Feeling dizzy now, she tried to picture something which might carry her away from this, allow her the escape she needed to survive the torment. And in a way she was relieved that it was Quist’s face which came to mind rather than Tor’s. Tor did not belong to her; she loved him but he would never love her in the way she wanted him to. His heart was spoken for. So, with great fondness, she pictured her pirate’s scarred, ugly face and heard that special gentle voice he reserved for her alone. When Janus grinned, his mirth touched his one good eye and made it sparkle. She imagined him smiling at her now.
The Leper was talking and she ignored his presence. She could not hear him very well either because she was making herself listen to Janus and his affectionate words. He was telling her that he was going to take her away for a while, leave the north and sail to some beautiful islands he knew lying west of the mainland, where the purest white sand felt like silk beneath your bare feet and the waters were warm and so clear the fish were visible. A place where oysters gave up their remarkable fat, creamy pearls and he would have them strung and placed about her neck.
Eryn could now hear the lapping of the ocean and the call of sea birds overhead…and all the while the soft voice of Janus Quist whispered sweetly to his wife.
The glint of a blade entered her consciousness but she clung to her vision, managed to keep it as real as she could. Ah, so he intended to cut her. An unoriginal torture but so be it. He would slash at her flesh but he would make no impact on her mind because Eryn was swimming with dolphins now and Janus was laughing in the distance as she held their fins and raced through the crystal waters with her friends.
The vision faltered as she heard Goth: ‘…enemies of Cipres must die.’
Did she hear correctly? Did he mean to kill her then? How odd, she had not really considered death as a possibility. She had only accepted torture. It seemed the Leper no longer needed her information; he had been insulted by her—‘a base-born whore’—she could hear him saying.
So she must die in order to give Locky a life and to protect Janus and his royal charge. She knew deep down the Leper would probably have never permitted her life even if she had given up the details he demanded. She sighed with the realisation that it was death now beckoning her so much earlier than she had anticipated.
Janus whispered in her mind. They call to you, my love, he said, pointing towards more dolphins. They want you to ride the waves with them and be for ever safe amongst them.
If Eryn felt the deep death-slash Goth made across her taut belly, she did not show her shock, but her body did, instantly spilling its slippery contents. She was not aware that Goth had decided to help this process, relishing the opportunity to empty the cavity of all that he could grasp within it.
Soldiers turned away, vomiting. Girls no longer screamed but fell to the dust, pale and unconscious from their own shock. Others held each other and turned away, refusing to give the Leper the awed audience he so desperately wanted.
Goth finished his grisly work, enjoying the steaming wet feel of his fingers and the death they had wrought. He looked up towards the skies at the circling black crows who might later feast at this scene. He smiled at the thought and realised it must have been their arrival which scared the small flock of wrens which had scattered earlier.
This execution was one of his more inspired moves; he had always wanted to kill someone in this manner and had often wondered how long it would take the body—following the shock of being emptied and exposed like this—to die. He estimated that Quist’s attractive wife, who tragically had not given the satisfaction of so much as a groan, had but moments left.
Eryn began to feel drowsy.
Janus whispered that she should rest with her friends and she smiled at him. The dolphins took her deeper now; she could feel the seaweed touching her face, ropey and almost warm to the touch.
It’s true she was tired. I didn’t tell him, Janus, she whispered back to her husband’s dimming face as the depths of death claimed her.
Eryn’s death was mercifully fast on that shiny morning and her friends would later comment that they could almost glimpse a smile on her pretty face. It was a slightly crooked smile, distorted because her face had been so badly broken on that side.
Goth did not have to inflict much damage on one of the youngest girls whom he noticed had suffered some sort of nervous episode following the slaughter of the madam. It turned out she was not one of the prostitutes but a simple serving-girl, who helped out each morning with breakfast and cleaning up the tavern from the previous night’s carousing. His sharp eyes had picked her out as the one most likely to spill any potential information, and he was right.
