Destiny

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘Sorry,’ the Prime said softly.

  Cyrus forced his breathing to return to normal. ‘What are you doing here, man?’

  It was exactly how Cyrus had spoken to him in the old days. Herek, normally so dry and serious, grinned. ‘Couldn’t leave you.’

  ‘Those were my orders.’

  ‘I overrode them. I believe I am the senior officer. Anyway, why are we here?’

  ‘Paladin. Juno and Adongo. They have been protecting Lauryn, their bonded. We need to rescue them.’

  ‘From?’

  ‘The guardhouse apparently.’

  ‘How do we know this?’ Herek whispered, cautiously looking around.

  ‘Orlac told me.’

  Herek was silent for a moment as he considered this. ‘Why would your sworn enemy give you helpful information?’

  Cyrus shook his head. ‘Search me. I was trying to weigh up whether to trust it or not when you startled me.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Undecided. Is Hela safe?’

  Herek gave his old superior a sly glance. Fortunately for Cyrus it was too dark for his friend to see how angry he was with himself for asking after Hela and not Sarel.

  Herek answered, ‘Queen Sarel is hidden for now. Your Hela is with her.’

  ‘She’s not my Hela.’

  Herek shrugged. ‘The women are safe and protected by the senior member of the council of elders. Lauryn, I’m glad to say, is safe at the docks too.’

  Cyrus swung his attention from a puppy which had entered the gardens to glare at the soldier crouching next to him. ‘You mean on The Raven which is now sailing for Kyrakavia?’

  Herek sighed. ‘No one will go without you.’

  ‘Damn you, Herek. I gave orders!’ Cyrus hissed.

  ‘And I told you. I overrode them. Now let’s get these people out and then we all go.’

  Cyrus fumed in his silence.

  ‘Are you going to consult your instincts again?’ Herek asked, daring the legendary anger of Kyt Cyrus to boil over.

  It did not, thankfully. Cyrus suddenly stood and Herek followed suit. ‘He knew I was here. He’s too clever. He gave me the information as deliberately as he gave Lauryn back to us.’

  ‘Do you understand any of it?’

  Cyrus shook his head. ‘No. But my memories have returned since all of the Paladin linked. And I do recall that there was a certain nobility about the madman we battled for centuries. When one of us succumbed to his powers, he would stop the flow. There was something rather principled and dignified about the strange way in which he would give us time to mourn our loss. He was ruthless and his strength enormous and yet he showed odd mercies.’

  ‘And you think this might be that nobility coming out…telling you where your friends are?’ Herek asked in amazement.

  Cyrus shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I have no explanation for it. He gave us back Lauryn. Why would he do that? He could have killed me earlier in less time than it takes to blink—Light!—he could have killed all of us including the King. But he didn’t. It’s baffling. He’s never been predictable, that’s for sure. But in this he has me in confusion.’

  ‘Can you talk to your two friends, as you do the boy?’

  ‘I would but I fear he might be listening.’

  ‘But he’s already paved the way.’

  ‘No. I mean the other one he spoke of. Dorgryl.’

  ‘Then let us make our way to the guardhouse. Time is marching on.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Cyrus said. ‘I can’t imagine the guards will yield their prisoners happily. Are you ready to go down fighting next to me, Herek?’

  ‘I always have been, sir,’ Herek said, drawing his blade.

  Rubyn insisted. ‘I have to go to him.’

  Gyl rubbed his eyes. ‘I forbid it.’

  Rubyn did not flinch; his expression did not change. He just locked stares with the King. Then he spoke quietly. ‘You and I are similar. Neither of us have known our real fathers but we’ve known a love which comes close.’

  The King was taken aback—not just by the sudden switch in topic but by the fact that Rubyn seemed to know such intimate details.

  ‘And?’ he replied, defensively.

  ‘That’s all,’ Rubyn said. ‘I must go. Lauryn has woken. I think you should be at her side.’

  ‘How do you know? I checked on her just moments ago.’

  ‘I am her brother, sire. We are…connected.’ He turned and Gyl watched the young man leave the ship and walk purposefully into the night. What a totally baffling character he was.

  Gyl moved towards the stairs which led to the chambers below but then shouted new orders to Locky.

