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

him, using them as silent stepping stones to a safer place. But it wasn’t long before the terrain changed and his boots were cracking the twigs on the forest floor and the sound was like thunder. In his panic, Oland ran faster, fighting his aching muscles and the searing pain across his chest. It was only when his legs finally gave way, when he collapsed to the ground, that he had the chance to think.
    He lay on his back, heaving for breath. Parched and disorientated, he watched the dark clouds pass over the narrow branches at the trees’ spindly tops. There was no way to tell whether he had crossed into Dallen, or taken a circular route back towards the border. He thought about Arthur. He hoped that he had been able to leave unharmed, and that Malben, the curious little monkey, was able to find his way back to wherever it was he came from.
    Oland was now utterly alone. He began to wonder whether he should have asked the Rynishes about the Crest of Sabian, or told them about the man in black who had come to the castle to take him away. If he had told them more, maybe he would have more information to help him on his quest. His only solace was in discovering the existence of the census and in the hope that his parents’ identity would be preserved in its pages. He vowed to find not only Chancey the Gold, but also Tristan Ault.
    He got up and walked on, and, as the darkness descended and the trees grew denser, that was all he could hope for. As the temperature dropped, he walked faster to stay warm, but he knew that, before long, the darkness would be complete. He planned to take shelter for the night under a tree, but, up ahead, he saw the outline of a large building, and the tips of eight spires – black against the rising moon. As Oland fought his way through the weeds towards it, he soon saw that, though it bore traces of a grander past, it had long been abandoned.
    He stopped at the bottom of the building’s stone steps, as did the weeds, as if, like him, they were reluctant to get too close.

LAND WALKED UP THE STEPS AND STOOD IN FRONT of the two tall black wooden doors. On the arch above them, three words were chiselled into the stone – two on top, one underneath. Most of their letters had been lost to weather and time. All that remained was an N in the first, an EW in the second and an S in the third. He walked back down and went over to the left-hand wing. Through two huge broken windows, he saw a vast, empty room with high ceilings and ornate floors. It appeared to have been blighted by fire.
    Oland crossed the grass to the first room in the right-hand wing, a ghostly room, strewn with wrought-iron beds. Piecing this together with the letters he had read above the front door, he knew that he was at King Seward’s Hospital. And he knew then that he was in Dallen.
    Oland thought of peaceful King Seward, and how he had built the hospital with the best of intentions. Before the year was out, he was forced to close it. His supporter, the Dallen ruler, along with most of the Ault family and many of the doctors and nurses, were exiled to Decresian where King Seward was generous in providing them shelter and jobs. It was the succeeding ruler of Dallen who severed all ties between the territories and set up the patrolled border. Ever since, the passage of travellers from Decresian had been restricted. Only those deemed of benefit to Dallen were allowed entry. The Craven Lodge were strictly prohibited, on penalty of death. To compound the nations’ tense relations, Villius Ren had managed to poach some of the Dallen men for his army.
    To Oland’s good fortune, King Seward’s Hospital remained an oppressive spectre to the people of Dallen; he had shelter for the night, with little chance of being disturbed. As for The Craven Lodge, they were called craven for a reason. They would not dare to cross the border into Dallen. Oland knew the tortuous routes they took to bypass it on their