Winter's Crossing: A Golden Fates Novel

by Katie Macey

  "I think it's safer if we don’t talk,” said Niamh. “What if somebody catches us?"

  Jomen nodded. But he was right. They had succeeded in sneaking inside, but the people here had powers far beyond their own and knew more of the world than they did. It would take a miracle for them to get Iilen out of here. What kind of foolhardy idea had this been?

  Niamh’s mouth formed a determined line. It did seem impossible, but could she live with herself if she left him to die? She wasn't like Veayre. And when they did get Iilen out of here, and met up with the others on the other side of the valley, that girl had some explaining to do. Niamh pushed the image of a fuming Aarin storming off in search of Veayre, aside.

  Niamh and Jomen snuck past the kitchens, the dining hall, and more closed doors. They started to fear they wouldn't find the dungeons and Iilen before dawn. Through a glass panelled window, Niamh saw the crescent moon hanging high in the sky. And those same awful stars swirling in royal formation. Turning back to their task, Niamh realised they weren't in a narrow walkway anymore. They’d entered a large foyer area. The ceilings opened up, reaching high into the fortress. Dark wooden beams reached up to the stonework.

  One lonely lamp hung from a chain in the centre of the ceiling, with an eerie electric blue flame, casting shadows all over the room. Niamh wondered if this is what Oplijah would be like.

  "It's so grand." she murmured.

  Jomen nodded as he took in the plush carpets and tasselled wall hangings. He took a closer look at the double doors. They shone dark and wide, decorated with embossed silver vines and oversized brass handles.

  Jomen pressed his ear to the door. Niamh glanced back, worried. They were so exposed here. Still pressed against it, he looked at Niamh and grinned.

  "I can't hear anything, let's check it out."

  "Iilen isn't going to be in there,” said Niamh. “You're getting distracted..."

  But something about Jomen's face made her stop midsentence. He heaved down the brass handle.

  "Someone's coming!" said Jomen, still looking behind her, forehead creased. They flung themselves into the next room.

  Crouched down, they huddled beside the door, praying no one followed them. No matter how she strained her eyes, Niamh couldn’t see anything. Gulping for air, she reached out, searching for Jomen and anything to anchor herself to.

  Warm fingers found hers. Lifting her chin, though no one could see, she leaned closer to the door.

  Voices.

  She lifted one finger and leaned it against Jomen's thumb. He didn't move it away. Niamh wondered if her beating heart would give them away.

  The voices sounded older than them. And were they upset...or angry? It was hard to tell. Jomen leaned closer. His hand closed over the top of hers. Niamh felt a rush of self-consciousness. What was going on? They were on a mission here, trying to find Iilen, and save his life. Danger lurked in every corner, yet she still held her breath as their fingers entwined. Was it possible that her hand was on fire? For the first time, Niamh wondered what it would be like to...

  "I know where Iilen is!"

  Jomen's whisper shattered her thoughts like a dropped snowball. He stood quickly, yanking her up with him.

  "But I couldn't hear anything!" said Niamh more loudly than she'd meant to.

  The doorhandle clicked.

  They couldn’t run. In pitch darkness, running would only worsen their chances. Shrinking themselves into the wall, they crouched with legs tucked up under knees, behind the door’s hinges. Niamh’s stomach dropped. The air seemed hard to breathe. The doors swung open.

  Light flooded into the room, a golden wedge revealed by the opened door. Behind it, Niamh tried to keep her breathing quiet, but her chest insisted on heaving and she wondered how long it was before they were inevitably noticed. She squeezed Jomen’s hand tighter. At least Iilen was safe until the ceremony. Who knew what might happen to them?

  Outside Aarin and Caeednce remained safe, chasing down the elusive Veayre. How she'd explain this one, Niamh had no idea. Frustration rippled through her. Why couldn’t Veayre see they had to work together? Now they were split up, and working without proper information. No wonder she and Jomen had made a mistake like this one.

  "Nobody is in there, my Lord," a deep voice spoke from outside.

  A deep sigh sounded, just on the other side of the door. Moving was out of the question, even with the light flooding in. Her eyes weren't adjusting very well. Everything reflected too much light so that the reds and blues seemed more saturated than normal, like colours leaked out of each object and bled together.

