Socha's plight
The dominion of Ordefima, home to the beautiful Lady of the Goblet, was far away. She had been forced on by her repulsive captors for many days and nights, across endless miles of unforgiving wasteland, leaving behind the easy comforts of the Balaltura and the arms of those who loved her.
It was a gruelling experience. When her cold legs began to fail she would be poked in the side by Vucusa’s spear. Light-headedness made her stumble, much to the amusement of the others. She was compelled to attend to her toilet with one of them in close attendance. On a bleak afternoon, as a bitter wind blew and the rain turned to icy hail, she refused to go on. Being picked up and carried was too intrusive and humiliating to ever repeat. From then she moved when they told her to.
The much needed rest each time they camped brought different terrors. She would be given adequate food and furs but these were men without honour or morals and she would hear them in the darkest hours, bragging about what they could do to her and how she might squeal. It seemed only a fear of the powers of Gaticus kept them in check.
For by now she had figured out to where she was being taken. Rupert had spoken of the Gandalic and she knew of the beast that waited there for her. She was in extreme danger. Always, one of the bandits was watching her. Escape was impossible. Her only hope was rescue. She looked in vain behind her whenever she could. Surely Rupert would come?
She felt so small in this desolate landscape, under such forbidding skies. In an effort to stay strong in body and mind, she imagined the purples of her room, saw it decorated with fresh, highly scented flowers. She danced freely before the mirror, readying herself for a quarterly ritual, and sipped the clear water from where it collected in her carved table.
Joyful songs of praise for nature filled her head and she began to sing, her voice straining but still clear and pure. No such exquisite sound had ever been heard on the Waolings. Vucusa’s instinct was to silence her, yet even his withered crisp of a heart was touched by the crystal sentiment that cut through the sour air. He gave her extra rations that night.
“So what is the Lady of the Goblet thinking about?” he asked her while they sat eating by the welcome roar of the fire.
“That is my business,” she retorted.
He observed how the red glow of the flames highlighted the curls of her hair and made her soft cheeks shine. Then he imagined his rough hands gripping her delicate collar bones.
“You might find this journey easier if you spoke to us.”
Socha narrowed her eyes without turning them to him. “I don’t want to talk.”
She felt foolish. The belief that a hidden charm looked out for her had led her into this. No white swan or heroic brother had saved her. The only person who was going to get her out of this was herself. Her mind was scheming, searching for a way to get back homeward.
Vucusa pushed himself up with his spear, going across to stand beside her. Socha was unnerved by his presence and tried to ignore him. He bent over and took the plate of food she had not yet finished and threw it into the darkness behind him.
“I don’t have to treat you so well,” he hissed through his jagged tooth.
“When was that?” Socha mocked.
Vucusa stretched out a finger and turned her face into his. Perfection met deformity and each was defiant.
“I can make this easier for you. All you have to do is give me the odd smile to let me know we understand one another.”
Socha had to suppress a laugh, such was her contempt. “Is there some confusion?” she said. “I’m not here by choice!”
“I want us to be friends,” he said, his hand straying down her neck to where he could feel the pulse of her pure heart beating.
Socha did not flinch. “To achieve that you have to work for it.”
“What must I do?”
“Take me back. Then you’ll earn my eternal respect.”
For a moment a delightful scenario flickered in his malcontent mind. Honoured by the Marquis, intimately acquainted with a Lady of Ordefima and no more reviled by the people, or himself. He shook his head and the familiar pieces of the vicious mugger fell back into place.
“Impossible,” he asserted.
“Then I will stay silent and unsmiling,” Socha said, her eyes hard.
“Suits me.”
“And me.”
He tried to out stare her but she was more powerful than him. He turned away.
“You go and sleep now,” he said, with as much command in his voice as he could muster. “We start as soon as the light shows in the east.”
As she went to lie down he caught her by the arm. As he looked into her face he saw her tears become the drips of blood she was going to spill. He sought some words that might help her and found none. With a surprisingly strong tug, she pulled free and turned her back on him.
