Chapter Three
Iawaken flailing as if I am falling through the sky, a strange feeling like waking abruptly from a dream. But I’m not falling. I’m lying on my back in deep grass, as I was before.
Except now the sun shines overhead through a hazy, sterling sky.
Jerking upright, I look for the jade-eyed man. But he’s not here. I’m alone. As my eyes scan my surroundings, my heart begins to race in my chest. This place…it’s not familiar. I am no longer fifty feet from the ocean a few miles outside of Kyrn. I am somewhere else entirely.
Mountains scrape the sky in the distance, and behind me, rolling hills shaded with vast forests stretch as far as I can see.
There is only one mountain range in Tervanne, and this is not it.
Those mountains are small and russet-shaded, rising from a sandy coastline area.
These mountains are enormous, deep gray and snow-capped.
That means wherever I am, I’m no longer in Tervanne.
But that’s not even the most alarming part.
The thing that shocks me most is the stone wall rising a few hundred feet in front of me, and the huge castle sitting beyond it.
Where in the thirteen hells…
A horn blast cuts through the air and the giant portcullis in the fortress wall begins to rise.
That gets me up in a hurry. But I’m barely to my feet, my legs shaky and weak beneath me, before a dozen riders on horseback come charging toward me.
There’s no escaping, so I don’t even try.
My head is fuzzy as if I’d had too much to drink the night before, my body sluggish and nonresponsive.
I remember the cloaked man touching a finger to my forehead…
Magic. Magic can be the only explanation for this. I hate magic.
As the riders surround me, I try to look as non-threatening as possible, which isn’t hard given my current state.
My eyes take in their black armor, thick black cloaks, gleaming swords and the sigils on their chests.
These are not the same people who have been hunting me.
Their attire and their weapons are too nice.
Plus, I recognize the sigil they’re wearing.
Every citizen in Aureon would recognize it.
Because it’s the sigil of the Shadow Guardians, Queen Sarielle’s personally appointed protectors of the realm.
My eyes widen. Is this the Queen’s castle?
The thought is banished a moment later. I’ve never been to the Court of Nightmares, but I’ve heard tale of it. A white castle set in a valley of great beauty. This place is far too formidable, too austere.
“State your name and your business!” booms one of the riders in a deep, commanding voice.
The riders have me enclosed in a tight circle, twelve swords drawn and pointed at me. It takes me a moment to find my voice, which seems reluctant to work, like the rest of me. As if I’d swallowed a bucket of sand.
“My name is Embyr,” I call. “I—I don’t know how I got here.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” the rider asks sharply.
All of them move another step closer to me. They’re already so close I can feel the hot breath from their horses, who stomp and prance as if they want to trample me. The flash of a blade hits my eyes.
“I’m… I got knocked unconscious and then I woke up here. There was a man…” I realize as I speak that I sound crazy.
“What man?” asks another rider, a woman. She glares at me as if I’m some sort of sorceress.
“I—I don’t know… I know this sounds odd, but I’m telling the truth!”
“Do you realize you’re trespassing on private property?”
I shake my head back and forth. “No. I told you, I—” A sudden horrifying thought pops into my head. This is far too reminiscent of that night, eight years ago, when I woke up in a similar fashion. “What year is it?” The question pops out of my mouth before I can stop it.
“You don’t know what year it is?” one of the Guardians asks, eyes wide with disbelief.
“She’s damaged in the head…” another mumbles loud enough to hear.
“It’s the year of the dragon, twenty-fifth century,” the first Guardian finally responds.
A sigh of relief whooshes from my lungs. No time has passed, then. And I still remember what happened last night, and before that. My heart calms slightly in its pounding.
“I didn’t mean to trespass,” I say. “If you point me in the right direction, I will gladly leave.” I have no idea what happened to me, but I’ll be more than happy to figure it out without so many gleaming swords pointed at my head.
“Not before you’re questioned by the Commander,” calls one of the Guardians.
I catch sidelong glances from a couple of the others; they’re surprised by this response.
My heart drops to my ankles as my gaze travels up the enormous wall in front of me.
Just about the last place I want to be is trapped inside a compound full of warriors.
