by Mark McCabe
It was hard to regret the time she’d had with Rayne though, for all that. She wondered where he was right now. Would he be fast asleep or would he be awake too, thinking of her as she was thinking of him? It would be nice to think so. She knew him well enough to know that if he were awake he would be missing her, just as she was missing him, and that he would be worried about her, just as she was worried about him. They had become too close for it to be any other way for either of them.
Hopefully, he would be fast asleep. It was, after all, the middle of the night and she couldn’t imagine that he would have been mistreated since his capture in anything like the way she had. He would be under guard too, of course, but his guards would be Rangers. He would probably have sat around a campfire with them earlier in the night chatting amiably about the war, or about what they had done before it had started, or what they would do once it was over. For him, despite his predicament, life should soon return to normal. They would take him to Keerêt, and then they would probably release him.
Wherever he was, though he would undoubtedly be worried about her, he would be unlikely to guess at the treatment she had been receiving since her recapture. Rayne had virtually no real direct experience of Tug. Yes, he knew that Tug would stop at nothing, even murder, to recapture her, and he had to know that they would be taking her back to Golkar, but he wouldn’t have any idea of the torment she was enduring at the hands of these monsters along the way.
Though she drew comfort from the thought that he wouldn’t have to endure that knowledge, it also heightened her feeling of loneliness. In many ways that was the hardest thing to bear about her plight. Not only was there no one out there to help her now, there wasn’t even anyone that would ever really know what she went through before they finished with her.
What was it her grandmother used to say? A heart makes no sound when it breaks. She was right. Hers was broken now and no one even knew, or cared. Love was such a personal experience; neither the happiness nor the grief it could bring were things you could share with others. The people you met, that you really cared about, they left footprints on your heart that only you could see or feel.
She told herself that Rayne would eventually convince himself her death had been a swift and a painless one. Any other course would be too painful for him. Self-preservation alone would probably prevent him from considering the blacker of the paths she may be destined for. She couldn’t blame him for that. Even now, she dare not consider some aspects of her future herself.
Sara remembered another time when she had lain bound beside a fire and Josef had stepped out of the blackness to rescue her. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen this time. Josef was long gone, and a good thing too. Though he had known what she was facing, he had seen enough horrors in his life without adding this one to his burden. Who was he, anyway? she wondered. There were so many unanswered questions there, like how he had known so much about her and Rayne, and how he had come by his magical powers. Sara realised she would never find out the answers to those questions now.
If only she had been able to achieve what Josef had eventually suggested would be her best hope, to contact one of the other Guardians. She had failed, of course. What chance had she had after all? In some ways, it had been cruel of Josef to have built up her hopes. Even trained warriors would have found what they had set out to do a daunting task, with Golkar bringing all of his forces to bear to thwart them. Sara guessed that Josef’s desire to avert the evil future he believed Ilythia was destined for had blinded him to that small fact. She couldn’t blame him for that, either. She was too tired to apportion blame. It would serve no purpose.
And where were Golkar’s adversaries, anyway, those former colleagues of his, those great ‘protectors’ of Ilythia? Wasn’t that why they called them the Guardians? If they were supposed to guard Ilythia, then where were they? Had he defeated them already? She was sure he would. Even Josef had been sure of that. Nothing could escape from Golkar. Ilythia and all of its inhabitants were doomed to their fate just as surely as she was.
If only she had never been brought here, never been chosen by Golkar in the first place. And why had he chosen her? How had he picked her out? What had drawn him to her? Had it been simply chance that had led Ruz and Tug to her particular bedroom on that fateful night?
Thoughts of home inevitably drew an image of her parents to Sara’s mind. She hadn’t given much thought to them for a long time now. Why was that? she wondered. Was she shielding herself from that grief?
They would be distraught by now, of course. She wondered if they would have given up hope now, too. It had been weeks since she had been taken from them and there would be nothing to indicate where she had gone. The police would have been brought in. They would have scoured her room, the house and the surrounding area, all to no avail. How mystified they must have been at finding no signs of forced entry to the house, no signs of foul play or any other indication of where she had gone or who with. Perhaps they would assume that she had run away from home. How ironic that would be. They probably thought that she had run off with some unknown lover, just like the story Tug had put about to secure her recapture. How else could they possibly explain the circumstances of her disappearance?
That would be hard for her parents to bear, to have to think their daughter had run away leaving them to despair with no word of where she had gone or who she had gone with. What must they think of her now if they had come to believe that was the case?
Sara was glad when she felt the need for sleep starting to take a hold of her. Where in all of the morass she had sunk into would she find a pleasant thought to hold onto? How would she find the will to bear what was yet to come? She had no answer to that. She knew that there was none.
It seemed to Sara that the trip back to Golkar’s home, to Tu-atha as Tug called it, took a lifetime. She lost count of the number of days that had passed, or whether the trip should really be counted in weeks, or months. She could no longer reckon in such terms. Time had long since ceased to have meaning for her.
