Ellenessia's Curse Book 1: The Shadow's Seer

by Fran Jacobs

  "No reason," my tutor said. "I'm just surprised that you chose to tell King Sorron anything. I mean, he is your grandfather."

  "Exactly. He's my grandfather. I don't see him as often as I would like, but we're still close."

  "Yes," Lykeia said. "Yes, of course." He tapped his finger on the table thoughtfully then nodded to himself. "Yes." Then he smiled at me shyly. "Would you like me to look into this for you? I wouldn't mind."

  "Why would you want to do that?" I asked.

  "Because you're obviously worrying about it and can't keep your mind on the work I set for you to do. And I know that you don't have enough time of your own to look into this, what with your own studies to concentrate on. Besides, I have never heard of this 'Shadow Seer' and it might be interesting to try and find out some more about it." His eyes lit up. "I like a good mystery, Prince Candale. Why else do you think I devoted my life to study like this?"

  "What if my grandfather is right and this is all some ploy by Mayrila to win herself a place at Court? Then there might be nothing in the library for you to find and you'll be just wasting your time."

  "I never consider studying a waste of time, Prince Candale," Lykeia assured me. "I'm more than happy to do this, if you wish me to?"

  I tried to pretend that I was thinking it over, and scratched my chin in what I hoped was a casual, thoughtful way, when in reality my mind was screaming YES. Yes, of course I wanted him to look into this for me. Lykeia might even be able to find something before Sorron was able to prove the authenticity of her books, because that was bound to take a while, and it would certainly help to put my mind at ease knowing that I had someone else handling this for me. Despite what my grandfather had said, I simply couldn't forget what I had seen, or shrug it off that easily. "You could look into it," I whispered instead, "if it isn't too much trouble."

  "Of course it isn't. I would consider it an honour."

  An honour? That was going a bit far, but I smiled and nodded. "Thank you. You will try and keep it a secret for me, won't you? I wouldn't want my father or mother to find out, they'd only worry."

  "Of course I'll keep it a secret, Prince Candale."

  I stretched my arms out toward the ceiling. Sitting at the desk for the last two hours had given me a pain in the small of my back and made my muscles cramp. As I stretched, I glanced out the window and saw that I was running late for my next appointment. "I have to go," I said. "My father has arranged for Trellany to work out with me. He says that I need to put on muscle, not fat, and if I keep on eating and sitting on my backside, fat is exactly what I'll get."

  "Are you well enough for that?" Lykeia asked me.

  "I don't see how I have a choice. It was a direct order from my father, not a request. Besides, Trellany will take things slow with me. She used to teach me sword work, before I fell ill, so she knows how far she can push me before I collapse in a heap."

  "That's good." Lykeia rose and started to gather together all my books and scraps of parchment. "And it will probably do you some good to get outside, get some colour into your cheeks, put some muscle on you. You still resemble more a skeleton than a boy."

  "I know. None of my clothes fit me."

  "Yes." Lykeia studied me, his eyes shadowed. "I was so worried about you, Prince Candale. I never wanted any harm to come to you." He flushed and awkwardly turned away to pick up his books. "I'll see you tomorrow morning after breakfast, then?"

  "Yes."

  "And try not to worry so much. You're not that far behind. Lady Caryolyna managed to get this, and so, therefore, will you."

  I grinned at that. Lady Caryolyna was a pretty but empty-headed nineteen-year-old woman. Even though I knew it wasn't her fault that she wasn't very bright, her older brother was the same, because of too much inbreeding, Aylara would say, with a bright, cruel smile, I couldn't stand to spend too much time with her. Caryolyna's simpering, clumsy attempts at flirtation and wit just left me tired. I didn't have the grace, or the patience, to put up with it for too long. Kal did. He had a knack of pretending to be interested in whatever nonsense she came up with. Unfortunately, everyone knew that Kal only had eyes for my sister and that meant that Caryolyna didn't spend nearly as much time with him as she did with me. I sometimes thought I would go mad listening to her inane babbling. Still, if Caryolyna had managed to understand this then I was sure that I would, given time. That didn't make it any less frustrating, however.

