The sun slid towards the edge of the mountains and bathed Barrowthorne Tower in golden light. The tower was tall, circular and made of pitted dun-coloured stone; the same hue as the rocky slopes of the Sable Range that formed an arid backdrop behind it. Part of the landscape, Barrowthorne Tower was very old; worn by time and the harsh climate that gnawed at it – bitter winters and scorching summers, year after year.
A hot dry wind gusted down the mountainside and into the folds of the hills surrounding Barrowthorne. The wind buffeted the tower’s rough stone and rattled the tightly latched shutters – all except one window, high up, where the shutters banged in the wind.
A woman reached out of the window to retrieve the flapping shutters. Tall and strong, with a sensual face, and long dark hair that flowed over tanned, bare shoulders, she was dressed plainly in a sand-coloured, sleeveless shift that accentuated her dark beauty. She wore no jewellery save an ornate golden arm ring on her right bicep.
Belythna Falkyn paused a moment at the open window. The wind whipped against her face and tangled her hair as she watched the approaching dusk. The wind was strangely hot. Belythna frowned and stepped back from the window, slamming the shutters closed.
Inside the nursery chamber, the air was unbearably close with the shutters latched. A single candle sat on the sideboard, its flickering light illuminating a large chamber with a flagstone floor. A sheepskin covered part of the flagstones and three cots dominated the centre of the chamber. Baskets filled with wooden toys lined the walls, but no other furniture adorned the nursery.
Belythna stood next to the rattling shutters and steadied her breathing. A light sheen of sweat covered her bare skin. After a few moments, she moved away from the window. She stepped close to the cots and looked down at her sons. They were all sleeping. Watching them, her face softened.
Seth, the youngest, whimpered in his sleep. Belythna reached out and stroked his brow, smiling as a tiny hand clutched hers. Only a few months old, he already had a thick head of raven hair, so like hers.
Eni, the middle child, slept deeply. He lay sprawled on his back, one arm flung across his face, as if nothing in the world scared him. At two years, he already bore a striking resemblance to his father, with the same strong, long-limbed frame and a mop of light-brown hair.
Val, the eldest, was restless. His blond curls were damp with sweat and his gentle, cherubic face was shadowed by troubling dreams. He was only five winters old, but with seriousness beyond his years.
Belythna took a deep breath and straightened up, her eyes glistening.
I’m doing this for their safety, she reminded herself – although the truth of it could not remove the crushing sorrow that compressed her chest and made breathing difficult. Belythna’s jaw hardened then. She had to steel herself for what lay ahead, no matter how it tore her heart out.
First, she had a gift for each of her sons. She opened the sideboard’s top drawer and drew out three amulets. Identical – the black teardrop-shaped gems gleamed in the candlelight. Belythna regarded the glittering amulets a moment. They had been a gift from her oldest friend, Floriana DeSanith.
You tried to tell me Floriana, Belythna thought sadly, I should have listened to you. You knew she would come after us.
Gently, careful not to wake the boys, Belythna hung an amulet around each child’s neck.
She then stepped back from the cots and slowly raised her right arm, holding it above her sleeping children. She noticed it trembled slightly and frowned, irritated.
Perhaps becoming a wife and a mother has made me weak?
Pushing her thoughts aside, Belythna forced herself to concentrate. She moved her hand in a circle above her boys, as if the air was made of water and she was stirring it into a whirlpool. The air started to hum as she spoke. Her voice, low and melodious, made the sultry air inside the chamber shimmer.
Mother Earth and Father Sky;
Shield these three
Sons of mine;
For thirty winters from this day
From the prying eyes of darkness.
Children of the light they shall be,
Far from the shadow.
The humming reached a crescendo before dying abruptly.
Belythna lowered her arm and sighed, suddenly weary beyond her thirty-five winters – so weary she wondered how she would face what lay ahead. She could not bear to leave her sons unprotected, and so had done all she could to ensure their safety. The charms around their necks would keep Val, Eni and Seth safe for a while. The boys would never know it, but for the next thirty years, they would find themselves unwilling to remove the amulet, and would have the unexplained desire to keep it secret and safe.
Now though, Belythna had delayed long enough. It was time.
She crossed to the sideboard and blew out the candle, plunging the chamber into darkness.
Deep-Spire Page 24