Read Online Curse of Kings (The Trials of Oland Born, Book 1) by Alex Barclay - Free Book Online

kingdom. They believe that to become a participant would be to curse the future. Their only task is to truthfully chronicle events, and to guard these chronicles fiercely. That is why, if young Tristan Ault decided to take the oath that night and become an official archivist, he would have been compelled to leave the castle.”
    â€œAnd has Villius Ren ever tried to find him?” said Oland. “I’ve heard no mention of his name in Castle Derrington. And Villius constantly mentions the names of his enemies.”
    Arthur shook his head. “To cover the theft of the archives and the census, Villius Ren put the story about many years ago that he slaughtered the entire Ault family.”
    â€œBut why, now, would this archivist not come forward?” said Oland.
    â€œAs you know,” said Arthur, “archivists lead solitary lives. Samuel Ault would have dealt only with King Micah and Queen Cossima; his father would have dealt only with the ruler of Dallen. Archivists are known for having pride in their work and passion for it, but they seek no public recognition. Their only desire is to faithfully honour the king, the kingdom and its history.”
    â€œBut who does Villius Ren say that the burning boy is?” said Oland.
    â€œOh, you know Villius,” said Arthur. “‘It was a burning rat, a burning weasel…’”
    Oland nodded.
    â€œIt’s a string of interwoven lies,” said Arthur. “If Villius Ren admits that someone took away the history of Decresian, it would be admitting that King Micah had foreseen Villius’ treachery; otherwise, the documents – of which there were thousands – would never have been packed away in a carriage, ready to be carried away. That would have taken a long time.”
    â€œSo, if I could find Tristan Ault, maybe I could find out who my parents are and where I come from,” said Oland.
    â€œI’m afraid that is an onerous ambition,” said Arthur. “Time and again, archivists have witnessed the devastating consequences of misplaced trust, so they trust few.”
    â€œIs there anything else you know about him?” said Oland.
    â€œI have told you everything I know,” said Arthur. He paused. “The only other thing I can think of is that the boy you are looking for, is a man now, close to thirty. And he will bear the scars of a liquid burn on his neck and back.”
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    As Oland drifted off to sleep, he was occupied by the thought that, along with restoring a kingdom, perhaps he could restore himself, and the cloak of his dark past could be shed. Yet it wasn’t all dark: now that he knew the story of his past was fiction, his father did not have to be a bad man; he was free to imagine an alternative.
    He did not have to change his vision of his mother; he had always seen her as brave and strong and loyal. He conjured up a beautiful woman with a kind face, perhaps with his green eyes, perhaps his long fair hair. The comfort of her imagined warmth finally brought him to sleep, and on a makeshift bed in a strange room behind a stinking barn, he had the longest uninterrupted sleep he could remember.
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    When Oland awoke, he was alone. In the dim candlelight, he saw food on the table. He left it untouched. He went to the small door, and tried to open it. It rattled. It had been latched from the outside. Oland shouted for Arthur. He didn’t care who heard; he didn’t even know who might be there to hear him.
    As the hours passed, hunger was turning Oland’s attention to food, but, as the scent of pine needles faded, and the odour of the barn began to seep under the door, he was happy to remain hungry. He lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He realised he had left his bag in the cart. He patted his pockets. The king’s letter was still there. But he had no book to read, nothing to distract him. At the castle, Oland’s days were filled with dozens of tasks