‘Lemba,’ she had said, smiling as she corrected the king, ‘Lemba, not Lydia!’ He remembered how her smile changed after Gath took her tongue and he shuddered remembering Gath ordering him to help hold her down, he, together with the filthy dungeon keeper Hackman. How he had held her fast until he realised her pain and released her, how Gath ordered him to stand away and watch as Lemba kicked out.
‘Stand over there, if you can’t hold her still.’ The king had ordered, smiling coldly and realising that Rhoàld had deliberately released her legs from their painful hold, thus allowing her the freedom to kick. He had wanted to stop the king from hurting her but fear had stopped him, fear his lord’s fury would turn to him, so he had just watched, watched, as the beautiful happy child became a beautiful, silent and desperately unhappy young woman. He felt guilt even as he saw her now, knowing his cowardice had added to her pain, I should have tried harder, he told himself, instead I just detached myself from everyone, everyone that is, except Bastian. His thoughts turned again to Bastian, the sound of his voice and the feel of his skin, his face cool and serene as he said goodbye for the last time and uttered the prayers for Bastian’s final journey. He closed his eyes as they began to burn with the hot tears welling up from deep inside him and his heart felt heavy as he realised Bastian’s features, once so dear were now not quite as detailed in his memories as they had once been, he choked back a sob.
‘Look with your heart Rhoàld, not with your head,’ said the voice he remembered so well. His tears fell as the pain of his loss and of the past months of loneliness engulfed him; he had felt so isolated since Bastian’s murder and so very, very alone.
‘I am here Rhoàld,’ Bastian said, ‘I am always here, open your eyes and see me.’ Rhoàld opened his eyes and found he had slipped into the magic, into the ether; he looked up at Bastian who smiled warmly at him. ‘I will always be here,’ he said, ‘you will need to help Lemba my love,’ Bastian added as he took Rhoàld’s form into his arms. Rhoàld smiled at his lover, his insubstantial shape seemed to pass completely through Rhoàld but he felt the love that was still there.
‘Lemba will need you as you will need her.’ Bastian said again, Rhoàld looked around him in the ether as Bastian spoke and for the second time in his life he felt the power draw him. His skin itched as the magic sang and he stared at Gideon’s box, no longer a coffin it sang with life, colours streaming from it with promise of power and light. Hundreds of tiny beams where the light slipped through the holes in the latticework, each one lighting up the dark velvety nothing, just like bright torches. Behind him, the void was growing blacker and denser; it felt threatening and evil.
‘We are close to the void here, the power and the disturbance at the root brings the barrier closer. You must go back my love; this is not safe to linger without an anchor, without a balance.’ Bastian smiled as Rhoàld looked into his face committing every line and every expression to memory before falling back into his body.
The horse snorted as Rhoàld patted its neck, it had been hard to find the way into the magic but he had done so, he would learn along with Lemba how to control it, how to make it work for him. Moreover, not in the way that Gath makes it work, he promised himself, I must find the way to achieve a balance, his thoughts concluded as he rode along behind the others, happier than he had been in a long, long time.
Chapter 21
The Clearing
The canvas wall flapped in the wind and pushed at Darnel’s back as Toby gave his report to Gath, he thought the obnoxious man looked uncomfortable and could not believe the change in him. The sergeant’s hair seemed greyer and his skin had weathered leaving his complexion sallow, almost old. When Toby had insulted him outside the king’s chambers, he had believed the man to be not much older than he was himself but now, going by the wrinkles alone the man looked to be nearer his thirties. He could hear them talking about Gideon again and could see Gath’s anger as he questioned Toby about his inability to capture the boy. Who is this Gideon? Darnel thought, knowing King Gath talked of him constantly, often telling him how much he would like him and what ‘good times’ they would share together.
He shuddered as he remembered the last good time Gath had shown him, the King had taken him to the dungeons where guards had grabbed him, holding him down and tying his limbs to the alter-like arrangement in the middle of a dingy dirty room with only an oily candle for light.
