32
Sanctuary

Rubyn squeezed Sarel’s hand. ‘I will see you again.’

They were following Gyl and Herek as they made their way towards the Ciprean palace. There was no time to think, let alone for her to stop and acknowledge his words so seriously spoken. But she did now. She pushed caution aside. Her situation was perilous enough not to worry further.

Sarel pulled him to a stop, leant forward and kissed Rubyn. ‘And I will see you.’

He nodded, his face grave and his expression focused entirely on her as though he was unaware of the Prime moving back towards them, frustrated by this stoppage.

‘You will make a great queen,’ he whispered, bowing to kiss her hand.

‘Your majesty, please,’ urged a breathless Herek. ‘There is no time for this.’

‘There must always be time for love,’ she said, turning to gaze at the perplexed soldier. ‘Come!’ she added, grabbing Rubyn’s hand again and breaking into a run.

Gyl had already reached Cyrus and Hela. There was relief written over everyone’s face that they had made it this far.

Cyrus addressed his King. ‘All right now. We split up here. Your highness, if you would accompany Rubyn and me, we will leave Herek and Hela to get Queen Sarel to safety.’

Gyl nodded, turning to Herek. ‘You know what to do.’

Herek saluted. ‘I do, sire and…may I add that you are not to wait for my return at the ship. Once you have Lauryn, leave.’ He stared at Cyrus. ‘That’s an order.’

Cyrus saluted as well. ‘Go!’ His gaze moved swiftly towards Hela. He said nothing; no expression showing on his face.

Hela felt hollow. This no longer felt like a farewell. It felt like a final goodbye. Suddenly the full sense of their flight from danger came home to roost and the chirpiness and courage she had always been able to dig deep and find deserted her. And there was no time to linger. She let her sad eyes do the talking. His never left hers as Herek shook his hand and the King offered words of luck. Her throat was too dry and choked to say anything and she found herself being jostled away from him.

And then finally he whispered something towards her. She just caught it. ‘May the Light guide you safely.’

‘And may it guide you back to me,’ she whispered but knew he had not heard for he had already turned and was moving into the shadows towards a small, unguarded entrance on the western side of the Ciprean palace.

Orlac was running, Lauryn limp in his arms and oblivious to his bid for her freedom. He careened around a corner into one of the lesser used wings of the palace and startled a servant hurrying in the opposite direction. Recognising him she froze. All the palace staff—except Juno and Titus he realised—were terrified of him. He wondered briefly how Lauryn’s companions fared since Dorgryl had had them locked up and under guard in one of the dungeons.

When Dorgryl had stolen and then attacked Lauryn that first night, Orlac—even from his withdrawn place—had noticed that both had cast out anxiously. Dorgryl had noted it too. So, we have two sentients amongst us, Orlac recalled him saying scornfully. You make an interesting pair. I shall find out more later. And then he had stunned them with a bolt of his own magic, wisely choosing to keep them alive until he had time to find out exactly who they were. He had ordered the guards to keep them drugged until he returned. But Dorgryl had not returned, preferring his entertainment with Lauryn.

Orlac brought himself back to the present and the terrified maid. ‘Is there a way out down here?’ he hurled at her, hoping to frighten her into speaking.

She shrank back, looking around for an exit. ‘Sire?’

‘Answer me, damn you! Can I get into the gardens from here? Quick, woman, this is urgent.’

She found her wits. ‘Yes, sire. But don’t go that way. There are three strangers…armed, sire. I—I just happened to be taking a short cut into the palace and saw them. I must raise the alarm.’

‘Who are they?’ he demanded, reaching for her arm then thinking better of it when she looked as though she would start screaming.

‘Tallinese, sire. One wears the crimson!’ She took off like a frightened bird, fluttering down the corridor.

Orlac’s mind raced. Tallinese? Luck was with him tonight. He ran straight towards them.

Herek and Hela flanked Sarel as they moved stealthily into the city itself. In any other circumstances the soldier might have found himself intimidated by the magnificence of this city, so beautiful in every way. Yet curiously, in his tension, he found himself admiring even the exquisite manner of the way its artisans had fashioned everything, from doorknockers to drains. Tal was an imposing city but it had none of this elegance or grace.

Hela was speaking and he dragged his mind from some admirable ironwork.

‘…his house is not far.’

‘Sorry, Hela. Whose?’

She had not noticed his vagueness and repeated herself without pausing. ‘Councillor Heyn. He is the most senior of the Elders. He will recognise me, if not his Queen.’

‘How do you know he will help?’ Sarel asked.

‘Because he owes me a few favours,’ Hela quipped and winked at Herek, who decided he would not press for any further information.

