“Pleased to meet you,” she laughed. “I’m Nessa.”
“Nessa,” Orm grinned, “come, take a seat. Or more accurately, come and take a pillow. Breakfast is nearly ready.” Orm took his own advice and Nessa followed suit, plonking herself down on a rather plush pillow.
“I do hope you like eggs,” Orm continued. “It’s all I have at the moment.”
Hunter leaned over, whispering in her ear, “And all he’s able to cook, and even then it’s hit and miss.”
Orm served up the eggs, which were scrambled and slightly burnt. Nessa didn’t complain, all politeness, and wolfed them down. Hunter, on the other hand, turned up his nose. “Is this really the best you can do?”
Orm glared and raised his spoon threateningly.
“Are you going to take some of this delicious food up to your lady friend?” Hunter asked with a sickening amount of fake sweetness.
Orm looked confused. “What lady friend?”
“The one naked in your bed.”
Sudden realisation crossed Orm’s face. “I was having a bit of fun shortly before the two of you came,” he explained with a sly grin. “She’s still there? She is alive, isn’t she?”
Hunter shrugged. “She was breathing.”
“Huh. I suppose I had better go and see her out.”
“Yes,” Hunter advised. “You don’t want any more angry fathers turning up on your doorstep.”
“Husbands,” Orm corrected as he stood. “It’s usually husbands.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “Of course.” He looked up at Orm. “If you didn’t know she was still up there, then where did you sleep?”
“I’m not completely sure,” Orm confessed, “but I think it was in the gutter outside Marie’s place.”
“Still trying to win her over?”
Orm shook his head as he exited the kitchen. “No, but old habits die hard.”
Hunter murmured his concurrence, and picked at his scrambled eggs.
“He’s completely out of his mind,” Nessa said when she heard the stairs rattle with Orm’s ascent.
Hunter nodded, not disagreeing. “But he knows about all kinds of things, so he has some use.”
“You honestly think that he might know how Margan brought me here?”
“He’s one of the best options I could think of. The nearest, too.”
“And if he doesn’t know, what then?”
“Then we’ll search for someone who does. Simple as that.”
“Simple as that?” Nessa repeated, surprised.
Hunter grinned. “Simple as that. If Orm doesn’t know himself, then he’ll probably know of someone who does.”
“Right,” Nessa said with false brightness. On the inside, though, she was beginning to wonder if it really mattered anymore, especially after what she had come to realise last night. She shook herself, not wanting to dwell on such negative thoughts. “That sounds good to me.”
“Excellent.” Hunter stole the last of the eggs from the pan, practically inhaling them as soon as they hit his plate.
Feet pounded on the stairs, two pairs, and Nessa guessed that Orm had managed to rouse his lady friend. There was a murmured conversation and then the sound of the front door opening and closing. Orm reappeared a moment later, and beckoned them into the shop, which seemed to double as a living room. Nessa was beginning to have doubts that it was actually a shop, and that Orm was just a hoarder of unusual things, using a shop as a guise.
Orm moved around, lighting a number of candles that were dotted here and there by merely touching the tip of his finger to the wick. No matches needed. The flames first flared green before settling down to the usual yellow-orange. The room was filled with dancing light, which caught strangely on the rounded rock, illustrating the fact that there were no windows, a reminder that they were deep in a mountain’s belly. Nessa was beginning to find the absence of natural light unnatural and claustrophobic.
Finished with lighting the candles, Orm jumped over the circle of wooden chests, settling himself down on the bed of pillows. “So what, my lovelies,” he said, eyes twinkling, “can I do for you?”
Hunter heaved a long suffering sigh and crossed over to the front door, sliding the bolt home, keeping any unwanted ears away.
Orm’s interest grew. “It’s for my ears only. How fantastic.”
Hunter gave his friend a withering glare. “Are you cockeyed?” Orm looked at him blankly. “Drunk?”
“Sadly no,” Orm replied, sinking deeper into the pillows. “Although I really wish I were.”
