Eden Forest (Part one of the Saskia Trilogy)
Page 13
into the cave.
Inside, the cave is lit up with torches attached to the walls
of the long corridor. I keep on Tristan’s heels until he makes
a sharp left turn into a large room. A fire burns in the centre,
outlined with rocks that are blackened from constant use. Other
than the fire, the room is empty.
The sound of stone grinding makes me look away from the
flames. My eyes don’t adjust straight away, as sparks still dance
in front of me. They’re soon replaced with Tristan pushing in
stones on the cave’s wall. A click sounds; the part he pressed on
slides back, letting in a draft of air that makes the flames dance
wildly along the cave walls. A tunnel all lit up with torches
stretches out before me. I can’t see what’s at the end, as it curves
to the right.
Tristan waits patiently for me to step completely into the
tunnel. My fear of small spaces has rendered me frozen in the
secret doorway, but a gentle nudge from Legis pushes me on.
I take another deep breath to steady my frantic heartbeat. I
glance at Tristan to try and read his face for what to expect,
but it shows me nothing, perfectly blank. Legis joins us and the
door slides shut with a thud that feels so final.
Light from the torches gleams on the dagger that Tristan
holds in his right hand as he approaches me. Panic rises. Why
kill me now? I move back, but am held still by Legis. Now I’m
face to face with Tristan. I close my eyes and await my fate. The
sound of rope hitting the stone floor and the free feeling in my
wrists makes my eyes flash open. There’s a glint of amusement
in Tristan's eyes and then I’m faced with his broad back as he
walks on down the tunnel. I follow as I rub my raw wrists.
Every step makes me more nervous.
Tristan steps through an archway into another large room.
He moves aside and I’m faced with six people, but it’s only one
that makes my heart race. My mind isn’t sure if what I’m seeing
is real.
“Mum?” I whisper.
She holds me in her arms as I let my emotions free and cry.
The smell of freshly cut grass and lavender encircles me, turning
my cries into low sobs. She brushes my hair with her hand,
relaxing my body.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” I say while taking in my mother's
appearance. She looks the same, but there’s a sadness wrapped
around her, giving her appearance a grey shadow. I’m startled
by my own analysis, but she kisses my forehead, wiping these
thoughts away and replacing them with joy.
“Yes, it is me, love. Are you hungry?” She turns on mother
mode. Taking me by the elbow, she leads me through the room
that seems to serve as a sitting room and a kitchen. The floors
are bare, just concrete, but they’re swept and free of any dirt.
Large red armchairs are positioned around a fire in a large
circle; a couch lies behind them, covered in sheepskin. There
are large paintings of what look like kings and queens, framed
in gold. Red material is held onto the walls and draped down
to the floor.
My mother leads me to a large table that could hold up to
fourteen people. The chairs with tall backs look heavy and are
covered in a royal blue lush fabric. When I sit, I am surprised to feel cushion under me. I was awaiting hard wood. I can see my reflection in the perfectly polished table. I look exactly how I feel—bewildered, confused and tired. Large dark circles have formed under my eyes; my hair looks like a crow’s nest. A bowl of soup slides in front of me and I can no longer see myself, thankfully.
My mother hands me a spoon. “You are safe now. We will
talk later, but first, eat and then we will get you cleaned up.” I
squeeze her hand just to make sure she’s real. She watches me
as I eat. Every time our eyes meet we smile at each other. The
others are talking, but I don’t strain to hear their conversation.
I just focus on my mother. She introduces me to Alana, the
maiden, after I eat my soup.
“I am Alana. I have a bath ready for you, my lady.” Alana is
beautiful with strawberry-blond straight hair and a full fringe
that draws you to her eyes. They are a deep blue, but her left iris
is circled in an unusual gold band. Her tall, slim figure would be
suitable to the catwalk, and her pale complexion doesn’t make
her look ill, just flawless. I disliked her already. She smiles at
me self-assuredly and escorts my mother and me to what Mum
calls my sleeping chambers.
The furnishings and material are something you might
expect to see in a castle. The first thing my eyes take in is a huge
four-poster bed that dominates the room, covered in snow-
white linen. A heavy chest rests at the foot of the bed. Alana
removes a full-length, simple purple dress and lays it on the bed
carefully. The floor has a royal blue carpet that my feet sink
into. A large bronze bath is placed to the right of the bed and
steam billows from the boiling water.
“Alana, could you help me?” my mother asks. Alana bustles
across the room to where my mother is standing beside a large
mirror. The gold-framed mirror is wide enough to reflect five
people standing side by side. They push it farther down the
room, revealing a fire that is already stacked with logs, and my
mother lights it. There are no windows in the room; the only
light comes from the torches along the walls placed about five
feet apart.
