Eni leapt to his feet and kicked dirt over the fire.
“Moden!” Avalon groggily sat up. “What’s the matter?”
“We’re not alone. Quickly!”
Eni untied Irwyn. The donkey snorted nervously and side-stepped. Eni could see the whites of his eyes in the moonlight.
The voices suddenly died. Whoever approached had just realised that someone else was in Fallenstar Pass.
Eni hesitated only a moment before he slapped the beast on the rump and sent it careening down the pass. Age and infirmity forgotten, Irwyn bolted west, in the direction of Central Omagen.
Avalon rounded on Eni, her face contorted in anger. She was about to scold him for driving Irwyn off but Eni clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her behind one of the boulders. Shadowed by the mountain, the boulder almost appeared to be part of the wall of stone itself. Eni shoved Avalon inside first and wedged himself in next to her.
“Quiet, girl!” he hissed in her ear when she tried to punch him. “Don’t move!”
Avalon stopped struggling. Eni held his breath and waited.
He could hear them – soft footfalls approaching the campsite, and voices. Eni could not make out their conversation, but the voices did not sound like men’s. The cadence was different, somehow musical. Eni peered around the edge of the boulder.
The watery light of the moon lit the pass, but their shadowy outlines were unmistakable: tall, slender men with long flowing hair and wings.
Eni’s heart started hammering.
Malwagen.
If Eni had not been afraid for his life, the sight of the mythical sprites would have awed him. Sightings of the Malwagen were virtually unheard of.
They moved like liquid. There appeared to be six of them. Their agile forms stalked, catlike, around the campsite and their voices rose in excitement. One of them crouched beside the smoking campfire and scrabbled through one of the saddle bags, discarding clothes and food on the ground as he did so. His companions appeared to be arguing. Some of them were pointing in the direction that Irwyn had fled, while others shook their heads.
Eni kept very still. He could almost smell their bloodlust.
Go after Irwyn, he silently pleaded.
A moment later, the Malwagen did just that. Three of them on foot, lean and fleet, while the remaining three took flight; lifting like giant bats into the night. The sprites took off west after Irwyn. In the high-sided valley, the donkey’s receding hoof beats still pounded an echoing tattoo.
As soon as the Malwagen had disappeared, Eni squeezed out of his hiding place and pulled Avalon after him.
“Quickly Avalon,” he whispered. “We’ve just narrowly escaped a Malwagen hunting party. They think we’ve ridden off. They’ve followed Irwyn up the pass, but it won’t take them long to realise their mistake.”
Avalon’s eyes widened till they were two dark pools on her pale face. “Are you sure?”
“No man I’ve ever seen has wings, and they definitely weren’t speaking the common tongue.”
“What are Malwagen doing in Fallenstar Pass at all?”
“Who knows? Come, we must find another hiding place. They’ll be back soon!”
Eni took hold of Avalon’s hand and led her up the pass, in the direction that Irwyn and the Malwagen had departed. At first, it appeared hopeless; there was little that would provide adequate cover. Fallenstar Pass was a barren place littered with boulders and rocks.
Eni was starting to feel despair rising within him – at this rate they would be standing out in the open when the sprites returned – when his keen gaze fastened upon a dark line on the valley wall up ahead.
“I think I’ve spotted a fissure in the rock. Look!”
They hurried their pace and stood at the bottom of the sheer valley wall. They stared up at what first appeared to be nothing more than a dark stain on the rock. Eni turned to Avalon.
“Let me boost you up.”
She nodded. “Go on then.”
Even weakened, Eni had considerable strength in his shoulders and arms. Avalon, although not thin, was small enough to lift easily up to the fissure. She gripped on with her fingers. With an extra push from Eni, she managed to pull herself up.
“I’m holding on to a ledge,” she called down to him. “Grab my other hand!”
Eni did as she bid and heaved himself up so that his fingers grasped the edge of the fissure. Avalon shuffled back inside, giving him room to pull himself up.
