The realisation hit him hard.
Gynt? That was it! They were travelling to be with Torkyn Gynt.
This was too good, he thought to himself as he mounted his horse. He would kill them all.
The men looked towards their strange and detestable leader.
‘We ride south. To the Great Forest,’ he instructed.
Tor had not liked sending Cloot away from him again and the falcon had said little in response to his idea, which meant the bird had liked the idea even less. However, he had accepted Tor’s quiet reasoning that they needed to know what might be happening up north. If Orlac was approaching from Cipres, then Caradoon was his logical point of arrival.
Just take a look around and fly straight back,
Tor had said.
You’ll be gone a couple of days. I’ll be another two days getting to the Great Forest. I shall wait for you in the Heartwood.
Cloot had lifted strongly from his shoulder that same night and flown high so quickly that Tor could not even make him out and heard only the one piercing call his friend gave as farewell.
Tor had felt very alone as darkness enveloped him. As
long as Cloot had been with him, he had been able to lock away his heartache at leaving Alyssa. Without his friend’s reassuring company and ever-wise voice in his head, thoughts of her came crashing back to remind him of what he had given up, once again. Visions of her lying naked in Lorys’s arms crowded his bleak thoughts as he trudged closer to the Forest and sanctuary. He did not feel like stopping to rest or eat. He would walk on through the night.
He hoped his two children were safe in Tal; getting to know their mother and familiarising themselves with the ways of the Tallinese. If they were ever to fit into this new life of theirs, this would be a good proving time. Little did he know one was presently sleeping not far from the roadside having galloped across the realm towards a village called Brittelbury, whilst the other was slung across a horse headed north with two gods and her secret Paladin. If he had known, Tor would not have tried to cheer himself with a bright whistle as he walked.
Alyssa and Saxon had stopped for the night, sharing whatever meagre supplies the Kloek had thought to toss into their saddlebags before their hasty departure.
Alyssa was not fond of pears. She had preferred not to eat them ever since that day near Caremboche when she had stolen three of the fruit from an orchard. Not long afterwards she had witnessed Saxon’s eyeless, bloodied face calling to her. Just the smell of pears could bring that hideous scene back to her of Kythay charging
about the courtyard laying waste to several screaming men, or she would see those two beautiful Fox boys, Milt and Oris, looking at her lovingly and with awe as she attempted to perform the trick called Flight. She had succeeded and they had died saving her life.
She looked away from the pear that Saxon insisted she take.
‘You must eat,’ he said.
‘Have you anything else in that bag?’ she asked hopefully.
‘I stole two muffins from Cook but was planning to eat those myself later,’ he said, eyes glinting wickedly in the glow of their small fire.
‘Oh, you wretch, Saxon. Give me one!’
He laughed and handed the small cake to her. She made noises of great satisfaction as she bit into it.
‘It’s good to see you like this,’ he said, eyeing her carefully, not wishing to make too much of it.
‘It’s great to feel this carefree,’ Alyssa admitted. ‘Although I shouldn’t…what with a murderous god on the rampage for us!’ She grinned. ‘I feel alive again, Sax.’
‘Is it him?’ He knew he did not have to speak the name Torkyn Gynt.
She nodded. Nibbled more of her cake. ‘Partly.’ Then she looked up at her friend. She began to vocally tick off what was making her feel so good. ‘I like no longer being Queen, to tell the truth. I love the knowledge that I have children. I agree with you—Gyl will make a fine King of Tallinor, given the right support. I’m in wonderment that I am chasing Torkyn Gynt down and that I find myself here with my closest of friends, an ageing Kloek,’ she grinned at the face he
pulled, ‘and I accept that our only way to find freedom from our burden is to face Orlac and not hide from him.’
‘Oh, is that all?’ he teased.
Alyssa threw the pear at his chest. He caught it deftly and bit into it. The smell of the juice sickened her. She spoke to avoid the nausea and to keep that scene from returning to her head.
‘I do feel unbearably happy when perhaps I least should. I’m embarrassed.’
‘Don’t be. No one around this fire will make judgements on you.’
‘Oh no…not even if I tell you Tor kissed me?’