The new dungeon keeper was a huge man who wore a filthy leather hood that constantly concealed his face but Gath seemed to approve as he greeted the man as a friend. Although frightened, Darnel knew he was not going to die; he had a feeling they were going to cut away his tongue, just as Lemba had once lost hers. For weeks, he had heard whispers about Lemba and why she never spoke, until finally, one of the maid’s had spoken to him as she was leaving Gath’s service to get married.
‘Get away from here,’ she whispered as she met him in the corridor, ‘Gath will take your tongue, just as he took Lemba’s,’ she said no more as the guards approached to escort him to his rooms, just as he was escorted everywhere he went then. Even when Gath allowed him a short visit to his little sister, a guard resplendent in his red, gold and green followed him, he knew then he would never be free, that Gath would use Ffion, his small defenceless sister against him if he tried to get away. In the dungeon, Gath had requested oh so politely that he offer him his tongue, he smiled at Darnel as he lay on the cold table and bent down to kiss his lips. Darnel, finally understanding that this was real, turned his face away from his master.
‘My dear boy, I cannot have my body slaves conspiring now, can I,’ Gath said still smiling and leaving Darnel wracking his brains trying to think of a time he had spoken with Lemba. Then, he remembered with horror his whispered words of sympathy to her as Gath had tried to make her speak and the look Gath had thrown his way.
‘Yer majesty, I’ll not be talking again, I’ll stay silent…please,’ he had begged, with tears burning in his eyes.
‘My dear one, if you let me take your tongue it will heal all the faster, I will be able to heal it for you myself.’ Gath said as he had run a gentle finger down his cheek. ‘If you fight me, the magic may not take and you may bleed to death.’ Gath explained it all to him as if he were a kindly healer.
Darnel thought of his sister Ffion, working away in the castle kitchens and also knowing she would be a beauty someday, some man would fall in love with her and they would marry and get away from here… he mapped out her life, as he refused to open his mouth and comply with the king’s vile request.
‘Morgan, show my body servant what happens to disobedient slaves,’ Gath said to the hooded dungeon keeper, as a young boy no bigger than Ffion shuffled into the room, dragged by a chain around his waist. ‘This child was caught stealing and as you can see, he has already lost one hand. Sadly…’ continued the king, ‘he has not learnt his lesson and has been caught stealing again, for justice to be done he should lose his other hand but I cannot justify burdening the city with yet another beggar.’ Darnel remembered the boy’s tears rolling down his face and mixing from the streams of snot from his nose.
‘Me ma, yer worship,’ the boy had cried, ‘me ma be dying an’ she needed the medicine fer ‘er pain,’ he continued as he wiped his face with his good hand.
‘Well boy she’ll be joining you all the sooner then, won’t she?’ Gath had smiled in reply and nodded at the guard holding the youngster. The guard grabbed the boy’s hair at the top of his head and pulled back, exposing the dirty throat. The boy screamed as Gath sliced through the skin and tissue almost severing the child’s head, the guard holding the boy jumped back as blood spouted in a great gush across Gath’s robes, the scream cutting off abruptly as the boy died and his body fell to the floor.
Absently Gath tasted the blood that had sprayed across his mouth.
‘Darnel my dear, I am told your sister took some bread yesterday,’ said Gath coldly as the child’s blood registered nothing and he nodded again,
this time toward the dungeon keeper.
The leather-hooded man ripped off the cloth covering Darnel’s modesty and held a pair of pincers over his flaccid manhood.
‘You choose, my dear, your manhood or your tongue, but remember though; you will be no good for me without… without you being whole... I am sure you understand what I’m saying,’ Gath said. Darnel turned his head to the side and with his eyes fixed clearly on the dead boy’s cooling body, he stuck out his tongue and the young boy’s blood mingled with his as the knife sliced through it like a hot knife through butter.
‘It’s so much better when we co-operate, don’t you agree?’ Gath smiled as Darnel gagged on his own blood. ‘I’ll see you soon my dear I am sure,’ he added as the dungeon keeper cut Darnel’s bonds. Gath took his silken handkerchief and wrapped up Darnel’s tongue placing the wad in his pocket. ‘I’ll keep it safe for you my dear,’ he said, ‘as a reminder...’ and he walked out of the room.
