Chapter 3
The pale-haired man’s scrutiny made her feel exposed. His features were unnervingly perfect, and his skin shone with an unnatural translucency.
They had taken her to a larger room in the building and seated her at a large, round wooden table. Two of the men who’d captured her stood behind her chair, their hands close to their sheathed weapons.
There were eight of them, all similar in appearance, with delicately furled ears that peeked through long hair. They wore robes, although most were woollen, not velvet. The pale-haired man’s splendour signalled that he was in charge.
“Am I a prisoner?”
The men spoke to each other in their own language. She could almost understand what they were saying.
“Our land has never been breached, not by one of you. Until we find out how, you’ll be treated as a guarded guest,” the man told her.
“One of you,” she repeated under her breath. They knew her language too. They obviously knew about humans; why didn’t she know about them?
“Send for the Sage.”
One of the robed men remained with her as the others left. He left shortly afterwards and returned with a silver jug of water.
“I imagine you’re thirsty,” he said, placing it down in front of her. “I’m Vesryn.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking a long drink. She hadn’t realised how thirsty she was until the water was placed before her.
“Are you badly hurt?”
She shook her head, then winced, feeling for the injury. Dried blood had matted the hair around the wound to her scalp.
“May I?” He gestured towards her head.
When she didn’t respond, he gently moved her hair to inspect the swelling.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“The holy temple.” He drew a sharp breath. “I’ll send for a healer.”
“I thought they’d already sent for someone,” she said, now wondering what a sage was.
Vesryn sighed.
“No. In fact, we should wait until Eleandor’s finished with you before sending for the healer.”
She tucked her hands between her knees to keep them still. These people were so alien, and she hadn’t even considered what they could do to her.
They would torture her. That’s what her people would do in the same situation. They’d think she was a spy from a neighbouring land, sent to gather information.
The door swung open and admitted a tall man with white hair that fell to his waist. His eyes were such a pale blue that they appeared almost white.
They were framed by long, wispy brows that rose when he turned his gaze upon her.
He wore a clean grey woollen robe and stood with dignity.
He could have been young or old. Like the others, his skin was unlined. Ageless.
“Eleandor, Wise One.” Vesryn bowed.
Amelia froze as the two men spoke. Eleandor walked over to her and raised his hand to her forehead without warning. Unable to move, she braced for whatever he was about to do. His eyes became brighter, his expression distant.
A vibration travelled through her body, and her vision blurred. Her mind felt like it was being pulled apart as pain seared through her skull.
Memories replayed through the haze: the Blood Sun hanging in the sky as she climbed the mountain; the symbols engraved into the stone of the cave wall; the glistening of the crystals in the mine. Then came her childhood. Her father. Her mother—except she couldn’t remember her face.
The pressure vanished, and she collapsed onto the cold, hard floor.
Something flickered across the sage’s face.
Surprise.
“You shouldn’t exist like this.”
*
She forced her heavy eyelids open. Through blurred vision, she saw a glowing orb hovering above the bed. She focused on it, trying to understand how it worked as it softly illuminated a small, windowless room.
Rising from the bed, her temples aching, she touched the side of her head, feeling for the swollen lump, but it had gone.
Mesmerised, she reached cautiously towards the orb. She had seen nothing like it before. Back home, chrysonium gave off a similar blue glow, but it had never hovered in mid-air.
As her hand made contact, a sudden shock ran through her fingers, and the orb dimmed.
She snatched her hand back, inspecting her fingertips.
She placed her hand back against the orb.
Vibrations travelled through her body, making her bones tremble.
Her teeth chattered as a high-pitched noise filled her mind.
Voices sounded in the distance. She pulled away from the orb. What was it?
She moved swiftly towards the door. She tested the handle and paused when the door opened smoothly. Two men stood on the other side, armed with weapons, blocking the exit. They turned towards her.
“Ah, you’re awake,” Vesryn called as he approached along the hallway. “How do you feel?” He paused, studying her intently.
“My head still aches, but it feels different… What did he do to me?”
She hadn’t even been conscious. They could have done anything to her. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to reclaim the privacy Eleandor had taken.
“The Sage looked into your memories. We had to make sure that you were telling the truth.”
“What do you mean, he looked into my memories?” Amelia asked. Her stomach dropped, like a sinking stone. How could someone see another person’s memories?
What had he seen?
“It can take quite a toll. You need to rest. I’ll bring you some food.”
Amelia returned to the bed and sat down whilst she waited. Was this real?
While she waited, she inspected her injuries beneath the orb’s intensifying glow. Most had disappeared, leaving only shiny pink skin where the wounds had been.
Vesryn returned with a bowl containing some kind of broth.
“Here, eat this. It should help,” he said, placing the bowl down next to her.
He hummed as he smoothed the sheets, then gestured towards the orb. It brightened.
“How did you do that?” Amelia asked.
“Energy,” he replied. “Some of us can do a lot more than that.”
What did he mean by ‘energy’? They used the chrysonium at home as a source of energy. Was this similar? How could there be so much that she didn’t know?
“What do you mean?”
“Everything has energy,” he said.
“How can you speak my language, yet I’ve never heard yours before?”
“We all know the old tongue,” he said, as if that explained it.
The fragrance of the broth made her stomach growl. She hesitated before trying it, but soon ate it all, its warmth filling her. When she’d finished, he showed her where she could bathe. The thought of being clean was too appealing to refuse.
Why were they treating her better now? What were their intentions?
