A Skin of a Dragon (The Guild of Gatekeepers Book 1)

by Frances Jones

  I stifled a yawn and nodded. Drowsiness crept over me once again as Rupert spoke.

  'Come,' said Rupert. ''Tis not yet morning. Sleep now while you can. We have a long day ahead of us.'

  I climbed back into my bed without further persuasion and watched the flicker of the oil lamp on the wall for a few minutes before drifting back to sleep with the sound of rustling papers in my ear.

  I awoke again to find Rupert calling my name and gently shaking me. The room was light, and the drapes had been pulled back. It was morning, and the fog had returned.

  'Edward wishes to see us in the library at once. Get dressed swiftly.'

  I threw on my clothes and followed Rupert down the stairs, through the great hall and into a dark room of book-lined walls. A fire blazed in the hearth but did little to mitigate the gloom outside the window.

  Edward and Eliza were already waiting for us, and on a long table in the centre of the room sat a human skull.

  'Good morning,' said Edward as we entered the room. 'I am afraid that danger may have found you sooner than you expected: last night after you had retired to bed, I saw off a pack of hunting dogs that I suspect may have been following your trail. Now, it may be that they simply smelt the horses through the gates, but we must not be complacent. I dispersed them and put the fear of Treadway Castle into them, but we must be vigilant.’

  Eliza and I looked at one another. Her face revealed the same feeling of dread that had my stomach in knots. Edward looked at us closely before continuing.

  'I have been considering your plight throughout the night, and the one person I note you have not spoken of is Emerson. He is George's brother and a senior Guild member. What of him? What role has he in all of this?'

  'I'm afraid it seems that Emerson is under the sway of Devere. It was he who obtained the dragon amber for him,' said Rupert.

  'That is worrying news,' said Edward. 'Well, we can only hope he has simply been hoodwinked by Devere, and the rot at the heart of the Guild of Gatekeepers has not spread beyond its Keeper. If not, I fear for the future, even if we do get the dragonskin to the King. Magicians are dangerous people, but there is nothing more dangerous than a power-hungry magician. However, we cannot worry ourselves with speculations of what may come to pass. I said I would help you, and I will. I will assist you in getting the dragonskin to the King as far as I am able, but I also feel you could benefit from the wisdom of the spirit of my great, great, great, great grandfather, Nicholas Treadway. He built this castle and was a master of mirror scrying. He left instructions that his skull be kept in the castle after his death, so his spirit might be summoned. My grandfather succeeded in summoning him, but I have never done so; it is a physically and mentally exhausting experience and not one that should be undertaken lightly. If I am able to summon Nicholas’ spirit, we may learn something from him or we may not, I cannot be certain. Do you wish me to proceed?'

  Eliza and I looked at Rupert questioningly.

  'Go on, my friend,' said Rupert.

  'Very well,' replied Edward. 'Place the dragonskin on the table. Eliza, be a dear and close the drapes.'

  I drew the dragonskin from my pocket and lay it on the table before me. The room had been plunged into darkness at the closing of the drapes, and the crackle of the fire was the only sound to be heard. The smooth whiteness of the skull seemed to glow in the half light.

  Edward's lips moved soundlessly as he stared into the dark depths of the eye sockets and chanted secret incantations in a language I did not understand. I watched with fascination but felt repulsed with myself for doing so, like a voyeur watching someone at prayer. I wondered if Edward could still sense our presence as he conversed with the spirits and experienced the world as they did. I wondered how it must feel to see things that others would never know.

  Chapter 44

  After a few minutes, Edward stopped chanting, and a dark shadow, darker than the darkness around us, filled the room, dimming the light from the fire.

  ‘Is that you, Nicholas Treadway?’ said Edward in a commanding voice.

  ‘Yes,’ came a thin, whispery voice from inside the skull. To my horror, it began to turn slowly of its own accord until it faced me. 'Tom Wild. Go back,’ the voice continued.

  I started at the uttering of my name. My throat was dry and tight, and my thoughts muddled. 'Why?' I said at last, finding my voice.