  ‘Ready when you are, sire…and when Prime Herek returns to my ship. I’m not going without him,’ The Raven’s captain replied.

  The King told himself heads would roll over all this insubordination. But the truth was his sense of danger was overcome by the knowledge that in the old captain’s stateroom lay a young woman he loved very much—and suddenly not much else mattered at this precise moment other than knowing she was safe.

  He took the stairs two at a time.

  They had almost made it; almost pulled it off without a drop of blood being spilled or so much as a single man being bludgeoned senseless. Cyrus could believe that Orlac might have even withdrawn part of the watch that night because it just seemed too easy to enter the guardhouse and find their way down to the holding cells.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ Herek whispered nervously.

  ‘Just count our blessings but watch my back.’

  The two soldiers stepped cautiously, back to back, along the short, darkened corridor. A single flame burned pitifully at one end but it left the other end—where they were headed—in darkness.

  They arrived at the last cell and peered into the shadows, blinking. In its recesses they could just make out bodies curled on the floor.

  ‘Adongo?’

  ‘Who goes there?’ It was a woman. Cyrus did not recognise the voice. She sounded startled.

  ‘Juno?’

  There was a rustling as the figures stood. ‘Who is this?’ A man this time. Cautious. ‘There is no Adongo here. I am Titus.’

  Cyrus could not help but smile. It was such a familiar voice. ‘My old friend. You cannot fool me. This is Kyt Cyrus. You knew me as Cyruson of the Paladin.’

  Hands reached through the bars of the cell and suddenly Cyrus was gripped in a strong hold; a swarthy face came into view. ‘We owe you thanks.’ The words were simple enough but the eyes of the owner who spoke them conveyed a far stronger emotion. Cyrus returned the grip. He nodded, the thrill of the reunion with Adongo catching at his throat. ‘The Light has guided us together again.’

  ‘Into danger again together too,’ said a petite, pretty woman appearing at Adongo’s side.

  Cyrus showed his appreciation. ‘Well, that’s not the Juno I remember,’ he admitted.

  They laughed.

  Herek hushed them. ‘Cyrus, we must hurry.’

  ‘This is Herek. He is the Prime of Tallinor. I am privileged to call him friend.’

  Despite his fear for their situation, Herek felt pride at such words. He nodded politely at the prisoners. ‘Time is short. Keys?’

  ‘Over there,’ Juno pointed. ‘Prison security is slack in Cipres. We are its first prisoners since some pair faced the Kiss of the Silver Maiden.’

  Cyrus frowned. ‘Don’t ask,’ Adongo cautioned.

  Herek fetched the keys and attempted to open the door as quietly as possible.

  ‘Where are your guards?’ the Prime asked.

  Adongo shrugged and Juno answered. ‘They were called away a short while ago. We have no idea where to or why.’

  ‘Our luck,’ Cyrus said, pulling back the door and then hugging Juno. ‘I definitely like the new Juno.’ He grinned and pulled Adongo close.

  The Moruk’s smile faded. ‘Where is he?’

  Cyrus knew whom he meant. ‘Occupied.’

  Juno could n
ot bear to ask the question but knew she must. ‘Tell us of Lauryn.’

  ‘Safe,’ Cyrus said. ‘We have her on a ship which is being delayed because we had to come back for you two.’

  Their relief at good news after three days of suffering the torment of not knowing Lauryn’s fate was evident on their faces.

  ‘You should have left us,’ Juno admonished.

  ‘Well, Herek wanted to, of course,’ Cyrus said nodding towards the stunned Prime. ‘But I could not contemplate such a thing.’

  He winked and Herek scowled. ‘I think we must get out of here now.’

  As he said it, guards arrived at the other end of the corridor.

  ‘Swords, I think,’ was all Cyrus had time to say before the men were upon them.

  Rubyn entered the Ciprean palace by the same western gate as he had earlier that night. This time, however, it was manned and he took the precaution of making himself invisible for the short time required to silently pass the man on watch. The soldier was not paying much attention anyway as he relieved himself at the side of the road. Still, Rubyn was not taking any chances and the push of magic was small. Invisibility was his favourite trick and he had often driven Cyrus to distraction by teasing him with his skill from a very young age.

