by Helen Church
Elmington quickly recovered his composure, “Seer, I wish to extend an invitation to my courts for refreshments. Your guests are welcome to attend as well, of course.”
Ellard sneered, “you must be joking!”
“You are free to choose. I am not issuing a summons.”
“I already rejected your summons,” Ellard poked the tip of his sword against Elmington’s nose, and the sickly looking man had no choice but to step away. As he did so the soldiers all stepped forward, unsheathing their own swords. The shrouded servant moved his head in alarm, and Ilsa thought it was curious that someone’s face should be so hidden, but yet their vision was not impaired.
“Now is not a good time,” Ilsa said with a confidence she didn’t feel.
Elmington studied her with unabashed interest, “and how are you feeling dear?”
“Perfectly well Seer, I thank you.”
He smiles then, “I see that you have the manners that your father lacks. Of course, he isn’t really your father is he?”
A sudden cold feeling came over her, “and what would you know about that?”
His smile became wider, “oh the things I could tell you…”
Ellard shook his sword, “you swore you knew nothing during the investigation. Liar!”
“I said I was not guilty of the Magick's.” Elmington looked like he was fully confident of his position now, “which I can say now with as much honesty.”
Barey put a hand on Ellard’s shoulder, as if to calm him. “If you knew of any Magick's against the Kingdom then you were honor bound to report them. Surely you must know that,” Ellard said.
Elmington looks at Ilsa again, “and who said that those Magick's were ‘against’ the Kingdom?”
Ilsa stepped to her father’s other side and put her hand on his other shoulder, so that they presented a completely unified front against Elmington. “I command you in the name of Jocham, your King, to disclose all your knowledge to us immediately.”
Elmington continues to smile, “of course, which is why I have extended the invitation to take refreshment with me today.”
The three of them remain silent. Ilsa could see the obvious trap in the invitation. He was promising them everything that they had come to Carbom to learn, but the sincerity rang false to Ilsa’s ears. He was no more practiced at truth telling than she was at dragon taming.
“Now is not a good time Seer,” Barey repeated firmly.
“Tonight then?”
Ilsa looked at the shrouded servant when she saw the tiniest movement of his head, from left to right. A clear message of ‘no’. “If we feel up to it Elmington, but as Barey mentioned, your crows took a lot out of her. I think it more important that she rest at this time,” Ilsa spoke again, trusting her instincts as she had before. “And tending to the Seer has depleted my father and I. We simply wouldn’t be tolerable guests.”
Elmington’s smile dropped ever so slightly. And did the servant’s shoulders relax? Yes Ilsa believed that they did.
“Can I not change your minds?”
“Not at this time, Seer,” Ilsa didn’t know why she was suddenly the spokesperson, but neither of her companions spoke up in her place. “But we will be sure to tell your crows once we are rested and able.”
Ilsa thought it was interesting that Elmington did not deny the crows were under his command. He seemed to draw himself up to his full height, but Ilsa thought he still looked shriveled and sunken into himself. “As you wish young lady.”
She dropped into a curtesy and held out imaginary skirts, “well met, Sir.”
The doors appeared once again, and she let out a nervous breath. Each of them was silent, and waiting until Elmington had left. Barey held a finger to her lips, “Ilsa I wonder if you would help me bathe, I still feel very weak.”
Ilsa understood that somehow, Elmington was still listening. “Of course Seer,” Ilsa looked up to her father and pointed to her hip, trying to silently ask where her sword was. Ellard pointed towards the cottage beyond the courtyard, and she guessed that it was in the room she had slept in. “I’ll draw the water, Seer,” she rushed straight out to the cottage and searched for her sword, which was just beneath the bed she had so recently vacated. She wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath the covers once more, but pushed her lethargy away.
She quickly laced her scabbard to her leg and waist, and vowed not to remove it again until she was back within Bardon. When she went to the well she saw that the crows were still in attendance on the rooftops, but she acted as if she didn’t see them.
She drew water from the well, and carried two buckets to the washroom where Seer Barey was disrobing and investigating her new skin tone, which seemed lighter in the places she had been clothed.
Ilsa helped the Seer to clear the worst of the mud from the washtub, and then they rinsed it clear. Barey opted to scrub the mud from her skin with a cloth, while Ilsa kept watch in the courtyard for more crows.
“Ilsa could you fetch me some clean clothes dear?” Barey sounded tired, and Ilsa looked at the other woman, who looked the picture of health and vibrancy. “I feel so weak,” her voice dragged, and Ilsa understood that this was part of the performance for the eavesdroppers.
“Of course Seer, just rest, I’ll be right back.” As she returned to the cottage, she did nothing to hide her limp. If Elmington believed that they were still weakened, they might be able to gain some time to strategize their next move. She hurriedly collected clothing for Barey, and made sure to collect many layers to wear, suitable for the contingency that they managed to escape and travel.
But how would they escape? She had no idea. Perhaps Barey could move them through the walls again as she had earlier, but surely Elmington would be watching for such a move.
11
The crows kept up a vigil around the little barn, and they all shared the uneasy feeling of being spied upon, so they communicated only through gestures and false script.