  It was cold outside and mostly deserted, other than the odd guard or servant. There was a fresh but brisk chill to the day, with a slight breeze. The trees were still green and lush, but the brown, red and golden leaves were starting to dominate the trees' foliage. I loved autumn, loved the colours of it, that crispness in the air. Unfortunately, winter always followed fairly quickly and there was very little that could be said about the benefits or beauty of winter. The castle grew cold, meals grew bland and hunting became impossible and impractical. Everything seemed to drag on forever until spring came again. Snow was the only good thing to come of the winter months but, after the initial thrill of snowball fights and building snowmen armies, it quickly became boring and the cause of much irritation. And there was my eighteenth birthday, too; something I wasn't looking forward to, not like I usually did. Too many things would come to my mind on the anniversary of my birth; things that I'd rather not have to think about. I was just going to have to make the most of the autumn while I could.

  Trellany was waiting for me, hands on hips. She wasn't a very tall woman, came up to my chest, perhaps, but had a strong personality that dominated every situation. Even when she spoke softly everyone always listened to what she had to say. She was really pretty, too, with long, red hair that she always wore tied back in a braid, and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Her skin was golden brown, tanned by the sun, and her eyes were green and very large. She had high cheekbones and dimples when she smiled. There were faint traces of lines around her eyes, the only sign of her age. I guessed that she was in her mid-thirties, but I wasn't really sure, and knew a lot better than to ask that question of a woman. She dressed, as all the members of the Royal Guard did, in a silver-grey tunic and pair of breeches, but her clothes were of a finer quality than most of the other Guards. This was because most of her students were young lords, and the occasional lady, and she needed to dress as though she were worthy enough to teach them. She wore her clothes tight across her breasts, stomach and her legs. It could prove to be very distracting sometimes.

  "You're late," Trellany told me. She had a brief hint of an accent, a lilting, musical tone to her voice. She told me once that she had come from the south, from beyond Drasa, but she didn't talk much about her childhood, so I didn't know much more than that.

  "I was talking to Lykeia," I told her. "I'm sorry. I lost track of time."

  "Hmm." She studied me, pretending to be angry, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. "I'll forgive you, this time." She threw me a practice foil. "Ready?"

  "Not sure," I said. "We're just going to do this? Out here?"

  Trellany looked around us, at the odd guard and servant milling around in the courtyard, and then back at me. "You didn't mind an audience before," she said.

  "That was before," I said. "I'm just going to embarrass myself now. I'm not sure I want an audience for that."

  "A little humility will be good for you, Prince Candale," she said. She raised her own foil at me. "So we do this here."

  At first we just went through the motions, to warm up and so she could test me, see how strong I was, how much I could handle. It was fairly awkward. After my three months of illness, my body felt heavy and clumsy, unused to carrying a sword's weight and moving through these exercises. Before long I was forced to take my tunic off, because I was so damned hot and sweaty. Sweat had stuck my hair against my face and itchy beads of it ran down my nose, forehead and chest. My arms ached with a dull and constant throb of pain and there was pressure in my thighs and in the small of my back. I was panting for air, w
ith my lungs aching and I longed to sit down ...

  It was then that Trellany decided that we should spar.

  "No," I said. "Please. You have to be joking."

  "No," she said. "I'm not. You can have a brief rest, of course, before we start."

  "Brief?" I wheezed. "I'm exhausted."

  "No," she said confidently. "You aren't. You're young and strong. I wouldn't ask you to do anything that I didn't think that you could handle, Prince Candale. So have a rest and then we can get started."

  I glared at her, too tired for words, and sank down onto the cobblestone floor. It was cold and slightly damp. I felt the chill seep through my breeches, but I didn't want to move. I simply didn't have the energy. I sat there, panting, feeling the sweat chill on my body, while slowly my breathing returned to normal and the pain eased. Trellany stood over me the whole time, barely out of breath, just watching me with a half smile on her face.

