Zastra nodded. Morn patted her hand.
‘So, what can you tell me? All we know is that a few months ago Orwin opened his doors to these dratted Bractarian soldiers and their mindweavers. Ordered his guard to stand down without a fight. Not that I can blame my lord really, what with that awful beast screeching above the castle. The mere sight of it made me shiver in horror – thank the stars they’ve sent it away for the moment. We’ve heard terrible tales about the likes of the poor Marl of Julan, who refused to surrender. They say the Kyrgs slaughtered everyone in Julan Castle, including the marl and her family. Worse than that my dear child, we had word two days ago that your father and dear Anara are dead. Is it true?’
Zastra sunk her head in her hands, her voice choked with grief. ‘Yes, that’s what they told me. My father – I was in the room when they came for him, there were so many of them, I don’t see how he could have… have survived. He saved us, but wouldn’t come with us. He said he was going back for my… my mother. I waited for them to come after us, but they didn’t...’ Zastra broke off. She could say no more.
‘Oh, mercy,’ exclaimed Morn, tears flooding her round cheeks. ‘Poor, dear, gentle Anara. Betrayed by her own brother-in-law. What a terrible, terrible thing.’ Morn was overcome and sat for many minutes, sobbing quietly. Finally, she recovered herself enough to wipe her eyes and blow her nose into a large handkerchief.
‘I knew your mother, you see, when she was a child,’ explained Morn. ‘She is a distant relation of Orwin and spent a lot of time here at Lyria. I was just a lowly kitchen hand at the time, but for some reason she took a liking to me. She and her friend Marta were often in the kitchens. They liked to play at cooking and I would save them titbits of this and that. Anara was so gentle and polite, not full of herself like lots of your rich children. Never had a bad word to say about anyone. She helped me learn to read when she found out I was trying for advancement. Without her help, I wouldn’t be chief cook as I am today. She did me the honour of writing once a year, even when she married the grand marl. Only think of that.’
Her reminiscences were interrupted by Findar, reaching towards her face. He appeared fascinated by her thick eyebrows. Morn put out a finger which he grasped stoutly.
‘So, this is little Findar? You wouldn’t imagine anything wrong looking at him. But what about Kastara?’
Zastra coloured, remaining silent. She decided she could say nothing without risking Kastara’s safety. Morn appeared to understand this and changed to subject.
‘What do you plan to do now, duckie?’
‘I don’t know. My father said we should come here. He said Orwin would look after us. But I don’t see how I can see him without creating suspicion, especially dressed like this.’
‘It’s a difficult problem, to be sure. We have a whole troop of Bractarian soldiers and an unruly mob of Kyrgs stationed here, so we must be careful. Like I say, I understand why Orwin did what he did, but we may live to regret it in the end. At least we could have died fighting. Instead we suffer this slow strangulation. However, I believe Orwin is a good man at heart and he will help you if he can. His wife I’d not answer for, but I’ll get word to him and he shall come and see you. My lord and lady are away at present. She insisted on going to Gorst Town for some new gowns. How she can be shopping at such a time as this, I don’t know. Lord Orwin always indulges her. He returns tomorrow night and it must be his decision; whether you can stay here in safety, or whether there is somewhere else you can be sent. Until then, best hang around the kitchens with us. I doubt anyone’ll question a new kitchen boy.’
Zastra spent the rest of the day with Podrik, who was more than happy to serve his rescuer of the previous day. He showed her every corner of the kitchen and all the store rooms proudly, as if he owned them himself. He insisted on taking care of Findar, showing Zastra a soothing ointment he had used to treat a rash on her brother’s legs. Morn told Zastra that he preferred the company of babies to children of his own age and that he was always helping out in the nursery. After seeing how Terlan and the other boys had treated him yesterday, Zastra was not surprised. When he played with Findar, Podrik’s stutter vanished completely. It only seemed to come on when he was nervous and afraid. All that morning, he kept plying them with food and treats. Before long, even Zastra, hungry as she had been for many weeks, could eat no more.
