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

by Kimberley J. Ward

  She told Hunter of her discovery of the town’s ruins, and her subsequent explorations of it, although the reasons why she spent so much time there she kept to herself. Nessa explained how she had been drawn to the underground room, and how the mirror had been flickering with icy light. With a knot in her stomach, she revealed how she had been pulled through the mirror, and how she had later woken up, locked in the castle of Ironguard.

  “Then,” Nessa said, looking anywhere but at Hunter, “last night, I had a dream. Only it wasn’t a dream. At least, I think it was real. I was there, but not fully. I could see through myself. I could see the stone floor through my foot. In front of me was a room, and I could hear two people arguing. Naturally I went over to it, only to find Shadow and Margan inside. They were talking about us, bickering really, and then they mentioned this.” Nessa handed over the orb, bag and all, to Hunter.

  Nessa watched from the corner of her eye as Hunter handled the bag with caution, slowly opening it and unwrapping the orb. Purple light shone softly, and Nessa turned away a little, frightened of witnessing his reaction. Hunter was silent for a long time, making Nessa uneasy, and then he made a strangled noise. Nessa looked at him, worried, and the expression on Hunter’s face was what she had been expecting and fearing. It was one of utter wonder and horror. The orb was in his hands, and with its light, Nessa could see the blood leave his face.

  “Hunter, what is it?” Nessa asked urgently. “Is it an egg? They mentioned something about it being an egg.” Hunter continued to stare at it, his eyes alarmingly wide. “Jesus, Hunter, breathe.” She elbowed him hard in the ribs.

  “I’m fine. It’s all fine.” He frowned. “Who’s Jesus?”

  “No one you know, clearly,” she mumbled, taking a deep breath, trying to collect herself. She nodded at the orb. “So, do you know what it is?”

  Hunter swallowed and tucked it back into the bag, thoughts whirling behind his eyes. “I might have a vague idea, but I’m not completely sure. It could be several things. No point in getting worried over something that might be nothing.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “No. No.” Hunter gave her a forced smile. “I’m sure it’s perfectly fine. It just reminded me of something when I first saw it, that’s all. Honestly, I don’t know all that much about things like this.” He swiped a hand over his face. “I have a friend who could say for sure. He might even be able to help you understand that whole mirror thing. Although it seems to me, the easiest and safest thing to do is take the orb down to the river and throw it in.”

  Nessa stared at him, surprised that he would say such a thing.

  “Look,” he continued. “It was given to you by two of the most depraved men in the Twelve Kingdoms. I can assure you that they don’t give out mystical gifts to just anyone, particularly to someone they’ve just kidnapped, without strings attached. Like, I don’t know, enslavement and mass slaughter.”

  Nessa blinked. “Wow.”

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, Nessa, but the brutal truth is that no matter what that is,” he nodded at the orb, “they want something from you, and that’s not a good thing.”

  Nessa had no words, and tears were quick to spring to her eyes. Never in a million years did she think that she would be in a situation like this. Yes, she had dreamed of adventure, only more along the lines of backpacking around Europe or maybe even North America. She felt so overwhelmingly alone and afraid.

  Hunter wrapped his arm around Nessa’s shoulders, tucking her against him. “The truth is brutal,” he murmured, resting his cheek on the top of her head, “but it will make soldiers of us all.”

  Nessa didn’t respond, but after a little while she managed to pull herself together. No sense in wallowing in self pity. She sat up, wiping away the tears that clung to her eyelashes.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, “this is a lot to deal with.”

  “No worries,” Hunter said breezily. “I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling right now.”

  “I’m not even sure what I’m feeling right now.”

  “Come on,” Hunter said, nudging her with his elbow, “I know what will cheer you up a wee bit.”

  He shooed her from the bed like she was a cat and jumped up. Grabbing her hand, Hunter pulled her across the room and into the hallway. Nessa wondered if it was wise to leave the orb just lying around, but Hunter seemed inclined to leave it be. Besides, she reasoned with herself, the orb was wrapped up and tucked away in the bag. It wasn’t like anyone would easily stumble across it.

