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

by Kimberley J. Ward

  She stood by what had once been a stone building, one that now lay in burning mounds of wood and stone. Before her was a valley that opened up onto wide fields that were framed by the tall ridges of steep hills.

  A town had once stood there. It had now met the same fate as the building beside her. Angry flames reached high into the sky from ransacked dwellings, belching great torrents of black smoke. The inhabitants lay where they had been cut down, bloodied and dead. No one had been spared in the slaughter, not man, woman or child. Their bodies covered the streets, their blood flowing over the ground. Some lay in piles, where they had tried to save one another, only to have that luxury denied, while others had been butchered as they had tried to run.

  Bile rose in Nessa’s throat, and she forced her eyes away from the harrowing sight.

  A war was being fought out in the fields, twin armies battling against each other, one clad in black armour and the other in gold. Shouts, screams and groans came from those fields as the men warred, the sounds cutting through Nessa’s ears and making her want to cry in distress.

  Nessa turned, no longer able to bare witness to the atrocities that were unfolding before her, knowing that there was nothing she could do to help those poor souls in the ravaged town or in those war torn fields.

  The earth rumbled again, nearly knocking Nessa to her knees. The wall beside her crumbled and fell, narrowly missing her as she leapt away. Flames reached high into the air as they caught and spread, bright and fearsome, and a shadow moved behind them, a giant shape that slowly slithered down the side of what had once been a mighty tower.

  The creature was monstrous in size and seemed to suck in all light. Its scales shone dully with splatters of blood, and its venomous red eyes gleamed with a terrible glee. Huge bat-like wings buffeted the air, stirring up flames and embers in a torrent of wind.

  It took Nessa a moment for her mind to accept what she was seeing, but when it opened its jaws and released a thunderous roar into the sky, she couldn’t deny it.

  The nightmarish creature was a dragon, one a hundred times bigger than her hatchling. It skulked around the burning ruins, snout sniffing at the air. It twisted and stared upwards, nostrils flaring. It stood with its side to her, its wings tucked in close to its body, offering Nessa a profile view.

  Perched in an unusual saddle was a man.

  Though dwarfed by the monster he rode, the man was somehow an intimidating sight unto himself. Dressed in black armour with red inlay, he was a likeness of his dragon, whose scales shimmered with flecks of deep crimson. On his head was a helmet that concealed much of his face, leaving only his eyes and mouth visible.

  Even from the distance of fifty or so feet between them, Nessa could see that his eyes glinted like black diamonds, filled with evil delight as he beheld the sight of destruction before him.

  This, Nessa absently knew, must be one of the Dragon Riders Hunter was talking about.

  The dragon growled, making the very air tremble, and the Rider followed its stare, gazing up at the sky over the battlefield. Nessa too, looked, and saw a sight that made her stomach drop.

  There, flying over the fields of fighting men, was another dragon.

  Silhouetted against the squinting moon, the dragon rapidly approached.

  Large membranous wings flapped leisurely as the dragon dipped over the battlefield, dropping in close to a battalion of black armoured men. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Even from such a distance, Nessa saw the dragon open its jaws, saw the flames licking its tongue for a suspended moment before a torrent of purple tinged flames burst forth, released over the men in black. They screamed. They screamed until they fell abruptly silent.

  In response, the man and dragon beside Nessa gave a thunderous roar.

  The distant dragon, with mighty beats of its wings, swiftly descended upon them, leaving the battlefield far behind.

  It landed with an almighty thump that made everything in the vicinity rattle.

  While the black dragon was darkness personified, this dragon was all regal beauty and elegance. It was lighter in build, graceful limbs and a more angled face. A deep royal purple, it was only a few shades darker than Nessa’s amethyst hatchling, and she found it easy to envision what it would look like grown.

  The image took her breath away.

  Saddled on the purple dragon’s back was a man clad in golden armour. Nessa stared, realising that they were the leaders of the battling armies, finally coming together.

