Ink Sisters

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Being drug down through the jagged cliffs by invisible ropes is not a pleasant experience for the sisters. The intruder strolls languidly in front of them flicking his wrist about, tightening the magical threads that hold them. Lorelle struggles against the bonds, but it is no use. The more she moves, the tighter the rope gets. Beside her, Leandra is having no luck wriggling amongst the invisible bindings either.

She has been tied up with Syd. His limp leather body is digging into the flesh of her back sharply. He does not move at all, nor does he even so much as let a whimper escape. Both he and Leandra are in no mood to argue now.

The trio is led to the base of the mountains that once hid them. For centuries they have remained unseen and undisturbed. That tranquility has been shattered; destroyed by the whims of this stranger. Now, they must play by his rules. He's told them nothing about why they are needed for his schemes, only that they are the final key. The twins sense the same unease about this stranger that they encountered in Willowdown. They can taste it in the air, feel it on their skin.

"Stop!" he shouts suddenly while hunching over. Alarmed, Lorelle stumbles into her sister. The stranger bends to catch his breath, his stringy hair dangling in front of his keen face. A hand is dragged across his damp skin. Fingers swipe at the sheen of sweat that begins to form there. He grimaces, his mouth drawn down into a deep frown. It's obvious that the stranger is in pain, but the affliction remains a mystery. He straightens quickly, before the sisters can even attempt an escape. In a matter of seconds, they are on the move again. He tugs them along once more with a flick of his wrist. The small magic normally accessible to them seems to distantly evade their minds, as if it is lost to a teeming grey fog, and they cannot delve into its density to reach it. There will be no help from the base charms available to all mages regardless of their specialty. Perhaps it is because of the man or because the rope tethered to them. It seems to tighten and move from some magical element controlled by its master.

"What do you think that was all about?" Leandra asks Lorelle as she steps over a pile of grey and brown stones.

Lorelle shrugs her narrow shoulders. "He seems to be hiding that pain well."

"Except just then," Leandra points out, "when he lets his façade slip."

Both glance toward the white-haired man. He is strolling along leisurely again, a stance of seeming ease enveloping his long limbs. The sisters are not fooled though. Not for a second. They know he watches them intently even if he appears unalert. A magical aura seems to hum around him, a mere drop of his power. The stranger is ancient; his mission perhaps carried out for a long, long time.  He will not give up his prizes so readily.

"Where would he take us?" Lorelle asks in a hushed voice. "And why?"

"Who knows?" Leandra remarks. A step down the cliff makes the corner of Syd's flap dig sharply into her spine. She knows the book is enjoying this. "All I know is that he's been searching for us for an extensive amount of time," she adds to her sister's question, eager to focus on anything besides Syd chafing the skin on her back.

"I wonder where he is taking us?" Lorelle asks again, more to herself this time. Her small voice seems to echo, the hazy peaks allowing the question to ring through the air around them.

They do not answer back.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

A brick spire attached to a stone circular building arises out of the shallow crags at the base of the mountains. The whole bottom half of the structure is shrouded in a flowing mist that seems to roll off the pointed peaks. It leaves it looking like it is suspended in mid-air, floating on a cloud. Its long, gothic windows do not look welcoming. They are sharp and cut into octagonal shapes; all geometrically equal and composed of black glittering shards of stained glass. There is no light coming from any part of the interior, at least not that the sisters can tell. Only a lonely torch winks at them beside the massive decorative door. It looks to be made of a heavy dark wood, with a cruel looming lion's head positioned above the handle. Its bronzed face leans forward, pointed incisors gripping the curved metal of the door knocker.