  'Go back,' the voice repeated.

  'Where? Where must I go back to?' I asked, my voice shrill.

  'Beware Emerson,' it whispered.

  'What do you mean? What of Emerson?' I cried. There was a hissing sound which sent shudders down my spine, but the spirit made no rely.

  'Tell us how to get the dragonskin to the King,' said Edward.

  'The King will not receive it,' said the voice.

  'Why?' demanded Edward. 'Tell us what you know!'

  The shadow seemed to deepen as the skull let out a mournful groan like the cry of some evil and lonely creature. I pressed my hands to my ears to stop the sound. Edward strode over to the drapes and flung them aside. The darkness lifted, and the sound receded to nothing.

  'What was that?' whispered Eliza after a few moments of tense silence.

  'That was Nicholas Treadway’s spirit speaking through his skull,' replied Edward, returning the skull to a wooden box. His face looked drawn and haggard.

  'What did he mean by 'the King will not receive it'? And what was all that talk about Tom?' asked Eliza.

  'I do not know,' said Edward. His voice was troubled. 'I had hoped he might speak plainly with us, but the communion was short, and now I fear we will not be able to summon him again. Even those few minutes have exhausted me. We may try again if I am strong enough on another day, but I fear that we will get no plainer answer than that. The spirits of the dead only reveal what it pleases them to. They do not experience the world or think as the living do, and so their revelations often seem ambiguous. We may simply have to rely on our own good sense.'

  I looked out the window and said nothing. I was troubled by what I had heard and wondered why it was only me that Nicholas Treadway’s spirit had spoken of. Nonetheless, I listened intently as Edward and Rupert discussed what should be done next and how the dragonskin would be smuggled into Carisbrooke Castle to the King once we reached it.

  'We should be prepared to fight if it comes to it,' said Rupert. 'It would be naive to think we will get far without meeting some sort of resistance. George's note to me was most likely intercepted, so there can be little doubt that Devere now knows the intended destination for the dragonskin, even if he did not guess before.'

  'I can provide you with the vesana flagrant, or maddening blazes as they are more commonly known. I have prepared and stored many for protection over the years,' said Edward. 'I used one last night to disperse the hunting dogs.'

  'What are maddening blazes?' I asked.

  'They are shards of metal that burn with a blinding white light when activated and release a vapour which disorients the victim and induces symptoms of delirium. The effects are only temporary and have varying effects on different species and even among people, but they are generally found in any magical protection toolkit,' said Edward.

  'That may assist us in getting to the Isle of Wight unmolested, but how do we get the dragonskin to the King once we are there?' asked Rupert.

  'I have been considering this carefully, and it seems to me you have two options: to get it to His Majesty by stealth or by force. I would discount force at once. If it were possible, the King would have been freed long before now, so it is safe to assume that it is not. More pertinent in my mind, though, is that force will inevitably draw attention to your purpose. Getting the dragonskin to His Majesty is only the beginning. The magic of such things does not work overnight, nor does it always work in the way that is expected. Its power will certainly guide His Majesty in his further actions, and it is hoped that the rest of his reign will be wiser because of it, but it will not eradicate his enemies. That
is a wholly different matter and one that is perhaps not for us to concern ourselves with at this time.

  'So that only leaves us stealth. His Majesty will be closely guarded, as will the castle. You will not simply be able to walk up to the gates and ask to see the King. It is likely that disguise will be required, and so I have located an old transmogrification spell.'

  From a pile of books, Edward lifted a battered and torn folio. The page he turned to was printed in Latin and illustrated with a woodcut image of a man in the process of shapeshifting into a wolf. The impression was both extraordinary and terrifying.

  'What is a transmogrification spell?' I asked.

  'It is a spell that allows a person to transform from their physical shape into that of another being while still retaining their own consciousness. It is a very ancient practise,' said Edward.

  'What would we be transforming into, and how would we change back?' asked Eliza.