  “Well met, brother!” the man in black shouted. “I must say, I am impressed. Never would I have ever thought that you and your band of vagabonds would achieve so much. You have caused me much grief these past few months.”

  “And here it will all come to an end,” called out the man in gold. “We will soon be free.”

  “Indeed, you will be free,” the man in black promised, dark amusement dancing in his eyes, “but not in the way you think.”

  Growling at one another, the dragons began circling, trapping Nessa in the middle of their ring. She cast around, desperately searching for a way of escape. The dragons proved to be a very secure wall of scaled muscle, and Nessa couldn’t see a safe way out.

  The golden man scowled, the tightening of his eyes just visible through the eye holes of his helm. “Enough of this!” he barked. “Long enough have you got away with the tortures you have caused, the pain you relish in making. It must stop.”

  “Then let’s have at it, brother dearest,” the man in black cried. “Let us battle one another, sword against sword, and let fate decide who wins.”

  “So be it. If anyone should have to stop you, it should be me, as punishment for ignoring what you have done for so long, for being ignorant of your ways and of your cruelty.” He had sounded so sure of himself, so confident to start with, but now the golden man’s words were tinged with anguish.

  Nessa paused at her attempted retreat. His voice, rasping and deep, was oddly familiar. She frowned, a touch unnerved, and peered at him, trying to see the man beneath the golden armour. It was an impossible task, one made harder by the moving dragon.

  They seemed to have come to some kind of agreement, and both men dismounted, hitting the ground in union, landing with panther-like grace, their armour clinking sharply. Nessa swallowed nervously. Whatever was happening couldn’t be good.

  I need to get out of here, Nessa thought frantically. But how? The last two times she had a waking dream, she had been forced out of them, pushed out in one way or another. Nessa closed her eyes, picturing Hunter’s face, the forest of trees and smoke, and wished to be back there.

  She didn’t need to open them to know that her wishful thinking hadn’t worked.

  Nessa swore under her breath. She was still there, trapped between a pair of aggressive circling dragons, and with two armed men coming towards her. Evidently they couldn’t see her, which was a comfort. An incredibly small one, but one nonetheless. Otherwise, Nessa was sure, she would have been on the business end of the black armoured man’s sword as he strode past her, twirling the weapon in question.

  Nessa scurried back, only getting so far before nearly running into a dragon. The creature obviously couldn’t sense her presence, as its focus didn’t shift from the black dragon opposite. Nessa gulped, eyes wide as it paced past her, so close, she could see every detail; its pearlescent white claws, undoubtedly sharper than the finest blade; how scales the size of dinner plates met neatly together without a gap between them. In the firelight, those scales of the deepest of purples shone with inner light, shimmering with a golden hue as the creature moved. For a split second, Nessa thought she saw a glimpse of her future.

  The dragon prowled past, making the ground rattle a little with each step. Nessa only came up to the creature’s knee, barely. Her attention sidled away from it as the men met in the middle, swords drawn, muscles tense, ready to spring into action.

  “Give up this lunacy,” the golden man begged, “and let us begin again, as brothers should.”
<
br />   “No, brother,” the man in black spat. “Too long have I stood behind you, too long have I been ignored. I will complete what I have started, and I will never be invisible again.”

  “You have never been invisible to me. You are my brother, my shadow. I would have been lost without you by my side all these years.”

  “Your shadow.” He shook his head sharply, anger coming off him in waves. “Your faithful servant. Well, no more! Fate has always chosen you. You, who was born a mere minute before me. Yet that minute decided everything. You get everything, and I? I get nothing.”

  “Is that what this is about?” the man in gold cried. “You’re upset about inheritance. You’ve done this over money and titles.”

  “It’s about so much more than that.”

  “Mother adores you. I do too. Is that not enough?”

  “No,” the man in black hissed, “it was never enough.” He grasped his black sword in both hands and swung it at his brother, who lifted his with lightning speed. Their blades collided with a burst of silver sparks. The man in gold shoved back, pushing his dark brother away, and started a complex series of hard blows, dancing light on his feet. He stabbed and parried, but his brother managed to hold his ground. They were both equally skilled and neither could gain the upper hand.

