‘What news?’ Amadeus asked, already feeling a knot in his stomach. ‘What does the king wish me to tell the mage?’ Phaphos wavered and Amadeus’s foreboding deepened.
‘You must tell the magician that the penalty he once paid for his debt against the realm has been quashed. Tell him his daughter, Crystal, the child born of Amella our princess, will arrive shortly in the Kingdom of Nine Winters.’
‘But Bridgemear is no prince and could never lie with Amella,’ gasped Amadeus, astounded by such a revelation. ‘Why, what you say is simply preposterous!’
Phaphos shook his head and sighed. ‘It is not for us to lay the law, but only to abide by it. What I tell you is the truth; how this happened, I know nothing of it.’
‘This cannot be true,’ Amadeus insisted, clutching at his sword as if it gave him inner strength. ‘No one from the realms has ever done such a terrible thing and lived to tell the tale. Yes, I was told Bridgemear had a daughter, the very child I was waiting to meet and escort to our kingdom, but not that her mother is Amella, why, I simply cannot believe it.’
‘Calm yourself,’ said Phaphos in a firm tone. ‘As you are aware, the girl is already in our lands, and you must go and tell Bridgemear that his once banished daughter has re-entered our world with permission from the Great Order of the Elders.’
Too confused to speak, Amadeus merely stared at him in shock and only shifted his gaze when Phaphos left his side, then he turned on his heels and made his way towards the edge of the ridge. Facing the cool, orange sun he felt its weak rays try to penetrate his weather-beaten face.
‘So be it,’ he said, his face grey and ashen. ‘My allegiance has always been with the king therefore my duty I am sworn to do.’ He spoke these words aloud against the breeze, unable to quell the red-hot fire that burned in his gut. With a heavy sigh he turned and ran towards the king’s horse. Mounting, he cried out his command for the beast to run like the wind and thus began his immediate ride to Raven’s Rainbow.
*
Tremlon tapped on Crystal’s bedroom door and waited for a reply. Inside, Crystal was hidden under the covers with Hercules tucked safely under her chin, not wishing to be disturbed from her fitful sleep. One of her slim legs poked out of the bottom of the bed whilst the other was covered, snuggled into the warmth of the sheet. She ignored his knock at first, dreaming of life at home and being pampered by her mother. The dream was comforting, her mind convinced she was home, safe and sound.
Tremlon knocked a little harder, becoming impatient, wanting to have his breakfast and leave. The smell of freshly baked bread filled his nostrils and the noise of others already filling their bellies made him less tolerant than he might usually have been. Startled, Crystal sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her body was still heavy with sleep and it took her a moment to get her bearings.
‘Are you alright in there?’ Tremlon called out, suddenly afraid she was gone.
Crystal pulled back the covers and promptly charged towards the door. She pulled it open with such force that Tremlon drew back in surprise.
‘What is it?’ she snapped, standing there with her hair all awry and messy.
‘We’re leaving in twenty minutes,’ Tremlon told her, regaining some of his composure. ‘I just wanted you to know that your breakfast has been ready for some time.’
‘Fine, I’ll be down in a minute!’’ she yelled, slamming the door in his face. Bemused, Tremlon made his way along the passageway and down the stairs to where Matt sat waiting.
‘She’s certainly not a morning person,’ Tremlon told him a moment later, when he joined him for breakfast. Matt shrugged his shoulders and gulped some ale.
‘That’s women for you,’ he said, reaching for the bread which had just been placed under his nose. ‘If she’s anything like my sister, I would stay well clear; they’re all hormonal and as snappy as a croc first thing.’ With a grin, Tremlon grabbed a slice of bread and took a thoughtful bite. He didn’t quite understand what Matt meant, but he believed he got the gist. The fairer sex had always been a mystery to him; time and age had never altered that.
‘I don’t think she’ll be long,’ Tremlon said, taking another bite of his bread. ‘So let’s just enjoy the peace whilst we can and be thankful for small mercies.’
Back in her room, Crystal put on the same clothes she had worn the day before. She sniffed at her clothes, finding them suddenly offensive. She sat on her bed, her legs dangling over the edge, and simply marvelled at it all.
Then she had a brainwave.
