by S A Edwards
The vessel melted away at once.
“Clara. I’m Della,” she said. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” She gestured to the man. “This is Prudens.”
“We have been waiting a long time for your arrival,” he said.
I blinked. “It only took a couple of days to get here.”
“No, my dear,” he said. “I speak of a much longer time.”
Weakness washed over me. “I don’t understand.” My knees buckled.
Prudens caught me with warm arms. “Let us not discuss such things at this moment. Rest now. You must heal.”
16
Dark spots swarmed in, transforming my surroundings into a blur of colours and distorted sounds.
Something pressed against my back and everything spun. I was falling, unable to reach anything to stop myself. My heart pounded.
Heat flared in my chest, constricting my breathing.
Voices murmured from somewhere, impossible to make out through the waves of pain that coursed through me.
And the screaming.
Who was screaming? The sound rang in my ears.
Cold touched my forehead. It prickled like needles and cut through the heat. I cringed against it, but it pressed harder.
Something parted my lips and forced bitter-sweet liquid down my throat. I choked and writhed but something pinned me down.
Then, silence fell.
*
I opened my eyes.
I lay on a large, four-poster bed with purple sheets draped over my legs. Thick, red curtains laced with golden embroidery framed the bed, and a bowl of water rested on the side cabinet.
Soft, orange light filtered through a glass roof, setting a cosy atmosphere throughout the room.
Slowly, memories of my journey here returned to me. This was the Might.
The room held no lack of immaculate furnishings. Silk-cushioned, high-backed chairs and a varnished, wooden table filled one third of the huge space. A silver tray held a variety of fruit, and a separate bowl of silberries rested beside it. I wondered if they had been placed there deliberately due to my love of them, which meant Amicus had to be around somewhere.
I clutched my churning stomach. How had I become so hungry?
Slipping from the bed onto weakened legs, I stumbled to the table and grabbed the closest fruit to me. Soft and delightfully juicy, it only amplified my hunger, so I sank into a chair and devoured three more apples and a handful of silberries before turning to a jug behind the bowl. Amicus wasn’t wrong about the silberries. Never had I tasted any so luscious and dewy.
Drawing the water from the jug into the air, I focused on removing the contaminates but couldn’t sense any. Pure water? That meant a Healer must be near. Although, I supposed with the Ancients, that wasn’t surprising. Amicus held a few abilities. Why not a Healer Ancient, too?
I drank most of it, welcoming the new strength it brought, before looking around again.
Fresh candles stood in holders placed strategically on drawers and shelves. A mirror covered one wall with swirls and curls carved around the edge, and a wardrobe with two doors opened to a numerous array of clothing in all colours and lengths.
Another door led off into a spotless, marbled bathroom with four showerheads and three sinks. Soaps, shampoo, and perfume in tiny, glass bottles lined a silver shelf, and fluffy towels hung on a gleaming rail.
I stripped off and climbed inside the shower. The water started at once, beating with a pressure that forced off every particle of dirt and washed away my aches.
I stared at my eyes in the mirror, wondering whether I would ever get used to the new colour. They made me look so different.
Grateful to feel almost like my old self again, I returned to the bedchamber, selected some black trousers, a white tunic and boots and, after dressing, headed for the ornate, oak door.
It opened onto a wide corridor.
“You’re up.” Prudens approached from farther down the hall. “I was just coming to check on you. How do you feel?”
“Better, thank you. It’s a been a crazy night. I guess I just needed sleep.” I flashed a little smile, but he didn’t return it, increasing my unease.
He stopped in front of me with a sombre expression. “Clara, my dear. You’ve been unconscious for two days.”
I stared at him. “Two days?”
“You were the victim of proclivitas, a highly addictive substance,” he said. “If you hadn’t received treatment when you did, you might have died.”
I gaped at him. Had it really been that bad? “Thank you. I’m grateful for your help.” Charlie would be forever trapped in the Underworld if it hadn’t been for him. Or the Healer. “Is there a Healer here?”
