The Scrivener's Tale

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘What are you saying? I didn’t quite catch that?’ Cyricus taunted, holding Cassien’s limp, broken body in a curled fist close to his ear.

  It was his one chance. Cassien summoned every ounce of his remaining strength and more, from reserves he didn’t know he possessed. In a fearless, killing arc he swung himself up and forward, using the motion to swing Wevyr’s sword around over his head and plunge it into the cheek of Cyricus, where it stuck like a needle embedded in the face of the giant, demonic creature.

  Cyricus flinched angrily and flung his attacker down, this time succeeding in breaking Cassien’s back as easily as if he’d snapped a twig.

  Gabe, Cassien struggled to whisper, ignoring the pain that passed quickly into a numb sensation; he was sure that life was nevertheless draining from him. It is done. Release me, I beg you … let me go. Let me float free and painless. His brother heard and in a blink he was free of his body and mortal sensation. Thank you … I’m sorry I did not know you. He rose helplessly, invisible, cast weightlessly adrift. He would have one more pleasure before all that he knew winked out of existence.

  ‘Cassien … oh, mortal,’ he could hear Cyricus saying in between his laughter. ‘Your “death blow” is like a pinprick!’

  Cassien hovered close to the ear of Cyricus. ‘That’s the dragon sword, Cyricus.’ The demon swung around, swatted at the mist he alone could see.

  ‘Dragon sword?’

  ‘Forged in magic, demon. Magic more ancient and powerful than you.’

  Cyricus frowned. The words were having their effect and so was the wound. Cassien could see the telltale path of the poison creeping across the demon’s ugly face. If he could have smiled in his ethereal form he would have.

  ‘The sword was made with the ancient blood of a dragon and the ancient blood of a king. That blood is in you now, Cyricus. It is the blood of Fynch, Keeper of the Wild, and his magic will do the killing. I merely brought the death blow as I promised.’

  Cyricus began to scream. There was no doubt he understood what the blood of the dragon king and especially the magic of the Wild meant.

  ‘I hope you die very painfully, Cyricus. This time the Wild has rid every world of you.’

  The poison was working swiftly now. Cyricus was making gasping, choking noises, leaning against a tree. Cassien smiled as the demon creature slumped to his knees.

  ‘As well you might bow your head to the power of the dragon and the Wild,’ he whispered for the last time into the ear of Cyricus, and then Cassien of the forest, son of Fynch, let go of everything that mattered except a final whisper to his elder brother.

  Kiss Ham for me … and go visit that woman I told you about, Gabe. Her name is Vivienne. You will like her. I’m going to look at the forest light one more time and then I want you to tear down your creation. I want Cyricus to take his last breath looking into the Void.

  Cassien lifted his spirit’s gaze and in that last sweep revelled in the light filtering through leaves, the shadows and the colour green against the rough bark of the trees, and the soft browns and greys of leaf litter.

  Farewell, Romaine. I have known the love of a mother through you … and I thank you.

  The Void absorbed Cassien as he died, while Cyricus wheezed his last breath, poisoned with the proud blood of the dragon king, and the demon winked out of existence.

  Ham. He’s gone. He said it is done. And that he loves you, Gabe said across the link to his younger brother.

  At Rittylworth Monastery, the small frame of Hamelyn shuddered in the arms of Florentyna, who wept with him, while Tamas cradled Cassien’s previously convulsing body against his chest. Now it lay slumped and lifeless against the king, who glanced at Florentyna and shook his head.

  ‘The demon is destroyed,’ Ham said, sounding choked.

  She sniffed, gathered her emotions up. ‘Ham, he’s peaceful now.’

  The boy gulped. ‘That’s because he’s dead, your majesty.’

  ‘I know,’ she soothed. ‘He was heroic.’

  ‘He shouldn’t have stayed there.’

  ‘I wish I understood everything that has happened this day and where Cassien had to go,’ Tamas admitted. ‘All I know is that his name will never be forgotten by the Morgravians … or the Cipreans.’

  ‘He saved our world,’ Hamelyn sobbed.

  ‘The three of you did,’ Florentyna said. She hugged the boy closer and kissed his soft sandy-coloured hair.

  ‘I’m taking his body to the Great Forest. It is where he would want to remain.’

