Cyrus, not privy to this silent conversation, was intent on Tor. ‘Tell me the truth, boy. Is this falcon the freak Corlin was torturing?’
‘Yes,’ Tor mumbled.
‘Well, fuck me!’ The Prime clapped his hands. He even began to laugh. It sounded demonic. ‘I knew it. And you did this to him?’
Tor shook his head miserably. ‘No. It happened in the Heartwood before we found you.’
‘How then?’ Cyrus circled Tor and stared at Cloot with wonder. The bird obliged, offering his best angle, even lifting his wings to show off the gorgeous colours hiding beneath.
‘As soon as we arrived in the Great Forest he was transformed.’
Cyrus stopped circling. He was serious again. ‘Is the woman involved? This Lys?’
Tor nodded. ‘Yes. I don’t know any more than you
now. I was telling you that we were in Hatten. I was actually in a brothel at the time—’
‘What a surprise!’ said Cyrus, some of his humour returning.
Tor ignored the jibe. ‘And suddenly Cloot screamed into my head that you were in dire trouble and we had to leave immediately for Brewis.’
Cyrus cut in. ‘The falcon was allowed into the brothel with you?’
‘Er, no…’ Tor took a deep breath and plunged on. ‘Cloot can speak to me…in my head.’
‘And you can speak with him.’
It was not a question but Tor answered it as if it was. ‘Yes.’
The soldier sighed with wonder. ‘So, have you seen or met this Lys?’
‘No. She has never come to me. I have never heard her voice or dreamed of her existence. She has only ever visited Cloot…er, and yourself.’
Tor could tell that Cyrus had already decided to suspend all normal understanding and beliefs. He had accepted Cloot, the magic, the link, even Lys and was behaving as though he was receiving a briefing from one of his men. He could not help but admire him.
The soldier continued in a matter-of-fact manner as he paced. ‘So what is this all about—this running away from the Palace?’
Tor pressed on. It was a relief to share this with someone he trusted.
‘I disagree with the whole Inquisition thing but, like you say, Goth and his band have nothing
on me—well, perhaps suspicions but I’m well protected.’
Tor ran his fingers through his hair. He was a little confused himself now. It had seemed so clear a few days ago.
‘The King suspects I’m using the Power Arts but has hypocritically ignored this because it suits his needs. I couldn’t stand to be around him any longer. The Queen, like you realise now, can feel it. She has said nothing but then I know that if she could she would execute Goth for the murderous thug he is and dismantle the Inquisition immediately. The King, however, seems to fear the ancient past so upholds those antiquated laws. I had to get away.
‘Furthermore, you might as well know that Merkhud knows what I am. He is aware that I’m sentient and using my powers to heal. He is terrified I’ll be caught. We’ve had words…unpleasant words. It really was best to leave. Instead he suggested I should take the chance to learn more about the history of the Kingdom. He believes that if I understand how the Inquisitors came to be then I may be more careful, perhaps more tolerant. I think he hopes I may be more cautious.’
Cyrus looked unconvinced. ‘So he’s sending you off on this wild errand to Ildagarth?’
Tor considered this. He knew in his own heart it was a thin premise.
‘Actually, it’s probably a good idea. I could use the change of scenery. I want to go back to the Heartwood and I want to try and find out more
about Lys. Somehow she seems to be at the centre of all this.’
Cyrus nodded. ‘Now that’s something on which I do agree. That’s why I’m coming with you.’
‘You’re what?’ Tor was shocked.
‘You heard. She’s already told me I have to, so don’t start blustering. Save your energy. I’m as much her puppet as you and the bird are. Plus, I didn’t ride for six days, nearly killing my horse to catch up with you, only to ride back again!’
‘But how can you leave? How will the Palace cope without you?’ Tor was almost babbling.
‘In case it has escaped you, boy, I’ve already left. And everyone will cope without me in the same way they will without you. I don’t understand any of this and I don’t understand you but I know we are joined, Torkyn Gynt, and I know I must travel with you on this strange journey.’ He stared hard into Tor’s bright blue eyes. ‘Let’s not fight it. Let’s just accept. I’ll be back shortly.’
Cyrus left, his strides long and deliberate.
