Dreams of Darkness Rising (2 page)

Kervin—a tracker also from Artoria

Ygris—Fire-mage from Pyrios

Sir Tinkek—a former Artorian Knight

Ograk—a Feldorian warrior

Master Hü-Jen—deceased Shorvorian mentor to Hunor

Ebfir—acolyte druid to Marthir

Iogar—an Artorian warrior

Darklord Jüt—commander of the Knights of Ebony Heart

Darklord Klir—sub-commander of the Knights of Ebony Heart

Xirik—a dark wizard

Garin—a  dark wizard

Vildor—The Darkmaster. The master of the Ghasts

In Thetoria

Aldred Enfarson—son of Baron Enfarson

Argon Enfarson—Baron of Thetoria

Livor Korianson—Aldred’s friend.

Hinkir—a stable boy at Blackstone Castle

Jirdin—Aldred’s servant

Quigor—advisor to Baron Enfarson. An Azaguntan

Kerdir Almsman—physician to Baron Enfarson

Holbek Gartson—a captain of the guard at Blackstone Castle

Arlana Gartson—his wife

Thrisk—a soldier of Baron Enfarson; Azaguntan in origin

Lord Jerstis—one of the Lords sworn to Baron Enfarson. Nr Greenford

Poris Longshanks—lordling from Enfarson’s Barony

Orlo Smithson—burghmaster of Eviksburg

Urgon Tannerson—Innkeeper of the Traveller’s Rest

Pastor Burker—priest of Mortis

Guntir Hawkskin—captain of the town guard in Eviksburg

Kindar Hawkskin—brother to Guntir. Soldier to Baron Benrich the Younger

Aargil Markson—(deceased) Lord to Baron Benrich the Elder

Inger Markson—widow to Lord Aargil

Hela Markson—daughter to Lord Markson

Orgar Markson—(deceased) son of Lord Markson

Uhurk Wangstane—a merchant from Kokis

Ekris—a mysterious troubadour and thespian

Urenst Enfarson—cousin to Baron Enfarson. Lord of Oldston

Argas Enfarson—cousin to Baron Enfarson. Called “the runt”

Ligor—dark wizard in Thetoria city

Ajacre—dark wizard in Nolir, South Thetoria

Jaan—a farmer in Nth Thetoria

Loral—his wife

Hinfer—their eldest son

Mek-ik-Ten—Galvorian monk and mentor to Jem

In Goldoria

Sir Krem Listerthwaite—a Goldorian knight of good standing

Gilert—a squire of mean disposition

Utrok—a dark wizard

Elbek-Trall—a Pyrian merchant docked in Goldoria

Prism Book 1

The City of Mists.

Prologue     The House of Preparation

Sunstide 1911

Emelia dreamt of dark things. She stumbled down the expansive beach, the sands sticky beneath her bare feet. The waves thundered and the trees bordering the sand bent like old men as the storm whipped up. Rain lashed against her as she saw the lone figure knelt ahead. His sobs ripped through her chest like a knife.

“Papa? Papa, why are you crying?” she asked.

Her gaunt father made no reply but rather turned and with horror Emelia saw his eyes were two gold coins. Terror gripped her heart as she staggered back. The gold began to run, pouring in molten tears down his cadaverous cheeks, steaming in the driving rain.

Emelia screamed but the sound was flattened under the crash of immense waves. Her father dug his fingers into his smouldering cheeks and wrenched, tearing the skin off as if breaking open a crab. No blood ran as he shredded the flaps of flesh away but rather Emelia saw a grey hue beneath, like rock.

With a final wrench her father ripped apart the skin and a man made of stone remained. He regarded Emelia and then slowly began moving towards her, his sockets gaping voids.

Emelia scrabbled backwards in the sand but her legs felt like lead. Then she looked down and she saw:  saw the sand become stone; saw the stone become dark and saw the darkness harden across the pale sands of the beach like a giant shadow. All around her, the island surrendered its colour, slipping beneath the featureless dark. Then the stone came for her too, began spreading up her legs, closing tightly about her chest, sealing up her mouth, her nose, her eyes with cold, uncaring rock.

***

The dormitory was pitch-black. The terror stayed with her as her sleep-caked eyes adjusted to the gloom. Emelia was shivering uncontrollably. She bit her lip hard, to stop her teeth chattering.