Eni had just clambered inside, panting from the effort, when the sound of Malwagen calls echoed down the pass. The sound was beautiful, akin to singing, and amplified by the valley walls.
They were coming back for them.
Eni’s skin crawled at the haunting sound. They were hunting, calling to each other as they stalked their prey.
“Can you move further in?” he asked Avalon. “They’ll catch us here.”
The fissure was narrow, only barely wide enough for them to squeeze through sideways. Heedless of the risk that they may get stuck, Eni and Avalon struggled inside. Behind him, Eni felt a draft on the back of his neck. He glanced back and caught a glimpse of a winged outline, landing on the edge of the fissure.
It was pitch black inside the mountain. Only the fact that the Malwagen’s form stood out against the moonlit mountain wall behind, allowed Eni to see him.
The sprite quickly sensed their presence.
He opened his mouth wide, threw his head back and made a trilling call to his companions. The sound echoed deep inside the mountain. A moment later, Eni heard the whispering of the Malwagen folding its wings in tightly.
Then, it slid along the rock towards them.
“They’re coming after us. Keep moving.”
“I can’t see a thing,” Avalon whispered back, “I don’t know where this leads.”
“Away from them.”
The weight of the mountain pressed down upon them. The darkness was suffocating. Avalon shuffled resolutely on, groping her way blindly through the dark. Behind him, Eni could hear the Malwagen sliding along the rock and the soft hiss of its breathing.
Gradually, the fissure started to widen. Eni quickened his pace. The Malwagen was close now, so near he could feel its breathing tickling his skin. Eni fought to quell the panic rising within him.
Fingers snagged at his clothing.
Eni wriggled free and launched himself forward, colliding with Avalon.
Unfortunately, the girl had chosen that moment to stop.
“Eni wait!” she hissed, grappling with him. “There’s a ledge here, I can’t...”
Avalon never finished her sentence.
Together, they toppled forward in the darkness – into nothing.
Chapter Eighteen
The Wraith of the High Dragon Spines
Face-down on the Spine Road, Val stirred and gave a low groan. His head felt as if his horse had run over the top of it. Raising his face off the ground, Val gingerly brought his hands up and felt his skull. He was relieved to discover that, although he had a splitting headache and a lump on his forehead the size of duck-egg, his injuries finished there.
There was no sign of his horse, or Tobin and Lady Cirinna. He was alone, surrounded by impenetrable mist. Shivering, Val slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. Despite being dressed warmly he was chilled through. He climbed stiffly to his feet, his teeth chattering.
There was nothing to do but keep moving.
Val wrapped his cloak tightly around his lean frame and hunched his shoulders against the cold. Walking would take his mind off the fact he was alone on a lonely mountainside. He began to hobble, only to discover his left ankle had been badly twisted in the fall. It was not broken, but the sprain was painful enough to make his eyes smart.
Val peered into the mist, so white and thick it resembled milk foam, and wondered what had become of the roan. He hoped the horse had reached the others and not galloped from the road, only to fall off the side of the mountain. He had become fo
nd of that horse; he missed the beast’s warmth against his legs and the sight of its furry ears pointing the way ahead.
The road gently stretched uphill for a distance before rising steeply. The way was difficult, especially with a sprained ankle. Loose stones covered the road, and Val slid and stumbled his way uphill. A few days of riding had improved Val’s fitness, although his leg muscles still protested at the steep climb.
Val had not travelled far before he heard the voices.
They were the same as those he had heard shortly before his fall. It was not the whisper of his footpad, nor the timbre of human voices, but reed-thin whispers; lonely and sad, accusing and angry, soft and longing. The voices closed in around him until they reached a chattering crescendo in Val’s ears.
Val halted and looked around frantically. They were surrounding him but he could see nothing.
“Show yourselves!” he shouted. “If you’ve come for me, show me your faces!”
