for adventure. Tor wondered how he would find the reserves of courage required for what was ahead of them all. He put that aside as the door closed and he felt Alyssa’s eyes turn towards him.

  ‘I must go,’ he said, reflexively, but made no move.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Will you be all right?’

  ‘With Gidyon and Lauryn?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Of course. I intend to spend every spare minute catching up on all that I’ve been denied with them. They are wary of me. That’s hard.’ She said the final words wistfully.

  ‘They will fall hopelessly in love with you as I did…as I still am.’ He did not mean to say it but the words had a life of their own, rushing out and serving no other purpose than to foil the Queen’s resolve.

  ‘Oh, Tor, why does this happen to us?’ Alyssa could not wait another moment.

  She stepped into his embrace. He kissed her hair and stroked her cheek as she hugged him harder, loving the familiar feel of his tall, broad body.

  ‘We must not risk this, Alyssa. I…I must stop touching you like this. It’s dangerous…and embarrassing,’ he said looking dow
n at himself, trying to lighten her despair. He was pleased to see the ghost of a smile come to her face at the mention of his discomfort. ‘I can sense Gyl’s fury when I merely look at you—and if he could see this!’ he said and tilted her face so he could kiss her lips.

  She pulled away finally. ‘Gyl will not know how it feels until he experiences his first love,’ she said.

  ‘Well, if I’m not mistaken it was happening in front of our noses!’

  She loved to see that broad smile which touched his eyes; made the blue spark brighter, if that was possible.

  ‘No…not Lauryn. Surely not?’ she said, enjoying the intrigue.

  ‘Mark my words,’ Tor said. ‘I’d bet on it being confirmed with a kiss or more by the time I return,’ he added, eyebrows arching theatrically.

  Alyssa laughed. ‘Ten sovereigns that you’re wrong.’

  ‘I don’t have ten sovereigns,’ he replied, ‘but I’d be happy to take that bet.’

  Their laughter was short-lived.

  ‘Let’s not prolong this pain,’ Tor suggested. ‘I love you, Alyssa but you are no longer mine to love. We must remember who you are now.’

  ‘Can you forgive him, Tor?’

  ‘You may recall I already did…years ago.’

  ‘No, I mean for this…for loving me?’

  I already did…years ago, he whispered into her mind.

  She felt the sting of tears. So Tor knew as much as she had suspected—even as he went to his death—that Lorys had had designs on her.

  ‘He loves me so much, Tor. I’m good for him too. I can change the way he looks at things. I can help him to be a better King. But I’m so torn.’

  He kissed her mouth to stop her talking. ‘Don’t be. You have responsibilities now. I understand why he loves you because I do too. I forgive him and I forgive you for loving him. It is our children who matter now, Alyssa. Help him to grasp their importance. I believe the time has come for our King to learn everything. Tell him all you know. Make him understand the need to help us achieve our ends…or Tallinor will die and so will its people. That’s your task now.’

  Tor took from his pocket the disk of archalyt he hated and with her pained nod of authority he pressed it back against her forehead where it adhered. She hated the sudden absence of his magic and spirit surrounding her. Alyssa felt the loss keenly.

  Then he bent and kissed her hand very tenderly. ‘I take my leave, your highness.’

  As he did so, she sadly touched his soft, beautiful hair in reply, permitting his departure.

  Despite the sickening feeling of having to leave Alyssa once more, Tor was relieved to be gone from the palace again—and from all of its reminders. He could still taste her on his lips, smell her perfume on himself, and he realised with deep regret that he may never do so again. With the King back at Tal, he would not have such intimate access to the Queen again. And, he decided with a sigh, that was as it should be. His children were safe; she would now protect them with her own life if necessary. He must journey back to the Heartwood and find the boy, Rubyn. It lifted his spirits to think of the other son and he felt happy when Cloot finally showed himself at the tops of the trees.

  How is she?

  Unnervingly beautiful.

  Well, she was always that, Tor. Will she be all right with Gidyon and Lauryn?

  She’s already in love with them, though it will take longer for them to accept the Queen of Tallinor as their long lost mother than it did for them to accept me as their father.

  Possibly, the bird conceded. I presume Saxon remains?

  Yes, he will stick close to Alyssa now.

  Tor’s exceptionally fine hearing picked up the sound of a horse galloping towards them. Alone? he asked, knowing Cloot could hear just as well and see far more easily from his treetop perch than he himself could from the ground.

  Solitary rider travelling at breakneck speed. Must be urgent news for the palace.

  Tor moved to the side of the dusty road. At this speed the rider would hardly have a chance to swerve; he took the precaution of getting well out of the horse’s path. The rider was upon them in seconds. He did not so much as glance his way but Tor noticed his teeth were clamped together in grim concentration—and were those tears streaming down his face or just the rain?

  Cloot landed silently on his shoulder.

