The Oracle Page 15

  There wasn’t much room, but Samantha pushed forward into the little crevice, looking up at the Gardyn trap door. With a bit of effort, and some help from Angrud, they managed to shove the door open.

  Samantha drew her sword and nodded to Saxton, who cupped his hands and boosted her upwards.

  Samantha burst into the empty room, ready to defend herself. “I’ll get us some help,” she said, keeping her voice low.

  She walked over to the heavy oak door of the small back room and moved into the main area of the inn. It was empty, as one would expect at an inn, so early in the day. But there seemed something odd about the stillness. The chairs were still up on the tables, the front door heavily bolted and a thick layer of undisturbed dust covering all surfaces.

  Samantha walked slowly, cautiously, across the room to the bar. A heavy bell hung down, used to call for service or time, at the end of a night. Samantha reached out and gave it a sharp tug, letting its peal echo loudly through the silence.

  There was a pause, then a hurried stumbling down an unseen staircase.

  “Who are you? ‘Ow you get in?”

  A man appeared in the room, brandishing a blunt bread knife. His ragged, dirty clothes hung loose on him, as if he had lost a great deal of weight. His straggly hair was greyed with both age and stress, and his gaunt eyes balked at the sight of the girl. His gaze moved to the still-bolted door or his inn, and he did not care to hide his confusion.

  “Hi, my name’s Lucy,” Samantha lied casually, “I’m looking for Bern’s uncle.”

  The innkeeper was slow to reply, but his suspicion was evident at the use of the Gardyn pass-phrase. “Sorry lass, I don’t know ‘oo you mean.”

  “Really?” Samantha continued easily, “Rian will be disappointed.”

  The innkeeper’s expression lightened, “Oh, Bern’s uncle. I must’ve mis’eard you. Come upstairs an’ we’ll see what we can do.”

  Samantha nodded, “Let me just get my companions.”

  The innkeeper followed, mystified by the whole situation. As he stepped into the supposedly secure room, he was further amazed to see three more people in his locked inn. Two grown men, and a nervous young girl with a heavy hood shadowing her features.

  They all made their way upstairs, where there were more questioning faces staring at the four intruders. Aside from the innkeeper and his wife, there were three of his grown sons, one of which was accompanied by his wife, heavy with child.

  All shared the same glassy stare and taut appearance brought on by the lack of food.

  The innkeeper quickly informed his family that their visitors were Gardyn, and cleared away enough clutter to let them sit down.

  “Is it safe to speak?” Samantha asked.

  “No place safer, Lucy.” The innkeeper replied proudly.

  “Well, first of all, these are for you to keep or distribute how you like.” Samantha said, as Saxton and Angrud handed over four sacks. She couldn’t help glancing at the pregnant woman, and how thin she looked in contrast to the tight bulge of her stomach. Suddenly the four bags of food didn’t seem like a lot.

  The innkeeper was more than happy to open the sacks to find fresh fruit, salted meats, flat bread and grains. “Bless Minaeri! Thank you, all of you. If there is ever anything old Billamaur can do for you, I am in your debt.”

  The Gardyn exchanged looks.

  “Actually, we need information.” Samantha began.

  Old Billamaur, the innkeeper, thought that they had lost their minds. “So, let me get this right. You want t’ break into the palace, get t’ the prisons, get this lad an’ all get out alive.”

  Samantha nodded, “Yep, that’s about right.”

  Billamaur shook his head with disbelief, “I’m sorry, Miss Lucy, but that be suicide. The King, ‘e been putting up such an ‘eavy guard, probably expectin’ that Lady Samantha an’ all. Surely this kid aint all that important.”

  “That’s my son you’re talking about.” Saxton said coldly, speaking for the first time that day.

  “Every life has its importance.” Samantha interjected quietly. “And I remember that last year, Lady Samantha broke into the palace treasury and survived.”

  “Aye, but that’s the Lady, aint it? An’ she ‘ad it easy, like. All the army were in the forest then, now they all be ‘ere, protecting the King.” Billamaur shrugged, “Besides, they underestimated Samantha before. They’re prepared for her now.”

