The Lost Sorcerer
by
Maureen Murrish
********************
Published by:
Maureen Murrish on Smashwords
The Lost Sorcerer
Copyright© 2012 by Maureen Murrish
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords com to discover other works. Thank you for your support.
Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.
Chapter 1
The Power of the Lion
Tosni threw down the bundle of firewood and lunged toward the rickety ladder. The baby gave a wet, gummy grin and shuffled to the edge of the bed-loft above his head.
‘No. Salif, no. Wait!’
Salif gurgled happily holding out a chubby fist, one tiny digit pointing at Tosni. He had one foot on the ladder when Salif toppled over the edge. Terrified, Tosni flung out his arms in a futile effort to catch her. As he did so he felt a sudden and frightening surge of heat. It started deep inside him and erupted from his outstretched hands in a stream of sparkling energy. Salif’s headlong fall slowed. Not daring to move Tosni watched, arms outstretched, as the baby, cocooned in dancing lights, drifted to the dirt floor. Once there she crammed a grubby fist into her mouth and lay looking up at him with adoring eyes.
Tosni looked at his hands. Horror at what he had done made his skin prickle. He glanced quickly over his shoulder to be sure he had not been seen. The tiny cottage was empty. The dirt road, visible through the open door, was also deserted. The knot in his stomach eased a little. Pushing aside the fears for himself, he knelt beside the baby and ran his hands over her chubby arms and legs knowing even before he did so that she would be unhurt. This terrifying and unnatural power had only ever done good things.
Up to now, he reminded himself. Up to now
Salif laughed her stuttering chuckle and Tosni grinned down at her. ‘That was a lucky escape, little sister, tomorrow I’ll tie you more securely I think. For both our sakes.’
The shabby room was cast into semidarkness as a figure stepped into the doorway blocking out the morning light. Tosni’s relief at Salif’s narrow escape evaporated as the shadow slid over them. He ducked and shielding the baby with his body he covered his head with his arms. When the blow came he knew this time Kavnen had used a piece of the discarded firewood. Pain shot up his forearm and into his shoulder.
‘Lazy lout. Didn’t I tell you to leave the brat abed.’ Kavnen’s dark eyes were blazing and her tangled mat of dark curls seemed to bristle with anger.
‘I did but…’ Tosni stopped. He suddenly realized that to explain that Salif was only with him because she had somehow loosened the rope tying her safely in the attic space then fallen from the bed-loft would lead to dangerous questions. He knew only too well what would happen if Kavnen or the villagers suspected he had magic.
‘But? But what? She somehow got herself lose and down the ladder so she could help?’
Tosni swallowed, his mouth was dry and he was unable to answer.
‘Well?’
‘No. I… I brought her down because I thought…I thought…’
‘Well don’t. Not until you’re done working anyway.’
Kavnen looked down at Salif. At the sight of her mother, the baby had stopped gurgling and lay watching her with big solemn eyes. As Kavnen moved closer the baby began a thin wail. Tosni went to comfort her but Kavnen pushed him aside and picked Salif up by the front of her ragged shift. She dumped her on a pile of rags in a corner that was fenced off by an overturned bench. Throwing the piece of firewood at Tosni she snapped, ‘Now, clear this lot up and get on.’
Tosni gave Salif a quick, reassuring smile before bending to collect the firewood.
Later, when Kavnen settled down for her usual afternoon nap, Tosni scooped Salif up and went to meet Willem. This was the best time of the day. For an hour or two he would be able to do just as he pleased; as long as it included Salif. That was fine by Tosni, he preferred to keep her where he could be sure she was safe from Kavnen’s unpredictable temper. He was particularly eager to get away today as his friend had promised to bring him something important. Willem had been very mysterious and wouldn’t say what it was only that it could be vital to their plans. Tosni’s breath misted in the cold air as he jogged the remaining way to the stream with Salif bobbing on his hip. Willem was there already.
‘What kept you? I’ve been here ages.’
‘Sorry,’ Tosni gasped, ‘I had to wait until Kavnen was asleep.’
‘Still not calling her, mother then?’ Willem grinned. It was an old taunt and Tosni shrugged his indifference. As far as he was concerned Kavnen had forfeited the right to be called mother the time she had almost starved him to death.
‘Never will either. Anyway I don’t really believe she is my mother. How could she be? Look at me. Look at Salif!’
Willem’s eyes raked over Tosni’s flame-red hair and green eyes to Salif’s dark curls and velvety black eyes so like her mother’s. He grinned broadly.
‘Well that’s exactly what I want to show you.’ With the air of someone unveiling a priceless jewel Willem took from his shirt a square of yellowed parchment and held it reverently between cupped hands. Folding his lanky frame onto the grass he gently spread the parchment before them and pointed at it.
Tosni put Salif down and squatted next to Willem. He stared at the little black squiggles on the parchment then at Willem’s grinning face.
‘See?’ Willem said, tucking his long brown hair behind his ears.
‘Err, no. I can’t read, remember?’
‘Eh? Oh, yeah, sorry.’
Tosni watched Willem trace the words with a finger in awe at the way he made sense of what were to Tosni infuriatingly indecipherable marks.
‘Lord Dunbia and his wife, Lady Metalin, seek their son who was snatched some eleven summers ago. The boy will be approaching his thirteenth summer and is likely to have the red hair of his mother’s tribe. The Lord and Lady offer a handsome reward for the safe return of their son.’
‘But…?’ Tosni began.
‘Now do you see?’
‘Where did you get this?’ Tosni grabbed the parchment turning it over in his hand as if the answer would be on the back.
‘I kind of borrowed it from father. He got it when he was selling stuff in Dillant.’
Tosni looked blank.
‘You know! Dillant! Where father goes to sell his leather stuff!’
Tosni blinked.
