Curse of Kings (The Trials of Oland Born, Book 1) (21 page)

LAND AND
D
ELPHI STARED AT EACH OTHER.

“I can't say whether or not a drogue is real,” said Bream. “The most I can say is that I've seen strange things. Inexplicable things.”

“Like what?” said Oland.

“Movement,” said Bream. “Shadows.”

“But… have you been on the island?” said Oland.

Bream shook his head. “Apart from the prisoners, anyone who has to go there goes no further than the shore.”

“Can you please take us there?” said Oland.

Bream shook his head slowly. “Travellers have gone to Curfew Peak,” he continued, “and never returned, and for that reason I won't be taking you there,” he said. “You're too young and I couldn't have it on my conscience were you not to make it back alive.”

“But we will make it back alive,” said Oland.

Bream shook his head. “There is something terribly wrong with Curfew Peak,” he said. “There is a dark secrecy that seems to come from the earth itself. It's as though an illness is rotting the island from the inside out.” Bream pointed to the sky. “Not to mention The Great Rains are coming… the weather is too fraught.”

“What?” said Oland. “The Great Rains?”

“Yes,” said Bream.

“When?” said Oland.

“It won't be long. Days…”

“Days?” said Oland. They had travelled for so long that even if they took a more direct route back to Decresian it would be too late.

“Why don't you join us for supper?” said Bream. “There's nothing more for you to do here.”

“Thank you,” said Oland. “But we won't stay here for much longer.”

Bream paused, then nodded and left them behind to join his crew.

Oland turned to Delphi.

“So are you coming to Curfew Peak with me?” he said.

“To the drogues?” said Delphi.

“Movement and shadows are not drogues,” said Oland.

Delphi shook her head. “This is where my journey ends.”

“No,” said Oland. “It can't… we are right there.” He pointed across at the island. “We can't give up now after everything we've done.”

“Curfew Peak is not a stinking marsh or a scryer's cave, Oland. It's much worse,” said Delphi. “I have the worst feeling in the world about Curfew Peak and I think Bream is right. I don't think we will make it out alive. Please, please, Oland, don't go. Because I won't be coming with you, and I don't want you to go alone.”

“I'm sorry, but I have to go, whether you come with me or not,” said Oland. “This feels like my last chance to find the Crest. I won't give up.”

“Please,” said Delphi. “I have never begged for anything in my life, but I am begging you now. Do not go.”

“I have to,” said Oland.

Delphi gripped his arms. “You are making a huge mistake.”

Oland pulled gently away from her. “Will you wait for me?”

Delphi paused. “But what if you don't come back?”

“I will come back,” said Oland.

“But how are you even going to get there?” said Delphi. “Bream will never take you.”

Oland lowered his voice. “I'm going to find another boat…”

“But… do you even know how to sail?” said Delphi.

“A rowing boat,” said Oland.

“But what if there are drogues?” said Delphi.

Oland shook his head. “That's just to deter people from going there. I can't understand why there are no boats here. There would have to be boats on a pier like this.”

“You're not listening to me,” said Delphi. And she knew he hadn't even heard that.

Oland and Delphi sat on the edge of the pier. Minutes passed in tense silence.

“Surely people deliver supplies to Curfew Peak,' said Oland. “Or… people sail from here to other places.” He paused, then he shifted backward and lay on his stomach so he could look under the pier. “I knew it!” he said. There were five rowing boats sheltered underneath. He reached down and started pulling at one of the ropes.

“Please, Oland,” said Delphi, “we can't do this.”

“I have to,” said Oland. “I have to continue on my quest.”

“Yes – your quest,” said Delphi. “Not mine. I just helped you.”

“And have stopped helping me when it mattered most,” snapped Oland.

“It mattered most every step of the way,” said Delphi. “It always matters when someone's life is at stake. And yours is at stake now.” She stabbed a finger at the sea. “And mine too, Oland. Mine. You want me to travel across water for you, in a boat you have never helmed. On a strange, strange sea.” She turned and walked away.

“I'm sorry, Delphi,” said Oland. “I can't come this far, be within reach like this, and just walk away…”

She could hear his footsteps on the timber behind her and the sound of them landing in the boat below. She turned back and watched as it pulled away from the pier. The oars looked huge in Oland's hands.

Delphi took a deep breath… and ran as fast as she could the length of the pier, jumping high and landing behind him.

HE BOAT ROCKED WILDLY FROM SIDE TO SIDE AS
D
ELPHI
landed. It tipped down into the ocean, taking on water as it righted itself. An oar slipped from Oland's grip with the fright. Delphi caught it before it fell. But there was no laughter. Oland knew that Delphi had just risked her life by jumping across water on to a moving boat. And Delphi had just encouraged Oland to carry on with a journey she felt was doomed.

“Thank you,” was all Oland said.

“I hope Standback will wait for us,” she said. Then she looked out at the sea, quietly troubled by the pockets of black sand bursting beneath the surface.

