House of Fear and Freedom (The Wyrd Sequence Book 1)

by Kimberley J. Ward

  Eventually, under her cocoon of thin bedding, the tears stopped, the shaking subsided, and a sad thought crept into Nessa’s mind. What does everyone back home think has happened to me? She’d been missing all night and most of the day now. Surely someone would have noticed her absence by now? School? Her mum? Yes, her mum would have. Nessa knew that her mum, no matter how strained their relationship had become in the last few months, would have known something wasn’t right when Nessa hadn’t returned home yesterday evening. Were search parties hiking through the forest, calling her name, hunting for any sign of her? Was her picture being shown on the news, in local papers, on a missing person poster?

  Do they think I’m alive, lying injured somewhere in the forest, or that I’m dead? Nessa bleakly wondered. Worse yet, do they simply think that I’ve ran away, finally had enough of everything happening at home and escaped from it. Do people even search for runaways?

  Possibilities and scenarios flew around and around in Nessa’s head, creating a vortex of maddening thoughts. She doubted that anyone would be able to find the ruins, or that they would discover the town’s centre and the mirror hidden beneath. Even if they did, Nessa knew that it was impossible for anyone to come to the conclusion that she had been pulled through the mirror and was somewhere... else.

  Elsewhere.

  Nessa was yanked from the bed, abruptly woken from her doze. She had slept through the door opening, blissfully unaware that two men had entered the room, approaching her with swift strides. Only when one of them had grabbed her did Nessa wake, finding herself being pulled over to the table. She fought like a wildcat, screaming, clawing and kicking. Her assailant was strong, though. He merely spun her around and wrapped his arms around her, pinning hers to her sides, and carried her forward.

  The blond man had returned and stood waiting by the table, stone-faced and impatient. His eyes were cold, so very cold, as they keenly watched Nessa struggle. She snarled at him, and his lips twitched into a narrow smile as she was hoisted over the table and laid on her back. Nessa squirmed and bucked, trying to throw off the hands holding her down.

  Blondie, as Nessa had dubbed the blond man, came to stand over her. Hating the sight of him, she looked away, only to find herself staring into a pair of deep blue eyes the colour of sapphires; eyes that were oddly familiar to her.

  Before Nessa could figure out why, Blondie placed his hands on her forehead, the tips of his long fingers gently pressing in a line from temple to temple, forming a series of light pressure points. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then Nessa was bombarded by pain.

  Metal spikes were surely being driven through her head. Nessa screamed and thrashed, and was held down all the harder for her efforts. The pain grew in intensity and the world shrivelled to nothing, becoming dark and sinister. Nessa was floating in a sea of black flames, burning to ashes.

  A strange sensation snapped through her mind, not unlike a ping of an elastic band ricocheting around. Then there was the impression of someone else there, in her head, taking over. Nessa tried to recoil from them, tried to push them out, but they had no intention of leaving.

  Intangible words whispered in Nessa’s mind, filling it with thoughts that weren’t her own. Images began accompanying them, flashing here and there, and then vanishing before she could consciously identify what they were. Nessa sank deep within herself, almost entranced, the fight leaving her as her head was muddled by the will of another.

  Finally, when all perception of time had long since vanished, it all stopped. The presence of the other withdrew, leaving Nessa completely and utterly exhausted, and the fingertips left her forehead, as did the hands holding her down. Not that they were necessary anymore. Nessa didn’t even have the energy to open her eyes, let alone get up and fight. Dimly in the background, she could hear a murmured conversation, then the sound of retreating steps. The door opened and closed, and Nessa felt a small measure of relief when she thought that she had been left alone.

  A quiet sigh came from somewhere near her elbow.

  Not quite as alone as she had hoped.

  Nessa froze, trying not to flinch or even breathe. She didn’t want to draw anymore unwanted attention to herself. Particularly when she was that weak, not when she couldn’t even defend herself in the slightest, for all the good it had done before.

  Cool fingers brushed against her clammy brow, pushing back damp hair.

