Heart of Time (Ruined Heart Series Book 1)

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Heart of Time (Ruined Heart Series Book 1) Page 18

by Skye MacKinnon


  Nythea is not a kingdom in the traditional sense but ruled instead by a council of elders, made up of the oldest women from each family. Nytheans rarely leave their lands and generally avoid humans, although there are tales of a few human women who have been accepted into their society by the K’tuin.

  - An Introduction to the Geography of the Continent, Sir Tom Delavell

  The assassin was a woman. She was kneeling on the ground, her slender hands bound behind her back. Two guards flanked her, each had a hand pressed down on her shoulders. Long red hair fell to her thin waist, and even though it was filthy and dishevelled, its ginger colour was striking. She was wearing nothing but a rough shirt made from sackcloth that barely covered her tall body in a decent way. Another strip of sackcloth was bound around her head, gagging the woman. Peeking out from below her gag I could just make out two elegant, pointy ears. She was one of the K’tuin, the Elven folk. They rarely left their home country of Nythea; what was she doing here?

  Her head was hanging low, I could not tell whether she was conscious. It was surprising how even in this degrading position, her body radiated beauty and agility.

  Lassadar was standing beside me, observing the King. Gynt was sitting on his pompous throne, looking down on us and the prisoner.

  “She has not only threatened us but also grievously wounded our friend Lord Valter, who is still in a critical condition. Her malice is so great that she would use a happy celebration such as the Autumn Fires to carry out an attack on her king. Now we want her punished. Death is too good for an enemy of Fer. She has to suffer, and we want to see her suffer. There is no bodily punishment available that would satisfy our need for vengeance. Therefore we have decided to give her to you, Lord Lassadar. You have proven your excellent control over the minds of the enemy countless times before, and we ask you to do with her as you see fit. Your young assistant will increase her pain by slowing down time, just as she did once before. Start now, while she is still conscious, so that we may learn how she was able to get into our chambers.”

  The King leant back in anticipation of the coming spectacle. How had I not seen him for what he really was before? He took pleasure in causing pain. Even now he was smiling as he imagined the suffering his words would bring to the red-haired woman. He was not King Gynt the Wise, but the Brutal, the Unjust, the Hater.

  You’re pushing against your bonds, Eona! Keep doing it, you’re taking back control!

  “Let’s begin,” Lassadar said and stretched out his hands towards the woman, his fingers clawing the air. I had no choice. Did I?

  My teacher had closed his eyes and I could feel him wrapping himself around the woman’s mind. Her soul was a glittering golden flame; she had magic. The flames were licking against Lassadar’s bonds, refusing to be quenched. She was fighting against the sharp vines with which Lassadar bound her, but I could see that her power was rapidly leaving her. Soon she would be drained and would have no way of protecting herself from the might of the sorcerer. In her current condition, she was too weak to fight him.

  Help her, Oisín prompted me, stand against him.

  I felt for the clear blue lake within me and took a large portion of its energy. With it, I put shackles on my inner clock to slow down time, just as the king has asked me to. However, I did not wrap the timeless cloak I had quickly weaved around the woman. I threw it over Lassadar, who was busy pressing the thorns of his mind into the mage’s helpless soul. They were ripping holes into her walls. Countless perforations in her defences made it easy for him to enter her mind. I knew that if I focussed on her, I would be able to hear her scream. I fastened the cloak around him, severing him from the thorns he had sent out to torture the woman.

  Lassadar stopped, his body and consciousness trapped under the cloak I had woven from not-time. I could feel him fight my hold over him and knew that soon he would be able to free himself. He was so strong and my energy was depleting rapidly. I felt the woman freeing herself from Lassadar’s painful embrace. I sent her some of my energy until her flame started to burn brighter once more. She pulled off vine after vine until her bonds had gone. She sent me a tendril of thought, made up of golden flames, as pure as starlight.

  Thank you! What now?

