The White Robe (64 page)

“Good morning, master. I thought you would want to travel as soon as you woke, so I asked Jarrul if he would gather our things together, which he has done. Unfortunately Tarraquin wouldn’t let him saddle the horses, but it won’t take us long to do that.”

He slumped back against the log as if the effort of talking had taken all his energy. Jonderill knelt next to him and didn’t have to touch him to feel the heat coming off his body. Tarraquin walked up behind them and handed Jonderill a pot of steaming herb tea which smelled as if there was something else in it.

“That’s for Tissian; it’ll help with the pain. I’ve had a look at his arm which is infected and he has a fever. I’ve cleaned the wounds again as best as I can and have changed the bandage on his arm, but I don’t think he should be moved too far.”

“Thanks’ replied Jonderill.” He helped Tissian to drink the tea as Jarrul and Birrit joined them, already dressed in their travelling cloaks. “You’re leaving?”

Tarraquin nodded. “I am going to return to the hunting lodge and my friend. There is nothing left for me in Leersland, and I will be safe there from Borman and anyone he sends after me.” She looked around the camp as if she was still in two minds, but the sight of the fading leaf which had already turned to dust and the other which was more bronze than silver was fresh in her mind. There was no doubting that if she didn’t leave straight away the enchantment would be too strong to break, and her safe refuge would be closed to her forever. “I’m sorry Jonderill, I cannot stay with you, please forgive me.”

Jonderill felt his heart drop. After their night in the forest, he had thought there might have been more than just friendship between them. He managed a faint smile. “It’s alright, I understand. What about Jarrul and Birrit, are they going too?”

“They wouldn’t let me travel through Tarbis on my own without any protection, so they will ride with me to the hunting lodge and, if all goes well, my friend will provide them with an escort to Alewinder.” She gave a small shrug. “I will never be a queen again, but at least my friend will treat me as a lady and will provide for me.”

“I’m sorry Jonderill,” interrupted Jarrul, stepping forward, “I don’t want to leave you alone here with Tissian as sick as he is, but my first loyalty must be to my lady. I had hoped that Sadrin and the girl would stay with you but they were gone when we woke up.”

Tissian opened his eyes and sat up a bit straighter. “Don’t worry about me, I‘ll be fine. As for the girl, she left in the night; she took one of the horses and rode away. I suppose she thought it was the best chance she was likely to get to escape her bondage. Sadrin left early into his watch but he didn’t go after her. He looked a bit upset but he told me that he wasn’t going to go after her as she wasn’t worth the bother to him. He said he was going to go home to his master.”

For a moment Jonderill felt annoyed that everyone had made their own plans and were leaving without discussing them with him. “It doesn’t matter that they have gone, or that you’re all leaving us. My plans to travel across Tarbis to the Great Southern Ocean have changed, and even if Tissian had been fit to travel, our ways would have parted today.”

He stopped there realising how peevish he sounded and tried again. “Tissian is not fit enough to ride far so he and I will move into Crosslands, which is no more than a half day’s ride from here. Callabris once told me there is a good inn there and it’s likely that there’ll be a physician or healer in the village. That will give Tissian time to heal and me a safe place to practice my magic.”

“Thank you, Jonderill, for not being angry that I’m leaving you.” Tarraquin took his hands and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek. “If this doesn’t work out, I promise that I’ll find you, wherever you are, and I’ll become your wife as I once promised.”

Jonderill smiled and kissed her back. “I’ll hold you to that.” He let go of her hands and watched them mount their horses and leave, saddened by the thought that it was unlikely they would meet again in this life.

“Where are we going now, master?”

“We’ll take the ride slowly and go to Crosslands. When you’re fit again I will travel to Sandstrone to seek vengeance for the death of my father and Jonderill the protector, and for my years of fear and pain as a kingsward. I can’t ask you to come with me, Tissian; this is personal and nothing to do with honour, service to the goddess, or magic. It’s probably the most foolhardy and dangerous thing I’ve done in a life full of unwise actions. I intend to kill a king and bring some much needed justice to the six kingdoms.”

Tissian shook his head. “Vengeance is an unworthy motive, Lord, but if it’s the murder of a white robe and his protector you intend to avenge, then it’s less unworthy than it could have been.” Despite his fever he gave Jonderill one of his mischievous grins. “And I can’t possibly let you do this foolhardy thing alone, you’re going to need me, or have you forgotten that a white robe cannot kill?”

“I haven’t forgotten, and I truly want you by my side, but I swear by the goddess that the man who killed my father and his protector, will die by my hand and my hand alone.

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

PART FOUR

End Games

Enchantments’ End

Tarraquin pulled her horse to a halt at the edge of the forest and stared across the open space to the high walls which surrounded the hunting lodge. It had changed again. The stone creatures were back, crouched on top of the walls, unmoving but ready to spring to life if anyone was foolish enough to try to enter by climbing over the walls. On the posts, on either side of the gate, the two giant raptors sat with their wings folded. Their talons, strong enough to carry away a man, were just visible beneath their metal feathers. They too seemed immobile, all except their eyes which flickered sideways to follow the slightest movement. At that moment they were staring back at her, ready to pounce if she dared to cross the killing ground between the forest edge and the barred, iron gates.