“Come and eat father,” Ilsa said, making sure she laced her voice with concern. “You’re so worn out you need to regain some strength.”
He was in fact packing bread into their travelling packs, which were strapped to Glutar. Ilsa was saddling Onur with Cetar’s reigns and saddle, and Barey was packing strange bottles and herbs into her own bags.
“She is right Ellard, you must eat. Tending to me has depleted you both, and you’ll achieve nothing if you waste away in front of us,” Barey scolded him, still dragging her voice to sound wearied.
“Yes I’ll eat, stop nagging both of you,” Ellard did in fact stuff a crust of bread into his mouth as he laced the bag shut. He checked over Onur and gave a nod to Ilsa that she had done well, then they both looked at Barey, who was pointedly not looking at either of them.
Ilsa went over to the woman, who now seemed to be her twin in age and looks, now that she was clean. Grasping her shoulder and forcing her to meet her gaze. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders in her best ‘what now?’ expression?
Barey looked frightened and shrugged her own shoulders, ‘I don’t know.’
Just as she felt the panic rising within her, a gentle knock at the doors disturbed them.
As one, they all moved to the doors, which would have melted away by now if it were Elmington. Barey suddenly looked towards Onur, who dipped his head, which seemed to signal that it was safe. Barey opened the door, and they were all shocked to see the shrouded servant shaking, and clutching a wooden box in his hands.
Ilsa looked beyond the figure, checking for signs of Elmington, or any onlookers, but there were none, so she grabbed the figure and pulled him inside where Barey snatched the wooden box away from him. She looked at it with wonder.
The figure made no sound, just continued to shake beneath his shroud. Ellard pulled the hood back and they gasped at the creature that was suddenly revealed, they in horror, and he in fright.
He was probably a man once, when he had lived. Now his features were slackened by lifelessne
ss and his eyes were milky within their sunken sockets. His skin looked to be paper thin, with a blue tint that could only confirm that no blood ran in his veins, which looked blackened within his features.
The milky eyes seemed to focus on Ellard, and the toothless shrunken mouth trembled.
Ilsa had a terrible feeling she knew who this man once was, though his hair was no longer red, but now a wispy white cloud.
Barey took no interest in the stranger, but opened the wooden box that contained a simple glass sphere, and she looked at them both excitedly, gesturing at the ball.
Ellard shrugged his shoulders, confused at what she was trying to communicate.
Barey went over to one of the many scattered books, ripped out a page and scrawled a quick message on it. ‘This is the Vaiden – The object that contains the Magick's within this city. If we break it, Elmington cannot keep us here or track us.’
Ilsa looked at the dead man. She was sure that he had brought the sphere, the Vaiden, to them so that they could execute an escape. How could he still exert his own will without Elmington knowing? And why would he risk himself? Ilsa thought she knew the answer to that lay within the fellow’s identity, but she couldn’t confirm her suspicions all the time she couldn’t speak aloud.
Ellard scribbled his own message on the other side of the page. ‘If we break it the banishment will not be able to be enforced. All the Magick's and Seer’s will be loose.’
Barey shrugged her shoulders, clearly saying ‘you choose’.
Ilsa pulled the hood back over the horrific features of the unliving man, and this seemed to relax him. She worried at how long Elmington would remain ignorant of his servant’s betrayal, and she turned to Ellard and Barey, snatching the page from them and writing her own message. As she wrote she said aloud, “that was a delicious meal, don’t you think father?” They had been silent for too long.
She handed the page to her father and then turned back to the servant. She hesitantly took his arm, repulsed by how cold and wet his robes felt, but she began to lead him to Onur while they read her message.
‘We don’t have time or options. We have to leave NOW before Elmington realizes what we have.’
Ellard frowned but nodded. He helped the servant onto Onur’s back, behind Ilsa, where he clung to her waist in desperation.
Ilsa watched her father climb onto Glutar’s back, and pulled Barey up into the seat behind him, her own bag swinging from her shoulder as she positioned herself. She handed him the Vaiden sphere so she could clasp both arms around him tightly.
Out loud, Barey said, “Onur, you take care of the doors, I’ll do the rest.” With that Ellard threw the Vaiden to the floor where it smashed without any dramatic effect. Ilsa took that as her cue and she kicked Onur into a run, hoping that the barn doors would indeed vanish.
Just as she reached the doors, they seemed to melt away, and they were out into the dizzying streets the next moment. Ilsa saw with interest that they were no longer dizzying at all, just ordinary stone and wooden buildings that imposed as any structure would. The Magick's of Carbom were truly released.
Behind her she heard her father shout, “to the gate!”
Ilsa had already guessed that their destination would be the gate that they had entered the city through, so she turned off the street and saw that the wooden gate was still solid, and beneath her she heard a grunt of exertion from Onur. She saw with wonder that the gates vanished just as they reached them, and she chanced a glance behind her to see that they reappeared once Glutar was through. In the sky she saw a massive black cloud emerging from the peak of Carbom, bearing towards them at an alarming rate.
“Crows!” She shouted, to her father.
