It was then that he sensed them coming, two disturbances, almost imperceptible. Still shaken he crossed the room and went over to the window, pulling the net curtains aside a fraction. Outside the narrow street was empty, a letterbox section of the square just visible to the right. Opposite, darkened houses sat like empty tombs, devoid of light or movement. There, so subtle that anyone else would have missed it, a shadow flitted across the end of the street followed quickly by another. The wolves were hunting her.
Chapter Twenty Four
A low buzzing began to infiltrate the hotel porter’s consciousness. In his dream he was sitting in his house but it wasn’t his house for it was much bigger. He was having a party and the girl from his street that he fancied was sitting on the sofa with him. He was staring into her eyes, their lips coming together, the anticipation making him tremble. Then a giant bee appeared, droning lazily around the room and the girl started screaming and then somehow turned into his mum. Annoyed he got up and was trying to swat the bee but no matter what he did it would not stop buzzing.
Opening his eyes the porter jerked upright. His phone was vibrating on the desk in front of him. With a spark of annoyance, he grabbed it and then read the message from Jason. A flutter of apprehension made itself known to him in the pit of his stomach. The description of the girl fitted perfectly with the one that the guest had brought in late last night. He did not know Jason that well but he knew that he was someone who had a lot of dodgy friends, the sort of people you did not want to cross. He re-read the message. Its tone left him in no uncertain terms as to what would happen to anyone who was found out to be withholding information. His hand went to his pocket where the twenty pound note was neatly folded. The guest had been specific. Tell no-one about the girl. Shit he thought, why did this have to happen to him? It was for people in big city hotels or on the TV, not him. He was just working part time in a back street hotel, while training to be a plumber. He put the phone down on the counter and stared at it. The guests would be gone this morning but he had to live with Jason. He hesitated for a few moments, knowing what he should do, but then he was someone who always got caught out if he tried anything risky. A certainty was growing within him, namely that if he hid the presence of the girl from Jason somehow he would get found out and then Jason would make his life hell. Telling himself that he had no other option he leant forward, his hands closing around the plastic shell of his phone. He hesitated for a moment.
Nicola awoke. For a few moments her mind was empty of everything and calmness and warm contentment enveloped her as she stretched her arms above her head and pushed her legs down, her body shuddering in the pleasurable feeling of release. Then, as she opened her eyes and found herself lying in dishevelled clothes in an unfamiliar room, images and memories suddenly returned to her and she pushed herself up quickly seeing the outline of Paul sitting in a chair by the window. His feet were resting on a table, his eyes that haunted her so much turned towards her, their surface reflecting the faint predawn light.
‘It was not a dream,’ she whispered, her voice shaking.
‘Did you want it to be,’ questioned Paul’s voice, disembodied within the shadows of the room.
‘I don’t know,’ she answered.
They fell into silence the only sound that of their own breathing.
‘Where are we?’ she asked eventually.
‘Still in Penwryn.’
‘The wolves. Are they gone?’
She heard the chair creak, saw him shifting his body slightly.
‘No,’ he responded.
She felt a chill run up her spine.
‘Will they find me again?’
For a moment he did not respond and she wondered if he had heard her. Then he spoke, his voice low, emotionless.
‘They can’t sense you while I am here.’
She thought about this for a few seconds.
‘Can you sense them?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Where are they now?’ she questioned.
‘Near the oak in the wood. They hope you will go back there, to complete the awakening.’
‘And will I?’ she asked him.
Again there was silence. She found she could see him more clearly now, light from the coming dawn beginning to define the room.
‘Yes,’ he said quietly.
‘How can you be so sure?’ whispered Nicola.
‘Because I will make it happen.’
‘And then?’
‘And then,’ said Paul jumping up, the chair falling back behind him. His hand was against the wall, arm out straight in front of him. His other hand was balled tightly into a fist which he held in the air by his side. His head dropped towards the floor.
‘Do you know what you are Nicola?’
Slowly she shook her head. He turned to look at her his eyes burning with intensity.
‘You are the last of them, the last Warder.’ Paul began to tremble. ‘He made me kill all the others.’
Nicola felt the blood in her veins turn to ice.
‘Do you know what I am?’ he asked her as he pushed himself away from the wall and approached her.
‘Don’t do this Paul,’ she whispered backing away from him. ‘Please stop this now.’
‘I am something bad, something tainted with evil. I have done things already I could never have foreseen. I am commanded Nicola,’ he was standing in front of her now. ‘To finish what he has started, to destroy you and finish the Light.’ He remained standing there, his eyes locked onto hers, his right hand moving silently to his jacket pocket, fingers curling around the hilt of the knife. His body was tensed, poised like a cobra waiting to strike, while his mind fought for control with all his might, to suppress the compulsion that held him. Long seconds passed, the moments frozen as if waiting for some signal. Outside the sound of an approaching refuse truck grew louder, the clinking of bottles and rattling of wheelie bins competing with the whine of the garbage compactor and the occasional comments from the workers, one of whom was whistling intermittently and then, after a few minutes the noise died away again. Within the room neither had moved.
