Destiny

by Fiona McIntosh

  They were still in the Forest but it was beginning to thin. Before they hit open country, Saxon decided to water the horses at the stream which had run to their right for a good part of the trip, and give everyone a rest. He unharnessed the animals and led them away. Alyssa moved to a secluded area beneath a tree. Goth was slumped in the cart. Tor suddenly found himself alone and went looking for his wife.

  ‘You’re very quiet,’ he commented, approaching her. ‘Is something wrong?’

  Alyssa pulled her knees close and rested her chin on them. She did not know where to start or even how to. Without choosing her words, she allowed them to tumble out.

  ‘I dreamed last night.’

  ‘Oh?’ he said, sitting beside her. He wanted to hold her but sensed she did not want to be touched.

  She wasted no words. ‘Lys came.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said vehemently. Then added: Look at me, Tor.

  He did not want to but forced his brilliantly blue gaze to meet her eyes. She looked into that lovely face and knew that whatever she said next would hurt him. But it had to be said.

  ‘I met your father last night as well.’

  He was not expecting this but he was expecting something, she noted. ‘You…you met my father?’ A quizzical grin appeared.

  ‘Perhaps met is not the word. Let’s say I saw him. And your mother. They are both incredibly beautiful people. Almost too beautiful, too perfect…like you.’

  Tor was confused. He had no idea what this was about, nor could he interpret the subtle accusatory tone in her voice. He played it safe. ‘I gather you are not talking about Jhon and Ailsa Gynt, then.’ He attempted his usual brand of humour but it did not work for him this time.

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘I was not given their names but you really do look like your true father.’

  Tor did not know what to say. He felt suddenly clumsy. ‘Anything else?’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Plenty.’ She cocked her head to one side. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you thought I was going to tell you about before I go on?’

  He shrugged, saw her expression harden at his reluctance and knew he must not lie to her now. ‘I thought,’ he said, taking her hand— and was relieved she permitted it—‘that you were going to tell me about your mother.’

  ‘I am. So you’ve known about her?’

  Tor felt more nervous at the icy tone in her voice now. He looked towards Saxon, who was busy, his back turned. Cloot was privy to this conversation but sensibly remained still in the trees and silent.

  It was best if he told her everything. ‘When Orlac summoned me from the Heartwood and then cast me away, I found myself in the Bleak. I didn’t know it at first—it was all very confusing and of course I was completely unexpected. It was my arrival which distracted Lys and allowed Dorgryl to escape.’

  She nodded. He had already mentioned Dorgryl’s escape during their time in the Heartwood whilst waiting for Rubyn. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I actually saw Lys—you see none of us had before that moment—and it was obvious to me that you and she were related somehow. Later, returned to the Heartwood, she admitted she is your mother. When she thought I might tell you, she forbade it.’

  ‘And you always obey Lys, don’t you?’ she said, a pitying tone in her voice now.

  ‘No,’ he said defensively. ‘That’s not why. I agreed that she should be the one to tell you. Last night was obviously her chosen time.’

  Alyssa smirked and took her hand away from him. ‘Did she also tell you that it was she who brought you to Jhon and Ailsa?’

  She could tell immediately that he had not known this and she felt a twinge of guilt at her bluntness. Nevertheless, she continued with her tale, particularly now that she had had time to think through everything she witnessed in her dream. Alyssa was sure she had pieced together an important part of the jigsaw.

  ‘Or that she deliberately contrived to marry my father and then stage her own death at childbirth to leave me motherless and my father a broken man, never to recover?’

  He shook his head, hanging it and running his fingers through his hair. He could not defend Lys against this accusation for it was all true.

  ‘Tell me everything you saw,’ he said sadly.

  And she did, sparing him no detail. When it was told, Alyssa softened. She had rid herself of her anger now, glad that she had shared all of it. It was her turn to offer comfort and she reached to put her arm around him. She was relieved that he responded, turning his head into her shoulder and hugging her close.