Onur turned to the right, and she didn’t try to reign him in, perhaps he knew something that she didn’t, and she could hear her father following with Glutar, so she just hunkered down as much as she could, and she could feel the man behind her holding on as tightly as he was able to.
She didn’t need to look behind her to know that the crows were closing in, she could almost feel them, and wondered if they would bother trying to break into her mind this time, or would they just descend in a swarm of sharp beaks and talons to dismount them?
Ahead she could see the forest and woodlands that she and her father had travelled through only a few days ago, and hoped that the woodland would provide some protection from the cloud of fury following them.
Just as she began to hope that they would make it, the crows began to descend. No attacks came to her mind, she guessed that Elmington was so surprised at their escape he had no range to attack them through the crows mentally, so he was sending the flock after them with the intent of stopping them physically.
She ducked her head lower as they squawked and began to dive at her. Onur came to an abrupt halt as the birds began to attack his face. Ilsa came off the horse, but the servant remained seated, not bothering to protect himself against the attack. She launched herself at Onur’s head, to try and protect his eyes from the birds, who pecked and clawed at her own face, so she ducked herself down, creating a small pocket between her shoulder and the horse where no bird could fly.
“Ilsa!” Barey was calling her, but it seemed from a great distance. She peeked up over her arm, but could see nothing but crows. How could they get through this?
“Burn them Ilsa!” This was from Onur, who sounded pained.
“I don’t know how!”
“Recreate how you felt!”
How had she felt? Under attack? Of course it had been a mental attack, not a physical one, but she could feel her adrenaline kicking in as her hands and head were pecked. Had the fire entered her as she had first thought? Or had she created it?
“I can’t do this!”
Somewhere nearby Glutar was protesting. Could she honestly claim she didn’t know what to do?
“Make it stop!” She was starting to panic now, she felt like this was all her fault.
Her fingers were being viciously attacked, and she could feel blood start to flow.
“Ilsa!”
“I don’t know what to do!”
“Pull yourself together and stop this before Elmington collects his guards and comes after us!” Onur was angry with her now, and she felt shame. Several crows were clawing at her hair now, and she felt like crying. The pain was getting to be too much, she flung herself away from Onur and waved her arms around to try to ward off the birds, but they seized upon her weakness and attacked her with force.
She fell back onto the ground, her arms flung in front of her face, but the beaks and talons were relentless, and she had no defense against it, not even her mind.
“Stop!” She screamed, and nearby she could hear more screams of pain. This had to stop, they couldn’t survive. She couldn’t feel any fire within her, she just felt fury and anger.
“Ilsa!” Onur again, sounding angrier then she would have believed a horse could sound.
Could she harness the fury? Every single part of her was in agony, and she tried to remember her mental pain when she was under attack before. The pain had engulfed her then, and had become something stronger and bigger than she was. As she forced her mind back to the memory, she felt a calmness wash over her, and the physical pain she felt started to recede.
Where was the fire? She reached into her mind, trying to find that part of herself that had been burned, and she found that she knew exactly what to do. There was no fire to call upon, but the path that had been forged in flame within her was instead filled with a whiteness that was welcoming.
Her entire being was in tune with this whiteness, and she felt it flowing through her. Her limbs relaxing against the relentless attack, she could feel the edges of this calm, much bigger than herself, and she pushed this blanket away from herself. Bird corpses were suddenly repelled outward at a rapid speed, and she felt an outward rushing of energy as she kept pushing and pushing away from herself.
“Ilsa!” Panic in his tone this time, Onur s
ounded so far away.
12
Whiteness. Calmness. Nothingness.
Where was she? Were the crows gone? Did they all survive?
She tried to open her eyes. Oh no, she couldn’t feel her eyes. Could she feel anything? No she could not. She tried not to be alarmed, this had happened once before after all, but she had no idea how to get back to herself.
Ilsa tried to extend her senses, tried to find her form, but she just felt an emptiness that was soothing. Was she dead? She couldn’t hear anything, nor see anything. Could she smell? No. As she inventoried her senses and came up blank on all responses, she found that she did have one thing to claim. She still had her own mind.
What had she done this time? There was no fire, that was for sure. Instead she felt as though she had pulled a shield from within her, and had flung it far, tossing the crows with it.
Had she flung herself out of her body too? Ilsa suspected that she had. Last time Seer Barey had helped her to return to herself, but she would have to try to figure it out alone this time.
With only her mental form intact, she tried to concentrate hard on her body, perhaps that would help her locate it and return to it? She stretched out her being and felt nothing.
Determined to remain calm, she tried instead to focus on direction. Could she tell up from down? No she could not.
Concentrating, she desperately tried to force herself to move, and still nothing happened. Would her body still be breathing? That was worrying. If her body died what would happen to her?
Panic began to overwhelm her, and she fought against it. There had to be a way!
“Ilsa?”
Relief at the sound of a voice. Who did the voice belong to?
“Follow my voice,” Onur said quietly. He sounded hurt. Oh no, had she made fire after all?
Could she follow? The voice sounded as though it was behind her. Could she turn? Was she moving? This was so confusing.
