The Tessellation Saga. Book Two. 'The One'

by D. J. Ridgway

  ‘You saw me thoughts!’ Jed stated in a stunned voice.

  ‘I will explain my boy but first I will need to put up stronger wards,’ he answered and moved, ready to jump off the cart. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the charm that once mended, again hung around Rhoàld’s neck, he remembered when he had last seen it; he had been in the king’s chamber within the castle, a prisoner, chained and bound as entertainment for the king just as Rhoàld had lately been. No wonder it’s taken so long for Gath to find us…, he mused, somebody loved you very much..., smiling wearily, he passed a finger over the small charm and mumbled once more adding strength to the amulets protection.

  ‘Dotty would you assist me with the wards please, I am bone weary,’ he asked as he climbed down from the wagon and taking the reins of the loose horse lightly tied them to the tailgate of the cart. Lemba laid the now naturally sleeping Rhoàld onto the floor of the cart and covered him with a woollen rug taken from one of Dotty’s boxes as Jed stared after Varan and Dotty.

  ‘I will explain my boy’, he said aloud, peevishly copying Varan’s clear speech, ‘when, when will yer explain?’ Jed asked Varan’s back. Jumping down from the cart, he began to walk ahead kicking stones and dust up in front of him and looking for the world like a petulant child. Lemba, watching him, hid a small frown, noticing again the dejection and frustration in the set of his shoulders, before she too leapt lightly from the back of the cart and jogging to catch him up, took his hand.

  ‘Lemba, I can travel faster on me own,’ Jed began. Her continued silence became an invitation for Jed to talk and once he started talking he found he could not stop. Lemba smiled remembering the charcoal burners shed when he had talked for what seemed hours and she had fallen in love. He spoke of his worry for his family, his frustrations about the whole magic/blood thing, as he called it and his wish to understand. That and the fact that he felt Varan and Dotty were treating him like a child, he spoke of Toby and the reason he had turned back to join the group fleeing the city. Lemba shuddered, remembering that Toby was to be her new owner and his promise to her, I’ll tell Jed about Toby just as soon as I can, she vowed.

  ‘We should make our way toward the river,’ a loud voice interrupted Jed’s speech, ‘we should cross; Gath’s seekers will not be able to locate us so quickly over the water,’ Varan said. Dotty nodded her head and pointedly looked from Varan to Jed who was still slowly walking ahead with Lemba at his side.

  ‘He wants to go ahead on his own,’ she said, ‘he doesn’t understand what we are to do.’

  ‘Madam,’ Varan replied in an exhausted voice, ‘even I don’t know what we are supposed to do.’ Despite his fatigue, he helped Dotty climb back on to the cart giving her instructions to head toward a nearby copse. Carefully she drove the cart off the road toward the grove of small but dense trees as Varan quickly walked to catch up with the young couple and gently steer them in the same direction.

  Cautiously watching their footing in the still lightening sky the three made their way unerringly through the tall grasses with the creaky cart bouncing and jogging along merrily behind them. The sleeping man in the back of the cart lay undisturbed, despite the incline of the land lending gravity to his prone body and occasionally knocking his head against the buckboard.

  Jed felt bound; he did not know why but somehow he knew his fate had entwined with this strange group. He had known it really from when he had overheard Toby through the window of the Inn. He looked through his lashes at Varan, Sonal’s brother and he found it difficult not to like the man who reminded him so much of his friend. The sun was still rising and in the early morning light and Varan looked clearly exhausted, his skin was grey and deep dark circles rimmed his piercing blue eyes.

  ‘Have I grown an extra head lad, in the few minutes that you have been staring at me I mean?’ Varan laughed to take the sting from his words.

  ‘I be sorry Sonal, err, I mean Varan...,’ Lemba laughed aloud at the look of consternation on her beloved’s face. She was much relieved to see more than just the unhappiness and frustration that had been so evident since he had returned silently to Dotty’s house what seemed now to be a lifetime ago but in reality was only two days. Her laughter stopped abruptly as both men turned to stare at her.

