The Angel of Elydria (The Dawn Mirror Chronicles Book 1)

by A. R. Meyering

  “Wait here, honored guests,” the goblin guard grumbled from underneath his horned helmet, and clanked off.

  Penny looked around. At the very end of the cavernous hall stood three thrones, two made of dark wood and one in the center carved of a white stone that would’ve looked handsome, had it not been tarnished with so much grime. Aside from the thrones there was nothing in the hall save the six doors set off in odd, asymmetrical points throughout the hall.

  Penny’s attention was drawn to one of the doors that had been left ajar. Behind it, shrouded in almost complete darkness, Penny was positive she caught a glimpse of something moving around. Before she could get any closer, another door at the opposite end of the chamber swung open and a tall goblin stepped out.

  On average many goblins were around Penny’s height or shorter, but this goblin was a jarring exception. He was a hair taller than Hector and even skinnier, with thin, gauzy skin. Penny could see the fragile bones working underneath it as he crossed the room to greet them. He had no hair to speak of, but wore a tall hat with the crest of the Angel Nestor embroidered into it. He smiled at them as he swept into the room, his many rich cloaks and robes fluttering about his feet.

  “My friends, you have finally arrived. Word was sent from Iverton more than a week ago that we should be expecting a messenger party. We grew worried that you may have been, ah, intercepted…how glad we are to see that is not the case,” the goblin said in a weak, breathy voice as he sidled up to them, wringing his delicate wrists.

  “We ran into a spot of trouble. I apologize sincerely for our tardiness,” Hector said with a regal politeness that seemed natural. He made a sweeping bow of humility before the skeletal figure.

  The goblin nodded. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Bishop Flennig. Originally you were to meet with his majesty King Yulghrat, but unfortunately he is feeling unwell and will be unable to have an audience. I trust this will meet with the King of Men’s approval?”

  Hector replied that it would be no trouble at all.

  “Eh, what did you say that your names were, friends?” the Bishop inquired with a certain shrewdness that rubbed Penny the wrong way.

  Hector scratched at the back of his head before replying with the faux names they had determined. “We didn’t. I’m Professor Reginald Rasmussen of the Academy of Iverton and head of foreign language and relations department. This is my star pupil, Miss Miriam Winthrop, and my long-time friend and associate, Mr. Rex Snyder.”

  Looking unconvinced, the Bishop ushered them through one of the doors to a sitting room. Simon walked closer to Penny, whispering in English, “I thought Armonie said that only women were allowed to be members of the clergy in Elydria? Didn’t the Angel guy, Nestor, make a decree about it or something?”

  Penny shrugged, unable to look away from the open door. The black fissure of darkness beckoned to her. Something about it both frightened and mesmerized her. She caught another drifting movement in the darkness beyond and her curiosity flared even stronger.

  The door was swept from her view as they were ushered into a sitting room that was as comfortless as the rest of the palace. They were told to sit on a stone bench as the Bishop donned spectacles and unfurled the sealed envelope, his papery skin rubbing against the letter with an unpleasant sound. He finished reading the letter and looked up, mouth agape.

  “I must say, this news it most troubling.” Bishop Flennig shuddered. “We of the Nation of Goblins are just as puzzled by the appearance of wraiths on Ciellos as you are. No official party of goblins attended the ball this year, and I assure you that we, as a Nation, are in no way associated with this tragedy. I must arrange for an official meeting with the human ambassadors. I shall begin writing an official response immediately. Kindly wait here.” The Bishop rose from his stone chair and exited.

  Hector turned to Penny and Simon, whispering in English, “Something’s not right here. Why would a bishop receive us and not the ambassadors themselves? And on top of that, where is everyone? I haven’t seen a single soul since we entered the palace.”

  “You’re right. It is weird, now that you mention it,” Simon muttered, glancing around in surprise.

  Penny stood up and paced around the room. Something was stirring within her, and she found herself humming Row, Row, Row Your Boat, repeating the last line several times under her breath. She could hear a low conversation taking place on the other side of the door where the Bishop had exited.

