Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘A migaradon?’ she wailed. ‘N-No. I couldn’t. I can’t do it.’

  It was not a good start.

  ‘You don’t have to fight it yourself,’ explained Zastra. ‘You just need to get me close.’

  ‘Too dangerous. Too dangerous for you, Zastra,’ Orika began tugging anxiously at her hair, which had only just begun to grow back. The ship’s timbers began to quiver. Zastra clutched the girl’s hands until she calmed down. The ship ceased its trembling.

  ‘Orika, I know it’s asking a lot, after all you’ve been through. But we must defeat the migaradon and I would be in greater danger if I have to face it without your help.’

  Eventually, Orika was persuaded to give the plan a try. They began with the wooden bowl, which Orika moved up and down in the air with increasing confidence. When she had mastered that, they tried it with a spare hatch cover. Launching the wooden square into the air proved easy but keeping it flat was much more difficult. The hatch kept tipping over and spinning uncontrollably on its axis. When it had clattered onto the deck of the Wind of Golmeira for the hundredth time, Kylen loomed up behind Zastra.

  ‘This is useless. I’m going to take one of the ships, with or without Justyn’s permission. If we attack Murthen Island under cover of darkness we may have a chance.’

  ‘The darkness wouldn’t protect you. They would know you were coming. The place is full of mindweavers, remember. We need to give my plan a chance to work.’

  Even as she spoke, the wobbling hatch sliced through the air towards them, sending them diving for cover.

  ‘I didn’t survive this long to be decapitated by a lump of wood,’ Kylen muttered. She called for a canoe to take her ashore. Her place by Zastra’s side was taken by Dobery.

  ‘Are you sure about this, my dear?’

  ‘Not you too? Everyone likes to criticise, but I notice no one else has thought of a better plan. Or any other plan, in fact.’

  ‘I mean, should you be the one to take on the migaradon? If anything happened to you, the Sendorans and Justyn’s group will soon fall out. You are the only one of us that Kylen trusts. Perhaps you should get someone else to do it. Yerdan seems like a fine fellow with a crossbow.’

  ‘It was my idea,’ Zastra insisted. ‘I need to do this myself. Yerdan’s not bad, but I’m a better shot. You see how Nerika and the others look at me. Even Kylen has doubts. This is my chance to convince everyone I’m not just the spoilt daughter of a Grand Marl.’

  ‘How will getting yourself killed achieve that?’

  ‘Your confidence is truly inspiring,’ Zastra said dryly.

  ‘You don’t have to prove anything to me. I suppose I’m an old man and I like to worry. Just promise me you’ll be careful.’

  Zastra picked up the hatch and placed it flat on the deck. She stepped onto it and nodded towards Orika.

  ‘Let’s give it a try.’

  Her stomach plunged as the wooden square lurched into the air. Flailing her arms, she managed to keep upright as the hatch flew up from the deck and span out over the sea. Just as she began to feel she was balanced, the hatch tipped over and dumped her unceremoniously into the water. Spluttering she rose to find she had landed close to Port Krysfera. As she waded ashore, dripping wet, she noticed Nerika and some of the settlers had gathered to watch. They were having a good laugh at her expense. She called for a canoe to take her back to the Wind of Golmeira. After five more attempts and five more cold baths in the sea, Zastra was well and truly fed up. She gathered Orika and Dobery into a small huddle.

  ‘I’m s-sorry,’ Orika said dejectedly. ‘I can do it with just the wood, but it goes wrong when you’re on it.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Zastra tried to sound encouraging. ‘We’ll get there.’

  ‘Perhaps if you let Orika into your mind?’ suggested Dobery. ‘She may be able to sense how you are balancing and work with you rather than against you.’

  Zastra chewed her lip. She had secrets she couldn’t risk anyone else finding out. Only desperation had induced her to open her mind to Orika when they took the transport. She was reluctant to do so again. Dobery raised his palm.

  ‘She doesn’t have to see everything. You can lock the important things away. Remember how I taught you.’

  ‘It would be nice if we didn’t have all these spectators,’ Zastra remarked. Orika nodded vigorously in agreement. The crowd on the beach had grown and some had even brought cushions and rugs so that they could watch the entertainment in comfort.