Nessa swallowed her laughter and joined Orm on the pillows. He smiled and gave her a wink as Hunter sat beside her, a unified front.
Orm gazed at them, the easy grin slipping from his face.
“Oh Gods,” Orm murmured. “This is serious, isn’t it?”
Nessa grimaced as Hunter merely nodded. This probably wasn’t going to be a particularly pleasant conversation.
Orm groaned. “You know I’m not good with serious problems.”
“Well,” Hunter said dryly, “you’re all we have right now, so you’ll just have to suck it up.”
Orm pulled a face. “Fine. What have you done now, Hunter?”
“Me?” Hunter was outraged. “What have I done, you ask?”
“It’s always you,” Orm argued. “It’s either you or me. And I’m not the one that’s spent three months in Ironguard.”
Hunter sputtered. “You!”
Orm grinned from ear to ear.
“Actually,” Nessa said, sensing that they were a few words away from a punch up, “it’s to do with me. Or more accurately, what was done to me.”
Orm’s eyebrows shot up.
“Ha!” Hunter barked, triumphant.
Both Nessa and Orm ignored him.
“You?” Orm murmured thoughtfully, eyes keen and assessing. “You don’t strike me as someone who searches for trouble.”
“I don’t,” Nessa said, “but in this instance it found me.”
“Is that so?”
Nessa nodded.
“Huh.”
“Nessa,” Hunter interjected, “why don’t you go get problem number one?”
Nessa frowned, not understanding what he was talking about.
“The small purple one,” he insisted.
Nessa was surprised. “Oh. You sure that’s a good idea?”
Hunter nodded. “It will help speed this along.”
“Right.” She clambered out from the pillows, over the chests, and left the front room. She rushed upstairs, making them groan and squeak as she went. Before she had even got into the spare bedroom, Nessa knew that Aoife was no longer asleep. In fact, the little dragon was sat by the curtained door, waiting for her.
Nessa didn’t dwell on that, and just scooped up the dragon, hurrying back downstairs.
Orm had his back to her, slouched as he was, and didn’t notice her return. She hopped back into the circle of pillows and sat down beside Hunter. Aoife squirmed in her arms and without much of a fight, Nessa released the dragon hatchling. Aoife didn’t wander far, staying near Nessa, sniffing at the pillows around her.
Nessa looked over at Orm, finding that his face was a perfect picture of horror and shock. He stared at Aoife, white as a sheet.
“D-d-dragon,” he sputtered. “There’s a bloody dragon in my home!”
“Only a little one,” Hunter said helpfully.
Orm scowled. “A dragon is a dragon. I don’t care how bloody big it is.”
“Well, you’d care a lot more of it was the size of a cow instead of a cat.”
Orm’s scowl deepened. “True, but you’re trying to distract me from the matter at hand.”
“Maybe just a little.”
“You’re not doing a good job.”
“Oh dear.”
“This isn’t your dragon, is it?”
Hunter shook his head.
“You didn’t steal it either, did you?”
Another shake of Hunter’s head
.
Orm turned to Nessa, his whiskey coloured eyes uncharacteristically serious. She gulped nervously under the weight of them.
“Your hand,” Orm said, holding out his own imploringly.
Nessa knew what he was asking for. She rolled up her sleeve, revealing the purple-hued scar, and placed her hand in his. He turned it this way and that, making it shimmer in the dancing candle light, seemingly coming alive. Orm swallowed and released Nessa’s hand. She immediately shoved down her sleeve, hiding as much of the scar as possible. This didn’t go unnoticed, though neither Hunter nor Orm made to comment.
“Well,” Orm muttered, “this is something I never expected to happen.”
“Join the club,” Hunter said. Nessa gazed at him, scowling.
“What House do you belong to?” Orm asked quietly.
“That’s problem number two,” Hunter interrupted before Nessa could answer. “She thinks it’s unlikely that she’s from one of the Twelve Houses.”
