The Seer And The Sword (11 page)

He sliced through the gag with his dagger. The quiet in the room seemed very loud.

‘Grieving the death of your grandmother and your
father, you are completely unable to hold festivities. I’ve taken the liberty of sending your guests away.’

‘Too late,’ she mourned. ‘I was too late.’

‘Never mind, darling. We all make mistakes.’

She shivered under his cold eyes.

‘You.’ Her voice dripped with loathing. ‘You killed your king.’

‘Not I, dear Torina. An assassin. The Bellandran orphan, regrettably left alive all these years.’

‘What new lie is this?’ Her stomach churned with fear and aversion. ‘You hope to blame your crime on – Landen? Don’t pretend with me, Vesputo! I saw what I saw!’

‘You saw through the lens of madness. I hope you’ll recover soon.’

‘Madness? Yes. I was mad. To think I once loved you!’

‘Once loved me. Will love me.’

‘I suppose you mean to kill me. It doesn’t matter. Go ahead with it.’

‘No, no, sweet princess. Quite the contrary. When your wild mourning period has passed, we will marry. Archeld needs a new king.’

He slung a chair in front of her, his face inches from hers. She shrank from him, wishing he would untie her hands. She wanted to see if the crystal was still there in a pocket of her dress.

‘The kingdom won’t ever be yours through me,’ she answered, trembling. ‘If you want it, you’ll have to take it by force.’

He pursed his lips as if annoyed by a petty irritant.
‘The loss of life would be dreadful. No, Torina. Everyone knows we love each other. You love me so dearly, I’m the only one you’ll agree to see. You refuse even your mother.’

She gasped. ‘You’re not the king! You can’t keep us apart!’

‘Certainly I can. Everyone knows your penchant for dramatics. Overcome by grief, your mind is disordered. You insist on shutting yourself away. I know you love our dear queen too much to want to risk her life.’

‘You wouldn’t kill Dreea! She’s never hurt anyone!’

‘Ah! Please, my dear, don’t weary me with your naivety.’

Torina paused. Vesputo’s calm, handsome face made her mind stagger. This was the man she had kissed!

‘Very well,’ she said, panting with dread. ‘I won’t see her. I’ll send her away if she asks to speak to me.’

‘Good! You learn quickly, my love, when you have a worthy teacher.’ He reached into his shirt, pulling out a fist.

Opening his hand, he extended the crystal, so that it rested in front of her eyes. Torina wanted to snatch it from him, feeling its purity would be contaminated by such a conscienceless man. But she was tied. Her heart thumped in powerless rebellion.

‘Now, Torina,’ he said. ‘I have questions. You shouldn’t have secrets from me, my love. Why didn’t you tell me about this lovely stone?’

Tears fought their way into her eyes. ‘I haven’t told anyone about it, except my grandmother.’

‘No one else?’

‘No one,’ she lied.

‘Why keep it such a secret?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Ah. Don’t you? Where did you get it?’

‘My father gave it to me.’

‘And where did he get it?’

‘You should have left him alive, so you could ask him.’

‘How long have you had it?’

‘Since I was a child.’

‘And it shows you the future?’

‘Sometimes. Please! Untie me, Vesputo. There’s nowhere to go; I’m sure you’ve seen to that.’

Now that Vesputo knew her powers, what if he tried to force her to tell him about her visions?

He freed her hands. She wiped her streaming eyes.

‘Better?’ Vesputo asked, holding up the crystal again. ‘Now tell me, how do you get this stone to tell the future?’

A tiny door of hope chinked in Torina’s mind. Vesputo thought she
did
something to get the crystal to work. Good! It would be easy to reinforce his mistake. She’d pretend there was a spell, and that she wasn’t quite sure how it operated.

‘I don’t know completely. It doesn’t work when I’m tired.’ Torina still tasted the bitter flavour in her mouth, and the edges of her mind felt smudged. She knew it wasn’t only grief. Someone had drugged her. If Vesputo could command such people, she didn’t want him putting her in a constant fog.

‘Ah.’ He put the crystal back in his shirt. ‘Then now isn’t the time.’ He stood up. ‘You have two months to grieve. Then, we marry as planned.’

‘Marry you! I never want to look at you again.’
At least he doesn’t know I can change the future sometimes, if I act quickly enough. But not this time! Oh Papa, I failed you
.