Even if Guardians are supposed to protect the citizens of Aureon.
I’ve only ever seen them escorting rich merchants or other upper-class fae.
They never seem to give two shits about humans, so I don’t exactly feel any safer.
It seems, however, that I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.
A couple of the Guardians turn towards the gate, and the rest stay clustered around me as we start to make our way toward it.
What kind of irony had me survive capture by the barest thread last night, only to be rendered unconscious by some stranger and wake up to find myself prisoner of someone else?
The sky is gray and oppressive overhead, a stiff wind whipping the banners that hang from turrets on either side of the gate.
The banners are black like the Guardians’ garb, with the same sigil: two swords crossing inside the circumference of a crown.
Protectors of the realm. A bit on the nose, perhaps.
Queen Sarielle’s husband had been her guardian when they first met, and in the centuries they’d ruled since, the Guardians had grown in strength and numbers.
I shiver as I look up at the banners, and the impenetrable wall I’m about the pass beyond.
As we get closer, it’s hard to see much beyond the circle of riders around me, all of whom are blocking my view.
Between their suffocating closeness and the wall soaring over my head, I feel almost claustrophobic as I pass beneath the portcullis, it’s pointed metal bars like teeth ready to slam down on me.
It feels very much like passing between the jaws of a giant beast. My heart races and beads of sweat form along my spine.
My throat is tight as I try to swallow the fear clawing up from my belly.
There’s a sudden gust of warm air from my left, and when I turn to see the source, I nearly die on the spot.
Just inside the walls of the compound stands an actual beast. A monster. A nightmare.
It rises nearly half the height of the wall itself, which is stunningly high.
Its body is a shade of purple that is nearly black, and it’s covered in scales that undulate as if the thing is under water.
Two sets of wings are folded neatly along its back, the top pair slightly larger than the second pair.
A sharp claw tips each of the wings. Black eyes within a ring of lemon-yellow around the pupil are fixed hungrily on my face.
I can’t help it. In my shock, I stagger sideways into one of the horses, drawing a sharp rebuke from its rider.
I’ve never seen a nightmare before. The Queen employs them, of course, she is the Queen of Nightmares after all.
But they all live in Valaron, off the southern coast of Eldare.
It’s one thing to know of their existence, to hear tales, and another thing entirely to meet one face to face.
Apparently, this one is on loan for use by the Guardians.
What exactly are they trying to keep out, mighty warriors that they are?
Or, are they trying to keep something within the walls?
The Guardians turn to the right, and the nightmare lets out a low growl that sounds almost like disappointment; its prey escaped.
We march along the wall toward a building in the distance, a castle or fortress.
I’m not sure I know the difference, just that I’ve never been inside one.
Off to the left, I catch sight of the wall, which continues around a huge area of land on either side and then disappears into the distance.
There must be hundreds of acres inside this compound.
I catch flashes of green fields, and beyond, a river splits the area, leading up into a lush valley at the foothills of the mountains.
Even in early autumn the place is green and verdant, though in the hills I catch flashes of yellow and orange in the trees.
My attention is brought back to my immediate surroundings as the procession stops outside the fortress.
The rider in the lead, the one who said I had to see the Commander, dismounts and gestures for me to follow.
Two others flank me, as if I’m in any shape to give them trouble.
As we move beyond the circle of horses and I have an unobstructed view, I can’t help but cast a glance back to the nightmare guarding the gate.
The portcullis is just lowering back into place with an audible boom of finality.
Something else catches my eye as I look back, movement on the parapet above the wall beyond the gate.
A lone figure stands there, black cloak flung back in the wind.
Even though they’re far too distant for me to make out any details, I can’t help but feel like their eyes are locked on mine.
A shiver of recognition moves over me inexplicably.
I feel certain, though I can’t explain why, that it’s the man from the night before. The man who bespelled me.
Which means, if I’m right, he’s the one who brought me here.
One of the Guardians grabs my arm, mistaking my pause for resistance, and pulls me through the yawning door of the castle. But despite my predicament, what rolls through my head is not the man I’m about to meet. The Commander.
It’s a pair of piercing jade eyes, and a question that flames in my chest like a lantern.
Why was I brought here?