I don’t know. Lys did say that Cyrus is Paladin and has his own important role to play, but whatever she knows, she is not telling me yet.
Why does Arabella not travel with us if she is bonded to you?
Yes, I puzzled over that too. Lys told me that each of the Paladin have their own special magic and role to play and when I spoke to Arabella about this it did not surprise her. She believes her major role has been fulfilled.
And that is?
Marrying Alyssa and myself…watching over me as my spirit crossed back into my body after the execution and then helping to restore my health as well as she did. There may be more though, I’m not sure. If she knows, she is not saying.
Cloot voiced what Tor had often suspected
. I sense that Arabella is strongly attached to the
Heartwood. I’m not sure she would be comfortable to leave it…perhaps she can’t?
The falcon noted Tor’s nod of agreement and moved on to his next thought.
You know, I’ve never understood why, if we are all so strongly linked, we don’t feel one another or recognise one another?
he puzzled.
I think you will in time. There must be a connection…maybe a place or an event…something which will realign you all,
Tor said.
When I swapped bodies with Merkhud, we exchanged minds and experiences briefly. Just for a moment, I glimpsed his thoughts and possibly he did the same with mine.
You’ve never mentioned this before,
Cloot said, sounding indignant.
What did you perceive?
It was fleeting. I sensed he knew that only Figgis and Themesius remained to fall. The way the Heartwood groaned recently though, I fear there is now only one left.
And after the last Paladin falls?
Orlac will be free. Lys told me that he will destroy Tallinor and all surrounding Kingdoms in his fury. He will raze the Heartwood, Cloot. He will sense its magic; that it is a special place of the gods. It will be his revenge against the Land which claimed his life; his vengeance against the man who bought him as a child and made him live as a mortal. Perhaps it is also his chance to point a finger at the Host, to show the gods his strength and make clear that the havoc he wreaks on them is in revenge for their failure to protect their prince.
Cloot hopped onto Tor’s shoulder.
But Merkhud is gone, Tor. Who will Orlac hunt down to vent his anger?
Silence hung heavy between them momentarily. Across the link Tor’s voice sounded small.
Me.
You? But why?
Because I am linked to Merkhud. Lys has warned that Orlac will not be satisfied to learn of Merkhud’s death. He will fasten onto those whom Merkhud loved.
Can we hide you? Or can you not become the hunter instead?
To what end, my friend? No. Orlac will come. Of this we are sure. All we can do is prepare for that time. I am the prey and we must use the quarry to trap the hunter. Lys has brought us all together for a reason and we must try to work out what she wants us to do with our combined powers and knowledge.
Has it ever occurred to anyone just to ask her?
Cloot said, unable to hide his sarcasm.
That is not her way. She wants us to figure this out. If we ask the right questions, we will get the right answers.
All right,
the falcon said, stretching his wings and swooping into the centre of the clearing to face his friend.
I gather you are well enough now, and in sending Yargo to find Sorrel and the children, you have obviously made a decision that it is time to move on. So what do we do first?
Well, Lys once said something cryptic to me, which has only recently surfaced again in my mind. She told me to look to those who would be easily corrupted by
power and promises of revenge. She impressed upon me, in her strange, vague way, to think on those who would most enjoy seeing me and those I care for hurt.
Tor, you would make a superb tooth doctor with your fine ability to extract maximum agony. And so?
It’s so obvious, you mad bird. Goth! Xantia! That charming couple with nothing to lose any more and everything to gain.
You’re right. Goth is evil and Xantia is his pawn.
Oh no, Cloot, she’s more than that. Xantia is a master of the Dark Arts. If Orlac reaches them and releases her from the archalyt barrier on her forehead, we might as well burn down Tal ourselves and save them the trouble.
So your plan is…?
Cloot prompted, hoping there was one.
We go after Goth. Better we stay close to our enemies.
How?
I’m thinking on it,
Tor said quietly.
No, I’m not sure I caught that, Tor. I thought you said we were going to fly.
Tor knew very well that Cloot’s hearing was almost as acute as his own.
I did say that.
Ah,
said the falcon from the overhanging branch. He began to sharpen his beak, as was his habit whenever he felt uncomfortable or needed time to
think.
And how will we accomplish such a feat?
he said carefully, emphasising the ‘we’.
Well, I have no magic that will sprout me wings, old friend.
So I presume I shall be doing the flying?
Correct. And I shall be doing the accompanying.
