Winter’s Light

by M. J. Hearle

  Chapter 46

  Holding the lamp ahead of her, Winter started down the hallway. She was afraid, but the fear was small and manageable – especially next to the restless curiosity that even now urged her forward. Besides, the Demori couldn’t enter the castle so what did she have to fear? Winter realised she couldn’t smell any elderflower in the air. Not a trace of it lingering in the damp, cold atmosphere. Whatever magical barriers kept the Demori out must not have required the strange herb.

  The castle was silent save for the rain outside and the soft rustling of the velvet curtains as they caught rogue gusts. She couldn’t hear any voices or sounds of movement behind the doors she passed. Except for the guards on the wall, everyone seemed to be sleeping soundly.

  Reaching the end of the hallway, Winter paused. Frowning, she swung the lamp around in the gloom, looking for a familiar feature to orient herself. Was this the path they’d taken with Radermire? All these curtained hallways looked the same. She was just about to give up when the tolling began again. It was much louder now.

  With renewed vigour, Winter started off after the sound, letting it guide her through the twisting corridors. She saw the wide chapel doors and felt a surge of jittery excitement. Yes, the noise was definitely coming from within! Winter hesitated outside, hand hovering over the door handle. Her gaze dropped down to the light spilling through the crack under the door. The unnatural shade reminded her of another radiance – one she’d seen while flying over a dead city. The light of Krypthia.

  Winter wasn’t so sure she wanted to see what lay on the other side anymore.

  Abruptly the tolling stopped, and the heavy silence which rushed in to fill the space made Winter feel even more apprehensive. It was like the whole castle was holding its breath, waiting to see what she’d do next. Chewing her lip nervously, Winter reached for the door handle.

  At first the handle didn’t turn, slipping beneath her sweaty palm. She felt a glimmer of relief that maybe the door was locked, and then whatever obstruction was keeping the handle from turning fell away and the door gave. Of course, Winter thought unenthusiastically, I’m the Key, remember? Locked door, schmocked door. She stepped over the threshold into the chapel.

  The shining object in the centre of the room momentarily dazzled her eyes. Shielding them, she squinted until her pupils adjusted. Slowly the bright object resolved into more detail, changing from a mass of swirling green colours to something she could make sense of – or not make sense of as it turned out.

  Sitting on a white marble column in the centre of the room was a mechanical device unlike anything Winter had ever seen before. Four gold rings spun at a moderate speed around a tiny, glowing green orb no bigger than a snooker ball. Each ring was a slightly different diameter, so they could spin and pass through each other without colliding. There was something beautiful and distinctly otherworldly about the device; the way it pulsed and glowed like it was alive.

  ‘It is called the Fatelus.’

  Almost screaming in fright, Winter whirled around to see Magdalene crossing into the room, her face still obscured by the veil. A black silken bag dangled from her hand, the fabric moulding to the shape of the spherical object within.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep and —’ Winter began, nervously taking a step backwards.

  ‘You do not need to explain,’ Magdalene replied in that soft, ethereal way of hers. ‘You heard the sound no doubt?’

  Winter nodded, grateful she wasn’t in trouble. The old woman scared her. ‘What . . . what was it?’

  ‘A warning system,’ Magdalene said, pointing upwards to a cavity in the ceiling where Winter could just make out the shape of a bell. ‘The bell tolls when the light has nearly run out.’

  Magdalene reached into the black bag she carried and withdrew another orb, identical to the one at the heart of the Fatelus; save for the fact that this one didn’t glow. It was just a smoky green crystal ball. Something you might buy at an antique store. Holding the crystal in the palm of her hand, Magdalene lifted it towards the spinning rings.

  Winter’s eyes widened in astonishment as the orb started to tremble, then rose from Magdalene’s palm as if by magic. It hovered in the air for a second before floating slowly towards the Fatelus. Without breaking momentum, the orb passed deftly between the spinning rings and collided gently with the other orb, knocking it out of place. This orb immediately sputtered out like a blown light bulb and fell to the ground. It rolled along the stone floor, bumping up against Winter’s right foot and coming to a rest.

