The right of Kimberley J. Ward to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.
First published 2018
UK English Edition
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the use of brief quotations in articles or reviews.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.kimberleyjward.co.uk
Cover images copyright © Kimberley J. Ward
Text copyright © 2018 Kimberley J. Ward
All rights reserved.
To the doubters and the self-doubt.
I did it.
I defeated you (kind of).
To all the dreamers.
Follow those dreams.
They’ll lead to wonderful places if you want them to.
The darkness offered no comfort. It only shrouded the true nature of that place. It hid the mocking and gloating eyes of the unseen. The cold, dank air chilled everything in the room and had long since seeped into the very marrow of the girl’s bones. It gave no relief and only aggravated the already sore skin around her wrists and ankles. The skin that had been rubbed raw by the manacles that bit into them. The manacles that kept her chained to the stone slab on which she was forced to lie.
The girl did not know how long she had been there, nor where ‘there’ was. All that she knew was that she had been forsaken, and that there were only two ways she would ever see the outside of that room again, and neither of them were desirable.
In the distance, the girl could hear the faint cries of other people’s pain, fear and hopelessness. In a sick way, they were a comfort to her, the only one she had. They meant that she was not the only one there, that she was not the only one suffering at the hands of him, The Monster.
The girl knew that she had once known his name, but she had long since forgotten it, along with her own and those of the ones who haunted her dreams.
They were her friends, she believed. At least that’s what the girl liked to tell herself. Those dreams, those memories, they reminded the girl of a place outside the room, a place with laughter and sunlight, and with a boy who had amber eyes and another who could make flames appear in his bare hands. They gave the girl the strength to resist his demands, to fight back against him in any small way she could. They kept her going when all she wanted to do was give up.
The memory of her is the most vivid and warming, the creature with the deep amethyst eyes. They made the pain and fear fade away sometimes, and made the girl smile in the dark, despite all things. Hers is the only name that the girl has not forgotten.
Aoife.
It was like a breath of fresh air that swept through the girl’s mind, blowing away her grim thoughts for a brief moment.
She was the reason that the girl was there.
There was no blame in the girl’s heart though, only the silent hope that the little creature was safe and far away from him, otherwise all that the girl had been through would be for nothing.
There was a noise from outside the girl’s room, knocking her out of her thoughts. It was the screech of old hinges protesting as a door was opened. The other prisoners fell silent as a sharp clap of footsteps sounded down the hallway, and a sense of doom befell the girl when she realised they approached her cell with single-minded purpose.
He had come again.
The lock clicked and her door swung open with eerie grace, revealing a tall man standing haloed by the soft light of the hallway’s sconces.
With dread the girl watched as he came to stand over her, his icy eyes shining with triumph and malevolence.
Oh, the girl wondered miserably, how had it come to this?
Deep in the forest, hidden by trees and hills, was something strange.
In a large bowl-like indentation were the sprawling remains of a long abandoned town, ravaged by time and neglect. Thick stone walls had fallen away, roofs had collapsed, and the cobbled streets were covered in cracks and pitted with holes. Nature had slowly been reclaiming this forgotten place. Trees pushed their way through piles of rubble and climbing plants trailed leafy fingers over buildings. The air was thick with the scent of bluebells and the sound of bird song.
Nessa surveyed the town from her high vantage point, wondering, not for the first time, about the history of this place. A month had come and gone since she had first stumbled across it, and in that month she had explored a great deal, analysing the architecture, the broken bits of vessels she would occasionally find. Yet she hadn’t discovered anything about this perplexing settlement. Nessa had taken her search to the Internet, local history books, even the creepy old lady who lived opposite her house, but no answers were to be found.
The deserted town was a mystery, Nessa’s little secret, and her hideaway from the new life in which she suddenly found herself. Here, amongst the ruins and the trees, her worries and problems melted away, fading, for a few blissful hours, from her mind.
Nessa stirred and reached into her backpack, pulling out her notebook. She flicked through the pages until she found her crudely drawn map. Calling it crude was being polite. Nessa has been blessed with the gift of imagination, however, she was a piss poor artist. It was little more than a doodle of the ruins, complete with wonky lines and X’s all over the areas that she had yet to investigate. She considered it for a moment and then set off, heading down the steep slope that led to the ruins, her goal of the day set.
Over the last month she had explored much of the outskirts of the town, finding them to be the best preserved areas. Here most of the buildings still had standing walls, only missing the roofs. Nessa had spent hours walking around rooms and streets, daydreaming and badly sketching the sights, wondering what it might have been like living there once upon a time.
The slope was, to start with, a somewhat hazardous descent, riddled with gnarled tree roots and entrances to rabbit warrens. However, partway down, a series of steps appeared, made from pale stones and half hidden beneath leaves and undergrowth. They were old, broken and partially crumbling, having been pushed out of the way by large oaks as they had grown. Many of them were covered, but still, Nessa could just about make out the faded shapes of runes that had been engraved onto each step.
