Lauryn was on deck now, pulling a shawl about her to ward off the stiff breeze. She allowed Gyl to wrap his arms about her.
‘You believe in our powers now, don’t you?’ she whispered.
‘I have witnessed strange magics with my own eyes. How can I not believe in you?’ he whispered back into her soft hair.
‘You have to trust us.’
‘Us?’
‘My father, our mother, my brothers…’ her voice trailed off.
‘Lauryn…’
She shook herself. ‘I’m all right. I get waves of fear when I think about my family under threat.’
He hugged her harder as he watched the docks of Caradoon draw closer. ‘I will never let any harm come to you again. I pledge my life to protecting my Queen.’
She turned, trying to smile but failing. ‘You cannot protect me, my King. Not from him.’
‘Then I will die trying.’
‘Then you will die,’ she said, softly. ‘He is coming and he is driven by evil. I have heard and seen the evil within. We may all die.’
Gyl could not summon any words of comfort. Her resignation was too complete. ‘Then we shall take our last breath together, my love, for I do not want to live without you.’
Her gaze met his strongly now. ‘No. I will not let him hurt you. Tallinor needs you.’ And reading the fervour in her eyes, Gyl believed her.
Cyrus noticed the King and Lauryn sharing what was probably a final private word. The Raven would moor soon and the final leg of his centuries-old journey would begin. Beneath his fear at what was coming, his despair over Herek and his anguish over how to protect Rubyn from the mad god, he felt his leaden spirits lift slightly with the knowledge they would be back amongst the trees soon.
He let us go, didn’t he? Cyrus said, sidling up close to Rubyn who was gazing back out to sea whilst everyone else looked towards Caradoon.
Rubyn nodded.
Why do you think he allowed us to escape?
I think he helped us to escape.
But why help us to make safe passage to our zone of strength? He surely knows about the Heartwood.
The youngster shrugged. I can’t guess why…perhaps he wants to conquer us in the very place where we feel at our strongest. So his victory will be all the more sweet.
Do you believe that?
No.
Rubyn, please. Tell me what you’re thinking.
The young man sighed. I think he wants us to destroy him. That’s why he is allowing us to get to the Heartwood, where we are strong…where we do feel safer.
They had not shielded their Link securely. Lauryn arrived on Rubyn’s other side.
I agree. She shrugged. Sorry for eavesdropping. Neither of them seemed to mind so she continued. Orlac suffers. I have seen it. She faltered and the men kept their silence, staring out to sea as she composed herself. When Dorgryl did his worst…and we were joined…I could feel Orlac’s hate and despair. We can use that against him but we need to speak with Father.
Cyrus nodded. Last time we linked they were just entering the Rork’yel Mountains with Goth.
When was that? she asked.
The night before last.
His work is done then.
Should we link to him?
She shook her head. I’d like to surprise him, if no one minds, although I feel he will probably contact us soon, she replied.
All were unaware that as they shared this private conversation, Alyssa was being lifted gently from her husband’s arms for the last time.
Her children would never see her again.
‘Will you not come with us?’ the King said softly to the young man who had brought them safely back to Tallinor.
Locky bowed deeply. ‘Sire. I must return home and set my affairs in order. There are others to take care of. I must see to their welfare,’ he said, thinking of all the young women at the tavern. He straightened and looked into his King’s face. He even attempted a smile. ‘Besides, I don’t possess the magic. I am of no further use to you.’
‘I might make my own judgement on that,’ Gyl replied dryly. ‘Herek told me that you wished to join the Shield.’ He saw the light blaze again in Locky’s formerly dulled eyes.
‘Yes, sire,’ he said, blushing furiously now although his pluck did not desert him. ‘I have always had ambitions.’
The King smiled now. ‘And how high would those ambitions soar?’
Locky cleared his throat, thinking of Herek and how much it had meant to meet him. ‘Given the opportunity, sire, I would aim to be prime.’
