Read The Outlaw King: The Line of Kings Trilogy Book One Online
Authors: Craig Saunders
Tarn
coughed and sputtered. Rena held his head gently and forced some more of the
mixture down his throat.
Tulathia
watched the colour return to Tarn’s cheeks, but her relief died as she saw his
eyes and the memories drifting below the surface.
‘How
did I get here?’
‘I
imagined you walked, Tarn. Now, tell me what happened.’
Tarn
closed his eyes and rubbed a hand through his beard. ‘I don’t know why I came
here. I meant to leave. Gard and Molly have been murdered. This must be a
dream.’
When
nothing more seemed forthcoming, Mia said, ‘By the Thane’s men?’
‘No.
Something…other. I spoke to Gard before he died. He said it was a demon. I have
no reason to doubt him. If it had been a man, Gard would not have suffered
without a fight. The thing …mutilated him.’
Rena
stroked his hair, and he lay resting upon her, face turned to Tulathia and Mia.
‘Old
mother, is this what you meant for me? To have demons hunting me?’
‘Search
your heart, Tarn. Do you believe that?’
Tarn
sighed. ‘No, I don’t think that. I’m just tired and torn. I’ve lost my parents
for a second time, and I cannot bear the pain.’
‘The
cloak that protected you once is gone, but for someone…something to find you on
the same day? That takes power. And yet there is no magic but that of witches.
There are no wizards in Sturma, of that I am sure. Someone has power, the likes
of which we have not seen for a millennium.’
‘What
could it have been?’
‘Did
Gard have a chance to describe the beast to you?’
Tarn
told Tulathia what Gard said, almost word for word. She frowned, and Tarn did
not take it as a good sign.
‘What
is it old mother? What have you unleashed?’
‘I
have unleashed nothing, boy. The creature must have been hunting you, but it
could not see your line. My spell perhaps held it for a moment, long enough to
throw it from your scent, but not for much longer. No, I fear the beast hunts
those whom you hold love for. We are all in danger, but there is a reason it
did not come here. It does not know we are here.’
‘What
is it?’
‘I
have heard tales, tales to frighten young witches, of the power of wizards, and
demons that can be summoned to kill a man from afar. But that would mean the
Thane of Naeth has a wizard working for him, and that you are far from safe.’
‘I
already knew that, old mother,’ he said angrily.
‘You
must understand, Tarn, that this is nothing like a tracker on your trail, or
soldiers in your wake. This is a demon, and this cannot be shaken off or
confused, except by magic, and I have none left to give.’
‘Then
I am doomed before I start. If Gard could not fight the beast, then I cannot.’
Tulathia
nodded sadly. ‘I fear there is nothing I can do for you, but pray to my god.’
‘It
has been my experience that gods rarely listen to prayers.’
‘But
my god does.’
‘And
what god is this?’
‘His
name is Caeus.’
Tarn
looked at the woman before him, watching for signs of seriousness. He did not
believe in the gods of man, as his father prayed all his life, and not one of
his prayers was ever answered.
‘He
is no god I have ever heard of.’
‘He
is a god for witches. We pray to beings of power. The spells you will need to
survive are beyond my power, but perhaps he is listening.’
‘And
when will you know if it has worked?’
‘If
you still live.’
‘Then
I have no choice but to run,’ he said, his mouth set in a grim line. In his
heart, had he known it would always come down to this?
‘Then
I am coming with you, Tarn,’ said Rena, with fear in her voice.
Tarn
said nothing, but looked at her with sadness in his eyes. ‘You know I cannot
take you with me. It will be no life for you. I must leave, and you must live.’
Tears
welled in Rena’s eyes. ‘But what life will I have without you?’
‘A
life. That is all I can give you,’ said Tarn, more harshly than he intended. ‘I
am sorry Rena, but you must understand. I could not keep Gard and Molly alive.
I could not protect you. I don’t know if I can even protect myself.’
‘But
we were to be married. I wanted to bear you sons.’
‘Perhaps
it is best if my line ends.’
‘No!’
said Tulathia. ‘You must live! The Thane of Naeth must pay for the suffering he
has caused. This land needs a king to survive.’
‘
If
I survive, old mother. Make your prayers. I leave in the morning.’
‘No!
I will not let you go!’ cried Rena, holding Tarn to her breast.
Mia
rose and took hold of her daughter’s hands, pulling her free. ‘Leave them,
daughter. Tulathia needs Tarn for the prayer. Come, in the other room, with me.
You can say your farewells in the morning.’
Mia
led Rena away, and Tarn watched her go. He knew she would not sleep tonight,
and neither would he. Would that he were wed to her, for he would lay with her
tonight, and perhaps that would make the parting easier. But there would be no
wife for him. He would always be on the run. Unless, he thought, unless I can
kill the Thane.
But
how? He was just a farmer. How could he storm a castle and kill a Thane? A man
with an army behind him, a wizard at his beck and call…and me, thought Tarn,
with no power but that in my veins?
