Destiny

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘Where is he?’ she said in a flat voice.

  Hearing her speak took him by surprise but he did not show it. ‘Not far away.’

  ‘And where are we going?’

  ‘To Cipres.’

  ‘People will follow,’ she said, pushing at a wisp of hair.

  ‘He knows this.’

  ‘It’s what he wants. Is that right?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Adongo said carefully. He had to be very cautious about what he said. He knew full well that Orlac could and would eavesdrop on any conversation. He had been briefed by Orlac to win the girl’s faith. So, they trusted him. But somehow he needed to convey that he was more than a friend to her. And yet he could not reveal himself—must be seen to be playing along with their plan. He could not risk contacting Tor again. The first attempt had been exquisitely dangerous and he had only just survived that scrutiny. Orlac would not permit more use of magics.

  ‘He is not whom he pretends to be, Titus.’

  ‘I am only a servant, mistress. I have no knowledge of these things,’ he lied.

  ‘He is empowered.’

  ‘I understand it is so and I would caution you not to test it.’ Adongo did not know what else to say. He hoped somewhere in his words a couched message would be heard by Lauryn. ‘My master prefers that his magics are not listened upon by others, especially those who may be empowered themselves.’ He glared at her, imploring her to understand but Lauryn looked away, already her mind wandering in a different direction.

  She sighed. ‘What will he do with me?’

  Adongo shrugged, hating the fact that he could not tell her more or reassure her of his bond with her. ‘We shall be there shortly.’

  Orlac and his guest had heard the conversation between Lauryn and the Moruk. The red mist which was Dorgryl shimmered. I do not trust him.

  He is a tool.

  So you say. Do you trust him?

  I have no reason not to. A servant is no threat to us.

  Dorgryl grudgingly agreed but did not give up his argument without making a final thrust. Then mark my words, nephew. He sighed and changed the subject. How long before we reach port?

  Orlac was in no mood to talk. He looked out at the sea which buffeted the ship’s sides and wished they were on dry land. A few hours.

  After they docked, Lauryn was left in her cabin. She had finally agreed to down a few morsels at the constant nagging of the servant, Titus. He had now gone on deck to take instructions from his master. She thought of the master as Sylc but now wondered at his real identity and the hidden magics he had wielded in her room many nights previous. Gyl was ever in her thoughts. How could she have thought it was a good idea to create such pain for him? She could still see his hurt expression at the attention she had paid Sylc. More to the point, how could she have been so infatuated with the Regent and encouraged his attentions?

  In the sharp light of day, when her emotions were not being churned by jealousy, she could see she had behaved with great stupidity and now she threatened everything her parents, brothers and the Paladin had worked so hard to do, which was to reunite everyone. So far she had kept her fear at having been stolen from the palace tightly strapped down within herself, but it constantly threatened to take flight and burst from her. In withdrawing herself from everything, including sound, she had survived this far but she knew in her heart worse was to come.

  To this moment, though, the man called Sylc had asked nothing of her. He had hardly spoken more than a dozen words to her, travelling in silence. She sensed he was constantly using his powers but she could not trace them as he expertly shielded himself from her probes. It seemed odd they had travelled so far in such a short time. She had always believed the far north was an Eighthday or more away by horse and that the port in the far west was another Eighthday on top of that. For some reason she had it in her mind that they had only travelled for a few days by horse…or was she imagining it? Lauryn could not be sure.

  The desire to cast out to Gidyon or her father was tempting and yet she resisted, despite her fear. Something nagged at her, suggesting that her casting might put them in danger. And there was something about the way Titus looked at her. It was as though he was saying one thing but actually meaning another. The business about Sylc being empowered— Titus had not shown surprise and he had reacted with great caution. She had run over what he had said to her several times and she could not help feeling that what Titus actually meant was that yes, the man called Sylc is sentient and does not like to have his magics noticed, and the glare he had given her seemed to implore that she—or was it he—should not display any magical ability.