~
The person who loved her the most, her brother, Rupert Bellaquin, wasted no time in readying himself for pursuit. While his father’s sentinels searched in vain for any trace of Socha within the dominion, Rupert was organising a wagon of supplies whilst Willy brought down the fastest and strongest horses from the stables.
Lydia came to his room to find him hurriedly gathering his things. “Do you think you can catch them?” she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“There is a chance, mum,” Rupert assured her, laying his hands on her shoulders. “They were on foot and presumably carrying their supplies and I know she will do all she can to slow them down. With hooves and wheels I should have made contact before they get to the Luroghs.”
“But how can you take them on? Even a champion Master is no match for five bandits.”
“Jankin has agreed to come with me, and I’m going to ask father for some weapons.”
“Oh it is too terrible. My own children thinking of taking up arms. Such a loathsome thought. We could lose you all!”
Rupert could see the terror on her face. She was clutching her necklace as if it might act as a protector against all this madness.
“Have faith in us,” he said. “We won’t be outwitted by a few vagabonds.”
“How will you find her out on that vast wasteland?”
“I know she’ll have belief in my rescue. That alone will be enough to lead me to her.”
Lydia saw light in the darkness. “You’ve always had a connection,” she agreed.
“Now I must not let her down. I need to make haste.”
~
“We’ll do nothing until the Session of the Seven has made a resolution,” Leopold pronounced when confronted by his frenzied family in the lounge.
“What?” Rupert screeched.
“I’ve called an emergency meeting for first thing tomorrow morning.”
“We can’t afford to lose a single moment.”
Leopold folded his arms and tipped back his head. “Nor can we fly off foolishly and make the situation worse.”
“You can make decisions without the Court,” Rupert countered.
“I have to be the judge of that and answer to the people if my conclusions are wrong. This is just too important to bypass the tutelors. You ask for weapons. Only the Court can decide on this.”
“You risk Socha’s life for an ancient law?”
Jankin, who was relishing the fact that one of his brothers was finally getting as agitated about the old conventions as he had often been, let out a mocking laugh. Leopold threw him a thunderous glare before unleashing his displeasure.
“Do not accuse me of not caring. I am as frightened for Socha as you are. But the truth is if they were going to kill her themselves they will have already have done so. As we believe they are taking her to this Gandalic you went to, we have a chance of making up the miles before they get that far. It is going to be my recommendation that we do attempt as much, if not more. The Court will decide the method and make up of such an expedition.”
He spoke with experience and authority as both father and Marquis. His sons grew calmer.
“What about arming ourselves?” Jankin asked.
“My view is unchanged. I do not endorse their use.”
“Even for this?”
“Even for this,” Leopold confirmed.
“I’m glad to hear that,” echoed Lydia.
“I will go alone,” Rupert announced. “I cannot wait until tomorrow. What if they had transport concealed on the Waolings, horses or a cart?”
“I was on the Wall myself until dusk. I saw nothing of the kind,” Jankin said.
“I can’t just sit here,” Rupert hissed, slapping his leg as he got up.
Jankin stood in his way when he went to leave. “Rupert,” he said. “Think it through. It is already dark, the ground is frozen and the snow piled deep in places. You’ll make no progress out on the Waolings until the dawn comes. If we can get away by midday we will have lost no more than four hours. And with the Court’s endorsement we might get weapons and a few sentinels to take with us.”
Rupert stared into Jankin’s unwavering blue eyes. It was confusing. His words made sense but took no heed of the panic that consumed Rupert in this desperate hour. And now the most headstrong person he knew was advising caution.
“I’m right with you,” Jankin continued, gripping Rupert arm. “Let’s do this with the blessing and help of the dominion.”
Rupert looked around the room and saw he was surrounded by expectancy.
“I’ll get everything ready. Once the Court has decided I leave regardless of their verdict.”
