Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘But you felt something?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  Rastran clasped his hands together.

  ‘See, boy. If your little friend isn’t scared, why should you be?’

  Myka shrank back. Rastran’s eyes narrowed and the Southlander clutched his head. Then his chin lifted as if prised upwards by an invisible crowbar. His eyes went blank and his mouth gaped open. Rastran poured the contents of the pouch into Myka’s mouth and then pressed against his chin to close it. He’s using mindweaving to make him take it, Joril realised. Myka swallowed and only then did Rastran release him. Myka coughed and spat, rubbing his tongue on the sleeve of his shirt to remove any remaining powder.

  ‘You… you…’ he stammered, his eyes filled with angry tears.

  ‘Careful, Myka,’ said Fester. ‘Remember who you address. You really ought to thank Lord Rastran for his lesson.’

  Rastran tapped his hand against his thigh and waited.

  ‘Thank you, my Lord,’ Myka muttered at last.

  ‘A waste of good cintara,’ Rastran drawled. ‘We should send you back to Southland. Useless and a coward. You should learn from Florian and Fester. I saw to their initial training myself and look at them now. Perhaps I should take more of an interest in the unproven. Master Jallal is being remiss in her duties if she’s turning out pupils as useless as you.’ He strode off towards the great hall. Fester and Florian followed like well-trained trained dogs. Myka turned away, still trying to spit out the cintara.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Joril asked. ‘Did the cintara do anything to you?’ Myka shook his head.

  ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘I felt something.’ Joril tried to describe it. ‘What do you think it means? Will I be a mindmover? Oh, I do hope so.’

  He grabbed her arm. ‘Be careful. Don’t let them give you any more. It’s dangerously addictive. Promise me.’

  ‘Why do you care? I didn’t think we were friends any more.’

  ‘Tomik told me about the present you gave Lylian. That was a nice thought. I reckon there’s hope for you yet.’

  Joril found herself smiling. She grabbed his hand.

  ‘Let’s see if we can scrounge some chala to take away this horrid taste.’

  ‘Great idea.’

  As they headed for the kitchens, they passed a servant with a bucket and mop, who proceeded to clean up Joril’s vomit. Joril pondered what had just happened. Was she beginning to uncover her powers? Was Rastran really going to teach her class? She couldn’t wait to tell Berynder and the others. She had taken cintara bark with Lord Rastran himself. That surely was better than some stupid glove.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Ithgol, Polina and Kylen agreed to help without hesitation. The Wind of Golmeira had been forced to veer south when their lookout, a keen-eyed young girl from Lyria, had sighted a convoy heading out of Castanton, no doubt searching for whoever had stolen the two Far Isles’ trading ships. They had been forced away from the coast. Unwilling to risk a return to Golmeiran waters, Mata had dropped them off in the ship’s yacht three day’s sail south of the coast, pledging that the Wind of Golmeira would return to pick them up once it had deposited Findar and the other refugees safely on Uden’s Teeth. Zastra had navigated them to a secluded cove, where they had hidden the yacht. From there, it had been a four day trek to Highcastle village. Zastra left the others at the Black Horse, a drab and dirty inn just off the main street, while she went in search of Bodel, the woman in whose care she had left Kastara, all those years ago. Ithgol, in particular, did not want to be left behind, but Zastra insisted that it would look less suspicious if she went alone. She found Bodel’s house easily. It looked the same, except that the door was now painted red, whereas she remembered it being green. Her mother had encouraged her to mix with other children and she’d sometimes been allowed to stay overnight with Bodel’s daughter, Bedrun. However, the woman kneeling in the garden pulling up weeds was not Bodel and she looked at her questioningly. Zastra roused herself.

  ‘I was looking for Healer Bodel. She used to live here.’

  The woman stood up and rubbed her hands down the front of her smock to clean off the dirt.

  ‘Aye duckie, she did. But she moved out years ago to take care of that mad sister of hers.’

  ‘Where can I find her?’

