‘Ah, now that I can’t answer. I can only point you in the right direction, boy. ’S’up to you to do the rest.’
Locky thanked the older man who moved on, wishing him luck over his shoulder. Locky turned to watch the house from where the Prime was operating. There were men coming and going constantly. Obviously messages were moving frantically back and forth through the chain of command which stopped in that house where the senior commander now gave his orders. Locky swallowed. He must impress this man. With that thought gripped firmly in his mind he walked towards the house and was promptly stopped by two guards.
‘Ho, lad. You’re not allowed in here,’ one said.
‘I was told I might speak with Prime Herek.’
‘Oh? By whom? His mother perhaps?…because I think that’s the only person who can still wield that sort of power in his life.’
They both laughed at the jest. Locky was unmoved.
He took a deep, steadying breath. ‘A soldier said I could get an audience with the King if I spoke with the Prime first.’
Now the guards were hugely amused. ‘Oh, it’s the King now? Well, lad…why didn’t you say so! Of course the King will see you. He’s got nothing better to do than take drinks and sweet pastries with a stripling like you.’
The other guard poked him. ‘Go on, lad, be off with you. This is serious business we’re about here.’
‘I know. That’s why I’m here trying to speak with my sovereign about matters relating to this serious business you speak of.’ He kept his voice steady and stern.
The joking had stopped.
‘I won’t tell you again,’ one of the guards said. ‘Leave now or we’ll tan your backside for you.’
‘You may care to try that but then the King won’t get his message from his mother, which I alone bring.’
They snorted. ‘King’s Mother eh?’ one said.
He nodded.
The other one boxed his ear and Locky fell to the ground. ‘The King’s Mother is at a convent outside of the city recuperating from her loss, you hairy-arsed vagabond. She wouldn’t be talking to the likes of you,’ said the man who had hit him.
Locky’s left ear sang a song all of its own. He shook his head to stop the strange sound.
‘Hey, you guards, leave the boy alone.’ It was the old soldier. He helped Locky back to his feet. ‘I thought they might do something like this.’ He looked back at the guards. ‘Give him a chance and do as he bids. You know we’ve been told we need all the information we can get and the King won’t thank you if you turn valuable knowledge away.’
The guards looked sceptical. ‘We have our orders,’ one said.
‘What would it hurt? Just ask the question.’
The other guard shrugged and trudged towards the house.
‘Tell them I can prove it,’ Locky called after him. He turned to the soldier. ‘Thanks.’
‘You can buy me an ale later,’ the man replied.
The guard returned not long afterwards and shoved Locky towards the house. ‘You’ve got one minute to explain yourself.’
Locky turned back to the old campaigner. ‘Wish me luck.’
‘Already have,’ the fellow said and watched Locky make his way to the door.
Inside was a queue of men receiving orders. Locky could not see the Prime but he could hear voices raised—he wondered which of those was Herek’s.
‘Wait here,’ a soldier said, pointing him back to the wall just inside the door.
He did as told, trying to neaten himself but his efforts were in vain. The soldier had returned and was beckoning at him. ‘One minute is all you have.’
‘So I’ve been told,’ Locky murmured and followed.
They pushed through the men crowding the desk until Locky found himself face-to-face with the man he had dreamed of meeting. Herek was thin and of medium height but it was clear who commanded respect in this room. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet. He regarded the dust-encrusted lad in front of him. ‘How long have you ridden, boy?’
Locky knew his time was short and he had to make a good fist of this meeting. It would not do to cringe or be overawed by the moment. ‘Three days, sir.’
‘From?’
‘The Great Forest, Prime Herek.’
‘Alone?’
‘I rode alone, yes, sir. I was not alone in the Forest, sir. I was with Torkyn Gy—’
Herek cut him off, gave some signal and men began to disperse. He looked at Locky and raised a finger very slightly. It told Locky to be still whilst certain ears were present. A few moments later, with the room they were in now fairly empty, the Prime addressed him again.
‘We speak freely now. Have a seat.’