Had she woken the other girls? She cautiously lifted her head from her bed and checked. No—they all slept despite the chill of the room. Her hand slid beneath her single sheet and her heart skipped a beat as she realised she had wet the bed in her fear.

Hot tears flowed from her eyes. She would get the birch for sure. But even that would be as nothing compared to the taunts of the other girls. The Azaguntan girls particularly would seize on this as a sign of weakness.

A dozen fantasies ran through her six-year-old mind. She lay there wracked with indecision for half an hour, the cooling wetness of the urine feeling like a blanket of snow on her body.

Emelia rolled quietly from her bed and then carefully removed the wet sheet. She bundled it up then crept across the flagstoned dormitory. The other girls did not stir, lost in their own private dreaming.

Emelia stepped out into the corridor. Light from the blue Aquatonian moon, her moon, shone through the frost-painted window. Emelia shivered from cold and fear as she scuttled down the corridor. The stone walls of the servants’ quarters were a featureless grey and harsh to the touch.

She passed into the grand entrance hall. Warmth flickered from lanterns set in the ornate brass hooks which studded the oak-panelling. Dour faces of the still living and the long-time dead glared down at her from the portraits on the walls. Emelia forced her eyes downward as if to look back at one of those fearsome portraits would set them screaming an alert.

The linen room was adjacent to the entrance hall. She passed a huge tapestry, its threads as thin as the grease the servants spread on their bread in the mornings.

Emelia eased the linen room door open. In the safety of the dark room she stripped her nightdress off and threw it with her sheet into the large basket. Her skin became taut with the cold as she hurriedly donned a fresh dress and felt in the darkness for the pile of starched sheets.

Her task complete, Emelia stepped out into the hallway and returned to the entrance hall. A rush of terror erupted in her throat as she heard voices outside the main door.

The door began to open.

Her eyes darted between the stairs and the door back to the dormitory corridor. By Asha, she would not make it across the length of the hall.

Emelia ran for the stairs, taking two at a time. Each creak of the oak stairs seemed to peal like thunder in her ears. She achieved the upper landing and crouched, her heart pounding.

The three men were ascending the stairs.

Emelia scampered along the upper hallway, seeking a niche to hide within. She saw a small recess between a cabinet and the edge of an alcove and squeezed into the dark gap.

The voices were loud and unfamiliar. They spoke Eerian, the Imperial language. After five months of birch across the knuckles every time she spoke her own dialect instead of the master’s she had learnt Eerian soon enough. The owners strode into a room ten feet from her hiding place.

She knew she should return to the dormitory but then a tiny voice deep down bubbled to the surface: a naughty voice, a voice of rebellion.

Heart in her mouth, she snuck along the panelled corridor towards the voices. She could see three figures through the crack of the door: one tall, one young and one fat. The tallest she recognised as Master Tremen, the head of the preparatory house. His scanty grey hair covered his wrinkled scalp like dust.

The other two were sat in the room, sipping at what Emelia guessed must have been smoking wine. One was a young man, his nose angled like the beak of a large bird. He had the arrogance that came with wealth and power. The second was a short man with cheeks so flushed that it made Emelia think of a fat robin. His grey hair was pasted to his head with lacquer. Emelia began to concentrate, picking her way through the clipped tones.

“… suggest with this unseasonable snow that you take the opportunity to indulge my hospitality and stay the next few nights, Herfen,” Master Tremen said, sipping his wine. “It will give you an opportunity to select the appropriate girls for Lord Ebon-Farr.”

“You are kind as ever, Tremen, though I would speculate you have a fair idea what girls we require anyway,” Herfen said. “None the less it will allow Lord Karak here to further his education.”

Emelia stared in wonder. The fat robin had called him Tremen, not Master Tremen, but no blow or birch had followed.

Master Tremen turned to regard the younger man. “I am still uncertain as to why your father felt it pertinent to send you with Herfen to my house, though of course it is an honour.”

The young man drained his wine. “Father seeks to dispatch me to study the Rolls in three years, as he was chosen to by his father. I suggested it would be of benefit for me to see first hand how the Statute of Servitude works in reality. Some of the chaps at school jest it is simply slavery for the faint-hearted.”

