The Tessellation Saga. Book Two. 'The One' (13 page)

‘She’ll be fine
Gideon, she’ll need love and care but she’ll be fine.’ Dotty
replied, marvelling at the depth of emotion she could see in Jed’s
eyes.
He likes me!
She thought.

‘Next boy,
next, yer
my
son,
mine,
an’ ‘e’ ain’t gonna get yer
back, king or no,’ Jed finished forcefully and tightened his arm
pulling the boy toward him and hating the look of pain and
confusion on his son’s face.

‘Please…
Please, you don’t seem to understand, none of you do!’ Rhoàld
exclaimed aloud, his face full of sympathy and concern, he
continued as all the faces suddenly looked at him for answers.
‘King Gath does not want Gideon as a son; he wants… he wants
Gideon’s blood..., as he wanted mine.’ Rhoàld pulled up his sleeves
to show the many scars where Gath had drawn his blood and not cared
enough to heal the wounds properly. As they stared, he loosed his
sleeves and pulled down the collar of his shirt revealing the last
horrendous scar Gath had given him, the one that had almost killed
him; a dark red angry line that ran straight across an artery in
his neck. As the questions flooded toward him, Rhoàld seemed to
shrink before them.

‘Be calm my
friend,’ smiled Jayson placing a hand on Rhoàlds knee and as if
Rhoàld was a nervous animal Jayson’s own magic went to work calming
the anxious man. Varan glanced at Sonal, both of whom were sitting
silently and watching.

‘Mayhap we can
help,’ Sonal said and standing behind Rhoàld the brothers linked
arms and as their forearms locked, they began to sing.

The twins could
achieve balance without touching each other but as they clasped
arms their power seemed to expand and grow, becoming light and
radiant, an almost physical aura surrounding them.

Gideon, his
father and to a certain extent Gideon’s grandparents were used to
Sonal’s half-hearted mumbling under his breath and the magic that
inevitably followed but this was something else, something quite
astounding, they listened in awe to the majesty of the music the
brothers produced in perfectly balanced harmony.

The song filled
the room casting peace and truth about them all with its sweet and
subtle tones. Varan touched Rhoàld’s forehead and Rhoàld smiled
dreamily at the peace filling his body, he could feel Bastian
singing along with the song from deep inside his mind and he felt
comforted.

Lifting his
hand, Sonal pointed toward one of the whitewashed walls of the
cottage and Rhoàld seemed to glow, a sparkling aura of pure energy
linked the three men and broke away, flying from Sonal’s fingers
toward the wall. Where it hit, it dispersed breaking into tiny
fragments. The lights changed every few seconds just as the smoke
had the previous night only now there was so much more detail.
Rhoàld clenched at the arms of his chair, frightened again now as
he saw himself on the wall.
‘Relax love,’
Bastian whispered
deep in his head and began soothing and calming the terrified man.
Dispassionately now, Rhoàld watched the scene play out before him.
It was as if he and the others were watching scenes from his life,
each one both uncomfortable and unpleasant and each one diminishing
who he was in some way. The jumbled memories tumbled out of his
head one after the other.

In the first,
he was once again in the dungeons of Devilly castle, he saw himself
scream and rush forward, his hand reaching out for the knife blade
as it began its downward journey, slicing through the skin and
tissue of his hand as well as it finding its intended mark. Inside
his head, Bastian sobbed as the blade penetrated his naked body’s
back and pierced his heart. Silent tears ran down Rhoàld’s face as
again, he saw Bastian rear backward looking in pain and surprise at
his king before lovingly looking toward Rhoàld, his sorrow evident
in his expression.

The song
changed and Gath stood before him, again with a knife in his hand,
he saw himself sitting almost naked on his bed in his rooms, an old
man reluctantly offering his lifeblood to the king. He watched as
his image closed his eyes and pushed himself hard onto the sharp
blade, again the blade sliced through skin and tissue and finding
an artery, a ribbon of deep dark blood began to pump swiftly into
the cup. Still Gath mumbled in a singsong voice as he reached down
and cupped his hands catching the fresh blood pouring from the deep
wound.