In the afternoon, they lazed about contentedly in the coolest corner of the kitchen. Findar was sleeping and Podrik asked Zastra how she had learnt to be such a good fighter. Zastra explained how she had been taught to fight ever since she could remember. Podrik opened his eyes in astonishment.
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Why do they teach you all that?’
‘So we can become Warriors of Golmeira, I suppose,’ said Zastra.
‘What’s that then?’
Zastra recited some of the stories she had been told of the legendary Warriors of Golmeira. Of Lodara, who had challenged the champion warrior of her enemy to single combat and so won Waldaria for the land of Golmeira. Of Colinar and the beast of Helgarths, and of course, Fostran and the Kyrginites. The stories amazed Podrik as they had Zastra, but he seemed bemused by all the battles and fighting. ‘Why can’t everyone just get along with each other?’ he wondered aloud. Zastra then asked him about himself. He seemed unused to anyone showing any interest in him and, rather hesitantly at first, he told her how his father, a Sendoran called Pintorax, had left when he was only small. He didn’t know why his father had left, only that Morn had been distraught and, whenever he asked her about it, she just said “Apparently, Sendorans and Golmeirans aren’t supposed to mix,” and left it at that. ‘Don’t really know what she meant,’ said Podrik sadly. ‘I mean ma and pa mixed all right to make me, didn’t they? I don’t see why he left. Probably took one look at me, and didn’t like to have a crippled son.’ Zastra’s heart went out to the sad, moonfaced boy.
‘I’m sure he’d be very proud of you,’ she said. ‘Morn is and not everyone could look after Findar as well as you do.’ Podrik’s eyes lit up at the compliment, and Findar took that opportunity to wake up and tug on a lock of Podrik’s straggly hair. His squeal of excitement made the two older children smile.
Morn was as good as her word, and on the evening of Zastra’s third day at Lyria, Marl Orwin came to the kitchen to see them. He was a balding man of average height, lines of age and stress beginning to set their marks across his face. He introduced himself to Zastra in a polite manner, but he seemed nervous and tense, his eyes constantly flicking about the room.
‘My dear child, how glad I am you have survived the terrible events at Golmer Castle. But you are still in the most awful danger. We all are, whilst you are here.’ He nervously massaged his head, causing the remaining strands of hair to poke up, swaying with static.
‘What to do now, though? I’m afraid there is no way we can hide you here. They are looking for you. This proclamation was spread all over Gorst Town when we were there. Look, read for yourself.’
He pulled a crumpled parchment from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to her, pointing with a thick, trembling finger.
‘There, the second paragraph.’
Zastra read the proclamation aloud.
‘The traitors to Golmeira, offspring of the deceased Leodra, must be found. It is known that the child, Zastra, left Riverford heading east disguised as a county boy travelling under the name Hedrik. She has with her the baby boy known as Findar. The baby Kastara is believed to have died in Riverford. All young boys or girls with a baby are to be stopped and questioned. Do not worry that you may have the wrong child. It is better to arrest a thousand children than let these traitors escape. A reward of two thousand tocrins to anyone who captures them. Both are wanted alive. A slow and painful death will be afforded to any found harbouring the fugitives.’
Zastra was shocked at the brutal tone. She looked at the signature.
‘Brutila, Royal Master at Arms.’
That anyone oth
er than Martek should be master at arms was outrageous and anger rose up within her
‘Who is this Brutila?’ she asked.
‘Ah. That is a story,’ sighed Orwin. ‘I’m not sure if… no, I suppose you should know. This woman is evil, I have no qualms in saying it. I had thought her dead, but it seems she has been hiding in Waldaria as part of Thorlberd’s hidden army. I knew her, many years ago, as did your father and mother.’
‘Oh, did you really?’ cried Zastra, hungry to hear anything of her parents.
