House of Fear and Freedom (The Wyrd Sequence Book 1)

by Kimberley J. Ward

  Shadow bent down, bringing his head level with hers.

  “Not such a meek little mouse now, are you?” he murmured, his voice deep and resonating.

  Nessa struggled to free her arm, wriggling and twisting her wrist, uncaring about the sword at her throat. “I was never meek.”

  “No?” Shadow asked softly, his eyes sparking, his hand tightening against her efforts. “Then you put on a mighty fine show before. Had me thinking that all hope was gone. But there’s a fire in you. I knew there would be. It just took you a while to find it.”

  Nessa growled.

  Shadow chuckled and straightened, his grip on her arm loosening. It flopped to Nessa’s side and remained there, limp, and she watched with weary eyes as he took a step back, still keeping his sword poised at her throat.

  “Be careful, little mouse,” he said, his words nearly washed away in the rain. “You’re playing a very dangerous game, and I would hate for your flame to be extinguished too soon. Don’t disappoint me now.”

  He turned and stalked away, disappearing into the darkness.

  All strength left her and Nessa slid down the wall, huddling on the ground in a confused and shocked mess. Her breaths rattled in her chest, something between gasps and sobs, and great shudders wracked her body. Rain fell, washing over her face like tears, and soaked through her clothing, painfully cold. She stared ahead, her eyes unseeing until a low moan broke through the fog in her mind.

  “Hunter!” she gasped.

  He lay where he had fallen, face down on the ground, unmoving even as a puddle of dirtied water formed around him. Nessa clambered to her feet, her legs feeling like they were made of jelly, and stumbled over to him.

  She fell to her knees, bruising them against the hard cobbles, and carefully rolled Hunter onto his back. A groan came from deep in his throat, but other than that, Hunter didn’t react. The heavy rain pushed back his hair, and even in the darkness of a stormy night, Nessa could see the angry red mark on his forehead. She bit her lip, worried beyond belief as she placed a hand on his chest, gently shaking him.

  “Hunter,” she called softly. “Wake up. Hunter?”

  Nessa shook him again, making his head loll.

  “Please wake up,” she pleaded. “Please.”

  Hunter didn’t moan or groan, or even twitch a finger. Nessa’s heart raced and she looked around, searching desperately for some kind of help. No one had come to investigate the noise of the fight, and no light shone from the closed shutters of the nearby buildings. The street was deserted save for her and Hunter.

  Nessa deliberated about calling for help, wondering if anyone would come, or if it would just draw unwanted attention. An image of the soldiers from the castle flashed in her mind. They had been readying themselves, preparing to enter the city to expand their search. She grew anxious. How long until they were in the city, armed and looking for them? Were they there already, getting closer and closer to them?

  Hunter groaned and his eyelids fluttered.

  Nessa leaned over him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hunter, it’s time to wake up now.”

  And with excruciating slowness, Hunter regained consciousness.

  With long blinks and confused eyes, he gazed at her without recognition at first, but then his mind cleared, and in a rush he scrambled up, trying to get to his feet. He didn’t even get to sit before Nessa pushed him down.

  “Slowly, damn it,” she said. “You’ve been knocked out, probably concussed, and you need to take things easy.”

  “Fine,” Hunter mumbled. “I’m fine.” He raised a hand to his forehead, wincing as his fingers grazed the swelling there. “Where’s Shadow? Where’s he gone?”

  “You’re not fine,” Nessa cried. “None of this is fine. Escaping from castles, brawling and fighting with swords... it’s just not... fine.” She slumped forward, cradling her head in her hands, hiding away the tears that were suddenly in her eyes. “And as for Shadow... I haven’t got the faintest idea what happened. He had us, could have easily taken us back to the castle, but all of a sudden he just left. I don’t know why.”

  “Perhaps I scared him away?”

  “Or maybe he’s gone to get reinforcements?” Nessa sobbed, the terrible image of them back in Blondie’s clutches springing to mind.

  A cold hand touched hers, startling Nessa, and she peered through her fingers, finding Hunter reaching out to her, his worry clear to see. She let him take her hand, entwining his fingers with hers.