Willem sighed, ‘The village a couple of valleys to the west of here? You really have to do something about your knowledge of the country if you’re going to stand a chance of finding your parents.’
Tosni’s heart fluttered in his chest like a startled animal. ‘Find my parents?’
‘You’re leaving aren’t you?’
‘Well yes, I’m planning to take Salif and leave Kavnen but who said anything about…’
‘Why do you think I risked having the life beaten out of me by stealing this for you?’ Willem said, snatching the parchment back from Tosni. ‘It’s good parchment! Father was going to use the back to make list of things he has for sale. He’ll skin me alive and tan my hide if he finds out I took it!’
Tosni grinned as he absentmindedly pulled Salif away from the water’s edge. He knew it was an empty threat. Willem was an only child and his father doted on him.
‘Anyway,’ Willem continued, ‘I think Dillant is the place to start. Father said the Lady had fiery red hair and eyes as green as the metron birds’ eggs, just like you. Red hair is really rare, Tosni. It’s got to be you they’re looking for. It all fits. Father said Kavnen came to the village eleven summers ago when you were one or two summers. I’ll bet Kavnen stole you as a kind of…of slave or something,’ he shrugged, waving away the unimportant details.
‘But even if they are my parents,’ Tosni said, ‘how am I supposed to find them? Where do they live? Which direction did they take?’
‘South,’ Willem reported, imitating his father’s nasal tones and gesturing wildly, ‘to the centre of the world where no self-respecting man would want to be. Strange and unnatural things go on in the south and a good man is best out on’t.’
Tosni’s grin at Willem’s pantomime faded at the rumour of ‘unnatural things’ but his voice was steady as he asked, ‘What kind of unnatural things?’ he asked, taking a choke-size pebble from Salif’s fist as it was being pushed into her mouth. He had the uncomfortable feeling he already knew the answer.
Willem gave a quick look about before whispering, ‘Sorcery.’
Tosni couldn’t help the sharp look he gave Willem.
‘Hey, don’t look so worried. I’m sure that won’t include your parents. I mean, you’re not unnatural are you! And you probably would be if they,’ he lowered his voice again, ‘were sorcerers.’
Tosni gave him a twisted grin. To give himself time, he took Salif to the edge of the stream and paddled her feet in the water. Salif screamed in delight as the icy stream splashed over her grubby toes. Tosni knew with a certainty that was almost painful that it was time to leave the village. He and Willem were planning it already but time was running out. His magical incidents were becoming more frequent. Willem didn’t know the whole reason why Tosni had to leave. But Tosni knew the longer he stayed, the greater the chance someone would find out about his growing powers. As he held the dancing, kicking Salif he realized Willem was right. He should be looking for his parents. If they were sorcerers they would be able to help him. And if they aren’t? A small voice in his head argued. And if they aren’t I’ll worry about it then.
‘Well? Willem said, sounding a bit disappointed, ‘I thought you’d be pleased. What do you think?’
‘I think…’ Tosni said swinging Salif back onto his hip and tucking her now pink toes under his jerkin. ‘I think you’re a genius, Willem. You’re right. I need to find my real parents. But it’s too early in the season yet. It’s too cold for Salif and I don’t fancy being out in this either. We’ll go in the spring. In the meanwhile we can collect a few things for the journey.’
‘Great. I thought you might say that so I’ve made a start. Here, take this.’ He pushed the parchment back to Tosni as he sprang to his feet and bounded over to the old willow. Scrambling beneath its branches he reappeared with a torn blanket, a couple of turnips and a broad grin.
Chapter 2
The Treasure
That evening, Tosni took Salif into the upper space below the rafters where they slept. He went to bed the same time as Salif as he was often so tired he looked forward to sleep and escape from Kavnen. But mostly it was because he wanted to be sure Salif didn’t make a fuss and draw Kavnen’s attention to her. Kavnen had been particularly irritable today because Halon had still not arrived. For as long as Tosni could remember Halon had visited every forth moon, but it was now six moons since his last visit. He hoped it would not be too much longer before Halon came as Kavnen was growing evermore violent in her frustration. Not that Tosni looked forward to Halon’s visits. Each time Hanlon arrived, Tosni would be paraded for his inspection. Kavnen would fawn over him and pet him while Halon felt his arms and ribs and pulled back his head to inspect his teeth. Satisfied, he would hand Kavnen a bag of coin and leave.
Tosni hated both Halon and Kavnen almost as much as he loved little Salif. From the moment he had helped to bring her from Kavnen’s body he had adored her. He had begged and pleaded with Kavnen not to give the baby to widow Cricknal in whose dubious care babies tended to mysteriously disappear. He appealed to Kavnen’s greed, telling her if he raised the baby she could then work for Kavnen, maybe even hired out for coin when she was old enough. He was rewarded with the sole task of caring for the infant.
Salif was sitting on his crossed legs with her head against his chest. He leaned forward and kissed the dark curling hair so like her mothers. As he held the wriggling baby he re-lived the horror of her fall from the loft that morning and the terrifying manner of her escape. He remembered the first time he had shown signs of being a sorcerer. He had been locked up in the wood store and starved by Kavnen to the point of death, the finest white bread and spring water materialized before him. His terror hadn’t stopped him from cramming the bread into his mouth and washing it down with the sweet water.
And then there was the time she tried to crush his skull with the fire-iron only to fall to the floor in a faint before she could strike.
