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HAROK

Sometimes he struggles even to remember his name. But today he knows he is Harok. He is the son of Irgo Lal. He is his father’s named heir.

He is in his bedchamber in Urynwud. The great fortress hidden deep in the forest.

The room is dark. Shutters closed and no candles or fires lit. He lies in his bed. He cannot move. He is chained. Chains bind him to his bed at wrist and ankle. His chest hurts. The skin there is hot and painful. He remembers something. The cause of that pain. Something was carved onto his breast. A symbol.

What has been done to him? And why is he here? Why is he chained?

He is the son of Irgo Lal. Where is Irgo Lal now? Why has his father not freed him? How has he allowed this to be done?

He is sixteen summers. He is not a boy. He is a man. He is a man and his father is…

Then he remembers it with a wave of grief, distant, like a storm on the horizon. Lal is long dead. Lal was weak and Lal died. So who sits the throne of Urynwud if not him?

His uncle. He remembers. His uncle Vahul reigns as regent.

No, no. His uncle reigns no more. Vahul is dead. Harok killed him.

Killed him after…

What did he do? What has he done?

He has made a terrible mistake. He has done something that cannot be undone.

Why can’t he remember? Is his mind broken?

He fights to free a memory. Any memory. He sees a dark shape, larger than a man. He fought the demon. He fought Diazuul.

But something is wrong. Something is wrong. Did he fail? If he did not win, how is he living? He tries to remember what happened in that pit. That demon’s lair. But he cannot. It is a memory he cannot face. He can recall only the smell: sour, damp earth, burning meat.

He feels something inside him. A squirming anger. A great rage he has to fight to contain.

He roars with frustration.

He struggles with the chains. He twists and twists. But he cannot free himself and he cannot free the memory of what happened to him to bring him here.

How long does he remain in his bed? Unable to escape. Unable to think. He cannot tell.

But there comes a scraping noise as the door to his chamber is opened. At first all he is aware of is the light, dazzling, so bright it's painful. It takes him a moment to realise a woman stands in the doorway. Tall and slender with a distinctly elegant bearing. She is dressed in long green robes. She wears a crown carved from wood and decorated with small black gemstones, glittering in the light that comes with her through the doorway. That crown is his crown. She wears the crown of the Irgo of the Forests of Amber.

Her long hair is white. She steps closer. His eyes adjust and he realises the blinding light is a single candle held by the woman. Its flickering flame dances on her face. He knows her. Her face is lined and weathered with age. Her dark eyes full of concern.

His voice sounds scratchy when he speaks. He hasn’t used his voice for some time.

He says, “Mo-mother?”

The woman looks at him. She sets the candle down and bends over the bed. The chains that hold him clank.

“Harok.” Her voice breaks with emotion.

As his mother embraces him, Harok can see two more women in green standing watching in the open doorway of the chamber.

“Harok,” she says again, speaking into his bare shoulder, breath damp on his skin. “You know me. Finally, you know me. My dear, Harok. My boy. It is truly you. My Irgo.” She pulls back from the embrace to look into Harok’s eyes.

“Mother,” Harok says again. “Mother, why… imprisoned? Why… chained?” The words come out slow. Each one an effort as if he has to remember how to shape them.