‘Yes. You see, Anara is a distant cousin of mine. My father was rich, since he was Marl of Lyria before me, but Anara’s parents were much poorer, and she was sent here to have the best education. It was here she met Leodra, when he was twelve years old and she was nine. Leodra had been sent away to learn about the different parts of the country he was to rule. I was a few years older, but we became good friends. Brutila was one of our schoolfellows, the daughter of Venkar, our teacher. Venkar was an unpleasant tyrant, who had no qualms about beating us, even when we did not deserve it. Leodra and I were largely spared, due to our status, but the others, and Brutila in particular, did not escape his wrath. Indeed, I think she had the worst of it, since in our case his cruelty was limited by school hours. Perhaps due to having such a father, Brutila had a darkness about her. She and a few like-minded fellows were often bullying the younger children. Leodra, always honest and forthright, took issue with her bullying ways and they were often fighting. Leodra was taller and stronger at the time, so he usually triumphed, since Brutila had only just begun her mindweaver training. She had not yet learnt how to use her abilities fully.’
‘She’s a mindweaver?’ Zastra didn’t like the sound of that.
‘Oh yes. An extremely powerful one, so it is said. One winter’s day, a shocking incident occurred. I was in bed with a slight fever, but I heard what happened from the others. Venkar took the class up into the mountains to teach them the art of tracking in the snow. They became spread out and it was a while before Leodra noticed that Anara and her delicate friend Marta were missing. Concerned, he went in search and found them tied to a rock on the mountainside. Brutila and one of her fellow bullies had found the younger girls and tormented them by tying them to a rock and threatening to leave them to freeze. Of course, the girls were terrified, particularly Marta, who looked almost dead with cold. Leodra was incensed and after releasing them, he overpowered Brutila and tied her up in the girls’ place. “You’ll have a taste of your own cruelty,” he said, before leaving her there alone. He meant only to shock her, planning to return and set her free. However, Venkar found them and scolded them for wandering off before ordering them back to the castle. Leodra then admitted what he had done, willing to take the punishment, but Venkar insisted he obey. Only Anara, watching silently, realised that Venkar was using his own mindweaving powers to make Leodra bend to his will. Whether Venkar ever meant to go back for Brutila, I know not. It was strange behaviour for any father, even one who showed little love for his child. Eventually, Anara found the opportunity to drag Leodra away, covered by a developing snow storm. She explained to Leodra what had happened, but he had no memory of the events. Venkar had stolen that from him. But he trusted Anara, and they went to find Brutila. The snowstorm made it difficult, but at last they found her. She was half frozen and surrounded by a pack of mountain scrittals. Some had begun to crawl over her, no doubt scenting supper.’
Zastra was shocked by the tale. Her parents had taken her to the mountains a few winters ago and she could well remember the vicious chill and the swirling snowstorms. And she had seen some of the scrittals; large carnivorous rodents covered with thick grey fur. She had watched a pack of them chewing on the carcasses of a dead horse. The memory made her shudder. She pictured the child Brutila in her mind, small, shivering, alone with the creatures on the cold mountain. How could Venkar do such a terrible thing to his own child?
‘What happened?’ she asked.
‘Leodra chased off the scrittals and released Brutila, wrapping her in his own fur-lined cloak to try and warm her. He and Anara managed to get her down the mountains and into the kitchens. Morn will remember, no doubt.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Morn, shaking her head. ‘Those two girls, grey with cold, and Leodra, the poor boy, distraught with guilt. Anara guided the older girl to the fire, where she thawed slowly. Anara told me some of what had happened, although it would appear that she left out many of the details. I suppose she did not want to get her fellow students into trouble. Brutila just sat staring at the fire, whispering to herself. I remember what she said, because it was so odd, so terrifying. “I could hear their hunger. They were sniffing out the best parts to eat,” she kept muttering, over and over. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I gave them all hot soup. Anara brought the older girl some chala which she had made herself. Brutila knocked it out of her hands. I don’t think that she could bear to be beholden to anyone. Leodra tried to explain and apologise, but Brutila had only hatred in her eyes.’
Orwin took up the story again. ‘Leodra and Anara were beaten severely by Venkar for running off, but neither of them minded. Leodra felt he deserved the punishment. A terrible thing it was, but I suppose it was also the beginnings of the love that was to blossom between your parents. But it did not end there. A few days later, my father heard rumours of what had happened. He questioned Leodra, who told him the whole story, including his own part in the sorry affair. My father ordered the arrest of Venkar. However, our teacher had somehow known what was coming and he escaped, taking Brutila with him. With no means of employment, it was rumoured that he was forced to beg for food and shelter, cursing the name of Leodra wherever he went.’