Gyl gave little away in his expression, other than to lift an eyebrow. He knew what it felt like to have such a powerful sense of longing. He recalled how much he had treasured the chance to train under Herek as Under Prime. Knew the satisfaction and pleasure of anticipating becoming his King’s first man—his father’s champion, he thought sadly. Locky was still young enough to be able to learn about soldiering…and having someone so adept on board ship—and one with so many years ahead of him—would be a great boon.
‘Oh, that lofty?’ he replied.
‘Yes, sire. Is that wrong?’
‘Not at all. Well, lad. Settle your affairs in the north and then come to Tal. We shall speak at length about your future.’
Locky looked fit to burst with pride. The weight of Eryn’s, Quist’s, and then Herek’s, deaths—which had settled so heavily on his shoulders—seemed to lighten immeasurably and he smiled broadly for the first time in many days.
‘I will, sire. I will make speed.’
The King held out his hand. ‘Tallinor owes you much, Locklyn Gylbyt. You are most welcome at its royal court any time.’
Leaving the docks after the farewells to Locky and his crew, they felt a hollowness settle about them. Fear crept around the edge of their emptiness. The King dispatched his men to Kyrakavia with orders to leave a small company there and for the main group to return to Tal to await further orders. He was assuming full leadership of his men again…Prime and King.
‘What now?’ he said to Cyrus finally.
Before the soldier could answer, Cyrus felt the familiar cold slice of the Link opening, as did Rubyn, Lauryn, Adongo and Juno.
It was Solyana. Where are you? Her message was brief and urgent.
Rubyn answered. Caradoon.
Make haste. Use the trees without delay. Your father needs you.
She closed the Link permitting no further discussion.
Gyl suspected something was wrong by the sudden bleak expressions on his companions’ faces. ‘What happened?’ he asked, turning to Lauryn.
‘Trouble, I think,’ she said, worriedly. ‘Our father.’
Cyrus took command, hoping the King would forgive him any insult. ‘Rubyn. Can you take us all?’
The young man nodded solemnly.
He looked back towards the King. ‘Then we ride for Caremboche, sire.’
‘And then what?’ Gyl asked, perplexed.
‘The most novel journey you’ll ever experience in your own Kingdom, my lord,’ Cyrus replied.
Dorgryl plotted. He was frustrated by Orlac, who was too thoughtful and closed to him. He had never been able to read his nephew’s thoughts but his senses told him he was now navigating the dangerous waters he had known he would face. The time was right to take over Orlac completely. He must own his nephew by the time they reached the Heartwood. He felt it deep within his soul that Darganoth, King of the Host, would be there waiting for him and that he, Dorgryl, must have full possession of all his nephew’s powers if he was to re-enter the land of the gods and deal with his weak brother.
How do we travel? he asked as his nephew brooded on the palace balcony, staring out over the beautiful royal gardens where he had strolled so often with Lauryn. Surely not at the snail’s pace of a clumsy ship?
His host remained irritatingly silent.
Tell me. I’m intrigued, he persisted, his oily manner working hard to hide his annoyance.
When I’m sure
they have arrived I will tell you. Until then, leave me in peace.
Dorgryl remained silent but had no intention of leaving his nephew in peace.
Rubyn noticed that his precious stone, his beloved and only personal possession—which had been quiet for years—had begun to gather heat. He could feel it burning through his thin shirt pocket. He felt curiously comforted by its sudden awakening as he led them from the great old oak into the Heartwood.
Gyl was too stunned initially to even comment on this unique method of transport. The King felt dizzy from the magic and from the realisation that just moments ago they had been standing on the edge of the Great Forest at one of its fingers which pointed to Caremboche. And now he noticed they were in the depths of the Forest where the air was cool and sunlight filtered through a thick canopy of leaves. He felt Lauryn squeeze his hand tightly in reassurance. Trust, he kept telling himself, hearing his mother’s caution. Trust the magic. He felt relieved that he would be seeing her shortly; had not realised how much he had missed her presence in the strange blur of events since riding frantically out of Tal in chase of her daughter.
