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

by Frances Jones

  A look of rage flashed over Devere's face for a moment before he composed himself, then he laughed. 'Your father has been expelled from the Guild for assisting fugitives, failing to disclose that the lost dragonskin had been discovered, and for obstructing the Guild in dispensing justice. It is perhaps understandable for a father to want to protect his daughter, but it has done him no good. He has been found guilty of insubordination to the Keeper of the Guild, just as you two have in your absence, and sentenced to death. You both are to face the same fate.'

  Devere stepped forward, and the candlelight gleamed upon the blade of a naked sword that hung at his side. Rough hands grabbed me and Eliza from behind and held us firmly. Tabatha, who stood in the shadows of the arched cloister, watched closely by the Venatorian, now broke free from him and cried out.

  'Emerson! It's me, Tabatha! Don't you remember me?'

  Emerson, who had until that point remained silent and impassive, looked up, vexation etched across his face.

  'Tabatha?' he gasped.

  'Yes, 'tis me. I have never lied to you, Emerson. Believe me, I beg you! Devere is deceiving you! George is still alive!'

  As she spoke, there came a great noise of flapping wings and shattering glass. Bill and Frigg swooped in through the window. In his beak, Bill held a note which he dropped at my feet.

  'Read it, Emerson,' I cried. 'It's from George! Read it, and you'll see Devere is lying to you!'

  'Silence,' bellowed Devere, but Emerson stepped forward and snatched up the note before Devere could stop him. His hands trembled, and he was silent for several moments as he read the note through.

  4th February 1649

  Dear Eliza and Tom,

  Tabatha has sent word to me of all that has passed since I last wrote to you. It was with great sadness that I learned the King was executed before you reached him with the dragonskin, yet the choice you made to deliver it to his son and heir was a wise and immensely brave one. Whatever the outcome for us, the dragonskin may now be used for the good of England and her people.

  I do not know where or under what circumstances this note will reach you. Much still remains uncertain, and once Devere realises that the dragonskin has passed out of his reach, he will have little reason to keep me alive. Therefore, I am writing to you to urge you not to return to England. If you have already done so, then it would be wise to return to The Hague as soon as you are able. There you will be safe under Prince Charles' and Rupert’s protection. Eliza- your father insists that you obey him in this matter. He will find you and join you if he is able to. Tom- I will do my best to arrange for your family to flee also, lest they become a target for Devere's revenge.

  My friends, I fear the time has come for me to say goodbye. We may be facing a parting from which there will be no reunion, and so I wish to take this opportunity to thank you for your courage and determination. You are both quite extraordinary young people, and your deeds are worthy of song, though such is the way of the world that few people may ever come to hear of them.

  I hope one day we may meet again, but I leave you now with a heavy heart, for I fear it may never be so. Be safe and take comfort in your courage and each other.

  Your friend, George.

  Chapter 78

  'This is my brother's signature for sure,' Emerson said to Devere. His voice was even, but his dark eyes blazed and the hand which clutched the note trembled with suppressed emotion. 'What say you to that?'

  Panic flashed across Devere’s face momentarily before he recovered his composure. 'George is alive, but he has long been plotting the Guild's downfall,' he said solemnly.

  A murmur erupted among the Guild, but none dared to speak.

  'He was always jealous of my position and the favour I showed you,' Devere continued. 'He desires the dragonskin for himself. I had no choice but to confine him for the safety of the Guild.'

  ‘Liar! You knew the dragonskin was not lost, and you meant to steal it for yourself. You awoke the Shadow Horse to track it for you. You have deceived the Guild!’ I cried.

  Bridget Blyth cried out, and several Guild members spoke at once.

  'Silence! Can this be true? Is the dragonskin really found?' demanded Emerson as he turned to me and Eliza.

  'Yes,’ I replied. ‘George hid it at the bidding of the last Keeper for fear of what Devere might do with it. When Devere discovered what George had done, he imprisoned him.’

  Emerson's fist tightened around the note, and he stepped towards Devere, his hand moving towards the hilt of his sword.

  'You deceived me,' he said. His voice trembled with stifled rage.

  'They are lying to you, Emerson,’ said Devere smoothly. ‘You would believe these two scapegraces over the Keeper of the Guild?'

