Revenge

by Fiona McIntosh

  He knew the chambers would be unlocked. No one was allowed past the main guard at the bottom of this tower so the area was secure. He tried the latch and it gave. Stepping inside, he noticed only two candles burning; the rest of the salon was in darkness. He had just decided to peep into the bedroom, in case his mother was sleeping, when a man cleared his throat at the doorway. Turning he saw the guard.

  ‘Ah, Eamon. Is it my imagination or did I not give orders for you and one other to keep watch here?’

  Eamon was standing to attention. ‘No, sir, it is not your imagination.’

  ‘Then why, may I enquire, have you left your post?’ He kept his voice even but inside Gyl was seething.

  ‘Sir, Queen Alyssa dismissed us when she left her chambers earlier.’

  ‘She dismissed you and you didn’t think it appropriate to inform me?’

  ‘Sir, the Queen forbade me to inform you. She made it very clear to us that she was going directly to speak with you, sir.’

  Gyl felt unnerved by his mother’s behaviour. Why would she undermine him like this? ‘Well, she did not come directly to me. I have not seen the Queen this evening.’

  Eamon’s eyes flicked nervously from the Under Prime to the flagstones. ‘Sir, she did say she was taking a night stroll.’

  Light! This was getting worse by the moment. ‘Was anyone with her?’ Gyl asked, amazed that she would head out into total darkness.

  ‘Yes, sir. Sallementro the musician was accompanying her.’

  Gyl considered this. His mother never took night strolls, though he was glad to hear Sallementro was with her.

  ‘Tell me, Eamon, did her maid deliver a note here earlier this evening?’

  ‘Yes, sir. And the Queen left almost directly after.’

  Gyl sighed. ‘I see. Did she say where she was going for her stroll?’

  ‘No, sir, she didn’t. She dismissed her staff and us. She was quite angry, sir, that we were here on guard.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine she was,’ Gyl said, thinking aloud. He wished he could somehow get a peep at the note.

  ‘You may go, Eamon. In future, soldier, your duty is to the Shield first and foremost. No orders are to override those of your senior officer. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir, but the Queen was quite wrathful, sir.’

  Gyl wanted to laugh. His mother wrathful? Ridiculous. ‘Dismissed,’ he said wearily. The soldier gave the Shield salute and disappeared quickly.

  Gyl thought about the sequence of events involving the note. The old man who had delivered it had seemed rather pathetic. He had not begged an audience; had simply asked that someone might be kind enough to pass the note to the Queen. He said he came from the same district as she had and knew her father. He simply wanted to pass on some news. He had reassured Gyl there was no bad news contained in it; just a note from a father to his daughter. It had seemed harmless and it was only a note, after all. But where could she have gone? What was in that note?

  Gyl knew that Alyssa would have to sneak out of the palace; she would be well aware that he would not approve of her leaving its safety in the dead of night. How would she do it? He thought on it a few moments and decided on the kitchens—it was an area of the palace she knew intimately and it had many exits.

  He took the flight of stairs three at a time, startling the guards at the bottom of the tower. He simply could not have his mother, the Queen when all is said and done, in any situation which was not secure. It was his responsibility, as Queen’s champion, to see to her absolute safety.

  Cook stoked the smouldering fire for the last time that night. From now on one of the scullery maids or one of those rascal boys would be in charge of keeping the flames alive until dawn. She was exhausted. The King was due back in the palace tomorrow and she was planning one of her special welcome home meals, but the preparations were taking their toll so soon after the NameDay feast which had gone so horribly wrong.

  Cook shook her head as she poked the flames into life. The suggestion that her quail eggs were bad was so preposterous she refused to give it legitimacy by even responding to such a claim. She blew on the new flames angrily. The eggs had been fresh that morning. There was more to her Queen’s collapse than people were letting on. Still, it was none of her business.

  She had heard that Alyssa, and indeed that musician of hers, were both well now and that was all that mattered. She straightened with a groan, trying to stretch her back. As she did, she heard footsteps approaching and whispering. Turning, she was surprised to see the Queen, dressed for outdoors, together with the same musician who had just been in her thoughts.