Mia
pulled the door to the bedroom closed, and Rena looked over her shoulder once
at the man she knew she loved. He granted her a small smile then turned his
attention to the matter at hand. Living.
‘Cast
your spell, old mother. Make your prayers. I am ready.’
‘Then
we begin, my king.’
And
throughout the long, fog filled night, Tulathia pleaded, and sent her prayer,
along with the blood of the king. Tarn held his wound closed and watched his
blood, dark in the firelight, trickle to a stop. The spell was dark, and for
once, knowledge that flitted out of grasp these long years was finally his.
Tulathia was more terrible, more powerful, than he ever imagined. Not evil, for
he could sense evil in a man or woman, but with such strength and such lore in
her mind she could be a force for destruction or salvation.
He
also understood, as she chanted and hummed and made other sounds that were
unlike speech but somehow like the memory of language, that she would use him
to her end if she thought it meet.
But
what choice did he have, but to offer his blood to this witch’s deity? How
terrible could such a being be, one that demanded blood and anguish?
Distant
sounds of sobbing came from the bedroom for many hours, until they faded like
the fire in the hearth. Eventually, the only sounds remaining were Tulathia’s
chanting and the crackle of the cooling hearth. Tarn’s eyes remained on the old
witch, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Tulathia
prayed, and cast spells to send her prayers into the beyond, to wherever her
god lived, or, perhaps, merely existed.
She
could only hope that Caeus listened, for if the king were to die, all would be
lost, and her plans would be for naught.
*
Caeus
saw the sword in Kilarion’s beastly hands as they drew back. And, in that final
moment before the sword plunged home, he heard the plea seeking him through the
stars, and worlds, and even here, in a castle made of dreams between the
planes.
In
that moment he understood. His time was not yet at hand. The soul sword would
not free him for years to come, and his work in the castle outside of time was
not yet done. But even in his captivity, he knew that a grave future could come
to pass should the king’s line die.
There
were many futures; in some the Hierarchy achieved their plans, and the old ones
returned, in some the seas of Rythe boiled and left nothing but a dusty, barren
world, in others still the suns themselves imploded.
In
all these futures there was no king.
He
knew of battles yet to fight, but the battles to come would be a raging blaze.
He could not put them out alone. He needed allies when the time came. Without
the line of kings, he might as well give up and spend the rest of eternity
within this cocoon, a chrysalis shielded from time, and cares, and hope.
Caeus
failed the test, but his mind already moved to events unfolding in the world.
It saddened him greatly that the witch Tulathia still thought he needed dark
offerings for his favour, but then once he had been the scourge of a planet,
the bane of his people.
Was
it truly so strange that the rumour of his passing amplified, like an echo in a
black cavern?
His
eyes lit up for but an instant before the timeless sleep, and his will was
free. With a thought, and a word, he did the only thing he could, and for
another it would have taken all their power. For Caeus, it was achieved in the
blink of an eye, before the sword struck and plunged through his chest, taking
him to darkness.
A
mere word and the line of kings gone from seers’ sight. They would be protected
until the time came.
Until
the time of the return.
Kilarion
looked at the motionless being before him, and wondered what had just happened.
Something passed from this world between worlds, from eternity into the stream
of time.
*
Tarn
opened his heavy eyes and became aware of two things; the thick smell of burnt
wood from the night before, and a soft arm draped across his chest. He turned
his head and saw Rena curled up next to him. He breathed in the sweet smell of
her hair, the heady aroma of last night’s fire mixed with spring water and the
blue capiums that she bathed in.
He
smiled for a moment, until all too soon the remembrance of the horrors of the
night crept in. He sat up slowly, laying Rena’s arm upon the pallet she slept
on, and crossed the room to the door.
Tulathia
had already risen, and waited for him. His blades, and the long package from
Gard, were on the floor beside the old witch. She granted him a cursory smile
in greeting, and bade him sit next to her. He folded his legs, sat opposite
her, and took the proffered juice from her gnarled hands.
She
said nothing for a moment, and Tarn played out the nightmare that tormented him
before he finally fell into sleep. His mother and father were dead. He had
nowhere to hide, and he must leave behind all who loved him, his future wife
included.
‘Tell
me old mother,’ he said, ‘Why did you not warn me this would come to pass?’
She
frowned. ‘Stay your anger, young Tarn. I see many futures, and I did warn you
not all of them are rosy.’
Tarn
stared at the ashes of the fire in the hearth, picturing his flower there. Anger
and fear gnawed at him. They ripped his calm from him, and without it he knew
he could not think straight.
He
did not want to leave. That was why he was angry. Because without his family,
he would be stripped bare. The flower calmed him, although part of him wanted
to revel in the fury inside, let it build until he tore down the forest in his
pain.
But
no, he would not let himself be ruled by anger, frustration and loss. He would
bide his time. One day, he would be free, and the souls of those murdered in
the Thane of Naeth’s name would be avenged.
It
was not the old woman’s fault, though he thought she knew more than she told
him. No doubt more than she told Rena and Mia, too. But what could he do? He
had long known her power. If she did not wish to tell him all she knew, he
could not force her. He reminded himself yet again that there was no evil in
her.