  Was she imagining this? Was Titus communicating a hidden message and, if so, why? Who was he if not a paid servant of Sylc and therefore dangerous? What was his interest in her? She could not help but notice how he took care of her, fussed around her. What was that about? Why should he care if she lived or died? Perhaps his life was on the line if she did sicken too much and die, hence his keen interest in keeping her well nourished. She sat in her stuffy cabin and pondered, her mind finally coming around to Sylc and what he might really be. He was hugely empowered. Sentients with the wild magic—as her father had explained —had only weak powers. But when the Regent had used the stuporing force against her he seemed to but gently push his powers and yet as they touched her she felt their incredible potency.

  Likewise, when Sylc disappeared and reappeared, she felt the enormous concentration of magic at his call although he seemed hardly to tap what was available to him. This then, she decided, biting her lip and feeling more than just a vague fear grab at her throat, was no ordinary sentient soul. His looks set him apart from most men; taller than any man she knew and very strongly built, he was like her own father, Torkyn Gynt. And his eyes, those strangely violet and compelling eyes, they were so unusual as to be commented upon by all who met him—as was his appearance. How was it that one of the ladies of the court described him at the time of his arrival? Lauryn remembered the woman’s whispered words. He is a god, she had murmured with awe.

  The lady of the court was referring to his stunning looks, of course, but it seemed now to Lauryn that it had been a well-chosen turn of phrase. Lauryn felt the thought snap into place and her blood felt suddenly icy. This was no ordinary man, indeed. This was in fact no man at all. If she trusted her instincts—and she felt they served her well now—she was in the presence of a real god. An angry one, whose true name was Orlac.

  Orlac! She felt sick.

  So, he had come amongst them already and he had stolen her. Why? Lauryn began to pace to stop herself from trembling. He must have worked out that she was Torkyn Gynt’s daughter. He would use her as a lure for his bigger prize, knowing full well that when her father found out he would leave the Heartwood and come after her. But how would her father know, unless someone who knew of her plight could contact him?

  She thought of Gyl. Her disappearance would have been discovered by now and, presuming he did not assume she had left without word with a stranger in the dead of night, then Gyl would begin a search and he would follow every clue. There could not be many of those. Who else would know? Not her mother, she had already left before the theft had occurred and would by now, she hoped, be reunited with her father, bringing Saxon, Cloot, Arabella and probably Solyana together again. Sallementro? No, he could not use the Link—unless her mother had removed the disk which, now she thought about it, was not so unlikely given where she was and with whom. So that was a possibility. If Alyssa’s archalyt had been removed by Tor and the Link was open to her Paladin, he could relay the news of Lauryn’s snatching. It made sense.

  Her mind revolved around the Paladin now and she went somewhere with her thoughts that she had not permitted before. Gidyon had already been found by one of his Paladin, Figgis. Was it so improbable that she too could have been discovered by one bonded to her? She counted them off in her head. The only Paladin yet to show themselves were Cyrus, Themesius, Juno and Adongo. Two
of these belonged to her but which two? Her father had spoken of Adongo, whom he had met when they were both being transported to Cipres as slaves. He had described him as a man of few words, always carefully chosen. He was a Moruk of the nomadic tribes from the Exotic Isles. Swarthy and long-limbed they were, according to her father, with hairless faces and long dark hair.

  Was it such a leap?

  As she turned this new thought over in her mind, the man she was thinking on entered.

  ‘We must leave. Regent Sylc awaits you outside.’ It was a deliberate warning to stop her saying anything further. ‘Please follow me,’ he said.

  Lauryn touched his arm and when he turned at that touch, he saw her put her finger to her lips to hush any query as she dipped her finger into the cup of water nearby and then scribed Adongo? onto the wooden bench. When she had finished, he looked up from the bench at her, gravely. He nodded once slowly, almost imperceptibly, but it was enough. Her heart leapt and she mouthed thank you to him, her eyes beginning to water as she felt a sense of safety wrap itself about her. He was here to protect her. Her Paladin had found her. Adongo shook his head to prevent her spilling any tears and then pointed to the wet patch on the bench. She hurriedly wiped the letters away with her skirt.