The moment he turned his attention onto her the girl began to shake violently.
‘I wish to speak with you,’ he said, pointing towards the stricken girl. ‘The rest of you men provision yourselves from whatever you can find inside the tavern, then be mounted. We ride shortly.’
Goth motioned to the most senior soldier who approached. ‘Leave two men here to guard Quist’s wife’s body. It is to remain hanging as it is now and to be fully enjoyed by the carrion birds.’ He watched the man grimace. ‘Have that girl brought over to her mistress.’
She was dragged screaming to cower near Eryn’s corpse which was already beginning to attract the attention of flies.
‘Shut up!’ Goth commanded.
She did from dread but could not stop her terrified whimper.
‘If you prefer not to be strung up next to the whore here, you will tell me everything I wish to know. Is that clear?’
She nodded. Her stifled sobs began to excite Goth.
‘Were the women we spoke of here?’
The girl nodded but could not look at her captor.
‘Good. You see how easy this is?’ He continued. ‘When did they leave?’
She whispered something and Goth decided he needed to soften her up. She was certainly cooperating but she was too slow. His boot landed viciously in her abdomen and he felt ribs splinter. Good, that should win her prompt attention. The girl collapsed to the dust, landing in the twisted ropes of Eryn’s bowel and vomited both from the realisation of what she sat amongst and the pain searing through her body. Vomiting made it hurt more but her small body retched all the same from the dizzying trauma and the smell of Eryn ripening in the sun’s warmth.
‘Speak up and fast, girl, or you die amongst your mistress’s guts,’ Goth warned.
Through her gasps she answered him. ‘Yesterday. They left at dawn.’
‘Who with?’
‘Locky and Mr Quist, sir.’
Ah, Goth thought, so Quist continues to offer protection whilst the brother-by-marriage trails alongside. This was interesting.
‘Where were they headed?’
‘I don’t know, sir,’ she whimpered, pulling herself away from the slippery mass she kneeled on.
Then she remembered something she had overheard whilst serving food to the guests. She hoped this item might save her life. ‘Oh wait…I did hear them talking about the Great Forest. It was brief, sir. I serve food. It was all I heard in passing.’ Pain overtook her and she could say no more.
Goth was no longer interested in her and stepped away, grimacing at the mess she had made of herself. So they had made tracks for the Great Forest. Why? Who was there to look after them? He pondered this as he rinsed his hands of Eryn in a nearby trough. The only time he had ever had reason to venture into the Great Forest was in his relentless searching for Torkyn Gynt and Alyssa Qyn all those years ago.
The realisation hit him hard.
Gynt? That was it! They were travelling to be with Torkyn Gynt.
This was too good, he thought to himself as he mounted his horse. He would kill them all.
The men looked towards their strange and detestable leader.
‘We ride south. To the Great Forest,’ he instructed.
16
Gathering at the Heartwood
Tor had not like
d sending Cloot away from him again and the falcon had said little in response to his idea, which meant the bird had liked the idea even less. However, he had accepted Tor’s quiet reasoning that they needed to know what might be happening up north. If Orlac was approaching from Cipres, then Caradoon was his logical point of arrival.
Just take a look around and fly straight back, Tor had said. You’ll be gone a couple of days. I’ll be another two days getting to the Great Forest. I shall wait for you in the Heartwood.
Cloot had lifted strongly from his shoulder that same night and flown high so quickly that Tor could not even make him out and heard only the one piercing call his friend gave as farewell.
Tor had felt very alone as darkness enveloped him. As long as Cloot had been with him, he had been able to lock away his heartache at leaving Alyssa. Without his friend’s reassuring company and ever-wise voice in his head, thoughts of her came crashing back to remind him of what he had given up, once again. Visions of her lying naked in Lorys’s arms crowded his bleak thoughts as he trudged closer to the Forest and sanctuary. He did not feel like stopping to rest or eat. He would walk on through the night.
