Mist & Whispers (7 page)

‘You’re kidding, right?’ She took his silence as a
no
. ‘So, if you don’t mind me asking, where are we?’

‘This is the Royal Camp – it’s been here since the castle was taken by the Darkness.’

Now he mentioned it, it was still dark. She wasn’t sure how long they had slept before the chase through the forest, but it must have been long enough for dawn to be making its entrance.

‘But where is
this
? Are we still in England? Heck, are we still in 2013?’ Had they gone back in time?  At this point, she was ready to believe anything.

‘Of course it’s 2013,’ he said pointedly. ‘How long were you in the woods exactly?’

‘I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know how we – I got here,’ she corrected herself, not wanting to give anything away. She didn’t want to risk anyone hunting down her friends.

‘Well, I’ve not heard of your ‘In-gland’. This is Virtfirth. How far away is your land exactly?’

‘I wish I knew,’ she whispered to herself. How could a person not have heard of England, especially when he spoke English? And where on earth was Virtfirth? As if Anya’s problems couldn’t get any worse, Barlem headed back to her cell. ‘Hey, what’s your name?’ she asked the Dragon-Boy in a hush.

‘Lorcan.’

Barlem kicked one of his gigantic boots at Lorcan’s cell. ‘Don’t talk t’the prisoners, devil!’ He opened Anya’s cell and dragged her outside. ‘‘e wants t’see you.’

‘All right, all right, I’m coming with you. You don’t have to pull me about, you know!’

Barlem didn’t seem to take kindly to her defiance, dragging her all the way to the King’s quarters. Her wrists, sore from the chains, were now throbbing and raw.

THE KING’S QUARTERS
were just past the big fire in the middle of the camp. They were larger than the other huts and more care had been put into building them. Two more men in armour flanked the entrance.

Inside wasn’t impressive. In fact, other than the size difference, it wasn’t a great step up from the cell she’d just been in. There were seats made from the tree trunks covered in what looked like blue lamb’s wool, and weapons hung against the wall, yet no obvious fixtures or fittings kept them in place. The throne was more elaborate. Backed with giant butterfly wings, it was the richest of blues, laced with definite black veins, and fine white spots dotted along the forewings. 

The King himself was dressed much like the soldiers, though his sheer presence screamed majesty. His face, however, was not what Anya had pictured. The image she had conjured was a harsh one; a sneering, royal snob. But this King’s face was soft and kind, a little dreamy. His solid, defined muscles gave away his strength, while his lightly greying hair, his age. Her gaze only faltered when she realised her friends were standing beside him. Michael, Stephanie and Tim; all there and in one piece.

‘Kneel then!’ Barlem barked, and he kicked Anya in the back of the leg. She fell to her knees and winced as the ground grazed her bare skin. ‘You’re in the company o’the King!’

‘BARLEM!’ the King roared. ‘This is not how we treat important visitors of Virtfirth! Unchain her at once and beg her forgiveness.’

Huh?

Anya looked around, wondering if the King was referring to someone else, but the only other person in the room that she’d failed to notice was the army commander, Faust.

With his jowl quivering, Barlem clumsily fumbled at his amour for the key, dropping it twice before finally releasing his prisoner. He looked almost as confused as she felt. ‘I’m... I’m sorry, Sire,’ he stuttered. ‘Miss, I – I beg your f’giveness, Miss. I’m ever s’sorry!’

He lifted her onto her feet and, not knowing what else to do, she nodded to the apologetic soldier. He crawled backwards on all fours, out of the room.

Anya looked to Michael. He shrugged his shoulders and gestured with a tilt of his head that she approach the king.

‘Step forward, child,’ the King said. No one but Iain had ever called her
child
before.

She stepped closer and he held out his hand.

‘Is it true? Have you finally come to restore the balance in Virtfirth?’ Though he phrased it as a question, his voice held a certainty beyond doubt.

She took his hand. ‘Sir,’ she said softly, dipping her head to acknowledge his status. ‘I’m not sure who you think I am, but I’m afraid you have the wrong person. I’m... I’m no one, sir.’