She dived across the floor and reached out to open one of the wooden drawers in the dressing table. She clapped her hands with delight when she looked down to find some of her clothes from home were in there. She pulled out an unworn jumper, a cream hand-knitted Arran brought back from the Highlands of Scotland last year. Crystal smiled; she had screwed her nose up at this gift, but now, here in this godforsaken place, it was the answer to her prayers. Closing the drawer, she opened another to reveal clean underwear and socks. She felt slightly miffed that her underwear was in there, neatly folded, but grateful nonetheless. She grabbed her clean clothes and headed for the wash basin and then dressed. Once she was happy with her appearance, she pulled open her wardrobe and sifted through the mountain of junk lying at the bottom. She found what she was looking for, her bright pink rucksack and filled it with clothes, a hairbrush and a few odds and ends.
Once she was satisfied she had everything she needed, she flung the bag over her shoulder and closed the wardrobe door. Picking up Hercules from the floor, she gave him one last kiss and a pat on the head before placing him on the bed.
‘See you later,’ she said, with sadness slipping into her voice. ‘I’ll be home as soon as I can.’
She descended the stairs, two at a time, before meeting a wave of activity. She noticed Nienna busily scurrying from one table to the next with plates piled high with food. The smell of something that resembled bacon drifted under Crystal’s nose, causing her to seek out the others. She joined them with a friendly greeting. Matt was only halfway through his breakfast, eagerly tucking in, when Crystal pointed to her face to alert him to the fact that egg was dribbling down his chin.
‘Did you sleep well?’ Matt asked, pulling a piece of cloth from under his plate and wiping around his mouth and upper jaw.
‘Like a log,’ she mouthed, turning her attention to the shape-changer. ‘Good morning, Tremlon, I hope you slept well?’
He cast a wary look and grunted something that sounded like ‘yes’ before returning to his breakfast.
‘What’s up with that miserable devil?’ she whispered in Matt’s ear. ‘Looks like he got out on the wrong side of bed to me,’ she added, with a smirk.
Matt sniggered and reached for the salt.
‘Never mind about him. Tell me, what did you think of your room? Wasn’t it the coolest thing ever? Ours was actually split down the middle and my half was just like my old room back home, but Tremlon’s changed into a billet, like what soldiers have, and it was very sparse and I was so glad to have my own soft bed to sleep in.’
Crystal giggled.
‘Yes, isn’t this place fantastic,’ she agreed, pulling the rucksack up from underneath the table. ‘It was so nice to have my own things around me; I even managed to pack some of my stuff.’
Matt looked at her with a very blank expression.
‘Oh, I never thought to do that,’ he said, suddenly looking down at the clothes he was wearing from the previous day. ‘Perhaps I could pop back after breakfast and collect a few things,’ he added, brightening up.
‘You’ll not have time now,’ Tremlon interrupted, wiping his mouth on the cuff of his sleeve. ‘We leave in five minutes.’
Nienna walked over with Crystal’s breakfast.
‘Good morning, milady,’ she said, placing the food on the table. ‘I hope you slept well?’
‘Yes, I did, thanks,’ Crystal replied with shining eyes. She looked at the goats’ milk and sugar paste that wer
e already in bowls on the table along with square, glass jars filled with jam and honey and gave Nienna a warm smile.
‘Get tucked in,’ Matt urged, stuffing more food in his mouth, ‘these mushrooms are sooo juicy.’
Crystal had to admit the food did look inviting. Eggs, sizzling meats and large flat mushrooms looked up from the huge platter, begging to be eaten, and she finally couldn’t resist tucking in and enjoying the mouth-watering flavours that flooded her taste buds.
‘Come on,’ said Tremlon, finishing the last of his meal, ‘it’s time we were on our way,’ and without waiting for them to finish, he rose from the table.
Crystal let out a squeal.
‘We can’t leave now?’ she declared, her eyes rounding. ‘I’ve only just started eating!’
‘The king awaits our return,’ said Tremlon, giving her an impatient grunt. ‘We simply don’t have all day to wait for you.’
Crystal turned stubborn.
‘I’m sorry Tremlon, but I’m not leaving until I’ve finished my breakfast,’ she snapped, breaking off a piece of crusty bread and mopping up her yolk. ‘I’m sure your king won’t mind if we leave a few minutes later than planned,’ she added, stuffing the last of a juicy, black mushroom into her mouth. ‘Why, this food is simply delicious.’