He hoped his two children were safe in Tal; getting to know their mother and familiarising themselves with the ways of the Tallinese. If they were ever to fit into this new life of theirs, this would be a good proving time. Little did he know one was presently sleeping not far from the roadside having galloped across the realm towards a village called Brittelbury, whilst the other was slung across a horse headed north with two gods and her secret Paladin. If he had known, Tor would not have tried to cheer himself with a bright whistle as he walked.
Alyssa and Saxon had stopped for the night, sharing whatever meagre supplies the Kloek had thought to toss into their saddlebags before their hasty departure.
Alyssa was not fond of pears. She had preferred not to eat them ever since that day near Caremboche when she had stolen three of the fruit from an orchard. Not long afterwards she had witnessed Saxon’s eyeless, bloodied face calling to her. Just the smell of pears could bring that hideous scene back to her of Kythay charging about the courtyard laying waste to several screaming men, or she would see those two beautiful Fox boys, Milt and Oris, looking at her lovingly and with awe as she attempted to perform the trick called Flight. She had succeeded and they had died saving her life.
She looked away from the pear that Saxon insisted she take.
‘You must eat,’ he said.
‘Have you anything else in that bag?’ she asked hopefully.
‘I stole two muffins from Cook but was planning to eat those myself later,’ he said, eyes glinting wickedly in the glow of their small fire.
‘Oh, you wretch, Saxon. Give me one!’
He laughed and handed the small cake to her. She made noises of great satisfaction as she bit into it.
‘It’s good to see you like this,’ he said, eyeing her carefully, not wishing to make too much of it.
‘It’s great to feel this carefree,’ Alyssa admitted. ‘Although I shouldn’t…what with a murderous god on the rampage for us!’ She grinned. ‘I feel alive again, Sax.’
‘Is it him?’ He knew he did not have to speak the name Torkyn Gynt.
She nodded. Nibbled more of her cake. ‘Partly.’ Then she looked up at her friend. She began to vocally tick off what was making her feel so good. ‘I like no longer being Queen, to tell the truth. I love the knowledge that I have children. I agree with you—Gyl will make a fine King of Tallinor, given the right support. I’m in wonderment that I am chasing Torkyn Gynt down and that I find myself here with my closest of friends, an ageing Kloek,’ she grinned at the face he pulled, ‘and I accept that our only way to find freedom from our burden is to face Orlac and not hide from him.’
‘Oh, is that all?’ he teased.
Alyssa threw the pear at his chest. He caught it deftly and bit into it. The smell of the juice sickened her. She spoke to avoid the nausea and to keep that scene from returning to her head.
‘I do feel unbearably happy when perhaps I least should. I’m embarrassed.’
‘Don’t be. No one around this fire will make judgements on you.’
‘Oh no…not even if I tell you Tor kissed me?’
Saxon stopped chewing on the fruit. ‘Be careful, Alyssa. We all love him, but you have the most to lose in loving him.’
‘I know,’ she said, dipping her eyes and regretting immediately that she had shared this information.
‘You deserve to be together, you two. But I’m fearful of all that we’re yet to face before any of us can feel safe.’
‘I know,’ she said, again, shaping her bag into a pillow and settling down to sleep. She yawned. ‘If we ride all day tomorrow, will we catch up with him?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Good,’ she replied, her eyes closed and voice already sounding far away. ‘Because I can’t wait to throw my arms around him.’
She opened an eye just briefly to enjoy the scowl which crossed her Paladin’s face.
It was just a few hours after Cloot had left him that Tor felt the cold slice of the Link rip open suddenly in his head and heard the alarmed voice of Adongo flood his mind with a call for help. It was brief…too brief. Orlac has Lauryn. We head north.
