Nessa’s mouth fell open. “You got a free horse?”
“Indeedy we did,” Orm said, grinning. “We were going to get a matching set,” he nodded at his and Hunter’s horses: two youthful geldings with glossy, black coats, “but when the seller offered us Bryan for free,” he clapped a hand on Bryan’s rump, almost waking him, “we couldn’t resist.”
“Huh.”
“Now, come on, I’ll give you a boost up.” Orm handed Bryan’s reins to Hunter. “Before the horse is completely out of it, again. It took a good ten minutes to wake Bryan up this morning.”
“Yeah, Bryan and me both,” Hunter grumbled under his breath, still displeased at being woken up at the crack of dawn that morning.
An over-energetic Orm was almost as bad as a grieving, murderous Orm.
Orm rolled his eyes and lured Nessa closer, reeling her in by curling his index finger.
Nessa groaned, sensing that there was no way of delaying the inevitable. It seemed that she was going to be in that saddle, whether she wanted to be or not. Best to get it over and done with, Nessa told herself, praying that she wouldn’t do something embarrassing or stupid, like fall off, for example. Hunter and Orm, Aoife too, would never let her live that down. A Rider who couldn’t ride… Nessa could hear the jokes already.
Orm placed his cigar between his lips, holding it steadily in the corner of his mouth, and tugged Nessa over to Bryan’s side. “That,” he said, taking her left hand and placing it on the saddle’s pommel, his voice a little muffled, “goes there.” He cupped his hands together and stooped down. “Now, put your left foot there, and I’ll give you a boost up. Then we’ll adjust the stirrups.”
Nessa hesitantly did as instructed, and before she knew it, she was up in the air, barely able to swallow a surprised squeak.
Instinctively, Nessa swung her right leg over the horse’s back and settled down awkwardly on the saddle, her dress’ skirts tangling around her legs in an unladylike way. Orm, all business, went to work adjusting the stirrups, lengthening the leather straps that connected them to the saddle. After enquiring as to what they were called, Nessa learned that they were creatively called stirrup leathers.
“This feels most unnatural,” Nessa said as Orm, humming to himself in approval, placed her feet into the stirrups and tugged her skirts so that the blue fabric was arranged around her legs in a more dignified way.
“Nonsense,” Hunter gave her Bryan’s reins, “you look perfectly at ease.”
Orm snorted, at least decent enough to not laugh outright. Done with the saddle adjustments, he reached over and positioned the reins so that Nessa held them correctly.
“Relax Nessie,” he advised as he swung himself up onto his horse with practised skill, “the trick is to relax.”
“Relax,” Nessa muttered. “I’m perfectly relaxed. Well, as relaxed as I can be given that I’m sat on a horse and have no idea what I’m doing.”
You’re not remotely relaxed, Aoife told her. I can see that as clear as day even from all the way up here.
Nessa turned her gaze upwards and spied Aoife flying overhead, circling them like a bird of prey, almost high enough to be mistaken for one at first glance. She frowned. No, you can’t.
Can too. Your back’s as straight as a rod.
It is not. It was, but Nessa wasn’t going to admit that. She rolled her shoulders, trying to rid herself from the tension that held her firmly in its clutches, and shifted carefully so that she was sitting a bit more comfortably. The saddle wasn’t nearly as padded as it looked.
That’s better, Aoife told her.
This isn’t as easy as Hunter and Orm said it would be. I’m also a lot higher off the ground than I really want to be.
Just you wait until you’re sat on my back, shooting through the clouds. Your perspective of heights will change drastically.
Nessa watched as Aoife dived through one of a handful of puffy clouds dotting the topaz-blue sky, executing rolls and loops just for her own benefit. Nessa grimaced, not particularly thrilled at the notion of riding a dragon thousands of feet above the ground.
Clicking his tongue, Orm urged his horse onwards, beginning the day’s journey. Hunter turned to Nessa, his brows raised.
“Are you ready for your first day of horse riding?”
“I guess.”