His eyes darkened. ‘It doesn’t matter what you want, my dear. You will learn to do exactly as I say.’ He went to the door. ‘I count the minutes till we meet again, my beautiful bride to be.’

Torina wanted to yell with all her might, but her throat closed. Vesputo would kill her friends, as he had threatened. She shuddered, staring at the wall.

A woman entered, dressed in an ornate gown of pale yellow silk, her long blonde braid extending below an embroidered cap, a light veil covering her face. She lifted the veil.

‘Irene is here to provide you with a woman’s care,’ Vesputo said over his shoulder as he left.

This fresh outrage frayed Torina even more. She felt as if her life were a dropped stitch that could never be knit again.

Irene freed her from the bonds, asking if she wanted anything to eat or drink. Miserably, Torina refused. Her stomach signalled no hunger. She lay down, silently begging sleep to take her away.

As Landen directed his horse toward Missht Pass in the Cheldan Mountains, he was glad of the chance to be utterly alone. Here, even nature was foreign: cold and desolate, filled with nothing but stones and bone-aching
wind. He was heading for Desante, Archeld’s neighbour to the east. He knew little about Desante, beyond the rudiments of geography, which reported thick forests and vast farmlands. And he knew the name of her king: Ardesen.

Desante was bordered by the Cheldan Mountains, and Missht Pass was the most treacherous crossing point. Far to the south, the mountains were less steep: Angrera Pass was much more hospitable, but probably well guarded. Landen hoped that by choosing this lonely path, he could skirt any outposts guarding the border, and shake any pursuers. The Missht landscape was so forbidding, there was only one thin track. The harsh environment seemed a fitting companion for Landen’s heart as he sped on his way.

Time was everything: Landen wasted none of it. He rode without stopping, filled with a hundred emotions that all seemed to return to one thing – the impossibility of staying near Torina when she faced a ruthless enemy. His sadness and danger fuelled the long, sleepless ride.

What did he take with him, to start life in another foreign land? His mind, his aching heart, his skilled hands. He must sell the horse that knew him like a friend; get rid of the thick hooded cloak that allowed him to weather the pass.

‘Along with everything else that belongs to my life in Archeld,’ he said to a twisted pine clinging to boulders above the tree line.

Sorrowfully, he surveyed Archeld one last time from the summit. The view let him see a long way in every direction.

North was Glavenrell, where King Dahmis had grown into a powerful peacemaker seeking broad alliances. The northern kings honoured him as the high king in disputes over boundaries or trade. Landen still wanted to serve Dahmis. But depending on when Vesputo struck, he might already be a hunted man. He didn’t want to present himself to King Dahmis with nothing to offer but a price on his head. If Vesputo struck down Kareed, Landen knew he was the chosen scapegoat.

He pondered the strangeness of life, which brought him to hope Kareed would live into old age. So it was: he prayed for a reprieve for Veldon’s murderer, the despoiler of Bellandra, the destroyer of Bellandra’s Sword. As long as the invader lived, Torina would be protected.

Southwest lay the province of Archeld that had once been Bellandra. Landen no longer felt drawn to go there. Every bit of knowledge he’d been able to gain about his former homeland told him it was nothing like the place of his boyhood. Oh, there were still artisans at work there: Bellandran pottery brought a high price in the markets; Bellandran weaving was all the fashion. But greed seemed to be the new ruler: people reportedly fought hard for the right to control wealth. And all the mystic healers and seers had disappeared. It was whispered they’d vanished as soon as Bellandra fell. There were even rumours that they’d never truly existed.

King Veldon’s face drifted vaguely across Landen’s inner vision. Veldon’s last words had been about
Bellandra’s Sword. ‘
Landen. The Sword of Bellandra. Take it and hide. Find someone to teach you . . . to fight
.’ But the young man could hardly remember his father’s features. The wondrous Sword still shone, deep in the heart of Bellandra’s prince, but only when he looked inward far enough, and he seldom looked any more. The Sword hadn’t saved Bellandra, and everyone agreed it was destroyed, its mystery and magic a thing of the past.

When he turned his horse, he could pinpoint the location of the garrison guarding the Desantian border. From his vantage, he picked out a way to go round it. A cold rain began. Landen ordered images of Torina to leave him and started down the mountain to Desante.