~
“I agree wholeheartedly with the Marquis,” Estella said. “Is there anyone here who doesn’t?”
Although it was intended as a question to each tutelor, all eyes immediately fell on Kester. He sat back with his hands folded together and shook his head.
“What would our learned friend have us do?” Halbert enquired, his tone piping high as he drew breath through his nose.
“Read a book?” Estella mocked.
Kester let their derision fall before his silence. He felt it was his place to maintain a common sense stance in the face of emotion. The great A carved in the oak behind him was the symbol of the learned.
“Well?” Leopold demanded, growing impatient. “Every moment’s delay is a moment lost,” he said, echoing Rupert’s plea of the night before.
Kester drew himself up fully in his chair. “I have no wish to sound hurtful and voice the words I know the Marquis won’t want to hear but we need to be realistic. The chance of saving Socha has passed.”
There was a collective and audible drawing of breath. Kester seemed to take pleasure in this and pushed on with his assessment.
“To go chasing after her now is futile and can only help those closer to home who are working to destabilise the dominion. While attention is focused east across the Waolings, Greeson Fontainbleau will seek to steal an advantage and the subsequent failure of our rescue would only fuel his betrayal.”
Leopold looked at his old friend and in his drawn, grey face saw someone he no longer recognised. He couldn’t decide if he was more hurt by his suggestion or the fact that he had made it all. It saddened him to realise that only more bad feeling lay ahead between them.
Falcon rattled the black stones on his desk to get Leopold’s attention.
“Do we have a resolution, sir?” he asked, gently yet firmly.
“Yes, of course. There is no doubt. The Court votes six to one to advance into the Waolings with the sole purpose of bringing Socha home.”
“Duly recorded,” Falcon confirmed while Kester tutted.
“And to answer the Tutelor of Annals’ concern about the troublemakers in Ordefima. We will keep a close watch on the Chateau Turata and Grobu’s gang. Once this current crisis is resolved I intend to bring us back here to decide on a method to deal with them.”
“The sooner the better,” Kester said. “Their threat is real. They intend to destroy us.”
“Moving quickly on,” Leopold continued, glancing up at the window high above and seeing the sky had gone from the pink of dawn into a stronger blue. “We must decide on the nature of this action. The dangers are many. Gaticus may have grown stronger, the bandits are notoriously unpredictable, there may be more Gharids and who knows what else on the Waolings. Add to that the time of year and it becomes a daunting task.”
Meava smiled. “Well it has to include Rupert. I passed him on the way in here and he is already made up to go. I’ve never seen him more agitated. And he has previous experience with Gaticus, if this quest takes him where we believe it will.”
“If so, we must send him with sentinels,” Halbert said.
“Jankin has already agreed to accompany him,” Leopold said.
“What?” Kester snapped, suddenly roused again. “That is ridiculous. It would leave none of the descendants of the Marquis within the dominion.”
“So?”
“If anything were to happen to the Marquis, there would be no heir to assume control.”
“I’m going nowhere,” Leopold asserted. “Besides, we’d still have you tutelors. If you look in your precious Annals it will tell you that in the absence of the successor to the Marquis, the Court rules until their return.”
Kester sneered. “Well, it’s hardly ideal.”
“This is an emergency,” Estella told him. “We cannot cling to ideals.”
“Well said,” Leopold agreed. “And we’d all join him if we could.”
Kester’s look of consternation indicated that he did not concur.
“He must have weapons,” Marcellus stated, speaking for the first time that morning, laying his large hands on the desk in front of him.
“That will lead to more death and start a conflict with the bandits we would be wise to avoid,” Suky said, sounding as prophetic as ever. Beneath her straight ginger fringe of firebrand hair, those chilling eyes were like glass.
“Suky is right,” Leopold said. “I think we all know as much.”
“Not this time,” Marcellus retorted, his demeanour equally firm.
