‘Perhaps if he wasn’t so loud,’ whispered Bedrun to Zastra.
‘I should go,’ said Thorlberd. Anara did not disagree and so he bowed once more and departed.
‘I’m sure he didn’t mean to frighten them,’ said Bedrun, ‘but that booming voice of his even frightens me.’
‘Hush, Findar, dearest, hush,’ said Zastra.
‘Where is that nurse?’ said Anara. ‘He should have been here.’
‘I’m not sure who was more scared,’ said Zastra, shaking her head as she recalled the embarrassment on Thorlberd’s face, ‘the twins, or Uncle once they started screaming.’
‘Zastra, what is that on Findar’s arm?’ asked Anara, sharply.
Zastra looked down. A pink smudge was visible on her brother’s pale arm.
‘It’s probably some pani-juice. They were throwing it around yesterday, making a terrible mess.’ She licked her thumb and washed away the smudge. Findar restarted his bellowing.
‘Oh, I think he’s bleeding!’ Zastra exclaimed. ‘It’s only a tiny scratch, but still… Perhaps there’s a splinter in the cot?’
They checked the playpen but found nothing sharp enough to cause such an injury.
‘Must have been an insect bite,’ suggested Bedrun. ‘That must have been what started them crying. Your poor uncle, it wasn’t his fault after all.’
‘Mother, are you all right?’ said Zastra, looking at her mother’s pale face.
‘Yes, my dear,’ replied Anara. ‘Although I have a headache and all this noise hasn’t helped. I still have so much to do, what with this party to organise. Would you girls mind staying here while I fetch the nurse?’
‘What party?’ asked Zastra, but Anara had already gone.
Chapter Eighteen
The party was in honor of Rastran’s sixteenth birthday, a significant landmark in Golmeira. Zastra had no desire to celebrate with her cousin but consoled herself with the thought that at least there would be entertainment, music and dancing. If she was very lucky, she wouldn’t actually have to talk to Rastran since he would no doubt be too busy being the centre of attention.
When the day of the party arrived, Zastra was torn between amusement and disgust as her cousin entered the room, smoothing his hair back and glancing complacently at his reflection in the window. He had clearly made a lot of effort with his appearance and was condescendingly accepting the good wishes and gifts bestowed upon him. The blatant fawning of some of the Bractarians amazed Zastra. Some were acting as though he were a Warrior of Golmeira risen from the dead. They had obviously never seen his terrible performances at the combat ranges. She went in search of Bedrun, resolving to forget about her cousin and enjoy the evening.
The great hall was filled with music and laughter. A famous orator had been hired. Zastra listened in rapt attention as he expertly declaimed the legend of Fostran the First, one of the most famous of all the Warriors of Golmeira. The tale, a favorite of Zastra’s, told how Fostran, out hunting in the mountain mists, had become separated from his guards. A large group of savage Kyrginites emerged from the gloom, brandishing scythes, pitchforks and axes. Frostan was unarmed but, undaunted, used his prodigious power and strength to disarm each savage, breaking their weapons as if they were no more than twigs. The tale was greeted with enthusiastic applause. Zastra wondered if the new hand-to-hand fighting tricks she had learnt from Kylen would allow her to defeat a band of fierce Kyrgs some day. She wasn’t paying attention to the beginning of the next oration and only slowly begane to realise that it was based on her adventure with the caralyx. She was more than a little embarrassed, especially since she was cast in a more heroic light than she felt was right. The verses certainly didn’t reflect her terror. Also, there was no mention of Kylen, who had been willing to protect her brother practically unarmed, an act much braver than her own. Indeed, the Sendorans were cast as villains. Fortunately, the poem was short. Zastra forced a weak smile as the orator bowed in her direction. Her only consolation was Rastran’s obvious annoyance at the poem. She looked around to see if her father had been listening, but saw that he was deep in conversation with Martek and Teona. Of course he was too busy to pay attention to silly stories. Zastra gave up expecting her father’s notice or approval.
The food was served. To Zastra’s delight, Anara allowed her and Bedrun to sit at the Grand Marl’s table. All around the great hall spirits were high. Thorlberd had arranged for some special wine from his own cellars to be distributed and it was proving extremely popular. He even let Zastra and Bedrun try some of the deep red liquid, which they felt to be great honour, although both agreed it tasted horrid. Rastran smirked at them, trying to look superior as he downed a whole glass, his attempt at sophistication somewhat spoilt by the broad red-wine moustache above his mouth.