  ‘You laughed aloud child!’ Varan exclaimed. Lemba flushed a bright red echoing the newly birthed sun as it continued lightening the shadows around them. ‘Lemba,’ asked Varan looking at the girl intently, ‘do you have any voice at all?’ Lemba, horrified at the question felt her face burn, tears filled her eyes but she refused to let them fall. I have no tongue, her heart was screaming in anger and sorrow believing that they wanted her to try to speak. She pulled her hand from Jed’s and stood with one small fist clenched tightly at her side, the other she clasped across her jerkin feeling the small ornate box sitting inside the lining, the box that she carried everywhere with her.

  ‘You have such a pretty laugh…,’ said Jed as he stared at her and despite his worry over his family and friends, he smiled and reached once more for her hand.

  ‘Of course, now I understand…,’ began Varan as Lemba stepped away from Jed and turned to run back to the cart, ‘it’s just your tongue, it was cut from your mouth!’ Varan called after her as she fled her humiliation complete.

  ‘Lemba…,’ Jed called, angry with himself for being part of the cause of her distress as she stumbled away across the grassy ground and back up the hill.

  ‘Leave her lad, her anger will soften…,’ Varan said, also staring at the departing figure of the seemingly small city boy. He tapped his teeth with a fingernail, a thoughtful look upon his face. Jed had seen the same action repeated more than once over the last few days and knew it meant Varan was deep in thought.

  ‘Could I have been any more stupid?’ Varan asked himself aloud as Jed looking more perplexed than ever, walked over to the hollow trunk of a large dead tree lying in the long grass, home to tiny creatures feeding of its bark and bole. Nearby a large ant mound seemed alive with tiny bodies climbing over its surface. He watched a long line of red ants scurrying back and forth like an army on the march, their beautiful copper heads and dark bodies all shapes and sizes following one another in perfectly ordered lines. Now and again, one would brush its antennae up against a fellow and a new direction would be undertaken. Was I like that? He wondered, likening himself and his fellow soldiers to the ants marching relentlessly back and forth for no apparent purpose but on instruction of the queen. His frustration complete he sat down heavily on the damp, still dewy grass and rested his back against the tree, he looked at Varan pointedly.

  ‘If yer don’t tell me what on the journey is goin’ on ‘ere, I swear by … by… me ma’s bread I’m going ter leave an’ make me own way ‘ome...’ he said, as the cart creaked to a halt beside him forestalling any further conversation as it stood between the two men.

  The tired horse with his reins finally loosened, began nibbling at the long dew-filled grass and Jed had to move away before the animal accidently bit him, Varan’s sleepy old mount still tied to the back of the wagon snorted and strained at his tethers unable to reach the sweet green grass all around him.

  Jed stood and stared at his companions. Dotty, looking like an old gypsy woman and Varan, brother to his friend, so alike that at times Jed found himself talking as if it were the man he knew and trusted with his life, then Lemba, his Lemba looking like a slim built boy standing at the top of the rise staring back the way they had come. Jed knew Lemba was hurting badly and that he and Varan had caused her pain, he took a deep breath and sighed.

  ‘I need ter get ‘ome Varan, and as soon as possible. I ‘ave this feeling in me belly that sommats wrong, real wrong, nobody is tellin’ me anything an’ this magic stuff is all a bit too much. I mean it, either someone tells me what’s goin’ on, without all that “later my boy” crap, or I’ll be leaving now ter make me own way, bound ter yer though I am…’ he said finally, as Varan, moving around the cart sat down besid
e him.

  ***

  Lemba was staring back the way they had come, she was sure she had seen something moving behind the trees. The sun finally broke free and bathed the earth in its light casting away the shadows and revealing the autumnal lush beauty of the hill country through which they were travelling. In the distance, she saw swiftly moving flashes of red amongst the green and they were moving rapidly toward them. Soldiers! She thought with horror and looked toward her friends sitting unsuspecting in the grass down below. Immediately, she turned and ran, fiercely clapping her hands to draw everyone’s attention, a fat round partridge ran from the copse disturbed by the sudden noise, its white face in contrast to the black tuft of feathers guarding its throat, red flanks and legs moved quickly through the grass as the fat bird tried once more to hide.

  Dotty, watching her sister as she ran down the slight hill looked puzzled as Lemba’s fingers flashed and as she drew nearer, then she realised what Lemba was trying to say.

