Realm of Mindweavers: Book one: Tales of Golmeira

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘Looking for work, sir,’ said Zastra, head bowed.

  The short woman burst into laughter. ‘Goodness me, I don’t think anyone has ever called me sir in my whole life! Call me Morn, everyone else does. I’m Podrik’s ma and chief cook of the castle. Now, before we talk business, won’t you come in and try some of my root vegetable soup? You look half starved.’

  Zastra didn’t argue. It had been two days since she had run out of food and her stomach was empty and grumbling. ‘I’ve a littlun, too,’ she said, as she followed Morn to the kitchen.

  ‘I can see that, duckie. What do you think I am, blind?’ exclaimed Morn. ‘I’m sure we can find something for the littlun too.’

  The kitchens were large. Not quite as big as the ones at Golmer Castle, but still a good size, and hot, especially in the present sunshine. However, Zastra was grateful of a place to sit, as well as the food and water that were given her.

  Podrik held out his arms to take Findar, who was grizzling.

  ‘I can look after him,’ he said with a confidence that contrasted with his demeanour in front of Terlan’s gang.

  ‘Aye, let him duckie. He’s good with littluns,’ called out Morn from one of the big stoves. Podrik, with exaggerated care, took Findar on his knee, balancing him against his shorter arm, and fed him fruit and milk with the other. Findar was soon content.

  ‘There’ll be no hats at table in my kitchen,’ Morn ordered, pulling off Zastra’s cap and placing it on the table next to her. Zastra was too busy gulping down the soup to complain. It was a long time since she had tasted anything so delicious.

  When Zastra had polished off a large bowl of soup and several rolls, Morn, who had been watching her closely the whole time, took her by the hand.

  ‘Come with me, child,’ she said, leading her gently into a small pantry and closing the door. Then crouching down so as to be on a level with Zastra, Morn reached out a small, fat hand and softly caressed the girl’s cheek, eyes alight with sorrow.

  ‘Oh, my poor dear Anara, I can see you in this child’s face. Zastra, you must be. Oh my poor dear child.’ And she clasped the girl to her. Zastra, tears unlocked by the unexpected kindness, buried her head in the soft folds of flesh and sobbed without control.

  Morn let Zastra empty of tears. She then went back into the kitchen, issuing a string of orders to the kitchen hands. Then she made some hot chala and brought it in for Zastra. ‘I’ve run you a bath, duckie. I have to see to the castle supper now, but we’ll talk properly in the morning.’

  Zastra was glad to sink into the large bath, filled with sweet smelling perfumed water. The long forgotten luxuriousness of a hot bath was delightful. Findar too was bathed, slapping the water in his excitement and drenching poor Podrik, who was holding him with great attention. After they had finished their baths Morn gave Zastra and Findar some clean nightclothes and bade Podrik show them to her own bedchamber. Once Findar was settled, Zastra sank into the soft mattress and fell into a deep, thankful sleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Zastra woke late in the morning, refreshed but extremely hungry. She looked around for Findar, but he was not in the room with her. Throwing on a robe, she hurried to the kitchens, her rising panic calmed by the sight of Podrik holding her brother. It was hard to say who looked most pleased with himself, the large boy or Findar. The sight made Zastra smile her first real smile for a long time. They were interrupted by Morn, who brought in a large breakfast of porridge and fresh buns, still piping hot, and a large pot of chala. Zastra attacked the food in front of her, while Morn carried on with her work.

  ‘Steady, duckie!’ exclaimed Morn. ‘You could at least try and taste it. It would be a shame for you to make it this far only to choke to death.’

  Zastra nodded but continued eating, occasional grunts of appreciation emerging from her food-filled mouth. When she had eaten her fill and was finishing the last of her chala, Morn stopped doing her chores and came and sat beside her. Podrik, still holding Findar, lowered himself into another nearby chair and forced his features into a serious, concentrated expression.

  ‘It’s alright, duckie, my Podrik’s no idiot, although some people might take him for one,’ said Morn. ‘He knows something’s up and so I’ve told him. Otherwise he’d have battered away at me ‘til I did tell him. He can be trusted with a secret though, you can rely on him.’ Podrik nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

  ‘However, before you say anything, remember to be careful what you tell us. There’s several of them black ravens in the castle. They don’t usually bother with the likes of us but I’d not wish to give away anything important if my mind was looked into. Same with Podrik. Do you understand?’

