Betrayal

by Fiona McIntosh

  So that’s where you were last night, eh?

  Tor ignored him. ‘Riss, where’s the Prime?’

  ‘Ah, so it’s information you be wanting again then, boy. Last time you paid handsomely for it. Our price hasn’t changed.’

  Golag stretched his rotten-toothed leer behind his negotiating friend.

  Tor ignored Golag and directed his conversation at Riss. ‘It was just a simple question, Riss, but forget it. I’m sure Cyrus—when I do find him and can pass on the urgent message from the Mayor of Hatten—will be pleased to hear how well you helped me.’

  He turned to walk away. Cloot followed, most impressed with the bluff.

  ‘Wait!’ Riss was no longer smiling. ‘What message?’

  Tor turned back slowly. ‘I told you. An urgent message from the Mayor and I promised I’d hand it to Cyrus myself just as soon as I caught up with the King’s Company. It may even be from King Lorys himself, who knows?’ His eyes sparkled.

  Well, you are learning fast, Cloot muttered.

  ‘See you in Tal then.’ Once more Tor walked a few steps.

  ‘All right, Gynt. I’m not about to kiss away my wages on your behalf. What’s the message?’ Riss was rattled and it pleased Tor no small amount that he’d been able to do this.

  ‘Sorry, Riss. Prime’s ears only. Hurry, man, time is short and I’m moving on to Tal. This is just a favour for the Mayor.’

  It was Golag who answered. ‘The Prime disappeared in the night. No one knows where. Four sentries were slain also.’ He stopped abruptly, as was his way.

  Tor’s bravado was suddenly replaced by shock. ‘How could he disappear with two hundred men around him?’

  ‘Poison is how,’ Golag sneered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He broke open the kegs last night and called for songs. We were all in high spirits yet most of us turned in very early and woke late, all with the headache.’ Riss looked away in embarrassment.

  ‘You mean the ale was drugged to ensure the Company was unconscious when they took the Prime?’ Tor could hardly believe what he was saying. ‘But what would they want with him?’

  Riss shrugged. ‘Search me. They killed four of our men to reach him and went to some trouble to ensure he could be taken without any interference from us.’

  A small group was gathering around them.

  Let’s go, Tor. We won’t find out any more here. Cloot took his arm.

  ‘What about the urgent message?’ Golag snarled.

  ‘We’re still going to find him,’ Tor said.

  Riss barked a despondent laugh. ‘What, the boy and his cripple friend? We’ve already searched. There’s no sign anywhere.’

  ‘Dead or alive, we’re going to find him, Riss.’ Tor said no more but allowed Cloot to lead him back to the horses.

  Let’s go. Cloot was taking charge. He could see the confusion and disturbance written all over Tor’s face.

  Where to?

  Just follow. Cloot led his horse directly towards the forest. I gather most people are afraid to enter this Heartwood proper? He kept his voice light in Tor’s head.

  Tor had not thought about it until now. He replied absently, as though making polite conversation, whilst his mind raced elsewhere, wondering why Cyrus might be important enough that four men should die. Yes. We’re told frightening tales all our lives about the wild beasts and strange creatures which roam it. I’ve always thought it was just folklore.

  It may be, but people are genuinely afraid. I’d wager none of the King’s Men there would venture beyond a few steps into its depths.

  Now Cloot had his attention.

  But surely they would have sent out search parties?

  Oh, I don’t doubt it. But I do doubt whether any made more than a cursory search of the Heartwood’s fringe. Which is precisely why I know he’s going to be here somewhere, or at least was held here through the night.

  Tor pulled gently on the reins to slow Bess next to where Cloot had stopped. They were well out of range of the King’s Company now and standing beneath one of the enormous oaks on the fringe of the forest.

  Can you feel it, Tor?

  Feel what?

  My skin tingles and I hear a faint murmur. I can’t lock onto it but it’s there now that I’m this close to entering the wood.

  I hear nothing, I feel nothing different. Tor felt almost annoyed.

  That’s strange but it’s also good. Perhaps it means you won’t be threatened by the Heartwood.

  All right, let’s follow that pattern of thought. If the forest terrifies most people, why would anyone take the Prime into its depths?