  “I’m not accustomed to things like this,” she said. “Not at all.”

  “It’s alright. Everything will be alright.” Hunter sat up slowly. “It takes two or three wild escapes before you get used to all the excitement.”

  Nessa scowled at him, but it lacked heart.

  “Come on,” Hunter said, “help me up and I’ll get us somewhere warm and dry. That will help raise your spirits.” With some degree of effort, Nessa managed to get him to his feet.

  Hunter was unsteady at first, wobbly and unbalanced, his coordination off-kilter. Nessa placed his arm over her shoulders, taking as much of his weight as she could, becoming his crutch. Her bag slid, settling uncomfortably on her hip, but with Hunter heavy against her, Nessa couldn’t risk shifting it, not if she didn’t want to drop him. Hunter wasn’t doing much in the way of holding on.

  “Which way?” Nessa asked, staring down the alley, which branched off in several directions.

  Hunter nodded to the right. “If we head off in that direction, we’ll end up by the river. Once we reach that, we can follow it down to a friend’s place. They’ll keep us safe for a little while.” He kept saying ‘we,’ but Nessa had the feeling that she would be doing most of the hard work.

  Heading off in the direction that Hunter had gestured to, Nessa set as swift a pace as she could. Hunter stumbled over his feet every other step, and he struggled to keep his eyes open, but she was determined to get out of the rain as quickly as possible, especially with him so badly injured. The cold wouldn’t be doing him any good. The looming threat of being found by Blondie’s search parties was another motivator for finding safety.

  ∞∞∞

  It was a long walk to the river, one that was not made any faster by Hunter or the weather. With each passing minute, with each of Hunter’s fumbling steps, the worry in Nessa’s heart grew. It had been some time since they had left the castle’s courtyard where the soldiers had been gathering, and Nessa could practically feel their breaths on her neck as they surely grew ever closer. They would be in the city by now, Nessa was confident of that. A seed of purpose germinated. She would get them to safety, get them out of the rain and the cold, and hide them where they wouldn’t be found until Hunter regained his strength.

  Nessa’s back straightened and she marched on, practically dragging Hunter.

  While Nessa had never been there before, she kind of knew where she was from the time she had spent in the prison cell that had overlooked the river. She was in the residential part of the city, where the timber framed buildings had been built with no clear organisation. She supposed that this was a blessing. If the tunnel had exited on the other side, where the barracks were, Nessa guessed that she and Hunter wouldn’t have made it far before being caught.

  An occasional candle or lantern shone within a room, throwing weak light through gaps in the shutters, illuminating small parts of their trek, but other than that, Nessa wandered through the darkness of the stormy night without aid. No other souls, save for Nessa and Hunter, were around.

  Nessa could tell that Hunter was trying his best not to rely on her completely, that he was trying not to put too much of his weight on her, but even so, he still weighed a bloody ton. In the distance, over the heavy drum of the rain, Nessa could hear the faint roar of a thundering river. At least, she hoped that it was the river. After the whole episode of the illusionist doorways, Nessa wasn’t entirely sure what was real or not anymore.

  Whether it was another illusion or not, Ness
a forced herself to keep going.

  The roar grew louder and closer, and the houses opened up onto a large lane, a main street that ran beside the river. The rain poured from roofs and down the alleys and streets, emptying into it, making it swollen and angry. Dark, dirty water sped past Nessa at a shocking speed, carrying debris and things that had been caught in its churning path.

  With a murmured direction of “left” from Hunter, Nessa followed the river, keeping as far away from it as she could. The river was a raging monster, tossing and spraying water everywhere, threatening to burst its banks any minute. The street was uneven and slippery, and Nessa was careful where she placed each step, making sure she had firm footing.

  A few short weeks ago, Nessa had been looking down at this very river, wishing that she could be down here. Now she was. Nessa could not resist the temptation to look behind her.