I see. So you plan to ride me like a horse then?
Tor did not respond to the sarcasm.
From within my body.
It was not a question this time.
Cloot was incredulous.
You will use the Spiriting magic again?
It will be no different to when I inhabited Merkhud’s body,
Tor replied, his voice very quiet.
Cloot stopped his cleaning. Nothing had prepared him for this.
Tor, when you walked in Merkhud’s boots, you knew his spirit had already died within your body which was hanging off that cross.
Tor pushed away from the tree he had been leaning against and stood.
Cloot, come to me.
The falcon landed on his outstretched arm. Tor stroked the majestic bird and poured his complete loyalty and love for his strange friend across the link. He waited until he felt Cloot relax, mind and body, before he spoke again.
But you will not be dying. I have given this much thought and in Nanak’s books I read of a notion held centuries ago that two could share one host for a short time. I accept it may only have been a notion and never attempted, but I believe it will work.
Tor, my beloved friend, it is not my life I fear for. I am Paladin. I have already died once for you and I will surely face death again to save you. You are everything we have strived for. All of this—this strange life, these terrible ordeals—have been to preserve your life and ensure you meet your destiny. No, Tor. Never think that I care a whit about my life compared with yours. It is you I fear for. I am shocked that you would risk your life with such a dangerous idea.
Tor lifted Cloot close to his face so he could look at him directly. The bird cocked his head to one side and eyed him back.
Don’t do this, Tor.
Trust me.
Let’s wait for Lys, at least. She set you on this course of thinking; she may have some suggestions,
Cloot offered hopefully.
No. Alyssa’s life may be in danger from Goth. Lys has conveyed as much to me. I must know Goth’s whereabouts. I will feel safer knowing where the enemy is.
Cloot hopped back onto his friend’s shoulder.
Goth is not the enemy. You must not lose sight of who your real foe is and where the real danger lies. Orlac!
Tor sighed.
Well, until that particular enemy shows himself, I must content myself with the one I do know about. Cloot, I’m not saying I’m going to do anything. I just want to know where he is.
All right. Let’s pretend I agree to this folly—no, this lunacy. What do we do with your body…your cooling, dying body?
This was a great step forward. Tor wasted no time.
The Heartwood will keep my body safe for a time.
He moved on quickly to outline his thoughts. He did not want Cloot dwelling on possible death; he had already spooked himself enough over the frightening thought of leaving his body once again.
The way I see it, when Goth escaped from the palace prison, he would probably have been ghoulish enough to hang around amongst the mob for my execution. Then he would have used the cover of the crowds to get himself as far away from the capital as possible.
Agreed,
Cloot said.
The King’s wrath aside, he would have grasped that Herek’s pride alone would demand that the Shield track him down, whatever it took, however long it required.
Go on.
Well, I’ve been thinking on where I would go if I wanted to get as far away from the reach of the palace as possible.
North, of course,
Cloot said.
Yes, north. But more than that. It would have to be a quiet backwater, somewhere the threat of the Inquisitors was unlikely to have reached. Goth is too readily recognisable to risk a city or town.
Cloot picked up this thread.
Or a place where criminals can move freely…somewhere with an underworld where secrets are kept and officialdom is unwelcome.
Tor felt the idea slide into place.
You’re right! Goth could not survive in a village. His appetites are too large.
Cloot was silent. He was thinking. Tor knew this because the falcon had a tendency to stand on one leg when deep in thought. It amused him and he smiled warmly for the first time in many weeks.
Well, my friend,
he said finally
, the north is your country. Where do you think he hides—Rork’yel?
Cloot returned to stand on both legs.
Rork’yel is closed to all but my own people. Without a guide who is of the Rork’yel, Goth would get lost amongst the rocks. But I agree with you. His appetites are such that he would need the trappings of a town. However, he could not risk going back to Ildagarth or anywhere nearby.
How long do we have to search?
he suddenly asked Tor.
You mean before my physical body dies? I would say two days, possibly less. Darmud Coril might tell us. We should summon Solyana and beg an audience.
Cloot swooped up to one of his favourite branches.
He will not like it.
He wants the Heartwood to survive, Cloot. He will help us.
Then, if you are set on this course, my best guess would be Caradoon.
I’ve never heard of it.
Tor was intrigued.
And that’s how its inhabitants prefer it. It is a trading post. You’ve heard of Kyrakavia, of course?
He saw Tor nod.