  Then, watching them battle each other, Nessa realised something. Neither of them were fighting at full capacity. They were holding back, each for different reasons. The golden man, she could tell, didn’t want to hurt his brother. Not badly, at least, despite his words. But the man in black was just biding his time, stalling and creating a diversion whilst his monster of a dragon got into position.

  It was all a trick, a trap, into which the golden man had so easily fallen.

  The black dragon pounced.

  It struck the smaller purple dragon with bone crushing force, wings flared and claws bared. Together they hit a wall, sending it crumbling down in a cloud of dust and flying stones, concealing them from sight.

  Then, suddenly, a loud crunch sounded out from the mêlée… and everything fell painfully still and silent.

  The golden man reeled back, clutching at his chest, his heart. His sword fell to the ground with a resounding clap, and he collapsed to his knees. A scream tore out of his throat, raw and filled with unfathomable anguish and loss.

  It was a tortured, broken sound, and it made the hairs on the back of Nessa’s neck and arms stand on end.

  The debris settled, revealing the aftermath.

  The black dragon stood over the lifeless body of the other, blood covering its gaping mouth, covering its jagged teeth. Nessa turned away before she saw any more, not wanting it to haunt her more than it would already.

  The golden man was knelt on the ground, groaning and sobbing as if a part of his soul had been torn away. Maybe it had.

  With slow, hesitant steps, Nessa found herself moving closer.

  The man in black armour stood over him, staring down with dark, glittering eyes. A slow grin stretched his lips, a twisted version of happiness. “Poor big brother,” he cooed. “What, oh what, am I meant to do with you now? Hmm. I do wonder.” Contempt and pure, unadulterated joy oozed from him. “I thought this would be the end, dearest brother. However, I’m suddenly seeing a future with us in it together. Isn’t that what you wanted just a few minutes ago? You and me together as brothers should be? I like that idea. I like it very much.”

  Nessa’s hands clenched into fists. God, she had never wanted to punch someone so much. Well, maybe one person, but that was for another time... A punch seemed too good, too kind, for such an evil man. She looked around, searching for a suitable weapon, wondering if she could actually hurt someone in a waking dream.

  Now seemed as good a time as any to find out, she decided.

  The golden man’s sword lay near at hand, and Nessa felt that it would be perfect. Such divine retribution it would be for him to be killed by the sword of the man he had just destroyed. His own brother’s sword.

  Nessa bent down, reaching for the sword, and paused when she heard a whisper escape the fallen man’s lips.

  “Aoife… Aoife…” he murmured. “Aoife...”

  “You said that I was your shadow,” the black brother intoned from above them, “but now you shall be mine.”

  ∞∞∞

  Nessa woke with a body jolting sense of awareness. She stared at the rocks above her with uncomprehending eyes, not quite sure what was real or not anymore. She frowned, blinking sharply, and pushed herself up onto her elbows, finding herself tucked snugly in her sleeping bag.

  She was in a cave, naturally formed with rough edges and a domed ceiling. Layers of dark compacted stone sat upon one another, seeming to move in the light cast from the small fire in the middle of the room. The entrance to the cave was some distance off, not shown by the fire’s light, but Nessa could hear the sound of the storm raging on outside. Over to the side, just visible in a ring of shadows, was Hunter, fast asleep and snoring. Curled up on his chest was her little dragon, its head hidden neatly beneath a wing.

  Nessa stood, and as quietly as a mouse, crossed over to them. Neither woke as she crouched beside them and carefully picked up the dragon. She held it in her arms, feeling oddly tender towards it, especially after what she had witnessed in her waking dream. Nessa carried it back over to her sleeping bag and sat down cross-legged on it, cradling the hatchling as one might a baby, albeit a scaled one. It rested there, taking deep and steady breaths, then its tail twitched and coiled around her wrist like a jewelled bangle.

  Nessa smiled, and without thought whispered, “Aoife.”

  The dragon stirred at the sound of the name. Its name.

