Feeling restless, she crossed the floor with the two empty teacups in her hands. She glanced down at Forusian’s cup and saw the shimmer of an imprint left on the side of the rim. Her eyes lit up with sparks of hope and, crossing the room, she moved towards the magic panel.
Holding the rim of the cup up towards the glass, she rotated it from right to left. Forusian’s thumbprint was distinctly on the edge of the cup and the natural grease from his fingers had left an impression so clear that she could see the friction ridges and furrows. There was a swish when the thumbprint was accepted and the door flew open, revealing a long, dark corridor.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Crystal cried out loud, dropping the cup and cringing when she heard it smash on the ground. Without a second thought, she entered the darkness. The door closed immediately behind her and she felt a moment of panic before hurrying down the uneven passageway to try and find her way out.
She came across a solitary torch that was still alight when she reached a set of stairs and she reached up and unhooked it from the wall. She carried on with desperate haste until she stepped out into the forest and the torch soared with a sudden fiery glow, and the euphoria she was feeling immediately evaporated. The dark night enfolded her like long, dark arms and the air was damp and bitterly cold. She realised what a fool she had been not to bring her cloak and was therefore unable to stop the chill from seeping through to her bones as she stumbled blindly into the unknown, unsure which way to turn.
A disgruntled owl hooted an unexpected warning and the whoosh of its wings flapped overhead whilst it searched for food, startling her. The shadows cast by the flames of the torch made the bird look gigantic and she flinched when a wing appeared only inches from her face; she dragged the torch closer until she heard the owl screech in triumph when it took its evening meal back to its nest to be devoured.
She felt so alone and vulnerable, believing a million tiny eyes were watching her from the seclusion of the trees, causing her courage to weaken with every step she took. Her fear was starting to make her breathing sound staggered and her palms were moist with sweat. She fretted over being recaptured, realising the torch could probably be seen for miles, and so she dropped the sconce to the floor and stamped it out with the heel of her shoe until the flame fizzled and died. Tiny sparks flew in the air and drifted away on the breeze like a mass of golden fireflies and she felt a moment of relief when all she could see was darkness.
She realised her main priority was to find somewhere to hide for the night, but the forest was deep and unyielding. Her steps were clumsy and she walked like a blind woman, her arms outstretched, afraid of the elongated twigs and branches that repeatedly assaulted her flesh. With every footstep she took her fear grew until she was totally convinced someone was lurking in the bushes, waiting for the right moment to make their attack. Her fear allowed her imagination to run riot and elaborate thoughts of her assailants caused her throat to constrict, the terror in her eyes eventually clouding her better judgement.
Unable to endure the black abyss any longer, she was at the edge of delirium when she suddenly stumbled across a small hollow in the trunk of a tree. Finding sanctuary saved her sanity and she climbed inside, thankful to be protected from the danger she thought still loitered outside. She curled into the foetal position, trying to keep the cold at bay, and she prayed that when the sun rose she would still be alive. Crystal had never felt so lost in her entire life. She was so afraid of the darkness and what the daylight would bring and, unable to hold back her terror any longer, she allowed a heavy stream of tears to fall. With her mind full of anguish, she sobbed uncontrollably for what seemed like hours and the sound of her frantic tears was carried along by the four winds of the forest.
The echo of her cries stretched for miles and was heard by a forest dweller out late collecting a few pieces of firewood. On hearing the sobbing, the dweller guessed it was a young one who had lost their way and, dropping the kindling to the forest floor, she followed the winding path that wormed through the forest to find them. In her hand she held a common oil lamp and a tatty shawl was drooped around her chiselled shoulders whilst her skirt, which was old and faded, dragged along the floor.
The forest dweller knew the path like the back of her hand. She had trodden on this rich soil many times and was acquainted with every twist and turn. She was not troubled by the darkness or what it could hold, but she sensed whoever was crying was very afraid.