  Life is but a dream, life is but a dream…

  “Hector’s right,” she declared, her heart racing as she realized what she had been doing. “Maybe we should get out of here, I feel like―”

  “Shush!” Hector hissed, springing to his feet as his face drained of all color. He pressed his ear up against the door listened for a moment. He spun and faced Penny and Simon with an expression of frantic urgency.

  “Run! We need to leave, now!” he commanded in a harsh whisper, ushering them to the door from which they had entered. He had just grasped the handle when the door behind them swung open and a figure stepped inside. Penny’s blood ran cold. It was Deimos.

  “Greetings, Professor Ras―impossible. You’re the girl from the Ball—and you—!” the one-eyed man stopped mid-sentence, his eye traveling from Penny’s face to Simon’s. Snarling, Deimos barreled over to the magician, who squealed like a frightened animal and cowered against the wall.

  “How did you―?” Deimos roared, grabbing at Simon’s shirt and yanking him forward as Simon’s top hat toppled from his head. Without warning, Hector threw a solid punch that struck the man square in the face.

  Though Hector was not a man of great physical strength, the shock was enough to throw Deimos back for a moment. Simon snatched back his hat as the three of them scrambled out and slammed the door shut behind them. Hector shot back a sealing spell at the door, containing Deimos and the Bishop. They skidded across the wide hall, listening to the sounds of fumbling and angry voices behind the door. Penny ran in the direction she hoped led to the palace entrance.

  “No! There are guards near the front, we have to hide!” Hector cried and swiveled around to face the door still hanging open beside the thrones. Penny didn’t have time to object and raced after Simon as he hurtled toward the door. Hector pushed the door at the end of the hall aside and slipped in, waiting for Simon and Penny to make it inside before returning it to its original almost-shut state.

  It was as black as midnight in the room. Hector, Simon, and Penny huddled together as they listened to the sounds of pounding and wrathful yells from the hall beyond. Penny tried not to think of what could have been moving about in the darkness of the room they now cowered within. After several tense moments, a deafening crash was heard, followed by a clamor of loud footsteps.

  “Where did they go?” Deimos’s voice reverberated throughout the hall, sounding twice as intimidating as usual. There was a huffing accompanied with a fluttering of robes, and then the Bishop’s voice shook through the halls between sharp breaths.

  “They must’ve gone toward the exit. How could they have possibly known that we were going to―?”

  “Silence, you old fool! Don’t you realize who that was? It was that half-wit from the other world, Adrielle’s world―I gave him a wand, remember? We told him to off that Fairfax girl that Lord Nestor wants dead, though he obviously doesn’t have enough brains to assassinate a pofflin, much less someone like her. Besides, we only used him to get Adrielle’s attention. The girl is already dead, we set some wraiths on her―but now he’s here somehow and―” Deimos raged, but was interrupted.

  “I don’t understand, what do you mean?” the Bishop’s voice wavered as he tried to catch his breath.

  “There’s no time to explain now, we’ve got to find him…and not a word to Lord Nestor. We’ll be better off dead if he finds out that the Gaian human is in Elydria. Alert every ranger in Hulver to be on the lookout for a group of humans. Phobos and I will search the castle. Make sure it’s on eve
ry Sophotri Stone in the city, even the private links. Go now!” Deimos and Bishop Flennig’s footsteps rattled throughout the hall. Penny clung to Hector’s arm as the footsteps drew near, but Deimos ran on, shouting for his brother. The clattering and banging faded.

  “What do we do? We’re trapped,” Simon whimpered in the dark.

  “Hector, you can teleport us away from here, can’t you? To Argent’s house?” Penny whispered, feeling like something had stuck in her throat and was blocking out most of her breath.

  “The margin of failure is too high. We could end up separated, or somewhere awful. It’s extremely dangerous.”

  “And getting skewered and served up to Deimos by a group of vicious goblin soldiers isn’t dangerous?” Simon garbled.