  ‘After you, my lady,’ he said and this time it was he who felt his spirits lift, as she gave him a gentle smile.

  Adongo prayed that Lauryn would not try to open the Link; he was still not sure whether Orlac would be able to hear them. They had arrived on deck and Orlac ignored them. A carriage awaited and Lauryn was told to get inside. His master followed, but Adongo was required to sit outside with the driver. He felt afraid for Lauryn and decided to take a chance with the Link, recalling that Tor had once mentioned that he could not hear what Alyssa and Saxon said to each other. Perhaps the Link between Paladin and bonded were special, whereas on the occasion of his casting to Tor several nights back, it had been a very public use of his magic. Anyone with Orlac’s power and sensitivities to magic would be able to tap into such a random cast.

  He risked everything in the hope that the conversations between Paladin and bonded were private as he sliced open a cautious Link with Lauryn.

  Try not to show your fright.

  I am no longer scared, she answered surprisingly calmly, now that I know you are here. Is it dangerous talking like this?

  I’m hoping he cannot listen to our Link. We’ll soon know.

  It seems we’re safe. He’s not reacting at all.

  What is he doing?

  Staring.

  At what?

  Me!

  I shall keep the Link open.

  Don’t leave.

  Not until death, child. You are my reason for being now.

  ‘What are you smiling at?’ Orlac asked.

  ‘Apologies, Regent Sylc. It is a private thought.’

  He was taken by surprise when she answered him. She had shared not a single word with him since her capture. He wondered what had brought about the change.

  ‘My name is not Sylc,’ he said softly, still staring at her, a little sad to see the dark smudges around her hollow eyes. She was thin, too. But the beauty still glowed back at him and he admired the new defiance in her voice. He would enjoy her.

  ‘What would you have me call you?’

  ‘By my true name.’

  ‘Then I shall call you Orlac,’ she said, hoping it shocked him.

  It did. She also heard Adongo’s sharp intake of breath. Was that wise? he asked.

  I don’t know but I’ll be damned if I’ll cringe before him.

  Adongo did not have time to answer. Orlac spoke again.

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘Let’s say we’ve been expecting you.’

  ‘You and…?’

  ‘We have.’

  The god smiled. There was real grit in this girl and if she was empowered, well…she had not even tried to use it against him. Clever and beautiful.

  She makes a mockery of you! hissed Dorgryl, incensed by this girl’s hold over his nephew.

  Orlac ignored him. ‘And what should I call you?’ he said to Lauryn instead.

  ‘You already know my name. I do not hide behind disguises,’ she sneered.

  ‘I like the name Lauryn, though I keep wondering what your father will think of me when he learns I am enjoying carnal knowledge of my niece.’ Orlac did not look away as he said it. He had intended it as a blow.

  Until that moment Lauryn had felt strong again but suddenly her fragile defence crumpled. He was staring at her in that way he had that seemed to drag her into a private cocoon.

  ‘Oh, you didn’t know?’ he added, feigning innocence, once he noticed that the barb had struck home. ‘Your father, Torkyn Gynt, is my brother. Isn’t that cosy?’

  ‘You lie!’ she shouted, her voice sounding suddenly ragged.

  ‘Do I?’ he said. ‘Think about it. You’re a very clever woman. You worked out who I was…now work out how it all fits together and I think you’ll agree that we are very much family.’

  He took her hand and kissed it. ‘We are here. Welcome to my palace,’ he said and alighted from the carriage.

  Orlac heard a deep chuckle from within himself.

  A masterful move, Dorgryl admitted. She will not recover swiftly from that.

  As Adongo stepped down from the carriage and bowed to his master, he kept his face deliberately devoid of all emotion, although inside he was anything but calm. Torkyn and Orlac were brothers! So, the King of the Host had sent his second son. He closed his eyes with silent grief at this news and what lay ahead.