  The ominous fortress rose high into the night’s sky, haloed by the light of a thousand torches. Its spires and towers reached to the clouds, a crown of jagged shapes that loomed over the city below, keeping watchful eyes on the citizens. Nessa gazed at the castle, knowing that she had been locked away up there, wishing for answers and freedom. The latter she had now gained, although she was still searching for answers. Nessa found herself wondering at how many people were up there, sitting by their windows, watching the storm and wishing they were free to experience it, just as she was now. That thought sent a pang of sorrow through her.

  Nessa turned her back on the castle. Over her dead body would she ever willingly step foot in that dreadful place again.

  She continued down the street, half dragging Hunter with her, waiting for him to mumble the next direction. They rounded a bend and up ahead was a beacon, calling to her.

  Streaming across the street was warm golden light, pouring out from the windows of a large dwelling. Hanging above the door was a sign: The Iron Horse.

  Hunter’s head lifted, and without being told, Nessa knew that this was their destination.

  The promise of light, of warmth and shelter from the rain, drew them in like moths to a flame. They shuffled past the first of the windows, and a clatter sounded from within. As they neared the door, it flew open, letting out a burst of heated air. They paused.

  Standing framed in the doorway, hands perched on ample hips, was a stout woman who stared at their sodden forms, scowling. Her eyes slid from Hunter to Nessa, missing no detail, and then flicked back.

  “Hunter, you scoundrel!” she all but shouted. “Where the blooming heck have you been? Your mother has been worried sick. I’ve been worried sick. And look at the bloody state of you. What have you done this time, you good for nothing overgrown man-child?”

  Hunter raised his head, smiling weakly. “Hello, Margret. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

  Margret snorted, but then her steely eyes slid once again to Nessa, who suspected that she looked like a drowned rat, and softened a touch. With a sigh, Margret stepped aside, opening the door a little wider, and ordered the two of them inside.

  With Margret’s help, Nessa manoeuvred Hunter into one of the chairs beside the fireplace. He settled into it with a sigh, instantly sliding into a slouch, a look of relief on his face.

  “Business a little slow, Margret?” he asked, gazing around the empty room.

  A growl sounded from Margret’s throat as she stared at him, taking in the stolen uniform and the large multicoloured mark on his forehead. Hunter’s lips twitched with a smile, and Margret looked like she wanted to throttle him.

  Nessa shifted, feeling uncomfortable and unsure of what to do, or if this really was the best place to seek refuge. Perhaps Hunter, in his current state, had made a mistake, for Margret didn’t seem particularly pleased to see him.

  Eyes of steel moved from Hunter and settled on Nessa, running over her wet form and the puddle of rainwater that was pooling beneath her feet. Nessa looked down at herself, unable to bear Margret’s hard gaze, and felt a stab of embarrassment. Her clothing was soaked through, sticking to her skin, and since she hadn’t seen her reflection in around a month or so, she knew that she couldn’t have looked good in the slightest. She was also shaking from the aftereffects of adrenaline and the cold.

  What a pitiful sight Nessa must have been, because softness entered Margret’s steely countenance, and she pulled up another chair, setting it beside the fire. Nessa was quickly ushered over to it, and she quite happily sat herself down, watching in bemusement as Margret abruptly headed over to the front door.

  As she pulled it open, Margret glared over her shoulder at them, her eyes loaded with warning. “Stay here,” she ordered. “If I discover that either of you have so much as moved a toe, then there will be dire consequences.”

  Nessa shot Hunter a look of alarm as soon as Margret was gone.

  Hunter gave her a tired smile, and said, “She’ll return in a bit.” He leaned further back in his chair, stretching out his long legs. His head drooped, chin coming to rest on his chest, and his eyelids fluttered closed. In the light, Nessa could see the mark on his forehead in all its glory.

  It was swollen and sore, a bright red lump the size of a fist above his left brow. The skin around the edge of it was pink and puffy, with the touches of the vivid blue of a freshly forming bruise. It would be a real beauty in the morning.

  Hunter’s skin was growing frightfully pale and clammy, and his state of exhaustion was a concern to Nessa. She rose from her chair and knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. His eyes opened, bleary, and he gave her hand an absentminded pat.

