Betrayal

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘You’re Kloek,’ she said, now recognising the height, golden hair and light eyes so common to that race. Hearing the gentle brogue in his voice, she felt sure.

  He looked offended. ‘Of course. Which other race is this handsome?’ It was an attempt at humour he did not feel. ‘We’ve lost almost everything tonight. Many of our exotic animals perished. The tent is ashes, though our caravans are safe. A small generosity from the gods. Six of our troupe are dead.’

  He stopped talking as Greta—the woman from the act—arrived with a tray of cups.

  ‘Here, drink this.’ She was angry, which, under the circumstances, Sorrel considered fair enough.

  She took the cup. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It will soothe,’ was all the woman said before turning and walking away.

  Sorrel looked around. There were many people sitting or lying on the ground, dazed and confused. She could see one of the beautiful brangos lying dead, its body twisted and charred. She sipped the concoction and recognised the herb rimmis within the fiery liquid. It was the right choice and would help.

  ‘Is that woman your wife?’

  Saxon laughed harshly. ‘No. She is my dead brother’s wife.’

  Sorrel sat up properly. ‘She makes a good tea. I must leave to find Alyssa.’

  ‘I will help you,’ he said firmly.

  ‘Why? You seem to have enough chaos here to deal with.’ She looked hard at him. What was his interest in Alyssa?

  ‘She is a beautiful girl…and she flies nicely,’ he replied with no guile in his voice that she could detect. ‘I am no use here for a while. Let me at least walk you back to your dwelling.’

  ‘We don’t live here, Master Fox. We are travellers. But you may walk me back to The Wheatsheaf. I would be grateful for the assistance.’ Her head hurt horribly.

  ‘I prefer Saxon,’ he said, helping her to her feet.

  At the inn, people were milling around in confusion. Fragglesham was in shock. Nine townsfolk had lost their lives in the fire as well as the six circus performers. Alyssa was not in the inn nor had anyone who might have recognised her seen her.

  Sorrel noted that Goth was nowhere around either. That alarmed her most of all. She cast to Alyssa but there was nothing. It did not surprise her. Like most sentients, she could only communicate on a link if she was relatively close to the person she wanted to talk with—unless she was bonded, of course, as she was to Merkhud. She had never heard of anyone other than them casting over great distances.

  She pulled the circus man aside. She would have to trust him.

  ‘Saxon, are you familiar with Inquisitor Goth?’

  The man spat through two fingers onto the ground. It was another peculiar habit of the Kloeks. ‘Who isn’t!’

  ‘Well, he’s in town and has shown more than a passing interest in Alyssa. This afternoon he contrived to…er…well, shall we say, compromise her.’

  Saxon’s violet eyes blazed and told his companion more than he wished. So, she thought, there is more to this than just helping a stranger find her family.

  ‘You think he has her?’

  It was her turn to shrug. ‘Perhaps.’ Sorrel could not allow herself to believe Alyssa had been killed in the panic, though that had already crossed her mind. But with no body as evidence she clung to the hope that her precious cargo was alive.

  ‘Then I will find him. Stay here, old woman, I’m faster without you.’

  ‘Find her! You must keep her safe,’ she said harshly as the rimmis took its effect and her mind began to blur.

  She did not hear Saxon mutter under his breath: ‘That’s what I’ve been sent to do.’

  When the panic began and Alyssa was pulled from Sorrel she realised it was no use fighting against the tide of people. It was easier to run with them. She was shocked by the flames which jumped so rapidly, consuming the tent they had all been sitting under minutes ago. She heard Sorrel telling her to go to the inn but for now that was impossible. She would have to run to the safety of the fields surrounding Fragglesham first and then walk back around them into town. She slowed to a walk within the small group around her; although dazed they seemed to know in which direction they were heading.

  She heard a single rider cantering up behind them. The four people she was walking alongside parted and stepped back to the side of the road. As they did so the rider came into view and stopped.

  He looked down at her. ‘Is this her?’

  Alyssa’s brow wrinkled as she tried to make sense of it. One of the men she had been walking with moments earlier stepped up and, before she could react, pulled her arms behind her back where a woman tied them together. Struggling, she yelled but they ignored her and addressed the rider instead.