  Cloot made a clicking sound with his mouth then spoke wearily in Tor’s head. That I don’t know.

  He kneed at Fleet, encouraging him to step on. Bess followed.

  Tor persisted. Why wouldn’t they just have taken him on through Brewis?

  I don’t have the answers, Tor, but for Lys to become involved suggests Cyrus is important to you. And as I am sworn to share this quest I must find him.

  Daylight was barely filtering through the dense trees. It was cool and serene beneath the canopy, with just the muted sounds of the odd birdsong or darting squirrel.

  Do you feel or hear anything yet, Tor?

  Well…Tor screwed up his face. Yes…Now, promise you won’t laugh, Cloot. He saw his friend nod. But it seems as though the wood is welcoming me.

  You mean it talks?! said Cloot incredulously.

  I’m not sure. It’s as though the branches and leaves are nodding a welcome. It feels like the forest is smiling. Yes, that’s it…it’s smiling at me, Cloot.

  Light preserve us. Cloot shook his head. My life gets stranger and stranger around you, boy.

  They walked on for a while in silence, enjoying the beauty of the Heartwood and feeling some regret at tramping through tracts of woodland flowers. The horses were unperturbed and content to meander slowly through this quiet place.

  They emerged into a clearing. The sunshine was dazzling in the ring of trees and gnats flitted in the haze of its rays. Tor stopped abruptly and took a sharp intake of breath.

  This is a magic place, Cloot.

  I feel it. Lys is here too.

  Where? Can you see her? Tor looked around wildly.

  No. But I feel her.

  Cloot, what—

  Hush, boy. She talks to me.

  Tor watched Cloot close his eyes and become very still.

  It was silent suddenly. No birdsong, no rustling leaves in the still morning’s warmth. Even the horses stopped moving from foot to foot. His friend remained still and silent for a time, and just when Tor thought he could not bear to feel so alone for a moment longer Cloot’s body relaxed and he sighed. Tears slid slowly down his cheeks.

  What’s happening? Tor was bewildered.

  Lys tells us not to be scared. The Heartwood protects you, Tor, and those you love. But the Prime is here and is in danger. We must find him very quickly.

  How? Where to start? Do we—

  Settle, boy. Lys has shown me a way.

  Why do you weep, Cloot? Tor asked as gently as he could.

  His friend hesitated before whispering just as gently, She required a decision of me. I’ve given her my answer and it made me momentarily sad to reach it. He turned to Tor. But it’s a wise decision, and I’m glad to make it and happy to know my part in all of this.

  Tor searched his friend’s face and found nothing but the large, uplifting smile he had come to love.

  Don’t fret, Tor. Forgive the secrecy. All will be revealed soon enough. I want you now to simply trust me. He climbed off Fleet.

  I do, Cloot, with my life, Tor replied solemnly.

  That’s good, boy, because I pledge you mine.

  Cloot, can I mention right now how much you are scaring me.

  I know, Tor. But all I ask is your trust. Your life is going to be complicated and challenging and very, very important to the wellbeing of Tallinor.

  Cloot saw Tor wa
s about to object and put his hand in the air. Hear me out. I know not what this quest is or why we make it, only that we must in order to save this land. Prime Cyrus must be found. It seems he’s an important piece of this strange jigsaw surrounding you. Now I must leave you.

  ‘What?’ Tor roared out loud.

  Only for a brief time. Then I will return to you. Cloot’s voice sounded shaky. Tie up Bess and Fleet and wait until you hear from me. I promise it won’t be long.

  But where are you going? Why can’t I stay with you? Anger was creeping into Tor’s voice. He hated the secrecy.

  I’ll be just over there. Cloot pointed to the sunlit clearing. And you must stay right here until I return.

  I understand what you say, Cloot, but I don’t understand what you do.

  I know. You must trust me though. Cloot stepped over to stand in front of Tor. He looked into the boy’s piercingly blue eyes and smiled. I’ll return. I will not leave you alone…ever. He took hold of Tor and pulled him closely to his chest in a hug, squeezing hard. I’m with you always.