As if on command, hands appeared, reaching out towards him through the mist. They were white and wraithlike, part of the fog itself; slender with long-tapering fingers. The hands plucked at his cloak and pulled at his hair. Panicked, Val swiped at them.
Before him, blocking his path on the Spine Road, the figure of a woman emerged from the mist. Like the wraith hands, she was milk-white and almost translucent. Tall, slender and dressed in a long gown, the woman had flowing white hair that trailed over her shoulders like molten silver. Her face was exquisitely beautiful but haunting in its sadness. Val, forgetting his fear for a moment, was transfixed by her loveliness.
“Val Falkyn,” the woman raised her arms. “I welcome you to my domain. Long have I waited.”
Val gaped at her, uncomprehending.
“How do you know my name?”
The woman smiled while her eyes remained sad. “I know far more about you than that. I know that you were born during a cold spring, thirty-five years past; the eldest son to Hath and Belythna Falkyn. Your mother was one of my kind, or what I was once – a Sentorân. In the end, she and I were the only ones left.”
Silence stretched between them before Val regathered his wits.
“My mother was a Sentorân?”
Val felt an odd sense of pride at this news – although it confirmed he was in mortal danger, he felt somehow special.
The woman nodded, the enigmatic smile still playing across her lips.
“What are you – a ghost?”
“Yes... of a kind. I am Floriana DeSanith, and my body and spirit parted ways over thirty years ago. Yet, I am not a wraith as you would understand it. My body lives on, taken by the Keepers of Moden and embalmed in the underworld, while my spirit was imprisoned here in the mountains where I fought her.”
“Who did you fight?” Val asked. He was caught up in the woman's tale, fear forgotten.
“The same witch who is responsible for your mother's banishment,” the wraith replied, and her sad eyes suddenly hardened. “Riadamor, Queen of the Esquill.”
Val was shocked – that name was legend.
“My mother actually fought Riadamor?”
“We both did. After the Battle of Deep-Spire, the few surviving Sentorân fled. Not satisfied with killing our leader and gaining control of Deep-Spire, Riadamor and her Esquill began tracking us down, one by one. It took Riadamor a while, but she eventually caught up with me on this road. We fought but she bested me with a dark spell. I would never have thought any sorcerer alive possessed such power, but Riadamor had grown very strong. Although she could not open a portal to Moden, for only one object can do that, Riadamor had devised a spell that could split body and soul. She sent my body to Moden and left my soul powerless in this world.
After me, Riadamor went after your mother. Belythna had hidden herself well and shunned the life of a Sentorân in favour of a husband and family – but Riadamor eventually found her. Your mother now resides, body and soul, in the underworld. The gods only know what torment she has suffered there.”
Val felt grief wash over him at this news. Of his brothers, Val had the most vivid memories of Belythna Falkyn. He could still remember her strong, beautiful face, luminous dark eyes and low, gentle voice. After her disappearance, Val had sat at the window of Barrowthorne Tower and watched for her return. Even months later, he had still hoped to see her reappear in the courtyard below – but she never did.
“I know my tale has shocked you,” Floriana observed gently. “I’m sorry there is no solace I can give you.”
Val stared at her. He hated the thought of his mother incarcerated in the underworld prison while her family knew nothing of it.
“It sounds like you knew my mother well,” he eventually managed. “What was she like?”
“She was proud, strong willed and kind,” Floriana DeSanith replied with a gentle smile, “and it must have torn her heart out to leave you all. I know she loved Hath very much.”
Val thought of his father then. He had never known Hath Falkyn to be anything but reckless, hard and bitter. Like Seth and Eni, Hath had been convinced that his wife had abandoned him. Would the truth have made his grief any easier to bear?
“Can we save her? Is there anything I can do?” Val pressed.
“Not as yet. Untrained as you are, you would not last long in Moden. For now, there are matters of this world that claim your attention.”
The silver wraith stepped close to Val and he felt the whispery chill of her form. She was indeed a ghost but there was something more substantial to her.