Day after interminable day they trudged along through the dreary landscape of the Western Wilderness. Westward ever was their course and each day brought them closer and closer to what Sara knew would be her final resting place. Tu-atha would be the end of the road for her.
At times she wondered if it was only her state of mind that made their surroundings seem so drear and sinister. Had her circumstances been different, and her company more abiding, might she not then have found the forest a beautiful, peaceful place, full of life and wonder? She didn’t dwell on the thought. Her circumstances were what they were, and her company, well, let’s just say that she thought she would be unlikely to find a worse set of companions though she journeyed through hell itself, if that wasn’t where she was already. That’s what her trip was in her eyes, after all, a senseless sojourn through a living hell, having to suffer again and again the daily torments and indignities her captors seemed to delight in dishing out to her. As if her fate alone wasn’t enough of a torment.
Sara remembered stories from her history books at home, of how she had read that in the Middle Ages they would sometimes draw and quarter their victims before they hanged them. Wasn’t hanging enough, she had always wondered, not understanding the need for any more cruelty beyond that. Now she was the victim being tormented unnecessarily when she was already destined for a horrible death at her journey’s end. The little mind games they played with her seemed endless. And they clearly derived so much fun from them. It still didn’t make any sense to her. Not that anyone would ponder over her circumstances. No history book would ever be written to tell of her fate.
Given the horrors of her current circumstances, it was no small wonder to Sara that she hadn’t already succumbed to the pressure of it all and altogether lost her sanity. She suspected the reality was she was only keeping her head together by the barest of margins. She also wondered whether she was still capable of judging her own state of mind anymore. W
hat was her benchmark, after all? Certainly not Tug, or Ter, or even Rewin. Whatever the state of her mind, even if by some miracle this nightmare did come to an end, Sara knew that she would never again be that girl she had been back at home with her parents. That time of innocence was gone now, forever.
Finally, one day, about mid-morning, they came to a split in the road and Ter and Rewin drew their horses to a halt. The trail before them branched in two directions. Neither was sign-posted, and Sara hadn’t the faintest clue which led to Tu-atha or where else the road might take them. She had long since lost any sense of direction. The sun at her back told her their trail still led in a westerly direction and that was all she knew.
“Good speed, Tug,” said Rewin to the draghar, who had also halted and had turned in his saddle to face his two companions. Nell stood dutifully to the rear of Tug’s mount, nodding her head contentedly. She was still tied by a short length of rope to the back of the draghar’s saddle. “This is our road,” the thin man continued. “I expect you’ll be there before nightfall, same as us. Can’t say as I won’t relish a soft bed for a change.”
Tug grinned broadly at the last comment. “It ain’t the bed you’re looking for, you rogue, it’s the company. Margret will give you a good welcome home, I’m sure. Just remember to pace yourself. You ain’t as young as you used to be.”
While Rewin could manage only a wry grin at the comment, Ter threw back his head and roared with laughter.
“You too, you big oaf,” laughed Tug. “My guess is you’ll be straight over to the Swamp to see Ida. Just remember to stop long enough to have a bath, you stink worse than a bandy-legged skunk. And make sure she doesn’t winkle all that gold out of your pocket on your very first night.”
“Don’t worry about that,” chortled Ter. “I got plans for my share. Didn’t go traipsing halfway across the land just to spend all me pay on one fat wench . . . gunna spend it on a dozen fat wenches . . . har har.”
Ter’s good humour was infectious and soon all three of them were laughing uproariously together. The whole scene had an air of unreality to Sara. Anyone would think they had just come back from a trip to the county fair. It was hard to believe, seeing them right now, that these were the same murderous villains that had hunted her down and dragged her back here beaten, bound, and subdued.
“Drop over and see us as soon as you can,” called Rewin from over his shoulder, as the two men turned their horses towards the left of the two trails that lay before them. “And some more work’d be handy too. Can’t say as I wouldn’t mind taking some more of Golkar’s gold off his hands. Right neighbourly of him to stimulate the local economy.” By the time he’d finished speaking he was yelling and had nearly disappeared from sight behind some intervening bushes.
“I will,” called Tug in reply as he turned his own horse to the right, forcing Sara and Nell to follow.
The rest of that day passed in total silence. Not that there was usually much chatter among the group. Sara never spoke at all any more, unless she was spoken to, or a reply was expected. The others had occasionally chatted about this or that but she had long since given up paying any attention to them, preferring to retreat to the safety of her own inner world as much as she could.
Still, the deathly quiet of the day had an unnerving effect on Sara. Perhaps it was because they were so close to Tu-atha now. It was hard to force away thoughts of what her return there would mean anymore; not when they were but hours away from it. It was more than that, though, she realised. The silence had an unnatural air to it. It was as if the forest itself was holding its breath. Hadn’t Rayne said something similar when he had found her here? She seemed to remember him commenting on the eerie feeling he had felt in the valley that housed Tu-atha. That was how it was now. Even the birds had stopped chirping.