  Hunter quickly led Nessa downstairs and into the kitchen which, unlike last night, was now teeming with activity. Several cooks were busy preparing plates, filling them with fried eggs, bacon, and other such things. A few women darted between the kitchen and the adjoining door, taking out filled plates and bringing empty ones back. Each time the door opened, the sounds of conversation and laughter filtered through.

  Ignoring it all, Hunter headed over to the back of the kitchen, where an open door led out to an enclosed courtyard. Realising that’s where Hunter aimed for and spying the thick mud outside, fresh and wet, Nessa jerked to a stop.

  Hunter turned to her, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s like a foot of mud out there, and I’m not wearing any shoes.”

  “What’s wrong with going barefoot through some mud?”

  Nessa shrugged. “It’s gross.” She turned, eyeing up one of the plates, pilled high with egg, sausage and bacon. Her stomach grumbled and she stepped forward, fully intending to beg a cook for it. However, Hunter had other ideas.

  He swooped up behind her, catching her and slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Nessa yelped, but before she could worm out of his grip, Hunter leapt through the door.

  Mud squelched beneath Hunter’s feet as he strode across the yard. Nessa clutched the back of his shirt, praying that he wouldn’t lose his footing and send them both into the muck. A couple of pigs wallowed in the corner, content in the wet slush around them, snorting as Hunter moved past, and a few chickens milled around their coup, pecking at a scattering of corn and straw on the ground.

  “This is very unnecessary,” Nessa said.

  “On that I must disagree.”

  Hunter took her over to an outbuilding at the far end of the courtyard, stone walled and low roofed, and set Nessa down on a rug that covered the entranceway. A closed door stood on either side of her, and Nessa watched as Hunter went over to the one on the right, struggling with the stiff handle for a second before it opened with a rush of warm air that smelled of soap.

  Intrigued, Nessa peered over his shoulder.

  It was a small room, square and dimly lit, with an old battered tub sat in the middle, filled almost to the brim with steaming water and glistening bubbles. A round table was at the head of the tub, holding a candle and an assortment of dainty glass bottles and bars of soap.

  With a hand between her shoulder blades, Hunter gently pushed Nessa forward. “Margret and I thought you could use a nice surprise, a thank you of sorts. This was the best we could whip up on short notice.”

  “Oh, Hunter,” Nessa murmured, oddly touched by the gesture. “Thank you.” She went over to the little table, picked up one of the little bottles and looked at it with curiosity.

  “I have no idea what all of that stuff is for,” Hunter said, nodding to the table, “so good luck finding out.” He began backing out of the room. “I’ll leave some clean clothes out here for you.”

  “Thanks,” Nessa called as the door clicked shut.

  With the door closed, the room became hot and humid. Nessa grinned and pulled off her dress, dumping it on the floor in a pile, and practically jumped into the tub, not caring that the water was nearly scalding. She hissed and held herself ridged for a moment, slowly adjusting to the temperature, bubbles fizzing around her shoulders. Her skin pinkened and her muscles relaxed, and she sank back against the tub, allowing the grime to soak away.

  Afte
r a while, Nessa began investigating the contents of the little bottles, finding that some contained oils, sandalwood and lavender, and others held liquid soaps, one of which she used on her hair, making it smell of flowers.

  Nessa scrubbed herself several times, feeling like the prison of Ironguard had left a dark stain on her skin. Only when the water had cooled did she stop. A towel had been folded and placed by the table, and as she stepped from the tub, she wrapped it around her body.

  She crossed over to the door, pulling it open an inch, and found that Hunter had been true to his word, for there, on the floor, was a stack of clean clothing, her boots sitting next to it. A new set of muddy footprints led to and from it.

  Nessa picked them up and closed the door, retreating to dress.

  The clothing wasn’t too dissimilar from what Nessa had been given in Ironguard’s prison; black legging-ish trousers, a long sleeved tunic, cream this time, and a white over shirt that was something between a dress and a blouse, falling halfway to her knees. Nessa laced up her boots and left the bathroom, going in search of Hunter, and hopefully some breakfast.

