Revenge

by Fiona McIntosh

  Gidyon had to run it through his mind again. What she had just said made no sense.

  ‘You want me to take your brother away from you?’

  ‘Yes, from this place. Take him anywhere. Keep him safe.’

  ‘Yseul, won’t you miss him?’

  She smiled with great sadness and it hurt his heart to hear her next words. ‘Where I’m going today, Gidyon, I shall miss no one.’

  She turned to leave. ‘He will be waiting for you in the trees behind the barn in a short while. Wait here a few moments and then leave by the back. Go as far away from this village as you can. Please keep my brother safe. His name is Gwerys.’

  She paused, turned to look at him once more and then stepped up and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you for this.’

  Yseul moved towards the ladder but Gidyon stopped her in one stride.

  ‘Look, what is this all about? Do you have any idea how strange it sounds? All this secrecy, doom and gloom. What is going on in the village that scares you so much that you’d give a complete stranger the care of your brother?’

  She searched his face. Gidyon thought for a moment she may cry but no tears appeared. She was a strong girl. He remembered the floggings she had spoken of.

  Yseul took a deep breath. ‘Each five cycles, the men of Duntaryn make a ritual sacrifice at the spring solstice. The custom is many centuries old; this part of the Kingdom is very superstitious.’

  ‘Go on,’ he encouraged.

  ‘They believe that unless they give up lives to their stupid gods, their crops will perish. Well, that’s how it originated. These days it’s just an excuse to enjoy torturing some poor souls. It has no purpose; just killing.

  ‘My great-grandmother, bless her soul, told me that once a new calf was slaughtered; but now they kill a child. And where they once used to drink the blood of a young female goat yet to be mated, well, they’ve somehow twisted that into being a virgin girl.’

  She really did look as though she may cry now.

  He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. ‘Yseul…are you telling me it’s you they’re going to sacrifice?’

  She nodded and her eyes welled with tears but he saw her courage build as she fought them back. ‘Yes…and some poor man, a dwarf, so I’ve overheard. He will represent the beast. In the old days it would have been an ox and they ate its flesh after roasting it. But they won’t kill Gwerys!’ Her light eyes burned with hatred. ‘They can have me; my life is miserable enough that I will be grateful for its end. But not my brother. He is just five summers. He has a life yet to live if he can escape this place.’

  ‘Now stop,’ Gidyon said, not sure whether to comfort her or run. This was the most outlandish tale and yet Sorrel had tried to warn him; even the woman in the dream had spoken to him of the strangeness of this place. ‘Why can’t you escape with Gwerys?’

  ‘They watch me all the time. I would get no further than the edge of the village before they caught me again. I tell you, I have not enjoyed my life. It can end for all I care. I care only for Gwerys and his safety. I am begging you to save him.’ She did cry now; all her resolve fled.

  ‘All right, get Gwerys. We leave now. All of us.’

  Gidyon realised he sounded as though he knew what he was doing, but the truth was, he felt just as terrified as she did. It was too much to take in. Ritual killings, sacrifice, eating the flesh of a dwarf! What kind of world had Sorrel brought them to?

  ‘We can’t!’ she whispered through her tears.

  ‘We can!’ he hissed. ‘Where’s Gwerys now?’

  ‘In the cottage.’

  ‘Dry your eyes. Go and fetch him on some excuse. Anything! I shall meet you where we arranged but I expect both of you. Trust me. I will not let anything happen to you or your brother. I shall get us away safely.’

  He had even convinced himself. She nodded, believing his fervour.

  ‘Now go, Yseul…and hurry.’

  She left silently and Gidyon cautiously followed her down a few moments later. He could see her stepping into the cottage. He shook his head. This could not be happening.

  He let himself out of the barn and made his way across a small paddock towards a copse of trees. There was a tall oak; he hid behind it and waited.

  His heart was racing; all thoughts of a big breakfast had disappeared. All he cared about now was Yseul and her brother and getting them all away from Duntaryn and its strange ways. He nearly let out a squeal when the link sliced open.

  Lauryn! He leaped in before she could speak.