“Nonsense,” Orm scoffed, “she has to be.” He looked at Nessa. “You have to be. You have to be from one of the Twelve Families, either by noble birth or by a bastard line. Otherwise the egg would never have hatched for you.”
Hunter spoke up for Nessa again, and she was grateful. It was round two of the argument she had just a few days ago, only he was on her side this time round, fighting for her rather than against. It was an improvement. “Ah, this is where we run into problem number three,” Hunter was saying. “Nessa is, shall we say, not exactly from around here.”
“You mean she’s from up north?”
“No, I mean that she’s been brought here from another world.”
“Literally from another world?”
“Very literally,” Nessa confirmed.
Orm, bemused, pursed his lips. His eyes darted between Nessa and Hunter, weighing up the possibility of them actually telling the truth or if they were just making it up.
“How did this happen?” he eventually asked.
Nessa blinked. “How did what happen?”
“How did you come through the Veil? How were you brought to the Twelve Kingdoms?”
“Uh… I was pulled through a mirror, an old one that was corroded and had flickering green lights dancing all over its surface, like lightening. When I went near it, Margan reached out and grabbed me.”
Orm’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, or they would have, if he actually had some hair. Nessa frowned, wondering, not for the first time, at how old Orm was. The shaven head threw her off a bit, making him seem older, but his eyes were bright and there were no wrinkles around them save for a few laughter lines. Nessa thought that he was perhaps in his late twenties.
“Margan,” Orm mused, completely oblivious to Nessa’s pondering. “That can’t be good. You sure it was a mirror?”
“I’m sure.”
“Like, a hundred percent sure?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.” Orm leaned back, crossing his arms, looking utterly perplexed.
“I take it Margan didn’t use the standard magical abduction method?”
“No,” Orm murmured. “In fact, he used a way that should be impossible.”
“Impossible?” But it was possible, as Nessa had discovered.
Orm nodded. “It wasn’t a normal mirror that you were pulled through, but a portalling one.”
“That makes sense.”
“Indeed it does, except that nearly eighteen years ago every portal was destroyed.”
“Clearly not all of them,” Hunter muttered.
“No, it seems that not all of them were destroyed,” agreed Orm. “Margan must have found one that had escaped the destruction its brothers had met. He must have used it to bring Nessa here.” His thoughtful whiskey eyes landed on her. “To bring you here,” he amended. “But why?”
“I haven’t got the faintest idea,” Nessa told him honestly.
“No?”
“Nope.”
Orm’s eyes slid to Aoife, who was sat by Nessa’s side, busy cleaning her scales. “It can’t have been just to get a new Rider. There are more than enough bastards running around. Why go to all the difficulty of finding a portal, something everyone had thought were destroyed, just for another Dragon Rider when there are so many easier options available? Unless, of course, you are different and worth the trouble Margan must have gone through to get you?”
“There’s nothing remotely special about me, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you.”
“No?”
Orm shook his head. “I cannot even begin to fathom how he found a portal in the first place, let alone the spell that would open it. For nigh on eighteen years, countless magic users, and many mortals too, have searched all corners of the known world for even a whisper of such a thing. None have come close, not even remotely. It is curious then, that Margan, of all people, should happen upon it, and in secret, too. It is very curious indeed, for I can guarantee that not even King Kaenar knows about this. And he knows everything that happens in his kingdoms. Margan stands to lose everything if the king finds out what he’s done. King Kaenar will see this as disobedience, as treason, so there must be a bloody good reason for Margan to choose you over countless others.”
“There isn't,” Nessa argued. “I’m normal, boring even. Maybe Margan made a mistake.”
“Margan isn’t one to make mistakes.”
“There’s always a first for everything.”
“Not in this.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I just am.”
“Oh?”
“The time… The research… The magic needed… What was at stake… Margan wouldn’t dare make his move unless he was absolutely sure.”
“Then it must have been a coincidence.”
“No,” Orm said slowly. “I think there is more to you than meets the eye.”