  “You’ll be fine,” someone said.

  Nessa flinched and the hand instantly withdrew, but only to slip under her shoulders a second later. She was lifted upright, legs dangling over the side of the table, and an arm wrapped around her back, holding her steady as she trembled. Something cold pressed against her lips, and not knowing what it was, she turned her head, knocking it away. Pooling what little energy remained, Nessa battled to open her aching eyes.

  Everything was blurry to start with, but things slowly came back into focus, and Nessa discovered that it was a mug that hovered in front of her. She didn’t think, just drank, guzzling down the crisp water, finding that she was parched. Quickly her shaking became little more than intermittent shudders, and the fog that clouded her mind began to fade.

  With the world around her steadily becoming clearer, Nessa blinked heavily, her eyes taking in the old mug, now empty, and the hand holding it. The hand that wasn’t hers. Her gaze travelled up an arm, taking in the muscles that lay under black leather, and over broad shoulders, lingering on the torc that sat elegantly around the base of his neck, similar to Blondie’s but with blue gems instead of green. Her eyes flicked up.

  Longish black hair gleamed like raven’s feathers, a beautiful contrast to his pale skin, and framed strong and handsome features. Eyes such a dark blue that they were nearly black ran over her, taking in her features just as she was with him, and were edged by eyelashes that most girls would kill for.

  He was tall, well over six foot, and cut a fine figure; muscled and strong, but not excessively so. If it weren’t for the present unpleasant circumstances, Nessa might have fallen head over heels for him, but as it was, all Nessa felt towards him was fear and a fair amount of contempt. Beneath all of this was the sense of familiarity, of recognition. His eyes, they stirred something inside her. Such an unusual deep blue, Nessa swore that she had seen them before. But surely that was impossible?

  Nessa tried to move, to get away from him. Her exhaustion betrayed her though, for she had little to no control over her muscles. The arm behind her back shifted and a hand clamped down on her shoulder, preventing her from pitching forward and falling.

  “Don’t move,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “You’ll only wear yourself out,” Nessa stilled as he continued, “and right now, you need all the strength you can get.”

  His words. Nessa could understand them.

  “What?” Nessa whispered. “How?” With as much ease as she spoke English, the words she now uttered belonged to a language that decidedly wasn't it.

  “It’s complicated,” he murmured.

  Slowly, hesitantly, as if he was worried she might fall, his hand loosened from her shoulder. Nessa swayed, but managed to catch herself. Her strength was slowly returning, her headache nearly gone.

  Wearily, Nessa watched him as he walked around the table, questions poised on the tip of her tongue. He grabbed a chair and dragged it over, setting it down in front of her. He sat with arms crossed and his long legs stretched out. His face was impassive, like he didn’t want to be there. But as Nessa stared into his eyes, she could see something concealed behind their dark depths.

  Whatever it was made her pause, made the questions and demands quieten.

  He laughed softly, giving her a grin that almost breached the thin line between a smile and a smirk. “Go on,” he said. “Ask your questions. I won’t bite.”

  So Nessa said the first thing that sprang to mind.

  “What’s your name?” she found herself asking. It was far from what she had originally planned on saying, much o
f which had mostly consisted of shouting, profanities and a lot of demanding. No, now she wanted to put a name to the face.

  He leaned forward, resting elbows on knees, and looked contemplative. “Name,” he sighed. “You wish to know my name. You get right down to it, don’t you?” Nessa frowned, but he continued on, unaware or simply ignoring her bewilderment. “These days most people call me Shadow, for that’s all I am anymore, a shadow.”

  Shadow.

  Shadows were dark, intangible things, the vague suggestion of something. What a strange thing to call yourself, Nessa thought.

  “Where am I?”

  “In a new world, filled with wonder and danger, challenges and horror. Where beauty and foul things are one and the same, and not all things are as they appear.” A terrible light shone in his eyes for a second, one full of pity and despair. Nessa felt dread settle over her shoulders like a fine cape. “You’ll need to keep your eyes and ears open, Nessa,” Shadow murmured, “and lock away your delicate heart where no one will ever find it. Otherwise you’ll never survive here.”

