restrained murmurs, the novices fell into step with their escorts. Rose became acutely aware of the stares of the other novices and the way they averted their eyes whenever she glanced in their direction.
“They think that you know what Lord Dux is going to tell us Rose. You do, don’t you?” asked Lee, nonchalantly petting Sloley, who was perched comfortably on his shoulder. “They watched you, when you were talking to De Lille after he received the apis. It wasn’t difficult to work out that it was not good news and that whatever it was, it also involved you. I cannot believe it’s the prophecy, surely the Bloods can’t be invading Ferrum?”
Rose grabbed his arm, stopping him for a second. She waited for the others to pass around them.
“No Lee. It’s not the Bloods invading Ferrum. It seems that the scholars made a mistake. They got the interpretation of the prophecy wrong and unfortunately it’s much, much worse than they thought.”
The rear centurion guard prompted them to move on into the Atrium.
As they entered the chamber, they were marshalled to the benches. Lord Dux was standing at the lectern next to the Impluvium. The other Magisters were at his side.
There was a loud hollow thud as the gigantic doors were sealed and the murmur of the novices gradually abated. The chamber became so still and quiet that they could almost hear each other’s heartbeats.
Dux’s hands gripped the sides of the lectern as his eyes wandered over the expectant faces before him. The whole of the Oratory was there, three-year groups of novices. Forty pairs of young eyes looked to him for reassurance, for protection and to hear him say that everything would be well. Their collective apprehension sucked in all sound, all movement, it was as if the room itself had held its breath. His voice, though barely a whisper, found each reluctantly attentive ear.
“Novices of the Aurum Oratory, It is my sad duty to tell you, that early today we received some grave news from Hydrargyrum. This information has now, unfortunately, been confirmed by the high council of Ferrum and, more recently, by the Aurum Sooth.”
Dux raised his potens ring towards the Impluvium mirror.
“Praeteritum prodere” he said.
A shaft of light sparked and jumped from his potens ring and into the mirror, which rippled instantly to life.
“Generations of our most learned scholars,” Dux went on. “All of them highly accomplished Memorix have, without exception, interpreted one passage within the Prophecy of Eldwyn the Whyte, in exactly the same way. Each and every one of them took the words ‘when the Bloods swarm over Ferrum fields’ to mean that the Bloods of Hydrargyrum would someday move to conquer Ferrum. However, it now appears that the Hydrargyrum Bloods are swarming over Ferrum, but not as aggressors, as refugees; refugees who are fleeing from a far more formidable enemy.”
Lord Dux motioned towards the image in the mirror.
As the ripples dissipated, an image of the rolling fields and thick forests of Ferrum came into view. It was as if the novices were looking through the eyes of a soaring fyre hawk as it banked, swooped and finally hovered over the scene.
“This clearing,” said Dux “Is the Mapledale plain, between the Blackfyre River, which borders Hydrargyrum and the Parikkala forest.”
The novices watched transfixed as crossing the river and the plains, hundreds, maybe thousands of Bloods were fleeing; old, young, native and ascendant. Hundreds were crossing the river in a flotilla of tiny boats and others swarmed over the plains on foot, many of them carrying children.
On the plain, slightly ahead of the main group, was a family of native Bloods. Like the others, they were running towards the forest. The father carried a small girl, the mother a swaddled babe in arms. As the novices watched, the woman stumbled and appeared to cry out. The man set his daughter down and ran back to help her.
Along the edge of the forest on the other side of the clearing, were some wooden rondavels; small round Ferrish dwellings. Local mud crofters were milling around the buildings and tending to their chores as their chickens, geese and goats grazed nearby. All of them seemed unaware of the impending danger.
A young crofter looked up towards the oncoming refugees, he shouted and pointed. Two others followed his gaze and started to jog across the clearing towards the Bloods. The little Blood girl saw them and raising her arms she began to toddle towards them with anxious excitement. Then, seeming to sense the urgency of her situation, her tiny legs quickened.
Something stopped the Muds in their tracks. Covering their ears with their hands, they fell to their knees, looking upwards. Out of the sun swooped a cloud of red men, their reptilian wings spread out above them like dragons. Each of them carried a rapier headed spear. Then, as if the gates of Erebus themselves had opened, those spears spewed out fountains of fyre that rained down on the defenceless refugees.