A huge silver wolf met them.
Come, was all she said, turning and loping away.
Although Gyl did not hear this he felt a heightened sense of fear wash over the small group of people as they moved forward. He looked at Lauryn, who clutched Pelyss close.
She shook her head briefly. ‘We follow,’ she whispered, feeling a comforting warmth begin to burn. It was the stone she had fiercely guarded throughout her imprisonment beginning to reawaken.
Solyana led them in silence until they emerged into a familiar clearing. Lauryn put Pelyss down and rushed towards her father. He held her tight but there were no bright words of welcome, no smiles or even tears of joy to see her again. In her own relief at feeling his strong arms wrap themselves about her, she did not sense his grief. And even when she stood back she had no time to consider his curious welcome because Gidyon descended and swept her into another embrace.
He too was fighting tears. Are you…he began to say.
I’ll be fine, she dismissed, reading his grief now. Oh Gidyon, she whispered privately, what’s happening? She wanted to know why their mother was not there, but Gidyon hugged her hard again. Let our father explain.
His stone suddenly began to burn urgently in his pocket close to his chest. He felt strangely comforted by it amidst the grief.
Cyrus had quickly ascertained something serious was amiss. It did not take much to notice, despite Lauryn’s initial squeals of happiness to be reunited with her family, that others were holding back— although his heart leapt at the sight of the comical pair now emerging from another part of the Forest. The giant and his companion, the dwarf, did not recognise him. Of course, he looked very different these days. Instead their eyes were shining with happiness to see Adongo again. Suddenly Kyt Cyrus and Juno felt like strangers.
He cast only to Tor, who looked strangely devoid of any emotion.
Thank you for bringing them back, he said before Cyrus could say anything.
I always keep my promises. Tell me what occurs, Cyrus pushed into Tor’s mind.
Wait, came the softly spoken reply. Make your salutations. It is important for the Paladin.
Flames appeared and a chorus of chimes began.
Darmud Coril shimmered into view. ‘Welcome back, brave souls of the Paladin,’ he said, his delight quiet but obvious.
His few words seemed to open a valve within them. It was as though they had all been holding their breath and his welcome released it. Instantly the ten members of the Paladin were renewing age-old friendships; with smiles and tears offered freely to one another, especially when Cyrus’s and Juno’s identities were revealed.
It was a happy scene which Gyl drank in. The sight of Darmud Coril had made his jaw drop. He could not imagine he would ever behold such a vision again. He, a mortal, could feel the throb of a powerful magic as the Paladin were finally reunited beneath the canopy of the Heartwood.
Where was his mother?
He was desperate to see her again. He even leaned towards Torkyn Gynt to ask after her whereabouts, but pulled back for some reason. Something about the way the tall, dark man carried himself told him to wait. She would show herself soon enough. He imagined she was probably picking some flowers for Lauryn’s welcome or, more likely, leaves for her herbals. He smiled, watching the Paladin embrace. Gyl suddenly felt he had so much to say to her. Well, with his father gone, she was all he had now. She and Lauryn. Precious Queens of Tallinor—that made him smile again. He was already thinking past the fear everyone else was feeling. He knew Tallinor would survive Orlac and he would see Lauryn on the throne at his side. He could not have said why, but Gyl did not doubt this picture which had come into his mind at the same moment Darmud Coril had appeared.
Tor was experiencing muddled emotions during the Paladin’s reunion. He found himself standing so still, withdrawn, because it seemed the best method of handling this internal chaos…which was the only way he could describe what he was feeling. And all the while something insistent called to him. He was not sure what it was—but it was powerful, tapping away, trying to win his attention. Sparks of Colours came to mind, brilliant and dazzling. They spoke to him but he pushed them aside for now.
Alyssa. He could not bear to think on it. His heart would slowly bleed him to death at her loss but whilst he still had the strength, he must set his mind to Orlac. Alyssa and the bleeding would come later…if there was a later. He wanted to feel the same joy that the Paladin were experiencing but instead felt sadness. It was his fault —his fault that all of these fine souls had borne so much pain and grief. It was because his father, Darganoth, had delivered him up that all these people would now bravely sacrifice their own lives…for the second time.