It had taken a week for the bleeding to stop fully and Darnel had been in the care of the dungeon keeper for all of that time. Gath never did attempt a healing and as that week ended, Morgan received the order to bathe him before returning him to his room, only this time there was no guard on the door. The veiled threat to his little sister, whilst he was helpless in the dungeon was as strong a chain as any Gath could forge from iron and on the stand in Gath’s chamber, where once Lemba’s jewelled box had been, now stood a new box, its beautiful casing no match for the ugliness it held.
The canvas flapped noisily, bringing Darnel back from the painful memory as once more the sergeant limped agonizingly toward the tents entrance bending awkwardly to allow his stiff leg to remain straight as he passed through the low opening. Gath’s face was like thunder as he called for a page to get his horse.
‘Darnel,’ said the king we are going riding.’ Darnel threw a thick robe around his shoulders as protection against the frigid air outside and followed the king out of the tent feeling pathetically grateful Gath had made provision for warm clothing, instead of the usual thin toga.
‘I like easy access to your wonderful body,’ Gath had told him when he had given him the toga. ‘This is your uniform from now on,’ he said. Only changing his mind about the uniform when Darnel had gotten so cold he had fallen into a hypothermic state early on in the trip, Darnel had thought he was dying, a thin linen toga and a linen shawl, resplendent, as they were, were no use against a Derovian winter. On his recovery, Gath had supplied new, warmer clothing comprising of trews, a cotton shirt and a thick leather jerkin.
‘You must not die dear.’ Gath said, as he dressed Darnel himself and stroking his cheek he added, ‘besides, Mayhap a little wrapping will make the gift all the more exciting, don’t you think?’ Darnel did not reply.
Outside the tent, the skies threatened rain and heavy clouds cast a dark feel to the day. Impatient horses snorted in eagerness as Gath, his greatcoat over his shoulders strode over and clumsily mounted the lively stallion waiting for him. Darnel followed mounting his own horse with the grace and finesse of an expert, scowling and once more regretting the loss of Rhoàld and his precious blood, Gath turned his horse from Darnel and began to ride away toward the encampment of the elite guard to pick up Toby.
The encampment was buzzing with slavers and soldiers alike, the villagers themselves, were encamped overnight in large tents to avoid the cold as the previous night two children had died, despite efforts to keep them warm. To minimise further loss the slavers had decided upon both tents and hot food, which the villagers’ gratefully accepted.
Darnel looked across at the people herded like cattle into lines for gruel, a thin porridge that here, cooked in vats on open fires. He could also see where large earth ovens, U shaped holes in the frozen ground were cooking bread, the smell wafted from them to mingle with the smells of unwashed bodies and stale smell of animals. I would rather me an’ me sister be with them, he thought, as he watched a young man take a chunk of bread from an iron bucket and pass it to a small girl next to him.
Gath smiled taking a deep breath.
‘Darnel, a benevolent king will always feed his subjects,’ he said, tossing a coin at the baker, ‘the bread smells divine, my man,’ he called as he passed by, ‘send a round or two over to my tent.’
‘Yes, sire,’ replied the baker, a grin revealing a mouth full of decay as he took the coin between his lips to his teeth and attempted to bend it.
Toby stood beside his tent waiting quietly for the king. Gath had healed his broken leg but healed it badly as a punishment for losing Gideon and he knew he would be in constant pain until Gath saw fit to relieve him of it. He scowled as he saw the body slave watching him, Darnel felt nothing but pity for the man, knowing that Hollins was as much a slave as he was himself, his pity showed in his expression and Toby hated him for it.
‘Do not say a word Hollins, just show me where man, shown me where…’ Gath said, forestalling Toby as he opened his mouth to speak. Toby nodded, climbed onto his mount awkwardly and set his horse off the road in the direction of the woods, each jolt and jar of his leg showing on his face until the grimace of pain became almost a permanent feature. For nearly an hour, the small company rode through the trees until they reached a clearing where Toby stopped and turned his horse to face the king, his face wet with tears of pain.