Watching his fate fast approaching, the young Blood father grabbed his wife and held her and their baby tightly to his chest, shielding their eyes. He turned towards his daughter seconds before the fyre engulfed him and shouted with all his might ‘RUN!’
The little girl ran, but her mass of red hair was like a beacon to her pursuers. She ran on, she did not look back, she ran as quickly as her tiny legs would carry her, she ran towards the crofters.
“Run,” said Rose softly, holding tightly to Ash’s hand “ Run!” she shouted.
The other novices joined her in a chorus of cries urging the little girl on. They got to their feet, all of them gripped by the plight of the red-haired child in the mirror.
“Run! Little girl, run!”
The crofter was on his feet and hurrying towards the child. The novices held their breath.
“She’s almost there. I think she’s going to…” Auriel’s words were ripped from her lips as the mirror was filled with the evil beauty of orange and red as the flames consumed them. The vision of the searing flames gave way to one of black, billowing smoke, and finally to nothingness as the image dissolved.
The novice’s screams of horror saturated the air, reverberating around the walls of the atrium, but their shocked cries were soon followed by a stunned and sorrowful silence, broken intermittently by tearful sobs.
Lord Dux raised his downcast eyes and regarded the anguished faces of those around him.
“I am very sorry that you had to witness that,” he said sadly “but it was imperative that you did. The creatures that you saw in the mirror are Afreet, a cast of Djinn, bred for the sole purpose of combat. As you can see, they are extremely effective in this role. I wanted all of you to understand what we are up against. We do not know how, or why, but it appears that the seal on the Gate of Tollen has been breached. As a result, the Djinn of Erebus are now free to realize their ambition, to conquer the Afterlands and enslave us all.”
A hand rose slowly from the huddle of novices in front of him. It was Rose’s hand. He nodded, conceding his permission for her to speak.
“Is this all connected to what happened today, at Ferndell?” she asked.
“I do not believe it was a coincidence Rose. Do you?” said Dux, gently and with a pensive sigh.
Rose shook her head, pursing her lips. She wondered whether to ask the one question that shouted out to be asked. She took a gulp of air.
“Could Baroque be telling the truth,” she said, “is it possible that Lord Ka has been resurrected?”
The gasps from the novices seemed to suck the air from the room, leaving a immense vacuum, and one that Dux was expected to fill.
Hesitating for a moment, he lifted his arms, shrugged and shook his head.
“I would not, until recently, have thought it to be possible,” he said. “However, I cannot ignore the evidence that something catastrophic appears to have occurred in Hydrargyrum. The Djinn have undoubtedly been liberated and it is well known that Lord Ka had intended to free them and certainly would have done so before, had Lord Eldwyn not prevented him. In any case, whether Ka is returned or not, this does not alter what I am to
about to say to you….. All of you”
He looked up, and raising his voice, he addressed the rest of the room.
“The high council is to convene presently, and the likely result of this, will be to declare that a state of war now exists. It is clear that we are all now in very great danger. If the Ophites are indeed, in league with the Djinn, then it is very likely that they will try to repeat their attempt on Rose’s life and the possibility of an imminent attack on the city cannot be ruled out.”
There were subdued murmurs as all eyes fell on Rose.
“It has come to my notice,” said Dux sternly “that there has been some antagonism towards Rose and the novice Whyte cell. This is to stop.”
Rowan displayed a sudden preoccupation with his shoes, glancing sheepishly at Lord Dux as he went on.
“It may be, that the freedom of these lands.” Said Dux, as his eyes and their fixed stony glare, fell on Rowan, “ and indeed, all of our lives, lie in the hands of Rose and her Whyte cell. It is, therefore, the duty of every one of us to ensure that we give them our support and our loyalty.”
Dux waited as quiet mumbles of agreement grew to a crescendo. He raised his hand quietening them.
“You will have noticed that the Oratory and indeed, all of the magisterial buildings in the city are now under guard.” His voice became grave. “Until further notice, the city is at a state of emergency and under curfew. In a
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