  “Look, just see if we can’t find a way out first. If worst comes to worst, I can try. But I’m telling you it could cost us our lives,” Hector spat, fumbling around in the darkness. There was a small rushing of magic and a little light popped up above their heads with a shower of shining runes from Hector’s palm.

  The chamber was circular and satiny purple draping hung from ceiling to floor around it. In the center of the room stood a low table with a very peculiar object on top of it. Penny took a step toward it, somehow enchanted through the alarm of panic that still rang in her chest. She drew nearer to see that the flat, disc-like object was displayed upon a golden stand. The edges of it were made of ornately carved gold, etched with images of angelic figures, staring eyes, and mysterious symbols. In the center of the frame was a smooth piece of clear crystal glass. Curious, Penny reached her quivering hand out, and a faint murmuring stirred somewhere in the room, as if an invisible audience of people had begun speaking in hushed voices all around her. Before her fingers could come in contact with the peculiar object, Hector grabbed her.

  “Are you out of your mind, Penelope?” Hector chided, bringing her out of the light stupor. Penny joined in the search for another door, lifting back a few of the draperies, not really expecting to find anything. She had to placate Hector until he got up enough courage to teleport them away. An exasperated sigh came from across the room as Simon stamped his foot.

  “There’s nothing here, Hector! We’ve got to get out before they find us!” Simon pleaded, but Hector did not respond. Penny tossed a few cushions away from the wall and chanced a glimpse back at the gold and crystal disc that stood on the table.

  Click.

  Penny’s head whipped around, searching for the source of the sound. She threw aside the purple curtain she had been digging around, shocked to see a small door in the wall behind it. With a subdued gasp she realized the small clicking noise had been her hand running across a silver doorknob.

  “You guys, look!” called Penny as she threw the door open and hurried through.

  The first image that met her eyes was of a massive goblin dressed in a regal cape and tunic, sporting a magnificent platinum and diamond crown. There was no doubt in Penny’s mind that this was, in fact, King Yulghrat, but something struck her as odd. The king was sitting propped up on a throne, lifeless. He had made no movement or jerk of surprise when Penny had thrown open the door, and merely sat, still as a statue, his milky eyes staring at nothing.

  Across the room, another figure slid out from behind another purple curtain. The figure floated, graceful and silent, feet barely touching the floor as he came into full view beside King Yulghrat’s stiff form. The whole mass of his lithe and sculpted body gleamed with an ethereal light. Penny felt instant fear grip her, starting in the pit of her stomach and twisting slowly, like a great whirlpool of acid.

  “Deimos…? What is happening?” the man asked, his voice a musical lilt, more like the sound of wind or a bell’s ring than a voice. Despite its wonderful quality, there was something dangerous and nauseating about it. Penny’s neck prickled and her knees went weak as the sound of it washed over her. Two great white wings unfolded from the man’s back as he turned his face toward the door, and Penny was overcome with the urge to weep in terror as she beheld the flawless visage of the man.

  It was him. It was the man from the thunderstorm so many years ago. The beautiful, terrifying man who had haunted her nightmares since childhood; the man whose face had been burned into her memory by a flash of lightning.

  No, not a man. An Angel.

  The Angel gaped at her, his inhumanly beautiful face betraying shock. His long, flowing hair draped all around his face and body like curtains of white, diamond filament. A disc-like halo of heavy, spinning gold emblazoned with ancient glyphs floated behind his head. His wings flexed, showering the ground with shimmering feathers. Yet even wreathed by the radiance of his sublime beauty, his mannerisms spoke of a quiet malady. Something was weighing upon him―something hindered him.

  Penny felt her legs losing strength. Hector yelled out behind her, his voice sounding miles away. She felt his hands grasp her shoulders and Simon pressing against her back. In the last second before the world was wiped away, the Angel’s white-blue eyes widened, the look of recognition in them impaling her heart. Seconds later she was swept from where she stood and hurtled away through vast nothingness.