Well, that’s the shipping hub for all
regular trade from the northern Kingdoms into Tallinor. Caradoon is a thriving town on the very outreaches of the city of Kyrakavia where all the…shall we say…irregular trade is done.
Like what?
Spices, herbs, gold…even wine.
That sounds fairly regular.
Cloot continued as though Tor had not spoken.
Children, slaves, the forbidden stracca.
Tor had never seen stracca but had heard of the secret dens where the leaf was smoked or the sap swallowed. He stood. His jaw was set in a fashion that told Cloot his mind was also set.
Let’s find Solyana and you can tell me more about this Caradoon on the way.
Saxon gave a shrill war cry and tossed the orange. Gyl spun. The kerchief blocked his vision but over these past few months he had been learning to rely on his other senses. He judged, struck with the sword and heard a satisfying squelch as his blade sliced through the fruit.
‘Bravo!’ Saxon called. ‘Another!’ He moved hard to his right, giving the lad no time, yelled again and threw a lemon.
Gyl was not fast enough. The lemon hit him on the chest.
‘Woeful!’
Gyl pulled off the blindfold, laughing. ‘I won’t be blindfolded in battle, Sax.’
‘Let’s hope you never have to face battle, boy. But should you, I want you to be able to cut a man down
when you have time only to hear the whoosh of his sword coming towards your head.’
‘I know. I almost had it though,’ Gyl said, picking up the lemon and tossing it back.
Saxon spat. It was a curious Kloekish habit. ‘Almost is not good enough.’
‘Oh, Saxon, I remember you punishing me like this,’ admonished Alyssa, who had arrived quietly.
The older man grunted. Alyssa smiled at Gyl. He had grown tall and his boyish features were hardening into the handsome man he would become. She wondered at how any mother could have abandoned this beautiful child. He reminded her so strongly of someone, but that person had always eluded her. Perhaps it was the distinctive walk. Gyl walked with purpose, with a jaunty, almost arrogant swagger. It was as though he knew he was a fine specimen of manhood—or even born to greatness.
She shook her head at such fanciful thoughts. Saxon shouted at him again.
‘Saxon, enough!’
‘Don’t namby-pamby the boy, Alyssa. He’s learning sword skills.’
‘And what makes you think he’s ever going to square up against someone on a battlefield who just happens to be blindfolded or balancing on a tightrope?’ Her hands had settled on her hips; a dangerous sign.
Gyl laughed. ‘Touché, Lyssa!’
Saxon scowled. ‘Oh, go on with you both then. We’ll leave you knitting for the children, Gyl, whilst the rest of us worry about the security of the Kingdom.’
Gyl rarely took offence. He worshipped Saxon. Instead he clapped the older man on the back good-naturedly. At fourteen summers he was almost as tall as the Kloek. ‘I already know how to knit, Sax! I’ll be back for more this evening with the company, if that’s all right with you?’
‘It’s all right with me if your mother there hasn’t got plans to plait your hair.’
Alyssa did not give Saxon the courtesy of a response. Her dark look was sufficient, though she could not help but feel a quiet thrill at the word ‘mother’. It was the first time anyone had recognised her as Gyl’s mother, including herself.
Saxon raised a hand in the air, feigning defeat. ‘I’m going, I’m going,’ he said. ‘Alyssa, my love,’ more sweetly this time. It was the voice she adored. ‘A quiet word tonight. Meet me later?’
She nodded, wondering what the secrecy was about. Saxon was recently back from a scouting mission with Herek and company. Although he was not a fully fledged soldier of the Shield, he lived on its fringe and was arguably its most popular member. Perhaps he had some juicy gossip for her, she decided.
‘Supper?’
Saxon nodded. ‘I’ll be late though.’ He headed out of the courtyard.
Gyl dragged her attention back. ‘Did you want me?’
‘Yes, Gyl. There are some books in our rooms which I’ve been working on. I hoped you might carry them up to the King’s private chambers for me?’
‘Of course. Now?’
‘Please.’ He was already taller than her and she had to look up at him when he stood this close. ‘You know, Saxon really did curse and yell at me like that when I was young.’
Gyl linked her arm with his. ‘Surely he wasn’t teaching you swordplay?’
‘No. He taught me how to fly.’ She enjoyed watching his puzzled expression.
‘I’ve never really told you about Saxon and myself in the early days, have I?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve never dared to ask. It always seemed to be some great secret between the two of you.’
