“Fear not.” Hunter reached out, opening up her messenger bag. “Nature was kind enough to provide for us.” Aoife raised her head, eyes expectant. “Out the way, medium sized reptile.” He reached in and pulled out a handful of those strange husks he had picked earlier.
“You can actually eat those things?” Nessa eyed them, finding their appearance to be less than appetising. They were about the size of an apple, thick skinned and shrivelled, looking as tough as old boots.
“Not the whole thing.” He crushed one in his hand, the dry skin crunching. He snapped off the broken pieces, casting them to the ground until he held a palm full of small pebble-like nuts. “But you can munch on these little beauties.”
“Yum,” Nessa mumbled.
“No need to be sarcastic,” Hunter said, popping one in his mouth. “They’re a lot yummier than they look.”
“They’d have to be,” she said, taking one and rolling it between her fingers, finding it to be surprisingly hard, “because they don’t look yummy at all.”
“Eat the damn nut.”
Nessa placed it her mouth and bit down, expecting an unpleasant taste to be forthcoming. She blinked in shock. The nut, contrary to its withered appearance, actually tasted alright. Nothing to brag home about, but it was, at least, edible.
Hunter raised his brows. “Tasty?”
Nessa grudgingly said, “It’s okay.”
Hunter snorted and ate another one, then handed Nessa the rest. She held them in her cupped hand, slowly nibbling them.
Hunter nodded to Aoife, who, whilst still sat in the bag, had poked her head out, sniffing curiously at the air. “You’d best keep the dragon hidden,” he said. “We’ll soon be coming across people and it’s best if no one sees it.”
Nessa nodded.
Aoife was unimpressed at having to remain in the bag. For some inexplicable reason, Nessa felt the dragon’s irritation as her own.
She shook the idea away, finding it ludicrous.
“Ready?” Hunter asked.
Nessa eyed the dark mouth of the tunnel.
“Let’s get it over with,” she said, popping another nut in her mouth.
∞∞∞
The darkness of the tunnel was absolute. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of illumination, nothing to see their way by. Hunter held Nessa’s hand in his own, guiding her. Using his cat-like senses once again, she supposed, swearing to herself that he must be able to see in the dark. Nothing else explained how he never tripped over or led them astray.
For a long time there was nothing but darkness and silence.
Then, when it felt as if hours had passed by, a pinprick of light shone up ahead.
It was far in the distance, but it was there nonetheless.
They hurried towards it, eager to be out of the dark.
As they drew closer, Nessa’s ears picked up a faint sound, a low murmur. At first she thought it was the thunder of running water, but a few minutes later, when she stood at the end of the tunnel, she realised what it actually was: Voices, so many voices merging together in a large cavernous space, heard from afar.
“Wow,” Nessa whispered, taking in the sight that was spread out before her.
“Welcome to The Hidden City,” Hunter said, amber eyes aglow.
Hunter had been right. After seeing The Hidden City, Nessa never wanted to leave.
The tunnel opened up onto a small balcony that was perched high up, offering a bird’s eye view of the city.
What a city it was, stretching far and wide, hidden deep in the belly of the mountain.
Nessa was amazed. Never before had she seen such a thing.
The cave was immense, the sheer size of it almost unfeasible. Either end was out of sight, and the ceiling, hundreds of feet above the ground, was riddled with huge stalactites that reached down like grotesque claws, twisted and curved. Covering the ground was a sea of multicoloured tents of every size and shape. People filled the narrow walkways, the calls and shouts just reaching Nessa’s ears. It was a hive of activity.
A city under a mountain was a curious thing in itself, but even more curious was how it was illuminated.
Growing on pale logs were ethereal glowing mushrooms.
They were everywhere. They lined the walls, the sides, and they were dotted throughout the sea of tents; amazingly enough, some were even suspended from the ceiling, the logs on which the mushrooms grew hanging down on thick ropes.
Nessa giggled at the absurdity of it. Glowing mushrooms. Who would have thought?