  Samantha frowned as Billamaur disregarded her heroics, but knew that he spoke with reason. “So, there’s no way of getting to Russit.” She said dejectedly.

  “Now, Old Bill didn’t say that. I’m thinking the King’ll be ‘aving an ‘anging – begging your pardon, sir.” Billamaur said hurriedly to Saxton, “Hoping ‘e can entice the Lady. Slim chance you can get to the lad then.”

  Saxton seemed to be fighting with himself, he turned away, not wanting to hear how ill-fated this rescue mission could be. “We will wait then.” He said roughly.

  “You’re more than welcome to hide ‘ere.” Billamaur said, “Until the lad is brought out.”

  Samantha nodded her thanks, “We’ll bunker down, then. At nightfall, one of us can go and let Tobias know the change of plan.”

  “Why did you say your name was Lucy?” Jemma asked quietly.

  She sat huddled in a corner with Samantha, away from the innkeeper’s family, who were busy dividing up the new food rations.

  Samantha sighed, slowly opening her eyes, Even with her training, her earlier use of power had quite exhausted her. “I’ve learnt to be careful. If he knew that I was this Lady Samantha, he’d either be grovelling and annoying, or would shop us in for a reward.”

  Jemma sat quietly, picking the dirt off her clothes. They all looked like they had been scrabbling around underground. The images replayed in her mind, of the dark, and of the sudden light and heat that Samantha managed to conjure, as though it were nothing.

  “I can’t get over what you did.” Jemma confessed, “I mean, I’ve heard the stories, and seen how the trees behave at Treefort, but... to actually see you do that was awesome!”

  Samantha gave her an odd look, “This coming from the girl who sees visions?”

  “Anyone can see visions, mine just happen to come true,” Jemma said dismissively. “I’d kill to have powers like yours.”

  Samantha winced at her ill-choice of words.

  “What?” Jemma asked, sensing she’d made an error.

  “That’s how it all works, the powers are gained by killing the previous owner.” Samantha explained, “Apart from me, the powers of fire and death were always connected to my soul, and manifested when I came to Enchena. So, each king has to murder his own father to inherit the powers of life and water that everyone is afraid of. No wonder they’ve all been tyrants.”

  “So... that’s why Lugal and Cristan are normal?” Jemma asked about the two-hundred-year-old princes and frowned, “Relatively normal?”

  Samantha nodded, “Their older brother, Brandon, killed their father to continue the line of kings. I wonder if they even know...”

  “OK, I take it back, I don’t think I could kill someone. Not even to get amazing powers.” Jemma replied. Her own ability still seemed pretty shoddy compared to the things Samantha could do. She was trying to follow Samantha’s advice to embrace this new part of her, and it was starting to get easier. Her only worry was, what if her effort was all too late?

  Jemma glanced over at Saxton, who stood next to the window, in stony silence and detached from the rest of the group.

  “When we rode to see the capital, there was a moment when I felt an oncoming vision. I hated the sensation and pushed it away.” Jemma confessed, before the guilt became too much, “What if I was going to see Russit’s capture? What if I could have stopped it?”

  “Asking ‘what if’ can drive you mad.” Samantha said softly, “Minaeri works in strange ways, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

  A niggling thought arose in Samantha’
s mind – how could Minaeri guide any of them, when King Ragoul the First had killed her? Samantha pushed the thought away, as she felt a phantom pain through her gut.

  *****

  As the day passed into afternoon, the blistering midday heat remained, scorching in the rancid streets of the neglected city. From the luxury of his palace, the King of Enchena looked down on the few busy folk, his suspicion raised at their need to scurry about his city. Hrafn didn’t trust the commoners, small people living small lives, all too eager to turn on the King that allowed them to live in his fine city. As removed as they were, in the royal palace, Hrafn could sense the tension mounting. It would not take much for it to ignite.

  Despite this, Hrafn felt powerful. True, his natural heir had been murdered, and his beautiful wife, the Queen Arianne, now wasted away with grief. But they were just mortal lives and Hrafn belonged with the gods.