Up to now his powers had only brought about things he desperately needed. Things that had resulted in good being done. But that could change at any time he knew. It had to change, why else were people so terrified at even the mention of magic. It must turn to something evil. Evil like the demons of the pits. It was said the demons were once magicians and sorcerers whose magic corrupted them until they became shadows of evil. His powers scared him but even more terrifying was the ever present danger that Kavnen or the villagers would find out about them. Three summers ago he had seen what happened to a boy who they suspected of becoming a sorcerer. The boy, who was 13, which as far as Tosni could tell was about the same age as he himself was now, was dragged from his mother’s arms and stoned. Then he was bound and thrown into the millpond to drown, or if his powers saved him from drowning, to be eaten by the water demon. Even though it was before Tosni’s powers had begun to develop, he had been unable to watch. He ran into the wood and kept running until he could no longer hear the boy’s screams and the villagers’ howls of fear and anger. He felt ashamed of his cowardice. Not because he was unable to join in with the villagers, but because he left the boy to face his fate alone. He was left with the awful feeling he ought to have done something to help him. He stayed out all that night and at first light he forced himself to go to the millpond. There was no sign of the horror of the day before. The water was still and silent. It was as if it had never happened. As if the boy had never existed. Tosni threw a handful of wildflowers onto the dark waters then returned to Kavnen’s dismal cottage and his beating for running off.
He twined a finger into Salif’s dark curls. He wished he could share his fears with Willem. He imagined what it would be like to have someone to talk to about it. He sighed. He knew he would never tell Willem. Willem would have to tell the villagers about him or face the same fate as Tosni and Tosni would not risk either happening.
A flash of brightness in the drab loft caught his attention. A dirty rag and cord lay discarded and Salif was cooing in delight at the prize she had unwrapped.
‘Hey there little lady, give that here.’
He eased the chubby fingers from the colourful object, careful not to cut them on the jagged edge. The baby wailed her displeasure and he pushed a piece of dried bread into the grasping fist. As Salif ground her gums on the crust the treasure caught and held Tosni’s attention. It was half oval in shape. The inner edge was sharp and jagged as if broken away from something. The outer edge was smooth. On the back, in the plain gold-coloured metal, were the marks of the craftsman’s tools. But it was the front that made Tosni’s heart leap. The red, green and blue enamel glowed in the murky loft. Green hills topped by blue sky and in the foreground the red hindquarters of what he took to be a lion. Tosni stared at it and the familiar sense of longing swept over him. What was the secret of this scrap of broken metal? He had owned it and kept it hidden for as long as he could remember but where had it come from? What was the hold it had over him and why did he feel this overwhelming restlessness when he looked at it?
Salif wriggled impatiently. He wrapped his treasure up but as he was about to push it back under the bed-rushes he hesitated. Instead, he tied it and the parchment he had been given by Willem about his waist with a strip of cloth. Salif whimpered sleepily as he settled her down for the night. Kavnen’s sharp voice came through the hatch.
‘Keep the brat quite or it’ll be the worse for you both, you hear?’
‘I hear.’
‘I’ve business to attend to, I’ll be back later.’
As Tosni snuggled down next to Salif in the loft, he had no way of knowing that it would be for the last time.
Chapter 3
Torn Apart
He was unable to say how long he had been sleeping when the door crashed open announcing Kavnen’s return. Salif wailed her protest at been woken so abruptly and Tosni hastily soothed her.
‘Get down here and leave the brat where it is,’ Kavnen yelled.
Tosni was more than happy to leave Salif safely in their bed-loft. If the fire-iron was to be used as a weapon again he would rather she was out of harm’s way. He stuffed the last of the crust into her ever grasping fist, made sure the rope around her middle was tied securely, then climbed down the shaky ladder to face Kavnen. As soon as he looked at her flushed face and bloodshot eyes he knew he was in for trouble.
Her words slurred together as she said ‘I have news of your father that I think might interest you.’ Kavnen had always referred to Halon as Tosni’s father. Tosni didn’t believe it any more than he believed Kavnen was his mother. Thinking it unwise to say so at that moment he stayed silent, waiting for the news he knew could not be good.
‘He’s dead,’ she said brutally.
Truthfully Tosni could not say he was particularly sorry to hear of Halon’s death. But he had the distinct feeling Kavnen was about to change that.
‘He was killed in a knife fight some three moons ago which would explain his unexplained absence.’ She decided this was a great witticism and giggled. Swaying slightly she grabbed the back of the settle to steady herself. ‘But that leaves you in somewhat of a pi… a pickle m’boy. You see, I only cared for you out of the goodness of my heart, and the gold I got every fourth moon. In fact, until Halon came along with you tucked under one arm, I had a future. D’you know that?’
Tosni’s heart gave a great leap. So he was right; Kavnen wasn’t his mother. It was the first time Kavnen had told him anything about his past. She had always refused to discuss it.
Kavnen’s bloodshot eyes misted over as she said, ‘Back then I was admired and envied by every dancer in the north. I was loved and adored by nobleman and peasant alike. I could twirl and spin like no other.’ She lifted her arms above her head in a parody of a twirl and crashed heavily into the mud wall. ‘Everybody loved me. Oh I was a beauty. I danced before kings and was pursued by their sons. I had jewels and silks and… and then… and then I met Halon.’ A faraway look had come into her bleary eyes. ‘He was dashing and charming and promised me the world. He promised me marriage, just imagine that, if you please, a dancing girl, marrying a nobleman. How could I resist him? All he asked of me in return was that I look after his son for a little while. A son he had snatched from the jaws of death. Then, as soon as it was safe, we would be wed.’ She slid heavily to the floor tears rolling down her ravaged face, skirts twisted around thick, puffy ankles. ‘How could I resist? Tell me that. I would have done anything for him, marriage or no.’ she sniffed and her tone changed to one of bitterness. ‘So I took you, and I waited. And waited. Even after I found out he was no more a nobleman than I was a queen I still waited.’ Kavnen dried her face on the hem of her skirt and heaved herself back to her feet glaring at Tosni. ‘And now, here we are. No more Halon. And no more gold. And I says to myself, Kavnen, you can’t afford to let your goodness of heart dictate over good sense any longer. You have a weanling to take care of and can’t afford to keep someone else’s spawn for nothing. And good advice it is I answer myself, so you got t’go. Now.’