  He was speaking in riddles, surely? Mad as a hatter. For some reason though, Nessa felt a chill creep up her spine. As much as she wished she could put his words down to sheer madness, something in her gut told her that there was more to him than meets the eye.

  Nessa opened her mouth, about to demand a straight answer, when Shadow’s head whipped to the side. She paused, following his gaze over to the door, seeing and hearing nothing. However, her skin prickled in warning.

  Without taking his eyes from the door, Shadow said, “Listen, and listen well. Things aren’t the same here as they are where you’re from. Everything is different, literally a world away from what you have ever known. More often than not, you will have to make choices and do things you don’t want to. Things that will break you down if you let them. You need to be strong now, Nessa, stronger than you have ever been before. Do not break, Nessa. Ever.”

  The door screamed as it opened, making Nessa jump as Blondie re-entered the room. In his hands he held a dark wooden box, square and varnished to a high sheen. He shot Shadow a sharp glare as he approached.

  “Having fun?” he snapped, his voice as hard and cold as glacial ice.

  “Aren’t I always,” Shadow said dryly, grimly amused.

  “Did it work? Can she understand us now?” asked Blondie, putting the question to Shadow, ignoring Nessa completely, as if she was beneath him, unworthy of his attention. Her hatred of him grew by the second.

  Shadow shrugged, looking bored, and Blondie’s jade green eyes settled on her.

  Do not break, Nessa, Shadow’s words whispered to her. Do not break. She held Blondie’s stare, strong and unflinching. His eyes ran over her, evaluating.

  “You can, can’t you?” he said. “Good. That will make things easier.” He set the box on the table, within arm’s reach of Nessa, handling it like it contained something of weight and fragility. Blondie stepped away, although he remained too close for Nessa’s liking. Her cheek throbbed in remembrance of his cruelty.

  Nessa looked down at the box and a peculiar sensation ran over her, making her shiver and her skin tingle. Goose bumps broke out on her arms and her heart started racing. Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed. Cold green eyes gazed at the box, an almost feral joy shining in them. Shadow stared at her, his shoulders tight with tension.

  The odd sensation returned in a wave, sending a cold jolt down her spine. Eyes drawn to the box, she took in its details, taking in the high lustre and the intricate patterns of the wood’s grain; whirlpools of deep colour and rounded shapes. Carved with exquisite detail on all four sides and the top were elaborate images.

  Dragons snaked over the box, torrents of flame bursting from their roaring mouths. Each and every one of them had hundreds of tiny scales on their bodies and their splayed wings had the fine detailing of veins upon them. The dragons were in the dance of war; flying with and fighting one another with such lifelike prose that Nessa half expected them to come to life. The box was fastened by an unusual diamond shaped lock that was without a keyhole.

  Shudders of unease ran through Nessa, the cause of which emanated from the box, from whatever was in it.

  “What’s inside that box will change the game that we are players in,” Blondie said. “It’s going to help me win it. Inside is, shall I say, a lock. A metaphorical lock which only opens to one particular key, one person alone. Until now, I didn’t have the key.” His eyes glinted and Nessa felt her stomach drop. “Now I do. My metaphorical lock needs to be opened for me to win my game, and I need my key to open it. So the question is, are you going to open it for me, my little key? Hmm, are you?”

  Prowling near, Blondie came to a stop perilously close to Nessa, making her squirm at the proximity. He raised his arm and pointed at the box, and with a single whispered word, a spark of green light flashed between the tip of his finger and the box’s lock. With a pop it sprung open a finger’s breadth, and with a casual swipe of his hand, Blondie flung back the lid.

  A deep purple glow shone from the depths of the box. Nessa saw it from the corner of her eye, too perturbed to have a closer look. Light flashing from Blondie’s finger troubled her greatly, and she feared that whatever was in the box would be just as alarming. Nessa felt that she really couldn’t handle any more surprises.

