Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  Continuing to Gorst Town, Brutila ordered her soldiers to split up and ask questions at every house and every inn. It didn’t take them long to find the inn where the merchants had stayed, along with a young “boy” and a baby. The innkeeper informed the soldiers that the merchants had continued along the main road after spending just one night. Brutila smirked. Clever boys. The information confirmed that Zastra was still headed east. Lyria and Seacastle remained possible destinations, but she was becoming more and more certain that it was in Lyria that she would find them. She spurred her troop on remorselessly.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Marl Orwin intended to help Zastra if he could, despite the risks. However, he was keen to consult his wife, Lichinara. During supper, he was fidgety and nervous, a fact that did not go unnoticed by his observant spouse. A lady of noble birth and no small beauty, she was also shrewd and intelligent and after they had eaten she suggested her husband joined her in her chambers. He agreed with alacrity. As soon as the door to her chamber was closed, she turned her questioning eyes on her husband.

  ‘Orwin, whatever is the matter?’ she demanded.

  ‘Lichinara, my dear one, you had better sit down.’

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  Orwin paced up and down, rubbing his balding head in his characteristically nervous manner.

  ‘Out with it, or by the stars, I’ll...’

  The words burst from his mouth in a hoarse whisper.

  ‘It’s Leodra’s children, they’re here!’

  ‘Here, in our castle?’ Lichinara exclaimed in disbelief.

  ‘My dear, please keep your voice down. They arrived a few days ago. Leodra sent them, saying I would take care of them.’

  ‘The nerve of the man! To put us in the way of such danger. Of course, it is impossible.’

  ‘Yes, yes, dear one, I know they cannot stay. But we must help them, poor dears. I owe this much to Leodra.’

  ‘Orwin, how can you be so stupid?’ His wife darted out the words. ‘What about the mindweavers? You could never hide the fact you helped them. That awful Brutila woman is on her way here even now. We have no choice, we must turn them in.’

  Orwin looked at her in horror.

  ‘But they are just children.’

  ‘Children of an old and now defeated regime. It is very sad of course, but there is no helping them. You do not realise how delicate our predicament is. You are known to be a friend of Leodra. Only my advice not to oppose Thorlberd has saved us thus far. This is an opportunity to demonstrate our loyalty.’

  ‘Loyalty?’ cried Orwin. ‘What about our loyalty to Leodra? He was a true friend to us in the past. Remember when we were nearly ousted by that liar of a mindweaver who accused us of treason? Leodra stood by us.’

  He strode distractedly around the room but Lichinara knew her husband and knew he was wavering. She had saved her best argument for this moment.

  ‘Think of me, Orwin, and what they would do to me. Would you throw me to a pack of wild caralyx? For that is what would happen once that woman comes and reads your mind. Have pity. Have I not been a good wife to you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, my dear one. Of course. But it just seems wrong.’

  ‘All of Golmeira is wrong at present. We are not to blame.’

  There was a lengthy pause while Orwin continued to pace up and down. His wife left him to his thoughts. Only when she judged the time was right did she speak again.

  ‘Where are they now?’

  ‘Asleep, down in the kitchens.’

  ‘I suggest you send a guard immediately to secure them. We can send word to Brutila, and hand them over when she gets here.’ Two thousand tocrins wouldn’t go amiss either, she thought to herself. Seeing her husband still hesitate, she continued.

  ‘It will be better if you do it, Orwin. At least there will be some dignity for them.’

  He wished to believe her but knew too well the consequences of his betrayal.

  ‘At least let them sleep tonight,’ he pleaded. ‘The gates are locked. They could not escape even if they wanted to. Tomorrow will come soon enough for the poor things.’

  Lichinara knew when she had won.

  ‘Of course, my dear,’ she conceded graciously.

  Zastra was in the midst of a nightmare. She was in Lyria Castle, surrounded by circling migaradons ridden by faceless figures in black cloaks. She found herself roused, not knowing where she was. A strong hand over her mouth caused her to rear back in panic.

  ‘P-please…’ a soft voice pleaded.

