“What the...?” Nessa muttered.
Curious, she made her way over to the top of the stairs, giving them a cursory inspection, ensuring that there were no obvious cracks and such. Crossing her fingers and praying they would hold her weight, Nessa cautiously put a foot on the first step.
It held firm, and so, she stepped onto the next one, and the next, moving deeper and deeper into the gloom.
Her feet touched the ground and the lights’ source stood across the room from her, emanating from a small section of the curved wall, flickering steadily and silently. Nessa stared at it, watching, waiting. Inquisitiveness saw to her feet moving, seemingly of their own accord, propelling her forwards.
Dead leaves crunched underfoot, a noisy carpet of decay. The sound echoed, strange and whispery, unnerving Nessa. She gave a quick scan of her surroundings, but saw nothing other than a dim and empty space. The only things down there were her and the lights, which sparked like tiny fingers of mystical green lightning.
Nessa stopped a couple of feet away, unable to bring herself to get any closer, for there, under the flashing lights, standing in front of her was...
Herself.
Beneath the lights was a mirror, an old corroded one. Standing as tall as the average man and oval in shape, it was set flush into the wall. Rust ringed the edges and moisture had leaked down the back, causing areas to bubble and chip. Webs of a white film covered the silver surface in a hazy skin, making it hard to see a clear reflection, but even so, Nessa saw her own startled brown eyes staring back.
That was until a large hand pressed against the surface.
Nessa jumped, surprised, and glanced over her shoulder, searching for an explanation and finding none. She was all alone in the room. She looked back at the mirror, seeing that the hand was still there, noticing that the fine webbing of film had started to swirl slowly, like smoke pushed in a gentle breeze.
Brows drawn together, Nessa reached towards the mirror. Her hand passed through the green lights, finding them to be icy cold. A slight tingling sensation ran up her arm as her fingers brushed against the mirror’s surface, as her hand pressed against the other’s, palm to palm.
Large and masculine, it rested there for a moment before withdrawing. A second later it slammed against the mirror, a fist that made the glass rattle and Nessa flinch. It vanished from sight again and she stood stock still, waiting for it to reappear, but the mirror merely glowed with the steady flicker of the lights.
“Weird goddamn place,” Nessa muttered. “Should just go home and forget about it.”
Despite her words though, Nessa found herself edging closer to the mirror to see through it. Beyond, the image was blurred and distorted, but she could just about make out the shapes of four people, standing tall and appearing to be wearing flowing robes.
“How strange...”
Knowing that the lights wouldn’t hurt her, Nessa leaned against the glass, the toes of her ankle boots and the tip of her nose gently touching the cool surface. She cupped her hands around her eyes, attempting to block out the lights, hoping that it would help her to see better.
The hand’s owner stood near enough for her to observe his side, his arm moving, gesticulating angrily. Someone behind him pointed, appearing to be shouting, arguing. He spun around and Nessa abruptly found herself gazing into a pair of icy green eyes.
Nessa sprang back.
The lights crackled and blazed with sudden intensity.
Rippling and flowing like liquid mercury, the mirror parted and a hand shot through, latching onto Nessa’s wrist before she could do anything more than yelp. She braced her feet against the floor, trying desperately to get free, to break his grip and to stop him from pulling her any nearer.
The hand tightened painfully, and no matter how much Nessa struggled and screamed, she found herself being tugged closer and closer to the ominous mirror.
The lights flared ferociously.
With one last forceful yank, Nessa was wrenched into the unknown.
Time had become a series of moments, intersected by darkness. Sometimes there was light, voices, the sensation of being carried. Nessa was adrift, floating steadily away from reality. Previsions held her firmly in their clutches. She was a leaf in a river of images, being tossed about in a current of her own mind.
Dreams... memories... They whirled around her, a torrent of disorganised chaos, bombarding her from all sides. Nessa didn’t know what was real anymore.
