

"A super read I loved this book, a great debut from an undiscovered gem"

Sid Marks

"I'm a fiction fan and this book did it for me from the first chapter."

shona@marketing

"Something for everyone"

Bridge B.

### The Tessellation Saga

### Book 1

### Prophecy's Heir

### By

### D. J. Ridgway

### ***

The Tessellation Saga

Copyright © D. J. Ridgway 2013

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, scanned, copied and distributed forcommercial or non-commercial purposes without the permission of the author. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own free copy at Smashwords.com. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously

Contains Adult Reading Material

### ***

### Dedications

For Max, who told me to write it in the first place, for Derry, Simon and Lewis who have encouraged and helped me all the way through and for Franci who brought 'Blue' to life for me. Also for Paula and Sarah who, 'don't do' books but have put up with me and mine. Last but not least my husband, Nick, for his support and belief in me.

### ***

### Table of Contents

Chapter i - The Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Green Home Inn

Chapter 2 - Premonition

Chapter 3 - Jed Remembers

Chapter 4.-.A Kind of Peace

Chapter 5 - The Storm and the Beginning

Chapter 6 - Stinky

Chapter 7 - Eighteen Years Later

Chapter 8 - The Birthday Gift

Chapter 9 - Sonal Sobers

Chapter 10 - King Gath

Chapter 11 - Jed Recalls a Visit Home

Chapter 12 - The Dinner Party

Chapter 13 - The Creature from 'The Bleak'

Chapter 14 \- Rhoàld Receives a Vision

Chapter 15 - Journey Take Me

Chapter 16 - Voices Over the Water

Chapter 17 - Lemba Recognises a Sound

Chapter 18 - Am I Dead?

Chapter 19 - The Cell

Chapter 20 - Water Baby

Chapter 21 - The Bull and Anchor

Chapter 22 - The Lovers Revealed

Chapter 23 - The Ancient

Chapter 24 - Wishes

Chapter 25 - House to House

Chapter 26 - A Penny a Gid

Chapter 28 - Jed Sleeps Soundly

Chapter 29 - Rhoàld's Choice

Chapter 30 - Gath Remembers

Chapter 31 - My Brother Lives

Chapter 32 - Sonal Visits the Forest

Chapter 33 - The Shadow Soul

Chapter 34 - Toby Gains a Necklace

Chapter 35 - Rhoàld's Rescue

Chapte 36 - Sonal's Story

Chapter 37 - Dotty Has a Visitor

Chapter 38 - The Travellers Leave for Branton

Chapter 39 - A Warning

Chapter 40 - Green Home Village

About the Author: D.J.Ridgway

The One.-.A sample of the second book in The Tessellation Saga

### Chapter i

### The Prologue

Soul to soul will evil be

### Two become one

### Two will die

### Life from death will be the key

### Unity is flawed...

Ramis sat alone in his private study and stared out of the large windows onto the pre-dawn sky; soon the sun would be rising above the horizon but just now, it was still dark, kept that way by the thick and heavy clouds. The wind blew fiercely, whistling through the castle turrets, rattling the slate tiles and making the window frames shake. _It will rain shortly_ he thought, as he stood up to pull the heavy drapes closed on the depressing sight and to try to shake off the gloom that surrounded him like a shroud. Moving like an elderly man, he made his way to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of his favourite sweet red wine before fingering the neck of the beautiful hand blown goblet gently and admiring the physical skill it took to shape and cut the molten glass. Holding the stem carefully between his fingers and before the candle, he thought he could almost feel the heat from the blowers furnace and he noticed how the light reflected back from the wines rich red surface, he smiled as he lifted the glass to his mouth. The gentle scent of summer berries filled his senses as it wafted up softly from the sweet liquor and unwanted tears stirred by memory started in his already tired eyes, _no..._ He thought and replaced the goblet on the sideboard leaving the wine untouched.

Shaking his head sadly, he leant forward placing his hands either side of the glass letting his weight fall onto them and his head drop to his chest heavily.

'How did we come to this my son?' He whispered and swallowed hard to prevent himself from releasing the tears that threatened to spill. Again, he smelt the berries and lifting his head he looked at the wine and felt its call. He turned away, knowing how easy it would be to drown his sorrows in the liquor and he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trews to avoid further temptation. The fingers of his right hand naturally clasped around a small hard lump in his pocket and a look of puzzlement crossed his face. Withdrawing his hand and opening his palm, a tiny but spent spell crystal was revealed and holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he lifted it to the light staring hard into its depths as if trying to unearth from within its beautiful facets a hidden answer.

The crystal, mined long ago in the mountains of Dakar, where, it was wildly rumoured, the mountains core touched the roots of magic, remained dormant. Now in each tiny facet, he could only see himself, each small reflection full of condemnation and blame. The dead crystal, although full of light and splendour was a reminder, a reminder of what evil was alive in the world. Again, he shook his head, trying to clear it of memories and quickly dropped the crystal back into his pocket, its sharp quiet beauty too much for him. Instead, Ramis turned toward to an old glass cabinet, an ancient thing housing his most precious and fragile books. Mumbling a softly worded spell to protect the cabinet's contents from the elements outside of its safe cocoon, he gingerly opened the glass door with a small golden key. Reaching inside he ran his fingers across the faded spines reverently, stopping only when he reached the one he looked for. Holding the ancient tome in his hands, he prayed on the journey that it would provide solace in this time of need and he walked nearer to the small fire and stood staring into the flames, his thumb gently caressing the fragile books cover. The light bounced off the crystal mounted in the golden circlet he wore upon his head, sending shards of rainbow lights dancing around the room. Ignoring the sudden beauty, he threw a cover over a small table beside his chair; gently laid the leather bound volume on the soft cloth, sat down and opened the delicate cover.

'Long ago...' he read aloud, 'a vain and powerful mage from the island of Bannush...' _Was that Bannush or is it an 'a', it must be Bannush_ , he thought. _Bannash is not off Devour...,_ he began again, this time reading silently.

'Long ago, a vain and powerful mage from Bannush, an island off the coast of Dervour came close to destroying our world, the home upon which we live; he conspired with a Demon from the void...'

Ramis grinned sardonically, knowing the account of the histories was true but unable to believe in Demons the way his ancestors obviously had done, and he let his face fall and read on. As he read, his tired eyes slowly became accustomed to the spidery age-old handwriting and he thanked the journey for his ability with languages both old and new, a skill he had resented studying as a child but one that had come in useful on more than one occasion since. He continued with the book but his heart remained heavy, heavy with the decision he knew he had to make, the final choice that only he could make, whether to separate a soul from its body, to condemn it to a last and very long journey, a journey with no known end. Ramis read on quietly with the world of Arotia turning around him.

As the book ended, Ramis, King Emperor of Boetesh stared at the final page.

_May the people never forget the 'Twelve,' never forget the sacrifice made for them..._

_Themos_

_First Mage of Boetesh_

'Sacrifice,' he said aloud, thinking of the noble dead, the twelve men who had sacrificed themselves to protect Arotia, so many years ago. _My own ancestors_ , he mused as he thought about the histories he had just read, the cataclysm brought on by the terrible wars between the Schools and the Gatherer. Themos and Thaddrick, twins of his own house and master mages themselves, their brother Théoden, one of the twelve who died so valiantly and his wife Valeria, along with their youngest son who disappeared through a gateway to an unknown planet because it was believed at the time that Arotia itself would not survive.

'Those twelve men died to enable us to live, to protect the planet and the people. Can I do less, have I the courage, can I too protect the people?' He asked the silent book quietly, tenderly touching the handwritten name of his ancestor.

Ramis closed the delicate book and replaced it in its warded cabinet. Although he'd read the account of Themos and the end of the great war many times he'd wanted, needed to read it again, knowing the decisions his ancestors had taken then, had a direct bearing on this, his decision now.

A thunderclap rattled the doors blowing them and the drapes wide open, wind rushed into the room sending smoke from the small fire swirling around the chamber and blowing out the fluttering candles. Ramis walked slowly to the doors and going through, closed them shut behind him. He was still deeply troubled, he paced back and forth along the battlements of his magnificent castle and was so intent on his thoughts he failed to notice a man join him on the cold, windblown balcony.

Sethron, his chancellor and friend stood watching him in the pale light quietly, sadly; he loved this good man and had loved him since the day they had first met. Their respective fathers had held the same positions and they had grown up together, though Sethron was older by one year. Their love, he knew was mutual.

The kingdom of Boetesh had prospered well since the day of Ramis' coronation and naturally kind and compassionate he had become a much-loved king. 'His right arm is justice' the people would cry, adding, 'his left arm is love.'

Deep in thought, Sethron remained a silent watcher as he continued to observe his friend. _If this man has one fault, it has been his constant neglect of his children, even to ignoring his son's misdeeds! Too late now... mayhap the boy was bad even before Melandra passed away..._

Melandra, beloved of Ramis, Queen Empress and mother to Medim, Ramis' heir, her death on the childbed sixteen years ago had shocked the world. The introverted and spoilt six-year-old Medim had become even more taciturn, his mother had been his life. Always a sullen, wilful and even spiteful child, he became even more reclusive. Ramis, in his own desperate grief at the loss of his wife had ignored the boy and the tiny girl-child, whose mother had passed away giving her life.

'I wonder if he blames his sister for their mother's death,' Sethron asked, not realizing he had voiced his question aloud until the king replied.

'Possibly Seth, I don't know, he could as well blame me, for giving Melandra another child!' Ramis answered turning and seeing his friend for the first time.

'Sire, forgive me' cried Sethron, he had to raise his voice over the noise of the worsening weather. "By the Journey', I had not intended to speak aloud'

The king rested his hands on the solid grey stone of the parapet and bending his head to his hands his shoulders heaved in grief. The gold circlet on his head slipped off, bounced once on the hard cold stone and rolled to rest at Sethron's feet, its twelve-sided diamond, a replica of the nation's symbol of hope and unity seemed dull and flat in the near dawn light. Stooping slowly, Sethron retrieved the headband from the floor. Without the constraining band of gold the wind whipped the king's long grey streaked hair about his head and hunched as Ramis was, Sethron realised his friend was getting old. Lifting his tear streaked face into the wind; Ramis echoed his friend's thoughts.

'I am getting old my friend, this has aged me.' Sethron could do no more than agree as his beloved king sobbed, his sobs leading on to self-recrimination. 'What kind of father have I been Seth, that my son could do this thing, to endeavour to take my life and attack his sister, to want a child that way... to, to abuse her so? I can't help him now; I should have tried before, tried when I was first told he needed help.' Ramis turned his face to his friend, his agony plain to see. 'What did I do, I ignored the problem; I ignored him, it was too painful so I, I just ignored it. Arrogance Seth..., that is the real cause of my failure as a father..., my arrogance..., I loved my son once..., I love him still...,' the kings tirade became a whisper, barely audible over the howling of the wind, the first smattering of rain. 'He tried to kill me....'

Sethron looked up at the sky to avoid seeing the anguish in his king's face, watching as the ever-darkening clouds built and split. _Appropriate, the sky reflects his pain,_ he thought, as he watched the rain lash down over to the south.

'I failed him and I failed Melandra.' Ramis spoke again quietly as he returned to his desolate pacing before one of the castle cats leapt from the parapet trying to escape the coming storm, it landed almost under the king's feet causing him to halt in his tracks. Staring after the disappearing cat thought of a time when his children were still quite small. He remembered giving Celendra, his daughter a pair of kittens on her fifth birthday, she had been pleased with her gift and had run out to play in the garden with the animals; after a while, her tutor had summoned her, so she left the kittens in the garden with Medim. A servant found one in the pond the next day, Medim had tied a rock around its neck and put it in the water.

'I wanted to teach it to swim...' the eleven-year-old prince said when asked about the incident and although they searched thoroughly, the second kitten had vanished.

Thunder boomed loudly in the king's ears as lightning lit up the cruel dark sky bringing Ramis back to the present, as he watched, a second jagged but brilliant white light reached down from the heavens to smite a huge tree in the castle grounds. With a mighty thwack the trees great bole disintegrated and fell slowly apart, so slowly that Ramis thought he should have enough time to run down into the gardens and save the tree before it hit the ground.

'Time Seth, I had time enough to save Medim, I just didn't bother, didn't care enough.' Once more Ramis' thoughts turned inward and back into the past.

Spoiled since the day he came screaming into the world the prince had had his every whim indulged by both his mother and his nurses. Ramis himself, forever busy with affairs of state found little time for his only son and had believed it easier just to leave the boy to his mother. Then later, after she, Melandra died giving birth to Celendra, Ramis had been unable to abide the sight of either child. Their very existence reminded him too deeply of his loss and the young prince himself, lonely and suffering, sought no solace, instead he spent his time alone or with nurses and caring for the tiny child that had taken his mother's life.

'Celendra!' Ramis snorted with disgust at himself remembering he had not even named his own daughter, the pain Medim caused her... his memories continued.

The first time Celendra had been hurt, Ramis remembered, both the children had been playing outside in the snow. Then, when the nurse called her charges back inside, Medim tried to warm his sister by the open hearth in the nursery. _Medim can't be to blame for Celendra being burned surely; he just failed to notice the flames consuming her hair until they licked at her skin._ Ramis shook his head, remembering with disgust how he ignored his son's strange behaviour at the time, his poking and prodding at the burnt hair and charred flesh whilst Celendra screamed in pain. Despite her desperate pleas of innocence, Ramis punished their nursemaid severely for leaving the blazing fire without its stout iron fireguard. A physic mage healed the little girl leaving no physical scars and Ramis found himself forced to evaluate both his and his children's lives, he realised he had neglected them for too long. _I vowed to protect the then, to spend more time with them, just as Melandra would have wanted._ He thought sadly, knowing he had, albeit unintentionally, just let them both down again. Time after time, he cancelled events and planned outings with the growing children as the needs of the country got in the way and again ignored the children had to amuse themselves. _Celendra always seemed happy, but Medim?_ Ramis thought, remembering with guilt his feelings of relief when he finally sent the boy away to school.

Even at school, the boy remained a sullen unpleasant child, hard to like and spiteful if thwarted, he spent much of his time in solitude and study within the schools vast womblike libraries. His fellow students kept clear of him and despite being a prince, his peers avoided him if they could. Medim's 'mentor' in lieu of a friend became his desire for knowledge.

'Knowledge is power,' one of his early teachers told him and Medim wanted to be powerful. He found he had an aptitude for magic and quickly mastered the basic skills, he also learnt about the roots of magic, about intonation, balance and consequence and during one history lesson, he learnt of an outlawed form of magic his ancestors had banned, Blood magic. He became curious and wanting to know more continued his research alone. He learnt that Blood Magic had been at the heart of the mage wars so long ago and he learnt about the Gatherer, a master mage who had also craved knowledge and power and he likened himself to him in all of his fantasies.

Eventually, Medim attempted to steal an ancient book of lore and intonation from one of the schools large libraries leaving the master mage no choice but to expel him. Ramis spoke briefly to Medim after the expulsion but had been exceptionally busy with affairs of state and once again unable to spend much time with the young boy.

'It was just a book father,' Medim said petulantly when asked why he had tried to steal, 'I like to read.' Pleased with his son's interest in history and knowledge, Ramis forgave him his sulks and increased his allowance to enable the boy to acquire more books. _If I had spoken to him more I would have realised his interest in old magic was growing, I may have been able to help him ...so much for the vow I made_. The thought tortured the king as he paced and again, his memories pulled him in.

'A new school, new disciplines and more books,' Ramis told the young prince. 'Try to behave here, remember, one day you'll be King!' He added as he left the prince with the schools master mage and sighed with relief knowing the boy was out of the way again, at least until the school holidays.

Medim was growing but as he grew, so did the problems. One summer the palace chaplain sought Ramis out begging him to listen, the prince was ill, dangerous, 'accidents' seemed to happen whenever he was home, this time it was a spate of barn burnings, the tortured screams of the animals still locked inside had filled the skies. No one directly accused Medim but he was usually in the vicinity. _I never listened, ever_ ; Ramis chastised himself before memory again clawed at him. Another fire, that time Celendra's nurse, caught in a blaze in the nursery had barely managed to escape with her life! _Please, let that have been a real accident!_ Ramis shuddered at the thought of it being otherwise remembering that the nurse had held no love for the prince. She had steadfastly protected her charge, refusing to leave Celendra alone with Medim after the incident in which the princess's hair and face had burned as a child. Ramis remembered speaking to the nurse himself but she had never forgotten it and rumour grew and spread like a disease.

'Someone had set the fire...'

'The flames began strangely...'

'Magic was involved...' _I ignored them all, every rumour surrounding him, even when the serving girls' avoided serving him; I thought it was for other reasons. Even Seth tried to warn me..._ Ramis thought, remembering how he had laughed in his friends face.

'Medims seduction of the castle girls' has got to be stopped.' Sethron said angrily one afternoon. Ramis laughed loudly with relief, thinking it proof his son becoming a man.

He continued to ignore the veiled warnings from his council and the more blatant warnings from Sethron; instead, he became increasingly annoyed at the constant haranguing of his son.

He snorted loudly causing to Sethron to glance worriedly at him.

'I was so blind...!' Ramis whispered the words almost lost amidst the worsening weather. 'I was relieved when Medim began to procure his whores' from the town but only because you stopped complaining about him Seth, remember?' Ramis said guiltily still staring at the sky, 'unfortunate youthful follies, coincidence, I called the incidents.' Sethron did not reply, his own memories of accidents involving the prince were equally, if not more disturbing than the king's. 'And what did I do whilst Medim played with peoples' lives?' Ramis continued sarcastically, 'me, kind and good king Ramis, father to the nation. Well, here's what I did, I gave him money and a place of his own where he could continue his reign of terror almost with impunity!'

Ramis had indeed given over a little used tower section of the castle for Medim's personal use and Medim had loved it. An allowance from the royal purse allowed him to plan and execute his own experiments, magical and otherwise and the king was happy that he had at last pleased his son. For a while, Medim seemed contented, the incidents stopped and he continued his solitary studies. His libraries became his passion, he secretly practiced his craft alone and in his tower, all the time leaning toward the darker side of magic and with the outlawed blood magic still not mastered, and his spells became more dangerous.

Unaware of Medims experiments, Ramis was pleased beyond measure when his son requested to further his education and so Sethron, under Ramis's direction, arranged for a place for the prince at the prestigious, 'Academy of Craft' and there at the college, Medim found more libraries, the like of which he had never seen before. Only one library was out of bounds and although curious as to why, he was satisfied as he found himself with halls of books he had never read and with permission to peruse at his leisure; he seemed content. Ramis was relieved, the council stopped complaining and even Sethron seemed to leave the young man alone, with no more dangerous experiments and no more accidents Medim appeared to have found his calling at last. Ramis and his council at last heard good reports of the prince from his tutors and it seemed, finally, Medim was happy.

One evening whilst studying at the academy, Medim climbed an old wooden library ladder whilst attempting to reach a volume on lore, as he stretched, the wheels of the ladder shifted on the antique marble floor and slid out from under him almost sending him crashing down onto the hard surface below. In an attempt to steady himself he grabbed at the shelf before him causing an ancient book to fall to the tiles in a cloud of dust. Shaken, Medim climbed down the ladder to retrieve the book lying open and crumpled with its spine broken and its binding straps askew. Sadly, he looked at the broken spine; above all else, he loved these silent teachers filled with wonderful words, each one full of power and knowledge. Instantly contrite at the broken book he softly peeled back the cover in order to attempt a quick repair. The book was entitled, 'The Heart of a Flower,' of no particular interest itself to Medim, but as a book, it deserved respect and he was sorry to have caused it damage. As he lifted the book to one of the library tables, he gently tried a little magic to mend the split leather and the broken clasp, at once, his skin began to tingle and tighten so he stopped immediately. He had nothing with which to balance the magic needed to mend the volume and he knew without it, the magic would find its own balance indiscriminately, possibly his own life force, or perhaps the books around him would burn or freeze as the temperature changed. He sighed knowing he would have to mend the book by hand, a painstaking but eventually satisfying task so he gently picked up the broken book and carried it back to his room where he could begin.

Preparing his equipment lovingly, he sat at his desk with the book before him, he opened a simple wooden vice far enough to insert the book spine up and carefully tightened and screwed the rods that secured the book in place using a piece of soft leather to protect the ancient covers from the wooden blocks. With an impressive array of sharp wooden handled tools before him, he was last ready to begin. The curved spine of the old book was now uppermost and showing how badly it had been in need of repair, warped with age, a lump had appeared in the once soft hide covering, causing the leather to split even before the fall the book had endured. So taking his sharpest knife, he gently slit the stitches of the flexibly sewn spine, a device that allowed the book to lie flat when open. As he pulled the old leather back, he could see the offending lump was a piece of parchment apparently used to add support and stiffening to the spine itself. Somehow over the years it had shifted and formed a tight knot beneath the now dry leather, the poor book had literally been about to burst its seams. Gently holding the split open, he chose his long nosed tweezers and began to extract the lumpy stuffing that had shifted from true. The old vellum came away piece by piece and Medim piled it on his desk for disposal, he was not surprised to see writing covering the paper, bookbinding itself was expensive after all and it was still a common custom to re-use old and used sheets of manuscript to help strengthen new book covers. Eventually finished, Medim re-strengthened the spine and completed the repair with some very fine sewing. Finally satisfied, he dusted off the book and gave the cover a gentle polish to add more 'give' to the dry leather and he smiled at his work, opening the book to view his handiwork at ease, he viewed the first page with disdain. The picture drawn on the frontispiece was indeed that of a beautiful flower, each petal and line still holding the vivid colours originally painted so many years ago. _What a waste..._ Medim thought, preferring words to pictures and closing the book he placed it on a table near the door ready to take it back to the library, only then did he return to his desk to clear up the mess made by his afternoon's long labour. First he cleaned and put the tools carefully away in their leather roll and then began to sweep the discarded pieces of written paper into a wicker bin, as he brushed the last piece of old paper away he caught the swirl of a capital 'G'. It fell from his fingers and mingled softly with its counterparts, something about the piece and the spidery handwritten 'G' struck a chord but Medim was anxious to get back to the library and resume his studies.

That night, Medim lay tossing and turning in his bed and despite being tired, sleep eluded him; he could not shift the feeling that something still needed doing. Carefully he went over the events of the day in his mind, from waking that morning to finally getting into bed and blowing out the candle on the nightstand. Still though, sleep would not come, a worm of thought was wriggling away in his subconscious denying him peace. Finally, tired but frustrated by his inability to drift off he sat up and re-lit the candle deciding to read until sleep claimed him.

Glancing around the room looking for the book he had been studying his eyes fell on the bin beside his desk, the pale candlelight was falling just inside the rim of the basket illuminating a small piece of paper wedged in the side of the rough wicker. Remembering the book he had inadvertently broken and then mended that afternoon, he thought of the small piece of dry vellum stuffed so badly inside the spine it had caused the damage in the first place. He scanned the room again before realising he had left his reading book in the library along with the mended volume, so he sighed and shook his head in frustration as he continued to stare vacantly around the place he called home.

Finding his eye repeatedly drawn back to the wicker basket and the small piece of wedged paper, he threw back his thin blankets and taking the small candle, shuffled over to his desk, curling his toes as he walked across the cold stone floor. Spilling a little melted wax on to the desktop candleholder, he anchored the small candle safely, enjoying the momentary heat of the flame as it kissed his fingers and he bent down to retrieve the stuck piece of parchment. The vellum caught within the strands of wicker felt fragile and dry but gently and with reverence for the paper itself, a respect he had not shown as he pulled it piece by piece from the spine of the broken book, he held it between his finger and thumb before the candle.

'Gat...'' he read from the paper noting how the writing still seemed quite fresh but in a very old style. Where he had picked out the pieces of paper from behind the damaged spine, he had effectively torn the old thin velum completely through the middle of the word. Intrigued now, he wondered what the word could have been and reached into the bin for the other pieces intending to put them together once more. _A pointless exercise but it may help me sleep,_ he thought. The second piece of paper had the word 'here' on it, Medim looked at the strange piece, the slither of velum was definitely the mate of the first as the join was complete and the tear went straight through between 'Gat' and 'here,' further intrigued he tried to think of a word beginning 'Gathere.' Suddenly he was no longer tired; stunned, he reached again into the bin and retrieved another fragment. Gently straightening a larger piece in his fingers, he read the few words before him, excitement and curiosity gripped him and he hastily lifted the bin itself, spilling the contents across his desk. Once he was sure he had retrieved all the torn pieces, Medim re-filled the bin with the obvious rubbish and replaced it on the floor. Walking to the small window of his room, he pulled at the sash cord allowing the pane of glass to slide open and the warm night air to gently circulate, then, just as he turned away he caught sight of the college cat across the rooftop not far away. A tiny spell of summoning later and with the air only slightly cooler, the young cat appeared at the sill and leapt gracefully down on to the bed.

'Hello Kitty,' smiled Medim as he stroked the young cat between its red-brown ears. Medim watched as the cat walked slowly in a tight circle and curling itself up, proceeded to knead the bedclothes as if it were getting ready to suckle its mother. Its purr reverberated around the room as still smiling, Medim crossed to his washstand where he lifted the jug of fresh water from its stand, poured the contents slowly into the large porcelain bowl set ready for his morning ablutions and rinsed his hands to remove the cat hairs that had stuck to his long slender fingers. After drying them absently, he walked back to the window and pulled at the cord again, he waited as the wooden framed glass slid slowly closed once more and again, he smiled.

Ready at last Medim returned to the desk where the small pieces of torn velum lay in a pile and he pulled out a chair throwing to the floor the clothes heaped on its seat. With his hands on the chair back itself, he gripped the smooth polished wood hard and took a deep breath. Softly, he began to chant, his singsong mumbling, low and rough joined with the cat's purr and filled the room with an intense feeling of pressure. The cat's tail began to twitch lazily as its fur began to itch and irritated by the itching it sat up expectantly, its eyes never leaving Medim. Slowly the prince increased the volume of the singing, finding a rough discordant jarring between the reverberating purr and the sound of his own voice then reaching into a small drawer on the desktop, he removed a pocket knife. He continued to sing as he walked back to the china bowl where this time the cold flagstones under his feet were beneath his notice.

Medim held his hand over the bowl of cold water and the small strands of reddish brown cat fur that floated on the top like miniature boats and opening the sharp blade, he pierced the skin of his finger. His blood looked black by the light of the dirty yellow candle and he squeezed his finger hard, ensuring the blood blossomed like a new rose. As the size of the droplet expanded, he turned his hand allowing it to fall slowly into the water before pointing with the bloody knife to the bits of paper still piled on his desk. Again, he repeated the procedure and sang as the magic began to work its wonders. Somewhere nearby a timepiece ticked loudly, its rhythm became irregular as the sound became heavy and slowly the small papers on the desk began to separate, moving away from the pile, each piece twisting and turning as it found its proper place. Medim grew cold as he watched and wondered through his pain whether an invisible hand was working, trying each piece this way and that until each torn edge was sitting adjacent to its mate. _Just like a wooden puzzle,_ he thought as the parchment pieces waited for the final instruction to re-join.

Throughout the night Medim worked, not stopping even as the dawn crept over the windowsill and the candle burnt out. Finally, the paper was complete once more and he stopped chanting, silence filled the room and he smiled at the old cat now lying dead on the bed.

Leaving the finished piece of velum on the desk, he walked over to the window once more and throwing back the curtains, pulled the sash to allow the warmth of the morning sun to warm up the frigid air in the room. The sunlight filtered through illuminating the motes of dust in the air making them sparkle like diamonds and shaking off his fatigue, Medim turned back to the piece of paper; it was a message from someone called Astin, to the man Gatherer. He trembled with excitement; throughout his life, he had hero-worshiped the master mage Gatherer, fervently emulating him both in his studies and in his desires and he much admired the way he had been unafraid to use illegal magic to gain what he wanted out of life. _If this note is a genuine relic from the Gatherer's time, it'll be extremely valuable,_ he thought. The message itself on the strange piece of velum talked of the mage wars, it spoke of the man Théoden, and told of a trap, a subterfuge to 'capture and separate' the Gatherer, effectively ending the war in the schools favour. Confused by the unfamiliar words and historic phrases, Medim dressed hurriedly and taking the document with him, went down to the library in search of a professor of history whom he felt would be able to enlighten him or at the very least point him in the direction of the books that would.

Unable to find a tutor at so early an hour Medim spoke to the head librarian. He was as intrigued by the piece of parchment as Medim had been and enthusiastically explained in detail the final attempt that Medim's own ancestor, Théoden and his family had made to end the war and save the planet from destruction. He explained that the schools had been like the colleges of today, places of learning and as far as he could remember from his own studies, Astin had been the catalyst that had enabled Arotia's ultimate survival, enabled the Gatherer's downfall. He told Medim the history of the Twelve not thinking that Medim and every Arotian on the planet was familiar with the story, told as it was to every schoolchild on the eve of the Renewal Ceremony. The ceremony itself commemorated the dead of the mage wars, the death of the twelve men who gave their lives willingly to save the planet from destruction and re-enforced the laws of magic and balance. Of the separation of the Gatherer however, the librarian could only say that as a punishment his still sentient soul, was cast into the void and his body destroyed by fire.

'What's the void?' Medim asked.

'The void...' the librarian answered in hushed tones, 'the void is that infinitely vast dark place between time and between worlds where evil dwells; where dead souls roam free, where creatures of unimaginable evil and power await the chance to feel life once more, forever seeking solace from the torment they suffer and knowing they will never find it. Close to the root of magic but held away, by a barrier...' The librarian's voice trailed off as if he was talking to himself, turning the piece of history over and over in his hands respectfully, almost afraid to hold it in one place too long in case his clumsy fingers damaged it.

'Is he still alive then?' Medim said quietly, stunned at such a cruel punishment of his hero.

'No lad, as I said, his body is dead, it is his soul that roams the void, it was a punishment!' replied the man absently, his thoughts obviously elsewhere.

'Well, can I learn about the void?' Medim asked, suddenly angry at the treatment of his idol. The librarian looked up from his study of the parchment.

'No Medim,' he answered, 'even a prince such as yourself will not be allowed to enter the heart of the library, be content with your find and well done young man, you'll be credited with the find to the king.' Smiling absently he turned his back on the young prince walking off in the direction of the college offices and leaving the young man angry, frustrated and alone in the vast library hall. Medim fumed, he had believed he had known all there was to know about the man Gatherer but the thought that his sentient soul, alone and still able to think was possibly still roaming in some dark evil place called the void, horrified him. So, irritated with the realisation his knowledge was incomplete he searched the college, eventually finding his way to the locked central library and the place the Librarian had told him he would not be allowed to enter.

'Behind these doors rest my answers.' Medim told himself with satisfaction as he stared at the thick wooden doors and placing his hands reverently on the warm wood, he closed his eyes imagining the wonders hidden behind them, just out of reach and waiting, waiting for him.

Night after night, he forced his way in through the locked doors, to learn more of the void, each time using blood magic, each time using a small animal or bird as the blood sacrifice for the balance needed. Finally, Medim believed he had found the answer; he gathered the artefacts he needed and made his way down to the heart of the library. Then, leaving the things he had gathered hidden, he raided the college gardens and stole two chickens from their roost, wringing their necks to keep them quiet. Quickly he returned to the catacombs beneath the library where he intended to open a rift between the veils and call the great man home but something went wrong. The chickens he used as the sacrifice, although freshly killed, now had dead blood and Medim, covered in blood with the incriminating books and artefacts about him collapsed insensible on the stone flagstones as the spell's backlash knocked him out. The Head Librarian found him there in the depths of the archives, still unconscious from his attempt to open a rift into the void and so expelled once more, and still unpunished, Medim finished with college and came home to the palace.

_Such a serious misuse of magic, why did I not intervene, maybe I could have helped him then._ Ramis thought, remembering the details of his son's expulsion and the following troubled years, they played on through his mind in a series of unpleasant memories.

Now a man, Medim remained a solitary figure in the pursuit of his own agenda. He thirsted for knowledge, with more and more time spent amongst his books and experiments, he travelled vast distances to acquire objects he believed important to his studies and always sought ways to summon the Gatherer home. Still, trouble followed him and things happened, though generally his retinue of well-paid servants hushed them up. People disappeared or died in accidents that singularly, would need no explanation. _There were so many accidents..._ Ramis thought as he shook his head sadly, I could never see it, I never once doubted him. Instead, he was saddened that his son was not as loved by the populace, as he was himself.

Finally, a woodsman discovered the bloody corpse of a young girl against the bank of a stream near to Medim's tower. The dead girl had been the daughter of an ambitious city noble known to favour the Prince and encouraged by her family to spend time with him in his tower. Rumour of pregnancy and murder soon began to whisper, spreading like a disease, even to the talk of a witness claiming to have seen the prince cutting an infant from the girl's belly as she lay in the grass screaming, before dying as she bled out into the water whilst the prince carried the infant away. Whispers also spoke of the prince himself having fathered the child deliberately, in an attempt to procure pure blood for an experiment.

Incensed by the accusations and unbelieving of his son's involvement, Ramis ordered Sethron to investigate the allegations and although after an intensive search he found no body, he did find the alleged witness. Brutally beaten and suffering from a mortal stab wound, the man was dying, even the chancellor's command of healing magic had been unable to save him but Sethron sat by his bedside whilst he talked softly and breathed his last. Immediately Sethron went to see his king to give him the news of his son's culpability. It had been the morning of Celendra's sixteenth birthday.

Ramis closed his eyes to the wind on the balcony, reliving once more the harsh words he had shared with his son only a week before the murder. 'Medim, what a surprise, you really do not need an official audience to see your own father.'

'It seems I do sire.' Medim replied stiffly, 'you are always too busy to see me.'

The meeting had not gone well. Ramis was both unwilling and unable to grant Medim's request for training in Dark Magic, Blood Magic and the refusal made Medim fume.

'Even I cannot do it my son, your reports from previous tutors need to be exemplary and you have to be recommended by the council, you know that.' Ramis said by way of explanation as he tried to reason with the prince.

'You are the King Emperor,' Medim shouted in reply, 'you could command them to teach me...I will be King Emperor when you die and nothing will stop me then...' Medim had stalked off angrily as his father shook his head in sorrow.

Days later, the girl and her child were dead.

'I just refused to see it Seth,' Ramis whispered again, echoing his earlier sentiment. Sethron shook his head sadly, knowing his king was speaking the truth. Ramis closed his eyes again and he thought of his long dead wife. _I loved her so,_ he thought; I wish Medim had been more like her, more like his sister. Immediately memories of the disastrous birthday tea surfaced.

Still angry and upset at the accusation of murder but unable to deny the truth any longer, Ramis arranged for a delay in Medim's arrest. 'Celendra adores her brother,' I do not want to spoil her birthday tea... there will be time enough later for her to know the truth.' Ramis had declared, when Sethron advised Medim's immediate confinement.

Staring out at the dark and wild sky, Ramis scowled as he thought of that fateful meal.

The evening of the supper had begun almost delightfully, Medim was late as was his wont but Ramis, having pushed all thoughts of his son's wickedness out of his head was enjoying this rare time with his daughter. Celendra, now sixteen, reminded Ramis of her beautiful mother more every day and the sight of her gladdened his heart.

Finally, Medim arrived, his behaviour was strange and he seemed distracted but Celendra, not understanding why her brother was behaving so oddly crossed to where he sat and threw her arms around him, she smiled in her still childlike way.

'Medim, as a Princess of the Royal Blood I demand my birthday present!' She grinned as Medim turned his face toward her and Ramis suddenly grew cold as he recognised the lustful look in his son's eyes. Sickened beyond words Ramis paled, for the rest of the evening he watched in growing horror as his son flirted and courted his own sister. Celendra, both young and innocent just enjoyed the attention her brother showered on her, so Ramis was excessively relieved when Celendra finally declared her intention to retire.

'Goodnight father' she said, kissing him lovingly on the cheek, 'brother...' she added, turning away with a smile.

'Wait Celendra,' called Medim, 'a toast to the most beautiful girl in the world on her birthday, what do you say father?' He added, pouring and handing his father a goblet full of a rich ruby red wine. 'All in one go, eh!' Medim said as he raised his glass in his sister's direction, drained it and hurled it into the roaring fire. The magnificent crystal shattered, the light from the flames sending a myriad of colours arching across the room and banishing for just a moment the shadows closing in with the dying of the sun. Ramis drank from his goblet and saluted his daughter, again smiling in heartfelt relief as she left the room before seating himself near the fire.

_That was my mistake,_ thought Ramis as the rain became heavier, driving into his face like tiny knives. He seemed oblivious to the onslaught of the storm as the memory of that evening threatened to engulf him. 'I should have drained my glass Seth,' he said quietly, 'I would have died and this decision would not be mine to take.'

'Ramis, my friend' answered the chancellor, "By the Journey' if you had died, evil would have been born under Medim's rule and Celendra would have borne him a child.' The king hung his head, allowing the darkness to pull him in once more as the skies opened and the rain began to fall...

Celendra had smiled as she walked from the room dropping one of her small gifts unnoticed onto the floor and for the first time Medim smiled at his father.

'Father I know you wanted to talk to me...' he began but stopped as Ramis suddenly coughed, politely, he waited until the king regained his composure. 'I believe you wanted to talk about my um, experiments.'

'My son, I don't believe the rumours,' began the king, the last part of the word hardly recognisable, as he coughed again, doubling over with the sudden pain in his throat and stomach. Medim watched his father as he struggled for breath, a derisive expression on his face.

'You can believe them father,' Medim said, watching the king with wild excitement in his eyes, 'I have studied for a long time you know and I have become strong, you ignoring me all these years have been to my benefit. My power could now rival, if not surpass your own and when I am King, I will open the void and I will have control of the gateways between the worlds. Imagine it father, are you not proud? No one will be more powerful than me!' Ramis again struggled to speak and failed, Medim smiled, 'oh, I still cannot kill people with magic, I have tried you know but those stupid law spells enforced by your ancestors and then re-enforced by the, err, 'Noble Dead,' I believe is the quote in the histories. That will change. I will change it, as I said; when you die, I will be King Emperor. Celendra will bare me a child and together we will keep our bloodline pure, the blood from that one pure child will make me the most powerful Mage on Arotia ...able to enter and leave the void as I will.' Ramis tried to focus on his son; spittle flew from Medim's lips as he spoke and foam gathered in the corners of his mouth. _By the journey, he is insane,_ Ramis thought, as the tears coursed down his blanched cheeks. 'Goodbye father, this evening has been a real pleasure.' Medim laughed as he took the half-empty goblet from his father's limp fingers and placed it on the table beside the now almost inert form in the chair. The remnants of the poisoned wine moved gently in the glass as the fire light danced among the facets of the cut crystal, the rich red of the liquid added blood to the shadows. Strange, how such beauty can surround death, Ramis thought as his throat began to close. He could not speak, could hardly breath and the strength leeched out of his once powerful body as the poison took hold. His control gone, he finally slumped forward onto the floor and then as Medim laughed, Ramis knew he was dying. He could feel the poison flowing in his veins killing him slowly; he fervently hoped his own inherent magic was strong enough to expel the poison eventually, but could it do it in time? He felt his bowels loosen and empty...

'Sorry to interrupt, I dropped my....' began Celendra, as she walked back into the room. 'Father,' she cried as she rushed toward the inert man, her face full of concern.

'He's dead, or soon will be!' Exclaimed Medim wildly as he grabbed her small hand and threw her to the floor. Celendra, eyes wide with shock fought her brother as he pulled at her clothing, Ramis lay as if dead, only his eyes remained open and he fought to close them rather than witness the brutal rape of his beloved daughter. He tried to call out for help, but only a strangled gasp left his lips.

'Our child, my dearest sister will give me more power than you have ever dreamed of,' Medim gasped as his filthy seed spilled into her.

Ramis watched through misty eyes as Medim straightened his sister's clothing and carried her now comatose form to the small sofa she had sat on earlier in the evening and then, kneeling beside his father, Medim called the servants.

'Help... Please someone, the king is dying!' he cried loudly, adding 'my sister is ill, help, someone help, send for the physic!' He smiled at the king lying so still on the floor, 'time to die now father dear,' Medim whispered and played out his part with perfection.

As the cry for help alerted the guards, the small family room soon filled with people and Medim shed tears and wrung his hands in mock concern. 'Do something,' he called desperately, 'help them... please,' he cried, before burying his face in his hands and kneeling in simulated grief beside the king.

Ramis's eyes began to cloud over; his last sight was that of a servant trying to comfort his distraught son. That same servant lifting the beautiful Dakar Crystal goblet from the small table next to him, the goblet still half-full of the poisoned wine, he handed it to Medim in an effort to assuage his grief and as Ramis's vision finally went dark, Medim drained the glass.

The castles physic mage alongside Sethron had cared for the king and his children for days before any sign of life force returned.

'The Kings heart beats still' was the daily message to the populace.

'Does anyone know what happened?' Was a constant question and one destined to remain unanswered, until either the princess recovered from her strange ailment or the king and his son did.

Ramis shook his head bringing his thoughts back to the present and the arduous task before him. 'Seth, I just don't think I can do this, I can't, he is still my son and the responsibility is equally mine, I failed him as I failed the people.' The chancellor watched the king in sorrow; these last weeks had been arduous, etching lines into his face and streaking his once black hair. His beloved friend stooped as the wind whipped him cruelly; he could see the tears running down the weather beaten face, mingling now with the unrelenting rain.

The storm had turned north punishing the castle, powerfully, angrily.

'Your Majesty, you can and you will..., come, we must go in,' said Sethron as he twisted the gold band in his hands, 'the night is almost over; soon it will be time...' Sethron did not finish as the king turned to him, took the circlet of office from his chancellors fingers, replaced it on his head and walked slowly like a broken man into the castle and away from the cold, wet parapet.

### ***

Ramis had survived an assassination attempt orchestrated by his own son, had been alive to order Medim's arrest only because, by journeys grace, he had not finished his poisoned wine, he had not ingested enough to kill him. His only son was now under sentence of separation, held secure by ward spells and numerous guards in a cell under the Great Chamber of Justice.

Reluctantly Ramis began to make his way to the chamber, stopping only briefly at his daughter's room to strengthen his resolve.

'How is she?' He asked the physic mage; who had hurried to her side as soon as the king himself had recovered.

'There is no change sire,' the mage replied handing his king a large towel, 'I've used as much power as I dare but I can't heal her mind, magic must be accepted by the mind, by the spirit, for healing to take place. Her physical body is once again healed and cleaned, there will be no issue and I'm sure she will awaken my lord, when her mind has healed itself, however long that takes...' he added softly.

Ramis briefly looked at his still comatose daughter and fresh tears gathered threatening to fall. Mindful of time, he kissed her forehead and left the room feeling stronger now and sensing Sethron close by, he hurried in the direction of the Chamber of Justice ready for the sentence to be carried out, the Separation of Crown Prince Medim, heir to the throne of Boetesh.

Ramis stood alongside Sethron as they viewed the huge chamber through a private portal. At any other time, he had been in awe of this great circular hall, today he saw it without emotion and he felt drained as he stared hard at the crystal high above their heads.

The chamber truly was magnificent and deep within the heart of the castle; indeed the castle seemed to lend itself to the one vast room, as if the building itself had been built around it, perhaps it was, Ramis thought, knowing the castle had been almost completely re-constructed after the mage wars so long ago.

Entirely built of stone, twelve massive columns dominated the hall, each one, so the histories told, representing one of the original twelve schools of magic and each sporting the likeness of a mage carved in relief, as if a real man had fallen asleep leaning against the column and the stone itself had claimed him, holding him there for eternity. The columns themselves were standing around the edge of a large circular platform in the centre of the hall and although Ramis could not see them, he knew intricate symbols covered the platforms floor, each one delicately carved into the solid granite and full of magic and power. Such was the construction of the vast room that a quiet voice speaking from the centre of that powerful stage would resonate along the stones up the columns and spread out until everyone in the room could easily hear it, however softly spoken. Moving out from the pillars were extra tiers of hastily constructed seats and these were already full, all here would witness the demise of the prince. Ramis saw his friend Arlen of Lyresh, looking sad and uncomfortable and he closed his eyes in pain to the other occupants' of the room, knowing the great mage laws bound them all. He and his court were going to kill using magic and all heads of state had to bear witness.

Light entered the chamber from twelve colourful stained glass windows, each depicting a different scene from the histories of Arotia and the cataclysm. Atop the huge vertical pillars, a thirteenth window spanned the distance between the columns, this window, cut in the rare Dakar Crystal sat over twenty feet wide. Hanging alone, suspended in the air twelve feet below the centre of this ceiling was the original symbol of hope and peace for Boetesh and for Arotia itself, a large crystal perfectly cut into twelve separate facets. Legend said that the Noble Men who died to stabilise their world, had placed their souls into this crystal for eternity and if one could only get close enough to the jewel, their faces would be visible. This crystal was Unity; this crystal had been at the heart of a lifesaving spell millennia ago. Directly beneath Unity, a small thirteenth column stood proudly in the centre of the granite dais, four feet high and barely the width of a grown man's arm and honed to a fine point. Balanced on the tip sat a grooved stone plate the size of a small coin. A twelve-pointed star ran from its centre and out directly to point at each of the columns, atop the plate sat a tiny twin to the symbol of hope so far above it, it sparkled and shone even in the dark drawing light from the magic in the air around it.

Ramis with Sethron, donned their robes and moved quietly with solemn dignity into the chamber as a servant closed the vast doors behind them and the people rose as one, falling silent as the King of Boetesh walked to take his place among the council of twelve.

Eleven men, the Council of Schools, all dressed in identical dark robes with hoods pulled low over their faces stood tall and proud, their arms crossed over their chests with their hands thrust into their opposing sleeves. Each stood against one of the twelve pillars surrounding the circular platform. One pillar stood ominously empty, waiting for its mage, the Boeteshian King Emperor. Ramis knew he had to be one of the twelve and he had agonised over the council decision to separate his son but he could not think of any other way and had been unable to persuade the council to leniency. In the end, he had had to agree to his only son's death.

The first light of the dawn appeared through the magnificent glass ceiling. If the sky had not been so full of storm cloud Ramis knew the whole chamber would have lit up like the sun itself but as it was, even the pale and watery dawn light shining through the multi-faceted glass, sent rainbows of light across and around the massive hall. Never static for more than a few seconds the lights danced and flew accompanying a steady beam of strong light that began to creep slowly down the wall as the sun itself rose.

Simultaneously, the robed figures began to chant and Ramis felt as if ants were crawling over his skin as the magic passed through his body and he knew that if he looked around him, he would see others also absently rubbing their arms or legs. The beam of light caused by the weak and watery sun was continuing its journey down the wall toward the place where the Unity Crystal would intercept it when suddenly the storm clouds parted allowing the morning sun to fill the ornate ceiling. The crystal roof came alive, sparkling and shining as it filled with light and absorbed the energy that poured into it, it seemed to spin as the light began to focus in the centre of the window like a ball of fire glowing brighter and brighter with each revolution. Almost at once, the lights fell from the centre like a powerful sword; cutting straight into the heart of the Unity Crystal waiting twelve feet below and for a moment blinding the observers as their retinas were seared. Just the roof and the bright laser illuminated the faces of the watchers raised in wonder, despite the bleak occasion. Within moments, the laser moved on, through Unity itself and into its smaller twin waiting on the cold stone column below, this tiny crystal also began to glow and the symbols on the floor around it began to radiate a second series of lights as the runes and sigils activated. A soothing hum accompanied the lights as the tiny stone began to rise on her column, the stone itself began to move and swell, splitting apart and becoming the twelve corner posts of a glass cell as it rose from beneath the floor. As the light became more intense, the twin crystal lifted toward her magnificent brother and the marble floor slid back to its rightful place leaving the glass cell holding the figure of a man alone in the centre of the stage.

The sun moved on, reaching the pinnacle of the vast window and once again, the rainbows danced around the great chamber.

Ramis looked sorrowfully at his only son, knowing in his heart that _he also_ was at fault and part of the blame for what had happened lay at his own feet.

'Good-bye my son,' he whispered softly as his chanting faltered and tears began to fall once more. Medim turned his vengeful gaze toward his father as if he had heard the tortured whisper.

'I'll be back,' he said vehemently. The chanting of the other mages increased and the Unity symbol began to rotate faster as Ramis's own voice sorrowfully re-joined that of his fellows. Now in fear, Medim raised his hands holding them out to his father in supplication, the tears continued to stream down the king's face as for the last time he ignored his only son. Again, the spinning crystal increased its speed as the hum became a high-pitched whine and as the Unity Crystal became almost invisible, the chanting suddenly stopped and the symbol of hope, unity and justice, released its power for death for only the second time ever recorded. The bright laser shone straight into its small twin and through it into the glass cage beneath, surrounding Medim with white-hot light.

It was finished, Prince Medim lay dead, his body still and silent on the floor of the cage as the mages again began to chant and the floor symbols moved on to form a different pattern, their lights now barely visible against the glare. The hot white light continued to spiral within the cell until it became a glowing ball of pure power, almost too painful to look upon, tiny pinpricks of black appeared within the glowing golden glow. The light seemed to flatten as the small black dots of darkness grew and continued to spin, becoming wider and denser. From the centre of the cell, the dots became hexagons and fire appeared to be running around the edge of each liquid shape, hexagon after hexagon appeared as the gateway finally appeared and with it, a portal into the void began to open. Within the vortex of power, the soul of Medim remained sentient, until at last with a final, audible snap, the hexagons tessellated as one and the gateway opened.

Medim's soul screamed in fury as it was pulled through into the void and just before the portal closed it sent a final message, 'I will come home,' it said, 'I will be back.'

The sun moved onto the glass walls and ceiling of the gilded cell and in despair, Ramis watched as the cell holding his son's dead body appeared to melt into the floor and return from whence it came. The small thirteenth column came together and was complete once more, standing alone with her stone disc and tiny crystal innocently sparkling in the sunlight that now filled the room.

In the solid velvety darkness of the void, the spirit of the man once called Medim began to roam.

_I will find a way back and they will pay they will all pay. I will destroy them all as they have destroyed me, I can wait!'_ It thought as it began its lonely search for revenge.

### Chapter 1

### The Green Home Inn

"Ere, 'ave another Mr Jedadiah Green,' smiled Apple, the buxom brown eyed barmaid. 'This one is courtesy of the baker, an' 'e's sent a basket of pastries too,' she added with a smile.

'Jus' the one then Apple,' slurred Jedadiah or Jed, as his friends knew him. He took one of the wrapped pastries and laid it on the table beside yet another jug of the fine strong ale, 'I've me fam'ly waitin' on me now,' he smiled back as Apple handed him a parcel wrapped in fine cloth. 'What's this then?' He asked, amazed at the quality of the cloth.'

'It's a parcel fer the little one; Jack made it 'imself fer yer first...well, it seems right yer should 'ave it now, an' the fabric is fer Mayan; we thought maybe she'd like a new scarf,' Apple added. Making sure the table was clean, Jed placed the parcel next to the jug and standing slowly he reached out and hugged his friend as best he could, not attempting to hide the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. She squeezed him back smiling indulgently, the smile making her cheekbones prominent. Releasing her from the hug, Jed reached up and gently pinched her apple cheeks.

'Yer be 'avin a fam'ly yersel' soon,' he grinned in turn, hastily wiping away any sign of tears as Apple patted her overlarge belly.

'Still a week or so ter go yet,' she said, close to tears herself, 'an' I always wanted a summer baby...' she added, as she moved away to serve another customer. Jed watched as she manoeuvred between the tables carrying the large tray in one hand, the other still held protectively over her stomach. Sitting once more, he picked up his jug of sweet ale and sipped slowly, smiling gently to himself and lost in thought.

The Green Home Inn was busy, packed almost to the rafters with both locals and travellers just as it was almost every night and for as far back as Jed could remember, it was as familiar to him as his own home. He thought of the lifelong friendship he had shared with Apple and her husband Jack and how the three of them along with Apple's best friend Mayan, had been involved in many a childhood scrape. Then as they grew older, no one was more surprised than he was himself when the beautiful Mayan showed a decided preference for _his_ company. Being a forester and living under the shadow of the great forest as he and his father did, he had rather expected to spend his life alone, after all, even his own mother had hated the forest enough to make her leave her family. Mayan had wanted him though, and after their marriage, she agreed to live in his family home on the outskirts of the village and although she did not care overmuch for the forest, she did become used to her husband's comings and goings within its leafy depths.

After his wife's sister passed away, Jed's father decided it was time to be with his wife once more so he also moved to Branton, a town three days journey from Green Home. So the house beside the forest for the first time became a real home to both Mayan and Jed and at first, they were very happy. As the years passed and successive sons were born and died, not even having drawn a first breath, Mayan changed, the sunny, happy girl became sad and distanced herself from both Jed and their friends. She also began to look upon the forest with dread, believing that somehow, it was to blame. Now though, a new son had arrived, a live child to chase away her worries and fears. Mayan herself had sent him to the village within hours of the baby's birth to share their joyous news with their friends and he loved her so; she had given him a son against all the odds.

Jed supped again at his jug and with a smile returned to his musings.

Mayan's last labour was particularly hard and he had been very scared, especially as the pattern had closely followed her previous deliveries. If truth were to tell, he had not wanted her to try for a child again, being so deeply afraid of losing her in childbirth as he had almost done each time before but now the little one was here he knew he would give his life for them both. On that thought, he decided it was time he returned home to them.

'I'm a fam'ly man an' me place is at 'ome,' he shouted as he stood up stuffing the pastry into his pocket and raising his almost empty jug in thanks to the other patrons of the inn.

Good wishes from around the bar accompanied his staggering form as he moved toward the door. The room started to spin around him and he sat down heavily in a conveniently empty chair as his stomach lurched and protested at the unaccustomed amount of alcohol it had received but once seated again, his head cleared a little.

'Ah... Jed boy, methinks yer been celebratin' a mite too much,' Jed heard and laughed aloud as he turned, accidentally jogging the speaker and sending a shower of sticky sweet ale across the table. "Ere Jed, take it easy lad,' smiled Tom, as Jed grinned broadly.

"Ello Tom, you 'eard me n-ews?' Jed asked, hic-cupping as he spoke.

Tom Hollins the local Tanner and occasional Blacksmith, patted his friend on the back.

'Yeah lad an' I be mighty pleased fer yer both, now sport me anovver ale, to take place o' the one yer spilt, an' I'll walk yer 'ome mesel'.' He said, as Jed pulled a few coppers from his pocket in reply and Tom, unsure of Jed's ability to get to the bar, went himself.

'I ordered one fer you too lad, thou Apple weren't too pleased with me,' he said as he returned to his seat beside Jed, who was rubbing his belly.

Moments later Apple produced the jugs of ale and frowning at the two men placed them none too gently on the table and if Jed noticed that his jug was less than full, he said nothing.

The smell of the malty ale, mingled with the stale odour of sweat and the inn's small fire of burning sweet wood, did nothing to disguise the pervasive quality of tannin or the metallic reek of blood that clung to his friend the tanner. _The contents of me stomach are definitely not goin' to be with me by mornin'_ , he thought, as the smells permeated his nostrils and his belly grumbled.

'Yer bin wearing yer tanners 'at today then Tom!' Grinned Jed, as he wrinkled his nose.

'Well, until the village gets anovver smiff yer know I be both smiff _an'_ tanner, an' I can't 'elp it iffen the jobs a smelly one,' Tom replied, trying and failing to appear offended. 'An' I'll 'ave yer know I 'ad a wash afore I left 'ome!' He added indignantly.

'I'd like ter bet that Selda made yer...,' Jed grinned again as his friend started to laugh.

'Yeah, Selda made me,' Tom agreed as both men guffawed loudly into their jugs and before long, the conversation turned back to the new arrival. 'The young un sleeping now then,' Tom said smiling broadly.

"E didn't wanna sleep, 'e be a strong un.' Jed replied.

'Ah I see,' Tom smiled again, 'an' I s'pose afore long e'll be workin' in that accursed forest like as not,' he continued, grinning heartily.

'I notice it's not so accursed when I brings yer oak and hemlock bark, or spend days locating a myrobalan fruit for yer tannin an' dying, last lot yer wanted 'ad me walkin' almost ter Spartin, on t'ovver side of f'forest, ...Three days it took!' replied Jed testily, unsure of whether the words had come out as they should. "Ere, I'm thinkin' I'm drunk! He grinned again.

'Come on lad, I'll see yer 'ome,' Tom said, punching his friend playfully on the arm.

Apple, standing by the solid oak bar, watched as her unsteady friend supported by the almost as unsteady tanner, made their way out of the bar room door and lifted a hand to wave at the pair as the door swung closed. She held her large belly, suddenly sad at the losses that both Jed and Mayan had suffered _. Three babies gone..., I don't think I'd be able to go on if anything 'appened ter this baby_ , she thought. Almost in answer, her baby kicked hard enough to show her it was still vital and she rubbed a rib absently, turning to smile at her husband, who had approached from behind. Jack's hand covered hers as the baby kicked again.

"E'll be a fine strong boy!' Jack said as he kissed his wife's neck.

'Hey, what if it's a girl?' Apple smiled, Jack returned the smile resting his cheek against his wife's hair.

'Ner love,' he said, 'I can tell we'll 'ave a fine boy ter be friends with Mayan and Jed's new lad.' Jack glanced at the door so recently closed behind the two men as a chill crept up his spine and he burrowed his face into his Apple's hair and closed his eyes, sending a small prayer after his drunken friend.

Fields and hedgerows surrounded Green Home Village on all sides and in some cases; the hedgerows grew so high they completely covered the lane beneath them. The two friends began to feel as if they were walking through long silver-lit tunnels as the moonlight filtered through the branches above their heads causing dark shadows to dance about as they laughed and joked their way out of the town. The full moon shed its silvery light over the world like a blanket and the night was as warm and clear as a blackbird's song welcoming the dawn.

The gentle breeze touched leaves and branches adding to the shadows dance as a definite shape coalesced in the shrubbery where a break in the undergrowth allowed the full light of the moon to shine through, it stood stock still, a black silhouette against the silver light.

_What's that..., an animal, a wolf_? Tom thought, he felt the hair stand on his neck and he shivered as a cold finger slid down his spine, so he pulled his collar up tightly and began to wish he had not agreed to walk Jed all the way home. Then, as they approached the outskirts of the forest and got nearer to the lane leading to Jed's cottage, Tom began to lag behind and Jed smiled, recognising his friend's fear.

'I can make me way mesel' now Tom, it's just a turn up the lane,' he said, not wanting to embarrass Tom with his, as Jed felt, unwarranted dread, ''sides which, I need a pee an' I sure don't want yer watchin',' Tom laughed aloud, too loud.

'I don't know what yer got to be proud of boy,' he replied, adding, 'seen bigger on me Da's dogs,' both men laughed as Jed clumsily tried to cuff his friend around the ear and missed easily.

'The night is clear but as yer get nearer to the forest the mists sure do gather..., you sure yer gonna be all right Jed?' Tom asked as he stopped to look through a gap in the hedgerow, his gaze drawn to the dark brooding outline of trees towering over the mist and fog that always covered the area in patches at this time of night. Jed walked back the few paces and joined his friend eyeing the forest stretching away for miles. _Like it's waitin' for sommat,_ Tom thought; to him the mist seemed alive, it tumbled and quaked as if unseen forces commanded it and he felt uneasy once again.

'Now the wee 'en is 'ere why not move nearer the village, mayhap Mayan would like a bit more company 'en jus' yer sorry ass?' He smiled wryly at his friend not thinking of how his own family lived equidistant from the village but in the other direction. Jed looked askew at his friend.

'Eh Tom, now that's the pot callin' the kettle black, ain't it?' He said laughing, 'though p'haps yer needs ter be further away,' he added, wrinkling his nose in fun once more and waving his hand in front of his face at an imagined bad smell. Tom smiled again.

'I was thinkin' 'o' May an' the babe.' Tom replied as he once again punched his friend playfully.

'Yeah, well, I'll be sure to mention it to 'er but not much good is a forester without his forest eh...' Jed laughed aloud and shook his friend's hand before he turned lifting his hand high as a goodbye.

He walked the last part of the journey on his own, absently feeling for the hunting knife he permanently carried, a slim, strong blade with a bone handle that became a small storage section for thread, needles and the like within the handle itself. The knife had been the last gift his father had given him before he moved away to be with his wife once more and to Jed it had become a talisman of sorts. He continued walking toward the thick line of trees silhouetted in the moonlight, watching the stars twinkling between the clouds and the moonlight lighting up his beloved forest still lovingly stroking the handle of his knife and again he fell deep into the throes of memory.

### Chapter 2

### Premonition

At the Green Home Coaching Inn, the last of the customers were just leaving, Apple cleared the tables and finally arrived at the table Jed had occupied a short while before. The sight of the still wrapped gift lying in shadow gave her a premonition of dread; she shivered violently as a chill swept over her body and her proud stomach contracted hard.

'Jack love,' she called, suddenly drained of colour, 'take this up to Jed's fer me will yer?' The look on his wife's face brooked no argument.

'Yeah, tis a fine night, the walk'll clear the cobwebs away,' he replied as he kissed her serious face, touched her belly gently and walked across the almost empty bar and out into the night before turning toward the ever-brooding forest.

### Chapter 3

### Jed Remembers

Relief crossed Jed's face as he pissed, he had not been lying to his friend, he had needed to go and badly. He chuckled as he re-tied his trews and turned back to look the way he had come, Green Home Village was lost to sight behind the tall hedgerows and many fields, the village itself was named for the forest that dominated the whole of the Beaut valley. Local rumour had it that the forest was evil and horror stories were rife, there was always a new tale to tell and each new tale would again prove that the forest itself was alive, somehow sentient. Jed smiled to himself, again seeing in his mind his father snorting with derision when as a child, Jed had asked about a particularly ridiculous tale and shaking his head with gentle laughter, he walked on toward home.

'Of course it's alive,' his Da would say, 'it's a forest.' Still though, people rarely if ever ventured near. Even his own mother had hated it, if he thought too hard about it, he could still hear his parents arguing constantly about moving to the village and away from the trees but he, like his father, never understood her fears. Growing up, Jed had gotten used to the stories and mostly he ignored them but now as a grown man and with his own wife also afraid of the miles of dense woodland, he tried very hard to understand the 'fear' that people felt and for Mayan, it was enough that he did try. As he walked on through the night, he thought of the young boy he had once been and his tentative questions to his father as he attempted to glean just why his mother behaved the way she did about the forest. Why she never willingly let him near it or allowed him to accompany his father to work within its leafy boundaries. His father had not replied straight away and when he did he avoided the question altogether.

'Well, we'll never be out of work boy,' his father said, adding, 'an' everyone be afeard... not just yer ma.'

'What of, Da?' The young Jed asked again.

'Trees lad, the trees... whispers, feelings,' his father replied smiling and tussling Jed's unruly dark hair with his fingers.

'I don't unnerstan' Da,' the boy continued, 'what's to be afeard of?'

'We be of the forest lad, the forest protects us, we 'elp it, it 'elps us...,' his father answered gesturing to the quiet trees around them.

'Iffen it 'elps us,' added Jed, 'why does ma 'ate it so?'

'The forest will protect itself Jed, it demands respect...' The tall rangy man replied looking so sternly at his son, that Jed did not speak again, he just sat quietly watching his father work clearing debris from the winding stream that exited the trees and spread to irrigate the village fields, before finally turning into the fast flowing river Beaut a few miles downstream.

After a lunch of bread, sausage and cheese, his father moved back down into the water retrieving two bottles of now ice-cold ale from the flow.

"Ere lad,' he said, smiling as he tossed a bottle gently to his son, 'jus' don't tell yer ma.' Jed loved it when his father smiled, it, like this trip to the forest were rare, so happily taking his first ever ale, Jed moved closer to the stream himself and sat back against the bole of a small tree growing on the bank. The hot sun had burnt off the last of the clouds and the water shimmered as if it were sparkling glass; unaccustomed to alcohol and with the warmth of the sun surrounding him, Jed began to feel drowsy. His father, who had removed his boots and socks to work in the stream, moved through the knee-deep flow to the bank where he sat beside his son dangling his feet in the swiftly running water.

Just then, a small fox ran across the lane in front of Jed disrupting his memories, it stopped momentarily turning its large silver eyes on the stumbling man, before darting away once more into the undergrowth, the silver eyes staring at him from the darkness made him smile.

_I remember the stream looked silver, jus' like that_ , he mused, turning his mind back into himself as he continued to reminisce.

'The forest lad...,' his father had begun. Jed remembered becoming instantly alert once more, his father talking about the forest was as rare as his wonderful smile and his mother never did approve of him speaking of it to Jed.

'When we was young...,' his father began again; Jed stole a sidelong glance at him anxious not to interrupt and eager for the rest of the story. His father removed his hat losing a bright blue feather from the brim, the feather landed in the silver water and Jed watched as it made its way downstream swiftly gliding along like a small blue boat and as he sat listening to his father's tale he continued to watch the water long after the feather had disappeared from sight.

'When I were a kid, a bit older than you, me an' me mates 'ad come 'ere together, it were evening but still bright like, yer ma was with us an' one or two other girlies from the village. We was only messing about an' I was sweet on yer ma even then, ah Jed...' the tall man said looking down on his son, a bright smile lighting up his face, 'Yer should 'ave seed yer ma back then, my, she were a beauty...' Jed held his breath trying to imagine his dour faced mother as a beauty and failed miserably. A bleak expression cross his father's face briefly and Jed opened his mouth to speak just as his father continued. 'But she liked another lad, a lad called Byron. We was drinkin' ale that we 'ooked from the Inn... we was terrible back then.' He smiled again, driving the gloom from Jed's heart and lighting up the world as he relived his own youthful follies and Jed loved him even more for it. 'Anyway,' his father continued, 'we was all in our cups an' 'ad run outta booze. Yer ma an' the others were firsty like, an' Byron started showin' off, 'e said as 'e knew 'ow ter get a drink from the trees in the forest. I 'ad told 'im 'ow months afore, after me Da 'ad showed me, but I told 'im yer 'ad be careful like, as yer can kill the tree if it's not done right. Byron said he needed ter pee 'an one of the girlies teased 'im about being feared of the woods. Yer ma, well, she 'ad teased 'im too, telling 'im she were braver than 'e were an' that e'd never do it, never be able ter go in the forest in the daytime, let alone in the near dark.' Jed stole a glance at his father when his tone suddenly became serious. 'Byron went in the woods, jus' as the mists were beginnin' to close in, t'were over there...,' his father continued quietly, pointing to a small glade on the very outskirts of the forest and his expression turned grave. 'The mist 'ad come down quick like,' he went on. 'After a while 'e still hadn't returned, so we waited fer 'im ter come out a bit longer, coz, yer know maybe he'd needed more than just a pee... but it 'ad gotten late an' the girlies needed ter get 'ome... 'E never came out...'

Jed had not spoken a word whilst his father told his tale but as he watched; he saw his Da's eyes brighten with unshod tears and he looked away. After what seemed an eternity, his father began again.

'The others went ter fetch me own Da, yer ma, well, she came with me when I went ter look fer 'im. She were awful brave yer know,' he turned then and looked down at his son's upturned face wanting him to understand. 'She 'ates the forest lad..., 'ates it coz it took 'er Byron.'

'Did yer find 'im Da' Jed asked after his father stopped speaking, a chill running down his spine. 'What 'appened to 'im?' He asked again as his father turned his gaze back to the forest.

'We searched lad, day and night, me, me Da and yer ma, well, when her ma would let her, the other villagers wouldn't 'elp though, only Byron's Da an' even 'e gave up after a while. He 'ad 'is business ter run and the other kids to watch fer, me own Da an' me found where Byron 'ad been though, 'e'd carved some letters into a tree, yer ma an' 'is initials, e'd bored a small hole too, just deep enough to allow the tree sap to run free. Doin' that lad, is like cutting a vein fer the tree, the tree bled ter death... I think the forest took 'im coz 'e killed the tree... though I never told yer ma that...' he lowered his voice thoughtfully and added again, 'the trees will talk ter yer, will tell yer 'ow ter be'ave with 'em.... iffen yer listens right...'

The tale ended and turned into the lesson that Byron had not understood all those years ago, just how to obtain a drinkable sweet liquid, full of goodness and sugar from a Birch tree when lost without water and how to bung the hole up once finished, so as not to kill the tree itself.

