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

by Kimberley J. Ward

  She pushed herself up, eyes watering as stabbing pains shot though her skull. She groaned, hands rising to cup her head, gagging as her mouth filled with the overwhelming taste of bile and copper. Breathing deeply, the nausea faded, for the most part after a few minutes, and Nessa was eventually able to look around.

  She grimaced, wondering if her eyes were playing cruel tricks on her.

  Nessa found herself sat on a pile of rotting straw that acted as a thin mattress. She surveyed her surroundings, noticing that there were no comforts; no bed, no table or chairs. It was quite the opposite of her former room, which, while lacking in luxury, at least had some dingy light and something to sleep on. No, this room was dark and bitterly cold, with dampness covering every surface. The roof was riddled with holes and the floor littered with puddles of rainwater.

  Set excessively high in the wall was a single window, narrow and far too small to allow any decent amount of sunlight through. Opposite her was an iron door, wide and red with rust.

  Nessa went to stand, but fell back with a cry, pain blossoming all over her body. She sobbed, and with shaking hands, pulled up the hem of her tops, revealing her stomach. A mass of blue-black marks were just about visible in the room’s dimness, large and slightly puffy to the touch. She inspected them, and judged from the shape and size, that they were the result of a very sound kicking. From the way the rest of her ached, Nessa felt that it was safe to presume that it had been an all over pounding.

  “Son of a bitch,” Nessa swore, tugging down her top. “It just wasn’t enough that he smashed my head into a wall, he just had to kick me too?”

  Hugging her middle, Nessa stood on weak legs and shuffled over to the door. She knew that it would be locked, knew that they would never give her an opportunity of escape. She just wanted to examine it, search for weaknesses, if there were any.

  The door was large, rusted but still solid, and had no signs of a lock or handle on her side. A small flap was on the bottom, and Nessa nudged it with a toe. It didn’t budge and she concluded that it must be locked from the other side.

  Nessa turned around and leaned back against it, staring listlessly at her new room. At her new prison cell.

  It was a harrowing scenario Nessa found herself in, beaten by a madman and locked away somewhere unknown to her. She realised that any chance of escaping with Hunter, no matter how small it had been to start with, was now lost entirely. Hunter was gone and she was utterly alone.

  Nessa hobbled back over to the bed of straw and saw a couple of dark objects nestled in it. Slowly, so not to trigger anymore pain, she knelt down next to them, instantly recognising the intricately carved box. Beside it was a sad excuse of a blanket, rough and threadbare. She used a corner of it to wipe her face, rubbing off the congealed blood that streaked from temple to jaw.

  Sighing, Nessa laid down on the straw, trying to ignore the smell of mold that wafted from it. Every part of her was sore, her legs, her chest, her head. She swore that even the tips of her hair hurt. She couldn’t stop the self-pity that welled up inside her.

  “What a Goddamn bloody mess.”

  The life of rural adventures, of woodland walks, had come to an awful end. One that Nessa could never have seen coming. It all felt like a half forgotten dream, the crumbling town and the mirror.

  Not a dream, Nessa decided, a nightmare.

  One she wished would end.

  Nessa longed with all her heart to be free from that dreadful place and to just go home. That’s all she wanted, to go home and forget about everything that had happened in the last few days. Nessa now knew that the only person she could rely on was herself. She had to get herself out of that situation, not wait for someone to rescue her.

  The way Nessa saw things, at the moment, she had two options. Either do whatever Blondie wanted her to, hoping he would allow her some measure of freedom after, or escape and find a way home herself. The latter was her preferred choice. However, it came with an awful lot of challenges.

  The fact that Nessa had no idea where she was wasn’t helpful, nor was the reality that she didn’t have the slightest idea of the layout to the prison...dungeon...place where she was locked.

  Nessa came to the decision that she really needed a plan, and more importantly, to heal. Both of which would take time.

  She shifted into a moderately more comfortable position and reached for the blanket, spreading it over herself. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would feel like to be free and in the world outside, finding answers.

