The Evermen Saga 01 - Enchantress (20 page)

"I… I think I do." Ella met the woman’s gaze. "I do."

"Good." High Enchantress Evora rose. "You will be expected at class, the day after the morrow."

"Not tomorrow?"

"No, I’m afraid not. I believe you have been punished enough, but that doesn’t satisfy everyone. Tomorrow you will present yourself at the Great Court at noon. The entire staff and student body will be present to witness your punishment. Tomorrow, you are to be wracked."

~

E
LLA
held her head high and her back erect. She was terrified. Every part of her being wanted to leave this terrible business behind. Instead she had put on her green woollen student’s gown, a familiar weight about her body, and presented herself at the Academy of Enchanters at the appointed hour.

Even at previous graduation ceremonies she hadn’t seen so many Academy staff and students in one place before. The masters sat in a row, a long table of redwood planks in front of them while the students congregated, standing in rows and columns, a sombre mass of youth. The High Enchantress was not present. She was rarely seen outside the Crystal Palace or the Green Tower.

Ella had never seen an actual wracking before, and couldn’t believe it was her being wracked. She still felt like she must be in some terrible nightmare, from which she would wake at any moment.

To the side of the masters stood the Block — a massive square of black iron, stern and unyielding. It was about three feet in height and twice the length of a man on each side. Ella tried not to look at it but couldn’t help herself. She could see the faint outlines of runes on its surface.

Ella stood now in front of the masters. Their expressions were grave.

"Ella," began Master Merlon, the most senior. "For breaking into a master’s workroom, and for the misuse of Academy essence, you are summoned here this day."

Ella, her eyes downcast, stood firm, her heart racing.

"We, the masters of the Academy of Enchanters, have decided your sentence, to be carried out immediately." He paused, looking around at the students. "For misconduct leading to the death of Talwin Horstan, you are sentenced to be wracked."

Master Merlon placed two wooden cuffs on the table in front of him. "It is to be a full wracking." He placed two more wooden cuffs on the table. "May the pain you feel this day lead you away from future misdeeds. May the Lord of the Sky guide your path away from error."

Ella knew what was expected of her. She walked forward and took the first manacle — an ancient loop of wood engraved with runes.

"
Sum-pu-nala
," she said. The loop sprung open along a previously invisible seam. Ella put the loop around her ankle. "
Sum-sun
." The loop closed.

After her ankles Ella locked the loops around her wrists. They felt heavy. Her breath started to deepen and her heart raced. She tried to show nothing and to face her punishment with honour.

In unison, the masters nodded. It was part of the process: Ella had to commence the punishment herself; they were only spectators.

With determined steps Ella walked over to the Block. She could see the runes more clearly now; they hadn’t been activated yet, but the places where she was to put her wrists and ankles were clearly marked.

Taking a deep breath, Ella slowly lay on her back on the Block, gazing up at the blue sky, watching the soft wisps of cloud move in a gentle breeze. The students and faculty looked on as Ella prepared herself, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"
Ak-kara
," she cried.

The Block flared to life, the runes glowing red, blue, silver, and green. The cuffs lit up in sympathy, flaring red. The link was made with the cuffs and suddenly it began. Ella’s body was now under the Block’s control

At first it was just an uncomfortable sensation of being stretched. Then Ella felt her back start to twist, her bones rubbing one against the other. Sweat broke out on her brow as her limbs felt near breaking point.

They said that even Stormhand, the bladesinger traitor, had screamed after two minutes of full wracking.

Not a sound came out of Ella’s mouth. Her flared nostrils and wide eyes were the only sign she showed of the pain she was in. She figured she owed Talwin that much, to bear the pain in silence.

17

There is a huge statue in the north of Altura. Half-buried in the earth, it is so old that the writing on its base can no longer be read. It makes the Sentinel in Seranthia look puny in comparison.

— Toro Marossa, ‘Explorations’, Page 51, 423 Y.E.

"I
T’S
your turn to bring up the water," Miro said.