Cautiously, she made her way down them, her eyes quickly tracing the runes’ elegant lines, just as she had done many times before. They stirred a bizarre feeling in her, similar to that of déjà vu, but more powerful. Each time Nessa came upon them, she swore that she had seen them before, that they meant something important. But when she’d spent an entire weekend glued to the computer, desperately searching for anything about them, she had come up with nothing, not even finding anything closely resembling them. It was as if the town belonged to another world entirely, one to which Nessa felt inexplicably drawn.
Stepping around a large tree swathed in ivy, Nessa’s descent came to an end as the town’s ruins opened up before her.
Standing in the middle of the square, which had several streets leading off in different directions, Nessa thought about which one to take. There was only one avenue that she had yet to try, and its entranceway loomed over her like a gaping mouth.
Nessa stared at it with a touch of trepidation. There was something about this particular entrance, something eerie and different. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She had so far avoided it, preferring to explore the less foreboding streets. But not today. Today she was going to find the town’s cen
tre, and she knew that this street would lead the way.
Why Nessa had the unignorable urge to find the heart of the town, she did not know, but it had been on her mind for the last week, plaguing her thoughts and dreams. Something awaited her there, calling to her. She was sure of it, and she wanted to find out what it was.
Holding her notebook to her chest, as if it was a piece of armour that would protect her against any beasties that might lurk around the corners, Nessa started forward. With surprising swiftness, she found herself in the threshold, standing just below the great archway that had always felt like an invisible barrier to her. More runes like the ones on the steps covered it, filling in the gaps between the intricate carvings of two battling dragons.
There was no barrier stopping her from passing beneath it, no magic sparks or ominous sounds. No monsters came jumping out at Nessa as she passed by a small window. She relaxed her death grip on her notebook and quietly chuckled at her own foolishness.
“Over imaginative dumb-ass,” Nessa chided as the tension eased out of her shoulders. She slipped the pencil free from the notebook’s cover and began filling in the gaps in her map.
The trees’ young leaves bathed Nessa’s path in pale green as the sunlight shone through them. Twigs and ivy crunched underfoot, and a curious blackbird darted to-and-fro between branches and broken walls, following her unhurried pace.
Nessa meandered about the ruins, jotting down where some of the smaller streets went for a short distance. Usually they would come to a sudden stop, ending either in an enclosed courtyard or a fallen section of wall, and Nessa would then make her way back to the main road. All the buildings were made from the same pale stone, tucked in close to one another. The doorways and windows stood empty of glass and wood, and homes lacked any sign of their once inhabitants. Nessa’s hidden ghost-town had been untouched by man for many years; there wasn’t even a hint of the modern world, no street lamps or cables, no telegraph poles. There were just these broken, empty buildings and all manner of wildlife.
The springtime sun had crept slowly away from its peak, starting its slow descent, hitting the tops of the buildings and creating far reaching shadows. With only a few more hours of decent light left in the day, Nessa consulted her map once again, deciding on which direction to go. The route clear in her mind, Nessa carefully manoeuvred around a pile of stones, leaving behind the main street and venturing down a long winding alleyway. Young hawthorns, still without leaves, lined the sides, along with wild clematis. Fresh grass and a thick bed of moss were spongy underfoot.
The alley led to a crowded yard, surrounded on all sides by tall walls and filled with bushes and fallen rubble. While there were no other passageways or doors, there were a few windows dotted around.
Nessa crossed over to the nearest one, peered inside and found a clear doorway opposite. She went to clamber through when, in a flurry of claws, leaves and screeching, a black shape sprang at her.
Nessa fell back, falling hard to the ground.
With an ear splitting shriek, the creature shot past her and settled on a low branch on the other side of the yard. It then proceeded to watch her with baleful blue eyes.
Nessa picked herself up, glaring at the raven.
“Oh, not you again,” she mumbled, dusting herself off.
The raven gave an unfriendly caw and ruffled its wings. This was not the first time that it had scared the living daylights out of Nessa. In fact, it happened on quite a frequent basis. The bird had an uncanny ability to appear when she least expected it.
“How many times have I told you not to do that?” Nessa snapped as she pulled a twig from her hair. “Why do you even need to keep doing that, scaring me half to death? It’s not like you have a nest nearby or anything. You do it in a different place every time.”
The raven just cocked its head.
Nessa scowled at the bird. “Stupid thing,” she grumbled, to which the raven gave another caw. “Squawk all you want, but come at me again and you’ll receive a backpack to the face.”
Her threat went unheeded when, with her knees on the ledge, just about to crawl across the window ledge, something sharp tangled in her hair. With a powerful beat of its wings, the raven yanked her back.
Once again, thanks to the raven, Nessa fell to the ground.
Swearing, she jumped up, calling the raven every name under the sun. The infuriating, aggressive animal just sat on the windowsill, barring the way.