Cyrus put his finger to his lips. He pointed towards a small, fairly inconsequential doorway through which he had seen the maid scurrying. The soldier knew they had been spotted but they were far too committed to this cause now to turn away. She would surely raise an alarm. So be it. He motioned for Gyl to draw his blade. They both did so together, silently.

Rubyn grimaced knowing how inconsequential a blade was against what lay behind those doors but he realised that to these men, a weapon felt safe. He shielded for all of them. His thoughts drifted once, briefly, to Sarel, the incredible sensation of her mouth so fleetingly against his lips. He would taste those lips again, he promised himself.

Cyrus nodded. They stepped out of the shadows towards the doorway and faltered with alarm as an incredibly tall, golden-haired man suddenly appeared in it.

‘Where are you?’ the man demanded. ‘Show yourself.’

In his arms was a woman, barely covered by a satin robe.

Without thinking Gyl rushed forward. ‘Lauryn!’

The tall man turned at the sound of the man’s voice. He recognised one as the King which impressed him. Most sovereigns would not risk their life in such a foolhardy manner. Blades were drawn and pointed at him. But his attention was snared by the calm countenance of the slim, fair-haired young man. The powers swirling about him were immense and Orlac could sense he had built a strong shield about them. It was an impressive show—this was no ordinary sentient.

He cast towards the young man. She lives but not for long. Take her. Get her to safety. Dorgryl comes. He will kill you all.

The other two were unbalanced by his lack of movement or even eye contact towards them.

‘Give her to me, Sylc,’ Gyl demanded.

‘Welcome, your majesty,’ Orlac said, his voice betraying no emotion.

This politeness only served to unbalance his enemies further. He handed Lauryn gently into Gyl’s arms. The King had to drop his sword to take her and Cyrus, baffled as to what was going on, bent cautiously to pick it up.

It was a shock to see Orlac again, so alive, so much larger than life. He felt his gut twist at the sight of him, wondering whether the god would recognise him. Of course he would not, but it did nothing to comfort his sudden fear of the mighty power which stood before him.

Rubyn spoke, unable to tear his gaze from the golden man. ‘He says we are all in danger from someone called Dorgryl, especially Lauryn.’

‘You must run,’ Orlac added to the warning. ‘He will try and recapture her and in the process will kill all you. Every second you waste here threatens your life.’ He gazed at Lauryn. ‘And hers.’ He looked straight at Gyl. ‘Get her to safety.’

‘Why do you help us?’ Cyrus asked. The question was loaded.

The god shook his head and answered the most obvious. ‘She deserves her life. She is braver than all of us. Tell her father to await me. I come soon. Now go! Dorgryl will already be searching.’

Gyl and Cyrus began running but Rubyn lingered.

He nodded at the golden man. ‘You are more noble than we anticipated.’

Orlac smiled ruefully. ‘Don’t pass your judgement so soon.’

‘I am Rubyn. One of the Three.’

‘The Three?’

‘We will destroy you.’

‘You can try.’

‘We will meet again in the Heartwood.’

‘Appropriate. Are you her brother?’

‘I am Torkyn Gynt’s son, yes.’

‘Her puppy is somewhere about these gardens. If you see it, you must take him. His name’s Pelyss. She would miss him sorely.’

Rubyn looked at the golden man with curiosity.

Orlac suddenly felt the touch of Dorgryl on his mind. He flinched. He knew Dorgryl felt it.

Orlac nodded. ‘It is a privilege to meet you, nephew, but I suggest you leave right now.’

Rubyn stared at him for just a moment longer. He bowed once to his uncle. When he looked back he saw Orlac’s eyes had turned red.

The King had thrown Lauryn over his shoulder. It was not one of the most respectful ways to carry one of the three people on whom the Land’s survival counted, but he accepted it was the only way he could move quickly and efficiently and still keep his weapon arm free.

They were approaching the docks when suddenly Cyrus stopped.

Gyl turned. ‘What! What’s wrong?’

Cyrus looked stricken. ‘Oh Light! Oh no.’

Rubyn caught up with the two men. ‘What’s happened?’

Cyrus looked towards the palace and then back towards the docks. ‘How could I have overlooked them? I have to go back.’

‘Don’t talk madness, man. Why? Who are you talking about?’

Cyrus smiled sadly at the King. ‘Take her. Get the ship moving. Take my boy with you,’ he said, looking at Rubyn with love. ‘Do not wait.’

‘Cyrus! Where do you go?’ demanded Rubyn.