  Cloot blinked. They were stumbling onto the truth now. He opened the Link to Saxon so he could hear. The Kloek looked up from the horses towards where they sat as he heard Alyssa’s voice.

  ‘My mother is a god,’ she said, her voice filled with the same disbelief she had felt in her dream. ‘And do you know, Tor?’

  He looked up and kissed at the tears on her cheek. ‘What, my love?’

  ‘I think your true parents are gods too.’

  Tor sat back. ‘What!’ His worst fears were being confirmed. Tor had suspected as much but never once allowed his mind to accept the notion. To hear Alyssa utter the words was the confirmation he did not want.

  She nodded. ‘There’s more. It’s worse.’

  ‘Don’t,’ he said and groaned.

  ‘We must talk this through. We are meant to. That’s why she came.’

  ‘No.’

  Yes, Cloot said into their minds.

  She pulled Tor’s shoulders around so he was forced to look at her. ‘Listen to me. You once described the first vision Lys ever gave you in a dream.’ He began to shake his head but she continued. ‘You told me about the people in that dream. They were the King and Queen of the Host. Darganoth and Evagora you called them. They were the same people I saw last night. Evagora birthed you and Darganoth took you from her and immediately handed you to Lys, my mother. You know the rest.’

  ‘No!’ he yelled, leaping to his feet.

  Let him go, Alyssa, Cloot said. He knows what you say is true.

  Heavy of heart, she watched her love disappear into the trees, his Paladin flying after him. She too needed comfort and was glad to see that Saxon was coming towards her.

  Cloot flew down to perch on Tor’s knee and watched his bonded one stare in a sullen silence at the Forest floor.

  How long have you known? Tor finally asked.

  Always.

  I thought we were friends.

  None closer.

  Why then?

  I was forbidden by Darganoth himself. We were all told you must discover your identity yourself. I’m not sure why…I’m still unsure. But I have held true to my promise, as you held true to Lys in not telling Alyssa what you knew.

  I’m not blaming you, Cloot.

  I know this. But I need you to understand why I have not shared this. Would it have made much difference?

  What, to know that the mad god who seeks to kill me and everyone I love and destroy the land that I call home, is my brother? Yes, it might have. Tor shook his head. My brother. He turned the word over in his mouth as though it was a foreign sound.

  Can I just say this? Cloot asked. When you finally lay eyes on him again, it would serve you well to remember that Orlac the man is a result of something terrible that happened to him as an innocent. As you feel now…cheated, devastated perhaps even vengeful—this is how the young Orlac felt when he discovered he was not mortal but a god. And yet all of his life he’s been made to live the life of a mortal. It was not his choice. He was stolen—just a baby remember. There are times I can feel sorrow for him.

  Tor finally looked up at his Paladin. Alyssa is right. You are a wise old falcon.

  The bird chuckled. Aha, so you admit it at last!

  Tor wiped at his eyes, rubbed his face. I don’t know what to think any more.

  Survival for you and yours, Cloot said firmly. He still wants to kill you and ruin Tallinor.

  Do you t
hink he knows?

  I can’t guess at that. How would he know?

  Dorgryl probably.

  Perhaps. Here come Alyssa and Saxon.

  Tor looked up. He could see by her red eyes that she too had been upset.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘Let’s all sit.’

  Saxon held up a sack. ‘Let’s eat as well.’

  They shared a simple meal which included luscious blackberries Saxon had found. As they ate, they talked, sharing all the information they now possessed.

  ‘How do you feel about Lys?’ Tor asked Alyssa.

  ‘Not sure,’ she said, licking at her juice-stained fingers. ‘It’s a shock. I always wanted to know my mother. I should be deliriously happy but instead I feel tricked, angry, hurt.’

  He nodded. ‘I know. The strange thing is, I recall that as a child I always used to draw our family as being four. My parents, that is the Gynts, were amused that I insisted on putting a big brother into the picture.’ Tor shook his head. ‘I must have known, somehow.’