Locky was grateful for it and even more surprised when Herek himself poured a mug of water and handed it to him. ‘Here, drink this down and then we’ll talk. Have you eaten?’
Locky shook his head awkwardly as he gulped the sweet water to slake a raging thirst he had not even been aware he had. Herek nodded and someone immediately disappeared to find food.
‘Better?’ the Prime asked as Locky finished his drink.
‘Much. Thank you, sir.’
‘Good, tell me what you came here to say.’
Locky ordered his thoughts. This was the head of the entire army he was now speaking to—the Prime. It did not get any higher bar the King himself. The man would react well to a brief, accurate report.
‘You said we can speak freely?’
The Prime nodded.
‘The new sovereign of Cipres, Queen Sarel, is being hidden in the Great Forest—’
Immediately a cry of voices interrupted him.
‘Whoa, lad,’ Herek said. ‘The Queen of Cipres?’
He nodded. ‘Let me tell you it all, sir, and then perhaps I can answer any questions.’
Herek was impressed by the youngster’s composure. ‘All right, let’s start with who you are first.’
Locky began, telling an increasingly anxious Prime everything he knew of what had happened since the two Cipreans had arrived on Tallinese soil.
‘…and we decided someone had to get word to the King. I was chosen.’
Silence reigned in the room.
The Prime finally rubbed his face with both hands.
‘Torkyn Gynt was stoned to death some years ago. I was there at the execution. I witnessed him take his last breath, just before the stones split his head open as one might ripe fruit.’ He stared at Locky. ‘It is preposterous.’
Locky wanted to shrug. He had known none of this. ‘He is alive, sir. I have spoken with him on countless occasions these past years. We sailed to Cipres together where he saved my life…twice in fact, I believe.’
Men smirked at this but not Herek, whose eyes had narrowed considerably as he regarded this earnest boy.
‘Describe Gynt to me.’
Locky did and it was accurate.
‘Where did you meet?’
‘On a ship, sir. The Wasp, bound for Cipres as I mentioned.’
‘So you have met the Queen? I was not aware her name was Sarel,’ Herek said, picking holes in the incredible tale he had just heard.
‘Sir? Um…Queen Sylven was murdered. Tor believes it was by the hand of Goth—’ He stopped talking as he watched the Prime bristle at the mention of that name.
‘Goth? Almyd Goth, former chief inquisitor of Tallinor?’ It was asked in a whisper. ‘Be careful, boy. I want the truth.’
‘Yes, Prime Herek. I speak only the truth. That is the same Goth I speak of. It is he who murdered the Queen and her daughter is on the run from the usurper, Orlac.’
‘So Goth is in Cipres, eh?’ Herek said, beginning to pace the room.
‘Er…no, sir,’ Locky said.
‘But you just said he killed Queen Sylven.’
Locky felt his heartbeat increase in tempo as he fought back the bile of Goth’s grisly work back on Tallinese soil. ‘He is returned to Tallinor, sir. Not long ago in Caradoon he executed my sister, Eryn Qu
ist. He also murdered Captain Quist, her husband, who rode with me and the Cipreans.’
Herek could hardly believe all that he was hearing. The lad’s story was becoming more and more complex.
‘You have seen this, know it to be true?’ he asked, confused yet intrigued beyond his doubts.
‘The Light saved me from seeing my sister killed in the brutal manner he chose, sir. He gutted her,’ Locky said, his hands balling into fists. ‘I saw the head of Janus Quist in the Forest. Goth kept it as a memento for all of us.’
‘Where is he now, boy?’ Herek had grabbed Locky by his shirt.
Locky did not struggle or try and fight him off. ‘He is held captive in the Heartwood, sir. Torkyn Gynt has him.’
He saw a light blaze into life in those fathomless eyes of the Prime, who slowly uncurled his grip on the lad’s shirt. ‘And you say Alyssa…er, the King’s Mother, is in the Great Forest with Saxon and Sallementro?’ There was a tone of utter disbelief in the Prime’s voice. When the hell did a musician get involved in all this adventure? ‘I was told she had gone to a convent to recuperate from the loss of her husband.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, that your information is wrong. I left the King’s Mother a few days ago.’ He shrugged. ‘She hugged me farewell,’ he added and Herek could not help but smile inwardly at this brave lad.