∞∞∞
Bryan wasn’t a fast horse. Neither was he particularly energetic. However, he was calm and steady, and of a peaceful disposition. He never faltered or argued, provided he was given a steady supply of treats and a good scratch behind the ears when he settled down for the night.
Days and miles slowly passed, and the city of Ellor drew ever closer. There was a quiet hum of nervousness and excitement between all of them, a buzz of energy that made it feel like they were marching into war.
After what Nessa had witnessed in Arncraft, she no longer felt any kind of hesitation at the idea of taking the king’s life. Her only worry now was how she was going to do it.
The power King Kaenar wielded was terrifying. Nessa couldn’t stop thinking about it, even though both Hunter and Orm told her not to dwell on the matter. There would be time for thinking about how they would defeat him later, they’d always say; now was the time she needed to listen and observe, to learn everything she could.
And learn Nessa did, absorbing every titbit of information offered to her. But still, no matter what she was taught about the Twelve Houses and the Dragon Riders, Nessa felt as if it wasn’t enough, that memorising countless names and colours of current dragons was nothing more than a distraction. So, each night, when Hunter and Orm were fast asleep, Nessa would sneak out of her tent, join Aoife, and open the grimoire with a drop of her blood.
For as long as she could, Nessa would pore over those pages, trying to glean something useful from them, sometimes until the sky started to lighten. But the grimoire continued to keep its secrets to itself. Nessa’s limited understanding of magic reduced the grimoire to little more than a book filled with mystery, eerie notes and drawings.
Often, during those stolen hours, Nessa would also try to awaken the thing residing deep within her, powerful but dormant. Just like with the grimoire, she wasn’t met with much luck, having little to no success. A couple of times, Nessa thought she felt something stir, but that was the extent of it. Each time she reached for the sensation, the niggle of something there, it would fade away, disappearing to somewhere she couldn’t quite reach. It was beyond frustrating, and only fuelled her sense of hopelessness, the feeling that she wasn’t good enough for the tasks she would surely have to face.
Aoife was the only one who could ease Nessa’s troubled mind, murmuring words of reassurance, telling her that it was only because she had yet to come of age. As soon as she turned eighteen, Aoife was confident that she’d come into her powers, becoming an Old Blood in “full”.
For Nessa, her birthday couldn’t come quick enough. With hungry longing, she eagerly awaited each day’s end, sure that it brought her closer to the one when her veins would flood with magic. Nessa was convinced that the real tutelage would then begin in earnest and she’d master the arcane arts.
Perhaps, with the emergence of her magic, understanding would follow, and the grimoire might reveal something that would give Nessa the upper hand.
∞∞∞
It was three days of travelling before the land around them changed from something other than wild meadows and small groves.
They had been keeping to themselves during this part of the journey, avoiding other travellers as much as possible for as long as they could. This way, they delayed the inevitable of Aoife having to separate from them, which she would be forced to do once they neared the capital. There were no purple dragons under the king’s command. If someone were to see Aoife and word got back to the king, there was no telling how he would react. His wrath would be unparalleled. There would be no way for them to escape from it.
Aoife kept to the air during the day, staying up in
the clouds when there were some, or high enough for the gleam of her scales to appear blue or red rather than purple, depending on the angle of the sun. There were a couple of dragons with those colours that Aoife could be mistaken for at first glance.
At night, once they had found a safe place to camp, Aoife could join them for a short time, landing once the earth was swallowed in darkness, and taking off before the sun had the chance to brighten the sky.
The time Nessa and Aoife spent together dwindled to almost nothing as they drew ever closer to the capital as it became increasingly difficult for them to find places to camp that were safely tucked away from prying eyes.
Once they reached the western edge of Lake Nyma, which to Nessa seemed more like a sea, stretching far into the horizon in three directions, the number of villages grew that were established close to the lake’s shores. With this, there came an increase in travellers passing by: a steady stream of traders and low-key merchants, plus a handful of people hoping to find a better life in Ellor.