After I gape at the room, my mother helps me remove my
clothes. Her hands linger on my wrists and anger radiates from
her. “Who did this?” She meets my eyes with the fierce stare of
a mother frightened for her child.
“I tried to escape.” I take off my tunic to avoid any more
questions. She helps me with the rest of my clothes, her anger
still covering her like oil poured on water.
The water is hot, but I lower myself slowly, letting my body
adjust to the temperature. I close my eyes and try and relax. I
can hear my mother gathering my dirty clothes.
“Why didn’t they just tell me you were here?” I ask.
She meets my gaze with sadness. “Would you have believed
them?” She lets the question linger, but when I don’t answer,
she picks up my boots with her free hand and turns to Alana. “I
will be back shortly.” She smiles at me and closes the half-circle
door as she leaves.
I sink farther into the bath. I wouldn’t have believed Tristan,
not in a million years, if he told me he was taking me to my
mother. She knows me so well.
“My lady, I will wash your hair.” Alana holds a jug and small
bottles of what I presume is shampoo.
Feeling exposed in front of her causes colour to creep into my
cheeks. My embarrassment turns to anger. “Don’t call me my
lady,” I snap.
“Shall I call you princess?” Her voice holds a hint of laughter.
She’s making fun of me. My face reddens.
“No. Sarajane.”
“Very well, Sarajane.” She gives me a little curtsy, smartly.
What’s with this girl? Her hands move expertly across my scalp,
massaging the shampoo into my hair. It smells like coconut.
Stepping out of the bath, I’m then wrapped in a towel that
covers me from my shoulders to my feet. Alana lets me face
the mirror as she combs through my tangled hair. My mother
returns. Between the two of them, they dress me and tug at
me. The girl that looks back at me is a princess. I smile at her,
causing her to smile back.
My mother meets my eyes in the mirror. “Purple suits you,
love.” She’s right; it makes my grey eyes look more unusual and
my tan sets the dress off nicely. The simple gold sandals on my
feet are easy to walk in. It’s a little bit of heaven.
When we return to the main room, it’s empty and Alana
serves us tea while we sit in the large armchairs beside the fire.
I take a sip and it leaves a funny taste in my mouth.
“I don’t know where to start,” my mother admits.
“Mum, it’s okay. You’re alive. That’s the most important
thing. Dad and Jessica will be ecstatic.” My mother’s face grows
more worried. This must be bad.
We sit looking at each other for a few moments and finally
she tells me, “This is my home.” Not what I was expecting, but
I try to keep my face neutral. “I was twenty-five and pregnant
with you. At the time there were rumours of trouble brewing so
I left and crossed over to the mortal world.”
I don’t respond. All I think of is that I’m from this world.
That begins to sink in and then my mind is in overdrive with
questions that I never get to voice. My face must relate my
conflict.
“Love, this is a lot to take in, so that’s enough for now.” I
go to speak, but she gives me her don’t cross me look. “It is all
going to be fine. Now we will eat.”
Right on cue, Alana appears and starts stirring a large black
pot that sits above the fire. It reminds me of a witch’s cauldron.
My mother sets the table for seven people. I stay in my armchair,
lost in thought, trying to piece this together. I have so many
questions.
Three guards and a powerful-looking man arrive then. I scan
their faces for Tristan and a pang of disappointment touches my
chest when I don’t see him. The powerful-looking man sits on
the armchair that my mother vacated. I study him. He has black
shoulder-length hair that frames a strong face and alert grey
eyes. He wears all black—a simple plain tunic, black trousers
and boots, but it doesn’t take away the air of power about him.
He reaches out his hand towards me. His fingers are long
and look like he’s never done a hard day’s work in his life. “I
am Morrick.”
I take his hand and am surprised by the callouses that push
against my palm. “Sarajane.”
My mother watches us from across the table. She smiles and
then busies herself helping Alana serve the three men who are
now seated at the table. I drop Morrick’s hand realising I’ve
been holding it far too long.
He gestures to the table. “Shall we?” The food is great,
a stew made with vegetables, some I recognise and some I
don’t. Morrick introduces me to the three men. “These are my
guardians.”
Then he gestures to the one nearest to him and introduces
him as Kiar. Kiar has blond hair to his ears and puppy dog
brown eyes. There’s softness in him. He’s broad and tall, just
like the next man I’m introduced to. His name is
Liber. He doesn’t smile, just nods. He has a plain face and
expression. The last man is the odd one out. His name is Neve.
He’s thin and pale, with a shiny bald head and a crooked nose
that looks like it was broken repeatedly. His expression is open
and a wide smile greets me. I like him already.