'Respect it lad,' his father had repeated,' respect, the forest will respect yer, if you do it.'

Jed had had a wonderful day, just as he always loved those special days spent with his father and he had fallen into bed that night sleeping almost immediately, dreaming of talking trees, blue feathers, silver water and dark secrets in shadows... He awakened to yet another argument between his parents and remembered hearing his name shouted then his father using hushed tones as he tried to calm his angry wife. Jed shoved his head under the pillow to block out the sound, knowing that he and his trip to the forest had been the cause of it. Sleep fled from him as he lay quietly listening to the rise and fall of the voices below, occasionally a word here or there would become audible.

'Too young,' he heard his mother say.

'Twelve,' and 'Apprenticed,' he heard in his father's voice.

Again, Jed's memories disrupted as an owl hooted loudly close by startling the drunken man from his reverie. 'I c-ould name all trees an' bushes even back then,' he hic-cupped as he walked under a large oak, staring up into its branches as he passed by. Lowering his head quickly had it swimming painfully and he shook it gently in an attempt to clear it, his fingers fell once more to caressing the handle of his father's knife and he continued to recall his childhood, smiling to himself now and again as he remembered.

Finally, he had heard enough and decided he would prove to his mother that he was a man. He waited until both parents had gone to their bed and dressed quickly, creeping down the stairs remembering to use the outer part of each stair to minimise the squeaking. After leaving a hastily written note, he stole bread, cheese, a water-skin from the pantry and one of his father's knives from the shelf and placing his contraband in a small sack, he quietly let himself out the back door.

_Four days,_ Jed thought, as he continued his drunken waddle home to his family, _I was alone in the forest fer four days,_ he giggled aloud at the memory of the boy he had been and how he had marvelled at his first real sights and sounds of the woods he loved. The pungent earthy smell of the forest floors, the deep shadows moving around him as if they were alive themselves and the creatures, he had seen wonderfully coloured birds, bats, squirrels, horses, goats and a wild boar he escaped from by climbing a tree. He slept each night high up under the canopy of green, waking each morning stiff but happy and he ate berries, roots and fruit the way his father had shown him. He drank water from the many streams and tree sap when there was no water, remembering to thank the tree and stop up the hole he had made by plugging it with a piece of wood he'd whittled to the right size with the stolen knife. _Me Da's knife,_ he thought as he fondled the knife at his side once again. 'It was f-un,' he said aloud, hic-cupping again, 'til I got mesel' lost anyways...' he drunkenly gigged, his hand absently rubbing his temple.

On the morning of the third day, he decided he ought to go back, feeling by now he had proved himself and turning in what he thought was the right direction he struck out for home. It wasn't long before he realised he was lost but ever resourceful, he remembered passing a huge tree that had seemed to tower over the canopy, so he resolved to return to it, climb as high as he could and possibly find a familiar landmark to give him direction.

On relocating the tree, Jed dropped his sack beside the trunk and began the arduous clamber to the uppermost branches. Close to the top, a small red squirrel ran across his hand chattering noisily, angry at being disturbed and startled, Jed lost his footing plummeting to the leafy forest floor where he lay unconscious with blood dripping from a small wound at the side of his head. Again, he dreamed of trees and animals talking, he could not understand the words but the constant murmur of voices in his head calmed the panic in his unconscious mind and made him feel safe.

'That was when I met the w-olf,' he said aloud through his hic-cups only this time bringing the taste of bile up from his belly, so turning to the side of the lane he spat. 'Me 'pologies,' he grinned to the mist creeping through the trees. His belly rumbled once more filling his mouth with acid and he spat again before taking the squashed pastry from his pocket, biting into it attempting to rid himself of repugnant the taste of bile. Wiping his mouth on his cuff, he continued to walk toward home as his mind drifted back into the past.

After his fall from the tree, young Jed had awoken to a sore head and the sounds of an animal fight. Through blurred vision he saw a huge dog like creature driving away another of the wild boar he had previously climbed a tree to escape from. _That boar could 'ave eaten me,_ he thought, remembering how he had attempted to get up but had fallen again as the world started to swim and his stomach lurched. Much like it feels now, he grimaced to himself burping and swallowing hard as the bile again tried to rise.

'I shouldn't 'ave 'ad that p-astry' he said aloud speaking through his hic-cups and rubbing his grumbling belly. A silver slither of moonlight cut across him like a knife as the breeze blew the branches above him aside turning the lane into a million dancing shadows making his vision blur and reminding him once again of the concussion he had suffered so long ago.

Jed opened his eyes a second time to find a huge silver grey wolf hovering over him with its piercing blue eyes inches from his face. Frozen with terror he lay still and as the animal's rough tongue licked his skin, cleaning the drying blood from his forehead, Jed felt its breath on his face and saw its huge razor sharp teeth. Then, he heard the murmuring in his head, the same sounds he had heard in his dreams and suddenly he was no longer afraid, the wolf sat up beside him.

'I'm lost,' Jed said to the huge beast wondering how he knew it would not hurt him. 'I didn't know there were wolves in 'ere,' he added, as the blue eyed creature bent its huge head down to his face and licked him again before bounding away to the other side of the clearing as if, it seemed to Jed in one leap. It stood with sunlight on its back, its fur gleaming like molten silver.

'It w'ere w-aitin' fer me ter follow it,' the drunken man said aloud, laughing loudly at both the memory and his recurring hic-cups as he stepped lightly over a pale pool of silver moonlight on the path before him. 'Man that bang on me 'ead must still be g-ettin' ter me, coz I reckon I be talkin' ter m'esel...' he added, hic-cupping again as he spoke and easily slipping back into memory.

The boy got up slowly from the forest floor and began to follow the wolf, all day he followed the animal crossing streams and clearings he knew he had not seen before. Still he followed; trusting the feeling of safety the intense blue eyes offered him. The pair stopped only as night had fallen and the wolf had lain down in some dense fern, Jed gratefully lay down beside it quickly falling asleep using the enormous body of the wolf for warmth and his empty sack as a pillow.

When he awoke again, the blue-eyed wolf was gone and looking about him Jed recognised the spot where he and his father had worked the small stream only a few days before.

'Thanks' Blue,' he shouted, naming the creature for its extraordinary eyes, 'thank yer fer showin' me the way.' Jed did not think to question why the beautiful animal had helped him but he was glad that it had, admitting to himself that without its help he would definitely have been in trouble. Hastily he splashed his face with water from the stream, snatched up his sack and ran on home, excited to have achieved what he felt was his passage to adulthood and eager to tell his tale of the blue-eyed creature.

He arrived home to yet another argument between his parents and the scene before him banished any tales of his adventures from his mind, his mother was crying, sitting in the family trap, her bags packed and loaded behind her, his father, also crying was pleading with her not to go, Jed came to a standstill beside him.

'I knew yer would be fine Jedadiah,' said his mother. 'I'm leaving fer Branton ter stay with me sister fer a while..., well, ter stay with me sister.'

'Why ma, why yer leavin'?' Jed cried as the tears built up behind his own eyes.

'Yer be a man now Jed, yer don't need a ma anymore, yer 'ave yer forest an' welcome yer both be to it too,' she replied as the tears crashed over Jed's eyelids soaking his shirtfront. 'I love yer both,' she continued, 'an I'll be back fer visits like, ter the Inn though, not 'ere,' she said looking back over her shoulder at the brooding forest. 'I can't live next to this ....' she gestured with her head not even wanting to look at the trees behind her, 'fer one more second, one of these days it'll take both of yer the way it took.... well, anyways I can't do it anymore. I thought I could, but I can't, yer going like that lad, it showed me yer growin' up fast. I'm real sorry ter both of yer but yer know where I be should yer ever... well, should yer be able ter fergive me...' and with that, she had taken a last loving look at her husband and son and driven away. Jed and his father stood watching in silence until the trap disappeared from sight.

Young Jed had been unhappy for a time, blaming himself for his mother leaving but his love for his father grew. His father had also taken his wife leaving very badly, seeming to find solace only when he was within the vast reaches of the forest and he threw himself into teaching the lad everything he knew about the land, the animals and the trees around them. Together they built a cabin, again deep within the wood, eventually even adding a small stable for some wild horses' and goats. They spent weeks alone, using the goats for milk and cheese, chickens for eggs and tasty fish from the forests numerous fresh water streams, there were also pheasant and partridge in plenty ensuring their diet was varied and interesting. His father also taught him how to carve and whittle, how to pick the best wood, how to feel the heart of the piece and find the shape the wood wanted to be. Using the bone handled knife the cabin quickly filled with beautifully carved furniture and each piece better than the last. Occasionally they would visit Branton and his mother, where he would present her with his latest crafted piece and she would delight in all that he knew and wonder at how much he had grown. By the time, he was sixteen, Jed was as happy on his own deep in the forest as he was at the Green Home Inn with his friends Jack, Apple and Mayan and although he often thought he saw the blue-eyed wolf in the distance he never again saw it up close.

At last, his home came into view nestling in a natural glade on the very outskirts of Green Home Forest. The drunken man stumbled and swayed as he walked the last hundred yards down the lane, his still angry belly forcing him stop and pee once more, only this time into a long and deep ditch. _Never realised I lived ser far away,_ he thought, _p'raps there is sommat in what ole' Tom was sayin'._ Absently he watched as his stream of piss disappeared beneath the ferns and gloom below his feet into the fern-filled trench.

The trench itself encircled the cottage giving it the appearance of a castle within its surrounding moat and in the evenings, the mist from the forest would fall slowly over the edge filling its depths to flow like an undulating river, just as it was doing now _. It really is a bound'ry o' sorts,_ Jed thought, _it keeps the mist close ter the forest an' away from the 'ouse._ Occasionally he knew it would spill over the far edge and creep slowly toward the house itself but in the main the ditch kept the forest at bay and that kept Mayan happy. Smiling ruefully, he thought about the back braking work and the amount of time it had taken to finish.

'It makes me feel safe,' Mayan had said, 'an' it keeps the forest from takin' over.' His father had helped him dig the ditch mumbling all the time about 'women's' nonsense' but Jed had dug it anyway, to please his new wife knowing she had taken the idea from a drainage channel that surrounded the forest itself, this time, the work of many generations of his family.

Immensely proud of his home, Jed could not help smiling as he looked at it, a small stone and wood cottage with a partly thatched roof, a flickering light shining in one window and his wife and child asleep upstairs. _I was born 'ere..._ Jed thought and smiled again, _I'm a Da, me son is asleep upstairs an' this is me 'ome!_ Jed wanted to shout he was so happy but again he grinned drunkenly and giggled, 'can't, might wake me son!' He whispered. Before his marriage, the cottage had just been somewhere to sleep whilst he waited to work with his father but now as he slowly and still slightly unsteadily walked up the path he could see the love Mayan had given it over the years and the home it had undoubtedly become.

The proof that Mayan loved her home was evident in the abundance of flowers and creepers that filled an area enclosed within ivy covered white picket fences. At one end of the well-kept garden sat a low stone wall that enclosed the cairns of their three lost children, tall majestic foxgloves, columbines and hollyhocks grew here in a controlled mass alongside colourful dahlias and bright yellow, feathery spikes of goldenrod. Orange and yellow tagetes added their pungent odour to the sweet night scented stocks and the smell of aniseed from the fennel in the herb garden, along with the mint and cat pee smell from the curry plant mixed together to fill the air with perfume. At this time of night, the heady fragrances combined with the damp earthy smells of the forest were always at their strongest and usually Jed loved them but just now, as they assaulted his senses he felt sicker than ever.

The mists from the forest were spilling out from the ditch and climbing over the fence in slow undulating graceful waves as he stumbled to the back door of his home, unlatched the lock and let himself inside. Mayan had left him bread, cheese and a small flagon of wine on the kitchen table, so taking the candle in its saucer of water from the windowsill and removing his pre-filled pipe from the mantle above the dying fire in the hearth, he sucked the bright yellow flame into the bowl of the pipe. He watched the tiny flame disappear and grow in turn as he sucked and finally satisfied the tobacco was burning, he sat down to relax and savour his only smoke of the day. Inhaling the deep rich smoke, he watched as it curled and twisted its way toward the ceiling as he exhaled, then, pouring himself a small glass of wine, he lifted it to his lips. At once his stomach, already under intense pressure gave way and Jed realised he was about to be very ill, he stood fast, knocking the chair backwards in his hurry to get outside. With a hand over his already salivating mouth and his eyes watering he dropped his pipe onto the table, threw open the door and flung himself a few paces through the flowerbed and over the garden fence. Finally, he disappeared into the mist-filled ditch that separated his home from the edge of the forest, there he crouched on hands and knees amongst the damp weeds and vented his overfull belly. Finished at last he fell prostrate to the ground amongst the damp weeds and slept, the mist covering him like a thick damp blanket.

Whilst he slept, the breeze continued to blow gently, cooling his brow as it tentatively brushed against him, up and over the fence and across the small garden with its newly trampled flowers, over the path and in through the open door of the cottage. The candle went out as the breeze caught it, the lit pipe rolled in a semi-circle quickly running out of table and dropping, still alight, into the dry kindling basket beside the table that Jed himself had filled earlier in the day to be ready for the morning and the night wore on.

### ***

Jed woke to the sound of a woman screaming, he wondered for a moment if he was dreaming, _what on the Journey am I doin' ere?_ He thought. His clothes were damp, he was extremely uncomfortable and he stank. At some point during his sojourn in the ditch, he had urinated, soaking himself in piss, adding the stench of ammonia to the smell of vomit permeating his clothing. He heard the woman scream again and suddenly remembered where he was, remembered the drinking and running out of the house leaving the door wide open.

Scrambling out of the ditch a fierce and blinding heat immediately assaulted him, he felt his face burning as his hair and eyelashes singed.

For a moment, he could not believe his eyes, the open back door of the cottage was a mass of swirling flame with fire consuming the doorframe like a hungry hound at a bone and with dread filling him, he ran around to the front of the cottage screaming his wife's name as he went.

'MAYAN,' he screamed again as the downstairs windows suddenly exploded and the added oxygen fuelled the already out of control inferno. The whole of his home was on fire and the ferocity of the blaze saw the evening sky as bright as day as he tried in vain to reach the front door. _I mus' get in; get 'em out!_ His only coherent thought played like a mantra as the intense heat drove him back repeatedly. Finally, he reached door and began to pummel with his fists, not noticing his skin beginning to peel and blister or the hair smouldering on his head. Amidst the smoke, the screaming, the falling ash and the loud roar of the flames and with tears streaming down his face he shouldered the locked door until suddenly he was grabbed from behind, Jack held him hard as he struggled.

'It's no use man, they be gone...' Jed heard him say as if from a long way away. He turned to look at his friend, vaguely noticing the forgotten gift in his hand; Jack was staring in horror up at the bedroom window and following his gaze, Jed saw his lovely Mayan banging on the glass with the small nursing chair he had made for their first child.

'I'll get yer, May,' he shouted at his struggling wife knowing in his heart he never would. The glass shattered and as if a giant flue had opened, the flames suddenly enveloped his wife surrounding her in a ball of brilliant flame. The roof fought to remain aloft as Mayan, with her hair ablaze and her skin peeling, threw a small flaming bundle from the window. With his eyes fixed on his burning wife, Jed did not see Jack drop the gift to the floor and run to catch the tiny bundle before it hit the ground. With an almighty crash, the roof partially collapsed and he heard Mayan scream again.

'JEDDD!' the sound stopped abruptly as the relentless flames tore through the remainder of his home and Jed fell to his knees weeping inconsolably.

Catching the burning bundle of rags carefully, Jack put out the flames with his hands, not caring that his skin was also beginning to burn; he knew in his heart it was the child and his heart fell as he felt the stillness of the baby in his arms. His own tears fell unashamedly as he un-wrapped the wet towel from the infant's tiny body, the precious baby his friends had gone through so much for. Miraculously, the child's head and face were untouched by the unforgiving and hungry fire and Jack could see he had indeed been a beautiful boy. He glanced at Jed as he knelt on the ground, his own tears falling as his friends shoulders heaved in grief. Carefully he removed the fragments of burnt cloth from the child trying not to notice where the burnt and blackened skin split and peeled off with the cloth and where the tiny fingers and toes had somehow fused together with the heat. Gently he wiped the tiny face free of smoke and dirt and retrieving the gift Apple had charged him to return, he pulled the cloth from it, re-wrapping the tiny body carefully in the clean fresh fabric intended for its mother. Leaving the baby's unblemished face exposed he held the child as the house continued to burn and Jed sobbed. At last, as Jed's pain filled cries lessened he approached him with the bundle and knelt on the ground beside his friend.

'Jed... Jed,' Jack placed a hand on his friend's shoulder attempting to comfort him and Jed raised his streaming eyes from the floor.

'My fault Jack...' he said, 'this be _my_ fault,' he said again as he looked up at his friend and noticed the baby for the first time; he began to sob anew.

"E's gone Jed, they're both gone,' Jack said softly as he held the dead child out to its father letting Jed's arms enclose the tiny body. He stood and watched as Jed bent his face to that of his son and respectfully he turned away with his own tears falling silently once more. 'Say goodbye my frien', say goodbye to both of 'em,' he said quietly as his heart filled with pain and his tears continued to fall.

Jed looked at his son's still and perfect face, he could see his wife in the child, even in death he saw her, his guilt tore at him and as he looked toward the still burning cottage, it too seemed to accuse him.

'Come on Jed,' Jack said softly, again attempting to comfort his friend, 'let's go, we'll take the baby ter the inn an' we'll come back in the mornin'' he added, reaching for the child to allow Jed to raise himself from the ground. Jed ignored the hands and holding his son to his chest pulled himself to his feet, his eyes never leaving the burning pyre that had once been his home. 'Let me take 'im Jed, let me 'elp,' Jack started again as Jed began to back away and turn toward the forest. 'Jed,' Jack called, as the man carrying his dead child continued to walk away. Jed's foot kicked something on the ground and he stopped briefly as he stooped to retrieve the small exquisitely painted toy rocking horse that Jack had made for his son.

'Good bye Jack.' Jed whispered as he turned and glanced back at his friend before holding the toy high in thanks. Then keeping the dead child close to his chest, he fled, jumping across the treacherous ditch and disappearing into the waiting trees.

Jack sat on the low wall at the edge of the garden and he watched the fire that had devastated his friends' lives, his tears now refusing to flow as other villagers began to join him, called there by the intense glow in the sky. Sadly, Apple also joined her husband on the wall as the shadows from the flames played equally across the lonely cairns enclosed within the low walled garden and the trees in the near distance, lighting them up like a finale to a great concert.

'Are they _all_ gone?' She asked, wiping her own wet face and stroking her extended belly.

'Yer love,' Jack replied, 'they're _all_ gone.' They watched the fire die slowly, the glowing embers, hot and still spitting settling around the large brick chimney that now stood tall like a tombstone for the once pretty cottage. Dawn began to show over the trees as one by one the villagers left, still Apple and Jack remained, they sat alone, watching the smouldering remains that had housed their friends, until, unable to cry more, they too stood silently, turned and walked slowly away.

### Chapter 4

### A Kind of Peace

The toy horse, its colours once bright and shiny now sat upon the mantle above the small hearth, but even with constant polishing its shine had dulled slightly over the years. The fire burned bright and warm despite the driving rain and the wind howling down the chimney created eddies of smoke wafting into the cosy room from the flue. The rain lashed at the windows making them rattle and the toy horse, caught in the draft, rocked gently back and forth.

Jed sat contentedly in an old chair deep in thought about his tasks for the morrow, as he gazed into the fire a wet log spat, spewing an acrid odour into the small room and instantly, the smell sparked off memories he neither wanted nor cared to relive.

He had said goodbye to Jack and carried his dead baby away blinded by his tears. Grief, guilt and a terrible sense of loss accompanied him as he had instinctively run, driven by an overwhelming urge to be alone with his child. Nearing dawn, he realised he was not far from his father's old cottage deep in the forest and decided to make that his destination. The water of the stream twinkled with reflected light from the early sun, as Jed stood quietly silent for the first time since leaving Jack. Solemnly he set about building his son a coffin using the tools he and his father before him had always kept well-honed and stored in the stable attached to the woodland cottage, once built he tenderly placed his tiny child inside and kissed him on the forehead.

'Goodbye little one,' he said, 'yer be with yer ma now an' I'll join yer soon enough,' he added as he took up a heavy spade and began to dig a small grave near the stream. Only once he felt the grave deep enough did he place the small coffin reverently inside. Then, as gently as he could he packed the hole with soil as tears he had not known he had left fell down his already grief ravaged face. Handful after handful of earth mingled with his tears filling the small grave, last resting place of his child.

A large silver grey wolf with piercing blue eyes watched him as he went back and forth to the stream picking up large stones and placing them gently on top of the grave like a monument. Once the cairn to mark the site was finished, the man stood back and spoke to the pile.

'Yer deserved better 'n me boy,' he said as he bowed his head, 'I'm sorry, ser very, very sorry...' Finished at last, he stood back with his head bent low as he prayed for the Gods to accept his son and help him on his final journey. The silver wolf stood by watching closely and howled mournfully.

Finally, as the sun started to sink behind the trees leaving the small cairn in shadow, Jed walked back into the cottage, shored up the windows and stuffed rags up the chimney and under the door to prevent a draft. Working quietly he built up a large fire and lying down on the wooden cot nearest the hearth he held the toy horse in his arms and watched as the fire grew and smoke quietly filled the room. He had intended to burn as his wife and son had burnt but unable to give himself more pain than he already felt, he watched the smoke as it gathered at the ceiling and drew closer and closer, as if lowering to meet him. Before long it was so thick and cloying he could taste it, it swirled around him like an acrid but soft blanket and it burned his eyes and chest, he coughed as his body tried to clear his airways but he continued to deliberately suck in one deep lungful of the noxious vapour after another and was soon unconscious.

Hours later, the cold rain falling on his face woke him, his clothing was soaked through, his chest heavy and his upper arm painful and bloody but he was alive. He was lying beside the stream near his son's cairn and with a start; he recognised the blue-eyed wolf from his childhood laid out before the memorial watching him silently. The creature had an open wound in its shoulder and its silver grey fur gleamed wetly under the pale light from the watery moon. Jed agonisingly turned his head to look upon his cottage home; the door leaned in on its hinges and huge jagged splinters of wood protruded from the broken frame where he had drawn the bolts across.

Gently and painfully, he pulled the clean damp air into his smoke damaged lungs and unmindful of the wild beast lying in the rain not far from him he rose and staggered toward the cottage. The fire had gone out and there appeared to be no more evidence of his attempted suicide than the broken door itself and some smoke damage. On the cruel jagged splinters of what remained of the door, Jed could see tufts of silver grey fur stuck with splashes of blood and in the wet and muddy ground between the cottage and the stream he could just make out where he had been dragged from the smoking building.

'I didn't need saving this time lad,' he said softly as he turned to face the wolf and knowing instinctively the beautiful creature had once again come to his rescue. He watched as the creature agonisingly crawled through the mud to his side, leaving a trail of blood from its wounded shoulder behind him. Jed knelt beside the wolf ostensibly to tend its wounds but as he touched its wet fur, his emotions welled to the surface and unable to control himself he buried his face in the soft fur and sobbed.

' _JED,_ ' the voice in his head startled him throwing him into confusion.

'Who be there?' Jed shouted into the forest ignoring the itching of his skin and the rain still pouring over him and dripping off his nose. 'Jack be that you?' He added. Still confused, Jed attempted to rise to his feet; he brushed his hand over the back of the creature catching the deep open wound in the beasts shoulder and the wolf shivered, whining painfully.

' _JED, I AM HURT,'_ the voice came again into Jed's mind as the wolf's tongue snaked out catching his hand weakly and bringing his attention back from the shadows of the forest. Jed turned, fixing his gaze into the depths of the creatures deep blue eyes.

'Yer be talkin' ter me Blue?' He asked incredulously as the blue eyes dulled and the beast slumped against his legs. Picking up the large animal gingerly, he carried it into the cottage, lay it down on the table and taking a wick from the mantle above the fire, lit the lamp. Absently he noted the fires embers still glowing red and licked his dry lips attempting to clear his mouth of the taste of smoke. Taking the knife from his belt and thanking the journey he always kept the handle compartment well stocked with all manner of things useful in an emergency, he rested the blade briefly in the glowing embers before shaving the skin around the jagged wound and cleaning then stitching the tear in the animal's shoulder as best he could.

'There'll be a scar there boy but yer fur'll cover it eventually an' yer never know the ladies might like it,' Jed said sadly, as he admired his handiwork and stroked the unconscious animal.

Over the next few weeks Jed found solace in caring for the sick animal that had saved his life, he cleared the cottage of the smoke damage and resigned himself to spending his life here within the forest he loved and away from others. Gradually he began to heal.

Over time, he came across some wild goats that he built a pen for and a pair of wild horses that seemed friendly and he took to leaving hay for them in the old stable, _jus' in case they wanna stay,_ he told himself, glad the stable was useful once again. Eventually the horses came to the stable every night and regularly stayed all day so he got into the habit of leaving the stable door open so the horses could come and go as they pleased.

The wolf had not spoken to him again as it had recovered but Jed knew it was special, it remained with him as a companion well after its health was no longer a concern, then one morning it was gone. Since then it occasionally stopped by for a while, sometimes bringing with it a rabbit or a fine fat partridge.

'Checking up on me Blue boy?' Jed would tease, knowing the wolf understood and always hoping for but never getting a reply.

Eventually life for Jed became good once more, his memories were still oft times painful but the sun dripping through the trees onto the stream making it glow like gold had once again become beautiful.

### ***

Jed stared up at the rocking horse on the mantle and shook his head to clear the memories and the wolf, almost instinctively knowing his thoughts, turned its huge head to look at him. Leaning forward, Jed scratched it absently under the chin as it lay in front of the fire; it had arrived earlier in the day with yet another fat bird and he was pleased to see it, though he knew despite the inclement weather, it would probably be gone when he got up in the morning. The wind was whistling through the treetops and howling down the chimney making smoke from the fire billow out into the room and he shuddered pushing away yet another unpleasant memory.

'Strewth!' he exclaimed as he waved his arms in front of his face attempting to rid the room of the sudden inrush of smoke and he coughed loudly to clear his lungs. The windows rattled in their frames as the wind battered the glass and he got up to check the old catches for the tenth time that evening. 'That sure be a bad un out there tonight Blue, yer wouldn't know it was spring would yer?' He said, as one of the wooden window shutters outside banged loose, almost causing the fragile glass to break. 'I'll go out an' sort the shutter boy, _before_ it smashes the glass,' he added, as it crashed against the windowpane once more. 'No Blue, stay where yer are... I insist...' he chuckled as the wolf twitched its eyebrows at him and settled more comfortably onto the hearthrug. 'Wouldn't wan' yer ole bones gettin' cold nah would we?' Jed grinned at the warm furry animal nestling before the fire and smiled to himself at the ludicrous comment. In all honesty, the silver grey wolf seemed not have aged a day in the five years since it had rescued him from the smoke, though it still bore a small scar high up on its shoulder where the wood of the door had torn through its fur and ripped into its muscle. Other than that though, Jed believed it looked exactly the same now as it had the very first time he had seen it and that had been many years ago, when he himself had been a small runaway wanting to prove himself a man, he looked back at the creature before the fire. 'Yer me friend Blue boy, an' I love yer,' he said, not surprised at the depth of his feelings.

He had finally come to terms with what happened to his family and although he'd not totally forgiven himself, his guilt still ran deep in the dark hours of the night, he was as happy as he could be with his home, his beloved forest, his own company and occasionally that of the wolf, Blue. He opened the door to the cottage just as a gust of wind whipped through the glade pushing it out of his grasp, it swung open suddenly heavy and crashed against a large bookcase, the books rattled and an ornament fell and smashed on the floor. Blue sat up quickly pricking up his soft pointed ears and pushing his nose high into the draft just as Jed reached for the door to close it behind him, leaping to his feet he rushed past Jed and out into the wind and the driving rain before disappearing into the dense undergrowth leaving Jed staring in surprise after him.

### Chapter 5

### The Storm and the Beginning

Away on the other side of the forest, a coach rocked heavily from side to side as it raced along one of the forest tracks. One of the last of the winter storms trying to turn back the spring raged manically all around it, the driving rain stinging the eyes of the horses despite their weather covers.

'This is a filthy night and so cold... more like it's still winter, we should never have been given this job... 'e should' 'ave got someone else,' shouted the driver to his attendant over the rumble of thunder.

'Who's the mark anyway, an' what's she done that soldiers want' 'er?' The attendant replied also shouting, as the driving wind tore off his rain soaked hat. 'Journey's sake!' He cursed as he turned to follow its progress as it tumbled and flew far behind them, the wind now whipped through his unrestrained hair and thoughts of his lost hat paled into insignificance as the view behind them made his blood freeze.

'We should slow down,' shouted the driver.

'You tell them that then,' the attendant replied in a panic as he pointed to riders following in the wake of the coach, catching up fast despite the storm. 'By the Journey, 'ow the 'eck did they find us?' He added as a wheel jammed in a rut in the muddy ground, causing the coach to jump into the air before crashing back with a lurch. Lightning arced across the night sky lighting the track with instant daylight for a second. The attendant, thrown into the air with the coach frantically struggled to regain his fragile hold on the unstable vehicle.

'Much more of this and we'll all be stopping fer good, no money is worth this, they can take 'er!' The driver hollered in the direction of his partner as he offered a steadying hand. A crossbow bolt thudded into the back of the coach, swiftly followed by a second, narrowly missing the driver's hand and he suddenly realised they would probably both be dead men very soon.

'Move damn yer...' he shouted at the horses, 'move or we're dead!'

The riders' pursued the coach relentlessly as the frightened driver urged his horses on, trying desperately to get them to move faster, the coach pitched again violently, once more unseating the attendant as he clung on to its side.

"E said as how we were ter keep her safe, ter get her ter...,' the driver did not get to finish or if he did, his voice was lost as simultaneously lightning flashed across the night sky and thunder cracked eardrums leaving the party of travellers temporarily deafened. As the gap between the riders and dangerously rocking coach closed, the driver began to pray, still the gap narrowed. The forward rider came closer, forcing his beleaguered horse onward; suddenly he was up against the side of the speeding vehicle. The attendant carefully reached across and attempted to push him back with a spare bullwhip kept atop the careering carriage.

The beautifully braided twelve-inch leather handle was now slippery in the intense cold and rain and cracking the twenty-foot lash was almost impossible. Coupled with his own unsteady gait and the closeness of the pursuing rider, the handle proved as ineffective as the leather lash and the twenty-inch fall; the single piece of leather attached to the end of the lash and usually most effective when used to cut or strike a target. Now the lash lay uselessly coiled atop the moving boxes and in frustration, the attendant threw the whip aside. His bowels turned to water as he watched the pursuing rider's attempt to leap the short distance between his horse and the carriage. Almost in slow motion, the wind picked up the abandoned whip and flung out its thong, the leather handle wedged sharply under a box of luggage and the lash itself wrapped around the body of the man as he readied to jump, it curled and struck his horse in the face, the long wet fall biting deeply across its muzzle. The rider went down alongside the coach as his animal shied with intense pain. Unsteadied, the soldier immediately grabbed out at the wet rope like whip, catching hold and attempting to secure himself as it untangled from his body and flew like a tail behind them. The attendant saw the man's hands slipping before a look of horror crossed his face and he disappeared beneath the coach as once more the vehicle jumped, he wondered if the cause was yet another rut in the road or the soldier himself falling beneath the fast moving carriage wheels.

Time returned to normal as the body of the soldier appeared from behind the coach, dragged along by the whip that had again entangled about him. The attendant felt sick as he saw spurts of what looked in the darkness like black blood, mingling with the mud and rain, the soldier remained silent as his body tumbled and twisted behind the coach like an unsteady rudder on a boat at sea.

Almost imperceptibly, the drag caused by the soldier's body began to slow the carriage down causing the driver to scream again at his frightened horses. In frenzy the attendant realising what had happened tried to release the handle of the whip from where it had caught, box after bag he threw from the coach top as he dug for the pinioned whip handle, the pursuers avoided the thrown missiles with ease in their pursuit of the carriage. Finally, the attendant wrenched the handle free and the whip flew from his hands through the rain and disappeared beneath the muddy water in the roadway, the soldier's broken body slowed and stopped, now little more than a hump in the road as the carriage took off once more with added momentum.

'Slow and we're dead!' screamed the attendant as he watched the remaining soldiers also slow and gather around their fallen comrade, 'they've stopped to see ter their mate... move,' he added, unsure if the driver had heard his screams as even shouted conversation now became inaudible. The terrain became rougher as the volume of water and slush increased, the wheels jarred and shuddered as they continued their breakneck speed pulled by the soaked, terrified and exhausted horses.

Ahead of the racing team, near a bend in the track, lightning struck again and close to the route they were following, an old tree suddenly lit up and its silhouette showed in high relief for an instant as it sheared off near the base of its trunk. The tree fell across the track only to immediately disappear beneath the water that had gathered on the track. No trace of the tree's once great bole was visible above the water line as it settled deeply into the mud; the small fire at the point of the lightning's strike had no chance to gain hold and quickly died out as the rain continued to pour down in torrents.

The carriage rushed on toward its fate.

The wind howled as the first of the horses caught the hidden trunk sunk deep in the mire. It stumbled and pulled its pair down slightly before they both managed to scramble over the obstacle but the damage had already occurred. The second set of horses caught the unfamiliar downward pull from the first pair, frightened and tired they too jumped, almost landing on the backs of the lead pair, they too went down. Amongst the thunder and lightning, the driving rain and the mud, the horses screamed as they tried to raise their broken bodies. The exposed wheels of the carriage smacked hard into the submerged log causing the whole carriage to spin and topple trapping the coachman beneath it. Lines snapped as the body of the attendant flew, thrown high into the air by the forward momentum of the carriage, his head hit a tree and he fell unconscious, landing precariously balanced between two branches high above the scene of carnage below. The driver with his ankle broken by the weight of the carriage lay helpless in the freezing cold mud, he was trapped and unable to pull his leg free as the rain beat down and their pursuers made up time behind them.

Inside the carriage, a heavily pregnant young girl held her extended belly, she was bruised, battered and sore but her relief at the movement inside her belly caused her to smile.

'They won't have you, _he_ won't have you little one,' she said, 'I'll protect you I promise...' Pushing hard at the door of the carriage, she grabbed her bag and heaved her large swollen body out into the cold, rain soaked night only to find amidst the screaming horses, the mud and the rain, the driver, still trying through his pain to free his ankle. During yet another flash of lightning, he saw her watching him, indecision on her young face, finally, she shouted above the storm.

'Let me help you...' she called as she waded uncomfortably toward him.

'No, no me lady, go, run now, they're coming for yer,' he replied between gasps of pain. "Sides, I would 'ave let ' _em_ take you,' he added harshly.

'I can't leave you... I _won't_ leave you...' She replied, as despite her size she tried to pull the offending ankle free. The driver's scream rivalled that of the horses as the weight of the coach shifted, settling deeper in the mud and as it rocked, the ankle suddenly shot free revealing the open fracture and the blood mingling with the mud and rain. The girl landed in the mire, now as filthy and wet as the driver himself. 'Come on... please try...,' she shouted through the rain lashing against her face and stinging her eyes as she tried to pull him to his feet. He struggled to stand, his entire weight resting on one foot. Slowly both he and the girl crossed through the still screaming horses to the side of the track where she tore off a length of her underskirt to staunch the bleeding and cover the fracture, the bone, white and jagged as it pushed unnaturally through the skin. With the ankle bound, she again helped him to his feet and they took off into the woods without thought for their tracks, the relentless rain quickly obliterated any evidence of their passing and fear for their lives taking the edge off any pain. Deeper and deeper they went through the trees but above the sound of the unprecedented violent storm, they could now hear the muted sounds of their pursuers searching for them at the site of the crash.

The noise of the terrified horses abruptly stopped as throats were sliced and blood spurted into the mud and gore of the track, the wrecked carriage, stuck upside down in the water lay like a sentinel for the broken beasts. Noting the sudden silence of the animals, the running pair continued to flee as fast as they could, further and further into the depths of Green Home Forest.

The attendant, still high in the tree slowly returned to consciousness, he could hear voices but he made no sound and absently he realised he could feel his warm blood as it trickled down his face from the wound he had received as he hit the tree. Trying not to move too much he opened his eyes in time to see the horses' blood gushing into the sludge, the rain mixing the blood, the water and sod as quickly as a large spoon would have done.

'Find 'er lads,' shouted one of the pursuers, 'kill the guards or whoever she's wiv, but _don't_ touch 'er.' The attendant thought of his sick wife and the silver haired daughter he would never see again if the soldiers caught him and he bit his tongue to stop himself sobbing aloud.

Two of the three remaining pursuers spread out, going into the forest in different directions and the attendant silently sighed with relief as he made himself a little more comfortable, a little more hidden from the road. He wondered briefly what had happened to the coachman and staring at the still twitching bodies of the horses below he resolved to wait it out in the tree until the 'soldiers' who had been following them for days had finally gone.

Lightning once again streaked across the sky illuminating the deathly scene for an instant as the last soldier, the one calling orders, turned his face up toward the attendant. The bruised and battered man shivered violently, he held his breath as the soldier below seemed to stare straight up at him; the soldier paused for a moment and stared intently into the rain-filled heavens before moving his horse on in the pursuit of the girl, then he too vanished into the surrounding darkness.

Hidden as the attendant was in the branches of the tree, the soldier did not see him but the attendant immediately recognised the man who had brought him so many mugs of ale at the Inn in the town of Spartin three days ago and he felt racked with guilt.

Deep in the forest hidden amidst the wet bracken, the girl and the coach driver took pause, both already tired and sore and with the driver in excruciating pain from his ankle, they hid with the sound of the pursuers coming ever closer.

'Over here,' came a cry hardly audible over the noise of the wind and rain lashing at the trees above their heads. The girl started.

'They are so close,' she whispered.

'Go lady,' replied the coachman, 'go, and luck go with yer...' he said through pain-fuelled tears.

'I will not leave you like this,' she replied as a crossbow bolt thudded into the chest of the man she would not leave. She watched in eerie fascination as blood oozed from his chest like a flower opening, blooming in intricate patterns across his wet clothing and running darkly down his shirtfront.

'Go...' he said again, weakly now, as the dark blood bubbled from his lips and fell in rivers down his chin.

'I'm so sorry,' she cried as her tears fell onto his hand.

'Miss,' the coachman grabbed her hand with surprising strength, 'pray fer me Journey...' he pleaded as they heard the sounds of their pursuers coming nearer.

'I will...' she replied through her tears as his life left him and his real journey began. Snatching up her small bag, she left his body and crawled as fast and as far as her large, bloated body would allow. Bracken pulled at her clothes as sharp twigs and branches wickedly tore at her face and pulled at her long blonde hair, tearing it in clumps from her scalp.

'They were 'ere!' She heard faintly as she stood to run and blinded by tears and full of remorse for all the deaths she had inadvertently caused she ran on. Oblivious to the pain in her belly, the thin silk of her slippers tearing, the trees snagging and pulling painfully at her skin and hair, she continued to run. All the time the wind howled over her head in concert with the thunder rolling across the heavens and the streaks of lightning that occasionally lit up the trees in the canopy above her.

A silver grey wolf suddenly appeared from nowhere as it jumped on to the back of the slowest of the pursuers sinking its fangs deep into the sinewy neck, the man did not make a sound as his throat crushed under the powerful jaws. Leaping from the body before it hit the ground the wolf ran on, bounding toward its new quarry far ahead in the forest. Despite the foul weather, its highly developed sense of smell led it to the dead coach driver still lying beneath the bracken. It sniffed at the body before coming to rest at the small, wet and bloodied bandage wrapped around the broken foot and its piercing blue eyes narrowed as it lifted its head into the night and howled.

'What the 'eck was that?' The first of the two remaining soldiers shouted as he glanced about him nervously.

'I dunno, but let's get the girl and get out of 'ere,' came the reply as a flash of silver grey darted ahead of them into the forest.

'A wolf, a bloody great wolf!' The first man shouted again as he automatically lifted and released a bolt from his crossbow in the direction the wolf had taken.

The still running girl felt a stinging blow high on her back; she ignored it as she had all the other small hurts she was still receiving as she ran on in terror with her hair flying about her face, wet, straggly and getting into her mouth and eyes. Suddenly she slipped over an exposed tree root and fell; rolling down a small incline and snapping off the offending quarrel in her back leaving its diamond arrowhead deeply embedded in her body, mercifully, darkness quickly claimed her.

The wolf found the girl lying at the bottom of a slight slope, unconscious and smelling of death and with the bank of fern and bracken affording little protection against the winter storm. Gently it snuffled at the young girl's face and moved to smell the blood seeping underneath her body before raising its head and howling again toward the two pursuers before turning and bounding off into the trees.

'What's a wolf doin' in these parts?' The first soldier asked, relieved the animal was going in the other direction as he and his comrade continued on their course toward the unconscious girl.

'There, I can see where she's 'iding,' said the second man in answer, adding, 'there, through the bracken, look,' he said, pointing through the trees. Finally, they came across the still form of the woman they had been chasing with the order to return unharmed.

'Come on girlie,' said the first soldier as he slithered down the wet embankment and touched her side with his boot. The girl did not move.

'By the journey, she's dead... she's bloody dead!' the second soldier exclaimed in horror, as he too climbed down to where she lay silent and still amid the wet ferns. He knelt beside her, inadvertently placing his knee in a pool of blood; tenderly he turned her body and noticed the ugly wound caused by the crossbow bolt.

'T'were us as did fer 'er, tis a bolt wound,' he said in horror as he attempted to lift the small figure.

'What d' yer think yer doin'? Shouted his companion through the rain as he joined his friend on the muddy ground beside the body, 'we take back 'er dead body an' we'll be joining 'er on the journey real swift like,' he added as he shook the arm of his companion. 'Think about it will yer?' He shouted again over the noise of the rumbling thunder and the soldier holding the body laid the girl once more on the wet ground.

'I know yer right...' he said, adding 'it just don't seem proper though, ter leave 'er body fer that wolf... what if there's more of 'em?' He asked nervously, glancing around the wind and rain pelted trees.

'Man, look she's dead, let's jus' go... we'll say we never found 'er... 'Ere, let's not go back a 'tall, 'e finds out it were us as killed 'er and we're both dead anyway,' the first soldier shouted as he began to climb back up the small incline that partially sheltered the girl. With a last long look at her inert form, the second soldier joined his comrade. They made their way back toward their tethered horses and rode away quickly, the lashing rain and driving wind covering their tracks.

### ***

At the cottage deep in the woods Jed was snoring gently beside the dying fire as the wolf burst through the door startling him and he jumped to his stockinged feet.

'What the...' he began as a warm fuzzy feeling in his head began. _'JED, COME NOW'_ he heard.

'Hey Blue, that you talkin' agen?' Jed asked the wolf as he rubbed his eyes of sleep.

' _NOW JED, COME NOW..._ ' Jed heard as the wolf began to back away to the door through the leaves that had blown in across the floor, its piercing blue eyes suddenly brighter in the reflection of the fire. Ignoring the sudden itchiness of his skin Jed stood.

'Ok boy, I'm comin' though why yer waited til now to finally talk agen...' Jed began as he buckled his belt and pulled on his boots.

' _BLANKET,'_ Jed heard as he thrust his arms into his jerkin and grabbing an old woollen rug from the bed, he threw his coat over his shoulders and rammed his hat hard onto his head before stuffing the rug beneath the old waxy coat and fastening it tightly.

'I be ready boy, where we goin'?' Jed asked the space where the wolf had been. Shaking his head in disbelief, he followed the wolf out into the cold, wet night. 'What am I doin'?' Jed asked himself as he pulled the cottage door closed and turned to face the wolf now pacing back and forth impatiently near the cairn of stones beside the swollen stream. 'Where we be goin' in the middle of the night boy?' He asked again as the wolf set off deeper into the forest. Although a fit man Jed struggled to keep the wolf in sight, _not twelve any longer_ , he thought, thinking of the last time he had followed the wolf in this way. He fell, his knee banging hard against a rocky outcrop; the wolf stopped and shivered, eager to be on the move as Jed rose to his feet and took a moment to catch his breath. Again Blue led him on and for a second time Jed fell as his hat was taken from his head by a low branch, muddy and tired he picked himself up once more and continued through the rain as it lashed against his bare head and ran down his neck. Breathing hard, Jed followed the wolf relentlessly into the night, not stopping again for either breath or respite.

Nearing dawn, the rain began to ease off and the wolf finally stopped above a small decline in the forest floor. Bending almost double Jed placed his hands on his knees and threw up, his exertion making him sick; finally, with his stomach empty, he stood straight and stretched his back looking through a gap in the canopy high above him at the now clear sky, glad that at last the rain had stopped. He had not had as much enforced exercise in years and was thoroughly exhausted, a gentle whine from Blue brought his gaze back to earth; the wolf was standing over something in the bracken.

In the darkness before the dawn, the birds began to sing in praise of the new day.

'Journey's end!' Jed exclaimed as he recognised what seemed to be the body of a girl. More slipping than climbing down the wet muddy slope, he reached the body and tearing off his coat, he threw it to one side as the wolf turned toward the forest as if on guard. The girl was lying on her side with blood still slowly trickling from a raw wound just below her shoulder and pooling beneath her.

'She's not dead boy,' Jed said aloud, more to himself than to the waiting wolf, 'but she ain't gonna be with us fer long,' he added, as he brushed away the myriad of tiny bugs already gathered and feeding off the nasty wound in her back. Gently, turning her over, he noticed her extended belly. 'G'awd's Strewth,' he blasphemed, 'she be young to be this way,' tenderly; he brushed the hair from her face and covered her dying form with the blanket. A soft moan escaped her lips. 'Miss... miss...,' Jed began as her eyes fluttered open. 'I'll stay with yer, you'll no be alone...,' he cuddled her to his chest as best he could, suddenly thinking of his Mayan, dying alone, scared and in such pain. 'I'll not let yer down agen...' he said quietly as the tears began to roll down his face.

'Please... please...,' the girl struggled to speak startling Jed from his thoughts. 'Gath...,' she whispered. The wolf snapped its head around and stared intently at the girl. 'Save my baby, he wants my baby...,' she pleaded as her life ebbed away.

The dawn had finally arrived bathing the scene with its promise of light and warmth and the day, one of the first nice days of the very late spring was going to be a good one as Jed held the dead body of the girl to his chest and wept into her hair.

'Girl, I can't save yer baby,' he said quietly, 'it be gone now... it be with you.' The wolf howled as Jed wept with a prayer for her soul's journey but just as he was about to put the body down he felt a violent kick in his stomach, in his astonishment he let the body of the girl fall to the ground with a thump. The girl's stomach was moving... 'The child be still livin'!' Jed exclaimed hurriedly pulling aside her clothes and feeling her wet belly, the child inside kicked against his hand. He reached for the girl's wrist to feel for a pulse or sign of life as all the time her belly moved and kicked, the movements growing weaker and weaker as Jed worked on the mother.

Taking his father's knife he gently felt the sharp blade, _I can do this..._ he thought, knowing he had birthed animals this way before, _but then the movvers were always alive, is this right_? He asked himself, the morality of the situation clouding his mind.

'Blue, should I let the child go with its ma?' He asked, wrought with indecision. The wolf moved down beside the man it had already saved twice, it looked into Jed's eyes and whined before gently licking his face.

' _SAVE IT.'_ Jed heard. Nodding silently, Jed gently sliced the dead flesh open, through the skin, through the muscle wall and into the womb. He had to hurry, the child had no time, but still he took his time. _I will save this child..._ he thought as in his mind's eye, he could see his dead wife smiling at him. Discarding the knife, he reached between the bloody walls of the girl's womb and felt for the infant. It feebly punched at his hand. Gently he pulled the small fragile body free of its mother's corpse and tied off the cord attaching it to its dead mother with thread taken from the handle of his father's knife. Satisfied the knot was secure he cut the cord sharply, feeling the heat of the cord blood running over his fingers. Holding the boy child by the ankles, he gently slapped its bottom; upside down, the tiny child still covered in blood and cream opened its eyes and screamed in anger. Tears of laughter, sadness at the loss of the mother and joy of new life filled Jed's heart as he gently wrapped the tiny gore covered child in his coat and placed the screaming bundle on the floor beside the wolf.

'Watch the babe Blue, whilst I see to its ma,' he said, as he tenderly began to cover the body of the young dead girl with the old blanket. Noticing a small silver and crystal amulet around the girl's neck, he removed it and put it carefully into his pocket, thinking to give it to the child later; he did the same with a small silver ring the girl wore.

'I got ter leave yer like this girl if I'm ter see ter yer boy, I'm sorry,' he said as he brushed the hair from the girl's face and closed the still open eyes. 'I'm sorry I couldn't save you too, I'll be back in a few days...an' I'll bury yer proper like then,' he said as he kissed the girl's brow and reverently covered her face whispering a second prayer for her soul on its final journey. Standing once more, he plunged his blade into the sod to remove any blood, promising to clean it properly when he had more time, replaced it on his belt and picked up the small but now quiet child tightly wrapped in his warm leather coat. With a last look at the small covered body in the bracken, he made his way back to the cottage followed closely by the wolf, stopping only to retrieve his fallen rain soaked hat.

Later, Jed sat thoughtfully on an old wooden stool, he gazed wistfully at his comfortable chair near the bright fire but he was still wet and sleep was still a long way off. The wolf Blue, lay curled around a small wooden drawer on the floor before the fire, its displaced contents scattered across the bed that was Jed's own.

On arriving back at the cottage Jed had placed the child still wrapped in the coat on the smaller of the two beds and emptied the contents of a drawer from one of a set. Carefully he lined it with feather cushions before finally throwing a clean soft pelt over the top. Removing the child from the coat, he re-wrapped the baby in a towel, laid him carefully in the drawer atop the pelt and covered him in a soft warm blanket. He had been deathly worried for a time as the child was so quiet, still and pale but the warmth of the fire had brought roses to the little cheeks and colour back into the tiny perfect fingers. Still though, the child did not stir. The wolf crept closer to the infant and sniffed at the dark blonde hair still stuck to his head and matted with blood from his birth. Jed watched the tiny chest moving up and down, the only evidence to say that the boy had not joined his mother.

"E be needin' a bath Blue,' Jed said absently to the ever watchful wolf.

' _FOOD'_ had been the reply in his head.

Looking thoughtfully at the wolf and pushing himself up from the chair, Jed left the cottage and walked quickly to the nearby stream where he cleaned his father's knife before replacing it at his belt and stripped off to wash in the icy cold water. He stretched his weary muscles taut as he watched the blood dissolve from his skin and run down his arms dripping into the stream, leaving rivulets of pink threading through the silver water and he stared at the stream thinking of the tiny infant sleeping so soundly near the fire. In his mind he saw his Mayan, sitting at a chair, her large belly brushing the table as she prepared essentials for each of their successive doomed children, patiently sewing blankets and clothes that would never be worn, the woman in the memory smiled up at him.

'This un'll be fine Jed love.' Mayan seemed to say as the goats penned in the yard began to complain loudly, disturbing his thoughts and bringing him back to the immediate problem, that of feeding the infant and deciding just what on the journey, he could do with him.

Hastening quietly indoors he hurriedly dressed in warm dry clothes and reached into his pocket to retrieve the small ring and the crystal amulet taken from the boy's mother, he hung them both from a peg beside the hearth where the firelight played on the faceted crystal throwing rainbows of colour dancing around the room. Blue, still curled around the drawer sat up, staring intently at the silver necklace with its tiny colourful crystal.

'T'won't 'urt yer lad,' smiled Jed seeing the wolf's discomfort, 'tis but the only thing the boy will own of 'is ma's.' He added, rubbing his knuckles over the wolf's head fondly and with a glance at the sleeping infant, he crept quietly out of the cottage again to feed the animals and do his chores. A short while later he returned with a churn full of creamy frothy fresh goat's milk. Inspiration had come to him as he milked the goats, he had pulled at the teats watching the steady streams of milk flowing into the churn and realised then, just how he could feed the child.

The baby lay softly whimpering before the fire as Jed rummaged through the contents of the drawer that were still strewn carelessly across his bed and at last finding what he was looking for, he sighed. A small pair of soft kid gloves still wrapped in their original waxed paper, his own father had made them for him years before and he had never worn them. _Them teats look like fat fingers_ , he had thought as he milked goat's and suddenly recalled the wrapped package landing on the bed with the rest of the collected jumble from his past as he hastily threw the contents out of the drawer. Taking a small cup, he filled one glove with the warm milk and secured the wrist with twine, using his knife he carefully picked at the stitching on the longest finger until the milk began to dribble slowly out. Picking up the dirty child still wrapped in a towel and under the watchful eye of the wolf, he sat once more in his chair and offered the makeshift bottle to the hungry baby. At first the child pushed the glove away but Jed squeezed a little of the milk on to his lips and as the baby at last accepted the drink and began to suckle Jed's eyes filled with tears.

'It be workin' May,' he said to his dead wife, 'it be workin'...' The wolf stood looking intently at the man and child sitting on the chair, its blue eyes full of compassion, gently it nuzzled Jed's arm and Jed smiled. 'Yer knew there was gonna be trouble last night didn't yer boy.' the wolf rested his chin on Jed's knee in reply, his blue eyes blinking fast and flicking between Jed and the child before standing and walking to the door. With a last look behind him, he pushed his muzzle between the door and the doorjamb effectively opening it wide enough to allow himself passage and ran out into the sunlight.

Later that morning Jed fed the child again, he was exhausted, after all his own daily chores he had to make sure the gloves were properly clean and then wash the wet towels. Using the second glove as a bottle had been easier, having picked the stitches from the thumb, rather than the longest finger, he discovered that keeping the other milk-filled fingers away from poking at the baby's face was not as easy as it appeared to be.

The boy suckled hungrily as Jed held him, his tiny hands fisting as he pummelled the glove feeding him before screwing up his face as he strained, his little body going rigid, suddenly Jed felt a warm heat deep inside the towel wrapping the child. He grinned and continued to feed the baby until the glove was empty, then smiling gently he began to unwrap the boy to clean his bottom.

'Lad, you do need a bath!' Jed exclaimed, wrinkling his nose at the smell and smiling at the gently cooing child, at last the boy lay naked and Jed stared in horror at what he had produced. A thick black and incredibly sticky tar-like mess clung both to the towel and to the child.

Jed was lost and way out of his depth, so washing the infant clean as best as he could he re-wrapped the boy in a clean sheet, having run out of dry towels. Grabbing his oversized coat from its hook he put it on and with the boy held against his chest he carefully did the coat up around them both, hoping his own body heat would be enough to keep the child warm. Next, picking up his now dry hat he left the cottage closing the door behind him, walked straight past the goat pens, for once forgetting to release them, and went into the stable.

'I 'ave need of yer fella,' he spoke quietly to the old horse resting comfortably amongst the hay, 'I mus' git ter Green Home Village,' he added as the horse whinnied softly and snuffled at Jed's coat. 'Yeah lad,' Jed smiled to the nosy horse, 'the wee babe needs 'elp,' and mindful of the infant at his breast he saddled the large old horse and set off through the forest. He was taking the child to his only friends for help; he was going to see Apple and Jack.

### Chapter 6

### Stinky

The four-month-old twins, named for her one time friends gurgled happily in their crib watching their mother hang washing in the early morning spring sunshine. Apple was happy, her twins had been born safe and healthy during last year's Winter Festival, her elder son Jackie loved his siblings and had shown no sign of the jealousy that the old midwife had threatened and her love of the children's father had only become stronger as the years had progressed. As she hung the last nappy, she stood back taking pride in the whiteness of the cloths on the line.

The sky was clear and blue and the day promised to be warm, crossing her fingers and wishing for a fine summer, Apple smiled at her babies as she began adjusting the muslin fly net over the crib. The babies smiled back at her pulling at their fingers and toes beneath the net so leaving the twins to enjoy sunshine, she returned to the kitchen of the Green Home Inn where five-year-old Jackie was finishing his lunch.

'Da wants me ter do the tables in bar today mama,' said Jackie, 'e's gonna pay me!' He added, excited at the prospect of earning his own money.

'Grown men need ter work Jackie,' replied his mother, 'n' one day the Inn'll be yours, so yer gotta learn how to care fer it.' She smiled warmly at the 'grown man' in front of her with his feet not even touching the floor. 'Off yer go lad, I think yer Da's waitin' on yer,' she said as she put the empty wicker basket down and took the now empty plate from the table. Jackie scampered off in the direction of the bar as the main Inn door rattled.

'We're not open yet,' Apple called out as she placed the empty plate in the sink and wondered who would knock instead of just coming to the back door as most of the villagers did when the bar was not open.

The sun was streaming through the gleaming barroom windows and the locally brought crystals that hung in front of them; the bright sunshine refracting instantly into millions of coloured lights, gaily dancing around the room as the crystals moved in the breeze left by the open back door. Jack often teased her about the fairy lights, as he called them but Jackie and now the twins too seemed to love them, catching fairies, Jackie would say as he chased the elusive colours around the bar with the twins laughing aloud at his antics. At night, the crystals were quiet, reflecting only the soft glow from the flames in the hearth.

The door rattled again loudly and Apple walked across the quiet barroom. As she pulled open the iron dead bolts on the door, she paused thinking she heard her name called aloud, but shaking her head, she finally heaved the heavy door open and stepped back from the glare of the sun gazing at the large silhouette of the man who stood quietly waiting by the open doorway.

"Ello Apple,' he said wearily, 'I need yer 'elp.'

With the sun behind him, Jedadiah Green was unrecognisable, he took a step into the bar removing himself from the glare at his back and closed the door behind him, Apple stood and stared, her hand at her breast.

'Jed!' she whispered, 'Jed, be that you?' The man before her was no longer the same man she had last seen five years before. His thick dark brown hair now seemed shot through with silver and worn pulled back from his face and tied at the nape of his neck with a leather thong, his skin was dark and weathered as if all his time was spent out of doors. He looked quite plump too, in his large waxy-leather coat, one hand held across his chest and the other twisting a large brimmed hat nervously, not the svelte, confident muscle-bound man she had once known.

'Jed man!' exclaimed Jack as he walked into the bar closely followed by Jackie. Jack laughed at his wife and old friend still staring at each other. 'Come in man, yer're 'ome at last,' he said clapping his friend on the shoulder as his wife finally found her voice and with tears in her eyes Apple flung herself at her friend.

'Jed, oh Jed,' she cried as Jed sidestepped to avoid a frontal collision.

'Careful girl,' replied Jed as he dropped his hat onto a nearby table and unbuttoned his coat.

'Jed, it be wonnerful to see yer...,' began Jack as the child at Jed's chest began to whimper softly. Jed smiled sadly, thinking of the last time he had seen his friend and the infant that had been between them then. The child cried again, loudly this time, reminding Jed of its vitality.

'I couldn't come afore,' croaked Jed as the lump in his throat threatened to burst.

'May I?' Asked Apple as the child continued to cry and smiling through her tears she held out her arms. Jed seemed almost reluctant to release the baby but he smiled in return and allowed Apple to take him, watching intently as she held the boy close and placed her practiced finger in his mouth. Jed stared in amazement as the child quietened instantly.

'You take off yer coat and I'll see ter yer babe,' she said as she walked away in the direction of the parlour.

'Where's the babes ma?' Jack asked as he opened the door once more to look for her around the square at the front of the Inn.

'The boy's ma died, night afore last,' Jed replied quietly, an' I think there's sommat real wrong with the boy.' He added, suddenly feeling lost without the tiny bundle that had dominated his every thought since its birth.

'Come ter t'parlour Jed,' said Jack smiling sadly at him. 'I be so very sorry... but you 'ave a son and yer can tell 'im about his ma...,' Jed stopped dead in his tracks. _Son_ , he thought. _Yeah, I 'ave a son!_ At once blissfully happy he continued after his friend. Jack did not notice Jed's sudden hesitation as he turned to pick up the hat to follow him.

As the men entered the kitchen, they found Apple at the sink with the babe in a bowl full of soapy water. The warm sun streaming in at the window caught the tiny silver and crystal amulet at the child's neck reflecting rainbows from each of its different facets around the room as the child moved.

"E's a strong one Jed,' Apple said, smiling at her friend and cooing to the child. 'Where's 'is ma... an' what's 'e's name... 'E is new born ain 'e?' She called out across the room.

'I, I err...' replied Jed as Apple's barrage of questions hit him.

'Apple, the boy's ma passed,' Jack said, answering his wife as his friend stammered on uncomfortably. Apple turned to Jed holding out the now clean child and wrapping him in a towel belonging to her twins.

'Oh Jed, no,' she said sorrowfully as the child screwed its face up and pushed. A loud farting noise filled the room and all three adults looked at the child stunned.

'Ma, the baby's pooped itsel',' said a quiet and thoughtful Jackie who had just come into the parlour from the yard after depositing a small wooden crate in the woodpile, "e's stinky, ain't 'e, smells as bad as the twins,' he added, holding his nose and retreating outside again. Apple laughed as she un-wrapped the once clean child to bathe it again.

"Ave an ale man,' said Jack putting a tankard in front of his friend, so finally taking off his coat, Jed sat down, absently taking the jug.

'There's sommat wrong with the lad's poo,' he said, 'it's black, like tar and sticky too,' he added worriedly. Apple finished bathing the boy a second time, dried him and tied on a nappy.

"Ow old is he Jed?' She asked, 'I can see 'e's still quite new as 'e still has 'is stump o' cord.'

'Today be e's second,' replied Jed as he stood again and looked worriedly at Apple. Jack grinned suddenly and laughed aloud.

'Jed man, its natural, it be the stuff that fills the child's belly afore it be born,' he explained, 'the boy be fine ain' e Apple love?' Jack looked toward his wife for confirmation and Apple smiled as she replied.

"E'll be fine, only, 'e do be a mite hungry,' she said as the baby began to cry once more.

'Oh..., I thought 'e were ill,' whispered Jed fighting back tears of relief as he took the small boy into his arms and hugged him tight.

'Would yer like me ter feed 'im Jed?' Apple asked, looking at her husband.

'Yeah, yer do that love, whilst I show Jed the yard,' he said, winking and returning his wife's smile. Handing the child back to Apple, Jed got up to follow his friend out into the back yard with his ale in hand but as he neared the door, Apple called out.

'Jed, what's 'e's name?' Glancing back at Apple unbuttoning her blouse for his son, Jed replied slowly.

'Eh... Gideon, 'e's name be Gideon,' he smiled once more and walked through the door after his friend closing it behind him.

Once in the yard he followed Jack to the baby carriage on the grass and stared in amazement at the twin children lying inside beneath the fly net. Quietly he pulled the net aside and smiled at the red haired twins in the crib.

'They be named fer yer, fer you and Mayan!' Jack smiled, as exhausted tears sprung to Jed's eyes and he hastily wiped them away before retreating to a small table where he sat down beside his friend; finally able to relax for the first time since before Gideon's birth. He supped his ale contentedly in the sunshine and before long was fast asleep.

After supper that evening, with his horse stabled comfortably and the last of the inn's patrons gone Jed sat with Jack at the parlour table.

'Thank yer me friend, fer the twins... I mean,' he began, referring to Apple and Jack's new-born children.

'Aww Jed,' Jack interrupted, 'we'd 'ave no called 'em anythin' else, 'sides they be just like you and May, can't bear ter be apart, a 'twin thing' so's Apple tells me.'

When Apple joined them after putting all four of the children to bed, Jed told part of the story of Gideon's birth. How he had had to cut open the dead mother to retrieve the still living child and how he had had to leave her body unburied. For some reason he could not explain, he did not mention the flight through the woods, that he was not the child's father or that he had not been married to the mother. He knew he would eventually, only now the time did not seem right.

'Can I leave the boy with yer fer a few days?' He asked his friends tentatively, 'I wanna bury e's ma, proper like,' tears gathered in his eyes and threatened to fall as he saw the young girl again, lying so still, cold and pale and shrouded only in an old blanket.

'Of course love,' answered Apple immediately as tears of sympathy threatened to flow down her own cheeks.

'I'll 'elp yer Jed' added Jack also full of compassion for his friend's loss.

'Ner Jack, thank 'e but I must do it mesel', it's the least I can do fer 'er,' he added, as Jack nodded his head in understanding.

Early next morning, Jed stood beside his horse and kissed his son now snuggled tightly in Apple's arms. 'I'll be back as soon as I can boy,' he promised the sleeping child as he also kissed Apple's cheek.

"E looks stronger already,' smiled Apple in reply.

'Watch 'im fer me..., please.' Jed asked Jack as he shook his hand warmly.

'As me own,' agreed Jack, and watched as Jed mounted his horse and made off down the lane.

Hours later Jed arrived back at the cottage in the forest, stopping only to put feed in the now empty goat stalls, he shook his head at the broken gate that had once kept the goats penned in.

'I must 'ave fergot ter let 'em out,' he told himself as he stabled the horse and returned to the house to pick up some strong twine. Once set, he made his way unerringly back through the dense shrubbery to the shallow ditch where the body of the young girl, of Gideon's mother lay. The light was dwindling fast casting shadows that fell heavily in the forest as he came across the still form covered in the rough blanket and he wasn't surprised as Blue lifted his head.

'Bin guardin' 'er fer me boy?' He smiled as he rubbed the wolf's soft ears. The wolf whimpered softly and kneeling beside the body, Jed rewrapped it carefully, sewing the blanket tightly closed with the strong twine.

'Sleep well little one,' Jed said with love as he gently kissed the young girl's cold brow before finally covering her face from the light for all time. Carefully he picked her up noticing for the first time a small bag lying concealed under her body, picking that up too he began the arduous task of carrying the body back to his cottage. Once there, he dug a deep grave beside the cairn of his son and placed the girl inside it gently, quietly whispering words of prayer for her journey as the soft earth covered her.

The morning sun rose quickly, softly spreading golden light through the leafy canopy high above and across the sparkling brook as Jed placed the last of the stones and finished building the second cairn. The wolf, realising the man had finished his work sat up.

'Thank yer lady, fer the boy I mean,' Jed said reverently to the pile of stones, adding, 'I'll do me best by 'im, I swear it 'On the Journey." The wolf raised his neck and howled into the morning sun sealing the solemn vow. 'She be with May an' me own boys' now Blue.' Jed said to the wolf as he wearily stumbled back to the cottage and fell fully dressed on to the bed. Within minutes, he was asleep.

### Chapter 7

### Eighteen Years Later

'Come on Da!' Gideon moaned impatiently, as he stood next to the old horse waiting for his father. Although the winter sun was high in the sky, the glade was distinctly cold and he slapped his arms around him, stamping his feet to keep them warm. He watched his breath stream away from him in warm gusts like small clouds in a summer sky, until the slight wind that penetrated this far into the forest dispersed it, the horse snorted noisily adding its own warm breath to the cold sharp air. Gideon hoisted his bag high onto his shoulder, watching his father as he pulled the cottage door closed. His horse lunged forward pulling at his arm as it began to munch on the variety of grasses that still grew in abundance despite being deep into winter and a large blue-eyed wolf padded out from the woods and ambled slowly toward the boy as he waited peevishly. Gideon's attention returned to his father and he watched the man with eyes as blue as the wolf sitting at his feet as Jed opened the goat pen to release the animals just like he always did when they left home.

Gideon groaned again as his father walked the short distance to the stream to tend the cairns that stood there.

'Patience boy, they'll not 'ave the party without yer.' His father smiled as he placed a number of fallen stones back on top of the mounds and Gideon sighed resignedly. He sat down on a fallen tree stump heavily covered with frozen grey-green lichens, not seeing the shafts of golden sunlight streaking through the mixed canopy above him turning the green of the coniferous trees shimmering with silver or the cold wind playing games with the fallen leaves, making them dance across the forest floor. As he waited, he pulled his pack off his back to check yet again the gifts he and a friend had spent months preparing were wrapped and safe. He continued absently watching his father, lost in his own thoughts, tomorrow the twins turned eighteen and young Jed was off to join the army. Jed was like a brother to him, Apple, Jed's ma, her husband Jack, their eldest son Jackie and Mayan, Jed's twin were his family. Tonight they were having a party and he did not want to miss it. He loved his Da and he knew the cairns belonged to his real mother and a dead baby brother but he just could not get emotional over graves. His Da had told him he had other brothers too, all also taken as babies but still; you could not talk to piles of stones. To Gideon, there just seemed to be too many piles, to him young Jed was more a brother than any pile of stones could be, besides, he had grown up alongside the twins and had spent almost as much time at the Green Home Inn as he had with his father in the forest.