He threw me a questioning look.
“Well, I assume that’s how you helped me,” I explained. “And the water in the room is cleansed. I guess I’m just wondering why the Healer couldn’t fix me straight away. Why it took two days.”
“You must know there are limits to magic. Proclivitas cannot be healed with a mere thought. It changes things, alters your mind. It takes time to reclaim them.”
“But I’m better now?” I asked. Memories of the pain, the longing need to return to Rickson sent a shiver through me.
“According to our Healer.” He smiled then, and the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes deepened. “Come. Let me show you to a meal.”
He led me along the corridor and outside.
Every inch of the Might, from the smooth, stone courtyard to the polished arches and narrow side streets filled me with wonder and amazement at the craftmanship. Even the most talented Refiners who created jewels and diamonds from coal and dust didn’t compare to the stunning architecture found here.
Orange lined the sky with that strange hint of blue, signalling the onset of dusk. How could I have lost two days? And what about Charlie? He’d faced two more days of suffering where I did nothing to help him, all because of my ignorance. Again. I should never have touched Rickson’s power. The unusual beauty of the fluff should have been enough to warn me against it.
Prudens led me back inside, through halls lit with hundreds of flickering candles lined in immaculate holders. Artwork of Ancients in their truest form was painted on the walls and ceilings by a masterful hand. The variety of colours and detail amazed me. Beneath lightning-filled skies, the Ancients were depicted in moods ranging from gentleness to terrifying ferocity.
We passed a library with leather-bound books stacked from floor to ceiling on shelves too numerous to count. Many of the covers were peeled and worn, and the scent of parchment hung in the air. A podium stood in the midst with a huge book resting upon it. Thick metal, fastened by a chunky padlock, bound it shut.
Curiosity begged my attention, but Prudens didn’t pause.
“This really is a beautiful place,” I said.
“I thank you,” he smiled. “It is one of my greater achievements, in my not-so-humble opinion.” He winked.
“You built this?”
“I breathed life into it, much like my dear wife created our precious lake.” He gestured to a lifelike painting of Della in her human form.
A delicious scent set my mouth watering and filled the carpeted hallway we walked through.
We entered a long hall lined with tables. Few people, unfamiliar to me, sat on the cushioned chairs, conversing in low voices, except Della, who sat alone to our left. I wondered why they chose to take human form. The halls and corridors stretched wide enough to hold them in their true form. Was it simply easier to manoeuvre this way?
Goblets and gleaming plates were laid out in symmetrical rows, and glass jugs held water and a deep-red liquid. Trays filled the centre with vegetables of every kind, piles of freshly baked bread, cheese, butter, and lemon-corn. Meat sizzled under a coat of oil, and herbs decorated the surface. Cakes of all colours dotted three-tier trays with delicate flourishes on top.
My gaze fell on a bowl of silberries, and my stomach growled. Despite the apples,
my appetite desired more, and the thought of eating something other than lemon-corn brought a smile to my lips.
Della laughed and gestured to the seat opposite her. “Help yourself. It is here to be eaten.”
I sat before an empty plate and piled it high, sure I could taste the many flavours from their aroma alone.
The meat held traces of marbled white and practically dissolved on my tongue with its succulent juices. Potatoes and carrots complemented its flavour, and the still-warm bread held a perfect crunch over the softest centre I’d ever experienced.
Only when I picked up a salmon-coloured cake with a parchment-thin curl on top did I survey the other Ancients in the room.
Della watched me with an amused smile.
I peered at my empty plate, thinking of my silent feasting. I hadn’t intended to be rude, but the meal tasted so good. “Sorry.”
“You have no need to apologise, child. It is good to see you appreciate great food.”
“There’s a lot of food here,” I said, “but only a few people.”
“There are more than you think. It will not go to waste.”
I put down the cake. “Thank you for helping me escape from the camp.” Thoughts of the Mage writhing on the ground against her voice returned to me. “Your screech is really something.”
