The Lost Endeavour Read online

  At the end of the road, the path branched into two large forks. The building nestled in the middle was larger than any of the others they had passed. It was the same green-grey colour, yet somehow brighter. The roof was thatched with grass, and he glanced behind him at the other homes, realising they were similar. They didn’t appear to be made from the trees, despite their colour.

  He looked back and the door opened. The man leading them walked straight in, and Ed followed without hesitation. Ende opted to wait outside, and Dray ushered Belle and Phillip after the king before he followed them himself, giving Ende a nod as he passed him.

  The room itself was dark. It took a moment for Dray to adjust to the light, and as he did it grew lighter and lighter. Small stars lit up the ceiling above them, and Belle let out a murmur of wonder.

  “Welcome,” a deep voice rumbled, although Dray sensed the wind through the leaves at the same time, as though the forest itself was talking to him. He looked at the older man seated at the end of a long table, wondering if he had been there the whole time. Similar in build and features to the man who had led them in, his silver hair was the only difference. He smiled at Dray as though he agreed with his idea of the forest talking to them.

  The man indicated the table, and the king sat to one side. Belle moved quickly to sit beside him. Her father looked about before sitting opposite them. Dray remained at the end of the table, standing.

  “You have sought our help.”

  The king nodded to Dray, and he sat by Phillip on the long bench, his hand resting on the solid wood of the table. The other rested on his sword.

  “That was you I heard in the forest,” the king said quickly.

  “It was me,” the man said, not taking his eyes from the king, “and it was all of us.”

  Belle glared, but the older man laughed, the soft sound making the stars twinkle brighter. Dray’s hand closed around the handle of his sword.

  “What do you want with the king?” Dray asked.

  The man studied him for a time before he spoke. “What do you want with the king, Captain?”

  Dray waited.

  “You went north with one man, and now south with another.”

  “We are going to find Ana,” the king said by way of explanation. It sounded flimsy, unrealistic to Dray’s ears. He wondered what these forest men really thought of them.

  The older man turned back to the king. “That is not all you seek, boy.” It wasn’t a question.

  “He is not a boy,” Belle said quickly, the anger clear in her voice. “He is the king.”

  “Is he?” the older man asked, looking at him closely. “Is that what you want?”

  “I don’t know,” the king admitted under the unwavering stare. “I don’t know what I would need from you.”

  The man sighed and looked towards the door. “He will not come in.”

  “He finds the space confining,” Dray answered for Ende, although it hadn’t been a question. He was certain that the man at the table, whatever he might be, knew very well what Ende was. “Can I ask who we have the honour of speaking with?” Dray lowered his head a little in respect, although he didn’t know if such a gesture had meaning here.

  “You might know us as the Near Folk,” he said, glancing back at the king. “We have many names. It does not matter what you call us.”

  “What do you call yourselves?” Belle asked.

  A whisper like the wind through the trees filled the room and then died out instantly. “It is not easy to pronounce.”

  Belle smiled then, appearing to relax somewhat. “Can you help him?” She indicated the king with a tip of her head.

  “Is he worthy of our help?”

  “Yes,” she said simply, although the boy king looked at the table. Dray wondered if he was ready to be King.

  “Leave him with us. We will decide.”

  “For how long?” she asked, the uncertainty returning.

  “How long does it take to create a king?”

  “He is already King,” Dray said, standing. “We do not wish to trouble you.”

  Ed waved him down, but he stayed where he was. “Ana,” he mouthed across the table.

  “The girl can look after herself,” the older man said, his voice sharp. Then he closed his eyes as though listening to the whispers of the forest. “At least she has help already.” He looked beyond Dray at that point, towards the door. “A forest looks after its own.”

  The king opened his mouth and then closed it.

  The old man smiled again. “She will not hurt the girl, no matter what she thinks she may be able to give her. They have a common goal.”

  The king looked towards the door and then back.

  “You,” the man whispered.

  Dray wasn’t sure if he felt more secure in the knowledge or more concerned. What did Ana want with the king’s sister, and why was he so worried about what Ana might do to her? She was just a girl. She wouldn’t hurt anyone.

  “They will stay,” the old man said to the man beside him as he waved a hand over the table, indicating the group.

  The other man bowed and then turned to face them. He indicated that they rise, and the king bowed his head to the older man still seated at the end of the table. The younger man who had led them in turned towards the door. Dray waited until they had all moved beyond him and then looked back to the man at the table, his face unreadable as he nodded once.

  Their guide led the way around the building they had exited and followed one of the branches of the road that led away from it. He moved quickly. As Dray jogged to keep up, he realised that Ende was no longer part of the group. He looked around and then back to the group moving ahead of him. As he caught them up, he noted that the road branched again and again. On the outskirts of the village, two small huts sat side by side, the forest behind them.

  “Do not wander into the trees,” their guide cautioned. “We will talk in the morning.”

  The night sky seemed to tease them from above. He hoped Ende wasn’t too far away. The other three stood before the two small huts. Then Phillip stepped forward and glanced inside one of them. He moved to the other and opened the door.

