by Phil Parker
Oisin had other plans.
I heard his voice change. He called to the wyvern, using a tone he used in his storytelling performances, when he wanted to convey the urgent actions of the hero. The wyvern lifted her head, forgot the rope and turned to look at him. If wyverns had facial expressions, hers suddenly turned ultra-serious and he praised her for shifting her focus onto him. Next, Oisin pointed at the striding figure at the head of the column of angry villagers, the man’s strident voice screaming to God for vengeance.
I knew the command he gave the animal. I’d heard it in battle many times.
‘Attack!’
Deep in its chest the wyvern gave a rumbling sound so deep it felt like the ground trembled, she followed with a roar which echoed around the farmyard and made all but the evangelical maniac at the front of the column come to a sudden halt. I’m not sure he even heard it as he gazed rapturously up to the heavens, he appeared to be so close to his god that all his senses had shut down. He was certainly oblivious of his army coming to an abrupt stop behind him.
The wyvern stretched her serpentine neck to its full extent, opened powerful jaws and roared a second time, this time, even louder. The noise successfully penetrated Brother Whelan’s heaven-sent euphoria, he looked up in time to realise the wyvern’s attention was focused on him. She pounded towards him on her powerful hind legs, covering the distance with astonishing speed, this animal was fast.
The villagers panicked. Pathetic specimens of men, women and children ran, hid, climbed, trampled on some of their own and deliberately felled others, in their desperate attempts to escape a more tangible form of wrath than God’s.
Brother Whelan stood his ground. Whether he believed God would protect him or he’d slipped into a state of shock wasn’t clear, the result was the same. The wyvern powered towards him, lowered its head and, like a bull, flung Brother Whelan up into the air. The man screamed as, like an athlete, he tumbled over the wyvern’s head and landed on its neck. The scream rose in pitch. The animal lifted its head, causing Whelan to ride down it and over the scaly ridged crest. The screams rose even higher until the long neck jerked, flinging the man upwards a second time, to sprawl heavily across its scaly body with a sickening thud. The screams ended abruptly, to be replaced by wet slurping noises as parts of Brother Whelan slithered to the ground on either side of the wyvern. It turned its head, sniffed the bloody remains and lifted its head up to roar its victory. Screams from the nearest villagers, still trying to find places of safety, drew its attention and its head turned in their direction.
Oisin shouted, his impressive stentorian voice filling the farmyard, ‘Cease attack!’
He had to shout his command twice and, even then, the animal craned her head to glare at him. She was obviously having too good a time to stop now but, with a snort at her intended prey, she turned and stalked towards Oisin as though it was what she’d intended to do all along.
Slowly, hesitantly, faces appeared from behind walls and doors, haystacks and farm implements. I finished untying my ropes and freed Oisin, then strode over to three men who stared in stark terror at the wyvern, it watched them through merciless eyes.
‘Tell me where Joe Purdey has taken the children.’
They looked from me, to the wyvern and back again. I featured much lower down the scale of frightening prospects so I grabbed one by his greasy hair and dragged him towards the wyvern. She lifted her head and I swear she smiled.
‘Tell me where Joe Purdey took the children or she eats you.’
After a lot of gibbering and sobbing, the guy eventually started to talk but the information didn’t help much. No one knew much beyond Purdey had gone to a hill fortification owned by the Taunton Gang. These people lived in a state of perpetual terror, I hoped the removal of one source, which lay eviscerated on the farmyard where crows were already pecking at body parts, might ease that fear. They milled around in confusion, like they’d awoken from a hypnotic trance, and gazed at the wyvern in case it decided to attack again.
Oisin arrived with our horses. ‘Do you know where they’ve gone?’
‘Only two places I can think of. Do you remember me mentioning Arthur’s Hunting Path?’
He nodded.