The wolf sat up and rested its soft silver head on Gideon's knee. Gideon tugged at the animal's ears and watched as his father lovingly placed the last fallen stone and absently stroked the handle of his old knife. Touching his own small knife in a similar fashion, Gideon suddenly felt guilty, he knew this, this cairn-building thing, was a ritual his father always undertook before leaving the cottage for any length of time so standing once more and placing his pack back over his shoulder he resolved to be more patient.

At last, Jed picked up his own bag and log sack.

'Come on then lad,' he smiled at his son, 'yer worrit that Mayan might 'ave found 'ersel' another beau?'

'Da!' Gideon exclaimed in embarrassment as his father tied the sack to the horses' saddle.

'See yer soon Blue,' called Jed to the wolf as it ambled away between the trees. It was soon out of sight as finally Jed and his son moved off, leading the horse in the general direction of the village.

'May is me friend that's all, she jus' 'appens to be a girl,' Gideon replied to his father's gentle teasing, turning his face away to stop his father seeing his flushed face as he realised where his father's conversation was heading.

'Yeah lad, an' a mighty fine looking one at that, or perhaps yer never noticed,' Jed added, knowing full well that lately young Mayan had occupied more than just a little of his son's thoughts. He ruffled his hand over Gideon's blond hair pleased that the twins and Mayan particularly, were unafraid of the forest and seemed as at home in its leafy depths as Gideon was himself.

'She is pretty though, ain't she, an' she loves the forest almos' as much as me,' Gideon said, echoing Jed's thoughts.

'Yeah but she might not wanna live in it,' Jed replied, thinking of his late wife, during their life together she had constantly struggled with the closeness of the immense woodland.

'Da' exclaimed Gideon again, horrified, feeling the blood rise up his neck and suffuse his face painfully, 'I'm not..., I never... um I mean...,' Jed looked at his son with amusement and gently punched the tall gangly young man on the shoulder.

'Ner lad,' he said 'I jus' be amusin' mesel,' 'tis fun to see yer go ser red. I be thinking ahead tis all,' he laughed aloud. Gideon, knowing he had indeed blushed deeply laughed along with him.

'Gran and Gramps will be there on time won't they?' Gideon asked suddenly, changing the subject and speaking of Jed's mother and father who over the years had taken to visiting Green Home Village once or twice a year and always for the winter festival.

'They'll be there on time lad, it's we who 'as ter 'urry.' Jed replied as he quickened his step still chuckling to himself, 'they'll all wait fer us, but the recruiting sergeant won't.'

At the Green Home Inn, preparations for the Winter Festival and the joining up party were fast underway. Gideon's grandparents had arrived and were walking in the yard, Gideon Green senior, Jed's father was eager to see his son; he had always known Jed had not died when he had disappeared for those five long years. He had known in his heart the truth of the matter when Jack, a new father himself, had made the trip to Branton to tell them about the fire that had killed his daughter in law and new grandson. Both Gideon and his wife had appreciated the kindness and became frequent visitors to the Green Home Inn, adopting the Brewster family as their own. Apple and Jack, in growing up alongside Jed and his parents had welcomed the relationship, although Gideon senior had always felt something was missing. When Jed finally returned, his heart had flowed over with love for both his son and his grandchild and he knew his family was complete once again. Neither he, nor his wife were strong enough to visit the village as frequently as they once did but when they came, he always made time to visit with his son in their beloved forest.

At the inn, Apple had decorated every available space with garlands of fresh winter flowers and sweet smelling herbs, the pungent scent adding to the air of celebration. Mayan and she had spent many evenings sewing flags and banners, to both brighten the old inn for the birthday party and as a goodbye for her son, Mayan's twin tomorrow. The gaily-coloured flags now adorned every wall both inside and out, making the Inn look very festive. Jack and the boys had been as busy as they were, hanging the bunting as the women directed only to have them change their minds as soon as they had finished. Finally, Jack left the task to his sons as the women's indecision got the better of him; he retreated to the cellar to do 'essential' work on the barrels and pipes that fed the bar.

As the pale winter sun began to fade, Apple lit the candles and sat down beside the hearth to build up the neglected fire. Jackie walked in from the parlour, bare-chested despite the chill and gleaming with sweat carrying an armful of newly sawn logs.

"Ere ma,' he said, placing the logs near his mother. Apple looked at her son and marvelled at the tall, strong man standing in front of her. He looked so like his father and she bristled with pride, next year he was to wed and at twenty-three, he would be the first of her children to do so. Looking at him now she could almost hear her future grandchildren racing around the inn laughing and playing as her own had done not so long ago. With tears in her eyes, she thanked him for the logs.

'Ma,' Jackie, kneeling, placed his arms around his mother, 'Jed will be ok an' 'e'll be back fer the weddin',' he said, intuitively knowing what was troubling his mother.

'Jackie lad,' Apple answered, hugging her son back, 'you'll make a wonnerful 'usband, iffen yer girl lets yer.' Jackie helped his mother to stand as she added, 'you'd better go wash 'n' change or yer'll 'ave all the girls after yer if yer show off yer manly chest like that.' Jackie grinned, pleased she had shaken off her gloomy mood and turning toward the parlour and his own room, he flexed his muscles causing her to laugh aloud. 'Go on boy,' she said, adding, 'yer not yet ser big I'll no put yer 'cross me knee!' Jackie grinned again as he left the parlour.

As the patrons and families of boys joining up with young Jed began to arrive and settle for the evening, Apple watched through the window as her younger son played ball in the yard with his peers. His thick chestnut hair had loosened from its tie as he played and under the light of the fading sun and the festive lamps, he could have been ten years old again. She found it hard to imagine her gentle but strong boy as a soldier, now at eighteen; he was nearly as tall as his brother was and as full of muscle.

"E could be 'is sister with 'is 'air loose like that,' laughed Apple as Jack slid his arm around his wife's waist.

'Yer, but not fer much longer though, the army'll make 'im' cut it or keep it tied back,' replied Jack smiling. 'They all be growin' up love, they no be children anymore,' Apple sighed leaning deeply into Jacks embrace, he held her close as he said, softly chiding, "is gear tis all packed, 'is gifts ready, an' we 'ave an inn to run my love.'

'Oh Jack I know, but it feels like 'e's too young ter leave 'ome...' she replied.

'Well love, 'e'll be safe, wait 'n' see, an' better now than last year.' Jack said, referring to the summer festival in Branton, where, the year before, young Jed almost got himself signed up there and then.

Reports of raids in the North had caused a recruiting drive; mainly consisting of old soldiers travelling around the kingdom with their war stories and tales of heroic adventures. Jed who had been visiting Gideon's grandparents with his sister had been inspired. It had been Mayan who had told Jed's parents, horrified at what her twin had done. Gideon's grandfather had had to go along to the local recruiting stall and claim the boy back. He explained to the recruiting sergeant that Jed was only seventeen and could not go without permission; the sergeant had laughed and cuffed the boy's ear before telling him to wait a year, pleased that the lad was so keen. Jed was keen, he had practiced with a thin blunt sword, forged by Tom Hollins, the local smith and trained to be a 'King's Man' talking 'army' to anyone who would listen.

Apple and Jack returned to the bar to find Jackie busy serving as the small inn filled up. Lively music was playing and some of the patrons had begun to dance in an area cleared of tables, there was not a great deal of room but nobody seemed to mind.

'Ma,' called Mayan as she pushed her way across the dance floor, 'are they 'ere yet?'

'Who dear?' Her mother smiled at her flashing a knowing wink to Gideon's grandmother who sat threading cottons on a tatting stool and knowing exactly whom Mayan was enquiring about, the older woman grinned unashamedly, her fingers busily making up a delicate lace fabric for Jackie's fiancée and her marriage box.

'Ma...,' Mayan began again.

'No love they're not 'ere yet,' she answered with a soft smile, 'why don't yer go meet 'em,' Mayan turned for the door and skipped lightly through the dancers once more, 'find Jed, get 'im ter go with yer, its gettin' dark!' Apple called as her beautiful daughter disappeared _, she is sorely goin' ter miss 'er brother_ , she thought.

As small children, the twins had always been able to tell roughly, where the other was and how he or she was feeling. Apple had never understood it and had put it down to a 'twin thing'. It was how Mayan had known that Jed was signing up last year at the fare in Branton; she had felt the secrecy in her brother and had just known he was up to something and more than once, as they had grown, Apple had felt grateful for her children's 'twin thing'.

A lively tune began to play as Apple wound her way between the couples back toward the bar, suddenly a hand grabbed her from behind and she was dancing.

'Jack,' she smiled at her husband, 'I do so love you.'

A little later, flushed and happy, Apple once more knelt to tend the fire.

"Ello Mrs Brewster, where's Mayan?' Asked an excited voice as Apple laid another log in the grate, Apple turned to see Toby Hollins, a rather plump, pimply and sullen faced boy looking at her excitedly.

'Ahh Toby,' replied Apple as she recognised the young man, 'both the twins 'ave gone ter meet Gideon 'n' Jed, they'll be back soon enough.' Toby offered a polite thank you to Mayan's mother as he turned to walk away. He pushed his way through the dancers and tables scowling, kicking out indiscriminately at anything than chanced to be in his way.

''Ave a care there lad, it's kinda busy in 'ere t'night,' he heard, as a small dog whimpered from a painful kick in the ribs.

'Too busy fer scrawny mutts like yorn then.' Toby muttered as he finally reached his family's table and unceremoniously plonked himself down on a bench beside his father.

'Ah, there yer are Toby lad, not dancing then?' Tom, the Tanner asked his son as he supped best ale from a pewter tankard.

'Ner Da' Toby replied his scowl deepening, it wasn't that he didn't particularly like Gideon but he knew when Gideon was around Mayan would not even look at him and he had so hoped Gideon would miss this nights events, he had wanted Mayan to himself. Tom smiled ruefully at his son, suspecting the look on his son's face was due to Mayan's absence. Last year he had spoken to Apple and Jack about a match between the pair but Jack had refused saying, Mayan was too young to consider a betrothal, let alone a marriage. Toby had been bitterly disappointed and angry with his father but had agreed to wait a year before asking again.

'No one else 'as enquired Toby,' his Da had said when he had returned from the Inn on that fateful evening, 'mayhap she'll be yorn next year lad, jus' wait 'n' see,' he had said with a smile.

Toby had tried to be patient, he had waited and watched as Mayan constantly hung around after Gideon when he was in town and often he would follow her closely until she disappeared deep into the forest with her brother. Then he would seethe, knowing she was going to meet up with Gideon under the green leafy canopy and he would hang back, somehow afraid to enter the forest himself. Now, Toby waited again, knowing she was with Gideon, he downed his ale and sat morosely, watching the Inn door.

'There be time yet lad,' Tom sighed as he poured half his own mug of ale into the empty tankard set before his son.

'Not if Gideon's around there ain't, an' not iffen yer don't keep yer promise!' Toby replied picking up and emptying the mug in front of him again.

'Toby..., I didn't promise, an' there are _other_ girls...' Tom began as he tried to ease his son's heartache.

'Not fer me there ain't,' came the curt rebuttal, an', yer _did_ promise!' He added, sending a look of contempt his father's way. Tom sighed again and ordered another round of ale.

He and his wife had so wanted a baby and been overjoyed when Toby had at last arrived, they had both spoiled him shamelessly giving him everything he wanted and constantly telling him the world was his for the taking. Now though he worried about what Toby would become, he loved his son but did not like him too much anymore. Toby had grown from a spoilt child to a spoilt young man prone to cruelty and sulks if he did not get his own way. As the part-time smith, Tom had hoped the boy would take a liking for horses but they just did not seem to like him anymore than he liked them. More than once Toby had been kicked or bitten by an animal he was trying to shoe, or had burnt himself as he helped his father repair a piece of machinery for one of the local farmers. _Ner, Toby is no smith,_ Tom thought to himself as he looked at his son scowling at the dancers, his thoughts continued as he shook his head and turned away. Tom's main occupation was as the local tanner but Toby seemed to have no affinity for that trade either, he constantly complained about the smells from the large soaking vats inside Tom's barns saying the smells clung to him wherever he went and it made him feel dirty. Tom himself had learnt the trade from his own father and although he knew it did have a strong smell that seemed to cling to everything he had become almost immune to it, he did not notice it overmuch anymore, instead he delighted in the finished product and used his hides for a variety of purposes. He prided himself on knowing that not a family in Green Home Village existed that did not have a piece of his work in their homes one way or another; from luggage to furniture, harnesses for the horses to the ploughs themselves from his work as the smith. Tom smiled at his thoughts as his eye caught the knife sheath on the hip of the man sitting next to him, _one o' me own,_ he thought, grinning and forgetting about the woes of his son as he downed his ale.

Finally, as the small Inn was nearly full to bursting Gideon walked through the door with Mayan happily holding on to his arm closely followed by Jed carrying a sack of spiced logs, young Jed brought up the rear with his arms full too, only this time with the sack he had taken from his friend. All were smiling and laughing pleased to be in one another's company and not one of them noticed Toby, still scowling and watching the newcomers intently from the corner of the room.

'Yo Stinky!' Jackie hollered from behind the bar shouting to be heard above the din. Gideon groaned. Jackie, grinned at the boy he considered as much a brother as young Jed. The first time he had met Gideon was as a new-born and Gideon had filled his nappy making the parlour of their home smell badly, since then he often called the lad 'stinky,' affectionately teasing him.

'I be bit big fer that now Jackie,' Gideon replied smiling, 'gonna be eighteen mesel' soon,' he added as his stepbrother came around the bar to shake his hand.

'Always be stinky ter me boy,' Jackie replied turning to greet Jed and taking the logs intended for the fire. Young Jed quietly put down his friend's sack in a corner and left the inn to go stable the old horse. Mayan took Gideon's arm and pulled him on to the dance floor gazing up at him in open admiration.

Toby watched through a gap in the dancers', anger mounting inside, he felt sick at the sight of Mayan whirling in Gideon's arms and seeming to enjoy it so much. From the corner of her eye Mayan saw Toby scowling, she smiled at him and waved. _She knows she belongs ter me, 'n' what she is doin' is wrong,_ Toby thought. Sullenly he picked a mug of ale from the tray of a passing serving girl and took a long swig.

'Toby,' the girl said crossly, 'yer only 'ad to ask an' I would 'ave got one fer yer, yer didn't 'ave ter take someone else's,' she scolded as she placed a frothy tankard on the table next to him. Toby ignored her complaint and stared into his ale before gulping another mouthful.

'Steady boy,' began the owner of the ale on the next table. Toby turned to look at the man chastising him, _Sonal, the outsider!_ Toby thought, staring hard at the man. Sonal sat with his back to the wall, his piercing blue eyes smiling at him, _e's laughin' at me..._ Toby stared rudely at the man. _'E ain't like us at all,_ his thoughts continued as they took in the blue eyes above a straight nose and a small goatee beard. Sonal continued to smile knowing the lad was appraising him, in his own mind he knew what the lad was seeing. Long dark blonde hair tied at the nape of the neck, a straight nose with a small beard and an old scar running along the line of his jaw marring his face. A rough green and black leather jerkin above baggy brown trousers that tucked into black boots, boots that casually crossed at the ankle. Lastly, a knife in a green leather scabbard, belted at his waist completed his wardrobe and belied the scholar that he was _. 'E looks like a tinker,_ Toby thought in disgust, _an' who's 'e ter be telling me off anyways._ Sonal reached for a taper to re-light his pipe from the lamp on the table and spoke again. 'This is mighty strong ale, for a lad...' he continued.

'Mind d'yer business S-Sonal...' Toby replied hiccupping rudely as he finished his ale and stood up. Unsteadily he made his way through the crowded room, toward the only dancing couple that concerned him. 'SScuse me GGideon,' he began, barging into Gideon rudely and slurring his words, 'can I ddance with t' lovely llady?'

'Oh, Toby...,' Mayan answered for Gideon as she wrinkled her nose in disgust at his drunken state. 'I think yer'd better sit down afore yer fall down...' she said.

'You all right man?' Gideon asked his voice full of concern.

'Wanna ddance with May,' Toby scowled sullenly in reply as he swayed violently. Gideon grabbed him to stop him falling.

'I think yer'd better sit this one out Tobe,' Gideon grinned in a friendly way adding, 'Mays right, yer fallin' over yersel'.'

The music changed beat and the couple whirled quickly away to another tune. Toby stared after them, beside himself with anger, his throat burned with humiliation and tears threatened to fall, he had to get out, turning unsteadily toward the door he staggered toward it and bumped straight into the serving girl who once more carried a tray of full tankards. As if in slow motion Toby watched as the tray rose up in the air, the girl, Beatrix, stepped back knowing what was sure to happen, gravity being what it is. As Toby missed his footing and slipped, the ale began pouring from the tankards as they began the downward journey, slowly, so slowly the golden ale rained down. Time slowed and stopped, in that split second he could see the villagers pointing and laughing at him, he could see the smiles caused by his humiliation in front of everyone. Hatred grew in him then, a hate so pure it made him feel sick, his stomach burned with bile and his bladder released its burden, a growing wet stain spreading fast over his trews.

He saw Mayan stifling a giggle whilst Gideon strode forward and bent double at the waist leaning toward him smiling. Time for Toby resumed its normal speed as still grinning; Gideon made to pull him to his feet. Toby pulled away not wanting help from these folk who were so alien to him.

Beatrix Drunner, the Brewster's serving girl, bent over to retrieve the tankards from the floor and Apple hastened between revellers with a mop also smiling.

'C'mon Toby, I'll see yer outside,' began Gideon again as he attempted to pull the young man to his feet. Toby struggled once more against Gideon's aid and halfway to upright his feet slipped in the ale and urine puddle and fell from under him, again landing him squarely down on his behind.

The laughter rang loudly in Toby's ear's, again he shrugged off Gideon's arm and crawled on his hands and knees to a dry patch of floor where he stood unsteadily, dripping ale and piss all around him and glaring around the room he made once more for the door. As he opened the door, he looked back toward his father.

'...always was a clumsy boy,' he heard. _'E's laughin' at me too, they're all laughin' at me,_ Toby thought, as he slammed the door behind him and stood in the cold allowing his angry tears to fall.

As the cool evening air filled his lungs, he suddenly felt sick so groping his way, very shakily across to the barn at the side of the inn he promptly threw up in the sawdust and hay muck pile. After venting his stomach, he wiped the spittle from his mouth with his sleeve and staggering unsteadily to the well, he tossed the bucket into the hole and wound the handle to bring up a fresh supply of water, the exertion making him hot, sweaty and very uncomfortable. The cold air gave his skin a clammy feel and the water looked clean and cool but as he put his lips to it, he suddenly felt sick again, releasing the bucket, he turned and rushed back to the muck pile where his stomach heaved and gave up the last of the strong ale. Exhausted, he moved slowly back toward the barn and sat down on a bench beside a pile of rusty horseshoes. He kicked at them irritably with tears of anger and frustration spilling down his ruddy face and leaning forward to take the topmost horseshoe from the pile his stomach again lurched protesting at the sudden movement.

'Yer no lucky fer me...,' he shouted as he threw the shoe as far as he could toward the Inn, he watched it fall short and stop against a low wall. He stared hard at the Inn with his face full of resentment and pain before turning back toward the barn, opening the huge door and going inside.

The lower floor of the barn, filled with horses, tack and tools smelt earthy and familiar as tears of anger and resentment continued to fall and he made his way slowly to the loft ladder, knowing up in the hayloft itself it would be warm and dry and he could sleep. Climbing the ladder slowly with the tears drying on his skin he remembered as children, he, Mayan, Jed and the other village children using the hayloft like a headquarters and he crawled through the open loft door and fell into the sweet smelling soft piled hay. There he lay on his back with his eyes wide open and he stared up at the bright full moon remembering one particular afternoon a long time ago, here, in this very spot how Mayan had lain in his arms crying because Jed and Gideon had gone fishing in the forest without her. He had promised her then he would never leave her and one day she would be his. 'I'll wait fer yer Toby.' She had said promising herself to him forever, her tear stained face had smiled at him, smiled just for him... together that day they had made their plans for the future. Tonight she had seen him crawl before Gideon and the whole village and she had laughed, he would surely punish them all for their treatment of him but she and Gideon most of all.

The moon rose higher in the sky sending its silvery light down across the land making it shine eerily in the mist as an owl hooted and drew Toby's attention to the distant trees.

'By the journey', I 'ate that forest.' Toby said aloud as he watched the mists roll and play beneath the moonlight and he closed his eyes to ease his throbbing head.

The smell of the warm hay and the ale and urine mix on his clothing took him back to his childhood where his mother would cradle him to her breast whilst his father stood before their open fire attempting to wash away the stench of the tanning vats from his body.

'The world is yorn fer the takin' boy,' she would say, 'yorn fer the takin'.'

'Mayan will be mine...' he whispered aloud as his dream mother smiled at him, 'she is mine,' he whispered again as he fell asleep leaving the moon as the only witness to his drunken slumber.

### Chapter 8

The Birthday Gift

Sonal watched sadly, as the drunken boy staggered out of the inn, he had known the village children a very long time and as youngsters, they had all pestered and pleaded with him for stories and magic tricks, both at his home beside the edge of the forest and here at the inn. They, the children, had accepted him as part of the community long before their parents had and even now after all these years, some of the villagers still thought of him as 'the outsider.' Everyone spoke to him pleasantly enough but he could tell who his real friends were, like Apple and Jack, their children and young Gideon, along with his father Jed. He would feel warm inside and just know as someone spoke to him whether their feelings were genuine, he had always thought it part of the magic, part of whatever gave him the ability to tell the stories that held the children spellbound. _Even Toby had once liked the stories,_ Sonal thought to himself, _though even as a child he could be spiteful and cruel._ Of all the village children, Sonal had always liked the Brewster twins and Gideon the best; they always reminded him of himself and his own siblings.

A new log crackled loudly on the fire permeating the room with a spicy sweet smell through the fug of smoke and ale. The aroma sent him reeling; he knew that smell, he looked quickly toward the fire, toward the source of the smell and for a moment, he saw Apple placing Jed's special logs atop the flames. The bark curled and twisted as the flames caught and the log sparked, sending thick green smoke billowing out into the room. Suddenly through the smoke the scene before him changed, the hearth had changed and Apple was no longer tending the fire, it was his own mother. He saw her quite clearly as she turned to face her two young sons and their tiny sister as they sat waiting obediently on stools before the flames and he could almost hear his younger brother saying, 'tell us a story Mama,' Sonal smiled sadly at the memory. It had been so long ago since the young man he had been had left home, he shook his head to clear his thoughts and push his childhood back into the painful past.

After leaving home, he wandered the world for years making his way as Legerdemain, a juggler who used small magic tricks and sleight of hand to survive. Unlike many of his peers, he was always honest and true and his reputation had soon soared, this allowed him the freedom to pick up and go as his mood dictated, finally, whilst en route to a performance and during a heavy rainstorm, he had come across a burnt out shell of a building beside a great forest. Standing and dripping in a dry patch under the remains of the roof, he looked at the heavy sky above him and smiled at his fate.

Without a doubt he knew he could have forged a roof, possibly even a dry and warm bed from the root of the magic but without the balance such a spell would require, he would probably have killed something close by to achieve it and he was far too tired to try such a delicate incantation _. If I had tried and got it wrong, well, maybe I'd have killed more than an animal,_ he thought as he smiled into his ale, remembering his first night beside the Green Home Forest.

That first night had indeed been strange, he had dreamt of fields of sweet flowers with swift running streams filled with fish and protected by a great forest of trees that sang to him as he slept. The next morning despite being cold and damp, he had awoken refreshed and calm with the feeling of 'being needed', something he had not felt for a long, long time. From that moment, he knew he would stay here and re-build the cottage that had given him shelter, that somehow, this cottage had waited for him and this would be his home. It amused him to think the great trees had spoken to him whilst he slept and on that bright morning in the sunshine, the newly washed forest had been as beautiful as it ever could be. The mixture of evergreens and deciduous trees reaching high into the sky reminded him of children's fingers reaching for the candy he used to give out at the end of one of his performances and the raindrops drying on the leaves had sparkled like diamonds in the sunshine, it had been intoxicating. Sonal had loved it immediately and, he thought, it, liked him, his ability to get to the root of the magic seemed stronger here and the calmness and peace of the place allowed him peace to study.

Sonal smiled as he remembered his first real friend in Green Home had been Jack; he had arrived one morning bristling with anger, intent on removing the interloper from the ruins and had squared up to him, ready to remove him by force but somehow the pair ended up repairing a doorway together and sharing Sonal's meagre supper. Jack had told him that the cottage, built mainly with stone and wood from the nearby forest had once been home to friends of his but he refused to speak more of them or of the fire that had destroyed it.

The next morning Sonal went further into the forest feeling sure he would discover something and he did. He found he had the happy knack of finding whatever he needed to affect a repair, a particular piece of wood or a special kind of stone and he began to feel at one with the trees, something he had not felt since he was a child, slowly the cottage once more became a home. At the end of the garden, he discovered three small cairns and a slightly larger one off to one side, each cairn sat in a bed of brightly coloured flowers but he somehow knew not to touch them. Instead, he tended them the best he could, restoring the stones after a storm or as time made them fall or just planting and weeding in the surrounding beds, this part of the garden had been special from the first, here peace and tranquillity abounded.

It had been a long time before Sonal realised that the cottage and the land around it, actually belonged to anyone and it was Gideon himself who had told him the truth of the matter. The twins had come clambering over the ditch plank and through the gate into the garden one morning, as alike as two peas in a pod with the sun bouncing off their flaming chestnut hair, behind them scampered Gideon, as blonde as the sun itself and with eyes as blue as the sky.

'This be Gideon.' Mayan said before delivering the message from her mother. Sonal had heard of Gideon and Jed his father but as they were always in the forest, he had never yet met them. Message delivered, the twins sat on the garden wall waiting for a magic trick or a story, which inevitably came as payment for an errand.

'Do you like magic Gideon?' Sonal asked the young boy, pleased to finally meet the child the twins talked of constantly, he was surprised by the mop of golden hair and pale skin so unlike the darker haired villagers but he smiled as the boy shook his hand politely. 'Watch,' he said, mumbling under his breath and pointing with crooked fingers at the last of the fallen cairn stones. The small rocks began to shake and dance, finally rising high into the air coming to rest quietly atop the mound. One small clear rock, more like glass than stone continued to spin going faster and faster reflecting light all around it until it looked like a star. Tentatively Gideon put his hand out to touch the spinning pebble and at once, it stopped its motion, hanging quietly in the air as if waiting. The twins and Gideon gasped in surprise as Sonal moved forward quickly, plucked the stone from the air and placed it in his pocket.

'Again... again Sonal,' the children called as one and Sonal, rubbing his itching fingers, noticed drops of blood, he had somehow nicked a finger on the rough edge of the glassy stone as he clutched it tightly. He put his bleeding finger into his mouth and began to walk back toward the cottage with the children in tow, shivering slightly as he thought of the balance used for the magic; the air temperature had not dropped as it normally did when he touched the roots. The children themselves had just clamoured for more tricks not noticing his change of mood.

'How about candy and a nice warm drink instead?' Sonal asked aloud over the myriad of questions that he was suddenly asking himself. In all his year's he had never seen the magic act in such a way, it had seemed to him as if some outside force was controlling the flow, the stone had stopped spinning and he had not told it to do so. The spell he had chanted was one he knew well, the stone should not have stopped! What happened, why? He asked himself repeatedly, he stared at the three children as they scampered like rabbits to the cottage door ahead of him. Taking a candy for himself and one for each child Sonal sat down on the doorstep watching the children on the grass as they slurped happily on their sweets in the bright sunshine, the need to warm up with hot drinks gone.

'Did yer know me fam'ly Sonal?' Gideon asked suddenly.

'Your family, Gideon,' Sonal said absently, still puzzled over the change in his spell.

'The cairns', the child said innocently, 'the stones are for me fam'ly.' Sonal had not answered as just then young Jed called to his friend to come away and the three children left the cottage garden shouting out their goodbyes and thanks to Sonal who stood staring after them. As they disappeared from view, Sonal grabbed a small bag and hurried into the vast forest feeling it was high time he met and spoke to Jedadiah Green, hoping as always, the path would lead him exactly to where he needed to be. Indeed, before too long he found himself standing beside a sparkling stream looking at yet another two cairns.

At first, Jedadiah had been startled by the intruder into the forest and wary of the man who, like him was unafraid of both the reputation and reality of the vast expanse of woodland but as Blue appeared beside him and pushed his nose into the palm of his hand the tension disappeared. Sonal, worried over the appearance of the huge silver wolf had experienced a warm, light feeling in his head and he shook it to clear it but the feeling just grew stronger making his ears ring, then strangely, just as it had started, it stopped.

'Welcome..., I be Jed,' the man stroking the wolf had said.

The two men had spoken late into the evening with the silver wolf lying on the floor beside the fire as if it were listening and watching. All night long the two talked, and as the dawn light filtered through the trees they shook hands warmly, saying their goodbyes like old friends and since that time they often met either in the woodland house, or in the cottage that Sonal called home, until then he had not realised just how lonely his life had become.

Smiling now at his memories, Sonal stared across the crowded inn at the dancers and his smile deepened as he watched Gideon whirling Mayan in a tight circle. Lately he had taken joy from teaching Gideon all he knew about the world in exchange for the friendship they all shared.

'Yer be miles away t'night, Sonal,' said Jed, as he placed one of the mugs of ale he carried on the table in front of his friend. He set his own mug down and pulled round the chair so recently vacated by Toby.

'Jed,' voiced Tom in the only greeting Jed would get from him.

'Evenin' Tom,' replied Jed with a sad smile as he turned his chair to sit with his back to his one-time friend.

After the fire and consumed with guilt for not accompanying Jed all the way home, Tom had changed. At Jed's continued disappearance, his guilt had slowly turned to anger at himself for his lack of courage and his fear of the forest that had stopped him walking with his friend. Then, when Jed reappeared five years later with a child, Tom found he was unable to look him in the face, although Jed had never blamed Tom, their friendship had never again been the same.

'I was thinking of the travelling young Jed will be doing,' Sonal replied to Jedadiah as he watched the young man named for his friend re-enter the barroom from the parlour and make his way to the blazing fire, there he sat down on a stool beside Gideon's grandfather.

'Yeah, that 'e will,' agreed Jed, 'with winter 'ere too, least way's it looks ter be a mild en, I jus' be glad Gid 'as no thoughts of soldierin' 'imsel'.' Sonal smiled a reply and nodded toward Gideon and Mayan dancing.

'Those two have thoughts for no-one but each other my friend,' he said still smiling and Jed agreed, watching the youngsters fondly as the two in question stopped their dancing and also headed toward the roaring fire and the vacant stools that Mayan's twin guarded closely.

'I be worn out.' Mayan began, smiling at her brother and turning her face toward Gideon. Gideon in his turn stared at Mayan, he stared as if he had never seen her before, her eyes were sparkling in the fire light and the flames were dancing in her hair making it shine a deep red. The heat from the fire along with the exertion of the dancing made her skin glow like gold and her long slender fingers were resting on her breast as if to still a rapidly beating heart. For long moments, the pair just looked at each other.

'Yer..., yer so beautiful May,' stammered a bemused Gideon.

'Gideon's in love, Gideon's in love,' chanted Jed softly, laughing and breaking the spell. Blushing furiously for the third time that day, Gideon realised what everyone else knew already, he _was_ in love and always had been and nervously, he joined in with the laughter.

'Come outside,' he said to both twins, 'I 'ave a birthday gift fer yer both.' Mayan reached for her shawl happily and stood once more and as the trio made their way past the twirling dancers, Gideon veered toward his father to retrieve his bag.

'She be a bonny girl,' said his father as he handed the bag to Gideon with a smile.

'Good luck lad,' added Sonal with a knowing wink, Gideon returned the smiles with a grin to both men and headed out after his friends.

After the heat of the Inn the air outside was pleasantly chilly, the full bright moon slightly obscured by drifting cloud making the night unusually hazy for the time of year and the three friends sat down on the bench usually used by the farrier, Tom, when he shod the Inn's horses. An old pile of horseshoes lay scattered in the dust.

'Fer yer birthday,' began Gideon, 'may yer Journey be slow' he added, completing the blessing as he handed each twin a small wrapped package. Inside each sat a perfectly round gemstone with a hole painstakingly bored through the centre; a long leather thong threaded through the hole had loose ties for tying around the neck.

'I've not cut the ties yet,' said Gideon, 'I weren't sure how long yer'd wan' 'em,' he added as his friends admired their gifts.

'I'll want mine forever Gideon,' said Mayan as she held her stone lovingly, 'it's really beautiful,' she added.

'No May, I meant...,' Gideon began as Mayan interrupted him, 'I know what yer meant silly...,' she smiled turning her face up to his, 'thank you Gid,' she said as she pulled him down and kissed him on the lips.

Jed laughed as a startled Gideon lost his balance falling to his knees.

'I love mine too man, but I'll no' be kissing yer,' he said as Gideon struggled to get up. 'Where did yer find such smooth stones anyway?' He laughed as he rose and offered his hand pulling Gideon back on to his feet. Once they were both upright he turned around to offer Gideon his back.

'Tie it on fer me please, I'll treasure it Gid I really will,' he said solemnly as he pulled his unruly hair, still badly tied in its tail to one side.

'I've bin collectin' stones fer a while, gramps brings me some when 'e visits, others I've jus' found in the forest an' I've been learnin' about stones an' such, from Sonal.' Gideon explained as he took the thong ends from Jed's shoulders. He quickly tied the two ends into a knot and taking his knife from his waist, he pulled the over-long ends taut running the knife through them and inadvertently pulling the blade across his left palm, cutting it deeply and smearing the leather in blood.

'Yikes!' He exclaimed as he pulled his hand away and dropping the knife, he laughed painfully, fisting the bleeding palm. 'Actually that's rather funny,' he said as Mayan immediately began to fuss at the blood. 'You're stone Jed, it's called a Bloodstone,' he laughed again at the bemused expression on Mayan's face. 'It means somthin' too..., it means 'courage, protection and healing,' and in the daylight it's green...' Gideon tried to staunch the blood flow with his handkerchief, wrapping it tightly around his hand.

'I be sorry Jed I got some blood on the leather tie,' Gideon said adding, 'I can get yer anovver piece afore yer go though.'

'Ner man tis fine as is,' Jed began, as he turned to see Mayan helping Gideon wrap the bleeding hand, the blood looked black under the night sky and eyeing the knife on the ground he bent to pick it up. Holding his hand out before Gideon, he sliced his own palm from the base of his forefinger across and down leaving a wound almost identical to Gideon's own. With the blood flowing strongly he offered his hand to Gideon.

'Brothers Gid,' he said earnestly, 'Blood brothers.' Mayan watched in silence as Gideon pulled the blood soaked cloth from his hand and gripped his bloody palm to her twins.

The moon chose that moment to emerge from its cover, lighting up the three friends in bright winter moonbeams and abruptly Jed grinned again.

'I'd best be goin' in,' he said, 'ma will only start to fret else, I love yer man...' he added, as he walked back toward the inn wrapping his hand in his own handkerchief. Mayan and Gideon watched in silence as he moved toward the parlour door.

As the door opened, a sudden burst of light and noise from inside the Inn assaulted the quiet of the night and the bright light of the moon seemed dimmed by the glare but as quickly as it opened, the door closed once again, leaving Gideon and Mayan alone in the chill moonlight.

'Me own stone Gid,' whispered Mayan quietly as she wrapped Gideon's blood soaked hand once more, 'what does it mean?' She asked again as she finished her ministering and held her gift high into the moonlight. The stone looked almost black but bright sparks inside the stone reflected the moonlight, shimmering like little stars. 'What does it mean...?' She whispered again, as she looked into Gideon's eyes.

'It means, I, I, err...,' stammered Gideon his tongue suddenly stuck, he coughed to clear his throat and began again. 'Yours is called 'Lapis Lazuli,' 'an' tis actually blue, tis fer 'armony, truth an' friendship,' he blurted too fast as Mayan returned her gaze to the stone.

'Are we friends then Gid?' She said turning her eyes back to his once more as silent tears ran down her face.

'May...,' Gideon began as she stepped into his arms, 'don't cry,' he said quietly.

'I couldn't bear it if yer left me too,' she sobbed as his arms wrapped around her small body and pulled her against him. 'Don't yer leave me Gid, please,' she added. Holding her tightly he kissed her hair, savouring the silky texture and breathing in the fresh smell of her, so familiar but so new.

'Careful, I'll cover yer in me blood May,' he said as she returned the embrace.

'Tis my blood too,' she smiled through her tears pulling away from the hold, 'Jed an' me, we be twins remember, so tis _our_ blood,' taking a small handkerchief from her sleeve she wrapped it around the blood soaked cloth on Gideon's palm.

''Ere,' she smiled at him, 'tie on the beautiful stone, 'that tis actually blue,' she grinned to allay the tease, 'and... and kiss me.' She added quietly.

'I'll never leave yer May,' he said looking into her eyes, 'I love yer,' he added as he pulled her into his arms once again to kiss her in the moonlight.

'I've always loved you too Gideon.' She breathed into his mouth as their lips touched.

From the barn above, Toby watched the pair, seething inside.

'Mayan belongs ter me 'n' only ter me,' he whispered to himself. _'By the Journey' I will 'ave 'er one way or anovver, yer gonna die fer this Gideon Green,_ he thought. With murder in his heart and punishment on his mind he watched as the pair walked slowly back toward the inn.

### Chapter 9

### Sonal Sobers

The next morning bright and early the young men 'off to soldier' gathered outside the Inn in the market square with their families. Due to its position nearest to the Branton Road, Green Home Village was to be the meeting point for recruitment in the Beaut Valley. Jed was the only boy leaving from Green Home Village itself but those boys not already picked up were being met there. The coach stood quietly behind the snorting horses looking precariously over-loaded with bags and boxes, filling every space, leaving little or no room for the boys who were to serve and the recruiting sergeant himself paced back and forth crossing names of a clipboard as boy after boy presented himself. Young Jed smiled as he watched Gideon's grandmother place a small package in his hand sack on the back of the coach, he loved her dearly and had known her nearly all of his life.

'Gran,' he said walking over to her, 'you will write me won't yer?' He asked, suddenly anxious that as he was going away she and Gideon's grandfather would no longer consider him family.

'O'course I will pet,' she said wiping her eyes, 'jus' yer make sure yer write ter me too,' she added squeezing him hard. 'There's a little somethin' in yer bag fer later, now run over ter yer ma coz she be pining already,' she said finally, shoving him away from her. As he turned away, she caught sight of her husband as he walked down the lane from the forest. She watched knowing the contented smile on his face came not from the visit to Green Home Village and seeing the family, but because of his proximity to his beloved trees.

'Should 'ave known where you'd gone early this morning Gideon Green,' she began, pretending to be cross.

'I was jus' saying 'allo ter forest..., tis all dear,' he replied smiling ruefully. Jed's grandmother smiled back knowing he had given all this up for her and taking his hand they walked together to join the others gathered around the young recruits.

The recruiting sergeant was sitting on the barn bench drinking a large cup of ale, chatting to Apple.

'On dooty Mam, ale dulls me wits!' He said to her, chuckling softly as he half emptied the mug and replaced the contents with water from the sparkling well.

'Our water is good fer wits all right,' replied an equally amused Apple, 'many a sore head had its wits back after a dousing this morn, ain't that right Sonal?' She stifled a smile as Sonal walked toward them his glistening damp hair a testimony to her speech. Sonal laughed and sat down heavily beside the sergeant, Apple released her smile and handed him a jug.

'I'll not lose my wit's again so soon thanks Apple,' he began, laughing, 'and don't make me laugh,' he added, 'it makes my head hurt.'

'Yer head would 'urt, the amount yer drank could 'ave sunk a navy,' she laughed again, "an after mending the boy's 'ands too...' she scolded.

The boys had both been in need of healing when they had returned to the Inn the previous evening, thankfully through the kitchen door, which hid from the rest of the patrons the profuse amounts of blood that seemed to drip everywhere.

All that was left of the knife wounds were ugly white scars.

'They will fade in time,' Sonal had said as he healed both the wounds after working on both the boy's hands, 'but I'll not make them fade altogether, foolishness like yours deserves some sign I suppose, but to do it on the eve of Jed's new life, 'By the Journey' that's foolishness indeed, what if I'd not been here!' He had added, winking at Apple as she placed prepared loaves for the morrow in the kitchen's vast ovens. Joining her husband and friend around the table they watched as Sonal began to call the magic from the root for the healing.

Sonal had, in truth been stunned once more at the ease and the extent to which his magic had worked. _By the Journey, what's this_? He thought, as power, the like of which he had never before attained flooded through him, a feeling he was unused too and was not at all sure that he liked, he tried to resist the magic's pull. Never before had he achieved such a degree of healing and with no balance, the blood pounded through his veins and his skin felt as if it were on fire, quickly the two boys' grasped the wrists of their badly cut hands, surprise on their faces as they both stared at their palms held before them. In astonishment, Sonal too watched as the skin slowly began to pull itself together and knit gently, the flowing blood seemed to Sonal to be glowing as it stopped, pooled and drained away back into the boys damaged skin.

As the wounds healed, the newly knitted skin held a scar; a pure white line ran from the base of the forefinger through to the pad of soft skin opposite the thumbs base, an exact replication of the knife wounds. Exhausted, Sonal stopped and immediately smoke began to pour from the ovens as the new made bread cooked in an instant and began to burn.

'By the Journey Sonal,' murmured Jed, 'yer really can do magic,' he chuckled and added, 'I'm glad that bread was in the oven, lest we got cooked ourselves....' He laughed watching Apple once more fussing around the overdone bread and Sonal himself smiled apologetically knowing he himself had burnt the loaves by fighting against the alien feeling the magic had given him, not the balance.

The young men, once thoroughly chastised, thanked Sonal before retiring to their rooms to change from their still bloody clothes.

The rest of the evening the company spent dancing, talking and laughing and for some it ended far too quickly, before long the visitors left and only then did the inn's residents find their way to their beds. Sonal sat alone long into the night brooding over the day's events, he had once more been able to touch the root of the magic easily and with such strength, something to do with Gideon, he thought, I didn't call the bread for balance, I know it has something to do with Gideon. His jumbled, incoherent thoughts threatened to keep him awake and feeling it was important but not sure why, he took another jug of ale and sat alone in the chair beside the dying fire. Finally, he had fallen asleep in the chair, very, very drunk.

'Come on Sonal, finish yer ale man and celebrate with us,' Apple grinned at her friend jolting him out of his reverie, 'you'll no lose yer wits agen with jus' one ale,' she kissed his cheek playfully. To the sergeant she added, 'be sure you look after me boy now, 'ear,' as she walked away with a tray full of empty jugs.

'Need their wits about 'em this lot will, off to fight soon, heard the rumours, man?' He asked Sonal as he supped his watered down ale. 'Out here in the backwoods, I don't s'pose you get to hear a lot. They say there's more trouble brewing ... out 'o' the Bleak,' he added, 'they'll be off there soon enough..., mark my words...' he mumbled into his drink, 'cure the country o' them accursed raids,' he said, unaware that Sonal, on the bench beside him had stopped laughing. Sonal stared hard into his jug, his joy of the day's events suddenly soured.

It seemed the whole valley had turned out to see its sons off and amidst the cheering throng of excited boys and their proud parents; Gideon stood, saying a final goodbye to his best friend, his forearms tightly around Jed's own.

'Take care of 'er Gid,' Jed said, nodding his head toward his twin, 'I be a mite fond of 'er,' he added as a tearful Mayan threw her arms around him. Gideon said nothing as the twins said their own goodbyes. At last, Jed turned again to Gideon once more.

'You be as dear to me as she is man,' Gideon said glancing at a tearful Mayan, 'stay safe Jed.' Gideon whispered as the recruiting sergeant blew his horn.

'Got me stone ter protect me, ain't I?' Jed replied grinning and putting his hand to his chest where the stone hung beneath his clothing. The other boys took their places on the coach.

'Jed...' called Apple, Jed turned to his mother.

'I'll be 'ome fer the weddin' ma, I promise,' he said loudly, moving away as his mother dried a teary eye.

'May yer Journey be slow boy!' Shouted his father with a wave, as in the background the people began to cheer once more.

'Jed... GO...,' Jackie hollered as the coach moved off, "n' come 'ome safe.' Jackie called again as Jed ran after and jumped aboard the slowly moving coach, shoved a crate of his belongings to one side and sat on the backboard. Amidst the calls and cheers as the coach moved further away, Gideon heard his friend shout referring to the stone now fast around his neck.

'Gid, it's not only green but it's got red bits in it!'

Gideon walked over to his father where he stood with Apple and Mayan; Jed placed an arm across his shoulders as they watched the carriage dust settle before them.

'Still not want to be a soldier boy?' He asked, looking hard at his son.

'No Da, me 'ome is here, I'll never leave the forest, not much point in being a forester without me forest is there?' Gideon answered, strangely echoing his father's own words from so many years before. "Sides,' he added, glancing at Mayan, 'I kinda like the folk of the village too.' His father smiled.

'Come on lad, let's drink a drop of Jack's finest fer our boys off to serve.' Jed said to his son pulling him toward the Inn's door.

Sonal stood quietly off to the side unable to celebrate. Sadly shaking his head, he turned and walked toward his home near the forest edge, suddenly feeling very, very cold.

### Chapter 10

### King Gath

King Gath sat atop his chestnut horse high on a hill outside the city. His eyes were fixed and staring toward the lush green lands in the north, he didn't see the fields full of sheep with their skittish new born lambs or the vast fields of corn just beginning to show their first leaves through the rich brown earth. He stared toward the distant mountain ranges that became one of the borders of Derova, so far away they were invisible to the naked eye. In his mind, he could see the snow covered peaks and the dark scar that was the pass cut like a swathe through the mountains, as if a giant hand had used a sickle, cutting raw rock like soft corn. He wondered how long the runner had taken to reach Devilly castle in this spring heat, he had had the news about the prisoner for over a fortnight now _. How long will it be until this man is before me, are they close, are they even through the pass?_ He wondered.

It had been lifetimes ago since he himself had traversed the pass and from all the accounts he had heard, he would no longer recognise the land beyond it. He remembered it as lush and green, filled to bursting with wildlife, rivers filled with fish, a crystal blue lake and forests as large as cities.

Gath had not thought about that time for years, _so long ago_ , he thought, _so very long ago,_ his mind continued to drift back to his original home, his leaving it so traumatically and his arrival beside the lake. He thought of the old man he left dying under the tree still mumbling as he walked away. He smiled at a memory of his daughter's smiling face, Lydia, taken from him not so long ago but to him it felt an age, her passing had condemned him to remain here and grow old alone with his memories. _Cursed to remain and die amongst these people,_ he thought.

The past, he had been thinking of the past a lot lately, suddenly he was angry and his face suffused with blood making his skin glow red as if in a blush, his brow furrowed and his breathing grew deep and fast. His personal aide, Rhoàld, backed his horse off a pace recognising the signs, he quietly touched the talisman he wore around his neck for luck and thanked the Gods, as a courier rode quickly up the hill carrying a dispatch.

'My lord,' said the courier, addressing his king and handing over a ceremonial scroll, 'the new recruits have joined us and are awaiting your pleasure in the quad.'

'About time too,' scowled Gath as he took the scroll in his hand, noticing and not for the first time, the liver spots appearing as mottled brown blotches on his once perfect skin. He turned his horse in the direction of the barracks and rode off still seething with anger. _What have I become?_ He thought as he distanced himself from his courtiers and rode toward a chore he had come to dislike so intensely. _What am I that I should be so excited by the prospect of interrogating a prisoner, my life, all, to end here in this accursed place; I should have been so much more... 'By the Journey' Lydia, where I am now is down to you..._ his thoughts concluded as he rode on through the narrow alleyways and entered the wide cobbled streets.

Thick, high, stone walls encircled the entire castle, at one time they enclosed the entire city within its protective embrace but over time the city had grown, spilling outside the walls and extending down toward the river Derva on the castles west side. Gath passed through the old city gates and looked up toward the castle itself nestling high on a hill, the hustle and bustle of a market was in full swing in the square but above the sounds of the animals and vendors selling their wears he could hear cheering. He passed through the market place automatically smiling and waving at the people like a good and beloved king should, eventually arriving at the Guardhouse below the castle proper where he halted and glanced at the officer standing to attention at the barracks gate, his right fist raised to his chest and his eyes lowering, cast down in salute.

'My king,' voiced the officer, raising his eyes to Gath, 'you wanted to be told as soon as there was news...'

'Well...,' spoke the king in a voice more menacing than soft, the officer paled under the kings stare.

'Forgive me Sire, but your scouts have just returned...I was about to send a rider...,' he said and unable to maintain eye contact he lowered his own eyes once more, 'they have the prisoner from the Bleak sire, he has been put in the dungeons to await your pleasure,' the officer added as the king smiled.

'Yes, yes of course,' Gath muttered under his breath, once more turning away. 'Awaiting my pleasure indeed, all it seems, is awaiting my pleasure...well, just as soon as I can finish here...' he said softly, almost to himself before turning to his companions and adding in a strong commanding voice, 'come on then, let's get on with it.' He gestured toward Rhoàld and the rest of his entourage as he caressed the ornate pommel of his sword and continued into the parade ground where his voice became inaudible under the sound of hundreds of cheering men.

Inside the barracks, the latest group of men ready to swear their oath of allegiance stood proudly beside the newest recruits. The parade square itself was as clean as a new pin and the buildings fresh and newly painted for this, the passing out parade of this year's intake.

Amongst the waiting men stood young Jed, proud and strong and although hot and sticky himself, he marvelled at the seasoned men in their resplendent red and green uniforms who did not appear to feel the heat at all. As one of the newest recruits, he looked at his fellows standing in the square surrounded by the pristine and newly painted white buildings reflecting the light and heat from the spring sun and he smiled.

The moment he waved goodbye to his family nearly eighteen months ago, his life changed and his training began. It had continued for months as the group traversed the length and breadth of Derova with the recruiting officers picking up more recruits and more carriages at each stop. Until then, Jed had not realised his own country was quite so large. This type of training, he was told, ensured that when the cadets eventually reached Devilly, the rudiments of their heretofore, soft family life had been replaced by the basic principles of soldiering.

Jed felt it had taken forever to get here, here in Devilly he would at last officially take the oath in front of his king and finally be able to call himself a soldier in the Derovian Army. The swordplay he had witnessed and the stories he had heard from the recruiting sergeant and his men back in Branton, nearly three years ago had sufficiently impressed and suffused him with a love of soldiering and here he was now, about to become a real King's man. _If only Gid and May were here..._ he thought, unexpectedly sad that his sister and friend were so far away and could not witness his passing out. Suddenly people were cheering.

'Get ready,' hollered the parade sergeant, Jed craned his neck to view the gates of the practice yard and all thoughts of Gideon and his sister vanished in the excitement bubbling up from his gut. For a moment, all was still then amid the general rush, the noise grew again steadily as the young men poured onto the parade ground and got into formation, ready to be inspected formally by their king.

'A-Ten...Shun.' shouted the parade sergeant as the king entered the square. The silence was deafening, each man stood as straight and tall as he could, swinging his left arm out to touch the shoulder of the man beside him, using one of the first disciplines he had learned whilst on the road. Another command bellowed loudly and each man faced the front, Jed knew the king would see row upon row of perfectly straight lines of men.

Gath dismounted as gracefully as he could and taking his walking cane in his left hand, he returned the salute offered by the officer in charge.

'Your latest batch of new men sire,' the Colonel began, 'from all across Derova,' he proudly continued.

'Thank you.' Replied Gath, magnificent in his own dress uniform of red, green and gold, the sunlight shone on his steely blonde hair and the gold epaulets of his uniform made his shoulders seem huge. He walked stiffly toward the steps and climbed up to the large dais, a tall man already, the Dias added to his height. He looks like a God, thought Jed as he craned his neck for a better view of his sovereign. Musicians began to play as orders, shouted from the ranks had the large columns of men on the move, the sound of their marching feet echoing in time to the beat of the music. Slowly the parade moved on, it moved evenly and smoothly and as each company passed in front of the king, it turned to salute Gath, their monarch.

_All the same_ , thought Gath already bored with the parade, 'always the same', he added to himself, itching to get to his prisoner. He closed his mind to the procession of troops and the hundreds of both uniformed and non-uniformed men saluting him and directed his thoughts toward the interrogation he would undertake as soon as the parade was over.

He had a prisoner to examine and he was excited at the prospect. Nothing had stimulated him like this for years and as he stood behind the podium he rubbed his growing manhood with intense surprise and much pleasure, he had not been able to produce an erection for many years and had had to find his pleasures in other ways. He thought of the young woman who even now awaited his call, she would be as surprised as he was but she too would have to wait. The Bleak, now that was something else to think about, nothing came out of the Bleak now, it was a dead place, no one ever went there, let alone returned. A vast valley entirely surrounded by an even bigger mountain range making the place virtually impregnable and now three scouts had not only returned but also captured a prisoner _, and where am I?_ He mused, as his anger began to get the better of him, here watching this farcical parade. How he had come to hate it, in its time, it had proved to be useful, very useful indeed but now he could not stop the damn thing even if he wanted to, it had become traditional. A greeting from the king to the young men ready to lay down their puny lives, he thought sarcastically. _A prisoner though, what could this mea_ n? His mind continued in a whirl, his eyes unseeing as the parade of young soldiers continued and time passed. Gath stood alone with his thoughts, feeling his passion dying.

Jed, in one of the last batches of men to parade was watching the king intently as he marched with his peers, at first, it had seemed difficult to keep in step but over the months of travelling the constant practice had paid off and he could now march alongside the rest of his comrades without a second thought. At last, Jed's drill sergeant called out.

'Eyes Right,' heads snapped to the right as fists banged into chests, it seemed to Jed that the king looked suddenly startled, like a pheasant shocked from its bush by a passing fox. The king's blue eyes were wide and staring, the blond head turning slightly from right to left, as if he searched for something among the new soldiers. Jed lowered his eyes to complete the salute bursting with pride at his company's performance. _The king has noticed us!_ He thought _us!_

The parade continued until the last man had marched before Gath's now watchful and alert gaze. It finally came to a standstill under instruction from the parade leader, Colonel Thurl.

The music-changed tempo as the king re-mounted his horse using a stepping block and began to ride beside the Colonel to inspect the troops. With the King leading the way, the two men began riding slowly between the rows of waiting men, Jed stood patiently in the hot sun as the king, high on his horse walked slowly nearer to his division. Occasionally, Gath would stop his horse and speak to one of the soldiers, as new recruits Jed knew the king would welcome them but he had never expected to be so close to him. _'By the Journey' Gid and May will never believe this,_ he thought.

Jed was so close to King Gath now he could see the man's blond hair appeared streaked through with steely grey and held back from his face by a golden circlet. The golden band twinkled and shone reflecting the bright sunshine as the king moved and as the large chestnut horse with its celebrated rider drew nearer, Jed could smell the soft musty scent of sweat. He was unsure whether it was the oncoming horse or himself he could smell and he began to blush in embarrassment hoping no one else had noticed, he kept his gaze to the front, unwilling to be caught staring by his monarch as he drew ever closer.

The sweat ran down the back of Jed's neck making it itch where the leather thong of his stone sat and for a moment, he was in the shade as the king's horse passed between him and the sun. Jed's heart pounded in his ears as the mighty king rode past inches from him and he wiped his sweaty palms against his trousers in relief making his white palm scar sting painfully as his monarch passed him by. Abruptly, King Gath stopped his horse, his head whipped around and his eyes locked onto Jed as he simultaneously pulled on his mounts reins forcing the creature to walk backwards as he closed the distance between himself and Jed. Jed trembled nervously with excitement and fear. The itch at the nape of Jed's neck became unbearably strong and he fought not to scratch it, instead he thrust his nails into the scar on his left palm where it still prickled painfully.

'Where are you from boy?' Asked the king as Jed looked up, he pushed his nails further into his scar and concentrated on keeping his left thumb in line with the seam of his trews, his right fist banged his chest in salute. Casting his eyes down and completing the formal salute, he answered as best as he could.

'Green 'ome Village Sire,' he said carefully. The king continued to stare at him for what to Jed, seemed an age.

'Your parent's boy, are they proud of you?' The king finally asked. Jed's palm scar began to burn white hot, he felt like someone was sticking needles into his hand, it was all he could do not open his fist and look at it, _p'haps I've bin stung by a bee attracted by the sweat!_ He thought as his king continued to wait for an answer.

'Aahmh,' Colonel Thurl cleared his throat bringing Jed back with a bump.

'S'cuse me Sire,' said Jed hastily, 'me parents, sire, yes, me parents be very proud o' me,' he finally answered blushing again furiously, mortified that he had kept his king waiting.

'I have a feeling about you boy,' said the king moving on in the line. Colonel Thurl looked long and hard at Jed as he passed him by before he followed on after the king.

In a daze, Gath continued the parade until finally he made his way back up to the Dais. He stood to attention his mind whirling as the newly passed out soldiers paraded once more past their king through the wooden gates and on, ready to take their positions defending their homeland. Finally, the music stopped, the remaining new recruits knew this was their moment and all hushed awaiting their king's greeting.

Gath's mind was awhirl, he had felt something in the ether, in the magic and had achieved a second, hard and painful erection in the one day and with his mind on other things, he gave the recruits welcome speech almost in automaton.

'Men, as you make your families proud, make me proud. Become strong and skilled to defend our homes and borders from possible enemies, both foreign and home grown. Swear your oath with honour and remain honour bound for all of your lives.' Gath unsheathed his sword and held it aloft so all could see it, the sun glinting menacingly on the sharp blade. As one, the gathered young men unsheathed their own swords and holding them high they shouted at the tops of their voices.

'I so swear.'

For just a moment, utter silence filled the yard, passion and excitement seemed a tangible thing and Jed could taste it on his tongue. His throat constricted as he waited and he held his breath as Gath replaced his sword in its scabbard and saluted the young men. The parade ground sang with the collective metallic twang of swords being re-sheathed and at last he turned and saluted his forces, signalling the end of the parade, Jed roared with his comrades the noise echoing around the square.

Gath stood, acknowledging the cheers absently until at last, he turned to Colonel Thurl and spoke a few quiet words into his ear, before again re-mounting his horse and both he and Rhoàld, his aide rode back through the gates.

Colonel Thurl called the dismiss through the noise of celebration and the orderly lines broke apart, most of the men milled about in their units still excited and high from such close exposure to their renowned king. Jed stood quietly, transfixed by the blond head disappearing from view.

Gath himself was in a daze, that boy, I must find out about that boy, he thought, remembering the way his skin itched and his heart pounded as he neared the boy's position, he had felt his blood banging loudly in his ears as it rushed around his body and painfully engorge his manhood _. I felt the magic... I felt the roots! Lydia...oh, what I could have done if only you had not died before..._

'Sire...,' Rhoàld tried in vain to attract his king's attention. Gath's thoughts were still on the boy. Finally he'd found the cause of the strange power surge he had felt earlier, he was sure he had felt something as the parade passed him whilst he stood waiting on the dais, but he had reasoned that it was probably imagination, after all he had been thinking about his daughter on and off all day. _A boy from some 'Gree-Nome' place, where on the journey is that?_ He mused, _this boy,_ Gath continued his thoughts, _this boy felt different somehow._

Frustrated, his mind drifted back to a time when he could feel and gather the power from more than half the new recruits but over the years, his powers had diminished along with parts of his memory, the memories of who and what he once was. He remembered only what he had to do to survive, to maintain his existence, his powers and memories had waned as the 'blood' thinned and became more dilute. He thought of the successive sons he had begotten and taken in order to survive but then he had found Lena and his memories had begun to return slowly, the instant Lena gave birth to Lydia, his memories returned completely. It was as if a veil had suddenly lifted and he began to hope once more, hope for a return home someday. Then, Lydia giving birth to a son, would have given him the strength, the power and the knowledge to get home. With her death, he believed he could feel his memories slipping away again and his powers dwindling as he aged. He had had to resign himself to this life and, eventual death. Lydia's birth and her mother's passing should have been the means to a final solution for him; he thought of his daughter and her senseless death and grew angry once more, feeling a stirring in his loins that matched his anger. _My return should have started with you Lena..._ he cursed the dead girl that had been his wife.

He had found Lena at one of the slave markets looking lost, dirty and waif like, her young almost pure blood had sung out to him loudly after years of nothing; he had been as a deaf man suddenly regaining his hearing and he had left an important meeting to follow the call. As soon as her saw her he knew he had to have her, it was fortunate for him that she was young and beautiful under the grime and muck from the slave pens but he knew he would have had her even if she had been an old crone. It was the blood he wanted, the magic blood running so strongly through her veins and arteries, if he had not been able to beget a child with her he would have kept her as a body slave to feed his need. He took her fast and furiously in his joy of finding her and she had quickly become pregnant. Elated, he had married her at a ridiculous ceremony to please the populace; his people found the slave to queen story romantic and it had helped enhance his image of bounty and generosity. He was sure from the first a child with Lena would be born female, a female after so many males and when the infant arrived and was indeed a female, he knew his exile was finally ending. The curse that Thaddrick, the man he had left for dead beside a tree, had flung at him had finally run its course. Lena, his queen and only daughter's mother was now no longer necessary and such was the strength of the magic in the infant's blood, his own watered down version seemed boosted. His daughter's blood took his magic and magnified it, whilst near to her, his own magic returned and he was as powerful a mage as he ever was. So he deemed the queen's death the only sensible option, kill Lena to stop her having more children, _after all,_ he thought, _another child with her might have been a boy and of the blood, I did not intend to share my power, especially with a child that could have eventually posed a threat. Therefore Lena had to die,_ _her blood had been useful though_ , he mused, he had it harvested and stored, using it only when he had need. It had kept him young throughout Lydia's tender years and he had mapped out their future from the moment of her birth. She alone was the one who would give him a son; prophecy said so, a son with pure blood and all the insight into the roots of magic that had been his when he was originally born so many lifetimes ago on Arotia, _a pure blood son, his way to get home, finally,_ he grinned sardonically to himself remembering.

'Sire...,' began Rhoàld again as his king seemingly ignored him. 'Sire..., the prisoner...,' Rhoàld tried a last time.

'What ah yes..., the prisoner,' answered the king finally as he shook off his reverie and headed toward the castle.

'The prisoner can wait a while Rhoàld,' he said as he rubbed his hand across his groin, almost as if to check the pounding erection was still there, 'I have some unfinished business, with a lady.' He laughed maniacally thinking of how very surprised she was going to be. Yes, the dungeon could wait.

### Chapter 11

### Jed Recalls a Visit Home

Jed stood watching the new recruits as the yearly parade began and he thought about the time since his own first parade, _'as it really been ser long?_ Throughout the long months Jed trained hard finding he had, as his drill sergeant suspected, a natural affinity for swordsmanship. He spent many evenings practicing and honing his skills, as both a swordsman and it transpired as a bowman, the latter, a skill he had learned along with Gideon when he had hunted whilst still a boy in the Green Home Forest. He had also become proficient at swagging, the use of a circular net with weights attached around the circumference, the large cumbersome net was difficult to swing above the head and drop on a target but if correctly used the unlucky victim was incapacitated very quickly, allowing either a safe dispatching or capture. In short, soldiering had suited Jed very well and he was extremely proud of himself if, a little homesick.

He received the occasional letter from home full of the doings of the community and usually if the letter was from Mayan, full of news of what Gideon was up to. These letters made Jed smile, knowing his sister, he would wonder if his friend knew what was coming his way. Gideon's letters were rather rare but Jed did not mind and he had developed a habit of stroking his deep green stone when feeling stressed or before a fight and it seemed to calm him, to steady his nerves, it made him feel that his friend was with him. He had even made a few new friends and had found himself a local inn that reminded him of home.

The Dogs Neck was not the usual type of squaddies' bar, it held few attractions for most of the young men who had joined up with him but Jed had come to love its quiet homely atmosphere with its thick black beams and low smoky ceilings. Jinks, the bar keeper's son reminded him of himself as a boy always running around after his older brother and seeming to forever be getting into mischief. Jinks also seemed to be a minefield of information, from the latest indiscretion at the castle to the king's private thoughts and latest bed partner.

'Where d'yer get all this stuff?' Jed had once questioned his young friend.

'Mister Jed,' Jinks had answered huffily, 'have I asked you how you spend yer time off?'

Maudie the Innkeepers wife and Jinks mother was incessantly cheerful and reminded him of his own mother, not in dress or appearance but in the way she handled her customers and he had a suspicion that half the young soldiers in the bar only went there because of her and her motherly manner. He spent many a peaceful off duty evening whiling away his time there, watching the comings and goings on the busy river Derva that ran alongside the inn, even if by running as close to the town and the castle as it did, the waterway was more than a little polluted. So much so that on warm evenings Jed secretly thought that the smell emanating from its murky depths was a trifle overpowering. Apart from providing much of the water for the area, as well as essential irrigation for the local landowners, the Derva was the mainstay for transport in the region so subsequently the clientele of the Dog's Neck consisted of river folk as well as off duty soldiers and more than a few locals. Laughter and ale flowed freely and a strict discipline of no fighting was enforced to make sure people had fun, not fights and the food was as good as his mother's, _though I would never tell 'er that_ , he thought, grinning to himself. With straw on the floor and the smell of the wood smoke in the air he could close his eyes and be at home watching his ma and pa rushing around with tankards of frothy ale while May sat on a fire stool talking prettily to Gid. His grin faded and he sighed, yes, he had made friends but he had been lonely and very homesick.

A chance meeting with the silver girl, near the inn had changed that for him, though he had not even asked her name and on meeting her, had come close to losing his precious stone.

He rubbed his jaw at the memory of the brawl that had changed his life, there on the bank of the river just outside the pub. He had been sitting with his ale watching the murky brown depths for signs of life, absently throwing the remains of his bread at a few nosy, scabby looking ducks and thinking of the life in the teeming waters at home, when he had seen her. She was the victim of a pair of drunken recruits, being bullied and pushed around as she tried to regain possession of a small basket that the pair threw between them. He had managed to throw one into the Derva before being hit on the head from behind by a third man he had not seen. The men had run off once they realised Jed was carrying corporals stripes on his arms under the cloak he habitually wore when in town but not before Jed had taken a kick to the jaw that had damned near lost him his teeth. As he had come to, he saw the young girl was still there.

'You ok miss?' He asked as he stood up and looked into a small softly smiling face surrounded by a heavy, woollen hooded cloak. As he looked into her eyes he noticed for the first time the pale blonde hair poking out from beneath the hood, the long strands were so pale they looked silver in the warm sunlight and Jed absently wondered why the cloak was done up so tightly, as if trying to keep out the cold. The young girl nodded at him in answer to his question and her hood slipped lower uncovering more of the glorious hair, her smile deepened and it lit up the most amazing green eyes Jed had ever seen. He felt lost, suddenly tongue-tied and his throat dried up. _Gid would love this,_ he thought _, I'm acting like a lovesick puppy,_ as the girl smiled she held out her hand and he saw his stone nestling in her palm. Jed felt for his neck in horror as the realisation hit him that had she not seen it fly off he would have lost it forever. He held out his own hand, palm upward and she moved forward to let the stone drop from her fingers, the slim cool fingers brushed against his and his heart melted. He took the stone, still warm from her touch and attempted to retie it around his neck using the broken thong, he blushed at the awkward pose he knew he must have been making, with his neck bent and his eyes still raised and lost in the green of hers.

'It'll need a new tie miss,' he said eventually, smiling awkwardly to cover his sudden blush and removing the broken throng from the hole in the stone, she smiled again and threw back her hood. Reaching behind her, she pulled a green leather tie from behind her head releasing a glorious mane of long, thick, almost silver hair, tumbling over her shoulders like water over a fall; she offered the tie to Jed. He grinned to himself at the memory of the young girl threading the stone for him when he had not moved to take it and her cool fingers tying the stone once more around his neck. Then, she had gently kissed his bruised jaw with cool soft lips and walked away with her basket in the direction of the castle.