Their glow was radiant and distant, filling the gigantic space with soft light.
A narrow, winding staircase was to Nessa’s left, leading to the city below. She went over to it, practically skipping down the first few steps. She ran a hand over the rope banister, feeling the coarse texture against her palm as it guided her downward. Her gaze roamed everywhere, drinking in the sight that was The Hidden City. Hunter was quiet as he followed behind her, just letting her take it all in.
Nessa paused when she came across a group of those ethereal mushrooms, taking the opportunity to look at them up close.
They were small and delicate, only a few inches in height, a cluster of five that sat on a smooth white log. Their caps were bell shaped with a waved edge, and had a little frilled skirt that just peeked out from beneath. Diffused light came from somewhere within the mushrooms, making them appear to have a slight translucence to them.
“They come from far up north,” Hunter said. “From the Whyte Woods.”
Nessa gently ran a finger over one, the light making her fingertip glow red.
“How beautiful,” Nessa said.
“There are other ones down in the city, all shapes and sizes. I’ll show you my favourite ones if we come across them?”
Nessa nodded and, somewhat reluctantly, stepped away from the mushrooms, continuing down the stairs. The smell of food, delicious hot food, reached her nose and propelled her forward. Aoife, it seemed, scented something that caught her interest too, and squirmed, wanting to be free. Nessa rested her hand on the bag, sending the dragon a calming thought. Aoife quietened, although Nessa could tell that it wouldn’t be for long.
As soon as Nessa stepped off the stairs, she was swallowed by the hustle and bustle of the city. The tents were pushed up against the side of the cave, creating a narrow walkway that teemed with people. Hunter grabbed her hand before she was caught up by the current, and nodded, indicating that they should cross the street, tugging her over to a small tent opposite.
The front section of the tent was pulled up, held in place by two wooden poles, creating a sheltered porch-like area. Large fire pits sat inside, spewing smoke and steam that was let out by a couple of small flaps, and nestled on top of them were a number of pots and pans, cooking sausages and a mixture of other delightful things.
Nessa’s mouth watered and her stomach growled as they neared.
Dropping her hand, Hunter shot her a grin and rifled in his pocket as the chef came to stand behind the counter. He ordered and pulled out a couple of small copper coins. The chef pocketed them in his grease stained smock and barked at his assistant, who hurried around the cramped tent, pulling out a couple of plates and piling them high with food. Dinner was handed to them a few minutes later, and Hunter swiftly led them over to a quiet area by the side of the cave. They sat down, resting their backs against the stone, and dug in.
Nessa discovered that she was hungrier than she had first thought, and the scrambled eggs and bacon practically vanished. A single sausage remained when restraint kicked in, restraint, and a feeling that Nessa was sure came from the bag. She opened it carefully and peered in accusingly. Aoife looked up at her, blinking big eyes.
Nessa looked around, making sure that no one saw, and slipped the sausage into the bag, much to Aoife’s delight. Her angular head darted forward, snapping at it like a striking snake. Nessa flipped the bag closed, hoping that no one noticed that it was moving slightly.
As Hun
ter leisurely finished, Nessa gazed around, finding it all a little overwhelming. People were everywhere, shouting, laughing, talking as they went, walking down the streets, looking at the wares that were on offer. Like every city, there was the centre, filled with markets and shops, and it seemed that Nessa and Hunter were right next to it.
The people were fascinating, dressed in vibrant clothes of reds and purples and royal blues, in silks and velvets. They had the feel of nobility to them, or maybe they were wealthy merchants. They were something of that sort. Nessa eyed them as they passed, her imagination working in overdrive. She wondered what it must be like to wear such things, such bright and rich dresses and robes. It was a very girlish thought, Nessa knew, but she couldn’t help but desire to be in their shoes, quite literally, even if only for a day.
Maybe you could, if only you stayed, a quiet voice whispered to her.
Nessa froze, wondering where that had came from. It hadn’t been her own musing, that was for sure.