Tosni was still going over what Kavnen had told him, fascinated by this insight into their past. But her last words seeped into his consciousness like cold water.
‘What?’
‘You heard. Get out. Go.’
‘Go where?’ Tosni said, hardly able to take in what Kavnen was saying.
‘That’s your problem, not mine. Out.’
‘But it’s the middle of the night! In the middle of winter.’
‘Out.’ Kavnen screamed trying to grab him by the shoulders.
Desperate, Tosni appealed to Kavnen’s greed. ‘But you need me. I clean for you and, and cook and… ,’ he couldn’t prevent himself from glancing up to the loft.
A spiteful gleam came into Kavnen’s eyes. ‘Ah, so that’s your game is it? You want to steal my precious daughter from me, eh? Well it’ll take more than the chaff in your pockets to prise her from my loving arms. Now go, get out and don’t bother coming back. At least, not without gold.’
Tosni didn’t move. He felt like the world was closing in on him, crushing him. He was intending to leave, of course he was, but not like this. Not in the middle of the night, in the grip of winter and with nothing but the clothes he stood up in. And not without Salif. As he struggled to take a breath, Kavnen took hold of his arm and dragged him toward the open door. Salif had begun to bawl hysterically. Her obvious panic brought air to Tosni’s lungs in a rush. ‘No, please, I work hard for you don’t I? I’ll work twice as hard. I’ll hire myself to the penny gang and earn cash. Please.’ All the time he pleaded his arms ached to be holding Salif. She needed him. Who would care for her?
But Kavnen was past reason. Enraged at her inability to drag him out of the cottage she took a piece of firewood and brought it down repeatedly on his head and arms. Tosni was forced through the open door.
Realizing his pleas were doing nothing to persuade Kavnen, he took hold of the wildly swinging firewood and looked directly into her bloodshot eyes. ‘Keep her safe and I’ll be back and bring gold. But if you harm her….’
Kavnen wrenched the firewood out of his grasp and threw it into the darkness. ‘I can’t swear how long my patience will hold. I suggest you come back soon. But if I see you again and your pockets are still empty, I’ll kill her myself.’
Chapter 4
Cold Goodbyes
Tosni stood looking at the closed door. The sound of Salif’s cries were muted now but he could still hear her panic. Warm tears rolled down his cheeks. The pain of leaving her threatened to choke him. How was she going to survive without him? Kavnen could hardly bare to touch her. Swiping the tears from his cheeks he turned and walked away. Salif’s terrified screams followed him along the icy road. It was the most difficult thing he had ever done but he kept walking. He felt as though he were tearing away part of himself with every step.
The cold bit through his thin shirt and leggings. His bare feet crunched through ice coated mud. He walked blindly with no idea of where he was going or what he was going to do. As he reached the edge of the village, the leather-smith’s cottage loomed into view. It was a squat and sturdy stone building, heavily thatched and with two small glazed windows. The image of Willem’s cheerful face came into Tosni’s mind. What would Willem say when he found out his friend had left without saying goodbye? Tosni stopped and stared at the windows. He stepped out of the icy mud and onto the slippery cobbles surrounding Willem’s cottage. Going to the second window he tapped lightly. Almost instantly Willem’s face appeared. It was hideously distorted by the coarse glass and Tosni took an involuntary step back. But it was Willem’s familiar voice that whispered,
‘Who’s there?’
‘It’s me, Tosni.’
Willem’s misshapen face pressed against the glass. ‘Tosni?’
‘I’ve got to talk to you.’
‘Come to the workshop door.’
Willem disappeared and Tosni picked his way around to the side-door where Willem waited for him.
‘Come in, quick.’
Tosni stepped gratefully inside. The long, low workroom doubled as Willem’s bedroom. The fire was no more than a pile of glowing ash but the warmth trapped within the thick walls was as welcoming as a thick blanket.
‘What’s wrong? Is Salif sick?’
Tosni shook his head. ‘No, she’s fine. It’s… It’s Kavnen, she’s put me out. She’s found out that Halon’s dead and she won’t be getting any more money and she put me out.’
‘What? I don’t understand. What’s Halon got to do with it?’
Tosni slumped into the chair by the dying fire and told Willem everything Kavnen had told him.
‘But Halon wasn’t my father, I know it!’ Tosni said through clenched teeth.
‘’Course not. You’re the son of Dunbia, not Halon. That advert says so, doesn’t it! But maybe,’ Willem said grabbing Tosni’s arm, ‘maybe he was the one that stole you. An he hid you with Kavnen!’
‘Why?’ Tosni asked. Willem’s theory made no more sense than Kavnen’s story did.
‘D’know. The important thing is to decide what we do now.’
Tosni noticed the ‘we’ and was immensely grateful for his friend’s support.
‘I think we should find that Lord Dunbia who issued the reward poster. It shouldn’t be too hard for us to…’
‘Us? Willem, you can’t come. What about your parents?’
‘But…’
‘No, I mean it. Besides there’s something you can do for me here. I want you to make sure Salif’s okay. You know, take her out sometimes and get her medicine if she takes ill; I’ll repay you somehow,’ he added quickly. ‘And make sure she gets plenty to eat? I know it’s asking a lot but…’
‘Don’t worry she’ll get half of mine if she has too. It’ll be a relief; mother thinks I’m too thin and that I don’t eat enough. I’ll just cram it into my pocket when she’s not looking then give it to Salif. That way everyone will be happy!’
Relief washed over Tosni. ‘I’m not going to leave her here with Kavnen any longer than I have to so it won’t be forever.’
‘What are you going to do?’
Tosni shrugged. ‘I’d decided to find my real parents if I could. I’m just going sooner that we thought.’
‘But we haven’t had time to prepare anything.’