  "No one can breach the fortress, so I don't even know what you're so worried about,” the younger voice, from outside the doorway called. He sounded tired. Niamh perked up. Maybe they’d be alright?

  "I wasn't going to say anything,” said the older voice, “but now I'm wondering..."

  Another sigh. But before the other could continue, the voice boomed into the dark room.

  "If I hear one more report of overworking...we're two nights away from...he's in the west tower, we'll know soon, boy. You young ones think we can have all the answers right away, well some things take time!"

  The door slammed shut, plunging them, once again, into complete darkness. Footsteps thudded away, then faded completely. Another minute passed before Niamh or Jomen ventured to make a sound.

  "West Tower," Niamh whispered, her voice sounding loud against the roar of silence.

  "This is a dead-end,” said Jomen, whispering back. “Did you see when the light shone in? We're in some kind of ceremonial room."

  Niamh nodded but then remembered Jomen wouldn't be able to see that.

  "Like the great hall,” she said, “but without dripping water."

  "Exactly."

  Niamh heard the scuff of Jomen moving in the oversized cloak.

  "I think they're gone,” said Jomen. Niamh fumbled and discovered that she had grabbed Jomen's calf.

  "Let's wait a moment more, just in case."

  "Whenever we open the door, there'll be a risk of being discovered,” said Jomen.

  "I know,” said Niamh. “I'm not afraid."

  Niamh couldn't work out why she wanted to stay here in this quiet, dark room any longer than she had to. She thought of touching his hand again...

  A latch clicked. Jomen grabbed her arm and she squeaked before clamping a hand over her mouth. Niamh froze. The sound had come from behind them, further inside the throne room...

  Niamh pushed Jomen aside and leaned all her weight on the door handle. The light stung their eyes, but she grabbed at Jomen's cloak and fled the room. Her eyes stung. Glancing both ways down the hall, she hesitated and said, "Which way is west?"

  "I wish I knew!” said Jomen, dragging them away from the way they had come. Footsteps sounded closer together. Someone chased them!

  Niamh broke into a run, dragging the jogging Jomen into a faster pace.

  "We'll make a mistake, too fast!" he protested, breathing hard.

  They flew around a corner and climbed stairs, taking them two at a time. Niamh raced ahead, but Jomen fell behind. His breathing rasped behind her. Then…Slam!

  Niamh felt the smoothness of the polished floors with her palms, and the side of her face. A man coughed.

  "A guard!"

  Jomen helped her up. Then they were running again, but that guard didn’t stay down. Seconds later, he yelled,

  "Guards, guards! Intruders!"

  "We need to hide, and fast!" said Niamh. She tried the first door she found, but it was locked.

  "This way!" said Jomen. He had stopped behind her and pointed up a stairwell she'd overlooked. This one wasn't decorated like the others, but plain stone, like the exterior of the fortress.

  "It'll be a dead end..." She looked further up the hall, longing to try another door instead.

  "This way!" the guard’s voice boomed, echoing through the halls.

  "Fine, let's go!" said Niamh. She raced Jomen up the stairs.<
br />
  At the top, they saw that was Niamh was right. It was a dead end. Niamh, puffing hard, crossed the tiny room in three long steps. An open window, glassless but ledged, and one closed-door were their only options. The floor, ceiling, and curved walls were all the same dark stone. Dawn's light leaked through the window.

  "Wait..."

  Niamh flew to the window where a gusty breeze chilled her face. Clutching the red velvet cloak closer to her, she pointed out the window and said,

  "We're in a tower, and look I can see another tower, directly out that way..."

  Jomen joined her at the window, face flushed.

  "And that other tower lines right up," said Niamh.

  "With those hills?" said Jomen.

  "What? No. Look, I know it’s not full sunrise yet, and we've had a crazy night, and it’s not over yet, but that's the sun rising! Don't you get it?"

  Niamh searched his face, waiting for him to realise the incredibly great mistake they'd made. He had dark lines under his eyes and yawned.

  "As long as nobody is chasing us anymore, that's all I care about."

  "But Jomen, we're in the west tower!"

  He blinked. Looking out the window again, he looked back at Niamh.

