The Evermen Saga 01 - Enchantress (5 page)

Ella was careful to avoid sloshing water all over the floor. She filled the heavy iron pot with water and added oats and a sprinkling of salt from their meagre store. Brandon took the pot from her hands, carefully resting it over the coals. Ella’s eyes smarted from the acrid smoke.

"What were you doing when I came in?" she whispered, in case Miro was still sleeping. "You need more light — you’ll strain your eyes."

Brandon held it their nightlamp. "It doesn’t work anymore. The runes have faded."

"It was working before…"

"Well it isn’t now —" Brandon broke off, coughing; the winter had been hard on him and he’d picked up a chill he couldn’t seem to shake.

Ella reached over and took the nightlamp — a carved piece of marble the size of a man’s fist. Silver symbols covered its surface, and she traced them with her fingertip, mouthing the names of the runes.

"
Tish-tassine
," she spoke softly. The nightlamp lit up with a wan, gentle glow.

Brandon started. "How did you…?"

Ella smiled. "When they start to get depleted they become a bit less forgiving with the way you activate them. The inflection has to be just right. Still, it probably won’t last another week. We’ll need to buy another."

"More gilden," Brandon grumbled. "So you went to the funeral then?"

Ella nodded. "They let me put my arrangement on the barge."

"That’s good." He nodded. "Poor woman, she deserved better than to die like that."

Ella turned her head; there was something strange in the way he said it. "What do you mean?"

Brandon coughed. "Forget I said anything, lass. I merely meant that drowning’s not a good way to die."

"Where’s Miro?" she asked.

"The boy’s still sleeping." Brandon grunted. "They’re working him hard at the Pens. Poor lad’s chest is blue with bruises — he needs armour, and a sword. Each year without his own arms holds him back." He looked up at Ella, and she thought of all the money she’d saved.

Ella realised with a sense of dejection that there was no reason for her to work so hard anymore. At that moment she acknowledged the truth — she would never be an enchantress.

"Uncle?"

"What is it?"

"The gilden I’ve saved. I want you to use it to buy Miro the things he needs. Get us a new nightlamp too — and a coat for you"

There was a long pause. Finally Brandon spoke. "No, Ella. You’ve worked hard for it and it’s yours."

"Please, it’s what I want," Ella looked down so Brandon wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I’m sure."

Brandon gripped Ella’s hand, surprising her — it was rare for him to show affection. "Thank you, lass. The boy won’t know it but this is what he needs. They say he’s got real talent. Don’t worry, we’ll find you work. Or you could keep working at the market — perhaps a merchant will take you on as an apprentice. Maybe we’ll even find you a husband, eh?"

Ella couldn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply nodded.

At that moment a cry came from Miro’s room. Ella glanced at her uncle. "I’ll go and see."

Miro tossed in his bed. Sweat glistened on his skin. He rolled first one way, then another, fighting with unseen enemies.

Ella crouched next to her brother. "Miro!" She gently shook his shoulders. He lashed out, and she barely missed being hit. Ella shook him harder, calling his name. He fought like a demon, but suddenly his eyes were open and wide with confusion.

"Wh… What is it?"

"You were having a nightmare."

Miro blinked. He took a deep breath and looked away. "It was nothing."

Ella pitched her voice low, so it wouldn’t carry to the next room. "You were crying out. It was the same dream, wasn’t it?"

"It’s always the same," his voice shook. "I never see his face properly, only reflected in his dagger. And I can’t fight back."

Miro had been having the same nightmare since childhood. Ella tried to brighten. "Well, it’s daytime now. Get up."

Miro sat up and wiped his eyes. He studied her. "What is it? Something’s wrong."

Ella smiled, though it was hard. "Come on, sleepy. I’ve got some oats on."

She returned to where Brandon still sat, watching the pot about to boil over.

"Uncle!" She quickly grabbed a cloth and lifted the pot from the heat. Had he been asleep? It was fearful how old he was getting.

"Sorry, lass, I didn’t notice. Smells good," he said.

