Oak And Mist (The Ambeth Chronicles Book 1) (7 page)

***

Despite their overwhelming looks, there was something strange about the assembled Court, an aura of otherness that felt alien to Alma. Each and every one of them was just too perfect, their unblemished beauty looking as though it had been digitally enhanced, making them appear not quite human. Which of course, they were not. And all their eyes were on her. She cast a panicked glance at Caleb, who stood to attention at her side. Catching her eye, he cleared his throat and bowed.

‘My Lords and Ladies, may I present the Lady Alma of the Human Realm.’

Alma blushed, her fair skin giving away her discomfort, but she didn’t have to worry for long. Stepping out of the glittering throng with his arms outstretched in greeting came Thorion, the High King. Alma bobbed her head and Caleb bowed again, Thorion smiling on them both.

‘Welcome to our Court, Alma – it is a glad day that we see you here again. And thank you, Caleb, for bringing her to us.’

Caleb nodded, bowing once more before stepping to the side. Thorion took Alma’s hand and tucked it into his bent arm, leading her towards the assembled Court. Hardly knowing where to look, Alma walked beside him, conscious of how close he was to her as the crowd parted to let them through. Her bracelet stone burned hot and she flinched. Thorion shot her a brief look of concern. She smiled back, though it was more of a grimace, moving her hand to try and get some respite from the pain. What was happening? She hoped she wasn’t going to be pulled back to her own world.

Then the last of the crowd moved aside and she forgot all about it. Ahead were two thrones on an ornate timber dais, framed by richly embroidered hangings. Beyond the thrones was an alcove with a smooth shelf set into the wall, richly carved with the twisting vines that seemed to be everywhere and a small five-pointed star at the apex. Above it were words etched into the stone and picked out in gold. But the alcove was empty. Nothing lay on the shelf of stone, but Alma could see a sort of spiralling, like a presence within the cavity, shining with its own pale silver light. The weird thing was that she could feel it inside her, twisting and turning, almost painful as it drew her forwards. She let go of Thorion’s arm almost without realising, moving between the thrones to stand mesmerised by the shimmering shapes, the strange heat from her bracelet gone as quickly as it came. A murmur ran through the assembled crowd and she realised that Thorion had come to stand beside her.

‘Can you see it?’ His voice was soft, but the acoustics of the place were such that his words carried through the Hall.

‘Y-yes,’ replied Alma, ‘if by “it” you mean that strange sort of twisting – yes, I can see it. But… what is it?’

At her words, another murmur ran through the watching crowd. Thorion smiled at Alma, his blue-grey eyes shining. Her heart skipped a beat at how close he stood to her, and she tried to control her feelings as she waited for his response. Emotions moved across Thorion’s glorious face – joy, relief and then, hardest to understand, sorrow. Finally, he spoke. ‘It is loss, Alma. Loss of the greatest treasures of our kind. And the fact that you can see it is of great significance.’

***

At the other end of the Hall, Caleb strained to see over the heads of the assembly. He had heard Thorion speak to Alma, but had been unable to hear her answer. However, by the murmur of the crowd he knew it to be important and, as they parted again to let Thorion bring Alma into their midst, he knew. Closing his eyes for a moment, he tried to decide whether he was happy or sad for his new friend, for he now knew she would have to make a difficult choice. Once the Prophecy was read, once she realised her part in it, the decision would be hers as to whether she wanted to help, taking on all the risk that went with it. For finding the lost Regalia would not be easy – the assembled powers of all the Light and Dark had not been able to do it. Well, thought Caleb, at least he would be there to help her, if she wanted him. His face serious, he watched as Alma was brought to stand at the centre of them all.

***

Alma was dazzled by the beautiful faces that thronged about her, all coming close to have a look, but at what she wasn’t exactly sure. Every member of the Court was beautifully dressed in richly embroidered gowns and tunics, making her realise how completely underdressed she was for the occasion. Still, what was she supposed to do? Going to the Armorial Park in formal wear would raise so many questions it wasn’t worth even considering. Her bracelet burned hot then cooled as the court moved around her – what the hell was wrong with it? At least it didn’t seem like she was going anywhere. But the pain was so bad she tucked the cuff of her sweatshirt underneath the stone to try to get some relief, revealing it to the crowd. Immediately a gasp went up from those closest to her.

