‘It seems he shared her desire to make Golmeira a military power. He also resented being ruled by a non-mindweaver, even if that person were his brother. Migara died, but Thorlberd carried on with the experiments, eventually discovering that crossbreeding with fellgryffs instilled enough intelligence into the beast so that they could be controlled by those mindweavers with the art of communicating with animals.’
‘Communicating with animals?’ cried Dalbric. ‘Is that possible?’
‘Indeed it is – a rare, but not unknown ability,’ replied Dobery.
‘Like Colinar,’ said Zastra.
‘Exactly so, my dear.’
‘But to use fellgryffs,’ exclaimed Zastra, her brow furrowing as she recalled the quiet intelligence and courage of the fellgryff that had saved them in the mountains. ‘Oh, it’s just too horrid!’
‘What will Thorlberd do next?’ asked Dalbric.
‘Do you think he might attack Sendor?’ interjected Zastra, her thoughts turning to Kylen and Zax.
‘I fear so. I have been prying into any mind I could access and I have learnt much that our council should have seen. Even as Thorlberd was plotting the downfall of your father, he was also thinking of Sendor. He sent spies to stir up trouble in the borders and he had messengers from the Sendorans killed in order to prevent the peace talks with your father. When Mendoraz came in person, Thorlberd arranged for the caralyx to be smuggled into the castle. It was supposed to kill Kylen or Zax, which might have been enough for war to be declared. In the end, pinning the blame on the Sendorans worked just as well. The chance of peace was lost and when your father sent more soldiers to the Sendoran border, the defences at Golmer Castle were weakened. It was a very clever plan. I’ve no doubt your uncle will invade Sendor as soon as he has Golmeira under his control.’
‘That’s sad news indeed,’ said Etta. ‘They still tell awful tales of the last war down in the village. It set families against each other, here in the Borders. I’d hate to see such times come again.’
‘How did you find us, Dobery?’ asked Zastra.
‘After seeing the migaradons in the Forest of Waldaria, I headed back to Golmer Castle as fast I could. Alas, I was too late.’
Dobery paused, placing his hand on Zastra’s shoulder.
‘I do have some news which I hope will comfort you, my dear. On my way to Golmer I passed through the village of Hurlbridge. I was sneaking along the back of the houses to avoid the soldiers, but as I did so a door opened and I found myself face-to face with Bodel. It would appear that sneaking is not one of my better skills. Bodel said I made more noise than a herd of fat goats frolicking in a field of dry twigs. A rather harsh judgement, in my opinion, but I cannot deny she had heard me.’
‘Bodel!’ exclaimed Zastra, her body stiffening in excitement.
‘Yes. She told me what had happened with you and the twins at Highcastle village. A few days after you had gone, she heard from your friend Heldrid that Bedrun was missing. Bodel was filled with joy and wondered if Bedrun might have gone to Hurlbridge, her sister’s village. She took Dalka and Kastara there. It turned out to be a most fortunate decision, since Brutila and her guards broke into Bodel’s house just a few days later, looking for you and the twins.’
‘What about Kastara? Is she all right? And Bedrun? Did they find her?’ The questions tumbled from Zastra in her impatience.
‘Bodel found a note from Bedrun, pushed under the door of Dalka’s house. She had been with the acrobats when the fighting started and they all escaped together, climbing down from the outer ramparts.’
‘Jofie!’ exclaimed Zastra. ‘Bedrun really liked him; she must have gone back down to talk to him again. Their acrobatic skills would have made it easy for them to escape over the walls. But why didn’t she go to Highcastle?’
‘Bedrun overheard the Bractarian troops saying they had orders to hunt and kill any friends of Leodra and his family. This terrified her, since she was known to be a friend of yours, Zastra. Understanding her danger, the troupe offered to take her with them. They were heading north for the Aridian mountains, planning to cross the border into Aliterra. When they passed through Hurlbridge, Bedrun was able to leave her letter.’
Zastra was heartily glad that Bedrun had escaped from the horrors of the castle, although saddened that her friend’s life was in such danger because of her. Dobery continued.