  ‘Varan,’ she called quietly in a panic, ‘Varan, soldiers from Devilly, Lemba say’s they are about a mile away and coming fast.’

  ‘He’s found us then.’ Varan replied quietly.

  Chapter 2

  The Village Green

  Toby sat atop his stallion with almost the entire populace of Green Home Village before him. Riders, soldiers all, surrounded the frightened people and a number of slavers, professional men, hired for the occasion from the allowance the king had generously given him had also accompanied the group from Devilly. It amused him to see the slavers eyeing up the people Toby had known all his life and totting up their potential cut of the takings.

  Several cottages lay in smoking ruin, with furniture, clothing and goods of varying description scattered across the green he had played on as a child and fear in the village had become a tangible thing, Toby could smell it, taste it, and he revelled in the power it gave him. Silently he thanked Gath.

  ‘I don’t care who else you kill, or whatever you have to do to get him…but get him,’ Gath had said as he gave Toby Hollins, a nobody from the Beaut Valley one of the finest, well trained bodies of fighting men Derova had to offer. These men, fresh from the skirmishes on the borders were ready for a little fun and Toby intended for them to have it.

  I’ll get ‘im fer yer me lord, whatever it takes, I’ll get ‘im, he had answered and true to his words, there had been nothing gentle in the way Toby and the soldiers had entered his home village. As dawn came upon the sleepy settlement, the noise of pounding and braking open of doors joined in unison with the bird song and the early cockerels’ crow. Fierce looking soldiers dragged women and children from their beds as fathers’ fought to preserve their homes. Not one soldier had spoken; adding to the fear the villagers felt and Toby saw more than one young maiden dragged off, only to return weeping and dishevelled.

  ‘Take yer time men,’ Toby said before the raid began. ‘Gideon Green is fer the King, ser don’t touch ‘im an’ should yer see him, bring ‘im ter me un’armed, same as the inn, its outa bounds but the rest o’ the village is yorn... Go,’ he had said, flinging his arms wide as if bestowing a generous gift.

  The elite unit took Toby, their new commander, at his word and they had indeed had their fun. Silence answered every question and violence was widespread from the bloody and broken men attempting to protect their families to the burnt out homes and crying children. Hours of screaming had left this, this gathering of life, the inhabitants of Green Home Village, all at Toby’s mercy. He was ecstatic.

  ‘Where are yer Gideon?’ Toby whispered as he thought of his triumph and continued to stare around him at the frightened people. No matter Gid, I’ll be ‘ere fer a bit then me an’ the men’ll come ter yer woods ter get yer. He thought.

  ‘Why?’ Voices were whispering from a dozen different directions, he ignored them all revelling in the fact that not one villager recognised him and knowing they all feared him, the man on the horse who sat quietly watching.

  He was no longer the stumpy, plump youth with bad skin that drank too much ale on the eve of Jed leaving to join the army. He, now, was strong and fit, his skin had weathered and he sported a distinctive black scar down the left side of his face stretching from the corner of his eye to the side of his mouth. A scar he would one day repay Mayan for giving him, Mayan…, he thought as he ran his fingers down the scar, remembering how her nails had raked into his face when he had tried to make her his. His father had stopped him and left him in the dirt, the open wound on his face sucking up the dirt like a sponge, the scar now pulled the side of his face tightly and permanently into a sardonic sneer. You should be ‘ere Mayan, where are yer? He wondered as he again scanned through the crowd of frightened villagers, angry that she was not amongst them.

  ‘Please Surr...’ a young boy called to him in tears as another house fell victim to a blazing torch. Drunner, you be one of the Drunner boys... Toby recognised the boy as the brother of one of the men who had once laughed at him, yer don’t know me either, he thought, knowing he had aged in more than just years, they really don’t know who I am! Toby mused, relishing the power the anonymity gave him. He fingered the simple blue stone in his pocket, the stone he had watched Gideon tying around Mayan’s neck and he ached to see her, imagining her here, kneeling at his feet begging for his love and forgiveness in front of everyone. It was a very pleasing thought.

