her father
would think of her rhyme.
Chapter Five
Lestel paced within his mind. At least,
that’s what he perceived himself to be doing. Half of his
consciousness was left linked to his body, subject to be turned on
or off whenever Luthen saw fit. The other half was spent trapped in
an imagined prison.
The walls were bare and smelled of must. The
scene was eerily similar to that of the tower chamber, only this
time Lestel was the corpse left to rot. The only differences were
the furnishings. A large mirror, at least four hands taller than
him, leaned up against the wall and a round gray candle burned
lazily on the floor. The frame of the mirror was made of thick
black branches twisted with razor sharp thorns and the glass
nothing but swirling fog.
Suddenly, a searing pain shot up Lestel’s
spine, stabbing into his skull. At least, he thought it was his
skull, or maybe what was his skull but now another’s skull. All he
knew was that the pain was all his. Such sensations came and went
as quickly as the wind.
Lestel felt his legs being dragged along in
jerky walk. He felt his eyes being drawn to the murky surface of
the mirror. Suddenly the smoke parted. The mirror gleamed in the
dim candle light. Lestel suddenly recognized the haggard face for
his. He could see pale, slender fingers tracing along familiar
creases and furrows and over a new growth of graying stubble.
“I hope you’ve been having as good a time as
I’ve had, Lestel. Because, to be honest, it’s going to be very
lonely where you’re gone. I’m going to have to make some changes to
this ragged old body soon. It’s falling to pieces!” Luthen’s laugh
echoed in Lestel’s prison. “It’s a shame about your wife though,
pretty little thing,” said Luthen with Lestel’s own mouth, the
word’s turning Lestel’s phantom stomach sour.
Lestel thrashed against the icy glass of the
mirror, unable to break the restraints of the magic that had
overpowered him. Each movement of his lips and faint vibration of
speech not his own made him sick with anger and fear.
“Oh, just wait until the show begins. By the
way, I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay. I hate to say it, Lestel, but
I’m evicting you.”
***
“Merrick, wake up! We must leave!
Quickly!”
Merrick’s head jolted upright, his chest
heaving for air. The burning in his lungs had eased from searing
pain to something much more tolerable. His words came out as a
wheeze as they escaped his parched mouth. “How long have I
slept?”
“Long enough,” Amaeya said, rising to her
feet. “I heard the war party move past the forest not long ago. I
almost woke you then, but they were moving so quickly they passed
us in a matter of minutes.”
“So you’re waking me now?” His cracked lips
curled like a dried leaf into a weak smile.
“I’m waking you because I know something is
wrong. Al’Rul would never allow his war party to create such a
racket without a good reason.”
Merrick raised himself unsteadily to his
feet, still clutching Amaeya’s cloak around his shoulders. “How do
you know he wasn’t looking for us?”
“He would have sent his men to scour the
woods. The only thing in that direction is an abandoned valley
and…” her voice trailed off as she raised her hand to press against
her furrowing brow. “The city. That’s where they’re headed.”
“City?” Merrick said, peeling the cloak from
his weakened body. “What city?”
Amaeya grabbed Merrick by the shoulders,
digging her fingers into his battered leather garb. “The city in
the sky. Your vision… it may not be delirium after all.”
“We have to get there, and fast. Do you know
the way?” Merrick straightened his posture, fastening his straps
and checking his pockets for items of use. He found a pouch of
lightening powder, a ball of scratchy twine, and a set of small
tools made from obsidian.
“Of course I know the way, it’s not far from
here at all,” she said, drawing her hands
would think of her rhyme.
Chapter Five
Lestel paced within his mind. At least,
that’s what he perceived himself to be doing. Half of his
consciousness was left linked to his body, subject to be turned on
or off whenever Luthen saw fit. The other half was spent trapped in
an imagined prison.
The walls were bare and smelled of must. The
scene was eerily similar to that of the tower chamber, only this
time Lestel was the corpse left to rot. The only differences were
the furnishings. A large mirror, at least four hands taller than
him, leaned up against the wall and a round gray candle burned
lazily on the floor. The frame of the mirror was made of thick
black branches twisted with razor sharp thorns and the glass
nothing but swirling fog.
Suddenly, a searing pain shot up Lestel’s
spine, stabbing into his skull. At least, he thought it was his
skull, or maybe what was his skull but now another’s skull. All he
knew was that the pain was all his. Such sensations came and went
as quickly as the wind.
Lestel felt his legs being dragged along in
jerky walk. He felt his eyes being drawn to the murky surface of
the mirror. Suddenly the smoke parted. The mirror gleamed in the
dim candle light. Lestel suddenly recognized the haggard face for
his. He could see pale, slender fingers tracing along familiar
creases and furrows and over a new growth of graying stubble.
“I hope you’ve been having as good a time as
I’ve had, Lestel. Because, to be honest, it’s going to be very
lonely where you’re gone. I’m going to have to make some changes to
this ragged old body soon. It’s falling to pieces!” Luthen’s laugh
echoed in Lestel’s prison. “It’s a shame about your wife though,
pretty little thing,” said Luthen with Lestel’s own mouth, the
word’s turning Lestel’s phantom stomach sour.
Lestel thrashed against the icy glass of the
mirror, unable to break the restraints of the magic that had
overpowered him. Each movement of his lips and faint vibration of
speech not his own made him sick with anger and fear.
“Oh, just wait until the show begins. By the
way, I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay. I hate to say it, Lestel, but
I’m evicting you.”
***
“Merrick, wake up! We must leave!
Quickly!”
Merrick’s head jolted upright, his chest
heaving for air. The burning in his lungs had eased from searing
pain to something much more tolerable. His words came out as a
wheeze as they escaped his parched mouth. “How long have I
slept?”
“Long enough,” Amaeya said, rising to her
feet. “I heard the war party move past the forest not long ago. I
almost woke you then, but they were moving so quickly they passed
us in a matter of minutes.”
“So you’re waking me now?” His cracked lips
curled like a dried leaf into a weak smile.
“I’m waking you because I know something is
wrong. Al’Rul would never allow his war party to create such a
racket without a good reason.”
Merrick raised himself unsteadily to his
feet, still clutching Amaeya’s cloak around his shoulders. “How do
you know he wasn’t looking for us?”
“He would have sent his men to scour the
woods. The only thing in that direction is an abandoned valley
and…” her voice trailed off as she raised her hand to press against
her furrowing brow. “The city. That’s where they’re headed.”
“City?” Merrick said, peeling the cloak from
his weakened body. “What city?”
Amaeya grabbed Merrick by the shoulders,
digging her fingers into his battered leather garb. “The city in
the sky. Your vision… it may not be delirium after all.”
“We have to get there, and fast. Do you know
the way?” Merrick straightened his posture, fastening his straps
and checking his pockets for items of use. He found a pouch of
lightening powder, a ball of scratchy twine, and a set of small
tools made from obsidian.
“Of course I know the way, it’s not far from
here at all,” she said, drawing her hands
Similar Books
