Revenge

by Fiona McIntosh

  He is remote from us, Tor answered, embarrassed by his own relief at moving on from Adongo’s suffering. Ryk is in shock. I sense he’s still with us but he will die if he does not return to his senses quickly. The fever I can stop but I have to find Ryk’s spirit and bring him back to himself.

  The man nodded. What can we do?

  It’s dangerous. I don’t even know if it’s possible. I want us to link and then you must anchor me to that link inside you. I shall send myself into Ryk and see if I can find him.

  Adongo’s eyes widened with surprise. It is not a reasonable plan.

  Tor grinned. Why did everyone always hate his plans? It’s the only one I’ve got.

  The swarthy man shook his head. Too dangerous. I cannot.

  Are you frightened?

  Not for me, he said abruptly. For you. I am not permitted to allow such risk.

  Then I shall have to take the risk without you, Adongo. Pity, I could use your strength. This was unfair of Tor and he knew it but he had no choice. Ryk must live. Just keep an eye on the guards for me then.

  Adongo stretched out his hand to hold Tor’s arm. Wait. I will help.

  The Moruk would never know how grateful Tor felt at that moment for he really had no idea of how to carry out this complex task. Wasting no time, he locked onto the link and cleared his mind.

  The man twitched a grim smile. Tor looked at him questioningly.

  This reminds me of when we did battle with Orlac, Adongo said, kneeling beside Ryk. We would hold each other’s minds as safely as we could, like this, and still our combined strength was not enough.

  It was a chilling statement.

  Tor laid his hands on Ryk once again, summoned the Colours and felt himself disappear.

  He found Ryk cringing. The boy screamed out when he felt someone so near. Adongo too heard the shriek and strengthened his hold on Tor via the link. He resisted the urge to peek towards the tent flap; he would hear the sailors before they entered.

  Hush, Ryk, Tor soothed. It is only I.

  The lad was confused and his terror stopped him being able to sort out his thoughts or even realise that Tor was there with him…inside.

  You must follow me now, Ryk.

  I’m frightened. He’ll chop my hand off and feed me to the giant eels.

  Ryk. Tor’s voice was firm.

  Yes?

  It was only a whisper. He pushed on. Captain Blackhand is dead. The Wasp is sunk. And you are lost. If you follow me now, I can take you back to where we need to be. Do you understand?

  The lengthy pause troubled Tor. He wondered how long Adongo could keep him safe like this.

  Ryk, do you hear me?

  He’s dead? We’re not drowned?

  We’re alive. In a spot of bother, but we can handle it. First, we need to be together…and awake. Will you follow me? I promise I will not allow anyone to harm you.

  What about the bother?

  So he was paying attention. Good lad. I could use your help with it, to be honest.

  Ryk allowed Tor to take his hand and lead him back to consciousness. As Tor re-entered his own body, Adongo’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the tent flap. Haryd came striding in, his henchmen following.

  Adongo was still holding a damp linen and had the presence of mind to dutifully hold it out to Tor, who was breathing hard as he recollected himself.

  Take it…Go through the motions, Adongo hissed across the link.

  Tor sighed, stretched his back as though he had been on bended knees over the child for too long and casually looked up as Haryd arrived. He laid the towel on Ryk’s forehead. He felt dizzy with the effort of appearing normal.

  ‘Why do you need this slave?’ Haryd barked.

  Tor shot a look at Ryk and noticed his face was twitching and his eyes were fluttering behind their lids. The boy was back. He was asleep but safe and healing. Now, he must deal with the angry sailor. He stood with effort, careful to keep his eyes lowered as instructed and also mindful of showing Haryd that he was still chained.

  Adongo remained still and silent on his knees.

  ‘I have given the child a sleeping draught which will help lower his fever, sir. I believe, with some care, he will pull through for you.’

  ‘So, we’ve learned some humility have we, mighty physic?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Tor mumbled, wanting to unleash the Colours which were still sparking inside him.

  ‘But you didn’t answer my question, slave.’

  Tor had to think what it was. He needed rest.

  Explain what I am doing here, Adongo hissed.