Master Tremen laughed and reached for a small gilded box from one of the bookshelves in the study. He offered the contents to his guests.

“Please indulge in a touch of non-liberal snuff. I think you’ll find what we and the eight other prep houses participate in is anything but slavery, Lord Karak. I mean of course there is a place for slavery in Eeria—after all who else would build our roads?”

The two guests both took pinches of the snuff and snorted it, concluding the act with a tiny shudder.

“In fact the slaves come on the same trade route as this delectable weed. Huge chaps, skin as dark as onyx and muscles like a mountain giant. But so, so primitive—they even worship the spirits of their ancestors.”

“The Galvorians and the Shorvorians both respect the spirits of ancestors, Tremen, so that’s hardly an indication of being primitive,” the one called Lord Karak said, wiping his beaked nose.

“No, no indeed—you would make a fine Lawlord, m’lord. I think my point is that they are far better off working as slaves in civilisation—it is a far better life they have. And that in itself was good enough for not just us now, but also for the Pyrians and the Artorians in their time.”

“Until the Statute came into being,” Herfen said. “It’s a charitable act, m’lord. We take these girls from their disadvantaged childhoods, give the parents a very reasonable sum of gold and allow them to work in some of our finest houses. And most choose to remain in service after they achieve their twenty first year.”

“The same faint-hearted chaps back in Coonor would say that’s because most of them have no idea how to get back to where we bought them from,” Lord Karak said with a smirk.

An icy terror was seeping through Emelia’s body as she eavesdropped. She could hardly follow all these grown-up words. Did they mean she wouldn’t be able to find Papa?

“We keep reasonable records, not least for the legality of the contract of servitude,” Master Tremen said with a shrug. “I am certain any could return. Very few do.”

“As you say,” Lord Karak said. “Father is interested in purchasing some Islanders and we hear you have some in…training.”

“Indeed,” Master Tremen said brightly. “Ten years ago they were a rarity, m’lord. Now we have had an influx. I hear that there is a famine in the Scattered Isles.”

Emelia started at the sudden mention of her homeland.

“Aye, I heard as much too,” Herfen said. “Juton in the Clifftop House was speculating it was due to the dearth of fish in the Islands. Word has it that the Water-mages have been altering the currents for the Corinthian fleet.”

“Their loss, our gain,” Master Tremen said, snorting another pinch of snuff. “The Island girls are far better value than the Azaguntans. They are hard workers, physically superior and most..,” he paused for a moment as his mouth widened into something not altogether unlike a smile “… beautiful.”

“And obedient?”

“Oh…of course, of course,” the mouth narrowed. “All our girls are obedient at this house. We are most rigorous with the discipline—they are fluent in Eerian by the time we sell them on and versed in the etiquette of the grand houses. I have one at the moment who is most delightful to the eye—she has remarkable grey eyes. I shall show you her now in fact—Emelia is her name.”

The chairs scraped as the visitors stood. Emelia’s mouth was dry. These men were here to take her away! These men were coming to see her in the dormitory now!

Emelia grasped the sheets and flew down the corridor. She took the stairs two at a time, images of skipping across the rocks of her beach-side home flashing across her mind. The clatter of boots were echoing down the first floor corridor as she twisted around the base of the stairwell and hurtled through the door and into the corridor.

She slowed as she reached the dormitory door and chanced a look back. She would be flayed alive if she were caught out of bed at this hour. She opened the heavy door, wincing at the slight creak and eased her way into the dormitory.

Emelia flung the fresh sheet over the bed and dove under it. Twenty seconds later, as her heart still pounded in her ears, a chink of gold lantern light invaded the room. The three figures clumped across the dormitory.

“This is her. She’s been with us five months now, so ready to start as soon as you need.”

Emelia lay as still as she could whilst Tremen’s hand grasped her shoulder.

“Open your eyes, girl, there are men here to see you.”

Emelia rolled over, blinking her eyes in a befuddled manner then squinting at the lantern light. Master Tremen tugged her into a sitting position then pulled her chin to look up. Her whole body was trembling as she met Lord Karak and Herfen’s stares.

“Hmm, yes I see,” Herfen said. “Lord Ebon-Farr will be satisfied.”

“As will mother,” Lord Karak said. “All her friends have Islanders now. I’m uncertain about Gresham though.”