  "Iilen must be inside," said Niamh, moving to the door, and trying the handle. "Poor thing, he's probably locked up in a grimy room with only…”

  The door swung right open.

  "It's not locked?” said Jomen. “Could they have moved him somewhere else so quickly?" Jomen stepped ahead of Niamh into the tower's small holding room.

  "Far. Out.”

  Jomen sounded both annoyed and pleased at the same time. Puzzled, Niamh followed him inside, taking care to leave the door ajar behind her.

  “Iilen!"

  The first rays of the sun hadn’t reached this pokey room. But Jomen lit a match and before Niamh could get her thoughts together, he'd lit four candles on an elaborate candelabra, which sat on a mirrored table. Iilen pushed himself up onto one elbow and for all her fears that he'd be beaten or worse, his appearance couldn't have shocked her more.

  "I was sleeping..." he murmured.

  Niamh couldn’t help herself. She strode right up to him and punched him in the arm.

  "Hey!" he complained, sitting up.

  "Do you know what we've gone through to find you?” said Niamh. “We've all been scared out of our minds!"

  "Look, I've been trying to get a message back to you guys, but..."

  "A message?” said Jomen. “They're going to execute you, Iilen."

  "Nah, I'm the all-powerful heir, remember?"

  "Not if you don't pass the transformation ceremony, you idiot!"

  Iilen blanched.

  "Give me some of that,” said Niamh, snatching the chalice from a linen laid table.

  "Hey, that's mine."

  Niamh gulped the cool liquid down. It tasted of berries and honey.

  "We've got to leave now, Iilen,” said Jomen. “You're not the heir. We know your parents, and they're good people, but definitely not royalty." Jomen tugged lightly on a tasselled corner of Iilen’s quilt.

  Niamh noticed how the candlelight reflected tiny flecks of light across the luxurious bedspread, across the velvet cushions and the stack of royal history volumes. Iilen noticed Niamh staring at them.

  "I think they thought I'd want to catch up on family business?" He shrugged and stood up. "I didn't think I had a chance of getting away. The truth is, and I'll pretend I never said this, but I'm not actually feeling relaxed.” Iilen flinched at nothing. “They have this tower guarded all the time, and the way they spoke to me…”

  "More guards will come,” said Jomen glancing away from Iilen to Niamh. “And we may not have gotten in here completely undetected."

  Jomen offered Iilen his hand.

  Niamh placed the chalice down, "You're right. Getting in wasn't easy..."

  "They used the old arts, like in the stories," said Iilen. Niamh pressed her mouth into a firm line. He wasn’t saying anything they didn’t already know. Iilen stood up and the quilt fell to the floor. Niamh and Jomen paused, taking in the lavish silks, and velvets Iilen was swathed in.

  "Shut up. They made me wear it,” said Iilen. “I think they're caught between, wow this kid's an idiot, and he could be future king so we want him on our side for future conflicts blah blah-"

  "Shh!"

  The guards were here. They’d been discovered.

  Slamming the door, Niamh threw the latch down.

  "They locked me in here remember, I can't lock them out!" said Iilen, kicking at the futon on the floor. Niamh scanned the room. Nothing. Nothing she could use...unless...

  Raising the palm of her hand, Niamh concentrated hard. She'd never done it inside before. She'd never done it with anyone watching before.

  All the times her aunty had chided her for wasting her time on it, came to mind. She'd never even studied it properly. She just enjoyed the feeling of floating and flying in the air. But now, their very survival depended on it.

  Niamh needed to manipulate the air in a new way for her idea to work. She knew she could thrust herself into the air and have some semblance of control, in a way that was almost like flight, but not quite. Could she do the same now? But aim it at someone else? Was it even possible?

  Jomen looked almost as scared of the tiny vortex of swirling air Niamh held in the palm of her hand, as he was of the approaching guards. The door swung open.

  Four grown men with full beards growled at the sight of them.

  "Protect the heir!" the first cried, his voice deep and booming.

  Summoning everything within her, Niamh pushed her hands out with as much force as she could muster. Palms reaching, she spewed a wind gust at the doorway.

  Beards flapping, they fell backward, landing hard on the stone steps of the tower. They stumbled and tripped, making a domino effect of guards in the stone stairwell. Jomen latched the door and spun around.