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow then turned his gaze down to the palm of her hand. ‘But child, you have the flaming hair that the prophet spoke of, and you bear the mark. And have you not arrived on the solstice?’

What was he talking about? What mark? She peered down at her palm. The King was right.

She didn’t know how it got there or when it had appeared, but there, right in the centre of her left hand was a deep and precise red scar, in the shape of a rounded-edge triangle, point down, two lines weaving vertically through it. The skin around it looked sore, yet she felt no pain.

Anya was stunned.

The King stood, and Anya witnessed another strange sight. The giant butterfly wings that she had thought part of the King’s throne were, in fact, part of the King himself. They fluttered back and forth like flower petals caught in a breeze as he walked Anya out into the heart of the camp, her hand still firmly in his.

‘May I have your attention?’ The King barely lifted his voice above the din of the soldiers, and yet it seemed to carry right across the camp, for men poured in from every direction and gathered around the fire, awaiting his next words.

With the purest grace and humility, the King knelt down in front of her and placed a kiss on her hand.

All eyes fell on Anya.

‘I, Theone, King of Virtfirth, welcome you, Marked One, and thank the Gods for your arrival.’

By her next breath, Anya was the only one left on her feet. Every member of the camp had dropped to their knees before her.

She looked back to her friends who were watching from the doorway, but they were just as baffled as she was.

H
OURS HAD PASSED
since King Theone had announced Anya as the Marked One. Virtfirth was still in darkness and not one person appeared worried by this, other than the four visitors.

After exchanging stories of how they all came to be at the camp, Anya told her friends that she needed some time to think, and she took a blue sheepskin blanket from a store hut that Barlem had kindly directed her to, and sat by the fire.

She had always found the sight of fire so mesmerizing. She loved the way the flames cracked and curled around one another as they danced their way toward the sky, and how they turned to fluffy, grey ripples of smoke with their last breath, succeeded by bright, new flames. It was the circle of life in its simplest form.

Sometime later, Stephanie came and sat down beside her, though she didn’t say anything. Eventually, Anya found her voice.

‘So,’ she began slowly, trying the words out for size. ‘The horses here have wings.’

‘Yep. And the King has wings.’

Anya nodded, still staring into the fire. ‘And Lorcan has wings too.’

‘Yep.’

‘Okay, so I think I’m getting used to things having wings in general.’ The girls looked at each other and laughed. It felt nice to laugh about something.

‘So, what’s that, er – do I say guy, or half-breed, or dragon-thingy?’

‘Guy is fine,’ Anya answered, ignoring Stephanie’s ignorance.

‘Guy then – What’s that guy’s story?’

She looked over to the cells where a few hours ago she herself had been locked inside. In the firelight, she could just make out Lorcan’s strange figure curled up in the corner by the door, his grey cloak wrapped over the peaks of his wings and his hood covering most of his face. She sensed there was more to him than he’d shared, like what he had done to end up in that cell. ‘I don’t know,’ she replied, drawing the blanket closer around her bare arms. Her little punky t-shirt and tartan skirt had been fine for the muggy weather back home, but here... it was like sitting in the middle of a perpetual frozen breath.

‘What do you make of all this
prophet
and
Marked One
stuff?’

‘Well, I don’t know where this came from,’ she said, pointing to the new scar on her hand, ‘but I still think they’ve made a big mistake – how could they not have? I don’t even know how to make peace between me and my ex-boyfriend, let alone
“restore the balance”
to an entire Kingdom! I don’t even know what happened here.’

‘What do you think we should do about it?’

Anya sighed. ‘I don’t know, Steph. I came here looking for more of the Weaver’s books so I could go home and save the only place I know for sure that my mother visited. I don’t want to just go home empty handed, and watch as James George pulls up the floors that she walked on, throws out the shelves she touched and rips the heart right out of the place. Iain’s heart...’ Her eyes welled, but she managed to grit her teeth and hold it in.

