Revenge

by Fiona McIntosh

  Gidyon was astonished. The wolf had spoken into his head with such ease and grace that he was without words. Instinctively he bowed low with respect for this magnificent beast. He assumed she must be Paladin too and had therefore also done her time of battle. He hoped he would live up to all of their expectations—whatever those expectations were.

  Figgis was drying his eyes. The link was still open and Gidyon used it.

  My…my father? he asked hesitantly of the wolf.

  Awaits you, child. Come.

  He was entranced by her. He picked up Figgis, buried his fingers into the thick, silver-tipped fur of his new friend and walked beside her into the Heartwood.

  Lauryn had lost sense of time completely. Dizzy from lack of food, and exhausted beyond her own comprehension, she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, covering ground slowly but steadily. The climbs had been the worst, but during them she had made Gidyon talk to her, sing to her, tell her funny stories—anything to keep her going. And for each climb she was rewarded with an easy run down the other side. She often fell, grazing her elbows and knees or stinging herself on thistles and nettles, but she stood up again with grim determination and continued. Each step brought her closer to the Heartwood; she would not give up now. Sorrel had died bringing her this far. She would make it.

  Finally she glimpsed the sight Gyl had told her of: the natural dip of the land in which the village of Axon nestled. And, to the left, the Great Forest. She had not known she had anything left in her but she surprised herself by breaking into a trot. She did not fall down this time and she hit the flats at a hard run.

  Gidyon had told her he and Figgis had arrived at Axon but after that, the link had disappeared. She did not worry; she was too close herself. She could smell the smoke of the village fires but she veered away from Axon and pushed herself harder towards the dark and mysterious trees.

  Finally she stood on the forest’s fringe. She was breathing very hard, pulling in deep drags of air. She bent and put her hands on her knees. Funny, they felt knobbly for the first time ever. She kept breathing. Steady it. Calm down. When she felt her breathing was easier, she stood up again…and saw it.

  Munching nonchalantly on some grass and staring at her was a donkey. Sorrel had said to expect a priestess, a wolf or a donkey and she and Gidyon had laughed about it. Yet the old girl had spoken true. There was no mistaking it. A donkey was waiting for her.

  Lauryn took a step forward and her legs felt like jelly. She dug deep. She kept her eyes—which were beginning to blur—firmly on the munching donkey and willed her legs to carry her to it. Just get there, she told herself with each painful step. The donkey will help.

  She thought she might have reached out her hand to touch the animal but suddenly she felt hard ground come up and hit her. When Lauryn regained her senses, she realised she had fallen at the feet of the animal, which was now nudging her. She was so fatigued that she felt numb and the dizziness was ever present, yet the donkey insisted. Its velvety muzzle kept refocusing into her vision, imploring her with its persistent pushing. Using the animal for support, she dragged herself with an enormous effort to her feet and fell across its back, which felt warm and strong.

  She thought she heard the trees whispering to her. It sounded in her blurring mind as though they told her to climb on the donkey. It sounded like a reasonable idea. With the aid of a tree trunk and some careful positioning by the creature, she miraculously hauled herself up onto its back and immediately fell forward, an arm either side of its neck and her head lolling against its mane.

  Lauryn felt the beast turn gently and then pace slowly but surely into the deepening, safe green of the forest.

  Amongst the tall trees of the Heartwood, Cloot found peace. The whispering of the leaves and swaying of the branches comforted him and he felt a sense of absolute security. He was home. Where he belonged. Where it was safe.

  Below, Tor and Saxon spoke quietly. They had drunk from the fresh waters of the Heartwood’s stream and eaten lavishly from the spread which the Heartwood had provided. They spoke of what lay ahead. As Tor raised the issue of how he might be allowed to speak with Alyssa again, he was interrupted by Solyana across the link.

  Tor, she called gently. I bring you Gidyon, your son.

  He swung around sharply. From the deep cover of trees and into the clearing padded the wolf, accompanied by two people. One was very tall and lean with dark hair, and Tor realised that he looked at a reflection of himself.

  Both he and Saxon leapt to their feet. They had anticipated a lad but it was a young man who stood before them, his hand resting on Solyana. She, rather comically, was being ridden by a dwarf. But no one laughed.