  Nessa trekked through the ankle deep mud and headed over to the kitchen door, where she hesitated, not wanting to track mud everywhere. She spied Hunter over in the far corner, seemingly harassing one of the cooks. As if sensing her gaze, he turned, saw her, and ambled over, much to the delight of the cook, who shook his head behind Hunter’s back and mumbled under his breath.

  “There you are,” Hunter said, grinning. “I was beginning to think that you had either turned into a mermaid or had dissolved.”

  Nessa rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha. Should I take my boots off?” she wondered, not wanting to be a nuisance and make a mess.

  Hunter shrugged. “It’s fine. I expect Margret will be making me clean the floors later anyway.” He waved a hand, indicating to the trails of semi-dried footprints all over the kitchen floor. “Come on, I have procured us breakfast.”

  Hunter turned, and Nessa, feeling slightly guilty about the mud that was left in her wake, followed after him. He went over to the cook he had been harassing a moment ago, who, without looking at him, handed Hunter two full plates.

  Together they entered the front room and found a vacant table. Unlike last night, the inn wasn’t deserted. Many of the tables were occupied by families, or small gatherings, who had come for a social breakfast out. A few solitary figures kept to themselves, drinking a morning pint of ale before they continued on their way; travellers who had stayed the night lodging in the inn’s guest rooms, which were on the first floor. The air was loud with conversation and the scrape of cutlery on dishes. Nessa and Hunter settled themselves into a quiet corner by the window.

  They dug into their food and Nessa savoured every mouthful, particularly enjoying the sausage and egg, and gazed out the window. The street’s wet cobblestones glistened in the pale sunlight, and a few sad grey clouds drifted high in the sky, casting dreary shadows if they dared to get too close to the sun. The river still ran bloated and dirtied, but at a slower pace, no longer threatening to burst its banks. A small number of people walked past, some carrying baskets laden with fresh bread and fruit.

  “So, umm,” Hunter said, swallowing either a mouthful of breakfast or nerves. “What do you want to do now?”

  Nessa looked at him, surprised and slightly confused. “Do about what?”

  “Well, I suppose you want to go home and such. If so, you’ll need to find someone who knows about the type of magic that was used to bring you here.”

  Nessa stared at her plate, now empty, as a hand of despair wrapped around her heart. “Home,” she whispered. “Of course I want to go home. I just don’t know how or where to even start.”

  “Well, I know someone who might have an inkling of what Margan did, and how to undo it. Maybe.” Hunter fiddled with his fork. “He seems like the best place to start. Pretty sure Margan’s not going to be particularly helpful if we go back to him and start asking questions.”

  “Probably not,” Nessa murmured in agreement as she remembered his words from her waking dream. “Margan seemed pretty sure that no one would be willing or able to help me.”

  “Margan is an arrogant arse and has no idea what goes on under his nose.”

  Nessa raised her brows at his dark tone, but didn’t comment. “So you think that your acquaintance might be able to help me?”

  “I think he’s the best person to start with. If he can’t help, then he’ll know someone who can.”

  “There doesn’t seem to be very many options open to me.”

  “No,” Hunter said honestly. “But at least there’s one that doesn’t involve going back to Margan.”

  “I suppose,” Nessa sighed. “So where is your friend then, the one that might be able to help?”

  “Orm? Well, truth be told, he could be anywhere. You see, Orm has a talent for getting himself neck deep in trouble, more so than me, and that’s saying something. But,” he scratched his head, “there’s someone nearby who might know.”

  “That’s something, I suppose. So we’ll find Orm and hope that he can help me?”

  Hunter nodded. “Sounds like a mighty fine plan. We’ll go to the market and see if we can find his trail. If he’s not local then we’ll get some supplies and head out later. How does that sound?”

  “Perfect. When do you want to go?”

  Hunter stood. “No time like the present. Unlike you, I’m an early riser and have been ready for action for ages.”

