The Tessellation Saga. Book Two. 'The One' (22 page)

Absently Gath
tasted the blood that had sprayed across his mouth.

‘Darnel my
dear, I am told your sister took some bread yesterday,’ said Gath
coldly as the child’s blood registered nothing and he nodded again,
this time toward the dungeon keeper.

The
leather-hooded man ripped off the cloth covering Darnel’s modesty
and held a pair of pincers over his flaccid manhood.

‘You choose, my
dear, your manhood or your tongue, but remember though; you will be
no good for me without… without you being whole... I am sure you
understand what I’m saying,’ Gath said. Darnel turned his head to
the side and with his eyes fixed clearly on the dead boy’s cooling
body, he stuck out his tongue and the young boy’s blood mingled
with his as the knife sliced through it like a hot knife through
butter.

‘It’s so much
better when we co-operate, don’t you agree?’ Gath smiled as Darnel
gagged on his own blood. ‘I’ll see you soon my dear I am sure,’ he
added as the dungeon keeper cut Darnel’s bonds. Gath took his
silken handkerchief and wrapped up Darnel’s tongue placing the wad
in his pocket. ‘I’ll keep it safe for you my dear,’ he said, ‘as a
reminder...’ and he walked out of the room.

It had taken a
week for the bleeding to stop fully and Darnel had been in the care
of the dungeon keeper for all of that time. Gath never did attempt
a healing and as that week ended, Morgan received the order to
bathe him before returning him to his room, only this time there
was no guard on the door. The veiled threat to his little sister,
whilst he was helpless in the dungeon was as strong a chain as any
Gath could forge from iron and on the stand in Gath’s chamber,
where once Lemba’s jewelled box had been, now stood a new box, its
beautiful casing no match for the ugliness it held.

The canvas
flapped noisily, bringing Darnel back from the painful memory as
once more the sergeant limped agonizingly toward the tents entrance
bending awkwardly to allow his stiff leg to remain straight as he
passed through the low opening. Gath’s face was like thunder as he
called for a page to get his horse.

‘Darnel,’ said
the king we are going riding.’ Darnel threw a thick robe around his
shoulders as protection against the frigid air outside and followed
the king out of the tent feeling pathetically grateful Gath had
made provision for warm clothing, instead of the usual thin
toga.

‘I like easy
access to your wonderful body,’ Gath had told him when he had given
him the toga. ‘This is your uniform from now on,’ he said. Only
changing his mind about the uniform when Darnel had gotten so cold
he had fallen into a hypothermic state early on in the trip, Darnel
had thought he was dying, a thin linen toga and a linen shawl,
resplendent, as they were, were no use against a Derovian winter.
On his recovery, Gath had supplied new, warmer clothing comprising
of trews, a cotton shirt and a thick leather jerkin.

‘You must not
die dear.’ Gath said, as he dressed Darnel himself and stroking his
cheek he added, ‘besides, Mayhap a little wrapping will make the
gift all the more exciting, don’t you think?’ Darnel did not
reply.

Outside the
tent, the skies threatened rain and heavy clouds cast a dark feel
to the day. Impatient horses snorted in eagerness as Gath, his
greatcoat over his shoulders strode over and clumsily mounted the
lively stallion waiting for him. Darnel followed mounting his own
horse with the grace and finesse of an expert, scowling and once
more regretting the loss of Rhoàld and his precious blood, Gath
turned his horse from Darnel and began to ride away toward the
encampment of the elite guard to pick up Toby.

The encampment
was buzzing with slavers and soldiers alike, the villagers
themselves, were encamped overnight in large tents to avoid the
cold as the previous night two children had died, despite efforts
to keep them warm. To minimise further loss the slavers had decided
upon both tents and hot food, which the villagers’ gratefully
accepted.

Darnel looked
across at the people herded like cattle into lines for gruel, a
thin porridge that here, cooked in vats on open fires. He could
also see where large earth ovens, U shaped holes in the frozen
ground were cooking bread, the smell wafted from them to mingle
with the smells of unwashed bodies and stale smell of animals
. I
would rather me an’ me sister be with them
, he thought, as he
watched a young man take a chunk of bread from an iron bucket and
pass it to a small girl next to him.