“It will be the end of Ordefima as we know it,” Kester declared.
“We can’t take that chance,” Leopold said.
“No,” chimed a chorus of four other tutelors.
“At last, some wisdom from this sacred room,” Kester said.
“So how will he succeed?” Marcellus wondered.
“Guile, persuasion, intelligence,” Leopold said.
“He has that in abundance,” Meava agreed. “He has proved as much already.”
“So a small group. Rupert, Jankin and say, two sentinels. To leave immediately.”
There was sufficient nodding at Leopold’s suggestion for Falcon to crack his stones loudly and bring the Session of the Seven to an end.
Leopold stood up and addressed the group as they prepared to leave. “Now we must hope Rupert can deliver yet more success. The continued prosperity of Ordefima lies in his hands again.”
Kester was stepping down from his pew and he paused beside the Goblet of Fecundity that sat on its plinth of marble, lit by the rays of a low sun directed off the mirrors above.
“Indeed,” he said. “The line of female descendants has never been broken. I must search the Annals for guidance. Without blood the Goblet cannot deliver.”
Leopold was irritated. “Kester, you speak again as if Socha’s fate is sealed. I do not like your attitude.”
Kester extended his long arms. “I am merely being pragmatic. Hope alone will not be enough.”
Leopold came down to stand beside him with eyebrows crunched together and chin tight. “We all understand the importance of the Goblet but remember this is my daughter we are talking about. She is the most treasured thing to me and I love her. Sacred relics can come and go. Without love there can be no dominion.”
~
By the seventh day, Socha had given up any realistic chance of a rescue. The terrain had become mountainous and she gathered from the conversations of the bandits that they were nearing their destination. She had to try anything and everything to engineer an escape for the sake of her dominion. Giving up was not an option, however much logic suggested it. She was a key member of a family with a proud heritage that had always overcome the greatest adversity.
So when camp had been made and their rations eaten, Socha did not get up to go and sleep as she normally did, but lingered, turning over the charred scatterings on the edge of the fire with the toe of one boot. Vucusa watched on curiously.
“Can I speak with you?” she said to him. “Alone.”
Vucusa was amazed. Socha’s deep brown eyes were trained on him and he saw the pleading she was summoning. He ran his rough tongue across his dry lips. He could not recall any woman looking at him like this before.
“Away with you,” he snapped at his men, who obeyed in disorderly confusion.
Vucusa sat forward, clenching his misshapen fingers together in anticipation. “Well?” he demanded.
“I have an offer to make you. Can I move closer?”
Vucusa gulped instead of answering. He had no objection. Socha shuffled around until their sides were pressed together. In so doing, she allowed her coat to fall open. Beneath she had unbuttoned the front of her dress sufficiently to give him an ample view of the chest he had watched dance before him on the first night.
“What are you doing?” Vucusa asked, transfixed by what she was revealing to the bright glow of the flames.
“I am surrendering myself to you.”
“What? Why?”
“I want to be set free.”
Vucusa remained unclear by what she meant. He made a strange, whimpering sound somewhere in his throat. Socha laid her head on his shoulder and spoke directly in his ear.
“You can have me, enjoy me how you wish, and in return you let me go.”
His mind began to race. The promises Grobu had made, namely power, property and prestige, were very long term and linked rather tenuously to the deadly Gaticus and so might never transpire. The treasure Socha offered would be guaranteed and instant. He then wondered if he might be able to claim both. He was Vucusa, after all, dishonesty and double crossing was in his nature. He might never be this lucky again.
Socha, in the meantime, was keeping her thoughts focused on the task in hand. As she began to caress Vucusa’s leg, she had to suppress her helplessness, bury the loathing beneath a forced smile. This was her last hope. The virginity she had carefully protected was less important than her duty to Ordefima as provider of fertility for the rituals. Estella had impressed upon her many times that the people’s image of her was virtually unshakable. Whatever happened here at the foot of this mountain would not mean anything. Vucusa was not going to know anything of who she was. Her heart was still being saved for that special man she had not yet met.