‘What happened to Brutila?’ asked Zastra.
‘I have only seen her once since that day. She was a woman, prematurely grey, with a terrible scar across her face, but her cold, cruel eyes were unmistakably the same. She was being tried for murder in the Royal Court. Your father had transferred responsibilities of judge to Thorlberd, since he believed that even Brutila deserved a fair trial. He would not risk himself being unconsciously biased against her, due to their past history. However, the evidence was overwhelming; it was proved that she had been working as a hired assassin and had killed several people in return for money. Your uncle had no choice but to declare her guilty and had her transferred to Bractaris for her punishment, which was to be death by poison. We all thought her dead, but it would seem that Thorlberd spared her and engaged her services. Her mindweaving abilities alone would make her a powerful ally. To think that we now have to bow down before such a person.’
‘And she knows we were headed in this direction,’ exclaimed Zastra, fear taking a grip on her.
‘Worse, I expect her here within the next few days. When I returned, I found a letter from Brutila addressed to me personally, full of threats. It seems she has a strong belief you would make your way here. And she was right.’
Orwin rubbed his chin nervously.
‘You must not be here when she arrives. I will not be able to protect you.’
Zastra sighed. She had started to enjoy the luxuries of Lyria. Even more precious were the feelings of friendship and belonging that she had begun to feel with Morn and Podrik. It seemed that they must be cast out into the loneliness of the open trail once more.
‘What’s to be done?’ asked Morn, frowning.
‘Perhaps we can smuggle them out in a log cart and send them down to the port of Castanton. I know a ship’s captain who would take them to the Far Isles in return for a hundred tocrins. Surely that will take them outside of Thorlberd’s reach. But I must consult my wife.’
‘Are you sure that’s wise?’ asked Morn. ‘The fewer people who know, the safer, especially with mindweavers about.’
‘She’ll find out, she always does! Trust me it’s the safest option to tell her. And she is always full of good ideas, she may have a better plan.’
Morn bit her lower lip, but said no
thing further. Already she had been dangerously impertinent for a servant but, fortunately for her, Orwin was too full of nervous distraction to have noticed.
Zastra’s eyelids were drooping heavily and she was almost asleep in her chair. Morn called Podrik in.
‘Take Zastra to my room. She needs rest. You should leave Findar with her. Then come back and find me.’
Chapter Thirty-five
There had been much for Brutila to organise. The uncomfortable experience at Borsha indicated that she needed a personal guard. Although she had lost some time in returning to Riverford for reinforcements, it was better to be well prepared. Now that she was certain, or at least almost certain, of Zastra’s direction, she could plan a strategy. At Riverford she had found a troop of soldiers waiting for her, sent by Thorlberd. Finton was most obliging, agreeing to release his migaradon with barely a squeak of protest. Messengers were sent ahead to Lyria and the besiegers at Seacastle. A further messenger was sent back to Golmer Castle with the latest news.
When all was set, Brutila set out along the main road with her troop of fifty Bractarian soldiers. The Riverford migaradon was sent out to scour the route ahead, as well as searching a wide area either side of the road for any sign of the fugitives. Brutila forced a fast pace. There were insufficient horses for the whole troop, so two-thirds of the soldiers were forced to run aside the trotting horses. Only at the point of exhaustion were they allowed to swap places with those on horseback. Brutila allowed only one small diversion. The village of Borsha was set on fire. The wails of the peasants pleased her. They deserved such punishment for their insolence. No house was spared, and the pall of smoke followed the troop along the road.
Allowing only a short rest at night, they travelled quickly. Seven days out of Riverford they came to large village where there was news. Their quarry had been spotted at the last market day. Indeed, there had been quite a commotion, with the Kyrgs all fainting and staying unconscious for several hours. Brutila read the mind of one of the villagers to confirm the story. Their prey had received a lift from two cloth merchants and headed east.
Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set Page 19
