Ariel's Charm
Page 17
She was shocked to see the strong, confident man that she had known look so thin and ragged. His white shirt was now grey with dirt and torn in many places. His whole body seemed somehow diminished. Multiple bruises, cuts and areas of dried blood covered him from head to foot. His boots had been removed and his bare feet were bruised, dirty and calloused. A beard covered his face. She could not imagine the treatment that he had received at Patrail’s hands. What torture had he endured to bring her home? Her heart ached for the pain that he had suffered and Ariel knew that she had to get him out of here as quickly as possible. His head slowly turned and his eyes widened at the sight of his rescuers. His mouth fell open and an expression of wonder touched his face.
‘Volanda?’ he murmured softly.
Ariel shook her head in confusion. Did Reynaldo really think that she was her mother? His face changed as he realised the true identity of his rescuer and an expression of shame crossed his face. She held a finger to her lips and ran to him. Reynaldo understood and tried to stand. He got up on one knee and then collapsed back on the ground. Finally Ariel reached him. She cradled his head with one hand and slid an arm underneath his shoulders. She looked up to see Marco standing on the other side of Reynaldo. Marco placed a strong arm across Reynaldo’s back and with Ariel’s help they slowly got him to his feet. For a moment Ariel felt Reynaldo’s weight fall against her as he swayed on his feet. She wondered how long it had been since he had stood up. Ariel hugged him and felt her tears wetting his whisker-roughened cheek. Her overwhelming relief at finding him alive made her realise just how much this man meant to her. He reached a hand up and touched her face. Using his thumb he brushed her tears away, as he had once done a long time ago for her mother. He could not believe she was really there.
‘Ariel,’ he whispered. ‘You are here!’
Ariel placed a finger over his lips. She and Marco supported Reynaldo on either side and they slowly moved out of the cell that had been Reynaldo’s prison. The three of them walked back down the hallway and noticed that the guard was still sleeping. Walking quietly they crept past the guard and began climbing the staircase. Just as they reached the top of the stairs they heard a shout from below them. The guard must have woken and discovered the cell door open and Reynaldo gone.
Marco quickly opened the heavy outer door and the three of them slipped outside. Motioning them to follow, Marco began moving as quickly as he dare given Reynaldo’s weakened state. They made their way toward the rear of the palace building. Reynaldo breathed harshly as he struggled to keep up with the other two. They could hear footsteps and shouts coming from behind them. Behind the palace a low stone wall surrounded the rear courtyard. Marco leapt over the wall then helped over a weakened Reynaldo. Ariel followed and the three of them bent low to hide behind the wall. Again, pure instinct made Ariel retrieve the elandril horn from her pocket. After a glance at Marco she placed it to her lips and blowing hard Ariel was surprised that she couldn’t hear anything.
The horde of soldiers continued pouring out of the palace heading for where they were hiding, some bearing odd looking firearms while others wielded swords. There appeared to be no order or purpose to their actions as a scarlet-faced officer screamed orders at the men. Ariel glanced around anxiously, fearing that they were about to be captured.
Looking up she saw a familiar white shape approaching across the golden sky from the distant Walhalla hills. Ariel felt a rush of gratitude and hope that they just might make their escape. Behind her she could hear many shouts and running footsteps. She looked up into the sky and saw the huge, graceful shape of Elizon approaching, his clawed feet extended and ready to land. Ariel could feel the puff of air across her face as he touched down then he closed his huge wings. His blue eyes gazed solemnly at her. Dalmar dismounted quickly and he motioned for the three of them to climb onto Elizon’s back. Ariel and Marco helped Reynaldo to climb aboard then scrambled up behind him. Ariel gripped the edges of the worn looking saddle that draped across Elizon’s back. Ariel felt Marco’s arms close around her waist. Then she felt an extraordinary sensation as huge muscles bunched underneath her and Elizon lifted off. Elizon’s powerful wings clawed at the air as he strained against the greater weight on his back to gain height. Strong and brave as he was, he struggled to climb skyward, yet he would not be defeated and soon his enormous wings caught an updraft and he carried his precious cargo skyward.
As the huge white bird took to the air Ariel turned and saw a group of Largo’s soldiers standing in the courtyard uselessly shaking their fists. Two of them were dragging what looked like a small cannon, clearly planning to shoot them out of the sky. Elizon wheeled and banked to the left. Ariel somehow knew that even if they fired the weapon it was unlikely that they would hit their target. One more glance back caused her to shiver. Largo was striding out of the rear door of the palace. A shorter figure trotted beside Largo and she recognised the man, Lucien, who had given her food in Little Handleton. A smug smile stretched across his face. Clearly he was delighted that the information that he had given Largo had been correct. The child he had seen had been Dariew and Volanda’s offspring. He stood for a moment watching Largo’s men scramble to try to stop the elandril and its riders. Lucien really didn’t care if they were captured or not. He had his reward. The child’s fate was nothing to do with him.