‘Why don’t you do it then?’ asked Nicola breathlessly.
‘Because I love you,’ he said tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He backed away from her and sank to the ground, his head in his hands.
Nervously she went to him, placing her hands on his, pulling his head into her chest.
‘I found out about our dreams,’ he said, his voice muffled. ‘You were called Amalia. It is a beautiful name.’
Nicola heard the sad smile in his voice.
‘I was called Arachar.’
The smile was gone now. She held him close, not wanting to face the anguish she could feel burning within him.
‘There is one. His name is Myrkur. He captured me and turned me into the Rider.’
Paul pulled his head up. His eyes were like blue flame boring into her soul.
‘But you saved me Amalia.’
Paul’s worlds and memories were slipping and merging and he did not know who he was.
‘You found the part of me that still existed and you saved me.’
Nicola stared transfixed. There was nothing but him.
‘I need you Amalia,’ he said quietly pulling himself back into her embrace. ‘I need you to save me again.’
Nicola held him, unknowing of what else she could do. Then he spoke, so softly she did not hear him at first.
‘My sister is dying.’
Nicola felt her chest constrict.
‘How is this possible?’ she asked her voice barely above a whisper.
‘It was done to save them and you. To save the Light.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Nicola.
Paul lifted his head. A tear fell from his face onto her arm, a single track of moisture tumbling slowly across the smooth skin.
‘Gwen called Alex to her. Through my sister they discovered what had happened to me. They knew I was coming for th
em.’
Nicola saw the torment burning within him.
‘Gwen knew I would stop the awakening so she placed the power that should have gone to you into my sister’s head. Now it is killing her.’
His eyes hardened, becoming blue steel that shined in the half light.
‘So you see Nicola, I must finish the awakening. It is the only way to save you both.’
Nicola shuddered, seeing nothing but darkness in his gaze.
‘You’re going to leave me aren’t you?’
‘I have to find my sister. It is the only way.’
‘Will you come back this time?’
He saw the challenge in her eyes.
‘I escaped Nicola. He tried to turn me again but I escaped. I don’t know how much time I have left.’
‘No,’ Nicola sobbed clutching him against her. ‘It can’t end like this.’
He let her hold him, feeling the warmth of her body against his, hoping against hope that he would be able to feel it again.
‘He will find me.’
Silent tears fell from Nicola’s cheeks.
‘At least this way I have a chance.’
Suddenly he made the connection in his mind. The thing Falk had been carrying was his sister.
‘I have to go,’ he said pulling away from her, like he was wrenching himself away from life.
‘So you must,’ said Nicola quietly.
‘Do not leave this room. At all costs you must stay here.’
She looked at him in confusion.
‘I have weaved a deception. It means the wolves can’t sense you.’
Slowly she nodded.
‘So you will return.’
He smiled weakly.
‘I guess I have to now’.
‘I love you,’ she mouthed to him.
With his heart in his mouth he stepped away from her.
‘I know,’ he responded.
Closing his eyes he touched specific weaves of energy and slipped into the underworld.
Chapter Twenty Five
Vicky stirred as something pulled her back from a deep, dreamless sleep. She opened her eyes, rubbing sleep dust from them. As she became more awake the noise came again. Someone was moving around downstairs.
Yawning she reached for her watch, the hands still faintly illuminated. With a little difficulty she was able to make out the time. It was just past 5.15am. Suddenly she remembered the book and felt a spark of annoyance. She had fallen asleep rather than go back and read it. Then a thought occurred to her. It must be her dad downstairs. What if he had gone down to look at it himself?
She flung back the duvet and jumped out of bed pulling her dressing gown from the hook behind the door. As she did so there was a soft thump from downstairs as if her dad had dropped something. Opening the bedroom door Vicky crossed the small landing and skipped quietly down the stairs, but half way down she stopped, her hand on her mouth.
A scene of mini-devastation lay before her. The lounge had been ransacked, the sofas tipped up, their cushions thrown across the room. The boxes that had been stacked there were ripped open and their contents spilled across the floor. Books and papers from the shelves lining the wall had been pulled off and lay in scattered piles around the coffee table.
Vicky stood rooted to the spot, paralysed with shock. Then a series of crashes came from the kitchen, the sound of drawers being emptied and thrown onto the floor. Recovering, Vicky opened her mouth and screamed. A dead silence followed. Suddenly terrified Vicky spun round and bolted back up the stairs and straight into her mum and dad’s room.
‘Dad,’ she cried frantically, shaking his sleeping form.
‘Dad, there’s someone downstairs.’
She shook him harder but he would not wake up.
‘Dad,’ she shouted out fighting tears. Shaking with fright she ran round to the other side of the bed.
‘Mum, dad wont wake up, you’ve got to wake up.’
