by Aubade Teyal
Chapter Seventeen – Betrayal
She crouched down low at the edge of the final slope down to Calgacos. From a distance, she could see the courtyard was deserted. Whatever had happened in the pitched battle between Caniformia and Feliformia, both sides had left. Yet Duncan had never reached the forest. Her instincts told her that someone was close, and hiding. The approach was too quiet, too still. It could be Duncan, still here, or it could be Caniformia, or it could be both. She was walking into a no man’s land.
She surveyed the scene as long as she dared. Time was against her. Sooner or later, Kellas and the Masters were going to bring Shergar and Godfrey back. She had no idea what Kellas was going to say, whether he was going to mention her or not. She didn’t even want to think what Shergar and Godfrey might say. She simply had to get back, before them, and before anyone else woke up and the courtyard became busy.
She began her final decent slowly. Even with the shield, and now aching arms, she could be noiseless, slow but steady. She had always been good at this, to her father’s amazement. He had been taught everything there was to be taught about stealth, and yet she moved like water flowing, while he was a drowning sailor.
The castle loomed ahead eclipsing the night sky. There were few lights at the windows now. Most were in bed, asleep, but one or two still burned, and Torkil’s tower was a beacon in the night. The closer she drew to Calgacos, the more her heart quickened. She was going to make it, unseen. She could bury herself in her room for the night and let tomorrow bring what it would. She was almost free.
But her luck did not hold. It was the smallest of errors. She simply misjudged the land. Instead of a step, it was a stumble. She righted herself immediately. Her momentum was unchecked, but the fluidity of her descent was broken, and someone watching, noticed.
‘Over there!’ came the cry. ‘On the slope.’
Then a chase.
From a still landscape, there rose three runners. They were higher up the slope, some distance from Lennox, but they were unburdened and fresh. They came tearing down on her. She forgot subtly and went for whatever speed she could muster.
Nothing else mattered now, only speed, but she could not run. The shield was simply too broad, too heavy, barring her knees from lifting, her arms from swinging, her legs from stretching. She lurched forward like an old, failing car, stuttering, her heart pounding, desperate to make the final ascent up the Calgacos rise.
‘Get her!’
‘Run!’
Despite her ungainly, painful progress, the castle grew larger and nearer, until she could see into the courtyard. She had thought it deserted. Now she knew that wasn’t true. There were people inside. She heard ripples of talk, flashes of movement. Even within, she would not be safe.
At the last moment, when she was metres from the castle walls. Someone dived at her legs and caught hold of her ankles. She tried to stumble on but their grip was too tight. Instead, she tripped, and fell hard. She twisted as she fell, hitting her hip on the ground, pulling the shield up over her body and face. She thrashed wildly kicked her legs free, then connected with something soft. There was a loud grunt; that was all she needed. She scrambled to her feet, hefted the shield back up high in her arms, and ran through the gateway. Moments later, his lip cut, his broad body shaking not with fatigue but with anger, Gram followed her through.
‘How did you do it?’ he demanded. ‘How? Who helped you?’
‘What?’ she backed away.
‘How did you, you of all people, find the shield and bring it back?’ Gram shouted, his face coloured with anger. ‘You’ve had help. You must have. You’ve had Duncan doing exactly what you want for weeks. Who else is helping you cheat?’
She stared at him, hating him, unsure what to do. Part of her wanted to thrust the shield in his face, and tell him he could have it. She did not want it. But another part, a larger part still, wanted to fight him the way she had fought Shergar and Godfrey, and that terrified her.
Into this impasse, came the deep soft voice of Torkil.
‘I didn’t expect to see the shield so soon,’ he said, calm as morning, and she stilled.
Flanked by Nighten and Bambridge, he stepped forward into a wisp of light falling from a lone, lit window. Torkil was staring at her, as if she were a puzzle, and he did not know which piece to try next. Nighten was looking at the shield in her hands, Bambridge looked bored.
She thrust the shield forward, and watched hatred and envy spread across Gram’s face like ice cracking.
‘She cheated,’ he stated, looking first at Lennox, then Torkil, then Bambridge. He turned back to Lennox.
‘How did you do it? Who helped you?’
Her hatred intensified. She couldn’t tell him what really happened. She was caught in another trap.
‘I got lucky. I found it.’
Gram’s face twisted.
‘Like hell you did. We’ve only been out there a couple of hours. You cheated.’
Torkil and the other Masters were saying nothing, but were watching closely. They did not try to stop Gram accusing Lennox. She had to defend herself.
‘I was here in the courtyard when Master Torkil spoke to everyone. There are no rules, he said, only no weapons and no blood. Well, I haven’t broken any rule.’