  "I'll have other questions,” said Jomen, with his eyes wide open and staring at Niamh’s hands. “…definitely more questions about," he swirled his hands, searching for the words but not finding them, "that, later. Once we're safe. What now?"

  Niamh looked into his face, and he was in earnest. Iilen looked lost too.

  "We don't have much time,” said Iilen, pointing at the door. The guards began pounding on the other side. Niamh's stomach churned, knowing how her idea sounded.

  “That's our way out."

  She pointed a finger at the window. Dawn's light didn't lessen the impact of what Niamh was suggesting.

  "So we climb down?" said Iilen. The air was still. The door quaked under the beating the guards were giving it.

  "Uh, with what?” said Jomen. “We have no rope, and what would we hold onto?"

  Niamh's stomach tied itself into a knot. Clenching her eyes shut, she managed to spit out her idea.

  "But you've…you’ve done this before?" said Iilen.

  Niamh shook her head.

  "Surely we can negotiate..." said Jomen.

  The door crashed open. Faces red with rage staggered closer. This time their hands were raised, tiny flickers of blue lightning darting and clicking in readiness.

  "We thought you were unprepared,” said a guard as he pointed one hand at Jomen. “But I only make mistakes once."

  A bolt of blue snapped like a darting viper. Jomen screamed and crumpled to the ground.

  Niamh didn't turn away from the angry guards but backed towards the window. Shaking with fear, Niamh helped Jomen to his feet.

  "If it were up to me,” the same guard growled, “I'd have killed you all on the spot. Any allegiance to your king died with the heir, long years ago."

  "So why take Iilen?" said Niamh, managing to sound braver than she felt.

  "Our Lord's ambition makes him blind," he said and jerked his head, glancing at the guards behind him. "Take them!"

  As the others rushed forward to do his bidding, he turned away.

>   “I'd be saving him the trouble if I were to- what!"

  But Niamh didn't hear anymore after that. She grabbed Iilen and Jomen. With their arms around her waist, they fell out the tower window.

  CHAPTER 12

  The tower slipped away quickly. Niamh desperately thrust ribbons of air below them, franticly trying to slow their fall. With her eyes on the horizon, Niamh leaned into the wind, dragging it around her and shifting its currents like the moon pulls the ocean. Iilen and Jomen’s screams rang in her ears as they held onto her tight, swooping like a swallow. The desert sand rushed to meet them. Whipping wind slid through Niamh’s hands, and she increased her concentration. Plummeting to her death wasn’t the plan. She had to make this work! She held her breath. Finally, Niamh’s hands stopped short, as she found a grab-hold on the wind.

  Like a wobbling arrow, Niamh flew across the desert, dragging her clinging friends with her. Their trajectory arced gradually and they flew a long distance away from Asturg before she considered relenting. But suddenly exhausted, Niamh discovered she didn’t have the strength to carry them any further.

  Crashing into a small cluster of trees, they touched the ground once again. Niamh tumbled and landed on her back, breathing hard. She'd slammed her shoulder into the earth on landing. Iilen and Jomen untangled themselves from her legs.

  "What the blasts was that?" said Aarin, his voice breaking, as he emerged from behind a tree. Niamh saw his face was blotchy. Chest heaving, she rested her palms on the tops of Iilen and Jomen's heads. They were trembling.

  "We're not dead!" said Iilen as he thrust two fists into the air. A laugh bubbled out of Niamh, and she rolled onto her side, relief washing over her. Niamh pulled Jomen and Iilen close and hugged them tightly. She’d done it! Iilen was rescued, and they’d escaped! Aarin helped a shaken Niamh to stand.

  "I can't believe what just happened,” said Aarin. Still breathless, he grabbed Iilen's shoulder and squeezed it, before pulling the boy into a full bear hug. Finally letting him go, he looked Iilen up and down.

  "Man, and we'd feared the worst!"

  "Argh!" Jomen cried out and crumpled as he tried to stand.

  Ripped silk framed Jomen's exposed thigh. The exposed skin bubbled and throbbed blue. Sparking strings of electricity flickered across it. There was no disguising the level of agony he felt. Niamh's stomach lurched and she clamped her mouth shut, refusing to give in to nausea.