‘It’s okay,’ Steph said, gently placing her hand on Anya’s arm. ‘Scott’s is a special place. It means something different to each of us. If I hadn’t have worked at Scott’s, I’d have never of met Tim. Iain introduced us, you know?’

‘No, I didn’t know that.’ She smiled, even more thankful to have known him. It was just like him to set people up. He could see things in people that others just couldn’t.

‘I understand how you feel,’ Steph continued. ‘I’d rather die than let that
arse
get his hands on it.’

Anya shifted on the hard ground, trying to get more comfortable. As she pushed her bag to one side, out fell the little red box Iain had given her in his final moments. The necklace was still inside.

The sleek weaves of gold blinked as the fire flickered, and she recalled the story he’d told her. The girl he’d once been in love with and how they’d wanted a daughter. Carefully, she took the necklace from its box and lowered it around her neck. By the time she’d placed the box back in her bag, her mind was made up.

‘Come on,’ she said, getting to her feet and dusting herself down.

‘Where are we going?’

‘We’re going to do exactly what we came here to do. We’re going to find those books.’

WITH STEPH TRYING
her best to keep up in high-heels, Anya marched to the stables where the boys were inspecting the horses. They were poking them right in the spot where their wings met their bodies, causing them to kick out and flap around.

Michael saw her coming and smirked. ‘Feeling better
“oh Marked One?”
’ he said, bowing rather flamboyantly.

‘Shut up, Michael.’ She trusted he’d have a few snide comments lined up for her; typical post-break-up Michael. Ignoring her ex, she continued. ‘Look, I think we should read the Weaver’s riddle again. Try and work out the next part. That way, if we find a book we’ll know this madness is real and hasn’t all been for nothing.’

‘I agree,’ Tim said, still staring with fascination at the horses. ‘These creatures are incredible; I can’t fault them! Their muscle movements and responses are that of a real animal – no mechanics at all.’

Anya noticed the mare watching Tim closely. By the look on the horse’s face, she found Tim just as perplexing as he found her.

‘Bonkers as it sounds, somehow, this is all happening.’ He turned his interest back to the conversation at hand and the horse went back to grazing the arid, white grass in the paddock, calmly drawing back her wings.

‘Okay,’ Anya said. ‘First things first; let’s meet up with the King and find out what’s been happening here. I think this
Marked One
stuff is crazy, but if we can help them out, maybe they’ll help us out? After all, if there is a book hidden around here somewhere, we’re going to need all the help we can get to find it.’

THE SOLDIERS INFORMED
the Four that King Theone was out hunting with the camp’s cook, and wouldn’t be back until the feast around the fire later on. Barlem, who was still grovelling much to Anya’s discomfort, showed them to the visitor’s quarters.

If the King’s quarters were royal, their hut was practically divine. Centred against the back wall was a large bed, exquisitely carved from the trunk of a thousand-year-old white oak and laid with soft tan and white fur. Woven vines created a four poster effect whilst the symbol that had appeared on Anya’s hand hung above the head, fashioned from elegant feathers, vines and beads, all varying shades of red.

Barlem stood with his head high. ‘We’ve been waitin’ ever such a long time for you, Miss.’

He stood there, watching her like he wanted something
–
her approval or her reaction, maybe
–
but she couldn’t bring herself to show how uneasy these things made her. The mark that appeared on her hand, the VIP treatment, the expectations – how was anyone supposed to react to this?

She gave him the most appreciative smile she could muster. He looked so pleased with himself; she couldn’t hurt his feelings, especially after the way the King reprimanded him for kicking her.

When he left, Anya told Steph and Tim to take the bed.

‘O.M.G, Anya, thank you! I love it, it’s so cute!’ Steph lay on the bed, stroking the fur blankets.

‘But it’s meant for you, Anya,’ Tim whispered out of Steph’s earshot. ‘What if they take offence to you not sleeping in it?’

‘It doesn’t feel right taking up a whole bed on my own when the two of you could share it. Anyway, it’s not meant for me; I’m not who they think I am. I’m happy on the floor, I promise. A couple of those sheepskin blankets and I’ll be fine.’