Tosni shuddered as he thought about the freezing weather and his lack of preparation. He wrapped his arms around his thin body. ‘Yeah, well. There’s nothing I can do about that.’ He stared into the hot ashes.
Willem got up and went to a chest near the window. Lifting the lid he pulled out a heavy cloak and a pair of soft boots. The cloak was of heavy broadloom in muted tones of fawn and brown. It was carefully embroidered with the head of an eagle, Willem’s birth spirit. The boot’s strong leather was worked to suppleness by his father’s fingers. Both boots and cloak were lined with rabbit fur.
‘Father made these for my thirteenth birthday next month to celebrate my coming of age,’ he said hugging the boots to his chest. ‘I’m not supposed to know about them. He dropped the boots at Tosni’s bare feet. They fell with a soft flump. Then he picked up the cloak fingering the intricate embroidery. ‘They’ve been working on them for weeks. I had to pretend I didn’t notice him and mother hiding them whenever I walked in.’ He draped the beautiful cloak around Tosni’s shoulder.
‘Willem, I can’t…’
‘Oh. I see, so you’re just going to curl up and die out there are you? ’Cause that’s what’s going to happen. You’ll never get Salif back that way. Here, take them. You can return them when you come for Salif.’
Tosni pulled the cloak around him. The warmth of the furs seemed to soak into his bones, comforting him.
‘Thanks,’ he said thickly.
As he laced the long fur-lined boots up his legs, Willem left the room. When he returned he held out a small coarse sack and a handful of coppers.
‘I’ve put some things from the larder in the sack. Not much. A loaf, some cheese and stuff, but it’ll help. The coin is mine but you need it more than me.’
Tosni took what was offered and looked at his friend. He wanted to tell him how much this meant to him but his throat felt uncomfortably constricted. He nodded and turned to the door. The cold air rushed into the cottage when Willem pulled it open. Tosni turned for a last look at his friend then stepped out into the biting cold.
By the time he had collected the blanket and turnips from the willow and climbed to the edge of the forest the first light of dawn was showing in the sky. He turned and looked back at the village. At the furthest edge, Kavnen’s tiny cottage was just visible through the morning mist.
‘I’ll get you back, Salif. I promise,’ he whispered. Then he turned west into the forest and headed toward Dillant.
Chapter 5
Dillant
It was market day, the streets of Dillant were noisy and crowded. On the cobbled road, riders jostled for position with vendors, beggars and carts for position. An ornate carriage came bowling along the busy street scattering everyone before it. Tosni was amazed that after it clattered passed there seemed to be no damage. He’d expected overturned carts or a few squashed hens at least. Nor did anyone seem remotely surprised by its breakneck speed.
He was near the centre of the town before he plucked up the courage to approach one of the busy strangers to ask about Lord Dunbia and his visit. As he reached into his shirt for the parchment an old woman slipped on the ice and fell heavily against him. She let out a scream as her basket fell and her meagre purchases scattered over the dirty pavement to be kicked by passing feet. Tosni hastily bent to help her pick up her things and put them into her basket then he handed it back to her.
‘I haven’t stolen anything!’ Tosni said when the old woman checked her belongings while muttering her suspicions.
As the old woman made to walk away Tosni pulled out the piece of parchment with Dunbia’s proclamation on it.
‘Do you know anything about the Lord and Lady who wrote this proclamation?’
‘Don’t know nothin’ about nothin’,’ she said sniffing and wiping a reddened nose on a grubby sleeve.
Tosni tried again. ‘I just wondered where they…’
The old woman was not listening. She shuffled away and re-joined the flow of people. Tosni watched her disappear into the crowd. After trying several more people none of who showed the least interest in helping him he slumped back against the wall.
‘Great, just great!’
A young girl tugged on his cloak. She was no more than six or seven years old. Her clothes were ragged, her hair matted, and a threadbare blanket was pulled tight around her skinny shoulders.
‘You askin’ about the Lord and Lady what came ‘ere a few moons ago? The ones what were looking for their lost babby?’
‘Err, yeah, I am. Do you know…?’
‘What’s it to you? What you want to know for?’
‘I want to know where they came from.’
‘What’s it wurf?’
‘What?’
‘If I tell you what I know what’ll you give me in return?’
The girl’s direct manner was unnerving and her guttural accent made her difficult to understand.
Tosni shrugged, ‘Nothing, I don’t have anything to give.’
‘You git noffin for noffin that’s what I say.’ The girl shrugged and turned away.
Tosni saw the only person willing to help him slipping into the crowd and made up his mind.
‘What about this?’ He held out the ragged blanket Willem had saved for him.
The girl turned back to him. ‘Mebe. Give’s it ‘ere then.’
‘Tell me what you know first.’
A grin split the girl’s bony face. ‘You made a big mistake not slipping some of that auld woman’s things into your pocket but you learns fast. I likes that. Okay, smarty, they went souf.’ She held out her skinny hand pointing down the road.
‘Souf? Oh, right, I know that already.’ Tosni said tucking the blanket back under his arm.
‘Patience, I’s not finished, is I,’ she said her hand now tucked onto her hip. ‘They was talking about Harnde. About a castle an all, an about uver stuff I didn’t understand. Said they ’ad to get back and that the catchers could `andle things now. You the one they’re lookin’ for then?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know,’ Tosni said distractedly.
‘Make ya mind up. Anyway, do I get the blanket then or what?’
Tosni held out the blanket then snatched it back.
‘What’s the catchers?’
The girl put her hands on her hips again. ‘Dog’s breath, you likes you moneys wurf don’ ya? An fancy not knowing who the catchers is. Where you from then?’