  Tor and Alyssa had spent a joyful night of rediscovery, giving themselves completely over to one another. They bathed in the pool where they had first made love and sat naked against each other’s body, revelling in being able to share this special time.

  ‘You’ve learned some new tricks,’ Alyssa admitted, her eyebrow arched slightly.

  ‘Are you complaining?’ Tor countered, as he kissed her full and perfect breast.

  ‘Not at all. I’m just wondering where you gained such experience.’

  ‘Well, they say practice makes perfect and so I kept practising over and over and over again until I knew it was just right,’ he said, a look of innocence on his face.

  ‘Oaf!’ She threw a stick at him. ‘I hate you!’ But she laughed anyway.

  ‘But I love you,’ he said, pulling her close again and kissing her softly.

  ‘Have you loved anyone since me, Tor?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about that girl you were so distraught over…will you tell me about it?’

  He became suddenly serious. ‘Eryn—she was a very special friend. I still can’t believe she’s dead, and so horribly. Goth will pay with his life this time, I swear it.’

  ‘We must make him pay for all the lives he’s taken or ruined,’ she said sadly. ‘Tell me about Eryn.’

  And so he did. Alyssa felt a stirring of jealousy, not that he and Eryn had been intimate, but that she had shared part of his life that Alyssa had not been permitted to enjoy.

  She stroked his cheek. ‘Don’t be sad about her. Be angry. We’ll avenge her death, I promise you. Don’t let’s spoil these few precious moments we have.’

  ‘Are you sure you want to hear this?’ he asked.

  ‘I do. I hold no grudge, Tor. I just feel cheated that we were kept apart.’

  ‘I know. And of course then there was Sylven…’ he continued, a wicked undertone to his voice, goading her into asking more.

  ‘The Queen!’

  ‘No less.’

  ‘Tor! Who haven’t you bedded?’

  ‘Well, let’s see now…I’d always hoped I might sneak between the sheets with the Lady Augusta. I never got the chance though I got close once. She was—’

  Alyssa punched him this time. Hard. ‘Stop it! Vile man.’

  ‘Well, you asked,’ he said plaintively, trying to force down the smile bursting from him.

/>   He hugged her, then stood, theatrically, moving his arms for effect. ‘The truth is I have bedded plenty of women but I have loved none of them. I have only ever loved one girl, since she was nine and I not much older. Alyssandra Qyn of Mallee Marsh—be she Queen of Tallinor or simply Naked Wench of the Heartwood—is my true love; my heart’s desire, the reason I breathe.’ He grinned then. ‘And you’ll note I’m far too much of a gentleman to even mention the slight indiscretion of bedding a king or falling in love with him.’

  She looked at him seriously now. ‘I do thank you for that. It was never the same love as I experienced for you.’

  He took her hand and lifted her to her feet, wrapping a cloak they had been lying on around her slim shoulders. ‘I already know it.’ He kissed her. ‘There is nothing to forgive.’

  They heard a sound and turned to find Solyana staring gravely at them.

  Is it time? Tor asked, hoping Rubyn had been found.

  Strangers approach…you are needed, she replied and loped away into the undergrowth. They heard her as she disappeared. Meet at the clearing.

  They dressed and quickly made their way to the meeting spot where they found Arabella and Saxon waiting.

  ‘Have you heard anything?’ Tor asked.

  Saxon held up a brace of rabbits. ‘I was hunting just outside the Heartwood. Solyana summoned me.’ He shrugged and threw the rabbits down. ‘Plenty of rabbit stew tonight for all.’

  Arabella nodded when Tor looked towards her. ‘Solyana called me. Do you know who comes?’

  ‘No,’ Tor admitted.

  ‘Is it Goth?’ Alyssa said.

  No one answered, for they heard the sound of people crashing through the trees and the snap and crunch of twigs and branches breaking underfoot. And then suddenly three figures emerged into the clearing, fright written over their faces.