Jed had cursed himself then for letting her walk away, he had not wanted her to go, he wanted her to stay so he could stare at her forever and since then he had watched for her but unfortunately not seen her again. His green strip of leather now reminded him she was real and out there somewhere waiting for him to find her, he thought of her now as his silver girl, there when he had needed her most and remaining always in his thoughts.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked over at the latest bunch of new recruits, _one 'ole year since I was standin' there mesel'?_ He thought again as he watched Gath inspect the neatly drawn up troops and made the same speech to the clearly excited men, some little more than boys. He looks fed up, thought Jed as Gath rode the ranks on his magnificent horse.

Jinks, the boy at the Dog's Neck had offered the latest sordid little details on Gath to him the night before and it had not been inspiring. The more rumour he heard about Gath the more he disliked him, _he is still my king and I swore an oath_. Jed reminded himself, though he did wonder about his old classmates. Nearly all of the men he had joined up with had already left the training camps, they had passed out in a ceremony like this one and were away, patrolling the borders or quelling uprisings surrounding the Bleak that had been springing up with increasing regularity over the past year. He continued to watch the parade thinking over his first two and a half years of service and his mind drifted.

Early on Jed's ability with a sword and bow had brought him to the attention of Colonel Thurl, the company commander. During training, he had become most promising student then, champion student of the year's class. At the end of year competition, he had beaten the previous year's winner, Borax, a favourite of the Colonel's and been awarded a small cup of pure gold by the king's aide Rhoàld. The weather was so awful that no one was surprised when Gath himself failed to attend either the competition or the award ceremony afterward. Jed had not cared, he had entered because he desperately wanted to beat Borax; the man was a bully and had picked on a number of the young men in Jed's barracks causing more than one to run away and the punishment when they were caught and returned to barracks was severe. He had witnessed a flogging during his first week at the barracks and the sight of the man body tied by the wrists between two crossed pieces of wood with blood pooling beneath his feet where his back had been flayed, would stay with him forever. From then he tried hard to defend the weaker men and encourage them in their training, empowering them to stand up for themselves. To his delight, his efforts with his peers and the younger men had made him a corporal.

'Stay here lad, pass on your skills,' Colonel Thurl told him as he handed over the stripes after the games.

As the parade continued before him, Jed unconsciously brushed some imaginary specks off the chevrons on his arm before his memories took over once again.

Completely unaware of Borax's bullying and so impressed by Jed's work with the younger men, the Colonel instituted a mentor programme, whereby an established soldier took a new recruit under his wing to 'show him the ropes', Jed had been thrilled and not just because it had stopped Borax in his tracks. By the time his regiment passed out and headed off to the north, the young men he had helped had grown in both confidence and ability and he was justifiably proud of himself but he had watched them march out of the barracks wishing fervently that he were going too. Instead, he had headed homeward for his brother's wedding.

By the time Jed had reached his home, any disgruntled feelings had long since dissipated and as the mail coach drove through the outskirts of Green Home Village, Jed realised how small his home actually was. He thought he knew every tree and bush and had probably hidden either behind or in each one at some time whilst growing up, nothing seemed to have changed in all the months he had been away and he was glad for it.

The coach finally pulled up outside the inn that was his home and he waited as the other passengers alighted before gathering up his small bag of belongings and stepping out of the coach into the noonday sunshine himself. Immediately voices and accents he knew became clearer.

'Jed lad, nice ter see yer 'ome.'

'Yo, Jed!'

'Yer back then boy?'

Voices, voices of people he knew and loved, even the smells were different at home, he inhaled deeply, sure that he could smell the damp peaty smell of the forest, mixed with the earthy smells from the smithy and the stables and as he turned toward the Inn, he saw his entire family waiting for him.

The wedding had been beautiful. Jed, now just an inch shorter than his older brother had looked extremely handsome in his smart red and green uniform displaying the white stripes that made him corporal. He had stood beside Jackie as groomsman and Gideon stood behind the groom his arm protectively holding Mayan. Sámia, the bride was as sweet as she was beautiful and as tiny as Jackie was tall.

After the ceremony and the wedding supper, the Inn's own small coach pulled out of the stable. Sámia and Jackie climbed on board and settled down for a three-day journey with Gideon's father driving, he was going to visit his parents in Branton, which was also the destination for the honeymoon couple. The coach drove off with much cheering and laughter accompanying it before the revellers re-entered the inn.

Despite the warmth of the day, the little fire in the parlour burned brightly and Mayan, Jed and Gideon had taken up their usual spots on the colourful stools.

'Devilly castle is a fine place...,' Jed continued a conversation he had started earlier. Gideon and Mayan listened politely as Jed described the castle and surrounding area, ending with 'but tis so much nicer to be at home, I'm sorry I missed yer birthday Gid, what did you do fer it? Ner, don't tell me, I'll be betting you spent it with May,' he laughed at his own joke as the other two joined in.

'Yer sound a little diff'rent,' his sister teased, aware of some strange inflections in Jed's speech.

'Ner,' he replied suddenly realising how much he _had_ changed, his hand felt for his stone hidden away under his tunic. 'Gid,' he said quietly, in a moment of unexpected panic, 'we still be brothers, eh?'

'Always,' Gideon replied offering his hand and in solemnity the two shook, clasping forearms and the moment passed as Apple produced mugs of fine ale and placed them on the bar.

'On the 'ouse,' she called, much to the delight of patrons and guests alike. Within minutes, the three were children once again with not a care in the world.

### ***

The following morning still high on the after effects of the wedding young Jed and Gideon slept in, while Mayan, always an early riser left the inn to run a few chores for her mother. The sun was still rising in the sky and setting an early golden glow over everything and she was as happy as she could be, her brother was home for a while and Gideon had spent the entire evening dancing with her. She had always loved him, his smile made her warm inside and she knew without a doubt, that he felt the same, just as she had always known that one day they would marry. She continued to walk down the lane toward the Tanner's cottage with her packages imagining a wedding where she was the bride and Gideon the groom.

After a while, she neared the tanner's barn and smiled, glad the wind was with her. She liked the tanner and his wife but rarely visited, as the smells from the barn always seemed to permeate everything she wore and it took a long time to wear off. As she passed by the largest of the buildings, she heard footsteps behind her.

'Hey Mayan!' Toby called as he approached her from the back of the barn, 'yer look like yer miles away,' he added as he drew nearer.

'I was thinking of the weddin'' Mayan smiled, 'yer didn't stay long at the dance last night, 'ow 'r' yer Toby?' She asked.

'Yeah well, there are some things a man can't stomach,' he said apologetically, adding, 'May, yer surely know why I couldn't stay at the dance, I can't stand ter see me woman bein' fondled by anovver man, an' do nowt about it!' Mayan smiled, suddenly happy for the young man whom she knew had carried a torch for her for years.

'Toby, yer 'ave a sweet'eart, 'oo is it, 'r' yer ter marry an' do I know 'er?' She smiled at him fondly as Toby turned to stare at her, an incredulous look upon his face, pulling her arm roughly, he forced her to stand still and face him in return.

'You May, you be me woman,' he said, abruptly angry as visions of Gideon and Mayan together clouded his mind. 'Yer promised yersel' to me... in yer Da's barn, remember? I hate the way yer tease me constantly by letting Gideon fawn all over yer, yer let 'im kiss yer and I, I don't even get ter 'old yer 'and!' He added, still angry as Mayan, dumbfounded, tried hard to stifle a giggle that began to bubble up despite the pain in her arm. She pulled away and rubbed the bruise that was swiftly appearing on her forearm, marring her skin.

'Toby no' Mayan answered, becoming angry herself as she realised Toby had been spying on her. 'I be in love with Gideon, an' he is with me, Gideon an' me, we're gonna... marry...' Mayan stumbled in her speech as she realised she and Gideon had never actually talked of marriage though she knew it to be true. Toby looked at her with eyes suddenly full of understanding.

'Yer never meant ter be with me..., all this time yer be playin' me like a game...' Toby's face turned red in anger.

'Toby, it's not like that...,' Mayan tried to explain. 'We was children back then, we was what, nine, maybe ten? Children anyways, it didn't mean anyfing'...' she shouted as he tried to reach for her again.

'Yer mine,' he snarled and again he grabbed for her catching her roughly by the upper arm and throat and dragging her into the closest barn.

'Toby, no,' she screamed as she struggled against him, her nails tearing open the side of his face from the corner of his eye to his mouth. 'I wouldn't want yer iffen yer be the only boy in t'worl...,' she shouted as he hit her hard across the face and flung her down onto the straw covered floor, where her head crashed hard on an exposed slab of stone and groggily, she lay still.

"E'll not want yer after this,' Toby shouted back angrily, undoing his trews and dropping them to the floor around his ankles. 'An' I'll only take yer now if yer's beg, an' yer will beg fer me...,' he added, as he lay on top of her still body tearing at her dress and exposing her creamy white breasts and tight pink nipples. 'So beautiful love,' he whispered as he took one nipple in his mouth and nipped it between his teeth. He could wait no longer; he reached down to pull up her petticoats as he raised his lips to hers.

As Mayan came to, she found him still fumbling at her petticoats and trying to thrust his tongue between her lips. For an instant, she thought his mouth a wide gaping red slit until she realised her scratches had torn his cheek and the blood was running between his lips. She clenched her teeth over his tongue tasting hot salty metal as his blood flowed straight into her open mouth. His solid manhood pressed against her thigh through the remnants of her clothing and she screamed again loudly before Toby's hand found her mouth and cut off the scream abruptly. _Gideon I be sorry, so sorry,_ she thought as tears ran across her face and seemed to fill her ears, blocking the sound of Toby's laboured breathing.

Suddenly Toby's weight lifted from her, his mother and father stood before her, Tom, Toby's father and Rory Drunner his young apprentice stood roughly holding the struggling Toby between them with his mother to one side, her face full of fear and concern. As she watched, Tom swung his fist toward his struggling son, the fist connected with a loud crack and Toby fell to the floor lifeless.

Mayan lay stunned, her tears dried on her face, more threatened but she refused to let them fall as Toby's mother first cradled her and then helped her to rise, cooing and clucking as if Mayan were a child with a skimmed knee.

'May?' Tom asked kindly with sorrow in his voice, 'ye be all right?' Mayan just stared at him in a daze. "E didn't... touch yer?' Tom added and she shook her head knowing exactly what he was actually asking. The prostrate form of Toby lay as if dead, the blood from his torn face mingling with the dirt, only the smooth rise and fall of his body belied the notion of death.

Tom stood still, his head hanging against his chest whilst Rory blushed at the sight of Mayan's exposed form and turned away.

'Mayan,' Tom began again, 'I'll be dealing with the lad wen 'e wakes get yer along 'ome now, iffen yer sure yer be all right?' He added, as she hurriedly re-arranged her dishevelled clothing and nodded. Quickly and without a backward glance, she ran out of the barn and along the lane toward home leaving her undelivered packages lying in the road.

As she walked into the kitchen of the inn, her mother gasped at her untidy appearance and torn clothing.

'What 'appened love?' Apple asked.

'I, I fell ma,' replied Mayan, 'I jus' fell...,' she again held back her tears as her mother gathered her into her arms and ushered her upstairs.

'A good hot bath lovey, a long soak to wear away the knocks,' her mother said _an' ter ease that bruises,_ she added to herself knowing full well, there was more to this fall, than met the eye, I can wait... she thought.

Mayan had had time to think on the way home. She knew all the men in her life, her father, Jed her twin and Gideon would kill Toby for what he had done, or tried to do. She decided she would tell no one, she would not ruin her brother's holiday or do anything that might end up in bloodshed.

That evening Mayan began a fever, the next day she lay burning up in her bed and her mother nursed her through the worst of her delirium. By the morning of the second day she felt well enough for visitors and both Gideon and Jed marched into her room full of concern.

'I must 'ave caught a chill when I fell in t' damp grass,' Mayan explained. 'I'm better now, ma says I can get up as soon as I like,' she added wryly, smiling at the concern on their faces.

'No madam, I said as 'ow yer could get up tomorrer an' sit in the sun fer a while,' Apple scolded as she walked into the room. 'Out yer go boys, don't go tiring 'er out all at once now,' she said, ushering the young men from the room, they left after each had kissed Mayan on the cheek.

'Go an' have some _man_ time,' laughed Mayan behind them.

As the door closed behind the boys, Apple sat on the bed beside her daughter. 'I kno' what 'appened love,' she said, stroking Mayan's hair from her face. 'Selda, Toby's ma came up yesterdy with the packages yer dropped..., she told me.' Mayan's lips trembled as the entire scene re-ran through her head. At last, the healing tears came and for a while, they appeared to Apple, to be unending.

'Ma, I was so scared,' Mayan began, as she became able to talk through the sobs. '...an' I don't want the others ter know, not even Da.'

'We can only thank the Journey yer screamed when yer did, Selda is so very sorry an' Toby is bein' sent away, 'e won't be bovverin' yer agen.' Apple said aloud as she bent to kiss her daughter's brow. _'E's never been quite right in the 'ead that one,_ ' she thought, as she looked into her daughter's red and tired eyes.

'Ma, please don't tell anyone...,' Mayan begged, 'please...' Apple looked unsure.

'Are yer sure yer be all right love?' She asked again, noticing how Mayan constantly ran her hands across her neck.

'It's me stone ma, I lost Gideon's stone...' Mayan said softly.

'Oh love...' Apple sighed and gathered her close once more, holding her tightly as she wept. _That boy 'as a lot ter answer fer..._ she thought, knowing how important the gift had been to her daughter.

Slowly Mayan's tears dried and she caught her breath before pulling herself away from her mother's protective embrace. Holding herself upright once more, she spoke again in a stronger tone. 'I'll be fine, ma, s'pecially now Toby is goin' away... 'e said as 'ow I belonged ter 'im 'n' he'll try ter hurt Gid if he stays, I know 'e will.'

'Ah,' her mother began, a slow smile spreading across her face. 'As fer you belongin' ter 'im, well, I know a certain young man that sat up with yer father long inter the night after Jackie's weddin' an' they didn't discuss the pretty bride....' Mayan promptly burst into tears again as her mother looked on suddenly horrified.

"By the Journey' girl, we thought it was what yer wanted!' Apple exclaimed.

'Oh ma, it is, it's all I've _ever_ wanted, the 'ole family seemed ter know it 'cept Gid 'iself, even 'is Da, 'n' 'e lives in the forest.' She dried her eyes on the bed linen, her own handkerchief already soaked by the previous bouts of weeping. 'I was beginnin' ter wonder iffen he'd ever ask!' She cried again but happily now as Apple settled her down to rest once more.

'Go ter sleep love,' Apple said, gently caressing her brow with her rough hand and Mayan closed her eyes, quickly drifting off to dream of a wedding of her own, her worry over Toby abated for a while.

Apple stayed beside the bed watching her only daughter sleep. She knew Mayan would be happy with Gideon, after all she and Jack thought of the boy as a son anyway and as Mayan had said, she had 'always known it would be him.' Looking at her daughter sleeping peacefully, Apple again noticed the bruises that had not even begun to start healing on her daughter's arms and she frowned knowing that it went against everything she believed in not to 'do' something about the attempted rape, _for that is what it was_ , she scowled at the thought.

The next day as good as her word Apple allowed her daughter to get up and sit in the inn's spacious garden and although it was warm, she ensured Mayan had a blanket wrapped tightly around her legs to ward off any sudden chill and a bright shawl to warm her shoulders. Gideon, as attentive as ever, spent all his time with her fetching and carrying, much to young Jed's amusement, he thought the sight of Gideon, rubbing his sister's feet or reading her some 'prissy poem' was hilarious, in fact, he laughed about it so much that Gideon repeatedly told his friend to go away, which eventually he did.

'Mayan, iffen yer try to make me fetch an' carry once we be married I'll no do it.' Gideon said strongly, as he watched Jed walk away still laughing.

'Gid..., yer've no asked me yet,' replied Mayan in a small voice brimming with laughter.

'Oh, I thought, um... I s'posed...' Gideon stammered under her giggles. 'By the Journey' woman, will yer marry me?' He finally asked crouching on one knee in the soft grass.

'Well, I might be persuaded...' she replied, smiling at the look of sudden horror drawn across Gideon's features. 'O Gideon,' she laughed and cupped his face with her hand, she looked tenderly into his deep blue eyes "o' course I will love ...my only love,' she answered quietly, all at once ashamed of having teased him, 'it's always bin you Gid, there could never be anyone else fer me,' she added.

Gideon stood and taking a small silver ring from his pocket placed it onto her ring finger. She held her hand up to the sunlight watching the light play within the stone embedded in the band and he pulled her small frame toward him in the chair.

"T'were me ma's,' he said as he held her close.'

'It's beautiful Gid.' Mayan replied as a tear fell from her eye and ran down her cheek leaving a silver trail glinting in the sunlight.

'I so love yer May.' Gideon breathed as he bent to kiss her.

The sound of slow clapping ended the kiss and Gideon turned around letting go of Mayan as he did so, he failed to see or feel Mayan stiffen beside him. Toby stood by the gate, a large bag beside him. One side of his face was entirely purple with bruising and very swollen, a semi-circular cut almost dissected his face between the corner of his left eye and his mouth and it oozed thick yellow pus.

'Interruptin' sommat I think,' he said dryly as he pushed open the gate and walked toward the pair.

'Hey Toby, Mayan's agreed ter be me wife ....' Gideon smiled and bending down kissed Mayan on the cheek proudly.

'Well, let me add me congratulations to the 'appy couple,' Toby answered adding, 'I'd kiss yer 'and May but my face is a mite sore.' He leered awkwardly.

'What 'appened man?' Gideon asked his voice full of concern.

'I finally got kicked in the face by one 'o' me Da's 'orses.' Toby said, not taking his eyes from Mayan. 'It made me mind up fer me, there's nowt fer me 'ere but ter choose 'twixt a tanner an' smith, so I'm leavin' ter find me own way.'

'Yer catching the coach then Tobe?' Gideon asked, as he nodded toward the coach and six waiting at the front of the inn where the postilion, clambering quickly up to take his position grimaced painfully as he clipped his knee.

'Well, unless yer gonna sport me a pint ter see me off, I be leavin' now...' Toby replied, smiling slyly at Mayan.

'Sit with May man, I'll go fetch yer a jug.' Gideon answered, laughing as he turned from the two and walked toward the inn.

'Alone at last, _'my only love'_ ,' mimicked Toby as Gideon walked off. He leaned in toward Mayan, 'yer said nowt May, so I knows yer playin' yer games agen... an' now I knows yer likes it rough, I'll not be ser gentle next time,' he added, putting his fingers up to touch the side of his face where her nails had raked him.

'Yer disgustin' Toby,' began Mayan, 'I only ever felt sorry fer yer... followin' me around fer years like a lovesick puppy... it's always bin Gideon fer me, always.' She finished, and turned her face away. Toby's expression hardened and his voice turned icy as his fingers and thumb dug into her jaw pulling her face back toward his.

'Yer _my_ woman Mayan, 'n' yer always will be, one day I'll kill yer precious Gideon, yer see if I don't. Yer will crawl ter me then....' he said and releasing her from his grip stroked her face with a dirty finger. Mayan pulled away from his touch. 'Not ser eager now love eh? Yer were willin' enough the other day,' he added, as he smiled at her and let his finger trail down her neck and along the healing bruises on her arm.

Once again, Mayan pulled away, her heart pounding and her hands clutching her chair so hard her knuckles whitened.

'Yer tried to rape me Toby,' she said quietly and slowly before adding, 'an' I'm not afraid of yer, ser go away... yer be sick,'... sick in yer 'ead!' Toby continued to smile as the postilion, now sitting comfortably on the coach blew hard on his whistle, he turned to nod at the man before returning his gaze to Mayan.

'I'll be off now then pretty one, next time _yer'll beg_ fer me...' he leered, as he again brushed Mayan's cheek with his fingers letting them caress her neck and drift slowly down to the mound of her breast. 'Yer be missing yer pretty little trinket love,' Toby smiled coldly letting Mayan know he had the stone Gideon had given her, 'tis well yer left it fer me else I might be believin' yer now,' he said as Mayan pushed his fingers away from her and gasped in horror. 'I'll be keeping it safe fer yer May, 'ere, right next ter me 'eart,' Toby added, patting the breast pocket of his jerkin.

'Hey Toby,' young Jed called out as he walked into the garden with the mug of ale. 'Gid says this is fer you, Da's jus' got 'im 'elpin' with a barrel, 'e'll be out in a bit ter say g'bye though.'

Smiling broadly in response to Jed, Toby leant forward, his lips hovering at Mayan's ear, his words belying his smile.

'Yer know yer would crawl ter save 'em both..., one day..., mark me words, you'll be begging me, an' I'll do fer yer precious boys, yer see if I don't'' he whispered quietly for her ears alone. Standing, he stretched out his hand to shake Jed's proffered one and smile at the ale.

'Ouch yer face must smart a bit, that's gonna scar.' Jed grinned, 'It may 'elp yer be more inneresting with the women though...,' Jed grinned again raising his eyebrows suggestively.

'Ner, not looking fer ladies... I be leaving ter seek me fortune... an' thanks fer the ale but I've no got time.' Toby laughed as he picked up his bag. 'The coach won't wait. I'll be seeing yer May, remember what I said an' do give me message to Gid. I'll no ferget yer,' he added, smiling lopsidedly at her and stroking his disfigured face as he did so, he turned with a final wave and ran to board the waiting coach.

'No point in wasting good ale, eh May?' Jed said, as they watched the coach drive off and he lifted the jug in salute to his friend before putting it to his lips.

Mayan sat in her chair with Jed at her side, each step of the horses took Toby further and further away, each step lightened her heart and she fervently hoped they would never see him again.

### Chapter 12

### The Dinner Party

Mayan recovered quickly and as the bruises healed and began to disappear, she improved. Within a week, the three were once again inseparable, more like the youngsters they were rather than the grownups they pretended to be. Apple watched them playing kick ball out of the parlour window, she couldn't remember a happier time, only the thoughts of the intended rape marred her good humour. She could not help feeling she should have done something or told someone but she had promised Mayan and she would keep her word.

Ten days after the wedding Gideon's father drove the coach back into Green home Village to much smiling and cheering. The obviously happy newlyweds alighted from the coach and entered the inn as Jed drove round to the barn and the waiting groom, before returning into the sunshine where he clasped his son in a tight bear hug.

Da, we're gonna be wed,' Gideon said before his father could utter a word.

'Well boy, I knew that already,' he grinned, 'where's me new daughter then?' He added as he winked at Mayan.

Another evening of celebration followed, and a late gift for Gideon's twentieth birthday appeared, embarrassing him no end. His grandparents had sent him a grand new cloak, bright and colourful with long red tassels to tie it at the neck.

'Em...,' said his father, as Gideon held the cloak out for everyone to see, 'me Da said ter say yer Granma chose it an 'e would never wear such a thing as 'es no' a peacock, min' you, yer Granma didn't 'ere 'im sayin' it ter me an 'e waited til we were alone ter give me the message.' Gideon blushed heavily and grinned as the family as well as the entire Inn's clientele fell about laughing good-naturedly.

'It's err... lovely,' he managed, before he too joined in the laughter, 'at least yer won't mistake me fer a tree,' he added as he swung the cloak around his shoulders and walked up and down the small bar room showing it off.

Young Jed looked around the parlour at his growing family, all seemed right in his world, another month of leave! He smiled at the thought as in his mind he saw the silver girl dandling a red haired babe on her knee laughing and joking with May; he shook his head slightly and laughed at himself.

'Not fer me just now,' he whispered to himself, 'I'm no' even twenty-one yet.

The following day, Gideon's father, accompanied by Mayan and Gideon himself made their way back to the forest and the small cottage deep in the woods. Although as a favour, Sonal had been staying there caring for the animals whilst he had been away, Jed himself was anxious to get home. Gideon had also enjoyed the time away from the forest but just like his father, he too was happy to be going home. Mayan grinned as she noticed the glow on their faces and their broadening smiles, even the old horse walking sedately beside Jed seemed to pick up speed as they neared the trees, she was as happy as she could possibly be. She closed her eyes briefly and breathed deeply, pulling the fresh damp earthy air into her lungs.

"Ow could Jed wanna stay with Da, an' miss all this?' She asked as she opened her eyes and gestured toward the approaching forest.

'Think on it girl,' Gideon's father replied softly, adding, "e goes back ter the army soon enough, I s'pect 'e wants ter spend sum quiet time with yer folks.'

'Yer... I s'pose yer right,' the young girl answered, adding 'I'd fergotten, the time 'as gone ser quick ain't it?'

There was no reply as the small company finally moved under the shadow of the trees and each fell to their own thoughts.

Gideon, seeing Mayan looking troubled placed his arm around her shoulders, "e'll be back agen soon enough love,' he said and pulled her into him as they walked. He too was as happy as he could be; he knew he would miss his friend when he left once more but now he would have other things to think of and a secure future to build for his wife to be.

Although he spent the next few days happily in the forest, Gideon found to his chagrin he had no time to spend alone with Mayan. When he mentioned it to his father, Jed told him that it was only proper as the couple were engaged to be married and Apple had asked that they be chaperoned. Gideon stood open-mouthed knowing what she must have been thinking of his father grinned at his obvious embarrassment.

On the fourth evening after their arrival and following a tea of fresh bread, goats' cheese and wine, the company sat around the glowing fire. Mayan sat on the large rug and Blue, having made an appearance the previous afternoon, lay with his head on Mayan's lap.

'Yer don't seem to get any older, do yer boy?' Said Mayan, as she lovingly stroked his velvet fur and his long tongue licked at her hand.

'Yer could say that,' added Gideon's father smiling as he handed out more home brewed wine, 'if our Blue 'ere could talk, we'd be 'earing a pretty tale I'll be bound.' Blue sighed loudly as if in exasperation, his eyes tightly fixed on Jed. May laughed as she accepted a small mug of the sweet wine.

'No fancy glasses ter celebrate with, but I'm toasting yer both an' want yer ter know yer can live ere with me iffen yer want...after yer be wed o'course I mean,' he added hastily as Mayan smiled.

'We will need to build more rooms then Jed, where else will the children sleep?' Sonal added, with a twinkle in his voice as he winked at his young friends, Mayan flooded with colour and Sonal, thinking he had inadvertently embarrassed her, hastily changed the subject. Unfortunately, the subject he chose was Toby and his abrupt decision to leave, Mayan hung her head.

'I'm fer one am glad 'e's gone,' she exclaimed bitterly in a soft voice, Blue pushed his furry head under her hand as if to give her courage.

'I wasn't going to say but ...but he tried to rape me,' before any of the shocked angry listeners could say a word, the whole tale came spilling out and Mayan burst into tears full of apologies and guilt at having lost Gideon's precious gift. Gideon gathered her into his arms.

"E won't get near yer again May, I promise,' he said protectively and his voice hardened as he added, 'I'll kill 'im first.' The others left the glow of the fire and moved away to give the young couple some space.

The following morning, all three male occupants of the cottage were walking around as if on eggshells and by lunchtime, Mayan felt fit to bursting with frustration.

'Guy's, Gideon...' she began, ensuring she had their full attention, 'I am sorry fer telling yer like I did, but I'm not ill an' it wasn't yer fault an' treating me like sum precious crystal ain't gonna change what 'appened. He didn't rape me, he only tried, and I _am_ fine, really, I am...,' she said her voice tapering off with emotion.

The silence became audible, and then unexpectedly, Mayan laughed. 'Did yer see the shiner Toby's Da left 'im with?' She said brightly, no one spoke not knowing what to reply, until at last Gideon smiled gently.

'It were a mite purple,' he said with a snort of derision, 'I'll bet 'e don't chew easy fer a month,' he added, the snort turning into a laugh. 'Hope it 'urts too, an' 'e'll no be so pretty fer the ladies if that cut don't heal right,' he added as his laughter turned to anger once more.

'Mayan love...,' began Gideon's father as he placed a hand on his son's shoulder, "By the Journey', what goes round, comes round,' he said, his voice full of love and concern.

Sonal smiled as he looked toward the young girl, he saw her struggle to remain cheerful despite her eyes full of threatening tears and he thought of how proud he was to know her. 'A real man..., a real man will not make you cry,' he said, then pointedly looking at Gideon he added, 'I know Gideon is a real man and he'll be a good husband,' Gideon's face suffused with colour, 'even if he blushes like a girl.' he laughed.

'I know Sonal,' Mayan replied, 'that's why I love 'im, that's why I love all o' yer...' Mayan looked troubled, 'thing is...though,' she said, 'I don't want Da or Jed ter know, it would 'urt 'em terrible like, an' really I am fine..., now, anyways.' She sighed, quietly slipping her arm through Gideon's own and again laying Toby's demon to rest for a while.

Later that afternoon Mayan's twin arrived and no one mentioned Toby.

### ***

On the final evening of young Jed's leave Sonal insisted the friend's gather at his cottage on the edge of the woods, Apple, Jack, Gideon, Mayan, Jed himself, Gideon's father Jed and Blue, the grey and silver blue-eyed wolf. Sonal smiled at the small group gathered in his home before the fire and twitched his nose slightly as he noticed the smell of damp dog. In the very beginning, he had been uneasy around the forever-young wolf but over the years had become used to both it and the animals comings and goings around the forest environs. Now, it sat curled on the rug in front of the warm fire, steaming gently, despite the fact he had built the fire more for atmosphere than heat.

A lavish table had been set in the cottages small dining room and Sonal had spent all day preparing the meal that mostly gleaned from the around the forest, the grouse, which he had practically walked into, was delicious although a little early in the season but Green Home had provided for him yet again. He had roasted the grouse with butter and served it with sliced bacon and cranberry sauce, one of his own making and of course, one of his and Jed's special wines; in fact the whole meal was a delight.

'Where d'yer learn ter cook like that Sonal?' Apple asked, as she sipped her wine and patted her full stomach, 'I'm really full an' couldn't eat anovver morsel, I s'pect Jack couldn't drink anovver drop neither.' She laughed as Jack hic-cupped into his glass.

'Fer an Innkeeper Jack, you've no stomach fer a fine wine,' smiled Jed as he patted his slightly inebriated friend on the shoulder adding, 'p'haps som' more of Sonal's fine puddin' might 'elp soak it up a bit...'

'Wine's g-ood,' Jack smiled back at his friend hic-cupping again and lifting his glass high before draining it, 'an iffen there's any more puddin'?' Apple punched him playfully on the arm effectively quietening him.

'Tell me Sonal, afore you get too sozzelled, where d'yer learn ter cook like that?' Apple posed her question again, smiling at both her husband who sat rubbing his arm and Sonal in encouragement.

'Oh, in my travels I've learnt a few tricks, both in the kitchen and out of it,' Sonal replied in answer, 'the world is a big, big place, with lots to see and learn about. Our own Derova is large but there are larger and stranger places still.' He added, pointedly looking at young Jed.

'I won't see much more of the world than I 'ave already the way things are,' grumbled Jed 'it's fine ter be promoted an all but I'd rather 'ave been with me mates fighting in the north or even patrolling,' he announced defiantly. Well aware of how thankful his mother had been of his promotion and subsequently being 'kept safe' at Devilly. His mother smiled ruefully.

'If I knew yer would stay safe boy I wouldn't mind where yer went,' she said softly. 'We can't tell the future lad but, 'By the Journey' we can pray it stays as is,' she added.

'Come on Jed, stop looking like thunder, ma's right yer knows yer 'ave ter stay safe at least until after our weddin'.' Mayan cajoled her twin, grinning, 'sides,' she added, 'by then they might 'ave realised they promoted the wrong man!' Gideon who had taken a gulp of ale at that point suddenly sprayed it all out in laughter over a startled Blue and as Jed realised what his twin had indicated, he smiled and shook his head.

His good humour restored, conversation returned to travel and the world beyond Green Home Village. Jack helped himself to another jug of wine and re-joined the group beside the fire.

'Have you met the king?' His mother asked as she pushed her chair a little further back from the fire, feeling a little hot.

'He is supposed to be very handsome. Is he Jed?' May added, smiling at Gideon who realised he was being teased and smiled back.

'I sort 'a met 'im.' replied Jed and went on to explain how the king had singled him out at the initiation ceremony; the strange way his scar had reacted, he kept to himself.

'Well, 'nuff said about good King Gath,' Jack remarked dryly with a softly slurred voice.

'Is Devilly as large as Branton?' Asked Mayan, thinking of the biggest place she knew.

'Much, much bigger May,' Jed replied.

Gideon smiled again, for one reason or another he had never even travelled that far.

'There was a strange man staying at the inn last summer, 'e came from Branton,' May remembered, ''e didn't sound like it much though, 'e said as 'ow 'e was writin' an 'istory of the area but 'e were really nosy, weren't 'e ma?'

'Yer, I recall 'im,' said Jack waking, suddenly sober and thirsty, ''e was asking questions 'bout local families too, Jed, you were away at the time or I'd have suggested he go and lose himself in the forest,' he grinned at his friend.

'It must 'ave bin when Gid an' me were 'aving trouble with the wild boars, remember Gid, we chased those pigs fer nigh-on a fortnight.' Jed exclaimed.

'Yeah, I remember, we ended up over on the Spartin side of the forest,' added Gideon smiling at the memory as Mayan continued.

'Anyway, 'e spent most of his time wanderin' around the village talkin' to the locals an' writin' in a small book. Da was the only person who would talk ter 'im in the end, as 'e was all questions. Da said, 'e 'ad too as it were good business,' she laughed again.

'It was,' said Jack defending himself indignantly.

'Jack love, you always know as 'ow to make a penny,' laughed Apple her good mood having recovered. ''E did pay well though, as I recall,' she added, 'even iffen everyone _was_ fed up with 'im.' She finished, sipping at her wine.

'Ah, yes. I remember the gentleman,' Sonal said as he tapped at his teeth with a fingernail, deep in thought. 'As I recollect he was mostly interested in the history of the inn,' he continued. 'I must admit to avoiding the man I'm afraid,' he concluded as he handed out mugs of apple wine. 'Try this one..., I made a few improvements I think...,' he smiled, winking at the twins.

'Well I'll be glad I didn't get around ter meetin' 'im then, nosy bleeder.' said Jed, not quite catching the hidden wink, a thought suddenly struck him, 'what d'yer mean improvements?' He added turning to Sonal and as one, the others burst into laughter.

Later that evening Mayan asked her brother if he knew when he would be home again.

'I dunno May,' he replied absently, tugging at the wolf's ears; the wolf had plonked itself on the floor in a heap this time next to Jed, its large head on his lap, 'depends on what's going on around the kingdom I s'pose, there is talk of an invasion inter the bleak,' Jed added.

'Yer don't want ter go fight in a war, do yer Jed?' Asked May in horror.

'It is what I train for May, it's me job but you can be sure I'll be 'ome in time for you and Gid 'ere to marry.' Jed punched his friend on the arm, causing the wolf to move, Blue groaned as the youngsters laughed.

'When you come home next time, you'll be talking even more like Sonal, won't you...' Mayan said innocently as she tried to mimic her brothers altered speech patterns, echoing a thought she had had on Jed's first arriving at home, young Jed groaned, absently feeling for the stone at his neck, abruptly he started to laugh.

'Tis the army, we all speak diff'rent, so we kinda mix it, I s'pose but I still be me 'n' I still be 'ere,' he added affectionately playing on his country accent.

'And pray, what is wrong with the way I speak young lady?' Sonal asked, pretending to be mortally offended. Mayan stammered a hasty apology blushing furiously.

'I err... didn't mean that yer... um...Oh, I'm really very sorry Sonal...' she blurted finally, cringing with embarrassment as laughter again filled the room.

'When will we all be t'gether agen d'yer think?' Young Jed asked as the evening drew toward a close, his accent pronounced under the influence of all the wine he had taken.

'What we need is a crystal ball, it'd predict the future,' stated Apple gloomily.

'Yeah love,' smiled Jack in reply, 'I'll jus' go get mine then, shall I?' He grinned, and Apple threw a cushion at him.

Mayan paused mid-sip of her wine, suddenly smiling. 'We don't need a crystal ball, we got Sonal!' she exclaimed excitedly.

'What...' Sonal replied looking up abruptly; he had been happily discussing the properties of various fruits and their fermenting possibilities with Gideon's father.

'Sonal,' repeated Mayan, 'yer can do yer magic... you can tell us the future,' she stated, her eyes glowing with excitement, Sonal paused before answering.

'I don't know if that would be such a good idea,' he said, 'I really don't think my magic is meant for that or even if it would be strong enough,' he added, 'besides, I've never done anything like that before, it would not... feel right.'

'Go on Sonal, fer me, so's I'd know me boy would be all right, please,' implored Apple.

Sonal looked at the group before him, all of them his dearest friends, the twins who had first befriended him so long ago, Gideon and his father, Apple and Jack who had both been so kind to a stranger, yes, all of them even the strange blue eyed wolf. He felt a little ashamed, knowing that perhaps he was the only one amongst them who knew what young Jed would be likely to face if deployed to the Bleak and the possibility was very real. Even though no one ever mentioned it, every now and then hushed tones would whisper of rumour and death in the north and questions about King Gath and his apathy toward the area would abound. Sonal though, he knew the Bleak, knew it well, his shame grew to guilt knowing he had run away from something that young Jed would willingly run toward.

'Very well,' he finally agreed, 'I'll try but I don't know how or even _if_ the undertaking will prove successful, wait here for a moment please, oh and I'll need some space in which to work,' he added soberly.

The small room hummed with excitement as each of the group moved position to provide enough space in the centre of the room.

'D'yer remember when Sonal made the stones dance? Mayan asked of her brother and Gideon.

'What about the time he made flowers bloom in the snow?' Apple added.

'Yeah love, it were fer yer birthday,' answered Jack smiling indulgently at his wife, remembering he had had to plead hard to get Sonal to agree to do it, something about 'balance' had been Sonal's objection. Then at once, everyone began to remember various magic tricks from the past. Gideon rubbed his palm scar absently and thought of Sonal boring holes in stones with magic, the stones that eventually became gifts for his friends.

Now that Sonal had agreed to try to read the future, he decided he would indeed give a show as during his time of wandering, he had at times made quite a good living as a performer although most of his tricks had been just that, ordinary tricks, or sleight of hand with the occasional real magic spell thrown in. In fact, he had developed quite a reputation as legerdemain, his prowess with balls and cards accompanied by his magic tricks had been such that he had received a command to attend King Gath at his castle in Devilly and though he set out to attend the king he had never arrived. One evening whilst en route to Devilly, he had ended up here, in this cottage and somehow he had never wanted to leave.

Sonal chuckled to himself as he made his way upstairs to his bedroom. Hope I can still do it, he mused, he could hear his friends talking excitedly in the parlour beneath him as he knelt awkwardly beside his bed. Reaching beneath the bed he lifted a loose floorboard and searched the space beneath it, inside he found a box and pulled it toward him disturbing the accumulated dust and making it float into the air causing him to sneeze loudly and fall heavily onto his bottom. He grimaced as he waved the air before his face attempting to clear it before wiping the remaining dust away from the lid with his hands.

'You ok Sonal? His friend Jed asked, as he poked his head into the room, 'I 'eard a noise,' he added, as Sonal smiled and stood up placing the box on his bedside table.

'I'm nearly ready Jed; will you give me a few moments? He smiled, grateful for his friends concern and watched as Jed left, his footsteps hardly audible as he walked down the stairs. Brushing the dust from his hands onto his trews, Sonal carefully lifted the lid off the box and placed it on the floor before reaching into it and taking a quantity of fabric in each hand. Smiling broadly, he lifted his hands with a flourish revealing the colourful and very elaborate showman's robe he had worn in his previous role as a travelling Magician.

The multi-coloured garment had a large hood and wide sleeves, both of which had many concealed pockets that allowed access almost invisibly with just with a wave of the arms, which added to his reputation and skill as legerdemain. He shook the garment gently and placed it over his shoulders doing up the bronze clasp at his throat. As he turned to walk downstairs to begin his performance the box again caught his eye, sitting beneath the robe had been a book. Small and leather bound, its cover faded into an unrecognisable shade with fine lettering running across the spine in the same indistinguishable colour as the cover. Whatever intricate pattern had once adorned the soft leather had long since faded and the plain fragile pages of vellum were still as empty now as they had been on the day he had received it, even back then, it had seemed as delicate as a snowflake. Sonal stroked its old leather reverently with his fingertips before picking it up and holding it between his hands lovingly, remembering the old man, his grandfather who had handed it to him so long ago.

'It's a secret from me to you,' his grandfather had said, adding, 'my own father gave it to me to pass on to my son but I give it to you, you must keep it safe for your son.' Sonal had gingerly taken the precious book and flicked through the pages surprised to find every single one blank.

'Grandfather, why is nothing written in it?' Sonal asked quietly.

'It can't be written in but it will tell its secrets one day,' his grandfather replied with a smile as he tusselled Sonal's unruly hair. So Sonal had kept it a secret, he had even tried to write in it but when it transpired nothing could mark its pages regardless of what he used he realised it was indeed a special book, so he kept it safe as he had been told to do. Then, when he subsequently left home, it had been among the few possessions that accompanied him.

Carefully he held the book and carried it down the stairs thinking of the grandfather he would never see again before pausing at the door of the parlour, taking a breath and walking in grandly, with his robes flowing around him, he smiled inwardly as the expectant voices fell silent.

'Well now, we need a little something from each person whose future is to be foretold.' Sonal began in a soft but commanding voice, 'just a little something that is personal...'

'We all 'ave to do it, tis only fair,' giggled a slightly merry Mayan, ''ere Sonal 'ave my pin,' she removed a shiny blue pin from her hair and held it out to Sonal as Gideon's father placed his old knife amidst the pile beside a wrist strap from Jack.

'Sonal,' said young Jed, as he untied the stone from his neck and handed it over.

'Got a new tie Jed?' Mayan asked, as she caught sight of the deep green leather tie on the stone, Jed blushed and ignored his sister leaving that particular tale for another day. Apple, catching the blush smiled to herself, she knew her children well and could only think of one reason Jed would have reacted that way but turning her thoughts back to the task in hand, she immediately twisted off her wedding ring and eager to join in, handed it over. Sonal placed each of the offered items neatly on the fragile book and soon the pile of trinkets began to grow as everyone continued to contribute.

'What about you Gideon,' smiled Sonal, 'are you not going to join in?'

'I know me future.' Gideon replied confidently smiling at Mayan.

'Come on Gid..., what about yer ma's pendant, that's personal ain' it?' Returned Mayan 'tis only fer fun, don't be such a spoilsport,' she added, poking out her tongue. Gideon laughed at her, with her tongue sticking out as it was she looked like a sulky child, he laughed again as he shook his head.

'Really May, me future is 'ere in this room, with you an' me fam'ly. I'll watch yer trick though Sonal, sounds like fun,' he said as he sat down quietly beside Mayan, she studied him with a thoughtful expression on her face and suddenly she smiled again.

'I'll put sommat in fer Gid then,' she said, grinning wickedly at her fiancé as she pulled the small silver ring from her finger, "t were 'is afore me 'n' 'is ma's afore 'im.' She grinned again at Gideon as she leant across to place it gently on the book adding to the pile. Gideon shook his head in playful exasperation, smiling at her enthusiasm.

Sonal moved away to the side of the room to compose himself, before asking Jed to take the wine from the room, murmuring quietly about not wanting it to sour and he also asked for the windows to be opened and buckets of water to be placed near the doors, _just in case_ he thought quietly. Blue stood and shook his fur as he walked to one of the buckets, sniffing first one and then another, he finally plodded back to the centre of the room before the fire and flopped down once more his eyes never leaving the pile of trinkets on the table.

Sonal had not attempted anything like this for a long time and was nervous, well aware of what usually happened when he attempted magic whilst near the young people. He drew deep breaths slowly and Blue sat up, suddenly alert, raising his snout and sniffing as if he could taste the tension in the air.

Sonal looked at his grandfather's book holding the trinkets and watched as Apple pulled a few hairs from the wolf's thick coat, laughing and mumbling about everyone joining in, still, for some reason Sonal stood transfixed by the sight of the small pile of bits just laying on top of the book. _There is something..._ he thought, he could not put his finger on it but something was definitely odd, he had the strangest feeling... _maybe it's the book_ , he thought, he was not sure why he had needed the book but something had made him bring it down.

'Sonal everyone, that means you too,' said Apple again, 'mouldy ole books don't count,' she explained with finality.

'My apologies dear lady,' smiled Sonal, knowing that telling the future for himself would not work but he pulled a small glass stone from his pocket anyway, he had carried the stone for years as a charm and he smiled remembering the day he had plucked it from the air. _The first time I met Gideon in fact_ , he mused as he walked back to the centre of the room and placed it atop the pile.

The room grew quiet once more as Sonal returned to the fringes of what had now become a circle, in the centre of which lay the book and its pile of trinkets. Extending his fingers very theatrically and throwing back his head, he began his performance.

The candles around the room dimmed and then flared brightly as Sonal's magic began to weave. Gold and silver runes appeared in the air as if his fingers were sparklers like the ones given to children at the Winter Festival, he heard gasps of swiftly indrawn breath and murmurs of appreciation and he began to relax and enjoy himself. He had not used magic for quite some while and was glad he had not forgotten all the tricks of his previous trade.

His intention had been to make the trinkets dance and spin as they were now, giving a real show, then apologise for not being able to perform a reading, but forgetting his earlier caution, Sonal concentrated hard on each and every object. He found could feel the different textures in the stone, he could see an animal he could not identify, living, breathing and connected to the leather thong. There was a small girl looking sad and forlorn, her long pale hair hid her face and she looked as if she were weeping, beside the child a sick woman lay in a small bed. As he watched, the woman handed the child strands of coloured leather and the child pulled back her hair and tied it up but before Sonal could make sense of the vision, it changed.

He saw another beast, again one he could not identify, it seemed a type of buffalo and somehow it appeared associated with the wrist strap of Jack's. Mayan's shiny blue pin turned blood red but he could not see why and he could see his rough piece of glass as it once was, a pool of melted rock. Absently he noted the old piece of glass was in fact an uncut diamond, formed millions of years ago deep below the ground, he made a mental note to attempt to cut and polish it using the same techniques he had taught Gideon to use on his gift stones so successfully. He saw Jed's knife and its previous owner; Jed's own father flash past and Apple's wedding ring suddenly became as liquid as his diamond had been, he saw the wolf but shimmering and shaking, its outline and features indistinct. Lastly, he noticed the silver and crystal ring that Mayan had placed for Gideon, its own history hidden.

Shaking his head, he muttered some more and delved deeper into the roots of the magic and drew a different set of runes with his sparkling fingers, leaving the distinct patterns once again shimmering in the air. His hands began to shake and his skin itched as he concentrated harder on the pile of items sitting on the book. Now he could see the book itself, lying open with a young man busily writing inside, it can't be my book, he thought as he saw the man writing in a language he could not read, my book has no writing. As he watched, the man became older, still writing but now with despair written upon his face, then the same man again, he suddenly looked up and seemed to be looking directly at Sonal. Sonal gasped as the old man held his hand out to him almost imploring, pleading, then he turned away, sadness now evident on his face as he closed the book, revealing the clarity of the green and gold leather pattern on the now washed-out cover.

The image faded as a new one took its place, young Jed and Gideon in the forest, blood everywhere covering both of them. He saw Mayan lying nearly naked on the frozen ground as if dead, leaves were blowing about her. Then Apple and Jack in chains as the molten metal from the wedding band became handcuffs binding them to others, he saw his dearest friend Jed propped up against a tree with blood on the ground around him and pain written across his face. Finally, he saw himself with another man; the outline of the man wavered and quaked as if he were not quite real. They were both standing at the edge of the bleak with a shimmering iridescent barricade before them and through the glistening veneer of the wall Sonal could see the barrenness of the bleak looking deceptively alive, the man turned to speak to him...

'Sonal, are you all right man?' He heard as he came too, he was once again sitting on an old armchair before the fire, 'yer fainted me friend. T'were right in the middle of the show too,' laughed Gideon's father as he handed Sonal a glass of wine.

'Not too much now Jed!' exclaimed Apple as she pushed a wet cloth over Sonal's brow. Sonal smiled at his worried friends weakly.

'Too much wine again my dears...,' he said.

'Too much excitement fer an old man I'd say,' laughed Gideon in relief.

'What did you see?' Sonal asked quickly, suddenly apprehensive as he remembered his visions, he looked again at the book on the table, now devoid of its trinkets, presumably all recovered by their owners. 'Blue boy no, leave it!' He called as the wolf began sniffing and gently pawing at the delicate book as if it were a steak of the finest quality. The wolf looked up and stared hard into the eyes of the older man and Sonal felt the familiar warm fuzzy feeling developing in his head.

'Come away now Blue,' called Apple as she took a handful of fur at the wolf's neck, 'iffen yer take all the 'eat 'o' the fire the rest o' us'll freeze. It be a mite cold fer the time 'o' year.' She added, as she pushed the large animal down onto the floor and moved away rubbing her arms and pulling her jacket closer about her.

The fuzziness disappeared as quickly as it came but still Sonal looked toward his guests and he could still feel the wolf's eyes boring into him.

'What did you all see?' He asked again as his friend Jed fussed about him.

'Not much, me friend,' began Jed as he leant over Sonal and quietly, out of earshot of the others, added, 'the question I think is, what 'did _you_ see...?" Blue raised himself again from the hearth and thrust his head under Jed's hand whining softly. 'Tis all right Blue boy,' Jed stroked his head, 'I don't wanna know...' he smiled sadly at Sonal as if he knew already. ''Ere me friend,' he said, 'try another glass...'

'T'was a shame the magic didn't work but t'were a real good show,' Sonal heard Apple say as the fire at last began to warm the room and the conversation drifted naturally on. Pushing his gloomy thoughts to the back of his head Sonal was soon laughing and joking as if young Jed had never been away and would not be leaving again the next day.

Jed's return to barracks had been mostly uneventful but Colonel Thurl had ordered, prior to his leave beginning, for him to meet a batch of new recruits in Branton and escort them back to Devilly. Therefore, he was both surprised and pleased to see that Toby was among their number and equally pleased that the escort was to take a direct route, not the circuitous route he himself had taken on upon joining up so long ago.

Jed shook his head; clearing his memories as the speeches in the parade ground began winding down. Toby was still watching as Jed joined him.

'Congratulations man!' exclaimed Jed, throwing his arm across the shorter man's shoulders, 'let's go find an inn and celebrate...' he added, to the now fully enlisted man and a delighted Toby readily agreed.

### Chapter 13

### The Creature from the Bleak

Gath was bored, all day he had been bored, first with the normal countless audiences and then with the accursed parade. This morning he had had to sit and listen to petitioners from all over the empire whining about the price of grain in the south or incursions into his kingdom from the creatures of 'The Bleak,' problems with the lowlanders over taxes and then, more trouble from the Bleak. Now, it was becoming more trouble than any sentimental value it had ever held was worth. The Bleak was beginning to annoy him, just as this parade always did.

If Lydia had been here..., he thought, Lydia, he had almost given up hope of siring a female child, her birth had revived his hope, he would have found a way back and he would have been strong again. Why does the parade always make me think of her, he mused, though he already knew the answer, Lydia, just her presence near him had given him back the ability to feel, since her death, he had felt the blood only twice, twice in all of those years. He remembered the first time well, five or so years after Lydia's death, he had heard the call of blood for four nights in a row, a feeling so strong and so clear it had awoken him. He had known it was close, so close he could almost taste it but despite dragging Rhoàld around with him and searching the castle and the town on foot, he had lost the sign; the last time had been much later, yes, last year in fact, his thoughts thrust themselves forward. In addition, that had proved a false trail too, _Jed Brewster, an Innkeepers son from a long, long line of innkeepers...!_ Gath smiled to himself, I did manage to sustain an erection though... he thought, remembering the surprise and horror on the face of the waiting body slave. _No child will come from my seed now... no child since... since Lydia._ The thought insinuated itself into his head taking the pleasure of the memory away instantly. He looked at his hands now resting upon the reins of his horse. The dark brown liver spots ever growing, blue veins protruding like the mountain ridges far to the north and his skin pale and thin. _I am old, he thought, older than I have ever been, should ever have been...and always-male children until you Lydia..._

'Damn you Lydia,' he said aloud.

'Sire?' Queried Rhoàld, wondering what Gath was trying to convey. Gath looked at the man suddenly aware he had spoken aloud.

'The creature,' Gath said, for want of something to say. 'The prisoner from the Bleak, bring him to my rooms this evening.' Rhoàld stared at his king open mouthed.

'Your, your rooms sire?' He asked with an incredulous expression on his face, Gath at once realised his mistake, he had never had a prisoner from the lower dungeon taken to his rooms before.

'Bathe him well first, of course,' Gath said icily, adding, 'I want to, to talk to him, I need cheering up and last time we spoke he provided such fun.'

'Talk to him... yes, your majesty,' answered Rhoàld, he shivered as the air around him became thick and an icy finger crept over his spine.

'Rhoàld,' Gath said ominously, angry at his servant's disdain, 'there will always be room in my dungeons...' he stopped speaking leaving Rhoàld to surmise the worst.

'Yes sire,' replied Rhoàld who promised himself he would never deem to question his king again.

Two hours later despite the warmth of the summer sunshine Gath sat in front of a small fire in his private rooms wrapped in a huge crimson robe with a naked girl kneeling between his legs, her hair flowing across her back like water. Behind him a young man, Bastian, massaged his knotted shoulders, of all the young men Bastian was his favourite. His looks and colouring reminding him of the daughter he had lost so long ago. He watched the hearth as the flames danced and flared amongst the coals and logs. Lifting his eyes he stared hard at a portrait of Lydia over the mantle, her golden blonde hair twisted into curls and was clasped at the side of her neck and her eyes were the deepest blue pools of clear water, he remembered how they could make you want to dive into them and never reach the bottom. _She was so beautiful,_ he thought.

He had destroyed every other portrait of his daughter in anger but somehow he had never been able to destroy this one, he had had it commissioned shortly before her sixteenth birthday, that birthday he remembered well. _That day should have been the beginning; instead, it became the beginning of the end!_ He thought. Now each day he looked in the mirror and saw himself older, imagined himself growing senile, bent and small, ever nearer to his own mortal death. Lydia, too much like her mother, he mused as he continued to stare at the portrait. Soon would have been the time for my homecoming, soon my plans for the return would have begun, soon I would have been strong enough, he thought. In the painting, he could still see echoes of the young girl who had been Lydia's mother; her blood had been so strong, almost pure.

Gath smiled, remembering again how by chance he had found Lena. Petite and blonde with Lydia's pale skin, she seemed to stand-alone, so different from the other slaves. A quiet stubborn dignity had clung to her and he knew from the beginning she would produce the daughter he required. Then Lydia had arrived and from her first breath, Gath's senses became more acute, she had somehow enabled him to feel the presence of the blood in the people around him and he remembered celebrating the birth with weeks of intense activity in his dungeons and eventually using the techniques he perfected on the executioners themselves. Through Lydia, he had felt the blood in the many showmen who came to entertain and he used their blood well. He ordered all magic users and people touched by the ancient line taken secretly to his dungeons and he sent out invitations and paid for information on any accused of magic or healing, using magic. The raw ancient blood, then, was easy to acquire, albeit slightly diluted but it sustained him well enough.

He looked from the beautiful innocence of his daughter's face to the head bobbing up and down unsuccessfully in his lap.

'Careful you oaf,' he screeched, as Bastian caught a nerve in his neck with his long slender fingers.

'My lord,' replied a contrite Bastian, 'my deepest apologies.' The boy added, as he moved to take and kiss Gath's hand. Gath smiled at the young people on their knees before him, both pale and naked and as Bastian stood to finish his lord's massage; Gath smiled and stroked the girl's silver-blonde head as he recalled more of his day.

After the parade, he had ordered a bath, been slowly undressed by Bastian and climbed into the hot tub where the naked girl was waiting. Bastian had stood silently and respectfully watching, just waiting for him to finish with the girl. Lounging in the hot water the body slave had washed him all over and was about to leave the bath when he reached out a hand and cupped her small but full breast, stroking the delicate white skin with his thumb. The slave stopped what she was doing and looked at him imploringly. He kept his eyes fixed on hers as he took her nipple between his fingers and thumb before he gently squeezed, pulling her toward him. Next, he encouraged the pink nipple into his mouth and he bit her, hard, until his teeth tore at her flesh and her blood began to flow. The slave grimaced in obvious pain as the tears welled up in her large green eyes.

Gath remembered pushing her away with the metallic taste of her blood washing around his mouth, _nothing,_ he thought in disgust as her silent tears mingled with the blood dripping from her abused breast, then he smiled remembering she hadn't made a sound. She never did, not any more.

The girl had made the mistake of nervously laughing in relief at his flaccidity on the first occasion Gath had forcibly tried to take her, she laughed just the once but it had been enough. He had pulled her tongue, cut it from her mouth himself and had enjoyed it. It had not been enough to reach his flaccid member but it had satisfied him.

_Satisfied... how many times have I been hard over the last few years_? He thought as he came back to the present and watched the girl trying to pleasure him, her nub of a tongue rough on his manhood. _You are getting a little old my dear,_ he thought resting his hand on her moving head _, but you will do until I find a replacement._

A red-hot coal jumped from the fire into the hearth, it immediately began to cool, turning from glowing red to grey and black. Gath found himself wondering how long the girl could hold the still hot but rapidly cooling cinder; a knock on the door interrupted his sequence of thoughts.

'Come,' he called. Rhoàld entered the chamber as the naked girl stood up, Rhoàld was unabashed, he knew his king and his pleasures well, the girl had a fresh bite mark too; blood still oozed from the wound, other marks on her body mottled her fair skin. Marks ranging from fresh and bloody to the black, purple and yellow of healing bruises and he could see her eyes and cheeks were wet with tears. For the most part, Rhoàld had trained himself to ignore what he saw, he did feel sorry for the girl and hated the fact that Bastian was here but showing compassion or any other emotion could easily get him killed...painfully. The girl picked up a robe and covered herself as she walked past him without an upward glance, her eyes respectfully looking at the floor. Bastian taking his silent cue from the girl followed, wrapping a cloth around his waist as he moved to leave the room.

'Bastian,' called the King softly as he walked away, Bastian turned to look at his king. 'Come back tomorrow... with Lemba,' he said. Bastian nodded and continued through the door.

'Sire, the creature is awaiting your pleasure.' Rhoàld announced trying not to think of the new bruises he could see on the young man's delicate white skin.

Gath stood and drew his robe around him tightly before picking up the fire iron from the hearth where he began to poke at the coals.

'Bring him in Rhoàld,' he began then added, 'and get me a glass of wine, red, as red as you can, bring the bottle too,' he ordered. Rhoàld nodded before opening the large double doors wide, admitting the slightly damp prisoner everyone called the creature and his guard. Heavy chains shackled the man, joining the wrists to the ankles and passing through a metal belt loop at the waist, thereby preventing any fast or violent movement. The guard also held a third chain attached to a neck collar. Rhoàld ushered them to the middle of the room and left them beside a centre table where a large fresh vase of beautiful but pungent white lilies graced the room and he wrinkled his nose as he went to fetch his master a glass of wine from the sideboard.

Gath turned from the fire to study the man nicknamed the creature. He was definitely a lot cleaner than the last time he had seen him and the wounds inflicted on him then had almost healed. Gath remembered he had been stubborn too, just the kind of prisoner he enjoyed most and there was no doubt that he had enjoyed this one from the first. He knew the man could communicate as his soldiers had reported he had tried to talk to them constantly on the way back to the castle after his capture but for some reason and despite using the most advanced methods his dungeons held, the man had not uttered a sound since. In truth, Gath was surprised the man had survived at all after the skin had been carefully but slowly peeled from his back leaving it a running mass of blood and sinew. The dried skin hung even now in a frame in the next room, his private bedroom, the tattoo that had covered the man's back had intrigued him, there had been and was still something about the shapes depicted that called to him.

'Hello again,' Gath offered, 'we never did introduce ourselves, properly did we?' He looked directly at the prisoner. 'I am your host, I am Gath,' he said, bowing in derision as he inspected the man standing in the centre of the room.

When the man had first arrived, he had looked little more than an animal. Fur rugs, hair and dirt had covered most of his skin, his arms looked too long, with pronounced muscle mass in his neck and all four limbs that coupled with a low stooping gait had made him look more animal than man. Now, the extended muscle tone had gone and he seemed to be straighter, taller... more human. His silver streaked dark blonde hair was still long but tied at the nape of the neck allowing glimpses of the vast mass of roughly healed skin on his back when he moved and his beard now covered the iron collar around his neck. Gath had been pleasantly surprised to find there was evidence of a previous collar, according to the scarring.

'My, my,' said Gath, 'you do look a little more, em, let's say civilised. Time in the hospitality of Devilly castle has obviously been good for you,' he commented, the prisoner did not speak but continued to stare beyond the king as if not understanding, his eyes seemed unfocused, vacant.

'Tell me about the... the place where you lived before my men, um, rescued you.' Gath said as Rhoàld offered the king a tray. Taking the crystal goblet from the tray and holding it high, Gath swirled it around, watching intently as its viscous legs streaked down the inside of the glass, next holding the bowl to his nose, Gath inhaled deeply, enjoying the sweet rich bouquet.

'Ah, my manners,' he said looking at the manacled man, 'forgive me my friend... Rhoàld, get my guest a glass.'

'My lord...?' Asked Rhoàld, a query in his voice and covered almost at once as he realised what he had done. Gath stared hard at his aide as he poured a second glass of the sweet wine into a goblet. The fire spat again throwing a new, glowing coal onto the hearth as Rhoàld crossed to the centre of the room placing the glass down on to the table next to the prisoner.

'The fire Rhoàld, tidy it for me please,' directed the king icily, as a third glowing coal spewed forth from the hot fire, this time landing on top of the rug. Rhoàld moved to the large hearth, dread in his every step, he carefully stoked the fire building it slowly.

'Replace the coals Rhoàld,' said the king, smiling gently like a benevolent uncle. Rhoàld took the tongs from the bucket and moved them toward the still glowing coals. 'Why dirty them, said the king deliberately slowly with the smile not quite reaching his eyes as he looked intently at the tongs, 'when you can as easily wash your hands!'

Rhoàld began to sweat as he replaced the tongs on their stand. _If I could do it quickly_ ... he thought _it might not burn as much..._

Gath watched the creature as Rhoàld reached out for the first of the coals, the man did not so much as flinch when the audible sound of searing flesh hissed through the room. Gath, had hoped the reminder of the pain the man had suffered would have loosened his tongue. A small whimper spilled from Rhoàld's lips as Gath turned once more to his tortured servant.

'There's no need to hurry Rhoàld,' said the king, smiling coldly as his servant reached his already burnt hand toward the second coal, as he took it up he heard his king say in a silken voice, 'why don't you see how long you can hold it?' Rhoàld did not answer and he knew better than to plead, he fought the pain and found a space somewhere in his head that was quiet and peaceful. He tried to ignore the agony as the coal began to burn his palm... the sickly smell of burning flesh began to permeate the room.

Chains rattled as the prisoner moved, he shuffled toward his glass of wine and bent forward to smell it.

'Leave him,' called Gath as the guard tried to stop any movement by pulling on the lead attached to the man's neck. 'Get out, go... get out,' he spat menacingly; the guard released the chain and backed out of the room, with the neck chain released the creature at once moved forward. 'Ah Rhoàld!' gasped the king in pleased surprise as the creature tried in vain to raise the goblet to his lips, its chains and manacles preventing any such movement. Gath watched incredulously, as the man who had never responded to him suddenly sat down on the floor and drew his feet up thereby giving himself enough chain for movement to reach the wine.

Gath was astonished, since the time this guest had arrived, his guards had not witnessed one voluntary action. The empty vessels collected at the end of each day proved the man ate and the rancid water always drunk but no one had even seen the man piss, let alone move without applied force. Now, here he was sitting on the floor in the king's chamber and drinking the king's wine, he drank steadily finally finishing the glass.

'More...,' he said in a scratchy unused voice focusing directly on Gath. Almost unwilling to believe his own eyes Gath summoned Rhoàld to refill the goblet, eager for more revelations, for more speech. Rhoàld, thankful for the release had immediately dropped the hot coal as the king shouted at the unfortunate guard and he stood up unsteadily, the pain in his hand excruciating, beads of sweat banded his brow and unshod tears filled his eyes, he held his injured hand protectively as he half walked, half stumbled toward the creature. Picking up the bottle from the sideboard with his good hand, he stood in front of the wild man with his back toward the king.

'Hurry man,' said the king as he turned toward the hearth and took the tongs himself to remove the third, now cooling coal from the edge of the highly expensive rug and replace it on the fire. For the first time Rhoàld looked into the creature's eyes, deep, deep blue eyes stared back at him, _lucid, quick, if, a little glassy,_ he thought, realising the man was focusing on a good luck charm he wore around his neck, a simple hexagon shaped glass amulet, given him many years ago. Startled, Rhoàld saw an intelligence he had not seen before. The blue eyes lifted and looked into his own, he felt as if those eyes were trying to speak to him, it seemed that time itself was stopped and the answers were all there if, if, he was willing to listen. Shame at what he had helped Gath to do to this man flooded his mind. As quick as a flash the chained man grabbed his pitifully damaged hand and the chains rattled ominously. Rhoàld, stunned, and in too much pain from his wound held the half-empty bottle tightly in his good hand as the creature whispered softly to the damaged, suppurating flesh of the other. Holding the hand to his mouth the creature ran his lips across the wicked burns on the fingers and palm, still whispering and Rhoàld could feel the cool breath flowing over the burns freezing the tortured skin. In his mind, he saw again the winter snows he and his sister had used as children to mould into men. His palm and fingers began to tingle and time itself seemed to flow backwards as the burns began to heal. The blisters bloomed and faded as if they had never been and the red raw flesh became whole and healthy once more.

The king turned away from the fire as a shiver ran up Rhoàlds spine. On turning, Gath saw his aide holding out a fresh glass of wine to the chained man and now wrapped in a cloth, the injured hand held protectively across his chest. The prisoner on the floor once more stared ahead, unseeing and unfocused.

'Have some more wine my friend?' Invited the king as he wrinkled his nose at the most unpleasant smell lingering in the room, he shook his head attempting to clear the fuzzy lightheaded feeling that he attributed to the stink of burning flesh. 'Rhoàld for the journeys sake go see a physic mage about your hand, it stinks and is offending my friend here,' Gath said, 'and take those damned dead flowers with you,' he added as Rhoàld replaced the bottle on the table and picked up the vase of now, clearly dead lilies.

'Come now my friend, drink your wine,' Gath commanded as Rhoàld left the room. 'Where were we?' He asked trying again to stimulate conversation, the man on the floor once more stared uncomprehendingly ahead, any evidence of intelligence behind those blue eyes gone. 'Drink with me,' said the king, slowly losing patience. The prisoner remained staring steadfastly at the fire. 'We were discussing your home I believe.' Gath began again, his voice raising an octave higher.

He could hardly believe what he had seen, even striping the skin from the prisoner's back had not elicited so remarkable a response, at that time the prisoner had shuddered as the knife bit into the skin at the nape of his neck, taken a breath and seemed to feel nothing from then on, much to Gath's annoyance. Returning his thoughts to the present Gath tried again.

'I called for wine especially in your honour...,' he said, angrily now, 'I know you like it,' he tried again. Walking toward the chained man, he took the filled goblet from the table and held it to the prisoner's lips, as he lifted the glass the wine began to run down the man's chin and onto his chest. It spilt onto the floor splashing Gath's crimson robe, bare legs and feet. Gath stepped back, his temper suddenly snapping.

'Guards, to me,' he shouted as he struck the chained man heavily across the face shattering the goblet against the silent prisoner's jaw, causing him to lose balance and fall back fully onto the floor. Gath leant over the silent man lying on his back and whispered. 'You will drink with me because it pleases me to make you...' Gath licked away the froth that had gathered at the corners of his mouth and he could feel his blood racing through his veins in temper.

