Louisa Shorney

From a distance the Palace glows like a beacon of white light, disguising the festering sickness of pure darkness that beats at its heart. Even with his defusers on Gwern is blinded by the white marble edifice towering above him. But the years have not hardened his heart nor steeled his mind to its irony, bile still threatens to rise from his stomach. How much longer he can endure the facade is a matter that he debates frequently. For now he must and will continue to endure. He takes a deep breath, straightens his tie and adjusts his cuffs, clicks his heals together and pulls himself up into a postured authority. Mask on, he is ready to enter. For all the shinning light outside, the coloured columns of glass allow in but a gentle glow. Confidently he strides down the alabaster corridor towards the oak doors at its end. His marching echoes alert the sentry to his arrival.

‘Lord Carpinus. The High Commissioner is expecting you. If you wouldn’t mind waiting in the anti chamber, Sir. I will inform her Lordship of your arrival.’

‘Thank you Jainus.’

Bidding him enter, the sentry bows and proffers the comfort of a well set in fire. Fresh arabica sits steaming in a silver pot on the occasional table set between two leather wing-backed chairs. Gwern stands with his hand resting on the mantel and stares into the flames. Clearing his mind of all thoughts he safely locks them behind steel doors. Now he can partake of that delicious smelling arabica and relax back into the comfort of the chair. Sitting with his legs crossed, holding the cup in both hands, he stares through the steam as it rises in front of his face bringing his mind to focus on the image of glaring white marble and brightly coloured glass.

‘Ah Lord Carpinus, I see you have made yourself comfortable.’

Gwern returns his cup to its saucer on the table and rises into his tailored posture, clicking his heals, he bows his head. With a well versed obsequiousness he addresses the Lord High Commissioner.

‘Sire. As always it is a pleasure to be graced by your presence.’

‘I find it quite amusing that after all these years you still marvel at the glory of our Palace, Carpinus.’

‘Indeed Sire. It is but a reflection of the marvel I hold for the brilliance of its benefactor. I am as always, Sire, your most humble servant.’

‘Quite, quite. Now please stop your bowing. I prefer to look my Lords in the eyes. They speak so much more honestly than words, don’t you think?’

Steel doors locked and bolted, eyes benign, Gwern looks directly at the Lord High Commissioner.

‘Of course Sire.’

She takes the seat opposite and pours herself a cup of arabica, gesturing for him to reseat himself.

‘Now, Carpinus, Arboria. Do we have things in hand?’

‘Yes Sire. We have arranged for the Queen to be taken to the Northland border where there is an old castle in the mountains. With winter coming the passes will be frozen. We will have until spring before anyone can reach her. The Assinians will be blamed for her abduction and the peace talks will crumble.’

‘As Commissioner of the Southern Quadrant I’m relying upon you Carpinus. Are you certain of your plans?’

‘Yes indeed Sire. I will be heading the mission in person to ensure that there are no mistakes. When the Queen is safely ensconced I will return as the first snow falls.’

‘Excellent. When do you leave?’

The receiver, on the desk under the rosette window, interrupts their conversation with its’ clankering.

‘Excuse me one moment.’

‘Of course Sire. Would you like me to leave the room?’

‘No, no. That’s quite alright, it will be a short call. Yes! Lord Sandred. Have you found her yet? No! What do you mean, No? I do not accept failure Sandred. Find her! Before I find something more entertaining to do with you.’

The High Commissioner raises her hand up to neck height and clenches it into a claw, as if she is grasping someone’s throat. Gwern can feel his own throat constricting with empathy for Lord Sandred choking on the other end of the line. The High Commissioner slams the receiver back into its cradle and thumps her fist into the desk. Straightening up she readjusts the skirt of her figure hugging dress and turns back to Gwern cool, calm and collected.

‘Now. Where were we? Oh yes. When do you leave for Arboria, Lord Carpinus?’

‘I am joining the ambassadorial party leaving this afternoon, Sire. I thought that would avoid any unnecessary suspicions.’

‘Excellent. Let me know when it’s done. You can go now.’

‘Yes Sire.’

Taking his official stance, he nods his head whilst clicking his heals together and promptly marches towards the door.

‘One moment.’