Ella filled three bowls, Brandon taking his and digging in with a metal spoon. She took the other bowls out to the front deck where a pair of wooden chairs slumped near a small table. Ella looked out over the trees and shrubs that surrounded their forest home. She could hear the woods come alive. Birds and insects formed a buzzing music. She heard Miro’s footsteps, and soon he was sitting across from her.

Ella looked at her older brother. His dark eyes regarded her with concern.

Miro had always watched over Ella. He had his own pains though, and behind his confidence was an inner turmoil she thought only she could see. He was tall and lanky, and this morning he’d neglected to brush his unruly black hair.

"Ella, tell me. What is it?" Realisation dawned in his eyes. "Of course — the funeral. I’m sorry, I know you were close, was it sad?"

Ella took a deep breath. She needed to speak to someone. "Yesterday a man from the market told me that Lady Katherine was discovered in her bedclothes. Why would she drown in her bedclothes?"

"They’re just rumours, Ella. You shouldn’t listen to them."

"I went and found the man who discovered her body. Miro, he confirmed it."

Miro frowned. "Why are you asking all these questions?"

Now that she’d started, Ella couldn’t stop talking. "Then I overheard the High Lord speaking with another lord. They said she committed some kind of crime, and that it’s for the best that’s she’s dead." She stopped, out of breath, waiting for Miro’s reaction.

"You were spying on the High Lord? Ella, what were you thinking?"

"It was an accident…" Ella pleaded.

Miro hesitated, before speaking with authority. "Ella, I don’t think you should say anything to anyone. Someone just died — the wife of our High Lord. I think you should leave it."

"Don’t you care what happened to her?"

"Just let it be. Think about what you’re saying. What do you think you’ll find out? It wouldn’t be anything good, would it?" A temple bell sounded in the distance, striking the hour. "I need to get going now."

Miro stood and stretched, and Ella blanched when she saw the black and purple bruises on his back. She was glad he would soon have the armour he needed.

Uncle Brandon came out to the deck wearing his patched overcoat. "Hold on, lad. I’m going to go to the market. I’ll walk with you."

Miro turned and waved as they disappeared into the forest, leaving Ella on the deck, listening to the sounds of the forest. Sighing, she entered the house and cleaned up the breakfast dishes with the last of the water. She took the pail outside to fetch more.

Rogan Jarvish stood at the foot of the steps, looking up at her, his hand on his sword and the grey cloak billowing around his form.

Ella screamed, and the sound of the pail clattering against the steps rang through the morning air.

3

You can learn more about people from their instruments of torture than you can from their works of beauty.

— Louan saying

E
LLA
spun on her heel and grabbed one of the chairs. She would hurl the chair at the swordsman and dash into the small house, slamming the door shut behind her. In the confusion she would be able to escape through a window.

"Stop, lass." Rogan’s voice sounded like gravel. He was suddenly next to her, he’d moved so quickly she could hardly believe it. He held her by the arm, gently but firmly. The chair fell out of her hand.

"Please, I mean you no harm." He took his hands off her and spread them.

Ella was overwhelmingly conscious of how alone she was. No one would come to investigate her scream.

"Ella, listen to me. I was a friend to Lady Katherine."

She stood, her chest heaving, before turning to face him. He didn’t seem so fearsome all of a sudden, with his arms imploring and his expression earnest. Rogan took two steps back to open some space between them.

"You knew her?"

Rogan chuckled ruefully, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wish I’d killed the Petryan who gave me this scar twice over. Once I was thought handsome. You don’t need to be frightened, lass. You’re a difficult girl to find, did you know that? I was told I could find you at the market, but you weren’t there. And then at the river, I was certain you’d seen me. I don’t know what you think it is I want from you, but it’s nothing sinister, I assure you."

"I was told you were dangerous."

"Only to Altura’s enemies," he said. "My name is Jarvish, Rogan Jarvish. I’m here to deliver a message."

"What message?"

"I can’t tell you that, because I haven’t read it — it’s for you, Ella. I do however have an idea what it says and I have one simple piece of advice. Read it quickly, you don’t have much time, not much at all."