It took her only a few minutes to find the hollow where Crystal was hiding herself away. The lamp shone brightly, breaking the shroud of obscurity, and Crystal shielded her eyes when the light dazzled her, petrified the soldiers had somehow found her.
‘Come with me,’ said a voice from within the darkness. ‘No point sitting in there unless you want to die of cold.’
Crystal was shocked to hear a woman’s voice. But when the light started to fade, she clambered out of the hole and staggered towards the glow.
‘Wait for me!’ she called, when the light grew small, ‘I’m right behind you.’ Her feet were not so sure-footed like the stranger’s and she stumbled more than once in her attempt to keep up.
The woman didn’t slow her pace on hearing her cry and with the lamp still swinging in her hand she turned from the path and in seconds was almost out of sight. Crystal scrambled after her. Her feet were aching and her knees hurt from the constant whipping of the thickening undergrowth but she refused point blank to be left behind. She finally caught up with the dweller, breaking into a small clearing and the woman approached a tumbledown shelter.
‘You’d best stay the night,’ said the woman, beckoning for her to enter.
‘It’s so kind of you to take me in like this,’ said Crystal, following her inside. ‘I’m really very grateful.’
‘Tell me, child, what were you doing out there?’ asked the stranger, placing the lamp on a wooden table. Crystal’s blue eyes filled with uncertainty. Where should she begin? What was she going to say? She felt she owed this stranger some kind of an explanation, but felt immensely intimidated by her. They stared at one another, sizing each other up, until the woman grew self-conscious and moved away. She reached out and picked up a beaker, filling it full of water from a pitcher standing close by. She offered it to Crystal and watched her lift it to her lips, drinking thirstily.
‘What’s your name?’ the woman asked, when she saw the girl was trembling.
Crystal’s mind thought only of protecting herself, aware of keeping her real identity secret for the time being. She had already had the sense to realise her host could well be an ally of Forusian’s or, worse, simply prepared to betray her for a few gold coins. She thought quickly on her feet.
‘My name is Nienna,’ she said, dropping her gaze towards the floor.
The woman’s eyebrow arched.
‘Mmm, I see you’re not from these parts?’ she said, in a rather matter-of-fact tone.
‘Er, no,’ agreed Crystal, shaking her head, ‘you’re right, I’m not from anywhere near here.’
The woman did not press her, but instead pointed to a sack which had been filled with horse hair and was used as a chair.
‘Do you mind, if I ask what I should call you?’ asked Crystal, placing the empty cup on the table.
The woman seemed to ponder over this question for a moment before giving her an answer.
‘I go under many names,’ she said at last, her voice sounding distant, ‘but the one I have used for most of my life is Amella.’
Crystal smiled. ‘That’s a really nice name,’ she said, with genuine warmth. ‘And it’s very pretty,’ she added, still shaking from cold.
Amella shrugged, unsure of her visitor and not used to compliments. ‘You’d better go and make yourself comfortable,’ she said, throwing her gaze at the chair.
Crystal nodded, dropping like a stone into the hairy sack.
‘I sense you’re running away from someone,’ said Amella, with a twitch. She crossed the small room and started
to light the makeshift stove.
Crystal bit her lip. There was no way she could tell her the truth, but if she didn’t tell her something she would be unable to ask for help. Amella busied herself preparing a light meal for her guest, but it wasn’t long before Crystal noticed how Amella’s movements were almost graceful. She studied her host with sudden fascination, surprised at her hidden elegance, until the room filled with wonderful smells and her stomach growled with hunger.
‘Come on, eat up,’ said Amella, passing Crystal a simple wooden bowl. ‘It’s only feefalas and a few woodland vegetables, but it’ll keep your hunger at bay and help to warm you up.’
‘Thank you, you’re very kind,’ said Crystal, taking the bowl with both hands. ‘It’s so very good of you to give me something to eat as well as a bed for the night.’
Her host eyed her warily. It was becoming obvious to her that her guest was not some mere peasant like she had first thought and once Crystal had eaten Amella came and sat by her side.