'You called Sire? One of the guards answered as he entered the room.

'Hold him,' Gath pointed down at the silent man. Forcing the neck of the bottle between the man's lips and holding his nose Gath let the expensive wine fill the prisoner's mouth. The man did not struggle, his already cut lip split badly as the bottle was forced between his teeth and blood ran freely both into his mouth where it joined the wine and again flowed down over his chin and out of the sides of his mouth, some of it pooling on the floor behind his head. He was drowning, in order to breathe the creature on the floor began to swallow and snatch breath between gulps. Slowly the bottle emptied, most of its contents finding their way into the chained man's gut.

As the last drops filled the prisoner's mouth and the king removed the bottle, the chained man spat, covering the king in blood, spittle and wine. Throwing back his arm Gath hit the already semi-conscious man across the head with the now empty bottle.

'Get him out of here,' Gath screamed in fury, kicking the now unconscious body as it lay on the floor. The comatose man was dragged from the chamber as the king shouted again, 'get me a fresh bath, Bastian ...and, and Lemba!' He screamed as he stood in fury, the wine mixed with spittle and blood ran down his face. His breath was coming fast, his temper boiling and incredulously he could feel stirrings in his loins. For a moment, he thought he could taste the magic, then as he realised in his anger he had bitten his own tongue he smiled wryly, looking at his situation he smiled again. The servants were bringing in a fresh bath and both Bastian and Lemba were here awaiting his pleasure, he smiled coldly at Lemba as she entered the room and stood beside Bastian defiantly, dressed only in a sheer satin robe with her body clean, fresh and marked with his own special tokens of affection.

'Lemba my dear,' he said to the girl as he moved to stroke her hair allowing his robe to fall open and revealing his, for once, solid manhood. 'It seems I am in need of another bath,' as Lemba's eyes filled with horror, Gath smiled again. 'Bastian,' he said, looking over Lemba's shoulder, 'I will need you too.'

### Chapter 14

### Rhoàld Receives a Vision

Days later, a sombre Rhoàld stood outside the dank and filthy cell belonging to the prisoner from the bleak. It was bitterly cold and wet in the subterranean tunnel and he wondered, for the millionth time why he had come, stinking water ran freely down a small trough in the centre of the floor, the walls were permanently dripping and the place stank of putrefaction, faeces and decay. The odd lamp fluttered with the drafts and did nothing more than give out a thin oily yellow light. Looking at the mould growing over the wood of the door he was surprised that anyone could survive for days down here let alone for the length of time that this man had and particularly with open wounds on his back.

It had been well over a two years, nearer to three since Gath had forced him to help with the slow stripping of the skin from this prisoner's body. Gath had taken the flesh of his back whole, just as if he were a gardener removing turf from a lawn, carefully slicing delicately just underneath the fragile skin and rolling it up slowly. He had been especially careful, ensuring none of the skin tore or punctured under his knife as he cut and rolled before slicing slowly and rolling again. Apart from one grimace as Gath peeled the first strip slowly away, the man had made no sound and eventually, mercifully, had passed out.

What am I doing, why did I come? Rhoàld asked himself again, as a large grey rat scuttled across the stinking stream in the passage and disappeared into a hole in the opposite cell door. He felt sick, in addition, he had a thumping headache that had lasted for days, causing him to toss and turn in his bed as he continually battled for sleep. Each time he relaxed his mind he thought of his hand, now newly covered in pink healthy flesh and he recalled the suppurating burns, which, from experience he knew should have taken weeks to heal.

The man within the cell had used magic on him and he had not told Gath, Gath who had such an obsessive interest in magic and the king, he knew would punish him severely if he knew of this secret.

He also felt guilty, he had realised it as soon as the man on the floor in the king's apartments had seemed to look into his soul with such a clear, keen intelligence. Before then he had to Rhoàld just seemed like an animal, dumb and stupid not capable of thought or feeling, now though, knowing the pain the creature had suffered whilst he himself had looked on, then and today... _that's what's keeps me from my sleep,_ he reasoned finally, _the guilt!._ Therefore, after admitting to himself he was not going to get any peace this night, any more than he had the last few, Rhoàld had picked a bottle of wine from the rack in his rooms, his personal supply, and made his way down to the dungeons.

Amongst the gossips of Devilly, rumour told that the castle had grown around the dungeons and in parts was so old that there were cells that had not seen an occupant in centuries and Rhoàld could well believe it. The tunnels seemed to go on forever and were as extensive as the vast network of secret passageways and thick walls that held the castle together. He stopped and stared at a thickset wooden door wrinkling his nose as he tried to ignore to ignore the smell that permeated the atmosphere and thought of the strange man behind this particular barred door. Thinking about this man and the way his cool breath had washed over his severe burns healing them instantly had become his primary occupation lately. He had felt compelled to come; the cell was quiet, very quiet, the only discernible sound being the constant dripping of water as it ran down the walls and accessed the putrid gullies in the floor.

'Thank you and I'm sorry,' he whispered as leant his hot forehead against the cell bars. He thought of all that had befallen him on the day the prisoner had healed his hand and he felt humbled, 'thank you, my friend,' he whispered again, dropping the bottle between the bars of the door aperture onto the straw covered cell floor where it rolled noisily, finally coming to a stop where it lay almost hidden in shadows. The light from the candle lamp outside the cell reflected dully upon the glass as his headache continued to thump and he raised his head slowly; he felt sick, dizzy and reached for the bars once more to steady himself.

Inexplicably tears began to fall from his eyes, through the tears he could not see the cell bars in front of him but a child sitting on some lush green grass beside a large tree. The tree was in full leaf and twisted this way and that as the wind blew, causing the leaves to move in the silent harmony of nature's dance. A deep wide river flowed swiftly beside them and Rhoàld could see fish leaping in the silver water; it was like a scene from a beautiful picture, full of light and life.

Then the child reached up and touched the tree. Where the child's hand connected to the bark it began to darken and shrink, it was dying. The patch of now lifeless bark began to spread; the tree's very branches rustled and shook, screaming in protest as its life drained away and into the child. Slowly the tree seemed to stop fighting and began to succumb; the full green leaves began to yellow and then brown, finally dropping off the branches and falling around the small child who was still touching the trees wide bole. The child looked up staring directly at Rhoàld, who recoiled in terror as he noticed the deep dead eyes that held no life. The child just continued to stare at him as if nothing was happening. The tree dried up and ultimately died leaving withered, lifeless branches reaching into the sky, like pleading hands asking for help that would never come. Then the ground around the trees roots slowly began to change colour, from lush and green the grass turned to yellow then to brown as it too became arid, dying. Still the wind blew. Only now, it pushed dead brown leaves and tumbleweeds of dried grasses and the river turned brown then grey. The once silver fish floated belly up, their scales dry and peeling.

'Stop, please stop...' cried Rhoàld, unsure of what was happening but sure the man in the cell was responsible for the vision. He pulled himself away from the cell door and quickly turned away. 'I, I can't help you,' he called out as the tears dried on his face and he quickened his pace along the passageway. Rhoàld was frightened, what is happening to me? He asked himself as he picked up his robe and moved as fast as he could, jumping over the small streams of unrecognisable fluids travelling along the tunnel floor. In his haste, he failed to notice as the dungeon keeper turned a corner and Rhoàld bumped into the fat man knocking the breath from his body.

'Milord,' hissed the dungeon keeper sarcastically through a mouth mostly devoid of teeth, those that remained were stained and broken, ale soaked lips smiled up at him as Rhoàld dragged breath painfully into his lungs. Hackman, the dungeon keeper pulled at his greasy forelock and bent his rheumy figure slightly from the waist.

'Afeared of the ghosts are yer?' He asked of Rhoàld's back as Rhoàld moved away. Rhoàld could hear the man laughing but could not stop; he had to get away, so he ignored the comment as if he had not heard it and continued his flight from the dungeons.

Through the dark passageways and into the castle forecourt he ran, across the cobbles and behind the stable block to the kitchens, through the vast hot rooms where the bread boys were watching the ovens to ensure the morrow's loaves were not spoilt and on up the cool stone stairway and on into the vast castle library.

Standing before the large empty fireplace, he looked about him once to ensure no one was around and pulled at the iron candle sconce on the wall, twisting it slowly to the right as he stepped back. An aperture appeared inside the hearth, hidden by the shadows and when the fire was burning, the very flames themselves, stepping inside Rhoàld watched as the secret door slid soundlessly closed. Here at last, his hurried flight slowed, at last, he felt his heart calm, this was his domain. Finally, he made his way quietly through the passageways to his own chamber where, after letting himself through a seemingly solid wooden panel in the wall he sat before his own fire still unable but also now afraid to sleep, just in case he saw the child with the dead eyes and the dying tree.

'By the Journey?' He asked himself again, 'what is happening to me?' His still healing hand itched, his head thumped and he felt ill. That something magical had happened to him again he had no doubt and he was scared, more scared than he had ever been and he did not know what he could do about it.

### Chapter 15

Journey Take Me

The man in the cell was thirsty, his throat was dry and itchy and his tongue rasped against the roof of his mouth like sandpaper. He knew in the tired corners of his mind he was cold but he felt as if his body were on fire, his head was swimming, his eyes were burning and the rainbow lights and colours that followed his every eye movement like echoes, here in this filthy dark place were alarming him to the point of panic. On top of that, the floor would not stay still, it seemed to be crawling, alive somehow and the cell was spinning about him, he wanted to die, as he had never done before.

'Journey take me!' he pleaded, unsure of whether he had screamed aloud. The world around him, it continued to move and spin and he could see a kaleidoscope of colours attached to everything. He screwed his eyes tightly shut and thrust the heels of his hands deeply into his eye sockets but still he could not avoid the invading colour. Amidst the chaos in his head, he heard a voice faintly echoing somewhere in his brain.

'Thank you.' it said. He focused on the voice, the only real external thing he had felt in a long while, trying to connect, trying desperately to reach out and re-establish some order amidst the turmoil. 'Thank you my friend...' he heard the voice again, suddenly his disordered mind realised it was the ancient he had healed in the kings chambers, frantically he tried to send the message that he had come to deliver.

'Stop,' he heard almost as soon as he felt the connection, he tried harder, pushing his message forward _, too hard_ ... he thought as the connection began to fade away. Tears began to course down his face, he had failed and he had tried for so long, he had held out for an ancient even whilst Gath harvested the skin from his body and ripped the nails on his fingers from their beds, he had tried and he had failed. The pain was too much ... he sank into blissful oblivion.

Time passed and he slowly opened his eyes, the tiny light from the candle outside his room seemed bright, too bright and it bore into his eyes like shards of steel, he snapped them shut once more. He found could not breathe without knives thrusting into his lungs, his head hurt, he was still cold and shivering but his skin was on fire, the tiny beads of sweat on his body were burning like the hot coals from the fire in the king's chamber. His throat was dry and his tongue felt swollen, every inch of his body screamed in pain. Once more, he called to the Gods to let him die, mercifully, despite the agony of drawing each breath, the darkness gradually overcame him and he sunk into oblivion once more.

He awoke again and for a moment his mind was lucid, as he realised his cell was not as it had always been. As a resident of the cell for a long time the man knew every rock on the floor and every shadow made by the small flame left alight outside his cell door, now something was awry, in his mind's eye he saw the spec of light near the cell door that was not normally there.

Opening his eyes he gingerly moved his head in an attempt to see it again, a bad move, he thought immediately as the room started to spin, his stomach heaved and he vomited. He lay in his vomit unable to move. He heard rather than saw the rats as they entered the cell drawn by the smell of the vented stomach and watched as one climbed over his body and crept toward his face. He was dying.

'Journey take me', he pleaded again as he felt his heart jump and slow and his breath become even more laboured and shallow, he allowed his body to still and willed himself yet again toward death, accepting it as a friend and saviour. 'Forgive Me,' he tried to whisper to the memories as they flooded his mind with peace. Again, the world went dark; he closed his eyes once more amidst the filthy wet straw, the rats and the mould and drifted into a deep coma.

### Chapter 16

### Voices across the Water

Before the sun rose and by the light of the dying moon, Lemba softly crossed the castle courtyard and made her way quietly out of the side gates, past the oldest part of the castle and the sleeping barrow boys, up past the midden, already stinking from the heat of the night and toward the river Derva. On past the burning furnaces and the charcoal burners' stores she walked, on toward the trees where the water ran clean and clear and where, for a little while at least she could be on her own and private. It was very nearly dawn when she arrived at the small sheltered area she had claimed as her own, willow trees surrounded the small beach and tall reeds with majestic brown bulrushes in full flower crept out into the river. To Lemba it was a place of peace, where even the water seemed to slow down for a while as if aware that up ahead the stinking wastes of Devilly would foul it. Carefully she removed her clothes, placed them in a small pile on the dry bank and slipped into the cool clean river where darkness surrounded her, washing clean her sore, tortured body and taking her she felt, to another place as it eased her numerous hurts. _It would be so easy to die here,_ she thought as her silent tears mingled with the water.

A little later, after rinsing her pale silver hair, she reluctantly climbed back toward her clothing, gently rubbing herself dry and redressed. The sky around the castle began to brighten as the early morning sun rose quietly and she knew that before long the sun would warm up the world and she would no longer be alone. The weeping willow trees with their low branches falling before her like a graceful canopy hid where she sat enjoying the last of the dawn peace whilst she could.

As if a switch tripped, the silence was suddenly broken, Lemba could feel the world waking around her; birds began their morning chorus and frogs started croaking as they made their way through the dew soaked grass and reeds toward the water's edge. Her spirits lifted briefly, just as they always did at this time and she thanked the journey she was a witness to such beauty, before sighing, knowing it also signalled the time for her to return.

The castle looming before her looked black in the dawn light as its silhouette stood out sharp and crisp against the pale sky, how she hated it, she reached out her hand effectively blocking the castle from her view. _In truth, I wish I could do that for real_ , she thought, lowering her hand once more as something disturbed her thoughts. Voices, Lemba could hear voices as they carried across the water, further down the river she could see the dungeon keeper and his apprentice doing their daily chores. Some lucky souls began their Journey this night, she mused, as she crept back into the shadows of the trees and out of sight.

Two occupants of the cells had indeed died this last night and one who was as near death as the dungeon keeper, Hackman had ever seen. His apprentice had informed him days ago, the man from the bleak was not eating but he had been too busy to investigate, when he did, he had found an untouched bottle of wine in the cell propped up against the wall by the apprentice.

'Now 'ow did that git there then?' He asked himself aloud as he moved over to the cell's low stone cot where he placed the man's meagre meal of bread and water on the floor and leant forward to question the prisoner about the wine. As he pushed at the unresponsive body, a hot stream of melted wax fell from his candle directly on to the bare skin of the corpse-like figure, the man did not move so the keeper moved closer to get a better look. In the pale yellow light, the prisoner's flesh looked taut, drawn over the bones like skin over a well beaten drum and it was hot, burning hot, he could feel the heat radiating from the body, dark circles surrounded the man's eyes and red blotches were evident all over the exposed parts of the skin.

'Red-Plague Fever!' the keeper hissed and took a step back, holding his free hand across his mouth and nose knowing that the fever had killed more than a few occupants of the dungeons over the years he had been in charge. Although extremely contagious, it had been a while since the last outbreak and Hackman felt his heart pound in panic. He watched the thin chest before him intently, waiting for it to rise and fall... waiting for signs of life, they were there but so slow and slight he almost missed them. Reasoning to himself that death was not far away, he considered it a mercy to the dying man to end his suffering sooner, rather than later and forestall him infecting anyone else. Also of course, the bottle would then be his to take today and not tomorrow. He left the cell, giving orders for the dying man's shackles to be removed and the body prepared for the furnace, _after all the fever 'as to be contained_ , he thought as he smiled at the wine bottle in his hand.

The custom for dealing with the dungeon dead was a simple one; the bodies of the unfortunates were piled atop a barrow and wheeled through the stinking damp corridors on out to the midden and their eventual destination, the furnace and there was no change for this day.

The barrow unloaded its grisly cargo and the three unfortunates who had begun their Journey fell unceremoniously upon the stinking pile. The apprentice watched the bodies as they slipped and slithered down the embankment becoming one with the muck and filth of the castle waste. One body, that of an old servant who had displeased the king, lodged near the masters feet, with eyes wide open, staring sightlessly toward Hackman and one gnarled hand reaching out, almost as if grasping at his ankle. Hackman kicked at it in distaste, almost losing his footing as he did so. The apprentice suppressed a giggle as his master turned toward him in fury.

'The checks boy...?' Hackman asked slyly, still breathing hard from the exertion of climbing up from the dungeon and the unexpected kick. 'Did yer do the checks proper like?'

The apprentice looked distastefully at the corpses now precariously balanced on the steaming midden and gingerly took a step toward the first.

' _E could 'ave asked me ter do it before I frew 'em,'_ he thought, cursing himself for the giggle at Hackman's misfortune and taking a long thin needle from his waist pack he held the old servant still and pushed the needle deep inside the corpse's staring eye.

'E, be duly dead,' the apprentice murmured, using the correct phrase to announce a death and grimaced as he pulled the gore soaked needle from the body. The needle sucked and oozed slowly as it came away covered in clotted blood, pus and brain tissue. The boy grimaced again wiping the needle against the dead man's chest but as he moved toward the second body, he slipped his footing, loosening the muck beneath him and he tumbled onto the pile. He landed almost on top of the stinking cadaver of what was once a woman.

'That one's been waitin' fer the fires a while then...' called Hackman, trying not to laugh. A cloud of flies rose from the body as the boy disturbed it and attempting to push himself off he slipped again. Swallowing hard, the boy fervently wished it were winter, knowing that in winter the intense cold froze both the mud and gore solid. He reached out as he fell attempting to grab something to help balance himself and grabbed at some grass that came away from the pile, lifting the grasses he saw to his horror they were thin strands of lank greasy hair still attached to a patch of skin pulled from the female cadaver's head. A myriad of insects adorned the torn scalp like a grisly crown, his stomach retched and he threw the scalp as far as he could watching in brief satisfaction as the swarm of flies followed the scalp and hair like the tale of a black shooting star. The one empty eye socket looked at the boy accusingly and he shuddered in disgust as his slow ride down toward the furnace continued.

Raucous laughter broke through the hum of the midden and the apprentice looked up and glared at Hackman who was laughing almost hysterically.

'I could 'ave found yer a live one, if I knew yer fancied a little!' He said, unable to contain his laughter at the sight of his apprentice, his arms tightly embracing the dead body of the moving corpse. 'Still, on the good side, she'd not 'ave charged yer!' The keeper added his mirth at his apprentice's misfortune almost too much to bear.

Once more, the apprentice tried to stop his downward slide; he held tightly to the moving corpse and again threw out his free hand attempting to gain purchase of something that was not dead, slimy or stinking. His needle embedded itself into the thigh of today's second body and his downward momentum finally stopped, he stood up cautiously, noticing how red plague fever had indeed claimed a victim.

The apprentice glared once more at the dungeon keeper, whose laughter was echoing across the midden and he leant forward carefully to retrieve the needle from the corpse's thigh. He felt his feet begin to slip once more and decided the man must be dead, if he wasn't, well, he soon would be, the body had not so much as flinched as a five-inch needle had been forcibly driven into its leg. _There ain't no way I can reach 'is eyes anyway_ , he thought.

'This un be duly dead.' He called again with finality, wondering if the fat man, still laughing and holding his stomach had noticed his misdemeanour.

'Surr, 'e be dead.' the boy said again as he climbed slowly and carefully toward the last of the day's prisoners. Hackman was still chuckling softly to himself, pleased with his own joke at the apprentice's expense as the boy opened the eye of the third prisoner and plunged the needle straight in. 'She be dead... all be duly dead... Surr,' the boy added insolently, as he climbed slowly away from the midden and its grizzly contents.

The dungeon keeper was still laughing as he lifted his hand to steady the boy clambering up near the top of the pile but noticing the muck and slime still covering his apprentice's hands he grimaced and pulled his own away leaving the boy to climb out alone. Finally, the pair walked away and the flies surrounding them returned to the midden and their feasting on the dead and the dying.

### Chapter 17

Lemba Recognises a Sound

Lemba watched the keeper and the boy anxiously, afraid to move, Hackman, had assisted Gath as he cut the tongue from her mouth and she could still remember his clammy hands exploring her body in the excuse of holding her still. Despite the pain she suffered then, she remembered lashing out with a foot and catching Gath unexpectedly on the leg and the king in his fury promising her to the keeper when he had finished with her. Consequently, the fat keeper was possessive of her, always watching and waiting to catch her off guard, if she went out alone he invariably followed. When he did manage to catch her alone he often tried to touch her the way he had as he held her naked body still for the king, knowing she could not inform on him and he constantly reminded her she would belong to him one day. Bastian, her only friend in the castle usually tried to accompany her if she went out but increasingly lately, Lemba had found that, Bastian alone received the summons to their master. She knew Gath was looking for a new, younger female body servant and subsequently was terrified of the fat keeper, who knew it too. Therefore, she waited quietly, hidden in the reeds until the pair had been gone for a long time and the sun had risen high into in the morning sky before she gathered her few belongings and quietly moved back toward the castle herself.

'Mornin' missy,' called the charcoal burner as she passed by deep in thought, Lemba jumped in surprise. The man ran his black hands over his chest before asking after her wellbeing in a simple form of finger-speak, smiling in return she also used her hands and fingers to inquire after his own family. After a few minutes, the man said goodbye and Lemba smiled, silently thanking the journey she had chanced upon his daughter so long ago.

Five years before, Lemba, desolate at Gath's abuse and the loss of her tongue had decided to drown herself, but before she could act, she had seen a child fall into the water and unable herself to call for help, had gone out to the terrified child, dragging her back to the bank and the safety of her father's arms. The child, like Lemba was mute and in saving the child's life, Lemba herself remembered how precious a gift life was. In his gratitude, the charcoal burner had taught her to communicate using finger-speak, a way of moving fingers and fashioning shapes with the hands to allow conversation. Although glad to have been able to save the child, Lemba was more than grateful for another friend and a voice of sorts although she kept the fact that she could communicate this way a closely guarded secret.

Trying not to look at the castles towering walls she walked back along the river and far too soon reached the furnaces and the growing midden. Carefully she climbed past the dump itself smiling at the sight of the barrow boys as they slept beneath an old tarpaulin, as far away from the stink of the ripe midden as they could get. Then moving away from the sleeping boys she stopped and turned her head to one side, against the persistent but gentle hum of the midden she heard another sound, the sound of pain, a sound Lemba knew better than most. The loss of speech had made her other senses more sensitive and this sound was the one that was always reverberating around in her head, she might not be able to make it anymore but knew it she did and knew it well, it had been the last sound she had ever made. Gingerly she climbed the mound trying to locate the source.

### Chapter 18

### Am I Dead?

Rhoàld began to feel better, his hand had almost completely healed and the itching had finally stopped. It had been weeks since Gath had requested the prisoner, weeks since the strange man had whispered magic to the horrific burns and weeks since Rhoàld himself had visited the fellow. Now, Rhoàld could not say what the compulsion had been for the visit to the cell but he was sure he had had to go. Since his return from the dungeon that night, Rhoàld had taken to his bed, ill himself. Leaving his bed for the first time this morning, he had found a stack of paperwork that needed catching up on and sighing, he slowly began to plod his way through, over half way through the pile he found a dirty note from the dungeon keeper. Involuntarily Rhoàld shuddered as the smell that clung to the paper evoked memories of that dreadful visit and the child with the dead eyes. He had no way of knowing how long the paper had been there, stacked as it was amongst his other correspondence and he had anxiously opened the filthy note. _The prisoner is dead_ , he read and he sighed, thinking of the afternoon the prisoner had arrived at the castle and the special proviso Gath had ordered at the time.

Under normal circumstances and as Gath's secretary and aide, Rhoàlds remit did not include the welfare of Devilly's dungeon guests' but for this guest, special measures were in place. The man, looking little more than an animal on his arrival, had been of particular interest to the king, his every move noted and Rhoàld shivered at the prospect of informing him of his creature's demise, especially with a possible time lapse in relaying the information. After months of nothing, the king had again begun to show interest in the wild man, he knew the king would not be happy and reading the details of the message again, _died of fever in his own dirt_ , did not make him feel any less worried.

Therefore, Rhoàld waited patiently outside the king's chamber to inform him of the news _. Death can take anyone,_ he mused as he paced, hoping the king would take it well. He comforted himself with the thought and continued to wait.

Rhoàld was wrong; Gath was beside himself with rage.

'Dead?' He screeched, white froth building at the corners of his mouth, 'how can he be dead, he was just drunk, when did he die?' Gath continued. He had planned for another visit from the creature, the Wildman that had so intrigued him, both little Lemba and the beautiful Bastian had benefited greatly from the last visit, and he wanted more of the same. He smiled to himself at the memory of Lemba's perfect white skin adorned only with the marks from his lovemaking and his for once, lasting erection, the image faded as he thought of the cause of that erection, the man from the Bleak being lost. 'When did he die, did you see the body?' He asked again as Rhoàld looked toward the floor. Gath turned to stare at him, Rhoàld stood uncomfortably before his king, his healed hand hidden beneath his robes.

'No Sire, I did not as I was ill, I am told the man died of the fever, red plague fever, but am not sure when...' Rhoàld answered as strongly as he could, keeping his eyes respectfully on the floor.

'Go find out Rhoàld, find the body,' said the king quietly with unveiled malice. 'Check that the creature is dead, and Rhoàld...,' the king added as Rhoàld nodded and bowed, 'if the creature died of disease or infection you had better personally ensure the cell is cleaned and ready for its next guest.' Rhoàld inwardly shivered as he answered the king and walked away _. It's high time I found another occupation_ , he thought as he walked through the great castle toward the lower floors _. I don't ever want to be that man's guest, in or out of the dungeon._

Before long Rhoàld found himself beneath the castle once more traversing the same route he had taken weeks before. The walls were still running with water and the whole place still stank, even though spring this year had been particularly dry and so far, the summer storms had been few and far between. He knew from experience that despite the lack of rain, the dungeons would never completely dry out as the local water table ran quite high and the Derva was so close but he often wondered why the place had been built so deep underground that the floors were always wet, _perhaps to wash away the blood!_ The thought came unbidden and he shuddered as he moved on carefully toward the small room that the dungeon keeper occupied. The smell here seemed to be at its worst, Rhoàld almost wished for the promised autumn rains to arrive early to rid the place of its stink of death, and he held his handkerchief to his face in an effort to evade the stench. Raucous laughter was emanating from the room as he neared the chamber and it was getting louder, he paused outside steadying his nerves as he remembered the insolence he had suffered on his last visit, eventually he turned into the room and stood in the doorway.

Hackman, the keeper, he had met before briefly but he failed to recognise him immediately amongst the three men playing cards in the candlelit room. The oily light flickered with a sickly yellow as the tallow candle, stuck unceremoniously in an old wine bottle, fluttered in the draft. Rhoàld recognised the bottle as one from his own chambers, the one he had given the prisoner in thanks. The yellow flame spluttered again weakly and the animal smell it gave off only added to his burgeoning nausea. A young boy whom Rhoàld assumed was an apprentice was sitting in the corner of the room smoking a pipe, the contents of which he tried not to think about as a hazy fug of purple smoke coiled slowly around him like a welcoming blanket. Amongst the dirt and foulness, the apprentice looked surprisingly happy and his faraway, bemused expression said there was no other place he would rather be. Rhoàld trembled with horror as a large black rat crawled from beneath a nearby bed and began nibbling quietly at the boy's stockinged feet, it paused and turned its beady eyes toward Rhoàld as if to acknowledge the intruder but as no one else seemed to be aware of his presence, the rat calmly returned to its nibbling.

Rhoàld walked further into the room unannounced, a fat man, finally noticing the intrusion turned his head, and placing one huge dirty hand over the coin in front of him stared at Rhoàld before offering a quick, sly glance to his companions.

'Milord...?' Hackman said, aware that before him was the man who had run, scared and sweating, from the dungeons just a few weeks before. Rhoàld observed the dirt on the speaker's fat neck and the folds of hairy skin that held back the tides of sweat, finally recognising the man who had jeered at him and not to be intimidated a second time, he stared back.

'Be as good as to stand man,' he demanded as menacingly as he could, surprising himself with the gravelly quality of his voice. He looked at the obese keeper wondering how he managed to be so hot and sweaty in this filthy cold hole. The Dungeon Master kept his eyes fixed firmly on Rhoàld as he scraped his chair back across the stone floor, pulled his lumbering body upright and turned away from the table.

'Milord,' Hackman repeated wheezily as he pulled at his greasy forelock and bent slightly from the waist, 'what can I do fer yer?' He said his salute almost an insult in itself. Behind him the soldiers also stood, banging against the table and disturbing the cards and coins as they did so. In his peripheral vision, Rhoàld watched as the rat, frightened by the sudden movement quickly scurried across the room and squeezed its own fat body through a seemingly impossibly small hole in the dripping wall.

'Take what is yours and get out, my business today is with the keeper, not his minions.' Rhoàld said quietly to the watching audience. At once, a flurry of hands and feet echoed around the small room as money and cards disappeared, the pile that had been in front of the fat man suddenly halved. Hackman, kept his eyes steadfastly on Rhoàld as the room emptied of all bar the drugged boy in the corner, Rhoàld could see the fury in man and knew he had made an enemy. 'The wild man, the creature from the Bleak, what have you done with his body?' Rhoàld demanded, determined to keep the upper hand.

'Oh, 'e be dead now milord,' replied Hackman smiling slyly, 'me 'n the boy took him ter the furnace weeks ago, 'e be long gone by now... milord,' the man added with a sneer.

'I need to see the body if it is still there, then the cell... and in that order,' Rhoàld demanded, returning the keepers look of hatred with one of undisguised contempt. 'Take me to where you threw his corpse,' Rhoàld ordered as Hackman made no move, 'now,' he demanded his voice again full of gravel and menace.

'Yes milord,' replied the fat man as he waddled over toward the boy, 'I'll get the boy ter show yer,' he said, adding, 'iffen o' course it still be there.'

'Get the boy to hurry then..., please me and there's a bottle in it for him,' replied the aide, as he turned his back on both the sudden light that appeared in the fat man's eyes and the foul smelling room. Holding his robes above his ankles, Rhoàld nimbly stepped over the ever-running stream of waste in the gully and made his way back up the tunnel. Hackman hurried after him.

'Milord... I'll take 'e mesel', the boy looks comfy like... shame ter move 'im,' he mumbled licking his lips as he followed Rhoàld down the tunnel.

A while later, Rhoàld stood with Hackman beside the midden, the reek of it was still almost overpowering despite the lateness of the day. The surface of the midden was alive with the innumerable bugs and creeping things that used it as a home and gave it its customary hum as they munched and chewed, thriving as they did amongst the filth. Birds flocked and cried like gulls at sea, as they swooped and dove, feeding off the creatures living amongst the dirt.

Rhoàld took short shallow breaths through his mouth, unable, as he was to hold his kerchief to his face as well as hold his long robes free from the muck and filth beneath his feet _. My shoes will never be the same again,_ he thought feeling the muck begin to seep through the soft leather and ooze wetly between his toes. Looking up he grimaced at the castle barrow boys, running all over the stinking heap and oblivious to the intolerable stench emanating from the waste of the castle and local town. Every now and then one would stop as he gleaned an unasked for trinket from amidst the ever growing pile.

The furnace rooms below and to the west of the castle were busy, Rhoàld imagined the roaring fires as living things consuming the waste and rubbish like food, forever hungry with never enough to eat. The power the furnaces provided was enough to fill the castle in winter with pleasing warmth but now the late summer heat was too much and a large vent at the side of the building allowed the excess to escape in white clouds that billowed gently into the atmosphere. From his vantage point above the midden and looking further west, Rhoàld could see the river before it approached the castle. Upstream the water was fresh and clean, he could swear he saw the odd glimpse of silver as a fish jumped in play and there were children too, revelling in the water in the afternoon sunshine.

'Ere' Milord,' the fat man said, obsequiously rubbing his hands together, 'me an' the boy, we left the dead 'un ere...we 'upped the barrow and tossed 'im in just 'ere. The proper checks were dun like, I dun um mesel',' he added as he pointed down toward the foul pile, 'see, e' be long gone now,' he said smiling slyly.

'Hey, you,' Rhoàld shouted, hailing one of the barrow boys and thinking they looked more like rats than children, _yes, mud rats, living and working in filth_! His thoughts continued as he stepped forward to question the boy. As he did so he slipped and threw his hands forward to stop his fall, time slowed as he watched his hands disappear in the slimy ooze and his knees suddenly felt cushioned but also, very wet.

"Ere now, be careful...' smirked Hackman as he grabbed Rhoàld's arm and tried to haul him back to his feet, the sucking gore seemed to be trying to keep him locked forever in its grip and had Rhoàld swallowing heavily as his mouth filled with bile. Finally on his feet again, embarrassed and angry, Rhoàld roughly wiped his hands on his now sodden grimy robes, the need to hold them away from the filth clearly gone.

The small boy looked up and nimbly climbed the slope of the midden toward the visitors.

'Did you burn a corpse this past month?' Rhoàld asked trying to remain calm, 'think carefully now, a corpse from the king's dungeons, tell me true and there's a coin in it for you,' he added as the dirty faced boy approached.

'Well surr...' began the boy, the dungeon keeper glared at him, 'I did that,' the boy finally said. 'Last week gone, we 'ad a dead 'ore an' a couple of ole men who didn't 'alf stink,' he said, 'me an me mates took ages getting the bodies ter fire, an' this un we 'ad two ole men an' a kid 'oo had the red plague fever, we knew coz 'e were yellow, red an' blotchy. We burned 'im first.' He smiled at Rhoàld pleased he had been able to answer the question.

'Were there any others that you can remember lately?' Rhoàld asked, trying to be as patient as possible.

'Afore that we 'ad a few wiv fever, even one 'oo 'ad 'alf his face missin' from where the rats 'ad been feastin', the rats' 'r' prob'ly dead too now, eh?' The boy offered as Rhoàld dug into his pocket and found some coins, without looking at the value he threw one at the boy and turned away.

'Thanks mister,' he heard and looked back to see the child pick the coin out of the slime where it had fallen short and put it into his mouth to clean it. The thought of the filth from the midden being in his mouth was just too much, his stomach heaved and vented, adding his own bodily waste to the ever growing pile as Hackman jumped back to avoid being splashed. Once his stomach was empty, Rhoàld wiped his face on a clean part of his sleeve and looked across at the river, downstream, the castle's filth poured into the water as it ran through the town, a brown stain spreading evilly through its clean clear waters, the Derva looked dead, _nothing could survive in that_ , he thought. He shuddered, feeling as if someone had opened up his grave, ready for him to lie down and die, cold sweat ran down his back as once more and unprompted he thought of the small child with the dead eyes and the dying tree beside the river.

'Take me to the prisoner's cell,' Rhoàld demanded curtly in an attempt to shake the images from his mind as he turned away from the water. The fat keeper watched in contempt as Rhoàld picked his way across the surface of the midden before he hurried after him back toward the castle, his own thoughts fixed firmly on a second bottle of that exceptionally fine wine.

### Chapter 19

### The Cell

As Rhoàld re-entered the small gateway in the castle walls the smell of fresh bread wafted up from the kitchens, the warm sweet smell for a moment replaced the stink of the midden that seemed to have embedded itself in his nostrils. His damp robes, inches thick in mud and gore, clung to his ankles and knees as he walked and like reeds in a river they clutched and pulled, he could not bear to think of what he might have stood in. Standing still as he closed the gate Rhoàld inhaled deeply, taking the clean fresh smell of the warm bread as far as he could into his lungs. His robes stilled for a moment allowing him a little respite from the uncomfortable truth, he was wet, he stank and he was still feeling more than just a little sick. Hackman, who had kept close on his heels walked into his back at the unexpected stop and once again, Rhoàld felt engulfed by the wet reek of death and dirt that seemed to cling to the man.

'By the Journey,' he said pushing the fat keeper away from him, 'you stink,' he added, once more holding his arm and hand across his face as he tried not to retch. Immediately Rhoàld realised he probably smelt as bad as the unfortunate dungeon keeper, his hands, although wiped free of dirt, still stank of the midden and he could swear there was still mud oozing through the silk of his slippers.

Hackman backed off looking quite indignant.

'The cell,' he said insolently, 'yer wanted ter look at the cell...' he continued, noting Rhoàld's nearly green face.

'Tomorrow, my man or the next day, I am... still, quite unwell,' answered Rhoàld quickly, anxious to get to his chambers to bathe and throw away his clothes. 'I'll bring your wine down myself, tomorrow...' he added, as he walked toward the kitchen doors intending to take a shortcut through to his rooms, as he walked away he felt the fat man's eyes boring into his back with each step he took.

Rhoàld pushed open the large door and entered the cavernous kitchens where the delicious smell of fresh bread was even stronger.

'Journey love us, what's that stink?' He heard as he hurried across the room, then, "ere, Rhoàld, you're leaving dirt all over me fresh floor, get out will yer,' shouted the cook who prided herself on her clean kitchen. Rhoàld, embarrassed at his state of dress picked up his wet robes and walked quickly through the cavernous room, glaring at the serving maid's and kitchen boys, almost daring them to laugh at his stinking, filthy apparel.

'Bring a bath to my rooms,' he shouted, closing the parlour door behind him but not before the sound of roaring laughter erupted and he flushed with embarrassment. Finally, he walked through the servant's hall to the legitimate entrance of the suite of rooms he called home leaving a slimy wet trail as evidence of his passing.

Later, Bastian poured him a glass of wine and placed it on a small table drawn up beside the tub.

'I wouldn't stay in that bath too long Rhoàld my love,' he said, adding, 'there seems to be...um... thing's floating around in it.'

Rhoàld opened his eyes and watched as tiny dead bugs moved about on the surface of the water, moving only as Rhoàld moved, causing the small currents in the tub to give the insects a semblance of life. Standing quickly, he grabbed the fresh jug of warm water and cleansed himself by pouring the lot over his head, replacing the jug on the floor and squeezing the water out of his hair, feeling clean once more he climbed out of the tub and reached for a soft cloth to wrap around his body. Turning to his friend with the towel in his hands, he felt glad his body was trim and neat as Bastian's eyes roamed over it appreciatively finally finding Rhoàld's eyes.

'I would not stay, if you were not here,' Rhoàld said meaningfully.

'I know,' replied Bastian sadly, 'he owns me Rhoàld, I cannot say no,' adding, 'one day, one day we'll be free.'

The next morning Rhoàld got up and dressed in his oldest robes before quietly leaving the sleeping Bastian curled up in his bed and made his way down to the dungeons carrying two bottles of his cheapest wine. Bastian had suggested he take the second bottle to help the fat keeper become a little more disposed to helping him clean and inspect the cell. As Rhoàld walked, the bottles of sweet red wine clinked softly in time with his steps and half an hour later, Rhoàld stood once again outside the cell last occupied by the man from the bleak. For once, he was glad of his old clothes as an early autumnal rain had engulfed the region during the night, making the walls pour and the small stream in the centre of the passageway rush by in fury, as it tried in vain to escape the confines of the gully. The habitual smell of the dungeons seemed somehow cleaner this morning, _a definite improvement from my last visit!_ He thought.

Hackman smiled at him, his almost toothless mouth grinning maniacally.

'Milord, you be needin' a light ter go in there,' he said nodding toward the dead prisoners open cell door and handing Rhoàld the candle from the sconce outside the door. 'Don't touch nuffin', 'e 'ad the fever yer know...' he added, placing a fresh candle into the now empty sconce and lighting it. The fat keeper was feeling generous as he thought of the unexpected second bottle of wine now sitting under his bed and waiting for him. 'I'll get the boy ter 'elp clean the place,' he said as he lit his own candle and walked into the small dirty cell. 'It stinks rotten in 'ere done it,' he added, as Rhoàld followed him into the dark, his own candle light joining the fat keeper's but still just barely lighting up the darkness. A shadow on the wall caught his eye so Rhoàld moved the candle higher and closer, spreading his weak light further. All thought of the appalling smell and the misery that had lived in this room vanished as he stared intently, almost in disbelief, transfixed by what was before him.

'Get out,' he said at once to the keeper, 'get out and lock this door... Let no one in... Guard it... I, I must see the king,' he added finally as he hurried away. _'By the Journey,'_ he thought, _what does this mean?_

Hackman looked at the abstract drawings and scrapings of a lunatic painstakingly etched into the solid rock. 'Well, well, he said aloud, 'jus' when did e' do all this then...,' holding the candle higher some of the hot wax spilt down on to his fingers 'Journey!' he cussed, dropping the lighted candle as his filthy fingers found comfort in his mouth. Stamping out the small burgeoning flame trying unsuccessfully to grow amidst the damp straw he picked up the now dead candle and walked out of the cell pulling the door closed and locking it behind him chuckling at his reprieve.

'I'll not be swilling buckets about terday,' he said gaily as he walked back to his rooms, he intended to be very, very busy for the rest of the day, his appointment with not one but two bottles of wine took precedence over everything else, the cleaning of the cell could wait.

### Chapter 20

### Water Baby

'I tell yer e's the spit of 'im,' said Toby once more to a little amused Jed. 'Same 'air an' everyfing,' he added. 'Didn't realise it till his kingship welcomed us inter the army, sez ter mesel', 'e be the spit out o' Gid's mouth I sez.'

Toby was very drunk; he and Jed along with a few others had wandered down to the Dog's Neck after a particularly gruelling training session. Jed had taken a special interest in Toby and had offered to be his mentor, following the programme Colonel Thurl had instigated. It made sense to Jed to mentor the lad he had known all his life and Toby's presence made Jed feel less homesick. They had been drinking nearly all night and were now looking forward to a few days' rest.

'Toby 'e's familiar coz yer carry 'im around in yer pocket every payday, 'an 'is 'ead's on all the coins.' Jed said for the third time since midnight. He was beginning to get bored with Toby having the same conversation with anyone who would listen, he loved Gideon dearly but constant tales of his likeness to the king was just about finishing him off and even if he did agree, it was just a coincidence but he was not going to tell Toby that again.

'Ave anovver drink man,' said Toby, 'I'll pay... with a Gideon!' Toby laughed loudly at his joke causing people to turn and stare.

'Thank yer Toby but no, I'm goin' for a walk,' Jed replied, 'I'll see yer when I get back.' Toby did not respond he was already deep in conversation with a rather buxom, tired looking redheaded barmaid.

Jed walked along the towpath toward the castle thinking to cut out across from the midden and on down to the barracks block. He had the entire day off and intended to make the most of it by catching up on his letters to home when the sun suddenly began to rise causing the sky to turn a glorious red gold reminding him of his twin. The stark relief of the castle, black against the beautiful dawn sky caused Jed to shiver as a chill ran down his back. The sky lightened even more chasing the night away and throwing an illusion of warmth over the countryside so, he took off his cloak and threw it over his shoulder as his thoughts returned to Mayan and his best friend _. They are lucky, they 'ave each over,_ he thought and his mind turned toward his silver girl, whimsically he saw himself once again with her and their children, playing in the garden of the Green Home Inn, he still had not seen her again even though he looked out for her as often as he could.

Realising he was lonely and not wanting the companionship of other soldiers he walked on past the turn off for the short cut to the barracks and carried on upstream, the midden was starting to hum and the smoke drifted lazily from the charcoal sheds as he walked past. A charcoal burner nodded his head in respect at the uniform so Jed waved and walked on, the only other soul he saw was a rather sweaty fat man hurrying toward him carrying a bundle.

'Mornin',' Jed said politely as the fat man rushed past, but was not surprised when he received no answer, _life seems to be like that 'ere in the capital,_ he though, _people jus' don't speak ter each other._

He continued to walk following the flowing waters, which had turned blue and silver in the soft new morning light and looking at the water, he could see fish in the cold depths. Despite the warmth of the early morning sunshine, the water was still freezing cold but he sat on the grass beneath a large willow and removed his boots and socks. Lying back on the bank with his feet drifting in the cold water he rested his head on his rolled up cloak watching the sun as it finally became a beautiful round ball of flame and light. He had always loved the early morning and as a child, he and Gideon had often climbed up the highest trees in the forest to watch the sunrise over the majestic canopy of green. He smiled remembering Mayan had never had the heart to climb to the top and he laughed out loud thinking of her fury when they climbed without her.

Something tickled his toes and he sat up pulling his feet hastily from the river.

Deep green eyes in a mass of floating silver-blonde hair were looking at him from the river. As the current moved, the silver hair parted allowing Jed tantalisingly small glimpses of her naked body and her beautiful white skin, marred only by the eddies swirling around her in the water causing a slight discolouration here and there over her body. She was truly beautiful, Jed stared mesmerised and he felt the heat in his groin and moved slightly to accommodate his growing erection. As he continued to stare at her, he suddenly noticed to his shame her lips were blue with cold, her teeth were chattering and she held her arms tightly across her chest in an attempt to preserve body heat and a little dignity.

'What yer doin' in the water?' Jed asked, his speech patterns returning to his native Beaut Valley dialect in surprise, 'where're yer clothes?' Jed tried again and felt immediately stupid when she did not answer. She raised a small arm and pointed downstream. Jed remembered the fat man hurrying away with a bundle of cloth in his arms, "ere,' Jed offered, angry with himself for his own behaviour as he realised what that bundle had been. He turned to retrieve his long grey cloak from the bank, shaking it out and holding it up he said, 'yer'll catch yer death in there...' and he looked away.

He could not resist a peak as his silver girl climbed silently out of the water and stepped toward the cloak and his jaw dropped open in horror as pretence faded. The smudges covering her skin were not, as he had supposed, shadows in the water but colourful bruises and cuts in many stages of healing.

''Oo did this ter yer?' He asked his voice full of concern and anger. Lemba's eyes filled with tears of shame as the young man she had thought about so often since last summer stared at her bruised and naked body. Lifting her hands to her face, she wept silent inconsolable tears.

Shame once more goaded Jed as he hastily pulled the cloak around her shoulders covering her body and pulling it tight about her waist. Lifting the hood up to cover the beautiful thick hair and sitting her down on the bank, he hastily pulled off his jerkin to dry her frozen feet, his shoes were excessively big, so quickly he pulled his woollen socks over her cold ankles. Next, he pulled on his shoes and standing, he took his silver girl into his arms and walked steadily back toward the castle. His intention had been to stop off at the infirmary but Lemba, realising the direction the headed, frantically tried to escape the comfort of his strong arms.

'What is it little one?' Jed asked quietly, full of calm concern and fully aware she had not yet spoken to him, he tried his best to speak so she would understand clearly. Lemba gazed into his eyes and pointed back toward the charcoal sheds pleading. 'Well it'll be warm there at least,' he said heading in the direction the girl had indicated. Lemba reached up to Jed's neck allowing her fingers to run over the green cord that held his stone fast. Her fingers felt frozen on his skin and he wondered how long she had been in the water, he also wanted to see her safe and warm but wished the charcoal sheds were miles away, he had never felt like this before and he wanted to protect her, to be with her, always. Mostly though, he wanted to kill whoever had repeatedly abused her.

As he reached the shed the door opened, the man who had waved at him what seemed now like hours earlier, stared at them both in amazement.

'Lemba,' he cried, 'what's 'appened?' Jed placed her down next to a warm fire, 'surr, what 'appened?' The charcoal burner asked again. Before Jed could speak Lemba's pale slim arms emerged from beneath the cloak, her fingers flashed making patterns and shapes and Jed stared at her in amazement.

'What the...?' He began as he watched the bizarre performance. The charcoal burner, not taking his face away from Lemba's dancing fingers spoke quickly, concentrating on not missing a sign.

'Lemba can't talk, she's telling me in the only way she knows 'ow,' he said. When Lemba's fingers finally stopped moving, she looked quietly at Jed. 'I'll be back soon surr,' the burner spoke quietly, 'me eldest is 'bout the same size, I'll borror missy 'ere some clothes afore she catches 'er death.' Quickly he opened the door and went out leaving Jed alone with his silver girl.

'Your name is Lemba?' Jed spoke hesitantly. Lemba nodded her head, her drying hair beginning to fly with the friction from the rough wool of the hooded cloak. The warm sun crept into the small space through the tiny window and lit up the wayward hair like a halo, Jed thought he had never seen anything more beautiful and embarrassed to be caught staring yet again, he touched his stone and began to talk of himself.

'My name is Jedadiah' he began... 'though most folk call me Jed...' he went on to tell her of his life at the barracks, of his home village of Green Home, of his ma and pa, he talked of Gideon and his twin Mayan and the vast forest he loved so much. He told stories of when he was a child and she smiled at them encouraging him to go on. He showed her his scar from when he and Gideon had become blood brothers and finally he explained the stone that now hung on the green thong Lemba herself had given him.

It seemed no time at all before the charcoal burner was back with some clothes and his wife, a rotund woman not much taller than a twelve-year-old but with a bright-determined face and a steaming jug of hot soup.

'Lemba dearie,' she cooed as she passed the jug to the girl and shoed the men out of the shed.

'Who beat 'er?' Jed was finally able to ask passionately, his anger held tightly in sway. He stared at the cold clear river water his joy of its beauty gone. "Ow did she get in the water?' He added turning to the obviously uncomfortable charcoal burner.

'She swims Surr,' was the reply, 'she swims, every morning, she said, Hackman, the keeper, finally found out where and tried to take 'er, there on the bank, Lemba stayed in the water and refused to come out, the keeper don't swim 'iself so 'e upped an' went with 'er clothes.'

Who beat 'er?' Jed asked quietly, the charcoal burner looked away and did not answer. 'Who. Beat. Her?' Jed asked again slowly.

'Well now lad, you'll 'ave ter be asking 'er that,' he said as his wife poked her head around the shed door.

'Young surr,' she called, 'Lemba would like ter talk ter yer...'

Jed walked back into the shed to find Lemba sitting dressed in a simple gown of rough wool, cinched in at the waist with a tie. His socks were still on her feet and his cloak hung to dry before a small fire, she gestured to a bench smiling shyly.

'First lad, let me explain,' began the older woman, 'Lemba can't talk since...,' Lemba clapped her hands to attract attention, her fingers flashing furiously. The old woman smiled, 'Lemba can't talk,' she began again, 'er fingers do 'er talking fer 'er, she wants yer ter know she's grateful fer yer 'elp and would prob'ly 'ave died 'o the cold 'ad yer not 'ad yer big cloak.' Jed looked at the girl looking so young and vulnerable.

"Who beat yer, Lemba?' He asked, Lemba's face fell, 'was it Hackman, the fat man I passed on the towpath?' He asked abruptly. 'I can't abide bullies, I won't let 'im beat yer again,' he said fiercely as Lemba shook her head. Her fingers flashed once more and Jed looked expectantly at the old woman, who frowned at the girl in reply.

'She says ter tell yer she's a maid in the castle, and is a trifle clumsy, always fallin' into things.' Lemba cringed inwardly, knowing how lame her excuses sounded but too ashamed to tell the truth, the reality was so, so much worse. He was such a nice boy, she would think of him carrying her like a much-loved child forever. She was frightened for him too, by the intensity in his eyes, she instinctively knew he liked her but knew Gath would never let her go. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and flashed her fingers at the woman.

'She asks that yer escort 'er back to the midden and she'll find 'er own way from there and may she borrow yer cloak,' the woman smiled as she interpreted Lemba's flashing fingers. Jed at once stood up and held out the now dry cloak, he wanted to protest at the curt dismissal but Lemba had turned her back to him to hug the older woman. Removing the woolly socks from her feet, she put on a simple pair of leather moccasins offered by the woman and kissed her on the cheek, then pulling the hood low over her head; she opened the door of the shed and walked out.

Jed held the girl protectively by the elbow as they walked away from the hut and he turned to smile a warm goodbye at the couple before turning toward the castle. As he walked, he wished he could have asked them for more information about Lemba but he had the feeling they would protect her secrets and he knew she had them, she reminded him too much of Mayan when she had something to hide.

Despite walking as slowly as he could, Jed found they arrived at the midden far too soon, Lemba halted beside the steaming pile and pausing to look up at the young man, mouthed, 'thank you' and pulled him down to kiss his cheek.

'Can I see yer agen?' Jed asked her softly, clasping her hand into his and raising it to his lips. Tears of joy sprang into her eyes even as she shook her head, no.

'I'm sorry,' she mouthed, hoping he understood and pulling the hood down further over her face, she turned and ran off, not looking back.

Jed stared at the path she had taken for a long time before turning himself and heading back the way he had come. Next time he saw her he wanted to be able to understand what she said with her flashing fingers and knew the people who could teach him. _Learn the talk 'n' then find the girl,_ he thought.

He had a personal campaign to run now, he needed information and he knew just where he would find it.

### Chapter 21

The Bull and Anchor

Jed re-entered the Dog's Neck quietly; he had not slept for nearly twenty-four hours and was exhausted, he saw Jinks clearing the dead fire and was reminded once more of himself as a boy.

'Jinks lad,' he called to the boy, 'is it too early ter 'ave a meal?' He grinned at the boy covered from head to toe in ash as he negotiated his passage between the tables.

'Fer friends of royalty..., I'm sure me ma'll have something in a jiff,' Jinks grinned back and for a moment, Jed was confused.

'Oh yer talkin' about what Toby was sayin'...,' Jed replied laughing, 'me friend Gideon, is no more royalty than me or Toby, an' well, we all come from the same village ser no, Gideon isn't royalty but iffen it means I get some food quicker I'll call him the king 'imself.' He grinned again as Jinks ran off in the direction of the kitchen.

A short while later a slightly cleaner Jinks, though his hair was still white with ash, returned with a hot plate of mutton, a small loaf of bread and a jug of ale.

'Sit a while with me Jinks will yer?' Jed asked as the boy turned to go, Jinks tugged his dusty forelock grinning.

'Milord,' he said feigning a bow and sitting down next to the young soldier. Jed tore off a chunk of the warm bread and soaked up some of the shining dark gravy.

'Where would I find the dungeon keeper, a Mr 'ackman?' Jed asked, putting the sopping bread into his mouth. Not having eaten for a while, his taste buds began singing the praises of the succulent meaty gravy and he paused to wipe his dripping chin on a clean ivory napkin.

"E ain't a nice cove,' Jinks replied, 'me ma won't 'ave 'im set foot in the 'ouse,' he added the grin disappearing from his face. 'Don't yer go messin' with 'im Mr Jed.'

'I 'ave no mind ter,' said Jed between mouthfuls of the succulent mutton, 'but I 'ave ter find a friend an' I 'ere 'es the person who'll know where ter look.' He finished as Jinks stared around the room as if thinking.

"E drinks in the Bull and Anchor, down by the docks,' he said finally, 'mostly 'es there after dark, though tis not a nice place and it takes a bit o' finding,' he added as Maudie, the boy's mother and the innkeeper's wife called him away. Jinks smiled weakly at Jed as he scraped back his chair and walked across the nearly empty tavern toward the woman who so reminded Jed of his own mother, she smiled at Jed as he took another mouthful. He could hear her berating the young boy for disturbing customers and smiled wryly as Maudie gave Jinks a cuff round the ear sending clouds of ash from her son's hair billowing into the room. Jed's smile broadened; he would have loved to know how a boy as young as Jinks appeared to be, knew so much gossip about Devilly and its people.

Finishing his meal he moved toward the recently set fire and sat on a large brown leather chair, it was old and worn but from experience, he knew it was comfortable. With his belly now full, he began to relax and although the fire was not alight, the bricks had retained a little heat from its last blaze, so before long Jed was sound asleep.

The sun continued to rise in the sky and the inn filled with regulars asking for a jug or a plate of whatever delights Maudie had on offer for lunch as Jed slept on, unaware of the activity around him. Finally, as he woke, Jinks was beside him with both ale and another bowl of the fine mutton stew.

'Me ma Mr Jed, she says yer ter eat agen afore yer go out as the food at the Bull will make yer sick like as not.' Jed smiled his thanks and accepted the food gratefully.

'Thanks Jinks,' he said his throat rasping from sleep, 'tell Maudie she's still me favourite girl,' he added as Jinks walked away.

'Jus' be careful, Mr Jed, tis all I say...,' the boy added soberly as he twisted to avoid a collision with the red headed waitress carrying more steaming bowls across the room. Was it only last night Jed had seen Toby chatting to her, so much for him had changed since then, now he had a purpose in life and that purpose had a name, it was Lemba, so finishing his meal he said goodbye to the boy and grinning at a frowning Maudie, he left the inn.

Despite the warmth of the sun, Jed could feel a chill breeze coming off the river as he walked down the towpath toward the docks. Through the town, the river seemed if possible even more sluggish and brown, he tried but could see no real signs of life in the water, there was an unhealthy sheen to it and Jed was pleased he did not have to walk this way too often. On the banks though there was a different story altogether, reeds grew in abundance and here and there, Jed could see a lone bulrush trying to gain a position amongst the choking weeds. As he drew nearer to the docks themselves, the river widened as the banks built up, on one side, marshland had been cleared and drained to make way for dry docks and warehouses and the river itself dredged, making berth easier for deeper hulled ships.

The waterways of Derova were famous worldwide for ease of use and accessibility and Devilly Docks were at the hub of the kingdom, as well as a central point of contact for many nations. The Derva and her tributaries spread like veins throughout both Derova and her neighbouring kingdoms, keeping every area fed and informed before travelling on and at last meeting the vast ocean. Lifelines of the world his father called the rivers and Jed, after seeing the amount of traffic and the different countries served by them could not argue. It gave him comfort to know if he travelled the waters for long enough and had the right maps, he could soon be home.

A low-hulled barge slipped its mooring as Jed passed, he could see the cargo of barrels piled high atop its decks, each barrel bore the sign of a corn sheaf and Jed smiled, recognising a brand of ale his father sold in the Green Home Inn. _Perhaps they be goin' to me Da,_ he thought as he stood and watched an old boatman standing at the aft, pulling the wet and heavy mooring rope back aboard the top heavy barge as if it were string, slowly the barge manoeuvred through a full turn and begin its way up water.

As he crossed the lively dockyard, Jed searched for signs of the Bull and Anchor. About him the noise seemed endless, from the wet splash of the wash from passing ships slapping against hulls of vessels already docked, to gulls screeching after food, diving and circling and ready to dive again as yet more ships cleaned their tanks and emptied garbage straight into the already dirty water. He saw huge clanking cranes lifting pallets of bellowing cows from the hold of one ship whilst men painstakingly lifted sacks of corn by hand from the next, with the boatmen sweating and swearing at the strain. Gath's taxmen on the shore rushed about with their ledgers and books attempting to keep a tally of who was selling what to whom, while ships captains supervised the off-loading of their goods and its transport to the many enormous warehouses for sale or storage.

Although amused by the hustle and bustle of the life around him Jed was becoming frustrated in his search as he continued to walk along the wharf toward the markets. All varieties of goods were sold here for both domestic and trade customers, _mayhap it'll be up 'ere somewhere..._ he thought as he continued to scan for the Inn.

He saw stands offering samples from import warehouses knowing some of these brick and wood built buildings were as old as the town and occupied almost as much land as Devilly Castle itself and he shook his head at the enormity of the area knowing it was still growing. He passed the fish stalls of Lurbner, a neighbouring country that also bordered the sea and could not resist a quick peek at the strange exotic fish of all colours kept in barrels of ice to keep them fresh. Never having seen the sea before arriving in Devilly, the different types of fish were a fascination to him; his knowledge of fish up until now had been the silver trout and small dark guppies he had caught as a child in the river Beaut back home. He smiled at a huge red coloured fish with large whiskers, thinking of the small catfish he had been so proud of the last time he had fished with Gideon.

A small man carrying a large sack knocked against him as he hurried by disturbing Jed's memories. He was amused to see the sack had split and was leaving a trail of multi coloured seeds, both trailing down the poor carriers neck and behind him on the ground, birds were gobbling up the fallen seed oblivious to the size of the people walking around them. It reminded Jed of a fairy story his mother had told them all as children. He moved on, closer to the top end of the market and nearer to the more genteel houses and homes _. I'll get ter the topof the 'ill an' turn back, I mus' 'ave missed it!_ He thought, feeling Jinks was right, the Bull and Anchor, was hard to find.

A colourful fabric stall caught his eye as he quickened his pace, _May would love to look through these_ , Jed thought absently as he passed by the first of many stalls filled with bolts of beautiful silks and cottons, every colour and hue imaginable displayed proudly.

Florists' stalls offered their wares to highly paid servants who fussed and picked through the best colourful blooms and Jed stopped briefly to watch the haggling between two matrons and a vendor, whose flowers, one or two of which he recognised, were particularly beautiful, each woman was obviously trying to procure the best blooms for her own respective house. He smiled, table decoration was something Jed knew little about, he thought of Apple, his mother, spending time arranging flowers in a vase making sure each bloom was sitting 'just so' before adding the next.

'Pride of place on any noble's table,' he heard the seller say as he closed the deal with a smug looking woman, she smiled and dipped her hand into an overly large bag. Coins clinked as she dropped them into the vendor's palm. The second woman looked thoroughly vexed as she gathered her skirts about her threw her nose in the air and sniffing loudly, stomped off. Jed laughed out loud causing the birds gathering crumbs from the ground beside him to take to the air with a noisy flurry of wings.

At the top of a small rough square with the towns more stately homes before him and the markets many stalls set out below he sighed, _there's no way an inn with the reputation the Bull 'as is gonna be in this neighbour'ood!_ The thought depressed him; he stared back the way he had come noticing a second side to the market not seen from the dockside. Quickening his pace, he walked back down toward the docks. _I might not 'ave seen it, but surely I should 'ave smelt it!_ He mused as he passed through the towns famous spice market.

The spice market set to one side across the square held stalls as easily as pungent as the fish or flower stalls had been, the colours were as vivid and exciting but the smells were more overpowering, leaving Jed feeling quite light headed. What with the variety of goods on offer, buyers and sellers shouting the odds, goods and chattels moving from pillar to post and the dozens of different languages, most of which he couldn't identify, Jed felt as if he were in a different world and one a million miles away from the weekly market in Green Home.

'Jed, Jed, what yer doin' down 'ere?' He heard as a voice called to him from the back of one of the spice stalls, Jed turned, seeing Toby hand the vendor some money before stuffing a small brown bag of something into his pocket. Briefly, Jed wondered what was in the bag.

'Toby,' he said, dismissing the bag from his mind, hoping he would know where the elusive inn was. 'I fort yer would be 'oled up with some pretty barmaid by now or at least sleepin' it off back at the barracks.' Jed replied, smiling.

'Rosie, the redhead from the 'Dog...' yer remember..., well, turns out she 'as a sweet'eart an' ain't innerested, so's I figured I'd come lookin' down 'ere, anyfing can be purchased at the docks iffen yer know the right people,' Toby said with a wink, patting his pocket and the hidden bag of herbs. 'An' I know the right people, fact is I'm 'gonna see anovver of 'em now,' he added, taking Jed's arm and propelling him down an alley leading back to the water's edge.

After the bright glare of the afternoon sunshine outside, the low ceilings and dark corners of the Bull and Anchor were drab and dismal.

'It's no' a grand place but yer can always get what yer want 'ere.' Toby reiterated as he sat himself down next to his friend, placed a mug of ale in front of him and swatted at a fly sitting in a puddle of spilt ale. The fly promptly took off and buzzed Toby angrily before joining the hoards of other fat flies careering madly around the room. Jed wondered absently how they managed to avoid colliding with one another.

'Free ale man, from a patic'la friend of mine.' Toby smiled, his black scar pulling his face into an ugly leer as he raised his mug in the direction of a well-dressed, scowling individual seated at the small bar. Jed grinned at his friend.

'D'yer always know where ter get what yer want Toby?' He asked.

'Yer don't think I aim ter be stayin' a soldier all me life, do yer?' Toby replied, adding, 'I 'ave plans, big plans, yer can be part of 'em iffen yer like... It's not who yer know, it's what, and... _Who_ you can sell _what_ too, iffen yer take me meaning...' he said, slyly winking once more.

'Sounds like blackmail ter me, I will drink with yer but I'll stay a king's man too, iffen _you_ don't mind.' Jed laughed to take the sting from his voice. His laughter trailed away as he watched the fat dungeon keeper walk through the door and into the room, it seemed to Jed the room suddenly held more flies than before.

'Toby,' yelled Hackman from across the room, 'this un 'ere be a really useful cove Jed lad,' Toby said quietly, 'fer me new line o' work I mean,' he added, as he stood to greet Hackman. Jed for once did not say a word; he just could not believe his luck.

As the afternoon wore on Hackman consumed more and more ale, the three sang, played cards and drank like old friends. Jed was very careful not to drink too much and to seem to be enjoying the company; he had to find a way to introduce Lemba into the conversation and was becoming increasingly frustrated at his own ineptitude. Jed fetched some more ale as Toby and Hackman discussed the qualities of the local barmaids, remembering to buy the scowling individual at the bar an ale in return for the earlier one.

'You seem like a nice young man,' the fellow said as he bowed politely, 'if I was you I would choose my friends more carefully,' he added, before he thanked Jed for the drink and walked away leaving Jed quite bemused _. I wonder 'ow Toby knows 'im,_ he wondered, and dismissed the thought, as yet another loud bellow of laughter came from Toby's table.

'Married... me...,' Hackman guffawed drunkenly; business had finished within minutes of the meeting starting, leaving them all free to enjoy the remainder of the day. 'Ner, not me, no time fer noisy womenfolk always bossing and fussing, I got me a girl lined up fer me retirement though,' he hiccupped then and with a sly wink added, 'a nice quiet one, pretty as a picture too an' I know she'll be very accomodatin' once I'm finished with 'er.'

He shifted on his stool and scratched at his crotch, turning with a knowing grin and displaying his rotten teeth to Jed in the process. Jed, leaning forward to place the jug on the table almost retched as the foul breath washed over him reminding him of the pigpens back home, he staggered back and sat down coughing, to rid his lungs of the stink. Toby grinned, assuming Jed had had too much to drink and slapping his friend on the back laughed as Jed once more sipped his ale and smiled weakly, immediately sorry for the poor woman doomed to be Hackman's life mate, whoever she was.

Toby returned to his conversation. 'Sounds ter me like a virtual paragon, willin', pretty an' silent,' he said saluting Hackman with his tankard. Ale slopped onto the table as he raised his mug once more, 'well, what I wanna know is... where d'yer get 'er an' does she 'ave a couple o' sisters?' Laughing aloud at his own joke, he looked toward his friend. "Ere Jed, what we could do with one 'o them then eh?' Again, he laughed only this time he rubbed his crotch meaningfully as he did so.

'The King 'isself, 'e give 'er ter me so 'e did,' began Hackman again laughing loudly, 'I'm ter be the next owner 'o the kings 'ore..., already seed 'er wares too, an' 'ad a taste, if yer get me meaning,' he continued still laughing. He leaned forward to give emphasis to each word as he added, 'she has skin white as milk from me mothers tit, an' eyes as green as the sea, an 'er 'air looks like water fallin' down 'er back, ...I touched 'er too, yer know, darn there, before Gath even 'ad 'er.'

He lowered his voice to a whisper, his audience suddenly rapt. Jed's stomach clenched almost knowing without asking, Hackman was talking of Lemba, of _his_ Lemba.

'Come on man, don't stop now...,' Toby leered, lust written all over his face.

'She was tied up she was an' 'angin' from an 'ook by 'er 'ands, naked too! So beautiful, yer know I can see 'er even now, I 'ad ter 'old 'er still while 'e, Gath, 'ad me 'elp pull out 'er tongue an' I 'ad ter care fer 'er in me rooms, until she stopped bleedin' anyway...' Hackman's eyes glazed over slightly and ale dripped from his slack mouth, as he again saw his vision of loveliness naked and shivering under a rough blanket in one of his cells.

'I would 'ave 'ad 'er then,' he said wistfully, still drooling and almost lost in his memories, he was plainly very drunk. 'Only Gath would 'ave killed me, she is 'is see, 'is...' he continued almost to himself, 'but she will be mine, 'e promised, one day she'll be mine.'

'What...,' Jed cleared his throat, 'what's her name?' He asked quietly but intensely.

"Er name, 'er name be Lemba,' Hackman whispered, as finally the drink took hold and he slumped onto the table amongst the spilt ale and dead flies. 'Beautiful little Lemba...' he added as he lost consciousness.