‘Eat something, Locky. Your tale makes my hair curl.’ He pointed to the plate of food which Locky had not dared touch whilst he was giving his report. He ate with gusto now. ‘And you say you can prove it?’
Locky nodded. His mouth was too full to answer.
‘Wait here,’ Herek ordered. He whispered something to his men and then he disappeared.
Locky ate and the men around him maintained a detached silence. He began to wonder whether anyone believed him. Herek was gone a while.
The back door finally burst open and Locky saw him reappear with another man. This one was not especially tall but he was strongly built and had a clear air of authority about him. He was dressed as a soldier —simple clothes, a sword at his side and a blade in his boot. Locky was instantly impressed by the man’s presence.
‘Is this him?’ the stranger asked.
Herek nodded. ‘Locky, you may care to bow. This is your sovereign, King Gyl.’
Locky did not know whether to bow first or spit out what was in his mouth. And so he did both, unloading his mouth into his hand as he bent quickly to acknowledge his sovereign.
‘Your majesty,’ he said, hoping he was following correct protocol.
‘As you were,’ the King said.
When Locky stood upright, the King was holding out his hand in welcome. Locky felt horrified for his own right hand was full of food. He immediately threw it onto the plate nearby and then wiped his hand on his trousers, rubbing vigorously. Then he shook hands. The King did not seem to notice his anxiety nor his grubby hands.
Instead Gyl grinned to put the lad at ease. ‘The Prime has just told me an extraordinary tale which you’ve brought to us today.’ Locky nodded. ‘And the reason I believe you is that I have met with Torkyn Gynt and I am aware that my mother is not at the convent. Apparently you have some proof that you have recently left her?’
‘I do, your majesty…if you’ll pardon me,’ Locky said, digging into his pockets—several of them, in fact, until he found the right one. ‘She asked me to give this to you so that you would know all that I’ve told is true.’
He held out his hand and the King did the same. When he looked into his palm, he saw that Locky had dropped a pale green disk, a sliver of a gem, into it.
Gyl took a breath. ‘It would seem, gentlemen,’ he said, addressing the others in the room, ‘that this lad speaks true.’ Now he eyed Locky. ‘You have your audience, Locky. Tell me everything you know.’
And Locky told his tale again…this time impressing on the King that Lauryn was not held captive by Regent Sylc. Sylc was a manifestation of Orlac, the stranger Alyssa had warned him about.
‘They’re frightened you may walk into a trap, your majesty.’
The King nodded thoughtfully. ‘This does change things. Did they offer any advice.’
‘No, your highness. Alyssa said you would do what you had to do to retrieve Lauryn.’
The King turned back to Locky. ‘You have been courageous, son. We must reward you for your efforts.’
Locky shook his head. ‘No, sir. I want nothing. I did it for my dead sister and her husband.’
The King nodded. ‘Is there anything we can do for you, Locky?’
‘Yes, your highness.’ This was his moment.
‘Well?’
‘Your majesty…um…all of my life I have dreamed of one thing only.’
‘Yes?’ the king said, with a slightly bemused expression as he cast a glance towards Herek.
‘May I address the Prime, sir?’
‘Go ahead.’
Locky turned to Herek and bowed. ‘Prime Herek, I offer you my service. I wish to join the King’s Guard and protect my sovereign’s life with my own. It is my extreme desire to be a soldier. Saxon the Kloek said you might bestow the opportunity upon me if I impressed you enough. He said he would speak on my behalf.’
The King winked at Herek now.
The Prime addressed him. ‘How old are you, Locklyn Gylbyt?’
‘Sixteen, sir,’ he lied.
Herek could see the lad was gilding the truth. ‘I see, well that makes you of an age to join the Company although I suspect you have some growing yet to do?’
Locky flicked a nervous glance up from the ground towards the Prime. ‘Yes, sir. I gather I’m small for my age but I can read, write and fight with heart, sir.’
