by CS Sealey
“Get up, girl!”
“Please!” she screamed. “I am not an Ayon! I come from the islands! Let me go!”
“The islands?” Tiderius asked, frowning. “Wait, Emil.”
The man relented but did not withdraw the shimmering coils from her wrists.
“Perhaps she is speaking the truth,” Tiderius continued. “I can’t speak for her but I know my brother. He is as loyal a Ronnesian as you can get, and she doesn’t sound like she’s from Leith.”
“Which island are you from, girl?” Emil asked sternly.
“I – You will kill me if I tell,” Angora said, her voice quivering.
“And if you tell us nothing, we will assume you’re an Ayon spy, the penalty of which is death!”
Angora swallowed and looked up at the woman. “Please, I never wished to come here.”
“It’s all right,” the woman said reassuringly. “Just answer his questions.”
“T-Teronia,” Angora said quietly, her eyes flitting between the strangers.
There was a long pause. Emil’s gaze was unbearable; it was as though he was looking directly into her soul with his piercing dark eyes. After a moment, the coils imprisoning her dispersed into sparks of light and she was free. She nursed her wrists, finding them red but otherwise unharmed.
“You speak the truth,” Emil said shortly. “Why are you here?”
Slowly, Angora retold her journey from Metaille and they listened in silence. As she spoke of her experience with the slavers, and showed them the raw brand on her arm, she saw a sparkle of compassion ignite in the woman’s gaze.
“Rasmus…He went out to buy me a dress.”
Tiderius nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like something my brother would do.”
“But there’s still the matter of the leika,” the woman said. “She was the one the Spirits showed me, I am certain. It must be her.”
“Yes,” Emil said, nodding. “Child, are you capable of acts you would consider…unnatural?”
“No,” Angora said, not entirely sure of the question.
“What you saw Emil do,” the woman said. “Is that something you have seen before, or similar?”
“No, and I did more than see it,” Angora muttered, rubbing her sore wrists.
“You may need to check her, Emil.”
“Of course.”
Without warning, the man crouched down and lunged for her hands. Angora tried to pull herself away but he held her fast. “Get off! What are you – ”
A burning pain surged through her, spreading from where the man was grasping her. It moved up her arms and exploded into her chest. She gasped violently as her eyes unfocused and her mind spun. The pain only lasted for a few seconds but it seemed to her like an eternity. But then it was no longer pain but a tingling warmth. Her mind began to clear and Rasmus’s balcony came back into view.
Something writhed within her, as though a separate physical presence was moving beneath her skin. She flung her hands out of Emil’s grasp and dived through the doorway back into the apartment. She hit the floor hard but clambered back to her feet quickly. She looked frantically down at her arms but could see nothing in the dark room. Slowly, the sensation began to fade until it was but a memory.
“You felt something, didn’t you?” Emil asked, approaching cautiously.
“What did you do?” Angora asked, her voice little more than a whisper. “Who are you?”
“I am Master Emil Latrett. My companions are Sir Tiderius Auran and Lady Aiyla Moorey. We protect Her Royal Majesty, Queen Sorcha. We act as her shield against any threat, magical or otherwise. However, it was not my own power you felt just now, child, but yours.”
Angora was confused. She had never felt the sensation before, so it must have been this Emil who had caused it. Why was he lying to her?
“You have a special power flowing through you, Angora. It needs only to be unlocked, to be trained and mastered,” Aiyla said.
“How do you know my name?”
“The Spirits told me.”
“We came here under the impression that the Ayons had your loyalty,” Emil said, folding his arms. “We would have dealt with you as an enemy of the state. However, the situation has changed. This is a rare opportunity, one we cannot pass up.”
“Opportunity?”
“What you felt before was your body defending itself against me,” the man continued. “I provoked your own gift to surge, like a breath of air to a newborn child. The Spirits have chosen you, just as they chose me.”
“What?”
“This is something we cannot discuss in a place with such thin walls,” Tiderius said, glancing at Emil.
“Why not?” Angora demanded.
“It’s not for ungifted ears.”
Angora opened her mouth to express her confusion but stopped, hearing footsteps climbing the stairs. Emil turned his head quickly, Tiderius reached for his sword and Aiyla planted herself firmly in front of Angora. A few seconds passed in which all listened anxiously as the footsteps came to a halt outside the door.
“Angora, I’m back! You’ll absolutely love what I’ve – ” The handle rattled. “Have you discovered how to lock doors already?”
“It’s Rasmus,” Tiderius said, lowering his guard. He crossed the room and released the bolt on the door.
“Ah, that’s better,” Rasmus said, opening the door. “For a minute there, I thought you’d – Tiderius? What are you doing here? Where’s – ”
Standing in the doorway with a large package under his arm, Rasmus surveyed his unexpected guests with a perplexed look on his face. Angora inched out from behind Aiyla’s form. Rasmus hastened to her side, dropping the package.
“Master Latrett, what’s going on here? The last time I checked, this was my home.”
“I let them in,” Tiderius said guiltily, his eyes on his boots.
“I assume there’s a good reason for this. It appears you’ve scared my guest half to death!”