  “Beds and food,” he said. Then, as Belle took a step towards the king, he added, “We will take this one.”

  She looked down before she nodded and followed her father inside. Dray wondered just what she wanted from the king. He didn’t seem to seek her attention, and after his outburst earlier, it appeared that he found her frustrating. She was hard to read, but brighter than he had thought when he first met her.

  He held the door for the other hut open for the king. They found two cots separated by a small table. A fire burned in the corner, and the table was covered with bowls of food. A lantern glowed like the stars on the ceiling of the house they had just visited. Dray wished they had been able to get some information from the Near Folk; a name or position of the man they had met would have been helpful.

  He pushed a bowl filled with bread towards the king and waited. His own stomach was tired of dry meat, but he wasn’t sure if the bread and fruit before him would satisfy him any more than the meat.

  The king bit into a roll, and Dray took one too.

  “What do you think these men can do for you?” Dray asked.

  “I don’t know, but they seem to know that I need help, and that Ana is safe.”

  “Is he only telling you what he thinks you want to hear?”

  “Perhaps,” the king said, looking up at Dray, concern creasing his features. “Do you think she isn’t safe?”

  “I don’t know,” Dray admitted, putting the bread down. He had lost any appetite he might have had. “We best sleep, and we can start fresh in the morning.”

  “You don’t think one of us should keep watch?”

  “If they were going to kill us, they would have. If they were planning to, they wouldn’t have fed us.”

  Ed looked at the roll in his hand and then put it back on the small table. He fumbled for
a moment with his boots and then slipped them off. He crawled back along the cot and lay down. Dray wondered how long it had been since he had properly washed and eaten. And he wondered how long they would be staying in the forest.

  Chapter 5

  Salima stood at the bottom of the bed, her hands held tight before her. Papa stood to one side of the bed and the cleric to the other. Finally, Ana appeared to have stopped shivering. But that may have been due to the number of blankets that covered her and the fact that Salima could barely see her.

  She was far from restful. When the cleric had laid his hand on her forehead, she had murmured Ed’s name, among others, and growled something unintelligible. The cleric had seemed a little nervous initially, but the longer he stood by her side, the more he focused on his work and not who she was. Salima thought there would be far more to this woman than she expected. It appeared that her father knew something of her past; the cleric didn’t ask, but she was sure he knew more than he was saying as well.

  “Is she going to survive?” Salima asked.

  Neither of them looked towards her, but the cleric nodded. Then Ana sat bolt upright, the blankets falling away, and the two men stepped back. “Don’t let me fall,” she whispered, then fell back to the bed.

  Papa rubbed his hand across his forehead and sighed.

  “Hush, child,” the cleric soothed. “You are safe now.”

  She clutched at his hand. The rapid movement startled Salima, but it didn’t appear to startle him. “Dray?”

  She appeared to focus on him for a moment, and Salima could hear her drag in a sob.

  “Do you hope I am him? Or do you ask after him?”

  She shook her head, and as Salima stepped closer she saw the woman’s tears roll away.

  “He will find you,” the cleric said, his voice soft and calming. Salima was reminded of the soldier with Ed.

  “But should he?” Ana asked.

  Salima looked from Ana to Papa and noticed he was staring at her. She tried to give him a smile, but she was sure it appeared more a grimace than reassuring.

  “Will he look after Ed?” Salima asked.

  Ana nodded, although the strength appeared to have gone from her.

  “Ed?” the cleric asked, looking across the bed to Papa.

  Ana was staring up at him, and for a moment Salima feared what she might do. Then Ana looked more afraid of what the old cleric might do. She eased herself up again, and although the cleric reached out a hand to reassure her, she pulled away from him. She turned angry eyes to Papa. “How could you do this?”

  He did take a step back. And Salima wondered if she could protect him from this woman if needed.

  “Ana,” the cleric said, his voice calm and low, “we only want to help you.”

  She shook her head as though she didn’t believe him, her eyes darting around the room. But as the cleric sat carefully on the edge of the bed and pulled her hand towards him, she focused only on him.

  “I…” she started, but Salima had no idea where the conversation was going.

  “Tell me of Dray,” the cleric said.

  “Drayton Sterling?” Papa asked.

  Ana nodded.

  “How did you meet him?” the cleric asked. “He is not a soldier likely to…”

  “Take up with a maid?” Ana finished, her voice a little lighter but her eyes still wary. “He saved me.”

  The cleric looked up at Papa on the other side of the bed.

  “He didn’t know why. I made him, in a way. I called out and he… It is my fault he is in the mess he is.”

  The cleric reached forward and brushed the hair that had fallen across her face, behind her ear. “He is a strong man. I’m sure he is where he is needed.”

  She nodded.

  “Has he watched over you?”

  She nodded again, and Salima thought Ana was much younger than she had first thought, perhaps closer to her own age, closer to Ed’s age. When she was being scary, she seemed so much older.

  “I don’t know what to do?” Ana whispered. A shiver crossed her frame, and the cleric had her sliding back down into the bed as he covered her over.