They headed northeast around Lake Nyma rather than catching a ferry from one of the fishing ports. The fewer people who saw them, the better, just in case King Kaenar was looking for a girl matching Nessa’s description, a girl who had somehow escaped from the razing of Arncraft and from under his very nose. They were taking no chances. The element of surprise, of them remaining unknown, was the only thing working in their favour.
Margan was also a threat, even if they hadn’t seen or heard anything of him since he’d been called back to the capital. Still, there was no doubt that he’d ever forget about Nessa. He would want her back under his thumb. He needed to clear up the mess he had created before the king discovered his treachery. Whether Margan planned on coming after her himself or sending someone else to do it for him, they didn’t know. They were hyper-vigilant, cautious.
There was too much at stake for them to make any kind of error.
∞∞∞
Autumn was rapidly giving way to winter.
On the fourth day of their travels, Nessa woke to the first hard frost of the season. The edge of the lake was ringed with ice, and the pebbled beach where they had spent the night glistened with a delicate dusting of crystals. A thick blanket of mist rolled in from the water, enveloping the shoreline in a mystical haze, lingering long after Aoife had flown off for the day and they had continued with their journey.
It was nearing midday when Nessa first caught sight of The Three Sisters, a trio of jagged mountains that jutted from the ground. They were in the distance, much of their forms concealed behind the silvery mist, the pale sunlight defused, giving everything a soft, ethereal edge. Nessa felt as if she was travelling through the outer reaches of a dream.
The mist painted The Three Sisters in pale grey, clinging hungrily to their bases, dampening their sharp outlines and making it seem like they were floating. Their peaks were shrouded in crisp, white snow, and they stood proudly over the surrounding land, watching over it.
Nessa urged Bryan onwards, knowing that tucked away at the base of those mountains, nestled between them and Lake Nyma, was Ellor.
∞∞∞
Ellor, the city of gold, was named such because of the castle. It was fashioned from solid stone, carved from the mountainside, painstakingly chiselled over countless generations thousands of years ago. No seams or joins were to be found anywhere, not on the outside walls, nor in the turrets and corridors, the throne room and the great hall, and the hundreds of other rooms besides. The castle of Ellor was made from a single piece of black granite that was intersected with threads of pure gold.
In the evening sun, the castle practically glowed, sitting large and proud atop a rock outcrop that projected from the base of The Three Sisters, overlooking the city that sprawled beneath it, a city illuminated by a million street lamps.
Orm and Hunter, sat upon their handsome, black steeds, gazed at Ellor like it was theirs for the taking.
Nessa, though, had eyes solely for the castle.
Somewhere behind its beautiful facade was a king who dressed in fearsome armour, and a monstrous dragon whose scales glimmered like black diamonds, like the finest black opal.
Ellor, the city of gold, was where beauty and foul things were one and the same.
PART II
Chapter 21
In the gloom of midnight, with the sound of their footsteps echoing softly around them, Nessa, Hunter and Orm slowly made their way along the riverside, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Whilst there were no other souls wandering around that part of Ellor, the higher-class civilians preferring to stay off the streets at that time of night, locked safely behind their elegant mullion windows and hand-carved front doors, that didn’t mean there weren’t eyes on them. After so much hard work, and so much waiting, they were reluctant to make the foolish mistake of allowing someone to follow them, especially when things were about to get so much more interesting.
Orm paused under a tall, cast-iron street lamp, one of many that lined the street at regular intervals, and pulled a battered piece of parchment out from a pocket of his heavy winter tunic. For what felt like the hundredth time since they’d mysteriously received it a few days prior, Hunter and Orm once again pored over the crumpled note, trying to decipher the coded directions. Nessa turned her attention elsewhere with a sigh, her mind quickly wandering.
Although they had been in the capital for the best part of a month now, and Nessa had grown used to the unusual method employed in keeping the streets of the more well-to-do parts of the city lit, the lanterns still captured her fancy.