  ‘We will help you,’ Tamas said. ‘Come. We shall take him today and honour him.’ He stood, offered his hand to Florentyna and then helped Ham to rise.

  The boy wiped his eyes, sniffing. ‘We need Gabe to be there too.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Florentyna. Can you reach him, Ham?’ The boy nodded. ‘Then I will help Brother Hoolyn prepare Cassien for his journey. Would that be all right?’

  ‘You, your majesty?’

  She smiled sorrowfully at him. ‘It would be a true honour. He is a proud son of Morgravia. And I have lost too many of those in too short a time. The empire is in mourning.’

  EPILOGUE

  A ring of legionnaires stood to attention, flying the colours of Morgravia at the entrance to the Great Forest on its southern rim. They were not permitted to follow the mourners into the depths of the forest, but the queen assured her men that she would emerge, unscathed, for she had the protection of wolves.

  No-one understood her jest, but none were going to argue with the huge she-wolf that awaited their majesties, who were accompanied by a lad and a tall, dark-haired stranger whom someone had fetched from the cathedral. The beast, with her distinctive silver-tipped fur, glared at the men, who lowered their gazes, before she turned to pad softly ahead of the burial party.

  Cassien’s broken body was wrapped in a linen sheath and set on a hollowed tree trunk, according to Ham’s wishes, before being lowered into the ground. Only four people and the wolf were present. After each of the quartet had quoted a prayer, Romaine had howled and her companions had been stunned when a pack of wolves answered in mournful echoes.

  One by one the wolves emerged, each carrying a leaf in their mouths. Gabe held his breath in wonder, watching the majestic animals take turns to weave their way around each of them before dropping their leaf into the grave of a man they had respected. When all were done, the adult wolves, of which Gabe counted twelve, sat back on their haunches, lifted their heads and let out a chilling and searing howl, which raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

  The wolves melted away, leaving only one. She stood in the clearing and beside her stood a man. He looked featherlight and frail.

  ‘Master Fynch,’ Florentyna said in welcome.

  ‘Empress Florentyna.’ He dipped his head. ‘King Tamas.’ He smiled and it was wan. ‘Thank you for bringing Cassien back to his beloved forest; the wolves will always watch over him now.’

  The king and queen murmured their gladness.

  ‘Will you forgive me, your majesties, if I am brief? I wish to speak with Gabriel and Hamelyn.’

  Florentyna nodded. ‘Of course. Should we wait …?’ She looked uncertain.

  Fynch beamed her a bright smile, despite how ill he appeared. ‘No, your majesty. I will take Ham home. And it looks to me as though Gabriel is set to travel.’

  Gabe nodded. ‘Yes, I’m going north.’

  ‘Is there anything we can do for you, Master Fynch?’ Florentyna asked.

  ‘Give us a royal marriage to celebrate, perhaps, your majesties,’ he said, looking from one to the other.

  There was a moment of awkward silence and then Florentyna laughed. ‘Is it that obvious?’ she said, stepping closer to Tamas, who took her hand and held it close to his heart.

  ‘Screamingly so,’ Fynch said warmly. ‘It’s what the empire needs; it’s everything Cassien gave his life for. Mourn by all means, but get on with your lives. Make sure Morgravia and Briavel, the Razors an
d now Cipres flourish. Make a good life for your people. Give us strong sons and beautiful daughters.’

  Florentyna’s eyes were misted as she stepped forward and gently clasped the little man to her. ‘Thank you, Fynch, for having faith in me.’

  ‘We are kin, majesty. How could I not?’

  Their farewells were brief.

  ‘Don’t get lost in the north, Gabe,’ Florentyna warned. ‘Lots of loose and lusty women up there,’ she joked.

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping for, your majesty,’ he grinned, raising a hand as the king led Florentyna from the clearing.

  The three men of the dragon watched until the royals had disappeared.

  Fynch sighed. ‘My time is short. Gabriel, you were magnificent … your creation stunned me when I heard.’

  ‘It was Ham’s idea. Everything we did was Ham’s inspiration.’

  Fynch nodded. ‘And you’re headed north … why?’

  ‘There’s a woman there. I promised Cassien I would visit her.’

  ‘Vivienne,’ Ham said. ‘You will like her.’