The soldier turned back to them, regarding their shocked faces. He took Rubyn into his arms and hugged the young man fiercely. Then he looked at the King. ‘I’m sorry, your majesty. I have left behind friends. In my anxiety I had forgotten they were here. Adongo and Juno…they are Lauryn’s Paladin. We cannot leave them behind.’

Gyl was out of his depth here but he could tell it had something to do with his mother’s magical friends, having heard the name Paladin before. ‘Cyrus. You cannot be serious. They must be injured or perhaps dead if they are not with her. You must come now.’

Cyrus was already moving away from them. ‘I would know if they were not alive. Get The Raven sailing. Rubyn…somehow get yourself and Lauryn to the Heartwood. Don’t wait for Herek either.’

He turned and ran back up the hill towards a place where angry gods lurked.

Dorgryl fled from the Bleak, gloating over how he had rid himself of Xantia and cleverly entrapped Lys. He had known she would not fail to choose Alyssa over him—she had to let him go to save her daughter. And Lys’s powers so well matched his own there would be no point in her trying to fight him to hold him in the Bleak and risk hurting Alyssa. No, he had given her the best option even though she did not like it.

Throughout his time in the Bleak, Lys had been there for every tedious moment. It was the only way she could maintain another god’s imprisonment. The only break in that power had come at the precise second Torkyn Gynt had accidentally blundered into the Bleak. Dorgryl laughed. Lys had faltered at the unexpected arrival and Dorgryl had taken his chance. And now she had faltered again. To save her daughter she had to leave the Bleak but in doing so relinquished her hold over him.

Oh how he loved it! Arrogant, stupendously confident Lys…thwarted not once but twice.

And where had Orlac got to, he wondered. He congratulated himself on not giving up his hold on the god’s trace. If he had done, Orlac might have been able to escape his sensing.

Suspended between the Bleak and arrival back in Orlac’s body he linked. You cannot escape me yet, nephew.

He reached out for his host and made contact. Orlac flinched.

Ah, there you are, he whispered and travelled urgently, arriving just in time to see a young man running away. Who was that?

No one special, Orlac said. With Dorgryl’s presence inside him, he felt ugly and abused again.

I was extremely impressed by your trick.

Which one was that?

The one where you go very quiet and pretend not to hear me. The one where you wait—oh so patiently—for a moment when my guard is down.

Oh, that one.

It will never work again.

Then I shall have to devise a new trick.

I presume she is hidden then?

You are right.

I think I had finished with her anyway, Dorgryl said, casually. Nice body, your Lauryn has, but she never joined in.

Orlac deliberately kept his emotions under control. He took a deep breath. Dorgryl. I am finished with Cipres. I am finished with you. I now travel to finish Torkyn Gynt and fulfil my promise to Tallinor…whether you care for it or not.

Dorgryl did not so much as hesitate, speaking smoothly with a tone suggesting he was surprised Orlac had ever doubted him. Oh but I do, nephew. It was always our plan wasn’t it? And I do believe I owe you an apology. My behaviour has been abominable in taking over your body so completely. I don’t know what came over me.

Orlac knew he had one of two ways to go. He steadied himself, remembering Lauryn’s sweet smile and that he had won her freedom— which not so long ago had suddenly seemed all that counted—and he forced his voice to neutral; forbade his body to show in any way its fury. He lied just as smoothly as his uncle. You were right. I had lost my way for a while and you were correct to remind me that we show no mercy.

Oh? Dorgryl was not that easily fooled. He probed deeper, searching for any sign of guile and came up wanting.

Orlac continued, ignoring the probe as if he had not felt its touch. I cannot permit you to do this again. But I am somehow grateful that you did what you did. It has reawoken me.

Dorgryl laughed. It was edged in such cruelty, Orlac felt his control teeter. He could so easily take a knife to himself and end it all now. Dorgryl would then have to wander within the body of whomever happened to be passing by for he surely could not survive long outside of Orlac’s. But it was the vision of Lauryn which forbade him such action. The thought of possibly seeing her again made him choose life over death and this despair over peace. He knew they could never have anything between them except hate; he recalled how she had told him she would do everything she could to destroy him. And he had promised her there would be a confrontation between himself and his brother.

Dorgryl’s amusement ended. I do not believe a word of it but if it means we are not going to fight over my possession of your body, then I’m happy to go along with this.

You do not trust me?

No. Do you trust me?

You have not shown yourself to be trustworthy. But we have an agreement do we not? Once we have defeated Gynt and those who would protect him, I will help you defeat my father. Then we part company.

That’s an excellent plan. Dorgryl’s voice was tinged with sarcasm.

Once again, Orlac forced himself to remain focused and calm. Do you have a strategy?

It will shape itself. Do not fear on that account.