A broken and forgotten town, drowning in young trees... Her notebook, a crude map displayed on its open pages... A raven, its beak glistening red with blood and its blue eyes bright and cunning...
Faster and stronger these flashes of surrealism came, pulling Nessa further from the surface of consciousness.
Twin oaks stood proudly, their branches knitted together, forming a mighty archway... A mirror of liquid mercury, rippling and shifting as a hand emerged...
Nessa was falling... Screaming...
She was sat in a sitting room, on a dusty armchair, facing an ancient woman whose face was a mask of wrinkles. Nessa sipped her tea, all politeness, even though it tasted like watered down mud.
“That’s it, dearie,” the old crone said. “Drink up while I tell you all about ravens.”
Nessa frowned. She wanted to know about the ruins, not bloody birds. The old woman prattled on, oblivious.
“Many cultures believe ravens are the bringers of death, but many also believe that they will lead a person to their destiny.” Her milky blue eyes stared into Nessa’s, seemingly able to penetrate right into the core of Nessa’s soul.
Nessa jolted awake.
Her eyes felt as if they had been sewn shut, and her thoughts ran as sluggishly as honey. Her throat felt burnt, and her head ached so badly that it forced her to come to her senses.
With a groan, Nessa rolled onto her side and blinked blearily. The room in which she found herself was dark and cold, and it took long minutes for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. She was in a single bed, a couple of thin blankets thrown over her. To her right was a small window, without curtains or glass, which allowed a small measure of weak light into a corner of the room, highlighting a battered table and chairs. The walls and floor were stark stone.
Nessa’s surroundings were unfamiliar to her, alien and foreign.
She sat up in a hurry and wrapped a blanket around herself like a cape, her breaths appearing as tiny clouds in front of her face, growing increasingly faster as panic began to take root.
This isn’t right, she thought. This isn’t right at all.
A bitter chill blew in through the window, making Nessa shiver and goose bumps rise. On unsteady legs, Nessa rose and made her way over to the door opposite, telling herself that there had to have been some kind of misunderstanding, some kind of mistake.
The door was large, made from solid wood and very securely locked. Nessa jiggled the door knob, twisting and turning the thing, but all it did was make a horrible nails-on-chalkboard screech and shed a few flakes of rust.
Nessa stumbled back a step, evaluating it with wide eyes.
Robust but worn with use, the door was varnished with the dull sheen of age. In the top half, around eye level, was a smaller door the size of a book. Nessa pressed a hand against it, hoping it would swing open and offer a glimpse of what was outside.
It was unyielding, holding firm.
This is wrong. Very, very wrong.
Nessa muttered a curse and tears of fear came unbidden to her eyes. She hurriedly swiped them away and pounded on the door, praying that the sense of danger she felt was unwarranted.
“Hello?” she called. “Is anyone there?”
Silence.
“Where the bloody hell am I?”
Nothing.
“I demand to know why I’ve been locked in here.” Nessa moved back when no response was forthcoming and cast a forlorn look around the room. Her prison, it seemed.
“Where is ‘here?’” she asked herself.<
br />
The room was empty of answers, but the window seemed to summon her.
It was small and set high in the wall, with three iron bars sitting in the place of glass. Leading up to it from waist height were a series of small steps, narrow and steep, but steps nonetheless. On trembling arms, Nessa pulled herself up onto the first one, and quickly scaled the rest of them. At the top, she wrapped an arm around one of the bars to prevent herself from pitching backwards, flicked stray tangles of hair out of her eyes, and gazed out the window.
Shock.
Horror.
Uncertainty.
They swirled around inside Nessa for long moments, freezing her in place. She sucked in a shaky breath and stared disbelievingly at what she saw.
“I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.”
Her window stood a daunting fifty feet above the ground, with a sheer drop of a rugged cliff face leading down to a fog shrouded city below. Rays of watery light from the rising sun haloed it in gold and made the dirty blue river that ran down the middle gleam like lapis lazuli.