Saxon stopped chewing on the fruit. ‘Be careful, Alyssa. We all love him, but you have the most to lose in loving him.’
‘I know,’ she said, dipping her eyes and regretting immediately that she had shared this information.
‘You deserve to be together, you two. But I’m fearful of all that we’re yet to face before any of us can feel safe.’
‘I know,’ she said, again, shaping her bag into a pillow and settling down to sleep. She yawned. ‘If we ride all day tomorrow, will we catch up with him?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Good,’ she replied, her eyes closed and voice already sounding far away. ‘Because I can’t wait to throw my arms around him.’
She opened an eye just briefly to enjoy the scowl which crossed her Paladin’s face.
It was just a few hours after Cloot had left him that Tor felt the cold slice of the Link rip open suddenly in his head and heard the alarmed voice of Adongo flood his mind with a call for help. It was brief…too brief.
Orlac has Lauryn. We head north.
The Link snapped shut. Tor swung around in the night, latching onto its trace, following it back in a frenzy of his own doubt that he had heard it and his dread fear that it was true. He found nothing. Adongo had shielded. Tor sat down by the roadside, breathing heavily. He heard an owl hoot but not much else stirred in the stillness of the night. The owl made him think of his Paladin and he needed his wise counsel now.
Cloot! Where are you?
I’m with a group of friends. We’re celebrating over a feast and there’s minstrels and dancing; acrobats and fire eaters…where do you think I am?
the falcon asked caustically.
Flying to Caradoon as you instructed! I’ll be there before dawn.
Tor was too distressed to even feel the intended sting of his friend’s sarcasm.
Turn back.
Why?
Cloot could now hear the fright in Tor’s voice.
Orlac is already here.
The bird paused. He knew when to stay quiet. He also knew Tor would elaborate.
Adongo linked a few moments ago. Very briefly. His exact words were: Orlac has Lauryn. We head north.
There was silence for a while and Tor permitted it to lengthen. He hoped the falcon would come back with something reassuring.
So Adongo has already found Lauryn and Orlac’s well ahead of us. Already in Tallinor?
Apparently.
And I presume Adongo will not allow you to link?
Correct. He is shielded. Why?
Obvious. If it is Orlac—and one has to assume that Adongo would not claim something as wild as this if he was not sure—then he cannot risk the god tracing the Link to you.
How can he be sure?
That it’s Orlac? Very easily. You forget we all fought him for centuries. Unless he is wearing a glamour he will not have changed. And I cannot imagine that he would use tricks…he will want the Tallinese to fear him; he wants us to know he can enter the Kingdom and do exactly as he wishes.
Why does he not recognise Adongo?
Again I’m presuming, but I’d suggest our Moruk has gone to great lengths to disguise his true identity in order to offer protection to Lauryn.
Another thought slammed into place for Tor.
Cloot, if he has Lauryn, that means he has already been to Tal. Perhaps he has laid waste to it. Gidyon, Alyssa…!
Wait! Listen to me. Adongo risked everything to get that message to you. If he was prepared to take that risk, and damage had been wrought on Tal, or your son or the Queen was injured, he would have told you that too—even if it meant his death. No, I believe he has given you, very succinctly, all the information you need.
Why does a god, bent on revenge, determined to raze Tallinor, enter the city and steal a single woman?
Tsk, tsk. You’re not thinking, Tor. Who is that woman?
My daughter.
Quite. And what will you do now?
Follow her.
Precisely. I imagine that’s what he wants. He is showing you that he can do this. And once her disappearance is discovered, I imagine the King’s Guard will swing into action. Perhaps even Gyl himself— who you tell me is sweet on Lauryn—will give chase. Orlac is achieving everything in one subtle move. By stealing Lauryn he draws you out, which is his primary intention. But he also fires the Tallinese military into action plus he unsettles a new King, possibly prompting him to do something reckless and leave his realm exposed. No, Tor, I think it’s an inspired move.
Tor was silent; turning over all this information in his mind.
Why Lauryn…why not Gidyon?
Probably because women seem more helpless—not that this one is—but he doesn’t know that. Perhaps Gidyon was not around. We don’t know the circumstances.
Why not Alyssa?