  ‘The money?’

  The rider tossed a pouch of coins at the man who then turned to face her. ‘Enjoy your night,’ he said. His mirth was infectious for they were all laughing now.

  She swung around to the woman she had been talking with. ‘Help me…’

  The woman smirked. ‘She needs help, Fil.’

  The man grabbed Alyssa by her waist and hoisted her up onto the horse behind the rider. Then they were moving fast as he whipped the horse into a gallop, riding not back towards Fragglesham Green but out into the darkness of the countryside.

  It suddenly became clear to her. Alyssa knew that Goth would be waiting for her at the end of this journey.

  ‘Welcome, my dear.’ His voice made her feel ill. ‘Thank you, Drell.’

  The rider nodded and left. She listened to the sound of his horse disappearing, along with her only hope of escape. Alyssa felt the cold touch of despair and allowed it to consume her before she turned it into hate. Hate for this filth, who poured himself some wine as he contemplated what horror to visit on her for his pleasure.

  He sipped, allowing the dry wine to roll around his deformed mouth. ‘Come, drink with me. We have a long night ahead together. Why not make it enjoyable?’ The mouth contorted into its hideous sneer.

  She found her voice and was proud it did not sound thin. ‘Is this the only way you can ever get to touch a woman, Goth—tie her up and force yourself on her?’

  She surprised herself at how strong she felt. Her contempt was powerful. ‘You pitiful, scarred wretch. Get on with it then and kill me or I will surely kill you for it.’

  She watched the twisted flesh twitch and the eyes become black dots. Goth was confused. This was not how it was meant to be. Usually they snivelled and begged and then tried to be charming, hoping it would make it easier on them. That made him all the more cruel. He loved to see them terrified. And he did not like his sport being spoiled like this. So yes, he would rape her and then kill her, but not before hurting her and soaking up the agony in her eyes. Then, just to lay rest to any doubts about the depth of his hatred, he would hunt down the grandmother, who was probably scurrying around the smouldering town right now hopelessly searching for her beloved girl.

  The firing of the circus had worked well. He loved fire. It had been an inspired piece of skullduggery. In one move he had singled out the girl and had devastated the circus-dwellers he despised so much. If he could kill every gypsy he would, but they were protected by the stupid ancient law of sanctuary.

  He realised his mind was wandering and that she was smirking at his apparent hesitance. That would never do. She must die knowing fear, not triumph.

  ‘As you wish, my sweet young thing. I shall certainly take my pleasure from your delicious, ripe little body. And if death is what you lust for rather than me, then you shall have it. It is the least I can do as thanks for your services.’

  He put down his glass and was glad to see her flinch. ‘And afterwards, Alyssa—that’s your name, isn’t it? Afterwards I shall torture and kill your beloved grandmother. I owe her some special thanks for her interruption this afternoon.’

  He wanted to howl with laughter when he saw her resilience crumple. What a silly young fool she was to lock swords with him.

 
‘Now let’s get those peasant clothes off shall we, my dear?’

  In two strides he was across the room, pulling a blade from his belt. He sliced through her blouse and everything beneath it, including her skin. Blood oozed from the wound. It was a surface cut but it hurt and he knew it. Alyssa bit down hard on her lip to prevent herself crying out loud and instead cried out silently across the link she opened to the one person she knew would hear it.

  Leaving The Wheatsheaf, grim-faced and ready in his anger to tear the head from Goth’s shoulders, Saxon Fox heard Alyssa scream into his head. It stopped him dead in his footsteps.

  Where? he bellowed into the night, sweet relief at hearing her panicked voice mixed with dread.

  While Goth expressed fake sympathy at the blood and stooped to lick the trickle between her breasts, Alyssa told Saxon, as best she could, how to find her.

  Be quick, flying man, I’m as good as dead.

  The searing pain as her captor bit into the soft flesh surrounding her nipple snapped the link shut and she forced herself to go in search of the Colours.