THE ENTIRE CAMP
came together for the feast. Standing around the fire in the deathly cold reminded Anya of past bonfire nights back at Piddling’s. Each year, the kids would be taken somewhere to watch fireworks and celebrate Guy Fawkes Night. The huts around the camp reminded her of the vendors that would sell hotdogs, jacket potatoes and freshly cooked doughnuts, though sadly, none of those smells were present.  The lack of fragrance only highlighted the lack of food in her stomach.

‘I hope we don’t have to wait long, I’m starving,’ Michael whispered.

As more and more men gathered around, Anya quickly realised that she and Steph were the only two females in the camp. They hadn’t even seen a single woman in the time they’d been there.

She noticed many of the men looking at her and whispering to each other. The elders seemed intrigued by her arrival, but some of the soldiers were clearly unimpressed. A pair of hard-faced men, clad in armour, sat across from the Four, talking in low voices and grimacing at her whilst they spoke. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but her ears were burning.

‘You know, if you have something to say, you can say it to me rather than gossiping like girls behind my back.’ The camp fire burned in her eyes as the challenge rolled off her tongue.

‘You’re just not what we expected,’ said the stouter of the two soldiers, his dirty white eye-patch somehow doubling the intensity of his gaze.

‘This wasn’t exactly what I was expecting either, but here we all are,’ she barbed, narrowing her eyes.

The other soldier, sharpening his dagger on a rock, looked up and snorted. ‘What can a tiny little thing like you do against the Darkness? Grown men have gone out there to fight it and never returned. What makes you so special?’

Fortunately, King Theone’s return halted their conversation there.  Just as well, she didn’t have an answer for them.

The King landed boldly by the soldiers and shot them a look as if he knew they’d been confessing doubts. He was carrying what appeared to be a dead bush, whilst a group of men behind him had baskets full of the same. Although the Four hadn’t spoke about what they were expecting for a meal, Anya assumed they had pictured, just as she had, some sort of hog or deer roasting by the fire. She couldn’t have been more disappointed. The dead bushes looked far from appetising.

The hungry men around her looked confused by what the King was doing, which led Anya to believe that this wasn’t a normal meal time for them, either.

Theone placed the first bush on the ground and knelt beside it, and if the past twenty four hours hadn’t been strange enough, what he did next changed everything the Four had ever believed about the world.

He focused all his attention on the plant, somehow managing to achieve the perfect quiescence despite the impatient grunts and the ill-tempered shouts from the crowd. Slowly, he raised his hands out towards the skeletal shrub, closed his eyes, and the Four stared on in disbelief as the King began to glow like moonlight. The shrub rose from the ground and its white, bone-like twigs began turning, first to an off-white, then through to a dark taupe. The natural texture of a living plant crept quickly around the maze of limbs, and deep purple leaves sprouted all around it. When they reached their full size, a red hue gradually took to the outer edges of each leaf, and a sweet, delicate fragrance graced the night.

Once the bush was in full bloom, lots of large, deep-carmine fruits emerged from raindrop buds, outer petals splayed out around the fruits like the points of a star. It was then that the men who had been carrying the baskets quickly gathered round, pulling the curious fruits into a wooden barrel.

When the final fruit had been picked, a much paler Theone released the plant from his enchantment, and no quicker than it fell to the ground was it barren once more.

‘Did you just see that?’ Steph’s jaw had hit the floor and her eyes were fixed on the King.

Anya just stared. Her train of thought thundered through to every book she had ever read as a child.
The Chronicles of Narnia, The Last Unicorn, The Worst Witch, Harry Potter
... they had been right all along. Magic was real.

Just as her imagination was about to carry her off to other realms of possibility, Barlem came bounding toward her with a hand-carved bowl, full of the fruits Theone’s magic had produced. In front of the entire camp, he knelt at her feet and offered the bowl to her, keeping his eyes downcast.

Anya was mortified. ‘Really, you don’t have to do that, Barlem,’ she said, quickly taking the bowl from him. ‘If I’m honest, I preferred it when you were dragging me around.’