‘It forms a diamond shape. Glastonbury Tor is the northern tip, this the eastern one. There are fortifications on the other two points. Like Glastonbury, they’re earthworks which protrude out of the flood waters, the two strategic locations on the Somerset Levels.’
He nodded again. There was a tension in his face that drew my attention. He took a deep breath when he realised I’d spotted it.
‘That man you knew, the rat-like one. One of the villagers said he set off for Glastonbury the first chance he got. You don’t think he…?’
‘Works for Llyr? I wouldn’t put it past the bastard.’
‘But if Llyr knows where…’
I jumped on my horse and set off. I had to hope the twins had enough tricks up their sleeves to slow Purdy down so we could catch up. I didn’t dare think what would happen if they were placed in the hands of the gang who’d murdered Mickey.
Or if Llyr got his perfectly manicured hands on them first.
Chapter 12
Master Sidwell’s office lay at the top of a narrow staircase, close to the High Lord’s suite, as befitted the highest office in the palace. As I climbed each step my level of uncertainty grew. I stopped at each window in the turret, to look out at the courtyard below. The irony wasn’t lost on me, my rise in status in the palace had reached similar dizzy heights and now I was about to do something that would send me plummeting to the ground, perhaps literally.
What I was about to do, apart from risk my life, was an ethical necessity. There was no escape, I had to keep climbing. Once in Master Sidwell’s office I knew all too well, if he summoned the guards there was no other escape than out of his window. It offered a swifter death, dashed on the cobbled courtyard at the base of the tower, than the one Mab would have in store.
I’d known fear lots of times. A slave is the butt of other people’s anger, resentment and fear. Sometimes their joy of inflicting pain too. That was true of Llyr, he’d taken immense joy in making me suffer because of my dark skin. He’d once made me stand in front of a roaring fire in his room because it made him too hot; his reason for choosing me was simply because my brown skin already looked burned.
I hated the man. For a while, after hearing Mab and her mysterious partner discuss his death, I felt the same joy. He deserved to die I told myself, I might know their plans but I had no responsibility for what happened to him, I was no one. A nobody who had suffered at this man’s sadistic whims.
I didn’t get any sleep that night as my conscience grappled with my indignation.
By morning I’d decided I couldn’t face myself if I didn’t act. This wasn’t about him, I kept telling myself, it was about my integrity. Every day I watched palace servants, and even their betters, commit deceitful acts purely to promote themselves at the expense of others. I always found it degrading and vowed I wouldn’t be like that. Not on things that mattered anyway.
And here was my test. This mattered. A man’s life depended on my reaction.
Which wasn’t to say I was doing any of this happily or with any sense of hope it would turn out right for me. I was a servant, you don’t hope for anything other than the inevitable punishments aren’t too harsh.
I arrived at the top of the staircase, at the large oak door and knocked. I was told to come in. I opened the door and stepped inside, wondering if I’d feel quite so good about myself in a few minutes.
‘Ah, Keir. I was about to send for you. Lady Mab spoke to me this morning.’
That was it, I was a dead man. I looked at the large window behind his desk, my last-ditch escape route. I gripped the ring on my thumb and twisted it urgently.
‘Are you all right Keir?’
I turned my attention to the old man, sat behind a desk covered in folders, letters, orders and inv
oices stacked in tidy piles. It was a mammoth job running a royal palace and he did it single-handedly, late at night it was common to see a light in this office. Narrowed rheumy eyes watched me and I felt self-conscious suddenly. Master Sidwell could read me like a book, knew me better than I knew myself and he’d sense my unease. Knowing he’d already spoken to Mab posed a dilemma, if she had guessed about my eavesdropping in the library, or was sufficiently suspicious, Master Sidwell was about to deliver my death warrant. My declaration would seem like the desperate act of a guilty man.
‘Keir?’
I had no way to know. All I could do was speak the truth and hope for the best.
I inhaled deeply to calm myself and told him everything. Words tumbled out of my mouth like they were desperate to escape, by the time I’d finished I’d run out of breath and gulped in air hungrily.