‘Some decent wine at last,’ he said with a burp. He attempted to refill his glass, but only a few drops dripped out of the upturned bottle, despite vigorous shaking. ‘How strange. It appears to be all gone.’
‘I think you’ve had quite enough, Rastran, dear,’ said Anara gently.
‘Yes, indeed,’ agreed Thorlberd, frowning at his son.
‘I can hold my drunk, um drink,’ Rastran protested. ‘And what’s more, Auntie…’
‘That’s enough, Rastran,’ snapped his father. ‘Unless you want me to send you to bed.’
Zastra couldn’t help grinning at the look on Rastran’s face at the idea of being banished from his own party.
‘Are you enjoying yourselves, young ladies?’ asked Thorlberd, turning his attention to Bedrun and Zastra.
‘Mm-mmm,’ said Bedrun, her mouth full of fish pie. ‘The food is yummy, and the orator was wunnful, ‘specially the story about Zastra’nd the caralyx.’
‘Yes,’ said Thorlberd, banging the table with the flat of his hand. ‘That was well done indeed, Zastra.’
‘Humph,’ grunted Rastran. ‘I suspect the poet had been at the wine early to concoct such rubbish. Father, why don’t you tell us about the real Warriors of Golmeira? Like Colinar the Courageous and the beast of the Helgarths? He wouldn’t even have blinked at a little caralyx.’
‘Oh, please do, Uncle,’ implored Zastra. She always liked to hear stories of the warriors. Bedrun added her pleas. Thorlberd cleared his throat theatrically.
‘The beast of the Helgarths was a creature so grotesque that they say even the clouds turned away in revulsion. A giant monster, with jaws strong enough to crack a man’s spine, borne on two legs like a man, but with a back so hunched that its front paws scraped the ground. One brutal winter, it descended from the highest peaks of the Helgarth Mountains to attack the villages, taking the young and vulnerable and leaving death and sorrow in its wake. Those that saw it swore they had never seen such a fearful sight.’
‘Except that time your best shirt was ruined the night before your sixteenth birthday party,’ said Leodra, clapping his brother across his broad back. ‘You scared the laundry boy so much that he ran away!’
‘You tread dangerous ground, brother, bringing up events from our childhood, for I shall be forced to retaliate.’
‘I have nothing to hide,’ said Leodra with a confident grin.
‘How about the time you forced the whole of the castle guard to spend three days searching for Frosty?’
‘Who was Frosty?’ Zastra asked.
Leodra’s grin had disappeared. ‘My pet mouse. I was only five and Thorlberd wasn’t even old enough to remember.’
‘Oh, but tales were told of the great mouse hunt of Golmer Castle for years.’
‘What happened?’ asked Zastra, unable to believe that her father had ever been a child, let alone one with a pet mouse.
‘Alas, Frosty was never found,’ replied Thorlberd. ‘Your father was inconsolable.’
‘Again, I’d like to remind everyone that I was only five years old,’ interjected Leodra. ‘Besides, I always suspected Mother had something to do with disappearance. She hated little Frosty from the beginning.’
‘I’m sure the Lady Migara would have done no such thing,’ said Anara.
‘You didn’t know my mother,’ said Leodra darkly.
‘Mother was not fond of pets, it’s true, but you are unfair to accuse her of such things. You always thought the worst of her.’
‘You were always the favourite son, weren’t you?’
Anara rested her hand gently on Leodra’s arm.
‘Thorlberd, dear, you were telling us about the beast of the Helgarths?’ she said, with an encouraging smile.
‘Yes indeed,’ he said, raising his glass to her. ‘Colinar, Marl of Lyria, vowed not to rest until he had rid Golmeira of the beast. Day after day, week after week, he searched the length and breadth of the frozen Helgarths. Many of his guards fell to their death, unsighted by dreadful blizzards, or else succumbed to frostbite. Yet Colinar refused to give in. Alas, the beast was as cunning as it was ferocious, and they could never catch up with it.’
‘He failed?’ said Zastra. ‘Why then is he a Warrior of Golmeira?’
‘Patience,’ said Anara.