  Nessa ran her eyes over him, noticing that he had indeed changed clothing and was considerably cleaner. His linen shirt was loose and a size too big, but it was free from stains and rips, as were his trousers. At some point during Nessa’s bath he had also put on some boots.

  Nessa rose, eager to get the ball rolling, as the saying goes. The sooner she found this Orm person, the sooner she could go home. Hopefully.

  Together they wormed around tables and people and entered onto the street. Nessa paused for a second, breathing in the fresh air. It was different there, cool and crisp, without the lingering smell of exhaust fumes or the rumble of engines. There was a sense of calmness around her.

  The river ran beside them, and they followed it for some time through the city. Hunter was quiet beside her, wrapped up in his own musings. ‘Away with the fairies,’ as Nessa’s mother would say. Nessa didn’t mind and left him to his thoughts, for it allowed her time with her own.

  Nessa looked at her surroundings with wide eyes, taking in the small details, like how the glass windowpanes were handmade, thick and slightly irregular, and how the buildings didn’t have a straight line to them. How medieval, Nessa thought. There were no signs of cars or electric, nothing to hint of their existence. It was all rather refreshing.

  The river curved to the side in a lazy bend, leading them into a more densely populated part of the city, and further away from the castle that loomed over them like a dark cloud. Even in daylight it was still a menacing sight, a black crown on a rocky outcrop, sharp and foreboding. No matter where you were, you could not escape from its glare for long.

  The riverside lane widened, and after rounding a corner of a large building, they came upon a sprawling square that was filled with stalls, people and noise. Though it was fairly early in the morning, and the air had a chill to it, the market thrummed with life. Wooden waggons and carts overflowed with all manner of goods, and sellers stood behind makeshift tables covered with trinkets, calling out their wares to passersby.

  Nessa stared, feeling something between awe and shock. Looking at the people, Nessa felt as if she had travelled back in time. Many women wore long dresses that fell to the ground, beautiful and elegant, made from silk and velvet. In groups they prowled around the booths that sold fabrics and jewellery, oozing wealth and elegance. The men wore similarly foreign clothing; smocks, tunics and doublets.

  Nessa eyed a beautiful, raven haired woman, and felt quite lacking and out of place. The woman’s dress was a rich r
ed, the bodice covered in a fine pattern of metallic embroidery, the skirt full and shifted like water with the slightest movement. For a split second, Nessa felt a touch of jealousy, wanting to wear something so gorgeous, but then she noticed that the men and women behind the stalls were dressed like her and Hunter, and Nessa realised that she wore the clothing of the working class.

  Hunter stood on his tiptoes, trying to see over the crowd. He nodded to Nessa and then started off again. She trailed behind him as he wove through the market, unable to stop herself from looking at the stalls as she passed.

  At first glance, Nessa was disappointed, seeing nothing but the usual things you would find in a large marketplace; clothing, fabrics, jewellery and knick-knacks. But on closer inspection, she started to notice things that subtly stood out. In a stall that sold a multitude of fruit and vegetables was a basket of apples of such a deep red that they were nearly purple, and over in a booth that sold clothing was a cape that fluttered in a light breeze, shifting from black, to blue, to an iridescent beetle green. Nessa gazed around with growing wonder and curiosity as she spied an increasing number of beautifully abnormal things.

  Hunter cut through the market square with single minded purpose, not bothering to stop and look at anything or talk to anyone. He headed over to a wide street that played host to shops, cafes and bakeries, and then turned down a narrow, shadowed alley that ended in a small yard. Over to the side was a shop, a sign hanging above the door announcing that it was ‘The Bell, Book and Candle.’

  The windows were dark and covered in a layer of grime that made it impossible to see what was on display.

  “You may find things a little strange in there,” Hunter said, pausing by the door.

  “How so?”

  Hunter smiled impishly. “The fun is in the surprise.” He opened the door and disappeared inside.

  Nessa stood in the yard for a second, bemused. “Fun for him or me?” she wondered.

  With some degree of apprehension, Nessa followed Hunter into the less than welcoming shop.