  Zastra arranged for the yacht to be lowered and Dobery and Orika joined her as she took the little sailboat out of the bay and round to the far side of the island, out of sight of Port Krysfera. They started to practise. Opening her mind to Orika improved things. The flying hatch no longer seemed to fight against Zastra, and there were moments when she felt almost in control. The main problem was that her defensive mental walls kept snapping back into place, a reflex of her years of training. Once that occurred, she inevitably ended up crashing into the water. By the time the sun began to set, Zastra was soaking wet and shivering with cold. Her thoughts turned longingly towards Pitwyn’s bath-house.

  ‘That’ll do for today,’ Dobery said. ‘We must not put too much strain on Orika.’

  Zastra didn’t argue. She took the yacht back to Port Krysfera, dropping Orika off at the Wind of Golmeira on her way. She noticed a two-masted ship had joined the others in the bay. She left Dobery at the jetty and made her way to the bath-house, overjoyed to find there was a spare bath waiting. She pulled the lever to fill it up and had just placed one foot in the hot water when a figure burst through the linen curtain and into her chamber.

  ‘What the—’ Zastra yelped. She plunged into the steaming water in an attempt to hide her nakedness. The intruder stopped short. It was Kylen.

  ‘Oh, um, sorry, I didn’t realise you’d be…’

  ‘You didn’t realise that I’d be in the bath? And yet this is a bath-house.’

  I’ll just, um…’ Kylen flushed. She appeared almost as mortified as Zastra. She quickly averted her eyes and shuffled back behind the curtain. ‘Sorry!’

  Is there nowhere I can get some peace? Zastra eyed the entrance to her chamber warily, but the curtain remained closed and eventually she reckoned it might be safe to stand up and reach for the soap. With unfortunate timing, Kylen chose that moment to pop her head back round the side of the curtain, making Zastra jump so sharply that her foot slipped on the base of the tub and she fell backwards into the hot water. She surfaced, spluttering, wiping her wet hair from her forehead.

  ‘I’d have thought you’d had enough dunkings for one day,’ Kylen said with a grin.

  Zastra scoured the room desperately for something to cover herself. There was nothing within reach, so she folded her arms across her chest protectively and glared at the intruder.

  ‘What do you want?’

  Kylen coughed.

  ‘I only wanted to know when you’ll be ready to try this plan of yours. We’ve had word from Drazan that Thorlberd is sending reinforcements to Murthen Island. We’ve got to get there before they do.’

  ‘Who’s Drazan?’ Zastra attempted unsuccessfully to regain her composure. Where are those towels?

  ‘The captain of the Daydream. Didn’t you see it in the bay? The little ship with the two masts. He’s been scouting the Golmeiran coast for information. He’s a mindweaver, like Polina and Dobery, and he’s found out things about Murthen Island.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Weren’t you listening?’ Kylen strode forward, oblivious to Zastra’s embarrassment. ‘Reinforcements. For Murthen Island. Due to leave Port Trestra before the next Moonscrescent.’

  There they are. Zastra finally spotted a neat pile of towels lying just by the entrance, well out of her reach unless she left the protection of her bath. She gestured toward the pile.

  ‘Chuck me a towel then. We’d better start out at once.’

  Kylen took the top towel from the pile and handed it
to Zastra, at least having the decency to keep her eyes directed towards the floor while she did so.

  ‘Um… we can’t leave until tomorrow. Mata insists the Wind of Golmeira won’t be ready to sail before then.’

  Zastra froze, one leg on the lip of the tub.

  ‘So this could have waited until after I’d had my bath?’

  ‘I suppose so. Although knowing how long you like to spend in here, it could have been tomorrow before you got out.’

  Zastra reached for the bar of soap and threw it forcefully in the general direction of the Sendoran. Kylen skipped out of the way.

  ‘Hey! No need for that.’

  ‘Get out. And tell everyone else to leave me alone, unless there’s an actual emergency.’

  Kylen disappeared and Zastra sank back into the bath, pulling the lever for more hot water. She closed her eyes. Bliss.