A clatter on the courtyard cobbles behind them disturbed the scene. Duncan emerged through the gatehouse, Daryl following. The shield was still in Lennox’s arms. Duncan marched across the courtyard.
‘You beauty!’ he exclaimed. ‘We saw you from the top of the slope. We watched you all the way. I knew you’d do it!’
He grabbed Lennox round her shoulders, pulled her in and kissed her wholeheartedly on the lips. It was a crushing embrace. She could not move, she was pinned to him. When he released her, he kept one arm proprietorially on her waist. She felt her own face burn with embarrassment, and she knew everyone there was watching.
‘Don’t get over excited,’ Bambridge warned, stepping forward, taking control. ‘There are allegations of cheating.’
Duncan’s head snapped up, and round, towards Gram.
‘Get over it!’ he growled. ‘You lost, because she won. It’s as simple as that.’
‘But how did she find the shield so soon,’ Gram repeated. ‘She must have known where it was. Someone must have told her.’
Before Duncan could reply, more figures arrived at the gatehouse. Kearns and Kellas were supporting Shergar, who did not even look up; each had an arm across their shoulders. Conway was beside Godfrey, who was limping and whose pallid face looked straight at Lennox. Gnarle came hurrying towards them, his little feet moving fast.
‘This way, this way,’ he urged.
But they did not follow Gnarle. Instead they stopped. Godfrey pointed at Lennox.
‘She did it,’ he said.
Lennox wanted to flee, but Duncan’s arm was tight on her, like a rope, and Kellas was looking at her so hard she thought he was trying to say something. But he had another way of communicating with her if he wanted, and in her head all was silent.
‘Did what?’ Gram asked.
‘Attacked us, and stole the shield.’
‘Well done.’ Duncan gave Lennox a squeeze. ‘That’s my girl. That’s why I picked you.’
‘Look at him! Look at Shergar.’ Godfrey wasn’t shouting. He didn’t need to. He had everyone’s attention.
Now Shergar raised his head. There was a gash across his face, from his eye to his mouth, wide and deep, though the blood was clotting. For someone who prized their looks the way Shergar did, it was a cruel blow.
Lennox gagged. How had she done that? She had no memory of it. She wrenched herself free of Duncan and staggered to the wall. She was going to be sick.
‘No one can do that with their bare hands,’ Gram stated, his voice flat and dangerous. ‘And no-one can deny that breaks the rules.’
Torkil took over.
‘Gram, any complaints, come and see me. Shergar, I will conduct a full enquir
y, you have me word. Gnarle, take your patients to the sick bay.’
Gnarle flapped his arms and led the way, Kellas and Conway supporting Shergar.
‘Get cleaned up and rested,’ Kearns loomed over Lennox. He sounded disgusted. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘As will I,’ added a softer voice. Torkil. He reached out his hands, and Lennox finally released the shield. It was over, at last.
The castle was deathly quiet and dark as the grave. No sounds echoed through the Feliformia corridors. Once inside her room, Lennox sank to the floor, just by the door, and buried her face in her hands. She did not cry. She did not know how to cry. Her father had never let her. She knew only defeat, and isolation.
She was still for a long time. The dirt on her clothes, on her face, the leaves in her hair, did not bother her. She wanted them. They were a witness to what had happened, to her shame. If she wiped them clean there would be nothing to show, no outward sign of where she had been and what she had done.
She stayed, curled in on herself, until her legs locked in place, her back ached, and her limbs felt like stone. The dirt was dry on her face. Her fingers and toes numb. They would send her away. They always did. Whenever anything like this happened, whenever someone got hurt, and the finger was pointed at her, she was always sent away. It didn’t feel like rejection, not anymore. It was simply what happened. She didn’t fit in. Not anywhere. So she always left.
But this time, it was different. It was worse, and she knew why. Partly, it was because of Mannik. Partly. Her guilt rose in a surge, overwhelming her.
She should have visited him this week. She should have tried harder. He was her friend. The first she’d ever had. And she had given up on him too quickly. Her loyalty had been as thin as ice.
Her knees clicked as she resurrected herself, and struggled to her feet. She didn’t know what time it was, she didn’t care. She was going to make amends. Now. Before it was too late. She slipped out of bed, and through the dark corridors. Her father had taken her out at night, for a few exercises, all part of the 'education' he was determined she would endure, and she had always seen more clearly than he did. Night time was simply a different shade to her. Her vision was altered, not impeded. She walked down the corridors as swiftly as if it were daytime.
She headed towards the oldest part of the castle, where the walls were rough to touch. She walked all the way to the surgery and it was only when the door was in front of her, she remembered who else might be inside: Shergar! There was no way she could go in. Everyone blamed her for what had happened. If she was caught in the surgery now, with Shergar, they’d think she was after him. They’d think she was a psychopath.