Somewhere behind her, she didn’t know or care where; Birrit and Jarrul were making their way to this place. She had left them far behind, unable to wait on Birrit’s need for frequent stops, or Jarrul’s concern for the horses. They would catch up with her if she was still alive, and if she wasn’t, it didn’t matter anyway. Jarrul hadn’t wanted her to go on alone but there was no time left. She knew what the two silver leaves meant, except that they weren’t silver any more. One had gone, blown away to dust when she had last opened the lid of the silver box and the other, deep bronze, was almost lost against the brown velvet lining on which it lay. The beast was dying, perhaps already dead, as she had not dared to open the box for the last day and night. If the beast died then her hopes of a safe refuge were dead too.

She would have liked to have waited for darkness so she could slip past the raptors as she had before, but there wasn’t time, so instead, she rode back into the trees a little way and tied her exhausted horse to a strong bush and removed the saddle. Hopefully Jarrul would find it, but if not, the horse would be strong enough once it had rested to pull itself free. After that, it would have to take care of itself. She gave it a last reassuring pat and returned to where she had been standing at the edge of the forest. The raptors were still there, still looking down at her as if they were weighing up their next meal.

Tarraquin took a deep breath, clutched the silver box tightly to her and stepped away from the shade of the trees into the sunlight. It would have been a good time to run, but instead, she walked steadily towards the gates, trying her best to look as if she belonged there, and not to look upwards. She failed; the threat of the raptors, perched high above her was too much to ignore. They had both turned slightly, their eyes following her progress, but at least, neither of them had left their perch. Behind them, the other stone creatures had moved too, still crouched in readiness, but now, all turned in her direction as if they were waiting for something to happen.

As she closed with the wall she began to notice other things had changed. The wall, which had been made of close-fitting blocks of stone embedded with sharp crystals of rock, seemed to be less substantial now, and vines were starting to grow up its sides and through the crumbling mortar. The ground around the wall, which had risen slightly as if the wall had grown through it, was sunken and white at the edges where a large gap had appeared between the ground and the wall, giving the impression that they were pulling apart from each other. It was the gates which had changed most though. Rust covered the once black iron bars and, when she reached out to touch the gate rings, they disintegrated into dust in her hands. It wasn’t just the beast who was dying, it was the whole place.

She pushed at the centre of the gates and they creaked open leaving a trail of rust behind them. Tarraquin stepped through into the courtyard, the eerie silence making her skin crawl. It was mid morning and usually at this time the practice yard would be full of guards training or cleaning weapons or doing other things which soldiers did to keep themselves busy when they were not fighting. Today there was nothing, no movement or sound apart from the dust moving along the ground and around the weeds which had grown up in between the paving stones.

Tarraquin hurried forward towards the lodge, up the dusty steps and pushed on the front door hoping that it wasn’t locked. She sighed with relief when the door squeaked open and she slipped inside. Everything looked so familiar, as if she hadn’t been away at all, except for the layer of dust that hadn’t been there before. A door opened behind her and she jumped in surprise and quickly turned hoping that it was the beast but it wasn’t. Instead an old man stood there in a shabby, faded uniform with grey hair, a lined face and a bent back. They both stood and looked at each other trying to work out who the other might be, and then the man smiled.

“My Lady, I knew you would return, I told him never to give up hope.”

“Captain Tangier?”

“Yes, My Lady, but just a little older than you will remember.”

She took a step forward and took his thin, liver-spotted hands and squeezed them gently. “Where is he?”

“In his room, My Lady, but you must hurry; he’s close to death and has only lived this long by pulling on our lives.”  She looked at him in horror. What sort of creature would leech the life from those closest to him? Captain Tangier saw the look on her face and shook his head. “We were pleased to do this thing for our lord. Now please hurry, don’t make our sacrifice mean nothing.”

Almost guiltily she turned away and ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time until she reached the landing where she abruptly stopped. The beast had forbidden her to take the corridor which led to his room and she had only ventured down there once; that was the last time she had seen him. She started to walk down the corridor and for the first time wondered what she was doing there. What had she hoped to achieve by leaving her friends behind and riding like a demented fool to this place? Did she really want to spend the rest of her life living with a beast in an isolated fortress guarded by stone monsters?

If he was dying because of the enchantment there was little she could do to help and what if the enchantment affected her too? She shuddered at the thought of growing old overnight as Tangier had done and of dying in this place, her remains falling to dust and blowing away on the wind. Her hand held the latch to the door but had not lifted it free; there was still time for her to turn around and walk away. Tarraquin let the latch go and stepped back, her thoughts in turmoil, her life in the balance. He had let her go and yet he had given her two of his precious leaves, trusting that she would return. Now it was her turn to trust him. She reached for the latch, lifted it free and pushed the door open.