  The big man turned slowly and limped heavily into the clearing. Tor was deeply disturbed. Cloot’s words sounded like a farewell of sorts. That the clearing was enchanted was obvious to Tor. Every inch of his body could sense it, but it was a type of magic he did not fully understand. It was as though he could feel it but not touch it or join with it.

  To Tor’s astonishment, Cloot removed his garments until he stood naked in the sunlight, his strange, deformed body an intrusion in this beautiful place. Tor dared not say a word. Then his friend crouched low to the ground, pulling his head right into his knees and covering as much of himself as he could with his long, hairy arms.

  The intensity of the sunlight began to increase, at first slowly and then more rapidly until Tor could barely make out Cloot’s outline. He was terrified as he felt a mighty power descending. The humming sound Cloot had described was now a tangible thing: the whole wood seemed to be trembling in anticipation. Tor forced himself to keep his eyes riveted on Cloot despite the bright glare and disturbing hum. And then he heard the voice. It was deep and resonant and terrifying.

  ‘Cloot, this is Darmud Coril, god of the forests, who speaks to you now. We accept and welcome you. I anoint you Friend of the Heartwood.’

  Drips of golden sunlight appeared to smear themselves across the crouched figure. Tor could barely see against the dazzle.

  The voice continued. ‘This is now your home. May you never wander far from it and may you always return unharmed.’

  A blaze of rainbow colours exploded from where Cloot was crouched, and Tor could see that his shape was changing. His friend appeared to be shrinking. He could bear it no longer. He yelled Cloot’s name against the hum of the magic and closed his eyes against the scintillating colours which clamoured around the diminishing huddle in the centre.

  Suddenly everything became silent. Tor snapped open his eyes just as a large, majestic falcon lifted effortlessly from the clearing, its wings beating rhythmically and powerfully.

  Tor screamed once more, loudly and with despair, as Cloot disappeared from his sight high above the trees.

  Tor had not moved. He had, however, slept. The long ride through the night to Brewis and then the numbing shock of Cloot’s transformation had sent his mind scuttling elsewhere. He had drifted off to sleep and woke now to Bess nibbling his neck, perhaps hopeful of an apple. Her companion nearby seemed content enough with grass.

  Why? He asked himself the question repeatedly. Cloot knew of course and that was why he had wept when Lys spoke to him. Why hadn’t he run to save him? Why hadn’t he tried to do something? Wasn’t he supposed to be a fabulously talented sentient? So why had he not used all that powerful magic within? He felt powerless. Cloot had been changed into a falcon and had flown away.

  Yet had not Cloot impressed upon him moments before that he would return? He had implored Tor to stay where he was and to wait. Yes, that’s right, he had said just that. ‘I won’t be long’ were his words. And so, with that memory charging his hopes, Tor sat very still and waited. He closed his eyes again but not to sleep. Instead he focused on the magic in the circle.

  It was potent and quite untouchable to him. Tor probed around it, weaving its design and colour into his mind. He remembered how the forest had welcomed him when he first entered it and so now he focused his mind on trying to communicate with the forest. He spent a long time casting thoughts and patterns before recalling that when the forest had smiled, as he termed it, he had been bathed in a glow of green. Tor audaciously cast out, interlacing his call with the greens of the forest. And the trees replied.

  ‘Welcome, Tor. Be not afraid. Your friend will return and we will keep him safe, always, always, always…’ they whispered and their words echoed softly across their leaves.

  It touched him deeply that he had united himself with the Heartwood and it lifted his spirits to hear the trees reassure him. He thanked them and they fluttered their leaves in response.

  He must have drifted off to sleep again but only briefly for now he felt something within him stir. His mind was being touched. A feathery touch that was barely there to begin with. The feeling of something reaching out became stronger until he was wide awake. All his senses, magical and otherwise, strained to lock onto the source. And then, as if he were right next to him, Cloot’s voice boomed into his head.

  Found him!

  Cloot! Tor shrieked back through the link.

  The one and only! And I’ve found Cyrus. He’s here in the forest and not so far away either.

  Where are you?

  Here! Cloot replied and swooped down to land gracefully in front of him.

  Tor was so startled he scrambled back against the tree trunk.

  Apologies. Didn’t mean to frighten you so, said Cloot, his head cocked to one side.