‘Around,’ Tosni said evasively,
‘Not around `ere that’s for sure. The catchers are the chil’n catchers, you knows, the ones what catch kids like us and sell us to the wild people down souf as slaves. Most of `em have a scar on their cheek, just `ere,’ she pointed a dirty finger at her right cheek ‘Looks like this.’ She drew a crescent moon into the muck on the path, ‘If they’re caught, see, they’s marked, so everyone knows they’s catchers.’ She shook her matted hair, ‘Don’t want to get mixed up wiv `em!’
Tosni held out the blanket again and the girl snatched it and ran off with her prize.
Tosni watched her go. He was already regretting his impulsiveness. He would be cold tonight. Even colder than he had been the last two nights. But at least now he had the name of what? A town, a land? He looked after the girl wanting to ask what Harnde was but he was too late. She had disappeared into the crowds as if she had never been.
Tosni turned to the rows of stalls set up along the roadside. He supposed he ought to get some more food. He found a stall that offered what looked like food that had passed its best. The bread was hard and unappetizing, the fruit and vegetables wrinkly and the cheese and meat gave off a sour odour. But it was cheap. He bought as much as he could with the money from Willem then left the village and headed south.
Tosni pushed the last meagre scraps of food back into the bag and shuffled deeper beneath the pile of leaves. The light was failing fast and he had learnt over the past five nights that it was wisest to find a safe place to settle down before it became dark. This was his third night since leaving Dillant and he had been right about missing the blanket.
He pulled up the hood of his cloak and blessed Willem again for his generous gifts. Without them he knew he could not have made it this far, he would have died of the cold and Salif would have been left with Kavnen forever. He heard Salif’s terrified cries in his mind again and anger at his inability to help her bubbled inside him. Where had his power been when he needed it? Why hadn’t he been able to use it to get Salif? But then, he reasoned, she could never have survived the journey in this cold. And at least she had Willem to watch out for her. She would have plenty to eat, he thought as his stomach protested at the meagre rations. Despite the cold and hunger he never doubted he was doing the right thing. The thought of reaching Harnde and finding his parents was a powerful motivator. Over the past five days of hunger and cold he had convinced himself that Dunbia and Metalin were his parents.
He dug beneath his cloak and shirt and pulled out his treasure. This scrap of bright metal was a link to his past. He knew that as clearly as if it had spoken to him. He looked at the colours, subdued now in the failing light. Again the feeling that he was doing the right thing, going the right way soothed him. This was what he was meant to be doing and somehow this colourful treasure was going to help him return to where he belonged.
Five more, cold, torturous days passed. Tosni had used the last of his food bought at Dillant days ago. He kept going by gathering what was left of the shrivelled berries that even the birds would not consider eating. Once he saw a squirrel visiting a nut store. He chased it off and took the small stash of hazelnuts for himself relishing every mouthful. By the time he had stumbled out of the forest on the fifth day he was feeling weak and light-headed. He looked down at the dirt road. It swam before his eyes and he dropped to his knees. Crawling to the other side of the road he curled into the roots of one of the last oak trees before the forest turned to open plain. Dimly he registered the road to his left and the land opening out onto a vast plain to his right before he fell into an exhausted asleep.
He woke to rough hands dragging him out of the roots of the oak. Heart pounding, senses spinning, Tosni struggled to break free but one of the two men gripped Tosni’s upper arm and pulled him to his feet. A third man stood by three horses on the dirt road.
The man holding him growled,’ Stand still you little whelp or it’ll be the worse for you.’
As the man leaned forward to tie Tosni's hands, an unpleasant blast of tobacco, sweat and foul breath hit Tosni. He gagged and staggered, his queasy stomach protesting, his head spinning.
The man, noticing his reaction grinned. ‘Not much fight left in this one. Any longer and he wouldn’t have been worth stopping for.’
Tosni’s gaze slid from the uneven, rotten teeth to the right cheek where, etched into the black stubble was a dying crescent moon.
Catchers.
Chapter 6
Scarface
The catcher dragged Tosni’s arms behind his back and began to tie them. Tosni threw himself backwards in a frantic attempt to break free. But, weak and disorientated, he succeeded only in lurching to one side. It was enough to catch Scarface off guard and he lost his grip on the ropes he was about to secure around Tosni’s wrists. Tosni stumbled to his feet and began to run, throwing off the slackened ropes. The second man laughed while Scarface swore loudly. The burst of adrenalin was the fuel Tosni needed and he lunged back across the road and into the forest.
‘Got yourselves a wild one there looks like. An’ if you’re not careful you’re going to lose `im,’ laughed the third man who was still holding the horses. ‘Like a young buck `e is!’
The man with the scar swore again and Tosni heard him thundering after him. He glanced over his shoulder. Both men were following but he was back amongst the trees and tried to use them to shield him from his pursuers. A huge tree, its bole split in two, loomed before him. Tosni leaped inside the wide crack and crouched down, making himself as small as possible while trying to control his ragged breaths. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head hoping the soft browns and fawns would help to conceal him. He heard the men blundering up to the tree and then pass by. Tosni’s heart bounded in his chest like a trapped animal. The catchers’ crashing foot falls retreated into the forest. Then they stopped.
‘Where’d he go?’
‘Back, back we must `ave passed him.’
With a huge effort Tosni forced himself to stay where he was and not bolt from his hiding place in panic.
‘He’s got to be around here somewhere. You go that way.’ Tosni recognized the voice as belonging to the man who had pulled him to his feet, the one he thought of as Scarface. He held his breath as Scarface retraced his steps passed the tree where he was hiding. Scarface had his eyes on the ground as if looking for tracks. He walked almost ten feet passed the tree before he stopped and crouched to the ground. Then slowly he stood up and turned to look straight at Tosni. Tosni’s stomach plummeted as a broad grin spread across Scarface’s features. Not waiting for what was to come, not even thinking twice, Tosni leaped out of the tree straight at Scarface. He had the satisfaction of seeing the grin turn to alarm before Tosni collided with him and knocked him to the ground. Scarface yelled as Tosni pummelled his chest and head with clenched fists before staggering up and running again. This time though, he got no further than a few steps when the second man crashed out of the bushes on his right and knocked him to the ground. A huge fist ploughed into Tosni’s stomach and he curled up gasping for breath. His arms were pulled roughly behind his back and his wrists tied together.
