Dreams of Darkness Rising (19 page)

Leave him be, this is not your problem any more, Emelia
, Emebaka hissed.
Let us get the pendant and get out of here, for there is villainy afoot and we best not be caught up in any more trouble before we depart
.

For once the voice made sense; Emelia replaced the tapestry and walked silently towards the door to Lord Ebon-Farr’s day chamber. She eased the heavy door open, used by now to its weight and conscious of how to avoid its creaking.

Two figures whirled to face her as she entered the room. They were silhouetted against the large window. She made to yell in surprise but her mouth was so dry no sound came. They flew into action. The nearest, a slim man with a neat moustache raised his hands and hissed some words in a language Emelia didn’t understand. Air shimmered around his hands and she was propelled into the wall, the impact knocking the breath from her. It was as if the invisible hand of a giant was clutching her, as if her limbs were made of lead.

The second man had run across the room drawing a dagger. He was on her in an instant, the cold steel of the tip pressing painfully into her throat whilst his other hand covered her mouth.

Up close he was handsome, although Emelia was perhaps not best placed to admire his dashing features. His hair was tied back in a pony tail and both his ears were pierced with gold earrings.

“Listen. I shall say this once,” he said in a low voice. “We are thieves not killers. However, if you chose to scream you will force me to push this dagger through your neck. Is that very clear?”

Emelia looked into his eyes to gauge whether this was an idle threat. It was not easy to tell. His eyes were a warm deep green yet there was a hard edge to them, every bit as keen as his knife. In any case, she thought, alerting the Keep was the last thing she wanted.

Seeing her acknowledgement the thief slipped his hand away and lowered his dagger. She felt the invisible pressure ease as the second man approached, a look of fascination written on his face. She suddenly felt very self conscious and awkward before these strangers and blushed.

“Are you a slave here, love?” the man with the pony-tail asked.

“Not a slave, a servant—a housemaid. I’m…in servitude,” Emelia said.

He turned to the second man who Emelia saw was primly presented.

“You know, Jem, getting the young lasses from other nations to do their housework—like they’re too good for it. That’s so, well, so... Eerian. Arrogant sods.”

“Where else would you expect to find something ‘so Eerian’, Hunor? The feeding pits of Pyrios? The gardens of Versica? This is the main market for the Azaguntan slavers that you rip off in your games of Kirit’s eye.”

Hunor wrinkled his nose and turned his attention back to Emelia. “What’s a housemaid doing prowling around the place at this hour, like a thief? Lighting up the fires early? Are you running away, love? Going to find fame and fortune on the stage in the playhouse at Kokis?”

When Emelia didn’t answer he shrugged. “Anyhow, nice to make your acquaintance but I’m afraid we’re going to have to tie you up. We’re at work, y’see.”

Emelia look startled and her mind raced; she couldn’t be tied up waiting for the Ebon-Farrs to find her. She could not face the Enclave.

“Take me with you. I can help you,” she said.

Hunor paused as he was unfurling his rope and stared in surprise at her. “I’m sorry, love. We’re not in the…ah…recruitment game at the moment. You see we’re sort of vagabond, freebooter types. I mean you are quite striking. Those eyes are remarkable. Really. But I’m afraid…”

“Hunor,” Jem said. “Just wait a moment.”

Slender fingers lifted Emelia’s chin and she met Jem’s gaze with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. Emelia found his hazel eyes hypnotic. Her skin tingled, like she had just come inside from the wind.

“Let it out,” he whispered. “It’s like a cauldron inside you isn’t it? Pushing inside your skull.”

Emelia could hardly breath; her blood ran cold in expectation. By Torik, how does he know?

The air reverberated around Emelia, pushing Jem’s hand away. A smile worked its way across Jem’s lips.

“She’s a Wild-mage.”

Both Hunor and Emelia stared at Jem in disbelief.

“She’s a Wild-mage?”

“I’m a what?” Emelia asked.

Jem came closer to the pair. Emelia could see how he differed from Hunor. His hair was neatly combed and parted with a surgical precision. His face was as young as Hunor’s yet paler, with a clipped moustache. It was his eyes, however, that fascinated Emelia as she observed him: they burned with a feverish intelligence, seeming to penetrate within her soul.

“I can see the Web bending around her, Hunor. Trust me, she has the magic gift. Like me. She’s like me.”