  Gabe sighed, getting the strong impression that it was time to take his leave too. ‘That’s what Cassien assured me. I know you have things to discuss with Hamelyn, so with your permission, I will bid you farewell … um … Fynch.’

  ‘You’ll come back, won’t you, Gabe?’ Ham urged.

  He grinned. ‘Of course, little brother. We have a lot of years to catch up on, but I made Cassien a promise and I must fulfil that. He gave his life for us …’ He couldn’t finish, merely shrugged. Ham jumped into Gabe’s arms and Gabe squeezed him hard, kissing his head. ‘We have a link. Something that no other family has, so talk to me. In the world I come from we have a contraption for that, but it’s more of a nuisance than it’s worth. I like having you in my head, Ham. Anytime, give me a call.’ He grinned.

  Ham nodded, echoed the grin and slid back to the ground. ‘Don’t be gone too long, although once you meet Vivienne, I doubt you’ll be in a rush to leave Orkyld.’

  Gabe chuckled and ruffled his brother’s hair. ‘Don’t you be so sure.’

  ‘Wait here with Romaine, Ham,’ Fynch said. ‘I would walk a few steps with your brother.’

  Away from Ham, they paused.

  ‘I will tell him now,’ Fynch said, before Gabe could say it. ‘It has to come from me.’

  He nodded. ‘Will I see you again?’ he asked, already knowing the answer.

  The little man shook his head. ‘My time is done.’

  Gabe hardly knew him and yet he felt instantly choked. He bent low and hugged the man, kissing the top of his head as he had Ham. ‘I’m glad I found you, have known you.’

  ‘I’m glad I have been able to tell you in person that I love you, Gabriel. And that I am proud of you.’

  Gabe nodded, suddenly overcome with emotions that felt similar to the loss of his wife and child. ‘I …’

  ‘No need. I understand, son. Sometimes it’s better to leave things unsaid.’

  Gabe swallowed, knowing his father to be right.

  ‘Good luck on your travels,’ Fynch continued. ‘May they be bright.’

  ‘Good luck on yours too. May they be restful … you deserve it.’

  Despite his fragility, Fynch appeared to light from within. ‘Go, my son.’ He kissed him once more and then Gabe couldn’t bear to look upon the father he scarcely knew or he was sure he could not leave. He raised a hand to Ham, turned away and forced himself not to glance back, not to slow, but to keep his stride steady and long until he’d cleared the forest, to where a horse waited patiently tethered. He did not allow himself to pause even then; he untied the horse, immediately hauled himself into the saddle and guided the animal toward the road that would take him north into Orkyld.

  When he saw the milestone that told him how far the journey ahead was, he realised he had been weeping without being aware of it … still he kept the horse firmly headed in the same direction.

  A wolf from Romaine’s pack watched him until he was a dark smudge and until even that was lost. Only then did the young wolf turn and blend back into the darkness of the Great Forest.

  Ham was scared. Everyone he loved had gone, although it was evident that Master Fynch wanted to speak with him alone. He glanced with trepidation at Romaine.

  Be at peace, Hamelyn, she pressed into his mind.

  A young she-wolf trotted up and sat at the edge of the clearing beneath the dappled light filtering through the canopy of leaves.

  Fynch smiled at Ham from where he stood, steadying himself against Romaine. ‘Gabriel has gone,’ he said, ‘and now we are truly alone, Hamelyn.’

  Ham held his breath, not sure what was wanted of him.

  ‘I’m wondering if you can guess why I wanted to speak with you alone?’

  He shrugged. ‘Do you have another task for me, Master Fynch?’

  The elderly man chuckled. ‘Oh yes, indeed, young Hamelyn, I do have a task for you. It is both a burden and a joy. I have chosen you for it.’

  ‘Then I am honoured, Master Fynch.’

  ‘I will tell you your new role if you would be kind enough to sit with me against that tree. I fear, Hamelyn, that my strength is rapidly deserting me.’

  Hamelyn helped Fynch to be seated and sat beside him, stroking Romaine. The younger female had not moved, barely twitched a whisker in fact, although Ham was aware of how closely she watched them.

  ‘I have another favour to ask of you,’ Fynch said, his breath sounding laborious.

  ‘I am happy to do whatever you ask of me.’

  ‘Good. You may find it difficult, but it is a word I wish you to say, just once.’ Ham looked at him quizzically. ‘The word is father and I would gladly hear you utter it in my presence,’ Fynch said, his skin taking on a terrible pallor suddenly.