‘Wildcat this one,’ the second man panted, ‘We’ll get a good price for ‘im if we…’
‘Not this time, Dodds,’ Scarface gasped wiping the blood from his nose and lip, ‘we already got a taker for this one. Have you seen this?’
Scarface pulled back Tosni’s hood and grabbed a fistful of hair. ‘See this? Sale guaranteed whether or no it’s the right one. We can’t loose. Otherwise I’d be tempted to give him a bit of his own medicine,’ Scarface said as he wiped his blood onto his jacket.
‘An’ who knows, this might just be the one. He has enough fire in ‘is blood that’s for sure,’ said Dodds as he heaved the still breathless Tosni onto his feet and half pulling half carrying him, started back to the horses. ‘An’ if it is ‘im, don’t we get double?’
‘Triple, old friend,’ Scarface ginned. ‘M’Lord and Mighty just don’t know it yet.’
They laughed as they crashed back to their companion, dragging Tosni with them.
Tosni was barely able to take in what was being said. He was still winded from Dodds’ blow to his stomach. When they came to tie his legs however, he kicked furiously but even had his arms not been tied behind his back he was no match for three grown men. They finished trussing him up then flipped him behind the saddle and over the quarters of one of the horses.
Soon, despite the pain caused by the ropes and the uncomfortable jarring gait of the horse’s rump beneath him, Tosni fell into an exhausted sleep.
He woke suddenly when he was thrown to the ground next to a camp fire. Although he could see the thin rim of light from the new day, it was still dark. Dimly he realized he must have ridden all night. Although groggy and ravenously hungry he felt a little better. The rest and the steady heat from the horse’s body had revived him a little. He twisted onto his side so he could see. Campfires and tents were all around him. Scarface and his companions were ranged behind him. They didn’t speak, they just stood and waited. Satisfied smirks were plastered on all their faces. In front of Tosni was a large, ornate tent. Its canvas was decorated with patterns and shapes in bright colours. Inside were jewel-bright woven carpets covering the sandy soil. Soft shimmering hangings were draped against the walls and golden vessels were filled with flickering light.
The lady seemed to materialize from nowhere into the midst of this light and colour. She was dressed in pale-green robes which swirled around her legs as she moved. Toni’s gaze travelled upward and into a face full of eager anticipation. Her pale skin was framed by deep chestnut hair. She knelt by his side to lightly touch his hair and he looked into startlingly green eyes.
‘Aytasnay? Is it you, at last?’
Tosni barely registered the strange name. He was staring at the woman’s hair and eyes. This had to be Lady Metalin, the Lady that Willem’s father had described, the one who had issued the reward for the return of their son. The shame of meeting the woman he hoped was his mother while lying in the dirt, bound like a criminal, make his cheeks burn. With the shame came the return of his unpredictable power. Horrified he felt the ropes about his wrists and ankles writhe like snakes and drop away from him. He saw his captors step hastily away, alarmed. He scrambled to his feet and braced himself for the attack. Whatever devilish punishment there was here for the performing of magic he would fight. He would not stop fighting until the last breath was forced from him. Feet apart, fists clenched, his eyes raked the crowd that had gathered around them at a safe distance. Trying to summon his recalcitrant powers, he willed a gap to open in the crowd. Nothing happened. He tried again but this time the lady put herself between him and his chosen escape route.
‘It seems we have found you only just in time, your power waxes.’ She turned her attention to the guards, ‘Bathe him and give him suitable clothes. When he is ready bring him to us. The Lord Dunbia and I have much to discuss with our son.’
Chapter 7
The Tub
The guards put Tosni into the care of two serving women. So many thoughts were swirling around in his head he thought it was going to explode. He was astounded by the way these people, these strange colourful people, reacted to his power. Apart from the catchers, they had not shown fear or anger but respect. They did not stone him, but welcome him. He hoped it was proof he really had come home. Dawn was breaking over the camp in earnest now and Tosni stopped to look about. A dozen brightly coloured tents glowed softly in the golden light. People stopped to stare at him. Not in horror, but polite interest. Tosni stared back at them and they nodded or dipped a curtsy.
‘Come, my Lord, don’t mind them. I’ll take you to your tent and you can refresh yourself.’
Tosni flicked his gaze to the young woman who had spoken. Had she just called him ‘Lord’?
The woman smiled and as if she had read his thoughts she said, ‘Your mother is Lady Metalin your father Lord Dunbia. You are their son. You are Lord Aytasnay.’
He was a Lord? His cheeks flamed. Of course, had he given it any thought, he would have realised that as the son of a Lord and Lady he automatically would be titled ‘Lord’. But the only things on his mind had been finding his parents, escaping persecution for his powers then getting Salif back.
The young woman turned away and he followed automatically. His thoughts drifted back to the woman he had met at the tent. A vague feeling of disappointment leached through him. In the long lonely years in Kavnen’s house dreams of escape and finding somewhere he belonged had kept him going. In his wildest dreams he had seen an imaginary mother hugging him and weeping over him, he had seen himself having to disentangle her smothering arms. Maybe, he thought, some memory of her would return, her perfume perhaps, or her smile. Maybe he would even remember some of his life before being stolen. Reality had turned out to be nothing like his dreams. He gave himself a mental shake. She was a Lady, he reminded himself. She would not show her emotions like his imaginary peasant mother. The important thing was he was here. He was home. And soon he would meet his father and then they would get Salif.