On the way back, in the darkness, not thinking, only moving, she took a wrong turn. One door was all it took, and she found herself in the upper galley of the ancient Great Hall. Down below, on the dais where Torkil stood as he addressed the students, was a table as long as fallen tree, and gathered round were the Masters.
‘It appears that she’s broken the rules. She has to be publicly punished.’
It was Nighten, dispassionate, and definite, and there was no doubt in Lennox’s mind who, and what, they were talking about.
‘Shergar’s parents will want to know how it happen. He’ll be scarred for life.’ Nighten continued. Shergar was one of his most promising juniors. One he wanted to keep at Calgacos.
‘They’ll make trouble.’ This was Bambridge, Lennox recognised his low growl. From where she stood, she could only see the back of heads. No-one could see her. No-one should be able to see her, yet she did not feel safe. If she was sensible, she would leave before she was noticed. Torkil, it was said, knew everything that happened at Calgacos. No one knew quite how.
‘Of course,’ Nighten agreed. ‘I expect no less. I have to be able tell them we’ve the matter in hand. I’ll say she had a penknife, and panicked, and has been put in solitary. We could even make a thorough search of the houses. That might turn up a few interesting finds.’
‘And would be utterly pointless,’ Kearns sounded fed up. ‘We know it wasn’t a pen knife. So why bother searching. Say it was a sharp stone, and don’t, whatever you do, say she. If they hear from Shergar it was a girl, so be it. But don’t broadcast it. Let’s keep as quiet as we can about her.’
‘I never intended to tell them it was a her. It was an expression, that’s all,’ Nighten was quick to reply; too quick. His curt words fell into a chasm of silence. Lennox could only imagine the look Kearns gave Nighten. She took hold of the handle behind her back, and eased the door open. She had to get away.
‘One advantage to this situation is that we now have no doubt about Lennox.’ This was the first time she’d heard Torkil speak. He was a master at taking his time, listening to others, before he had the final word. ‘She is what we thought she is.’
‘And our unwelcome guest?’ Kearns asked. ‘He now has an abundance of prey.’
Lennox paused, half way through the door.
‘What of him?’ Torkil was suddenly, brutally, matter of fact.
‘He’s restless, increasingly so,’ Conway added. ‘There are prints everywhere in the forest, in the hidden fells, and the dark hills. He is getting ready to strike.’
‘But not within our walls’ Torkil said.
‘No.’ Conway looked at Kearns. ‘No, not within our walls, at least not that we can detect, but he’s running around our grounds as if they were his own.’
For the first time then. Kellas spoke up. Lennox had not realised he was present, had not expected it, for he was not a master, and there were no other students present.
‘Then Lennox must be sent away,’ Kellas said.
Lennox froze.
‘Because…?’ Torkil asked.
‘Because it is only a matter of time before whoever it is we harbour, unwittingly, unwillingly, will strike against her, and we cannot allow that to happen.’
‘Because…’ This time it was Kearns asking.
‘Because…’ Kellas halted and no one interrupted. They wanted to hear him finish. His every word was telling.
‘… because she is vulnerable, because she deserves our support, because we have never had a girl before, and one like her, and we should do what we can to…’
Kellas tailed off into silence.
‘To what?’ Torkil asked.
‘To protect her.’ Kellas declared. ‘We have to send her away. It is her only chance.’
‘If we get rid of her, we aren’t protecting her. We are casting her adrift. We turn our backs on her.’ Kearns began with a whisper, but his voice grew into a roar. ‘Why do you want rid of her? Has she spurned you? Shown an interest in someone else? Duncan? And you are retaliating in the only way you know. By turning against one of your own kind.’
There was the unmistakable sound of chairs scraping across stone. Kellas and Kearns rising to their feet to face one another.
‘Sit down!’ Torkil was as soft voiced as ever, but there was steel within. ‘We decide this question, as we do all issues, around this table, together, by talking. We will vote. We do not fight like animals!’
Silence fell once more, like snow, small shreds, fragments of time.
‘Are we ready to vote?’ Torkil asked.
Lennox found her hand on the door was wet with sweat, her fingers stiff and cramp from squeezing so tight. Kellas wanted rid of her.
Torkil’s next words were her death knoll.
‘So she goes. I will tell her tomorrow,’
Numb, dazed, she closed the door, glided away, wandered back to her room. She had thought the night could not get any worse. She had been wrong. It was as if she had swallowed a hot coal. The pain was unbearable. Torkil had meant to keep her, despite the events of the night. She had almost survived here… but for Kellas.
If there was a traitor here; it was him, Kellas.