  The thought made Nessa smile.

  ∞∞∞

  Time became a fickle thing, with minutes feeling like hours and entire days rolling by unnoticed. The only thing that signalled the shift of time were the ever changing colours of Nessa’s bruises, fading from angry blue-black to a sickly yellowish-green. There was nothing for her to do in her lonely cell other than sleep and pace. No one came to see her, and no one spoke when food was slipped through the flap in the bottom of the door.

  Nessa had never felt so abandoned, so neglected. It played with her head. At times she worried that she was growing mad, but usually she didn’t mind, welcoming the waking dreams that were her only company.

  The first few days, after she had awoken in her new cell, all Nessa could do was doze, too sore to fall asleep entirely, yet too broken to move around. It was in this state that the visions came to her.

  Once again she saw the forest and the town’s ruins, saw herself being led towards the mirror by the cunning blue-eyed raven. She watched as she was pulled through its liquid mercury surface, as she was yanked into that nightmarish place. She saw a great many things besides, things too strange and outlandish to be real; coiled serpents and roaring dragons, flames of blues, greens and purples spewing from their mouths; Shadow, fingers toying with the golden torc around his neck, studded with blood opals instead of sapphires, his eyes black instead of blue and ever so menacing as he sat on a mighty throne with a crown perched upon his head.

  There was much more, too many things for Nessa to recount; armies in silver and gold armour battling each other, the sky filled with a cloud of arrows, a river of blood flowing down the hillside, a waterfall of gore. Screams had filled her ears and whispers of lies and truths, of promises and prophecies, had hung in the air for a long time after she had awoken from each dream-like haze.

  Once the bruises began to fade, Nessa started to feel human again. The muscles in her legs had screamed in protest at first, cramping and tightening, but after doing a few laps around the room, they had eased somewhat. Now, the main discomfort Nessa felt was hunger. Every now and again food would be shoved through the small flap in the bottom of the door: a thin, tasteless soup that did little to fill her stomach.

  All the while, the orb sat in its box, softly glowing away.

  ∞∞∞

  The sun was at its peak and the room was at its brightest, although that wasn’t saying much. The pale light shone through the holes in the tiled roof, hitting the floor with a mild touch of warmth. The window seemed to be a useless feature, never permitting in any sunlight. Nessa had, on occasion, wondered why someone had even bothered to construct it. The answer came to her in a moment of bleak clarity. It was there as a taunt, she realised, to mock whoever was locked away with a small glimpse of the outside world.

  Walking around the edge of the room, where the light never reached, Nessa trailed her fingers over the stones, thinking of nothing and everything. Halfway around her circuit, she encountered a particularly rough patch, sharp stones catching on her fingertips. Nessa paused and peered at the wall.

  There, beside the ghostly silhouette of her hand, was something scratched into the stone. It was too dark to see clearly, so Nessa relied more on touch than sight, and carefully traced the shapes, quickly figuring out what they were: letters. But not the ones she had learnt growing up. No, these were different, swirling and intricate, and she somehow knew what they spelled.

  Kinlandi.

  She
frowned and backed away, feeling uneasy. The name rang like a bell in her head, though she didn’t know why. The reality of her situation came rushing back to her, suddenly impossible to ignore. Troubling thoughts entered her head. Where are they now? Are they alive? Did they escape or are they still trapped here, locked away somewhere?

  Nessa turned and gazed over at the far side of the room. The sun had shifted and the rays of light came in at angles, now mostly hitting the wall, highlighting sections of its pockmarked surface and making something jump out at her, something Nessa had overlooked a hundred times before.

  A line of stones protruded slightly from the wall, forming a rough path leading up to the wooden rafters high above.

  Elated, Nessa ran across the room, never taking her eyes from the pathway in case she lost sight of it. The stones poked out just a few inches, barely perceivable in the muted light that was already moving past them, rapidly making them harder to distinguish. Nessa dashed over to the straw, grabbed a handful, and used it to mark the base of the path.