Tosni was shown into a curtained off area in a tent almost as grand as that belonging to his mother. In the middle of the floor stood a large wooded tub filled with hot water. Tosni stared at it.
‘Come along my Lord. In you get.’
Realization that the maid expected him to strip naked in and get into the steaming water made him burn with embarrassment.
He did not move.
‘And while you soak,’ she continued unperturbed, ‘I’ll get rid of those filthy, peasant rags and find you something suitable to wear.’
The slur against Willem and his cloak and boots was like a slap in the face. He was exhausted and starving. He had been bound and trussed like a captured deer and slung across a horse’s rump to be dumped, humiliated, at his mother’s feet. Only Willem had cared. Willem had saved his life by giving him his most treasured possessions. He squeezed the thick cloak beneath his fingers.
‘No, you won’t!’ he snapped, ‘You won’t touch them, they stay with me. Get out and I’ll get into your pool but you will not take these clothes, understand?’
To his surprise and alarm the young woman dropped to the floor, pressing her forehead to the colourful carpet.
‘Forgive me. I meant no harm. No one will touch your things my Lord, I swear.’ Then she shuffled awkwardly backwards through the curtain.
Tosni stared after her, mouth agape. The girl’s response to his outburst of anger brought home to him that he really was a Lord. He was aghast; the last thing he wanted was for people to fall to their knees. He would apologise to the girl next time he saw her. With a last look around to be sure he couldn’t be seen he started to undress. He took off the cloak and folded it neatly next to the tub and put his boots on top. He untied the little parcel from his waist containing his treasure and carefully stuffed it into one of his boots. The thought that he would soon find the answers to what his treasure really was made his stomach leap with excitement. He saw himself holding it out to his mother and father. He imagined them laughing, amazed the way he had cared for it all these years. He would tell them how it had always comforted him, how it had helped him through the worst times. Then they would tell him the story behind it and how it came to be with him and why it was so special.
He grinned and peeled off the filthy shirt and leggings and climbed, with difficulty, into the tub. He curled up and sank into the hot water until it came up to his neck and sighed with pleasure. He had never experience anything like it before but, he decided, he definitely would again.
He was immensely embarrassed when the young woman came back while he was still in the tub. Determined not to frighten her again he waited to see what she would do. Cutting a wide berth around his clothes, working quickly and silently, the young woman laid a pair of heavy breaches and a white linen shirt on a chair and draped a green velvet cloak over the back of it. Then she approached the tub.
‘Whoa, just stay right there,’ Tosni said in panic, trying to keep his voice level and hoping she wasn’t going to collapse again. ‘What do you want?’
‘Why, to scrub you clean of course.’
Tosni felt his face grow hot. ‘Well I’ve already done that, thanks.’
She held up a brownish block of soap and a cloth. This time her eyes held a mischievous twinkle as she said, ‘Without these?’
‘Well just, just throw them over then.’
The soap and cloth splashed into the water and he gave a weak smile as the young woman dropped the drying cloth onto the floor, bowed then retreated through the curtain. He heard her and a companion giggling as they left the tent.
‘Huh! So much for respect,’ he muttered.
After his bath Tosni tied his treasure around his waist and dressed in his new clothes. He rubbed his hand over the crisp white shirt and the soft wool breaches. He had never felt anything like it. Within a few minutes the two young women came back into the tent and curtsied. Their eyes were bright and admiring.
‘I’m Elena,’ said the girl who had brought him the clean clothes and soap, ‘and this is Hedna. We are to be your servants, my Lord.’
Tosni judged that by their earlier giggles Elena was over her fright enough for him to say carefully, ‘Thanks, Elena, but I don’t need any servants. I can take care of myself.’
Elena and Hedna giggled again. ‘You’re the son of the Lord and Lady, of course you need servants. We’ve been sent by your mother to take care of you,’ Elena said. She swept the fair hair back from her face and continued. ‘I’m to take you to dine with your parents but first I must tie back your hair.’
‘My hair?’
‘You can’t dine with the Lord and Lady with your hair all loose like that. Here, I’ve brought a leather thong, let me tie it for you.’
Elena swiftly and gently tied back Tosni’s hair. When she had done, Hedna held up a mirror for him to see himself. He was startled by his reflection. His skin, clean for once was pale and his vivid green eyes mirrored the colour of his cloak. Elena had pulled back his hair into the leather thong and it hung down his back in a heavy braid.
‘I hadn’t realized how much you look like your Lady mother,’ Elena said studying him.
‘You’re very handsome,’ Hedna giggled.
Tosni felt himself grow hot again. He had never blushed so much in his life and decided Elena must think him very stupid. The thought did nothing for his confidence, or his blushing.
‘Well, now you’re ready, we can take you to the Lord and Lady.’
Tosni took a deep breath to still the butterflies in his stomach then followed Elena and Hedna out of the tent.
Chapter 8
Questions without answers.
Elena and Hedna led Tosni back to his mother’s tent. His insides were squirming with a mixture of nerves and excitement. For most of his life he had wondered what his real parents were like and why he had been separated from them. He would soon have the answers.
The dark haired, dark eyed Hedna stayed at the door of the huge, ornate tent where he had first met his mother. Elena led him inside and pulling aside a decorative curtain she motioned Tosni to follow. She turned and curtsied deeply. Tosni quickly scanned the room. His mother stepped from a shadowy corner.
‘Welcome, Aytasnay.’
Before he could answer another curtain was pulled roughly aside and a man strode through it. He was tall and his black hair was pulled back into a braid similar to that which Elena had put in Tosni’s hair. He stared at Tosni. His face was eager, his stare intense. Tosni lifted his chin, determined not to show how intimidated he felt at the man’s scrutiny. It took all his resolve not to step backwards when the man strode rapidly across the room and seized him by the shoulders. Tosni stared into grey eyes which were searching his face eagerly.
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-29 show above.)