Gwern comes to an abrupt halt and stiffens his back. Knowing what is coming next he strengthens his marble shield and turns to face the Lord High Commissioner.

‘Sire?’

‘What must you think of me Carpinus. I all but forgot to ask. How is Ilinedd? Is there any change?’

‘No change Sire. But she is well cared for, thanks to your graciousness, Sire. We are much indebted to your generosity and kindness.’

Gwern bows in his most obsequious manner.

‘It’s the least I can do for such a faithful and devoted servant, Gwern. Do be sure to let me know as soon as there is any change.’

‘Of course, Sire.’

Gwern steps backwards with head inclined, then turns on his heals as he straightens. The door is already open and waiting for his exit. Jainus bows as he passes through the doorway watching him as he walks down the corridor, as a vulture watches for the right moment to steal his meal. Making sure to keep his mind clear of thought, Gwern holds his image of the marble edifice until he is clear of the building and out of sight.

As he leaves the outer courtyard and passes through the palisade, Gwern hears the distant call of a kestrel high in the sky somewhere above him. Not wanting to break his cover so close to the Palace he climbs up the hill into the Central Gardens. A grand park of pleasure grounds and small woodland copses, commemorating the site of the ancient citadel built by the first peoples republic. At the top of the conical hill the remains of the original castle lies buried in the largest copse. There it will be safe enough. He holds the image of the tree clad remains in his mind and focuses his attention on the bird he knows is flying above him. A short cry from the sky lets him know he is heard. Once at the summit he stops for a while to catch his breath and take in the view. The city is laid out below him for as far as his eyes can see. From this vantage point only the top of the Palace’s towering white marble invades the view. The sun has nearly climbed to its highest, he has but a few short hours left before he leaves all of this behind him. Taking a deep breath he softens his posture and unlocks his steel doors, turns and walks into the cover of the trees. Tallisien is waiting for him perched on what is left of the high tower where there is an easy retreat into the sky.

‘Old friend, it is good to see you. What news do you bring.’

‘Like wise Gwern, it has been too long apart. We will attend to the news soon enough but first I wish to attend to you. It is a great strain to keep mind bound for so long.’

‘It is my friend. A strain I don’t think a can hold for much longer. It takes all that I am to hold myself down inside when she rials me so. I can not bare to breathe the same air as her and yet I must. But not for long Tallisien. She has set in motion a course of action that will force our hand. Your arrival is well timed brother.’

‘Yes, the metaphysician has foretold it. It is he who sent me.’

‘The Grand Master? What is the news brother? Share with me. Please.’

“Firstly, he is making moves to make your wife safe. I can not say how or when but she will be taken somewhere where she can be woken. It is the metaphysician’s belief that it is Lamia who has cast this sickness upon her.’

‘Oh I don’t doubt that. I don’t doubt that at all.’

‘The time will soon be on us friend. The last of the bloodline is about to start the initiation. It is imperative, therefore, that we have Ilinedd out of Lamia’s hands.’

‘Oh, she has a back up plan for that Tallisien. She moves now to take Ashima. I am doing all I can but I have to be transparent. Tell the Grand Master that I will be taking her to the ice fortress at Brakholm, she will be safe there until the spring. I can do no more than that.’

‘You have done well enough Gwern, more than any. Will you stay at Brakholm?’

‘It is my intention. But I have told Lamia I will return before the first snow, you have until then to get my love to safety.’

‘Do you know anything of Morrigan?’

‘Only that she is kept in an iron bound cage in the cellar vaults but I have not been able to get close. I am only trusted in so far as she has my wife to barter with.’

‘It is a dark time indeed when life is traded for power, Gwern.’

‘Yes indeed it is my friend. But I can not tarry any longer Tallisien. I fly to Arboria this afternoon. You must stay here until sundown. Only leave under the cover of darkness. It will be an iron bullet, not a cage, they gift you if you are seen.’

‘I will keep safe brother.’

‘Be sure to. One more thing though before I bid you farewell.’

‘What is it brother?’

‘She has sent Sandred after the girl. There will be no mercy for him should he fail, so he will offer none.’

‘I will inform the metaphysician. But she has cloaked herself well so far. We have track of her.’