I mean how will you summon my father?

No need. He will be present. Trust me.

And although Orlac did not trust him, he smiled.

It was Gidyon who made it first into the clearing.

Gently, son, spoke the soft, smooth voice of Solyana.

The great wolf sat beside his parents. They were curled like lovers on the damp floor of the Forest. Not far away, Arabella and Sallementro sat stunned. The others came into view. Saxon’s eyes searched Sallementro despairingly—who would not meet his gaze—but then the Kloek did not need to be told anything. He had already felt the special brightness die within; guessed its import. It was the brightness which had been his connection to Alyssa since the moment he had seen her on that fateful day when the Cirq Zorros had introduced the famous Flying Foxes at the town of Fragglesham. He knew before this moment that Alyssa had gone to the Light; had known it the very second of her collapse amongst the forbidding Rork’yel Mountains. But he had not wanted to accept what he knew and so he had continued the charade of making it back here to see whether the Heartwood could save her.

Now he had to face the truth. Alyssa was dead. He was her Paladin and he had failed to protect her—had failed to give his own life for hers as was the creed.

Gidyon had halted in his tracks at the wolf’s words, unable to tear his eyes from the prone figures. A glance at Arabella and Sallementro told its own tragic story. Death was here. Saxon staggered past him and Gidyon’s two sturdy Paladin soon flanked him. Themesius pressed a hefty hand against one shoulder and he felt their Link open. No words were spoken but strength flowed through it. To his right, Figgis held his arm and joined the Link.

Be brave now, boy, the dwarf whispered.

Gidyon could not be brave; could not do much more than feel numb as he watched Saxon collapse to his knees next to Alyssa. He hated feeling it but relief coursed through his body when he saw his father stir and then rise to look about him. His face was dirty and tear-stained; his hair dishevelled; his expression as dead as the body which lay next to him.

‘She’s gone. I couldn’t save her,’ he mumbled and a heavy silence gripped them all as the words of truth were forced upon them and finally sank in.

The silence was broken by Cloot’s arrival. Something passed between Tor and his falcon because Gidyon saw fresh tears overcome his father as the bird settled on his shoulder.

Saxon stroked Alyssa’s hair and her cold cheek. It was the last time he would gaze on that beautiful face.

No more troubles for you now, my girl. I am undone by my failure. Forgive me for losing you, child. Be safe in the Light.

But Alyssa could no longer hear him.

Tor roused himself and Cloot moved soundlessly to the treetops above. Whatever the falcon had said had steadied Tor. He looked about him with new composure and felt the leaden grief of the others.

‘Darmud Coril could not reach her. It was her decision.’ He stepped towards his son and took him into his arms. ‘Your mother made a choice. I don’t understand it but she would never have left us without reason.’ He hugged his boy tight and then addressed the others. ‘Alyssa gave her life for something which threatened us. We must not let her sacrifice be in vain. We must prepare for the coming of Orlac.’

Solyana’s calm voice spoke. We must give her back to the trees.

‘No!’ Gidyon shouted, spinning around, tears stinging his eyes.

Themesius and Figgis were once again at Gidyon’s side as Tor bent down to pick up his beloved wife’s corpse.

It’s where she belongs, child, the wolf said.

Saxon bent and kissed the trailing hand. ‘Will Darmud Coril take her?’

Tor nodded. ‘Sallementro?’

The musician, stricken into silence, walked towards them and bent to kiss his bonded one. The others followed until there was only Tor and Gidyon left to say their farewell.

I will not say goodbye to her, Tor whispered into his mind. Somehow I will see her again. Perhaps not until we both meet in the Light.

Gidyon kissed his mother’s cheek, unable to check his emotion. Perhaps sooner, Father. I don’t believe she would let you go again so easily.

I don’t think she did, child. I think she let go with the greatest of difficulty.

They heard Darmud Coril’s voice summoning them.

‘My children,’ he said, with great sadness in his lovely face. ‘Give me our beloved Alyssa. I must return her body.’

‘Where to?’ Gidyon asked.

‘To its rightful place,’ the god answered.

Orlac saw the man approach but shielded the sight and any knowledge of it from Dorgryl, who was, as usual, airing his thoughts. Orlac rubbed his eyes as though a piece of grit was bothering him, and pretended to pay attention to Dorgryl’s comment.

I don’t believe our friends in the tower are telling us everything, the elder god mused.

Oh? replied Orlac, turning his back on Cyrus. Why would the man be so stupid as to come back? And for what?

There’s more to them than meets the eye, as I always suspected. Speaking of which, what’s wrong with yours? I can’t see a thing.