“This is very tempting,” Vucusa said. “I have been well aware of your charms. The women where I come from are made grisly by a hard life outdoors. They are short, have blood likely mixed with Disfigures, and none have the soft, pampered flesh I see before me.”
“Touch it as well,” Socha insisted, taking his hand and placing it on her breast. “It is all yours.”
Her face was very close to his. His breath took in hers, sweet even after all this time in the wilderness. He glanced around but it was too dark to know where the others were. If they were seeing this he was going to struggle to keep them under control.
“I must think of my men,” he said. “They are in this with me.”
“Are you suggesting that I lie with all of them?” Socha asked.
“It might be the only way.”
Socha felt suddenly cold. The stench of Vucusa’s skin was beginning to make her feel sick. She wanted this over with quickly. Against all physical instincts, she fell into an embrace with him, his arms wrapped around her now bare back.
“Best go and get them then,” she whispered into his ear.
Vucusa sensed power on a bigger scale than his petty scheming could deal with. This was more than just a young girl’s tender flesh he was making contact with. Within her dwelt the hand of ancient nature, that had shaped the very fabric of the world since the dawn of time. And there was more, hidden in the depths of the night. A threat that loomed larger still, with the primed potency of a lightning strike. It was Vucusa’s turn to be wracked by fear. With a lurch he stood up and threw her away from him. While Socha struggled to regain her senses he spoke loudly into the ink black firmament above.
“I will not risk the wrath of Gaticus for the temptations of this sorceress of Ordefima. I saw what he did to my dear cousin, Vumlash, the only one I could ever trust. I read what was in the beast’s mind. She must be given to him pure, whole and in full health so he can rise to full strength and bring us untold riches. He watches us now. We must keep to our task.”
He retrieved his spear from the ground and advanced on Socha where she lay. The others returned to look on in puzzlement.
“Wrap yourself up and go to sleep,” he told her, kicking dust over the fire. “Tomorrow, I will deliver you to Gaticus and your fate will be sealed.”
~
“Make speed, with my blessing,” Leopold said to Rupert as they stood beside his loaded wagon.
“I’ll do my best,” Rupert replied, with a grimace.
A small and curious crowd had gathered to watch this strange scene outside the Court. Jankin sat with the reins of the horses held tightly in his leather gloved hands. Two sentinels were perched in the back along with the supplies. Word of Socha’s capture and probable destination had permeated through the Town with a mixture of anger and fear that would have to be addressed by the Marquis in his address that afternoon. For now they were hushed, in awe of the courageous Master setting out once again to face the ancient foe to the east.
“Bring my little girl back to me,” Leopold pleaded, sniffing to suppress a tear.
Rupert put two firm hands on the wheel of the cart as if he were testing its strength. “I have to, father,” he said, staring at the ground. “The thought of any other conclusion is unbearable.”
“Indeed. You have lost too much already this year. I know you will do everything to help her.”
Rupert pulled her handkerchief from his pocket and caressed the lacy fabric. “I still have this. It kept me safe last time on the Waolings. I will keep it close to my heart and hope to be guided to her quickly.”
Leopold patted his son on the arm. A glance up to Jankin revealed a stony face set forward on the road ahead. He kept himself locked away, never comfortable with the emotion required for impassioned farewells. He had sent Hetty home for making too much of a fuss.
“I’m sorry your mother can’t be here. I’m afraid all this has left her rather dizzy.”
“She’s better off staying in the warm. We chatted last night. Get Meava to talk to her if she frets.”
“I’ll make sure.”
“And you’ll send word to Isodor?”
“Yes. Though I fear he has travelled too far to make a hasty return.”
Rupert forced a smile. “I must get on. When we next meet we will both be happier.”
They exchanged a nod and Rupert hauled himself up onto the wagon.
“Onward?” Jankin asked.