‘Thorion, she is wearing a talaith bracelet,’ said one woman, her red-gold hair bound in braids off her flawless face. Others said much the same, the words swirling around Alma until she could take no more and closed her eyes, trying to shut them out. Thorion, seeing this, raised a hand for silence.

‘Enough, my Lords,’ he said, though with a note of amusement in his voice. ‘Let her breathe.’

The crowd around Alma stepped back, releasing her. Somewhat shaken and definitely confused, she glanced at Caleb, who smiled back reassuringly. It didn’t help, really – the day had just become way too weird. Thorion clapped his hands, calling for the Court’s attention.

‘Three are required,’ he said, his voice ringing through the room. ‘Three to bear witness to what has happened here. That Alma has been able to see our loss and, as such, is part of us now. That she lies under my protection and may well be the saving of us all.’

Shocked, Alma looked at Thorion who, to her total surprise, winked at her as though they were participating in some huge joke. Maybe they were, she thought. Maybe this whole thing was a giant set up, some outrageous prank show and at any moment TV cameras would appear with a smiling host to tell her how she had been duped. But as quickly as the thought came she dismissed it. Too much that was unexplained had happened for it to be anything else. No, whatever was happening to her was real, and, she felt, about to take an even more surreal turn.

‘Now I know how Alice felt,’ she whispered to Caleb, who had come to stand next to her.

‘Alice who?’ he whispered back, but she had no time to answer. Three figures stepped out of the crowd and presented themselves to Thorion. The first was an extremely attractive blonde man, clad in leather armour and a billowing black cape. His green eyes were unfriendly. Alma looked away, quickly, to the next one. This was a woman, tall and slender, with sherry brown eyes in a golden-skinned face, her delicate cheekbones offset with curling honey coloured hair. She smiled at Alma in a friendly fashion as she approached, her russet gown swirling about her. The third was an older man, tall in posture with golden hair turning to silver and blue eyes in a lined yet handsome face. Clad in sea green, he had an unmistakeable air of authority, though his face bore the stamp of some past sorrow. He spoke first, his voice rich.

‘I bear witness, Lord Thorion, High King.’

He was followed by the other two, each repeating the same phrase which had the ring of ritual to it. The woman had a silvery, laughing voice and Alma liked her immediately. The blonde lord had a deep, powerful voice and was undeniably handsome, but something about him set Alma on edge. Thorion had moved to stand on the other side of Alma, and now took her hand, raising it with his own to shoulder height.

‘So witness has been borne, by Lord Artos, Lady Adara and Lord Denoris. Let the assembled court see that the Lady Alma is now under my protection, and is to be afforded all the freedoms of our realm.’

The three witnesses all bowed deeply at these words, while the remaining assembly burst into applause. Alma glanced at Thorion, aware that something significant had taken place but not sure exactly what it was. Still, it seemed she was under Thorion’s protection now, which couldn’t be a bad thing, right? Once the noise died down, Thorion spoke again. He had let go of Alma’s hand, to her regret.

‘I will now ask your indulgence,’ he smiled, looking around at the assembled Court. ‘It is time for all but the Elders to leave us, for I wish to take council with them. I thank you all for coming here, on such an auspicious occasion. May Light shine on you all.’ This last was greeted with applause from most, although there were murmurs of derision as well. Nonetheless, Thorion’s voice was authoritative and it was clear that he held the power here. The gathered crowd began to disperse, all colour and beauty, talking amongst themselves and casting glances, not all of them friendly, in Alma’s direction as they left. Caleb also went to leave but was stopped by Thorion.

‘No, Caleb, stay with us. It is your right, after all you have done to bring Alma to us this day.’

Caleb’s face lit up, his blue eyes wide and shining. ‘You want me to stay, my Lord?’ It was clear he was thrilled. Alma grinned, pleased for him, and nudged him with her elbow as he came to stand next to her again. ‘Thank you, Lord Thorion,’ he said, bowing his head.