For a long time he just looked at me. There was no reaction, it was like I’d told him the latest piece of palace gossip.
‘Have you told anyone else?’
I shook my head. My legs felt weak, I had to grip a chair for support. Why had he asked that question first? I knew the answer; if I died suddenly no one else would know about the treason. I began to panic, what if Master Sidwell was part of the treachery? It was well known he didn’t like the new High Lord, they’d never got on. I could have just blabbed my way to a swift and accidental death, there had been a lot of them lately.
‘And the man. Tell me again what clothes you saw.’
I did as I was told. The old man nodded, his expression hard and without emotion. He leaned against his high-backed chair and stroked his bald head, a gesture I’d seen dozens of times, one that showed he was making decisions.
‘Do you know who the man is? I asked.
It was a devious question. If the old man was really a traitor, he’d deny knowing anyone so as to appear innocent of the treachery. I thought I knew him quite well, he’d been something of a guardian to me, I couldn’t believe he could be part of a plot to murder another person. The thing was, you could never tell in the palace who was a friend, who was an enemy. All my experiences told me that anyone with any power wanted more of it and would do anything to get it, I had to hope Master Sidwell was the exception to that rule. I had no one else to turn to and when you’re without friends you assume everyone else is an enemy.
‘Yes. I know who he is.’
But that was as much as I got from the old man. He walked to the window and stared out of it, apparently lost in thought. I waited, uncertain what to do or even if I should speak. The old man had aged recently, he looked frail, slightly hunched but he still could surprise me by delivering a slap across my head that hurt. He continued to stare out of the window when he spoke.
‘We are servants Keir. We must never forget that. We exist to serve our masters. We do not involve ourselves in their business. We cannot guess their reasons and supplant our ethics upon their actions.’
I was appalled. He was condoning not just murder, but treason.
‘But…’
With surprising speed the old man spun round and fixed me with his stare, the same one he’d worn when he’d reprimanded me for injuring Irvyn and not being open about the wyvern.
‘You will say and do nothing. Is that understood?’
I nodded like a little boy denied his favourite toy. His expression softened slightly.
‘There are many things that happen in this palace which are wrong Keir. We are part of a world driven by the need for power. If we involve ourselves in that world we risk its dangers, far wiser to remain aloof.’
His wisdom doused the fire of indignation that had ignited in me, admittedly more of a spark than an actual flame. I reminded myself I wasn’t a hero who could intervene to stop events. I was one of those people who suffer, even die, and are just a footnote in history if they are lucky. More likely, my life would be instantly forgotten. I was a one-time slave, now a servant. With luck I might become a dragon trainer. It was ridiculous to think I had a more important role to play.
I looked across at his lined face and smiled. He nodded and sighed.
‘What did Lady Mab say?’ I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
He turned serious again and leaned heavily on the large desk.
‘You are to travel to the human realm today.’
‘But…’
My mind raced. Knowing you were going to travel to another world was one thing, while it was in the future I could deal with the possibility, but to suddenly face up to the imminent reality was something else. My heart pounded in my chest and my spine felt like jelly.
‘Master Darragh hasn’t finished…’
The old man held up the palm of his hand. ‘Yes he has. He refuses to do anything more. I’m sure you know why.’
The old man ambled over to me, placed his hands on my shoulders, fixed his eyes on mine. They were amazingly blue, I’d never noticed that before but I’d never been this close to him, at any point in my life. I searched them for answers until I found the strength to ask.
‘So why the rush?’
The old man went to speak and paused. He was close enough for me to see uncertainty in his eyes, perhaps it was anxiety. He sighed and went back to leaning against his desk. He didn’t speak for a few seconds.
‘Now you have shared with me the conversation you overheard, certain things are beginning to make sense. The war has gone badly for us, The High Lord sought to implement a strategy that could end it. But now with Lady Mab’s subtle involvement I fear events are speeding towards a terrible climax, I worry it will affect us equally as much as the humans.’