  The magnificent peregrine falcon watched Tor with a large black eye, which was encircled by a luminous yellow to match its equally startling yellow legs. Tor could not help but marvel at the noble bird which stood before him, its shiny blue-black feathers cloaking a snow white chest.

  Quite a change, eh, from ugly Cloot? the falcon said, cocking its head to the other side as if to give Tor a better look.

  I…I was so frightened, Tor uttered with grave honesty.

  The falcon hopped once and then leapt into the air with ease before landing on Tor’s shoulder. Tor flinched.

  No need to be afraid any more, Tor.

  Why? Tor ran his hand through his hair and craned sideways at the falcon which clung comfortably to his right shoulder.

  Because your heroic protector is back beside you.

  No. I mean why the bird thing?

  I’m not sure. If a bird could sigh then Tor felt that was just what Cloot was doing. Lys wanted it this way and she begged my trust. I gave it happily. I wasn’t all that fond of my body as it was anyway. This is a far more agreeable shape.

  Is this for keeps then? Will you never be just Cloot again? asked Tor sadly, very aware of the strong talons which gripped his shoulder.

  I am just Cloot, Tor. Nothing has changed but the body I’m in, and I tell you, I much prefer this new one. Yes, it’s for keeps.

  …I’m not sure I can keep coping with all these strange twists and turns. You’re my closest friend in the world, Cloot…and now you’re a bird. His voice choked slightly.

  Cloot’s voice softened in his mind. I know. But there is a purpose to all this. We must trust Lys and trust each other.

  I trust you, but why Lys? She has brought you nothing but pain and grief, and now this! Tor shook his head, stood and angrily began pacing the clearing. The falcon had to adjust its grip on the boy to steady itself.

  She brought me to you, Tor. That’s all I know; and now she has turned me into this regal creature and I’m happy to be so. Don’t feel sorry for me. If you knew what it is to soar above the land, you wouldn’t. Now come, we must not tarry. Cyrus is in grave trouble. We can philosophise lat
er on the strangeness of our lives. Right now, we must act. Follow me, he’s not far away. Cloot hopped for emphasis.

  Cloot…Tor’s voice held a note of pleading.

  The bird’s patience was ebbing. He’s dying, Tor, and it’s very ugly. Only you can help him. We’ll talk later, now go!

  It took only two powerful beats of Cloot’s wings to carry him to an upper branch of a tall tree. Don’t lose sight of me. We must be as silent as possible to ambush them. Then he flew deeper into the forest.

  Tor followed quietly, keeping the downy, dark feathers of his falcon’s underbelly in sight as he wondered what lay ahead, and who ‘they’ might be. They travelled in silence for several minutes through terrain which began to thicken dramatically. Cloot became harder to follow as he swooped amongst the trees. Finally the bird halted; Tor could no longer see him but the link was open and he could feel his friend’s strong presence.

  Hush, Tor. You must tread with care now. They are but thirty paces ahead of you, the bird whispered in his mind.

  He could hear them, rustling and moving. The voices were muted.

  How many? he called to Cloot.

  There are five of them. The leader is Corlin.

  Corlin! Tor was relieved he had contained his yell to the link.

  The same. Cloot’s own voice was thick with hatred.

  Revenge—is that what this is about? Tor took another few paces until he could hide behind a thick cover of saplings yet clearly see the men.

  I can’t imagine what else it could be. Corlin’s pride took a hammering that day in the market square and he blames Cyrus for the humiliation.

  Cloot dropped silently from the uppermost branches above Tor to land neatly on his shoulder.

  Tor jumped. I wish you’d stop doing that without warning.

  He looked around the scene. Two men were dozing, another two were drinking nearby. Corlin was removed from the others, sitting very still near the horses.

  Where’s Cyrus? Tor snarled.

  Over to your right.

  Tor turned slightly to peer between two branches and nearly retched. Strung pathetically between two mighty trees hung the Prime, held in place by nails through his hands. He made no sound and appeared unconscious. Blood had run in rivulets from his head, hands and body. His once white shirt was stained a dark and rusty red. They could not see his face for his head lolled away from them, chin almost touching his chest. His thick, normally well-groomed hair was matted and slicked with his own blood.