  Tor had taught her how to do this. He could put himself into a trance-like state, delving deeper into himself until the blinding Colours surrounded him. Though she had never achieved more than floating in a serene, sensual Green, Alyssa loved going there and she fled there now. She had to escape Goth. It was no use hurling her powers at him; he was protected by the scrying stone on his ring which deflected the magic back to the sender. Yet it seemed he had not been able to detect her powers. She did not understand it but now was not the time to ponder it. Instead she floated through the Green, praying that Saxon would reach her before Goth tired of her. She spared one last thought for Tor, wishing it had been him there to share the loss of her virginity.

  Goth had become excited at the taste of her blood. He had thought to make a long night of teasing and torturing the girl but she had annoyed him and the blood-letting ensured he was lost to lust. His own desires allowed no further time for games. She was beautiful in her nakedness though, he had to admit that.

  He ripped off the band which tied her hair and let the golden locks fall every which way as he pushed her down onto the straw mattress.

  ‘Now, my lovely,’ he said, irritated beyond belief that he suddenly found her limp, with no fight to titillate him further. Her eyes were closed. He slapped her hard.

  Somewhere in the Green Alyssa knew her body was being hurt but her senses were mercifully disconnected and she floated on, hoping for delivery one way or the other.

  ‘Bitch!’ He punched her hard in the stomach. He stood and kicked her repeatedly, his boots inflicting terrible blows. But the girl did not wince. She was as dead to him as if he’d choked the final breath from her. The violence Goth delivered made his body throb all the more with lust. He must do it now. Risk waiting a moment longer and he would lose that lust onto the grimy coverlets he had her slumped on.

  He pulled off his clothes hurriedly, smiling as his badly burned chest was exposed. Women hated the sight of it. He wished this bitch had seen it too. The fire had not touched what throbbed between his legs though. He grabbed it now and slammed himself deep into the girl’s body, hardly noticing the token resistance. He poured into his sexual frenzy the fury he felt at being robbed of her screams.

  As Goth stole her virginity, the safe Green dissolved and Alyssa found herself staring at a scene.

  There were two creatures—not quite men, not quite beasts—something strange in between. They were laughing. One was reaching into…what was it? A woodland? No, a brilliantly beautiful glade where exquisite flowers bent in a soft breath of wind and sunlight bathed their petals. She could almost smell their sweet fragrance. A brook, its waters catching on smoothed stones, sparked with light as it gurgled around the mighty trunk of a tree. And to one side there was a man and woman holding each other close. They were beautiful. One pale-skinned and flaxen-haired, the other darkly handsome.

  One of the man-creatures was lifting something from the ground; as it pulled its hand back she could see it held a baby. She flinched. The baby squealed. Its pitiful cry tore into Alyssa’s heart. The thieves were laughing and running away, the baby was shrieking.

  She watched as shock registered on the couple’s beautiful faces, but they did not give chase. Why not? Alyssa tried to run after the baby but her legs were pinned. She began to scream and scream and scream.

  Ah, now that’s more like it, thought Goth, pushing himself still further into the girl. Now she could really feel what a powerful man he was. He enjoyed hearing her calling out in fear like that. It excited him more.

  Goth should have heard him. Instead, his first indication that someone else was there was when he was lifted off Alyssa and flung savagely against the wall. His body slumped there, weakly pumping its liquid as he wilted with shock.

  Alyssa was back in the safe Green when she heard it, as though from a great distance—someone calling her. It was a voice she trusted; it belonged to the one who had been sent to protect her. She rushed towards the voice. She knew she would be safe if she could reach it.

  Her eyes opened and she looked into the face of Saxon Fox, then saw the crumpled brute splayed against the wall. Saxon buried his head in her hair and held her tight as she shook with fright.

  You’re safe now, he spoke gently into her mind.

  Saxon covered Alyssa with his cloak as she clumsily pulled herself to her feet. Confused, she watched Saxon pull a mask over his face then she backed away as the Inquisitor shook himself slowly to consciousness.

  ‘I’m glad you’re awake. I did so want you to see this,’ Saxon said.