  ‘Mad Dalka took over the family bakery. She may be soft in the head, but she knows her way around an oven. Could have a job up at the castle, if only she weren’t scared of her own shadow. You’ll find it in the middle of the main street.’ The woman nodded back towards the centre of the village. ‘Mind you, I ain’t sure Bodel’s there now. Word is she’s gone travelling again. Seems our simple life ain’t good enough for Bodel. You her friend? Or relative perhaps?’

  Zastra didn’t care for the barrage of questions, or the sharp look the woman gave her.

  ‘An old pupil,’ she said quickly. ‘I was hoping she had some new recipes.’

  The woman seemed disappointed by such a commonplace answer and turned back to her gardening.

  ‘Well, I reckon you’re out of luck, duckie.’

  Zastra’s heart sank. If Bodel was away, how could she find out about Kastara?

  ‘Didn’t Bodel have a niece?’ she asked. ‘She’d be nearly eleven years old now.’ She felt a strange fluttering inside her chest. What if the woman told her Kastara had died? Ten years was a long time. Her sister might easily have caught a fever or some other disease. Or Thorlberd might have found her. The woman rested her weight on her spade.

  ‘Young Joril? Full of herself, that one. Couldn’t hardly bring herself to serve bread to the likes of us. Since she’s been up at the castle, she ain’t once come back to visit. They say she’s a blueblood, but that ain’t no cause to snub the folks that raised her.’

  Zastra tried not to appear too interested.

  ‘She’s up at the castle?’

  ‘It’s what I said, ain’t it? That’s where they take ’em. Give ’em all fine clothes and train ’em to be mindweavers. No one asks whether they want it or not. But young Joril couldn’t go fast enough, so I heard.’

  Zastra thanked the woman and headed back towards the Black Horse. Thank the stars, my sister is alive. Her joy at the news was tempered by concern. It would be difficult to get to Kastara if she was up at the castle. Yet she had to try. If they’re treating her like those children we rescued from Murthen Island… Zastra balled her fists as she recalled poor Zax and the others, battling nightmares and sweating with addiction to the cintara bark. She found her companions seated in the darkest corner of the inn.

  ‘I need to get inside Golmer Castle,’ were the first words out of her mouth. They stared at her as if she had grown a second head.

  ‘That’s madness!’ Polina said in an undertone. ‘There’s notices out everywhere for you, with a large reward for anyone who turns you in. That cap of yours is a poor disguise.’

  Zastra was wearing a shapeless woollen cap with a low peak, which gave her some protection from a casual observer. She and Kylen had both cut their hair short and Kylen had washed hers with a dark dye extracted from blueberries, an old Sendoran trick to hide her fair hair. Their cover story was that they were cloth merchants. Ithgol, whose distinctive Kyrginite features could not be disguised, was supposedly their bodyguard.

  ‘I overheard the barkeep saying that Thorlberd and Rastran are both at the castle. They would surely recognise you.’

  ‘Not if I get in and out quickly. Can’t you find out about the castle security from those soldiers over there?’

  ‘You want me to read their minds?’ Polina stared at her in disbelief. ‘It’s too risky. They’ll have been trained to sense when a mindweaver is trying to control them. If any have a natural resistance like yours, they’ll know straightaway that something’s wrong.’

  ‘But resistance like mine is rare, isn’t it?’ Zastra countered. ‘Please, Pol.’

  Pol sighed and narrowed her eyes. Almost instantly, a lieut
enant jumped up and scoured the room.

  ‘Who’s mindweaving!’ she cried. ‘Show yourself.’

  The room went quiet as the lieutenant strode around the inn. She paused in front of them. Zastra examined her knees fervently. They had agreed that Polina should do the talking if they were challenged.

  ‘You’re not from around here.’ The woman held out her hand. ‘Show me your papers.’

  Polina handed across their fake papers with a weak smile. Zastra’s stomach went cold. If the lieutenant could resist mindweaving, Polina would not be able to influence her. Their only hope was for their deception to work.

  ‘What brings you to Highcastle village?’

  ‘We’re cloth merchants, passing through on our way to Bractaria,’ Polina said. ‘We have some fine bamboo cloth if you’d care to look?’