  The usurper globe started pulsing brightly, its intensity much stronger than the previous orb. The rings hummed faster around it as emerald light radiated outwards in rippling waves, filling the chamber.

  ‘If you will,’ Magdalene said, nodding towards the orb at Winter’s feet.

  Nodding dumbly, Winter tore her eyes away from the hypnotic sight and bent down to pick up the dead orb. Just before her fingers made contact, she hesitated, fearing it might burn her.

  ‘Don’t worry, it will not hurt you.’

  Winter still wasn’t convinced. She brushed the orb with her fingertips and was surprised to discover it was cold. Icy cold, as though it had just been removed from the freezer.

  Magdalene stepped towards her with the black bag open and Winter dropped the orb inside.

  ‘Thank you,’ Magdalene said, tying the bag with a drawstring. ‘Now we are safe once more.’

  ‘Safe from what?’ Winter asked, her throat clicking as she swallowed. She was still trying to process the spectacle of the orb flying magically through the air.

  ‘All the bad things outside the castle wall.’ Magdalene tilted her head to one side inquisitively. ‘You’ve seen them haven’t you?’

  ‘The Demori?’

  ‘No, the others . . . the Skivers.’

  ‘How do you —?’

  ‘You are not the only one with the Sight, my dear.’

  Winter was momentarily too astonished to say anything. Magdalene could see the Skivers. ‘What . . . what are they here for?’

  The old woman remained silent. Instead, she slowly reached up and lifted the black veil. The spectral radiance of the Fatelus washed over her face, pale and gaunt, heavily lined, but not unbeautiful. Winter could imagine that in her youth, Magdalene had been lovely.

  ‘They are here for me,’ she said quietly. Her words chilled Winter to the bone. Almost reluctantly, Winter called upon the Sight. The tingling began at the back of her eyes, spreading outwards, sharpening her vision, allowing her to see the invisible. Crimson flames twisted and curled in the depths of Magdalene’s pupils – the red Occuluma.

  Chapter 47

  ‘It happened during a Demori hunt with my father, thirty years ago,’ Magdalene said, locking the chapel doors behind them. ‘The creatures ambushed us, my father was killed and I too would have been if not for the intercession of Caleb. My brother was able to drive them back. It wasn’t until later when I returned home and I saw my reflection – my eyes – that I realised he should have let me die.’

  They started off down the hallway towards Winter’s room. She held her lamp ahead of them, though Magdalene’s confident step suggested she didn’t need its light. Winter supposed the old woman had walked these shadowy hallways for many years and could probably do so with her eyes closed.

  ‘How long have you had the Sight?’

  ‘Since I was your age. As you doubtless know, it’s more of a curse than a gift. There is little pleasure in seeing when your loved ones are going to die. In seeing the Skivers.’ She paused a moment before continuing. ‘It is because of my gift that the Skivers have licence to take me. You know of the rules that govern their behaviour in this world?’

  Winter recalled what Blake had told her of the Skivers. ‘Yes. They can’t make physical contact with a marked soul, unless —’

  ‘Unless they have been seen by one with the Sight. Then the contract is broken,’ Magdalene grimly finished for her. ‘Do you know, Winter, what th
e Skivers do with the souls they harvest?’

  She nodded. ‘Take them back to the Dead Lands. To the Malfaerie.’

  ‘Yes.’ Magdalene’s voice took on a contemptuous tone. ‘There it will be bargained for and sold to the highest bidder. Everything I am, my eternal spirit, reduced to a recreational drug for the immortals. It might not be hell as the Bible describes it, but I can imagine nothing worse. Being consumed, absorbed into another being. Losing yourself completely.’

  She paused at a window, drawing back the heavy red curtain to reveal the parapets in the middle distance, sheets of drifting rain caught the orange light of the torches.

  ‘That is why I need the Fatelus. To protect myself from the Skivers. When I die, my soul will ascend to heaven. They won’t be able to touch me.’

  A staccato burst of lightning threw the storm-lashed landscape beyond the wall into bright relief. Winter could see the ring of Skivers hovering in the air, suspended in space like terrifying marionettes. Magdalene let the curtain fall back.

  Winter’s voice trembled as she asked, ‘Does it keep the Demori out as well?’