“Ere me lord, it were ‘ere,’ he said, as he struggled to get down from his horse and sit upon the cold ground. Thunder rumbled overhead as Toby looked at the clearing where he had had Gideon at his mercy. I should ‘ave killed ‘im then, he thought as his leg throbbed. He did not know how Gideon had done whatever he had done but one moment he was inside Mayan and the next he was lying under the tree beside the road, in perfect agony. Since then he had repeatedly replayed the scene in his head wondering just what had gone wrong.
Gath too dismounted, a look of incredulity on his face, he fell to his knees and thrust his fingers as far as he could into the soil.
“By the journey’, can you not feel the magic in this place? Can you not feel the life here?’ He whispered. Darnel looked around the clearing and at first noticed nothing. The ground was still cold and hard and the trees were still dead and brown but as he looked closer, he could see there were green shoots peeping above the soil and buds trying to form on the stick like branches, the air too felt a little warmer, spring had come to this tiny corner of Derova.
‘My son was here, here, in this place.’ said the king as he walked toward where Toby was nursing his painful leg. Gath knelt and took Toby’s leg between his two hands as he began to mumble, the air suddenly became cold and Darnel watched sadly as numerous green buds withered and died, clouds of warm air left his mouth and spiralled into the cold winter chill.
Toby was pain free, his eyes lit up as he clasped his king’s hands.
‘Sire, I won’t let yer down again…’ he said, his eyes shining with gratitude.
‘No, sergeant you won’t,’ replied Gath as he stood once more, his face turning toward the denser trees in front of him.
‘Hollins…how close are we to Green Home Village?’ Gath asked abruptly, his eyes boring into Toby who had also risen from the ground and was standing as straight as his stiff leg would allow.
‘By road sire, three days, though it should be quicker across country and riding fast, I reckon they’ll be using the road though,’ he replied, thinking of the carriage he had seen at the Green family’s cottage not far away. ‘Sire…’ Toby said as a thought burst into his head, ‘Gideon’s grandparents live half a mile from ‘ere, could be they are still there,’ he added, looking anxiously at Gath wanting only to please him.
‘No, I would be able to feel him if he were that close,’ Gath replied. ‘Come, we go back to the encampment, they are not far ahead of us I can feel the trail heading away, and as you say we’ll like as not meet them on the road.’
The king’s party arrived back at the campsite as the slavers were striking camp and herding the people of Gre
en Home Village back to the road and as the convoy moved slowly away, toward Devilly. Toby watched them go, people he knew, had known all of his life, he stood and watched the road until the last person disappeared into the distance. The winter festival was almost upon them and he had done to the villagers what they had done to him nearly three short years ago. He could still see them, how they laughed and giggled in pity as he had crawled on all fours out of the inn. Suddenly he raised his fist high into the air at the now empty road and shouted.
‘Oo’s laughin’ now then… C’mon, oo’s laughin’ now?’ The road stayed silent, as the sky opened and the threatened rain fell hard and fast, Toby continued to stare down the empty road with the drops bouncing off the dirt around him like rubber balls thrown by children.
‘Oo’s laughin’ now?’ He whispered the question again angrily, though no one could hear.
Chapter 22
Tom and Selda Hollins
Gideon, lying uncomfortably in his box for yet another day felt the change as soon as the party passed the Great Oak.
‘Stop, I wanna get out,’ he called but the horses were already stopping, Jed and his father raised the lid of the box and finally Gideon was able to sit up. Nearly three days in the cramped conditions of his father’s blanket box had left him aching and sore, not to mention hungry and thirsty, personal breaks had been the only reason anyone removed the lid at all. The company had done their best to get Gideon to eat and drink but once outside of the box, he very soon began to feel sick and ill.
‘I be right as rain now,’ he said as the heavens opened and the rain did indeed fall, hard. He looked up, relieved to see the dark brooding clouds and feel the drops on his face and he opened his mouth letting the water trickle inside; it was cold but refreshing. Three days of sky as seen through the latticework lid had been enough. The two men helped him down.
The Tessellation Saga. Book Two. 'The One' Page 16