Gath smiled
taking a deep breath.

‘Darnel, a
benevolent king will always feed his subjects,’ he said, tossing a
coin at the baker, ‘the bread smells divine, my man,’ he called as
he passed by, ‘send a round or two over to my tent.’

‘Yes, sire,’
replied the baker, a grin revealing a mouth full of decay as he
took the coin between his lips to his teeth and attempted to bend
it.

Toby stood
beside his tent waiting quietly for the king. Gath had healed his
broken leg but healed it badly as a punishment for losing Gideon
and he knew he would be in constant pain until Gath saw fit to
relieve him of it. He scowled as he saw the body slave watching
him, Darnel felt nothing but pity for the man, knowing that Hollins
was as much a slave as he was himself, his pity showed in his
expression and Toby hated him for it.

‘Do not say a
word Hollins, just show me where man, shown me where…’ Gath said,
forestalling Toby as he opened his mouth to speak. Toby nodded,
climbed onto his mount awkwardly and set his horse off the road in
the direction of the woods, each jolt and jar of his leg showing on
his face until the grimace of pain became almost a permanent
feature. For nearly an hour, the small company rode through the
trees until they reached a clearing where Toby stopped and turned
his horse to face the king, his face wet with tears of pain.

“Ere me lord,
it were ‘ere,’ he said, as he struggled to get down from his horse
and sit upon the cold ground. Thunder rumbled overhead as Toby
looked at the clearing where he had had Gideon at his mercy
. I
should ‘ave killed ‘im then,
he thought as his leg throbbed. He
did not know how Gideon had done whatever he had done but one
moment he was inside Mayan and the next he was lying under the tree
beside the road, in perfect agony. Since then he had repeatedly
replayed the scene in his head wondering just what had gone
wrong.

Gath too
dismounted, a look of incredulity on his face, he fell to his knees
and thrust his fingers as far as he could into the soil.

“By the
journey’, can you not feel the magic in this place? Can you not
feel the life here?’ He whispered. Darnel looked around the
clearing and at first noticed nothing. The ground was still cold
and hard and the trees were still dead and brown but as he looked
closer, he could see there were green shoots peeping above the soil
and buds trying to form on the stick like branches, the air too
felt a little warmer, spring had come to this tiny corner of
Derova.

‘My son was
here, here, in this place.’ said the king as he walked toward where
Toby was nursing his painful leg. Gath knelt and took Toby’s leg
between his two hands as he began to mumble, the air suddenly
became cold and Darnel watched sadly as numerous green buds
withered and died, clouds of warm air left his mouth and spiralled
into the cold winter chill.

Toby was pain
free, his eyes lit up as he clasped his king’s hands.

‘Sire, I won’t
let yer down again…’ he said, his eyes shining with gratitude.

‘No, sergeant
you won’t,’ replied Gath as he stood once more, his face turning
toward the denser trees in front of him.

‘Hollins…how
close are we to Green Home Village?’ Gath asked abruptly, his eyes
boring into Toby who had also risen from the ground and was
standing as straight as his stiff leg would allow.

‘By road sire,
three days, though it should be quicker across country and riding
fast, I reckon they’ll be using the road though,’ he replied,
thinking of the carriage he had seen at the Green family’s cottage
not far away. ‘Sire…’ Toby said as a thought burst into his head,
‘Gideon’s grandparents live half a mile from ‘ere, could be they
are still there,’ he added, looking anxiously at Gath wanting only
to please him.

‘No, I would be
able to feel him if he were that close,’ Gath replied. ‘Come, we go
back to the encampment, they are not far ahead of us I can feel the
trail heading away, and as you say we’ll like as not meet them on
the road.’

The king’s
party arrived back at the campsite as the slavers were striking
camp and herding the people of Green Home Village back to the road
and as the convoy moved slowly away, toward Devilly. Toby watched
them go, people he knew, had known all of his life, he stood and
watched the road until the last person disappeared into the
distance. The winter festival was almost upon them and he had done
to the villagers what they had done to him nearly three short years
ago. He could still see them, how they laughed and giggled in pity
as he had crawled on all fours out of the inn. Suddenly he raised
his fist high into the air at the now empty road and shouted.