  Tor grasped at various thoughts which drifted across his mind. ‘Sir, I told your men that Ryk here is extremely ill with a disease which could be fatal to others. My apologies, I was wrong. He does, however, need to be kept moving constantly through this night or he will succumb. I am hoping that between the Moruk and myself we can keep him on his feet and not trouble your men…sir.’ His eyes flicked to Haryd and back to the ground.

  ‘I can’t imagine why you’d care about my men’s sleep, Gynt, but you are right about the fact that I don’t care about you, this Moruk here, or this child. However, if he can be saved, he may turn out to be useful. So continue. Tomorrow we march.’

  He turned to leave, his whip twitching. ‘Oh, and Gynt—I won’t be needing the whore tonight. I’m tired. He will be brought here for you to attend to.’ Haryd smirked.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ was all Tor could bring himself to say as they left.

  He must have collapsed, for he felt himself being shaken. It was actually the noise of the chains clanking together which caught his attention, then everything else began to fall back into place and he found himself looking into the concerned face of Adongo.

  What happened? he asked.

  I know not. You are weakened by the boy’s healing, I imagine.

  Ryk. How is he? Tor held his own head as he moved into a sitting position, cautiously for fear of the dizziness.

  See for yourself, Adongo suggested.

  Tor looked over into the corner and saw Ryk curled up in a natural state of deep sleep.

  He even spoke. Said to thank you for finding him, for bringing him back.

  I’m surprised he could remember anything, Tor replied, closing his eyes again.

  He may not recall any of it when he wakes truly. But he will be fine. There is no fever. His colour is normal. If he is permitted to sleep today he should be recovered in time for the march, Adongo confirmed.

  Ah, the march. How long will it take?

  I would guess three days.

  Adongo, are you able to reach my sack?

  The Moruk passed the bag to Tor, who still felt too queasy to move. He remembered seeing a small vial in it when he first looked at the contents on the day he left the Heartwood.

  He opened his eyes to slits and searched for the small glass tube. His fingers found it; he desperately hoped it contained what he suspected it may. Pulling out the cork stopper he smelled the liquid and was instantly reminded of the dingy room at The Empty Goblet where he had once performed an amazing healing on a man who was now a falcon.

  ‘Cloot,’ he whispered sadly. ‘Where are you?’

  Tor sipped the clear liquid and the arraq slipped down his throat. Its effect was immediate; suddenly Tor felt as though he had slept for days. Strength returned to his body and his head cleared. He sipped again, remembering what Dr Freyberg had said about not taking too much at once. After a final slow sip, he returned the vial to the sack.

  That is some potion, Adongo commented, amused and impressed.

  A simply berry, tiny and rare, Tor said, recalling Freyberg’s description. They bloom only during Thaw and for a short season. The raw berries are poisonous—just a few drops of the juice can paralyse and a berry or two can kill—but if you boil them down to a syrup, you get this revitalising liquor. I am amazed that the same vial I was given many years ago, and had forgotten about, is now to be found in this sack. Tor shook his
head with wonder. The Heartwood provides.

  He changed the subject. Adongo, how is it we can use the link? he said, standing and stretching, amazed at his own fresh vigour.

  The Moruk considered this for a moment. Though I was the Fifth to fall, I was the first to be recruited to the Paladin. I believe I opened the original mindlink between us when we were assembled. Perhaps this was a special quality given to me, which may be why I can link with you.

  Tor nodded. It seemed feasible. One day we will return to the Heartwood and you will be able to talk with all of your Paladin companions. It is the most magical of places.

  Adongo’s face lit up with a smile. I shall look forward to returning there with you, Tor.

  They had no time to enjoy this thought. Footsteps warned them before the flap of the tent was ripped back. It was Beryd.

  ‘Is it safe?’ he barked.

  ‘I think so,’ Tor said, pretending not to be sure.

  ‘The Moruk must be returned,’ he said, striding in with two others. He addressed Adongo in the pidgin language Tor had heard earlier and the chieftain quietly stood for his chains to be removed from the central post.

  Do not show them your powers, Adongo cautioned.

