Heart of Time (Ruined Heart Series Book 1)

by Skye MacKinnon

  “I have found him, and with his help, I will protect the Western Counties forever, and once they are safe, we will expand our realm, until every single subject of mine will have their own plot of land!” The crowd cheered. Of course they would, they were mostly nobles that had been given land by the King.

  Alef reached out for the firebird and embraced Noyr. He spread his wings and jumped off the roof, gliding down over the crowd. Many people crouched down in fear, evading the beat of the firebirds large wings. Softly, they landed. Alef stepped away from the bird-man, bowing in front of the audience. They, some of them still rattled by the sudden closeness of the firebirds burning wings, began to clap, until the applause became as loud as thunder. When it ebbed away, Alef stepped back, and the firebird came into full view. As I had thought when I had first seen him on the roof, there was a man between the wings, dressed in a close-fitting suit of flaming feathers. The flames were real ones, yet they seemed to do no harm to the man nor to the fabric of the wings. When he stepped into the light, my heart nearly stopped. It was Lassadar, standing there as the proud firebird, extending his beautiful wings high up into the sky. He was wearing red and yellow makeup, concealing his fine features, but there was no doubt that it was the king’s advisor himself. He bowed in front of the audience, and while his upper body was close to the ground, his wings went up and crossed elegantly, their flames flowing into each other to form a burning triangle of feathers and sparks, transforming his bow into a piece of art. The crowd would not stop clapping. Only when I heard Jon cheering enthusiastically next to me, I noticed that I wasn’t clapping, but simply staring at my teacher. This was not only part of a theatre play; it was a presentation of his power. He could fly and he could create flames that were harmless to himself. I yearned to run to him and touch those wings; wings that somehow looked familiar.

  When Lassadar stepped back from view, the announcer took his place. “Alesso’s troupe has been performing this play for you in honour of King Gynt the Wise, our noble and courageous king who can trace his lineage all the way back to Alef, the greatest hero that ever lived!” He then bowed to a window on his right, and into view stepped the king himself, smiling and waving to the crowd. They went mad, applauding and cheering wildly.

  “That was amazing!” Jon exclaimed, his face lit up. “I wonder how he did that. If only everybody was immune to flames, that would make my life so much easier. Burns take so much time to heal.”

  “Let’s get another drink before everyone gets the same idea,” I suggested, and together we made our way through the crowd to the wine stall. This time, it was me who ordered the drinks, while Jon was reserving us a place at one of the tables. While I was waiting for the tankards to be filled, a man slipped into the space to my left. When he ordered some ale, the voice sounded familiar and I turned to look at him. His face was in the shadows, but when he took his drink and turned to leave, I could see his features.

  “Dyllon! Is that really you?”, I shouted and smiled at the man. He returned my smile, but it did not reach his eyes. He was dressed in a fine leather jacket; the material looked more expensive than his usual clothes. His shows had to have done well recently for him to be able to afford such a jacket.

  “Eona, funny meeting you here. How are you doing?”

  It sounded more like politeness, not like a question. This was so unlike Dyllon that I frowned and could not help asking, “Are you all right? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing, I just didn’t expect to see you here. Are the other Ghorres with you?”

  I shook my head. It would take too long to explain. “I’m here on my own, what about you?”

  “So am I. Look, I have to go.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd without even saying goodbye. I took my tankards and with a shrug, I returned to Jon.

  “Who was that?” he asked me.

  “A friend, at least I thought he was, but he behaved so weirdly just now. I’ve known him for years, he’s part of a different travelling family with which we usually spend the winter in the Free Cities. Dyllon is about my age, so we always did a lot together. All his brothers and sisters are a lot older, I think he was quite grateful for my company. We explored Allembach together, showed each other our little hideouts and special places we had discovered. We wouldn’t see each other during the year, but whenever we met back in one of the Free Cities for winter, it was as if we hadn’t spent any time apart. He was almost like a brother to me until…”

  My voice trailed off. The rest of the story was not as easy to tell. Because everything had changed one winter, not long ago, when he took me to an abandoned cottage near Ritteltown. It was a cute little place; it reminded me of my grandmother’s house. There were only two rooms, and the roof was leaking, but there was also a small cellar where Dyllon had discovered a barrel of homemade cider, still good to drink. We had no mugs with us, so we drank directly from the tab, using our hands as cups. The cider was good, and soon I had that warm fuzzy feeling in my belly that you get when you drink enough alcohol. I leant back against the rough stone wall, closing my eyes and enjoying the feeling of warmth. Dyllon did the same, but when he sat down, his shoulder touched mine. A shiver went through my arm, but I stayed where I was. My mind was slightly foggy, I only now felt the full effect of the cider. I told Dyllon that I was drunk, and he laughed and leant his head onto my shoulder. It was comfortable, sitting next to his warm body. His hair brushed my cheek, tickling my skin. I closed my eyes and relaxed. I felt his head move away from my shoulder and I assumed that he tried to get more comfortable, but suddenly his hot cidery breath met my own and his mouth touched my lips, softly, as if accidental, but when I did not respond, he pressed his lips against mine. I was too shocked to do anything. We were just friends, nothing more, right? He was almost like a brother to me. I hadn’t given him any signs that I wanted our relationship to change into something different, had I? I turned my head, evading his wet mouth, but he followed my movement, his lips creating traces of spittle on my face. Then, his tongue was pressed against my closed lips, looking for access. When they found none, his teeth brushed my cheek, until they arrived at my lips, and softly bit them. I tried to turn away, but he bit me again, hard this time. I felt the taste of copper explode in my mouth. I pressed my hand against his chest, pushing him away. I was furious.