Nessa’s eyes ran over the floral detailing on the lanterns’ heavy bases and posts, over the shapes of climbing ivy that formed the ladder bars and the frog collars that held the lanterns aloft. The lanterns’ glass was thick but clear, neatly framed in bright-copper edging. Instead of housing a flame, as conventional lanterns did, the street lamps of Ellor instead hosted a handful of ethereal mushrooms. They were pale and delicate, having a translucent quality to them, and they glowed ever so softly, chasing away most of the darkness along the walkways and streets of the High Quarter.
With a twinge of longing, Nessa wished that the three of them could afford to live there, just so she could see the terrarium lanterns light up each time the sun dipped behind the sea of rooftops. Looking at the rows of grand townhouses, even the smallest still being twice the size of their current lodgings, which was quite a substantial building in itself, Nessa thought that it was unlikely to happen anytime soon, no matter how much Orm won during his biweekly gambling expeditions. They were beautiful houses, all fine stonework and large windows, with a trio of steps leading up to the front doors and little matching gardens out front. They were the homes of lords and ladies who had their hair perfectly styled, and who wore silks and velvets in the latest fashions of the king’s court. Their lives were completely separate from Nessa’s. A world away.
For now, at least.
Nessa’s gaze slid up to the castle that presided over the city like a glittering crown. It was too dark and too far away to make out much detail. The grand mansions and townhouses of the High Quarter stood between them, and the wide ledge of the mountain on which the castle was built hindered her sight. But that didn’t matter, not really. Nessa had long since memorised every detail visible from the ground. She knew the castle, from the outside at least, off by heart. Nessa knew that the ledge it was sprawled across rose even the lowest of its many tiered gardens well above the highest rooftop of the High Quarter. She also knew how many halls and towers and spires it had, some of which were so tall that they had bridges spanning from one to the other, just so that people could get around the castle in a timely manner. It was beautiful, as beautiful as a castle could ever hope to be; it was almost beautiful enough for Nessa to overlook the danger lurking behind those fine, gold-threaded walls.
Despite the castle’s fair visage, Nessa knew that monsters resided up there, human and creature alike. While it was a rare and often
fleeting sight, she had seen dragons soaring overhead, scales glittering like the finest of gems. They were giant, older and more grown than Aoife, although not quite as immense as Spite, King Kaenar’s dragon, who she hadn’t seen since that fateful night in Arncraft. For that, Nessa was grateful, because, for short bursts of time, she was able to push aside her fear, forget the danger that was forever looming over her and just be a normal girl every now and again.
Right in that moment, though, Nessa wasn’t a normal girl. In fact, at first glance, anyone would assume that she was a young boy. Her long hair was pinned up and concealed beneath a cap, the ends of a few locks artfully positioned so that they gave the appearance of a short, messy fringe. Her form was hidden by a loose, shapeless tunic that fell to just past her thighs, and baggy trous that were tucked into a pair of scuffed boots. A short cape rested around her shoulders, fighting off the chilled air that had been holding the promise of snow for the last few days, and her faithful arm warmers were in place, concealing her Rider’s Mark.
Any longing Nessa felt to live in a grand house, on a street lit by glowing terrarium lanterns, faded as Hunter and Orm began to bicker. Rolling her eyes, Nessa stepped between them and peered at the coded message.
“What are you arguing about this time?” Nessa asked in exasperation.
“This,” Orm flapped crumpled parchment in the air. “The bloody directions make no sense.”
“And why is that?”
“Because the meeting point would be on the bridge, and I don’t think I can see anyone there.”
“Then maybe the meeting point is under the bridge?”
“Ha!” Hunter snorted triumphantly. “Told you so.”
“I told you so?” Nessa cocked a brow. “Really? Don’t be so immature.”
“Yeah, Hunter,” Orm chirped. “Don’t be so immature.”
Nessa slapped the two of them on the arm. “Behave, both of you. We don’t have much time to dither around arguing. I suggest we look under the bridge first, and if no one is waiting for us down there, then we’ll go onto the bridge and see if anyone’s there.”
House of Blood and Bone Page 20