by Drew Wagar
These gifts, the search, it’s all about Drayden … it means I’m one of them. It means I’m a witch!
The revelation barely had time to register in her mind when something else drew her attention. There was a faint creak from behind her. She turned, peering into the darkness. It was distant and faint, but she recognised it instantly.
The door, the door she had opened. The creak had come from those hinges.
Someone coming in?
She moved away from the table, covering her jar with her cloth and placing it carefully on the floor. She backed up against the wall next to the passageway, careful to avoid stepping on the bones around her. She climbed partway up the stairs, peering over the top, trying to see if anyone was coming down, straining her ears to hear.
For a moment there was nothing at all, no sound. Just the faint illumination coming from the edges of the doorway at the other end. She could see dust motes dancing in the parallel beams of light. She squinted. The door was no longer ajar.
Then came the unmistakeable sound of bolts being slid into place.
The door, someone is locking me in!
Panicking, she ran up the passageway. Halfway there she heard a sound which chilled her to the bone. Rocks being moved and noisily jammed up against the door. The faint outline of the door, illuminated by the light outside was rapidly growing dimmer as rocks were piled against it.
She ran to the door, pushing and pulling against it in horror.
‘No! Let me out, please let me out!’
Whoever was outside must have heard her, but they took no notice. Zoella pushed against the door, but it was now firmly fixed in place. She rammed her shoulder into it, desperate to escape, but only succeeded in hurting herself. The narrow glint of sunlight from outside abruptly cut off, leaving her in darkness.
Sealed in!
The sound of rocks being moved stopped. Zoella thought she heard the faint tones of a woman’s voice.
Then there was silence.
She stumbled. The darkness was complete, terrifying and disorienting. She spun around without thinking, trying to regain her balance. Fear overwhelmed her, taking her mind for long moments of pure dread. She screamed.
Blackness, impenetrable, unnatural blackness.
A rock caught under her foot, sending her sprawling. She fell to the floor, the steep tilt of the passageway rolling her downwards, further into the dark. It was all she could do to roll herself into a ball, trying to protect herself.
Her fingers caught the edge of the steps at the lower end of the passage and she bounced painfully down them, ending up sprawled on the floor, gasping for breath, bruised and battered.
A faint glow reached her eyes. She forced herself to crawl forward. It was the jar, still covered by the cloth. She reached to pull it off. A faint green glow splashed around her.
She stared into the empty eye sockets of a skull looking back at her. A skeletal arm was outstretched towards her, its bony fingers scratched and marked with a failed escape attempt from dozens of rounds before.
Screams echoed throughout the catacombs, but only those already dead could hear them.
Several chimes later Ioric drew his herg up at the stables, glad to be back in the city after the long ride. The weather had improved slightly, the snow had stopped and the leaden skies had brightened to a dull white. Lacaille still remained hidden behind the clouds.
He was last in, waiting whilst the rest of the party dismounted and turned their tired hergs over to the beastmaster.
Where is Zoella?
He called the beastmaster to him as he finished with the other hergs.
‘Where’s your new stable girl?’
The beastmaster shrugged. ‘Dunno. Deserves a whippin’! S’posed to back here at the fourth chime, that’s what she promised when she left.’
Ioric looked up at the city timers, just visible on one of the parapets. It was already past the seventh, dinner time. Folks would be retiring soon. They’d been out all stretch.
She’s well overdue, something has happened …
‘My mistake, I sent her on an errand that must have taken longer than I thought, should have let you know.’
‘No apology needed, sire.’
Ioric leapt down and immediately made his way to his chambers. The room was almost as he had left it, but his jacket was missing. He went to the wardrobe, seeing it hanging in place, the message he had left for Zoella was gone.
So she went to the catacombs … but then?
Quickly he made his way outside and walked quickly down through the city, following his own directions to where the catacombs lay.
A shadow moved as Ioric went past, shifting subtly against the wall. After his rapid footsteps faded down the street the shadow moved again and a figure stepped out, watching the departing Prince before walking silently away.
Zoella, lost in the darkness, had no idea how much time had passed, other than that she was hungry and thirsty. The faint glow from the jar had long ago faded away, leaving her in complete, opaque blackness.
Sounds came to her, real or imagined she couldn’t tell. Drips perhaps, or rocks creaking, or creatures unknown creeping around unseen. She’d pushed herself up against the wall, clutching the jar to her chest, taking a tiny reassurance in having something she knew close to her. Every faint noise causing her to whimper in horror.
The black was complete. A void. She couldn’t even see her own hands.
Her body shook, she could hear her teeth chattering in her head, she wanted to shout out for rescue, but she could barely whisper now. Terror gnawed at her, dreams and visions of a long drawn out death kept assaulting her mind, she could only bat them away for a moment before they would return, swamping her mind with despair and driving her into shuddering tears of panic.
‘Help … me … please … someone …’
She could barely even hear herself. Despair crept through her mind, taunting her.
Where is Ioric? Has he abandoned me? Surely he knows I’m here! Why hasn’t he come for me? Maybe this was all a trap, maybe he’s been searching out those with gifts and incarcerating them down here for years. Maybe it was on the order of the King! I’m really trapped … I’m going to die down here!