  "I'm going to be so sore tomorrow," I said. I flexed my arm muscles slowly, feeling the dull burning pain inside.

  "Yes," she agreed. "But it will pass. You're just out of condition." She tapped her practice foil against my boot. "I want to see you here every other day. You can spend the day in between resting. Come the same time as you were meant to be here today."

  I grinned at her from under my greasy black curls. "I'll try my very best."

  "Not good enough. Winter is coming and the days are going to get shorter and it will get darker earlier. I don't really want to be forced to hang around here in the cold and dark waiting for you to decide to show."

  She was obviously more annoyed about me being late than I had thought. "I had to talk to Lykeia," I said. "He offered to do something for me, something that I needed. It won't happen again."

  "What did you need him to do for you?"

  "Just find out about something," I said. I stood up. The last thing I wanted was to have to tell another person about any of this. The bard knew, my grandfather knew, and now Lykeia. I certainly didn't want to have to tell Trellany either, especially as there was nothing that she could do to help me at all. "It isn't important."

  "No," she said, "or any of my business. Are you ready now?"

  "As I'll ever be."

  "Don't worry, Prince Candale. I'll only push you as far as I think you can go, no further." She handed me my foil and moved out into the centre of the courtyard to wait for me. Dragging my feet, with a strong feeling of weary dread, I followed her.

  Ten minutes later, her sword was at my throat, mine was halfway across the cobbled floor, and I couldn't breathe properly for the tight stitch in my side. Trellany smiled at me. "Now that is enough," she said.

  "Is that all that you wanted to do to me?" I asked. "Embarrass me totally and have a sword at my throat? If it was, you could have done that half an hour ago and I could be in bed now."

  "No," she said. "It wasn't what I wanted to do. I wanted to see what sort of shape you're in. Running through those exercises was a warm up. I wanted to see how much strength you had, how much stamina."

  "And?"

  "And, you're a mess. Unfit, weak." She shook her head. "It will take some work, but I think I can get you back to how you were. It's just a case of sticking to it." She handed me my tunic and I slipped it on. "So the day after tomorrow I will see you again."

  "Yes," I said, trying not to sigh. "All right."

  "It's for your own good, Prince Candale," Trellany said. "I hate to see you like this. The sooner you get back to normal, the better you'll feel about everything."

  "And what does that mean?" I asked her.

  "Nothing," she said quickly. "Good day, my prince." She turned and walked away, leaving me staring after her, confused and tired.

  I had a servant draw me a hot bath when I got back to my rooms and, while he was bringing up the water to fill my bathtub, I laid out some clothes on the bed. When the bath was drawn, I climbed in and leaned back against the side of the tub. I washed my hair and body, scrubbing the sweat away, cleaning my black curls and then I settled my head back against the rim of the tub to relax. There was still a good couple of hours before dinner. I could take my time and soak. It had been a long, hard day and this was the first moment I'd had any time to myself all day. I definitely wanted to relax and make the most of it.

  I let my body sink further into the water, until it was up to my chin, and closed my eyes.

  I found myself standing in a bare room that resembled a prison cell. The floor was covered with only a meagre spread of rushes, the walls were stone and crumbled, and high arches held up the black ceiling. There were dark spots of what looked like blood, splattered around on the walls and floor. Fixed in various places were rusty metal chains and shackles. The room was dark, barely lit, stinking and cold, so cold that my hands were turning white with it. I shivered miserably and stuck my hands under my armpits, jumping up and down a little in place in a desperate attempt to keep warm.

  And then I heard a soft voice singing to me.

  "Five rings of silver,

  Five rings of gold,

  Five rings of stone,

  For a secret to be told

  Six rings of silver,

  Six rings of gold,

  The rings of stone have fallen

  Ellenessia comes."

  There was something lilting and childlike about the voice of the singer and it terrified me. My heart started to pound, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end, goosebumps flared up along my arms, and I shivered.

  Slowly, I turned around.