The oil lamp was smouldering in the furthest corner, making the shadows dance along the walls, cloaking the room in a shroud of mystery, and Crystal couldn’t help wonder how long Amella had lived like this.
She also realised Amella was not quite as old as she had first thought but there were obvious signs the woman had endured a hard life. Her hands were ingrained with years of dirt and her skin showed signs of exposure to the sun; however, her face was still youthful and very beautiful. Crystal saw her hair was thick with natural hazelnut highlights which shone like copper whenever it caught the light, but her hair was left to hang over her face like a dark curtain, almost hiding her away.
‘So, tell me, Nienna, who are you running from?’ asked Amella, breaking her train of thought and offering her a ragged, old shawl.
Crystal hesitated for a moment but then decided she had choice, she must trust this woman.
‘Oh, from King Forusian,’ said Crystal, accepting the garment and then closing her eyes to conjure up his image. ‘He kidnapped me and then for some strange reason decided to try and force me to marry him, but I obviously refused and he hid me away in the forest. By sheer luck I managed to escape and now I am free, I have just got one more thing to do, then I can go home.’
She opened her eyes and saw Amella staring at her.
‘Where is home?’ asked the woman.
‘Erm, the Kingdom of Nine Winters,’ Crystal lied, dragging her eyes away and feeling a moment of unease.
‘Really?’ said Amella, stiffening. ‘You don’t appear to have many characteristics of an elf, but then it’s been many years since I entered the realm of King Gamada and you are of a new generation.’ She glanced straight at Crystal’s ears, but they were covered by her long, thick hair, causing tension to flare over Amella’s face.
‘You know King Gamada?’ asked Crystal, intrigued by her revelation.
The woman’s eyes clouded and her mood changed unexpectedly. Hidden barriers made their presence known and Amella left Crystal’s side to reach for a solitary bottle sitting high up on a shelf.
‘I’m afraid I can’t help you find your way back to the Kingdom of Nine Winters,’ she said, filling her glass and taking a huge mouthful of the amber liquid. She placed the bottle back on the shelf without offering any to her visitor.
‘Oh, no,’ Crystal cried. ‘You don’t understand, I don’t want to go back to my kingdom, I want to go back to Forusian’s castle and free my friend, Matt.’
‘That’s simply absurd, you won’t stand a chance against Forusian’s men and you don’t even know how to get out of the forest, let alone into the castle,’ Amella flounced.
Crystal felt a bolt of stubbornness rip through her spine.
‘Perhaps not,’ she answered in retaliation. ‘But one thing’s for sure, I’m willing to try. I won’t just sit back and let him kill my friend without a fight.’
‘Brave words from one so weak,’ said Amella, swinging round to stare at Crystal as though seeing her for the first time.
‘What do you mean?’’ asked Crystal, becoming infuriated. ‘Why do you judge me so?’
The woman’s lips tightened.
‘I’m not judging you,’ she said, her eyes wide with surprise. ‘I’m merely telling you the truth. How do you intend to fight the guards, let alone the king? I am puzzled by you. You have no weapon and know no wizardry with which to protect yourself. An elf of your breeding should know more magic and sorcery than you appear to possess, yet you seem worldlier than a mere innocent of your kind should be.’
Crystal wriggled in her seat.
‘Please stop analysing me. I realise I’m not quite what you think I should be, but the issue here is rescuing my friend. I’ve managed to save Matt’s life once before and I am willing to try again,’ she added, still squirming under her gaze. ‘Forusian needs to learn that not everyone will lie down and die just because he has commanded it, and he cannot have everything he wants just because he has power and has taught the Nonhawk to fear him.’
‘You’re very courageous for one so young,’ said Amella, with a sigh. ‘You know, it’s strange, but you remind me of someone I once knew, someone I thought to be brave and kind but who turned out to be only weak and spineless. Let’s hope you don’t fail like the friend I once held dear.’