‘As for Kastara, Bodel passed her off as little Joril without difficulty. Her sister Dalka’s illness had been a lengthy one and she accepted the baby as Joril, grown a little bigger and a little different while she had been ill. The blue fever can cause some memory loss and confusion, which helped us in this case. Dalka suspects nothing and has been spared the grief she must otherwise have felt at the loss of her daughter.’
‘So Kastara is safe,’ said Zastra. A warm sense of relief and joy washed over her.
‘Yes, my dear,’ said Dobery, patting her hand affectionately.
‘What did you do then?’ asked Dalbric.
‘I headed after Zastra and Findar as fast as I could. First to Highcastle village where I discovered that Thorlberd had set Brutila the task of finding you. Hers was an easily trail to follow,’ he said grimly. ‘At Riverford, she was wasting time searching all quarters of the city, so I went on ahead of her. Bodel had told me that you were headed to Lyria. I almost caught up with you at the market.’
‘You were there?’ gasped Zastra in surprise.
‘I was indeed. You hid your mind well, Zastra. It was only when the Kyrgs were questioning you that I realised I had found you. Only for those cloth merchants to snatch you away from under my nose. I tried to chase after you but my old bones are not meant for running. I did what I could, using my abilities to keep the Kyrgs asleep until you were long gone. Gil’s sleep suggestion would have worn off after a few minutes.’
Zastra recalled the black-cloaked figure that had pursued the trap. To think that it had been Dobery.
‘I hurried after you on foot, but Brutila and her troops soon overtook me and I could not keep pace with them. I arrived at Lyria in time to see the troops returning in disarray, carrying a body on a stretcher – alive or dead I could not tell, and for a terrible instant I thought it was you, Zastra, until I was able to scan the mind of a stray soldier and find out what had happened. Since then, I have been searching the mountains. A chance sighting of the fellgryff by some villagers several leagues away helped me narrow the search. The unusual marking on its neck identified it as the one you had escaped on. And so, at last, I found you.’ ‘Amazing,’ said Dalbric. ‘Mindweavers and migaradons. It’s like the poems, or something they tell to children. Tell me again, Dobery, about the Lady Migara. And Zastra, what about—’
‘Dalbric, leave the poor souls alone,’ said Etta. ‘Right now, it’s time for bed. We’ve chores to catch up on the morning, and I for one need my sleep.’
Chapter Forty-Two
The next day, whilst Etta and Dalbric were occupied in rearranging one of their storerooms, Dobery came and sat by the fire with Zastra and Findar. The little boy was full of energy, delighting in his new ability to stand and stagger a few steps before collapsing back down to the ground. He was amazed by everything in the small house, reaching out to grab every fascinating object with wide-eyed glee.
‘I’ve been thinking about Kastara,’ said Zastra. ‘I should go back for her. Father said I must take care of them both.’
‘Hush, dear child,’ said Dobery. ‘I know it is difficult, but decisions such as that, once made, must be adhered to. To go now back would put both yourself and Kastara in terrible danger. Findar too, if they caught you. Your sister is in good hands, and we must trust that Bodel and fate will keep Kastara safe. Brutila believed that Kastara died of the blue fever, so no one will have reason to suspect little Joril. She is safe in her new identity, safer even than you and Findar. I believe you made the right choice.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. My dear Zastra, you have achieved s
omething remarkable. You succeeded in escaping across the breadth of Golmeira, in spite the full power of Thorlberd. You have kept your brother and sister safe. All that, without being a mindweaver. I’m very proud, and your mother and father would be too.’
‘But what about Golmeira? What about Thorlberd? We can’t just let him get away with what he has done.’
‘No, indeed. The time will come when we will fight back. But for now you must rest and heal. I will seek out those that defy Thorlberd. Seacastle is not yet taken and Sendor will not fall without a fight, if history be our guide. All is not yet lost.’
There was comfort in Dobery’s words and Zastra’s recovery continued until she was able to walk and even venture outside. Etta’s sturdy wooden house was set in a clearing on the mountainside, close to a small stream that supplied it with water. The air was pure and clear, although increasingly cold as winter approached. They were enclosed in a protective shield of green-forested mountains that extended away from them in all directions, yielding only to the mighty, snow-topped peaks of the unnamed mountains in the distant north. Enclosed, but not imprisoned. As the wind whipped through her hair, Zastra pulled her fur-lined cloak, a gift from Etta, closer round her body. She felt a strange contentment in their isolation. It was as if Golmeira and the rest of the world no longer existed.