Thorlberd continued. ‘The next winter, Colinar vowed to continue the hunt but his guards refused to follow. Only Colinar’s groom, brave Bokira, agreed to accompany him. Almost mad with frustration, Colinar strode up into the mountains and called out to the beast. To his astonishment, the beast answered the challenge, charging down towards him. It towered over the man; its paws alone were as wide as this table. Without warning it reached for Coliniar, bringing its paws together like this!’
Thorlberd clapped his hands together sharply, squashing a ripe pani-fruit between his large palms. Red juice spurted across the table and Bedrun almost choked on her pie.
‘All that saved Colinar was an instinct that made him see the blow before it was thrown. He ducked out of the way and thrust his sword upwards, into the belly of the monster. As his blow struck home, Colinar felt a sharp pain in the pit of his own stomach, yet he himself was not injured. He had no time to wonder at this before he had another vision of a huge paw reaching for him. The image was instantly followed by the action, but Colinar, forewarned, was able to escape the grasping claws. They battled long into the night. Every time Colinar stabbed the monster, he felt its pain. In the end the beast bled to death from its wounds.’
‘How did Colinar know what the beast was going to do?’ asked Zastra.
‘He had a power that no one had known existed; he could communicate with animals. Colinar not only conquered the beast of the Helgarths, but he also discovered a new mindweaving ability.’
‘Mindweavers can talk to animals?’ Bedrun said in amazement.
‘Not all. It is quite rare and even those with the natural skill have to be thoroughly trained to be really adept,’ explained Thorlberd.
‘Can you do it, Uncle?’
‘I’m afraid I have as little ability to communicate with animals as I do with your brother and sister, Zastra. And you know how unsuccessful that was.’
After the food was cleared away, an acrobatic show began. It was the same troupe that had performed months before to celebrate the arrival of Thorlberd and the grand assembly. Zastra and Bedrun were captivated, clapping and whooping in appreciation along with the rest of the audience.
At the end of the show Bedrun whispered to Zastra. ‘I’d love to meet him – the young, good-looking one. Do you think we could?’
‘Why not?’ said Zastra. ‘Let’s go and tell them how good we thought they were.’
The two girls followed the acrobats out of the hall. It was pleasant to exchange the muggy heat of the hall for the cool air of the corridor. The troupe went to the kitchens, where they were treated to a meal as a reward for their performance. The young acrobat, whose name was Jofie, was very polite, although he seemed nervous and spoke hesitantly in endearing contrast with his confident performance. He blushed as his fellow acrobats made fun of him in a friendly manner for catching the eye of the “young princesses”. Zastra asked the cooks to serve the acrobats the best food and wine, which was met with a loud cheer.
The girls made their way back towards the great hall, Bedrun blushing as Zastra teased her about Jofie. The sound of music and rhythmic clapping indicated that the dancing had started and they quickened their pace, keen to join in. At the entrance to the hall their path was blocked by Rastran and Mercan, half seated, half lying on the floor.
‘Ah cousin,’ said Rastran, ‘where have you and your little brat of a friend been sneaking off to? It’s very rude to leave my party. Very rude.’
‘Oh, I am sorry,’ said Zastra. ‘We ran out of two-faced compliments to fill your head with, so we didn’t think we were needed.’
‘Oy!’ said Mercan, ‘Are you calling us big-headed?’
‘Not you, Mercan. I don’t think you have enough room in your head to hold even one intelligent idea.’
‘Eh?’ said Mercan, confused.
‘You chil-ren should show shome respect,’ Rastran slurred. ‘One day, I shall be a Warrior of Golmeira. Rastran the Conqueror, I shall be called.’
‘Rastran the Conked-out, you mean.’ said Zastra. ‘You can’t even stand up.’
‘Can too,’ Rastran argued, levering himself upwards. However, his thin legs seemed to lack strength and he slid back down the wall like a broken puppet.
‘Behold!’ declaimed Zastra, with an extravagant bow. ‘All hail, Rastran… the Ridiculous.’
Bedrun giggled.
‘Come on, Bedrun,’ said Zastra. ‘Let’s go and join the dancing.’