A long black cloak belled out around Largo as he stormed across to the man who had been guarding Reynaldo. Largo seized him by the scruff of the neck and forced him to his knees. Ariel glanced back and saw Largo kick the man in the side, then land a hard blow to his head. ‘You were drunk!’ he roared. ‘You should have been guarding the cells!’ Even from the distance that they now were she could hear Largo’s angry shouting and the man’s cries for forgiveness. Dalmar’s laughter soon drowned out the sounds as they soared to freedom.
Chapter 39
Shrill screams echoed around the walls of the throne room. Patrail stood in a corner of the room. For the first time in his long service to Largo he was genuinely afraid. The man, Arturon who had allowed Reynaldo to escape, lay face down on the cold stone floor. His arms and legs were stretched to their limits by ropes that bound them to the pillars in each corner of the room. His back was a mess of bloody, flayed tissue. He breathed in ragged, gasping sobs, babbling apologies as he pleaded for his life.
‘M m m my Lord,’ he cried, ‘forgive me!’ His next words came out in an incoherent rush as Largo’s heavy whip cut into his unprotected back. The man gasped and sobbed, blood spraying from his mouth where he had bitten into his lips and tongue.
Largo stood beside him breathing heavily, his bloodstained bullwhip curled near his feet. Its width and supple-ness reminded Patrail of a snake that he had seen once in the deserts of Trawn. Largo’s whip struck with a similar snap and the same deadly accuracy and venom.
‘I cannot hear you. All I can see is a worthless pile of drallion muck!’ Largo roared.
Arturon continued to sob and babble apologies, his pain and fear etched deeply into his face. He knew that Largo’s anger would mean his own death. He had heard stories of servants being whipped to death for minor incidents that displeased Largo. Arturon’s crime was much greater; allowing Reynaldo to escape, along with Princess Ariel. Yes, he knew the identity of Reynaldo’s rescuer. One look at the face of the child confirmed her identity. He screamed as another strike of the whip found his back. He knew that he could not remain conscious much longer as his mouth filled with blood from where he had bitten through his tongue.
Arturon’s tongue was swollen, making any words that came out slurred and difficult to understand.
Largo did not care about this fact. His fury was in full flight and nothing Arturon said or did could make any difference to his outcome.
‘I am s s s sorry, my Lord,’ he stammered with pleading in his voice, begging for his life, though he knew that it was futile.
A loud crack preceded yet another piercing scream that echoed around the throne room as though
wrenched from his very soul. His body jerked reflexively pulling tighter the ropes that bound his hands and feet, the heavy cord cutting into the skin of his wrists and ankles. Patrail stood in the corner watching in wide-eyed horror – he had known Arturon, boy and man, and tonight he would witness his death. He held Arturon’s shirt and boots. He didn’t know whether to feel sympathy for the battered Arturon or relief that it was not he who had incurred his master’s wrath.
Patrail felt an unusual coldness near where he was standing. He could not escape the feeling that he was not alone in this corner of the room. Patrail glanced around him as he was sure that he could hear a shrill and insane laugh.
‘Get this vermin out of here,’ Largo gasped, his breathing ragged, his face shone with the sweat of exertion and his eyes glittered. He looked directly at Patrail and said, ‘You know what I expect from you!’
Patrail grimaced as he realised part of the expression in Largo’s eyes was pleasure. He had actually enjoyed whipping this man to within a spek of his life. He nodded at Largo’s command. Yes, he knew his master well enough to know exactly what was expected. He had seen it done before — more than once, in fact.
He made a hand signal to the two men standing silently near the throne room door. As one they rushed forward and cut the ropes that were binding Arturon’s arms and legs to the throne room pillars. Slowly and carefully they lifted the semi-conscious man, his pained breath escaping in whistling gasps. The men grimaced at the odor of spent adrenalin and the metallic smell of fresh blood that was heavy around Arturon; they both knew that it could easily have been either one of them in the same position.
The two men left the throne room knowing that they were bound for the palace dungeons. Arturon’s battered body would be cast into one of the cells and there the resident rats and other vermin would feast on Arturon’s torn flesh. In the end Arturon would beg for death rather than for his life.
Patrail’s men dragged Arturon from the room as Largo stood for a moment breathing heavily, sweat pouring from his body as his eyes glittered and his hands trembled from exertion. Patrail remembered a legend he heard as a child. It was a legend of a terrifying beast that roamed Walhalla; a beast of such power that its killing roar made the ground shake and all other animals flee. The sound that Largo made at that moment made Patrail believe that the legend was true and Largo had become that beast. Largo made this blood-chilling sound as he flung the bullwhip across the room. At the sound, Patrail felt such terror that he genuinely wished he could disappear.
Largo felt as though his head would explode from rage. At that moment he wanted the powers of the ancient ones so that he could rain death and destruction on all around him. Only then would he expel the rage that he felt. He had her there! She was within his grasp! She had actually been inside the palace and escaped! How was that possible?
Patrail ducked as the whip’s thin metal tipped end missed his head by a few speks, the warm spatter of Arturon’s blood flecked his cheeks.
‘My Lord,’ he stammered, ‘we will capture the child.’
Largo spun around and glared at his second-in-command.
‘I do not want her captured,’ he roared suddenly. ‘I want her dead!’