  “Why did you have to do that? How dare you!” I threw the words into his face.

  He only smiled. “I know you wanted it, and you still do. Don’t pretend to be so innocent, you’re not. Now stop talking and enjoy it.” With a sly smile, he came closer again, but this time I did not let him. With both hands, I pushed him back, but his smile only got wider, and he threw himself at me, squashing me under his heavy body. “So you like it rough, do you. I’ll admit, that’s what I prefer too, so let’s get started properly. Keep fighting me, that’s so much more fun!” This wasn’t Dyllon. With a cruel laugh, his lips found my face again, and this time, he bit me so hard that I cried out in pain. His body pressed mine to the ground, but I fought him, my hands scratching and beating against his broad chest, but the more I tried to hurt him, the more he laughed and the rougher he got. I pulled back my head, trying to escape his disgusting wet mouth, but he followed, his tongue slivering snake-like over my skin. With a jerk of my head, I banged my forehead against his nose, and I felt it give way. Warm blood ran down his face, dripping onto my skin. I could feel the hot liquid run into my hair, and I shivered with disgust. Dyllon’s groping hands had left my forearms to cover his bleeding nose, and I used the opportunity to get away from under him. I scrambled to one side, but suddenly his hands were holding my legs, pulling me back. Instinctively, I kicked out, my foot making contact with a soft part of Dyllon’s body, and the grip around my legs softened. I pulled away from him, finally managing to get up. He was still clutching his nose with one hand, the other was placed protectively over his belly. He looked at me, hatred boiling behind his eyes. When I reached the stairs that would lead me back out into the
open, I turned back to look at him one more time.

  “I thought we were friends, Dyllon, but you’ve just shown me that you don’t care about that. Think twice next time before you harass me. It will only end in pain for you.” The words were spoken way more confidently than I felt inside. Indeed, I was rattled and shaken, but I would not let it show, not in front of him. I left him lying on the cellar floor and ran up the stairs and through the ruined remains of the cottage, and all the way back to Ritteltown. On the way, I found a little stream, in which I washed my face and hands, but even when the clear water took away the blood and the dirt, I still felt stained.

  “And what happened to change that?” Jon asked, pulling me out of the memory.

  “He thought I wanted him. I didn’t. So we fell out.” I tried to keep my tone neutral, but it wasn’t easy. Too many feelings welled up within me, threatening to choke my voice. “Before we parted, we only exchanged the necessary words, never mentioning what had happened. It seemed as if our friendship that had lasted for so many years was completely destroyed by the events of one single hour. But on the day when our two families left the winter quarters to get back onto the road, we talked, and he apologised for his behaviour. I thought we might get along again the next time we meet. I think I’ve forgiven him, but right now he seemed so distant, so different, that I think he might not be interested in us becoming friends again.”

  “Well, to be honest, it’s his loss and not yours. If he doesn’t want to be around you, then you should accept that and be thankful for it. I know you haven’t told me what exactly happened between you two, but from reading your face while you were speaking, I think I know. And if I am right, then you should be happy not having to be around him. Let’s speak of nicer things. Hasn’t this evening been beautiful?”

  I smiled at him, taking his hand.

  “Yes, indeed it has. I think it has been the most amazing night I’ve had in a long time. But it’s getting colder, shall we stand closer to the bonfire? We can take our wine with us.”

  Together, we walked towards the fire. The crowd had become less dense; many people had left after the play had ended. The musicians had taken up their instruments once more and were playing a delightful jig, while some of the younger people were dancing in the glow of the fire. We just stood there, looking into the flames. The fire had lost in height and intensity, but it was still giving off enough warmth to banish the cold. Autumn would soon end. The chill of the night already had a touch of winter in it. I huddled against Jon, leaning my back against his warm body. He lay a hand on my shoulder and left it there, steadying me. Together we warmed ourselves and watched the dancers circling the flames. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the heat of the fire on my face.

  “Healer Reaving! Is Healer Reaving anywhere?” A booming voice filled the courtyard. I opened my eyes and stepped away from Jon, looking for the origin of the call. Jon was waving to a man that was hurrying towards us. When he stopped in front of us, he panted heavily.

  “There’s been an accident, Lord Valter had been gravely injured, you must come immediately!” Jon gave the man a short nod and turned to me.