  ‘You told me my brother was dead!’ Emerson cried.

  ‘I had no choice,’ replied Devere.

  'Liar,' cried Emerson, closing the gap between them and thrusting the note into Devere’s face. 'Every word you speak is a lie. You told me my brother was dead! I killed the boy's own family on your orders, believing he had betrayed the Guild. Now you tell me my own brother is the traitor! You hide behind your spells and magical texts, yet without them you are nothing but a scheming, grasping worm of a man.'

  His face was wild with rage, and a fell mood seemed to have possessed him so that none dared to restrain him.

  'Emerson!' Tabatha cried, rushing towards him. She was too late. With a single thrust of his sword, he ran the blade into Devere's heart.

  For a moment, Devere remained still and upright. His eyes drifted towards me and settled upon my face as he sank to his knees.

  ‘Know this: ‘twas George who condemned you to this fate,’ he said between laboured breaths.

  ‘Why? What do you mean?’ I cried.

  He laughed and slowly moved his hand to the crystal that hung from his neck. Tearing it from its chain, he flung it towards me.

  Emerson’s sword flashed as he swept it across Devere’s throat in one swift stroke, relieving the body of its head. It fell to the ground with a thud as the crystal shattered beside it. A flash of light blazed, and for a moment a wall of white light surrounded me. Then I felt my body flung backwards by the force.

  In those moments, the memory of the Shade's premonition flitted through my mind. I saw the bloodied door of my family's cottage, the empty room, and my own corpse-like face, now branded along its left side with a shadow; Devere's shadow.

  My eyes snapped open, and I found my vision blurred, the scene before me shaky and undefined. I blinked and focused my eyes upon the body of Devere; the floor around him was slippery and red with blood, and Emerson stood before him panting, his sword limp in his hand. He spoke, but his voice sounded faint and distant. My head swam, and I struggled to comprehend his words.

  'I shan't ask for your forgiveness, Tom,' he said without looking at me. 'The destruction I have wrought is too great. I took the lives of your family in error. I allowed myself to be blinded by lies.'

  A dull power hung over me, and I reeled, unable to move or stand, the very breath sucked from my body. 'You killed them! You're a murderer!' I heard the words as though listening to someone else speak and then realised they came from my own mouth.

  Emerson's face was pale and haggard as he strode past me and down the steps. None dared to stay or follow him. I stared after him as I staggered to my feet, and I realised that I wept even as I screamed after him. Grief so overwhelming I felt it in every bone and muscle of my body swept over me, and in that moment, I wished for my heart to stop so that I might not bear the pain any longer. I sank to the floor as my legs gave way beneath me, and there I remained, a relic of grief and mourning, unconscious to what was happening around me and oblivious to Eliza as she knelt beside me and cradled me in her arms.

  Chapter 79

  'The scar may fade in time,' said George.

  I lay upon my bed in the dormitory. The weakness in my limbs was passing, but the pain in my head still lingered, even after fo
ur days. In the passageway outside, George spoke with Eliza and her father.

  'He has been branded with Devere's shadow,' George continued. 'It is an ancient practise, a means of marking slaves and prisoners as the magician's own. It is too soon to tell what effect it may yet have.'

  'What do mean?' asked Mr. Ellery. 'Might it have harmed Tom?'

  'No,' replied George slowly, 'not physically, but it must be remembered that branding is a type of curse. Such things are unpredictable and may have unforeseen consequences. Often, victims are haunted by the assailing magician for the rest of their lives. He or she can deprive them of peace, even in sleep, stalking their every move and directing further malign spells or entities to attack them. The effect often continues even after the magician's death, eventually driving their victims to madness.'

  'How will we know what effect it has had on Tom?' Eliza asked anxiously.

  'Only time will reveal that, I fear,' replied Edward. ‘'Twas hastily done, and Devere is now dead. That will surely have weakened the effect, but we must watch Tom closely. He may not feel the effects immediately.'

  The door to the dormitory opened, and Eliza crept in. I yawned and sat up, pretending to have just woken. I didn't want her to know I had overheard the conversation. There was something more pressing I needed to do first.

  'Did I wake you?' Eliza asked, concern spreading across her face.