Dorgryl’s words suddenly threw open a door in Orlac’s mind. Of course! Titus and Juno had been protecting Lauryn. Who were they? He turned his back on Cyrus who was hiding in the shadows. Orlac sensed the man cast out. So, the soldier too was not what he seemed. Dorgryl continued to talk but Orlac ignored him; he needed time to think. He sat down on a nearby bench, deliberately turning his shoulder from Cyrus but keeping his senses open to him. Now Dorgryl sounded cross.

Orlac flashed inside. What?

I asked, repeated the elder god, what we are doing here? Smelling the lavender?

No! Leave me alone. I wish to think.

Dorgryl had more to say but Orlac stopped him.

Withdraw! he commanded. He felt stronger for having said it. He remembered the ugly feeling of Dorgryl’s possession of his entire body. He would never allow that to happen again.

His uncle became sulky. Tell me when you’re ready to talk. We have plans to make.

Orlac inhaled the night air and allowed his thoughts to roam. If Titus and Juno had been protecting Lauryn from the start, it meant they had known from the beginning who he was. He thought about Juno and the clever way in which she had always handled him—never discourteous or even vaguely disobedient and yet never quite under his control. Those watchful eyes, that careful, cautious manner of hers. He took himself back to their first meeting and realised how skilfully she had dissuaded him from bedding her which had been his full intention. Why? She was not afraid of him as the others in the palace all were. No, Juno was not afraid, she was respectful—and he knew that respect was not born of fear. It came from something far more subtle. He racked his clever, agile mind until the answer came to him. Until what had been staring him in the face for so long finally settled into place.

Juno was of the Paladin.

He had no proof of this—he just knew he was right. The Juno he had known had been mightily empowered yet aged, and this young woman was many ages her junior, but he accepted they were one and the same. And Titus…he did not even have to think long on this. He was the Moruk, Adongo. Of course. It made sense.

And this man, creeping around the Ciprean gardens, had surely returned to rescue the Paladin. Why else would he risk so much? Although Orlac had spent aeons battling the Paladin he had to admire them. Their courage was vast.

Another idea hit him. Perhaps this soldier was Paladin too. He was sentient, so why not? Orlac considered it for a moment and then could not stop the smile spreading on his face.

Cyruson…the old rogue. The wiliest of the ten. He had always liked him. Light! He had silently admired all of them and the way they pitched themselves against such power. And here they were again defying him.

What are you smiling about? Dorgryl asked.

‘I was just thinking,’ Orlac said loud enough for Cyrus to hear, ‘that I don’t wish to go to the dungeons tonight.’

But I want to question them. Why do you speak aloud?

‘Because it pleases me to do as I wish. Not as you wish. If I choose to speak aloud I shall and if I don’t want to go to the guardhouse and speak to the maid or the Moruk, I will not.’

And if I do? Dorgryl asked, confused by the sudden change which had come over his host.

I care not what you want. You will do exactly as I wish now, uncle. I am tired. I wish to sleep.

I shall keep you awake.

I think not. I shall let you know in the morning my plans for Tallinor.

Why wait so long?

Because it is the early hours of the morning. Later, rested, I shall think clearly. It’s your own fault for exhausting my resources so.

Why do I feel you are up to something?

No secrets, uncle. We want the same thing, you said. Let me rest this body of ours and tomorrow we sail for Tallinor.

In the shadows, Cyrus could not believe what he was hearing. Was it a trap? Or was Orlac deliberately conveying to him where to find those he had returned for? It puzzled him. Orlac was too dangerous to second guess so he dipped deep into his own instincts to gauge their advice.

Distracted in thought but noting that Orlac had drifted away into the gardens and was, he hoped, bound for his own chambers, Cyrus did not hear the man come up behind him. When a hand landed on his shoulder only his years of training prevented him from shouting out.

He turned, raising his sword, so alarmed that it took him a moment to realise it was Herek who had startled him.

‘Sorry,’ the Prime said softly.

Cyrus forced his breathing to return to normal. ‘What are you doing here, man?’

It was exactly how Cyrus had spoken to him in the old days. Herek, normally so dry and serious, grinned. ‘Couldn’t leave you.’

‘Those were my orders.’

‘I overrode them. I believe I am the senior officer. Anyway, why are we here?’

‘Paladin. Juno and Adongo. They have been protecting Lauryn, their bonded. We need to rescue them.’

‘From?’

‘The guardhouse apparently.’

‘How do we know this?’ Herek whispered, cautiously looking around.

‘Orlac told me.’

Herek was silent for a moment as he considered this. ‘Why would your sworn enemy give you helpful information?’