Her thoughts were disturbed by Dobery and Dalbric returning from a hunting expedition.
‘Shouldn’t you be resting?’ said Dalbric, with concern.
‘I’ve been resting for quite long enough. I don’t want you to think I’m some useless rich girl, expecting to be waited on all the time,’ replied Zastra with a small smile.
‘Well, I was beginning to wonder,’ Dalbric returned with a wink. ‘Come on, we’ve caught a vizzal – it’ll make a good supper.’
Zastra insisted on helping Etta with the meal, preparing the vegetables with great zeal.
‘You are taking off too much skin,’ said Etta. ‘We can’t afford for you to throw away half the good stuff. We’re not all daughters of Grand Marls, you know.’
‘Sorry,’ said Zastra, concentrating on making her peelings as thin as possible.
‘When you’ve done, they need cooking,’ said Etta.
Zastra hesitated.
‘I only know how to make porridge,’ she admitted.
‘There’s nothing wrong with porridge,’ said Etta. She then explained to Zastra what had to be done with the vegetables and watched over her whilst she attempted to make gravy. At last the meal was brought to table.
‘What took so long?’ said Dalbric, despite a stern look from Etta. He looked in trepidation as Zastra poured some rather lumpy gravy on his plate, but then took up his fork with a show of enthusiasm.
‘Um, it looks lovely,’ he said.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Dobery, bravely crunching on some severely undercooked yellow-root.
Etta glanced across at her son.
‘Dalbric, I was thinking of asking Zastra and Findar to live with us. What do you say?’
‘Great idea,’ he said, grinning. ‘It’ll be nice to have the company.’
Etta turned towards Zastra.
‘I doubt anyone will come looking for you here,’ she said. ‘We’re several leagues from the nearest village and only go down the valley a few times a year. The soldiers don’t tend to venture into the mountains – they like their valley comforts too much. I can say you are a distant cousin. No one would question that. However, we can’t have passengers. Everyone here must work, and it’s hard work at that.’
Zastra felt deeply the generousness of the offer – Etta and Dalbric had so little, yet were willing to share it with them, although they were strangers.
‘That’s a very kind of you,’ she said, ‘especially as you’ve seen how terrible I am at cooking.’
‘Awful,’ agreed Dalbric, pushing away a half eaten plate of food.
Findar took that opportunity to fling some of his mashed vegetables across the table with a squeal of discontent.
‘Even Findar hates it,’ sighed Zastra.
‘I’m sure you’ll learn,’ said Etta. ‘You have shown that at least you are willing to try. Now, suppose I rescue the vegetables and make some gravy that deserves the name?’
Findar clapped his hands with delight, almost as if he understood.
Zastra looked at Dobery.
‘Will you stay too?’ she said.
‘I’m afraid not, Zastra. I would bring too much attention. My face, as you know, is rather distinctive and I have been listed as an enemy of Golmeira with a reward for my capture. You will be safer if I am not here. Besides, I have things to do, as you know my dear, which cannot wait.’
‘Please say you’ll stay, Zastra,’ said Dalbric. ‘You’ll be safe with us.’
Zastra nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I believe we will.’
Zastra’s adventures continue in...
Zastra is eager for revenge against her Uncle Thorlberd but has been forced into hiding with her young brother. Only a small band of Sendoran rebels stand against the usurper. An act of sacrifice results in Zastra’s conscription into her uncle’s fleet, where she is forced to serve a brutal captain. When Zastra’s crewmates mutiny, she discovers a horrifying scheme of Thorlberd’s to ensure his grip on power becomes absolute. If she is to thwart her uncle, she must join forces with the Sendoran rebels and find the mythical Murthen Island, defended by Thorlberd’s most powerful mindweavers and an invincible migaradon.
Acknowledgements
I would like to express my deepest thanks to Wendy Tomlinson, Michele Hutchison, Amanda Benjamin, Sylvia Ratcliffe, Richard Ratcliffe and Sharon Gubby for reviewing the manuscript and for their many insightful comments and helpful suggestions.
Realm of Mindweavers: Book one: Tales of Golmeira Page 23