‘Make the most of it,’ Rastran said ominously. Something in his tone made Zastra pause.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, you’ll find out,’ her cousin sniggered. He and Mercan fell about laughing. Zastra glared at them until Bedrun dragged her away to dance. They passed the rest of the evening having splendid fun, forgetting the sniggering boys and their ugly threats as they danced and sang to the music. The dancing was followed by a display of fire-fountains: impressive plumes of multi-coloured sparks leapt and glittered brightly against the night sky, bringing much applause and cheering. Eventually, although long before they wanted to, Anara came to the girls and sent them off to bed. Bedrun was to stay with Zastra, since Bodel was away, tending to her sick sister in Highcastle village. As they undressed and went to bed, they both agreed that it had been a fine party, even if it had been in Rastran’s honour.
Chapter Nineteen
Zastra lay awake for some time, her head still full of the excitement of the party. She was only on the edge of sleep when something roused her. A figure loomed in the doorway of her chamber. Zastra jumped up, prepared to fend off mindweaving and all other intrusions. She was totally taken aback as a shaft of moonlight revealed the distinctive silhouette of Teona.
‘Good, Zastra, you are awake,’ Teona said, quietly but firmly. ‘You must come now. Put on some shoes and a coat – no – just put them over your nightclothes. There’s no time.’
Zastra did as she was told unthinkingly. After all, Teona was someone you obeyed without question.
‘What about Bedrun?’ she asked, but as they looked over they saw that the other bed was empty.
‘Where is she?’
‘I don’t know child, and I’m afraid we haven’t time to find out. Come. Quickly!’
The highmaster took her by the hand and led her out of her room and along the balcony, passing above the now empty great hall on their right.
‘What’s happening?’ asked Zastra in a whisper.
‘We are betrayed. Hush now, they must not hear us.’
As they glided towards the main stairs, Zastra became aware of noises: the clash of metal on metal, screams and shouts, the sounds growing louder as they approached the courtyard. All of a sudden a high-pitched shriek shattered the night. It was a sound like nothing Zastra had ever heard or imagined, reaching within her and wrenching at her insides. It was impossible to tell where it came from. A seething mass of dark bodies filled the entir
e width of the balcony ahead of them and blocked their way. One of the them carried a torch and in its glow Zastra saw that he was wearing the uniform of a Bractarian soldier. Teona hesitated.
‘We must get to your father’s offices,’ she whispered urgently, as the group of Bractarian soldiers crept towards them. A noise behind them made them turn – another torch and more dark figures emerged from the royal tower and headed in their direction. They were trapped.
Zastra pulled at Teona’s arm, leading her down a thin corridor and in to the narrow passages of the outer liden. It was dark. Thin slivers of moonlight slanting through the slitted windows provided the only light. Even in the dark, Zastra knew these passages well. She tugged at Teona’s sleeve to guide her. Feeling her way against the walls, cold and rough against her fingertips, she found a familiar set of stone steps and then followed a narrow passageway. They were forced to ascend another set of steps to avoid a group of figures who marched beneath them, oblivious to their presence. Zastra brought them out of the liden on part of the second floor balcony that overlooked the courtyard.
Teona resumed the lead and guided Zastra towards the nearest flight of steps. Zastra looked around wildly. The courtyard was packed with shadowy figures, fighting. Men and women in the uniform of Bractaris swarmed over Leodra’s soldiers, red shirts heavily outnumbered by black. A heavy gust of air buffeted against the top of Zastra’s head. Looking up, she saw something that made her gasp in horror. A huge winged beast, a dark shadow against the stars and the twin moons, glided across the sky. It dived past them, down into the courtyard and the light of torches revealed a large, sleek face, its smoothness interrupted only by two stumpy horns above glinting eyes. The creature’s mouth was wide and flat, packed with rows of jagged teeth, and its thin, sinewy body was covered in shiny brown scales and held aloft by great membranous wings. Even as Zastra watched, the mouth wrenched open to release the terrible cry that she had heard in the corridor, now much louder. It was a metallic shriek of mad fury and almost shattered her ears. There were two – no – three of the beasts, circling above the courtyard. She noticed each carried a rider on its back. As Teona pulled Zastra along, one of the creatures swooped down, shrieking with insane rage. It reached out a pair of three-fingered hands, each massive finger tipped with two claws, and picked up two guards from the turret of the northwest tower. Zastra watched in horror as the beast lifted the guards high in the air and then let them go. The soldiers fell, arms whirling frantically. Teona yanked Zastra harshly behind her to shield her from the terrible sight.
Realm of Mindweavers: Book one: Tales of Golmeira Page 9