Nessa tried to shoo it off, but it wouldn’t budge. Contrary to her threat, she didn’t actually want to hit the damn bird. Hurting an animal was strongly against her moral code. Besides, having an argument with a gothic parrot was beneath her.
“Fine, have it your way then,” Nessa said, crossing over to another window. This one, like the one she was abandoning, opened onto a large room with a doorway across from her.
Keeping an eye on the raven, Nessa clambered through the window, managing not to be attacked by the winged menace. She stepped further into the room, and a beat of wings told her that the raven had followed.
Nessa moved over to the door, saying, “I’m ignoring you.”
The raven cawed and hopped along the ground behind her.
Going through the doorway, Nessa found herself in another street, identical to every other one in her ruined town, filled with debris, trees and wild flowers. She went to go left, but the winged fiend blocked her path, its blue eyes glinting.
“Seriously?” Nessa growled, turning her back to it. “I’m still ignoring you.”
Nessa continued with her mission in this fashion, the unwelcome raven following closely, periodically cawing angrily at her and often blocking the way. She managed to rein in her temper for a good hour or so, which made her feel particularly proud. However, she snapped when, for the fifth time, the damn bird pecked her viciously on the ankle, drawing blood.
“Damn it all to hell, you dumb-ass,” she hissed, examining the wound. Its sharp beak had ripped her jeans and made a small puncture at the base of her calf. The cut wasn’t deep, but it stung like a bitch. “Goddamn stupid bloody bird. What the feck was that for? I was only going to have a look in there.” Nessa waved a hand at the remains of a taller building, one which looked rather like a watchtower.
The raven wasn’t having it, squawking and flapping its wings at her.
“I don’t understand,” she said, staring at it. “It’s like you don’t want me...” The raven tilted its head and a light bulb switched on for her, and she realised. “It’s like you don’t want me to go in that direction. You want me to go a different way.”
The raven cawed triumphantly.
“You’re herding me somewhere.”
The raven took flight.
“Hey!” Nessa cried, chasing after it. “Wait! I can’t run that fast.”
Nessa didn’t think about what she was doing. She was suddenly acting on instinct, following the raven as if there was a magnetic force pulling her after it. She stepped over fallen branches and around tree trunks, pushing aside dense undergrowth. Fingers of twigs would knot in her hair, forcing her to stop and untangle herself. Even so, she continued to follow the strange blue-eyed raven.
The deeper into the ruins Nessa went, the worse the condition of the streets and buildings became, making the trek tedious and time consuming. Already they had to make several detours around sections of collapsing walls that perched at perilous angles, threatening to fall on anyone daring or foolish enough to walk beneath them. The damage seemed to radiate outward from the centre of the ruins, as if a strong blast had happened there.
Daffodils and primroses sprouted from cracks in the cobbles, and what remained of walls were covered in a thick coat of ivy and blossoms, concealing them. Bees and song birds darted about, too preoccupied to pay Nessa any attention. She turned a corner and found the raven in the branches of an old pine tree, waiting for her.
When it caught sight of her, it took off again, flying between the trunks of two ancient oaks that re
ached towards one another, their branches knitted together, forming a mighty archway.
This was it.
This was the place that had been calling to her, haunting her dreams and thoughts all along.
Nessa was sure of it.
With eagerness she strode forward, excited to see what was beyond the great arch.
A small orchard spread out before her, filled with blooming apple trees. Here there was no debris from broken buildings, no walls half buried by ivy. Here, unlike the rest of the town, everything was in perfect order. The paved path was without cracks, the trees in perfect lines, the enclosing walls tall and strong. It was surely as beautiful as the day it was established.
The raven called to her in its croaking voice, drawing her attention. Following the sound, Nessa made her way slowly down the path, finding that it led to the middle of the orchard, where it widened into a large patio.
What Nessa had first assumed was a dried out pond turned out to be much more curious. Circular and so deep that the sunlight didn’t reach the bottom, and with a staircase curling down the side, Nessa thought that it might have been a well.
That didn’t seem quite right, though.
Nessa cast around, searching for anything else that may be of interest, but only found apple trees. Her blue-eyed raven seemed to have vanished for the time being— no loss there, in all honesty— and disappointment and doubt began to creep up on her. Nessa had felt so sure, so confident that something had awaited her. But all there was were trees and an overly large, well-like feature.
Feeling deflated, Nessa turned away, planning on heading back home. The hour had grown late and the sun had slipped down in the sky, hiding behind the trees, casting long shadows.
Behind her, in the growing darkness, green light flashed like lightning.
Slowly, hesitantly, Nessa turned back to the well, where strange lights flickered erratically from its depths, and peered over the edge.
Faint sunlight illuminated the first ten or so feet, but the rest was shrouded in a darkness as deep as a night without a moon or stars. At least, it was until those eerie lights flashed again, showing the bottom of the stairs in disjointed bursts.
House of Fear and Freedom (The Wyrd Sequence Book 1) Page 1