  It was Saxon who reacted first. ‘Figgis!’ he roared.

  The noise shook father and son from their shocked silence.

  Tor took several tentative steps towards the child he had held only briefly as a newborn. He looked into the bluest of eyes, which regarded him intently, nervously.

  ‘Gidyon?’ he whispered.

  The Heartwood became silent. All eyes watched the son.

  Throughout the long walk south to Axon, Gidyon had tried to prepare himself for this event. Although he thought he was ready to meet his father, he had been wrong. Nothing could have prepared him for this spine-tingling moment.

  Solyana spoke gently to the man who had jumped up at her voice. He looked stunned to see Gidyon. Gidyon hoped his own face did not betray him, as he wondered what the man had been expecting. He felt so nervous he could feel his pulse pounding behind his ear.

  There he was, the man he should now call father.

  There was no mistaking that it was his father, of course. Gidyon felt as if he was looking at himself in a decade’s time. Yargo had told Lauryn and himself that their father was still a young and extraordinarily handsome man. She was right: those intensely blue eyes pinned him to the spot and refused him movement.

  And then his father spoke his name. All his good intentions to remain composed fled at the sound of that voice and he wept. The Heartwood watched its son crumple.

  Tor reached his boy in three long strides and, without further hesitation, wrapped his arms around the child and shared his tears, lifting him so he could hug him close to his chest and tell him how much he loved him.

  It was only when Tor and Gidyon finally let go of one another that they appreciated the silence which surrounded them; the respect which the Heartwood and its inhabitants had accorded them during this moment of reunion.

  Tor’s voice was choked with emotion. ‘My son…we have much to talk about.’

  Gidyon nodded, not trusting his voice. He looked over at Figgis and was surprised to see that his father’s big, golden-haired companion was carrying the smaller man in his arms.

  Tor cleared his throat. ‘But first, there are introductions necessary. Gidyon, this is Saxon Fox. He is a Kloek and Sixth of the Paladin. He is bonded to your mother.’

  Tor watched the boy’s eyes spark at the mention of his mother before they darted to the Kloek, who strode over, still carrying the Rock Dweller.

  Saxon bowed with a reverence Tor had not seen in the Kloek previously. ‘Gidyon, I am honoured to meet you again.’

  Gidyon felt lightheaded at the Kloek’s graciousness. He responded in kind as best he could, and then hurried to make his own introductions.

  ‘Er, Saxon…Father…’ It felt both strange and lovely to address his father out loud. ‘This is my Paladin. He is Figgis, the Rock Dweller and courageous Ninth.’

  Figgis smiled at Gidyon’s kind words through his pain. He feared he would not be able to hang onto consciousness much longer but he knew he was safe in the Heartwood and in the arms of his old friend, Saxon.

  ‘Saxon,’ he said, struggling to speak, ‘it is about time you took some of the weight off my feet.’

  The jest, relating to their battle with Orlac, was not lost on Saxon and he enjoyed it loudly.

  ‘Come, my friend, let us get yo
u rested and well again.’

  Cloot, overjoyed at being reunited with the Ninth, flew down to Tor’s shoulder.

  Tor took the opportunity to speak before the Heartwood reclaimed its precious charge back. ‘Figgis, I am privileged to meet again with you. I owe you my deepest thanks for your help in Cipres.’

  Figgis chuckled, despite the pain. ‘It was clear you were otherwise engaged,’ he said and liked it that Tor broke into a wide, bright smile.

  ‘Indeed I was,’ he said. ‘Locklyn Gylbyt is safely returned to his family. We are in your debt.’ He bowed then added, ‘Before you enjoy the ministrations of the Heartwood, let me reunite you with another old friend.’ Tor touched his falcon at his shoulder. ‘This is Cloot of the Rork’yel. He is a shapechanger.’

  ‘Cloot…?’ Figgis whispered with awe, then winced at a sharp wave of pain.

  A chiming sound, which had been building during their conversation, now reached an insistent pitch.

  ‘Come,’ Saxon said, ‘let us allow this miraculous place to work its magics.’