  He’s moving so fast his eyes are watering, Tor commented.

  Did you notice the stallion? It had the King’s personal insignia on it. Rather regal for a messenger don’t you think?

  I can’t say I noticed but then you have a knack of spotting these things, Cloot. If a bird could shrug, Cloot would have.

  Tor considered the import of this rider. Must be very urgent for him to have clearance to travel so dangerously fast. Saxon told me the Shield lives by a very strict code of rules. Riding like the wind is only permitted in hunts, competitions, emergencies and war, I believe.

  He might simply have been enjoying the chance to let such a fine horse have the rein—it’s not often a messenger would have such an opportunity.

  Yes…you’re probably right. The King is due back any hour, apparently, and I don’t want to go back there to be honest.

  He imagined the King’s return and how his Queen would be waiting on the steps to throw her arms around him and welcome him home with some alarming news.

  Except Alyssa never did get the chance to speak to Lorys again.

  3

  Tallinor Grieves

  Orlac would never be comfortable with Dorgryl sharing his head but he had begun to get used to it during the walk from the hillsides of Neame towards the capital. They had been walking for five days now and, he had to admit, Dorgryl’s expansive views were entertaining at least. His uncle had managed to make him laugh out loud several times, though they both agreed that in company this might have the effect of making him seem quite mad. But for now, travelling through the picturesque countryside of Cipres, he could almost say he was enjoying himself, and as long as Dorgryl continued to fuel his need for vengeance and leave the rest of his body alone, he was content for the time being.

  Cipres needs a new queen, Dorgryl suddenly said.

  How about a new king?

  It is a matriarchal society…always has been.

  Is there no heiress?

  Not that I’m aware of.

  Then I presume we shall supply her.

  Correct.

  How?

  Leave that to me.

  And why will they accept her?

  Because they are frightened and distracted and best, they are grieving.

  Why would that make them accept a stranger?

  You just walk, boy, and let me think now.

  Orlac shrugged. He was more than happy in his own silence and he was glad of the fact that Dorgryl could not touch his private thoughts. They remained his own and a good thing too. Suddenly he felt obsessed with the need to know a woman. He had been alive for centuries and apart from that brief time of childhood he had spent the whole time fighting—pitting his wits and magics against others. This wonderful freedom—if you could call it that with another god’s spirit roaming one’s mind— was seductive. Dorgryl had spoken to him about the pleasures of life and Orlac realised how much he had missed. Just this time to walk through beautiful countryside was a treat. Dorgryl would sneer, he knew, and probably suggest that it was nothing in comparison to having a beautiful and compliant woman on her knees, your own hands buried in her hair as she pleasured you. So much to learn and experience.

  A milestone at the grass verge told him it was barely a day’s walk to the city gates. Orlac smiled. Perhaps the right woman on her knees in front of him was not that far away now. He strode on towards Cipres.

  On top of the battlements a soldier on lookout called to Gyl. ‘Rider approaching, sir. Very fast.’

  Gyl looked out towards the southwest and squinted. Yes, he could see the rider; his man was right, the horse was at full pelt. As it drew closer he could see the f
lecks of foam on its flanks.

  ‘The Light strike me! What the hell is that rider doing wearing down the horse like that? I’ll have him flogged.’

  The soldier next to him added that the horse bore the King’s insignia too. This confused Gyl. No simple messenger would wear the personal colours of Lorys. Only the King’s Guard was permitted and no member of the Guard would be sent on an errand unless it was of the highest and most urgent importance.

  Gyl swore colourfully. ‘Bring the messenger directly to me.’ A soldier hurried off. ‘And someone get that horse seen to before it dies on us,’ he ordered.

  He and Saxon had spent an hour or so together earlier, sipping a milky concoction which Cook liked to send up for the men on watch in the early hours of the chilled mornings. Moody and still piqued by the previous night’s strange activity, he had appreciated the Kloek’s company. He regarded Saxon as a father and so it was with good grace that he accepted the older man’s counselling. When Saxon explained everything it seemed to make so much more sense and yet every time he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that his mother had lain with a powerful sentient and given birth to triplets who would save the Kingdom of Tallinor from some madman called Orlac—it just seemed like utter claptrap. Hearing that Tor had been executed at this very palace and was now walking around very much alive with clear designs on his mother, the Queen, made the whole story even more flawed. And looking at Saxon as he talked gently of their struggle made it still worse. The Kloek was a Paladin—whatever that meant—as was some dwarf still in the Great Forest and some falcon, no less!

  It had taken all of Gyl’s resolve to remain seated and listen. But the more the Kloek explained, the more resigned he began to feel. Who could make up such a tale, he asked himself. By the time they parted company, Saxon had exacted a promise that Gyl would keep an open mind and accept that magic existed in their world and when wielded by the right hands—of people like Gynt and like his mother—great good could come of it.