Vesputo sat in a large carved chair in the king’s rooms, flanked by Beron and Toban, his compatriots in treachery. Toban was a valuable man. Not only was he formidably strong, he also understood plants very well. Dreea had dropped from exhausted grief and anxiety, helped into sleep by a strong potion he had mixed.

There was a tap on the door. Irene entered, swishing her skirts. Vesputo smiled.

‘What news?’

‘She’s asleep. The door is locked.’

Vesputo nodded to Toban, and the large man left the room. He would stand guard over Torina’s door.

‘Come close, Irene, I want to show you something,’ Vesputo said.

She rubbed against him, smiling. He kissed her, savouring her lips.

‘What did you want to show me?’

From a drawer near his chair, he took Torina’s crystal, handing it to Irene. ‘Look into it, my love. Do you see anything?’

She held the glittering sphere in her lap, staring into it. This was the stone that had changed all his plans. Vesputo waited curiously, wondering if the crystal’s magic would work for Irene. He’d already tried looking himself, without success. Perhaps it only performed for females.

Irene looked up at him. ‘It’s blank as glass, my lord.’

Disappointed, Vesputo reached for the crystal. She held on to it, smiling at him.

‘If you let me have it, I might learn to use it. Then I could see the future for you, my lord.’

‘Hmmm. Interesting, my love. I’ll consider your request. Perhaps. You might want to see what you can find out from Torina, as you’ll be looking after her.’

In the cemetery where Ancilla had been buried only a few days before, a great crowd of mourners gathered for the funeral of their king. A large marble headstone displayed his epitaph:
Kareed Archelda, mighty king, beloved husband and father
.

Vesputo stood beside the priest, head solemnly bowed. Beside him, Queen Dreea wept. Torina was conspicuously absent.

The priest gave an eloquent eulogy. He spoke of Kareed’s many victories, prosperous kingdom, wise judgements. Vesputo grew restless as the minutes dragged on, though not a quiver betrayed him. At last
the service was complete, the prayers delivered, the flowers laid out. Vesputo moved closer to Dreea and took her hand.

‘Torina’s door is still barred to me,’ she sobbed, her face ravaged. Vesputo was pleased. There were people watching. The news would travel quickly. ‘When I knock, her voice tells me to go away. If I didn’t hear her myself, I couldn’t believe it. Not to pay her respects to her father! Torina loved him.’

‘She is distraught, madam.’

Dreea cried harder. ‘Yet she will see you.’

‘I give what comfort I can.’

‘Tonight I’ll have her door broken down. She cannot remain alone!’

‘My dear Queen, I know your heart is aching. Still, I would not advise breaking down the door. Her reason is too fragile now.’

‘Oh! My king! My only child!’ Dreea buried her face in her hands.

Torina lay awash on a sea of suffering. Oh, why hadn’t she been wiser? She’d failed herself, failed her kingdom, and fatally failed her father.

Irene prattled at Torina constantly, reporting every bit of vicious gossip in the castle. Did Torina know everyone thought she was mad? Had she heard how soldiers were combing the land for Landen, and that he wouldn’t get far?

Torina’s heart pounded in fury at the thought of Landen taking the blame for Vesputo’s crime. At the same time, an angry voice berated him for deserting her,
just when he was needed most. Why didn’t he warn her sooner? It was all too late. Too late.

She wanted her grandmother desperately, and the only solace she found was that at least with Gramere there had been time to say goodbye. But that always brought her father to mind. She kept seeing him in front of her, waiting for her words. How terrible was the finality of death. Not even to see his face one last time!

And her mother. Every day, Dreea came to her door begging to be allowed in. Every day, Torina forced herself to send the queen away, listened to her weeping cries, and hated Vesputo more.

He visited often, asking her about the crystal. She played the part of flustered, inept female trying to coax visions from a recalcitrant stone. She did everything she could to convince him the crystal only gave her occasional images and that most of the time what she saw confused her.

‘What has it told you of your own future?’ he once asked.

‘I’ve never seen my own future,’ she told him, hoping that mixing an honest answer in with half-lies would give the ring of truth to all she said.

‘No? What about mine?’

‘All I’ve seen of you is the crown on your head.’

There was a glint of triumph in his eye. ‘Ah.’ She could see her answer pleased him. ‘Tell me why you were with Kareed in his study that day.’

That day. The day he died. The day everything changed
.