Tor looked at Cloot and blew his cheeks out, his mind completely confused now.
So, what do you think?
I don’t think, Tor, I do. Cyrus is right. If Lys has talked to him then she is making all the decisions for us.
But what does it mean?
Don’t ask me questions I have no idea how to answer. All we know is that the three of us are linked somehow. We both knew as much anyway. We must follow her will. What other choice is there?
Tor thought it over.
You’re right. One thing, though, and I’ve given it a great deal of thought since we left: I expected more of a fight from Merkhud. He seemed to give in too easily about my leaving. I think he knows more than he tells me.
Cloot agreed. He was deeply suspicious of Merkhud and his motives.
After a night’s rest the odd trio set off, heading north. After several hours Cloot flew back to Tor, landing on his arm.
‘Something wrong?’ Cyrus asked Tor casually, who shook his head as if to say he did not know. It was not usual for Cloot to sit on his arm.
Cloot perched quietly for a short while.
I didn’t tell you this earlier because I needed to think on it.
The falcon fixed Tor with a single yellow eye.
Lys came to me last night.
Tor pulled harshly on Timara’s reins and she obediently stopped her gentle canter.
‘Something
is
wrong,’ said Cyrus, halting his own horse.
Tor spoke aloud. ‘Cloot’s only just decided to mention that Lys paid him a visit last night.’
Cyrus did not seem overly surprised. ‘And?’
We’re waiting,
Tor said to Cloot across the link.
The bird ignored his tone.
A few miles to the west of here is the fringe of the Great Forest. She wants us to head that way.
And I suppose there was no explanation why as usual,
Tor snapped.
Well actually, now you mention it, I think she thought we might like to take a woodland picnic with her.
The falcon flew off, his sarcastic reply burning Tor’s cheeks red.
‘Tell me,’ said Cyrus flatly.
‘Apparently our lady friend would like us to head west for a while until we reach the fringe of the Great Forest.’
‘And?’
‘That’s it. That’s all we know.’
Something in the young man’s troubled expression warned Cyrus not to press it further. ‘Fine. I know where we’re supposed to go. The forest curves around about three or four miles slightly west of here and then it bends back around sharply. We should be able to get there by this evening if we ride briskly.’
He sounded like a true soldier. There was no emotion in his voice and no longer any query in it. Tor was grateful for that much.
Hours before their first glimpse of the Great Forest, the three of them sensed its strange pull. Cyrus felt it more strongly than his companions and, as they began to skirt the fringe of the woodland, he became quieter. By the time the afternoon had sunk into chilly late evening, he was completely silent. Tor was concerned. Since they had decided to obey Lys, Cyrus
had kept up a much needed narrative on Palace gossip to distract all of them from more sinister thoughts of where this strange adventure was leading them. Now that Cyrus had fallen into this mood it stirred new anxieties.
What do we do?
Tor asked Cloot.
We shouldn’t enter yet, I don’t think. Lys had a particular spot she wanted us to find. We’re close though—I feel it.
Well, how will you know it?
Trust me. She’ll show us.
Cloot landed on Tor’s shoulder. He had ranged high and broad from his friends all day and it was comforting to have him back Tor admitted silently.
Right now, I’d say we make camp for the night and tackle the forest in the morning. Cyrus is behaving oddly and the dark can play tricks on men. This place is enchanted enough without one of us turning strange.
Tor nodded. ‘Right,’ he said aloud and rather too cheerily, hoping to snap Cyrus out of his brooding. ‘I’ll collect some firewood.’
I’m off to find some dinner,
Cloot called, already way above the treeline.
Stay alert,
he added.
Tor busied himself with setting and lighting the fire but he too felt the forest around him, almost calling to him. He remembered the first time he had sensed its power, that day when Cloot had transformed. At that time he had felt unnerved by its power; now he felt protected by it.
He looked over at Cyrus who was going about his
chores more out of habit it seemed rather than out of any conscious thought.
When they were comfortable, warm and had finished chewing on their dried meat and hunks of cheese and bread, Tor began to hum an old song which his mother used to sing. It felt comforting amongst the sensations of the forest’s constant calling and the strange disquiet that troubled Cyrus. His voice was pleasant enough and he continued to hum the lullaby as he readied himself for sleep. When he looked up to wish Cyrus a good night’s rest, he was surprised to see the soldier was weeping softly. He stopped his tune.