  Zastra nodded. Morn patted her hand.

  ‘So, what can you tell me? All we know is that six or seven weeks ago Orwin opened his doors to these dratted Bractarian soldiers and their mindweavers. Ordered his guard to stand down without a fight. Not that I can blame my Lord really, what with that awful beast screeching above the castle. The mere sight of it made me shiver in horror – thank the stars they’ve sent it away for the moment. We’ve heard terrible tales about the likes of the poor Marl of Julan, who refused to surrender. They say the Kyrgs slaughtered everyone in Julan Castle, including the Marl and her family. Worse than that my dear child, we had word last week, that your father and dear Anara are dead. Is it true?’

  Zastra sunk her head in her hands, her voice choked with grief. ‘Yes, that’s what they told me. My father – I was in the room when they came for him, there were so many of them, I don’t see how he could have… have survived. He saved us, but wouldn’t come with us. He said he was going back for my… my mother. I waited for them to come after us, but they didn’t…’ Zastra broke off. She could say no more.

  ‘Oh, mercy,’ exclaimed Morn, tears flooding her round cheeks. ‘Poor, dear, gentle Anara. Betrayed by her own brother-in-law. What a terrible, terrible thing.’ Morn was overcome and sat for many minutes, sobbing quietly. Finally, she recovered herself enough to wipe her eyes and blow her nose into a large handkerchief.

  ‘I knew your mother, you see, when she was a child,’ explained Morn. ‘She is a distant relation of Orwin and spent a lot of time here at Lyria. I was just a lowly kitchen hand at the time, but for some reason she took a liking to me. She and her friend Marta were often in the kitchens. They liked to play at cooking and I would save them titbits of this and that. Anara was so gentle and polite, not full of herself like lots of your rich children. Never had a bad word to say about anyone. She helped me learn to read when she learned that I was trying for advancement. Without her help, I wouldn’t be chief cook as I am today. She did me the honour of writing once a year, even when she married the Grand Marl. Only think of that.’

  Her reminiscences were interrupted by Findar, reaching towards her face. He appeared fascinated by her thick eyebrows. Morn put out a finger which he grasped stoutly.

  ‘So this is little Findar? You wouldn’t imagine anything wrong looking at him. But what about Kastara?’

  Zastra coloured, remaining silent. She decided she could say nothing without risking Kastara’s safety. Morn appeared to understand this and changed to subject.

  ‘What do you plan to do now, duckie?’

  ‘I don’t know. My father said we should come here. He said Orwin would look after us. But I don’t see how I can see him without creating suspicion, especially dressed like this.’

  ‘It’s a difficult problem, to be sure. We have a whole troop of Bractarian soldiers and a unruly mob of Kyrgs stationed here, so we must be careful. Like I say, I understand why Orwin did what he did, but we may live to regret it in the end. At least we could have died fighting. Instead we suffer this slow strangulation. However, I believe Orwin is a good man at heart and he will help you if he can. His wife I’d not answer for, but I’ll get word to him and he shall come and see you. My Lord and Lady are away at the moment. She insisted on going to Gorst Town for some new gowns. How she can be
shopping at such a time as this, I don’t know. My Lord Orwin always indulges her. He returns tomorrow night and it must be his decision; whether you can stay here in safety, or whether there is somewhere else you can be sent. Until then, best hang around the kitchens with us. I doubt anyone’ll question a new kitchen boy.’

  Zastra spent the rest of the day with Podrik, who was more than happy to serve his rescuer of the previous day. He showed her every corner of the kitchen and all the store rooms proudly, as if he owned them himself. He insisted on taking care of Findar, showing Zastra a soothing ointment he had used to treat a rash on her brother’s legs. Morn told Zastra that he preferred the company of babies to children of his own age and that he was always helping out in the nursery. After seeing how Terlan and the other boys had treated him yesterday, Zastra was not surprised. When he played with Findar, Podrik’s stutter vanished completely. It only seemed to come on when he was nervous and afraid. All that morning, he kept plying both of them with food and treats that he made himself. Before long, even Zastra, hungry as she had been for many weeks, could eat no more.