“No offence, mate, but she’s not a bit like you. I mean she’s young and pretty and those sparklers in her head would make her a fortune in the right places, but, well, no offence love, she’s a housemaid doing a bunk. Wild-magic or no.”

“I think we can trust her, Hunor. Seriously. When I say she is like me I refer, of course, to the potential she holds within her.”

Emelia stared at Jem. The air crackled with tension and Emelia had the strangest sense that she had always known this man, that she had always trusted him.

“We can trust her, Hunor. She wants far more than this place and she can help us.”

“Oh that’s different then. If you’re going to contribute to the job, then you’re all right by me, love. I still think a career on the stage might be a safer option. I must introduce you to Igridd the Pink sometime. He’s got some great acts.”

“Hunor!”

“Oh yeah, sorry, Jem. Tangents and all that. Right… the key! Where is it? See Jem can get us into the antechamber but not the store itself, so we need the key for the second door.”

The key, Emelia thought in panic. Her mind raced and then she realised what they were seeking. They wanted the blue crystal. That same fateful day that Lord Talis had met the Arch-mage she had heard their discussion of this crystal. Earlier today she had seen him on the floor below with a key entering a locked room.

“It’s around his neck,” she said, gesturing at the door leading through to the lord’s bedchambers. “On a cord around his neck.”

Hunor and Jem both smiled at the same time and glanced where she pointed. Hunor flipped the dagger in his hand, caught it and then offered it to Emelia handle first. She gawped at the weapon; the silver and blue of the moons that shone through the large window gave the metal an icy quality.

“It’s to cut the cord, love,” Hunor said. “Regard this as your trial by fire.”

***

It took a good minute for Emelia’s eyes to adjust to the darkness of the Ebon-Farrs’ bedchamber. The day room had been relatively bright with moonlight. In the bed chamber the smaller windows were concealed by heavy curtains, thickened to trap heat within the chill room. A fire in the corner had burned out, leaving a faint scent of wood smoke in the chamber.

The bedroom was a testament to Lady Ebon-Farr’s adoration of soft furnishings. Emelia had always been fascinated by the explosion of cushions that adorned this room. They came in every shape and size. The majority were from local weavers in the town of Melton, a picturesque place that sat on the edge of the harsh Plain of Meltor. These cushions mixed yarkel and sheep wool stuffing with cow leather trim in beautiful patterns. Dotted between were the plush fineries of Mirioth and some extravagant giant Feldorian cushions. As bad luck would have it they were scattered across the polished floorboards and made traversing the room in the near pitch black a true challenge for Emelia.

Emelia weaved silently past the dressing table, with its powders and perfumes, past the leather armchairs and towards the four-poster bed that dominated the far side of the room. It loomed like an ominous beast from a fairy tale, emulating Mother Gresham’s best yarns about evil dragons and gargantuan mountain giants.

Emelia caught a movement out of the corner of her eye as she neared the foot of the bed. She froze, the dagger clasped firmly in her hand. In an instant she recognised it was only her reflection in the full-length mirror, given extra clarity by a slim chink of blue moonlight slipping past the lined curtains.

Emelia turned cautiously to face her own image. It had been many years since she seen any reflection, bar a glimpse in a grubby puddle or a distorted caricature in the curve of a brass kettle. Her reflection stared back nonchalantly as she looked herself up and down, fascinated by the change.

Gone was the awkward adolescent, overly conscious of her maturing figure and in its place stood a young woman, proud and confident. Her blonde hair was tied back allowing the pale moonlight to illuminate her face. It was long, with a thin nose, large glittering eyes and full lips that had never forgotten how to smile. She had a tall athletic physique, with muscled arms, toned legs and small breasts pulled flatter by the overly small tunic she wore.

When had she become this woman that stood before her? Minutes ago when she had met Jem’s intense gaze? Hours ago when she had challenged vile Uthor and unleashed some strange force? Days ago when she had unknowingly said her last words to her closest friend? Or was it that moment when Hirk the Netreptan had whispered for her to flee the coup when the time was right? They could not clip her wings now.

With new resolve Emelia slipped past the foot of the bed and towards the slumbering occupants. Lord Talis slept flat on his back. The scanty moonlight that fell upon him gave him the appearance of a corpse. At his side Lady Ebon-Farr was sprawled. She was evidently a far more exuberant sleeper. She regularly moaned and mumbled and changed position, tangling the bed sheets around her like a bizarre ball gown. The scent of wine hung in the air and Emelia surmised that they had continued the drinking after Uthor had been taken to the Citadel of Air.