Because as much as you love Alyssa, your daughter is even more precious. You will do anything to ensure her safety. I imagine he knows this.
How does he know who she is?
I can’t answer that. To all of us it’s clear that she bears a striking resemblance to her mother, but then Orlac has never seen her mother.
Tor felt the chill grip him.
But Dorgryl has.
Cloot flew on in silence and Tor did not want to break the Link.
Are you turning back?
No. I shall press on. I might as well not waste this journey.
Then I’ll do the same. I have to get to the Heartwood and find Rubyn. We’ll make a decision as soon as you return. Make haste, Cloot.
Fear for Lauryn and uncertainty about his next move drove Tor on; he had walked hard through the night and even broke into a lope as he spotted the first trees of the finger of the Forest towards which he headed.
Arabella met him with one of her affectionate hugs. ‘It’s good to have you back,’ she said, although she could already see from the grim set of his jaw that he brought tidings she did not want to hear.
‘Is Solyana here?’ he said, pulling free of her hug but deliberately not letting go of her hand yet. As his Paladin, she craved his nearness, and he knew it would be wrong to foist all his grief onto her by being too abrupt or by not allowing her affections.
‘No,’ the priestess replied. ‘I have not seen her in a long time.’
They walked together deeper into the Forest, towards the Heartwood which Tor could feel tugging him closer. He could even hear the singsong excitement of the Flames calling to him.
‘So much to tell you,’ he said.
‘You look thin, tell me as we eat.’ She pointed towards a spread of food and they sat beneath one of the wood’s great trees and shared a meal.
‘Orlac is here,’ he said finally.
She stopped her chewing and eyed him. Arabella chose not to interrupt him—it was important for him
to tell her all he needed to. ‘Go on.’ It was almost a whisper.
He told her about Adongo and his brief message, as well as what he and Cloot had surmised. She did react to this, instantly frightened for Lauryn. Arabella also realised that the time of the Paladin was fast approaching—the final battle they all had spoken of for centuries.
The priestess could see that Tor was distracted enough without her adding her fear to the boiling cauldron of his thoughts. ‘What do we do?’
‘We await Cloot. Decisions will be made once he arrives. Do you know why I’ve returned now, Arabella?’
She shook her head.
‘Tell me about Rubyn.’
Her brow creased and she looked confused. ‘Rubyn? Who is this person?’
Tor was surprised. Somehow he had expected her to sigh with relief and tell him everything, but it seemed the Heartwood kept its secrets…even from its own sometimes.
‘Rubyn is my son.’
Her expression changed to puzzlement. ‘I don’t understand. Gidyon is your son.’
‘That’s true, but I’ve recently been informed that there was a third child born in the Heartwood that day. Alyssa birthed a frail boy—this information was known by no one but Sorrel and I imagine Darmud Coril, but I thought you may have discovered this?’
She shook her head, looking shocked, before wonderment crossed her face. Arabella put down the piece of fruit she was chewing on.
‘A third child. The Trinity?’
He nodded. She wept…put her arms around him and wept again. He joined her but could not be sure whether his tears were for Rubyn or, more likely, for his lost daughter. Tor told Arabella all that he had learned since he last met her, including the death of Sorrel which she was sad to hear about.
‘She was certainly a secretive old girl,’ she admitted. ‘You knew the husband, of course—it seems they were a pair well matched.’
Tor nodded. ‘Their deeds were carried out as they tried to right the wrong of buying a stolen child, keeping his identity secret. Once they learned of his birthright, I imagine they were terrified. I still don’t know how old Merkhud—or indeed Sorrel—actually was, but I’d guess at centuries.’
Arabella nodded thoughtfully, recalling the day of Tor’s return to the Heartwood bringing his own smashed corpse with him. ‘When you left his body to return to your own, he sighed into his death. When I looked at where he lay, he was turned to dust. A soft breeze rustled through the Heartwood as if divinely sent. It blew the dust away,’ she said.
‘It was the same with Sorrel. We were holding her hands as she told us of Rubyn but when she slipped into death, she turned to nothing more than a palmful of dust. How many years they must have spent in their tormented search,’ he replied.
‘And you, Tor?’
He looked at her, a slight shake of his head telling her he did not understand her question.