  She smiled. ‘Well now, my Queen. What brings you down here so late of an evening?’

  Alyssa put her finger to her lips and spoke very softly. ‘Hush, Cook. I’m trying to steal an hour for a walk. That wretched physic has me cooped up in my chambers and I am well sick of it all. I am in excellent health and I just want some fresh air. Will you help me?’

  ‘Help you, your majesty? How?’

  Alyssa took Cook’s arm and, with that subtle move, brought her friend into the deception. ‘Sallementro will keep me company.’

  The musician pulled a face of resignation, as though he had no choice in the matter.

  Alyssa continued. ‘We shall sneak out through the cool room. If anyone asks you if you’ve seen me, please, please, I beg you, tell them you have not sighted me.’

  ‘Why, my child?’

  ‘Because I am tired of being fussed over and treated as an invalid. I simply fainted, Cook. I did not even eat an egg. The Under Prime has me under guard now, so I am making a stand and refusing to be subjected to this humiliation. I am Queen. I will walk in the night’s fresh air if that pleases me.’

  Her large, grey-green eyes regarded Cook. Who could resist them? It was heartening to see the Queen so high-spirited again, and what mettle. Well, they all knew she had it; she just had not shown it for some time.

  ‘Of course, my dear. I saw nothing. I’ve been stirring up my flames and preparing to leave my kitchen for the night. If you came past, I did not see you.’

  Alyssa kissed her friend on her fat cheek. ‘Thank you, Cook. This means so much to me.’

  ‘Well, disappear then, you two, before you get caught.’

  Cook turned her back on them and gave one last poke at the now merrily burning fire which would keep a huge pot of her vegetable broth simmering through the night. She had no idea through which door the Queen and Sallementro departed but she assumed it must have been that in the cool room, as Alyssa had mentioned.

  Once she had noted the arrival of the scullery staff and given directions for the few hours until dawn, she struggled out of her apron, hung it on the same hook where she had hung it for the last forty summers and stretched.

  When she finally came out of a huge yawn, she noticed the Under Prime standing in the main doorway.

  ‘Light strike me, sir! You startled me,’ she said, hand to her heart.

  ‘Apologies, Cook. You looked like you needed that yawn. I didn’t want to interrupt it.’ He winked, walked over to her and gave her a big squeeze.

  She had a terribly soft spot for young Gyl; always had since that freezing morning when they discovered him tied to the palace gates.

  ‘What’s on?’

  ‘Vegetable broth as usual, Gyl. Have a bowl.’

  ‘I will later. It smells as delicious as always.’ He dipped a wooden spoon into the pot and took a taste. ‘Mmmm…the best.’ Then he added, very casually, ‘Cook, you haven’t seen my mother tonight…recently, have you?’

  Cook did not even hesitate. She was terribly fond of the son but his mother was her favourite. ‘The Queen? No. I was just heading off to bed now, Gyl.’

  ‘Oh, well, don’t let me keep you. It’s just that I need to speak to her rather urgently and I can’t find her anywhere in the palace.’

  ‘Don’t you fret. Your mother always was one who needed quiet time. She’ll be somewhere private, reading or w
riting.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ He eyed her. ‘Probably. You head off.’

  Cook threw a final glance towards the maid, glad that Nelly had not been around when the Queen had come in. The maid was the worst tittle-tattle in the palace and, like most of the younger women on the staff, was hopelessly besotted with the dashing Under Prime. She would sell her soul for a kiss from him.

  ‘Keep those flames alive, Nelly, or I’ll skin you in the morning.’

  ‘Yes, Cook,’ Nelly said, bobbing a curtsy.

  As Cook departed she saw Nelly smile, not so shyly, at the soldier. With her back to them both, almost hobbling with fatigue, she blew out her cheeks with relief. That had been close!

  Two figures made their way stealthily across one of the many courtyards of the Tal palace. Alyssa knew the routine of the guards well. She had spent many nights chatting to the soldiers in her determination to get to know those who served the King. She had quickly learned their names, their habits and absorbed their regular watch changes, even the route they took on their patrols. Her knowledge enabled her now to plot the precise moment of her and Sallementro’s charge towards the tiny iron gate which would lead them out of the palace grounds. Once through they both leaned back on the stone wall outside, breathing deeply.