A half-scream escaped her, echoing back from the unseen depths of the library. A hot wetness in her breeches told her she’d soiled herself, but pride was long gone now, she was beyond caring.
A last lucid thought drifted across her consciousness, filling her with a brief sadness.
Oh Raga, what will become of you …?
She gave herself over to desolation, screeching out a cry of anguish that echoed into the darkness and then faded into horrifying emptiness.
It didn’t take long for Ioric to find the entrance he’d spied out before, but where he’d previously seen a door, now he was confronted by a wall of rock.
Sealed up! Someone knew she was inside …
He vaulted down in front of it, pushing up against it, trying to see a way past the rocks to the door behind.
‘Zoella? Zoella! Child, are you in there?’
There was no answer to his calls. He grabbed at the rocks, pulling them down as fast as he could, stopping at intervals to call out again. His hands were cut and bloody by the time he was able to pull the door open far enough to get inside. He looked behind him, wary of leaving the doorway unattended.
‘Zoella?’
There was nothing for it. She must be inside somewhere. He cautiously made his way down the passageway, bracing himself against the walls as it descended sharply. It was pitch black inside. His feet found the edge of a series of steps leading downwards.
‘Zoella?’ His voice was a whisper now. The dark was unnerving, unnatural.
Fright and a jolt of fear! Something grabbed his ankle. He shouted in alarm, falling backwards and landing heavily, ready to kick out to free himself.
Save me!
The cry was silent, yet so plaintive and distressed that it brought tears to
his eyes. He recognised Zoella’s distinctive presence. He reached forward and grasped her hand, pulling her towards him. She fell into his arms, a shuddering reeking mess.
‘Zoella, what happened?’
She gave no answer other than a high-pitched shrieking wail of fear. It was enough to galvanise him to action. He gathered her up in his arms and staggered up the passageway, pushing through the door and back out into the open. He carried her past the rocks and on to the roadway beyond the wall, lowering her carefully to the ground.
She was covered in dirt and filth, her face and hands marked with dried blood from numerous tiny cuts and bruises. She was trembling uncontrollably, flinching whenever he touched her.
‘Zoella, you’re safe, you’re outside …’
Her eyes were clenched tightly closed, her body curled up like a baby; knees to her chest and elbows tucked around them, hands wrapped around her head.
‘Darkness, always darkness! Unending darkness! Lacaille darkens, that’s the end of it!’
She kept muttering, repeating the same words over and over again.
Ioric grabbed her wrists, trying to reach her thoughts in the manner she had reached his.
‘Zoella, listen to me. You’re outside, it’s not dark, it’s light …’
The trembles subsided. Ioric pulled her upwards as she opened her eyes. Her face was white with fear, her pupils wide and her eyes dark. For long moments she didn’t seem to recognise him or even where she was.
She raised a shaking hand to his face, running her hand over his beard and hairline in confusion.
‘Not a dream?’ she managed, her voice a crackle.
Ioric shook his head. ‘I’m real. I’m here, little Zoella.’
She took some deep juddering breaths, before looking back at him.
‘Someone tried to kill me, locked me down there to die like those custodians …’
‘Time enough for that later, you need care and rest. Let me carry you …’
Zoella shook her head. ‘No, you need to hear this. I found out something important. It was in the book …’
‘Book?’
‘These things I can do, these powers. I’m one of them!’
‘One of whom?’
Her eyes were wide now, sparkling with realisation and comprehension
‘Those that have this gift, the same as those that go to Drayden. I understand their powers! They’re witches … I’m a witch!’
Ioric looked at her, thinking it through. ‘That means dozens, perhaps hundreds of people with these powers all lie within Drayden. What a power!’
‘I’m not the only one, someone else is studying this,’ Zoella said. ‘The book was left open, a page carefully selected. And there’s something else.’
She grabbed hold of his hand. Ioric felt something wrap around his mind, words formed deafening but silent. Zoella’s lips didn’t move.
The book says Lacaille darkens after cold weather … whatever that means, it’s going to happen soon!
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Varda, a town in Scallia, on the Shadeward Borders of Drayden
Round 2306, Eleventh Pass
Kiri adjusted the leather goggles she wore and looked down from her dach. A small town could be seen, nestled in the mountains. It seemed dark below, the town stood on a small plateau lit by Lacaille, but around it were dark valleys forever unlit by the static sunshine. Charis was gesturing to her. Kiri watched as her dach banked around, losing height and speed above the town.
Already she could sense unease and fear from down below. It smothered the town like a damp blanket. Kiri adjusted the reins on her own dach and leant forward.
Shanza. Down, we wish to land …
Her dach executed a sharp twisting looped turn. Kiri cried out in delight, she loved the aerobatics Shanza could perform. She was a lithe beast of the air. Kiri had found her in the eyries that the priestesses used to train the dachs for flying. She had been dismissed as unflyable and untameable. Kiri’s ability to communicate without physical contact had allowed her to touch the beast’s mind and mollify it. She remained wild and would only allow Kiri to ride her. It was something that set her apart. None of the other dachs had the abilities in the air that Shanza had.