  We flee. Can you walk?

  I will try.

  Good. I can only give us a few seconds’ head start. It has to be enough. While talking to her, I had woven another cloak of timelessness. The weaving had been Oisín’s idea, a few weeks ago when I had complained that I could only influence time for one person. He had suggested imagining building a blanket that would cover a greater area. Since then I had practised this new skill. Now, it showed its use.

  I felt Lassadar’s struggle against the cloak getting stronger. We would have to hurry. I took the blanket and threw it over the guards that were flanking the woman. They too stopped, frozen in time. But everyone else was able to move, and move they did. There was no time, we had to run.

  Now! I cried, and she staggered to her feet, hindered by her bonds, while I was already running towards the exit. I wished I could have burned away the rope binding her hands, but as always my magic didn’t do what I needed it to.

  With effort, I pulled the heavy door open. The woman went through first, her hands still bound behind her back. I followed - and suddenly there were arms around my chest, keeping me from running. I kicked and scratched wildly, trying to escape whoever was holding me. “Scream, little girl, scream for me”, Lor whispered. I had forgotten all about him being in the room. I should have woven another blanket. It was too late now. His fist crashed into my face. I screamed, blood filling my mouth. Another hit knocked the wind out of my lungs. I fell to the ground, but still, I was trying to get away from the people that were trying to restrain me until something hit my head. Dizzy and suddenly powerless, my body went limb. The last thing I heard was Lor whispering in my ear.

  “You will burn, bitch. Soon, you will burn.”

  I was driftwood, floating on a river of molten gold. The waves that carried me like a child in its mother’s arms lifted me up, high into the dark sky, showing me the stars in the night looking down on me, before pushing me down again, deep into the cold water. The icy liquid filled my mouth and my nose, squeezing the air out of me. The water ran down my throat and entered my lungs. I choked, but with every breath, I took more water into my mouth. Suddenly, drums began to beat in the distance, coming closer and closer, and slowly, with each beat, water was drawn out of my body. My lungs were free again, free to breathe. Gasping for air, I surfaced, drawing in deep breaths. I opened my eyes, but there was only darkness around me. I closed them again, and another wave carried me off into nothingness.

  I dreamed. Shadows were chasing me, driving me towards the edge of a cliff. I was running, running faster than I’d ever run before, racing to escape the darkness behind me. The ground was smooth and black, like darkened steel. I wasn’t breathing, and I didn’t need to. There was no pain, no life, only fear. Fear was the whip that was making me run to my death. There was a single solitary tree at the edge of everything, its branches a mere skeleton. On the thickest and strongest branch hung a rope fashioned into a noose. It was waiting for me. I was so close to the edge, so close to the tree, and still the shadows were chasing me, almost touching the heels of my feet as my steps became less sure. There was a choice to make, one that the wraiths behind me were forcing me to make. The noose or the long fall down. I couldn’t see what was below the cliff, or whether there was another land on the other side of the abyss. Still I was running, my feet were flying over the black ground, and then there was the tree in front of me, dead and white and full of thorns, with the noose moving in a wind that wasn’t there. No, I would choose neither. I would not give in to fear. One more step, and I reached the rope. The shadows behind me stopped running, forming a circle around me, waiting for me to kill myself. But I would not. I would not. With shivering hands, I opened the knot at the top of the noose, straightening the rope into a long coil.
Taking one last breath, I wrapped the rope around my hands, took a step back and then began to run the last few ells towards the edge of the cliff. My right foot touched the black ground one last time, then I was flying, flying over the abyss, the rope the only thing protecting me from falling. The farther I flew, the more the rope stretched, the thinner it became. But still it was holding me. Below me there was only darkness and behind me the shadows cried for me to return, to be punished for my insolence. Then the rope ended. It cut into my hands as the momentum of flying carried me further away from the dead tree. I let go of the rope and spread my arms as suddenly there was nothing between me and gravity. I fell, faster and faster towards the darkness. There was no ground I could see. On and on I fell. Wind was grabbing at me, pulling my hair and slashing against my skin. There had been a plan once, a way of escaping the inevitable, but I could not remember. Falling was all I could think about. Soon, there would be nothing but death. Soon, everything would end. Falling is nothing like flying.