“Captain Auran,” Emil said calmly, “we have orders to take Angora to the castle.”
“Not the dungeons!” Rasmus exclaimed. “She hasn’t done anything wrong! I told her I’d take care of her! So as her guardian, I demand to be told what’s going on!”
“You are in no position to demand anything of me.”
“Tiderius, how can you just stand there? She is innocent and you’re going to let them take her away?”
“Angora is not under arrest,” Tiderius replied. “She is needed.”
“For what?” Rasmus asked, putting his arm protectively around Angora’s shoulders. “Surely you can find someone else! Look at her, for pity’s sake!”
“It’s complicated,” Tiderius said.
“You can’t just take someone against their will when you’ve just this moment admitted that she’s not under arrest! I want some answers, Tiderius! Now. If not for me, then think of her!”
“This is not down to me!” Tiderius cried. “We are here on the authority of the crown. This is Queen Sorcha’s right!”
Rasmus was silent for a moment, a pained expression on his face. Angora slipped from his grasp and turned to face him.
“You have been kind, Rasmus, but I am not worth any more trouble.”
“Yes, you bloody well are,” he muttered angrily.
“You have risen so high. Do not risk it all for me.”
“Angora, you don’t understand,” Rasmus said through gritted teeth. “You are worth all the trouble I can cause. Elroy was right, but – Oh, this is impossible!”
Angora sighed. The fact that Rasmus was standing up to his superiors made her feel overwhelmingly guilty. How could she compromise him like this? In one moment of passionate anger now, he could lose his reputation and his career, perhaps even his life if he dared to press Emil any further.
“Master Latrett,” Rasmus said, “do you give me your word that I can see her as often as I wish and that she’ll have her independence, as Tiderius does?”
“Yes, s
hould the queen give her blessing.”
“Promise me you will not cause her any harm.”
“We do not wish her harm, Rasmus!” Tiderius insisted. “They need her, just as they need me.”
“She was born with abilities much sought after by the Ayons,” Emil explained. “She will be safer with us than with you.”
Rasmus nodded but Angora could tell that he was still unwilling to let her go. Yet what choice did either of them have? Aiyla had already demonstrated that finding her again would pose no problem and Emil, at least, had frightening magic that he was not afraid to use on her. She could not run from them. She could not hide from them. Her best option was to comply.
“Rasmus,” she said reluctantly, “I cannot let you face punishment for me. You hardly know me.”
“But – ”
“You have been very kind. You saved my life. Thank you. I will never forget you or what you have done.”
“Then,” Rasmus said, “farewell…”
“Yes. Goodbye.”
He embraced her tightly and gave her a reassuring smile, one that Angora knew he did not truly feel. She took in a deep breath and turned away. She felt the lingering brush of his fingers on hers and missed them when they were gone. Angora glanced over her shoulder as the four of them left the apartment and saw Rasmus collapse into a chair with his head in his hands. Angora’s dress lay forgotten in its package upon the floor.
“You owe me, Tiderius!” he shouted after them. “You bloody well owe me!”
CHAPTER 10
The castle rose up from the dark hillside. Angora trudged up the slope beside Aiyla, with Emil in front and Tiderius behind. From Rasmus’s apartment, they passed through the middle city and into the upper with very little talk. Several times, Aiyla attempted to engage Angora in conversation by asking her what she thought of the architecture and the people. However, after Angora reminded her that she had been captured by slavers and sold to a whorehouse, therefore seeing very little of the city and only the worst of its people, Aiyla seemed to lose her courage.
The group reached the stairs that led to the castle forecourt and ascended them. Angora tried not to look at the castle itself as they approached but she found it impossible not to: it sat high above the rest of the city like a great black sentinel, silhouetted against the crescent moon and stars. A few lights flickered in the arched windows and two torches hung in brackets beside the great front gates. The guards permitted them entry with silent nods, their faces expressionless. In the dimly lit entrance hall, Emil drew Tiderius aside and muttered something in his ear. Rasmus’s brother nodded, glanced at Angora, and then hastened down an adjacent corridor.
“Gone for manacles?” Angora asked.
“Oh, no,” Aiyla said reassuringly. “He will be informing the queen of our arrival. She is very anxious to meet you.”
In the queen’s audience chamber, there was a long table with nine chairs around it, four on each side and a larger chair at its head in which sat the queen herself, dressed in mourning black. All but one of the walls were lined with bookshelves or draped with hangings – the other had large, south-facing arched windows. Angora stood looking out one of these at the dark city below, arms crossed, her back to the room as though she had not seen the queen.
“What is her name?” she heard Queen Sorcha ask. The woman had looked doubtfully at Angora as she’d entered the room in the large shirt and baggy trousers.
“Angora, Your Majesty,” Emil replied.
“She does not quite live up to my expectation of a Teronian, though Tiderius did tell me she resisted with a certain…spirit.”
“Yes, she is a little wild. However, she has no knowledge of her gift, which is a blessing in disguise. I have little doubt she would have attacked us otherwise, and an untamed power is the most dangerous,” Emil explained.