  ‘Podrik?’ she whispered, as the rushing sound in her head subsided.

  ‘C-come. You must leave. Right now.’

  Quickly awake, she peered blindly into the dark.

  ‘Findar?’

  ‘H-here, and some clothes too,’ the disembodied voice whispered, handing her a soft bundle.

  Once she was dressed he tugged on her arm and indicated she should follow.

  ‘What about Orwin?’ she asked.

  ‘No good. You’re to be handed over t-t-tomorrow. M-ma told me to hide in my lady’s rooms and listen. I h-heard them.’

  Podrik led Zastra down a spiral staircase. At the bottom he paused briefly to pick up a length of thick rope and slung it over one shoulder.

  ‘This way,’ he whispered, guiding her around unseen obstacles until they arrived at a barred window through which the clear night sky and stars could be seen. A thin sliver of Horval, the larger of the twin moons, was also visible. Below the window was a drop into impenetrable darkness. They were at the rear of the castle, facing the steep mountainside from which it had been carved. Podrik secured the rope against one of the bars and then, using his good arm, he jiggled another bar until it came out of its sockets. The gap between the remaining bars was just wide enough for a child. Zastra could make out the whiteness of his teeth as he grinned and gestured downwards.

  ‘You first. I’ll follow.’

  Hoisting Findar round in his sling so that she was carrying him on her back, Zastra grabbed the rope and shimmied down quickly. Podrik, being larger, had some trouble squeezing through the gap in the bars. Zastra watched in amazement as he slid expertly down the rope, using only his good arm to slow his descent.

  He reached out to take Findar. Zastra flinched and he pulled back his arms as if they had touched a hot pan.

  ‘I’m s-s-strong. C-c-can c-carry, we go f-faster?’ he gasped. With some reluctance, Zastra let him take Findar, and Podrik strode off into the dark. He seemed sure of his way, keeping up a good pace. Zastra stayed close behind, using the shadow of his misshapen form as her guide.

  They were panting heavily as they reached the summit of the mountain, just as dawn was breaking. Zastra looked back as the warm glow of the rising sun began to spread across the floor of the valley below. Lyria castle was still in shadow.

  ‘Pretty,’ said Podrik, smiling with satisfaction, as if he had created the valley and the morning sun himself.

  ‘You’ve done this before,’ said Zastra.

  ‘A good way to escape from Terlan,’ he said, his stutter gone now that they were safely away from the castle. Findar was awake and crying for food. Podrik led them down to a freshwater spring and dug into the bag he was carrying, bringing out a pot, together with Zastra’s fire-ring and some oats. They made porridge and ate a hasty breakfast. A distant sound reached them, carried faintly on the wind from the Lyria valley; a mixture of horns and barking dogs. Podrik and Zastra looked at each other in alarm. No words were needed. They packed up hurriedly and made their way back to the top of the mountain. Lyria Castle, now bathed in light, was alive and crawling with soldiers and horses.

  ‘I guess they know we’re gone,’ said Zastra.

  ‘I can come with you,’ Podrik suggested, head cocked to one side.

  Zastra shook her head, gently taking Findar from him. ‘I couldn’t wish for a stronger or braver companion,’ she said, ‘but I cannot ask you to share this with us. You have already risked too muc
h for our sakes.’

  Podrik looked as if he might argue, if only he could find the words or the courage.

  ‘Morn needs you, Podrik,’ said Zastra, ‘and it’s good for me to know we have friends who are safe. Friends I can count on if ever I need them.’

  A smile burst across Podrik’s broad face. ‘No one has ever called me a friend before,’ he beamed.

  ‘Well, that’s because they don’t know you like we do,’ said Zastra.

  Podrik shuffled his feet, clearly unused to compliments. He was unable to look at her as he handed her the bag.

  ‘I packed it myself,’ he said. ‘I’ll run around, throw the dogs off. Be careful. Follow the streams, they’ll lead you up the mountains and hide your scent.’ He blushed furiously as Zastra gave him hug. She started down the slope into the next valley. Looking back, she saw that he stayed on the mountain ridge for some time, watching them, before running off.