With that he handed her a scroll, sealed with green wax and the imprint of a flower. He nodded to her and met her gaze for a moment, then departed quickly, leaving Ella standing on the steps, her mouth open.

Ella promptly broke the seal and began to read. Something fluttered to the ground, two smaller sheets rolled inside the larger, but Ella ignored them, her pulse racing.

Dear Ella,

I have left this legacy with a friend, to be given to you in the unlikely event of my not being able to give it to you myself.

In the time that I have known you I have come to be so proud of all you have achieved, and with no help from anyone except yourself.

I have made many mistakes in my life, and I cannot express how pleased I am that you dream of becoming your own person, and not beholden to anyone else.

Please, think of me kindly.

There was no signature. Ella’s hand trembled and her knees went weak. She sank down to the floor, and there were the two pieces of paper, resting next to her hand.

She picked the first up. It was bordered with glossy black lines, and the text was in the legalese of the money lenders. All she caught were the words "on account" and "tuition". With wide eyes and shaking hands she picked up the next sheet.

It was a letter of recommendation to the Academy of Enchanters.

Enrolments closed this morning, and examinations finished today. She may already be too late.

Ella had always promised herself she wouldn’t be afraid, no matter what life threw at her, yet here she was. If she hadn’t been afraid of Rogan she wouldn’t be in this situation.

Adrenalin surged through Ella’s body.

She began to run.

~

S
OMEONE
different sat behind the desk when Ella arrived at the Academy of Enchanters, flushed with exertion. She was a pretty girl Ella’s age with waves of auburn hair tucked behind her ears, full lips and soft brown eyes.

"Hello, can I help?" the girl said.

Ella looked around her, disconcerted to see there was no queue and the paved footpaths were uncannily quiet. "I’m here for the examination," she said, holding the letter of introduction and lender’s draft out for perusal.

"Don’t worry," the girl smiled, "you’re here early. There’s plenty of time."

Ella breathed a sigh of relief.

"Madam Foley, our administrator, will be here to take you shortly." The girl paused. "I think I’ve seen you before. Do you have a brother, who trains at the Pens? Miro, I think that’s his name."

"How did you know?" Ella’s heart was still racing, but she began to calm.

The girl blushed. "I watch the boys train sometimes, after classes. He’s very good, you know. Oh, sorry, I haven’t given you my name, I’m Amber."

"I’m Ella."

"Nice to meet you, Ella. Is Miro your older brother, or younger?"

"He’s the older, but I’m not sure by how much. Can I just ask — how does the test work?"

"Don’t worry," Amber said. "Madam Foley will interview you. How could you not know how much older he is?" she asked with open curiosity. "When’s your birthday?"

"I don’t know. Miro doesn’t either. My parents… They died, I think. Another man raised us."

"Oh." Amber looked down. "Sometimes I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut."

They spoke while Ella waited, and Ella soon found herself warming to Amber. Even as they were talking though, Ella wondered what the examination would be like. She’d heard it was difficult. What would they ask her?

Eventually an older woman came over, her face stern and hair coiled in a tight bun.

"Ah, there she is," Amber said as the woman approached. "Madam Foley, this is Ella, she’s here for the staff position."

Ella looked at Amber with shock. "No, I’m not. I’ve got my letter of recommendation here, and a lender’s draft for the fees. I’m here to enrol, and sit the entrance examinations. I want to study at the Academy."

"Amber?" Madam Foley said. "What have you done?"

Amber turned white. "Ella, your clothes… I didn’t realise. There’s not even ten minutes to go before the masters close the examination room. Lord of the Sky, what have I done? I’m so sorry!"

"Please, just tell me where to go?" Ella said.

"Here," Madam Foley said. "I’ll take you. Quickly, come with me. Amber, take her letters, and perhaps next time don’t be so swift to come to conclusions, dear. I’ll see if I can reason with the masters."

"Yes, Madam Foley," said Amber morosely.

Madam Foley took Ella by the hand and half-led, half-dragged her through a series of twists and turns, down alleys and narrow footpaths, obviously taking a shortcut to the examination room.