She chuckled. “Considering the circumstances, our intervention was fitting.”
“You mean the Gates failing?”
She nodded.
“What else did Amicus tell you?” I asked.
Prudens shifted in the seat beside Della. “He didn’t need to explain anything. Everything he experiences, I learn.”
“You know everything he knows?”
“I know all things that are learned by the Ancients.”
How did that work? Did they all share a mind? What about privacy? Although, if he knew what Amicus knew … “Then, you must know about Charlie?” I asked.
“Indeed.”
Hope welled in my chest. “Can you help me get him out?”
Prudens lay down his fork and clasped his hands. “I cannot release him.”
My stomach sank. “I was under the impression you could. Unless I misunderstood Amicus. Is there nothing you can do?”
“I intend to, but there are more pressing concerns. The balance has been off from the moment you arrived. First, we must discover the cause and what we can do. Then, when the balance is restored, I believe Charlie’s freedom may be obtained.”
I clasped my hands together beneath the table against the pain of his words and fought against the tears. So, the sooner we fixed the Gates, the sooner we freed Charlie. It wasn’t ideal, but it carried hope. “What must I do?”
“You must travel to the Whisperleaf Tree in the deepest depths of the Might, but you must not go alone. The Might may be beautiful, but it is dangerous. An Ancient will accompany you.”
“Amicus?”
“Amicus is busy with other business,” Della said. “Rest for now. Fate has not yet arrived.”
Prudens stood. “If you are finished, I shall show you to your quarters once more.”
“I’ve rested enough. I’d rather –”
Della held up a hand. “No Ancient is prepared to travel to the tree tonight. We must wait for Fate.”
I followed Prudens in silence from the hall, back through plush hallways and outside to a stone courtyard. Carvings wound up pillars laced with gold, and a fountain spewing water filled a large square in the centre.
I peered up at the light beaming from the tallest tower, and my vision tugged at my memory. “You believe in fate?” I asked.
The wrinkles round his eyes deepened. “Don’t you?”
I considered. “No, I don’t think so. Fate insinuates there’s no choice in life. Unless … I had a vision of the tower. That one with the light. I don’t know why, but I saw it, which means it’s important. Perhaps I’m supposed to go there. Perhaps when we’re supposed to do something, that’s fate. But it can change with the choices we make.”
He didn’t answer immediately, his lips pursed thoughtfully. “Come with me.”
He doubled back across the courtyard and passed through a tall gate. A polished staircase led up and wound out of sight. My legs ached only minutes after beginning the climb, but Prudens continued a steady pace with no signs of slowing. My breathing grew heavier, and I would have asked where he was taking me had the climb not been so tiring.
We reached a narrow window overlooking the vast forest expanse. My breath caught in my throat at the beauty of nature, and the height sent my stomach into flips. So high. Surely he wasn’t taking me to the tower? A pulse of excitement and curiosity strengthened my weakening energy.
I pushed on after Prudens, fighting to catch my breath. My tunic stuck to my back, and my neck itched with the sweat.
At long last, an open doorway brought the climb to an abrupt end, and we entered a round, stone room. Pure light entered every corner, banishing every shadow.
Three pedestals stood in the centre of the room, clear and cut like crystal, and an oval, shining stone rested atop each one.
“This is the tower,” I realised. “The one I saw in my vision.”
He nodded.
“Amicus wouldn’t tell me anything about it,” I said.
“As is right. He is sworn to protect it, as is every other Ancient. But I believe your being here is a good occurrence.”
“You do?”
“I sense your heart, the light in it.” Prudens placed his hands on either side of one of the stones, inches from the surface, and his countenance brightened. “Let me introduce you to Fate. One of our three eggs.”
“An egg?” In awe of the precious possession before me, my words slipped out in a whisper. “You mean there’s a baby in there?”