***

Deryck passed through the arched gallery, taking care to stay out of view as he made his way from the Hall. He was shocked to realise that the red-haired girl was not Caleb’s girlfriend but instead the one he had been meant to intercept –the Child of the Prophecy. Now that Thorion had placed her under his protection it made things more difficult, but not much more. His father would be staying on for the Council – as one of the oldest and most powerful Lords of the Dark, it made sense for Thorion to keep him as part of his inner circle, even though the two rarely saw eye to eye. What was it the humans said? ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ Whatever else he might be, the High King was nothing if not wise. So Deryck left the Hall, knowing his father would update him later. In the meantime, he had his own plans to pursue.

***

Alma, standing with Thorion and Caleb, was nervous again, a whole host of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She wasn’t sure why she was going to attend a Council of Elders but felt it couldn’t be good. She looked at Caleb, concern written on her face and he moved closer to her.

‘Don’t worry,’ he murmured, but she could see he wasn’t entirely at ease either, despite his obvious excitement at being included in the proceedings. The Elders had moved to stand in a circle around Alma, Thorion and Caleb. There were about twenty in all, just as Caleb had said and they dazzled the eye with their beauty. Looking up at the stained glass windows, Alma tried to ignore all the eyes on her, hoping she wouldn’t have to endure their gaze for long. Thorion moved around the circle, nodding to each Elder as though satisfying himself of something. Once he had completed his circuit he returned to Alma, taking her hands in his and smiling at her, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

‘Alma, I thank you for your patience. I imagine this has been quite confusing for you.’

Alma looked at him, then at the assembled circle. ‘Thank you… but… well, it still is really. Confusing, that is.’ At this a ripple of amusement went round the room and she blushed, feeling completely at a loss.

‘Then let me try and explain,’ said Thorion. Alma sighed inwardly. There had been a lot of explaining lately but she was still in the dark about most things. Maybe this would be different, though she didn’t hold much hope of it.

‘You have seen our loss, in the alcove,’ he said, and Alma nodded, her eyes drawn back to the eerie twisting presence in the empty niche. She wrenched her gaze away and back to Thorion. ‘Did you read the words above?’

Alma shook her head – she had been so mesmerised by the shifting shapes that she had completely ignored the gilded legend, carved beautifully into the stone.

‘Caleb, if you would be so kind…’ said Thorion, letting go of Alma’s hands and gesturing to him. A hiss came from the circle and Thorion looked up sharply, his handsome face fierce as he scanned the room. Once all was silent he nodded again to Caleb, his face softening and the boy stepped forward. Clearing his throat, he straightened his shoulders and started to read the words graven on the wall, looking somehow vulnerable as he stood there in the middle of the circle.

Child of Darkness, Child of Light

Hair of flame shining bright

Gate of oak, stepping through

An ancient line is born anew

Find the Dark, find the Light

Then shall things be set to right

For what is lost will be found

In mist, in stone, underground

Caleb finished reading and turned to Thorion, almost as though seeking approval. Thorion obliged by nodding at him. ‘Thank you.’ He then turned to Alma, saying, once again, ‘Do you see it?’

Alma was nonplussed. She knew what he was getting at, of course, but didn’t want to say it. The prophecy was about her. Child of darkness, child of light – she supposed that was something to do with being a human. Hair of flame – well, she’d always had red hair and the flaming temper to go with it. She’d even come through an oak gate to get here… oh, it was all very neat. But she wasn’t having it, not yet. She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows. It wasn’t very polite, she knew, but it was how she felt. A laugh came from one of the Elders; she thought it was Lord Artos, the older man who had stood witness as she was placed under Thorion’s protection. Why this had made him laugh she had no idea, but it broke the tension in the room, everyone visibly relaxing. Even Lord Denoris smiled, although there was more calculation than amusement in his green gaze. Thorion laughed as well, his handsome face lighting up as he moved to stand in front of Alma, resting his hands gently on her shoulders. He almost took her breath away with his beauty – it was not fair, it really wasn’t. Refusing to give in, Alma simply met his blue gaze, though it was difficult. Gently, no longer laughing, he spoke to her.