She was amused by his caution. ‘Well, remind me to reveal that great secret to you. But come now, the King awaits.’
It was a balmy night and the scent of early summer flowers hung sweetly in the air around them. Alyssa inhaled it and sighed. She felt intensely happy and peaceful. Life had taken an unexpected and lovely turn. Her work with the children enriched her life, whilst nurturing Gyl fulfilled it. She realised she had not thought of Tor in many months, where before she had counted such times in minutes. She felt safe with Sallementro and Saxon close by, her loyal companions. But the sweetest surprise of all, one she barely allowed herself to admit, was daily life
alongside Lorys. It was already early summer and she had joined him at the beginning of spring. Three moons ago.
The King had welcomed her warmly to his staff. Although Alyssa had tried hard to maintain her cool approach, the man possessed the most infectious good humour. Try though she might to avoid it, she found herself falling into his smile. Against her consent, it dragged her in and made her smile back…shyly. She had always considered Lorys to be dull and arrogant; however, he was anything but.
The King’s humility towards his own people was astonishing. That he adored his subjects and his Kingdom was obvious to his new secretary and she felt moments of great shame about her attitude towards him in years gone. He was a man of peace, clearly, though she sensed enormous strength in him and felt he would not shirk battle if it was the only solution.
Lorys treated her with utmost respect and often took her breath away during meetings with his advisers—all men—when he would turn to where she sat quietly in the shadows recording the details and ask her opinion. This obviously made the group of nobles most uncomfortable and initially Alyssa had shied away from such attention. Now, however, she offered her views when asked.
Nyria had begged her to put Tor’s death behind her and give Lorys a chance. It had seemed a far simpler thing to suggest than to do and yet, somehow, the man she had once vowed to stab in the heart should she
ever get the chance had plunged a blade into hers…except his was one infinitely more subtle.
The first realisation came when she felt gooseflesh as Lorys accidentally brushed against her arm.
She had only felt such a sensation with Tor.
Lorys had reached across to take some papers and their arms had touched. His tanned skin was warm and the soft black hairs tickled for that instant. Alyssa did not think she could have reacted more loudly inside if she had been struck by lightning. Outwardly, she blushed, apologised and pulled her arm back. He hardly noticed her discomfort yet her heart had begun to hammer in her chest, like it was hammering now recalling the incident.
It was as if Saxon read her thoughts. They were sitting back to back against each other on a small hillock behind the palace.
‘How goes it with Lorys, Alyssa?’
She gulped her wine, trying to mask her embarrassment. Surely it did not show? It
must
not show. Lorys already had a Queen; one she loved dearly.
Saxon did not sense her anxiety. Good job he had his back to her, she thought. He continued speaking. ‘I mean, I know how you’ve felt about him all these years so I’m very proud of you for working alongside him so harmoniously. I’m sure it takes great courage. But how do you truly feel about this relationship?’
‘Saxon, I have changed a lot over these years, you know. Since Gyl. The school. Working with their majesties. It’s been a time of growing up for me. I have
new responsibilities, ones I care passionately about. There is a reason to live again.’ She hugged her arms about her before adding, ‘There is so much to look forward to and I want to put the past behind me.’
Saxon turned to face her and pulled her against his chest. He hesitated momentarily before speaking. ‘Well said, brave Alyssa.’
She leaned back comfortably against the broad chest of this man she loved enormously; he was like a father to her…more so than her own father had been.
‘I am happy, Saxon. Truly. Torkyn Gynt is behind me. I am definitely looking forward.’
She felt him tense slightly.
‘That’s good, my girl. I need you to feel secure because I have to go away briefly. And I have some news which I will not keep from you a moment longer.’
His voice sounded strange all of a sudden. She swung around. He was looking at the grass.
‘Look at me, Saxon!’
He did so and she saw pain in his eyes.
‘Tell me. Nothing you say could be worse than what I’ve already faced in years gone.’
Saxon could not think of an easy way to say it so he chose the one word which he knew would sum it all up. ‘Goth,’ he whispered.
‘What?’ Alyssa grabbed his face so she could stare into his eyes and search for the truth. He felt hairs rip from his beard with the force of her grip but he did not flinch. Instead he sighed.
‘Goth is dead,’ she said flatly, already disbelieving her own words because of what she could see in his troubled gaze.
‘Maybe not,’ Saxon replied carefully, taking her hands from his face and wrapping them in his own. He pulled her close again. Alyssa began to tremble. The joy of moments earlier had fled, to be replaced with horror.