  'I have considered various animal hosts, which are certainly the easiest to create a transmogrification spell for, but I am not convinced that any will be suitable, not least because of the difficulty you would face getting into Carisbrooke Castle, and so I have settled on what I feel is the safest option. I will create a spell that will transform one of you into the likeness of Oliver Cromwell. It is much harder to prepare such a spell that will transform a person into the exact likeness of another, but it is the only sensible option.'

  'Which of us will be the one to transform?' I asked.

  'That is a decision you must reach together,' said Edward. 'It is extremely risky, as the spell only performs a physical transformation. It is for whichever one of you transforms to behave as Cromwell. One wrong move could be disastrous. Additionally, transmogrification spells can be extremely unstable. Reversion to your original form can happen unexpectedly and at any time unless the magician preparing the draught is extremely experienced in such spells, which I am not.'

  'It sounds terrifying,' said Eliza.

  'It is the only way, I fear,' said Edward,

  'Then it must be done,' declared Rupert. 'How long will it take to prepare the spell? And what is required for it?'

  'It will take at least a fortnight to prepare the ingredients exactly and produce the draught under the correct moon phase. You will be safe here for that time. Rupert, I need you to hunt a crow and bring back a vial of its blood before I can do any more.'

  'I will go at once,' said Rupert. He rose and slung his musket across his back.

  'And now I must retire to my laboratory to study this spell more carefully,' said Edward turning to me and Eliza. 'You two are most welcome to stay in here, or you may wish to sit in more comfort in the drawing room. There is a checkers set in there if you wish to use it. If you lack anything, call for Mrs. Treadway or the servants.'

  Chapter 45

  For a while, Eliza and I sat in the library and talked after Rupert and Edward had gone, but a draught that crept in through a crack in the wall chilled us and almost extinguished the fire more than once.

  'Come, let's sit in the drawing room,' said Eliza at last.

  The drawing room was the next room along and was comfortably furnished with upholstered chairs and woven rugs upon the floor. On a side table, we found the checkers set already laid out.

  'You are quiet,' commented Eliza ten minutes into our first game. 'What troubles you?'

  'It is what the skull said,' I replied. 'I don't really know what to make of it; I should just like to know what it meant when it told me to go back.'

  'Like as not, it was referring to the danger that you are in and was warning you to turn back before it is too late, though that is hardly possible now.' said Eliza.

  'But we are all in danger,' I replied, 'so why did it speak only to me and not you or Rupert? It said go back, not turn back. It was telling me to go back somewhere, but why? And what did it mean about Emerson?'

  'It said to beware; I think it was confirming what we have feared about his involvement with Devere. I cannot see what else could have been meant. 'Tis a blow; I had hoped that we were mistaken about him, but it appears not.'

  I made my move and said nothing. I wasn't convinced, and a nagging voice in the back of my mind wouldn't allow me to dismiss my doubts so easily. Alarmingly, my first thought upon hearing the skull’s words had been Osmington Mills, and now I couldn't help but wonder if there was a warning I had missed. I thought of my mother and father and Lizzie far away. 'I wish I was back in Osmington Mills,' I thought to myself.

  Eliza and I played on until the fire burned low and the light outside began to fade. One of the Treadway servants came and mended the fire, and then Eliza busied herself reading from a pile of books she had picked from the library. I tried to force myself to read too, but I was restless and ill at ease.

  'I think I shall take a sniff of air outside,' I said at last.

  Eliza looked up from her book. 'Very well, but don't go far. You wouldn't want to miss supper!'

  'I shan't leave the grounds,' I replied.

  I had meant to slip out through the front doors into the darkness outside, but I hesitated a moment as I reached the bottom of the staircase. Edward's study was probably somewhere up there. In truth, I wanted to speak with him alone if I might.

  The tramp of the servants' feet on the frosty ground outside passed by the front door. I dithered for a moment, then without a backward glance, I crept up the stairs and disappeared into the shadows of the passageway.

  It was dark but for a thin rind of light showing around the edge of the door at the far end. I took a few steps closer and hesitated. Perhaps for fear of disturbing Edward in the midst of his work or for fear of the answers he may give me if I did speak with him, I couldn't be sure, but I had lost my nerve. I turned back towards the staircase just as the door opened and Edward looked out. The light of a fire spilled out into the shadowy passageway, and his expression was friendly.