Nessa stared down at her lap. “I don’t think that’s true.”
Orm snorted softly, his disbelief evident. However, much to Nessa’s immense relief, he changed the subject slightly.
“It is a puzzle,” Orm murmured, “how he found an intact portal to begin with, and it’s a complete mystery of how he managed to use it. I’m finding this all quite baffling.”
“What’s so baffling about that?” Hunter asked. “He managed to find a portal and the spell that made it work. Tricky, maybe, but clearly he managed it.”
“Even with the spell, it shouldn’t have worked.”
Nessa frowned, confused. “Why is that?”
“Because the pathways between the portals were broken. Even with an intact portal and the spell, it shouldn’t have worked because there was nothing for the portal to connect to.”
“How did that happen?”
“No one knows,” Orm sighed. “Portalling has always been a fickle and dangerous business, and very few people have ever done it. You’re more likely to die than make it to the desired destination. A tiny number of people have ever succeeded. It’s not a thing that many seek to try.”
Nessa scowled. “Nice to know that Margan could have killed me in the process of bringing me here.”
Orm gave her a smile. “But you didn’t die, so it’s all good.”
Nessa was still unimpressed.
Orm stood and made his way over to a bookshelf. It was a sad thing, tilting to one side, the shelves broken and seemingly held up by books. It was messy too, papers and scrolls tucked into every available nook and cranny, over flowing. Orm rummaged around, sending things falling to the floor.
“Ah-ha!” he cried triumphantly, picking up a thing that had once been a book. The cover was in tatters, the spine held together by just a few threads. A couple of pages fluttered loose, drifting down to the floor like falling autumn leaves. Orm paid them no mind, jumping back into the circle of pillows and laying the poor old book in the middle. He opened it, flicking through the pages until he came upon an elaborate illustration.
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br /> It was not unlike a medieval manuscript, hand drawn and illuminated with silver and gold. In the centre was a tree, thick trunked and with far reaching branches. Nestled within its clutches were nine flat worlds, their seas spilling over the sides, dripping onto the tree’s roots. The border around it was an ornate pattern, filled with lines and sigils. At first, Nessa glossed over them, finding the illustration of the tree far more interesting, but then something about a couple of the sigils stood out to her. She recognised them. Sort of.
Hunter noticed. “Have you seen this before?”
Nessa began to shake her head, ready to deny it, but then stopped. “Not this exact picture, but yes, the tree does ring a bell. It’s Yggdrasil, isn’t it, from Norse mythology?”
“Perhaps that’s what it’s called where you’re from,” Orm said. “But here we call it the Erith Tree.”
“The Erith Tree?”
Orm nodded. “This is how the portals were destroyed.” Orm tapped a branch that connected to one world. “The pathway that led to our world was severed, the branch cut. Without our connection to the heart of the tree,” he ran his finger down the branch to the tree’s trunk, “we are unable to portal to any of the other worlds.” His finger ran up another branch and rested on a different world.
“Fascinating,” Nessa murmured.
“That wasn’t all you recognised,” Orm said. “Something else sparked a memory.”
“Indeed.” Nessa pointed to a couple of the sigils. “I’ve seen something very similar to these in the town where the mirror, excuse me, portal was.”
Orm frowned. “Similar, but not exactly like these?”
“The ones I saw were more angled, sharper.”
“Huh.” Orm rubbed his head. “What about the others, do they seem familiar?”
Nessa peered at them. “A few,” she said after a minute. “But they still differ a little from the ones I remember seeing.”
“You sure?” Orm pressed.
“Yes,” Nessa said, slouching back against the wooden chest, “I am completely, one hundred percent sure.”
Hunter gazed at Orm. “Does this mean something important?” he asked his friend, who was starting to look troubled. “What does it mean?”
“What does it mean?” Orm mused. “I haven’t got the faintest idea. This is well beyond my realm of knowledge. That’s all I know for certain.”
House of Fear and Freedom (The Wyrd Sequence Book 1) Page 27