  Zastra hoped Polina knew what she was doing. They had nothing with them but what they were wearing. What if the woman called Polina’s bluff and asked to see this non-existent cloth? The lieutenant examined the papers, and then turned her attention to Ithgol.

  ‘Why is this Kyrg not in uniform?’

  ‘Not every Kyrg is a soldier. This one is our bodyguard.’

  The woman looked him over, assessing him as if he were a horse, or a stud hog. ‘He looks like he should be a soldier with muscles like those.’

  Polina wrinkled her nose.

  ‘He certainly deters thieves, which is the only reason I allow him to remain in our company.’

  ‘No thieves here,’ the lieutenant returned. ‘Grand Marl Thorlberd wouldn’t allow it. What about these two?’ She re-folded the papers and pointed them at Kylen and Zastra, who continued to stare at the floor. ‘They don’t say much, do they?’

  ‘They’re my cousins. Only half a brain between them. My aunt begged me to take them off her hands and teach them the trade. I wish I’d left them at home for all the use they are.’

  The woman placed their papers in the top pocket of her tunic.

  ‘You’ll have to come with me. All suspicious mindweaving must be reported and since you are the only folk here that I don’t recognise—’

  Ithgol stood up, grabbed the woman and flung her towards the bar.

  ‘Run!’ he grunted.

  Zastra and the others made a dash for the door, and ran for the cover of Highcastle Forest. Behind them, they heard thuds and the sound of breaking crockery. As they moved deeper into the trees, they turned, and saw Ithgol following them. He was not pursued. They ran until the village was far behind.

  ‘That was close.’ Polina pulled up, panting. Zastra turned to her.

  ‘Did you find anything out, before you were detected?’

  Polina sucked in another breath.

  ‘Yes, but none of it good. The castle gate is always guarded. A permission slip is needed to get in or out. I don’t see how we can gain access, unless we dig our way in.’

  Zastra banged her head with the palm of her hand. ‘Of course! The underground passage.’

  She told the others about the hidden passage that led from the grand marl’s office into Highcastle Forest. She had used it to escape the night her parents were murdered.

  ‘Are you suggesting we break into Thorlberd’s own office?’ Polina exclaimed. ‘You must be insane!’

  ‘I’ll go tonight, when everyone is asleep. We just need to find the entrance to the passageway.’

  She looked around the forest and selected a broad trunked elmwood. It was easy to climb and she levered herself up to the canopy and triangulated their position against Highcastle village and Golmer Castle, both of which she could now see. She closed her eyes and took herself back. The image of the burning castle was seared into her dreams. Not quite the same angle. She shimmied down the tree and headed off in a northwesterly direction. When she thought they might be in the right area, she ordered the others to spread out and search. It was not until late evening that Ithgol found what they were looking for. At the back of a small cave, obscured behind a boulder, a narrow passageway led underground.

  ‘Wait here,’ Zastra ordered, but Kylen stopped her.

  ‘We’ve come this far together. Four will stand a better chance than one if the alarm is raised.’

  Zastra lit a candle and led the way into the passageway. She had barely gone four paces when she felt as if her breath were being squeezed from her lungs. It was just like in the Caves of Karabek, only this time much worse. She felt herself beginning to black out. The candle slipped from her hand and she fled for the relief of the open air. She crouched down to try to force air into her lungs.

  ‘Zastra?’ Polina sounded confused and concerned. Her companions had followed her. Kylen and Ithgol seemed determined to look everywhere except at her.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Zastra gasped, still struggling to breathe. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’

  Polina laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s not hard to understand,’ she said gently. ‘Last time you were in that passage, you were still a child, on the most awful night of your life. It’s not surprising that it affects you so.’

  ‘I can’t control it.’ Zastra ground her teeth in frustration. ‘How do I stop it happening?’

  ‘I wish I knew,’ Polina said. ‘But you mustn’t blame yourself.’

  Kylen took up the candle and headed back into the cave.

  ‘I’ll check if the tunnel is clear. If it has been blocked, then all this is a waste of time. Besides, I doubt we can open the door to the castle from this side. Only a fool would build a tunnel that would allow an enemy to access the castle. I expect the entrance only opens from the inside.’