 

They reached Curfew Peak as darkness was falling. Their faces were rough with sea salt, their eyes stinging. Their arms ached from rowing, but still they pulled the boat to the shore and secured it in a sheltered cove. A line of wooden stakes stretched along the beach, just below the dunes. As the sky was turning its darkest grey, the sound of half-broken voices drifted down from behind them.

“The Pyreboys,” said Oland.

Oland and Delphi crouched down and watched as six skinny boys in long grey robes appeared at the stakes. They all looked to be somewhere between twelve and nineteen years old, with straight hair to their shoulders, alabaster skin and dark shadows under their eyes. They wore red kerchiefs tied in a knot around their necks.

Each had a bag filled with birch twigs slung across his body. They collected sticks and branches from the dunes and set them in a pile by the rocks not far from where Oland and Delphi were hiding. One of the Pyreboys took out a tinderbox and, before long, the fire was lit and the boys' faces were illuminated.

They each held a twig to the flames, then set about lighting all the torches along the shore. They returned and gathered around the fire. One of the boys, who looked to be about seventeen, sat cross-legged, clutching his ankles. His hunched shoulders and sunken chest making him appear more timid than he sounded when he spoke.

“Welcome,” he said dramatically, and as if he had never met his fellow Pyreboys before. He raised his eyebrows, and looked each one of them in the eye. “Have you ever heard the legend of… Praevisia?” He said the name in a whisper.

“No,” said the other boys.

“Blaise, it's my turn to tell a story,” said the smallest boy. He was waiflike, like something carved as an almost life-sized figurine. As he turned, it was clear that he was missing his right forearm.

“It's not your turn,” said Blaise. “The last time you told a story, Frax, it was about the drogues. Again. Not tonight. Tonight you need to listen to a different legend.”

“Sorry, Blaise,” said another boy. “It is Frax's turn.” He gave Blaise a worried look over Frax's head, as if it would be wise to do what the small boy wanted.

“Frax it shall be!” said Blaise, his eyes wide in mock enthusiasm.

Frax leaned into the circle and began, his lips barely parting as he spoke. “On a wild, hot night, a prison ship rocked up on an island shore, and a stowaway emerged from below deck with a box under his arm. He was met by a band of dastardly boys! But then he knew he would be met by them! They were no surprise. They were exactly what he was here for. They were the Pyreboys of Curfew Peak.

“‘For the volunteer brave among you,' said the man, opening his box and revealing rows of glass vials, filled with a cloudy liquid. He pulled one out. ‘Try this,' he said. ‘It has the power to transform your miserable lives. If the magic captures you, you shall have the chance to leave this island before your sentence ends.'

“Four boys stepped forward and each drank a vial. The man smiled, and it was a terrible smile.

“‘But what do we do next?' said one of the brave boys.

“‘You simply wait, and you will know,' said the man. ‘Ownership of Curfew Peak has passed on to me. I will return, and I will assess your… transformation.'

“‘What kind of transformation?' said one of these four boys.

“‘If I told you that you would forever be free,' said the man, ‘what would you say? If I told you that you could go to places where no one else had been, what would you say?'

“‘I would say “yes”,' said two more boys, stepping forward to join the others. Only a handful remained behind – they were the older ones, close to being released, with no need to take a risk.

“The man with the magic began to leave, but turned towards the peak instead of the sea.

“‘Wait,' said one of the boys, ‘where are you going?'

“‘To explore my island,' said the man.

“‘No one explores Curfew Peak,' said the boy. ‘It's not safe.'

“‘I'm not afraid of criminals,' said the man.

“‘There are more than just criminals to fear,' said the boy.

“The man laughed. He grabbed a bunch of birch twigs from one of the boys and took a light from the fire. Away up the peak he walked with his makeshift torch. Before long, he was just a shadow.”

Frax turned and traced his hand across the dunes behind him.

“But,” he said, as he turned back to them, “the story was not over yet! For, high on a ridge above him, one by one, six silhouettes slowly filled the dying white circle of the moon; drawn to him like… drogues to a flame.”

The Pyreboys gasped.

“You just threw in that last part about the drogues!” said Blaise.

“And what of it?” said Frax. “Did I not end it in style? Or do you want to hear what happened after the drogues pounced?” Frax's eyes moved as if they were each travelling to different parts.

Blaise stood up. “I'm hungry,” he said. “Let's go.”

“But wait!” said Frax. “Don't you want to hear the cruel, cruel trick that the magic man played—”

“Why would we want to hear that?” said Blaise, turning on him. “You are insane!”

“Oh, Blaise, we all know it has a happy ending!” said Frax. “After, of course, the six brave boys were caged. Yes! Can you imagine? The magic man offered them freedom, but when he saw how well his magic worked, how free they would really be, they were all caged… them and all the brave boys who followed them!” He howled with laughter.

“Blaise, sit down, tell us your story,” said another of the Pyreboys.

“Later, Stoker,” said Blaise. He began to walk away.

“I'm sure it will be gripping,” said Frax, darting in front of Blaise, shooting forward and clutching his throat with his one hand.

Blaise pushed him away, knocking him off balance. “Get away from me, you lunatic.”

But Frax was already running ahead, laughing a high, curious laugh.