Inch by inch Emelia moved towards Lord Talis, her own breath slowing to near silence as she came closer. She could see a moist patch of saliva on his cheek and a light wine snore was rasping from his lips.

A strange feeling arose inside her as she came within a foot of his hawkish face. In truth it was difficult to describe exactly how she felt for here was a man who had become the all encompassing force in her life. This was her master and her lord. His will and whim dictated how she lived, how she ate, what she wore and what she thought. She scurried around in the shadows he cast, as if he were imbued with the morose grey of the stones, a part of this castle like some living statue. He was the all. He was a god that ruled in this domain she was trapped within. So as she looked down at him and the golden key that was lying on his bony chest she was transfixed by a sense of obligation and loyalty to this man, bound to him as servant and master in the way a babe would be bound to its mother at birth by its umbilical cord.

The voice that she kept repressed within her came to her rescue once more. It surged to the surface, like a shark breaking the still sea at night.
Emelia, it is past time we did this
, Emebaka implored.
Cut it now. Cut that cord
.

She slipped the razor sharp dagger under the leather cord and with a tiny pressure it slit. Her eyes were glued to the rhythmic breathing of Lord Talis as she tentatively gripped the key and then gently lifted it away from him.

His breathing paused then continued and Emelia slowly exhaled, little spots dancing in her vision from the prolonged holding of her breath. She stepped back carefully, noting the brass bedpan within inches of her right foot as she did so. Now that would have been a poor trial by fire, she smiled. 

The cord had finally been cut.

***

It was apparent as she returned to the pale light of the day chamber that Hunor and Jem had been discussing her and also that Hunor had been observing her progress through a chink in the doorway.  He made a show about being disinterested in her return but she could see his eyes focused on the gold key.

Emelia handed him the key and then began to make towards the main door from the day room that lead out onto the corridor. She saw her pendant lying under the table as she neared the door and with a sigh of relief she picked it up and tucked it away safe. It was then she realised neither man was following her. Jem was pacing slowly across the floor, muttering to himself. Hunor had a leather roll out on the same table that had borne Uthor’s bottles of wine hours before. He seemed to be examining a selection of spindly metal picks and hooks.

Jem looked up and gestured her over to where he stood. She walked over as he pulled a small ball of food from his pouch. He offered it out to her and indicated for her to begin chewing it.

“It’s a mixture of mint and coriander herbs, bound by sap from the golden willow tree,” Hunor said as she winced in distaste.

“How do you plan to get past the first door below?” Emelia asked, attempting to take her mind from the pungent taste. “Lord Talis is the only one who can open it. I’m certain I heard them say it was enchanted.”

“It would be a challenge,” Jem said. “The nature of the enchantment is probably too elemental and complicated for me to break. I would propose—I suppose obviously—that there’s been some help in its creation from the Air-mages.”

“Then how are we to get past it?” Emelia asked.

“It’s one of his party tricks, love,” Hunor said, taking her hand. “There’s a proper magic name for it but I call it fizzy wall.”

Jem snorted in derision and took both Hunor’s hand and Emelia’s other hand so that they now stood in a small circle.

“The term amongst Wild-mages is phase-shifting. It’s hard to explain to the uninitiated and I don’t mean to be patronising by that. In essence I use the magic to stretch the Web and we slip ourselves through the gaps by precisely lining our auras up.”

“But it feels like your backside is sat in a pool of frisky minnows,” Hunor said to her out of the side of his mouth. “Keep chewing the cud and you’ll not feel as sick.”

Emelia felt a sudden sense of panic but Jem and Hunor held her hands tight. The air began to coalesce around them as Jem uttered arcane words. Emelia noticed a bright green glow pulsing in his eyes, like two radiant emeralds. Then a sudden cramp struck her stomach and she nearly bolted the chewy concoction from her mouth. With terror she realised she was sinking through the wood floor. The chairs and tables now loomed over her head and as she looked down in astonishment she saw her waist appeared to begin within the floorboards. Her legs were numb and tingling, the sensation she would occasionally get from lying with her arm pressed against the hard rim of her bed in the dormitory.