  Tell me you felt that, Dorgryl grumbled, confused by their inactivity.

  I felt it, his nephew replied calmly.

  Well?

  It is the son. Gynt’s third-born, Rubyn.

  You seem to know him.

  We met…whilst you were otherwise engaged.

  And?

  Nothing. He told me who he was when I gave him back his sister. He shrugged. I mentioned her dog, I think.

  Dorgryl growled. He was angry again. You are weak like your father!

  Only you can know that, uncle. I have not met him since I was an infant, remember?

  The elder god continued as though Orlac had not spoken. Weak like your father and weak like your brother.

  Be careful, Dorgryl.

  His uncle wisely held his tongue.

  They felt the push of magic again. This time it was Rubyn casting. They listened.

  Where are you?

  They heard Cyrus reply amidst the clang of metal. Tell me, damn you, that you are not here.

  I am here.

  Cyrus grunted and hit out hard with his sword. Then help us! Herek is down.

  Cyrus fought back hard. They were trapped in the dungeons, their backs to the wall and as each Ciprean guard fell to the blade of Cyrus, another took his place. Herek was bleeding badly from a gash to his groin; a cowardly blow from a downed guard who slashed upwards with a dagger and connected.

  ‘Adongo!’ Cyrus cried, not able to see what had happened.

  ‘He lives. Not long for this world though unless we can get help.’

  Cyrus began to fight like a man possessed. He bared his teeth and drove his attackers back. The former prime’s talent with the sword had been unmatched in his time at the head of the Company and every nuance, every subtlety of his skill came to the fore in this corridor of terror. Even as his lifeblood spilled about him Herek smiled. It seemed to Juno who clutched him, begging him to hold on, that his smile came from far away as he admired once again Kyt Cyrus brandishing his sword. To Herek he looked like a dancer with every cut in the air precisely made, wearing his opponent down until a deathblow could be landed. How could he lie here in a pool of his own blood as this man fought valiantly? No, they must die together. Side by side. He would not desert Cyrus until the Light took him away.

  With one almighty push using strength he did not know he possessed Herek gave a loud Tallinese battle cry and shoved himself to his feet making a timely slash and almost hacking off one guard’s head with his passion to stand once more alongside his former prime. Alas, it was the last dash Prime Herek would make in this life. He tasted death at the end of a viciously jagged Ciprean sword, falling heavily at the feet of Cyrus as the Light finally claimed one of its bravest.

  Cyrus could feel himself tiring as another man queued to take the present fighter’s position as soon as he fell. He knew they were dead without Rubyn’s help. It seemed to him that Adongo and Juno—like him—had not been bestowed with any special powers. He was a warrior. His job now was to fight to the death and protect those behind him. But when Herek had suddenly screamed ‘Honour the Crimson’, he felt a surge of blood fire his fury. It turned to despair as a Ciprean stabbed forward and took Herek square in the belly. And as he faltered, staring at his friend fallen at his feet, he felt the lift of the blade that was destined to cut through his left shoulder to his waist.

  He anticipated it. Did he welcome it? He could not be sure. But he braced himself and spared one last thought for the young man he loved as much as the true son who had died too young.

  The blow came but it was not one which drew blood. Instead he felt as though all the air was suddenly sucked from his lungs and a burning occurred around him. The impact of the sensation forced his eyes shut and he grimaced through this strange pain. If Cyrus had turned around he would have seen a similar expression on the faces of Adongo and Juno whilst in front he would have noticed only one of complete shock on the faces of his attackers.

  At his feet, Herek’s face was slack. He felt nothing.

  Why? Dorgryl boomed in his mind, blood-red mist spilling up where Orlac did not want to feel it.

  Orlac forced it back, used his strength. He knew how to wield it better against the old god now and felt the give. I will beat you, he said smiling to himself. To his uncle he merely shrugged.

  The elder god was unnerved by the power. Orlac did not quite have his measure yet but Dorgryl had told himself, since he first clothed himself with his nephew’s flesh, that he would have to rely on his wiles. The young man was incredibly strong with the power and even now he had barely tapped its well.