“Nowhere else to go,” Rupert said.
They set off with an eager lurch and a rattle, swinging round in front of the people. Rupert doffed his fur hat. Falcon, who had come out to see his friend off, punched the cold air.
“Good luck to brave Rupert,” he shouted, rabble-rousing those present and leading them on to a loud cheer as the cart disappeared out of sight towards the Highgreen Gates.
~
Kester returned to the Home of Annals muttering in disbelief. For such a grand building, his quarters in the rear were very plain. There was a prevalence of browns and creams in the decor and his only ‘luxury’ was an monumental leather chair where he would read, often late into the night until his candle stuttered and failed. His wife was cooking the breakfast he had delayed to attend the early Session of the Seven.
“I do believe your brother, the mighty Marquis, aims to ruin himself and the dominion with it,” he complained, sitting at the old wooden table where they ate their meals.
“So what do you intend to do about it?” Adeline asked, scrapping some over cooked eggs from a frying pan onto dry bread.
“What I always do. Seek the answers in the books. I’ll keep quoting them until they listen.”
She looked at him with a down turned mouth prominent on her harsh face. “Including the First Book?”
Kester twitched his legs uncomfortably. “I try to avoid reference to that. So many are twisting the meanings to fit their own versions of the truth.”
“You won’t get anywhere,” she said, stepping across and putting his plate in front of him. “With the new studies being published all the modern talk will become fact.”
Kester prodded dubiously at the food with his fork. “To think our own son has played a part in this deception.”
Adeline frowned as she sat opposite him, enhancing the wrinkles in her forehead. “He came to see you again yesterday.”
“I have no words for him.”
“It is the way now. The younger generation must reject the views of the old. I don’t suppose you can find a middle ground and start talking to him again?”
“No.”
Adeline sighed and looked into the future as she saw it. “I thought not.”
“The people will just be made more restless with all these new ideas,” Kester said, ignoring her comment. “And now we have endorsed a mad expedition to save Socha from certain peril.”
“Our niece,” Adeline said, dropping her heavy chin into one hand.
“Well, niece or otherwise, it is ridiculous. A wild goose chase across a desolate land in the depths of winter.”
“She’s already dead you think?”
“It makes little difference. Her blood is destined for that supposed monster way out east. We must concentrate on keeping Ordefima safe from what is real and around us here.”
~
Greeson Fontainbleau marched boldly into the middle of the Town Square with his version of a smile on his flabby face. He was surrounded by his small entourage of sycophants, sticking to him like mud on the bottom of a boot. The atmosphere was already restless, the people were stung by the gossip that spread from trader to customer to passerby. The Lady of the Goblet had been taken by rogue bandits. The future of the dominion was in the balance.
This was a calculated move by Greeson. He ensured that Grobu and his gang were not present because he knew that any association with any of the Bantum Lane brigade would weaken his claim to be the protector of the dominion. He had also made his appearance before the Marquis was due to make a proclamation himself that afternoon. The wheels of his insiduous machine were running smoothly. He took up a spot atop some large wooden crates and called for all to listen to him. He was a large figure, wider than the Marquis and not as tall but his shrill voice was loud.
“So what do we wake up to this morning? Disarray. The Marquis has now lost his daughter. One by one his children are disappearing. His remaining sons have gone to look for her and will probably never return. Beneath those darkening skies to the east our enemy grows stronger. And what is he doing about it? Nothing. He meets with the tutelors, plays with his latest expensive boat and makes no move. Talk of allies is a lie. Are we arming ourselves for the impending attack? No! Instead we cower in fear or hide behind denial.
“We must rise up as a collective against this aged fool, throw him and what is left of his family out of Ordefima and give control to me. I will break out the weapons and there will be one for each and every one of you. We will be ready to defend what is ours!”