The river divided the city into two parts. On the left-hand side, streets zigzagged through densely packed wood framed buildings. People the size of ants rushed to-and-fro, filling neighbourhoods with the noisy hustle and bustle of everyday life. On the right-hand side, however, it was a different story. It was neat and orderly, with large identical buildings spaced evenly apart. Straight streets split them into blocks, and groups of people marched back and forth, like soldiers in a drill.
Nessa frowned, her grip on the bar tightening, and suddenly grew lightheaded as she stared at the unfamiliar city, as the memories came rushing back with overwhelming clarity. She remembered the ruined town, the raven with cunning blue eyes, and the mirror covered with those eerie green lights. Nessa recalled the hand that had shot through it, somehow pulling her into its shifting surface.
Nessa tried to make sense of it all.
Obviously the mirror wasn’t just a mirror. It also couldn’t be a door. That wouldn’t account for the view outside. What it could be, then, eluded her completely. Her mind shied away from such possibilities as magic and portals. It was the twenty first century, for God’s sake. Things like that surely didn’t exist. Right? However, when she searched for another explanation, she found herself coming up empty. All Nessa could see in her mind’s eye was that mirror and those flickering lights that had danced over its rippling surface.
“Magic,” Nessa whispered.
Surely it wasn’t possible.
It couldn’t be possible.
But it appeared it was.
With the notion that magic was in fact real slowly dawning on her, she found herself faced with a million more questions, and a lot of conflicted thoughts. Amazement at discovering that there was another world, one filled with enchantment and who knows what else, thrummed through her blood, exhilarating and thrilling. As intoxicating as finding oneself in another realm might be, though, it was short lived. The reality of her situation was swift to strike her, and as wonderful as the idea of magic was, Nessa couldn’t help but see a darker, more sinister side to it.
Nessa sighed, trembling, realising just how scared she was.
She looked out of the window, noting the differences between home and there, at the sea of wood framed buildings and the orderly barracks, and briefly wondered at how many other things might differ, such as language and customs. She watched the city thriving with life, staring at the people in their bright clothes rushing around, cheerful and carefree.
Free.
Nessa frowned at the sight before her, feeling as if it was mocking her. She wished that she was out there. Perhaps then, Nessa thought, she might find some answers. Sorrowful and plagued by the uncertainly of how she got there, and more importantly, the meaning behind why she might be locked up, Nessa left her roost, unable to bare the barred view that was beyond her comprehension.
Nessa was trapped in the unknown.
She didn’t know what to do.
In desperation, Nessa went to the door and rattled the doorknob over and over, praying that it would budge. When it remained stubbornly locked, Nessa’s temper flared and her hand shot out, punching the door.
It was a stupid and pointless thing to do, Nessa knew that, and bloody painful besides. However, it did make her feel marginally calmer. Turning around, she crossed over to the bed, rubbing her hand as she went. Her knuckles were red and throbbed dully.
“Stupid thing to do,” she chastised herself, flopping down on the thin mattress and staring blankly at the sunlight that streamed through the narrow window, streaking across the ceiling and growing brighter with the passing hour.
It was quiet in her cell. Silent. The noise from the city below didn’t reach the window, didn’t permeate through the thick stone walls. Nessa felt trapped and utterly alone.
Isolated.
Time passed, measured only by the slow trek of the sun across her room. When boredom started to creep in and as her mind began to settle into an uneasy doze, Nessa heard the quiet but sharp tap of hurried footsteps from outside her door, growing louder and closer. A gut feeling told Nessa that they were heading for her cell, so she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat, waiting uneasily.
The footsteps grew closer.
Tension radiated through Nessa in powerful waves as they came to a stop outside, and with an ear-splitting screech, the door was thrown back on its hinges.
An overweight man held the door open, his beady eyes fastened on the floor as another man swept past him with inhuman grace.
A beautiful deep green robe fell to his ankles, made from raw silk, and around his trim waist was an intricate belt of delicate gold strands that were braided together, intersected with large gemstones. From it hung an ornate sword, which Nessa eyed with a touch of trepidation.