‘Oo’s laughin’
now then… C’mon, oo’s laughin’ now?’ The road stayed silent, as the
sky opened and the threatened rain fell hard and fast, Toby
continued to stare down the empty road with the drops bouncing off
the dirt around him like rubber balls thrown by children.

‘Oo’s laughin’
now?’ He whispered the question again angrily, though no one could
hear.

Gideon, lying
uncomfortably in his box for yet another day felt the change as
soon as the party passed the Great Oak.

‘Stop, I wanna
get out,’ he called but the horses were already stopping, Jed and
his father raised the lid of the box and finally Gideon was able to
sit up. Nearly three days in the cramped conditions of his father’s
blanket box had left him aching and sore, not to mention hungry and
thirsty, personal breaks had been the only reason anyone removed
the lid at all. The company had done their best to get Gideon to
eat and drink but once outside of the box, he very soon began to
feel sick and ill.

‘I be right as
rain now,’ he said as the heavens opened and the rain did indeed
fall, hard. He looked up, relieved to see the dark brooding clouds
and feel the drops on his face and he opened his mouth letting the
water trickle inside; it was cold but refreshing. Three days of sky
as seen through the latticework lid had been enough. The two men
helped him down.

‘Whoa, the
ground be moving,’ he wailed as his feet found the wet ground and
he stood shakily, young Jed grabbed his arm to help steady him and
Mayan called over as the lad found his land legs once more.

‘Look,’ she
shouted over the noise of the rain and pointing at the great oak,
standing as it ever did, a sentinel guarding the village and its
people, its branches reaching out across the roadway and providing
a little shelter to the standing horses. ‘Look at the tree.’ She
called again.

Still slightly
unsteady from his long confinement in the box, Gideon hurried,
supported by young Jed, to where the girls and the elder twins were
gathering under the dry covering of the oak’s boughs. Once his
father was happy that Gideon could walk unaided, he pulled the
horses deeper under the natural shelter as the rain continued to
lash down. The heavy clouds made the day seem dark, as if night
were about to fall instead of before noon as everyone knew it to
be. Mayan stood quietly, her back to the broad trunk her fists
curled tightly at her sides, her clothes were wet and dishevelled
and her hair hung down her face like a bedraggled curtain.

‘Will yer
look?’ She pleaded as she moved aside to show the others the notice
she had seen nailed fast into the tree’s wide bole, the inscription
said…

‘Because of
me,’ whispered Gideon, his joy at his release from the box short
lived.

‘No lad,
because of Gath.’ Varan replied, drawing the boy away from the
poster and tearing it down.

‘Come we must
go, we shouldn’t shelter under a tree in a storm,’ added Sonal as
he motioned to Jed to take the horses back out into the rain.

‘Ow can I ‘elp
‘im Sonal?’ He asked his friend, his heart breaking at the pain so
evident in his son. ‘Mayhap I should o’ let ‘im go with ‘is ma…,’
he whispered. Sonal stopped abruptly and pulled Jed round to face
him.

‘Don’t say
that; don’t ever say that, this isn’t your fault any more than it’s
his. Never say that, never… never!’ He said again emphatically as
he turned abruptly and began to walk toward the village once
more.

The others,
walking a little behind Gideon’s father and Sonal saw and heard
nothing but the relentless rain as it continued to fall, crashing
into the frozen ground and bouncing high as if trying to reach the
sky once more. Puddles were rapidly forming as the waterlogged
ground refused to absorb more and only the sound of the wind driven
rain hitting the trees and the branches crashing together above
them was audible as the company made its way silently to the
village that was once home to most of them. They walked on, each
lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, as the
friends stood silently in front of the Green Home Inn, the rain
stopped just as abruptly as it had begun, the inn itself looked to
be the only habitable building in the square and not a soul was in
sight. Burnt and blackened shells stood crumbling around them and a
sour sooty smell permeated the air