  Its wing drew back and its long neck snaked up, tilting its angular head at Nessa. It blinked those great, big eyes slowly, as if with a meaning that needed to be conveyed. Nessa felt a flutter in her chest, an odd sensation that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  Was that the beginning of the mysterious ‘bonding’ Hunter had mentioned? A part of her scoffed at the idea, finding it ludicrous. But then, in her waking dream... The smell of smoke still clung to her nostrils and the screams still rang in her ears. The image of the broken man, sobbing for his dragon, Aoife’s namesake, sprang to mind, all too fresh. It was clear to Nessa that something had been between dragon and Rider, something a lot more complex than simple affection or love. There had been a tie between them, a bond as such. What that really meant, Nessa didn’t understand, not yet, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she ever wanted to find out.

  “Do you like that name?” Nessa murmured to the dragon hatchling. “Hmm, my little Aoife?”

  The dragon blinked slowly again, and then settled back down, curling up into a tight ball on her lap. For a time, Nessa just sat there, stroking the dragon, feeling every ridge and bump of its scales, of Aoife’s scales, she corrected herself. Her waking dream haunted her, staying in the forefront of her mind.

  “I wonder what happened to the man in gold?” Nessa wondered aloud.

  Hunter snorted and absently patted his stomach. Realising that the dragon wasn’t there, his eyes flashed open and he sat up in a hurry. Instantly, he spotted Nessa and relaxed.

  “Oh good,” he said. “You’re awake. You had me worried for awhile there.”

  “Really?” Nessa smiled. “You were so incredibly worried that you fell asleep?”

  “Worry is a very taxing thing. And anyway, I had to drag your unconscious ass through a storm, with the wind howling and hailstones the size of walnuts hitting me. My poor, battered body needed a nap.”

  “Well, poor Hunter, my lad. When you put it like that, I suppose you do deserve a break.”

  “I’m glad you agree.” He looked her over with bright eyes, missing no detail, not her pale face or the dragon on her lap. “And with that case closed, how do you feel?”

  “Tired,” Nessa said truthfully, “and a little sad.”

  “Oh?”

  Nessa was too damn weary
to have another secret. “I had another waking dream,” she explained. “This one was the worst, filled with death and misery.”

  “Is that so?” Hunter said slowly. “What happened in this one?”

  “It was a battle. An army of gold fought against an army of black. Each side was led by a man that rode upon a dragon.” Nessa’s hand stilled on her own dragon hatchling, on Aoife. “The man in black armour tricked his brother into a dual. But it was a distraction, a deception. His dragon attacked the other, killing it. The golden man fell to the ground, screaming.” Even then, Nessa could still hear the blood curdling sound of loss and anguish. “I...” She couldn’t find the words and sighed, staring off at nothing, trying to vanquish the memory, the cruelty that she had seen in the dark brother’s eyes.

  “What else is troubling you?”

  “Was that experience not enough to trouble me?”

  Hunter came and sat beside her. “That’s more than enough,” he murmured. “But that’s not all of it, is it?”

  “I’ve never seen someone die,” Nessa confessed. “I’ve never seen a dead body. But there, the streets were filled with them, the bodies of innocents. There were piles of them, bleeding and burning. I’ve never seen something so horrific.”

  “Well, it may be of some comfort to you to know that whatever you saw isn’t happening right now. Nor is it likely to in the near future.”

  “The future,” Nessa mumbled. “It wasn’t the future. It happened in the past. I’m sure of it.”

  “The past?” Hunter looked contemplative. “I’ve never heard of such a thing happening. Not like how you’ve described.”

  “Maybe it happened so long ago that it’s been forgotten?”

  “Perhaps.” Hunter didn’t look very convinced.

  Nessa sighed. “There’s something else.”

  Hunter raised his brows.

  “The thing is…” She hesitated before continuing. “This might sound a little odd.”

  “Because everything else is completely normal?”

  Nessa ignored that remark. “I’m pretty sure that the leader of the golden army was Shadow.”