  What’s going on? she said. I didn’t want to disturb you again last night because you sounded like you wanted to be left alone.

  It was a tricky time when you dropped by. Listen, I’m in trouble.

  Oh no, Gidyon, what’s happening?

  Make Sorrel tell me everything she knows of Duntaryn.

  There was the expected pause. Then Lauryn’s voice came back, a little shaky and confused now. Are you captured, she says?

  No.

  Then run. Sorrel says you are to get away from that village now and don’t look back.

  I can’t, Lauryn. A friend, her name is Yseul, is in trouble and I have to help her.

  A friend. You’ve only been there a night!

  There’s no time for this. Make her tell me.

  He waited. Still no sign of Yseul and he began to feel afraid for her.

  Gidyon.

  Yes, he almost shouted down the link.

  Sorrel says that on the eve of the spring solstice—that’s tonight—the villagers make sacrifices. It’s an ancient practice, which has been given up by all the townships and villages of the realm except Duntaryn, which holds close to the old ways. The folk are quite inbred in this place, Sorrel says, and tend to not mix very much with the rest of Tallinor.

  There was a pause and then she was back in his head. The sacrifices were originally to the old gods but, to Sorrel’s knowledge, the practice has become skewed and twisted down the ages. They no longer kill animals but people now. They believe that on the solstice eve all the spirits are loosed to roam.

  Pigs bollocks! he said and it made him feel better, momentarily.

  Is the girl the virgin, Sorrel is asking.

  Her name is Yseul, he said firmly. Yes, she is. Her brother is the symbolic calf and they’ve got some dwarf who represents the ox.

  He waited while Lauryn repeated this to Sorrel, then she returned. She says there is nothing you can do. You must leave.

  The hell I will. They’re going to kill her. I’ve given her my word I will help her and her brother escape.

  Lauryn began to berate him with Sorrel’s warnings. He refused to pay attention. Close the link, Lauryn. Leave me.

  I can’t. What if something happens to you?

  Leave my head free to think. Please, I beg you. Wait! I see her coming. Go now—we’ll speak later. He was relieved when she closed the link without further argument.

  Yseul arrived breathless, gripping the hand of a very small boy who was running alongside her. She forced a bright smile onto her face as she dropped to the ground beside her brother.

  ‘Gwerys, this is the friend I told you of. His name is Gidyon.’

  The child looked nothing like his sister, all fluffy-haired and freckled. But he had a sunny smile and his front teeth were just growing through. ‘Hello, Gidyon,’ he said.

  Gidyon smiled back, though it was an effort. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I said there was a nest of new birds that I wanted to show Gwerys. The ox is too full from last night’s liquor to realise the fledglings are yet to hatch in these parts. I hate him!’

  ‘Me too, Yseul,’ her brother said brightly. ‘You told him a lie then?’

  ‘Yes, Gwerys. We’re running away from them.’

  The boy spotted a beetle crawling over his boot and immediately lost interest in the discussion.

  ‘What about the wife?’

  ‘Oh, she’s around but I just ran for my life. We must go. Pleas
e keep your promise, Gidyon, because if they catch us, they will torture him.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said grimly, taking her hand. Gwerys allowed Gidyon to pick him up and together they began to run.

  26

  The Ritual

  Figgis felt his body hit the dusty floor hard. He knew today was the day. Since his capture, they had beaten him every few hours. He had bruises on top of bruises and broken bones. He was a mess. Lys had deserted him. He would have the dishonour of failing the Paladin and crushing the Trinity. Not in all the time he had fought against Orlac had he felt this powerless.

  Even his death in the battle against the god had won something—it had given the Trinity more time to prepare. And then he had been rewarded further with new life. Did Orlac realise that once he killed the Paladin, they were resurrected again? That they returned to whence they had first come—back to Tallinor, where it had all begun, to fight anew? How could Orlac know such things, trapped in the Bleak as he had been for centuries, constantly pitting his strength against the Paladin. But now Figgis may never get the satisfaction of seeing Orlac’s face when he confronted the Paladin again for the final battle.