Saxon spoke softly, close to her ear. ‘I have just learned that Goth escaped the night before Tor’s death, but it was hushed up. The Shield was confident of tracking him down within hours.’ He sensed a torrent of questions and squeezed her to prevent them pouring out. ‘He escaped with the help of an accomplice. Xantia.’
This time a shriek escaped her but he continued. ‘The Shield has not relented in its efforts to find him and has kept a constant vigil in all parts of the Kingdom for years now, but with no success. I want to help them search, which is why I leave tonight.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You’re going to hunt him down?’
‘Now that I know he lives, I must.’
‘Where are you going? Why must you leave now?’
‘No time to waste, Alyssa. I’m heading north, to Caradoon.’
‘Alone?’ She looked disturbed.
‘Only initially. Herek is headed north as well; the Shield is at Kyrakavia.’
Alyssa shook her head. ‘Why Caradoon? Actually, I don’t think I’ve even heard of it,’ she added.
‘Good thing, too. It’s inhabited by the dregs of Tallinese society, those who don’t necessarily stick to the laws of the Land. It’s just a feeling I have, Alyssa. I tried to work out where I might head if I was a notorious outlaw like Goth and it occurred to me that Caradoon is just the sort of place where someone on the run, who also has such a distinctive face to hide, might go. People keep themselves to themselves up there—everyone’s secrets are safe.’
He had more to say but was annoyed to be disturbed by a page running towards them, calling breathlessly for Alyssa to present herself in the royal chambers. Saxon let his irritation show. ‘At this hour?’
‘Hush,’ Alyssa said quietly, ‘it is the King’s summons.’
The page said nothing further; his large eyes darted between them. He had his orders and did not know how to respond when questioned about them. He was just a lad.
Alyssa stood and pushed her hair back from her solemn face. ‘I’m coming, Edwyd. You go ahead.’
The page ran off and she turned back to Saxon, who was on his feet now and clearing the remnants of their supper into Alyssa’s basket.
He kissed her quickly. ‘I’ll be back soon. You are safe—don’t worry.’
He left her inside the palace gates, calling back to her, ‘Tell Gyl to practise his sword skills. The Swan, in particular—he’s hopeless at it.’
Tor and Cloot were deep in the Heartwood, surrounded by the Flames of the Firmament. Solyana and Arabella were there too, silent in the shadows. They had been summoned to keep vigil over Tor’s body. For now, however, all were listening to Darmud Coril.
‘I will keep your body alive, Torkyn Gynt, but mark my words: you have two sunsets to complete your task. Once the sun sinks on the second evening, so will your spirit…beyond my reach. You must return to your body by that time or you will be lost.’
Tor never failed to be fascinated by the hypnotic chiming of the Flames and their dazzling colours but this night he gave his full attention to the god of the forest. There was no mistaking the grave warning which had just been delivered.
‘I hear you, Darmud Coril. I will heed you.’
‘Cloot,’ the god addressed the bird, ‘is this your wish too?’
Cloot leapt to Tor’s shoulder. Tor instinctively touched him.
The god spoke before the falcon could. He needed no answer. That brief gesture between the two had said enough. The barest of smiles creased his face and flickered in his soft, gentle eyes.
‘Brave Cloot of the Paladin, our strength will travel with you. You will need it. The Heartwood will speed you on your journey. Let it guide you.’
There was nothing else to say. Tor linked with the Flames, having memorised their special trace.
Keep me safe, beloved Flames,
he whispered to them.
He was rewarded by their chiming in unison, a note long and loud.
Solyana spoke for the first time.
Listen for our call, Tor. Please return to us.
Arabella added a final warning. ‘Don’t be reckless, Tor.’
He nodded solemnly and then lay down on the spongy forest floor. The Flames followed, dancing around him. Cloot flew to a branch hanging overhead. The cluster of Flames split into two, one group remaining with Tor, the other sweeping to encircle the falcon in a similar blaze of fiery tongues.
Tor closed his eyes and spoke gently to his friend.
Ready?
As I ever will be,
the bird replied.
The Flames of the Firmament increased in intensity in both colour and sound, surrounding Tor and Cloot with coloured light so bright that neither Solyana nor Arabella could see their shapes any longer. Tor summoned his own Colours and allowed their purity to roar through him. He let them mingle with those of the Flames and felt such an enormous well of power at his call that he suddenly knew the Spiriting itself would be very simple.