Herek reached forward and laid an arm on Locky. ‘We don’t need your brawn, lad. The Company recognises a bright mind when it sees one. You have proved yourself to be brave and resourceful and men like you are rare. Welcome to our army, Locky. Go with my man, now, and he will kit you with what you need.’
‘We need good men like you, Locky,’ Gyl said. ‘Especially those who know Cipres. You’re coming with us.’
Locky dropped to his knees to thank his sovereign but Gyl stopped him.
‘Come on, son. You need some rest whilst we find a fast ship.’
‘Have you not got a ship?’ Locky asked.
The King grimaced. ‘No, we don’t tend to drag them behind us on wagons. We had hoped to secure some vessels here, although your story makes me think I must re-work our plan.’
‘Your majesty, er…I have a ship you can use. She cuts the waves faster than any ship in Caradoon.’
Gyl and Herek turned to the lad.
‘Explain yourself,’ Gyl requested.
‘Janus Quist’s ship, The Raven. She’s mine now, your majesty. And I extend her to you for swift, safe passage to the Exotic Isles.’
‘Light, lad, but you’re a constant stream of surprises.’
Locky grinned. ‘I even have a reliable crew, your highness.’
‘Herek, let’s get this boy sorted and then get down to the docks immediately. If he’s as good as his word, we sail tonight.’
25
Surrender
The four companions emerged from the Great Forest on the outskirts of Ildagarth with Hela and Sarel impressed by and just a little breathless from Rubyn’s enchanted mode of travel. Rubyn whispered his thanks to the trees but if the Forest replied, they could not tell.
He deferred to Cyrus. ‘What’s our next move?’
The soldier’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the land ahead. ‘It’s nearing dusk. I’d recommend we head into the city and take some rooms for the night. We’ll make better decisions on a full stomach and after a good sleep.’
Hela smiled her approval at Cyrus, admiring, not for the first time, his fine looks and stature. In just the short time they had known one another, she found she was helplessly drawn to him. True, he had looks any woman would admire, but his appearance was not what truly attracted her. There was something
else. Something about his closed manner as well as his direct gaze and the strength which she detected bubbling just beneath his calm exterior.
‘I’m presuming none of you have visited Ildagarth?’ he asked.
They shook their heads.
‘Then you are going to enjoy this city. It is the most beautiful in all of Tallinor with a rich history and culture.’
They entered the wondrous city as night fell and Cyrus suggested they wait by an especially ornate fountain which seemed to be a popular meeting spot. There were sufficient people milling around that the strangers would not be noticeable. In any event, Cyrus noted, Ildagarth received hundreds of curious visitors each year. A few more new faces would not register as odd.
‘Let me make some enquiries,’ he said, nodding at Rubyn. ‘Keep a sharp eye out, boy. Sarel is our precious charge.’
Rubyn made no move in acknowledgement but something obviously passed between the two men and Sarel presumed they spoke across the Link. It fascinated her as much as it irritated that they had this private skill.
They watched Cyrus stride away, Hela noticing something new and attractive about him in the arrogant gait and the way he carried himself, so tall and straightbacked, head high.
‘You two seem very close,’ Sarel said quietly to Rubyn as they waited.
‘He is the dearest friend I have. More than friend, in fact,’ Rubyn replied, not elaborating as he reached into the cool water of the fountain to rinse his face.
Sarel knew precisely what he meant by his careful choice of words. She followed suit, dashing refreshing water on her hands and face. ‘I never knew my father.’
Rubyn said nothing.
‘But you knew the intense love of a mother, child,’ Hela offered. It was the most gentle of rebukes.
The Queen smiled shyly, realising the clumsiness of what she had said and how perhaps it might affect Rubyn. She glanced towards Hela who made no more of it. ‘I hope that now you are returned to Tallinor, Rubyn, you will enjoy many years making up for all that was lost but is now found. You have two parents in your life again.’
Again she looked towards Hela who smiled her approval, not wanting to acknowledge the hollowness of such words when she considered what Rubyn, Cyrus and their friends were up against.
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