  Why don’t we just escape?

  Lys told me it was important I get to Cipres with you. She cautioned that we must not draw undue attention to ourselves.

  Yes, she always says that and so far I’ve never managed to obey that rule, Tor answered ruefully as Adongo was led off.

  He heard Adongo laugh inside his head and it eased his troubled spirit.

  Beryd was looking at him. ‘What are you grinning about?’

  ‘Just recalling freedom and the last brothel I visited,’ Tor said, grabbing at the first excuse he could think of.

  ‘Well, if whoring’s on your mind, you’ll be pleased with this visitor,’ Beryd said, as Locky was shoved brutally into the tent. The boy landed on the floor and immediately pulled himself into a crouched position, manacles and chains clanking as he did so. ‘Fix him up. Then you return outside.’

  Tor nodded, eyes riveted on Locky, who refused to look at anyone.

  ‘Make it quick. My men will be back in a few minutes,’ the sailor ordered.

  Locky was trembling. Tor could see livid bruises on his face.

  ‘Talk to me, Locky…please.’

  The lad looked up, eyes blazing with hatred. ‘The first man who tried to touch me when I was seven, I killed. Now I’m going to kill Haryd.’

  The venom in the statement was real. Tor believed every word. He reached once again for the arraq. There was nothing he could physically do to help, and he sensed that Locky would not permit anyone to help even if they could. He wanted to retain his anger. He could survive the hurt and humiliation if he kept his hatred strong.

  ‘Sip this. Two sips only.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A rejuvenating potion. We march tomorrow for three days. It will keep you strong.’

  He thought the lad might refuse so was relieved when Locky held out his hand. He took the first sip and looked suspiciously at Tor.

  ‘And another one,’ Tor encouraged.

  ‘Is Ryk all right?’ Locky asked, taking a second invigorating drop into his mouth. ‘Can I keep this?’

  ‘No,’ Tor admonished and was relieved to see Locky’s mouth twitch with the rascal grin he remembered. ‘Ryk’s sleeping. He was knocked around a bit in the sea, but yes, he’ll be fine. I just hope he’ll be fit enough for tomorrow. How about you?’

  The awkward moment had passed. Locky felt more at ease to talk now. He handed back the vial reluctantly.

  ‘Light! That stuff’s good. I feel as though I could march for a week.’

  ‘I’m glad. We must stick close now.’

  ‘Will they allow it?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve told them who you are. Quist’s name carries immense power. Even if they don’t believe me, they won’t risk it.’

  ‘Janus will be merciless,’ Locky said. ‘But they’re lucky they’ll have to deal with only him and not my sister.’

  ‘She will never know, Locky. Is there anything I can do for you?’

  ‘Not unless you’re prepared to get me drunk or give me the magic liquid again.’

  Tor knew Locky would be all right. He was a tough lad and would take succour from his desire to avenge himself on these men. But now they must return to the other slaves.

  As though their captor had read his thoughts, the tent flap was ripped back yet again. It was Haryd this time. ‘On your feet.’

  Locky stood, eyes defiant. Tor willed him to offer respect, even if it was pretence.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that for too long, boy, unless you want your back to be even more sore than your arse. I can have it arranged through the courtesy of my whip here.’

  Locky looked down. He said nothing.

  ‘Sir,’ Tor said, hating the humility he had to show, ‘your crew member Ryk will be fine by tomorrow. Could you allow him today to rest?’

  ‘Only him. You two, back outside.’

  Tor pushed the Colours back, promising himself that one day he would see Locky settle with this man. For now, he must listen to Adongo and prepare for Cipres.

  16

  Grievance

  They had been marching for two days and most of a second night now, stopping only for a brief rest each evening. Their food ration was meagre but thankfully their captors left the prisoners much to themselves. They marched in a chain gang, supervised by men on horses and two wagons, one leading, the other bringing up the rear.