  He coughed and blood splattered his already bloodied clothing. He had only just learned why they beat him so often; he had heard Scargyl explaining to the younger men how the regular sessions tenderised the flesh. So…they intended to eat him. Well, Rock Dwellers did not make a good meal.

  The joke would be on them, but he did not much feel like laughing now. The physical pain was intense but the agony of despair was far worse. Was this how it was to end then? Him a broken wreck, cooked by maniacal villagers who subscribed to some bizarre ritual?

  No, he could not allow this to happen. He had to try something. Anything. But he had little to draw upon. Lys had told him that his magic would emerge as he needed it, but as yet he had felt nothing. He suspected that Torkyn Gynt had assumed it was he, Figgis the Ninth, who had wielded the power that day to save the life of Locklyn Gylbyt. But he had had no such enchanted powers at his disposal since re-emerging; he was merely the vessel through which a mightier power had been channelled. The Rock Dweller did not pretend to understand what had happened but he believed the magic had come from Lys, that she had used him as her conduit. The gods of the Host were not permitted to interfere in other worlds directly and he wondered whether Lys would suffer any retribution for her involvement that day. He also wondered if he would ever feel the surge of such magical power again.

  He tried to concentrate with his blurry mind. He was Paladin. He was protector of the boy. That was his task: to bring this boy safely to the Heartwood. Lys, when she last entered his dream so many days ago, had told him that the child was close. With his hands and feet bound and his body incapable of movement, Figgis used his mind. He cast out strongly, fiercely calling on every ounce of strength which might still be in reserve in his broken body. He imagined a boy lost, frightened, confused, and he opened a link.

  Gidyon was pushing them hard, running across open fields now. Thankfully, Yseul had her bearings and was directing them away from the village, heading south east, which was where Gidyon insisted they must go. Still their progress was slow and cumbersome.

  Gidyon felt a link open fiercely in his mind. The effort to hold on to Gwerys, run fast and stay calm at the same time was too much. He screamed across it, Not now Lauryn!

  There was a shocked silence but the link remained open. Then a man’s voice, gentle but breathing hard, spoke. This is not Lauryn.

  Gidyon stopped and fell over in the grass. He could hear Yseul asking if he was all right and Gwerys began to cry; he must have hurt himself in the fall.

  Who is this who speaks? Gidyon whispered over the link.

  He heard the heavy breathing again. Then a wave of coughing. The person sounded in pain when he spoke. I am Figgis.

  Who are you? Gidyon felt chilled. Yseul was staring at him, confused, as she cradled Gwerys. He held his hand up to stop her speaking.

  The Ninth, my child. I am your bonded Paladin, your protector.

  Protector? Hadn’t the woman in the dream used that term? She had said his protector was close.

  You are here to help me?

  Yes, Figgis said. But I might need your help first.

  Yseul interrupted him. ‘Gidyon,’ she shrieked. ‘What do you do? We are in danger out in the open like this.’

  Figgis, please wait one moment.

  Then he looked at Yseul. ‘Forgive me, I tripped. Is Gwerys all right?’

  She nodded.

  He smiled at the boy in apology. ‘Perhaps you should carry me, Gwerys,’ and was glad the child appreciated the jest. ‘Yseul, head for those trees over there. I shall come shortly.’

  ‘Why not now?’

  He struggled for an excuse. ‘I have twisted my ankle. Please, just do as I say. Give me a moment and get yourselves out of danger.’

  It worked. She picked up Gwerys and left him, running as best she could with the child in her arms.

  Gidyon pretended to struggle to his feet and test the strength of his ankle. He felt fine. Only the shock of the man’s voice in his head had sent him sprawling.

  Are you there…Figgis?

  Yes. Tied up, bleeding and going nowhere.

  What?

  Figgis coughed again. Your name…Lys did not tell me.

  It’s Gidyon. What do you mean, bleeding and tied up? Oh no, wait—tell me you’re not a dwarf.

  The man sounded defiantly proud all of a sudden. I am of the Rock Dwellers. We are short of stature, big of heart.

  Oh no. No, this cannot be happening. You’re the dwarf they’re going to sacrifice.

