Darkness Rising 1 - Chained

Chapter 3 - The Carnival

Leafstide 1920

“Do you think there’s something wrong with her?”

It was Abila’s voice, saturated with concern. Emelia knew that should mean something to her but she couldn’t seem to generate the energy to be bothered.

Her body was weighed down by misery. Each time she tried to rise from her bed it dragged her back like an undertow in a sea of gloom. There were no tears left in her, she felt wrung out and barren. A void was within her hollow chest, a space where a young bright girl used to be.

“I don’t think what Sandila’s got is catching,” Annre said.

“Come on, Emelia, before Mother gets here.”

Mother? She is no mother to me, thought Emelia. Who would be a mother to such a weak worthless vassal as I? She needed to get up but her muscles refused. By Torik, she was tired, weary to the marrow. She was fatigued yet couldn’t sleep.

“Get up now, girl,” Mother Gresham said.

Emelia stared at the stone of the wall. I feel like the dead rock of this prison.

A bucket of ice cold water soaked Emelia. She sprang from the bed with a scream. Gresham grabbed her hair and dragged her across the floor.

“Melancholia is for the rich, Emelia. Remember that. Now get to your chores or I’ll cane you into a better frame of mind.”

Emelia stumbled towards the warmth of the kitchen, stifling a sob.

***

The wind that drove over the Cloudtip Mountains from the Plains of Meltor often marked the decline of autumn. It chilled like none other, infiltrating any gap in the yarkel hair cloaks that the servants had as their only protection.

Emelia and Abila awaited the emergence of Mother Gresham and Sandila into the cobbled square that was located in front of the Keep and its gatehouse. The ubiquitous mists had cleared rapidly that morning with the wind.

Although their origins in the frigid northern islands had conferred them some degree of resilience to the cold, the two girls still stomped and slapped themselves, trying to reclaim some of the lost warmth of the kitchens.

Emelia’s attention was fixed on the upper city’s walls. They ran from either side of the Keep flush with the edge of the plateau on which the city sat.

“It makes you wonder what sort of threat made them build walls that high around a city half way up a mountain,” Emelia said.

“Are you going to be dreamy all day?” Abila asked. “I suppose it’s better than the mood you have been in this last week.”

“Oh, you noticed! Well you’d be in a mood too if you found out you were going to live with the Air-mages as an object of curiosity.”

“They might turn you into a frog and then you could hop away.”

Emelia glared at her friend. “I just feel so trapped in this place, with its high walls and its sombre stones. It’s like we’re in a giant rock pool.”

“That’s a curious phrase. I’ve heard you say it before. Where’s it from?”

Emelia sat back against the edge of a rickshaw. Tears pricked her eyes.

“Do you remember much before you came here? Much about your family?”

Abila shook her head. “I was only five, I think. My mother died in childbirth and my father, well he was a sailor and you know how they drink. When he was offered the money for my servitude I’m certain he leapt at the chance. I’ve probably a better life here.”