  Alyssa began to laugh. ‘Sallementro, this is fun.’

  He could not help but smile at her delight. ‘I am sure you won’t think so when the King suggests my head be removed from my shoulders for permitting such folly.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ she said and slapped him with a backhand to his chest. ‘You forget who you are with, musician! Come on.’

  Holding hands, they crept up the small mound behind the castle, where she and Saxon often liked to sit and talk privately. Ahead they could make out the dark shape of the clump of trees.

  ‘Can you see anything?’ Sallementro whispered.

  ‘No,’ she said, dropping the hood of her cloak. ‘Let’s get closer.’

  As she spoke, a tiny light suddenly glowed into life and was immediately extinguished. Someone not paying sufficient attention would never have noticed it. It reminded her of one of the Flames of the Firmament from the Heartwood.

  ‘There!’ she said, letting go of Sallementro’s hand. She picked up her cloak and began to run towards where she had seen the brief glow.

  Sallementro chased after her, suddenly feeling that perhaps this was not such a good idea. He kept hearing Alyssa’s words ‘we are all doomed’ echoing in his head and he felt unnerved. What would he do if this was a trap and someone tried to harm her?

  His anxieties were washed away by a flood of relief when a familiar shape emerged from behind one of the trees. There was no doubting that it was the Kloek.

  ‘Saxon!’ Alyssa called, trying to keep her voice low but betraying her excitement at having him home. She threw herself towards him.

  The Kloek had not realised how much he had missed his beautiful Alyssa. He could never think of her as anything but the fragile, almost childlike girl he had taken such delight in lifting from the crowd on that fateful night at Fragglesham. And now here he was, lifting her again with similar delight and enjoying hearing her squeal. The thrill, he knew, would be short-lived but he held that lovely moment while he could.

  ‘My Queen. Congratulations on your marriage,’ he said with respect, but hugged her hard as one does a loved friend. ‘I am sorry to have left you for so long.’

  He felt he ought to bow but she was clinging happily to his neck and he did not want to spoil it.

  ‘You are fortunate. I shall not have you chopped into pieces, Kloek, because I am hopelessly in love with you, but you shall never desert me like that again,’ she said, hugging him almost as hard in return.

  Sallementro arrived. ‘Sax!’

  Saxon put Alyssa down gently and bear-hugged the musician.

  Sallementro groaned. ‘Mind my fingers, Saxon. I have to play tomorrow.’

  The Kloek beamed and inhaled the night air. ‘It is good to be home,’ he said, putting his huge arms around both of them. ‘Come with me,’ he added and pulled them further into the stand of trees.

  Alyssa gladly fell in step with him. She felt truly safe now. ‘Saxon, what is all this mystery about? Sallementro almost didn’t let me come to you because he was nervous it was a trap,’ she admonished.

  ‘He was right to be cautious, your majesty,’ Saxon admitted.

  ‘Alyssa, when we’re alone like this, if you don’t mind,’ she corrected. ‘So, cough it up. What is this terrible secret that you cannot reveal on palace grounds? You said something about a visitor?’

  Saxon became suddenly serious. They were in full cover of the trees now and he felt his stomach flip inside. This was it, the defining moment. How would she react? Was she strong enough to cope with the truth? A dozen other nerve-racking thoughts crossed his troubled mind in the space of those few moments whilst his two friends stared at him. He hesitated a fraction too long and Alyssa’s expression clouded. He saw concern flit across her gorgeous face in the moonlight which filtered through the branches overhead.

  ‘What is it, Saxon?’ Her smile had faded. She sensed trouble.

  Cloot flew in silently and landed on the Kloek’s shoulder. Saxon knew the bird came to offer support. He appreciated it and touched the falcon with thanks. He saw Alyssa’s eyes light with joy again.

  ‘Cloot! You rescued him?’

  Saxon nodded. Words failed him but he knew he would have to find them quickly. He reached up so the falcon could hop onto his arm, which he then held out to the Queen. She kissed Cloot, affection flowing effortlessly from her to Tor’s falcon. ‘Oh, Cloot. You’re safe; you’re alive,’ she wept. ‘Having you here somehow makes me feel like Tor is still with us.’