We all eat after the introductions. Neve and Kiar are best
friends since childhood and they tease each other playfully,
making everyone laugh. Kiar seems to be the older of the two
and the smarter one, as Neve is not the sharpest tool in the box.
“Neve, remember the time you were trying to impress Gem,”
Kiar says, already laughing.
Neve grumbles, “Leave it out, Kiar.”
But Kiar launches into the story. “He was trying to impress
Gem with his fire affinity, saying it was a level three.” I notice
a stiffness has fallen around the table, but Kiar doesn’t seem to
pick up on it. “And he burnt all his hair and eyebrows off; none
of it ever grew back.”
I can’t help but laugh at the mental image of Neve with
his hair on fire, but no one else seems to find the story funny.
“Mum, what’s wrong?” I ask.
Her smile is strained. “Nothing, love.” Everyone becomes
very focused on their stew.
“What is a fire affinity level?” I ask Kiar. I’ve never heard of
it before. Maybe it’s a different way of explaining sticks on fire
in this world.
My mother answers. “I don’t want to overload you with
information, but since Kiar mentioned it…” Kiar gives a sorry
look. “We are all born with an affinity, which means we have
the ability to control an element—fire, air, earth or water. And
the level is how good you are. It’s just one through three.”
Wow, this is scary, yet amazing. “What do you mean by
control? Do I have one?”
My mother looks relieved at my response. “Control isn’t the
right word, really. It’s more like working with it, and you should
have one.”
This was all very hard to believe. “What can you do?” I ask
her.
“My affinity is fire.” She raises her hands. “I promise
I will show you tomorrow, but for now you need to rest.”
Disappointment courses through me.
I’m ushered to my room. My mum tucks me into bed like
I’m five. I don’t mind her fussing over me. I fall asleep to her
humming a haunting yet beautiful melody that could only
belong to this world.
Chapter Nine
Saskia
(Bellona)
I am expecting Clive, Taurus and Felix back soon. I pace my
room, waiting for their arrival. Excitement courses through
my body. Soon I will have the girl in my grasp and then
immortality will be mine. I examine my face in the mirror.
Lines have started to show around my mouth and eyes. Ageing
is not something I take in stride. Beauty is youthful. I grin at my
own reflection.
“I will fix that for now.”
Locking my chamber door and retrieving my pendant from
its box, I kiss the purple stone, then let my breath linger on it,
causing the gem to come to life. The purple starts to swirl as
if a tornado has erupted inside. Bethany’s soul swirls with the
vortex, her face still frozen in horror. I place my lips around the
stone and inhale deeply, feeling Bethany’s soul coursing through
my body, my blood, making me look and feel more youthful.
I open my eyes and walk back to my mirror. Raising my
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head, I examine my face more carefully this time. Yes, I look
younger—no lines, just a flawless face. My sacrifices are paying
off, but they only last so long and then I will show even more
signs of ageing again. I smile. Soon I will not have to worry
about that.
A knock at my chamber doors pulls me away from my
reflection. I open it and Taurus is standing there. “We have her,
my lady.”
I pull the door open fully for Taurus to enter. “Where are
Clive and Felix?”
He gives me a wicked smile. “I told them to guard the girl
while I debrief you.” He reaches back and locks the door. I
unclasp the silver broaches on my shoulders that hold my
dress up and let it fall to the ground. I can see by the hunger
in Taurus’s eyes that he is pleased. My breasts are firmer
than before and my buttocks tighter. “Make your queen
happy.”
Taurus crosses the room and lifts me off the ground with
one strong arm while placing me on my bed. He strips off his
armour, black tunic and trousers. He is all muscle—a real man.
I dig my nails into his back until I draw blood and he gasps
in pain. He likes rough sex, as do I. He bites my shoulder, pain
shoots down my arm, and then he takes me. Giving me all of
him, he thrashes hard, making my back arch.
Afterwards, I dismiss him. “I will be down shortly. Have the
girl ready for me.”
“Yes, my lady.” The sex is great, but the company boring.
I sit at my dressing table and brush my hair out. It is almost
white, but not with age. I was just born that way.
I leave my chambers and proceed to the holding cells. Clive is
walking towards me. “Son.” I kiss both his cheeks. “You have
made your mother very happy.”
Clive tilts his head back, hunger for approval in his eyes. “I
only live to please, mother.” I incline my head towards him and
hold out my arm for him to take.
Taurus and Felix stand on either side of the gate while Clive
remains by my side. The girl is tied in the centre of the room to
a large wooden pole. She sits on the ground, her eyes alert, fear
visible in them. Yet she just studies me as I study her. She has
long, jet-black hair with a full fringe, large green eyes and full
lips. She looks like Marta. This is the girl.