‘I
must leave soon, old mother. I pray you will keep Rena safe. She may be a
witch, but I doubt she understands much of evil. I sense that you have seen it
in all its guises before.’
‘You
are right, Tarn, that I have. I will protect her, and keep her from despair.
She loves you, you know.’
‘I
know.’
‘One
day you could return.’
‘If
I kill the Thane.’
‘Yes.’
‘And
how would I do that?’
‘I
do not know, Tarn. But I see you in many futures. In some, the Thane does not
live. I can only say that it is not impossible for you to return to a life of
peace.’
‘And
when I do? Rena? Will she be waiting for me?’
‘You
need to ask me? She will wait for you forever and a day. She would wait beyond
the gates for you.’
Tarn
sat silently. Tulathia watched him. Before the old mother could speak Mia
returned from outside with an armful of wood for the fire.
‘Good
morning, Tarn. Will you break your fast with us?’
‘No,
Mia, although I am sad that I must leave so soon. Danger, it seems, follows me
wherever I go. I would lead it from your door.’
Mia
merely nodded and stepped across the room to knock on Rena’s door.
‘Rena,
come now.’
Before
Rena could emerge from her room, Mia passed the wrapped package to Tarn.
‘Will
you not see what Gard has left you?’
‘I
will.’
Tarn
slowly unwrapped the package, laying the leather aside gently. It was light,
whatever it was.
Within
lay a glinting bow of some silver metal. As long as a man’s arm, and half as
long again. Deeply curved, it looked like a longer version of a hunting bow.
Beside it, covered with the leather, were twenty arrows of the same silver,
unbelievably light, and coiled around one arm of the bow was a fine filament of
wire, the string for the bow. A beautiful weapon, the likes of which Tarn had
never seen.
‘It
is a great gift,’ said Tulathia. ‘I trust you will use it well.’
‘I
will, and I will remember Gard each time I shoot it.’
It
was a hunting bow, but it could be used just as well upon a man. Perhaps,
before he met his end, he would get to use it.
Rena
emerged and Tarn turned his head to drink in the sight. Every moment with her
felt like the last. No matter how much he longed to return free of his burden
and live with her on the farm, he could not be free of his fate.
He
smiled at her to mask his despair.
‘I
slept well last night in your arms. One day we will do so again.’
‘I
know, Tarn. I will be here for you when you come back.’ Tears were brimming in
her eyes, and Tarn could see that she tried to be strong for him. He would not
prolong her agony. He knew how she must feel, because he felt it too.
‘I
must go. I cannot tarry any longer. Already I may have put you in danger.’
‘It
was worth the risk, Tarn, for a night with you.’
Tarn
nodded and rose. He did not trust himself to speak. Tulathia’s voice halted
him. ‘Remember your honour, Tarn. There are many traps in your future. Stay
true.’
‘I
will, old mother. Farewell. Farewell, Mia, and thank you.’
‘Farewell,
Tarn,’ said Mia.
He
took up his pack and wrapped the bow. Without further word he stepped outside,
Rena following him with her hand upon his shoulder. He turned and took her in
his arms, kissing her gently on the lips. Eventually he pulled away, his heart
pounding.
‘Come
back for me, Tarn, when you are free, or meet me beyond the gates. For one day,
in this realm or the next, you will be my man.’
‘I
already am, my love. We will be together. You will see.’
Rena
held him for a moment longer.
‘If
any man can beat his fate, it is you, Tarn. You have a vein of steel that runs
through you.’
‘I
know what I want, Rena, but fate pulls me… I promise you this, I will return to
take your hand.’
‘I
know you well, Tarn, and I believe you. I do.’ Her voice broke, and she let him
go.
It
saddened her heart to see it, but Tarn’s eyes were already cold. She wished his
heart were with her this moment, but she saw murder in his eyes. This would end
in death. This was not fortelling. It was plain to see in Tarn’s icy gaze.
‘This
Thane, your enemy…I think his days are numbered.’
Tarn
smiled as best he could, and embraced Rena again. He breathed in the smell of
her, placed the feel of her in his arms safely away in his memory. He would
return, but his road would be long and lonely.
When
he let her go his heart cried out to him. It went against his wishes, but not
his nature. His sinews knew the blade, his heart knew love. He vowed to
remember this moment, this love, even should his road bring blood. It was Rena
he would fight for, to be in her arms again.
If
he had to walk the hawk’s path to return to his love, then he would hunt.
He
would kill.
He
slung the bow in its leather holder over his shoulder with his pack, tied his
cloak, and pulled his swords on.
Feeling
heavier than he thought possible, the young king turned without a further word
and set out under many burdens on the long path to whichever fate awaited him –
victory, failure, or the endless hunt.
‘Goodbye,’
he said under his breath, and did not look back once.
Rena
sobbed softly, so that Tarn would not hear, and stayed outside the hut until
she could no longer hear his footfalls.
*