With guards following at a distance, he guided her along the polished stone hall and into a walled courtyard, where an outbuilding stood.
“We’ll wait outside,” Vesryn informed her. “There are fresh clothes laid out for you when you’re finished.”
She entered cautiously.
The outbuilding was circular, made from the same pale stone as the rest of the building. Latticed windows let in a stream of light, and in the middle stood a large stone bath from which steam rose invitingly.
She tested the steaming water with her fingers, sighing at its warmth. She peeled the clothes from her skin, wincing as the fabric tore at the dried blood clinging to her wounds. As she lowered herself into the warm embrace of the water, her aches subsided and her head became clearer.
Every answer gave her three more questions.
She was sure that she’d found what her father had been looking for, and despite the danger, she was determined to learn more about them. This was her discovery. Not her father’s or the guild’s. She’d be in no one’s shadow.
Fresh garments lay nearby. Clambering out of the bath, she dried herself, inspecting the clothes. A long blue woollen robe lay beside a shirt, soft trousers and a pair of sandals. The robe and trousers hung from her slight frame and dragged along the floor, but at least they were clean.
She returned to where Vesryn waited outside. The sun appeared larger in the sky, closer than she’d ever seen it. Its warmth dried her damp hair.
He greeted her with a smile. “Better?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.” Her head had completely cleared; the pain was gone.
“What about my clothes?” she asked.
“They will be cleaned and returned to you.”
He led her to a bench in the courtyard, positioned in the sunlight. She heard nothing beyond the building’s walls except birdsong and the running water of the streams that surrounded the building.
“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked him.
“Eleandor is going to take you to the High City.”
The memory of Eleandor’s pale eyes boring into her mind made her throat tighten.
“Why?” She swallowed.
“We must report to our king. Word of your existence has already spread, and you’ve caused quite a stir.”
“And who is your king?”
“King Elthar.”
*
They began the journey to the High City. They bundled her into a horse-drawn carriage. Eleandor rode alone ahead while three guards accompanied them. Vesryn’s company comforted her. Although she wouldn’t call him friendly, his presence was unthreatening, and he had treated her kindly.
Her clothes had been returned, cleaned and mended, and she wore them for the journey. They hadn’t returned her satchel or possessions, though. She longed for her journal to write all this down.
As the carriage swayed along the dirt road, the hills folded into one another like waves of green in the distance.
She committed it all to memory, allowing her thirst for knowledge to distract her. So much had happened, and she didn’t know how much time had passed. Would Emin figure out where she’d gone and send out a search party?
If the carriage stopped, perhaps she could escape. They hadn’t travelled far, but she still didn’t know where they were or where she’d run to. The guards ahead would no doubt catch her if she tried. She was safer here.
“I wouldn’t venture into the woods alone,” Vesryn said, as if reading her mind. “There are plenty of things in there that you’d rather avoid. Trust me.”
She did.
With each turn of the carriage wheel, she was taken further from her home. Would they ever let her leave? What would the king do with her once she arrived in the High City? She pushed it to the back of her mind.
The carriage jolted to a violent halt, throwing Amelia back against her seat. The raised voices of the guards drifted towards them. Vesryn peered out of the window, his eyes wide. He opened the carriage door.
“Wait here,” he said.
The shouting came closer. She shuffled over to the window just as Vesryn crumpled to the ground.
Men in dark clothes came running towards the carriage.
She flung open the opposite carriage door and ran, leaving the dirt road and heading into the forest that lined it. The voices followed her, urging her to run faster. They were gaining on her. She needed to find somewhere to hide, hoping that they’d run past.
Up ahead stood an enormous tree, its trunk twisted and gnarled. She ran towards it, trying to find a way up, but the voices were getting closer. There was no time.
She dropped to the ground beside a thorny bush and crawled headfirst into the thicket. Dirt soiled her clean clothes once more.
The voices stopped only a few paces away.
Amelia held her breath, keeping as still as possible, trying to make herself small.
Four men came to a stop near her hiding place.
Only their lower legs were visible in the fading light.
They wore dark trousers, and their boots looked soft, as if made of leather.
They spoke in hushed tones until a deep, commanding voice issued instructions.
The men split up and moved further into the forest.
She released her breath slowly. Thorns pressed into her skin as she shifted carefully into a less painful position. It was growing dark, and she was now alone in the forest. Or so she hoped. Vesryn’s warning returned to her.
Was Vesryn okay? There’d been no time to check. He’d been lying on the ground, unmoving.
Everything had happened so quickly. All she had to do was stay still and stay quiet and hope that Vesryn and the others would come and find her, if they weren’t dead already. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, a face peered at her through the thorns. Every thought of escape vanished.
“Found you,” the deep voice purred.
A man crouched beyond the thorns. His dark-rimmed blue eyes held her in place.
His wavy, chin-length black hair shone even in the gathering darkness, and his features belonged on an ancient statue depicting the gods.
He had the same furled ears as the others, but her attention fixed on the small antlers protruding from his head.
“Come out,” he ordered.
She hesitated, not wanting to leave the safety of the bush.
His eyes took on a dangerous gleam, changing from their deep blue to the sharp silver of a dagger.
“Before I cut you out,” he added.
It was no idle threat.
She crawled from beneath the thicket and stood at his feet, her hands clenched. He tilted his head, the corners of his mouth lifting.
Voices sounded from the direction of the road. Amelia turned towards them. The raven-haired man gripped the sides of her head, and a wave of pain flooded her mind, dragging her down into darkness.