  'Hello, Tom. I thought I heard footsteps. Are you looking for Mrs. Treadway? Does the fire need mending?' he said.

  'No, sir,' I replied. 'The fire is good, and we lack nothing. I, er.... I was looking for you, if you please. I would have a word with you, if you can spare me a moment.'

  Edward smiled. 'Come in,' he said, stepping aside to allow me into his study.

  It reminded me at once of the alchemy laboratory in the Gatehouse with its array of peculiar instruments. Upon a large table in the centre of the room, papers and maps were strewn amongst beakers and vials of liquids and powders and all manner of objects for measuring the heavens and the angles of the stars. Atop a pile of heavy leather-bound books and grimoires, Nicholas Treadway’s own scrying mirror lay, unbroken in over two hundred years, and on the wall above the hearth, a larger mirror with a heavy wooden frame hung. Yet by far the most striking feature of the room was the immense glass skylight in the dome of the ceiling. An enormous telescope directed my gaze upwards toward the sky where a few stars glowed faintly through the wisps of cloud that drifted before them.

  'Please sit,' said Edward, sweeping away some papers to make a space for me at the table. 'You must pardon the mess. I have been a little engrossed in studying this transmogrification spell.'

  'The last spell Eliza and I prepared was a disaster,' I replied.

  'Aye, 'tis a dangerous business, spell-casting.' Edward sat forward in his chair and looked at me closely. 'What troubles you, lad? You have the look of one who has just received bad news.'

  'It is what your ancestor’s spirit said to me,' I replied, encouraged by Edward's frankness. 'It felt like a warning, and to tell the truth, I'm mighty afraid for my family.'

  'Few who listen to tidings from the dead find comfort in what they hear,' replied Edward grimly.

  'Do you know what he meant?' I asked.

  'No,' Edward replied. 'And I like not to venture to interpret the meaning of such a message. You must understand, Tom, magic does not belong to this world. It is the preserve of the other realms, but the divide between our worl
d and theirs is porous. It spills out into our world and may be harnessed by those who know how, but knowing is only one step towards understanding, and I'm afraid few, if any, fully understand the machinations of this world; fewer still could claim to truly understand that of the spirits of the dead.'

  'Do you think my family is in danger?' I asked.

  Edward sighed. 'Possibly.... but I cannot infer that from Nicholas’ words alone. My own good sense warns me that Devere may exact revenge upon those you care for, but it also warns me that turning aside and abandoning your purpose will not keep either you or your family from harm. Only once the dragonskin is out of Devere's grasp forever will you be safe, though that is small comfort, no doubt. As for the whispered warnings that come from beyond, I say to you this: do not heed them if you look only to base your actions upon them.'

  'But sir, you looked to the dead for answers when you summoned your ancestor. Surely you must set some store by his words?'

  'That is true,' replied Edward, 'and certainly the dead may offer guidance when the way is unclear, but I warned you all that we may not learn anything from them. Nothing in this world is guaranteed, and no one, living or dead, can truly predict all outcomes.'

  'I wish I could be sure,' I said quietly. 'Whatever danger or misfortune may await me I can bear if I know my family is safe.'

  'Certainty is a luxury few enjoy, especially in these troubled times.' replied Edward.

  I nodded and stared at the reflection of the room in the mirror. It was a few moments before I realised that my own reflection was missing. I stood up and walked to the glass, puzzled and amazed.

  'How...?' I stopped short as I noticed the smile playing upon Edward's lips.

  'Ah, you have found my hiding place!' he beamed. 'I must say, it didn't take you anywhere near as long as I expected. You are most perceptive, young man.'

  Chapter 46

  I brought my face closer to the glass. It looked like that of an ordinary mirror with a few whiskered patches and the odd smudge here and there. Edward stood beside me and held out his hand. I watched in amazement as it slowly disappeared into the mirror right up to his elbow.