“So she did not come here of her own accord?” the queen asked.
“Not entirely, no.”
“Then we must work to gain her trust, otherwise we cannot hope to have her full cooperation.”
Angora did not like what she heard. She glanced at the four others in the room, those who had been fleetingly introduced to her upon arrival. They were all looking at her curiously. A moment later, Emil approached to lead her silently to the head of the long table, where he told her to bow. The queen was a thin woman in her early thirties, with large green eyes and flaming red hair. Angora looked at her a little uncertainly before bowing awkwardly.
“Emil tells me that you are a Teronian.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You will address the queen as Your Majesty or milady,” Emil said quietly in Angora’s ear.
“I do not wish to make you feel uncomfortable,” the queen said, as though she had not heard Emil’s comment, “but I hear so many contradicting reports from the coast regarding your people. The latest ones speak of an Ayon invasion. It has long been believed that Teronia sympathized with the Ayons but it is evident now that this is not the case.”
“Mainland perceptions of my people are always wrong,” Angora said shortly. “Lives could have been spared had they cared to learn the truth.”
“I beg your pardon?” the queen said, her brow creasing.
“Many along your coasts believe my people are responsible for the deaths of traders and merchants who go missing in the Kalladean. But we, too, have lost men. Silloth pirates attack our ships frequently.”
“But they never venture beyond the Western Sea,” Markus Taal interjected. Lord Taal was the queen’s chief adviser, in his fifties, and dressed in richly decorated clothes, which Angora presumed was court style.
“No?” she said, glancing at him. “Perhaps I should show you where we buried our dead.”
Seeing her adviser open his mouth to argue further, the queen quickly stood up and raised her hands. “Of course, we must find out whether there is truth in your words, so an inquiry will be arranged in the coming days. I will not ask for your full account of the matter tonight, but one thing cannot wait. Master Emil, my shaman, informs me that you do not believe you possess any gift. I would like to prove you wrong.”
“How?”
“Emil can show you,” a woman named Kayte Heron replied. She was another of the queen’s advisors and also wore mourning black.
“I do not want him anywhere near me,” Angora said, backing away. “If I must stay here, I wish to be alone, study alone.”
“You know nothing of the power that runs through you, child,” the shaman said sternly. “It is dangerous to learn solely through experimentation. Over the generations, our ancestors have helped train one another, keeping the knowledge alive and building on it. Your predecessors have left us several accounts of how to deal with training a leika – I have read them all. You must be supervised.”
“Supervised? I knew it! You mean to imprison me!”
She glanced around and, spying the door, dashed for it. But Tiderius was quick to plant himself in her way. Then a hand clamped onto her shoulder and turned her about. Driven by her sense of urgency and fear, Angora lashed out with her fists, raining them down upon Emil’s chest and arms, her blood boiling with anger.
“Mah iel tomagarath! Let me go, you – ”
There was a great flash of light accompanied by a loud crack that reverberated through the air, tearing Emil’s hand from her shoulder. Angora felt herself flung back against a wall, banging her head sharply. Then everything became a blur of sounds and hazy images. As her sight began to clear, she found herself on her hands and knees, limbs shaking feebly.
A moment later, Aiyla was at her side with a reassuring hand, helping her back to her feet. She rose, and clutched at the woman when the room spun. Emil was getting to his feet on the other side of the room, patting down his brown robe. Nearby, Markus Taal was reorganizing a stack of books that had been knocked over by the force of the blast.
“As I said before,” the shaman muttered, “untrained magic is dangerous.”
“I-I did
that?” Angora asked, astonished. She looked down at her hands, shaking her head frantically. “No, it is impossible!”
“We will help you learn how to control your power,” Markus said, laying the last book back in its place. “If left untrained, it could flare at any time and people could be seriously hurt.”
Angora stiffened. Then what happened at the Gifted Rose was my fault! I killed that man!
“Show her the staff, Emil,” Aiyla said.
Emil walked over to an adjoining room separated from the main room by a narrow doorway. Angora could see that the circular space beyond was full of chests, shelves of boxes and stacks of papers. The shaman bent over a large chest and opened the lid. He reached inside and carefully brought out what appeared to be a broom handle. When he turned, however, she saw that it was somewhat like a sceptre or mace with an unusually long grip. The metal end was carved into a shape that resembled a spear head, though much too decorative for it to be functional in that way. Emil handled the staff with great care and all were silent as he returned to face her.
“This is the Staff of Lonys. It is a very powerful weapon in the hands of those who know how to use it. We mean to teach you how to control your gift, to master it. To prove to you that we mean you no harm, we will trust this weapon to you now.”
Angora looked at the staff doubtfully. The wooden pole was highly decorated with engravings of vines and entwining patterns. It was beautiful, she had to admit, but was unsure whether she really wished to touch it. There was a grip about a third of the way down, bound with tight black leather, long enough for three large hands to grasp. The leather itself was cracked and worn, making Angora wonder how many had used the weapon.
Emil brought the staff closer and gestured for her to take it. Reluctantly, she reached up with one hand and grasped the middle of the grip.
Silence.