There was a mixture of cheering and booing from his audience. For some his words soothed their fear and gave clear purpose. Others were sceptical. To them he spoke of disorder, chaos and change that intensified their insecurity. The traders were especially suspicious. The bounty of the last harvest had kept them busy so they saw no reason for complaints. Greeson expected as much. There would be no great revolution today. This was another of a series of attacks designed to bring on the real prospect of lasting success with majority support for him. The seeds of treason were being planted. His tenacity and the inevitable threat of Gaticus would make them grow to overshadow all that the Bellaquins stood for.
“Return to your homes,” he commanded. “Speak to friends, communicate this message to those further afield. A new era is coming. I will be taking over and together we can survive!”
Some clapped as he climbed down. Tibby, his daughter, was grinning. She had actually come along more to see Bardolph than offer her support. She scanned the crowd for his flashy, golden countenance. Eventually, she spotted him, hanging around in one corner where the Square gave way to the bridge. With a wide smile she made her way through the dispersing people, drooling with excitement.
“I’m here!” she cried as she appeared in front of him.
Her happiness was not reciprocated. He was suddenly awkward and embarrassed, casting his eyes around as if he did not want to be seen talking to her.
“Hello,” he said, his voice struggling to sound pleased. “I didn’t think you’d be here. It’s a long walk up from the Chateau.”
“The thought of seeing you was too exciting. And you told me if I’m came we could go back to your place. I can’t wait to see it!”
“There’s been a development,” he said, elusively. “A new plan. It can’t be today.” When he saw the woe contort her face he offered some compensation. “Soon, though. I’ll come and fetch you.”
“So you say!” she hissed.
“I will!” he protested. “And we’ll go for a ride on my big white horse up here and you can spend the day….and night with me.”
She was careful to think about this before she showed any further displeasure. “Tomorrow?”
Bardolph grinned so widely it made him seem pained. “I can’t promise. There’s a lot going on.”
“But soon?”
“Oh yes, just give it time.”
“I’ll be waiting,” she said, jumping forward and hugging him.
Bardolph extracted her swiftly. “Now go,” he urged. “Your father is leaving.”
She stepped away, giggling and blowing kisses while Bardolph drifted towards the bridge, waving weakly. She kept a watch on him, over her shoulder, between the newly busy Town Square. They got as far as the Home of Signs, almost out sight, when she stopped and let the others go on without her. From behind a mound of snow that had been piled up to clear the road, she observed the true reason for his evasiveness. A girl with long, fair hair, light on her feet and full of life, bounded up to Bardolph and landed in his arms. With a flourish, he carried her off to his den on the bridge.
Tibby’s dreams were thus cast aside. She was not his only one after all. More an unwelcome passenger to be thrown from the carriage as excess baggage. She froze to the spot while the enormity of her hurt sank into her heart and killed the flush of young love that was growing there. She might have used her anger to pound back up there and pour her new found hatred over him. Instead she contained her newfound spite and vowed to make him pay severely on her terms. She was a quick learner, nurturing the kind of blackened malice that would make her father proud.
~
Socha saw the Luroghs’ harsh peaks tear into the underbelly of grimy clouds that had become a permanent feature above their heads. The thought of the climb was daunting but then a positive thought struck her. The ascent would slow their progress and give Rupert a chance to catch them up. Her captors’ pace had slowed noticeably anyway, as if none of them wanted to reach the destination. They bickered frequently, complained about carrying the provisions and accused each other of being cowardly.
All this suited Socha. Though they had passed beyond the thicker snow and ice, their progress through the broken, sulphurous landscape was halting. There was time to watch the substantial Ashlars lumber in search of fungi. She searched in hope of seeing a flower or a green leaf, she missed the blue sky and feel of sunshine on her skin. Vucusa watched her, pressing ragged bottom teeth into his top lip while ruminating on the implications of their mission.
When a large jet of steam erupted violently near them, making her stumble and fall, he shuffled urgently over to offer his help. She rejected his outstretched hand with a swipe of her own.
“I can manage just fine,” she said.