  “You need to get well first.” He ran a hand over her brow again, then pressed his fingers gently to her neck. He shook his head slowly. “I will find some broth. Maybe you could walk with me,” he said across the bed.

  Papa looked to Salima rather than answer.

  “I can watch her,” Salima offered quickly.

  Papa pursed his lips and then nodded once. “Keep the fire stoked.”

  Salima nodded, and the cleric rested his hand on her shoulder as he moved past her and towards the door. Her father paused to look over Ana and then at Salima before he left with the cleric. She was sure she heard the key in the lock and wondered if it was a good idea to lock them in. As long as they were quiet, there shouldn’t be any chance of them being found.

  She put another log on the fire, the wood knocking against those burning beneath it, and the coals shifted. Maybe they would be found. She had found them a place right by the regent. It wasn’t a good idea. Ana murmured, and Salima moved quickly to the bed. Ana was still, but murmured again. Salima sat slowly on the edge of the bed and Ana shivered.

  Maybe she could use her fire to warm her. She lay down beside the woman, on the outside of the blankets, and put an arm over her. Ana sighed and tried to move closer. Salima watched her for a moment and then sat up. Ana started to shiver again. Salima removed her shoes and lifted the blankets, sliding against the faint warmth of the woman and put her arms around her again.

  Ana shivered as she shifted against Salima’s body. She sighed, and after a few moments the shivering ceased. Salima worried at first that she had sucked the warmth from Ana and she was dying in her arms. But she had settled into a comfortable sleep, and although Salima could sense the cold in her, she could feel the fever as well. A hand moved from the space between them and over her side.

  She wasn’t sure what Papa would say about this, but at least Ana was warm.

  Ana could feel the wind pulling at her as she glanced down at the endless drop beneath her. She couldn’t make out the sea or feel the cold. It was as though she was wrapped in a blanket of warmth. She tore her gaze from the nothingness beneath her to the circular opening. Every detail of the stonework was clear before her, but those beyond it were blurry. Was she on the Walk again? Was Ende there to save her?

  The wind pulled at her, firmer and more determined to drag her from the Walk. A hand was tight in hers, and she squeezed her eyes closed. It wasn’t Dray; it wasn’t his large, weathered hand that felt both firm and safe, but slick with blood. It was small and fragile, yet stronger than any other that had held hers. And hot.

  She couldn’t look, couldn’t see who else she had dragged into danger with her. She squeezed tighter around the hand, and then they were falling. Tumbling through nothing as though the clouds surrounded them. But the warm blanket still surrounded her; the hand remained in hers.

  She woke with a gasp and pulled from the warm hold around her. Someone murmured and rolled away from her. She carefully lifted the blankets, regretting leaving the warmth of the bed, and slipped out the other side. She took a moment to steady herself before looking at the silent figure standing by the fire.

  “You know what she is?” Ana whispered.

  “I know who she is,” the cleric said.

  “She doesn’t,” Ana said.

  He indicated the chair by the fire, and she sat, holding her hands to the flames. She was much warmer, but her bones still ached. And being away from the girl, she felt the lack of heat.

  He handed her a small bowl, and she cupped it in her hands, feeling the warmth radiate through her again. She looked into it and slowly lifted it to her lips.

  “How did you know who she was?” he asked.

  “I could sense Ed in her.”

  “You are… close?”

  She looked up then, unsure how she could explain their connection, a
nd she wondered what he imagined it might be. By his look of concern, she had an idea.

  “Did King Barric know what she was?” she asked instead.

  “He thought someone had tried to kill his queen and child, and that the only way to protect his daughter was to hide her.”

  Ana wasn’t sure if he had avoided what she asked, or if the king had truly believed the child his. She took another slow sip of the broth, and it warmed her as it travelled down her throat. Maybe he had no reason to consider Ende the child’s father or suspect his relationship with his queen. Ana wondered at it herself. The old man would have been younger then, but not by so much that a young queen would have been swayed by him. He still would have been in his sixties or so. She looked up at the man watching her and then back to the bed.

  The sword master had been surprised by her calling Ende an old man. Maybe there was more to the dragon than she realised. More than she had allowed herself to see. She had been too trusting. She was still too trusting.

  “Did you know my mother?” she asked the old man before her with his white hair and beard and bent fingers; yet there was strength to this man. He had held her so tightly before, as though for a moment she had needed him to hold her together. She was reminded of Dray and his very different hands.

  When he didn’t speak, she looked into his face and he sat slowly in the other chair. “Many years ago, when she was training before she met your father.”

  “You knew they married?”

  “I guessed at it, when they ran and she was with child. Your father was a good man. He would have ensured you were both safe.”

  She looked back at the little bowl and took another sip, although it was harder to swallow.

  “What happened to her?” His voice was gentle and coaxing, and she was reminded of Dray again.

  She shook her head. “I was only a baby,” she murmured.

  “Your father raised you?”

  She nodded again, focused on the bowl. Did he wonder if her father still lived, if he would come after the daughter trapped in the capital? Did this man truly want to help her?