  Saxon felt the hairs on his arms lift at those innocent yet chilling words. He looked over at Sallementro and shook his head sadly at the musician’s questioning expression. Sallementro guessed bad news was coming. He took a deep breath, wondering what Saxon had brought home with him this cool night.

  Cloot felt more nervous for Tor, who was hidden in the trees, watching the scene unfold.

  Tor spoke to the bird. I can’t do this to her, he said, his voice trembling.

  You know that you must. Be brave now, Tor. Alyssa has more spine than you give her credit for. Risk her hate. You have no choice in this matter. Orlac is free—never forget this.

  Cloot’s mention of Orlac gave Tor the courage he needed. He recalled how the god had threatened to track down those he loved. Alyssa was one of the main targets. He must reveal himself in order to protect her. He must allow her to hate him to save her. He felt sick.

  Lauryn and Gidyon flanked him and he felt their love washing over him across the link.

  Don’t be frightened, Lauryn reassured. A woman can never hate someone she truly loves.

  Gidyon echoed her sentiments. She will forgive you, Father. Alyssa stepped away from Saxon and looked him in the face. He suddenly seemed very distant. She tried to read his expression: he was nervous. Cloot flapped away and Saxon cleared his throat, but it was Alyssa who spoke for him.

  ‘Whatever it is, Saxon, the problem will not go away by remaining silent.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Is my father dead?’

  ‘No, Alyssa. I have not met with your father. That was a ruse.’

  She tried to make it easy for him; could see he was genuinely struggling. Sallementro stepped up behind and took her arm but she gently shook herself free. ‘Then is it Goth? Are you afraid to tell me news about him?’

  ‘I have news on Goth but that is not why I called you out at the dead of night. It was true when I said I have brought someone to see you.’

  And then he shocked her by kneeling. He took her hand and kissed it. ‘Forgive me, my Queen, for what I bring back to your life tonight.’

  It was a fanciful thing for Saxon to say and a thousand warnings klaxoned in her head. Alarm raced through every part of her. Saxon was afraid. Why? He h
ad brought someone with him but he was so terrified he could not bring himself to say the name.

  Go now, Tor, Cloot whispered into his friend’s mind. Our hearts and love walk with you.

  Tor told the children to remain hidden until he called them, then he stepped out from behind the tree trunk. A twig snapped underfoot and he watched as the Queen of Tallinor swung around towards the sound.

  Alyssa’s mind was racing with possibilities of who the mysterious visitor could be when she heard movement behind her and spun to see who was approaching. She saw the figure of a man who must have been concealed behind the trees. She felt Saxon stand up behind her, felt his arms reach for her, but she stepped forward to avoid them. The shape in the shadows was tall. His silhouette was achingly familiar. She was holding her breath and she wondered why the others were not deafened by the sound of her heart beating. It sounded to her as though its thunderous hammering could reach back to the palace and wake all within.

  The man took two steps forward. It was impossible, but he reminded her of someone it just could not be. When he spoke, it confirmed that her mind was playing terrible games with her. Surely she was dreaming? She was in the midst of a horrific nightmare. Why was Saxon feeding it? And why was that man in the shadows talking with Torkyn Gynt’s voice and standing in Torkyn Gynt’s distinctive way?

  ‘Alyssa…it’s me. It’s Tor,’ the man said.

  Tor. She said his name silently in her head.

  ‘But…but Tor is dead.’ Her breath was suddenly ragged. ‘Saxon, what is this trick you play on me?’ she demanded, her voice quivering.

  Saxon was at her side in one stride. ‘It is true, Alyssa. He lives.’

  Sallementro had to steady himself by holding onto a tree. He could not believe what he was seeing or hearing.

  Tor took another tentative step forward. A couple more and he would be able to reach out and touch her. She was heartbreakingly beautiful, even in the dimmest of the silvery moon’s light. And then he remembered whom he approached. She may be a little wild-eyed and breathing a little too shallowly, her chest moving like a startled sparrow, but she was the Queen of Tallinor. He was compelled to kneel and bow his head. ‘Your majesty.’