  Goth had no time to protest. Saxon grabbed between the man’s legs and a blade swung and blood spilled across the floor. Alyssa ran out of the hut, away from the chilling screams and the sight of what Saxon had done. She dragged in air with deep sucks as the evidence of the Inquisitor’s lust slid down her legs.

  Inside, Goth whimpered and drooled in a pool of his own blood. He was as good as dead, he was sure, but dared not spit out what had been stuffed into his mouth by the enraged madman towering above him. He could take a terrifying guess at what the soft bundle was. The only hope he held in his dimming, dying mind was that through the doorway he thought he glimpsed a distant, swinging lantern.

  ‘Die slowly, Goth. May you rot in darkness eternal,’ spat the stranger.

  Saxon had also spotted the lantern. He made his escape without being seen, galloping the borrowed horse into the black of the woodland behind the hut before beginning the journey back towards town. Alyssa sat in front of Saxon, his long arms wrapped around her body. She was naked still, save for his cloak.

  ‘Did you kill him?’ she said aloud.

  ‘Yes,’ he answered, his voice flat. He could feel her trembling beneath the cloak. ‘We must disappear tonight. You and your grandmother must travel with us.’

  ‘She’s not my grandmother.’

  He kissed the back of her head. ‘I know.’

  ‘You killed him?’ Sorrel’s eyes blazed her shock. ‘The gods preserve us…’

  She had been frantic until their return and now paced the tiny room while Alyssa wrung her hands and Saxon maintained a stony silence.

  Alyssa had washed herself as best she could behind a screen while haltingly explaining to the old woman what had occurred. She felt herself failing now.

  ‘This is why we must move ourselves as far from this town as possible,’ Saxon finally said.

  ‘To where, you fool?’

  He flinched at Sorrel’s fury.

  Alyssa shushed her, speaking gently. ‘Sorrel, we can’t stay here. They will start looking for Goth’s killer soon and who knows what might implicate us. My shawl was left behind, my shoes…’

  She looking imploringly at Saxon, pleading with him to try again, unsure of whether she could stand a moment longer.

  Saxon did try but was not gentle. ‘Listen to me, old woman. Your only hope is to disappear into this night now.
Knowing Zorros, he will be salvaging everything he can this very moment, with plans to head out as fast as he can move everyone.’

  ‘It’s you who committed murder, friend Fox. Not I and not this girl. We have nothing to be frightened of.’ Sorrel hardly believed it herself.

  Saxon spat. ‘Then it’s you who is the fool! If you won’t save yourself, let me save Alyssa from his companions. They will track you down and they will hang or stone you both. And no magic will save her!’

  Sorrel looked as though someone had punched the wind from her. She swung around on Alyssa, a look of genuine fear and disbelief on her face.

  ‘I…I told him,’ the girl admitted, covering Saxon for his indiscretion.

  Alyssa didn’t see it coming. Sorrel’s hand slapped the side of her cheek so hard she stumbled and fell. ‘Then you are more of a simpleton than he,’ Sorrel whispered in a frail voice, all the fight gone from her suddenly.

  Saxon was at Alyssa’s side in one step. He picked the dazed girl up and lifted her into his arms.

  His voice was cold with anger. ‘We leave now. You can come with us or you can stay here but I’m taking her from this place.’

  He turned and climbed nimbly through the window with Alyssa clinging weakly to his neck.

  Sorrel watched as he ran sure-footed along the rooftop of the inn before disappearing behind another roof. She shook her head to clear it of the anxiety and fear. Alyssa, a critical piece of this frustrating jigsaw puzzle, had just been removed. How could it have happened so fast? Merkhud would kill her himself, she felt sure.

  No, she must go with them, and whoever this strange Saxon Fox was, he was part of them now. He was privy to their secret.

  It took her just a few minutes to gather their few belongings before paying the innkeeper. She fetched Kythay from the stable and let him carry her back to the smouldering ruin of the circus.

  Even Goth had to marvel at his ability to thwart death, which had now made two visits and failed. As the rimmis drug was slow to perform he took another sniff of the krill pod to dull the pain. The physic, pale and perspiring, worked on his patient’s mauled crotch. The man’s voice shook from fear at the atrocity of the wound.