Cyrus shook his head. ‘Search me. I was trying to weigh up whether to trust it or not when you startled me.’

‘And?’

‘Undecided. Is Hela safe?’

Herek gave his old superior a sly glance. Fortunately for Cyrus it was too dark for his friend to see how angry he was with himself for asking after Hela and not Sarel.

Herek answered, ‘Queen Sarel is hidden for now. Your Hela is with her.’

‘She’s not my Hela.’

Herek shrugged. ‘The women are safe and protected by the senior member of the council of elders. Lauryn, I’m glad to say, is safe at the docks too.’

Cyrus swung his attention from a puppy which had entered the gardens to glare at the soldier crouching next to him. ‘You mean on The Raven which is now sailing for Kyrakavia?’

Herek sighed. ‘No one will go without you.’

‘Damn you, Herek. I gave orders!’ Cyrus hissed.

‘And I told you. I overrode them. Now let’s get these people out and then we all go.’

Cyrus fumed in his silence.

‘Are you going to consult your instincts again?’ Herek asked, daring the legendary anger of Kyt Cyrus to boil over.

It did not, thankfully. Cyrus suddenly stood and Herek followed suit. ‘He knew I was here. He’s too clever. He gave me the information as deliberately as he gave Lauryn back to us.’

‘Do you understand any of it?’

Cyrus shook his head. ‘No. But my memories have returned since all of the Paladin linked. And I do recall that there was a certain nobility about the madman we battled for centuries. When one of us succumbed to his powers, he would stop the flow. There was something rather principled and dignified about the strange way in which he would give us time to mourn our loss. He was ruthless and his strength enormous and yet he showed odd mercies.’

‘And you think this might be that nobility coming out…telling you where your friends are?’ Herek asked in amazement.

Cyrus shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I have no explanation for it. He gave us back Lauryn. Why would he do that? He could have killed me earlier in less time than it takes to blink—Light!—he could have killed all of us including the King. But he didn’t. It’s baffling. He’s never been predictable, that’s for sure. But in this he has me in confusion.’

‘Can you talk to your two friends, as you do the boy?’

‘I would but I fear he might be listening.’

‘But he’s already paved the way.’

‘No. I mean the other one he spoke of. Dorgryl.’

‘Then let us make our way to the guardhouse. Time is marching on.’

‘Indeed,’ Cyrus said. ‘I can’t imagine the guards will yield their prisoners happily. Are you ready to go down fighting next to me, Herek?’

‘I always have been, sir,’ Herek said, drawing his blade.

Rubyn insisted. ‘I have to go to him.’

Gyl rubbed his eyes. ‘I forbid it.’

Rubyn did not flinch; his expression did not change. He just locked stares with the King. Then he spoke quietly. ‘You and I are similar. Neither of us have known our real fathers but we’ve known a love which comes close.’

The King was taken aback—not just by the sudden switch in topic but by the fact that Rubyn seemed to know such intimate details.

‘And?’ he replied, defensively.

‘That’s all,’ Rubyn said. ‘I must go. Lauryn has woken. I think you should be at her side.’

‘How do you know? I checked on her just moments ago.’

‘I am her brother, sire. We are…connected.’ He turned and Gyl watched the young man leave the ship and walk purposefully into the night. What a totally baffling character he was.

Gyl moved towards the stairs which led to the chambers below but then shouted new orders to Locky.

‘Ready when you are, sire…and when Prime Herek returns to my ship. I’m not going without him,’ The Raven’s captain replied.

The King told himself heads would roll over all this insubordination. But the truth was his sense of danger was overcome by the knowledge that in the old captain’s stateroom lay a young woman he loved very much—and suddenly not much else mattered at this precise moment other than knowing she was safe.

He took the stairs two at a time.

They had almost made it; almost pulled it off without a drop of blood being spilled or so much as a single man being bludgeoned senseless. Cyrus could believe that Orlac might have even withdrawn part of the watch that night because it just seemed too easy to enter the guardhouse and find their way down to the holding cells.

‘Where is everyone?’ Herek whispered nervously.

‘Just count our blessings but watch my back.’

The two soldiers stepped cautiously, back to back, along the short, darkened corridor. A single flame burned pitifully at one end but it left the other end—where they were headed—in darkness.

They arrived at the last cell and peered into the shadows, blinking. In its recesses they could just make out bodies curled on the floor.

‘Adongo?’

‘Who goes there?’ It was a woman. Cyrus did not recognise the voice. She sounded startled.

‘Juno?’

There was a rustling as the figures stood. ‘Who is this?’ A man this time. Cautious. ‘There is no Adongo here. I am Titus.’