  When Hector, Penny, and Simon materialized in Argent’s house and crashed down with enough force to split the table in two, the entire room was instantly filled with wails of pain and confusion. Annette, who had been sipping tea, shrieked as the wood splintered out. Moments later frenzied footsteps were heard battering up the staircase, and Argent burst into the room and took one long look at the ruins that were once his furniture. He let out a stream of expletives so crude that Annette’s jaw dropped in scandalized horror. Penny disentangled herself from the knot of limbs and pieces of broken wood.

  “What―in―the―” seethed Argent, but Hector held up his hand to stop him.

  “No time to explain! Everyone gather your things, we’re leaving at once!” Hector ordered as he scurried to the corner, plucking his bag from the ground and tossing Penny’s over to her. She caught it in midair and checked to make sure everything was still inside, her hands shaking.

  “W-wait, what happened?!” Annette cried, looking from face to face.

  “My table!” growled Argent, gesturing to the mess of wood that now littered his floor.

  “Erm, as I just said―” Hector warned, “―you may want to gather up a few of your possessions in case they come by and―”

  “Who’s coming by?”

  As if prompted, the Sophotri lit up from the other end of the room.

  “Attention, citizens of Hulver! This is an emergency broadcast! Three dangerous humans, two male, one female, are loose in the city. If sighted, they are to be apprehended and turned in to the authorities. If you have any information about these three or their whereabouts, please contact the Bureau of Justice via Sophotri Stone. As a warning it shall be known that any residence or facility discovered to be harboring these humans will be immediately burned to the ground, and any citizen of Hulver who is found to be aiding these humans in any way shall be sentenced to life in prison. Thank you for your time, and keep on the alert,” a stiff voice from the Sophotri Stone announced in Gobblish, then went on to repeat the message in Andronian and Therosian.

  “What did you do!? What could you possibly have done?” Argent hissed, collapsing into a chair and holding his face in his hands for a moment before looking back up. “I need an explanation. Now!”

  “We did everything we were supposed to, there was only one problem―Deimos was at the palace. He recognized Simon and now they’re after us,” Hector said, agitated.

  “That’s not even the half of it,” Simon added.

  “What? What are we going to do?” Annette gasped, her face growing whiter by the moment.

  Argent stood up clutching his head and began to pace. “Look, there’s no way they could find out you’re here, could they? I can’t go to prison―not now―not when I’m this close to becoming the richest man in the world…” he pleaded.

  “Argent, tr
y to stay calm. Gather up anything that is of vital importance just in case something happens,” Hector urged. Argent took a moment to process this, and then darted up the spiral staircase faster than Penny could blink.

  “What’s the plan, Hector?” Simon asked.

  Hector shut his eyes for a long, worrying moment. “If we try to escape, someone in the streets will eventually spot us. If we hide out here, we’d be putting Argent at too great a risk. We have to get to Mulgrith somehow and try to find Della. The deep woods will be our best bet for slipping away and perhaps Della will help us get to safety for good. We just have to find some way of getting out of Hulver undetected.”

  “Any chance of you being able to teleport again? You seemed to make it here all right,” Penny suggested, and Hector shook his head.

  “We were immensely lucky just now. I’ve never been to Mulgrith, which makes it exponentially more perilous. It would almost certainly exhaust both of you, and I’m not sure I’d be able to remain conscious long enough to complete the spell. I’m surprised you can still stand after the last one, Penelope,” Hector nodded in her direction, looking skeptical.

  The small silence was broken by another stream of strong curse words from upstairs. All eyes turned toward the spiral staircase as Argent, now wearing a pair of sandals, came charging down with his arms full of his three puppets, several hunks of raw magic, and a tiny green stone pinched between his index finger and thumb.

  “Currently there are four goblin rangers flying toward my Atelier on a moth. WHY?” Argent snarled.

  Penny cringed. “Oh no. When we got lost last week…we asked that goblin ranger for directions. He must’ve―”

  Argent moaned, and Penny recognized the dread in his eyes. It was a specific brand of fright that she and her friends had recently grown intimate with―the look of someone who was in jeopardy of losing every cherished thing in their world.