  How did you know? Figgis was caught off guard by Gidyon’s knowledge.

  Gidyon waved to Yseul and began to hobble slowly in her direction as he spoke. It’s a long story. But you could say I’m involved. Where do they hold you?

  In a barn, somewhere in Duntaryn. Where are you?

  On the outskirts of the village.

  Then keep going. Get away from this place, child. You are too important to risk.

  I thought you were meant to take care of me.

  I’m a little occupied, the man replied. Forgive me.

  Right! Gidyon said, thinking fast and wondering how life had taken this strange path.

  He called to Yseul. ‘Stay here. I’ll be back.’

  ‘What?’ she screamed. ‘You can’t leave us.’

  ‘You’ll be safe here. Just wait. I promise you I will return.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Back.’

  ‘To Duntaryn?’ Her eyes were wide and terrified. He felt so sorry for her and wished he could hug her and make it all feel safe but Gwerys was standing between them, his own eyes accusing Gidyon.

  Gidyon dropped to his haunches. ‘Gwerys, I leave you in charge. You are the man here and must take care of your sister. She is upset so you must be the strong one, all right?’

  The boy nodded solemnly.

  ‘I am going back to Duntaryn to find someone. He will be hurt if I don’t get to him first. Do you understand?’

  He was speaking to Gwerys but his explanation was for Yseul’s benefit. He just could not look at her grief-stricken face right now. He was scared enough.

  ‘I shall look after her, Gidyon,’ the child said.

  ‘Good lad. I’ll be back quickly.’

  He chanced a glance at Yseul.

  ‘The dwarf?’ she asked.

  He nodded. ‘Don’t move from this spot.’

  And then he was running, retracing their steps and wishing desperately that he felt braver.

  Figgis, he called. Help me now. Keep the link open. Any guidance you can give will make a difference.

  Figgis saw the youngest one had been left to watch over him. That was fortunate. He asked the young man for a drink of water. Sullenly, the man obliged.

  ‘I hurt all over,’ Figgis said, hoping to start a conversation.

  The youn
gster smirked. ‘That’s the point, dwarf. We have to keep you nice and tender for tonight.’

  ‘What will they do to me?’

  ‘I suppose it can’t matter now to tell you,’ the man said, enjoying the chance to frighten the victim more. He had not been allowed to administer any of the beatings. It made him mad that they considered him too young to join in the violence, yet old enough to babysit the prisoner. At least talking about what was to come gave him some power over the dwarf.

  ‘We’re going to roast you,’ he said, licking his lips for effect.

  ‘I make tough eating,’ Figgis replied.

  ‘You won’t be tough by the time we’ve finished with you, dwarf.’

  ‘So is this practice peculiar to Duntaryn? I see I’m going to die anyway so it would be good to know why.’

  ‘You are the beast,’ was all the lad would say. He became more sullen.

  Figgis did not want to be hurt any more. He had to stay calm and lucid for Gidyon’s sake. He must not do anything to anger this lad watching over him. He tried a new approach: fuel the man’s anticipation of what lay ahead.

  ‘And the girl? I’ll bet she’s scared.’

  The lad scowled. ‘Yseul? She doesn’t even know.’ Then he smiled. Figgis saw the malevolence in it. ‘I reckon by tonight she’ll wish she had let me have her when I asked her last year. Then she wouldn’t be a virgin. Saved by my prick.’ He seemed to find this hugely comical and laughed happily to himself for a while.

  Figgis played up to him. ‘Well, lad, at least you’ve had women. You’re a good-looking man; I’ll wager you have no trouble with the ladies.’

  The youngster turned to look at him. Good, he had his interest.

  ‘You know, I’m so ugly—even for my own race—that no woman would look at me. Now you—you should not offer yourself to just anyone. You are a fine, strapping young man; be choosy,’ he said, noticing the sudden swell of his captor’s chest.

  ‘That’s right, dwarf. Fucking whore, she is,’ he replied, not appreciating his own contradiction.

  ‘So, what time does this all happen?’ Figgis said casually. He had managed to push the pain aside; he was intent now on getting as much information out of this loose-mouthed youth as he could.