Cyrus could not help but smile. It was such a familiar voice. ‘My old friend. You cannot fool me. This is Kyt Cyrus. You knew me as Cyruson of the Paladin.’

Hands reached through the bars of the cell and suddenly Cyrus was gripped in a strong hold; a swarthy face came into view. ‘We owe you thanks.’ The words were simple enough but the eyes of the owner who spoke them conveyed a far stronger emotion. Cyrus returned the grip. He nodded, the thrill of the reunion with Adongo catching at his throat. ‘The Light has guided us together again.’

‘Into danger again together too,’ said a petite, pretty woman appearing at Adongo’s side.

Cyrus showed his appreciation. ‘Well, that’s not the Juno I remember,’ he admitted.

They laughed.

Herek hushed them. ‘Cyrus, we must hurry.’

‘This is Herek. He is the Prime of Tallinor. I am privileged to call him friend.’

Despite his fear for their situation, Herek felt pride at such words. He nodded politely at the prisoners. ‘Time is short. Keys?’

‘Over there,’ Juno pointed. ‘Prison security is slack in Cipres. We are its first prisoners since some pair faced the Kiss of the Silver Maiden.’

Cyrus frowned. ‘Don’t ask,’ Adongo cautioned.

Herek fetched the keys and attempted to open the door as quietly as possible.

‘Where are your guards?’ the Prime asked.

Adongo shrugged and Juno answered. ‘They were called away a short while ago. We have no idea where to or why.’

‘Our luck,’ Cyrus said, pulling back the door and then hugging Juno. ‘I definitely like the new Juno.’ He grinned and pulled Adongo close.

The Moruk’s smile faded. ‘Where is he?’

Cyrus knew whom he meant. ‘Occupied.’

Juno could not bear to ask the question but knew she must. ‘Tell us of Lauryn.’

‘Safe,’ Cyrus said. ‘We have her on a ship which is being delayed because we had to come back for you two.’

Their relief at good news after three days of suffering the torment of not knowing Lauryn’s fate was evident on their faces.

‘You should have left us,’ Juno admonished.

‘Well, Herek wanted to, of course,’ Cyrus said nodding towards the stunned Prime. ‘But I could not contemplate such a thing.’

He winked and Herek scowled. ‘I think we must get out of here now.’

As he said it, guards arrived at the other end of the corridor.

‘Swords, I think,’ was all Cyrus had time to say before the men were upon them.

Rubyn entered the Ciprean palace by the same western gate as he had earlier that night. This time, however, it was manned and he took the precaution of making himself invisible for the short time required to silently pass the man on watch. The soldier was not paying much attention anyway as he relieved himself at the side of the road. Still, Rubyn was not taking any chances and the push of magic was small. Invisibility was his favourite trick and he had often driven Cyrus to distraction by teasing him with his skill from a very young age.

Tell me you felt that, Dorgryl grumbled, confused by their inactivity.

I felt it, his nephew replied calmly.

Well?

It is the son. Gynt’s third-born, Rubyn.

You seem to know him.

We met…whilst you were otherwise engaged.

And?

Nothing. He told me who he was when I gave him back his sister. He shrugged. I mentioned her dog, I think.

Dorgryl growled. He was angry again. You are weak like your father!

Only you can know that, uncle. I have not met him since I was an infant, remember?

The elder god continued as though Orlac had not spoken. Weak like your father and weak like your brother.

Be careful, Dorgryl.

His uncle wisely held his tongue.

They felt the push of magic again. This time it was Rubyn casting. They listened.

Where are you?

They heard Cyrus reply amidst the clang of metal. Tell me, damn you, that you are not here.

I am here.

Cyrus grunted and hit out hard with his sword. Then help us! Herek is down.

Cyrus fought back hard. They were trapped in the dungeons, their backs to the wall and as each Ciprean guard fell to the blade of Cyrus, another took his place. Herek was bleeding badly from a gash to his groin; a cowardly blow from a downed guard who slashed upwards with a dagger and connected.

‘Adongo!’ Cyrus cried, not able to see what had happened.

‘He lives. Not long for this world though unless we can get help.’

Cyrus began to fight like a man possessed. He bared his teeth and drove his attackers back. The former prime’s talent with the sword had been unmatched in his time at the head of the Company and every nuance, every subtlety of his skill came to the fore in this corridor of terror. Even as his lifeblood spilled about him Herek smiled. It seemed to Juno who clutched him, begging him to hold on, that his smile came from far away as he admired once again Kyt Cyrus brandishing his sword. To Herek he looked like a dancer with every cut in the air precisely made, wearing his opponent down until a deathblow could be landed. How could he lie here in a pool of his own blood as this man fought valiantly? No, they must die together. Side by side. He would not desert Cyrus until the Light took him away.