Ella had just been thinking the same thing about him. It was tough, with just the two of them.

"My turn? It’s your turn."

Miro sighed. "Ella, I do enough around here. Don’t make this into an issue."

He twisted and turned in his wooden chair, stretching, arching his back. Miro grimaced as it made a painful cracking sound. He hadn’t spoken much of his training lately, but he had been finding less and less time to spend at home. His body was changing dramatically — he was always tall and lean, but now his shoulders had grown; the muscles in his chest were rigidly defined.

"You think things are tough for you? I’ve got so much work to catch up on I’m drawing runes in my sleep!"

"Just get the water, Ella."

"No! You get the water."

Miro took a deep breath. "It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll get the water."

Miro stood up. He looked so tired. There were lines under his eyes. Blademaster Rogan must be running him hard.

Ella stood also. "No, you sit down, I’ll get the water."

When she returned, wending her way through the forested path with two brimming buckets of fresh water, Ella saw her older brother had fallen asleep in his chair.

Without knowing where the idea came from, she upended one of the buckets over his head.

Miro yelped like a dog in a catfight, caught completely unaware. He blinked up at her, shaking droplets from his dark hair while Ella stood over him, bent with laughter.

Quicker than the eye, Miro leapt forward, grabbing the second bucket from her hand. Completely surprised, she didn’t stand a chance. They were both soon standing on the porch, laughing and dripping wet.

"Lord of the Sky, you’re fast!" said Ella. His gentle, protective nature belied such ferocious strength. Such speed.

"Miro, I have an idea," she said seriously.

"What is it?"

"Next week, maybe we could take a day, hire one of the riverboats? It’s their quiet period now so we could get one for a good price. I know, I’ve checked."

Miro’s face fell.

"We could see if Amber’s free. We could spend the whole day together, the three of us."

"Ella, I’m leaving."

"We could visit the Poloplats early in the day, while the best produce is still available — get some sourmelons, maybe a bottle of honeywine, if we have the money."

Suddenly Ella realised what Miro was saying.

"What?"

"Ella, one of the bladesingers with us at Seranthia spoke up on my behalf. Huron Gower, his name is. I’ve been accepted into bladesinger training."

Ella fought to make the correct response. "Miro, that’s fantastic! You, a bladesinger! I can’t believe it!"

She could tell he could see right through her.

"I won’t be around for a long time. I’ll be gone, for at least three months. Maybe a lot longer."

"Of course." Ella tried hard to keep her expression happy. It was good news, it was. "Have they told you anything about the training? It’s so mysterious — all I’ve heard are rumours."

"I don’t know where I’m going or what I’ll be doing really… All I know is the training takes place somewhere in the Dunwood. They don’t talk about it much. I’m a bit scared, to be honest."

Ella waved her hand. Her smiled was forced. "I’m sure you’ll be fine. I have an idea! Maybe one day, when you’re a bladesinger, and I’m an enchantress, I can make you the best zenblade in the history of enchantment!"

Miro smiled. "That would be… wonderful."

They sat in silence for a moment. A wind blew up from the trees, a cold winter breeze — a sign of things to come. Ella shivered; she needed to get out of the wet clothes.

"Ella, you should think about moving closer to town. Maybe you could move in with a friend."

"Don’t worry! I’ll be fine."

"I don’t like you being here by yourself."

"I’ll be fine," Ella repeated.

It was still some time before they left the porch and retired, cold and wet. It didn’t seem so funny to Ella now.

~

A
MBER’S
mother fussed with her hair once more before stepping back, an appraising look on her face.

"There, that’s it," she said.

Amber stood nervously on the bank of the Sarsen where a beautiful bower of trees and flowers had been constructed. With her as the centrepiece, she thought wryly. The water flowed sluggishly past, tranquil and emerald green. Amber kept a firm eye on the sky but the unseasonable weather seemed to be holding up — the sky a clear blue, the sun’s rays warm on her skin. When she inhaled Amber could smell the sweet scent of the roses and the freshness of the leaves. A light breeze blew gently, rustling the leaves around her, causing her green dress to flutter. Graduation was still a week away, but Amber had been allowed to wear silk just this once. She loved the feel of it on her skin, so soft and supple.