‘Observe me, my
friend,’ Gath cried, Rhoàld watched his king drinking his blood and
smearing what remained over his face, all the time he mumbled and
again Rhoàld felt his skin itching and his head become light. He
watched as Gath’s skin absorbed the viscous blood and through
blurred eyes, he saw the liver spots on his hands disappear and the
skin around his neck as it tightened. Rhoàld felt cold, knowing
that now everyone could see his sole purpose in life, was as
sustenance for their king. The blood flow slowed to almost a
trickle and at last, Gath looked upon the emaciated almost white
skinned body of his servant, Rhoàld was dying and he was smiling.
He smiled again now remembering it was then that he had last seen
Bastian in the ether and learned of his lover’s true fate. As he
watched, the image of himself bent his head to his chest in pain
and the wound closed as if tiny needles were drawing the sinew and
flesh together and he opened his eyes.

‘I should be
dead,’ he whispered.

‘You forget my
dear,’ the image of Gath replied, as he turned to leave the room
through the secret entrance, ‘You will not die until I let
you.’

Varan and Sonal
stopped singing abruptly.

‘Blood Magic!’
Sonal whispered in absolute horror. Varan said nothing, walking
steadily to Gideon who still on a stool beside his father, he
raised his palm and with it shaking badly he held it over Gideon’s
head.

‘You are the
one, the key,’ he whispered to himself and looking at his brother
he repeated it through the ether on a pathway only Sonal could
hear,
“Journey’s Will’, Sonal, you were right, you worked it
out, Gideon is the key!”
Jed looked up abruptly and stared at
the man who looked so like his friend, on Varan’s face he saw a
mixture of horror and awe.
One what?
He thought, as a cold
finger drew a pathway down his spine.

Out on the
Branton Road, young Jed awoke slowly as the afternoon turned into
evening; he was cold, hungry and covered in vomit from rolling in
his sleep.

‘G’awds
Strewth, I stink.’ He said quietly to himself wrinkling his nose in
disgust. Pulling himself upright, he brushed his clothes down as
best he could and started in the direction of Green Home. As time
passed, he thought of Lemba and his new friends and he realised
that he missed the entire company, not just Lemba and Dotty who had
spent so long with him teaching him the finger-speak. Lemba’s sad
smile haunted him as he continued to walk and as the moon appeared
over the horizon, it bathed the landscape in silver light,
immediately reminding him of her hair and the way it had floated
around her like a gossamer shroud the day he came across her in the
water. Remorse at his behaviour once again filled him and he shook
his head attempting to clear the guilty thoughts from his mind. He
smiled sadly and wondered where she was but shrugged his shoulders
knowing that rightly or wrongly, he had to stick with his decision
to get home but he fervently prayed he would meet up with her again
soon.

As the night
wore on, Jed, weary though he was, continued to trudge along the
road, he blew plumes of soft warm breath into his hands repeatedly
but still he felt cold. A feeling of foreboding had been growing in
him the nearer he got to his destination. By his reckoning, he was
still almost two days away and could not afford to stop.

Jed walked
almost on automaton, the rhythm of his steps echoing his heartbeat.
Lem-ba, Lem-ba, Lem-ba,
his brain sang with the familiar
pulse. Gradually though, he became aware that up ahead he could
hear noises, the occasional snorting horse or guffaw of laughter
carrying across the fields. Puzzled and knowing there were no towns
or encampments between Branton and Green Home Jed skipped off the
road noiselessly, once again fully alert with his military training
coming to the fore. He knew these noises; he had been on the road
for months when he first joined up, these noises he had lived with
intimately.

Silently, and
fully conscious of the fact that technically he was still AWOL, he
crawled forward to see which company was on the road. As he crawled
closer, he heard something else that made his blood chill, other
noises, women and children crying,
what’s goin’ on ‘ere?
He
thought as he crawled from bush to bush glad that his escape and
evasion skills had been the best. He grinned to himself, thinking
of Toby, who always tried so hard to beat him and he remembered the
snatches of conversation that had drifted out of the open window of
the Dog’s Neck.
Maybe this is ‘is company he thought, what did
‘e say again, ahh yes ‘e was going to Green ‘Ome ‘imself I think
an’ ‘e was going to find Gid. Well, if I see him I’ll try to
explain what I’m doin’, an’ maybe then e’ll help me, mayhap even
lend me n’ ‘orse, o‘corse I’d better make sure it’s ‘im first,
don’t wanna be arrested afore I can check on me fam’ly.
His
thoughts rumbled on as he continued to crawl silently on his belly
through the grasses and toward the encampment, an effort made all
the harder as the frozen grasses crackled with movement.

