“And dangerous,” answered the latter.
“Did you feel the power?”
Failon made a wry face, a grimace usually unknown to his face. It was virtually impossible not to feel it, he thought. And impossible not to see.
“She destroyed my garden,” he complained instead of replying and turned to look at his shack. Nolan followed suit to spot an overgrowth of branches sticking out of the cabin’s wood.
“I’m guessing there won’t be a jot of space inside.” Nolan sounded almost malicious.
“For a moment there I thought she was going to kill me,” Failon said after a moment’s contemplation.
“I don’t think she intended to.”
“How come she used such a powerful spell and was able to walk off like that?” Failon wondered.
“The forest. I think she used its life energy.”
“It would take years to draw so much energy into one’s body,” Failon protested.
“She didn’t, she just let the magic go right through her,” Nolan spilled drily. Both were looking in the direction of her departure. Nolan seemed worried. Silence fell upon them for a moment. Then Failon turned to him questioningly. And waited a bit more.
“Did you see her start moving?” Nolan broke the silence thoughtfully.
“What do you mean?”
“One moment she was standing there with her hands ready to throw something deadly, the next she had her back to me, walking away with her hands by her sides and everything was growing like mad. There was nothing in between,” Nolan explained. Failon gaped at him for a while, before he managed: “She’s far more dangerous than we though.”
“That’s stating the obvious. Don’t you have anything constructive to say?” Nolan grimaced. He didn’t intend to argue over trifles with Failon. To be honest, he’d been awaiting something like this to happen for quite some time. Well, … something like this? While he’d expected a wild demonstration of the power that Elena had within, he hadn’t expected her to do this exactly.
“At least now you know she won’t blow up your reputable keister for no reason,” he added.
“I dare say you spend too much time with the girl, you’re beginning to use her dreadful language,” Failon scolded him.
“You call that a constructive remark?” Nolan replied absentmindedly. He was listening to the forest. He could feel Elena moving through it, because its horrified creatures and trees were communicating among themselves. He could feel the confusion of the elves who were hit by Elena’s spell. Chaos spread through the elven city.
“We should find her,” Failon cut his thoughts short.
“Nope, I wouldn’t do that,” Nolan disagreed.
“What if she disappears again?”
“So what. She’s old and skillful enough to take care of herself.”
“But her training is not yet finished!” Failon protested.
“And it will never be. Question is, how much more we can teach her. Besides, she has just taught us one.”
“We cannot allow her to go back to her people when she’s still unable to control her powers!” spat Failon, who was beginning to lose his temper. The sight of Elena’s dragon eyes and most of all their orange tint had not done him any good. Nolan smiled bitterly.
“Look around. She used her power to awaken life, not for destruction, didn’t you notice? She’s like a beast held in a cage her whole life. How long do you want to keep her that way? You wanted to test her, you provoked her, and, my dear friend, this time you went too far. And she came through. She is quite adept at controlling her powers, and she knows what is at stake. Do not try to change the course of destiny, it cannot be done by force.”
“But the prophecy …”
“The prophecy is ambiguous!” Nolan cut Failon short. The same Nolan who hardly ever spoke more than a few words at the same time and never, ever, interrupted anyone. And that surprised Failon.
“She will make the right decision, when time comes,” Nolan continued.
“What if she doesn’t?”
“That, of course, is always an option. But you, my dear friend, have done all you could and now it is up to her. We must hope for the best. We must hope we have raised her right.” Nolan lapsed into silence for a moment. Not only he had nothing else to say, but there were more important matters at hand than his friend with an overgrown house and a momentarily slightly battered ego. True, the latter was absolutely unthinkable with an elf and therefore amounted to serious bodily harm, but even so.
“You might want to go free your house of all the branches, or you’ll have nowhere to live. I need to talk to Alivan,” Nolan decided to end the conversation. He turned on his heel and soundlessly disappeared into the forest.
Elena left the utterly shaggy clearing behind. The moment she was sure to be out of sight of the two elves, she broke into a run. Things had changed, she could run a lot faster than a human, now. Well, she could run faster than most elves. And she ran from memory, not really paying attention to her surroundings. Her anger was gone. It had vanished with that strange vision she had, being replaced with an ice-cold, sharp logic. Now she felt sheer relief, not the anxiety that had been pressing down on her for quite some time. It was gone.
Memory of the enormous power surging through her body, and knowledge that she could do literally anything she wanted with it, burned a white-hot track into her brain. Elena knew that memory would never fade, she knew she would always recollect that feeling. But suddenly she was calm, knowing she was in control of all that power. No, that wasn’t exactly correct. She hadn’t controlled the magic, she’d controlled herself. And that was what was important. It was not her horrible strength, it was herself she had to hold in line. With this also came the realization that she didn’t have to conquer the world. It would be enough for the world to know that she could. And that was the moment she realized she didn’t have an inkling to destroy anything at all. Suddenly, everything looked simple.
It was that little piece of defiance in her heart, the little Eli, who had spent her whole life proving her worth to everyone, who thought it a terrible waste not to use a perfectly good spell. Sure, she could have simply returned the power where she’d taken it from. Could have, but didn’t want to. What would be the point? So she changed the destructive fire into something wonderful, something full of life. And rebelliously, with quite some satisfaction threw it under Failon’s and Nolan’s feet.