  Fly! Oisín’s voice was loud and clear, coming from all around me.

  Where are you?

  Fly!

  When I looked at my arms, they transformed. Feathers sprouted from my skin, as beautiful and shimmering as those of my peryton friend. They began to form wings, and then I was no longer falling, but flying, taking off into the sky, leaving the shadows and darkness behind me. With every beat of my wings, I grew stronger. Exhilaration pulsed through my body, giving me the strength to fly higher and higher. Grey clouds were floating above me, and within a few strong wingbeats, I reached them. Cool water droplets rained down on me as I flew through the clouds, drenching me. Soon the fog around me became brighter, the grey turning into white. Then a single ray of the sun pierced the clouds, like an arrow that was pointing towards my final destination. I followed the light. The clouds turned into tiny droplets that together became a rainbow bridge leading me on. Then the sun was there, its bright light warming and drying my wet body. The heat of the burning sun gave me new strength, and I flew towards it, leaving behind all the dark worries and thoughts I had ever had. The sun was beckoning, and why would I resist its call. It promised happiness such as I had never known. Salvation was within the fireball in front of me, and I wanted it. The warmth around me became heat. Beating my wings became more and more difficult as I was sweating. Thirst tingled in my dry throat. Behind me there was darkness, in front of me there was fire. There was no end to the suffering. There was no peace. Unconsciousness was a blessing.

  A cold hand was lying on my forehead. The coolness of it sank down into my skin, spreading, until my muddled mind became more focussed. Fragments of a dream I could no longer remember were washed away. Now I could sleep. And sleep I did.

  I was drifting. Floating in nothingness. Nothing to hold on to. I was breaking apart.

  A hand reached for me. Fingers were wrapping around my own. Come with me. I was pulled from the fog.

  Her golden-red hair was like a halo around her face, a stark contrast to her striking green eyes that were looking down at me. The pointy tips of her ears were islands within the red sea of her hair. Her forehead was wrinkled with concern. Slowly, I managed to focus my glance. My head hurt like hell, and with each breath I took it throbbed even more painfully. I lifted a hand to my face. There was dried blood clinging to my nostrils. My lower lip was split, I could taste the cold iron in my mouth. Once again, I was in a prison cell. I looked around me. There was a small window on the wall above me, more of a hole than a window, throwing little light onto the dark stone floor. Rusty iron bars cut the blue sky into four equal squares. A lake gull was flying across the sky like a paintbrush over blue canvas. Her cry came into our cell in pieces. One side of the cell was made of iron bars looking out into a dark corridor. The wet stone walls around me seemed to close in on me, and nausea made me gag.

  “Are you all right?” The woman’s voice rang with an accent I could not place. She was huddled against the wet wall to make space for me on the stone bench. “The bastards brought you in here half drowned, apparently it wasn’t enough to beat you in the throne room, they also had some fun waterboarding you. Although drowning would might have actually been a kinder death than what they plan to do with us.” She frowned, then shook her head forcefully, as if determined not to let the thoughts of our execution trouble her mind.

  “My name is Sa-lia of the Kaleissa clan, but most people just call me Lia. What may I call you?”

  “Eona.” I grimaced, my split lip throbbing as I uttered that single word. No long conversations today. The world was spinning. Closing my eyes helped. Slowly, I sat up and leant against the stone wall for support. The cold wetness immediately penetrated my dress. I looked down on me. I was still wearing the dress Lassadar had presented me with. There were long gashes in it, the hems were frayed. It clung to me, pulling any remaining warmth from my body. But there was no other option. I opened my eyes again. This time I looked further than the dress. Blueish bruises were covering my skin. I could almost see them grow larger while I inspected the damage the guards had done. I was only grateful that I had been unconscious while they had beaten me. The pain was enough; I didn’t need the memories as well.