  A small figure stood in front of me, near hidden in the dark shadows, head bowed and covered by a mess of dark ragged curls. The white, tattered rags the child wore were dirty and blood splattered and its limbs were covered in bruises and angry cuts. I knew who it was even before it took those slithering, gliding steps toward me.

  I stumbled backwards, my feet scraping on the cold flagstones as I desperately tried to escape, my eyes locked onto the child the whole time, not daring to look away from it. All the time it kept singing those same two verses of the song, over and over, and the soft lilting sound seemed to echo and swell to fill the arched roof of this dark and stinking prison. The little figure's head was bowed toward the floor, blood dripping steadily from those limp hands that hung at its side.

  "Ellenessia comes," the child said suddenly, and lifted its head to meet my eyes. I swallowed. Those eyes could see inside me, right into my soul, into the depths of me. I tried to take another step backwards and felt the cold stone of the wall seep through the thin tunic and breeches I found myself wearing, as I pressed against it. "Are you ready, Seer?" it asked. "Ellenessia comes." Then it lifted its hand and traced a symbol slowly in the air in front of it, blood dripping from the ends of its fingers the whole time. The droplets of blood landed on the bare stone floor, dark red against the cold grey.

  I heard a deep rumble and the ground beneath me seemed to vibrate. Tearing my eyes away from the child, just for a moment, I turned. In the darkness I saw three sets of cat-slit eyes, huge and alien, staring at me. I drew my breath in sharply as those eyes moved slowly toward me. Out of the shadows, into the dim and flickering lantern light of this prison cell, came a dragon. A three-headed dragon. Its huge body filled most of the room, fading back into the shadows. All I could see of it was its three heads, bent over where the roof was too low. Dark green scales shone and reflected in the dim light; huge yellowing, curving teeth, like giant stalactites and stalagmites, glinted in the dragon's cavernous mouths as he opened them wide, almost as if to grin at me. In his cat-slit, yellow-green eyes, I could see intelligence. I knew, somehow, that the dragon knew me. It knew me and I knew it wouldn't hurt me.

  I turned away from the dragon, looking back at the small figure of that frightening child who was now hiding back in the shadows, curled up on the floor. Its thin, skeletal arms were wrapped around its chest, and it was jerking from side to side, its head rolling left and right on its skinny neck. I stared at it. It was obv
iously in distress, frightened, but I didn't know what I could do to help it.

  I started to take a step towards it when a deep rumble almost knocked me of my feet. The dragon had roared. Then it roared again, making the ground shake. The child made a whimpering sound and almost disappeared as it curled up into a foetal position on the dirty cold floor. I could still hear the child speaking softly, "Ellenessia comes. Ellenessia comes," over and over, but it was only a whisper, a sound I could hear in my mind, more than with my ears.

  The dragon roared again, but this time it sounded more like a loud knocking sound ...

  With a gasp I was awake and lying in my bathtub. My lungs were aching as though I had been under water for a long time, my heart was still racing inside my chest, pounding in my ears like a drum, and I was freezing. The bath water I lay in was ice-cold and the candles were half melted away. I must have fallen asleep in the tub.

  The knocking came again and I realised that it had been that noise that had invaded my dream and ultimately was what had waked me. I got out as quickly as my sore muscles would allow and, shivering, I wrapped a towel around my waist, another one around my hair, and went to answer the door.

  And found Teveriel standing there. For a moment I could only stare at him, surprised and confused, because I had no idea what he could want with me. At the same time I was glad to see him because, after my dream, I was in no hurry to be left alone.

  "Oh," he said, when he saw me in my towel, dripping wet. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you out of the bath."

  "No," I said. "It's fine. I'd fallen asleep and was in the middle of a dream, of a nightmare, really. I was glad to be woken from it!"

  "Oh." He nodded, looking increasingly uncomfortable. "Still ... I should go, maybe come back later? I didn't mean to disturb you."

  "No, there is no need to leave. Please. Let me get dressed, I'll only be a moment and then we can talk."