  'No,' I replied. 'How long have I been asleep?'

  'A few hours. George said we were to let you rest.'

  ''Tis good to have him back,' I said. 'When is he to be inducted as Keeper?'

  'Very soon, I believe,' replied Eliza. 'He was chosen by unanimous vote.'

  I lay back on the pillow and shut my eyes. 'Where is Tabatha?' I asked after a few moments.

  Eliza hesitated then answered carefully. 'She has returned to the catacombs. She bade me wish you a speedy recovery. I think she cared deeply for Emerson, and he for her. I don't think she could reconcile that with what has befallen.'

  I nodded. 'And what of Emerson?' I asked quietly, opening my eyes to study Eliza's expression.

  'No tidings,' she replied, shaking her head.

  I sighed but said nothing more for a few long moments. 'I mean to go back to Osmington Mills,' I said at last. 'Not forever, just to say goodbye. If George permits it.'

  'You know he will, but I fear you are not yet well enough to travel,' said Eliza.

  'In a few days then. I'm anxious to go soon.'

  Eliza nodded. 'I shall speak with George. Rest now. I will be back after supper.’

  My head throbbed, yet try as I might, I couldn't settle long enough for sleep to find me. The memory of the last time I had been conscious was returning bit by bit, and Devere’s last words haunted my thoughts. It was a relief to finally hear a tap on the door.

  ‘Come in,’ I called.

  A second later, George appeared, shutting the door behind him. The physical effects of his confinement seemed only temporary; the dark circles beneath his eyes were gone, and the pallor had left his cheeks, but his face was grave.

  ‘Hello, Tom,’ he said. ‘’Tis good to see you awake. How do you feel?’

  ‘Much better,’ I replied, not quite truthfully.

  ‘That is well,’ he said. ‘It would be callous to say you had a lucky escape, but few who have been…. well, suffice to say you are recovering remarkably well.’

  ‘I think so, for my mind is racing with questions,’ I replied. ‘What of Cromwell? What will become of the Guild now that he and Parliament rule England?’

  ‘I don’t think we need worry about Cromwell,’ George replied. ‘He has greater concerns now, and Devere’s death will likely prove mighty convenient for him. Devere has proved a useless ally, and I very much doubt Cromwell would want a living reminder of his dalliance in magic to overthrow the King now that he has achieved his aim without it. It would be embarrassing to say the very least, if not outright dangerous for him. I will ensure he hears of Devere’s death, and then let him believe his secret has died with Devere! As long as that remains so, we will be safe. But you need not concern yourself with that. For as long as I am Keeper, I will ensure no harm comes to you. Though, there is another matter I must speak with you about, if I may.’

  I nodded, and he drew up a chair and set it beside my bed, watching me closely for a few long moments.

  ‘What do you remember before Devere’s attack?’ he asked at last.

  I hesitated. ‘I…I remember he said that it was you who had condemned me to this fate. I didn't understand his meaning,’ I replied.

  George’s face was unreadable as he stared at his hands clasped in his lap. I knew he was about to say something, something I should know, but I wished I was far away and never had to hear the words he was about to speak. The shock and all-consuming pain that had dulled somewhat in the days I had been unconscious now chafed with the same intensity as before, and I wished in that moment for my heart to be ripped out of my chest so that it might never suffer the same again. I sank into the pillow, my body tensed for the onslaught that was to follow.

  ‘Forgive me, Tom. I fear Devere spoke the truth,’ said George, looking up at me. His face was haggard, and his eyes were moist. ‘I inadvertently sealed your fate and that of your family.’

  ‘How?’ I whispered.

  He hesitated as though unsure how to begin.

  ‘Tell me,’ I begged.

  ‘Your father assisted me in smuggling the dragonskin to Other England,’ he began slowly. ‘I had set out on the pretext of a trading voyage, but just two days into my journey my ship struck rocks off the Dorset coast, and I was forced to abandon her. I dared not continue by road, for in those days the Venatorian hunted across the entire south of England, and my journey was of the utmost secrecy. So it was I had little choice but to find someone willing to take me by sea as far as Falmouth in Cornwall, from where I continued by foot along secret paths. Being in smugglers' country, it didn't take long to find a man willing to assist me. His price was one silver piece to pay the local cunning man for a remedy for his ailing wife, who was with child. Pitying his plight, I bade him take me to her before we set out. When I came to her, she was just hours from death; too weak even to sit upright. I passed the dragonskin over her belly, and immediately a little colour returned to her cheeks.