The Link snapped shut. Tor swung around in the night, latching onto its trace, following it back in a frenzy of his own doubt that he had heard it and his dread fear that it was true. He found nothing. Adongo had shielded. Tor sat down by the roadside, breathing heavily. He heard an owl hoot but not much else stirred in the stillness of the night. The owl made him think of his Paladin and he needed his wise counsel now.
Cloot! Where are you?
I’m with a group of friends. We’re celebrating over a feast and there’s minstrels and dancing; acrobats and fire eaters…where do you think I am? the falcon asked caustically. Flying to Caradoon as you instructed! I’ll be there before dawn.
Tor was too distressed to even feel the intended sting of his friend’s sarcasm. Turn back.
Why? Cloot could now hear the fright in Tor’s voice.
Orlac is already here.
The bird paused. He knew when to stay quiet. He also knew Tor would elaborate.
Adongo linked a few moments ago. Very briefly. His exact words were: Orlac has Lauryn. We head north.
There was silence for a while and Tor permitted it to lengthen. He hoped the falcon would come back with something reassuring.
So Adongo has already found Lauryn and Orlac’s well ahead of us. Already in Tallinor?
Apparently.
And I presume Adongo will not allow you to link?
Correct. He is shielded. Why?
Obvious. If it is Orlac—and one has to assume that Adongo would not claim something as wild as this if he was not sure—then he cannot risk the god tracing the Link to you.
How can he be sure?
That it’s Orlac? Very easily. You forget we all fought him for centuries. Unless he is wearing a glamour he will not have changed. And I cannot imagine that he would use tricks…he will want the Tallinese to fear him; he wants us to know he can enter the Kingdom and do exactly as he wishes.
Why does he not recognise Adongo?
Again I’m presuming, but I’d suggest our Moruk has gone to great lengths to disguise his true identity in order to offer protection to Lauryn.
Another thought slammed into place for Tor. Cloot, if he has Lauryn, that means he has already been to Tal. Perhaps he has laid waste to it. Gidyon, Alyssa…!
Wait! Listen to me. Adongo risked everything to get that message to you. If he was prepared to take that risk, and damage had been wrought on Tal, or your son or the Queen was injured, he would have told you that too—even if it meant his death. No, I believe he has given you, very succinctly, all the information you need.
Why does a god, bent on revenge, determined to raze Tallinor, enter the city and steal a single woman?
Tsk, tsk. You’re not thin
king, Tor. Who is that woman?
My daughter.
Quite. And what will you do now?
Follow her.
Precisely. I imagine that’s what he wants. He is showing you that he can do this. And once her disappearance is discovered, I imagine the King’s Guard will swing into action. Perhaps even Gyl himself— who you tell me is sweet on Lauryn—will give chase. Orlac is achieving everything in one subtle move. By stealing Lauryn he draws you out, which is his primary intention. But he also fires the Tallinese military into action plus he unsettles a new King, possibly prompting him to do something reckless and leave his realm exposed. No, Tor, I think it’s an inspired move.
Tor was silent; turning over all this information in his mind. Why Lauryn…why not Gidyon?
Probably because women seem more helpless—not that this one is—but he doesn’t know that. Perhaps Gidyon was not around. We don’t know the circumstances.
Why not Alyssa?
Because as much as you love Alyssa, your daughter is even more precious. You will do anything to ensure her safety. I imagine he knows this.
How does he know who she is?
I can’t answer that. To all of us it’s clear that she bears a striking resemblance to her mother, but then Orlac has never seen her mother.
Tor felt the chill grip him. But Dorgryl has.
Cloot flew on in silence and Tor did not want to break the Link. Are you turning back?
No. I shall press on. I might as well not waste this journey.
Then I’ll do the same. I have to get to the Heartwood and find Rubyn. We’ll make a decision as soon as you return. Make haste, Cloot.
Fear for Lauryn and uncertainty about his next move drove Tor on; he had walked hard through the night and even broke into a lope as he spotted the first trees of the finger of the Forest towards which he headed.
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