  Saxon carried Figgis to where the Flames of the Firmament danced and weaved their shimmering, chiming colours. He placed the little man on the mossy ground beneath one of the huge oaks. Immediately vines appeared, tendrils snaking out from the undergrowth. Creaking with the effort, branches leaned down to cradle one of their own. To Gidyon’s astonishment, he witnessed the trees of the Heartwood effortlessly lift Figgis into their tallest branches, to where they could no longer see him.

  ‘Where has he gone?’ he asked, shock plainly evident in his voice.

  ‘To be healed,’ Saxon said reverently.

  Tor put his arm around his son’s shoulder. ‘The Heartwood protects its own. He is safe.’

  Gidyon looked with wonder at his father and nodded. It was all too much to take in.

  ‘Hungry?’ Tor said, grinning.

  ‘Ravenous,’ Gidyon replied.

  Well now, there’s a chip off the old block, Cloot murmured to himself.

  I heard that, bird, Tor answered and enjoyed hearing Cloot laugh again inside his head.

  It was tricky for Gidyon to eat and converse at the same time but he managed to consume a vast amount of food whilst the words continued to tumble out. Tor and Saxon became silent as they listened with increasing dismay to Gidyon’s tale of his journey since his arrival in Tallinor.

  Tor stood and began to pace. When Gidyon had finished, his father continued pacing.

  ‘All of them…dead?’

  Gidyon nodded. ‘I…I had no control. I didn’t even know what I was doing. They were about to roast Figgis and murder Yseul. It just burst out of me.’ He looked shattered as he admitted his handiwork.

  Saxon grunted. ‘We never used to visit Duntaryn when I was with the circus. It has always possessed a dark reputation. Good riddance to them.’

  Tor grimaced. This was not the right message for Gidyon to hear.

  ‘Killing is so final. It should never be the solution. Never!’

  Gidyon threw up his hands. He had been feeling terrible about his deed for the past two days, and now he felt sick. He had barely had time to look at his father properly and already he had let him down. ‘I didn’t know I possessed the power to do this.’ He ran his hand through his straight hair.

  Tor felt dreadful for his son. He wanted to comfort him, tell him it was all right, but he could not find the right words. The boy had murdered a dozen or more people. His powers were obviously strong but he needed to learn to control them, rather than the other way around. He watched Gidyon run his hand through his hair again and recalled how Eryn had teased him about the same nervous habit.

  Tor’s voice softened. ‘And this Yseul? What of her?’

  Gidyon spoke shyly. ‘She has gone back to her village. She will be safe now. I…I hope to see her again.’

  Tor experienced a rush of emotion and affection such as he had never felt before. He did not want this precious child to leave the Heartwood ever again. This was a place of sanctuary; he was safe here. And his powers were dormant because there was no need to use them.

  Outside the Heartwood’s protection, Orlac loomed. They were still no closer to forming the Trinity and it frightened Tor that Lys said their time was running out. Themesius would fall soon. Orlac would be free. Tor’s private conversations with Cloot had revealed no further illumination. Between them, they had considered that the Trinity might be the three mysterious Stones of Ordolt. Or, as Cloot had suggested, it may well be the powerful combined presence of Father, Son and Daughter.

  When Tor had mentioned this to Saxon, the Kloek had agreed but then had questioned Alyssa’s role in the Trinity. Why would she have Paladin to protect her if she was not important? Tor was turning these thoughts over in his mind when Arabella called to them in alarm.

  ‘Quick, Tor! Kythay approaches. He brings Lauryn. She is in trouble!’

  Gidyon was first on his feet, but Tor held him back as the donkey plodded slowly into view. A young woman was sprawled heavily across its back, her head lolling against the creature’s neck.

  ‘Lauryn!’ Gidyon yelled.

  The three of them rushed towards Kythay, who stopped and allowed Tor to gently lift the girl into his arms. He was shocked to see there were flecks of blood on her stained clothes and she was covered with dried mud; he could not see her face beneath the crust of dirt and the lank hair which stuck to it.

  He tried to pull the hair away from her face but it held. He looked around alarmed, not sure of what to do, only that she needed help.