  ‘Oh Zastra? Lady Zastra, have you finished yet? These new shoes won’t try themselves on. I don’t like to brag, but they are just the most lovely…’ A curly-haired shadow fell across the linen curtain.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you,’ she heard Kylen remark pleasantly. ‘Do go straight in.’

  Chapter Forty-one

  Rastran looked complacently out of his window. The sea was flat and calm, uninterrupted as far as the distant horizon. Beneath his position the Bractarian Guard patrolled the walls of the fortress. He hoped his cousin would be foolish enough to attack. A handful of ships, crewed by traitorous scum – they wouldn’t stand a chance.

  There was a knock at the door. Linsak, the chief mindweaver on Murthen Island, begged leave to enter. Rastran smirked. He knew that Linsak, much older and more experienced than him, resented both his presence and the authority he had as Thorlberd’s son. He found her ineffective attempts to hide her dislike most amusing.

  ‘What is it?’ he snapped, feigning annoyance. In reality, he was bored and welcomed the diversion, but he liked to put people on the defensive, knowing they dared say nothing in return.

  ‘My progress report, as you requested,’ Linsak said, with forced politeness.

  ‘I hope there has actually been some progress this time?’

  ‘Indeed, my lord. One of our younger mindweavers has revealed an exceptional ability, unlocked by the cintara bark.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘He was able to crack a sword blade with his mind. Not much as yet, but something we can work on.’

  ‘I suppose his ability is limited to metal?’

  Linsak nodded. ‘As far as we know, a person can only mindmove a single substance. As my Lord Rastran knows from his own ability. It is unfortunate that we lost one such gifted child to Lord Thorlberd’s niece.’

  Linsak’s face showed nothing, but Rastran felt her insolence. He had been on the leading warship when Zastra’s forces had attacked the convoy. He had ordered the captain make for the safety of Murthen Island. It had been the right tactical decision; the migaradon should have finished the rebels off, but to some it might look as if he had run away.

  ‘She was lucky. Next time it will be different.’

  Five warships lay in Murthen Island’s harbour, ready to strike out at his command, and he had more mindweavers under his control than anyone in the whole of Golmeira. He would take personal satisfaction in killing his cousin. Or better still, capturing her and taking her in chains to his father. She had got the better of him all those years ago at Golmer Castle, but that had been kids’ stuff. Now he was a man, fully trained. You have no idea of my powers, Zastra. Your crossbow skills won’t save you this time.

  ‘What about the Sendoran problem?’ Linsak asked. ‘The last batch were in poor condition. Many died before we could even begin to probe their minds. If you would allow them a little more food and perhaps some basic medicines we might have enough healthy Sendorans to work with.’

  Rastran waved his hand dismissively.

  ‘They deserve no such thing. If they die, they can be replaced. Sendor is full of such animals. Why waste good food and medicine?’

  ‘Losing the latest shipment has deprived us of new subjects, and my Lord Rastran’s temper…’ The sentence was choked off, uncompleted.

  ‘Those that resist deserve to die. It is a lesson to the rest. That one that spat at me deserved his fate. Which reminds me, you’d better have him cut down. No doubt he’s beginning to smell.’

  Linsak twitched her nose as if to imply that it was Rastran who was giving off a bad stench. She was really starting to annoy him. Rastran leant back against the windowsill and folded his arms.

  ‘So what you are telling me is that you have made no progress overcoming the Sendoran resistance to mindweaving.’

  Linsak bridled. ‘Their minds are so different to ours, it is difficult to interpret what they are thinking. We have found a way to access the dream centre of their minds. The nightmare planting is going well.’

  ‘What use are the nightmares of savages to me?’

  ‘Manifold, my lord. We can disturb their sleep, leaving them exhausted. Some we have even pushed into insanity. The threat of this has loosened some tongues, although most stubbornly refuse to cooperate.’

  ‘And the boy, Zadorax?’

  ‘Every night since last Moonscross, we have forced him to live in a nightmare world of our creation. He will break soon, I guarantee it.’

  ‘You’d better be right. I need him to tell me the secrets of the Caves of Karabek. I want to know every entrance.’