  Footsteps made the King turn from the window, to face his son-in-law and new heir. David continued to grow stronger and sharper. He was now taller and broader in the shoulder than Hrafn, and the young man had become increasingly sure of himself.

  Hrafn knew that David was a dangerous ally – as much as he gave support to his King, he also sapped strength from Hrafn’s claim to the throne. But with the disappearance of Captain Losan, and the fact that his army was no longer invincible, Hrafn had no one to turn to.

  There was one small relief, that the Princess Helena had only given David a daughter. The secret tradition of Kings was to hand over the crown when a grandson had been born to secure the line. Luckily, a girl was useless.

  “The boy has been broken.” David reported. “We have a rough idea where the stronghold is.”

  Hrafn nodded. “Then we shall have him hanged tomorrow. Such a waste of young life.”

  David bit back a smile, he knew that Hrafn was thinking of his dead son, Prince Tagor, who had been the same age as this Gardyn lad, when he was murdered. The rumours had been that Lady Samantha had committed this sinful crime, but how many rightfully suspected David?

  “Samantha is back.” David was pleased to see a hint of fear in the King’s reaction to this revelation. “Unfortunately our informant has been discovered, before he was able to instigate a premature uprising. The Gardyn have captured Losan, he’ll persuade them to rescue the boy and everything will carry on as planned. I’ll set the hanging for tomorrow afternoon, give Samantha time to sneak into the city.”

  King Hrafn waved David away, not trusting his voice to stay steady. Samantha – Lady Samantha, the rebels called her – she was the only aspect that made him falter. He remembered her as a silly, unsure girl, but she had thwarted him many a time, and now... how powerful had she become since they last clashed?

  Seventeen

  For the past few hours, the main town square had been filling with citizens of the capital, where they were herded by heavy-handed guards. Samantha grasped Jemma’s hand as they pushed through, closely followed by Saxton and Angrud.

  In the centre, a platform had been raised and a noose hung in readiness. There was a murmur of excitement and nerves running through the crowd.

  Jemma squeezed Samantha’s hand, “There are archers placed on top of the houses, and soldiers are hidden in the crowd.”

  Samantha felt her skin prick and glanced around. “I don’t see anything.” She murmured.

  Jemma looked to the older girl, but the heavy hood that hid her flaming hair also hid most of her face. “I see more than you.” She nodded softly, “The crowd will listen to you.”

  Samantha frowned at the irrelevant information, “I’m proud that you’re accepting your role, Jemma, but can’t you tell me how this will all happen?”

  The crowd suddenly started shouting, jeering and cheering, and as one, they all turned to face the platform.

  “It’s not my place.”

  Samantha only just heard Jemma over the din.

  Surrounded by armed guards, King Hrafn and Prince David stepped up onto the platform. Samantha caught her breath as they both scanned the crowd, obviously looking for her.

  Amidst another group of guards, Russit was forced up next to them. The shouts and jeers of the people of Enchena died away as this young boy was lifted onto a stool and the noose shoved roughly about his neck. The crowd had all been expecting an adult Gardyn spy, and they were disgusted to see a child up there.

  Russit wavered on the stool, his limbs shaking with pain and fear. His bloodshot eyes roved the crown desperately, and his unfocussed gaze found his father, Saxton’s presence calming the lad.

  “They say that the Gardyn are compassionate and live by their hearts,” Hrafn addressed his people, “But they will forsake their own sons when it suits them. Their heroes are false, and their lies seep into the cracks of this good city. I will ensure that every last one of them is destroyed; I will put an end to their deceitfulness.”

  Hrafn paused, waiting to see if any hidden Gardyn moved forward. Disappointed, he gave the signal.

  The hangman stepped up. The crowd screamed as one, as the stool was kicked from under Russit’s feet. Jemma also cried out in pain, as Samantha’s hand burnt her own.

  The rope became taut, then snapped, the frayed ends burnt through.

  Saxton took a single step towards his son, but staggered to a halt. There was the zip of a flying arrow which embedded its sharp point in Russit’s chest. The boy fell as a dead weight onto the platform.