She’s like me, wild and different, but full of power!
Charis and the two other junior priestesses that accompanied her had already landed in a field just short of the town gates. Shanza came in at speed, executing a fast flare as she touched down, back-flapping her wings rather than gliding to a stop. Kiri leapt off whilst the dach was still airborne, flipping over in the air and then standing up.
‘Very pretty, if unnecessary.’ Charis said, with mild disapproval. Kiri laughed.
The others were unloading some of the gear from the dachs. They had bought only their kais and no other weapons. Kiri had pointed this out, but Charis had been adamant that it was a peaceful undertaking, not a confrontational one.
Shanza squawked and then flapped away with the other dachs. They would go hunting, replenishing their strength for the flight home.
Kiri shrugged. ‘She needs the exercise, as do I.’
Charis smiled before growing serious. ‘Here lies Varda. As we enter be conscious that this is not Drayden. They do not follow our ways. Some of their actions will seem uncouth. Their men are forthright, bold and hold the positions of authority.’
‘Men in authority?’ one of the junior priestesses said, her face twisted in distaste.
‘Strange as it may seem.’ Charis nodded.
‘And the women put up with it? I’m surprised they don’t demand the search as a way to escape their fate.’
‘It is not for us to judge them, only to secure their permission for our search.’
‘Isn’t it our right?’ Kiri asked. ‘Isn’t it in the treaty?’
Charis nodded. ‘It is indeed, but forcing that upon them will only result in resentment. We will explain what we intend, show how the treaty supports this and bring them to an understanding. That way, any conflict will be avoided.’
Kiri frowned, but acquiesced.
Charis walked to her, touching her arm.
And Kiri, remember what we agreed. Do not search their minds. I know you can do this without me knowing, but I ask you to respect their privacy. We will conduct this on their terms.
I know, I’m just the acolyte …
A warm glow of pride and affection came back across the link.
I will rely on you more than the others, you know that! It will not be long before you are a priestess. Conduct yourself well here, prove you can master yourself and your powers and it will be done.
A cheeky buzz of emotion was the response.
I’ll try to stay out of trouble.
Charis surveyed her group. ‘We are set, follow my lead and we will quickly settle this.’
Kiri looked towards the town and saw that the gates were opening. Kiri could also just make out people clustered behind the walls of the city. She imagined they were armed guards.
‘They have seen us.’
Charis turned. ‘Then let us go meet them.’
Torin looked up as one of his guards pointed.
‘There, sire!’
A group of flying creatures were circling above the town, banking and turning, looking for a place to land.
They ride the dachs? How have they tamed those irrepressible beasts? Such an advantage in speed, reconnaissance and who knows what else. Perhaps they can fight from the sky too.
Torin signalled to the guard who he’d asked to remain behind, in charge of the small garrison that served the town of Varda.
‘I see them. We will meet them outside the town and gauge their intentions. Close the gates after we leave. If you see us fall in pain, shoot every arrow you have. Do not hesitate, do not come for us. Do you understand?’
The guard nodded, swallowing hard.
‘These witches can strike a man down invisibly. Do not wait. A moment’s indecision and you will be
struck too. Kill them. Clear?’
‘Aye, sire.’
Torin buckled a sword at his side, satisfied with the thick leather armour he already wore. It wouldn’t do much against sword or bow, but it would turn an opportunistic knife. Who could tell what these witches might want.
‘I plan to bring them inside. In close quarters we will have more chance than out in the open. I would learn their ways. I shall be friendly according to my brother’s wishes. Let’s hope it is not folly.’
The guard nodded, looking across at the other two guards, flanking Torin.
‘Open the gates!’ Torin called.
The gates opened outwards. Torin strode through with his guards behind him. The witches were conversing with each other, their dachs unloaded. As he watched the flying creatures leapt into the sky, swiftly disappearing into the haze.
Four of them!
One had been bad enough last time. That pale ghostly face was still etched in his memory.
As he walked forward they became clearer. They had seen him and slowly began walking towards him. One was clearly the leader of the group, flanked by two others a few steps behind. Behind them was another. They wore cowled deep crimson robes, their faces hidden, unlike the black that he recalled from his memory of the other witch.
The distance closed and they stood surveying each other for a moment.
Torin was about to speak when the lead witch abruptly knelt in front of him. After a momentary pause, the others copied her actions.
What is this?
‘Guardian of Varda. I am Priestess Charis of Daine, in the lands of Drayden.’
Torin blinked in surprise. A woman’s voice of course, but clear, bright and … ordinary.
And … a priestess?
‘I am Torin of house Tiamoi, Prince of Scallia,’ he managed. ‘I bid you rise.’
The witches got to their feet and lowered their cowls. The first three wore their dark hair tied up and secured with an intricate tiara perched atop their heads. A streak of silver colour was woven throughout. The final woman was noticeably younger and lacked the tiara and the streak.
A junior? An apprentice maybe?
Torin turned his attention to the woman in front of him. She was older than him, he’d have put her as middle-aged, attractive in the manner of mature and experienced women. Her skin was lightly tanned, not in the slightest bit ghostly.