  ‘I thought Master at Arms Ixendred was in charge of taking the caves? He has written yet again, requesting delivery of more sintegrack.’

  ‘Our last remaining batch of sintegrack is here on Murthen Island. I will not trust it to anyone else. Once the brat has told me the layout of the caves, I will lead the attack myself.’

  Linsak raised an eyebrow. Was she mocking him? He tried to probe her, but she blocked him easily, her face blank and unconcerned. He wished he could get rid of her, but after a number of previous incidents, his father had insisted that Rastran could only punish his subordinates when they visibly failed.

  ‘Get out of my sight,’ he snapped, taking some satisfaction in dismissing her with such deliberate rudeness. He turned his attention back to the unbroken horizon. No sign of a sail to break the monotony. Come and play, Zastra, if you dare. I’ll make sure you regret it.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Kylen paced up and down the deck with increasing impatience as Zastra ordered Mata to drop anchor until the tide was high enough for the Wind of Golmeira to pass safely through the treacherous channel of the Western Spur. Zastra refused to let the Sendoran’s loud sighs and angry looks pressure her into premature action. Only when the waves had risen high enough to lap against the tidal line of algae and seaweed did she give the order to raise anchor. It was the first time they had traversed the channel in this direction and it would do no one any good if they ran aground on one of the sandbanks. The prevailing wind was against them so she ordered the dinghy be lowered to tow them through. Once they had made it safely back to Sea of Golmeira, Zastra set a course for the Pyramid Isle. Justyn and Nerika refused to countenance an attack on Murthen Island until Zastra had proved it was possible to defeat a migaradon. To their knowledge, the closest migaradon was on the Pyramid Isle. Zastra left the ship in Mata’s capable hands while she and Orika practised. Zastra added to her growing collection of bruises and cuts as they battled to control the flight of the wooden hatch.

  ‘Perhaps you should try wearing a saucepan on your head?’ Jerenik’s helpful suggestion came after an unexpected dip of the raft had caused Zastra to bump her head on the foresail yard.

  Zastra bit back a sharp retort. It was bad enough that she was aching all over, without Jerenik making fun of her. She probably should discipline him for insubordination, but she didn’t want to begin life as captain handing out punishments. She had no desire to be like Dastrin. She was rescued by Mata.

  ‘Saucepans, is it?’ snapped her second in co
mmand. ‘Well, the galley is a mess since we don’t have a proper cook. I want it sparkling, saucepans and all. Anyone else with a liking for smart comments can help you.’

  The grin was wiped from Jerenik’s face and the rest of the crew turned back to their tasks with a new-found eagerness.

  Kylen and Dobery had insisted on joining the expedition. Kylen shared Zastra’s cabin while Dobery took a bunk in Burgal’s old berth together with Ithgol. Jerenik, much to his annoyance, had been sent back to bunk with the rest of the crew. That evening, Zastra invited Mata, Ithgol and Dobery to join her and Kylen for supper. Kylen did not think much of the idea.

  ‘I refuse to eat with a Kyrg. If you’d seen what they’re doing to my people, you wouldn’t either. They are little better than savages.’

  ‘I have as much reason to dislike Kyrgs as you,’ replied Zastra, ‘but Ithgol has proven himself worthy of my trust. Sendorans were called savages once. I would have thought you’d have more sympathy for Ithgol than the others, not less.’

  ‘Pah!’

  ‘Well, I’ve invited him now,’ said Zastra, exasperated. ‘I won’t uninvite him.’

  ‘You’re the captain.’ Kylen gave her a sardonic salute.

  The supper was a disaster. Kylen sat at one end of the table and glowered. Ithgol was as uncommunicative as ever and even Mata seemed ill at ease and only responded to direct questions. Zastra tried to act as a good host, encouraging Mata with some general questions about sailing and navigation. Dobery joined in now and then, but with Kylen and Ithgol conducting their own private glaring competition the atmosphere turned heavy and an uncomfortable silence descended over the dining table. At least the food was good. Before they had set off, Pitwyn had sent across the finest produce from Port Krysfera. There was also fresh fish, caught direct from the sea only that day. Dobery passed Zastra a jug of sauce.