‘That was my wife’s favourite song.’
‘I’m sorry I—’
‘No. Don’t be sorry. It’s lovely to hear it again. I think I pushed it so far from my mind during those early years that I’d forgotten it.’
‘Do you still miss her, Cyrus?’
‘Deeply. Every day,’ he replied.
‘And there’s never been anyone else for you?’ Tor could have pulled out his own tongue for his bludgeon-like directness.
‘Plenty. Like you, I enjoy women and just like you, I keep it casual. No, there never will be anyone else I’ll share my life with. When you’ve known perfect love, as I have, you don’t even bother to look again.’ There was no regret in his voice, just resignation.
Tor shook his head. ‘It must be terrifying to love someone like that.’
‘It’s the only way to love someone. Have you never been truly in love, Tor?’
‘Once. But I lost her.’
‘Dead?’ Cyrus sounded shocked.
‘No. Well, I don’t think so. That’s another reason why I left the Palace. Somehow I have this feeling I might be able to find her, if I look hard enough.’
Tor shrugged and held out the wineskin to Cyrus who took and raised it in a toast.
‘To lost souls then and to finding love again,’ he said, smiling at last.
Tor seized the moment. ‘Cyrus, do you mind if I ask what happened today?’ He hoped his sense of timing was sharp this night. ‘I mean, why you’ve been so withdrawn?’
The Prime let out a long sigh and lay back on his bedroll. He turned on his side, his back to the deep shadow of the forest which loomed in the distance.
‘Didn’t you feel it?’ he asked.
‘Feel what?’
‘Perhaps it was just me then.’ Cyrus was almost whispering. His eyes were closing.
‘What did you feel, Cyrus?’ Tor kept the fear at bay by warming his hands against the happy, dancing flames of the fire.
‘I felt a great sadness wash over me. It seemed as though all the grief I’d held over these years, all that melancholy, passed through me again…and then it was gone.’
‘Gone?’
‘Cleansed. Now I feel nothing except a burning desire to re-enter the forest and I’m scared of the feeling. I’m frightened of what it means.’
Tor snuggled into his bedroll too. ‘Cloot’s certainly glad to be back here,’ he offered in consolation.
‘There’s more though,’ Cyrus mumbled. ‘I have this overwhelming sense of…destiny.’
It had been a full Eighthday since the Prime was last seen. Herek was used to Cyrus’s shifting moods; there were occasions when he sensed it was best just to leave the man be. He was complex, could brood for days—sometimes on the past, often on an event which had just occurred. He was a deep thinker and his decisions were rarely rash.
This had seemed to be one of those times when Cyrus needed to be alone and Herek had not thought to question it. He was the Prime, after all. They had returned from the south to the news that Physic Gynt had left the Palace bound for the great Caremboche Festival. He was representing the royals this year in the stead of Physic Merkhud who was ailing.
It was a logical notion to send Gynt. But Cyrus had reacted strangely to it. He had fallen into a foul humour upon hearing the news and this had spiralled into one of his famous black moods where the entire Company knew to give him a very wide berth. Two days later he had announced to Herek that he had some personal matters to see to up north and ordered Herek to assume command until he returned. Well, now that time had stretched into eight days without
any word and Herek was worried. Cyrus had looked drawn during the patrol. He had complained of sleeping badly and dreaming constantly. Herek had not thought much about it at the time but now realised Cyrus had definitely been out of sorts.
Perhaps the Prime had taken himself off on a brief sabbatical? But being the professional they knew him to be, he would have mentioned it to his second-in-command. He was not a man to disappear without any follow-up word and yet this was precisely what he had done. He had taken his horse, a few provisions, packed lightly and even left without formal word to their majesties; again totally unlike the Prime’s normal protocol. Herek would be lying if he did not admit he was worried, which was why he had requested an appointment with the King this morning.
He waited in the antechamber until he was announced. Drake met him at the door and sniffed at his heels as he walked across the room to bow low to King Lorys.
‘Ah yes, Herek. Welcome. Are you thirsty, man? I was just thinking of a cool ale.’