  Zastra reckoned they had maybe half a day head start, but with horses and dogs their pursuers would soon gain. Findar had taken this opportunity to start bawling lustily, and Zastra felt sure the noise must carry down to Lyria Castle. She scrambled down the mountain, following the narrow gully of a stream. She was on an open rocky scree, bare and exposed. The entire valley in front of her was dry and sparse, with little cover. Beyond the ridge marking the far side of the valley, she could see a green swathe of forest; somewhere to hide if only they could get to it. She had seen no sign of a migaradon but surely it was only a matter of time. They knew where she was now, thanks to Orwin’s betrayal. With despair threatening to choke her, she hurried on. She no longer had any destination to aim for, but she vowed to Findar that she would keep running, though her lungs might burst.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Brutila balled her gloved fists in frustration at the sight of the rope and the gap between the bars. The mice had slipped the trap. She looked in disgust at the cowering figure of Marl Orwin. His whole body shook with fear. Well, let him shake. He’d had the traitors within his grasp and had let them get away. Following her instincts, she had headed to Lyria, arriving at the castle just after dawn to find the place in an uproar. Orwin’s mind had revealed everything. The entire castle had been searched and it was clear that the children, asleep and innocent not twelve hours before, had escaped. She cast a frosty glance towards the top of the mountain. At least the horses and dogs were already prepared. If only the migaradon were here. They had left it at Gorst Town, needing rest and food, but she had ordered it to follow them as soon as it was able.

  She called forward the soldier who was responsible for carrying her personal belongings. This was the end game, and she needed to be at the height of her powers. After drinking down a large dose of cintara bark, she called for a horse and rode out at the front of her troop. She could not see the fugitives, but the dogs had picked up the scent and were racing up the mountainside. She spurred on her horse, following the dogs as keenly as if she herself had scented their quarry.

  They arrived at the top of valley of Lyria early in the afternoon. Here, the scent seemed confused, the dogs pausing and sniffing around in circles.

  ‘What’s occurring?’ demanded Brutila.

  ‘Nothing to worry about,’ replied the dog handler nervously. ‘They must have stopped here, or tried to put the dogs off. We’ll soon pick up the trail.’

  As if on cue, the dogs formed an arrowhead and raced northwards, along the top of the ridge. The troop followed, struggling to keep up with the excited dogs as they pounded along the sloping ridge.

  ‘We must be close now,’ puffed the handler as the baying of the dogs increased in volume. Sure enough, the dogs paused at the foot of a small outcrop of rock and raised themselves on their hind legs, scrabbling upwards against the steep rock face in a frenzy of excitement.

  ‘Look!’ exclaimed one of the guards, pointing upwards. A leather strap was visible, jutting out over the top of the overhang. There was no easy way up to the top of the cliff.

  If only the migaradon were here, thought Brutila, staring at the sky in frustration. She sent up two of her most agile soldiers. The smooth rock made the ascent treacherous, and the heavier of the soldiers lost his grip, falling to the ground with a sickening thump. Brutila paid no attention to his screams of agony, tapping her grey-gloved hand against her thigh with impatience. The first soldier reached the top.

  ‘There’s no one here,’ she called down, holding up the bag. Reaching inside, she brought out a large chunk of sausage. The baying of the dogs doubled.

  ‘You fool,’ cried Brutila, glaring at the handler.

  ‘I’m sure they’ll find the trail again,’ he spluttered, tugging desperately at something in his backpack; a sheet they had taken from the bed Leodra’s children had slept in. He gave the scent to the dogs. However, the dogs appeared confused and unsure. Many seemed eager to return down the valley. Brutila closed her eyes, opening her mind to communicate with the lead dog. The scent leading back down the valley was not the same as the one on the bedsheet.

  ‘It would seem they doubled back,’ said the handler.

  ‘That would make no sense,’ barked Brutila, annoyed that her concentration had been broken. ‘Think, man. Clearly the traitors had help to escape. Their helper thought to fool us, and it looks as if he, or she, succeeded. No, we go back to the summit of the valley, where the trail was uncertain. I’ll lay any odds that Leodra’s brats continued east.’