'Man, I need a woman...' said Toby as he absently adjusted his uncomfortable groin, obviously aroused.

'C'mon Jed, I'll introduce yer ter the finest 'ore 'ouse in Devilly, yer comin?' He added as he stood and rubbed his crotch again. Jed watched Toby; he felt sick to the stomach and wished he had never agreed to mentor the younger man.

'Ner, I gotta be getting' back,' Jed lied, 'I'm on a duty afore the night ends,' he added as he stood and pushed back his stool.

'Well man, we'd better be gettin' 'ackman back first then I s'pose,' moaned Toby taking one of Hackman's arms and gesturing to Jed to take the other.

In a daze, Jed staggered back to the castle dragging and stumbling with a now semi-conscious Hackman whose efforts to help himself were more of a hindrance to the two younger men. The sky was darkening promising rain as they deposited Hackman with the dungeon guards and even Toby's ardour had cooled.

'What did yer think o' Hackman's tale then Jed?' Toby asked, pulling up his collar to guard from the cold wind that had suddenly sprung up as they walked back toward the barracks, 'I'm thinkin' there's coin ter be made there somewhere...' he added with the wink Jed had seen before, Jed walked on in silence.

Thunder suddenly boomed across the evening sky as unexpectedly, the heavens opened and heavy rain began to fall, soaking the pair to their skins. Toby pulled his coat tighter and hurried on, head bowed. Jed, in complete contrast looked toward the sky welcoming the lashing raindrops that were washing the silent salty tears from his face.

### Chapter 22

### The Lovers Revealed

Gath surveyed the Pledging Hall, unseen by the people inside; they had been arriving and presenting themselves for his bounty in dribs and drabs all day, offering their names and occupations to the guards at the castle gates before gaining help, food and shelter. Although Gath's reputation was that of a kind and generous king, for most of his subjects, pledging themselves to his bounty was a step taken when no other solution to personal or financial trouble was available. Now, as the evening meal was finishing it was time for Gath to make his appearance, twice a year he allowed his castle opened in this way knowing his people loved him for his help to the destitute and the poor of Derova. Standing in one of the hidden passageways that filled the castle walls like veins, he watched the people as they nervously milled about the room returning platters and goblets to a vast central table.

Jed had helped at this ceremony twice now and the idea that his king could be generous as well as cruel often disturbed him greatly, he knew the sort of lives these people would now live. _'E'll be 'ere somewhere, jus' lookin',_ he thought as he stared at the walls.

The object of his thoughts was indeed close by, watching and unseen. _One or two possible,_ Gath mused, catching sight of a handsome young boy or a pretty girl. He had been thinking for months that Lemba was getting a little old and had taken matters into his own hands to find himself a replacement. He thought of Lemba when he had first seen her, a young and innocent child. She, with her sister had accompanied their mother, the housekeeper as she had been about her duties, airing rooms and changing beds. Small and pale with impossibly long silver-blonde hair, her laugh had captivated him from the first. The sun had been behind her as he had walked into the room and for a moment, he had thought her his own beloved daughter.

'Lydia,' he had said.

'No my lord, my name is Lemba,' she had replied not realising she was speaking to the king.

'Lemba,' the housekeeper had hissed and turning, Lemba had noticed both the housekeeper and her sister on their knees. In a fluster, Lemba dropped the clean linens she was carrying and had fallen to her own knees in confusion.

'Oops,' she said, making her stepsister Dotty, stifle a giggle and her mother hiss once more as Gath burst into genuine laughter.

He had made it his business to find out about her and, as Lemba turned sixteen, he made her his body slave. He had enjoyed teaching her her duties too, how to please and delight him using her own beautiful and lithe body, at first she fought him but she soon learnt to comply. The removal of her tongue had become essential after her nervous laughter at his flaccidity, not just to teach her a lesson but also to stop her speaking of his failure as a man below stairs, strangely, he found he liked having a silent partner who pandered to his every desire. _Yes, I prefer them quiet...,_ he thought, knowing he enjoyed not having to hear the crying and pleading, which did nothing for him at all. At their last encounter, Lemba had broken a wrist and had not made a sound; it had been most gratifying, though lately his pleasure in her was waning. Her forever-sad face and condemning eyes haunted him, he would like to poke them out too, _but then, she would be ugly and Bastian wouldn't want her either, he thought._ _Ah, Bastian, sweet young Bastian..._ his musings continued. Bastian did seem to like Lemba and he did perform well, especially when she was around, Gath rubbed at his crotch and wished for an erection. _I am getting old._ The thought came unbidden; he looked at his hands again seeing, the spreading brown liver spots and the swollen knuckles. Closing the peephole he walked quietly back to the entrance of the passageway and out onto one of the main thoroughfares.

With elaborate pomp and ceremony, a guard dressed in resplendent red and gold livery pushed open the large hall doors and announced the king. Thunder boomed across the sky rattling the glass windows. Gath smiled. The weather announces me, he thought as he walked into the now silent room filled with people bowing or curtseying, the only sound was the odd wail of an infant and his own cane tapping out his slow measured steps in time with the rain.

'Welcome,' he said, 'welcome, I hope that through our bounty you will eventually be able to enjoy full and satisfying lives by repaying your debts and become free men once again.'

A weak cheer rewarded him as all present praised their lord and master, their faces turned as one to meet his smiling face. He kept his anger at their ineptitude in maintaining fruitful lives hidden; _they would starve if not for me!_ He thought, arrogantly looking around him and feeling their reluctant gratitude, after _all, I didn't make them debtors_ ...

Families of all shapes and sizes from across Derova were in the hall, men and women who, for one reason or another were in financial trouble and unable to pay their debts, Gath welcomed them all and offered them bounty until their debts were marked 'paid in full!' _These foolish peasants love me for my generosity,_ he smirked, his expression hidden by a handkerchief, _I give them home and shelter when their own can no longer support them,_ his thought's continued as he walked around the room receiving their hands and rough curtseys in thanks. _These people,'_ he thought, _they just don't realise they will never be free again; their service to me will never end!_

The 'Pledging Ceremony' itself was, at first, a project of Queen Lena, his last wife, during her pregnancy she had despaired at the number of people who, like her had become destitute through no fault of their own. Gath, ever mindful of her condition, believed her pregnancy would suffer at her continual concern and suggested the ritual as a way to alleviate her worries but in addition had been surprised at the income generated by the additional workforce. After Lena's death the reason for his benevolence was no longer necessary. The people still believed in their king's compassion but the unlucky and impoverished people who choose his 'Bounty' would work his farms and lands so his coffers would reap the reward and they would never earn enough to pay their debt and be freemen again. He smiled knowing that if he chose one or two of these men or women to work in the palace, their families would consider it an honour and if one or two then went on to became body-slaves, _well; their families would be well rewarded._ _Rhoàld would see to that,_ he thought. _He makes sure I work hard at keeping the goodwill of the people._ He sniffed in derision.

Along with Lemba, Rhoàld had also been annoying him of late, pestering him with this problem or with that oversight and always hovering as if he had something to say and not quite getting around to saying it. To avoid the problem he had avoided Rhoàld _. I suppose I will have to speak to him soon,_ he thought as he continued to walk around the room.

He looked at the many children clinging to their parents in wonder and fear and his anger mounted. _Why do they continue to have children when they are so poor?_ He wondered, as one of the many men with children at his knees smiled gratefully at him. _He knows!_ Gath thought, mistaking the smile as a sneer, _he knows my seed is dead; he knows I can't even get an erection!_ In his mind the smile became mockery and his anger grew.

His skin suddenly started to itch; he stared around him knowing that somewhere here was a person with the blood. He continued to smile wondering why now he was at last beginning to feel again. A gentle wave probed his mind and recoiled in haste. Again, he looked around, still holding his smile and trying desperately to trace the probe back to its source, the itching suddenly stopped and the feeling was gone, once again, Gath was reminded of his own ineptitude with magic and his fury became absolute, a commoner indebted to him had more control over the magic than he did. Lemba's laughter at his flaccidity echoed in his mind and his penis unexpectedly engorged painfully. Although delighted, he wondered absently what had caused the erection, just as he once again felt the tingle of his skin and knew that someone was trying to read him using the blood. His anger mounted and the blood pounded in his veins as his manhood throbbed. _I'm angry! I have to be angry,_ he thought _, I was angry at Rhoàld, the last time I was hard..., it had been the man from the bleak, I was angry at the man from the bleak! Is this my cure then, anger...?'_ He patted a small child on the head and smiled at the tall blonde boy standing protectively near her, his mind carefully mulling over his revelation.

'What is your name and how old are you young man?' He asked as he stared at the boy's enormous blue eyes.

'Please me lord,' said the boy, 'me name is Darnel an' I be eighteen next summer.'

'Where are your family?' Gath asked, as he walked around the young man gazing up and down as if the boy were a work of art and liking him more and more.

'Me fam'ly is dead surr, ceptin' me an' me sister 'ere, we be 'ere on yer bounty as me pa died in debt.' he replied.

'I hope I will always be of help to my people.' Gath sighed and stroked the boy's cheek as if he were a benevolent father. The boy smiled gratefully as Gath signalled a clerk; he thought again of Lemba _, was this her replacement?_ Thinking of the bodyslave made him smile sadly, he thought again about their last encounter, she had forced him to strike her hard across the face causing her to fall and break her wrist. He had never hit her in anger before, his marks were always of love, but last night she had annoyed him, he shook his head to clear thoughts of her from his mind.

For a while longer he continued walking around the room listening to the peoples grateful thanks until finally, as soon as he was able, he blessed the new workers endeavours to rapturous applause. At last he made his escape taking a short cut through the servants quarters back to his rooms and to a waiting Bastian, the new boy looked promising and he knew he would find a new female playmate soon. Lemba, he would leave with her new owner, a man he knew who was very anxious to know her more intimately.

As he neared his chamber, he overheard voices coming from his private suite and he slowed wondering who was visiting him without an appointment as far as he knew he had no other appointments this day. Rhoàld would have informed me, unless this is an oversight too, he thought.

'I do need to see Gath, but no matter I shall return again in the morning.' He heard, Rhoàld's voice, thought Gath, _what by the journey does he want now_? He mused, rubbing his painful manhood and anxious to see his bodyslaves.

'And there was me thinking you needed only me,' a second voice replied sexily. Gath stopped in his tracks unable to believe what he had heard. Standing outside the door, he listened quietly.

'You know how I feel about you Bastian but this is really important, I've been trying to see Gath for weeks.' Rhoàld was saying.

'I thought I was the only important thing in your life,' Bastian replied, again in an overtly familiar way as he continued playfully. 'I was important enough for you last night my love...,' the voices stopped and Gath heard sounds of movement. Deciding he had heard enough he backed off a little and tapping his cane loudly, he made small noises trying to alert the two men to his presence. He absently noted his manhood was as hard and as solid as it had ever been. _I have definitely found my cure,_ he thought, and their punishment will be long, slow... and enjoyable.

Pushing the door open and walking into the room, he found only Rhoàld.

'My lord, I have been waiting for you, there has been a discovery in...,' Gath did not allow Rhoàld to finish.

'I trust you have been entertained whilst I was away my friend,' he said pushing the door to his private bedchamber open. Bastian was naked and lying on his bed smiling nervously, the robe he had been wearing slipped slowly off the bed to the floor as he watched. The sight of the creamy white flesh set his manhood twitching.

'My lord,' began Rhoàld as he suddenly became frightened for his friend. 'My Lord,' he called, louder this time. Gath turned back to face Rhoàld, the irritation apparent on his face, 'my lord the man from the bleak...' Rhoàld tried again before Gath could speak out in anger.

'Yes, yes, so you say, he's dead ...it's no longer important,' Gath added quietly, still thinking of his cure, 'go away Rhoàld, come back later.' The king almost snarled as Bastian's face paled with fear. Gath was incensed but he realised that the anger against his servants could be useful for him, from what he had overheard, Rhoàld and Bastian were illicit lovers.

'Sire...please..., Rhoàld said in great agitation, 'I've been trying to tell you for days...the cell...,' he stepped into the royal bed chamber and Bastian gasped at his audacity. Rhoàld pointed up to the strange hanging over the bed. The framed tattoo Gath had so painstakingly removed from the creature's back so long ago, the tattoo that had intrigued him so.

'What are you talking about man?' Gath asked, his voice lowering icily. Rhoàld could feel the cold sweat running down his spine; he had been with the king a long time and could see Gath was immensely displeased.

'Sire,' Rhoàld continued, his voice trembling, 'please accompany me to the dungeon, to the man's cell; there is something you need to see...' He finished on a whisper and quietly began to back out of the room almost feeling the king's anger as a physical thing.

For the sake of his anger, Gath had been prepared to overlook Bastian's treachery but now he felt Journey's will and Rhoàld's persistence had decided against it _, the dungeons,_ Gath thought _, what fun, yes, far better this way._

'Very well Rhoàld,' he replied, 'lead the way.' Turning back to Bastian he smiled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. 'Bastian my dear,' he said, 'please accompany us,' he watched as Bastian climbed off the bed and reached for his clothing. 'Don't bother to dress... 'My love...' Gath added, pointing at the sheer translucent robe on the floor and enjoying the sudden fear in Bastian's eyes as he quoted him.

The king followed Rhoàld down the familiar paths and corridors toward the dungeons, 'this had better be good Rhoàld,' he grumbled looking back at the shivering body of Bastian clad only in the silken robe he had taken from the floor.

'Yes, Sire' was all that Rhoàld could say, his mind in turmoil, _I think he knows...,_ he thought, _why else bring Bastian along._ He tried not to notice the servants peeping at the strange cortège as it passed by, knowing how odd they looked, the king's minister, the king himself and his almost naked bedmate. _May the journey be kind to us,_ he thought as he caught a glimpse of Bastian in a mirror, seemingly segmented by the smears of a cleaner pushing a cloth against the glass, his own still bandaged hand similarly segmented. _A bad omen_ , Rhoàld thought hurrying along in time to the tapping of his master's cane.

As they passed into the dungeons, Gath took a solid deep breath. He loved the reek of fear and death this place gave off, he well remembered painstakingly excavating each and every tunnel and the blood, mixed in the mortar that bound and secured each wall. He smiled coldly _, the fun I have had down here over the centuries..._ he thought as he looked at Rhoàld's back as he led the way _. I will have fun with you too, my treacherous friend,_ he thought, _before today is out we will have some fun together._

Rhoàld could feel Gath's eyes boring into his back _. I should have just cleaned the cell,_ he thought. _I should never have gone to the king._

Eventually, Rhoàld stopped outside the small room used by Hackman as a home, the smell, that had plagued him until now on every visit was lost to his senses as his fear grew. For once, apart from the guard on duty at the door the cell seemed empty, a sickly yellow glow from a small candle on the table the only illumination. Gath stood behind Rhoàld as he walked into the room to retrieve the key of the prisoner's cell, knowing which one to take from his observation of Hackman on his earlier visits, it hung on a board on the far wall amongst a collection of other equally well-used keys. A scuttling at his feet caused him to look down to the floor where a large rat sat quietly, oblivious to the incursion of humans into its domain, absently Rhoàld wondered if it was the same rat he'd witnessed nibbling at the dungeon boy's feet.

'What's goin' on 'ere?' A slurred voice asked from a bed in the corner, Hackman was annoyed at being woken up, having spent a pleasurable late afternoon, drinking at a local inn with a friend before spending time instructing his apprentice in the ways to please him and imagining little Lemba in the boy's stead which made the encounter even more enjoyable. 'Who dares to disturb me, s'pecially in me own bed?' The fat man asked, sitting up and belching loudly.

Silence answered, until... 'Your bed, in my dungeon Hackman...' Gath replied quietly, his voice full of ice.

'Milord...,' Hackman began, finally realising just who his illustrious visitors were and attempting to get out of the bed. In his haste, his feet tangled in the filthy blankets and he fell, virtually prostrating himself before the king in his dirty stained underclothes, the tinkle of smashing glass accompanied the fall and the warm stale smell of the sweat rose from his body.

'Your bed companion these days is a bottle I see...,' said Gath as he looked at the dirty dishevelled man sprawled on the floor at his feet. Rhoàld noticed the small apprentice as he poked his head out from the remaining bedclothes and watched his master sleepily as he fell.

'Sire...,' Hackman said, turning to glare at the boy who was stifling a laugh. 'We've not seed you down 'ere fer a long time... if I knew you were cumin'...,' he began as he scrambled to his feet and began pulling dirty breeches over the dishevelled undergarments. He suddenly caught sight of the semi-naked Bastian and slowed, his eyes devouring the sight of so much clean, white skin. Gath smiled, recognising the lustful look and Bastian himself, also seeing the look recoiled in horror. Gath smiled again as the germ of an idea became solid, a fitting punishment for his former bodyslave.

'Bastian, my dear,' he said, 'may I present you to your new owner, to do with as he pleases..., he'll feed and clothe you from now on and, fulfil _all_ your needs.' He finished, enjoying the shocked and frightened look on both Bastian and Rhoàld's faces.

'Sire,' Bastian asked quietly in supplication, 'I would rather die than leave your side..., do... do I no longer please you...?' He added as the fat keeper began to wring his hands together in appreciation of the gift, his mind in a whirl over his good fortune. Rhoàld choked back the tears forming in his throat, his gaze moving from Bastian to the evil smelling and fat Hackman. Gath's gaze turned with menace to Bastian.

'I can arrange for that too,' Gath answered, smiling coldly. 'Kill him when you have finished with him,' he directed at the surprised Hackman, Rhoàld choked back a sob as his king looked at him; he covered the sob quickly with a cough.

'The cell, lead us to the cell,' Rhoàld wanted this over and done with and he was as scared as he had ever been. _I'm definitely getting away from here if I survive this_ , he thought. _'By the Journey', I've had enough, I'll rescue Bastian and we'll get away._

Under his king's gaze, Hackman quickly removed the silk robe from Bastian's body instructing the now naked man to sit on the dishevelled bed and taking a moment to run his hands eagerly over Bastian's lower legs as he shackled his feet he quickly, folded the robe and passed it back to the king.

'This be too good fer the likes of a slave, sire,' he said.

'Sire...,' Bastian pleaded again, as the king walked out of the room followed by Rhoàld. Gath held the warm silk to his face smelling Bastian's odour, remembering, and he looked at Rhoàld with anger as they waited for a jubilant Hackman to lead the way. The young boy apprentice hurried along behind, leaving a bemused guard bringing up the rear.

At the cell door Hackman roughly kicked the guard assigned to watch the now empty chamber, he had fallen asleep sitting on the floor outside the locked door.

'At attention man,' he hissed indicating with his head the remainder of the party, the bored guard shocked from a dreamless sleep quickly stood and snapped to attention, holding his swinging lantern high. Hackman turned the key in the lock and stepped back as Gath took the lighted lantern from the startled guard and Rhoàld reached up to take a candle from the wall sconce. "Ere, milord...' Hackman said respectfully, before fumbling about in his raiment and pulling out a second then a third candle causing Rhoàld to wonder just where he had concealed them. Taking one, he again reached up and lit it, its sickly yellow flame adding nothing to the badly lit tunnel. Pushing the door wide and shielding his candle from the draft, Rhoàld walked before the king and Hackman into the stinking cell making sure the floor was relatively clear of debris. The boy stood by the door flanked by the two guards as Gath entered the cell holding Bastian's robe tightly across his lower face to mask the foul odour permeating everything and watching the floor in an attempt to keep his feet clear of the muck.

'I noticed the similarity to the... err, the framed tattoo in your chambers sire,' Rhoàld stammered, 'I thought you would want to see it as soon as possible.' He added bleakly. Gath raised his eyes to the walls; suddenly the smell did not seem to matter as his gaze became transfixed. Staring at the walls in that tiny stinking dungeon he was immediately transported back hundreds of years and many, many lifetimes.

'By the Journey' he whispered almost reverently, '...who did this?' Dropping the silken robe to the floor and taking a faltering step toward the wall, he held out his hand.

'Sire,' Rhoàld answered, 'the man who died, the man from the bleak, he did this.' Gath said nothing; he just stood and stared, his eyes riveted on the bleak cell walls. The inside of the cell had been crudely sculptured, into the solid walls had been cut a remarkable scene from his memory, a large stone platform holding a likeness of a man caged in what he knew was a glass cell. On the top of the cell sat a tiny crystal, its bigger twin, the huge Unity crystal was hanging in judgement high over the figures head and the dais itself was surrounded by twelve stone pillars, each with a robed figure standing against its base. Gath could almost hear the figures singing once again and he paled remembering what that had meant to him. The Great Chamber of Justice, he saw his home, he saw Arotia, then as realisation hit, his heart soared, _there is a way back, there has to be, after all this time I will find it and go home. Arotia will be mine and they will pay as I have paid..._ he thought.

'Who did this...?' He asked again.

'The man who died my lord, the man from the bleak...' Rhoàld repeated slowly, he too was stunned at the detail now fully revealed in the lighted cell.

'The dead man Hackman, the one you let die...,' Gath growled turning to the dungeon keeper who backed away paling rapidly.

''E had the plague fever surr...' Hackman mumbled, ''E were gonna be dead in hours anyway.' The fat keeper confessed, instantly sobering as he realised what he had said.

'Where is the body Hackman?' Gath asked with menace in every syllable, the air in the room suddenly as cold as Rhoàld had ever felt it. Hackman looked at the boy standing outside the room.

'The body was gone from the midden sire,' Rhoàld began, 'I checked with the barrow boys about the burnings, they were sure they had burned the body weeks ago.'

Gath's eyes remained fixed on Hackman.

'The checks man, did you perform the correct checks before the body left the cell?' The king asked quietly, Hackman strained to hear as Gath's voice dropped ever lower. He shifted his feet nervously and Rhoàld noticed a pool of urine puddling the floor at the keeper's feet before quickly becoming lost in the filthy straw just as a warm sugary odour wafted slowly past his nose. Gath appeared not to notice, his stare lost in Hackman's eyes.

'The boy did 'em sire, I be trainin' 'im ter take over when... I...I be gone.' Hackman's speech stumbled as Gath swung his gaze to the boy beside the door.

'Boy...?' Gath asked.

'Two of 'em I did proper like surr,' the unfazed boy answered, in obvious awe of the king who had deigned to speak to one as lowly as he. 'One of 'em I couldn't reach so I stuck his leg instead,' he said proudly. 'Mr Hackman was there, 'e can tell yer I did it proper like.' The boy smiled in open admiration.

'Why could you not reach the man's eyes boy?' The king asked turning to face a now visibly trembling Hackman.

'Well surr, they'd already been thrown on t' midden an' I 'ad ter climb down slope ter get ter 'em... I fell too...' the boy added, remembering how he had fallen into the stinking corpses.

'So he was still alive when you took him to the midden?' Gath asked. Hackman wondered absently why his legs felt suddenly warm when his bowels loosened, the room began to spin as his world turned black and he fell back among the sewage, the filth and the wet straw. He was out cold; the smell of warm faeces permeated the air mixing with the other odours in the cell.

'Guard's,' said Gath quietly, 'place Hackman in the next cell and lock the door, then wait, when he wakes, inform him he is my guest. Rhoàld come with me.' Rhoàld followed his master back to the dungeon keeper's personal room where Bastian still stood chained near the bed.

'I forgive you Bastian,' said Gath as he entered the room, Bastian smiled at the king with a tear stained face and fell to his knees, Rhoàld stood quietly to one side as still naked, Bastian crawled, as far as his ankle chains would allow him, across the wet grimy floor toward the king.

'Sire,' he pleaded, 'do not leave me here I beg...'Gath walked toward his former bodyslave and leaning forward he reached out and stroked his cheek lovingly. Bastian responded by leaning into his king and holding Gath's legs in an embrace.

'Ah Bastian,' Gath said quietly, 'I have come to grant your wish,' he smiled coldly stroking the top of his former slaves head and keeping his face gently turned into his legs. Bastian never saw the knife suddenly appear in Gath's hand, Rhoàld, who could see, screamed and rushed forward without thinking, his hand reaching out for the knife blade as it began its downward journey, slicing through skin and tissue as it found its mark, deeply penetrating Bastian's heart through his back. Bastian reared back looking in pain and surprise at his king. 'Hackman does not need you now my dear and I do not want soiled goods, I grant you your request to die,' Gath added in a bored voice as Bastian finally slumped to the floor. The blade pushed through his body as Bastian fell onto his back. There was little blood as Bastian died instantly and Rhoàld fell to his knees beside the dead boy realising that Gath had indeed found out about their illicit love affair.

'Give me my knife Rhoàld,' Gath commanded of the distraught aide. Rhoàld gently rolled the body of his lover to one side and eased the wickedly sharp blade from his back. As he held the knife toward Gath he noticed through his tears Gath smiling and mumbling. Cold dread gripped him as his skin began to itch and his head felt oddly light, the blade began turning in his hands, he tried to drop the knife, to let go, but he couldn't it seemed to have a will of its own, it was going to stab him, he was being forced to kill himself. In desperation, he grabbed the blade itself with his free hand and tried to force it away. The razor sharp blade cut through the bandages hiding the healed burns, finally cutting deeply through the skin itself. Blood began to flow, pouring down Rhoàld's arm from the deep wound as the sliced bandages fell away. Still Rhoàld fought with the possessed blade as it pushed on towards his body, the tip of the blade sliced through the chain of the silver charm around his neck and it fell inside his clothing as he fought instinctively for his life.

Gath was in heaven, he knew was going to get home, get back to Arotia and he was hard, his abilities were returning, he could feel again. _I can feel the magic... I can feel..._ he thought as he indeed felt the itching all over his body, he felt light headed, he could sense the blood, strongly, so strongly. Suddenly as he looked at Rhoàld and the deep red blood pouring down the man's arm and he understood, Rhoàld was of the blood.

Rhoàld felt the itching stop immediately, his head cleared, and the knife fell to the floor as Gath removed the spell. Rhoàld held his injured hand to his chest not looking at his king, he could feel his blood trickling down from the wound in his neck and he knew he was going to die, now he was ready but he would die by his own hand, not the king's spell.

'Rhoàld, how have you hidden yourself from me all these years?' Gath asked, clearly bemused, Rhoàld said nothing. Gath stared, 'which hand did you burn?' He said with sudden intensity staring hard at his servant's bloody arm, 'which hand did you use to pick up the coals?' He demanded again, looking at the cut flesh with no trace of the burns that should still be in evidence. Unsure of what was happening, Rhoàld finally looked up at his king.

'This one sire,' he said indicating the now badly cut hand. 'Now kill me if you must for you should know I will kill myself at the first opportunity,' he added, as his gaze fell once again to his dead lover, still warm beside him. _I would never have gone without you my love,_ he thought. Reverently he placed his good hand on Bastian's warm but still chest. _We'll be together soon...,_ his thoughts continued, interrupted only by Gath's laughter.

'Kill yourself, my dear, oh no, that will not happen. Gath laughed, 'you have proved yourself far too valuable to me for that.' Gath reached down and cupping his hands began to catch the fresh blood pouring from Rhoàlds wound. 'Observe me, my friend,' he cried as a bewildered Rhoàld watched the king smearing the shed blood across his face and finally drinking the remainder, all the time mumbling. Once more Rhoàld felt his skin itching and his head felt light, he bent his head to his chest in pain as his wound closed and began to heal itself, he felt as if tiny needles were drawing the flesh together and his head pounded. A thick cloying smell permeated the air, Rhoàld could not identify it but all thought of it went from his mind as Bastian's body suddenly went rigid with cold. Rhoàld heard his master scream with joy and looked up; he felt his stomach lurch and his heart turn to ice as he stared at the king in horror, Gath looked different, stronger somehow, as if years had fallen away from him.

The king smiled.

'Rhoàld, how did I not know about you before, even before Lydia died I knew nothing about you... All these years and you were right here.' he smiled again. As he gazed at his hands, the knuckles that had been painful and swollen not so long ago were as they had been before age and arthritis had begun to take hold and the brown liver spots, whilst still there were now not so pronounced. He laughed again but quietened as his eyes fell on the bloodied knife lying on the floor. Gath studied Rhoàld hard before he began mumbling again, Rhoàld felt his skin itching once more but it was over almost before it had begun.

'Try now, my dear,' said Gath as he pointed at the knife still on the floor. 'You may begin your journey to meet that,' he said contemptuously as he pushed at Bastian's now cold, stiff form with the side of his foot. Rhoàld picked up the knife and without a second thought plunged it toward his breast and Gath smiled as Rhoàld, this time struggled to force the sharp blade to enter his body.

'Ah, you see, you will not die until I let you die my friend, you will not be able to harm yourself in any way, you belong to me, you are bound to me,' Gath said, 'you are as important to me now as my own life... Come, now we must go and plan, we must search the town, search everywhere, we must see if this man from the bleak survived, arrange for Colonel Thurl to attend me in my chambers at once.' He added as he turned and walked out of the small room. 'Oh, and get that cell cleaned...' he shouted as he finally left the dungeon, happier than he had been in a long time. His manhood was flaccid but he knew now he could perform when he wished, he had found his cure and he was going to go home after all this time, he would celebrate, he would go and find Lemba. His mind drifted to Bastian lying in Rhoàld's arms and immediately he felt anger at the betrayal and as his anger mounted, so did his manhood, _Oh yes little Lemba, you will have to do for a little while longer_ , he thought as he walked away.

Rhoàld stayed on his knees beside the dead body of his friend, the tears coursing down his face. Through his tears, he could hear the guards talking quietly as they returned to the dungeon keeper's room, the room now in need of a new master. Gath, he knew was never one to worry over magic's balance or the dangers involved in using blood magic and he felt as if he had aged a little. The straw in the cell around him had also turned to ash and the young boy standing beside the door was now a man, a man who stood gazing in awe after his king as he walked away.

### Chapter 23

The Ancient

The dawn began to filter through the heavy drapes of the small bedroom causing shafts of golden light to pierce the darkness he had lived in for so long. As the sun rose through the sky, beams of light moved across the room and tiny motes in the air danced and twinkled, causing pinpricks of radiance to reflect its bright glow before they moved and the lights went out.

So beautiful, he thought through his pain. _'Have I finished my Journey, am I dead?'_ He asked as he lay in confused comfort. The last place he remembered was the stinking cold cell where he had languished for so long, his body always screaming in pain, always hungry and his back stiff and sore where the terrible scars had never softened.

' _No dearie, you're not dead,'_ said a voice close to him. He had not realised anyone else was in the room. Carefully turning his head, he looked around.

' _Where are you?'_ He thought, _'I can't see you'._

' _I'm coming to you, worry not, you need to rest,_ ' the voice said again as the door opened and a woman walked in carrying a small tray.

'I felt you awaken,' she said aloud. With a start the man realised their earlier conversation had been entirely in his head.

'You are...' he tried to say but a painful fit of coughing stopped his voice.

' _Like this..., if it is easier for you,_ ' the woman spoke gently into his mind as she placed the tray on a small bedside table.

'You are an ancient,' he said, staring intently back at her, his pain forgotten for the moment. The woman smiled but did not speak; instead, she sat on the edge of his bed and placed her arm under his head as she held a soothing drink to his lips. She smelt of lavender and chamomile sparking memories the man believed he had forgotten, he had visions of an earlier time, a happier time, and tears sprang unbidden to his sore eyes.

'It will sooth your pipes and help you sleep,' he heard as he drank the cool liquid greedily.

' _but I'm not tired,'_ he thought back, embarrassed with his tears as she lay his head down on the soft pillow once more. The scent of the lavender was very strong as she leant over him to brush a cool hand across his brow.

'Sleep now,' she commanded as his eyelids became heavy once more and darkness fell.

When he awoke for the second time he was again alone, he found himself in a small room where dark beams criss-crossed a sloping ceiling, an old wardrobe and a small bedside table sat to one side of the heavy bed and a candle burned softly on a tall chest of drawers. Heavy drapes hung at the only window keeping the darkness outside at bay, he lay quietly enjoying the peace and solitude and enjoying the comfort denied him for so long. Before too long his eyes closed once more and he drifted back into a deep and healing sleep.

'Come on now dearie, it's time for you to wake up,' said a soft voice as a gentle hand shook him. 'I have brought you something to eat. You may not feel like eating but you must my dear, you have been very ill,' continued the voice as it moved away from him. The curtains were suddenly opened flooding the small room with golden light, 'there, that is better isn't it?' She carried on speaking, not waiting for an answer.

'Where am I?' He croaked, his voice breaking like an adolescent teenager.

'You are with friends my dear,' the lady said, 'my name is Dotty Bramble and I live here, this is my home.' As the woman spoke, she helped him to sit and pain shot through his thigh making him wince as he moved his leg.

'How did I get here?' He asked as she lifted a foul smelling brew to his lips. He looked at the tea and sipped slowly. 'Good grief woman, what's in this?' He said as he weakly tried to push the tea away and absently noted she was not as old as he had first thought.

'Garlic, comfrey and mullein,' the woman said as she gently forced him to drink, adding 'garlic for infection and comfrey to aid the mullein, which, by the way will help you to get stronger and there's a little added speciality of mine. It'll help your body fight the infection in your leg and make you strong again,' she smiled. 'You've been very ill you know, now, what shall I call you?' She asked. The stranger opened his mouth to speak and closed it again looking puzzled.

_Who am I?_ He thought. 'What's my name...?' She heard as he spoke quietly to himself.

'No matter, you can tell me when you're ready,' she said aloud lightly, 'after all, we've known each other for weeks now and haven't needed names yet, have we?'

Over the next few days and with Dotty's help, the man got stronger and stronger. He still could not remember who he was but it did not seem to matter, Dotty explained how Lemba, her stepsister had found him on the midden and had enlisted the help of a local charcoal burner to bring him to her cottage in a barrow. No one had seen them and he was quite safe although he had had a severe infection in his leg and a nasty case of the red plague fever when he arrived, so bad in fact, that at first Dotty had believed she would be unable to save him. No one had been more surprised than she had, when his temperature abated and his condition improved.

One evening, a week after he had woken up Dotty allowed him downstairs to bathe in a tub in front of the fire; to save any embarrassment she explained she was going to visit a sick neighbour.

'I'm a healer of sorts, for the local people anyway,' she had said in way of an explanation, 'sometimes people need me and I do what I can to help them.'

It had taken him a long time to get down the stairs and to reach the tub but Dotty was waiting for him with armfuls of warm towels.

'I'll see you later then,' she said as she dumped the towels on a chair and left, closing the door behind her.

He had been appalled at his weakness and the swelling of his leg, though he could see no real wound. On examining his leg properly, he found a small deep red mark like a pinprick high up on his thigh and as he gingerly touched it, it began to ooze pus. Wiping as much away as he could he eased himself carefully into the almost too hot water. Besides the tub on a stand, he found, much to his amusement, a razor sharp knife and a small mirror. _I'm to have a shave then..._ he thought, chuckling softly.

He shaved his face as neatly as he could leaving a small but well-shaped goatee beard and washed, then trimmed his long greying blonde hair, next, he examined a rough scar that encircled his neck and he wondered how he had come by it, finally, he lay back in the water and relaxed. Without thinking he knocked his bad leg against the side of the tub and drew breath in pain, as he lay in the warm water with the throbbing pain still uppermost in his mind, he absently mumbled unbidden words. His skin began to itch and the water suddenly went icy cold. Opening his eyes in shock, he found his leg was no longer painful and a thick yellow scum now floated on the surface of the bath.

Dotty had been very disturbed on her return when he told her what had happened.

As time passed his strength returned, even Lemba managed to get away from the palace to visit. It was easier now that autumn was here and she had the large old grey woollen army cloak that more easily disguised her distinctive colouring and slight build. The man took to her at once, he was intrigued by her and had a feeling he had met her before somewhere.

'You have sad eyes my dear,' he said on first meeting her. On her second visit, she had arrived sporting a blooming black eye and a strapped broken wrist. Instinctively the man had taken her swollen and painful wrist and held it to him, healing it instantly with a few mumbled words. Lemba had held the wrist out in front of her and after carefully removing the strapping found the bones knitted together perfectly and the bruising gone. How did I do that? The man asked himself, as surprised as Lemba was. He reached out again to touch her swollen and bruised face but was surprised when Lemba reacted with horror and flashed her fingers at him furiously. 'I don't understand my dear,' he said as Dotty hurried into the room in a mild panic.

'You mustn't do magic dearie,' pleaded Dotty, 'Lemba's master will know and punish her more.'

'But I am sure I can help...' The man replied, wanting only to remove Lemba's pain.

'Gath will feel the magic and search for us...' Dotty pleaded again. With the mention of Gath's name the man felt his world suddenly open up, it was like a lid being removed from a box and all his memories both good and bad came rushing out to greet him. He knew who and what he was.

' _You are an ancient like me,_ ' he directed the thought accusingly at Dotty _, 'my name is Varan,'_ he added.

'I really don't know about ancient,' Dotty replied aloud, 'but I'm not as green as I'm cabbage looking and if you are talking about my gifts, well, there are a few people like me who have special gifts. Did you think I managed to keep you away from the king's soldiers all by myself; you're a heavy man you know. Friends are friends, but if you continue to use magic like you have been doing, Gath will feel us all and harvest our blood before tea time, for some reason he grows stronger and he knows you live, so we must continue to be careful!'

### Chapter 24

### Wishes

Jed lay on his bunk staring at the ceiling, he felt hot and uncomfortable, he thought of his silver girl as he waited for the bugle tune that would inevitably call him for duty. If he closed his eyes and poked his feet out from under the cover, he could imagine the cool, cool waters of the Derva flowing over them just as Lemba tickled his toes. He had not been able to stop thinking about her and knowing it was the king, his sworn master who was hurting her was almost more than he could bear. To top it all visions of Lemba, his silver girl, naked and alone with Gath woke him at night.

Even during the day her smiling face swam before his eyes in unguarded moments and he could still feel her kiss against his cheek. He had not seen her for weeks and work had kept him busy, an escaped prisoner meant house-to-house searches had been ordered, so with no free time he had not been able to follow up on any information already gleaned. Frustrated, feeling helpless, tired and weak, he closed his eyes tight shut once more, pushed his feet further out into the chill night air and continued to think of Lemba until the bugle called.

### Chapter 25

House to House

For the hundredth time that day, Colonel Thurl sat atop his horse and watched as his men walked the cobbled streets banging on doors of the many terraced houses that made up the city. Men and women of all ages clutched wailing, frightened children as they stood in the cold rain each protesting at their treatment as soldiers of the king ransacked their homes.

_What am I looking for?_ Thurl thought. _A random man, an escapee from the king's dungeons who would hardly be hiding in the town,_ he answered himself, bored with the whole situation.

For weeks now, he had been conducting house-to-house searches attempting to assuage the king's anger at the escape. To his knowledge, no one had ever escaped the dungeons before, prisoners were either released to serve their lives in a better way or they died and were disposed of in the castles furnaces.

At first, the populace had welcomed the searches believing their king was watching out for them. After all, no one wanted a murderer or a thief hidden about the town but as the weeks drew on and repeated searches of every building brought no sign of the prisoner to light the people began to resent the constant intrusion. The populace had even volunteered names of numerous men and each one thoroughly investigated as the potential escapee but so far, all had turned out to be the result of an angry wife with a cheating husband or a debtor that someone wanted punished.

To their credit, Thurl and his men had also managed to break up a few crime rings and had found quite a few hoards of goods the king's taxmen were interested in but the prisoner remained free. _If he's even alive!_ Thurl thought resentfully, feeling felt wet, cold, thirsty and thoroughly sick of the whole business. He stopped his horse outside the tavern, gazing once more at the dirty dockyard and the for once, fast flowing river. It had been cold and raining for weeks and the river was way up. _If I'd wanted to escape Gath, I would have hopped on a boat and been long gone,_ he thought, watching as another small barge pulled away from the swamped dock. Looking up at the sky, the rain from his hat ran down his neck and drew icy fingers down his spine, he could see no sign of the rain stopping so he sighed and ordered the bugler sitting upon a small horse beside him to call off the search for the day, the bugler spat and spat again. Finally, the notes rang out dully in the wind and rain and he watched as his men began to gather, he could see the pleasure in their faces despite the cold and wet as they realised their tour was over, a full weeks furlough before they had to begin searching yet again.

His horse shied away from a nag pulling a small covered cart toward the dockside, as it passed him by Thurl thought the driver, an old woman, was looking thoroughly wet and miserable. _She must look how I feel,_ he thought.

'Mother,' he called through the rain, 'you fare no better than I this foul night, the markets have finished trading for the day and yon wheel looks fit to split,' he called, noticing how one wheel of the old cart was wobbling badly on its axle. Each swaying movement of the old horses gait threatened to spill the heavily laden goods cart off onto the wet muddy track.

'Yes surr,' she called back over her shoulder and pulled her cloak further down over her head. 'Wheel got stuck in a rut up yonder, had to fight Demons 'emselves ter pull free ...t'other is in danger of breakin' too...' her voice became noise in the wind and rain as the two parted and went their separate ways.

Thurl turned his horse away from the gloom and looked through the worsening weather to the small crowd taking shelter in the lee of a small house.

'Corporal Brewster,' he called, pointing to the cart disappearing behind him 'take a few men and see that that old woman gets her cart to wherever she is going,' he said, adding, 'the people hate us enough now as it is, one of their own dying of pneumonia with us standing by is not going to help at all. Daft old bag, ought to have sons...' he finished, only the last was to himself. Not waiting for the acknowledgement to his order he turned his horse and trotted away up toward the castle along the path he knew would take him to his favourite inn.

Jed looked at the old cart disappearing toward the docks and to the heavily laden sky.

'S'ok lads,' he said blocking a sneeze, 'I'll go.' he was very conscious that his men had been up since dawn and with the constant searching and abuse from the townsfolk they had had little time for food or drink. Weeks of this upheaval had left the populace with bitter tempers.

'Want me ter com with yer Jed?' Asked Toby, he had been seconded to Jed's patrol for the last few weeks after trouble with an officer's wife in his previous company.

'Ner Toby,' Jed replied, again looking up at the rain and feeling it wash coldly over his hot face. 'I'll no be long an' I'll join yer later at the 'Dog',' he said as he pulled up his collar against the rain and hurried after the small cart _. For a small broken wagon it sure does travel fast_ , he thought as he sploshed his way through the mud in the road after the vanished cart, _'an' I'll take mesel' ter the infirmary after this,_ his thought's continued as he shivered and sneezed again _. I sorely need ter sleep,_ he concluded, pulling the collar tighter and the hood of his cloak lower over his head as he followed the old woman and her cart.

On numerous occasions, Jed believed he had caught up with the rickety vehicle but it turned out to be something else that he had mistakenly followed in the worsening weather. Repeatedly, he thought he heard the wagon in front of him but turning a corner, he would find nothing. Anxious and slightly worried for the old woman Jed hurried on regardless, always keeping his head down and his hood up against the tumultuous rain. At one point, he saw cart tracks in the mud and elated, realised must be near, as the rain had not yet had time to wash the tracks from the road. Where the tracks finally stopped, again, it was the wrong cart and frustrated, Jed sat down on the back of the buggy he had tracked to take stock. He was thinking of the warm bed that would be waiting for him at the infirmary and was on the point of giving up and going back to join his men when he heard a sound behind him amongst the crates. Startled by the noise he turned to look for the source and suddenly something hit him on the side of the head, at once senseless, he fell, wedging himself fast between two of the crates. The sky darkened even more as night fell and Jed finally slept, oblivious to the worsening weather.

### Chapter 26

### A Penny a Gid

Night had fully arrived by the time Thurl pulled his mount to a stop outside 'The Dog's Neck,' dismounting quickly he tied his horse to an iron ring set in the wall and entered the inn. The tavern was full of locals and young off duty soldiers relaxing away from the tedium of the barracks block.

'Colonel Thurl,' called the voice of the tavern keeper's wife as Thurl divested himself of his sodden riding cloak. 'You look like you need a drink surr?' She said with a smile as she pulled a tap and allowed the flow of brown frothy liquid to fill a tankard.

'Thanks Maudie and my horse, it needs stabling out of the rain,' he said taking the mug of warm ale.

'I'll get Jinks to see to it straight away surr,' she answered as she pointed to the ale, 'that will be three Gid's then..., oops I mean pennies,' she smiled, going red at her blunder, 'the horse can rest up for nothing. I'll not see man or beast out in this filthy weather for want of a coin.' She added as she held out her hand for the money and called to Jinks her son to go and see to the horse.'

'What on the journey's name is a Gid?' Thurl asked, looking thoroughly bemused but before Maudie could answer, Jinks appeared.

'It's coin surr, the soldiers 'ave taken ter callin' penny's an' such, Gid's on account o' 'em carrying a picture of some young cove called Gid,' he said, winking and touching the side of his nose knowingly, before turning and walking to relieve the Colonel's horse from the misery of the cold and the rain.

'Never you mind 'im Colonel, though he is right, the lads are calling the coins Gid's, though they know the image is that of the king.' Maudie suddenly looked worried, 'they mean no harm by it sir, it's a bit of fun tis all...' she said, concerned that the officer may have taken offence.

'Between you and me Maudie, one King Gath is enough for anyone.' Colonel Thurl said smiling, adding, 'and if anyone has the fortune to be as handsome as he used to be, well, 'Good Journey' to him.'

'Skin over his back they reckon sir, I heard it from 'orses mouth 'iself,' said Maudie, relieved her faux pas had not caused trouble. Colonel Thurl drank his ale waiting for the rain to let up, absently looking at the relief of the king on the coin he held in his hand, he had a meeting in the morning with the original owner of the likeness and he was not looking forward to it.

### Chapter 27

### Thurl's Surprise

The next morning Thurl walked through the castle to present himself at the royal suite. He stopped once or twice to ensure no fault could be found with his dress uniform and catching sight of his reflection in one of the vast mirrors, he stopped and looked critically at his burgeoning belly, the broad black belt did nothing to flatter him as it once had and he resolved to lose a little weight.

As he approached the royal suite Rhoàld, King Gath's principle aide and secretary came to meet him.

'His Majesty is expecting you Colonel,' Rhoàld said and added, 'a warning my friend, I beg of you, don't be too surprised when you see his majesty. He, he is... much changed of late.'

'Changed Rhoàld, you seem changed yourself man, are you ill?' Thurl asked appalled at the sight of the man he had known for a long time. Rhoàld was looking frail and thin, his skin was almost translucent, he had little or no colour and he was stooping as if even walking was a painful chore. Thurl was appalled; they had never been particular friends but always during their joint service, they had shared a certain empathy with each other.

'Do not keep the king waiting Colonel,' Rhoàld begged as he ushered him inside the suite without answer. Colonel Thurl walked into the presence of the king feeling some trepidation.

Gath stood beside the fire, which blazed warmly.

'Ah Thurl,' he said turning to face the officer standing rigidly at salute, his right fist raised up to his chest and his eyes lowered to the floor. 'At ease man,' Gath said as he accepted the salute with a wave of his hand, Thurl looked up at his king suddenly pleased he had been prepared for change _. Rhoàld was not wrong the king has altered. Different, younger,_ Thurl thought as he stared at the man he had served for most of his life. He stood silent as Gath walked around the room without the usual slight stiffness of the knees, his cane stood before the fire unused and clearly unneeded and the king's golden hair, streaked with a steely silver the last time Thurl had seen him was now a rich thick mane of pure sunshine. Thurl closed his mouth knowing it had been gaping.

'Well Thurl, have you found our man yet?' Gath asked. _How is..., how is this possible...?_ Thurl asked himself, his train of thought roaring out of its station in wild confusion and he was confused. He had always believed the king and he were of a comparable age but here was Gath, visibly at least twenty years younger than himself, there was no magic he knew of that could do this, not now anyway, perhaps it is illusion, his train roared on. Twenty years ago, an illusionist had become quite famous for his tricks and feats of unexplainable magic. Thurl had seen the legerdemain Sonal, on three occasions in the town of Medina in Boekstrum, one of the neighbouring countries that bordered Derova. The magician Sonal had performed such feats of magic that Thurl had not been able to tell illusion from reality, he had witnessed broken pottery rise up in the air and mend itself and flowers grow from dead branches. Once he had even seen an almost dead child heal immediately after an accident, yes, he knew magic when he saw it and he knew his king had somehow used magic to change himself.

Finally, Gath stopped pacing and stood before Thurl. _His eyes are still old,_ thought Thurl looking into their depths, _very, very old._

'Thurl are you quite well?' Gath asked, clearly irritated at the man's delay in answering his question.

'No Sire, I mean, yes Sire,' replied Thurl, mentally shaking himself, adding, 'I mean, there has been no sign of the escaped prisoner, not one,' he finished, waiting and bracing himself against the king's fury at his incompetence. _'By the Journey,' this is powerful magic indeed_ , he thought after stealing further glances at his transformed king. _Gath could be a different man, perhaps he has been ill and has recovered,_ and the thought train rode on, flowing through station after station looking for a reason for the remarkable transformation.

'He must be found Thurl, he cannot be dead...' Gath seemed to be speaking to himself as once more he began pacing the large room. 'Was there nothing?' Gath suddenly asked again, 'no sign, nothing untoward at all?' He demanded in a strong young voice, 'the tiniest thing Thurl..., think man...' he said, now almost in desperation, his ancient eyes boring into Thurl's from across the room. As Gath turned, his profile blocked the sun setting Gath in dark relief at the window. For just a moment, Thurl was reminded of the coin he had studied at the inn last evening.

'Well sire, some of the men have been calling coins Gids.' he said vaguely, for want of something to say under the tremendous pressure to give an answer. Gath faced him once more an incredulous look on his face and Thurl wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up by the rich red earth that had nurtured him as a child, so sure that Gath would confine him for so ludicrous a statement, he continued. 'Apparently there is a young man who looks like you sire, I'm told he is the image ... of you...could be your twin.' He finished, embellishing the rumour in an effort to extricate himself from potential trouble. Gath continued to stare, looking at Thurl as if he had lost his head and Thurl felt increasingly uncomfortable.

'Looks like me?' Gath said absently still thinking of the man from the bleak, _to be this close and lose him_ , he thought, turning away and ignoring Thurl for the moment.

'Well sire, I believe the rumour was started by one of my men...' Thurl repeated and stood quietly waiting and watching the emotions play across Gath's usually dead pan face as he stared at the portrait of his daughter.

'Your men did what?' Snarled Gath in frustration as he finally noticed Thurl was still in the room and was looking like he was awaiting a decision or an order. 'Well, if you can find the man for me, do so,' he shouted, annoyed at both Thurl's lack of progress with finding the prisoner and the sight of his constantly puzzled face as he stared at his king. _He must be found, he must be, he is my key to get home_ , Gath's thoughts continued as he turned away once more dismissing Thurl with a wave of his hand.

Relieved he had been let off so lightly, Thurl saluted and hurried out of the room. Only then did he realise he had not understood his command. _Whom do I find... the prisoner or the look-alike?_ He asked himself as he hurried away down the corridor, now empty except for the king's guard standing resolutely outside the door.

Back in the royal chamber, Gath turned from the window and lifted his eyes once more to the portrait of Lydia that hung above the fire. 'Damn you, I will go home Lydia, despite you, I will get home...' he said, a fanatical light burning in his age-old eyes.

### Chapter 28

Jed Sleeps Soundly

Jed drifted in and out of consciousness; the weeks he had spent working in the autumn rain with the cold wind whistling through his constantly wet clothes had finally taken their toll. He had also been feeling rum for a few days and the blow to the head although not hard had knocked him for six, as his mother would have said. He was dreaming, he was lying in a warm bed, his mother was bathing his face with warm water and Sonal was mumbling something over him. Gingerly he opened his eyes and squinted against the sudden glare.

'Sonal,' he whispered, 'I've missed you...' his eyes closed once more and he slept.

### Chapter 29

Rhoàld's Choice

Rhoàld lay in the silk covered bed feigning sleep, now, even the smallest wrinkles on the soft fabric felt like abrasives on his tender skin. The room began to grow cold and he felt the insubstantial weight of Bastian's shadow soul climb into his bed and he shivered in anticipation, closing his eyes tightly he waited, barely breathing, barely moving. Cold dry fingers tentatively touched his hip, tracing lines and patterns over his tortured and starved skin, eventually the fingers moved on and upward until they reached the nape of his neck. Rhoàld lay still straining with himself, resisting the temptation to open his eyes and see his beloved once more. Over the past few weeks, Bastian had visited him at night with an increasing regularity, at first he had tried to look upon his former lover but every time he opened his eyes, Bastian was gone. Now he felt his hair move and knew if Bastian had still had breath, he would feel it now blowing gently across his cheek. Cool lips touched his shoulder and gentle ice-cold fingers pulled him onto his back. Rhoàld lay still with his eyes clamped shut, he could not move, would not move least his lover disappear as he had before. In his mind, he could see Bastian's pale hair curling around his face and his beautiful eyes smiling with love as he curled up next to him on the soft bed. The weight of Bastian's head on his shoulder Rhoàld knew was imaginary but silent tears eased out of his tightly clamped eyes and trickled down his face pooling in his ears. Soft cold fingers brushed the tears away.

' _You must stop him love,'_ said the shadow soul in a soft wispy almost inaudibly breathy voice inside his mind.

'Bastian, I know not how,' sobbed Rhoàld still fighting his wish to look upon his lost love. _'I wish to start my... 'Journey','_ Bastian said, _'and I am cold, so, so cold, will you not help me?'_ Pleaded the soul as it moved around the bed touching and teasing, covering Rhoàld in icy kisses _. 'He must undo the spell... or ...DIE...'_ The last word was a booming echo of Bastian's lost voice, reverberating around the room like wind through an open window, the curtained windows rattled in their frames, books and papers flew about as if in a great storm and the silken covers were thrown off the bed leaving Rhoàld suddenly naked. Rhoàld's eyes flew wide open in shock.

'Bastian!' Rhoàld called, knowing his lover was gone once more. Rhoàld sat up and pulled the silken covers around him, it was near dawn and the steely grey light filtered slowly through the thick drapes of the wooden panelled room. Although all was now still the room itself was icy cold, Rhoàld could see his breath billowing from his mouth in great warm gusts. He stood slowly and moved toward the fireplace and using a stout iron poker, he moved the embers in the fire to quicken a flame once more. Taking a taper from the sill, he bent and offered it to the flame, which eagerly took hold and began to burn brightly then standing as straight as he could, he lit a candle beside a great mirror and soft yellow light banished the shadows of predawn.

The mirror had been given to him by Gath, the huge ornate stand and bronze covered frame dominated the room.

'A present for you my dear,' the king had said, 'so you can watch the splendour of your gift to me.' At first Rhoàld had disliked the mirror, keeping it covered by a large throw but after each visit from Bastian's shadow soul, he had opened his eyes to find the cover gone. Eventually Rhoàld had gotten used to seeing the changes in himself, now he welcomed the mirror and the grim reflection it showed. It fed his hatred of the king and in doing so made him hate himself even more. For the king, Rhoàld's purpose in life was now no more than sustenance, for, as Gath became younger, Rhoàld seemed to be wasting away. His sallow and tender skin had become almost transparent and his bones themselves seemed to have twisted and thinned making him bend like an old willow unable to straighten. His joints were stiff and painful and his eyes were that of a ghost, sunken so far into their sockets they looked like holes in his skull.

'I should be dead.' Rhoàld said aloud to the gruesome reflection.

'You forget my dear,' said the king, entering the room through Rhoàld's secret entrance and startling him, 'you will not die until I let you,' he laughed, 'now come, I have need of you; I discovered a grey hair as I awoke this morn.' Rhoàld looked wearily at his king, noting the bright eyes shining with madness. Resigned, Rhoàld moved back to the bed and sat down offering his arm to the king.

'No my dear, I need a better vein, now...,' he said studying the naked man. 'From your life blood I think...' he added as he took a small cup from beneath his crimson robes and held it to Rhoàld's neck. Using his other hand he removed a small sharp ornately carved knife from his clothing and held it to the skin directly above where he knew Rhoàlds carotid artery to be. As Gath began to slice carefully through the skin, singing and mumbling Rhoàld closed his eyes and pushed himself hard onto the knife feeling each cut as the blade parted skin and tissue, his artery punctured causing a ribbon of deep dark blood to pump swiftly into the cup as all the time Gath mumbled in a singsong voice. Rhoàld, ignoring the pain, pushed harder trying to break Gath's spell and finally be allowed to die, quietly and slowly the world went black and he fell once more against the silken bed, only this time he could feel nothing.

Gath felt the now familiar rush in his veins as his body began once more to rejuvenate. He could almost feel the aged cells begin their life anew, he felt the skin around his eyes tighten and plump as wrinkles disappeared and he could almost imagine he felt his single grey hair burn once more with golden life. Of all his incarnations over the countless years of his existence, this body was his favourite; this body was the most beautiful and if this were to be his last body, he would make it young again.

By Lydia's birth, he knew he was ready to go home and that the balance from the old man's curse had righted itself; her birth had been the penultimate challenge and at last, he knew his exile was nearing its end. On her death however, his world had shattered in an instant, in that one moment he had become as a blind, deaf man, unable to see or feel. His own magic had been waning for centuries but he had always had just enough strength to transfer his soul from its current host body to that of his son, a child of his own loins and bred entirely for that purpose. He felt no guilt as he banished successive sons' souls to the void and he would laugh as he thought of the balance, the rightness of their souls leaving their bodies for him who had given them life, their dying, so that he should live. By Lydia's birth, a daughter from his own seed, his powers had seemed restored. So on her death, he realised the restoration was due only to her, her all powerful blood, blood untainted by prophecy or curse. The curse given so long ago, had condemned him to siring only males, once more he saw the mage Thaddrick, lying propped against a tree with his life blood flowing into the ground, he was pointing and mumbling as Gath ran away, _so long ago, so very, very long ago_ , he thought.

When Rhoàld revealed entirely by accident that he was of the blood, Gath had been exultant. With Lydia's unknown help, he believed he had found and harvested almost all surviving members of that accursed exodus from Arotia. _Twenty years I have had to wait for you my dear Rhoàld,_ thought Gath, through his singing dirge, _and you were with me all along,_ his thoughts continued as he revelled in the thick warm blood flowing over his hands and into the cup. He watched his skin absorbing the precious liquid and as the flow slowed to almost a trickle. Gath at last looked upon the emaciated almost white skinned body of his servant, Rhoàld was dying, shock numbed him as he realised even his renewed magical abilities would hardly be enough to keep the bloodless man alive. Instantly healing the deep cut in Rhoàld's neck, Gath began the battle to save his life.

Almost gone from this life and at last free of pain, Rhoàld was in a place far away, but yet close, so close he could hear and ignore Gath's summons. He listened to the call without its usual pull and cried tears of Joy before turning toward gateway that would mark the start of his Journey into the afterlife.

' _Bastian,'_ he shouted, his voice breathy and faint, _'I have come, we can now go together, come_ ,' he called, turning in circles to find the love that had waited for him. _'Bastian,'_ Rhoàld called again, as he watched the weave of threads connecting him to a hated life stretching and growing thinner. _'They soon will break,'_ he whispered, _'then we may go,'_ he added as the first bond snapped and disappeared.

' _I may not accompany you beloved,_ ' answered Bastian, as he appeared before him in the ether, still cool and insubstantial. Rhoàld turned and smiled, at last he could look once more upon the face of his lost love.

' _Come, let us go,'_ he said quietly holding out his hand as yet another bond thinned and snapped audibly from around him.

' _I am bound my love, bound until Gath dies,_ ' wept Bastian as he sank into Rhoàld's open arms.

' _I don't understand Bastian, you have passed, I burned your body and I wept tears for you... you waited for me...'_ Rhoàld exclaimed as his arms closed around his friend, another bond snapped as Rhoàld's soul pulled inexorably toward the start of his journey.

' _I am held by the spells that forbade you death,'_ Bastian said as tears ran down his face. _'I cannot be released until Gath dies.'_ Rhoàld's hold on Bastian became strained as his soul moved further away from his earthly body. _'Gath bound you to earth as my soul was leaving my body,'_ Bastian explained, _'part of me; part of my soul became trapped as the balance of magic took hold. I am trapped here between worlds until he dies or breaks the spell....'_ Rhoàld looked once more on the face on his beloved and kissing his eyes he wept.

' _I will free you... we will go on our journey together,'_ he said, as he looked one last time on the gateway and the promise of happiness for eternity. _'I will go back...'_ he began and felt his insubstantial form flow back along the thin remaining strands surrounding him. _'I will release you Bastian,'_ he said as Bastian smiled lovingly at him.

' _I will be with you, always,'_ Bastian whispered as pain once more filled Rhoàld's body, every fibre cried out in torment as Rhoàld accepted life. In his mind Rhoàld welcomed the pain that filled his being, it reminded him he was still alive and alive; he would find a way to release Bastian.

Gath felt the change in the magic as Rhoàld's soul returned, he had fought hard against Rhoàld's death for hours, he was exhausted and he needed sleep. Still he sung and mumbled sending spell after spell into the near dead body attempting to prevent death. At last, sure his servant would not die; Gath smiled weakly and stopped the flow of magic.

'I told you Rhoàld my dear,' he said, albeit wearily, his laboured breath leaving clouds of white vapour in the icy cold room, 'you may not die until I release you and you can be sure I will never release you.' The hated voice reverberated through Rhoàld's head like a bee trapped in an empty jar, until Gath turned and finally walked out of the room, closing the panel behind the wall as he left.

Laughter bounced through the vaults of his mind as Rhoàld marvelled at the king's arrogance and vanity. _I chose, my king,_ his thoughts screamed silently _, I chose life, your bond on me is broken..._ and laughter continued echoing in his head as sleep, deep healing sleep finally overcame him. Cool fingers stroked his brow as the pain gradually ebbed away. Bastian's soul held fast in the ether stroked his lover's face, _'almost broken my love,'_ he whispered, _'almost but not quite broken.'_

### Chapter 30

### Gath Remembers

Gath sat in the warm water of his bath relaxing; he awaited Lemba, having summoned her before undressing. His body ached from the magic he had performed and he knew he had aged again; there had been no time to use anything else for a source of balance as he Rhoàld healed. _Aged..._ he thought and remembered the first time he had used a spell that had aged him, aged him almost to the point of death.

Visions of his home world crowded his brain, for a long time his memories had been lost to him but now they were coming back. He saw the plains on which his followers had worshipped him. He saw himself as the man he once was, a man leading the advance in the study of old magic and he remembered the mockery, the ridicule and the final persecution that he suffered from established society because of his efforts. He thought of the spell of summoning he performed with his closest followers, he could still see the blood and almost smell it as he stared at his hands, wondering how they were not red and steaming. _My fellow prisoners and their families had to be sacrificed for the balance, why had no one understood?_ He thought, remembering how he and his men sang the magic and slit the throats. He grimaced, remembering how badly he had underestimated that balance and how both he and his men had had to offer their own lifeblood to complete the spell, then how he had vowed he would never underestimate the balance again. In his mind, he saw the tiny tear as it appeared in the void's delicate membrane and he again watched the Demon answering his call as it crossed through the veil, only for the barrier to heal behind it immediately, sealing itself shut once more. It had been the first and only time he had ever succeeded in opening a rift in the veil, the barrier of the void and he remembered the pain from doing so, the pain that had almost killed him. The balance had taken extra payment from him then, him alone; his life essence had drained away even as the Demon agreed to help in his fight.

Gath shuddered as he thought of the souls the Demon had received in payment for that help but he smiled when he remembered just how well the compulsion spell had worked. His army had gathered then, his army of Gathersmen and in his mind, he saw his followers using the blood magic he alone had restored to the people.

For a moment, he relished the power he had once at his command and then inevitably, his thoughts turned to his downfall. How Théoden and his brothers had ridiculed him, fought against him. _Théoden and his brothers forever in my way but I was always one-step ahead, I had the world on its knees, and I won!_ He thought, remembering the elation he had felt on his triumphal march into the city, where Théoden and the world were to surrender to him but the memories darkened as he remembered the cell that had held him when Théoden and the twelve had performed their treacherous spell. Using Astin, his faithless servant, was the only way he had avoided certain death but even then, Thaddrick had cursed him as he escaped. His memories ceased as his anger mounted.

In his rage, he grew hard, painfully hard and climbing out of the bath he stood dripping on the floor beside a large mirror with the blood pounding through his veins. He was right, he had aged but not as much as he thought, his manhood still stood proud.

The chamber door opened and Darnel, his new young body servant blustered into the room with another jug of hot water.

'Darnel, do you remember you are supposed to knock?' Gath asked as the young boy ground to a halt in front of the naked, dripping king. 'Come,' he called, turning back to the mirror, 'dry me...' he commanded as the nervous boy placed the still steaming jug on the floor beside the empty bath and took up the soft, warm towel.

Lemba quietly walked into the room and seeing Darnel in a place usually occupied by Bastian, allowed her worry over the fate of her friend to grow. Gath watched as Darnel caught sight of Lemba's near naked body in the mirror, the boy's pupils dilated and he shifted uncomfortably. Looking at the expression of desire on Darnel's face, Gath became angry all over again, the boy did not look at him like that and Lemba never had, at least not since becoming his bodyslave, since then she had never shown any expression other than disdain.

'Lemba,' Gath said annoyed at the dour face of the girl, 'Darnel wishes a bath, bathe him.' Lemba walked to the edge of the bath and lifting the jug left by Darnel poured the hot water into the tub. Standing straight, she lifted her diaphanous robe over her head, placed it on a chair and climbed into the tub as naked as Gath himself, once there she waited quietly. Gath watched Lemba closely realising he no longer wanted her the way he once had. The perfect white skin that had once been adorned at all times by the little marks of affection he gave her, now held only the old healing bruises and scars and so few of them were fresh, the way he liked them. He sighed, thinking sadly, how once he had loved to see the mottled colours of love adorning her fair body. _No, I no longer want you_... he concluded. Gath turned his gaze to Darnel, whose fledgling erection was clearly causing him embarrassment.

'Bathe, my dear, allow Lemba to teach you... to teach you how to please me.' He said as he tenderly stroked Darnel's hair away from his face. Wrapping himself in a large robe Gath sat on the chaise-longue to watch the lessons Lemba was going to give Darnel as he too undressed and climbed awkwardly into the bath. Gath was too busy looking at the young form of his new body servant and thinking of the pleasures they would share in the future, to notice the tears that were rolling unbidden down Lemba's face as the water splashed.

### Chapter 31

### My Brother Lives

Young Jed opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, all his pain had gone, he felt exhausted and he had no clue as to where he was but he felt safe.

'Well, this ain't the infirmary, I know that much,' he said aloud as the solid wooden door opened and a woman walked into the room.

'Hello dearie, you aren't one of us but you got the feel of one,' she said with a smile.

'Mam, how came I to be 'ere?' A bemused Jed replied, his palm scar burned fiercely and he raised his hand to feel for the stone hanging around his neck.

'Bloodstone, eh, someone knows a wee bit about lore...,' the woman said, almost to herself as she noticed Jed's movement, 'who gave you the stone young man?' She asked, her eyes boring into Jed's own, he felt his mind growing fuzzy as if any coherent thought he could have had was leaving by the back door.

'Leave the boy Dotty,' Jed heard, as someone else entered the room, he shook his head clear it.

'Sonal, it's so good to see yer, where am I? He exclaimed in joyous surprise, 'are you 'ere alone or are the others with yer?' The man stiffened in surprise, he stared at Jed as the woman had done minutes before, _'he is not an ancient,'_ his thoughts went out to Dotty.

' _No, but there is something...'_ she replied.

'Sonal, what's wrong...?' Jed asked as he sat up slowly. The man sat on the edge of the bed and continued to scrutinize Jed.

'Boy,' he said, 'that's twice now you have called me Sonal, why?'

Jed stared at the man he had mistaken for his old friend. They were incredibly alike but now Jed could see there were slight differences, this man was slightly thinner and his cheekbones more pronounced, he had a scar that ran round most of his neck it seemed and though Sonal had a scar, his ran across his jaw line.

'My apologies, surr,' said Jed trying hard to use his best manners, completely aware that he owed this couple for, _something anyway,_ he thought. 'I mistook you for a dear friend of me family, iffen I owe yer,' he continued, 'I know me family will pay for me keep.'