  ‘Upon my return to London, I sent the best midwife I could find to deliver the woman's baby. ‘It was a lusty child, the midwife told me, born at the stroke of midnight under a full moon. Tom, that baby was you.’

  My mind raced as I tried to comprehend George’s words, my thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. I wanted to speak, but my throat was tight, and my muscles would not heed my will.

  ‘I don't understand,’ I managed to whisper at last.

  ‘I believe a trace of the dragonskin’s power passed to you inside your mother’s womb,’ said George. ‘It seems it acted as a magnet, drawing you into the world of magic. It was no accident that you picked up the box in the cave, nor that it was you alone whom the Shade you saw in Edward’s mirror was drawn to. There is magic about you, Tom, and your life has been dictated by it, even down to the moment of your birth.’

  I shut my eyes and tried to still my racing mind. My life had been ruled by magic without my knowledge, and now, as though by the natural order of things, it had killed my family and branded me with Devere’s shadow. Anger, bewilderment and grief vied for mastery of me, but at last I opened my eyes and found that George was still sitting in his chair watching me with pity in his eyes.

  ‘When did you discover this?’ I whispered.

  ‘Devere came to me for the last time while you were in the catacombs. Emerson had returned from…’ He paused, choosing his words carefully. ‘From what he was sent to do. Your mother had recognised him, mistaking him for me. That set Devere’s mind wandering, brooding on how your mother could possibly have known me. He already knew the dragonskin had been hidden in Other England by that point and, with a mind
as keen as a hawk’s eyes, he quickly deduced by what means I had got the dragonskin to Other England. Alas, he knew more of the dragonskin’s power than I did, and he knew as well as any magician that there are no accidents in magic. He came to me and laid bare before me his discoveries and the consequences of what I had done. It was then that I realised my terrible mistake. I dared not write to you, fearing that doing so would betray your sanctuary. Forgive me, Tom; I knew not how grave the consequences of my actions all those years ago would be.’

  Hot tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them back and swallowed hard. ‘It was not you who killed my family,’ I replied with an effort. ‘There is nothing to forgive.’

  George nodded. ‘I would that I could change what has occurred, but alas some things are beyond even the power of magicians.’

  Chapter 80

  No certain tidings of Emerson had reached the Gatehouse when Eliza and I set out for Dorset on a snowy day in mid-February. She and George had watched me closely through my convalescence for any sign of disturbance following Devere's attack, though they tried to conceal it from me. It vexed and alarmed me, the more so because each time I shut my eyes, I saw his face, wild with rage as he flung the crystal towards me, and in my dreams, I saw the faces of my family one by one replaced with that of Emerson.

  It was a raw day, the bitterest of the winter, as our horses plodded along the road to Osmington Mills. We hadn't met a soul on the road or off it all day, but now it was late afternoon, and we were nearing our journey's end.

  'That's it,' I said, pointing further up the lane.

  The little church where my mother and father had married, and where Lizzie and I had been baptised, stood a little further on from the cottage. The church itself faced west to protect its front from the merciless batterings that the English Channel subjected it to, and the churchyard, with its jumble of headstones, was set to the side, out of the way and mostly neglected except for when a funeral took place.

  Eliza and I left the horses in the lane and paused to pluck a handful of snowdrops from the grassy verge beside the gate. We crossed to a sheltered spot beneath the outspread branches of a chestnut tree which reached over the ancient wall that enclosed the churchyard. There, three simple wooden crosses had been erected. The names of Thomas Wild, Anne Wild and Elizabeth Wild were cut into the cross beams. The earth before them was dark and grassless where the graves had been recently dug. At the foot of each cross, a wilted posy of primroses and yarrow still lay where they had been set weeks before. At the end of the row stood a fourth cross, but the earth before it remained undisturbed. Across the front, it read Thomas Wild Jnr. Beside it lay a wiry-haired dog, it's chin resting upon its front paws.