Untouched (Untouched #1)(Old Work)

Chapter Ten

Ellen's eyes scanned the courtroom, taking in its marvel and beauty. The room itself was cavernous with tall, sweeping ceilings made of rock and wooden beams. The walls were similar, predominantly stone that was bracketed by dark wood, and the floor itself was made of highly-polished marble. As the room was underground, it was also cool and occasionally made Ellen shiver and the hairs on her skin stand on end. A marvellous, intricately detailed gold chandelier that was drilled into the ceiling hung at the forward of the room, bathing everything under it in a pale-yellow light. Two long, bench-like tables stretched from one wall to the other; the second elevated on a platform so that the observers in the gallery. Seated behind them were eighteen members of the Committee; eighteen which was usually twenty. But not today. One of their own members was being tried, and Claudia was yet to enter as per procedure. A small table was set up to the side to accommodate a scribe who was now busying herself unwinding a scroll.

The gallery was full of spectators whispering amongst each other; the masses usually only arriving in force when someone of prominence was being tried or whether it involved Necromancers. It was like the squeaking of mice, so quiet but together as one, so loud. Ellen found herself on the front bench in an optimal viewing position, tightly nestled between Guardian Rolland and someone who she had never seen before. Flaming red hair, dark as night skin and a heavy accent told Ellen that she wasn't local to this region. Hans had fought hard prior to the trial, banning her from attending but Claudia had insisted otherwise and saw it as beneficial. The final result was that she would be able to attend but only in the company of Rolland. At times she felt as if she was being babysat but in reality, she was only young in this world and needed guidance and experience. Being better than nothing, she accepted and was now waiting eagerly on the bench-seats with everyone else for the trial to begin.

Rolland had taken it on himself to educate her about the legal process, and was giving her a whispering commentary in her ear about what to expect and etiquette customs that needed to be observed. He also pointed to the Grand Committee members, giving a brief yet intimate description of each person. The members were diverse, coming from all corners of the globes, as were their features. Skin shades ranged from ghastly white to a rich, chocolate brown; hair, bald to floor length and white to black, faces were shaped from pointed to well-rounded. They all wore the same ceremonial robes of pale gold, a symbol of honourable status and were expressionless. Her eyes rested on Hans who was seated in the middle-front, left of the chair that Claudia would be occupying shortly. His face was neutral, both hands entwined and resting on the table in front of him. He also refused to make eye contact with anyone, rather intensely focusing on the edge of the table in front of him.

There was a sudden bang! - similar to an explosion - and heads in the gallery turned rapidly towards the entrance doors. The heavy panels of wood flew open and a group of guards marched inwards along the aisle. Ellen could just make out the small man, Dvorak, amongst them, dwarfed by the others. The metal armour they wore clanged with each and every step, the metallic sound bouncing and echoing off the walls. Once at the top of the aisle and facing towards the Grand Committee, the front guards broke from the line and retreated, followed by the guards that were on the sides of Dvorak. Those that stood behind the man remained there, ensuring that he couldn't escape if he tried; although, Ellen had the inkling that the guards wouldn't need to be there physically to be able to stop him. An aura was given off by them, an aura filled with power and might.

All eyes were on Dvorak now who stood defiantly at the front, his eyes transfixed on the empty seat; so transfixed that he may have gone cross-eyed. There were still a few stolen whispers in the gallery, a mix of curiosity and accusatory. It was difficult to make out what these individual whispers were but that didn't bother Ellen. Rumours had leaked of what had happened in the meeting that day and most had a very heavily weighted opinion. It seemed clear that he wasn't, by any means, a popular Tempusmancer yet alone a Master. Ellen suspected the only ones that supported him were from his very own clan, and even they seemed few and far between in the gallery.