They walked on side by side. She was aware his eyes remained fixed on her.
Eventually he stepped into her path. “What you suggested last night-”
“What of it?”
Her stare was so harsh he regretted speaking at all. “It will remain our secret,” he mumbled.
“As if it makes a difference. I’m to die and that’s it.”
She brushed past him, stepping into some mud in the process. He struggled to keep up, so sheepish it seemed ridiculous that she was under his control.
“You’re too young….too beautiful.”
Now she turned on him, making him leap back with an awkward jump. “Then let me go!” she cried.
Vucusa felt stupid. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“So spare me your pity. I’ve no time for it. You’re about to trade me in for whatever reward you think is going to make your sad life better. Being sorry won’t change the facts. I try and see the good in all things. I can see none in you.”
She marched off, leaving Vucusa open mouthed. One of is men came up alongside him and looked down on his supposed leader.
“You ain’t turning soft on us, chief, are you?” the rough skinned bandit asked.
“No, course I’m not,” Vucusa replied.
“You seem to be getting mighty hearty with the lady. Is there something you be wanting from her?”
“No….no.”
“She’s ripe for the slaughter, ain’t she just?”
Vucusa gazed at how she skipped so nimbly through the swampy ground. “I wish I had her courage,” he said, banging his spear down and moving on with a sigh.
~
Vucusa ordered his men to lay out a series of ropes to help get Socha up to the caves. They grumbled but complied.
“I don’t need them,” Socha informed him. “I spent my childhood scaling trees trees in the Big Wood. I’m not as soft as you think.”
Vucusa grunted. “I can’t take no chances now. We’ve got this far.”
She gave him an impish smile. “I might let go and allow myself to fall. I’m no good to you dead.”
Vucusa blinked as he pictured this while the snow fell on his flattened head. “You won’t. Not with such a strong spark of life. It’s too good to cast that to the stony ground.”
“Let’s see shall we?” she said, pulled on her thick gloves and began her climb.
The vertical wall of rock was icy. It offers very few footholds. Socha held on tight. Vucusa had been right. This was not where it was going to end for her. All the while she had breath in her lungs, she would not surrender. Half way up she threw a glance down to see Vucusa, anxious and intent, and felt glad she was making him suffer. Her playful spirit had survived the terrible trip and resurfaced now. With a delightful squeal she pretended to slip and let herself drop a short distance.
“Socha!” Vucusa cried.
Swinging twenty feet in the air above his head, she saw the desperation on his face and knew she had him. Her wicked laugh crackled around the Luroghs, the noise filling Vucusa’s ears until he needed to scream.
“Pull her up!” he shouted up to his men on the ridge. “Waste not another moment. We must get this finished!”
The potential barriers of the caves and the wide river beyond were the same as the cliff. Their difficulty to traverse did not make Socha falter. Vucusa kept a grip of her to ensure she did not attempt an escape, not because he thought she needed help. They arrived beneath the entrance to the Gandalic wet, cold and exhausted.
“The water was deeper than last time,” Vucusa said, holding up his fur coat that dripped onto the grass beside his damp boots.
Socha was hunched up and shivering, yet still retained her determined countenance. Vucusa laughed.
“What?” she demanded.
“I’m not sure what Gaticus is going to make of you. Shaking, soaked and with a look of thunder.”
“Do you think I care? Maybe he’ll send me away.”
“Time to find out.” Without asking, he hauled her up by the arm and twisted her towards the mouth of Gaticus’ home. “Get ready to meet the one who craves you so dearly.”
From the depths of the black hole in the mound above them a purple light began to illuminate the murky dusk. It grew in intensity until it infiltrated every corner of their minds. Socha gulped so hard that Vucusa felt the vibration in his palms as they rested on her shoulders.
“Bring her to me!” Gaticus bellowed with a force that was obviously growing.
He gave her a squeeze. “Now you’re gonna need every last bit of that bravery.”