Frantically Vicky shook her mum but all she did was murmur and turn over. Then Vicky heard the thump of a heavy boot on the bottom stair and for a moment she froze. Looking around in wild eyed panic, she saw the wardrobe. As more footsteps echoed up the stairway she scrambled across the room and dived in pulling the door shut, but it would not close properly. She looked on in panic as it began to swing open again. Desperately she gripped the edge of a panel on the inside of the door and pulled as hard as she could. Slowly the door began to move back towards her and then finally it closed, leaving a small crack through which she could still see the room.
Vicky sat there in the darkness with her heart pounding and her breath coming quick and shallow. For a moment there was silence. Then the bedroom door creaked slightly and began to fall open into the room. For a brief second a figure moved across her view and in that moment the recognition hit her. It was the uncle.
The man who had written the notebook.
The man who had tried to break her arm.
The man who wanted the key.
Vicky waited, terrified for what would happen next. Then the man spoke, his voice cutting across the room.
‘I’m afraid they won’t wake up right now to help you.’
The volume of his voice rose and fell slightly as if he was turning his head to look around the room.
‘A little trick I learned from my Master.’
Vicky heard his footsteps crossing the room, moving back towards the wardrobe.
‘So you might as well come out now and we can avoid any unpleasantness.’
The footsteps and his shadow passed and then halted.
‘I see you read my diary.’
A floorboard creaked slowly as he shifted his weight.
‘You will know then how long I have been searching for the key. How much it means to me to find it.’
Something scraped across the outside of the wardrobe.
‘I will only ask once.’
Vicky began to tremble. Her grip on the door was slipping, sweat making it difficult to hold on any tighter.
‘Come out and give me the key.’
Vicky watched in silent terror as the crack of light she had been looking through began to grow wider.
‘And no harm will come to you or your family.’
As if in slow motion Vicky’s fingers lost their grip on the door and it began to fall open. Dirty and calloused fingers appeared, piercing the edge of light, gripping the side of the door. Desperately Vicky pulled the key out from under her nightshirt and stuffed it behind a shoe. Then she opened her mouth and began to scream.
Falk felt himself tiring. The adrenaline had long left his system and his muscles were burning with the constant effort of running with Alex in his arms. Wondering if it would make any difference he slowed and stopped, laying Alex gently in a shallow depression in the ground. He looked all around him, the silent forest that had once been his home mocking him in return. He began to remember things from his childhood, growing up with the land as his playground, the seasons coming, each with their own milestones. With a shiver he remembered first learning of the Dark and of Myrkur, and then his pledge to become a warrior. He recalled his first visit to what they called the world above. He remembered his shock at the state of it, how he had been unsettled for days wondering how people could live in the crowded concrete completely cut off from nature. Then he had been assigned as Gwen’s protector and had seen a different side of the land where nature still existed, where it was still possible to connect. That is why he had believed in her. That is why he had supported her in her certainty that Paul was the chosen one against the will of many of the Light. But Gwen had been wrong and now it was all gone, shattered like broken ice, and he was left alone to watch their last hope dying in his arms.
A faint tremor stirred on the edge of his awareness. Falk crouched down over Alex, his arms stretched over her like a falcon over its prey. Something had used energy to enter the forest world. Suddenly all the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. He turned his head around
slowly scanning the trees but there was no sign of movement. He reached out with his awareness straining for another sign but could sense nothing and this sent a chill up his spine for it could only mean one thing. Breathing calmly to control his fear he unsheathed his sword.
A snorting of heavy breath snapped out across the air behind him. Snarling Falk turned his head. Standing twenty metres away stood the Rider, his huge warhorse stamping the ground as its breath made great eruptions of condensation in the air. Falk felt a moment of terror consume him. He had seen his warriors easily swept aside and killed under the Rider’s onslaught. Then the Rider had faced Gwen, a powerful Warder skilled in combat, and she had died too. Now the Rider was here to finish what it had started and Falk was the only thing that stood in its way.
Paralysis gripped him. The challenge was too great, the chance of success minimal. The Rider would destroy him as if he was nothing and then Alex would die, Nicola would die, the Light would end and the wild world would fade away to nothing. For a moment Falk remained as frozen as the forest that surrounded him. Then a cold anger began to rise within him fuelled by the injustice he faced, the sense of frustration, of loss, the taking away of his life. It surged along his veins filling him with a need to fight, to vent his fury against the Rider in a last glorious end. As if waking from a trance he slowly turned his still crouched body so that he was facing the Rider, his sword point raised.
‘I only want her,’ the Rider called. His face was hidden within the cowl of his cloak and his voice carried eerily across the frozen air. ‘I have no argument with you.’
‘I will die before I give her to you,’ Falk called back.
The Rider was silent for a moment.
‘So be it,’ said Paul. He undid the clasp around his cloak which fell away to reveal dark armour. Reaching to his right he drew a large broadsword from its scabbard, the dragons that coiled around the blade gleaming in the moonlight as if alive. Falk stared at them transfixed and then, before he could react, the warhorse was thundering towards him, the ground shuddering under the beating of its iron hooves.
The Dark Rider (Fading Light) Page 23