“I hope that dragon of yours is behaving?” Hunter asked, knocking Nessa out of her thoughts.
“She’s a little hungry,” Nessa said. “But I have her under control. I think.”
“Good, good.” Hunter stood. “No one can see or know about it.”
Nessa got to her feet, holding the bag against her side so as not to jostle Aoife too much. “And what if someone was to see her?”
Hunter shifted and looked around, uneasy. “It’d depend on the person, but I reckon most people would hand you over to the authorities. Remember, there’s a bounty on your head, a nice juicy bounty. And many people who have come here have fallen out of favour in the Kingdoms. This is a safe place for many, and most of them are content to be here. But not everyone wants to spend the rest of their lives living in a cave. If someone gave you to Margan, or even to the king, which you really don’t want to happen, then they would be set for life, all past misdeeds forgotten.”
Nessa swallowed nervously. “Best to keep the dragon secret then.”
Hunter nodded and took her empty plate, stacking it on top of his own, and returned them to the food vendor. When he came back, he looked at her expectantly. “Do you want to have a look around, or are you eager to find Orm?”
Nessa deliberated quickly, desiring to explore the market but unsure whether Aoife would tolerate it. “Perhaps a quick peruse around?”
“Excellent.”
They wandered around for a time with no particular direction, just going with the flow of people. There were the mundane stalls of fruit and vegetables, trinkets and cloth, and other such things, but mixed in with the everyday stalls were those that sold the extraordinary, the unusual and the strange.
One tent was filled with shelves covered in coloured bottles sealed with wax, potions and tonics. Jars of bones and other equally creepy things were also dotted throughout, little glass rings with tiny monster skulls inside, matching pendants too. The air had been thick with the scent of incense, making their eyes water. They hadn’t lingered in there for very long. Another shop had an array of books that screamed when opened. The seller had informed them that they make particularly good diaries when Hunter had demanded to know what the point of them was, ears ringing.
Hunter had strode way, fuming at such an explanation.
“Stupid bloody idea if you ask me,” he muttered.
“I dunno,” Nessa said. “No one would ever want to open it to read your secrets.”
“No, I don’t suppose anyone would. I also doubt that anyone would be able to stand the noise long enough to write their secrets in the first bloody place.”
“Mmm.”
Onward they ventured, past tents of all colours, sizes and shapes. Some were plain, others ornate with silver or gold trim. All of it was illuminated by those beautiful ghostly mushrooms that were everywhere.
Hunter suddenly pulled her over to the side. “Here,” he said. “These are my favourites.”
A large branch sat beside a dark entrance of a mysterious tent, its bottom dug into the hard ground and its spindly twigs splayed upward like reaching talons. From it sprouted a number of peculiar glowing fungi, possibly the most fanciful Nessa had seen so far.
“They’re like witches’ hats,” laughed Nessa.
With a wide brim and a pointed tip that had a slight curl to it, the description suited them perfectly. They were small and dainty, with most of them being a plain translucent white. Others, though, had large knobbly spots that had a faint greenish tinge to them.
“Witches hats?” Hunter shook his head. “You must not have met many witches in your life. I’ve never seen one wear a hat that looks remotely like these.”
Nessa chuckled, not able to find a suitable response.
Hunter nudged her with an elbow. “So, what do you think of them?”
“I can see why they’re your favourites.”
“I like the spotty ones more,” he said. “They’re more fun to look at.”
“If you say so.”
“I wonder if someone sells them. I want to buy some.”
“I imagine that if someone sells screaming diaries, then someone’s bound to sell glowing spotty mushrooms.”
Hunter murmured in agreement, standing on tiptoes to see over the crowd as he searched the street. Nessa turned back to the mushrooms, gazing at them, trying to pinpoint exactly where the light came from, and not being met with much success. There was the beat of wings and the branch trembled, making the mushrooms quiver and sway. Nessa looked up, finding, of all things, a raven perched on the top.
A raven that stared down at her with familiar blue eyes.