  At last, Toby saw his parents as they stumbled into the village behind the horsemen sent to get them, a line bound their wrists tightly and a taut rope ensured they had to run to keep up with the huge animals. Toby looked on, a happy smile on his face, he was not like the lowly tanner his father was or the mistress of nothing his mother had always been; he was special and he knew it. Did I no’ tell ‘em that all along? He thought as his mother tripped in the dirt and losing her balance fell under the hooves of the great horse that pulled his father, its hoof grazed her skull, the loud sound was hollow and sharp as it connected. His father bruised and bloody from resisting arrest tried in vain to go to her aid as her bloody form quivered in the dirt and dust.

  ‘Toby…’ she whispered her voice soft and low but still somehow reaching her son, finally she lay still as Toby watched dispassionately, he had dismissed his parents from his life long ago, just as they had dismissed him. The soldier pulling his father cut the bonds holding him to the rear of his horse to allow him to go to the old woman, while Toby’s mind drifted back to the day his father had first beaten and then thrown him out like garbage.

  ‘Animal,’ his father had sneered as his mother cried for Mayan. ‘Animals rape their mates,’ he said, adding, ‘yer ‘ave no ‘onour boy, an’ yer be no son o’ mine…’ before he’d thrown Toby’s bleeding body on to the floor of the barn. ‘Yer deserve ter be scarred boy, marked like the animal yer be...’ Toby could remember him speaking coldly, even if he could not remember the tears coursing down his father’s face as he spoke them, but then, Toby himself had wept too, not for shame but because he was disappointed, he believed his father had lied to him.

  “Next year, we’ll try again lad, she’s no promised yet!’ Da had said,’ Toby cried as his father beat him.

  ‘Yer promised me Da,’ he had added as he finally realised Mayan was not his, was never to be his. Then after Mayan left, his mother hurried after her husband and returned a little while later with a bag.

  ‘Yer gotta leave now Toby,’ she said, still crying, ‘yer gotta go as soon as I ‘ave cleaned yer face up a bit. I love yer boy, always ‘ave but yer were no meant fer this.’ Toby remembered her crying as she tried to clean the dirt out from the nasty wound caused by Mayan’s nails but he pushed her away violently causing her to misstep.

  ‘Leave me woman, yer lied ter me too...’ he remembered shouting angrily, he was angry with both his parents, they were supposed to love him, supposed give him everything they promised, he wanted the wound to scar; a scar would remind him of his father’s worthless word and Mayan’s treachery. He remembered looking at his
mother through one swollen eye, the side of his face a mass of congealed blood, his broken nose crooked and equally bloody.

  ‘She be mine,’ he said as he looked for understanding and found none, ‘she be mine, an’ Gideon ‘as ‘er, ‘e promised me… Da promised me, yer lied, yer both lied.’ Toby scowled, blame for his misfortunes landing squarely between his parents and Gideon himself.

  ‘No Toby,’ his mother said through her tears, ‘Da asked Jack fer yer but Mayan ‘ad ter choose you too, an’ she made ‘er choice, she chose Gideon!’ Again, she tried to comfort him but he shrugged her off not noticing her weeping as if her heart were broken. He dismissed them then as if they had never been and became consumed with hatred, hatred for them, for Gideon and for the whole village, he vowed that one day, one day, he would pay them all back, even Mayan.

  After all, he thought absently, shrugging off his memories and watching his father struggle to reach the body of his dying mother; they all laughed, even as I crawled through t’ beer ‘an piss, they laughed, even Mayan, my precious Mayan. He saw himself again as the young man he had been, hanging his head, staring at the floor in despair and embarrassment, his Mayan, holding Gideon’s arm, smiling at him, laughing and pulling Gideon away. Where are yer May, yer teasing bitch, yer’ll soon be on yer knees before me, beggin’ fer me ter take yer, he thought, remembering that the token she had deliberately left for him so long ago, a token he could easily have missed. A draft caused by his mother’s closing the heavy barn door behind her had whisked briskly across the floor playing with the loose straw by his feet sending it dancing and swirling in gentle circles. The small blue stone with its broken leather thong up to then hidden under the dust and dry stalks became exposed and he had smiled knowing just what it meant. Mayan, yer do want me, yer still playin’ yer games... he had thought as he bent down stiffly and picked it up before kissing it lovingly and putting it safely in his pocket. He had carried it with him ever since.