  In the afternoon, they lazed about contentedly in the coolest corner of the kitchen. Findar was sleeping and Podrik asked Zastra how she had learnt to be such a good fighter. Zastra explained how she had been taught to fight ever since she could remember. Podrik opened his eyes in astonishment.

  ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Why do they teach you all that?’ ‘So we can become Warriors of Golmeira, I suppose,’ said Zastra.

  ‘What’s that then?’

  Zastra recited some of the stories she had been told of the legendary Warriors of Golmeira. Of Lodara, who had challenged the champion warrior of her enemy to single combat and so won Waldaria for the land of Golmeira. Of Colinar and the beast of Helgarths, and of course, Fostran and the Kyrginites. The stories amazed Podrik as they had Zastra, but he seemed bemused by all the battles and fighting. ‘Why can’t everyone just get along with each other?’ he wondered aloud. Zastra then asked him about himself. He seemed unused to anyone showing any interest in him and, rather hesitantly at first, he told her how his father, a Sendoran called Pintorax, had left when he was only small. He didn’t know why his father had left, only that Morn had been distraught and, whenever he asked her about it, she just said “Apparently, Sendorans and Golmeirans aren’t supposed to mix,” and left it at that. ‘Don’t really know what she meant,’ said Podrik sadly. ‘I mean ma and pa mixed all right to make me, didn’t they? I don’t see why he left. Probably took one look at me, and didn’t like to have a crippled son.’ Zastra’s heart went out to the sad, moonfaced boy.

  ‘I’m sure he’d be very proud of you,’ she said. ‘Morn is and not everyone could look after Findar as well as you do.’ Podrik’s eyes lit up at the compliment, and Findar took that opportunity to wake up and tug on a lock of Podrik’s straggly hair. His squeal of excitement made the two older children smile.

  *

  Morn was as good as her word, and on the evening of Zastra’s third day at Lyria, Marl Orwin came to the kitchen to see them. He was a balding man of average height, lines of age and stress beginning to set their marks across his face. He introduced himself to Zastra in a polite manner, but he seemed nervous and tense, his eyes constantly flicking about the room.

  ‘My dear child, how glad I am you have survived the terrible events at Golmer Castle. But you are still in the most awful danger. We all are, whilst you are here.’ He nervously massaged his head, causing the remaining strands of hair to poke up, swaying with static.

  ‘What to do now, though? I’m afraid there is no way we can hide you here. They are looking for you. This proclamation was spread all over Gorst Town when we were there. Look, read for yourself.’

  He pulled a crumpled parchment from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to her, pointing with a thick, trembling finger.

  ‘There, the second paragraph.’

  Zastra read the proclamation aloud.

  ‘The traitors to Golmeira, offspring of the deceased Leodra, must be found. It is known that the child, Zastra, left Riverford heading east disguised as a county boy travelling under the name Hedrik. She has with her the baby boy known as Findar. The baby Kastara is believed to have died in Riverford. All young boys or girls with a baby are to be stopped and questioned. Do not worry that you may have the wrong child. It is better to arrest a thousand children than let these traitors escape. A reward of two thousand tocrins to anyone who captures them. Both are wanted alive. A slow and painful death will be afforded to any found harbouring the fugitives.’

  Zastra was shocked at the brutal tone. She looked at the signature.

  ‘Brutila, Royal Master at Arms.’

  That anyone other than Martek should be master at arms was outrageous and anger rose up within her

  ‘Who is this Brutila?’ she asked.

  ‘Ah. That is a story,’ sighed Orwin. ‘I’m not sure if… no, I suppose you should know. This woman is evil, I have no qualms in saying it. I had thought her dead, but it seems she has been hiding in Waldaria as part of Thorlberd’s hidden army. I knew her, many years ago, as did your father and mother.’

  ‘Oh, did you really?’ cried Zastra, hungry to hear anything of her parents.