Her alarm grew when the door clanged shut, locking her in the room with this man, a man who oozed power and strength. She fought her growing panic and raised her eyes, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
Show no weakness, Nessa told herself. Show no fear!
Through steel coloured eyelashes, jade green eyes stared icily at her, filled with sly cruelty. Silver-white hair fell to his shoulders, framing cold, beautiful features that were twisted by the darkness in his eyes and the mocking sneer that curled the corners of his lips. Around his neck rested a stunning torc of highly polished strands of silver that ended in two large gemstones, either jade or emeralds.
He was a chilling sight to behold and Nessa’s stomach clenched with dread when she realised that there, standing just a few short feet from her, was the man who had pulled her through the mirror of flickering lights. Lights, Nessa noticed, that matched the green of his eyes perfectly.
Nessa tried not to shake as he loomed over her, large and imposing, but when he reached down and grabbed her, she couldn’t stop herself from flinching. His hands closed around her upper arms, and she saw that one of them was wrapped in a bandage of clean white cloth. The fingers were exposed, painfully red and with patches of skin peeling off. It was a ghastly sight, but it filled Nessa with a small amount of glee to know that the trick with the mirror had hurt him.
Her joy, however, was short lived.
Harshly, he pulled Nessa to her feet, forcing her to stand close to him. She cringed, desiring a greater distance between them. He smelled of shadows and ice, and of all things filled with malice. Contempt filled his eyes as he looked her over, taking in her dirty t-shirt and ripped jeans. Nessa became self-conscious, feeling incredibly small and inadequate against his height and otherworldly appearance.
He shifted, moving to arms-length away, and looked her up and down, analysing her strengths and weaknesses. His eyes were so bright, so piercing, they made Nessa feel naked under their gaze. She wanted to say something, quip a sarcastic remark, make demands, but she was frozen, the words stuck in her throat.
He raised his hands and gently cupped her face, a thumb slowly caressing her cheek.
He was being too intimate, and he was invading her personal space far too much for her liking. Nessa didn’t want him touching her.
Her fear was forgotten.
Nessa slapped his hands away.
His eyes sparked dangerously and rage radiated from him. Nessa instantly regretted her actions. She didn’t have time to back away or to defend herself before he backhanded her.
Nessa’s head snapped to the side, her cheek on fire.
Pain shot down the right side of her face and her eyes watered. Nessa clenched her hands into tight fists, refusing to let the tears fall as she stared him down. A new look crept into his eyes, one she couldn’t quite decipher, but one that chilled her to the bone nonetheless.
He spoke, the words flowing like water through her ears, without any recognition or understanding. Nessa frowned. He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her, repeating himself, his words vibrating with anger. It didn’t matter how enraged he got, or how much he shook her, Nessa didn’t understand anything that came out of his mouth.
“I don’t understand,” Nessa said slowly.
He cocked his head to the side, his pale eyebrows pulling together.
“Me no-under-stand-oh.”
His hands slid from her shoulders as he took a step back, his lips curling into a sneer. He murmured something, talking to himself, and then barked a loud command. The door instantly swung open, and turning on his heel, the man strode swiftly away, his robe twirling around his ankles. He was out of the room in a blink of an eye, abandoning Nessa without so much as a backwards glance.
The door banged shut behind him, and this time, Nessa could hear the click of the lock.
She stared at the door, shocked and more than a little fearful that he might return. Her cheek throbbed and she raised a hand to it, finding it hot to the touch. Only then did everything sink in and the tears began to fall. Her legs trembled with such force that she collapsed on the bed, sobbing. She curled into a ball and pulled the blankets over herself, burrowing under the them, feeling awfully sorry for herself. Never had she been hit like that before, she had never been smacked as a child or got into violent fights. It had shaken her, making her mind numb.
House of Fear and Freedom (The Wyrd Sequence Book 1) Page 2