  Ham stared at him. His thoughts scattered. He knew he’d heard right. He knew he’d not reacted, but inside he felt as though he was in turmoil.

  ‘Would you do that for me?’ Fynch asked.

  His son swallowed. ‘You’re my father?’ Fynch nodded, regarding Ham carefully. ‘And Cassien’s and Gabe’s?’ he added, incredulous. Fynch nodded again.

  ‘How did I miss that?’ Ham said, his voice tiny.

  ‘Because you were not looking for it. Both of your brothers were troubled by their parentage … their lack of knowledge. But you, Hamelyn, you simply accepted your lot and got on with life as each day presented itself. It’s one of the reasons I’ve chosen you for this task I speak of. Gabriel and Cassien are both too emotional, whereas you are perceptive, inquisitive and indeed conclusive, thus more up to the challenges that may be ahead.’

  ‘Who is my mother?’

  ‘Her name was Jetta,’ Fynch began and told Ham everything he could about the beautiful woman who had birthed him.

  ‘That’s so sad,’ Ham said, unable to help the large tears that fell heavily into the leaf litter where he sat.

  ‘It was her deep and abiding love for her children, but especially for you, that made her believe she couldn’t face life without you, Ham. You were a calm, sweet, beautiful infant … and I suspect the man who is growing within you will be no different.’

  ‘What do you want of me?’ he asked.

  ‘It is not what I want of you. But what he desires,’ Fynch said.

  ‘He?’ Ham repeated, and then a blinding light forced him to look up and then away as something huge began to descend into the clearing.

  He was speechless, knowing from the glimpse of the shape of the great head that this was a dragon … the most famous of Morgravia’s creatures of legend.

  ‘Am I dreaming?’ he murmured.

  ‘No, son. Here is the dragon king, to whom your father is bonded. We are flesh and blood together. He has come to collect you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I am dying, Hamelyn. In fact, I believe it is only moments before my strange and long life will breathe its last.’

  ‘No!’ Ham yelled.


  Romaine was in his head in a heartbeat. Calm, now, Ham. You are becoming one of us. You are chosen. Accept the mantle that your father bestows. It is an honour.

  ‘What is asked of me?’

  Fynch reached for Ham’s hand, clumsily let it fall against his chest. ‘Oh, my beautiful son, you are to be the next Keeper of the Wild. You will ensure the safety of Morgravia and Briavel, of the Razors, and now of Cipres, once I am gone. You will be the king of the beasts; the forest will be your home when you are not in the Wild. The forest creatures are your friends. Romaine will guide you, but she too is becoming an old girl, eh?’ he said, reaching out his other hand to the wolf, who licked it. ‘Romaine is giving you her daughter. She is your wolf and she will defend you with her life and be a companion always for that life she protects.’ His voice had become so quiet that Ham was straining to hear.

  Ham turned to regard the young wolf that had padded up. She was pure light grey, with the palest of blue eyes. He offered his hand, which she sniffed, and then she stepped forward and without warning licked his face.

  Greetings, Hamelyn. I am Sylvan.

  Hamelyn bowed his head, at first lost for words. Hello, Sylvan. You are magnificent.

  He felt her pleasure trill through him.

  Hamelyn, boomed a new voice in his head like a mountain shifting.

  Ham stood and bowed. ‘My king.’

  Your king and father. Fynch has given me his son and I am honoured to accept you, the dragon king pushed into his mind. Come to me, Hamelyn.

  Hamelyn walked over to where the brilliance of the dragon glinted in a dazzling array of colours which winked and sparkled with an internal luminescence they seemed to possess. Ham imagined that Florentyna and Tamas could see the light from Stoneheart but the dragon seemed to hear his thought.

  Only the forest creatures see me … and the Keeper of the Wild, of course.’

  Is that where we’re going?

  The Wild is our home, but you may visit here and the realms as you choose.

  Why is Fynch dying?

  Because he is old, son, and because he has defied the rules of the Wild. He needed its strength and power but he was determined to finish what Elysius began with Cyricus. It meant we could not keep him safe from the ravages of his own mortality. And I suspect Fynch is tired. He has watched over the empire faithfully … protected the Wild and been a good son of Morgravia.