With one almighty push using strength he did not know he possessed Herek gave a loud Tallinese battle cry and shoved himself to his feet making a timely slash and almost hacking off one guard’s head with his passion to stand once more alongside his former prime. Alas, it was the last dash Prime Herek would make in this life. He tasted death at the end of a viciously jagged Ciprean sword, falling heavily at the feet of Cyrus as the Light finally claimed one of its bravest.

Cyrus could feel himself tiring as another man queued to take the present fighter’s position as soon as he fell. He knew they were dead without Rubyn’s help. It seemed to him that Adongo and Juno—like him—had not been bestowed with any special powers. He was a warrior. His job now was to fight to the death and protect those behind him. But when Herek had suddenly screamed ‘Honour the Crimson’, he felt a surge of blood fire his fury. It turned to despair as a Ciprean stabbed forward and took Herek square in the belly. And as he faltered, staring at his friend fallen at his feet, he felt the lift of the blade that was destined to cut through his left shoulder to his waist.

He anticipated it. Did he welcome it? He could not be sure. But he braced himself and spared one last thought for the young man he loved as much as the true son who had died too young.

The blow came but it was not one which drew blood. Instead he felt as though all the air was suddenly sucked from his lungs and a burning occurred around him. The impact of the sensation forced his eyes shut and he grimaced through this strange pain. If Cyrus had turned around he would have seen a similar expression on the faces of Adongo and Juno whilst in front he would have noticed only one of complete shock on the faces of his attackers.

At his feet, Herek’s face was slack. He felt nothing.

Why? Dorgryl boomed in his mind, blood-red mist spilling up where Orlac did not want to feel it.

Orlac forced it back, used his strength. He knew how to wield it better against the old god now and felt the give. I will beat you, he said smiling to himself. To his uncle he merely shrugged.

The elder god was unnerved by the power. Orlac did not quite have his measure yet but Dorgryl had told himself, since he first clothed himself with his nephew’s flesh, that he would have to rely on his wiles. The young man was incredibly strong with the power and even now he had barely tapped its well.

Answer me! he roared; his anger all he had left to use against Orlac.

His nephew sighed and spoke quietly. I will do this my way, not yours.

You will go to the Heartwood?

Yes. It is fitting.

Cyrus felt his body crunch down hard. He rolled onto his back, groaning, still not daring to open his eyes. He knew he still had his sword in his hand and was ready to strike just as soon as he could drag in a lungful of breath.

He thought he could feel boards beneath him now and the freshness of a sea breeze stirring his hair. All of his senses had returned and he could smell fish, hear the creak of a ship about him. His eyes opened in shock and he sat up, breathing hard.

‘What the—’

‘Cyrus,’ said the familiar voice of Rubyn. ‘Be easy.’

The former prime stared wildly around picking out the faces of the ship’s young captain, Locky, and various soldiers and crew he recalled.

‘The Raven?’ he said, disbelief crowding his voice as he looked for Rubyn.

Hands picked him up gently. It was the King who looked as shocked as he felt.

‘I don’t understand this,’ Gyl said.

Nearby Adongo and Juno looked similarly drugged and blurry-eyed as they too gathered their wits.

Rubyn appeared in front of him. ‘We are on The Raven, yes. We must go, now.’ He emphasised his final word and Locky—still too shocked from seeing Herek’s corpse to speak—nodded, giving orders immediately through well-practised signals his stepfather had taught him. He was grateful for the experienced, albeit smaller, crew which reacted instantly to his signal. The ship had been ready for hours and it felt as if only moments passed before they pushed away from the quay as quietly as they had arrived. The gods smiled on them that night and the breeze Cyrus had felt gathered strength and guided them swiftly into open waters. The Raven, true to her reputation, slipped through the waves as keenly as a knife, rushing her precious cargo towards the coastline of Tallinor.

Cyrus shook his head to clear it and looked to the King.

‘Herek is dead,’ Gyl said, his voice choked.

‘I know. Is he here?’

The King nodded, stepping back to reveal the prone body of his loyal Prime.

‘Ah, Herek,’ Cyrus said sadly, moving towards his old friend. He kneeled beside him and touched his face. ‘Brave Herek.’ He took the soldier’s hand and held it against his own heart, murmuring special words whispered only by warriors over the bodies of their fallen brothers.

Cyrus passed his hand over the man’s eyes, closing them, and felt the presence of Rubyn kneeling beside him.

‘Thank you,’ he said, turning to his bonded one. ‘Thank you for bringing him with us.’