  Retracing their steps, the dogs found a scent leading eastward, down into the next valley.

  ‘Ride,’ ordered Brutila in triumph, gesturing her troops forward. They had wasted considerable time on the detour, but now there was no doubt of the trail.

  Zastra’s lungs were burning and her thighs and arms shaking with exertion. She had reached what she had thought to be the top of the mountain on the far side of the valley, only to see another steep ridge rising to the sky above her. Sighing in dismay, she allowed herself the smallest of rests, using the time to give Findar some food and water. Her baby brother, whose generally docile temperament had been a boon during their long journey from Golmer Castle, was wailing raucously. Zastra could not afford the time to soothe him. Casting a nervous eye back across the valley, she made out a string of tiny figures on the brow, dark outlines against the pale sky. They must be her pursuers. From the south, grey clouds scudded towards them, driven by an ever-strengthening wind.

  She heaved Findar back into his sling and continued onwards. As she reached the true summit of the valley, she pulled up short, almost overbalancing. Below her, dislodged stones plunged down a sheer cliff, crashing into the floor of the next valley far beneath. Another step and they would have been over! She took a deep breath, trying to quell the tremor of her startled heart. Scanning left and right, it seemed the way north might be passable, although there was no cover for several leagues. There was no time for indecision and, glancing anxiously behind her, she headed in that direction. It was difficult terrain, requiring a good deal of scrambling and climbing, with treacherous loose stones threatening to overbalance her. Zastra recalled a clambering expedition she had enjoyed with her friends, up one of the small outcrops of rock in Highcastle Forest. Then, she had relished the challenge, but that feeling now seemed distant and unreal. Besides, the rocks in Highcastle Forest didn’t compare to the scale of what she was currently facing. Several times, Zastra was forced to traverse the narrowest of ledges, clinging tightly to the rock face, trying to ignore the dizzying drop below her. She could only hope that her pursuers would have similar difficulties.

  Heavy grey clouds hurried the onset of darkening night. Zastra continued as far as she could in the gloom but at last she was forced to halt. Further progress in the dark was impossibly dangerous. In any case, she was worn out, her legs and arms trembling from the efforts of carrying her brother over the difficult terrain.

  She found them shelter on a relatively flat piece of rock beneath an overhanging ledge. Rummaging in the bag, she discove
red that Podrik had packed a change of underwear for Findar, which was sorely needed, along with a thin blanket, and some dry biscuits to eat. After a frugal supper, Zastra encased her brother in her arms, wrapping the blanket around them both to guard against the gathering chill. Exhausted, they slept.

  The soldiers murmured in disapproval but were too frightened to argue. They were to carry on the chase, even as dark descended on the valley. Torches were lit, and the progress continued in the gloom, albeit at a slower pace. The dogs had been put on leashes to prevent them becoming lost in the darkness. They had almost reached the top of the valley when a driving rainstorm extinguished the torches. Brutila gave the command to continue, but the captain refused, claiming the danger made it impossible to continue. Brutila pondered whether to use mindweaving to urge them on, but she could not control the entire troop, and even the dogs were lying down, panting in exhaustion. They would have to halt until the rain stopped, or dawn came. Growling in frustration, Brutila called for a second fur cloak; she did not like the chill that had begun to seep into her bones. An image of another cold mountainside broke out in front of her, and for an instant its white paleness seemed real. She could hear the scratchy sound of a multitude of little claws scrabbling against rock. Quaking, she banished the vision from her mind and waited impatiently for the rain to stop.

  Zastra awoke, shivering. Rain was biting into them and Findar was wailing with strident intensity. It was still utterly dark. She set her back to the rain, protecting her brother by enveloping him in the thin blanket, and tried with little success to go back to sleep. As soon as the first hint of light crept into the sky she rose, stiff and cold, and they continued their journey along the mountainside. The first few hours were the most perilous, the rocks made treacherous and slippery by the rain. Zastra’s cold hands were stiff and clumsy, refusing to obey her will. At least the rain may have washed away the scent, she thought. It was their only hope.