However, something had her worried. The world had stopped around her. Or was it time? When Nolan confronted her, she’d needed, craved, a minute to think; a quiet moment for her to sort everything out in her mind. And suddenly, she had it. Time had stopped around her. And Elena found herself moving a billion times faster than everything outside her own continuum. But her brain reacted with absolute chaos. Her mind filled with memories of her life, some of them, however, she did not know. And there was that vision, a horrifying picture of a cloaked man, his enormous power, her own fear and fire. Elena had no doubt she saw herself. She knew it was real, she remembered it to have happened. Even so, she knew it had not happened, yet. Was it future that she saw? Or was it just her imagination brought to life by her own fear?
11 CHAPTER
MONSTER OF THE CITADEL
Unwatched and almost unnoticed, Breta walked by the guards. They paid no attention to her, as if she were a mere shadow. Gone were the days when no man could resist turning their head after her. She used to be tall, dignified, debonair and beautiful. Those times were long gone. So long, she didn’t even wonder at the change any more.
Life in the dark palace had robbed her of color in her cheeks. Her womanly shapes seemed to have lost their significance, her figure appeared almost bony. Prominent cheekbones suppressed natural gentleness of her face, which had not seen sunshine nor laughter for years. It felt like the foul air in this maze had dried out and etched her skin and the muscles underneath it. Her back was straight, her head proudly raised. Pride, dignity and sharp mind were all that rem
ained of the woman she used to be.
She suspected her time to be running out, as her beauty deserted her. It wouldn’t take long before lord Nitram would condemn her like he had done all the other women before her. He made sure she knew about them. Just another of his cruelties. Though she was aware her time in the Citadel had been longer than that of all her predecessors, it was drawing to an end. She was too smart to vent her hatred smoldering under the surface and thus endanger not only herself, but mostly the only reason she still hoped for better tomorrow.
Lately, dark thoughts haunted her. She contemplated what was more cruel: death, or life full of suffering in the darkness, without sun? There might be an end to the hardship, but it might also go on forever.
As if Nitram suspected what she was thinking of, he took every precaution to prevent her from resorting to the first alternative. She could, of course, use any of the numerous traps, but that would mean ending only her own life. He, then, would be left alone, without protection, at Nitram’s mercy. For years now she had constantly struggled to find a solution, to find means of escape, but darkness and foul air of the Citadel dulled her mind.
Even now, walking through a glum, windowless corridor, she dreamed of finding a way out. Sporadic torches emitted more shadows than light, shadows dancing on walls, making the corridor even gloomier. Her skirt rustled gently, the sound of her footsteps reverberated against walls, disturbing the almost utter silence of this place. Hearing her own breath and heartbeat was something she’d gotten used to years ago, though now it felt as if her heart was beating slower, and slower still. With long, thin fingers she pulled her cloak tighter to her body and almost without thinking took a step sideways to avoid a tile hiding a booby trap. Inwardly she was counting her steps, doors and turns in the passageways to keep her orientation and to avoid all the traps. A single misstep, the smallest of mistakes could mean certain death. It was grueling to have her mind constantly processing every detail. Her nerves were strung with unremitting anticipation and vigilance.
The only time she could really think, was in the silence and relative safety of her bedroom. But there also were no windows and her candle supply was limited, as well as the activities she could occupy herself with. Solitude and darkness were driving her mad. She had started wandering the corridors to keep in shape not only physically, but in mind also. Should she lose not only her beauty, but also her agility and wit, she would lose any chance to save herself and above all … to save him. She didn’t dare even think his name.
She was on her way to the Archives now. Had she been able to follow the flow of time, she would have known it was almost eight years since Nitram allowed her to enter their premises. He did it with the knowledge that she would never be able to escape him. Any knowledge she might acquire would stay here, within these godsforsaken walls. Any possible secrets she might learn would die with her before she would have a chance to share them with anybody. Back in those days she didn’t share his certainty. Today, after ages of hardship and darkness, she was losing hope. But the Archives helped her survive, keeping her vigilant, preventing her from falling into deadly melancholy and inertia.
It was thanks to the Archives that she was able to learn enough about the traps to move around the corridors safely and to broaden the area she could occupy. She was no longer constrained to her bedroom and the hallways in its immediate vicinity. Through time she brought her knowledge of the traps to near perfection and began to study plans and maps of this kingdom and its neighbors. She learned about the landscape, typology and history, but also about Nitram’s armies.
Presented with the fait accompli of her presence, the keepers of the Archives were almost the only creatures of the Citadel not averting their eyes from her, sometimes even perceiving her as an intelligent being. Apart from Nitram, they were the only ones she could talk to, though she was sure she could not and must not trust them. They were without exception devoted to their master, lord Nitram. The fact that their devotion was directly proportional to their fear for their lives or the lives of their loved ones did not change that fact.