The intensity of Floriana DeSanith's stare and the determination in her face made Val draw back slightly.
“You and your brothers are Sentorân,” she said firmly. “I know an assassin tracks you. Someone, most likely Riadamor herself, wants you and your brothers dead.”
Val felt a chill pass through him. “They’re after my brothers as well?”
Floriana nodded. “Let us hope they have been as skilled in eluding death as you.”
Val's mouth twisted at these words. “It’s not skill that has saved me so far.”
Floriana smiled. “You carry such bitterness at the world,” she observed.
“What of it?” Val snapped. “The world has made me what I am.”
“Your sensitivity does you credit,” Floriana countered, her voice gentle, “but you take every slight as a personal attack, every set-back as a sign of failure. It’s not the world that has made you this way; it’s your own self.”
Val bristled. He did not like listening to such a frank appraisal of his character, even if there was an unmistakable vein of truth in her words.
“How can you be so certain in your opinion of me? We've only just met.”
Again the sad smile.“I told you Val, I have been watching you for years. Riadamor did not strip me of all my power. I cannot leave these mountains and cannot use my talent – but I can still use my mind to travel to every corner of Palâdnith, if I so wish. I cannot sleep, and I do not feel cold or hunger. I have been in limbo for over thirty years Val – waiting for you.”
Floriana DeSanith led Val to her home. Limping badly, Val followed her up the mountainside through the mist, while around them, the voices whispered and sighed.
“You aren't alone here,” he observed. “Who are the others?”
“Many have perished on this road,” Floriana replied, glancing back over her shoulder at Val. “The souls of the past surround you. They are my companions here, although they are a melancholy crowd.”
The wraith's attempt at humour was not lost on Val. He smiled and realised it was the first time he had done so in many days.
She took him to a cave. High and narrow, it wound deep inside the mountain. Val squinted as he entered, and tried to make out his surroundings. Seeing him fumble, Floriana clicked her fingers and torches ignited on the walls, burning silver and blue.
Val looked about with wonder. Stalactites frosted the cavernous roof and the stone sparkled with quartz. Floriana led him to the end of the cave
, which opened out into a wide, lofty space. It was sparsely furnished. A wraith, with no need for food or sleep, did not require many comforts. Still, it was a place of great tranquillity and beauty.
Floriana clicked her fingers again and a hearth in the centre of the cave roared to life with the same ethereal white and blue fire of the torches. Val gratefully approached the hearth and warmed his numb fingers. As warmth seeped back into his chilled limbs, he continued his observations. A ledge ran around the walls, lined with silver cushions, and a huge, glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling. Floriana noticed Val staring at the chandelier and smiled.
“I made it from ice many winters ago. A charm keeps it from melting.”
Val shrugged off his cloak and dug into his pack. His stomach was a hard knot of hunger and he searched through his few possessions for a scrap of food. Finding a dry, cracked piece of cheese, Val took a seat upon a ledge and gnawed upon his supper.
Floriana watched him eat with undisguised envy.
“It’s been so long since I ate. I cannot remember the taste of cheese,” she sighed and took a seat further down the ledge, continuing to watch Val consume his meal.
Had he been less hungry, such scrutiny would have made Val uncomfortable. After everything that had transpired over the past few days, having a beautiful woman watch him eat did not throw him into the deep embarrassment it once would have.
After Val finished eating she handed him a goblet of cold water. Then, the wraith walked over to the fire and stared into its depths while Val drained his glass and brushed the crumbs of cheese off his clothes.
Floriana turned from the fire, her stare drilling into him.
“I will take you to your companions before tomorrow’s dawn,” she promised him, “but, first, we must talk. Val, I have a great favour to ask of you.”
Chapter Nineteen
A Game of Melâth
Silence stretched out in the banquet hall and Edessa’s face twisted. Seth could see her confusion, and beneath it – her fear.
Journey of Shadows (The Palâdnith Chronicles Book 1) Page 19