  Saxon tossed him a knuckle of bread. ‘Maybe you absorbed some of what was happening around you. Imagine how brave your mother had to be to give you up, having already lost one precious son to Tallinor. Who knows, that pain and knowledge may have seeped into your being somehow.’ The Kloek shrugged. ‘Perhaps I’m being stupid.’

  Alyssa put her hand on his arm. ‘No, Sax. You’re not. My mother may be a god but Lam Qyn is very mortal I’m afraid, so I have his blood running in my veins too. Whereas Tor has only gods’ blood…none of us can know what that really means and perhaps he did pick up on his mother’s sorrow.’

  It was time to lighten the mood, Cloot decided. They still had a lot to achieve and it would not do to have Tor in leaden spirits. Of course you all realise we are in the presence of royalty. Before us sits a prince of the Host…an heir of the gods.

  Alyssa brightened. ‘Your majesty,’ she said, standing to curtsy, which won a laugh from Saxon and even a grin from Tor.

  Tor stood. ‘Enough—’ but before he could finish he saw Saxon plummet forwards, an arrow sticking from his back. Alyssa screamed and then Tor heard the same horrifying sound of an arrow leaving its bow and then the dull thump as it buried itself into her body, throwing her viciously forwards. She too hit the ground and lay still. He was so shocked, he just stared at his fallen friends before screaming to Cloot.

  On my way! the falcon said, lifting powerfully from the branches.

  Tor shielded for all of them. No further arrows could strike any of them, though he presumed the attackers had already fled. He dropped to his knees by Alyssa. She was unconscious having hit her head on the tree as she fell. She was bleeding badly from that wound but he reassured himself with the knowledge that cuts to the head invariably looked worse than any other. He ignored the bleeding and felt for her pulse, which he found…strong and steady.

  Checking Saxon, the Kloek groaned. ‘Gods’ bollocks, what hit me?’

  ‘An arrow,’ Tor replied. ‘Be still.’

  ‘Alyssa!’ Saxon had just noticed she lay next to him.

  ‘She’s alive, Sax. Let me just see how bad this is and then I’ll tend to her.’

  Talk to me! he called to Cloot.

  Three men. Two horses gone. And…

  No wait, let me guess. Goth is gone too?

  With great difficulty. But nevertheless he is with them.

  Do you know who?

  No idea.

  Follow them but don’t be seen. Goth will warn them of you.

  He told Saxon the bad news and was not surprised when the Kloek growled, ‘Get me up, Tor.’

  ‘Wait!’

  ‘He’s not getting away again.’

  ‘He won’t. Cloot’s following. We’ll track him.’

  ‘See to Alyssa,’ he begged.

  ‘I’m about to. You’ll have to keep watch,’ he cautioned.

  The Kloek nodded, wincing as he sat up so he could see around him better.

  Tor worked calmly. Now that he knew they were not immediately fatal wounds, he slipped into the role of physic, washing the area and surveying the damage. The arrow had buried itself in Alyssa’s shoulder. She would not die but it was important to get the metal head out of her body before infection could set in. Whilst she was still unconscious, he summoned the Colours and the Flames, which were now ever-ready at his call. They materialised from the Great Forest. He focused, roamed with the Colours and let go, his spirit entering Alyssa and immediately travelling to the site of her wound. With his physical self kneeling over her, hands hovering above the arrow head and his spirit working from behind it, Tor let his Colours work their magics, easing the arrow head from her shoulder. He could sense she was surfacing from her darkness now and he must work quickly. With an immense effort he dragged himself backwards and out from Alyssa, returning to his body, where he took deep breaths, racked with a horrible trembling he remembered from the previous times he had tried something similar. There was no time for his recovery though. He needed to finish working on her wound. Weaving the Colours he worked from outside of her now, cleaning the gash the arrow had left, but mercifully it was a neat wound and he could see it would heal. She groaned but was still not fully awake.

  The Flames instinctively knew what to do and as soon as he sat back on his haunches, exhausted from the spiriting, they set to work cauterising the wound. Alyssa opened her eyes and immediately began to vomit. Tor had somehow made his legs work and he had fetched water, tearing strips from his shirt to clean and bind her wound.