The light from
a cook’s fire revealed the banner of Gath’s Elite Corps, Jed
shuddered, everyone knew the reputation of these men and their
ruthlessness was infamous. ‘Tough and cruel,’ was a saying he had
heard many times over the years he had been in the king’s service
and it was not something he had ever wanted to investigate. He
began to circle the road even more carefully as he realised this
was no ordinary encampment.

Soldiers were
in place along one side of the road and occasionally one or more
would move out across the road to join another group stationed in
orderly lines.
Piquet lines,
Jed thought and as he watched,
he saw another trouper cross the road and join an established
pair.

The idea of a
staggered piquet Jed knew was that one soldier was always ready and
fresh to duty as the second was ready to be relieved.
‘By the
Journey’ what needs so heavy a guard?
Jed questioned, confused.
Curiosity got the better of him and he crawled closer to the road,
by the light of the many small piquet fires, he saw men and women,
children too, all huddled in small groups, each seemed to have a
guard of its own, by the secondary guards dress, Jed identified
them as slavers.

Jed felt bad
for the people about to be sold into slavery but his own concern
right now was his family, so carefully he began to back away. Just
as he thought he was far enough away to be able to crouch rather
than remain on his stomach, he recognised a face in the crowd of
captives and his blood ran cold.
Old Mrs Drunner, what’s she
doin’ ‘ere
? Jed thought, Beatrix Drunner, Mrs Drunner’s
granddaughter worked for his parents at the inn. The cold suddenly
closed in on him as he tried to see other faces he may know, hoping
against hope he would not. Silently but quickly he crawled forward
once more as a vice abruptly squeezed his gut.
Sámia!
The
last time he had seen her particular face she had been laughing and
smiling, it had been the day she, as her brothers new wife had
joined the family to wave him off after his leave.

Sámia, her face
looked haggard and bruised as she tended a bloody old man beside
her.
Iffen Sámia be here, where’s Jackie?
Jed asked himself
in horror. Gradually he began to recognise other people too, all
people he knew, all in chains sprawled out before him, he could
make out the baker and his family, young Arrient who had hoped to
join Jed and Toby in the army, with the next intake. Jed remembered
answering question after question the night of the wedding. As he
watched, Arrient, who had been wiping the contents of a small pot
around the manacles on his wrist managed to pull his wrist free. In
the firelight, Jed could see blood surrounding his wrist like a
dark, ornate and gaudy bracelet. Arrient crept away between the
prisoners on the ground. Suddenly he shot off, luckily for Jed in
the opposite direction to himself.

‘YOU... STOP!’
Jed heard the barked command loud and clear as he lifted his head a
little above the grasses to follow Arrient and his escape bid. A
series of muted clicks became audible and Jed waited for the
familiar whistle that would follow. He was not to be disappointed,
the thin reedy whistle of the arrow flying through the air ended
with an unmistakable thud. Through the darkness, he watched as
Arrient’s body fell to the ground, he could not see the arrow that
pierced the younger boy’s back but he knew it was there and he
watched as slavers followed the fallen boy’s path. Saddened and
angry Jed’s eyes searched amongst the villagers for Arrient’s
family as well as his own and he prayed that the boy’s mother and
father were not among the prisoners watching the death of their
only son.

Closing his
eyes he felt for Mayan his twin, he was sure she was not among the
slaves but he scanned the chained people anyway hoping that his
sister and Gid had managed to escape. Tears rolled down his face as
he suddenly recognised his mother. She was looking cold and beaten,
her head rested gently on her husband’s shoulder.

‘Ma, Da…,’ Jed
whispered, as sudden hot tears began burning his freezing face,
shaking himself he wiped his cheek with the back of his fist,
picked up a small stone and threw it carefully at his father trying
to catch his attention, it missed catching Sámia on the foot. She
looked up and saw him, his round head poking above the silvery pale
grasses, a perfect target and a black silhouette against the silver
shadow-filled grassy plain. She shook her head sorrowfully, trying
desperately to warn him to leave. Realising Jed did not intend to
comply with her unspoken demand; she raised her voice above the
quiet murmur of the unhappy crowd.