“You,” Nessa whispered in recognition.
It was the winged menace from the ruined town, the one who had incidentally led her to the mirror.
The raven cawed in confirmation, flapping its wings, buffeting the air.
Slowly, Nessa reached out to it. Why, she didn’t know. To touch its feathers? To catch it?
A hand clamped onto Nessa’s wrist, pulling her up short.
She looked over, finding that it was Hunter. His eyes were locked onto the bird’s, and something passed between them, something that made Nessa’s spine prickle with misgiving.
“It’s best not to touch strange animals,” he said quietly. He brought her arm down, pressing it to her side. “We should go find Orm.”
Nessa found herself bewildered. “Right,” she said, puzzled as to why he was staring at the bird with such intensity.
“Like, right now.”
“If you say so.” Nessa allowed him to pull her away, casting a confused glance over her shoulder as they were swallowed by the tide of shoppers.
The bird stared after them with keen eyes.
A shiver of warning crawled over her.
Hunter tugged her through the sea of tents and stalls, and the blue eyed raven soon vanished from sight, although her suspicions didn’t leave her so quickly. That bird was the one that had led her to the mirror, Nessa was sure of it, but if that was so, how had it come to be there, of all places?
Was it just a coincidence?
Hunter directed her over to the other side of the cave. The wall was rugged and played host to several smaller caves and a couple of tunnels that branched from it like limbs. They went down one, a tunnel that was shadowed and cramped. The sides pressed in and there were few glowing mushrooms to light the way. The air was cold, and Nessa felt as if there were eyes on her, but when she looked around, she could see no one there.
The tunnel was empty for a short distance, then, when they went around a shallow bend, doors appeared, lining either side, all irregularly shaped, fitting badly into the door frames, and painted bright colours. Although there was a more residential feel to the place, Nessa did see a couple of signs hanging above wonky doors, so it wasn’t completely devoid of shops altogether.
They stopped in front of a door that had peeling red paint. Pale light shone from around the edges where it didn’t quite fit into the frame, and a qui
et, melodic sound of reed pipes could be heard.
“Well,” Hunter said. “This is Orm’s place, and it sounds like someone’s home.”
Nessa looked at him, her doubt clear for him to see.
Without further ado, Hunter pulled open the door and Nessa prepared herself to meet the mysterious Orm.
The man who might know the answers to so many of Nessa’s questions.
The man who she had travelled for a hundred miles to find.
Nessa didn’t know what she had been expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t the scene in front of her. The air held an overwhelming amount of scented smoke, thick and heavy, filling the round bubble-like room with an eye-watering haze. It was hard to see clearly, but there were things everywhere, bookshelves, piles of clothing, large statues. The list was extensive.
In the middle of the room was a circle of wooden chests, on which sat an array of smoking incense sticks. In the centre, on a bed of pillows, was a man. He was sitting cross-legged, his eyes closed and a small reed pipe resting on his lips, emitting a strange tune.
Nessa stood by the doorway, unable to step inside. Hunter too, seemed likewise inclined, and remained out in the street, using the door as a fan. The smoke billowed out in a cloud of sandalwood and champa flower. Nessa couldn’t help but sneeze.
“Damn it, Orm,” Hunter coughed. “How have you not suffocated?”
The music stopped as Orm slowly lowered the pipe. “Now,” he said without opening his eyes, “who do I know that’s rude and annoying enough to interrupt my musical playing-ness?”
The air now clearer, Hunter ushered Nessa through the door, closing it behind them. He sighed, “Boiled to the gills, aren’t you Orm?”
Nessa took that meaning as drunk. Orm was drunk. Or something of the kind.
She stared at him, finding that he had a fine scattering of blond stubble on his chin and a shaved head. His nose was a little on the big side, adding a bit of character to his face, and even though he was sat down, Nessa could tell that he was tall. She could see the defined shapes of muscles under his baggy tunic.
House of Fear and Freedom (The Wyrd Sequence Book 1) Page 25