'Dotty,' said the man looking thoughtfully at Jed, 'would you be as good as to fetch the vase of flowers from the hall table and, and can you strengthen the wards?' He asked, looking pointedly at the woman, she smiled and left the room returning moments later with a large vase of fresh flowers.

'I won't be long then,' she replied as she left the room once more, returned downstairs, opened the front door and walked out into the sunshine. There she proceeded to circle the small house and adjoining stable, mumbling in a singsong voice and using the words Varan had taught her to safeguard the small cottage from Gath's, seeker spells. Lately, Gath had sent out this type of spell routinely in an attempt to locate and identify the source when someone used magic and not for the first time Dotty wished she had known these skills when she and Lemba had been younger.

Varan waited until he heard Dotty re-enter the cottage and moved down the bed toward Jed.

'Hey!' said Jed as the strange man placed his palms on Jed's temples.

'Think of this Sonal,' ordered the man and Jed's mind once more felt as if his head were full of cotton wool, his palm scar again burned like fire and his skin tingled and crawled. Weak as he was from his illness he was unable to resist the strength of the man and an image of Sonal, clear and focused came into his mind. In his vision, Sonal was healing the wound on Jed's palm as Gideon stood beside him.

'Blood brothers,' Sonal was laughing, 'you two boys do pick your moments...' he continued. Jed remembered the occasion well. It had been in the kitchen of the Green Home Inn on the eve of his departure for the army.

For a moment, the vision remained as unchanged from memory as if it had been yesterday not nearly years ago, suddenly it altered. Sonal looked up from the healing, as if he was looking directly into Jed's eyes.

'Varan...?' The man in his memory said and the connection was lost as the man sitting on the bed dropped his hands in surprise.

Jed's head was banging and he felt sick from the acrid smell of burning that filled the room. The flames crackled and spat as fire consumed the dry and dead flowers, the water giving them life dried up and long gone. Dotty rushed into the room and threw a wet towel over the burning husks as Varan stared hard at the boy on the bed.

'My brother lives...,' he whispered, 'my brother lives....' In a daze, he leaned toward the patient on the bed and again touched his palm to Jed's head, only this time to his forehead. 'Sleep,' he said softly and despite the chill that now permeated the room Jed found himself falling, deeper and deeper he fell until finally he was so deeply asleep that dreaming was not possible.

### Chapter 32

### Sonal Visits the Forest

In Green Home Village, Sonal was on his knees in the garden of his cottage tidying the pansy beds and admiring the way the flowers brightened up the otherwise dull wintergreens. Abruptly he sat back and his eyes glazed over.

'Varan...?' He said aloud, for a moment he could see his brother as if he were in the same room, then, abruptly he was gone. For some reason thoughts of young Jed, crowded his mind. Something was wrong, he did not know what but he had a terrible sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. I must see Jed, he thought. So leaving his trug and trowel on the path, he quickly went into the cottage and picked up his sack. For years whilst still travelling, he had kept a bag waiting in case of emergency and despite his time in Green Home Village, he had never gotten out of the habit. Closing the door behind him, he left for the forest to find his friend and as he passed the trug left idly on the garden path, he stopped once more and stared at the ground where he had been working. In a circle around where he had been kneeling, the pretty winter pansies were dead, a small patch of grey death amongst the colourful autumnal hues that filled his garden. With a deepening feeling of dread, he left the trug abandoned as it was and continued on his way.

Hours later, he sat in the small living room in Jed's home. 'Gideon and May have decided to live here in the forest then,' he said absently noticing plans drawn up to extend the cottage itself.

'After the wedding be over that is...,' Jed replied, as he handed his friend a glass of wine and scooped up the overlarge papers. With the glass of wine in his hand and his head low Sonal sat down silently. Jed knew his friend well enough to know he would talk when he was ready. Blue lay on the floor in front of the small fire that habitually burned in the grate, his coat gleaming, his head between his huge paws and his large eyes fixed on Sonal. Leaning forward, Jed pulled the wild creatures ears in affection causing the wolf to turn his head.

' _LISTEN,'_ Jed heard in his mind, Sonal finished his wine and placed the glass on the adjacent table, the wolf sat up and placed his head on Jed's knee.

'What be up then Blue boy?' Jed said, suddenly confused as he stroked the huge furry head.

' _JUST LISTEN,'_ he heard again.

Sonal at last turned to his long-time friend. 'I have a story to tell you...' he said and as Sonal began to speak, the cottage door opened and Gideon walked in with an armful of firewood, he held the door with his foot as Mayan followed behind carrying a small bunch of wild autumn roses. She glowed with health and happiness and Jed smiled at his daughter to be.

'Come child,' he said 'Sonal be telling us a story,' Gideon dumped his wood in the grate causing Blue to jump.

'A story Sonal, great, I love stories,' Mayan replied, smiling at the two older men as Gideon grinned and sat down beside the large wolf. Sonal smiled wearily and began again.

### Chapter 33

### The Shadow Soul

Quietly Lemba stole through the castle corridors toward Rhoàld's rooms. She had known for years that Rhoàld and Bastian were lovers and thought if anyone, Rhoàld would surely know where Bastian was, she had not seen her friend for days and was worried. Pulling the grey woollen cloak low over her head, she slipped into the library and went directly to the fireplace where she hopped quickly over the fender and into the large inglenook. There she stood near the wall looking for a lever of some kind; Bastian had once told her he often used this secret entrance and passageway when he wanted to visit with Rhoàld. There is a door here somewhere, she thought as she continued prodding and pulling at various nooks and crannies in the brickwork. _It's too dark to see properly_ , she thought as she reached up to take the candle from the wall sconce. Slight as she was she stretched her hand to the sconce attempting to grab the candle but as her weight pulled momentarily on the iron sconce it moved and beside her the secret door slid silently open. Pleased with herself she left the candle where it was and stepped through the aperture into the gloom beyond and held her breath as the door slid slowly shut behind her. Following the passage, she soon realised she was hopelessly lost; there were twists and turns and other passageways that led off in every conceivable direction. A sudden chill made her shudder _, I could die here and no one would know,_ the thought popped into her head unbidden as a lump in her throat threatened to turn into tears _. No one would even care;_ she thought as she sat on the cold dusty floor and let the tears flow.

She was still crying when Rhoàld found her.

'Come my dear,' he said as he took her hand and helped her up, 'let's get back to my room; it's not always safe in the passageways anymore,' he added.

Once in Rhoàld's room he removed her cloak and shook the dust from it, Lemba watched as it billowed around the room settling where it could and as Rhoàld handed her back the cloak she stood, pulling it tightly around her waist in an effort to cover her transparent clothing.

'It's all right my dear, you know I prefer Bas...' he stopped himself short and turned away but not before Lemba noticed a look of intense pain cross his gaunt features. Lemba glanced around the room looking for parchment or paper, there was nothing, but seeing how the dust had settled on a huge mirror behind her she sucked her finger wetting it, then standing as tall as she could she wrote, WHERE IS BASTIAN? In the dust, Rhoàld gave her a painful smile.

'He showed you how to find me in the tunnels,' he said smiling sadly, adding, 'Bastian is no longer living child, except in my heart.' Lemba hung her head, in her heart she had known, a chill ran across her brow and she shivered.

'He is beside you Lemba, look in the mirror.' Rhoàld said quietly, pointing back to the dusty glass. Lemba looked fearfully into the dust-covered surface, the reflections in the glass turned smoky and a faint wispy shadow appeared, she reached out her palm and placed it on the glass and the shadow of Bastian did the same, placing its palm over hers. She began to cry once more as Rhoàld explained her friend's death.

'He loves you still; you were a good friend to him.' Rhoàld said as he watched the stricken child cry and glancing up at the mirror, he could see Bastian nodding sadly.

Rhoàld had discovered he could 'see' Bastian in the mirror quite by accident after Gath had last visited and supposed it was because the mirror as well as Bastian and himself were both connected to Gath by his manipulating magic, but whatever the reason, he was grateful for it.

Bastian moved his hand and pointing at the mirror, he began to write as Lemba had done in the dust. YOU MUST LEAVE, he wrote. GATH WILL KILL YOU TOO. HE TIRES OF YOU. Lemba shook her head sadly, WHERE WOULD I GO? She wrote back. AWAY, GET AWAY, was the reply. HE GROWS STRONGER. _What does he mean;_ thought Lemba, the shadow of Bastian looked intently at Rhoàld and Rhoàld pulled the girl away from the mirror as Bastian's shadow slowly receded. She looked up at her friend's lover and touched his suddenly old and wrinkled looking face questioningly.

'Gath harvests my blood,' Rhoàld said, 'he is evil and one day, one day I will kill him.' His voice was so cold and matter of fact that Lemba shivered. She moved back to the mirror, COME WITH ME, she wrote. 'He would find me little one.' Rhoàld replied aloud and for a moment, Jed once more held her in his arms as he carried her beside the river.

'You are safe, little one,' she remembered him saying. Shaking her thoughts free she thought of her sister and wrote again in the dust, WE CAN HELP EACH OTHER, WE CAN BOTH GET FREE. In the mirror, Bastian's shadow was back nodding and smiling.

'I would no longer be able to see you...' Rhoàld directed to the shadow as he followed Lemba's example and placed his hand on the mirror.

I WILL ALWAYS BE HERE, the shadow wrote as Bastian disappeared from the mirror and a cold finger pierced Rhoàld's heart, then from deep within his mind he heard, _'I will always be here.'_ Rhoàld suddenly smiled, for the first time since his own near death, Rhoàld felt the embrace of his lover and felt comforted. Watching Rhoàld, Lemba made her decision, she was going to leave and take this frail man with her, together they would go to her sister and Dotty, she knew would help them escape.

### Chapter 34

Toby Gains a Necklace

Toby looked anxiously around him as he stood waiting for his audience with the king.

'Stand tall,' said Colonel Thurl, pacing up and down as nervously as Toby himself, 'this could have been over with if you had just owned up,' Thurl scolded, for weeks, he had been trying to locate the cause of the 'Gid,' rumour. Finally, a barmaid in the Dog's Neck had given Toby as the source. It had cost him five 'Gids' for the information and Thurl had not been best pleased.

'Tis truth surr, not rumour,' gabbled Toby, for once frightened for his future.

'Silence boy, let the king decide.' Thurl spat, his face inches from Toby's own. Toby could smell his breath and felt the spittle as the words flew from Thurl's mouth; it was all he could do not to gag.

As Lemba opened the doors to the king's chamber Thurl looked straight ahead, trying hard to ignore the fact that the young girl's clothing left her as good as naked, her modesty hidden only by her swathes of rich silver blonde hair. Toby though, felt as if his eyes were on stalks as his manhood roused, he thought he had wanted Mayan but this girl was a slave, so receptive to anything and he could see a few old purple and yellow blotches on the white skin beneath the diaphanous gown she wore, he realised what it meant and his arousal deepened. Following behind her, he watched her tight buttocks sway as she walked; he was so close to her he almost bumped into her back when she suddenly stopped and stepped aside. Toby looked up, he stood before the king and all thoughts of what he would like to do with the girl were gone.

'So this is he.' The king said as he stared hard at Toby, _nothing, he is not of the blood,_ Gath thought as he read the man before him. His powers were returning, slower than he would have liked but he dare not risk using Rhoàld to enhance them further for a while, he threw a glance over to the pale and emaciated man standing quietly by the door.

'Yes Sire, this is the boy who started the rumours,' agreed Thurl.

'Tis not rumour surr, tis fact, Gideon could be you surr...,' Toby blurted out in terror, suddenly more sure of this fact than any other. Gath did indeed look like an older image of Gideon. Ignoring the fact Toby had spoken out of turn, Thurl continued.

'His name is Toby Hollins sire, enlisted from the County of Branton, a shirker and a scoundrel by all accounts, Captain Mellor had issues regarding his wife I believe, and, as a result he was foisted on to me...' said Thurl.

'So Toby Hollins from Branton...' began Gath.

'No surr,' interrupted an indignant Toby, not noticing Thurl's horrified glance. 'I be from Green Home Village in the Beaut Valley, me Da has a tannery....' If he was about to be punished, he at least wanted his details right, Gath stopped short.

"Green Home Village?' Why has that name rung a chord Thurl?' He asked the officer. Thurl wracked his brain.

'Last year's winner of 'Champion Student' sir , a corporal in my own regiment, Jed Brewster, I believe he also comes from the Beaut Valley and I think from the same village too sire...,' Thurl said, he had intended to continue but the intense look on Toby's face stopped him.

'E be a friend o' Gid's too surr, best bloody friend...an' he's been absent without leave fer weeks!' blurted Toby, once more conscious of the furious look Thurl aimed at him.

Thurl had questioned Toby regarding Jed's disappearance and any fellow feeling between the two young men had taken a severe knock. The last time someone had gone A.W.O.L. the man's whole division had paid the price and this time was no exception, Jed's whole company had been on a punishment and Toby, being closer to Jed than any other soldier had taken the brunt of it. He had even taken to opening Jed's mail in an attempt to learn his whereabouts.

'Sire, Brewster has been absent for a while but he is being looked for...,' Thurl added in exasperation as Toby cowered.

Lemba sat in the corner of the room listening avidly, Jed Brewster, that was her loves name, she thought of him constantly, in her dreams he came to her every night and, during the day as she performed her duties, she fought hard not to think of him at all.

Gath was well aware of just who Jed Brewster was, the innkeeper's son from Green Home Village, now this. Gath smiled coldly.

'Leave us,' Gath said looking directly at Thurl, Toby stood still and quiet just waiting for the king to speak and Lemba shrank back into the large cushions she was sitting on, hoping Gath would ignore her presence. Rhoàld, still standing beside the door waited quietly for the king to dismiss him. The king had not been taking too much of his blood of late and he felt a little stronger for it but he hated the change in his life and he missed Bastian for every moment of every day. He continued to quietly wait for the king to tell him to get out and wondered when it did not come whether he should get out anyway.

' _Stay,'_ the word passed fleetingly through his mind as if a breath of air brushed his skin. Rhoàld stood still, knowing he was doing as Bastian wanted.

Toby began to wish he was somewhere else, the king was behaving strangely and he was scared. Taking the flowers from a large vase Gath threw them on to the floor, the blooms landed badly and Lemba thought they looked like broken limbs lying in drops of translucent blood. Emptying a bowl of fresh fruit in a similar manner Gath poured the dirty water from the vase into the large empty fruit bowl and began to mumble in a singsong voice. Toby felt as if spiders were crawling around inside his skin and as he lifted his arm to relieve the itching, Gath grabbed his wrist.

'Open your hand,' demanded the king as Toby continued to look frightened and bewildered. Gath held Toby's wrist tightly, stopping his blood flow, he began to feel uncomfortable as his hand turned from pink to purple and started to feel numb, finally, after taking a knife from his clothing Gath sliced the blade through Toby's tender palm, the flesh parted easily allowing dark red blood to bubble up instantly. Pain filled Toby's mind as he closed his fist to draw back his hand but the king held him securely, adjusting the tension on his grip the whole time. _As if 'e were milkin' a beast,_ Toby thought not enjoying the sudden flare of pain as Gath directed the flowing blood into the bowl of dirty water. As Gath began to mumble, the water darkened and swirled and at last, he pushed Toby's bloody hand away. Gath opened and sliced his own palm allowing his blood to fall freely, mixing quickly with the swirling waters. The room began to cool as the water in the bowl continued to thicken, becoming so thick it seemed a solid near black mass.

Lemba, still sitting silently, watched in amazement as the discarded flowers began to wither and die before her eyes.

'Think of this Gideon,' demanded Gath, his voice harsh with effort as he continued to mumble in his singsong voice. Toby did not want to think of Gid, his hand hurt and he thought the king quite mad. He looked at the blood still welling from his palm and suddenly he was back in the barn outside Green Home Inn, watching Gid and Jed from his perch in the hayloft as they sliced their palms and clasped hands, allowing their blood to flow and mix. Gath watched intently as the scene replayed in the bowl. Toby, then thought of Jed rushing off and leaving Gideon alone with Mayan, he remembered looking at Gid then, hating him fiercely for stealing his woman, Gideon, tall and strong with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, a straight nose and high cheekbones. _Everyfing that I should be,_ thought Toby, knowing his own nose had been badly broken by his father before his joining up, his chin almost disappeared into his neck and he now had a scar that reached from his left eye to the corner of his mouth.

'Lydia!' Gath suddenly exclaimed as the bowl shattered sending dirty water everywhere. Lemba jumped, knocking over a small ornament and wincing at the noise as it fell to the ground and smashed.

Gath looked at Toby and smiled; he took his injured hand and clasped it in his own as once again the ants began crawling over his body. Toby felt light headed, he withdrew his hand as the mumbling stopped and stared hard, his palm was whole, a thin black scar ran from the base of his thumb to base of his little finger and the skin around the scar was rather numb but it was whole.

'Surr, that be magic...,' Toby said in absolute awe of his king. _They look different,_ Lemba mused as she stared at the pair before her. Toby, she knew had been scared when he had first entered the room but now, now, his eyes held an adoration that had not been there before. _The fear has gone,_ she thought as a chill began spreading along her spine and Gath, he now looked like a man with a purpose, a goal; his madness was very much alive.

_So that is why I felt the Brewster boy_ , thought Gath as he saw again the vision in the bowl, the two boys sharing their blood, he remembered how he had questioned Jed at his initiation ceremony and had had enquiries made of him, all of which had come to nothing.

'You have no love for Brewster, or this Gideon,' stated Gath, still smiling.

'No surr, no...,' Toby replied as he thought of home and the last party they had at the Inn, everyone was laughing at him crawling across the floor, even Jed whom he had thought was a friend. _I 'ad every right to 'ave asked Mayan ter dance with me, 'n' they all laughed... I'll get 'em all back one day, they'll see,_ he thought, his anger and hurt pride bubbling to the surface, his thoughts consumed him, making him oblivious to what the king was saying.

Toby looked up. '....go to Green Home Village,' Gath was evidently speaking to him and he had missed half the conversation, Blood suffused his face with embarrassment. 'I would reward you well.' Gath added as he turned to look at Lemba. Lemba too was lost in thought, thinking of Green Home Village and the people who lived there. Jed had brought the village to life for her as he chatted incessantly whilst they waited in the charcoal burners shed so long ago and she longed to meet his family, his sister, Mayan and Jed's blood brother Gideon _. Gideon, 'By the Journey' Gath talks of Jed's brother!_ Lemba stared in shock noticing for the first time Gath was looking at her.

'Lemba come here,' he said beckoning the girl to him. 'Remove your garments my dear,' he added. Toby stared again at the silver haired girl as she instantly obeyed the King and pulling off her flimsy robe stood naked before him. _How am I to warn him...?_ She thought, realising she was as much a prisoner as ever. 'Come forward my dear and turn around, slowly, let Toby see his reward for capturing this Gideon, this, this criminal.'

_That's what I missed, I get ter capture Gideon,_ Toby grinned, elated at the turn in his fortunes. _I got me say-so from the king 'isself ter get Gid!_ Toby's mind jumped again as now naked, Lemba stood before him, he could have reached out and touched her, he could smell her and his body responded painfully to the sight of such a beautiful naked girl. Casually, Gath reached out to brush the hair from her face and throw it over her shoulder revealing Lemba's body for the mass of healing bruises it was.

'Lemba is a playful little thing,' he said as he stroked her hair, 'she is yours Toby, a gift for you as soon as you bring me back Gideon.'

'Yes surr' said Toby, 'iffen I 'ave ter kill 'im ter get 'im 'ere...' he added. Gath's hand moved from Lemba in a flash, his fingers tightened around Toby's throat and lifted him off the ground. Gath stood rigid, his demeanour changed in an instant.

'Be clear on this Hollins,' he said, his voice suddenly full of gravel and menace, no strain showing on his face as he held the heavy young man at arm's length and six inches from the floor. 'If the boy Gideon is hurt, just one hair on his head touched, you will die... I don't care who else you kill, or whatever you have to do to get him... but get him..., his friend Jed Brewster we will find and deal with from here.' Toby, struggling to breath and clasping at the king's outstretched arm shuddered at the sound of death in the king's voice.

'Yes, surr,' he squawked again as he struggled for breath, 'I'll get 'im.' Gath's face immediately returned to the benevolent face of the kindly king as he lowered Toby to the ground once more and smiled.

'You will lead a special force of my men,' he began again as he absently turned his hand back to stroking Lemba's beautiful hair. 'In charge perhaps..., a sergeant, yes, a special type of sergeant.' Gath paused, his thoughts seemingly far away, 'do you think it will be easy to overcome this criminal Toby?' Gath asked, his steely gaze holding Toby fast.

'I'll get 'im fer yer surr,' Toby said again, 'whatever it takes, I'll get 'im.'

'Of course you will my boy, but you perhaps need a small reminder of what is to be yours when you succeed,' he said his fingers still running through Lemba's silken tresses. Reaching to the nape of her neck, Gath twisted a thick swathe of the silken silver strands he had been stroking tightly around his fingers and without warning pulled hard removing a finger thick swathe of hair by the roots. Tears sprung into Lemba's eyes as her head snapped back with the force of the pull and she winced briefly at the pain but she made no sound and smiled at the king in defiance. Toby noticed the unshed tears and the smile. _'By the Journey', she liked it, she enjoyed the pain,_ he thought and fervently wished that he had been the one to remove the hair and he had Gideon in his hands already _. We'll 'ave fun togevver you 'n' me, he thought as he stroked his own sore throat and watched the girl,_ a slight smile on his face. _No, not a girl, she's older, maybe even older than me_ , his thoughts continued as the chill in the room deepened and Lemba's slight body showed the extent of the cold. Lemba peeped at Toby between her lashes; she saw the desire and the cruelty hidden by the distorted smile. _You will not have me,_ she thought, shuddering at the idea, _I will be free... I will be free..._

Distracted by mumbling, Toby once more looked to the king as he began to sing over the hair as it fell like water from his fingers. His skin crawled and itched once more as the skeins of hair twisted and turned, melding into a solid unbreakable chain of silken pale silver strands. As he stared at the silken chain moving and twisting before him, Lemba tried to ignore her scalp itching and her remaining hair dancing as if of its own volition, in the nearby mirror, she could see it curling and twisting like the strands in Gath's hands. Also in the reflection she noticed Toby, as she looked it seemed he was also changing somehow, his hair, only slightly but it was now shot through with strands of grey, his skin, once youthful, now in the morning light seemed just a little sallow. _Or was it like that already?_ Lemba wondered.

'There my boy, something to remind you of what is to be yours.' Gath said as his tuneless song finished. He placed the silken rope around Toby's neck as if it were a badge of office, 'it will remind you of its owner in more ways than one,' he added cryptically, smiling at Lemba. 'Do not fail me,' Gath said as he turned back to Toby. 'I do not like my...err, 'special,' people to fail me,' he said, his voice once more full of underlying menace. Seconds later Gath was smiling again as he dismissed Toby with a cursory wave of his hand.

'Come back tomorrow Toby Hollins, and collect your written orders from Rhoàld.' Gath moved wearily over to the chaise-longue and pulled the bell pull to summon his newest body slave.

Toby walked out of the room his new silver cord hanging round his neck and Rhoàld closed the doors behind him. The guard saluted as he walked slowly away. He was on a high; his big plans would come to fruition before he ever thought they would. _An' Lemba is mine,_ he thought as Darnel walked toward him with a decanter of sweet red wine for the King.

'Bodyslave eh?' Toby said, as he stood in Darnel's way, his fingers played with the pure silver rope as he examined the scantily clad Darnel. Darnel looked young and strong, his muscles stood proud almost bursting out of the white linen toga. A rich golden belt held the toga cinched at the waist and a pair of gold sandals adorned his feet. Toby lent forward to lift the front of the toga and Darnel stepped back to restrict Toby's view. He smiled at the bodyslave cruelly.

'Ner lad I was only curious like, ter see why 'e'd want you, when 'e's got that little Lemba? Yer body's good, but me, well, I'll 'ave Lemba mesel' soon enough, so don't yer go getting ideas above yer station in 'er direction eh, but then yer might prefer boys ter girls....' he smiled again at the now red-faced slave, his black scar pulling his smile into a leer. 'No answers then boy, well, off you go ter do yer women's work whilst we men take care of business.' Toby began to laugh as he turned away and disappeared around a corner without looking back, if he had, he would have seen he had made another enemy as Darnel stood staring after him, his muscles quivering with rage, the guard at the king's door looked at him in pity.

'Pay him no mind lad, the likes of him will come to no good, but 'By the Journey' hurry, Gath is waiting on you...,' he said, indicating to the door behind him with his head. Darnel looked to the floor and took a deep breath then stepped slowly toward the entrance to the king's chamber. The guard clapped his hand on Darnel's shoulder causing him to flinch.

'I know you do what you do for your sister lad..., my wife, she works with the petitioners for king's bounty, she sees her regularly and she is very proud of you. Your parents would be too, if you don't mind me saying,' he smiled an encouraging look at Darnel as he opened the door and ushered him through.

Walking into the room, Darnel placed the decanter on a small table next to the king and poured his master a glass a wine.

Gath was tired, the water mirror had taken too much out of him and he had not really prepared himself properly for the melding of the hair. _It had been worth it though,_ he thought, _just to see the pain on Lemba's face, to see a look other than her habitual look of, of 'disdain,_ then once more Gath observed Darnel greedily devouring the girl with his eyes. Lemba was still standing naked where he had left her, as defiant as ever.

Watching her defiance Gath became angry, he watched in silence as Darnel whispered something to Lemba before he moved away to stand just inside the door next to Rhoàld. _A silent body slave was definitely a good thing to have_ ; he thought and saw Darnel shiver as he stared icily at him.

'Lemba, bring me the box from the cabinet,' said Gath, all the while staring at Darnel, she paled as she slowly walked toward the cabinet and picked up the small wooden box. She knew instinctively which box he meant, as she crossed the room toward him, Gath thought of the way Toby had looked at her. _He will be a fitting master for such an ungrateful slave_ , he thought, _but I would have one more game of her before I give her away_

Lemba held the jewel encrusted box out to Gath.

'Open it my dear,' he said, 'after all it belongs to you.' He watched her closely as her hands shook; he was seriously beginning to enjoy himself now because of the multitude of emotions that were playing across her usually deadpan face. Tentatively, Lemba opened the lid, the inside of the box was inlaid with mother of pearl and a small crimson velvet cushion sitting comfortably in its lower half added a pink sheen to the decorative inlay.

'Take it out Lemba,' Gath said. She looked at him in horror, he had never asked her to touch the thing before and the idea repulsed her. 'Take it out my dear,' Gath said again, irritated that Lemba was not playing the game. Slowly she reached into the small box and took the contents into her small fingers; the wizened dried piece of meat that had once been her tongue was black and shrivelled.

'Tell me dear, speak to me, tell how you will please your new master, or shall I tell him how to please you.' Lemba opened and closed her mouth knowing Gath was going to beat her again unless she complied with his wishes. Her eyes filled with tears as she opened her mouth once more and tried to speak, a soft rasping bark escaped her lips and she closed her mouth. Still holding the scrap of dried skin, the tears fell unbidden down her face; she lifted her hands to cover her shame. Gath had been immeasurably cruel to her for years but he had never since removing her tongue tried to make her speak.

'You sound like a dog my dear,' he said, 'I will instruct Hollins to treat you as one.' Lemba stood before him and lowered her hands, her once more emotionless face wet with tears. Pushing himself up from the chair, Gath slipped on the pooled water that still lay on the floor and swayed in front of Lemba, his hands reaching for some support. Seeing Gath about to fall, Lemba instinctively grabbed his arm to steady him and Gath erupted with fury.

'How dare you touch me unbidden,' he screamed, as he shook off her hand and with his own slapped her hard across the face. Lemba's silver hair went flying out behind her as the force from the blow knocked her across the room, she fell to the floor unconscious and the piece of tongue dropped from her hand and lay beside Gath's foot. Darnel moved to go to the girl's aid but Rhoàld shook his head warning him back as Gath called out.

'Rhoàld, get me a guard and get rid of that mess,' he shouted, pointing at the wet floor and the rotted fruit as he sat once more. 'I must have used more energy than I thought,' he said aloud looking again at the portrait of his daughter.

'Lydia my dear...,' he began as the guard burst into the room behind Rhoàld. 'Ah, remove Lemba and take that...' he kicked the piece of tongue toward the box that Lemba had dropped on touching him. 'Put it back in the box so she may have something to remember me by,' he smiled icily. The guard hurried to do the king's bidding and stepping over the broken blooms and rotted fruit; picked the robe up from the floor and threw it over Lemba's naked body. Carefully he placed the piece of tongue inside the box and gingerly lifted the unconscious girl.

'She is yours until Hollin's return, now all of you... get out,' Gath added, as he turned away. Rhoàld moved to follow the guard carrying the unconscious girl from the room but stood back to allow Darnel to exit hurriedly before him. As he closed the door behind him, he saw Gath staring spitefully at the portrait of his daughter on the wall.

'As I was saying Lydia my dear,' Rhoàld heard as Gath continued to stare at the portrait, 'I believe I have found our son.' Rhoàld pulled the door closed with a soft click relieved to be out of Gath's hateful presence.

### Chapter 35

Rhoàlds Rescue

Lemba tried to open her eyes, her head hurt her face was swollen and her cracked lip tasted of blood. Light filtered in through one bruised and battered eye and the other was so tightly shut she thought she would never see out of it again. Closing her good eye, she tried to make sense of what had happened. She had been discarded the way Bastian had been and, she had been given to Hollins.

At least I am still alive, she thought as she remembered image of the pale and ghost like figure of her friend, she shook her head to clear her vision but only succeeded in making her head swim. Feeling around her she realised she was not in her own bed and she was also wearing a rough cotton garment. I do not feel like I have been used, so where am I? She thought. Opening her good eye again, she saw a huge shadow pass by in front of a window and she shrank back in fright.

'It's all right my little firefly,' said a familiar voice, 'you are in my room in the men's quarter and quite safe. Gath gave you to the soldiers last night but I kept you here, you must rest now and get better,' the voice said. She closed her eye and relaxed, accepting the sleep that eagerly awaited her.

As she slept, she dreamt. She was sitting in the corner of a bar watching her father get drunk again. Although she was only six summers, she had become used to the smoky atmosphere of bars and inns. They always seemed to have an inglenook or a small hearth where she could curl up and sleep until her father was ready to go home and usually the landladies were kind and would feed her when her father forgot. Looking at her father as he drunkenly played cards, she knew she would have to help him to the room they were currently calling home, when the bar closed. As she dozed beside the warm fire, a ruckus disturbed her and bleary eyed she looked toward the table where her father was gambling, he was shouting.

'I'm good fer it yer know I am,' he was saying with a distinctive slur, he was banging the table with his tankard, slopping ale everywhere and demanding another hand of cards. Tired, Lemba decided that perhaps it was time for her to take her father home. She approached the table and caught his arm.

'Papa,' she said, 'I'm awfully tired, may we go home now,' the light from the fire caught her hair making it shine like silver; her father stared hard at her.

'Not now,' he said roughly pushing her back toward the inglenook.

'Hey,' a second, kinder, voice intervened, 'she's a child... leave the little firefly alone.' Her father looked from the owner of the voice to Lemba, a slow smile burgeoning on his face.

'She's my stake!' her father said, 'at the slave market she'll fetch forty of anyone's coin,' he added.

'Man, she's yer daughter!' the owner of the second voice replied.

'Yeah, an' I can sell her if I choose to,' her father had said slurring over every word. Lemba scrambled to her feet realising despite her tender years what was happening.

'Papa, no...' she cried as the bet was agreed by yet another voice. 'Papa,' Lemba pleaded to no avail.

'Man you don't deserve her,' said the second voice as the game began, this time angrily. Cards and coin were flung on the table as a bemused Lemba finally drifted back to the fireplace and cried herself to sleep wishing for her dead mother. Her father would remember her in the morning she told herself, only he had not. Whilst she slept and it was still dark, her father lost her, lost her to a local slave dealer in a card game.

Lemba's dreams played out her life.

She had not seen her father again for a number of years. Won by the slave dealer and purchased with a number other slaves to be servants at the castle she was by far the youngest of the group; Mrs Bramble, the kindly castle housekeeper had taken the motherless child under her wing and brought her up as a younger sister to her own daughter, Dotty. At first Lemba had dreamt of her parents constantly and often awoke screaming at night but Dotty had always been there to sooth her brow and settle her back to sleep. She had been happy too, growing up in the first real home she had known since her mother's death and she had enjoyed working at the castle with Dotty and her mother, until the day she met the king. Gath had seen her in one of the chambers as she helped change the beds and had at first been kind, giving her presents and making her feel special but on her sixteenth birthday all that changed when he made her his bodyslave. Mrs Bramble, her adoptive mother, had been relieved of her duties when she had objected to Lemba's new role and had died a few years later without Lemba ever seeing her again. Since that day, Lemba had rarely even seen her beloved stepsister and when she did see her, it was because she snuck out of the castle when Gath was busy or away.

It had been a long time after she had come to live in the castle that she found out the man who had called her Firefly, that dreadful night at the Inn was also Mrs Bramble's brother in law and he had begged her to buy the child, as he did not have the coin himself.

Standing close by, Bramble watched the girl sleeping; she was snoring due to the damage on her face inflicted by the massive blow from Gath. Before Lemba had appeared on the scene he had been a loyal defender of the king, slowly though, his views had changed as he had watched the small child he had helped rescue grow into a beautiful young woman and saw how his king used her. At first, he felt guilty because he had been unable to stop her father from selling her and then because of the abuse she suffered at Gath's hand year after year. Guilt filled him whenever he looked at her and knew he would never hear her voice again and now, now that she was no longer favoured by Gath, Bramble knew he had to get her away. From experience, he was aware that the 'king's whore' once tired of, was placed in the Fatigues House, for the service of his grateful men. In the past he had used the Fatigues House himself and knew that most of the young men or women in the house either died young from the pox, of suicide or were thrown onto the streets as the girls became with child and could not afford the spells to rid themselves of a baby. Unaware Lemba had already evaded this particular fate by being, given to Hollins; he decided to see his niece in an attempt to plan an escape. Lemba, his little Firefly, even as a whore, was still valued too high for his purse. As he watched her, she grimaced with pain in her sleep and once again, Bramble cursed the father who had abandoned such a child to this fate. Quietly taking a cloak from the cupboard and locking his door behind him Bramble left the girl to her healing sleep, glad at least he had saved her from the soldiers.

When Lemba woke again her eye, although still painful and swollen was able to open a little and she must have jarred her newly healed wrist because that was rather sore too but she was alive and Gath would no longer be calling for her.

'Lemba..., Firefly... are you awake?' Bramble whispered, Lemba turned to see the big man hovering at the side of the bed, his dishevelled clothing betraying the fact that he'd not slept well this last night. A large rough hand tenderly brushed the hair from her forehead.

'I must go to work little one,' he said, 'on the table is a message from my niece, go to her at once and she will get you to safety.' He smiled quietly and painfully, Lemba returned the smile as he leant forward and kissed her forehead before turning to leave the room.

'Goodbye and thank you,' she flicked with her fingers as the door closed behind him. Sitting up gingerly, she ignored the pleading of her body for more rest and taking the note left by Bramble, she read the hurried script.

_Dearest Lemba,_

_Uncle B. tells me you are no longer safe, you must come to me at once and we will see what we can do. Hurry though, time grows short and please be careful._

_Dotty._

Standing slowly, as every bone and joint seemed to ache; Lemba looked around the room for something to wear. Her own diaphanous gown was lying on a chair, it would not help me here in the men's quarter, she thought, ignoring the flimsy material and turning to a small wardrobe she pulled it open. She pulled a lace from one of Brambles large boots and tied back her long hair, in another cupboard; she found a grey woollen cloak similar to the one Jed had given her. It was too long but she wrapped it tightly around herself, pausing only to take up the beautiful little jewel studded box Bramble had put beside the bed, she hastily placed Dotty's note inside where it completely covered her shrivelled tongue like a blanket, she shivered as she closed the box and dropped it into the pocket of the robe. Quickly looking in the mirror and wincing at her hideous reflection, she turned and left the room. Anxiously she peeped into the great hall of the men's quarter, a few men were standing around a central table engaged in small talk and not waiting for the hall to empty she took a chance, praying all the while she would not be noticed in the shadows as she tiptoed from pillar to pillar until she reached the door. I wish I had asked Rhoàld how to move around this area of the castle in secret, she thought.

Quietly she pulled open the heavy oak door and passed through closing it behind her and keeping the cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders she ran to her room using the servants' passages and stairwells. As she neared her room, she slowed down and relaxed a little; the soldiers did not usually frequent this part of the building so she felt quite safe. She pushed back the hood from her gown, loosened the robe and released her hair from its tight lace, immediately her scalp began to itch and she scratched it gently, failing to notice how her hair began to twist and curl. Opening the door to the room that had been hers since she was sixteen years old she stopped short.

'There you are at last,' said Toby as he pulled scented smoke from a small ivory handled pipe deeply into his lungs. The room was quite full of smoke and Lemba cursed herself for not noticing the acrid smell earlier. Her bed also looked as though it had been slept in; Toby Hollins had obviously been waiting a long time and as he blew the smoke from his lungs in a steady stream, Lemba pushed the door open wide and pointed out angrily. Toby stood and tapped out the bowl of his pipe into the small hearth, he moved toward her as she stood defiantly still, her arm extended and pointing. As he drew closer, he grabbed at her extended arm and twisted her wrist painfully, the motion pulling her close to him in a parody of a lovers embrace. She could smell the cloying tobacco and stale sweat that permeated his clothing and her stomach heaved in revulsion. Toby pushed the door closed with his foot, trapping both the stale smoke and the pair of them in the small room. With her free hand, Lemba held her robe tightly closed.

'Yer'll learn not to keep me waitin' girl,' he began as he lifted the hair from her shoulder and flicked it across her back, her bruised and swollen face became suddenly apparent. Smiling, he stroked the swollen cheek and ran his thumb roughly across her cracked lip causing the new scab to fall and her blood to bead, he ran his thumb across her lip once more smearing the new blood across her cheek as he stared into her eyes. Lemba remained defiant.

'Yer do understand yer be mine now Lemba,' he said as he licked his thumb clean of her blood, 'an' these tokens now be mine ter give,' he stated, still stroking her bruises as she stared back. 'Just as soon as I bring Gideon to his knees... an' I will, even iffen I 'ave ter kill the whole village ter do it!' He added with a maniacal gleam lighting his eyes, Lemba shuddered at the malice in his tone and watched in eerie fascination as the silver rope of her hair around his neck danced and moved as if it had a life of its own and her own silver-blonde tresses curled and twisted in response.

'There,' he said his voice cajoling once more as he noticed the strange result of Gath's magic, 'we were meant fer each other,' he said, as he pulled her robe free and reaching behind her head he roughly pulled her once more into him. As he released her trapped wrist, she attempted to push away but Toby's strength was too much for her. He gripped her chin and forced her to turn her head back toward him and pushing his fingers and thumb deeply into her cheeks between her jaws, her mouth opened, he leant toward her and forced his tongue between her lips to enjoy their first kiss.

'Owwww... yer witch!' he cried, smiling as he pulled away, blood running from his mouth where she had bitten his tongue. 'Let me show you how I like it,' he added as he slapped her tortured face hard and pulled at the old fabric of the nightshirt, ripping it badly.

'Lemba...' Rhoàld called in a cheery voice, as he pushed open the door and walked into the room, one hand waving away the thick smoke, 'Gath requires you at once,' he added, coughing to rid his lungs of smoke and as the room gradually cleared he gasped, apparently noticing Toby for the first time. 'What are you doing in here?' He demanded angrily, as he placed a small package on the bedside table. 'Common soldiers are not allowed on this floor. This girl is the king's bodyslave, do you not realise this could mean your death if she tells him,' he shouted as Toby released Lemba's torn clothes.

'The king gave 'er ter me...,' Toby began, angry at the intrusion, he would have continued but Rhoàld held up his hand palm out.

'Ah, yes...' Rhoàld bent over in a small bow his hands clasped together in front of him obsequiously. ' _You_ then are Sergeant Hollins,' he began again, his tone and manner instantly becoming one of the utmost respect and deference. Toby smiled at the change, 'forgive me, I did not at first recognise you... However, my instructions are that Lemba is to become yours after you have completed a certain mission,' Rhoàld smiled back at Toby. 'Or may I congratulate you on a speedy resolution?' Rhoàld asked, still contrite at his obvious lack of understanding, adding, 'the king will be most pleased when I tell him. I will leave you now with your property and seek out his majesty at once.'

Toby suddenly looked very uncomfortable; he stared hard at Rhoàld's smiling face and gulped almost audibly.

'I em... I've no started it yet.' Toby finally said with embarrassment. 'I came ter, ter say goodbye,' he blurted as Rhoàld attempted to look shocked.

'Such inappropriate behaviour young man,' Rhoàld whispered conspiratorially as he turned his shoulder away from Lemba and leaned in toward Toby with a lustful grin on his face. 'I understand, really I do and after all she is a beautiful girl, with or without clothing.' He grinned again and looked back at Lemba as she tried and failed, to cover her partly naked form with the torn fabric of Bramble's shirt, 'but she still belongs to the king until your mission is completed, may I advise you to leave quietly and quickly. I believe Gath understands you have already gone, left yesterday...after receiving your orders.' He added, and turned back toward Lemba. 'Gath awaits you in the library, my dear.' he said winking at the stricken girl, 'I'll wait while you change and accompany you.' He concluded, as Toby finally went to leave the room glaring at both Rhoàld's back and Lemba's swollen face.

'Anovver time then Lemba, when we be alone an' yer belong ter me,' he muttered and closed the door loudly behind him. Rhoàld held a finger to his lips.

'Shhhh,' he motioned, to keep Lemba silent whilst he checked Toby had really gone. Despite her pain and the split lip, she smiled as she realised Rhoàld had forgotten she could not speak even if she wanted too.

'My dear,' Rhoàld said, once he was sure Toby had departed, 'we have little time, I have spoken with Bramble and he has arranged things for us, we must go tomorrow before dawn. Try some of these and give me the rest to dispose of,' he added as he retrieved the package from the table and offered it to Lemba, turning his back respectfully. Lemba opened the package and looked at the selection of boys clothing Rhoàld had brought for her and picking through it hastily; she disrobed and re-dressed in a shallow disguise. Pulling her hair tightly behind her head she pulled a rough woollen hat low over her ears and covered the whole ensemble with the grey woollen cloak that had belonged to Jed. As Rhoàld turned back toward her, he saw a small, pitiful looking boy, one covered in scrapes and bruises. He smiled sadly, no one would believe this was Gath's beautiful whore, he thought and pointing to a small mirror encouraged Lemba to look too. She smiled at her reflection, albeit awkwardly.

### ***

The next morning in that still time, before the birds awaken and the shadows lift, a little used side gate in the castle wall swung creakily open. A small dirty boy and his bent father hurried out and hastening to a small bush beside the wall, they retrieved the two sacks of charcoal Bramble had arranged to be there. Pulling the sacks on to their backs, they began to move away keeping to the shadows as much as possible.

At first, they made for the town markets as if to sell their wares, just another couple of strays adding to the growing populace of the poor and needy of Devilly, perhaps waiting for the next pledging ceremony and the great benevolence of their king. The sky was still quite dark and threatening to rain as the pair walked through the already bustling market place, Rhoàld wished he had left years ago and taken Bastian with him. _I've escaped my love,_ he thought.

'I'm free of his control at last!' he whispered aloud.

' _Not quite free...' not quite!'_ Bastian's shadow soul reminded him and Rhoàld thought once more of the choice he had made in returning to his body. He ignored the sudden feeling of dread that came over him, a feeling that seemed to get stronger the further he moved away from the castle, he glanced at the girl walking beside him but she was smiling to herself. Lemba was happy and they had escaped, _now_ , she thought, _now I need to find and warn my Jed._

### Chapter 36

Sonal's Story

'When I as a child,' Sonal began again, this time to Mayan, Gideon and his father, 'I lived on the edge of an enormous valley surrounded by mountains. There were few ways in and only one of those could be traversed by wagon, it was said that long ago a race of magicians lived there and that something happened causing evil and death to spread throughout the vale and the magicians sealed off the valley with strong magical wards.'

'What's a ward?' Mayan asked, Sonal did not notice as the wolf sat up abruptly, its eyes bright and its ears forward as if listening to every word.

'It's a barrier made of magic, my dear, in this case a wall or a dome,' Sonal explained and continued with his tale, his eyes glazing over as he lost himself in the past. 'After the barrier was created most of the inhabitants left leaving just a few families to protect the wards and prevent anything from escaping the valley itself; they became known as the Guardians.' Sonal paused looking at his friends intently before beginning again, 'the area is now known as 'The Bleak..." he said, Mayan gasped putting her hand to her mouth in horror and thinking of her brother and the war he longed to join.

'Hush May,' said Gideon in a low tone sensing this was not the usual kind of a story.

'My family were one among those 'Guardians,' for generations the men in our household would guard the perimeter keeping the, the strange misshapen people who worshipped blood and death from invading the lands beyond the warding and going through the pass. The Bleak is a barren almost lifeless land, though the same legend that tells of the magicians, also tells us that once it was green, lush and filled with life, a rich land of fertile soil with lakes teeming with fish and all this within the confines of the mighty mountains. I know not if the legend or the prophecy be true but my own family and a few others beside held it to be so.'

Mayan watched Sonal closely; desperately wanting to ask about the prophecy he had mentioned, but said nothing as no one else seemed ready to interrupt and so she remained silent reminding herself to ask when Sonal had finished his tale.

'I was never a good son, as oldest I was expected to follow my father and grandfather before him in becoming a guardian but although I was a very good healer and often needed, I rebelled, I wanted... well, I craved something else. My twin, Varan wanted nothing more than to take up the mantle of green and grey but an accident of birth, putting me ten minutes older than he forbade him. I was to be the one to marry and have sons of my own to protect the wall and continue the family duty, while he was free to roam the world. My grandfather knew how I hated the idea and was sympathetic but my father said it was my responsibility and encouraged me to forage the mountains as he and the other guardians did in search of breaks in the warding. When we found such a tear, we would repair it, though sometimes, when a new hole or split appeared raids would occur and often people disappeared before the barrier could be made sound once more. These people were almost always lost.' Sonal looked at the floor, raised his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose sniffing gently. Blue shifted again, this time closer to the older man and rested his chin on his knee; Sonal patted the large head and smiled sadly before continuing.

'In my arrogance, I believed I was too good a magician to be living secluded at the edge of a pass where no one could see or share in the magic I held at my fingertips, I wanted to travel and become famous and rich.' Sonal paused again, thinking of the summons from the king he had received and then ignored once he had found Green Home. He smiled once more, 'my brother and I were identical twins, our parents could not tell us apart but our little sister, Analeen, had always been able to if we were together, so we waited until she was away with our mother visiting friends and between us, Varan and I came up a crazy plan. We would pretend to be each other, I would become Varan, free to leave and seek my fortune, he would become me and stay to guard the boundary and keep up tradition for the sake of our family. It was what we both wanted and we thought there would be no consequences. For weeks then, we spent time learning to be each other, Varan would put on my uniform and wear my cloak, in turn, I would don his shirt and hose, and then I would take him secretly onto the mountains and instruct him in what I knew to be my task. As we found a breach, I would heal it and instruct Varan to copy me, every syllable and inflection in the warding spells had to be correct for the boundary to repair correctly. As twins, our magic needed no balance and as Varan and I were identical, we did not even need to be touching each other, either physically or mentally for balance to be satisfied, so we thought no one would find out. Magic needs that you see..., balance...,' Jed watched his friend and wondered what he was seeing as his eyes glazed over, he opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself as Sonal continued quietly.

'Life and death, the sun and the moon, good and evil all the world is made of balance.' Jed smiled sadly, he had heard all about balance from Sonal in the past; he never quite understood it but knew it was true as he had witnessed the cause and effect of Sonal's magic more than once over the years. Sonal continued, 'In order to protect the world outside the barrier, sacrifices were often made, for example it was not unknown for a guardian to give his own life in exchange for the magic to protect the world, it was considered an honour.'

Tears began slowly rolling unchecked down Sonal's face as he talked; he absently wiped his chin with his sleeve and spoke again.

'Anyway, eventually we became very good at being each other. I just had to teach him the correct spells of healing before I could leave the mountain and seek my fortune as Varan, and he remain behind as me... it was all planned... and even Analeen would never know if there was only one of us at home... I had only to teach him the spells and I could go...'

Our next opportunity to change places came sooner than expected, I was sent further onto the mountain than I had ever gone and my father said I was to be extra careful as the barrier was warning of a major breech but I took it for him exaggerating. He often said the wards were weakening and we frequently felt the air tensing around us, warning us of trouble ahead but nothing major happened and if it did, guardians were usually around to take care of things. So I met Varan as usual and we changed clothes, we were both pleased as we thought we could, at last have a lesson far enough away from home for anyone to feel the magic.'

Again, Sonal stopped talking and seemed lost in his thoughts; Gideon looked at his father, as Jed quietly shook his head. Gideon nodded his assent to his father's unspoken command to be silent and waited patiently with the others for Sonal to restart his story. He did not have to wait long.

'We found a rift, Varan and I,' Sonal continued, 'a large one and something was trying to get through, I should have called for aid from our father but he would have realised Varan was with me and both of us would have been severely punished, so I tried to heal the rift myself with just Varan to help me. As I struggled with the magic, a powerful human-like creature broke through the wards and attacked me, it tore at my jaw and neck before I managed to throw it off and conjure a spell to drag it back and seal the hole. I was faint with loss of blood and didn't notice how the creature had hooked Varan in its grip until it was too late, my spell pulled it back behind the veil sealing the rift and taking my twin with it...'

Gideon felt Sonal's pain as he passed his already tear sodden sleeve across his face.

'I was dying of blood loss when my father found me and took me to be Varan as we had not changed our clothes back. Delirious, I also for a short time believed I was my twin so did not correct him. My father and grandfather raised the other guardians and organised a search within the barrier to get Sonal back. My mother came home to nurse me leaving Analeen, who was still very young with friends, soon enough I remembered who I was and was grateful Analeen had not come with our mother, knowing that she alone might possibly have seen through my lie and exposed me, I was a coward you see...' Sonal said, looking intently at his silent audience, he hung his head with shame and again continued with his tale.

'The rescue party were gone over a week and I watched my mother age as she nursed me. When the company returned my father sat with my mother, unaware that I was listening. 'Sonal...?' My mother asked with such a sob in her voice that my heart broke in my chest to hear her. I longed to rush out and say, I'm here; however I was afraid, so I sat behind the door and said nothing. 'Sonal is gone.' My father replied, as he too sobbed and refused to say more. Guilt racked my soul and I knew Varan's death was my fault. Finally, I took the courage to find my grandfather and confess my sins. When I found him, he said he had known all along whom had been lost, he had nursed me before my mother had returned and in my fever, I had cried Varan's name repeatedly.

'Sonal my boy,' he said, 'your time will come, maybe the 'Journey' will grant you the blessing to put right your wrongs and maybe not but I have the same faith in you now as I had when I gave you my father's book.' He hugged me and I told him I was leaving, that I was sorry and that I loved him. I left that night leaving a small gift for Analeen and taking only a few belongings. I never said goodbye to my mother or father, I was too ashamed of myself. I didn't want to see either disappointment or rejection in their eyes, I ran and kept running, and I suppose I'm running still.'

The small room stayed quiet and still as Sonal finished, the silent tears ran down his face unchecked and dripped from his small beard in a steady stream as he stared at the floor. Jed moved away to a cupboard and returned with a bottle in his hand, he pulled out the cork and filled the glass on the table beside his friend with a rich amber liquid. The scent of wild flowers permeated the air.

'We all make mistakes in our lifetime Sonal, it's 'ow we put 'em right, that's the 'ard part,' he said, as Sonal sipped at his wine and the tears dried on his face.

'Yes, my friend,' Sonal replied in a stronger voice, 'the time has come to put them right. Varan is alive and I know not how, but I believe he is with young Jed in Devilly.'

"Ow d'yer know yer twin's with Jed, Sonal, an' what 'appened ter yer sister?' Mayan asked quietly.

'Again, to my shame I do not know what happened to Analeen, or to my family,' Sonal replied, answering her first question, 'as for Varan, I think I saw him...' Tears once again threatened to spill as Sonal again remembered his abandoning his brother to his fate, Gideon looked at Sonal hard.

'Yer be a good man, Sonal,' he said 'whatever yer did can be put right, eh Da?' He added as he looked to his father who sat rubbing his chin. 'Da be scheming...' Gideon observed with a grin as he watched his father deep in thought.

'Yer know we be making plans ter visit with me parents in Branton,' Jed began, 'on account of Mayan needs clothes fer the weddin' an' me Ma wants ter see 'er. Well, I be thinking Sonal, come with us ter Branton, you an' Gid can go on ter Devilly and find yer brother and see young Jed, whilst I bring May 'ome. Apple would be mighty pleased iffen yer popped in on 'er boy I'm sure, an' Gid can git ter see a bit o' the world afore 'e's shackled.' He said, smiling reassuringly at his friend, Sonal looked around at the small party as Mayan thumped Jed on the arm.

'You have not judged me as I deserve to be judged and you are my friends still,' he said solemnly. 'I would be honoured to accompany you to Branton... my friends.'

The wolf sat and watched the small company as they discussed the forthcoming trip. No one mentioned Sonal's story or the twin brother his friends never knew he had. He got up and began to pace the room, something was happening, coincidence on coincidence, he could sense it, this something had been building for a long time, the very essence of the forest seemed to be waiting, everything seemed, just, to be waiting... he stopped pacing and looked long and hard at Jed. Jed ruffled his ears.

'We'll bring yer back a bone or two boy,' Jed said with a smile.

### Chapter 37

### Dotty Has a Visitor

Hours later wet, dishevelled and extremely hungry, Lemba and Rhoàld arrived at Dotty Bramble's small house. Lemba knew the house from her childhood as a place of peace and love and here, to this house Dotty's mother had brought her on the day of the slave sale. She had been six years old, scared and alone and from then until her sixteenth year she had lived as Dotty's adopted sister and she loved the woman very much. She knew Dotty was different from other women somehow and was hoping Dotty would be able to help her and Rhoàld the way she had helped the man she herself, had found on the midden hill.

As she pushed open the small back door, a strong smell of burning permeated the air. Looking toward the kitchen hearth and noticing the fire laid ready but not burning she crossed toward the stair door and the upper floors of the house. Hastily she pulled out a chair from kitchen table and dropped her sodden cloak on to it before she rushed up the stairs two at a time, thanking the gods her disguise was that of a boy in easy to wear trews. She gained the upper floor just as Dotty was rushing into a bedroom with a dripping wet towel; Lemba followed her in ready to give assistance if needed.

'There you are Lems,' said Dotty, using a nickname Lemba knew was only used in her relief at Lemba's safe arrival, she smiled warmly and nodded her head toward the bed and the sleeping man, 'you came just at the right time, now help me clean this mess will you?' She asked, as Lemba knelt to the floor. Briefly, Lemba's gaze flicked over the man she had saved as he smiled at her in welcome and moved quietly in the direction of the door. As she helped clean up the mess Lemba smiled, knowing the figure in the bed was probably another of her sister's needy waifs and strays.

Whilst Lemba was still a child, Dotty and her mother had taken in quite a few, although she herself was the only one they had kept.

As they worked, Dotty spoke chattily about the stubborn young red headed boy in the bed and his continuing to follow them despite the wild rain the night they found him, and glancing at the bed Lemba could indeed see a tousled mop of chestnut hair sticking up over the top of a generous counterpane. She smiled again to herself and finished the floor as her sister opened the windows to clear the air. A fresh breeze blew through the room dissipating the last of the smell of burning, and spreading instead the smell of newly washed earth.

'Let's go downstairs,' Dotty whispered, 'before the handsome young soldier wakes,' she added, with a smile, 'and we have things to be decided and much work to do I'll be bound,' she murmured as she walked out of the door leaving Lemba staring at the sleeping soldier. The breeze had blown across the sleeping man's face and he had turned in his sleep to avoid the draft, _Jed_ , she thought as she crossed the room to gingerly stroke his forehead _, how are you here my love?_ She asked, knowing he would never hear her thoughts. He opened his eyes as the cool fingers brushed his face.

'Lemba,' he said croakily, 'I... I be dreaming,' Lemba leant forward and gently touched her bruised lips to his, drowsily he looked once more into the clear green eyes, 'don't go away agen love,' he said, as he drifted off to sleep once more his hand on his chest covering a small green stone, Lemba quietly left the room.

Rhoàld watched Lemba rush up the stairs and wondered what to do, having never been an impulsive man he realised suddenly that by leaving the castle he had put himself and everybody around him in danger. He sighed deeply, he had felt so sure running away and fighting Gath from a distance was the right thing to do but now, unable to feel Bastian within him and feeling alone and guilty he was becoming nervous, he longed for Gath and the safety of the castle.

' _Noooooo,'_ he heard whispered from somewhere deep within his being.

'Bastian...' he cried aloud softly, as the voice drifted away. Once more the pain of loss and loneliness filled him, tears formed in his eyes and shaking his head sadly he removed his cloak and placed it alongside Lemba's on the back of the small chair.

The door opened and Varan walked into the room, Rhoàld felt giddy and numb, as if his brain were full of cotton wool, still weak from the long and evasive walk to Dotty's home he held on to the chair back for support. Varan stared hard at the dark shadows cast around the stranger, like an aura bleeding life from the soul within; the small kitchen seemed full of evil and threat, pulsing and yet, strangely inviting. _This aura is different;_ Varan thought as he felt an element of goodness creeping steadfastly from the heart of the unfortunate soul _, and there is something else..._ his thoughts whirled in confusion.

Looking round, Rhoàld stared into the deep blue eyes he had only really seen once before but would never forget _._

' _He has used you...; he has taken your blood.'_ Rhoàld heard in his mind as those same eyes locked with his once more, Rhoàld felt as if the creature, _the man_ , Rhoàld corrected his thoughts, was staring straight into his soul.

'He looks for you,' Varan said, as Rhoàld tried to break away from the stare, 'and he means to find you,' he added.

If not for those extraordinary eyes, Rhoàld would never have recognised him, he looked so different from the dirty dishevelled animal that Rhoàld had helped both chain and torture, he vividly remembered standing by as Gath slowly tore the skin from this man's back.

'I knew you would come, you need my help as I need yours. My name is Varan.' The man said as he began mumbling.

'What the...?' Rhoàld began, as suddenly the room grew cold and his skin suddenly prickled as if ants or spiders were crawling over him, he sat down unheard on the chair that he had been holding and began rubbing the imaginary insects from his skin. In fascination, he watched as sweat broke out on the strange man's brow and the veins in his neck seemed to pulse with each heartbeat. The man, Varan, seemed as if he was fighting a battle with an unseen foe when suddenly with an imaginary snap of the fingers, Rhoàld felt strangely free of the foreboding that had been growing stronger in him since he left the castle. The itching stopped as Varan sat down hard at a second chair, clearly exhausted and for a moment rested his head upon his forearms on the kitchen table. Finally, he lifted his head and smiled at Rhoàld.

'You are free for now my friend but he will find you again, you must remain strong as _he_ grows ever stronger.'

'Why, hello Rhoàld,' began Dotty with a surprised look on her face as she walked into the room. Her time at the castle had seen her working closely with the man for years and she shuddered inwardly at the change in him. 'I am glad that your aura has gone,' she said. 'I could feel the ties from the bedroom. Let him try to find us now!' she laughed and walking around the table to the now roaring fire, she picked up a large poker. 'There's nothing like a good fire to warm up a chill room, eh?' She added, not expecting a reply.

_Who lit the fire?_ Rhoàld asked himself as Dotty worked.

'Now then...,' the woman began again as she poked the fire to dampen down the flames.

' _Magic needs balance,'_ Rhoàld heard in his head, startled, he looked away from the fire and caught Varan staring at him once more.

'Now then, shall we have a nice cup of tea and something to eat, then we can make plans,' Dotty said, smiling at her sister as she walked into the room her face full of questions.

Lemba stared out of the small window watching the sun going down through the rain, a weak rainbow tried to lighten the gloom as the dark shadows crept inexorably up and over the glistening wet rooftops. She was scared, scared of Gath's reaction on finding them missing and of Jed's reaction to the news she bore. Her surprise at finding Jed, her Jed, here in this house had been immense and although Dotty had explained how he had come to be there, he had so obviously been recently ill, she wondered whether she should tell him at all, or if he would even believe her.

She turned to look upon his beloved face and made her decision. He had told her of his friends and family so long ago and with such passion, she felt she knew them all and his love for his blood brother Gideon had shown on his face as he had unconsciously stroked the little stone he wore at his neck. _Yes,_ she thought _, I will tell him and leave..._ she imagined herself telling him of her past, of his turning away in disgust and she did not think her heart could suffer his rejection. _I am the king's whore, I am no longer a maid and I am well used_. She reasoned with herself, _how could he possibly love one such as me... but he is here now, with me and I will be free, even if he does not want me._ Sad, silent tears flowed unchecked down her face in competition with the rain that had started again and was falling hard onto the windowpane.

'Lemba...?' Jed croaked his voice rough and unused. Lemba looked again at the young man she had grown to love. As she looked, Jed withdrew his hands from the counterpane and slowly made shapes and patterns with his fingers.

'Stay with me' his fingers said. 'I will look after you...' Jed rested his hands suddenly conscious of Lemba's silence. Panic overcame him, _she don't feel the same,_ he thought, embarrassed at putting his heart on view so openly.

Any resolutions Lemba had made dissipated like the rainbow after the sun had gone. Flying to the bed Lemba knelt, took Jed's hand in hers, kissed it and held it to her bruised cheek. Seeing her swollen face and split lip, Jed stared in horror; he had not noticed the fresh swelling or the bruising, as she stood in silhouette against the window.

'The king,' he said in a flat voice as he tenderly pulled her toward him. 'No king, no man, will ever 'urt yer agen,' he added, as he tenderly touched his lips to hers. Unwilling to pull away, Lemba leant into the kiss. As their lips touched, Lemba tasted the blood from her cut lip and immediately thought of how Gath would put his tongue into her mouth to feel the stub of her tongue when he kissed her, shame blossomed and she turned her head away from the kiss, content just to have Jed hold her. Jed stared into the deepening shadows; unsure once again, he held her tightly and slowly drifted to sleep once more. Close and comforted for the first time in years Lemba relaxed and also slept, held fast in the arms of her love.

### ***

The rain pounding loudly on the window roused the sleeping man. Shy once more and unsure of Lemba's feelings for him, Jed eased himself from underneath her and gingerly stepped out from the bed, immediately shivering from the intense cold that had filled the house. Ensuring the counterpane covered Lemba; he hurriedly pulled on a pair of overlarge trews that hung over the end of the bed. Opening the bedroom door, he quietly slipped onto the landing and headed for the stairs he knew were there but did not recall ever seeing. Descending the staircase quietly he paused behind a door, voices were coming from the warmly lit kitchen and he could see the glow from a lively fire escaping through the doors ill-fitting frame. So careful was he not to make a sound as he tried to listen to the conversation behind the door he failed to hear Lemba as she walked down the stairs behind him. As she softly touched his back, he jumped, pushing open the door and startling Rhoàld, a woman and the man Jed had mistaken for Sonal, they smiled at him in welcome.

'We wondered how long you would wait behind the door young man,' said the woman before adding, 'please come on in and sit down, have a spot of tea and some food. Rhoàld pass the butter please,' she added as she placed a platter of bread and cheese on the table.

'Mam,' said Jed as he walked into the room and awkwardly bowed at the assembled company. 'Iffen I may ask, where am I?' He looked toward the woman who had first spoken before noticing her eyes were fixed on Lemba behind him. Glancing back, he noticed Lemba's fingers were flashing so quickly that he, with his fledgling talent had no hope of being able to understand what she was saying; the woman's face was full of concern as she asked Jed once again to take a seat.

Confused and still weak from his illness he stood still and watched Lemba, as she again moved her fingers so fast they looked almost invisible.

'Young man, there is much to tell you and much you can tell,' began Varan, 'but first you must sit before you fall and we have to carry you back to bed. You have been quite ill you know,' he finished, glancing at Dotty who had pulled a chair from the table and held the back as she invited Jed to sit yet again.

Jed sat, as confused as ever and feeling weaker than he had ever felt in his life. He vaguely recognised the old man sitting across from him, _Rhoàld, she called yer, but where do I know yer from?_ He wondered and frustrated that he could not place the man before him turned once more to the woman.

'Please, 'ow long 'ave I've bin 'ere, 'n' what's goin' on?' He asked weakly, his accent for once, pure Green Home, he looked at Dotty as she fussed with the range, making tea and spreading cups around the table.

'Lemba has asked me to tell you a story dearie,' she began, 'it has been hard for her, you understand, as it has been for all of us, so please be patient a little longer and I will try to explain some of what I know.'

Jed sat quietly as first Dotty told how she had found him 'passed out' on the back of her wagon in the rain, she reddened as she remembered the blow from the wooden club she had inflicted on the poor man knowing she had been a trifle heavy handed but terror at being caught and handed over to Gath had given her added strength. Varan caught her eye and smiled at the little white lie.

'It was wet and frightfully cold, so I brought you here as you seemed so ill, you had pneumonia you know, I've nursed you here, this....' she gestured to the room around her, 'is my home. We're on the edge of town and not far from the docks; you've been here three weeks and have been very poorly indeed.' She said, reaching out to feel Jed's forehead with the back of her hand with a concerned expression on her face, a look that instantly reminded Jed of his mother who had done the self-same thing repeatedly over the years. _Ma, what 'ave I got mesel' into?_ He wondered.

'Yes mam, I'm grateful but there are 'ealers at the barracks...' Jed began.

'For personal reasons we were unable to inform the er... authorities you were here but as things have transpired it is perhaps fortunate that you are,' Varan added, 'please allow Dotty to continue as there are certain things Lemba wishes you to know,' he finished, smiling at the young girl who was looking so forlorn and worried. Lemba moved to one side so she could see Jed more clearly, Dotty patted her cheek and continued to tell the young girl's tale.

'Lemba came to us as a little girl...,' she began, and went on to explain how her mother had taken her in and adopted her, how her mother had worked at the castle as one of the housekeepers and so naturally, as the girls grew they would accompany her as she went to work. How from that, Gath had seen her and claimed her as his and how her mother had lost her job and eventually her life fighting to get her stepdaughter back.

'That is what she is,' Dotty said, as she looked at Lemba once more, 'my sister...' Lemba smiled and nodded quietly, moving close to hold her sister's hand as she continued with her tale. 'Gath has used her, used her as a body slave...' Dotty paused and looked at Lemba, once again noticing how Lemba's own eyes were focused on Jed and how she held her breath, her split lip trembling as she waited to see his reaction.

'I know what yer are...an' what yer've done,' Jed said as he stood and smiled weakly at Lemba. 'I don't care, I've known fer a long time but if you would allow me, I would look after yer when yer become free. First though, I gotta know what I be doin' 'ere,' he added, looking once more at the woman who claimed to be his silver girl's sister. Lemba smiled, her eyes once more filling with tears. _Oh, how I love him,_ she thought, as she too looked at Dotty, her face glowing with happiness. Her sister continued.

'Rhoàld here,' she said pointing at the frail man, 'helped Lemba to escape, to run away, Gath will soon be hunting for them if he is not already,' she glanced at Varan who shook his head. 'Both are valuable to Gath, for different reasons but valuable none the less,' Jed glanced over at the frail old man sitting across the table.

'Surr,' he said, once more struck by the thought he knew him from somewhere. 'You helped Lemba escape from Gath, please allow me to 'elp yer in return if I can,' he bowed awkwardly at the seated man, 'when I get back to the barracks...,' he began but stopped as Lemba's hand touched his shoulder. She pointed at Dotty before her fingers flashed once more; slower this time but still Jed could not understand half of what they said.

'Jed dear, may I call you Jed as Lemba does?' Dotty asked but without waiting for an answer continued to speak. He wondered absently at the woman's age, being unable to tell or even hazard a guess,' he smiled wearily. 'Please listen and bear with me,' Dotty said noticing his tired mind wandering; she took a deep breath and suddenly seemed a little nervous.