Tremlon stared at her long and hard. Then he said, ‘No, I told you, it’s time to leave. You may have Oakwood blood running through your veins, but we must leave whilst there is much light.’
‘What’s the rush?’ asked Matt, sensing his urgency. ‘Are we in any danger?’
‘Perhaps, I cannot say for sure, but the sooner we reach elf territory the better. Crystal, the men are waiting.’
Dragging her heels, Crystal reluctantly ventured outside. Both the men and the horses were ready and Matt helped Crystal into the wagon whilst the familiar look of worry filled her eyes.
‘We’ll be alright, just as soon as we reach the Kingdom of Nine Winters,’ he muttered, almost to himself.
‘How can you be sure?’ she asked, settling down on the hard seat and leaning the rucksack on her leg. ‘There are no guarantees for our safety even if we manage to make it there alive.’
‘Then we will just have to trust what Tremlon told us,’ Matt said, moving her along so he could sit next to her. ‘It’s obvious to me that these warriors would have killed us already if that was their intention.’
Arhdel approached the wagon and he fell silent. The warrior called to them as he walked by.
‘All the horses are well rested and eager to leave,’ he said, moving towards the beasts and checking their mouths. ‘Hope you enjoy the scenery,’ he added, when he caught Crystal’s stare, ‘I’m sure you will find it all rather pleasing to the eye once we reach the outskirts of Nine Winters.’
Tremlon called out to the soldier, who responded by leaving the horses and moving to his side.
‘My eternal gratitude to you and your men,’ Tremlon said with unexpected sensitivity, ‘you have all done well to keep us safe from harm.’ Arhdel rubbed at his scar; the angry red mark appeared to glow upon his face.
‘We have many more miles to cover yet, sire, let’s not be too hasty.’
‘Yes indeed, you’re right,’ said Tremlon, pulling his dagger close, ‘I’m speaking prematurely and we should not let our guard down too soon.’ He jumped onto the wagon with one swift leap.
‘Better get your furs on,’ he shouted to his travelling companions, pulling his own pelt closer. ‘It’s going to get a lot colder from here onwards.’ He dropped his goatskin bag on the floor before settling himself and picking up the reins.
‘Once we get over that group of hills,’ he said, pointing to the north, ‘the change in the weather will be dramatic.’ Tremlon clicked his tongue against his teeth and the horses jolted into life. The soldiers walked two in front and two behind, and only Arhdel walked by the side of the wagon. The sun, a pale ball of orange, was just peering over the horizon ready to claim the day, its rays unable to penetrate the chill in the morning air. The wagon lolled from side to side and the travellers were soon deep in their own thoughts.
*
It was early afternoon when the weather turned cold; the cloud thickened to form a grey blanket over the sky and the horses snorted in disapproval.
‘How much further?’ asked Matt, when the chilly effects of the weather made his hands ache with cold. The bitterness was starting to penetrate through to his bones, even with his fur pulled tight.
‘A few more hours, if we’re lucky,’ answered Tremlon, clicking his tongue at the horses. ‘We’ve just crossed into dwarf territory, so we haven’t got much further to travel.’ The horses stepped up their pace with a crack of the whip but within minutes, snow began to fall, making visibility extremely difficult. The white snowflakes fell thick and heavy on the ground, the wheels of the wagon falling silent.
As they rode deeper into the chill, the two soldiers walking in front could barely be seen and Arhdel called out for them to wait when they started to blend into the foreground, camouflaged by the thickening snow. However, after only a short while, Arhdel’s concern grew when they disappeared from view altogether. Hitting the side of the wagon with his fist, Arhdel signalled for Tremlon to stop and the shape-changer pulled hard on the reins, halting the horses with a snort of warm air.
‘What’s wrong?’ Tremlon shouted, realising the soldiers were no longer visible. The wind was whipping around his ears, creating a frenzy of noise, making it almost impossible to hear what Arhdel was saying.
‘I’m not sure,’ Arhdel shouted against the wind, ‘but I need to go and take a look.’ He signalled to the two soldiers at the rear of the wagon.