  Solyana commanded him: Give her to the trees now.

  Tor laid the girl on the forest floor and the trees wasted no time in picking her up and then swooping her gently from branch to branch, tree to tree.

  Tor soon guessed where they were taking her and began to run, to follow them to the pool. Solyana overtook him and ran ahead; Gidyon kept pace with him whilst the others followed.

  Cloot and Solyana were already at the pool when the others arrived, breathing hard.

  Gidyon asked aloud what most were wondering. ‘Is she dead?’ His voice broke as he said it.

  Tor watched the trees lowering his daughter into the water. The Flames of the Firmament burst into a blaze of chimes and Darmud Coril shimmered into view. Tor felt more confident now that the god was present.

  It was Darmud Coril who answered Gidyon. ‘No, son of the Heartwood, our daughter breathes still.’

  Solyana spoke gently to Tor. Leave her with us. The Heartwood’s pool will rejuvenate her. Please, Tor, trust me.

  Tor nodded. ‘Saxon, Gidyon…we must wait.’

  Reluctantly, the three men returned to the clearing.

  They sat close together and murmured anxiously about Lauryn’s state. Saxon could see that both father and brother were distraught and so tried making conversation.

  ‘Gidyon, it sounds as though you and Lauryn hardly know one another. Did you not grow up together?’

  Gidyon considered the question and Saxon noted how like his father he was, to pause like that.

  He answered the Kloek. ‘Well, I suppose I must have known her all my life, but I can’t really remember. It’s so maddening. Sorrel told us that our memories of our former lives would begin to cloud; the truth is, mine has disappeared altogether. Perhaps Lauryn may recall better than I. But I feel in my heart that we were not together until recently. How did you guess?’

  Tor nodded. ‘I was thinking the same, Gidyon. Perhaps Sorrel deliberately kept you apart for safety. I have no idea myself, but I am sure she will tell us when she arrives.’

  Gidyon looked at his father and Saxon, more worry spreading across his face. ‘Of course…you, er…you don’t know.’

  ‘Don’t know what?’ Saxon asked.

  Gidyon took a big breath. ‘Part of the reason why Lauryn is in such a bad way is because she and Sorrel were set upon by thieves…’

  This was not easy. He summarised Lauryn’s story as best as he could.

 
‘They saw an overturned cart in the road and a young lad beside a man who seemed to have been thrown from it and hurt badly. But when they tried to help, the man sat up and others from his gang cornered them. Sorrel screamed for Lauryn to try and escape. The last Lauryn saw of Sorrel was when one of the men punched her and she fell to the ground. Then the gang bundled Lauryn off into the woods. The leader joined them within a few minutes and when she asked after Sorrel, he said she was dead. Lauryn apparently flew into a rage and, when they tried to tie her to a tree, she loosed her powers at them.’

  Tor held his head. ‘Not more killing?’

  Gidyon shrugged apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Father. She knows she threw one against a tree and he did look as if he might be dead. She managed to run and the others gave chase. The boy gained on her and she believes she just wounded him. She was upset when she told me all of this, of course. I think she was probably in shock. Like me, she had no idea she had such power within her.

  ‘Her story goes that some King’s man, an Under Prime or something…’

  Tor looked at Saxon, who shrugged and said, ‘Herek is Prime. I had no idea there was an Under Prime.’

  ‘Go on,’ Tor said to his son.

  Gidyon shook his head. ‘Well, whoever this man was, he was a soldier who introduced himself as the Under Prime. He happened along, gave chase to the men following her and got rid of them.’

  ‘And?’ Saxon prompted.

  ‘Well, that’s it. She went on towards Axon using the hills route, which is probably why she’s half dead. She said that the Under Prime returned to his men, although he was unhappy about leaving her alone.’

  ‘No, we mean, what of Sorrel?’ Tor asked gently.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Gidyon said. ‘Well, this soldier told her that he saw Sorrel’s body at the roadside and she was dead.’

  Tor stood and began his pacing again. He was clearly upset.

  ‘No, no. This is not right,’ he said. ‘This should not have happened. I had so much to ask her.’