  The light was soft and flowing, dimming and brightening, swirling around in hues of amethyst and violet, plum and wine. Eerie and chillingly beautiful. Blondie reached into the box, giving the light’s source a caress.

  Nessa gazed up at him, finding his face bathed in shifting illumination, his features distorted by madness. The silver of his torc glinted, the gems sparkling darkly, the vibrant green turning a murky black.

  “There are two paths open to you,” Blondie said, eyes drilling into Nessa’s, “but they both lead to the same destination. One path is an easy and pleasant journey. The other, however, is a grim road, filled with anguish and suffering. Which route you take is entirely down to you. Although I do recommend being a good, obedient little girl.”

  Ire kindled inside Nessa. She hated him, despised him for kidnapping, imprisoning and threatening her. She sure as hell wasn’t going to be ‘obedient’ for him.

  Blondie saw the defiance in her eyes and smirked. “I’ll give you a couple of days to mull things over. I’ll even gift you that,” he said, tipping his head to the box before turning away. “Perhaps some time with it will help you to decide what to do.” The door swung open, squealing only slightly that time, and with a neat twirl of his robes, Blondie left, no further explanation given.

  Nessa watched as the door shut, not even bothering an attempt of escape. Suddenly everything seemed so very hopeless, pointless. Her shoulders sagged in defeat.

  “Don’t,” Shadow said.

  Slowly, Nessa looked up, finding him staring at her, frowning.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t let him get to you. Not now. Not so quickly. He’ll win otherwise.”

  “What do you care?” Nessa snapped. “You just sat there, scowling in silence as he said those horrible things, threatening me.”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Oh goodie. You have reasons. I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what they are?”

  Shadow’s eyes flashed and he sat a little straighter. “No. At present I am not. Not until I know whose side you are on.”

  “Side,” Nessa sputtered, “I’m on no one’s side. I just want to go home.”

  “But you can’t,” he barked, temper flaring dangerously. “Not now, and not for a long while yet. So you had best start accepting that and get on with deciding what you’re going to do, and where you are going to stand.” He stood, the purple light hitting his face with rosy hues and catching on the woven strands of his torc.

  “You don’t know it yet,” Shadow said, walking over to the door, his voice suddenly softer, kinder, “but you are in a very powerful position. If you do the righ
t thing, make the right choices, you can crush cities and topple empires if you wished to.”

  “But all I want is to go home,” Nessa whispered as the door locked behind him.

  A cold, bitter emptiness filled her, consumed her. Nessa was devoid of feelings, bereft of anger, fear and hopelessness. There was nothing left in her just then, only energy sapping weariness. Too drained to move or to cry, she peered down at the box.

  Nestled within deep folds of mauve coloured velvet was an orb of spectacular beauty. Its surface glimmered like a diamond, crystal clear and without blemishes; a perfect shell to encase the glowing mist that swirled slowly inside, as if caught in a gentle breeze. A soft, calm light emanated from deep within the sphere’s core, oddly soothing. A sense of peace settled over Nessa like a warm blanket.

  Strangely comforted by the orb’s mesmerising light, she reached a curious hand towards it. The air inside the box felt different, heavier, as if the orb gave off a charge. The hair on Nessa’s arm stood on end and her palm tingled as it pressed against the orb’s surface. It was incredibly smooth and warm to the touch, and her hand glowed red as the light passed through it.

  Nessa caressed it, savouring the warmth it offered. The room was dim, and with the budding darkness came a chill that went straight through her. She watched, entranced, as the orb illuminated the dimness around her, filling the area around the table with enchanted luminosity.

  The orb shone brighter.

  Nessa frowned, and looked at the window, noticing that the sky was now a deep azure blue. Night was coming, and swiftly, but it wasn’t there just yet. No, she was sure that the orb had grown brighter. Much brighter.

  Under her hand, deep in the swirling mist, a shadow stirred.