He absently noted the golden puppy sniffing around the heels of Gidyon, who had introduced himself to Rubyn. Tor felt the keen cut of disappointment that he had let his own children down. Two brothers who had never set eyes on one another and now, awkwardly and urgently, would have to build the trust which would bind them. Who knew what they might face? Who knew what their purpose was? Lauryn, standing so close, had already paid a costly price on his behalf. In protecting him she had given the most precious and intimate part of herself over to a madman.
The anger arrived. He must not give in to it. Not yet. Everyone needed to know the reason for his grief first.
He spoke for the first time. ‘We have grave news.’
A hush fell over the Paladin. Tor spoke aloud so Gyl could also hear. He was frightened for the King. After all, Alyssa was his mother, in all but giving birth to him. He reached for Lauryn’s hand. He was frightened for her too.
‘My lord,’ he said, turning and bowing reverently to his sovereign.
Gyl was taken by surprise at Gynt’s courtesy. He had pushed aside all thoughts of royal protocol in such surrounds and under such strange circumstances. He gave a short nod in return to the man who had stolen his mother’s heart.
‘Thank you. May I ask where her majesty is?’ He had not meant to reinforce her ties to himself but in regard to his mother he felt helpless—she was the former queen, married to his father, Lorys. They were his parents. He would not let her absence go unremarked without showing his own distress. Gyl sensed a nervous shifting amongst some of the people gathered before him at his enquiry. For his part, he noticed Torkyn Gynt’s incredibly blue eyes held his fearlessly.
‘It is that I wish to speak of, sire,’ Tor admitted.
‘Good,’ Gyl replied, confused. ‘Call her, then. Let us all be together. I keep being told that time is our enemy and yet we stand here amongst polite introductions and touching reunions. Surely plans need to be made?’
He was disturbed to see Gynt shake his head. ‘No, sire. No plans. He will come and we will react.’
Lauryn took the King’s hand again and flicked a glance towards Gidyon. Something was wrong with her mother. She
was sure of it now for there was no reason in the Land that Alyssa would not be here to see them back to safety within the Heartwood. She felt her stone burning whilst her heart thumped in her chest. What was the grave news?
All eyes now watched Torkyn Gynt take a steadying breath. Cloot had arrived to sit on a nearby branch.
Show courage, the bird whispered into his mind. Like she did.
Tor set his shoulders, pushed all other thoughts from his mind and began to tell his tale of grief.
34
Destiny
They await us, Orlac said suddenly.
How do you know?
I have my ways.
Tell me.
No. He stared again through the eyes of Pelyss towards Lauryn, watching her grieve.
Bad news, then. She has heard of her mother’s courage. He saw that on one side of her stood the King, shocked and pale. If he listened carefully he could even hear the Tallinese sovereign’s outrage at the news just received. Through the golden pup he noted another familiar person who stood on Lauryn’s left. Saxon. The Kloek. The Sixth.
Pelyss sniffed amongst a circle of people and a wolf. Is the animal Cloot or Solyana he wondered? That was the final pair of Paladin he had not accounted for. He had checked off eight of the ten and for some inexplicable reason had felt his heart swell at the sight of them. Old Nanak, the Keeper, had once whispered that there was a fine line between love and hate. Orlac, in his rage, had never understood such a sentiment but increasingly he did now. He knew Lauryn hated him but perhaps she could not help but love him ever so slightly. And whilst he hated the Paladin—they had imprisoned him for centuries—he also loved them in a strange way.
He admired them for their courage and tenacity and respected them for going to their own deaths so resolutely. They had known only pain and despair at the end of the magics he wielded and still they were prepared to face him again. He felt a certain elation at their dedication to their cause and to those they protected. And so yes, he believed he loved them for that commitment. He wondered sadly what it would be like to be loved in return by anyone. He would never know, he decided.
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