  Tor did not mind the marching. It gave him time to himself. He kept open the mindlink with Adongo, though the chieftain spoke only when spoken to. He made no trivial conversation, which suited Tor. Locky was also silent, keeping his thoughts to himself, but he definitely looked brighter since the administering of the arraq and seemed glad to be on the move. None of the sailors had come near him since he had been given back to Tor. Nevertheless, Tor did not rate their chances against the famous wrath of Janus Quist, even with this new respect.

  As for Ryk, it was as though nothing had happened. He had awoken the following morning with no memory of the events immediately preceding the moment they had leapt from the ship. The boy did not speak of Blackhand’s punishment; he recalled nothing but the boiling sea and attributed his good fortune in being alive to the man he now knew as Torkyn Gynt, not Physic Petersyn. Despite Haryd’s orders, Ryk lavished attention on his saviour whenever the sailor’s eyes were averted. He was now cooking for the men and Tor was grateful for the extra meat and bread the boy managed to smuggle to them with their gruel. Tor asked him to look after Adongo too. It puzzled Ryk but he did as asked. Anything for Torkyn Gynt.

  It was cold, though not bitterly so. Winter was just about upon the Exotic Isles. There was much excitement amongst the slaves over the raft crossing to the mainland, which took an entire day. The initial buzz died down though as the hours of being chained standing upright on the small craft took their toll. By sunrise on the fourth day, the slaves were standing on the jetty of the Cipres docks, awaiting transport to the market.

  Haryd was happy. Today was the main slaving day and he intended to make quick sales, purchase berths for himself and his companions on an outgoing ship and be away from Cipres by nightfall. He was not taking any chances on the story that Locklyn Gylbyt was Quist’s brother-in-law.

  Tor decided he must act soon to ensure Haryd did not escape his due. His powers must be revealed now, whether Adongo approved or not.

  ‘Locky, would you know where to find Quist?’ he whispered.

  ‘I’ve never been here before but I have directions from Eryn to the inn he favours in Cipres. However, I imagine the chains and manacles may give me away.’

  Tor grimaced at his friend’s sarcasm. ‘Trust me and pay attention.’

  He watched Haryd, who was busy giving orders. Even though the man was far away, Tor’s exceptional hearing picked up everything.
The slaves were to be loaded onto carts and Haryd was currently negotiating with someone to provide them. Tor’s main concern was that Haryd was occupied. His henchmen paid scant attention to the slaves who had been made to sit together in a tight pack.

  It was now or never. Tor weaved his Colours and watched the iron of Locky’s manacles melt away. Locky had not noticed; he too was engrossed in watching the haggling up front. So much for paying attention, Tor thought. He performed the same trick on the chains which held the lad’s wrists. The boy was free. Now they had to move carefully.

  ‘Locky,’ he whispered again.

  ‘Shhh,’ the boy hissed back. ‘I’m trying to hear what their plans are for us.’

  Tor groaned. ‘I can hear every word. Would you like me to tell you that we’re to be loaded in carts shortly and taken to the western end of the main market? Would you also like me to mention that your arms and legs are no longer chained?’

  Locky’s head whipped down to look at his ankles and he pulled his hands in front of him. He was about to exclaim but Tor’s voice stopped him. ‘Not a word! Move slowly and use all your disappearing talents. Melt away and find me Janus Quist.’

  Locky did not respond. His mouth was wide; his eyes too, with disbelief. Tor glanced towards Haryd and did not have to hear the conversation to know the men had struck a deal. The slaves would be loaded immediately.

  ‘Go!’ Tor said, softly yet urgently.

  Locky’s eyes turned to him now. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Your friend. Now go.’

  He watched with relief as the young man flexed his fingers and toes, preparing to creep away. The order to stand was given and the men began struggling with their chains to get to their feet.

  ‘Good luck,’ Tor whispered and grinned at Locky, who was already disappearing between the tall bodies of the slaves towards the back of their column.

  Adongo, Locky is free. Tell your people to keep it quiet.

  He saw the man nod. I will pass the word.

  Tor was concerned that the other slaves might start to look around at Locky. He should not have worried. A hand reached for the empty chains on the ground. Its owner’s lips parted into a grin and Tor watched him pass the chains carefully back down the line. Someone at the back would get rid of them.