  “I have to go, but you stay here and enjoy yourself. I will find you once I’ve seen to Lord Valter.” With that, he left, leaving me alone in front of the fire.

  12

  One may look up the dead bird’s wing

  One may compare the winter to spring

  One may lift up their voices to sing

  But one will never bow to the king.

  One may stare at the mysteries unseen

  One may cut off the shoots not yet green

  One may live up to things that have been

  But one will never bow to the queen.

  - Traditional folk song, likely to have originated in the Plains during King Fer’s reign

  Lor was no longer limping. How long had it been since he had lost a toe as a punishment for the unjust treatment of myself? It seemed like years had passed since then, since he had left me in the dungeons to rot. Now, as he came out of Lassadar’s room and saw me waiting in front of it, he smiled contemptuously.

  “See who we have here, Lassadar’s pet. I thought he would have tired of you by now, usually he only keeps his pets for a short while until he’s getting bored. But you’re still here. Interesting.”

  I met his glance and smiled politely. “It pleases me to see you no longer limping. Has the wound healed nicely?”

  “Indeed it has, especially as it never was a wound. But no, I shouldn’t have said that. Lassadar likes to keep his pets in the dark, feeding them only so much information as to satisfy them. Now, what will you do now? Confront him? Argue with him? Believe me, that’s not possible. He controls you, you see, and in a moment, you will forget what I have just told you. But here, I will tell you again and again: He never cut off my toe, it was all an act. Remember that!” And with a crazy laugh, he passed me and began to walk down the stairs, snickering nastily.

  But I will remember. The peryton’s voice chimed in my head.

  Oisín, are you alright? I haven’t heard from you in days. I tried to talk to you last night, but I think you were sleeping.

  I was not, but I will not tell you what happened. Not yet, anyway. You would not understand, nor believe my words. But now, something else. Do you trust me?

  Of course I do.

  Then do this for me. Remember, who did you just meet? Who came out of Lassadar’s study?

  No one. I only just got here.

  No, think again. You saw someone, you spoke to him. Remember.

  I am trying to, but I can’t remember something that never happened. A servant asked me to come up here, and I did. And then I knocked and Lassadar called that I should wait for a moment. And then, the door opened - no, it didn’t, did it? Oisín, what are you doing to my head? It hurts! Waves of pain were starting to pound against my skull and dizziness washed over me. A headache was numbing my thoughts, making it hard to concentrate.

  It’s not me doing it, Eona. I’m trying to help you, but I don’t know how. I can see the net of thorns around your mind, but they are so sharp, I cannot touch it, nor remove it. Its roots have burrowed far down into your thoughts, and if I try to pull them out, they might hurt you. I know what’s wrong with you, but I cannot do anything against it.

  What do you mean, a net of thorns? There’s nothing around my mind, my walls are still up, I would feel if there was something threatening me.

  Oh Eona, I think you’ve been deceived. But hush, straighten yourself, he is going to open the door.

  I heard footsteps nearing the door, and then it opened. A familiar face stared at me. Dyllon. What was he doing here? Again, he was wearing expensive clothes; garments he wouldn’t have been able to afford last time we met. Without a word, he squeezed past me and began to walk down the spiral staircase, leaving the door open for me to enter. Lassadar was standing by the window, looking out over the lake. Rain clouds were hanging low on the horizon, and a strong wind was creating rippling waves on the water’s surface.

  I turned to look at the elvedritsch in her cage, but the cage had gone from the fireplace.

  Where is she? I asked Oisín, who was lying on a velvet cushion on the floor beside the armchair.

  I will tell you later. He looked like a dog waiting for his master, lying on the cushion with his legs hidden beneath his body. Around his neck was a silver collar, set with tiny rubies, complementing the crimson colour of his fur and scales. He had grown since I had seen him the last time, he was about the size of a greyhound, and his large feathered wings seemed more suited to carry the weight of his body then they had before. They were folded together onto his back, one of them slightly higher than the other.

  “Good day, Eona, thank you for coming up here,” Lassadar said, turning away from the window. “Would you like a glass of wine?” This question had become a tradition for my sessions with the King’s advisor. I always accepted the lovely wine he offered me, it’s sweet note was refr
eshing and delicious at the same time. He poured me a glass and motioned me to sit down on a chair. He took his place in the armchair beside the peryton. With one hand, he reached down to pet Oisín’s head, as if he was a simple dog and not a mythical peryton. Lassadar leant back and looked at me.

  “I’ve got a task for you again. There’s been an attack on the King last night. No, don’t worry, he wasn’t injured, the guards and Lord Valter, who had been with the King when the assassination attempt happened, stopped the assailant in time. The attacker himself was wounded, and in his great grace and wisdom, the King allowed his enemy’s wounds to be treated. Now he wishes to make an example of the assassin and asked me and you to work together for this. Just like the last time, you will slow down time while I will inflict pain on the attacker to get her to give us information. It will not be an easy task, understandably. However, I trust you will fulfil your part of it with your usual obedience.”