Patrail flinched at the venom in his master’s voice. Although he had always served him unquestioningly, a part of him wondered at the wisdom of killing a child that was of royal blood; particularly this child, who had been destined to rule Walhalla. Yet Patrail enjoyed the privilege of his current position. After all, being second-in-command to a ruler was something to be envied. This uneducated, unsophisticated soul was also consumed by the legends and mysteries of the past. These legends spoke of enchantments and powers possessed by those of King Rufus’s line. It was the fear of these legends that, for the first time in many seasons, made him question his allegiances to Largo. Who knew what the consequences of this child’s death would mean to Walhalla? Would the loss of this one life bring about ages of darkness as the legends had foretold?
A much stronger fear motivated Patrail, the fear of incurring his master’s wrath. The demonstration he had just witnessed made him more determined than ever to never cause his master to turn that anger onto him. He also could not shake the feeling it was not just Largo’s anger he would face if he failed.
Chapter 40
As the great bird soared across the golden Walhalla sky, Ariel felt an exhilaration utterly foreign to her. She had never known such a feeling of pure excitement. Slowly the countryside beneath them changed from grain fields to hills and dales and then heavy forests and mountain peaks. Once again Ariel saw the beautiful lake that had held her spellbound on her journey to Golden City. From the distance of their position the massive lake looked no bigger than a large swimming pool. It seemed so long ago since that first leap from Reynaldo’s cottage yet she knew it was only a few short weeks.
She felt, in so many ways, a different girl from the one who Reynaldo had found. Elizon climbed higher and they were soon over a mountain range. Apart from in books and the old television set at Riverview, Ariel had never seen mountains before and was dazzled by their towering peaks, each with a snow-capped peak. Her face felt cold from the high altitude air but she could not stop smiling.
Ariel could see what looked like a small valley nestled between two of the mountains. Elizon slowed and lost altitude quickly as he began a gradual spiral dive downward toward the valley. Soon they landed in the midst of an open area. As they dismounted Elizon, Ariel was stunned to hear the sound of clapping and cheering. She looked towards the trees and saw hundreds of people approaching. As one, the people dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.
One of the elandril riders at the front of the crowd stood and called out. ‘Let us all give a cheer for Princess Ariel.’
His voice was soon drowned out by the cheering of the people. Ariel felt tears in her eyes at this overwhelming expression of support. For a young girl, who had spent most of her life feeling alone in the world, the sudden sense of being part of a community was almost more than she could bear. She turned and saw Reynaldo and Marco beaming with pride. Ariel’s feelings were a mixture of joy and pride and anxiety. What would she do if she could not live up to the expectations of these people?
Dalmar turned to Ariel.
‘As you can see, Your Highness, you have a great deal of support in Walhalla.’
The red Walhalla sun began to dip below the horizon. Dalmar, with his people, organised the setting up of a camp. Everyone present was buzzing with excitement, singing songs and toasting each other with cups of a spicy dram-fruit wine or harrow ale. Ariel remembered the sweet, slightly spicy fruit that she had enjoyed while sitting beside the lake on that day that now seemed so long ago. As she slowly sipped from her cup, she was filled with warmth and a sense of calm. The smells of food cooking at individual campfires added to the feeling of celebration. Ariel knew, however, that this festivity was premature. The challenge of overpowering Largo’s reign was still before them.
Reynaldo looked much more like the man who had brought her to Walhalla. He had been given new clothes and had washed and shaved. His cheeks were hollow and his manner subdued after his time in prison. Although the need to develop a plan for what was to come next was important, everyone clearly preferred to simply enjoy the fellowship of the camp and old comrades. The long Walhalla night was just commencing. Ariel, Marco and Reynaldo knew that they needed sleep more than anything else. Slowly the talking and celebrating began to quieten and many people began setting-up sleeping areas.
Dalmar soon produced sleeping mats and thick, soft blankets. Ariel rolled out her sleeping mat and curled up underneath the blanket. As she gazed up at the millions of flickering stars she felt safer than she had ever felt in her life even though a part of her knew that more trials still lay ahead of them. Ariel closed her mind to the past happen-ings and future battles. Her need for sleep soon overcame everything else and, for the first time in a long time, fell into a deep and restful sleep.
Volanda stepped back after hugging Reynaldo, her eyes on his face, her expression changing. It was as if a question that had haunted her for seasons could no longer be silenced.
Finally she asked, ‘Reynaldo, why did you not fight for me?’
Uncomfortably Reynaldo looked away. She grabbed his shirt-front again dragging his attention back to her face.
‘Reynaldo, you know I love Dariew and do not regret becoming his wife but I know you love me and I cannot help but wonder …’
She broke off as if unable to express what was in her heart.
In pain Reynaldo closed his eyes; he could not bear to think of the possibility of what she was suggesting. Instead he squeezed her hands again.
‘Volanda, your marriage to Dariew was destined by the ancient ones. Your place is by his side.’ He hesitated then added, ‘An heir was needed for the throne.’
Volanda gasped and stepped back, anger flashing in her beautiful eyes. She drew back her hand and slapped him with the force of seasons of pent-up emotions. She turned from him and, humiliated, ran away from his implication.