  Nausea hit me again, but it was no longer overwhelming me.

  “Take a few deep breaths. Do you want some water?”

  I nodded. A mistake. Pain flashed in my head.

  Lia stood up and walked towards a bucket that was standing by the cell’s door. She came back with a wooden mug filled with water. I tried to take it from her, but my hands were shaking too much. Instead, she held the cup to my lips. Greedily, I drank. The water tasted stale and muddy, but it was better than nothing. After my thirst was quenched, I looked at Lia, who was now sitting on the stone bench beside me once more.

  “Is there a way out?”, I asked, then grimaced. Talking hurt.

  We don’t have to use our bodies to talk. Her voice resonated in my mind. I could feel a trace of humour in her flaming thought that made me smile, but when I felt the iron taste of blood in my mouth once more, I soon regretted that. We’re in a force bubble. We can use magic within, to talk to each other, but as soon as we try to influence people or things outside the bubble, the energy is absorbed instantaneously. I tried to open the lock, hoping that it might have been inside the bubble, but they were thorough. It isn’t surprising, really. They know what you can do, and have probably made a guess about my own powers. Magic won’t help us to get out. Nor will sweet-talk and persuasion. No, for now, we have to stay here. She smiled. At least they put us in this cell together. Having a companion makes all the difference, don’t you think?

  I nodded. How can you talk to me this easily?

  I am K’tuin. It’s how we communicate even before we learn to speak. Thought-talking is so much more efficient than having to use your mouth, don’t you think? It’s quite a bit faster and I can do this - suddenly I saw a picture of a large tree, growing higher than any I’d ever seen, its branches disappearing into the sky. There were giant roots around the trunk of it, some building arches and circles that had been transformed into tents with the help of smaller branches and man-high leaves by the K’tuin. An evening sun was throwing warming light onto the scene. People wearing colours of the forest were walking around the mossy ground beneath the tree. Peace eradicated from the image. Then, it disappeared as suddenly as it had come.

  Home, Lia smiled. I hope I will see it again one day.

  I’m sure you will. I smiled back at her. What did the King say? She tried to attack him? Somehow I couldn’t imagine that. She seemed too nice. Then I remembered that the king wasn’t nice at all. He’s evil. I still didn’t understand why I hadn’t been able to see that before.

  So, you attacked the King?

  Her expression changed. The smile left behind anger and fear.

  I never got to him. Someone else did before me. Only I didn’t know and… had I known I would never have injured him, but how should I have known that he was on my side…
I can show you.

  She sent me an image of herself sneaking along a corridor that I don’t recognise. Old portraits and tapestries of former kings line the walls. They look like they come from a time before the Kingdom of Fer was established. Before the invaders took over Elasia. The light of Lia’s torch flickers across their faces.

  I found out about this way into the castle from a scholar, a human, that had sought refuge among my people. He had worked at the castle, but when he discovered something he shouldn’t have, he had to flee. This corridor had been bricked up, but he broke through when he was looking for a hiding place from the King’s soldiers. You can imagine his surprise when he not only found a safe place to hide but also one that would lead him outside of the castle complex. During my entire journey to Fer, I was hoping that they hadn’t discovered this way in. And luckily they hadn’t. Although they might have by now.

  The corridor seems endless, but then the image she’s showing me changes and I can see her standing in an empty courtyard, one that I have been in before. The evening air is filled with the noise of people celebrating in the distance. It must be the night of the Autumn Fires. There’s a small fountain in the middle, Jon showed it to me once. It’s close to the King’s quarters. She turns around and I can see where she came from: beneath the ivy that is covering one of the walls, there’s a small opening that must lead into the corridor.

 

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