  ‘Yes. You see, Anara is a distant cousin of mine. My father was rich, since he was Marl of Lyria before me, but Anara’s parents were much poorer and she was sent here in order to have the best education. It was here she met Leodra, when he was twelve years old and she was nine. Leodra had been sent away to learn about the different parts of the country he was to rule. I was a few years older, but we became good friends. Brutila was one of our schoolfellows, the daughter of Venkar, our teacher. Venkar was an unpleasant tyrant, who had no qualms about beating us, even when we did not deserve it. Leodra and I were largely spared, due to our status, but the others, and Brutila in particular, did not escape his wrath. Indeed, I think she had the worst of it, since in our case his cruelty was limited by school hours. Perhaps due to having such a father, Brutila had a darkness about her. She and a few like-minded fellows were often bullying the younger children. Leodra, always honest and forthright, took issue with her bullying ways and they were often fighting. Leodra was taller and stronger at the time, so he usually triumphed, since Brutila had only just begun her mindweaver training. She had not yet learnt how to use her abilities fully.’

  ‘She’s a mindweaver?’ Zastra didn’t like the sound of that.

  ‘Oh yes. An extremely powerful one, so it is said. One winter’s day, a shocking incident occurred. I was in bed with a slight fever, but I heard what happened from the others. Venkar took the class up into the mountains to teach them the art of tracking in the snow. They became spread out and it was a while before Leodra noticed that Anara and her delicate friend Marta were missing. Concerned, he went in search and found them tied to a rock on the mountainside. Brutila and one of her fellow bullies had found the younger girls and tormented them by tying them to a rock and threatening to leave them to freeze. Of course the girls were terrified, particularly Marta, who looked almost dead with cold. Leodra was incensed and after releasing them, he overpowered Brutila and tied her up in the girls’ place. “You’ll have a taste of your own cruelty,” he said, before leaving her there alone. He meant only to shock her, planning to return in a few minutes and set her free. However, Venkar found them and scolded them for wandering off before ordering them back to the castle. Leodra then admitted what he had done, willing to take the punishment, but Venkar insisted he obey. Only Anara, watching silently, realised that Venkar was using his own mindweaving powers to make Leodra bend to his will. Whether Venkar ever meant to go back for Brutila, I know not. It was strange behaviour for any father, even one who showed little love for his child. Eventually, Anara found the opportunity to drag Leodra away, covered by a developing snow storm. She explained to Leodra what had happened, but he had no memory of what had happened. Venkar had stolen that from him. But he trusted Anara, and they went t
o find Brutila. The snowstorm made it difficult, but at last they found her. She was half frozen and surrounded by a pack of mountain scrittals. Some had begun to crawl over her, no doubt scenting supper.’

  Zastra was shocked by the tale. Her parents had taken her to the mountains a few winters ago and she could well remember the vicious chill and the swirling snowstorms. And she had seen some of the scrittals; large carnivorous rodents covered with thick grey fur. She had watched a pack of them chewing on the carcass of a dead horse. The memory made her shudder. She pictured the child Brutila in her mind, small, shivering, alone with the creatures on the cold mountain. How could Venkar do such a terrible thing to his own child?

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘Leodra chased off the scrittals and released Brutila, wrapping her in his own fur-lined cloak to try and warm her. He and Anara managed to get her down the mountains and into the kitchens. Morn will remember, no doubt.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ said Morn, shaking her head. ‘Those two girls, grey with cold, and Leodra, the poor boy, distraught with guilt. Anara guided the older girl to the fire, where she thawed slowly. Anara told me some of what had happened, although it would appear that she left out many of the details. I suppose she did not want to get her fellow students into trouble. Brutila just sat staring at the fire, whispering to herself. I remember what she said, because it was so odd, so terrifying. “I could hear their hunger. They were sniffing out the best parts to eat,” she kept muttering, over and over. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I gave them all hot soup. Anara brought the older girl some chala which she had made herself. Brutila knocked it out of her hands. I don’t think that she could bear to be beholden to Anara. Leodra tried to explain and apologise, but Brutila had only hatred in her eyes.’

  Orwin took up the story again. ‘Leodra and Anara were beaten severely by Venkar for running off, but neither of them minded. Leodra in particular felt he deserved the punishment. A terrible thing it was, but I suppose it was also the beginnings of the love that was to blossom between your parents. But it did not end there. A few days later, my father heard rumours of what had happened. He questioned Leodra, who told him the whole story, including his own part in the sorry affair. My father ordered the arrest of Venkar. However, our teacher had somehow known what was coming and he escaped, taking Brutila with him. With no means of employment, it was rumoured that he was forced to beg for food and shelter, cursing the name of Leodra wherever he went.’