"Remember, my dear, this is the best day of your life."

Amber wished her mother would stop saying that. A hand reached yet again for her hair; Amber caught it this time. "Enough, Mother."

"Hmpf," Amber’s mother said, before planting a beaming smile on her face and directing it at some newly-arrived guests.

Amber could see more of her relatives standing under the line of trees. They were all smiling; it seemed like a strange role reversal, everyone kept telling her how happy she must be, but they were the ones smiling.

Not for the first time, Amber wondered if she’d done the right thing. She kept imagining Miro appearing at the wedding, a great sword in his hand, cutting the flowers up and threatening the shocked relatives, before he picked her up on his shoulder and carried her away.

"Don’t look so sad, Amber. Smile. Everyone is watching you."

Amber grimaced.

"No, I said smile. Smile. There, that’s better, isn’t it?"

Amber felt like she might cry.

By now all of the guests had arrived. Amber could see her entire family arrayed before her, along with many of the teachers and Academy staff. Suddenly there was a commotion in the distance and Amber heard raised voices. One voice rose above them all — a strong, female voice.

A figure pushed through restraining hands: a young woman in a green woollen Academy gown. Ella strode purposefully past the relatives, ignoring their disapproving expressions.

"I hope I’m not too late?" Ella smiled up at Amber.

Amber just nodded. Ella took a place between Amber and her mother. She took her friend’s hand.

In that moment, Amber did cry.

~

E
LLA
looked on as Igor took Amber away, amid the cheers and whistles of his fellows. Everyone had said it was a beautiful wedding. No one commented on the bride’s tears. They probably put it down to nerves, or tears of happiness.

Ella left the wedding and followed the river bank, gazing into its depths and thinking about the future. She was glad she had her work. Working with essence, real enchantment, was the great joy of her life. Some of the masters had let her borrow a few of their texts. Ella read them by the dim light of her nightlamp, sitting and rocking on the porch with the calls of the forest animals for company.

Master Merlon had told Ella she’d been recommended for the Academy honour list. Ella didn’t feel the surge of pride she had expected. Instead she was simply happy to be finding her place in the world.

Thinking of life, and weddings, Ella realised she had walked quite a long way, almost to the Tenbridge. She could see the Crystal Palace, and as she watched, she was lucky enough to see the palace colours begin to glow as the sun set behind her.

"That’s the first time I’ve seen them come on like that," an admiring voice said beside her.

He was a young man, his blue eyes sparkling as he joined Ella’s idle walk along the riverbank. He did it with such assurance that it didn’t seem rude, only confident.

He was only a little taller than Ella, perhaps one or two years older, with long, unruly hair tumbling to his collar. It was hair the colour of fire — a wild red. His accent didn’t sound Alturan. Ella couldn’t quite place it. Perhaps it was just the way he spoke. He was undeniably handsome.

"I’ve always loved the palace lights," Ella said. "Did you know that from inside the palace the lights shine through the crystal walls?"

"Really?"

"The servants have almost an entire language of lore, just to control the lights. It’s beautiful."

"You’ve been inside the palace?"

Ella didn’t know why she kept talking. "No, of course not. I would never be invited. I do know some of the lords’ children though."

His eyes grew round. "That’s still something most people can’t say. What about your family? Have they been inside? Your father, perhaps your mother?"

"No, nothing like that. My parents died, when I was young."

There was a long pause. "I’m sorry," he said. "That must have been hard."

Turning, Ella looked at him. He said it with such sincerity, she knew he meant it.

"How old were you?" he said.

"I don’t know, only a babe, I suppose. I’m not sure. My father was killed in the Rebellion. My mother died too. We managed to survive. A man, loyal to my father, he raised us."

"He must have been a good man."

"He was, I guess. He was very old. He died, not long ago."