The room was dark, the strange central lamp giving out only enough light for her to see just inside the room. She stepped forward trying to remember its layout and hoping that the room hadn’t changed along with everything else. Carefully she made her way to the huge bed expecting the beast to be there, but the bed was empty, its blankets and pillows lying in a crumpled heap as if something had, at one time, curled up in its centre. From there, she made her way to the ruined chair and the small table where the silver tree had stood, but the chair was empty and the tree was missing. As if her presence had disturbed the still air, the lamp slowly turned above her head, and a small beam of light from the lamp’s many faces reflected off something that shone at the other end of the room.

As she walked towards them she could see that the mirrors had been uncovered and were propped up against the walls to form an alcove in the corner of the room. At their base lay the still form of the beast, its hair once again long and ragged, the claws and tusks grown long and sharp. It lay on the dark shrouds which had once covered the mirrors, its body half covered in an old torn cloak. Where the people and everything surrounding the lodge had aged and decayed and had turned to dust the beast had returned to its former self. The creature looked as wild and as savage as the first time she had seen him.

“Trust,” she whispered to herself as she stepped forward to stand close to the supine form of the beast.

“Trust,” she whispered again as she knelt by his side and placed her hand on the beasts shoulder.

The fur was harsh and matted and the creature was as cold as ice. She moved her hand higher onto its neck, pressing lightly down to find some sign of life but she could feel nothing through the thick fur. Tentatively she took one of the beast’s paws into her hand and stroked the long twisted fingers hoping for some reaction, some slight movement, but there was nothing. She was too late, the beast had gone.

Why she was grieving she didn’t know; there were other places she could hide from Borman. It wasn’t just that though she realised, it was the beast himself. She had only known him for such a short time, but she thought of their picnic in the meadow and the silly games they had played and she thought about his attempts to laugh and sing and his smiling brown eyes and she cried.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as tears ran down her cheeks.

One dropped on his paw and another on his muzzle so she closed her eyes to stop them falling. But a sudden movement behind her made her look up. It was the lamp at the centre of the room which had brightened slightly and was spinning slowly on its chain sending beams of different coloured light around the room. She looked back at the mirrors, suddenly dazzled by the kaleidoscope of colours as the mirrors reflected back the beams of light to each other. As the lamp spun faster the beams of light crossing from one mirror to another increased in number and brightness to form a giant, glittering web of light above the beast. She stepped back so she wouldn’t interfere with the intricate weave and watched in awe as the light wove itself into a cocoon around the beast.

When the lamp stopped spinning, the cocoon of light remained for a moment and then slowly faded away to nothing. On the floor, amongst a pile of velvet curtains, lay a man, his long ragged hair covering his muscular shoulders, whilst the rest of his pale flesh was exposed. His eyes were closed, so it looked like he was asleep, but he had a small smile on his lips as if his sleep was full of pleasant dreams and his chest rose up and down in a steady rhythm.

Tarraquin wiped the tears from her eyes and looked around the room for something to cover him and gasped in surprise. The room had changed. Two large windows on the once windowless wall let in the morning sunlight, filling the room with warmth and a pale yellow glow. The ruined chair and rickety table had been replaced by an intricately carved chair and a large ebonwood desk, and the walls, instead of being plain and dark, were decorated with maps and tapestries of hunting scenes. There were other furnishings she hadn’t noticed before; a weapons stand with two finely crafted swords, a boot rack and bronze bound clothes chests. It was the room of a young and wealthy man. She hurried across to the bed to fetch a blanket and when she turned around he stood there, a velvet curtain draped around him like the finest of cloaks, his brown eyes shining and a smile on his face.

“Tarraquin?”

She nodded and shyly returned his smile and he stepped forward and took her in his arms.

*

If she had thought about it beforehand, making love to him the moment he had changed from a beast to a man wouldn’t have been the most likely outcome, but that is what had happened. Now, walking down the steps of the hunting lodge, hand in hand, she was filled with guilt. She wasn’t sure if he felt guilty too because she didn’t know him well enough yet to judge his feelings. True, his smile was gone and there was sadness in his eyes but that wasn’t the same as feeling guilty.

Perhaps if they hadn’t joined together or slept in each other’s arms, they might have been in time to at least say goodbye to Captain Tangier, but he was dead when they found him, along with the few others who had managed to live long enough to feel the enchantment break. They had moved all the bodies into one room so that when they left this place all those who had served the prince could be together. She took one last look at the hunting lodge and went down the steps to wait with the horses.

The changes to the inside of the hunting lodge had been amazing but it was nothing compared to the transformation outside. The walls and the iron gates had gone along with the rupture in the ground through which the wall had grown. In their place were neatly trimmed hedges and slender pole trees, their frond type leaves giving off a heavy fragrance. All the stone creatures had gone too, changed back into the horses or the pack of hunting hounds that now milled around in the courtyard where she waited. There had been more horses than they needed, so they had set some of them free. Some would return here looking for masters who were dead and gone but most would be found by foresters or farmers and would hopefully be put to good use.