He bowed his head. “The egg of an Ancient can remain unhatched for thousands of years. They are a symbol of hope, of increasing wisdom and a promising future generation. They are kept up here as a beacon of brighter days to all who look and are held under the greatest protection and secrecy. They hold immense power which, if wielded in the wrong hands, could be catastrophic to all who live.”
I stared at the eggs, stunning by the new information.
He lowered his hands and approached me. “One will only birth under special circumstances. Amicus birthed in the midst of a fierce lightning storm once struck by the fork of an especially pronounced bolt. I came forth in the light of the three royals during the creation of the six worlds, many thousands of years ago. Each newling awaits a predetermined time, only hatching when that moment arrives.”
“So, when Della said Fate hasn’t arrived …”
“She was speaking of the newling.” He gestured to the stairs, and I inwardly groaned. I held no desire to tackle them again but trudged to them regardless.
“Are you expecting it to hatch soon?” My voice echoed in the confined stairwell.
“We hope so. It is the oldest of the eggs. It was made even before me, and still awaits the circumstances that will only come once, though exactly when, we cannot say.”
I struggled to speak again through the stinging in my muscles, so we descended the stairs in silence.
The cool air of the courtyard welcomed me, and when Prudens stopped before the door of my room, I couldn’t enter soon enough.
“This room is yours for the duration of your stay,” he said. “It holds everything you require. I will return for you mid-morning.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
He gave a curt nod, and then glided away.
*
When I woke, the moons’ light shone through the glass roof, and the candles burned low.
Thoughts of the eggs in the tower pulled on my concentration. My vision had come for a reason. But how did a few precious eggs link to anything I could do? Prudens said they were powerful. Would someone try to steal one? I shook my head. Unlikely. I doubted anyone would get into the Might without Prudens’ permission.
/> I climbed out of bed and donned a pair of white slippers on beneath my nightgown. A bundle of fresh candles was stored in a drawer, so I swapped three with those in a holder and lit them with a glance, then opened the door and slid into the hallway.
17
Torches burned in brackets along the corridor, casting a warm glow across the walls and floor. Several doors led off on either side, so I kept my footsteps light, glad the carpet swallowed any sounds of my walking. I didn’t want to disturb anyone behind the doors.
At the end of the hallway, the path branched off in two directions. I surveyed each one with a frown. Which way had Prudens taken me? The thought of taking a wrong turn and wandering, lost for hours through the Might didn’t appeal to me. Hadn’t he also mentioned something about it being beautiful but dangerous? Perhaps wandering around on my own was a bad idea.
Amicus’ warning returned to mind, confirming Prudens’ words. Maybe it would be wiser to return to my room, but now I thought about it, I wasn’t sure which room was mine. No numbers marked the doors, and they all looked the same to me.
Suppressing a sigh, I turned left.
The next few corners deposited me in a large, vacant ballroom. A grand piano stood off to one side on a dais, and more, expressive paintings decorated the curved ceiling.
“Should have gone right.” My words echoed in the bright hall, and I smiled on my way back to the double door.
A part of me wished the maze-like corridors would lead to the library. Memories of the metal-bound book played on my curiosity until I returned to the junction and took the right passage.
An arch opened onto the courtyard with the fountain. A few Ancients roamed the stone and conversed by the tumbling water, and I suddenly became very conscious of my flowing nightgown and slippers. Why hadn’t I dressed first?
None of them looked at me, so I picked up my pace, slipped through the tall gate and hurried up the stairs. I hoped Prudens wouldn’t mind me returning alone. He’d been fine taking me there earlier, but I couldn’t shake the image of the eggs, the light, my desire for their warmth.
I kept a careful listen out for any sign of approaching footsteps, unsure how to explain why I’d returned if someone caught me, but all remained quiet. Something drew me to the tower, perhaps the promise of hope and a better future? Isn’t that what Prudens said the light meant to those who saw it? I needed as much, but the reason didn’t ring true. My vision pointed here for a reason. I needed to know why. And the higher I climbed, the more my anxiety waned.