And so it was that they had good warning of the rider that approached them as their horses stepped slowly along a winding forest trail late in the afternoon. The sun was before them now and dipping down towards the horizon, casting long shadows and causing its light to flicker in and out through the boughs of the trees before them as they moved forward. Though their sight was constrained, however, their hearing was not.
Tug was the first to hear it, and when he stopped and turned to the right, peering off into the undergrowth, Sara could hear it as well. It sounded like a big animal was coming towards them from just beyond a thicket of bushes, not far to the right of where they had stopped. Sara watched as Tug took his bow, quickly stringing it and expertly fitting an arrow with a deftness that had to be admired. Sara felt her heart begin to race.
At that moment, a horse and its rider emerged from between two of the bushes they had both been looking at. Sara felt her stomach do a quick flip as she recognised the rider instantly.
“About time,” said the rider as he drew on his rein.
Chapter 9
Ormuz. Its very name had once been enough to inspire awe, though none now lived who could tell that tale. Today it was nothing more than a desolate ruin. The hands that had raised its walls had long since crumbled to dust. The feet that had trodden its streets, the bejewelled slippers that had paced its corridors of power, they were nothing now, not even an echo in some long, lost, corridor of history. In fact, their passing had been so complete that none but the gods knew whence they had gone, what they had achieved, or why they had failed. Time, that most relentless of hunters, had long since thrown its cloak of obscurity over their deeds.
Nor did the isolation of the citadel do anything to enhance its memory. With its crumbling walls perched on the crest of a lonely hillock, deep inside the Northern Wastes, far from civilisation, far from any of the trade routes that crossed the waste and even farther still from the nearest oasis, its very location had long been forgotten. The remains of the paved road that led to its gates could still be found if, one looked hard enough, but none ever did.
For the Northern Wastes were aptly named. Most of its travellers stuck to the caravan routes. They were well marked, and for good reason. Those that strayed from these paths were rarely seen again. In fact, it was said that only the Gu-anth, the wandering tribes-people of the dunes, could survive away from the string of oases that traversed the desert’s heart. Not that many could tell of them either, for they were a miserable race, pitifully few in number and rarely seen by others. They cared little for strangers for they were wanderers, nomads, a forlorn people living lives of constant struggle. The desert was a harsh environment and the Gu-anth weren’t inclined to share its few resources.
For the moment, then, Kell sensed they would be safe; though for how long was uncertain. The wizard lifted his weary eyes and gazed around the structure in which they had finally taken refuge. Thyfur was still asleep, he noted, as his eyes passed over the sleek form of the beast that lay curled up like some gigantic misbegotten feline against the far wall of the ruined temple they had chosen for sanctuary.
What better spot could they have picked, he mused, then a Temple of Mishra; for despite its ruined state, that was unmistakeably what their current abode had once been. The broken statuary, the distinctive frescoes, faded though they were, the low altar stone with its shallow depression, the two niches in the back wall with plinths that had once held life-sized statues, all of these marked the ruin for what it had once been, a place of worship to the most revered of all the Ilaroi, to Mishra, and her consort, Tarquin.
Perhaps, thought Kell, this choice would bring them the turn of chance they so desperately needed, for it would take nothing less than the intervention of a god to get them out of the situation they now found themselves in. The battle was over, but not the war. Golkar wouldn’t rest now until he had finished it. He would know that Thyfur was far too powerful an enemy to be left unchecked.
Turning his attention to the sleeping beast, Kell couldn’t help but wonder at the remarkable change that had come over the creature since they had reached Ormuz. When they’d arrived at the place a few short hours earlier, the gryph
on had been exhausted. Both the wounds he’d received in the battle and the gruelling flight away from the scene of combat to this remote fastness had taken its toll. It had taken all of the creature’s remaining energy just to heave his vast bulk inside the crumbling walls of the temple precinct. Thyfur had all but collapsed in the corner once he’d completed that task.
And yet now, to look at the beast, even though he was sleeping, he showed all the signs of being well on the way to recovery. The sheen had returned to his metal plumage. Inexplicably, the raw wound across his hindquarters had closed. And the beast’s breathing, where formerly it had been laboured and shallow, now seemed to have returned to an even and healthy state. All this in a few short hours.
Kell knew that this wasn’t normal. From his earlier experience, he’d expected Thyfur to need days to recover, at the very least. And yet, here in this place, the creature was undergoing a remarkable transformation.
For not the first time, the Guardian wondered if there was a connection between the gryphon, or indeed the gryphons, and the long forgotten race that had raised the once mighty towers of Ormuz. This wasn’t the only time he and Thyfur had been here together. Indeed, it was Thyfur who had first shown it to him many years ago. Perhaps the beast’s interest in the place went beyond what Kell had formerly assumed. Perhaps there was some link here that he hadn’t previously discerned.
Though the phenomenon intrigued him, Kell put the mystery aside. If he hadn’t been able to divine the way of it before this, he sensed he was unlikely to do so in his current state. Thyfur might seemingly be on the mend, but the wizard was far from being in any condition to continue the fight with Golkar.