  “She’s here! Hold them in.” David suddenly took charge, shouting across the square to the waiting soldiers.

  “Find her.” King Hrafn demanded, his eyes already searching the crowd.

  Panic was setting into the gathered crowd, and Samantha struggled to stand strong against the pushing and shoving. She turned to a distraught Saxton, “Take Jemma, get back to the inn. Go!”

  When he failed to respond, or even show that he had heard her, Samantha turned pleadingly to Angrud. The young man was visibly upset, but he seemed to have his wits about him. “Angrud, get them to safety. If I don’t return within the hour, leave without me. I need you to promise.”

  “Aye, my lady.” Angrud said quietly, his resolve growing.

  Samantha watched as the Gardyn soldier obeyed and with the help of Jemma, they dragged Saxton away, the three of them disappearing into the masses.

  Samantha paused, trying to think. In her hand, she tightly grasped the old map of the city, each of its secret underground routes scrutinised and memorised last night. She hoped she knew what she was doing. She lifted her head to the platform and saw David; a flickering smile told her that he also saw her.

  There was no need to hide now. Samantha flicked back her cloak, putting on clear display Minaeri’s sword. She kept David’s gaze as she slowly walked forward.

  The crowd parted, staring at the dangerous young lady.

  “Samantha, so good to see you again.” The King greeted with false warmth.

  “Save your lies, Hrafn. The only thing I want to hear from you is your abdication.”

  “Then I assume you are not going to come quietly.” He said, resigned. He signalled to his guards.

  Samantha drew her sword - Minaeri’s sword - grasping the black hilt, its curving, antler-like pattern surrounding her hand. The dark blade was flickered with a fire of her control, held ready for any attack from the King’s soldiers that encircled her. Samantha had changed so much since the first time she had been taught to hold a sword; instead of it being a heavy and clumsy weapon, her muscled arms and torso balanced it in preparation to wield it with precision, whilst her once terrified eyes gazed undaunted at each and every man that threatened her.

  The crowd backed away, but did not leave, mesmerised by the flame-wielding young woman.

  But the soldiers did not attack. Instead, another figure entered the ring.

  “Why do you continue to fight us, Sammy?” David asked lightly, “It’s not too late to join the rightful King.”

  “You’re a murderer and a ghost, David.” As
strong as she appeared, her voice still shook, “How many times do I have to turn you down before you understand? I am Gardyn, and if need be, I will die for my people.”

  “Can’t you see the inevitability of it all? Sure, you’re going to die either way, but all of this stubbornness and bravado... the more you fight it, the more Gardyn get killed along the way.” David sighed, knowing that it was futile to continue.

  The prince turned away, and leapt back up onto the platform. He leant down and when he stood back up again, Samantha could see that he was holding up the body of poor Russit.

  David smirked as he saw a look of horror on Samantha’s face. “Tell you what, join us and the King will bring him back to life. A fair deal, don’t you think?”

  Samantha glanced at Hrafn, who hung back as a shadow, more than happy to allow his heir to deal with her.

  “An evil shell will hurt his family a lot more than a dead body.” Samantha replied.

  “Fine, just one more dead rebel.” David said with a shrug and threw Russit’s body from the platform, so that it landed with a thud and a snap as the fatal arrow shaft broke away. “That reminds me, you did say goodbye to all your friends before you left – what’s it called? Treefort? Such a shame, I would’ve liked to have seen that pretty maid Jillis again.”

  If David was expecting some sort of reaction from Samantha, he was to be disappointed. The young lady kept a stern expression, as she crouched down beside Russit, gently lifting his lifeless body. Samantha turned, and looking past the ring of armed guards she witnessed the sea of gaunt faces of those that had become prisoners in their own city. They had all been silent, listening to the battle of the two young people that would control their future.

  Samantha took two steps forward, trusting the senses that made her different.

  “People of Enchena,” Her voice rang out, “I will return, and I will free you from this tyranny.”

  Samantha heard David start some bitter comment on impossible escape, but ignored him. Fire flooded her veins and her skin prickled with the enormity of what she was about to attempt.