  Zastra nodded weakly. ‘You might be right. I tried to get back when my father sent me through with the twins. I couldn’t find a way to open the door.’

  ‘Wait!’ Ithgol stepped after Kylen. ‘You may need help.’

  Kylen looked about to protest and then shrugged.

  ‘Sure, why not? You might come in useful.’

  They disappeared into the darkness.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Zastra was beginning to feel herself again by the time Kylen and Ithgol returned. They were sweaty and covered in dirt.

  ‘There’s no way in,’ Kylen said, brushing a cobweb from her hair. ‘We cleared a couple of rock falls that had blocked the passage. At the end, there were some steps leading up to a trapdoor but there was no way to open it from this side.’

  Zastra felt almost relieved. If they couldn’t get in by the passageway, it meant that her unexplained weakness didn’t matter. She jumped to her feet. ‘I’ll find another way. Someone at the village must know how to get into the castle.’

  Polina tried to stop her.

  ‘Please, just think for a moment. It’s not like you to be so hasty, Zastra. Those soldiers may still be looking for us.’

  ‘My sister’s in that castle and I won’t leave without her. Not again. If you are afraid of a few soldiers, then go on back to Uden’s Teeth.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Polina protested. ‘I’m only saying we should think this through instead of rushing in unprepared.’

  Kylen took out her sword and began to sharpen the blade against a stone.

  ‘We will get Kastara, even if we need to storm the gates.’

  Polina rolled her eyes. ‘Typical. No good expecting a Sendoran to talk sense. Ithgol, help me persuade Zastra not to be so foolish.’

  Ithgol snorted. ‘I agree with the Sendoran’s proposal.’

  Polina stared at them all.

  ‘Fine. Storm the gates. Just remember that when you get caught and Thorlberd sets his mindweavers on you, it’s not just your own stupid necks you are risking.’ She strode towards a small spring and knelt to drink. Kylen raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Do you think we should tell her that the ground over there is covered in poisonweed?’

  ‘You two go after her,’ said Zastra. ‘There’s someone in the village I need to talk to. Better if I go alone.’

  She headed back t
owards the village, checking carefully for soldiers before making for Dalka’s bakery. Perhaps Kastara’s foster mother would know something.

  ‘Hello? Anyone here?’

  A dark-haired woman with fearful eyes shrank behind the counter. It had been years since Zastra had seen Bodel, but the facial resemblance was strong, although Dalka was thinner and not as tall as her sister.

  ‘I-I don’t know you!’ Dalka pressed herself back against the wall as if she hoped to disappear into it. In her fear, she raised her voice. Worried that someone might hear, Zastra edged towards her. She could feel heat coming from the ovens in the room behind.

  ‘It’s all right. You’re Dalka, aren’t you?’

  ‘Y-yes,’ the woman returned. She was still shaking, but at least she had lowered her voice. ‘Do you know me? I’m s-sorry. I forget things.’

  ‘I’m a friend of Bodel’s.’

  ‘She’s gone!’ Dalka wailed. ‘My sister’s gone and my daughter too. Everyone’s left me.’ She began to sob like a child. Zastra glanced nervously towards the door. Someone would surely hear. An instant later, a hooded figure appeared in the doorframe. Mindweaver! Zastra’s initial alarm lessened when she realised the figure was wearing a blue robe with an embroidered trim, not the plain black favoured by mindweavers. The figure put a finger to her lips and lowered her hood. Bodel. Zastra clamped her lips shut to stop herself crying out. Bodel replaced her hood and beckoned Zastra to follow her to a small house opposite the bakery. Once inside, she drew the shutters closed and bolted the door, before reaching out to cup Zastra’s face in her warm hands.

  ‘It’s good to see you, child. Although I see you are a child no longer.’

  Zastra felt her eyes suddenly prickling with tears and she shrugged Bodel off. This was no time to be crying.

  ‘I came for Kastara.’

  Bodel bit her lip.

  ‘Then you’d better sit down. I’ll make us some chala.’

  While the pot was warming, Bodel told Zastra everything that had happened, including how she had tried and failed to get her sister to leave the castle. And then how Jallal had come to the bakery with her soldiers.