  Gawking, Nessa followed the line of stones with her eyes, committing each one to memory, trying to figure out the best way to go about it. It wouldn’t be easy, that was for sure, getting up to the beams. Nessa wondered if she would actually be able to climb them. During her younger years she had tried and failed to clamber up trees, discovering that she wasn’t a natural like the other children. She had stopped trying fairly quickly, before she broke something vital. However, desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Scaling up the wall was one thing, but what would she do next?

  Fingers slick with sweat and arms trembling, Nessa hoisted herself up from handhold to handhold. Only a few more to go, she told herself, gasping for air. A bead of moisture cruised slowly down her forehead, ticklish and itchy, then fell to the floor thirty feet below. Don’t look down. Do not look down. Her fingers latched onto the next stone, and upwards she went. Nearly there...

  It had been three days since Nessa had discovered her means of escape, roughly two weeks since she had been confined to the tower room, covered in bruises. The marks had all but faded, and Nessa had felt that she had recovered enough for the climb. She might have been wrong.

  Her ribs burned with each laboured breath, and every time she reached for a new handhold, she was rewarded with a sharp stab of pain in her side. Her shoulders were stiff and her arms shook, making Nessa think that she would lose her grip and plummet to the hard ground.

  Despite the pain, she continued on, using the last of a small reserve of determination that would hopefully see her to the top. It was too late to turn back now. Nessa had to reach the beam. She just had to. She had gone past the point of no return. Nessa either reached the top or she would fall. Those were her only options, and she didn’t think that she would survive a thirty foot drop.

  Nessa wasn’t willing to die just yet.

  With the remainder of her strength, Nessa managed to pull herself up to the last handhold, the beam finally within grasp. She allowed herself a quick second to catch her breath, holding onto the wall like a large spider, then shakily, she reached for the rafter.

  Her sweaty hands struggled to find purchase on the smooth wood, and for a heart stopping moment she was suspended in open air, legs kicking wildly. Sheer panic gave her the power to swing one leg over the beam, allowing her to straddle it.

  Instantly, Nessa wrapped her legs around it, locking her ankles together, and rested her cheek against the cool surface. Shudders shook her body as her tired limbs clutched weakly at the beam, preventing her from pitching over the side. She closed her eyes, finding it somewhat easier to pretend that she wasn’t up so high.

  Nessa stayed like that for a long time, until she didn’t feel quite so panicked, until her heart didn’t feel like it was about to combust. Slowly, carefully, she sat up, hands holding the beam’s edges and her legs tightly twined around its girth. The weight on her back shifted, threatening to throw Nessa off balance.

  With one hand firmly on the beam, Nessa slowly reached behind her, grabbing at the makeshift backpack that she had fashioned from a blanket. Cautiously she brought it in front of her, setting it down on the beam, and with gentle tugs untied the knots that held it all together. The edge of the blanket slipped away and the treasure inside was revealed.

  The orb glowed merrily away, lighting the conical roof with shifting purple luminosity. Nessa found it easier to see the damage to the tiles, and spotted a group that had begun to slip. She thought that it would be fairly easy to knock them loose and create a hole big enough for her to clamber through.

  Nessa gazed down at the orb. She didn’t really know why she had decided to bring it with her. She supposed that it wasn’t exactly a decision. It just seemed to happen. On her way over to the wall, ready and determined to climb to her freedom, a nagging feeling had came over her, pulling her back over to the straw, over to the beautiful carved box.

  Without much thought, she had opened the chest and removed the orb, swiftly fashioning the ratty blanket into a makeshift backpack. Nessa had then slung it over her shoulder and continued with her plan. The only explanation she could find for bringing it was for comfort. Though it was only an inanimate object, beautiful as it was, it had been the only constant thing she had since arriving there. Perhaps spite had something to do with it as well. A part of her hoped that Blondie would be seriously pissed when he discovered that not only she was gone, but his precious ‘lock’ too.

