The Halo Of Vakh (BOOK 1)

THE WIZARD'S LAIR

The first thing Sapphire felt was the throbbing pain in her head and the burning behind her eyelids as she came to consciousness. She jerked awake, head spinning, vision clearing. Panic gripped her, welling in her stomach and coiling around her chest, stretching forward to prickle at her neck as sweat dripped down her forehead. And then, Ileeyan was there, appearing before her like an apparition in her dreams and she nearly fell out of the softness beneath her. 

Ice wrapped itself around her and she shivered. She looked towards Ileeyan who stood like a silent sentry beside her, a candle in his hand, the wax not melted enough to flow over onto his hands. It was a few moments later that she realised his eyes were closed. The man was asleep while he stood. She looked around.

A hearth flared bright at the end of the room and yet the fire had a spectral presence about it. It was too still, too vibrant. Her head spun once again and she gripped what she realised was fur beneath her hand and willed her vision to steady. She remembered being shot and she twisted around, trying to get a glimpse of her own back and failing when pain erupted in her arm. She looked down to see a cloth wrapped around her forearm.

The room was full of shelves, brimming with odd glass vials and books with cracking spines and loose pages peeking from between their volumes. A table stood between the room, layered with cracked glass and overturned tripods. Two candelabras held the candles upright, the thread cold and the wax frozen in odd patterns. She pulled herself up, pushing on her arms and wincing lightly. Her vision blackened and she steadied herself against the stone wall beside her bed. Once she could see clearly she shuffled forwards, giving one strange look towards the sleeping man. She moved towards the shelves, letting her eyes travel over the jars collecting dust, the parchment glued to them yellowing. She swiped her finger on one of the jars, the liquid inside a deep clear blue that reminded her of the northern seas she had seen in one of Rueen's illustrated books.

"Aconite," she read under her breath. She moved on to the next one and vaguely recognized the liquid as something Uncle James used to put people into a deep sleep before some terrible surgery; it was usually a case of appendicitis or from Alder's Lung Rot. After reading the tag she realised it was the extract of belladonna. The next jar made her stop. Despite the dust blurring out the contents she recognized them instantly.

She remembered when an old crone with claws for hands had cornered her in the traders' market, pulled her into a dark corner and shoved a similar jar into her face while she spat gibberish and her eyes blazed with an invisible fire. Sapphire was nine then. The woman had held her arm in a vice-like grip and pulled Sapphire with her towards a wagon. All the while Sapphire had whimpered and tears had streamed down her cheeks.

"Such pretty eyes!" the woman had hissed. "Such pretty hair!"

She didn't know what would have happened if Orion hadn't appeared and pulled her away. She never understood the words the woman was saying, but the few words she had caught clearly, sent shivers down her spine after all those years. The woman had hissed at her about salamander tongue, child flesh and stew. She reeled back from the jar and hastily moved towards the table.

She breathed deeply. The air was stale. Her hands travelled over the papers scattered on the wood and she lifted her eyes. She caught the burning glare of an orange haze from the shutters that hung loose and limp from the window opposite her. She straightened. Through the haze of her memories, she pulled at the thread that burst to the forefront of her mind. The lines blurred together but she was sure that she was not imagining the clouds of Vakhor that had swallowed them whole right before she lost consciousness. It was confusing and daunting. She knew people who had ventured into Vakhor lands never returned. Trappers and travellers had brought words about it to them; she had read about it a few times in the papers at Ta Todhg's place. Then why was it that she was breathing? Her wounds made sense. Ileeyan probably healed her with Draedech. She still did not know how to feel about that.