  He spoke on a private Link. You are safe. Hurt but safe. You need some healing time.

  What happened? She sounded drowsy and disorientated.

  We’re not sure. Bandits perhaps. You’ve been wounded by an arrow. And they’ve taken Goth.

  She closed her eyes. How many lives does that wretched man have?

  He’s enjoying his last, Tor assured her. I’m going after him.

  Alone?

  Saxon was hit too. I must tend to him.

  Her eyes flew open at this news. I’ll help you. The truth was she was at this moment too weak to even lift her head from the Forest floor. She winced from the pain at her shoulder.

  Be still, Alyssa. You may yet suffer the fevers from that wound and you need to just let it heal and save your strength.

  The Flames had finished their task. They sang and Tor thanked them. It seemed only he understood their language.

  Cloot’s following them. He will not get away, I promise.

  What do they want with Goth?

  If they’re common bandits, he probably promised them riches.

  How bad is Saxon?

  He’ll live but he’s going to be sore like you. We’re lucky that they were such terrible shots.

  Small mercies, she said and closed her eyes again. She drifted asleep.

  Tor wished yet again he had some of the arraq liquid to ease their pain. It would heal them quickly too. But his satchel had been stolen and with it the precious vial he had used with such care.

  Much later, a fire lit, both patients woke up to find themselves laid out in the back of the cart which the bandits had decided not to take.

  Tor helped them both to sit up. ‘Drink lots of this,’ he said, handing them each a clay jar. ‘All of it,’ he cautioned.

  Alyssa tasted various herbs mingling with nettles and grasses. It was the right brew to help them through the fevers should they visit. Her head throbbed too.

  ‘What news?’ Saxon croaked. He began to shiver and realised he would spend the rest of this night sweating it out as his body fought off infection.

  ‘They’ve made camp north of here. Apparently, they’ve also broken cover of the Forest to try and throw off Cloot but he’s too wily for them.’

  ‘What are you planning, Tor?’ Alyssa asked.

  ‘To see you both through this night first,’ he answered. ‘Then I shall catch up with Cloot and our new friends.’

 
; 23

  Lost and Found

  Tyne would not hear of them leaving. He also did not want to give up his chance to earn money from Themesius.

  ‘One more show,’ he begged. ‘We’ll leave this morning and go straight to Brittelbury. We can hold the show there tomorrow night.’

  It was tempting.

  ‘But what about your other shows?’ Gidyon asked.

  ‘Of no matter. I’ll make enough with this one if I promote it along the way. Now make haste. We travel in one hour.’

  He left them no chance to change his mind.

  Themesius scratched his head. ‘Better this way don’t you think, Figgis?’

  ‘I do. Keeps us out of harm’s way as well. The lad has a happy knack of getting into bother,’ he said and they laughed at Gidyon’s scowl.

  Tyne was as good as his word and within the hour, the first of the caravans drew out of the town and headed west towards Brittelbury.

  ‘What do you do in the show?’ Gidyon wondered to Themesius.

  ‘I just walk out…and everyone’s jaws drop open.’

  Figgis enjoyed this, chuckling to himself. ‘A showstopper, eh? Well, perhaps Gidyon and I can make a special contribution. What do you think?’ he said.

  ‘I have an idea already,’ Gidyon said, not offering to reveal anything further.

  On their journey, and particularly as they began to pass through outlying villages from Brittelbury, Tyne made regular stops, calling into inns and promoting the Greatest Show in the Land as he liked to call it. At each stop the performers were encouraged to remain hidden so none of the secrets were revealed.

  ‘If people want to see our freaks, they’ll have to pay.’ It was his favourite saying.

  As it turned out Brittelbury was a decent-sized town. No wonder Tyne felt he could risk missing his other planned stops as long as he could show off his star attraction here. People waved and welcomed them in and once again the ‘freaks’ hid themselves. Tyne posted hired guards around the perimeter of the Green where they would perform in order to prevent snoopers from getting an early look at the acts.