  The edges of the beam were digging painfully into the insides of Nessa’s thighs, forcing her into action. She looked away from the orb and up at the roof. The sky, a pale bluish-grey from the setting sun, was visible through holes where tiles were missing, offering glimpses of pink clouds which drifted from one gap to the next. Fresh air drifted down and Nessa breathed in deeply, realising just how moldering the room had been.

  A bell rang deep and loud, the tolling dong...dong...dong… making the beam tremble. Nessa froze, a bad feeling taking root, becoming uncertain. After weeks of silence from the outside world, she wasn’t sure what the sudden commotion meant. Should she abandon her escape?

  Nessa peered at the floor, fighting a wave of vertigo as she did so, her decision finalised. Onward and upwards, as they say.

  A loud crash sounded below, making the room rattle and a plume of dust swirl. Nessa jumped, losing her grip on the orb. It wobbled precariously for a millisecond, all too close to the beam’s edge. Nessa caught it with clammy hands and she let out a shuddering breath, heart racing.

  She looked down and stared.

  The door swung silently on its hinges, crumpled and warped. A long streak of yellow light streamed out beyond it, a narrow strip on the floor which showed that something moved in the shadows on the far side of the room.

  Damn it, Nessa cursed. Out of all the possible times, Blondie just had to choose now to pay a visit?

  But why break down the door?

  Nessa watched as whoever they were crept around the room, keeping to the sides. Although they stayed in the darkness, and she couldn’t make out much detail, Nessa saw that it wasn’t Blondie. Neither was it Shadow. Both of them moved with panther-like grace, practically gliding over the floor. The person moved with stealth, sure enough, quiet and certain of each step. However, there was something that differentiated them. Their movements were more human than Blondie’s or Shadow’s.

  Her silent analysis eased her nerves somewhat, although her suspicions grew as they moved over to the bed of straw, all the while looking over their shoulder at the open door. Nessa frowned when she realised that they were probably looking for her.

  “Nessa?” they hissed.

  That was her confirmation.

  Quickly, Nessa covered the orb, concealing its soft glow beneath the blanket, hiding the roof space, and her, in dimness once again.

  The bell still rang, loud and deep, and Nessa’s heart thundered away. She could feel an oncoming panic-attack dig its claws into her. She prayed for them
to leave, for them to think that they had the wrong room and go search for her elsewhere.

  They didn’t.

  In each lull of the bell, Nessa could hear their quiet call, growing evermore desperate, and sounding almost familiar.

  Nessa felt a sliver of hope.

  “Hunter,” she called, “is that you?”

  “Who else would it be?”

  ∞∞∞

  Hunter moved to stand in the light, looking up at her with a quizzical frown. For the first time since their brief meeting, Nessa was able to put a face to the name. He had dark brown hair that curled carelessly around his temples, dishevelled and in need of a trim, and a strong jaw that was peppered with stubble. Nessa already knew that he had intense amber eyes. His lean frame was swallowed beneath stained clothing that had seen better days.

  “What are you doing up there?” he asked conversationally, as if being perched on a rafter thirty foot up in the air was a perfectly normal thing to be doing.

  “Escaping,” Nessa said.

  “Oh, right. Of course.” He nodded. “Interesting method.”

  “The stones create a pathway,” Nessa explained, pointing them out. “I climbed up them.” She didn’t even attempt to keep her pride from showing.

  Hunter peered at the wall, a peculiar expression settling on his face, and he crossed over to the base of the pathway, committing the protruding stones to memory. Then, to Nessa’s astonishment, he started to climb.

  “What do you think you are doing?”

  “Climbing, dear Nessa. I am climbing up a wall so that I may aid you in your rather eccentric escape attempt.” He was being facetious, but his laboured breathing marred it a little. “Now, if you would be so kind as to keep the questions to a minimum, I would be most appreciative, as I would like to concentrate on not falling.”

  Knowing how difficult it was, Nessa kept quiet, watching and marvelling at how swiftly he scaled up the wall, already over half way. It had taken him a mere few minutes to achieve what Nessa felt had taken her so much longer to do.