‘I’m sorry about your friend, but I’m not like them,’ snapped Crystal, raising her chin in disdain. ‘I must get Matt out of the castle and back to Nine Winters.’
‘You’re right,’ said Amella, placing her drink on the table, ‘but you’re going to need help to kill King Forusian.’
‘Hey, wait a minute,’ said Crystal, shaking her head in despair, ‘I never said anything about killing him.’
Amella laughed a hearty laugh, leaving Crystal feeling foolish.
‘You have to defeat him,’ Amella told her, ‘or you will never see your friend alive again. Forusian will not allow you to just take him and when he finds out it is you who has turned against him he will not rest until you are dead too.’
Crystal gulped.
‘I will do whatever it takes,’ she said, folding her arms across her small chest. ‘I will save Matt at any cost.’
‘Very well,’ said Amella, throwing her a moth-eaten blanket and downing the last of her drink. ‘I had better make you a bed and let you get some sleep if you are so intent on changing both of our destinies tomorrow.’
Chapter 16
Despite Nekton feeling much better it was apparent he was slowing down the group. Time was of the essence, and so it was agreed they should take an alternative route and stop in the realm of the dwarves so that Nekton could rest and fully recover. They entered without any resistance and rode through the marketplace, stopping at a tavern renowned for its hospitality to strangers. The wizards were impatient to be on their way and did not wish to sample any of the delights the dwarves openly offered, and Amadeus felt genuine despair when the time came to bid his new friend farewell.
‘Remember to visit me in Fortune’s End,’ said Nekton, trying to clear his throat of any trace of emotion.
‘Of course, I will,’ answered Amadeus, giving him a heart-warming grin. ‘Where else would I get such cheap entertainment? And anyhow, I must return the king’s horse to him before you’re accused of being a thief.’
They laughed the laugh that new friends share when parting, before hugging each other with a firm grip. The wizards’ horses became restless and Amadeus sensed it was time to leave. With a heavy heart he mounted his steed and, without looking back, spurred it on to rejoin the others.
Nekton watched the band of mages ride off to meet their destiny and a crushing wave of regret washed over him when he realised he would never be a part of it. He had always been the keeper at Fortune’s End and had never known any other life. Now he’d had a taste of adventure he longed with a burning desire to go with the group on what he believed to be an invigorating quest.
The dust settled and with it his racing heart steadied. He shook
his head, admitting he was being a silly, old fool, and he turned towards the tavern on hearing the merriment inside. His eyes sparkled when a buxom female wearing little more than a smile caught his roaming eye and he grinned, deciding it wouldn’t be quite so bad staying here after all. His thoughts swept back to Amadeus. If nothing else, he could take from this journey a new friendship, a friendship that would remain with him for the rest of his life and with this thought in mind he indulged himself with far more than a few tankards of ale…
*
The five wizards continued along the dusty road on their way to the Kingdom of Nine Winters, with Amadeus riding by their side.
‘I’ve never been to the elf kingdom before,’ muttered Amafar to Voleton once they had reached the open plain.
‘Neither have I,’ replied Voleton, still keeping a watchful eye, ‘but it’s time we made it clear that they have crossed the line this time.’ Amafar considered the implications of the wizards entering the elf realm uninvited.
‘We may have bitten off more than we can chew,’ he said, kicking his horse on when it decided to slow. ‘Gamada is no fool, and we’re unsure as to who he has allegiances to these days. I don’t know if there is a connection between Forusian and Gamada, but I can taste changes ahead and I’m uncertain it’s a good omen. One thing is for sure though; Bridgemear will not rest until he has his vengeance on Gamada and this could be just the excuse he’s been waiting for.’
A sudden burst of laughter caused him to lower his voice.
‘I think we’re heading for a very rocky ride,’ Voleton said, stealing a glance at Bridgemear. He gripped his reins tighter. ‘However, whatever happens when we reach the Kingdom of Nine Winters I promise you, I’ll stand by him. He’s our blood and he’s our brother, and I will not allow anyone to try and take him down because of his past.’
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