  Answer me! he roared; his anger all he had left to use against Orlac.

  His nephew sighed and spoke quietly. I will do this my way, not yours.

  You will go to the Heartwood?

  Yes. It is fitting.

  Cyrus felt his body crunch down hard. He rolled onto his back, groaning, still not daring to open his eyes. He knew he still had his sword in his hand and was ready to strike just as soon as he could drag in a lungful of breath.

  He thought he could feel boards beneath him now and the freshness of a sea breeze stirring his hair. All of his senses had returned and he could smell fish, hear the creak of a ship about him. His eyes opened in shock and he sat up, breathing hard.

  ‘What the—’

  ‘Cyrus,’ said the familiar voice of Rubyn. ‘Be easy.’

  The former prime stared wildly around picking out the faces of the ship’s young captain, Locky, and various soldiers and crew he recalled.

  ‘The Raven?’ he said, disbelief crowding his voice as he looked for Rubyn.

  Hands picked him up gently. It was the King who looked as shocked as he felt.

  ‘I don’t understand this,’ Gyl said.

  Nearby Adongo and Juno looked similarly drugged and blurry-eyed as they too gathered their wits.

  Rubyn appeared in front of him. ‘We are on The Raven, yes. We must go, now.’ He emphasised his final word and Locky—still too shocked from seeing Herek’s corpse to speak—nodded, giving orders immediately through well-practised signals his stepfather had taught him. He was grateful for the experienced, albeit smaller, crew which reacted instantly to his signal. The ship had been ready for hours and it felt as if only moments passed before they pushed away from the quay as quietly as they had arrived. The gods smiled on them that night and the breeze Cyrus had felt gathered strength and guided them swiftly into open waters. The Raven, true to her reputation, slipped through the waves as keenly as a knife, rushing her precious cargo towards the coastline of Tallinor.

  Cyrus shook his head to clear it and looked to the King.

  ‘Herek is dead,’ Gyl said, his voice choked.

  ‘
I know. Is he here?’

  The King nodded, stepping back to reveal the prone body of his loyal Prime.

  ‘Ah, Herek,’ Cyrus said sadly, moving towards his old friend. He kneeled beside him and touched his face. ‘Brave Herek.’ He took the soldier’s hand and held it against his own heart, murmuring special words whispered only by warriors over the bodies of their fallen brothers.

  Cyrus passed his hand over the man’s eyes, closing them, and felt the presence of Rubyn kneeling beside him.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, turning to his bonded one. ‘Thank you for bringing him with us.’

  33

  The Stones Call

  With strong winds aiding its escape The Raven made her fastest ever crossing towards the coastline of Tallinor. She would moor at Caradoon in a matter of hours. A gloom had settled heavily upon everyone since their departure and conversation was sparse. The death of Herek had left Cyrus and the King deeply disturbed and they found themselves drawn to one another, often talking quietly late into the night on deck, mostly about Lorys. It was through the former prime’s eyes that Gyl viewed the early reign of his father and appreciated what a great friend as much as a loyal warrior to the Crown Kyt Cyrus had been.

  Hurting just as deeply was the captain. Seeing his beloved Prime Herek dead had affected Locky profoundly and there were moments when he felt the return voyage was being achieved by memory rather than his expertise. He thanked his closest crew more than once for their support as they closed ranks about their very young captain and steered the ship through familiar waters to its home port.

  Lauryn seemed recovered but strangely closed on her trauma. She continued to shield against Adongo and Juno and although she did not avoid them or speak ill to them, both felt the chill of being shut out. However, both her Paladin held centuries of wisdom, and despite their concerns understood that what Lauryn had lived through was more than most could bear. They knew she and Rubyn were talking using a private Link and deemed this to be a good thing.

  Rubyn’s masterstroke had been to arrive out of thin air, not only with four people but holding a wriggling golden puppy which Lauryn had immediately claimed as her own. A gift, she had explained. Rubyn’s kind gesture was the ice-breaker in the new relationship between brother and sister. Although a little shy around each other at first, even Cyrus had to marvel at how often Rubyn would laugh out loud at something Lauryn had communicated. It was especially noticeable because his laugh was rare, but dazzling when it came.