‘There will be a race to become the next High Lord, won’t there?’
Master Sidwell nodded heavily. We both knew such times were dangerous for everyone, aristocrats and servants alike.
‘Keir, you will have little time over there. If the High Lord is killed then our forces will need to withdraw. The gateways will be closed. If you’re not careful, you could be trapped on the other side. Speed will be essential. You must remember that.’
Nobody had mentioned speed. That hadn’t been part of the deal. I had a wyvern to find in the middle of a war and in a land I didn’t know. How was that going to be quick? For a moment I thought about backing out. Only for a moment, I couldn’t leave her in the middle of such a strange place.
‘Are you listening lad?’
I glanced up at a face where lines of old age mixed with frowning anxiety.
I’d focused on my own fears and not given enough consideration to what my pet must be going through. She was still young, facing dangers on her own. Lost. I felt a rush of love for her that suddenly formed a lump in my throat. I had to find her and bring her back. She was my one friend. Sad perhaps, but true all the same.
‘Yes sir.’
He smiled, a little sadly. ‘You’re a brave lad.’
I shook my head hard. ‘I’m not, sir. Not at all. I just need to rescue her.’
‘But it’s a dragon, lad. Only a dragon.’
‘She’s a wyvern. I call her Cochrann.’
He gave me a smile I recognised all too well. The reaction you give to the simple-minded when they think they’ve done something wonderful but is average at best.
‘Red girl.’ He nodded, still smiling. ‘That’s nice.’
He didn’t understand. He probably had friends, he was respected, he had a position in the court. He wasn’t a lonely, isolated dark-skinned hybrid.
His smile faded and we returned to business out of awkwardness.
‘You know where to find the portal? You know the route?’
‘Yes sir.’
He returned to his desk and sat heavily in his huge chair and didn’t look up again.
‘Good luck young man. I trust you will return unharmed.’
I left the office and hurried down the staircase. I’d been told not to take anything with me, any items could betray me. I had no one else to wish me well, no one else knew what I
was doing. This was it.
I marched along corridors where people hurried about their business, doing the things they did every day and would continue doing until they died. They weren’t travelling to another world. It felt strange. I wanted to scream what I was about to do. For the first time in my life I felt slightly superior to all of them, it was an unusual sensation.
The stables on the far side of the courtyard were empty, the grooms would be out exercising in the brilliant sunshine, it was a beautiful day. I heard my name called softly and I looked about me, puzzled who might be calling.
Irvyn stepped out from a stable, with a shovel. He wore old clothes covered in straw. For a moment I tensed, ready for another beating. I thought about running away but he was faster and stronger than I was, he’d easily catch me and I didn’t have time to waste.
He looked about nervously and beckoned me closer. I drew nearer cautiously, waiting for his fists or his shit-covered boots, to strike.
‘Are you going now?’
It took me a second to work out what he meant but then I realised he had to know what I was doing. Mab would have extracted the information out of him, no doubt impatiently. I nodded curtly.
He looked around the stables nervously. It was so unlike him that I stared, amazed.
‘Listen.’ He dropped his voice to a whisper so I had to crane my neck to hear him. ‘I didn’t tell Lady Mab the truth. Please don’t tell her. Please? Only I wanted to get my own back on you.’
‘What do you mean?’ Now he’d got me worried.
Another quick look around. ‘I described a different gateway, not the one I sent the little dragon through.’
‘What?’
Suddenly our plans were in tatters. I’d been told what to expect on the other side, the best places in the hill fort to hide until it turned dark and I could make my escape. And now all that information was meaningless. I glared at him with impotent fury.
He raised dirty hands in surrender.
‘I know. I know. I’m sure you’ve made plans. I didn’t know your mission was about saving the High Lord. If anyone finds out what I did…!’