Breta stepped over several step-triggered mechanisms placed in a belts across the whole width of the passage. Finding herself in a hallway dead end, she halted half a step before its back wall, turning ninety degrees left. She stepped through an invisible entrance. Blinding light suddenly flooded over her. Thousands of mirrors reflected her image, deforming her face and figure. For a moment she contemplated her portraits, but quickly turned her eyes away. Day after day she was cruelly confronted with losing her beauty. Long ago she had stopped reminding herself that all the mirrors in this maze were deformed, not giving justice to her true visage. To avoid getting distracted, she closed her eyes and with her left hand pressed to the wall, she proceeded through the labyrinth. Careful not to open her eyes and most of all not to lift her hand from the cold glass or smooth stone, she walked on till she felt rough rock under her fingers again. It took a while for her eyes to get accustomed to the gloom. She needed good night vision, since some of the local floor tiles were darker than others. It was essential to touch only those, a millimeter to either side would launch a deadly mechanism.
Breta saw them the moment she turned a corner. Guards standing in front of the Archives’ entrance.
Without a word, they blocked her way and beckoned her to follow them. Lord Nitram had sent for her. She lifted her head even higher. Though she’d been summoned this way on innumerable occasions, this time she sensed to be walking towards her destiny. The certainty of that feeling was as solid as the walls of her prison.
They lead her past her bedroom. Its door was open. She stopped to look inside. A girl in a bright blue dress was standing in the room. Long blond hair fell deep below her waist, and her head was bowed, making the young woman look very delicate indeed. Breta couldn’t help but think that such a brittle creature wouldn’t last long inside these walls. Blondie must have noticed she was being watched and turned to face the door. Her cheeks were grubby from tears, but Breta payed them almost no attention. Lined with beautiful long eyelashes, azure eyes looked at the older woman. Fear and horror filed those eyes, but there was also something hard, cold, and calculating in them.
A soldier walking behind her pushed Breta roughly to get her moving again. His attitude and the unknown girl in her chambers confirmed her suspicions. She was sentenced to death, not allowed even the shortest of delay. Nitram awaited her in the coronation hall, smiling at her, as he rose from his throne. It was an evil, smug smile, which extraordinarily reached all the way to his eyes. He was obviously looking forward to what he was about to do. She replied with a dignified, hard look. Her life was lost. She thought about the boy, who was now condemned to life in a dark palace, a boy she was never to see again. In the posture of a person who had had all but their pride taken away from them, she straightened her back a little further.
Then Breta took his arm to accompany him into the dark corridors.
“One last test of your courage awaits you, my dear. If you withstand it, you may leave this palace and live your life, should you still care for it.” His hoarse, hollow voice still sounded like someone grinding dry peas. Now, however, it also had a strange honey-sweet tone to it, which was in a way even more terrifying. She smiled bitterly, knowing him far too well to be fooled by his tricks.
The corridors he led her through, were unknown to her since so far they had been out of bounds for her.
“And I will grant you your wish. You will see daylight again.” Nitram sounded almost happy.
“And the boy?” she took her last chance. He lashed a sidelong glance at her with dark snake-like eyes with no whites and only a tiny prolonged pupil that was a shade darker than the iris. A fanatical flame burned in the darkness of that look.
“He is my son. He is to be my warrior and successor.”
“Then, my lord, you should heed that he thrives. He should see daylight and stay in the sun. Let him know the world,” Breta tried to convince him
once more. Silent, Nitram only hastened his pace.
“He’s but a boy. He’ll be ailing without daylight and fresh air and a sickly child can never be a good warrior.”
At that precise moment they entered a corridor lit by lazy, warm light. Surprised, she held her face out to it. The wall high above their heads was lined with long, narrow vent holes letting the sun peek into the dark palace of the Citadel.
“He’s just a boy,” she said softly, surprised that she allowed a pleading tone creep into her voice.
“Not for long,” he replied harshly. There were guards in the hallway before them, standing in a regularly spaced line against a plain wall with no windows. Her calmness, the poise carefully held together by her sheer will for years, began to desert her. She looked over her shoulder, hoping to at least glimpse her son one last time. At the same time, she was hoping he wouldn’t witness her last moments.
Nitram smiled to himself. Finally he managed what he had longed for from the beginning. Finally, he could smell her fear. It entered his nostrils like a delightful sweet parfume.
One of the guards murmured a spell and a crack appeared at the floor, running straight up the wall. It drew an outline of a two winged gate. The gate plucked open, flooding them with sharp sunlight. Blinded by the rays she had been for so long unaccustomed to, Breta instinctively closed her eyes. When, after a moment she dared to open them ever so slightly, it had hurt. Nitram led her outside. It took a while for her eyes to adapt, for the golden mist blurring her vision to disappear, for the ruins surrounding the Citadel to show themselves. The black, worn down cobblestones under their feet radiated stifling heat, relentless sunrays stabbing them from above.
Bathed in the blinding light, the city was silent, its streets deserted, buildings slowly falling apart. Apart from their numerous escort, there was no living soul in sight. The bustling town she once knew was gone. The echo of their footsteps bouncing off the shiny walls was the only sound. There was none other, not even the buzz of insects.
The Witch (Dragon Eyes Book 1) Page 31