  ‘Yes, a pleasing side benefit. Nothing from the Dead Lands can breach the wall as long as the light burns and the rings spin.’

  ‘Where did it come from, the Fatelus?’

  ‘You are not the only one to have been favoured by a Demori. In my youth, I too was briefly courted.’ Her voice grew softer, barely rising above the winds outside. ‘He built the Fatelus for me, and showed me how to use it. Told me it would keep me safe forever.’

  They paused outside her doorway, Winter’s brow furrowed. ‘But how can you hunt them then? This Demori saved your life. Surely that must be proof that they aren’t all monsters.’

  ‘They are all monsters,’ Magdalene said bitterly. ‘In the end he lied to me. Romance is a game to them. They haven’t hearts as we do. They cannot love.’

  Winter shook her head. ‘You’re wrong. Blake loved me.’

  Magdalene held up a hand, silencing her protest. ‘Rest well, my dear. Tomorrow is an important day. You will need your strength.’ And with that she was gone, retreating back into the darkness of her castle.

  Chapter 48

  ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ Jasmine hissed beside her as one of the kitchen staff placed a tray of sizzling bacon rashers on the table before them. They had arrived for breakfast early and were so far the only ones seated.

  Winter shrugged apologetically, having expected this rebuke from her friend. ‘You were sleeping, Jas. I didn’t know if I was going to find anything.’

  Jasmine pouted, grabbing a slice of toast from the stack and buttering it. No matter what her emotional state Jasmine always seemed able to eat, unlike Winter whose stomach felt like it had shrivelled to the size of a raisin. Looking at all the food – bacon, pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, various spreads, fruit, yoghurt – made her feel queasy.

  ‘You still should have woken me. That’s what I’m here for. What good is it me being your bodyguard if you don’t keep me around?’ Jasmine grumbled and bit into her toast.

  Winter smiled at her. ‘I know, Jas. Next time.’

  ‘There might not be a next time. Tonight’s the night remember?’

  How could Winter forget? After Magdalene left, she’d lain awake thinking about everything the old woman had told her – the Fatelus, the Skivers, the bitter romance with the Demori. It was this last revelation that kept Winter awake the longest. Not because it cast doubt over her love for Blake, but because it revealed something disturbing about the old woman – she wasn’t so different from Winter. Just like her, Magdalene had loved a Demori, been gifted with the Sight and found herself living in mortal fear of the Skivers. Unlike Winter, though, Magdalene still suffered. It seemed the one Demori who might have had the power to save her had left her heartbroken. Winter couldn’t help but sympathise with Magdalene, and knew this was dangerous. The old woman was not her friend or ally. All she had to do was remember the bitterness in her voice when talking about the Demori to be reminded that she was every bit her brother’s sister. To trust that Magdalene wouldn’t harm Blake when (if!) they freed him was foolish.

  And so she’d spent the rest of the night trying to come up with a contingency plan, some way she might avoid the inevitable double-cross. Unfortunately, without having the faintest idea about what was going to happen to her in the future, all she succeeded in doing was tying herself into knots. She didn’t know what the next hour would bring, let alone what would happen once she travelled to the Dead Lands with the Bane, so how was she supposed to plan for it?

  Her expression must have revealed her anxious frame of mind because Jasmine lent over and whispered, ‘You say the word and we’re out of here. Okay?’

  Before she could reply, Marcel’s booming voice rang through the dining hall.

  ‘Ah, breakfast at Castle Vled. My favourite time of the day. Apart from lunch and dinner.’ The jovial Frenchman crossed the hallway towards them and took a seat opposite.

  ‘I trust you both slept well, yes? I know I did.’

  ‘Very well,’ Winter lied. ‘Where’s Magdalene?’

  Marcel started scooping bacon onto his plate. ‘She eats breakfast late.’

  ‘I heard men shouting last night on the wall. What happened?’

  Marcel paused, his thick black eyebrows twitching in confusion. ‘Shouting you say? No, I didn’t hear anything. I was dead asleep. I’m sure it was nothing to worry about.’

  ‘You’re wrong, Marcel. We should all be worried.’ The voice came from behind them.