‘You, stay here,’ he said to the elder of the two, ‘and you, come with me,’ he commanded the other. Without looking back, Arhdel marched off with the young warrior close at his heels. They carried on for only a few yards before Arhdel dropped to the ground. He pulled off his thick leather gloves and stroked the surface of the snow with his fingertips, searching for the soldiers’ footprints and a wave of unease swept over him when he realised they had ended abruptly. The heavy snowflakes fell onto their tread, covering the tracks in a matter of seconds; Arhdel sensed that more than bad weather lay ahead.
A delicate crackle, almost inaudible to the human ear, caught Arhdel’s immediate attention. He turned his face, straining to locate the sound, before a blow to the head sent him to the ground. A second later the soldier lay unconscious by his side with a slow trickle of blood oozing from his head, staining the crisp, white snow.
Back at the wagon, Tremlon waited for Arhdel’s return. Apprehension was niggling at his senses and anxiety was making his shoulders stiff with tension. He twisted his neck from side to side in a gesture to relax his tightening muscles but they refused to ease and he glanced over to Matt and Crystal, who were huddled together for warmth like two newborn lambs. A sudden shrill cry split the solitude and echoed through the air, taking Tremlon by surprise, and before he knew what was happening a pair of large, brawny hands was upon him and something fierce and dressed in dark clothing was clinging to his throat, threatening to throttle him where he sat, momentarily stunned and unable to transmute. Instinctively Tremlon grabbed the strong hands and tried to prise the huge fingers apart. He pushed the attacker with all his might and forced him to stagger backwards. Tremlon reached down for his blade. It flashed when he drew it from its hilt, but his attacker had already recovered and was upon him yet again. A fierce fight broke out and his dagger was no match for the attacker’s skill at arms and within seconds the knife left his hand and lay buried in the snow.
Tremlon punched his attacker full in the face and then tried to reach the goatskin bag. The horses whinnied their confusion and pulled at their slackened reins, frightened by all the commotion. They gave a sharp tug as their nerves jangled, causing Tremlon to lose his balance. In an instant he fell from the wagon and landed with a dull thud on the ground, the snow breaking his fall, but his at
tacker was still attached. Crystal screamed, terrified. She clung to the side of the wagon, cowering away from the fight, unable to digest what was happening until she came to her senses and screamed for Matt to do something to help the shape-changer.
Although frightened, Matt found his nerve and jumped from his seat, landing on the back of Tremlon’s attacker. He flung his arms around the assailant’s neck, pulling tight against the throat, trying to force him to let go. The intruder retaliated by elbowing Matt in the gut and he fell to his knees in agony before crouching into a ball in the snow, unable to breathe. The attacker’s full attention turned back towards the shape-changer. A second assailant who had been hiding downwind hit the back of the wagon and overpowered the solitary guard. There was a kerfuffle, the soldier clearly no match for the huge, powerful frame which attacked him, and a sword pierced the soldier’s heart, killing him with one, single thrust. He fell like a stone and hit the ground with a soft thud.
For the first time in her life Crystal didn’t know what to do, everything was happening so fast. In a panic she threw herself onto the bare wooden floor of the wagon, searching for some kind of weapon. She grappled with the few bits of clothing and dirty rags that lay strewn about, but her eyes filled with terror when she could find nothing to hand. She pushed her rucksack out of the way, already aware there was nothing inside that could help her, but caught sight of the goatskin bag and a glimmer of hope ignited in her eyes. She reached out and grabbed it, but before she had time to open the silver clasp, a dark-skinned hand, smelling of horses and dried dirt, came out of nowhere and assaulted her. She squealed when dirty fingers covered her nose and mouth and she reached up, clawing at the hand which threatened to suffocate her, her fingernails digging into the cold flesh.
Her attacker appeared undaunted by her struggle, simply gripping her tighter and forcing his free arm around her waist. His solid frame, which she felt against her back, was strong and unyielding. Fear filled her eyes as she was dragged from the wagon and she felt bile rise in her throat when she caught sight of Matt lying face down in the snow. A rough voice barked an order and the ambushers ran, taking her with them. It was clear she was being kidnapped and once her kidnappers had reached their horses, a large canvas sack was pulled from a saddle bag and shoved over her head.
Sinners of Magic Page 10