'What is it?' Jed asked, feeling confused, again Dotty looked at Lemba and the girl nodded her head.

'Gath has instructed a Sergeant named Toby Hollins to find a young man. A young man Lemba believes to be your brother,' she began, as Jed snorted with laughter.

'What,' smiled Jed incredulously, 'Toby, a Sergeant...' he said still smiling as Dotty continued quickly.

'This soldier has been told to find and hold a young man called Gideon Green, he will not be harmed, not yet anyway but Lemba believes the village where he has been hidden will be destroyed and the inhabitants killed or sold into slavery. Sergeant Hollins left yesterday for ...,' she stopped as she looked at Lemba once more for confirmation of the village name. 'Green Home Village in the county of...'

'Beaut Valley...' Jed finished for her as shock made him sit heavily, spilling the untouched tea on the table. "By the Journey,' why?' He asked looking at Dotty and the two men seated opposite him at the table. He stared hard at the clean scrubbed wood absently noticing all the fine lines, whorls and patterns nature had imprinted. Silence filled the room and Jed looked up to see concerned faces. 'I dunno what's goin' on but I'm gonna find out,' he said abruptly as he stood once more, pushing back his chair and scraping it over the tiled floor. 'I mus' report in an' ask fer leave, I mus' get 'ome an' find out what's goin' on...' he said.

'Jed,' interrupted Varan 'you cannot go back to the barracks, you too are being hunted ...' Jed remained stock-still, his face darkening.

'What! 'By the Journey' there be sommat odd goin' on 'ere,' he exploded in angry frustration. 'I wake up in a strange bed, the girl I've been trying ter find fer months jus' 'appens ter be 'ere dressed as a boy, an' a man I think is me friend turns out ter be sommat else but so sim'lar 'is own ma wouldn't know the difference.' He stared pointedly at Varan, 'yer did sommat ter me an' I know it.' He said accusingly, pointing his finger at the man who looked so like Sonal, 'an' now yer tell me I'm bein' 'unted! Someone 'ad better tell me jus' what's goin' on,' he added quietly, his speech patterns returning to childhood with stress and with his voice full of threat.

Lemba rested her hand on his arm; she could feel the knots of tension trembling in the throes of his anger, like a coiled spring waiting for release. For the first time in years she was regretting the loss of her tongue, she had become too used to not speaking. She caressed his arm with her cool fingers causing him to take his glance from Varan and look at her. Lifting her fingers from his arm, she twisted and flashed them slowly so he could understand what she said.

'Please listen my love, we speak only the truth,' her fingers said, and Jed smiled, his heart suddenly pounding. _She called me 'love',_ he thought, his anger dissipating quickly as his heart flipped over. He turned back to the table and sat once more, in a slightly calmer, more thoughtful frame of mind.

'My boy,' began Varan, 'we will do our best to explain to your satisfaction whilst there is still time but rest assured we have not spoken untruths. The king's men are hunting each of us at this table. Firstly, you called me Sonal, Sonal is my brother and we are twins, he being the elder by minutes only. Circumstance separated us many years ago, my name is Varan.' Varan waited for a reaction, when none came he ploughed on. 'Most of my adult life I have lived in a part of the world known as... 'The Bleak..." he paused again as finally Jed understood.

'It's you,' he whispered, 'we all be looking fer an escaped pris'ner an' it's you.' Unconsciously Jed put his hand up to his head as if remembering an old hurt, Dotty noticing the movement flushed a crimson red.

'Yes, my boy as I said, we are all being hunted!' Varan explained in an exasperated voice, he looked at Jed as he would have looked at a rather dense child and Jed, despite his worry and confusion over the strange situation he found himself in suddenly snorted with laughter.

'I be sorry surr,' he said to a startled Varan, 'I find this all so... so strange. Yer may be younger en Sonal but yer do look an' sound as 'e do.' As Varan had spoken he had seen Sonal chastising him as a child for a minor misdemeanour, both he and Gideon had heard the blunt edge of Sonal's tongue more than once as they were growing up.

'I need to find my brother for reasons we have not got the time to go into here,' Varan continued, 'Miss Bramble, Dotty,' he smiled at the lady, 'and Rhoàld here, are like me, also 'of the blood,' and as such Gath will hunt them till the end of the earth.'

'Eh...,' began Jed, clearly confused again, he would have said more but Lemba's fingers squeezing his arm stopped him.

'Journeys grace has allowed Dotty to remain undetected these long years,' Varan added.

'Well, that and a little help from a few likeminded folk,' interrupted Dotty, 'there was a time when we believed we were alone...' she said, remembering. Jed was about to ask a question again when Lemba, once more sensing Jed's confusion held a finger to his lips as Varan continued.

'About Sargent Hollins...' Varan said and Jed's questions remained unasked as he listened. 'Rhoàld and Lemba were both present when this, Sergeant Hollins, was given the order to find the young man you call brother. They believe the people of the village may be in danger too.' Unable to contain himself any longer Jed spoke out.

'Look I don't unnerstand any of this, why Gideon, why? It makes no sense, none of it; why am I in trouble an' what's this blood yer speak of?' He added, shaking his head in disbelief.

'Please let me...,' began Rhoàld speaking for the first time, he looked around the silent room for assent.

'My dear, the king believes...' Rhoàld stopped as he realised the implications of what he was about to say, closing his eyes he heard the voice of Gath once more as he closed the chamber door. _'As I was saying Lydia my dear,'_ Rhoàld had heard the king say, _'I believe I have found our son.'_ 'The king believes,' continued Rhoàld, 'that the boy Gideon..., the boy Gideon is the son of his daughter Lydia, and the father of the boy is... is Gath himself!'

'What...,' began Jed and fell silent as he stared at the table once more thinking of a past conversation and following argument he and Toby had gotten into over Gideon's likeness to the king. Jed opened his hand and stared hard at his palm scar. The thin white scar that ran from the base of his thumb to base of his little finger, he thought of Gideon, the brother he had known all his life. Lemba watching him carefully saw the scar and remembered Jed telling her of his blood brother, she flashed her fingers once more at Dotty.

'You have shared his blood,' stated Dotty as she reached over to feel the white scar, within seconds Varan also reached across the table to hold his own hand over Dotty's, Varan glanced at Rhoàld and Rhoàld moved to do the same though unsure as to why?

'Lemba,' said Dotty 'join us.' Varan looked quizzically at Dotty and glanced at Lemba, his gaze shifting to one of surprise as he continued to focus. Dotty ignored the look and called to Lemba once more. Lemba, bemused herself at the sudden turn of events complied and leaning forward with her own hand and held it palm down over the small tower of hands on the table.

'What the...,' began Jed again as his scar began to tingle, he heard mumbling from Varen as the tingle turned into an itch and the nape of his neck began to sting once again where the original blood soaked knot from Gideon's birthday gift of the bloodstone had once rested.

Jed felt uncomfortably hot; his blood seemed to have a life of its own as it began to rush around his body so fast he felt giddy and lightheaded as he sat in the chair. Around him, he could see the faces of the assembled company all blurring into one face, the face of his blood brother, Gideon.

Almost as soon as it had begun, the stinging stopped along with the itching and singsong mumbling. Jed began to rub his arms as suddenly the temperature in the room plummeted, he breathed out and watched the plume of warm air rise and dissipate into the cold room.

'The blood is strong in this Gideon and it feels pure,' Varan stated as if to himself, his mind was whirling. 'We must go to him as soon as we can, he will need our help,' he said louder to the gathered company, 'but first, Lemba my dear come here.' Dotty glanced up from where she was once more building up the fire to reheat the room.

'No more magic, please Varan, the king would surely feel us despite the warding and my bones have had enough freezing and warming over the last few hours to last me a lifetime. I can tell you what you want to know.'

She washed her hands at the small sink and once more joined the table.

'Lemba...,' she said, looking at the young girl she thought of as a sister, 'is like us.' Lemba stared uncomprehendingly.

'Ahh, I thought I...,' interrupted Varan.

'Please..., let me finish,' Dotty interrupted sadly.

'When Lemba was a child, my mother somehow knew straight away she was like us and she was pleased to be able to save her from the slavers...'

'Were your parent's debtors then child?' Rhoàld asked, knowing how Gath had gathered debtors for years and enslaved them during pledging ceremony. Jed stared at Rhoàld, desperately trying to recall from where he knew him.

'Lemba's mother died, but if you listen I'll explain,' began Dotty again, looking at Rhoàld in exasperation. 'At first for selfish reasons, mother was glad she had rescued Lems after all, I was now no longer an only child,' she said, using Lemba's diminutive name. Lemba scowled at her sister and Dotty flashed an apology as she continued to speak. 'Well anyway, we were quite happy for a number of months and then her father who had drunkenly sold her to the slavers in the first place found her here, he was sober and suffering from remorse at his shameful behaviour. As his visits increased, we all became friends.' Dotty glanced at Lemba who was smiling at the memories she held of those few happy months. Dotty smiled back. 'Over the months he told mother his story...'

She continued to tell Lemba's tale, explaining that Lemba's mother had been ill after Lemba's birth and had never recovered properly dying soon after her fourth birthday. He explained that he had never wanted children knowing the risk there was to the woman he loved so dearly, she however, had pleaded and eventually he had given in.

'The healers were so expensive then weren't they?' Dotty suddenly said, interrupting her story. 'Do you remember those times when Gath began arresting all the people who could heal, all who seemed to know a little about magic and herbs, what was the reason now...?' She tapped her forehead trying to think. 'Oh I don't remember but it was a bad time if you were different at all... the king's man paid handsomely for information.' Dotty shuddered, remembering the soldiers searching homes and people disappearing in the dark. Rhoàld, who also remembered those times well but for different reasons flushed furiously but again remained silent and still.

'Dotty, my dear you seem to be digressing a little,' said Varan glancing at the assembled company, 'you were telling us about Lemba...' he prompted. Dotty smiled weakly and returned to her tale.

'It was about then that Lemba's father disappeared, he'd been drinking they said but we knew he hadn't touched a drop since he had awoken that terrible day after he had sold Lemba.' Dotty's voice had lowered and Jed had to struggle to hear. A silent tear dropped onto her pale cheek as she continued. 'I think he was taken, he had the blood you see, not strongly like my mother, nor even Lemba or I but you could tell. We worried for weeks but he never came back and he never told about us,' she looked at Lemba again, 'he was a good man then Lems, a father to be proud of.'

"Ow is it yer never got took yersel', iffen the king's men were looking fer folk like you?' Jed asked his voice still sceptical.

'A charm Jed, a simple charm,' Dotty answered, touching her throat in a manner Jed recognised as one of his own.

He looked cautiously at the assembled company his mind was reeling, he was glad to hear Lemba's story but Gideon's face kept interrupting his thoughts, _Gid the son of the king, Gath an' his own daughter! ...that's jus' wrong,_ he felt sick to the stomach, hardly listening now as Dotty continued once more.

'Not long after her father had gone Lemba began to suffer from nightmares.' Dotty continued, unaware of the confusion and consternation clouding Jed's mind, he shook his head to listen hoping he would wake up in the barracks room and this was a nightmare of his own.

'So wild and worrisome they were and so loud. Not so you could actually hear them but mother and I could certainly feel them, like a battle going on in my head, every night for nigh on a week it seemed the nightmares would come. Then one morning a couple of strangers knocked on the door, mother took them for folk wanting work at the castle and told them to go away. That night the nightmares came again only worse than before and neither mother nor I could settle Lemba, she was so young and so scared. Then the couple knocked again, they said they could hear her screaming and although it was still night, I let them in...' Dotty smiled sadly at the memory of her mother scolding her for answering to door to strangers.

'Anyway, the knocking on the door had woken Lemba up and the feeling of chaos suddenly stopped. She came downstairs to find the couple with mother and me, sitting just here,' she gestured to the table, 'where we are now, so mother told me to take Lems...' sorry, Lemba back to bed, and she fell into a peaceful sleep.' Lemba smiled as Dotty corrected herself over her name before she continued with a tale much of which was new to her.

'The strangers explained that she had called to them in her sleep, they had felt her distress and her blood had called to them they said. They explained about Gath and his never-ending quest for the ancient blood. I knew folk with healing powers or abilities like Lemba and I would disappear as Lemba's Da did, but I had, until then anyway, not known others could _feel_ our blood. They explained that we were part of an ancient race, that our ancestry meant we were different somehow. Lemba was an ancient too and from a strong line they said. The couple believed Gath, even though he had grown weak would still be able to feel her power and they said that she was in danger... that we were all in danger, Gath, they said, would kill her and drain her blood,' she looked at Rhoàld across the table. He smiled weakly in return, his fingers drifting toward his scarred neck.

'We couldn't let that happen so mother begged the couple to take Lemba and me away with them to protect us from Gath. They agreed and we were to go the next morning but as the sun came up, she knew she couldn't do it, she loved us too much.' Dotty smiled at her sister who returned the smile sadly. 'The couple tried to persuade her,' she continued, 'but she said no, so she agreed to let them try to stem the root of Lemba's magic as she was the one who was having the nightmares.' Lemba moved behind her sister and held her shoulders; she did not remember any of this and hated to see the pain Dotty's eyes. 'When they came back later that evening, mother took them upstairs to where Lemba was sleeping and we all held hands over her. They began to mumble and sing and the room became very cold, my teeth chattered something fierce it was so cold. Lemba began to thrash on the bed and she opened her eyes, not seeing but screaming for help, even as the tears rolled down her face. Everyone just kept singing, I couldn't I was so cold. Finally, as night wore on, she became quiet and slept and as the mumbling continued, the room just got colder and colder, then the teeth rattling in mouth became my contribution to the singsong mumbling.

Hours passed and I became very weary, near dawn, a haze appeared over Lemba's body, a pale lacy light so shining and bright it made the room glow as if in full daylight, so beautiful. The light was full of colour and it seemed to dance around the room as if it was searching for something, whirling and dancing, faster and faster, it seemed to have a life of its own. Finally, it surrounded me and seemed to shrink until it disappeared and suddenly I felt warm again and strong.

Immediately the couple stopped the singing and exhausted, collapsed on to the bed, my mother passed out beside Lemba. I wasn't tired anymore, even after standing for so long and holding hands in that cold room, so after checking mother and Lemba were still sleeping and not harmed I went downstairs to make tea. When mother and the couple joined me a while later, they told us Lemba's magic was being held in abeyance, by me, that I would hold her magic until such time as it were safe to give it back, then I would need to find a magician to reverse the spell. The couple finished their tea and left with instructions to keep Lemba safe and for me not to use the gifts I had. Tis they who helped me move you Varan,' she said looking at Varan as she spoke; he smiled at her as she continued. 'Soon I began to know or feel when other people were like me, occasionally I would be in the market or on a buying trip to the docks and I would feel someone and know instinctively they were like me, those who were special I mean and could do things like me. Eventually we formed a society to help each other; there aren't many of us left now. Anyway, we still had Lemba and were happy, Lemba never knew and seemed no different but when Gath took her and cut out her tongue... I regretted that mother had kept her, had not allowed her to be taken away and be safe, I have regretted it ever since,' she turned to the girl she loved still standing behind her. 'Lemba my love, forgive me...,' she pleaded as finally, she broke down and tears cascaded down her face.

'You saved her life Dotty,' began Varan as he explained that by taking the magic from her blood Gath had been unaware that Lemba was an ancient.

The silence was intense around the table and nothing could be heard except Dotty, as she quietly wept in Lemba arms.

Jed stared at the assembled company from frail old Rhoàld to the beautiful silver haired Lemba, confusion and sorrow uppermost in his mind.

'Yer know what,' he said, his uncertainty making him suddenly angry once more, 'this be too much fer me. Gath be me king and I swore ter be 'is man. I don't 'ave ter like what 'e' did ter yer an' I'll surely protect yer best I can...even ter me life...' He added, looking at Lemba before continuing, 'but yer saying Gath has sent Toby ter get Gideon , that 'es 'is son... that everybody 'ere has some sort o' funny blood, including me coz I be blood brothers with 'im! Jed suddenly stopped speaking; he glanced around the room at the expectant faces, a stunned look on his own, a thought had suddenly blossomed in his mind, like a butterfly breaking out of its cocoon. _The_ _first parade, everyone said Gath 'ad seemed strange, as if he were lookin' for someone or somefin' amongst the crowds of waitin' new recruits. 'E walked up an' down an' stopped once 'e 'ad reached me...me scar burned...an' me neck...!_ Jed ran his hand across the nape of his neck remembering how he thought a bee had stung him. _Journey take me, Gath could feel Gideon's blood running in me veins!_

'NO...,' he stood abruptly, again pushing his chair back and scraping the legs once more across the floor. 'This be like a sick joke, only I ain't laughin'.' Shaking his head to clear his jumbled thoughts he finally said, 'I'm sorry, really sorry but I gotta get back.'

As he finished his rant, a wave of dizziness overcame him and he grabbed at the table to stop himself from falling. _By the gods, I'm tired,_ he thought holding his head until the dizziness passed. He needed to sleep and could not remember a time when he had been so exhausted.

'Go back to bed Jed dear,' said Dotty, holding open the kitchen door as she mopped her damp face, 'we'll talk some more in the morning,' she added as Lemba led the dazed lad back up the stairs.

'My friends,' said Varan, looking from Dotty to Rhoàld as Jed closed the door behind him. 'If I am right and I think I am..., _I believe prophecy is about to unfold,_ he thought but said aloud, 'we must find my brother and this Gideon, I am almost certain he will need our help.'

Rhoàld shuddered as he felt Bastian's cool fingers caress his cheek.

' _It begins'_ he heard and felt warmed by the touch. _'I will be with you,'_ Bastian's whisper echoed in his mind and he felt comforted. _'Then I'll stay with these people, Bastian, I have nowhere else to go anyway and am not strong enough to fight Gath alone, yes I'll stay,'_ he replied, hoping Bastian understood him.

Lemba smiled sadly as she re-entered the room and flashed her fingers at Dotty.

'The lad sleeps.' Dotty translated as Lemba took Jed's place at the table. Varan sipped his nearly cold tea and grimaced.

'A fresh pot my dear?' He asked as he put the cold drink down.

'A fresh pot before we plan our journey then,' she agreed, adding, 'but we also need to sleep.' She smiled as she made the tea, relieved that finally, she was going to be leaving Devilly with the sister she loved.

### *

Jed slept soundly throughout the night and well into the next day, finally waking as the noise of the outside world encroached on his slumber. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he had not eaten properly for days and climbing out of bed, he walked unsteadily to the window and drew back the curtain to see Varan and Rhoàld loading a cart with bags and boxes. Lemba was wearing the long grey robe he had given her so long ago but was still dressed underneath as the boy he had seen last night. She looked up, saw him staring and waved happily, Jed grinned back at her, loving the thought of her being his. As he watched the loading of the cart, Jed realised where he had seen the cart before. In the rain, he thought.

'I was chasing it in the rain, Thurl sent me to help the old lady,' he said aloud. Immediately the memory of the house-to-house searches and the responsibilities he had undertaken as a king's man brought him back to earth with a bump. 'What's 'appening ter me?' He asked himself, his life had changed again and he was not in control. _I'm a soldier an' me duty is ter me king... ter what?_ He thought, _protect me king over me fam'ly!_ Jed was confused, his thoughts raced through his brain trying to make sense out of something that was just insane. _Iffen I can make 'em gimme leave, make 'em see that Gideon is Jed's son... Toby's one of me mates, 'e wouldn't 'urt me fam'ly, would 'e?_ A box, noisily thrown onto the wagon made him look out of the window once more. _Lemba..., Lemba can go ter me ma until I can leave the army_ , he thought as looked down at her busy helping to load the cart and with a heavy heart, he made his decision.

'I mus' go back,' he said to the empty room. He once more dressed quietly in the borrowed clothes and made his way down the narrow stairs to find Dotty packing a small herb box.

'I'll maybe need my herbs for the journey lad.' She smiled at him sorrowfully, knowing what he was going to say.

'Mam, I'm thankful ter yer fer looking after me but I gotta get back ter see Toby an' Thurl. I'm still a soldier, I'll explain I've been ill, an' about Gid, 'e's Jed's son not the king's, I mean, I've known 'im since 'e were born. I'm real sorry I can't go with yer.' Jed said truthfully. 'I'll get leave though and follow after yer, after Lemba,' he said.

'It's past noon now,' Dotty replied, adding 'eat something before you leave.' She gestured to the kitchen table laid with bread and cheese. At that moment Lemba knocked on the small window and smiled at Jed, her green eyes shone with happiness.

Jed almost choked. 'I gotta go now mam...' he said as Lemba waved and turned away, his eyes filling with unshod tears. Dotty smiled sadly seeing the pain etched on the young man's face.

'We'll be leaving as soon as it's fully dark Jed,' Dotty said adding, 'we'll wait for you as long as we can.' Jed closed the door behind him and tried not to look back as the noise from the cart suddenly stopped. Jed could feel the eyes boring into his back and his heart felt like stone, in his mind he could see Lemba's green eyes filled with tears.

As the sun began to sink, Jed walked slowly along the river road toward the city. He was pale and tired and it did not take much for him to admit to himself that he was not as fit as he thought he was and needed to rest. Seeing a bench up ahead outside a familiar looking riverside tavern he sat down to regain his strength. He thought of the last few days, trying to get everything straight in his head as he watched the late autumn sun play on the brown water turning the wash gold as a boat passed. Children were playing along the bank and he could hear them excitedly exclaiming as they found a particular piece of treasure. Jed smiled, knowing that in another time and place Mayan, Gideon and he had done the self-same thing, the Beaut River giving up its most beautiful stones or pieces of smooth glass for their own treasure stores. _Oh yes,_ he thought, _our future king used ter play on the riverbank!_ He laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all.

As he rested, the muted sounds and smells from the pub behind him became familiar and thoughts of home crowded into his head. 'I need ter get leave,' he told himself as he rested his head back against the wall behind him, 'an' I need ter see Toby.' He glanced at the pub sign swinging creakily above him and realised why it had seemed so familiar, it was the Bull and Anchor, he had been here before with Toby the day Hackman had told an enthusiastic audience how he had helped to torture Lemba. _Lemba, the girl who loves me,_ he thought sadly, wondering when and if he would ever see her again. The sound of a window opening almost immediately above him interrupted his thoughts, as the previously muffled sounds became audible voices and he glanced up to see plumes of grey smoke drifting out through the aperture and winding their way up toward the sky before dispersing. He was about to move on when he heard a voice he knew.

'...mine then me friend.' Jed heard, as the last of the smoke trails disappeared. _Toby,_ Jed smiled. _I'll catch 'im when 'e comes out an' get 'im ter 'elp me back ter the barracks_ , he thought, relaxing as he once more continued to watch the dirty brown water flowing sluggishly by. Toby's voice came in snatches through the open window and absently Jed listened.

'Leaving tonite I am,' Jed heard, 'should 'ave left yesterday but 'ad a wee bit a business ter settle with the redhead from the Dog, iffen yer git me meaning...' his raucous laughter drowned out any reply.

'Ner,' Jed heard, 'got me a bunch a' crack troopers ... ... ... ...I be Sergeant Hollins now.........' Jed reeled as the he listened. _Toby, a Sergeant!_ If he had been told the truth about Toby's promotion, the likelihood was everything else he had been told was the truth too. He began to feel sick, he knew Toby had never really cared much for Gideon, but take him, and for Gath. _Once Toby knows what Gath's really like 'e'll leave Gid alone._ Jed tried to persuade himself remembering the times when as children they had all played together.

Other patrons entered the inn and Toby's voice was again drowned out but Jed's own name brought him back to earth with a bang, he strained hard to listen.

'...Brewster... need 'elp iffen 'e turns up. ... ... 'e goes 'ome agen. ...yer, tis called Green 'ome... ... ... that's fer sure, Gath said ter burn it... ... but ... 'an' I'll find 'im no matter ... I got me plans an' I quite ... ...the silver ... 'E 'isel... ...ter me yer know, an' I be going places.'

"Gath said ter burn it!" Jed repeated the overheard phrase slowly, _did I hear that right, is that what Toby said?_ Jed asked himself feeling suddenly sick and almost drunkenly, he retched, his dry empty stomach clenched painfully, breath became short and he fell onto his hands and knees just as the pub door opened and Sergeant Toby Hollins walked out with a companion. He passed the stricken man without a backward glance as Jed heaved and heaved again, the acid and acrid yellow bile from his stomach burning his gullet as it poured from his mouth. Finally as his stomach calmed, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his borrowed jacket and looked up in time to see the newly sewn chevrons topped with a small golden crown on Toby's arm as he walked away. The tiny crowns gleamed in the sunshine as Jed stood shakily and stared in disbelief after his friend as he leant against the pub wall for support. A notice board close by held local news and glancing over, he looked straight into his own face as the image on a wanted poster mocked him.

### JED BREWSTER

### Absent With Out Leave

### Information required

He had heard and seen enough, he believed from what he _had_ heard that Toby was still willing to help him and for that, he was grateful. _I'll explain the a.w.o.l. an' the rest ter 'im when I next see 'im,_ he thought, _but fer now_ , _I'm goin' back ter Lemba an' an' the others, I'm goin' 'ome._ Knowing he had not heard even half of Toby's conversation bothered him immensely but worried now for both his family and his village, he thanked the journey for the illness that had left him weak and had him sitting under the window of this particular tavern. A King's man no longer he was going home.

### Chapter 38

### The Travellers Leave for Branton

Excited at the prospect of travelling to Branton and then on to Devilly, Gideon was anxious to be underway, he waited impatiently as his father took an age to lift a few fallen stones back on to the cairns and release the animals. Shifting a pack full of gifts for his grandparents higher onto his shoulders he held his horse by the bridle and continued to wait.

The wolf, Blue, sat lolling beside him in a patch of weak autumnal sunshine, his blue eyes seemed to take in everything that was happening and Gideon reached down to brush his hand over the furry head.

'We'll be back 'ome agen soon enough Blue,' he said, smiling at the ageless wolf. 'Well, Da will anyway,' he added, 'I be going on ter see sommat of the world, that is, iffen we ever get away ter begin with!' He looked to the sky as he watched his father finish his tasks; tasks already performed once by Gideon himself. He shook off his irritation as he sat down heavily on a log and smiled guiltily thinking he had been here before and then moving the pack on his back into a more comfortable position, he pulled a small nugget of wood from the pocket of his jerkin. He looked carefully at the half-finished figure before taking out the knife he habitually kept at his belt and began to whittle, a hobby he had first tried as a small boy when his father had given him his first knife. He aspired to be as good with a knife as his father and grandfather, both being renowned for their carvings and decorative wooden furniture.

As Gideon concentrated on the nugget in his hand, he could see in his mind the great oak from which it had come, it was a tree he knew well, situated right on the borders of the village of Green Home and as children, Jed and he had often climbed into its leafy heights.

Slither after curly slither fell away from the nugget, which over time had come to resemble a figure of a man standing tall and proud in long flowing robes. A book was held against its chest with one hand while the other just rested on the robes at its side; as yet the figure itself had no face and for one reason or another Gideon had not tried to give it one.

'Gid boy, you be ready or jus' waitin' fer sommat?' Jed smiled as he spoke to the boy so deeply engrossed in his task he had not noticed his father's approach. Laughing, Gideon put away the knife and the unfinished figure and chased after his father who walked slowly along the pathway pulling the small handcart filled with forest wood, his own gift to his father. As they walked, Jed explained to his son about his grandfather's craving for all things Green Home, especially the wood but excited at the prospect of seeing his grandparents Gideon let his father waffle on and thought of his journey to come.

For one reason or another, Gideon had remained within the reaches of Green Home forest for the whole of his life and up until Jed's last visit home, he had had no wish to travel anywhere, all he loved was here, within the shadow of the dense woodland that covered nearly the whole of the Beaut Valley. Now though, with Jed's tales of the world beyond the forest and his wedding to Mayan on the horizon he felt that he should at least see some of this great kingdom of Derova, if only to be able to tell his children about it in the future. He was content, life within the forest and with Mayan as his wife was all he had ever wanted and he smiled at his father as he imagined him dandling a baby on his knee, his baby, Mayan's and his.

Stopping briefly to pick up Sonal, the travellers made their way to the inn where Mayan was waiting with her mother and father anxious to be off, Jack kissed his only daughter and handed her belongings to Gideon who piled them on the roof of the coach, next to his own.

'Be seeing yer soon then Jed,' he said addressing Gideon's father, as he finished loading the raw wood under the coach above the axel, Jed smiled at his friend and held out his hand. 'Watch me girl fer me will yer? Jack asked as he shook the proffered hand warmly, 'an' Gid,' he added, turning to face Gideon, 'tell that boy o' mine ter 'rite 'ome more.'

Jack smiled as Apple called last minute instructions to Mayan, on what to purchase for her trousseau as Gideon's father drove the coach down the lane. As the coach turned the corner and disappeared from view Apple turned to her husband and shivered, Jack took his wife's shoulders and squeezed her tightly.

'It be nowt but the sun goin' behind the clouds love...' he said, as a feeling of foreboding descended upon him, he shook it off and led Apple back into the inn and their waiting customers.

### Chapter 39

### A Warning

After three days, the company were nearing the end of the first part of their journey. So far, the trip had been a strange one, within hours of leaving the valley Gideon complained of feeling unwell, just a headache at first but despite an infusion of willow bark from his father's pack, his headache had continued and worsened, along with his attitude. Next, Jed, totally out of character had become quiet and withdrawn and Sonal had noticed him repeatedly glancing back through the coach window with undue worry at his son, when he thought no one was looking. Then Sonal himself began to feel unexplainably uneasy as the small company drew further and further away from Green Home and worryingly, he felt a disturbance in the ether at the root of the magic and wondered over the significance.

'Gideon seems to be... um...' Sonal began, as he leaned out of the window to speak to Jed.

"E don't like ter travel...' Gideon's father answered before Sonal could finish his sentence, he grimaced on hearing his rudeness to his friend but he was worried at his son's sudden outbursts of temper and the long brooding silences. Sonal retreated into the coach and continued to watch Gideon, his concern growing. Finally, even Mayan gave up trying to cajole her fiancé from his dour mood and moved out to sit beside Jed to watch his skill with the reins. Gideon, still feeling rough stayed inside the carriage with Sonal and tried to sleep.

Sonal watched Gideon from underneath his lashes as they travelled; he was trying desperately to understand what was happening around him. Closing his eyes, he mumbled a few words, a healing sleep spell intended to ease Gideon's discomfort but as his mind drifted, looking for the way to the root of the magic he sensed yet another of the disturbances that seemed to be increasing in number and strength, something was very wrong. He could feel a pressure building around him, something seeking within the magic itself. His breathing laboured and his blood began to race, as fast as he could he completed the spell and released the magic opening his eyes to look again at Gideon who had at last fallen asleep.

'Well lad,' Sonal began, 'sleep is the best thing for a painful head,' he said as his own head began to throb, he rubbed his arms to drive some warmth back into them and continued to observe Gideon as he contemplated the warning he knew he had received. _It has something to do with you my boy,_ he thought, _I think..., I know, it has always, been something to do with you._ He drew breath sharply as a new thought suddenly occurred to him, _maybe it's not the nearer we get to our destination but the distance we get away from it... from Green Home, from the forest!_ Something was different, there seemed to be a waiting quality in the root of the magic, something he had never sensed before and he had no control over. He was reminded of his childhood and the way the warding's would tense and throb to warn the Guardians when something was about to happen. Frustrated and unable to find any answers, he closed his eyes once more, listening to his heart beating and his head pounding, _the one, the one, the one..._ the thought crept through his tired mind and whispered at his soul as he finally succumbed to pain developing in his head.

Gideon too slept, his unconscious mind whirling with scenes of dark mountains and valleys, of dying trees and children with cold dead eyes. His body felt too much for his skin, as if it had shrunk somehow, he itched all over and he felt the blood rush through his heart as it strained to pump as fast as was necessary. He saw Blue sitting quietly beside an old ruin surrounded by trees, he knew it was deep within Green Home Forest but could not recollect ever having been to this part of it before. Blue turned his head to look at Gideon and he felt as if Blue were trying to tell him something but the strange dreams began to fall away as he finally drifted into a deep sleep, a sleep aided by Sonal's spell.

### Chapter 40

### Green Home Village

Toby pulled his Helmet low over his brow and adjusted the bow and quiver he wore on his back into a more comfortable position; he was enjoying himself immensely. He had left Gath nearly a month ago and had received his new troops, each man battle hardened and ready to follow any order. Now, he sat atop his horse at the Sentinel Tree on the outskirts of Green Home Village. _I'm comin' fer yer Gid, I'm comin' fer yer..._ he thought as he moved his horse to the side of the road and watched his elite company of horsemen ride past and on toward the sleeping village.

### .-.-.-

### About the Author:

D.J. Ridgway, hi that's me. I work full time at London's Heathrow Airport and run a busy home besides reading, writing, trying to keep up with the doings of my five children, six and a bit grandchildren, husband and two cats. I hope you enjoyed reading part one of this saga as much as I enjoyed writing it and below you will find the first few chapters of book two which I've called, 'The One.' If you have any comments or find any typo's I've missed (I am human after all! Lol), please feel free to email me or contact me on twitter and I promise I'll reply as soon as I am able.

Follow me on twitter:@Dede12012

http//tessellation saga.blogspot.com

deliaridgway@gmail.com

### .-.-.-

### The Tessellation Saga

Book 2

### The One

### Chapter 1

### Seekers

As the cart rolled steadily over the cobbles, Jed stared out at the darkness. To his amazement, they had managed to pass through the open gates without the guards even noticing them, though he had felt nauseous at the sudden smell of rotting vegetables emanating from the crate he was sitting on. Rubbing his arms at the distinctive telltale sign of magic in the itching and crawling of his skin, he looked across to see if Lemba felt it too but she gave no sign of feeling the magic as she stared out at the rough taverns, warehouses and hidden brothels that she knew were on this side of the city gates. He took her hand instinctively knowing what she was thinking.

'Ner love,' he said 'never fer you.' He squeezed her hand and felt her smile though she continued to watch the gaudily dressed women and bawdy men as they cavorted outside the numerous taverns and inns. He stood up carefully to light a small lamp that swung from a hook behind the driver's seat, the soft muted light illuminated the young girl sitting directly beneath it and dressed once more as the charcoal burners son. He smiled, even covered in dirt and ashes he thought her the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, he shook his head knowing that here is where Hackman would eventually have left her, if, he had not killed her first. A shout interrupted his thoughts as two drunken men began fighting, a sad faced whore stood to one side holding her bloodied cheek, her dress soaked in the ale that was as plentiful as the water in the river. Lemba trembled slightly, holding her own cheek in silent sympathy and leant against Jed's legs for support, this was where her father had sold her so long ago, _this or somewhere like this_ , she thought. The whore got smaller and smaller as the cart rumbled on but Lemba continued to stare as Jed sat down once more and again took her tiny hand in his. Finally, she turned toward him and buried her face in his warm shoulder, accepting his arms as they protectively curled around her. _One day I will be able to explain to him, she_ thought, _one day._

Rhoàld sat the other side of Lemba and smiled weakly as he felt Jed pull the girl toward him noticing the smile, Jed smiled in return. He looked quietly at the frail old man thinking he looked a little different from the man he had met in the kitchen of Dotty's home; at that time, he had thought perhaps the old man had also been ill. Now, despite the poor light, Jed could see colour in his cheeks that before had seemed washed-out or pale and his eyes were not quite as sunken as they had been.

'My boy do I look so different from when we first met?' Rhoàld asked. 'Do you not remember me?'

'Surr,' Jed replied, 'I don't recall us ever meetin' afore two days ago, though I confess I did think yer looked kinda familiar,' he answered.

'I am ...was, the Kings aide.' Rhoàld said quietly, Jed reeled.

'Yer presented me with the Champion Student cup,' he said, shocked at the change in the man he knew from experience was no older than his father was.

'Shh...,' interrupted Varan who was riding alongside the cart on a gentle beast from Dotty's small stable. 'We must get a little further away before we start talking without wards.'

The company fell into a deep silence as they moved quietly but steadily away from Devilly, although Rhoàld felt Jed's eyes turn to him repeatedly in disbelief.

Soon the only audible sounds were Varan's singsong mumbling and the clip clop of the horse as it pulled the creaky cart. The darkness deepened and the noise of the city gave way to the peace of the night as gradually the streets turned to rough roads and then into dirt tracks and the city fell far behind them but still the little group travelled in silence.

Night turned once more into day as the group continued to move ever forward, each member of the party lost in his or her own thoughts and Jed repeatedly went over in his mind the conversation he had partially overheard through the window of the tavern. _Why send Toby to get Gideon?_ He wondered _, because, Toby knows Gideon_ , his thoughts continued. _Then iffen 'e's the king's son, what's 'e doin' at Green Home Village in the first place, 'n', why would the village be in danger?_ The more he thought about it the more confused he became, the same thoughts rolled around and around in his head before eventually, he fell into a fitful sleep.

Itching skin and the smell of tea woke him, they were still on the move but Dotty, managing to heat a little water on a small-unlit stove was busy handing out tea, bread, ham, fruit and cheese, he could still feel the faint itching in his skin as he took his tea.

'I did tell you that I might have need of my herbs,' she said, smiling as she handed Jed a mug and a small platter.

'Hot?' Jed queried, staring at the stove, acknowledging the fact that it was not actually burning.

'Ah now, I did also mention that I could do things...,' she added with a grin as she offered a second steaming cup to Varan, still riding alongside the cart.

Day turned slowly once more into night and the company stopped beside a quiet brook to rest the horses and stretch their legs. Varan, as usual when they stopped, walked in a tight circle around the group mumbling in his singsong way and although Jed tried hard to ignore the movement in his peripheral vision, found the constant circling irritating. As they travelled, Lemba had been by his side day and night and had noticed his irritation.

'Close your eyes to it!' She said, using her finger-speak.

'I can't', Jed replied, adding, 'I won't be able to talk with you!' Lemba smiled shyly and their lessons continued until the moon had gone behind clouds and it became too dark to see.

Rhoàld seemed to have become pale and wan once more and was trying to sleep on the floor of the cart, he had watched Jed and Lemba, happy in each other's company and he wished them well but their burgeoning love had only served to make him miss his Bastian even more.

Before light, they prepared to continue their journey, loading up the cart in the dark and sweeping the area to ensure they had left no sign of their passing. Jed thought constantly of home and of Toby and his crack troopers all travelling on king's horses and without a doubt, a lot faster than they were.

Dawn approached once more and Rhoàld began to feel uneasy again, Bastian was gone from him and he felt alone. He thought of Gath and the way he would smile welcoming him into his presence. He will have missed me by now, he mused as he watched the sun trying to rise behind the trees in the distance, turning part of the sky a dappled red and yellow and cloaking the rest of the earth with a grey blanket. Gath's handsome face swam before him and he felt the loss and loneliness of his king. Guilt plagued him; he could feel Gath's presence growing in his head. _I should never have left when my king needed me so badly,_ his guilty thoughts consumed him and he cried out in his mind. _Here, my lord I am here...!_

Varan stopped his weary horse and stared back the way he had come.

'Seekers...,' he hissed, 'hold hands quickly...' he shouted, jumping lithely from the horse and clambering onto the back of the small cart. Jed who had been dozing felt his hand grabbed tightly by Rhoàld who had leant forward as if in great pain, immediately his palm began to burn hot and his neck itched. He tried to pull away unaware of the trauma escalating within the man's mind, Rhoàld was crying and keening like a child who had lost his mama as droplets of blood began to ooze from his brow. Dotty grabbed his other hand and felt the power coursing through him.

'Varan,' she called, her voice sounding shrill, 'he seeks Rhoàld... do something.'

'Fool,' Varan shouted at Jed who had finally managed to loosen his hand from Rhoàld's vice like grip. 'Help him man, pour your strength into him.' Jed took the hand once more and stared at the blood beginning to run down the face of the king's aide, Rhoàld slumped into unconsciousness. Confused and scared, Jed looked at the man before him, he looked near to death, not at all like the man who had presented him with his award and he thought of Rhoàld as he had first seen him, a tall strong man of about fifty summers.

The wind had been blowing quite fiercely as the championship competition had come to a finale and the last of the bouts were completed despite the worsening weather. Gath had left the ceremony as the wind had grown stronger leaving Rhoàld, to act in his stead, high up on the Dias the officers and their wives stood to acknowledge the champions each one holding onto a railing or even each other as they braced themselves against the strength of the wind. Rhoàld alone had stood firm as the champions approached, the wind just did not seem to touch him. At the time, he had been reminded of the mighty sentinel oak he and Gideon had often climbed as children. It stood tall and broad, seemingly immovable, a giant on top of his tower, steady and sound. _So that's why I didn't recognise yer,_ Jed thought as the blood ceased to flow from the man's forehead and the air around them cooled rapidly.

'Well done my boy,' said Varan wearily. 'That vision of Rhoàld was perfect. I remember him the same way,' he added as Lemba and Dotty nodded their heads.

'You saw me thoughts!' Jed stated in a stunned voice.

'I will explain my boy but first I will need to put up stronger wards,' he answered and moved, ready to jump off the cart. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the charm that once mended, again hung around Rhoàld's neck, he remembered when he had last seen it; he had been in the king's chamber within the castle, a prisoner, chained and bound as entertainment for the king just as Rhoàld had lately been. _No wonder it's taken so long for Gath to find us...,_ he mused, somebody loved you very much..., smiling wearily, he passed a finger over the small charm and mumbled once more adding strength to the amulets protection.

'Dotty would you assist me with the wards please, I am bone weary,' he asked as he climbed down from the wagon and taking the reins of the loose horse lightly tied them to the tailgate of the cart. Lemba laid the now naturally sleeping Rhoàld onto the floor of the cart and covered him with a woollen rug taken from one of Dotty's boxes as Jed stared after Varan and Dotty.

'I _will_ explain my boy', he said aloud, peevishly copying Varan's clear speech, 'when, when will yer explain?' Jed asked Varan's back. Jumping down from the cart, he began to walk ahead kicking stones and dust up in front of him and looking for the world like a petulant child. Lemba, watching him, hid a small frown, noticing again the dejection and frustration in the set of his shoulders, before she too leapt lightly from the back of the cart and jogging to catch him up, took his hand.

'Lemba, I can travel faster on me own,' Jed began. Her continued silence became an invitation for Jed to talk and once he started talking he found he could not stop. Lemba smiled remembering the charcoal burners shed when he had talked for what seemed hours and she had fallen in love. He spoke of his worry for his family, his frustrations about the whole magic/blood thing, as he called it and his wish to understand. That and the fact that he felt Varan and Dotty were treating him like a child, he spoke of Toby and the reason he had turned back to join the group fleeing the city. Lemba shuddered, remembering that Toby was to be her new owner and his promise to her, _I'll tell Jed about Toby just as soon as I can,_ she vowed.

'We should make our way toward the river,' a loud voice interrupted Jed's speech, 'we should cross; Gath's seekers will not be able to locate us so quickly over the water,' Varan said. Dotty nodded her head and pointedly looked from Varan to Jed who was still slowly walking ahead with Lemba at his side.

'He wants to go ahead on his own,' she said, 'he doesn't understand what we are to do.'

'Madam,' Varan replied in an exhausted voice, 'even I don't know what we are supposed to do.' Despite his fatigue, he helped Dotty climb back on to the cart giving her instructions to head toward a nearby copse. Carefully she drove the cart off the road toward the grove of small but dense trees as Varan quickly walked to catch up with the young couple and gently steer them in the same direction.

Cautiously watching their footing in the still lightening sky the three made their way unerringly through the tall grasses with the creaky cart bouncing and jogging along merrily behind them. The sleeping man in the back of the cart lay undisturbed, despite the incline of the land lending gravity to his prone body and occasionally knocking his head against the buckboard.

Jed felt bound; he did not know why but somehow he knew his fate had entwined with this strange group. He had known it really from when he had overheard Toby through the window of the Inn. He looked through his lashes at Varan, Sonal's brother and he found it difficult not to like the man who reminded him so much of his friend. The sun was still rising and in the early morning light and Varan looked clearly exhausted, his skin was grey and deep dark circles rimmed his piercing blue eyes.

'Have I grown an extra head lad, in the few minutes that you have been staring at me I mean?' Varan laughed to take the sting from his words.

'I be sorry Sonal, err, I mean Varan...,' Lemba laughed aloud at the look of consternation on her beloved's face. She was much relieved to see more than just the unhappiness and frustration that had been so evident since he had returned silently to Dotty's house what seemed now to be a lifetime ago but in reality was only two days. Her laughter stopped abruptly as both men turned to stare at her.

'You laughed aloud child!' Varan exclaimed. Lemba flushed a bright red echoing the newly birthed sun as it continued lightening the shadows around them. 'Lemba,' asked Varan looking at the girl intently, 'do you have any voice at all?' Lemba, horrified at the question felt her face burn, tears filled her eyes but she refused to let them fall _. I have no tongue,_ her heart was screaming in anger and sorrow believing that they wanted her to try to speak. She pulled her hand from Jed's and stood with one small fist clenched tightly at her side, the other she clasped across her jerkin feeling the small ornate box sitting inside the lining, the box that she carried everywhere with her.

'You have such a pretty laugh...,' said Jed as he stared at her and despite his worry over his family and friends, he smiled and reached once more for her hand.

'Of course, now I understand...,' began Varan as Lemba stepped away from Jed and turned to run back to the cart, 'it's just your tongue, it was _cut_ from your mouth!' Varan called after her as she fled her humiliation complete.

'Lemba...,' Jed called, angry with himself for being part of the cause of her distress as she stumbled away across the grassy ground and back up the hill.

'Leave her lad, her anger will soften...,' Varan said, also staring at the departing figure of the seemingly small city boy. He tapped his teeth with a fingernail, a thoughtful look upon his face. Jed had seen the same action repeated more than once over the last few days and knew it meant Varan was deep in thought.

'Could I have been any more stupid?' Varan asked himself aloud as Jed looking more perplexed than ever, walked over to the hollow trunk of a large dead tree lying in the long grass, home to tiny creatures feeding of its bark and bole. Nearby a large ant mound seemed alive with tiny bodies climbing over its surface. He watched a long line of red ants scurrying back and forth like an army on the march, their beautiful copper heads and dark bodies all shapes and sizes following one another in perfectly ordered lines. Now and again, one would brush its antennae up against a fellow and a new direction would be undertaken. _Was I like that?_ He wondered, likening himself and his fellow soldiers to the ants marching relentlessly back and forth for no apparent purpose but on instruction of the queen. His frustration complete he sat down heavily on the damp, still dewy grass and rested his back against the tree, he looked at Varan pointedly.

'If yer don't tell me what on the journey is goin' on 'ere, I swear by ... by... me ma's bread I'm going ter leave an' make me own way 'ome...' he said, as the cart creaked to a halt beside him forestalling any further conversation as it stood between the two men.

The tired horse with his reins finally loosened, began nibbling at the long dew-filled grass and Jed had to move away before the animal accidently bit him, Varan's sleepy old mount still tied to the back of the wagon snorted and strained at his tethers unable to reach the sweet green grass all around him.

Jed stood and stared at his companions. Dotty, looking like an old gypsy woman and Varan, brother to his friend, so alike that at times Jed found himself talking as if it were the man he knew and trusted with his life, then Lemba, his Lemba looking like a slim built boy standing at the top of the rise staring back the way they had come. Jed knew Lemba was hurting badly and that he and Varan had caused her pain, he took a deep breath and sighed.

'I need ter get 'ome Varan, and as soon as possible. I 'ave this feeling in me belly that sommats wrong, real wrong, _nobody_ is tellin' me anything an' this magic stuff is all a bit too much. I mean it, either someone tells me what's goin' on, without all that "later my boy" crap, or I'll be leaving now ter make me own way, bound ter yer though I am...' he said finally, as Varan, moving around the cart sat down beside him.

### *

Lemba was staring back the way they had come, she was sure she had seen something moving behind the trees. The sun finally broke free and bathed the earth in its light casting away the shadows and revealing the autumnal lush beauty of the hill country through which they were travelling. In the distance, she saw swiftly moving flashes of red amongst the green and they were moving rapidly toward them. _Soldiers!_ She thought with horror and looked toward her friends sitting unsuspecting in the grass down below. Immediately, she turned and ran, fiercely clapping her hands to draw everyone's attention, a fat round partridge ran from the copse disturbed by the sudden noise, its white face in contrast to the black tuft of feathers guarding its throat, red flanks and legs moved quickly through the grass as the fat bird tried once more to hide.

Dotty, watching her sister as she ran down the slight hill looked puzzled as Lemba's fingers flashed and as she drew nearer, then she realised what Lemba was trying to say.

'Varan,' she called quietly in a panic, 'Varan, soldiers from Devilly, Lemba say's they are about a mile away and coming fast.'

'He's found us then.' Varan replied quietly.

### Chapter 2

### The Village Green

Toby sat atop his stallion with almost the entire populace of Green Home Village before him. Riders, soldiers all, surrounded the frightened people and a number of slavers, professional men, hired for the occasion from the allowance the king had generously given him had also accompanied the group from Devilly. It amused him to see the slavers eyeing up the people Toby had known all his life and totting up their potential cut of the takings.

Several cottages lay in smoking ruin, with furniture, clothing and goods of varying description scattered across the green he had played on as a child and fear in the village had become a tangible thing, Toby could smell it, taste it, and he revelled in the power it gave him. Silently he thanked Gath.

'I don't care who else you kill, or whatever you have to do to get him...but get him,' Gath had said as he gave Toby Hollins, a nobody from the Beaut Valley one of the finest, well trained bodies of fighting men Derova had to offer. These men, fresh from the skirmishes on the borders were ready for a little fun and Toby intended for them to have it.

I'll get 'im fer yer me lord, whatever it takes, I'll get 'im, he had answered and true to his words, there had been nothing gentle in the way Toby and the soldiers had entered his home village. As dawn came upon the sleepy settlement, the noise of pounding and braking open of doors joined in unison with the bird song and the early cockerels' crow. Fierce looking soldiers dragged women and children from their beds as fathers' fought to preserve their homes. Not one soldier had spoken; adding to the fear the villagers felt and Toby saw more than one young maiden dragged off, only to return weeping and dishevelled.

'Take yer time men,' Toby said before the raid began. 'Gideon Green is fer the King, ser don't touch 'im an' should yer see him, bring 'im ter me un'armed, same as the inn, its outa bounds but the rest o' the village is yorn... Go,' he had said, flinging his arms wide as if bestowing a generous gift.

The elite unit took Toby, their new commander, at his word and they had indeed had their fun. Silence answered every question and violence was widespread from the bloody and broken men attempting to protect their families to the burnt out homes and crying children. Hours of screaming had left this, this gathering of life, the inhabitants of Green Home Village, all at Toby's mercy. He was ecstatic.

'Where are yer Gideon?' Toby whispered as he thought of his triumph and continued to stare around him at the frightened people. _No matter Gid, I'll be 'ere fer a bit then me an' the men'll come ter yer woods ter get yer._ He thought.

'Why?' Voices were whispering from a dozen different directions, he ignored them all revelling in the fact that not one villager recognised him and knowing they all feared him, the man on the horse who sat quietly watching.

He was no longer the stumpy, plump youth with bad skin that drank too much ale on the eve of Jed leaving to join the army. He, now, was strong and fit, his skin had weathered and he sported a distinctive black scar down the left side of his face stretching from the corner of his eye to the side of his mouth. A scar he would one day repay Mayan for giving him, _Mayan...,_ he thought as he ran his fingers down the scar, remembering how her nails had raked into his face when he had tried to make her his. His father had stopped him and left him in the dirt, the open wound on his face sucking up the dirt like a sponge, the scar now pulled the side of his face tightly and permanently into a sardonic sneer. _You should be 'ere Mayan, where are yer?_ He wondered as he again scanned through the crowd of frightened villagers, angry that she was not amongst them.

'Please Surr...' a young boy called to him in tears as another house fell victim to a blazing torch. _Drunner, you be one of the Drunner boys..._ Toby recognised the boy as the brother of one of the men who had once laughed at him, _yer don't know me either_ , he thought, knowing he had aged in more than just years, _they really don't know who I am!_ Toby mused, relishing the power the anonymity gave him. He fingered the simple blue stone in his pocket, the stone he had watched Gideon tying around Mayan's neck and he ached to see her, imagining her here, kneeling at his feet begging for his love and forgiveness in front of everyone. It was a very pleasing thought.

At last, Toby saw his parents as they stumbled into the village behind the horsemen sent to get them, a line bound their wrists tightly and a taut rope ensured they had to run to keep up with the huge animals. Toby looked on, a happy smile on his face, he was not like the lowly tanner his father was or the mistress of nothing his mother had always been; he was special and he knew it. _Did I no' tell 'em that all along?_ He thought as his mother tripped in the dirt and losing her balance fell under the hooves of the great horse that pulled his father, its hoof grazed her skull, the loud sound was hollow and sharp as it connected. His father bruised and bloody from resisting arrest tried in vain to go to her aid as her bloody form quivered in the dirt and dust.

'Toby...' she whispered her voice soft and low but still somehow reaching her son, finally she lay still as Toby watched dispassionately, he had dismissed his parents from his life long ago, just as they had dismissed him. The soldier pulling his father cut the bonds holding him to the rear of his horse to allow him to go to the old woman, while Toby's mind drifted back to the day his father had first beaten and then thrown him out like garbage.

'Animal,' his father had sneered as his mother cried for Mayan. 'Animals rape their mates,' he said, adding, 'yer 'ave no 'onour boy, an' yer be no son o' mine...' before he'd thrown Toby's bleeding body on to the floor of the barn. 'Yer deserve ter be scarred boy, marked like the animal yer be...' Toby could remember him speaking coldly, even if he could not remember the tears coursing down his father's face as he spoke them, but then, Toby himself had wept too, not for shame but because he was disappointed, he believed his father had lied to him.

"Next year, we'll try again lad, she's no promised yet!' Da had said,' Toby cried as his father beat him.

'Yer promised me Da,' he had added as he finally realised Mayan was not his, was _never_ to be his. Then after Mayan left, his mother hurried after her husband and returned a little while later with a bag.

'Yer gotta leave now Toby,' she said, still crying, 'yer gotta go as soon as I 'ave cleaned yer face up a bit. I love yer boy, always 'ave but yer were no meant fer this.' Toby remembered her crying as she tried to clean the dirt out from the nasty wound caused by Mayan's nails but he pushed her away violently causing her to misstep.

'Leave me woman, yer lied ter me too...' he remembered shouting angrily, he was angry with both his parents, they were supposed to love him, supposed give him everything they promised, he wanted the wound to scar; a scar would remind him of his father's worthless word and Mayan's treachery. He remembered looking at his mother through one swollen eye, the side of his face a mass of congealed blood, his broken nose crooked and equally bloody.

'She be mine,' he said as he looked for understanding and found none, 'she be mine, an' Gideon 'as 'er, 'e promised me... Da promised me, yer lied, yer both lied.' Toby scowled, blame for his misfortunes landing squarely between his parents and Gideon himself.

'No Toby,' his mother said through her tears, 'Da asked Jack fer yer but Mayan 'ad ter choose you too, she made 'er own choice.' Again, she tried to comfort him but he shrugged her off not noticing her weeping as if her heart were broken. He dismissed them then as if they had never been and became consumed with hatred, hatred for them, for Gideon and for the whole village, he vowed that one day, one day, he would pay them all back, even Mayan.

_After all,_ he thought absently, shrugging off his memories and watching his father struggle to reach the body of his dying mother; _they all laughed, even as I crawled through t' beer 'an piss, they laughed, even Mayan, my precious Mayan._ He saw himself again as the young man he had been, hanging his head, staring at the floor in despair and embarrassment, his Mayan, holding Gideon's arm, smiling at him, laughing and pulling Gideon away. _Where are yer May, yer teasing bitch, yer'll soon be on yer knees before me, beggin' fer me ter take yer,_ he thought, remembering that the token she had deliberately left for him so long ago, a token he could easily have missed. A draft caused by his mother's closing the heavy barn door behind her had whisked briskly across the floor playing with the loose straw by his feet sending it dancing and swirling in gentle circles. The small blue stone with its broken leather thong up to then hidden under the dust and dry stalks became exposed and he had smiled knowing just what it meant _. Mayan, yer do want me, yer still playin' yer games..._ he had thought as he bent down stiffly and picked it up before kissing it lovingly and putting it safely in his pocket. He had carried it with him ever since.

A deep silence around him pulled him from his reverie, even the children amongst the assembled populace of his former home had become quiet, every local inhabitant that could be rounded up, had been. Toby felt the power over life and death at his fingertips and his cock hardened painfully, he looked up, not trying to hide his smile.

The pall of dense smoke from burning buildings became a blanket in the sky above the village before reaching up like a great grey pillar and stretching into the heavens. He could see more smoke rising above the trees from the direction of his former home and as he stared, a gentle whuff, from a nearby cottage alerted him to yet another building engulfed by flames. The inhabitants, an elderly couple Toby barely remembered were being supported in their grief by a young man he also recognised but could not quite put a name too, he watched as they were ushered forcefully into the crowd of villagers by his men and left to stare as their home and worldly possessions succumbed to the hungry fire. The boy who had spoken to him earlier ran over to hold the old woman upright as her knees gave way and he looked once more toward Toby, his eyes pleading. Toby dismissed them as he continued to scan the crowd looking for Mayan. Until now he had enjoyed himself immeasurably but he was beginning to get bored, he had expected her to be here to witness his triumph and for her to be grateful that he had prevented the ransacking of the Inn. He had even spared her parents and sister in law from too much abuse. _The fam'ly is all here... but where are yer my sweet girl?_ Toby asked himself silently. He could see the Brewster family on the green, Apple wringing her hands together and tiny Sámia nursing Jackie her husband, who was bleeding profusely after being badly beaten. Jack stood with his arms around his wife looking angry and confused, nursing a swollen eye that was rapidly turning black. As Toby continued to survey the unhappy villagers before him he realised he had not seen Gideon or his father Jed either, though this didn't surprise him too much as both were more than likely to be within the confines of the great forest and he was headed there next. He had been up to the boundary of the great forest on numerous occasions since he was a child and then again, often as a young man he would follow Mayan up past Sonal's cottage, always waiting for some sign that she knew he was there and waiting for her.

'Even then yer knew 'ow ter tease...' he whispered aloud and shaking himself free from his thoughts once more, he rose up in his stirrups to address the silent crowd.

'I'm under orders from the king, the king on 'oose bounty we all turn durin' 'arsh times an' these are such times me friends, a man named Gideon Green 'as committed treason 'gainst our beloved king an' I'm ordered ter offer freedom to whomever will aid me in entering the forest an' bringin' this man ter justice.' Toby sat back onto his saddle as he watched the crowd. His time in the army had taught him how to read people, how to turn a fast coin and to see how things could be profitable for him, here, he believed the people would be no different. He could usually see where news, whilst incredulous to some became, would become as money to others and these types of people were always good for his pockets.

He closed his eyes and listened as his words sunk in; voices and mutterings circled the crowd, a growing cacophony of sound from the people who knew Gideon.

'Why' and 'what for?' He heard repeatedly, until the sound of children crying and the sounds of scuffling, as men were subdued violently by the soldiers became one. The noise intensified waxing and waning like a wave on the great ocean churning up the pebbles as it hit the beach, it was almost hypnotic. Toby was elated, all he needed now was Mayan to be here to witness his greatness, he felt like a God, all matters were his to control, life was his to give or take. The power flowed through him and he felt an erection building again as the blood rushed around his body.

A rock flew from the crowd and struck Toby on the face, his scar reopened and blood slowly oozed and dripped down his chin, a hushed silence returned to the people before him.

"Oo struck me?' He demanded, enraged that his moment of glory was spoiled. Rising in his stirrups once more, he asked again, his voice shrieking in anger. 'Who. Struck. Me?' The crowd remained quiet, heads turning left to right worried and scared.

"Twas me...,' said a voice Toby knew and hated, 'I know who yer be boy, me who prayed fer yer, me who raised yer an' me who wishes I never 'ad. Animal, I called yer, an' animal yer be Toby, yer no be welcome here, in yer fancy clothes, ye or yer vermin.' Toby stared at his father whose face was wet with tears mingling with the deep red blood of his mother. 'We'll no 'elp yer, nor tell yer nowt.' Tom finished and turning his back on his son, he crouched down once more and again cradled his dead wife Selda, in his arms.

'Stand and look at me old man,' Toby called as his father's sobs became audible. 'Stand I say...' Toby called again and for a moment, his father looked as if he were going to comply, Toby smiled coldly as his father hunched over as he struggled to rise, eventually coming into a standing position holding his wife's body in his arms. Without a backward glance to his son, he began to walk away in the direction of his burning home. The riders stood aside to let him and his dreadful burden pass. Immediately the air whistled and a thorn suddenly appeared to be growing from the man's back, the blood glistened and bloomed across his jerkin like a flower as the arrows force drove Tom to his knees, Toby remained standing in the stirrups.

'People,' he cried pointing at his dead mother and dying father, 'there yer see me parents, Tom an' Selda Brewster. Such is the urgency of me mission, I will kill all o' yer that stand in me way an' 'gainst the king. I be trusted with this message from yer benevolent lord. If yer refuse yer king's offer... you an' yer kin will be taken to Devilly an' sold at the slave markets fer knowingly aidin' a wanted criminal.' Toby allowed the message to sink in, once more attempting to use his profiling skills in a vain attempt to determine who would be the weak link but his eyes continually drew back toward his dying father. Finally, the man fell forward and lay sprawled across his mother's body, unexpected sorrow filled him briefly but he shook it off as he waited in frustration for someone to come forward. No one moved.

'Yer 'ave sixty minutes ter decide yer fate...' Toby shouted, angry with himself for ever listening to his father's lies, _I made me own future Da, I did it mesel',_ he screamed at the body silently before dismounting and speaking quietly to one of the soldiers. He stared at the frightened faces of people who now knew who he was and he smiled coldly, 'Sixty minutes...!' He shouted again before walking the short distance to the inn and tying his horse against the post he went inside to help himself to a drink.

Leaning over the bar from the wrong side in a style he had often witnessed from both Jack, Mayan's father and her brother, he drew himself a jug of the Inn's finest ale, listening avidly all the while to the slavers outside who had already begun moving amongst the villagers assessing possible profits and tying hands. Toby moved to the window and after ripping down some hanging crystals that spun gaily in the light, he peered out at the people who had once been his neighbours. The screaming and crying grew louder as he watched the robed men place the villagers into groups sometimes separating families, husbands from wives and mothers from their children. With some anger, he watched as Jackie, Mayan's brother fell to the ground, slavers were kicking at him as both Apple and Sámia tried in vain to prevent them. Annoyed, he rapped on the window and called to the guard, reminding him that the Brewster family were not to be touched. The guard pulled at his forelock and rushed off to stop the beating, the men, glancing toward the inn and Toby, backed off scowling. _Always was too 'ot 'eaded,_ Toby thought as Jackie lay still on the ground.

'See May, all this I do for you...' he whispered through the glass as Sámia cradled her bloodied husband to her breast. Drinking alone in the empty inn, he grew angry again, _where was Mayan? Why was she not here to witness his triumph?_ He looked at the now empty jug and threw it at the bar behind him where it hit the wall and showered the space behind it with pottery shards. A quick intake of breath disturbed him as he watched the broken pieces fall.

"Oo's there?' He demanded, 'come out now or I call the guards...' he added, his voice full of menace.

'It's Bea, Beatrix Drunner,' replied a small and frightened voice.

'C'mon out Bea, they be looking fer Gideon not you,' he answered softly; realising maybe he had found his weak link after all. The serving girl crawled out from behind the bar and slowly moved across the floor toward him on her hands and knees. Toby stared at the vision, this should be Mayan, he thought as he watched the girl's creamy white breasts trying to defy gravity and remain enclosed in the almost too small dress.

'Toby it's you! They'll see yer, get down.' Beatrix whispered, panic evident in her voice and clearly not understanding that Toby was in charge. He squatted down, out of sight now from the outside world, the sounds of occasional skirmishes and the screams and cries of the women and children.

"Ow we gonna get away Toby?' Beatrix sobbed quietly as tears ran down her face and chin dripping onto the floor, only for her knees to dry them instantly as she crawled toward him across the room. Toby was mesmerised by the swaying breasts coming closer and closer, he thought of Lemba and her small milk white breasts adorned only by beautiful little blotches of yellow and purple and then of Mayan and how her breasts had been a creamy colour. _Mayan had deep pink nipples; I wonder what colour yorn are Bea?'_ He thought as she crawled nearer and finally reaching Toby, she fell loosely into his arms as he squatted on the floor, her breasts tantalisingly close to his chest.

'I didn't mean ter 'ide,' she began, talking fast now that she was no longer alone. 'I was in t' cellar and didn't hear the soldiers until it were too late, then they started 'urting folk, so I stayed 'ere, I'm afraid Toby, what's goin' on, what der the soldiers want?' She sobbed again. Toby stared at the girl he had known all his life, he had watched her grandparents' home burn not long ago, and absently remembered the name of the young man who had helped them, Bea's brother. _Rory, Rory Drunner_ , he thought, though he did not recall seeing their parents amongst the people gathered outside, it amused him to think of what he knew and she did not and then of course, then, there were those breasts...

'Toby,' Beatrix cried quietly, realising his mind was elsewhere, 'Toby talk ter me... what's 'appening, what's goin' on?' She added fearfully as her eyes still glistening with tears darted toward the noise outside the window before coming back to Toby himself. Toby pulled her to him protectively.

'They be looking fer Gideon and seems they be gonna 'urtin' folk until they find 'im,' he answered, trying to look as if he were frightened too.

'But why, e' ain't done nowt... e' ain't even 'ere,' she cried softly. Toby stiffened slightly as he realised his pray had escaped and after forcing himself to relax once more, he began a quiet and soft interrogation.

'I know 'e ain't Bea,' he said, 'I bin trying ter find 'im... ter 'elp 'im,' Toby continued as a frightened Beatrix began to cry again. 'D'yer know where 'e is love?' He asked, holding his breath in anticipation as he waited for the girl to stop sobbing and answer. 'We gotta warn 'im... ain't we?' He continued quietly in a concerned voice, as no answer was forthcoming. Beatrix turned her tear streaked face toward him, and at last opened her mouth to speak.

'He's gone ter.....' she began but stopped as a loud scream from outside suddenly ended sharply. Unconsciously, Bea again leaned in toward Toby, once more trembling with fear. Swearing to himself at the untimely interruption Toby tightened his arms around the girl once more, offering her the illusion of safety and she responded by putting her own arms through his crushing her large breasts against his chest.

'I'll look after yer Bea,' he said hoarsely, feeling a stirring in his loins as her chest rose and fell against his. 'Iffen yer tell me where Gid is.' He finished.

"E be gone ter Branton ter see 'is grandfolk, it's _no_ secret, May and Jed went with 'im too...' she answered softly, glad to have someone strong with her to protect her from the madness outside.

'Gone! No matter, I'll get 'im soon enough.' Toby replied angrily as he realised his pray had escaped. Beatrix heard the command in his voice and startled, looked up at him, noticing for the first time he was no longer the callow youth she had known. He seemed older, meaner somehow and disfigured by a scar that ran the length of his face, she suddenly felt vulnerable and alone and sorry she had told him where Gideon had gone. Toby tightened his arms around her once more, angry at the intense scrutiny.

'Toby, yer 'urting me,' Bea whispered as she attempted to pull away from the too tight embrace but as she pushed against his chest with her left arm, her breasts squashed together invitingly. Toby's grip tightened again holding her right arm fast between his side and his upper arm. Ignoring her protests and using his free hand, he quickly reached for the tight cotton bodice of her crumpled dress and ripped it open. Her breasts fell free and hung like full pendulous udders, dark brown nipples finished off the soft creamy white mounds. _Purple and yellow_ , he thought as he cupped her left breast and squeezed hard.

'TOBY NO...' Frantically Beatrix screamed as she struggled, slapping and scratching as she tried to loosen her trapped arm and get away, Toby's erection was solid and painful and with his father dead, this time there would be no one to stop him.

### .-.-.-

### I hope you enjoyed this snippet from 'The One' the second book in the Tessellation Saga.

### D. J. Ridgway