  They turned and saw Yuri enter the chamber. He had three bloody scratches across his left cheek.

  ‘What happened?’ Winter asked, staring at the angry wounds.

  ‘The Demori,’ Yuri said grimly, taking a seat next to Marcel. ‘They ambushed us just outside Forêt Sombrè. At least twenty of them. I was lucky to get away with my life. Two men didn’t.’

  Marcel’s face paled. He asked Yuri something in French, which earned a regretful shake of his head.

  ‘Was Benedict with them?’ Winter asked, feeling her blood run cold.

  ‘I didn’t see him,’ he said, reaching across the table to grab the coffee pot. He seemed eager to change the subject. ‘Perhaps now you’re beginning to understand just why you’re so important to us. The Demori are growing bolder. Amassing in greater numbers. A battle’s coming and we must be prepared. I understand you had your own encounter getting here?’

  Winter nodded, remembering the cats swarming over the windshield. ‘We survived. How’s my sister?’ She was more concerned about Lucy than the Bane’s war.

  ‘She’s fine. Well, not fine but . . . I told her the story you wanted me to and she seemed to understand. There were no tears.’

  Winter couldn’t help arching an eyebrow. ‘Really?’ Lucy always cried. Even when she was happy.

  ‘As I said, she seemed to accept the situation.’ He lent back into his chair, sipping on his coffee. ‘I think you should be focused on other matters at this stage.’

  ‘Thanks, Yuri, I’ll take that on board,’ she replied sarcastically. Despite his wounded appearance Winter’s dislike for the man was as strong as ever.

  ‘Hey.’ Jasmine joined the conversation. ‘Where’s Sam? I was hoping he might keep me company today.’

  Winter couldn’t help glancing questioningly at her friend. Whatever resentment Jasmine had held against Sam had clearly been put to the side.

  ‘Sam is unwell,’ Yuri answered quickly. Marcel glanced up curiously from his plate of food.

  ‘He was in the infirmary with me last night. Something about pains in his stomach. Apparently he might have suffered some internal bleeding.’

  ‘Is he okay?’ Jasmine demanded, her worried expression mirroring Winter’s own concern.

  Yuri smiled reassuringly. ‘Quite okay. There is no reason to panic. The doctor is treating him now and expects Sam to make a full recovery. However, I very much doubt he will be avail
able to you today. You might have to make your own fun.’

  Jasmine nodded, though she didn’t seem entirely comforted by Yuri’s explanation. Winter wasn’t either. Marcel’s curious look bothered her. If Sam was in the infirmary wouldn’t Marcel know about it?

  Still puzzling over this, she heard the doors behind her open, followed by footsteps on the stone floor. Turning around, Winter saw Elena standing haloed in the morning light.

  ‘Are you ready to begin?’

  Chapter 49

  Winter followed Elena outside to the back of the keep, where a winding gravel pathway led them to a circular garden. Standing in the centre of the garden surrounded by bobbing petunias, daffodils and swaying fronds was a stone fountain and some marble benches. Goat-legged fauns danced around two voluptuous nymphs who were pouring a steady stream of water from their urns into the pool below. Above them the sky was the colour of the fountain’s stone: mottled grey. At least it wasn’t raining.

  ‘Please sit.’ Elena gestured to one of the white marble benches.

  ‘Okay, so let’s get on with this,’ Winter said, taking a seat and folding her arms. ‘Instruct me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Just how am I supposed to open this portal or Black Mirror or whatever you want to call it?’

  Winter’s insouciance seemed to irritate Elena. ‘You speak about this as if it’s a joke? As if you don’t believe?’

  Winter shrugged, looking away at the fountain. ‘I’m sorry. I guess it’s my way of dealing with it.’ She looked back at Elena and shook her head. ‘Between you and me, I think there might have been a mistake. I don’t feel like I have any power.’

  ‘Yet you have opened locked doors before. You have used your gift.’

  ‘I don’t know how I do it though,’ she replied honestly. ‘It just . . . happens.’

  Elena shook her head, dissatisfied with Winter’s response. ‘It doesn’t just happen. You make it so. You imagine the door opening and so it opens. Correct?’