  “You alright?” he asked, his words slightly slurred.

  A grim laugh escaped her. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

  Hunter’s lips twitched. “I’m fine,” he murmured. “It’s all fine. My head just hurts, that’s all. I’m tired. Quite tired too.”

  Nessa kept her hand on his shoulder, stopping him from sliding further off the chair. “You’re also rather wet.”

  Hunter chuckled. “A torrential downpour will do that to a guy.”

  “Indeed.” Nessa was about to say more, but the door thumped open, startling her. She spun around, half expecting a group of Blondie’s soldiers to march in, but it was only Margret. She stomped her boots, knocking off mud, and stepped to the side, allowing an elderly man and another woman to enter.

  The three of them wasted no time, descending upon Nessa and Hunter in an instant. For a second, Nessa felt the urge to run, to escape, and she had to remind herself that Hunter had said Margret was a friend, that they would be safe here. Besides, as Nessa looked at him, she saw that Hunter didn’t seem overly concerned as Margret fussed over him, clucking like a mother hen.

  Nessa stepped back, giving the others some room. The man swiftly approached, his long coat flapping around his ankles, shedding drops of water. In his hand he held a small wooden case, and propped in his mouth was a spindly pipe, a whisper of smoke puffing from it. Nessa briefly wondered how it had survived the deluge outside.

  The man, whom Nessa presumed was a doctor of some kind, placed the case on a nearby table, clicked open the little lock and flipped back the lid, revealing rows of coloured bottles, a few pairs of different sized tweezers, and a sharp implement that Nessa hoped Hunter wouldn’t have used on him.

  The man peered at Nessa, his eyes quickly scanning her from head to foot in a practical manner. “No injuries, girl?” he asked. “No sickness of any kind?”

  Nessa’s response caught in her throat, trapping her words. She shook her head. The man ran his eyes over her again, not quite believing her. He pursed his lips around his pipe, looking doubtful.

  Nessa swallowed her nerves and forced out, “I’m perfectly fine.” Her teeth chattered and it was then that she noticed, despite her proximity to the roaring fire, she was freezing cold, the heat unable to warm her through her layers of wet clothing.

  The man frowned, clearly displeased, but turned with a sigh to inspect Hunter, who was either asleep or unc
onscious. “Margret, my dear,” he said as he knelt beside Hunter, poking at him, “you might want to get the young lady out of those clothes before she catches a chill.”

  Margret looked up from her fussing, eyes landing on Nessa, and nodded, more to herself than anyone else. With a kind hand on Nessa’s arm, Margret guided her away from the fire and through the large front room, which was filled with groups of tables and chairs. They weaved their way over to the back of the room, where two doors stood behind a long counter. Arranged around the doors, leaning back against the wall and stacked atop each other were large barrels, their taps sticking out for ease of use.

  They skirted around the counter, and as Margret held the door open for her, Nessa quickly peeked over her shoulder, allowing herself one quick look at Hunter before she was led away. He was still propped up in the chair, the doctor standing over him, prodding at the wound on his forehead. For some reason, Nessa’s eyes flicked up, and she met the gaze of the woman, the doctor’s companion.

  She stood behind Hunter, hands on his shoulders, stopping him from sliding to the floor. The rain had slicked down her hair and dampened the long dress she wore. There was something about her that seemed odd to Nessa. She stood as still as a statue, staring at Nessa with deep-set eyes the colour of whisky. It unnerved Nessa, for her eyes seemed to have the ability to look straight into Nessa’s soul, evaluating it, and appearing not to like what she saw there.

  Nessa darted through the door, relieved when it swung shut, severing the strange woman’s stare. Dying embers in a large open hearth produced faint light, revealing a large rustic kitchen. It was filled with long worktops that had tall stacks of cups and plates all along the backs of them. Hanging from the timber beams were pots and pans of every size and shape, and a length of string stretched across the room, bundles of dried herbs dangling from it.

  Margret picked up a small lantern and twisted a cog on its side, making a small flame appear, and started up a narrow staircase. Nessa hurried after her.