‘’Til Brakholm then.’

‘’Til Brakholm.’

*

‘Jainus.’

‘Sire?’

‘Did you find anything?’

‘Nothing but a wall of white marble, as always, Sire.’

‘Hmm. I do not trust his obsequious mask. He hides something behind that marble wall of his. I want you to join the ambassadorial party Jainus. I will send you as his aid. Seek out cracks and fissures. I want that wall broken.’

‘Yes Sire. I will prepare immediately.’

Jainus shuffles backwards with bowed head, then turns and makes haste through the serving halls. Bolting her chamber doors, Lamia strides down the alabaster corridor to the back stairs, idly fondling the gold chain around her neck.

She makes her way through the labyrinth of vaulted cellars to the grand chamber that lies under the very centre of the palace. Granite blocks clad with steel to safe guard her newly installed arboretum. The vast steel door, designed to allow the passage of a fully grown tree, is held fast by nine steel bars. Each bar is manoeuvred by a set of three steel cogs, each set powered by a master cog. One lock for every set of three master cogs. Three keys for three locks. These three keys are only ever in the same place at the same time, when Lamia makes her daily descent into the cellar vaults. Now she removes the delicate gold chain from around her neck and from it she takes three, very small, trinket box keys, fits each one into its tiny key hole and releases the triggers one by one. The master cogs begin to turn setting in motion a procession of grinding and clicking. Nine steel bars gracefully slide back into the granite rock releasing the weights that lift the giant door. Once through the outer defences entry to the glass arboretum is gained via automatic sliding doors, ensuring that the entire unit is kept sealed whilst the steel door is raised.

‘Morrigan? Morrigan my love, where are you?’

Lamia walks through the woodland, crunching dry twigs and fallen leaves under her feet, searching for Morrigan. A gentle breeze rustles through the canopy above her head from the simulated weather system.

‘Morrigan? Morrigan, my love, why do you hide from me?’

There is a heavy feeling in her heart. Something deep inside her yearns to be near running water. Knowing these to be the feelings of Morrigan, she makes her way to the stream that flows through the centre of the chamber. Apart from the rustle of the leaves and the crunch of her footfalls, the arboretum is filled with a silence that unmasks its artificial nature. Not even the glow of the mimic sun alleviates the prickle of falsehood bristling in the air. Reaching the stream she sees the crow sat, deadly still, on a rock staring into the moving water.

‘Morrigan, my love. There you are. Why did you not answer my call?’

The crow does not stir but continues to gaze into the water, trying to lose herself in its flow. Receiving no response, Lamia walks over to the bird and gently strokes her back.

‘Morrigan, my love. It fills my heart with sadness to see you so enervated. Does your new home not please you?’

Morrigan removes her gaze from the stream and turns her head to look Lamia in the eyes.

‘It is not your heart you feel for you have none lady. A cage is a cage no matter how you dress it up.’

‘This is no cage my love. This is your home. I made sure of that. This is the part of the forest that you fledged in.’

‘I know what this is! This is sacrilege! You have defiled the Sacred Forest! You have maimed these ancient beings! You, Lamia, are an abomination!’

‘But I did this for you, to make you happy.’

‘Happy! How can I be happy when all around me the tree beings are screaming with agony? How can I be happy when I do not have the freedom of the sky? The poison in your heart has obviously reached your brain madam.’

‘Why do you show me such hatred when all I care about is your wellbeing Messeer?”

‘All you care about, Lamia, is your lust for power. You broke your vow. You defiled the sacred cup. You have poisoned her water. If your love is true then why keep me prisoner. It would be kinder to let me die.”

‘But you know I can not let you die, my Messeer, it would be the death of me.’

‘Do not call me Messeer, you broke that bond when you bound me in iron. If my death would cause yours, then I would gladly take my own life if I could.’

‘Oh now Morrigan, you know as well as I that our bond is still true. If it were not you would be free to roam the skies. So Crow be reasonable now, what wish can I grant you?’

‘If you will not grant me death then all I wish is that you stop torturing me with your presence.’

‘Then, crow, enjoy your solitude!’

Filled with bitterness and anger Lamia marches out of the arboretum leaving Morrigan in her artificial paradise. As the giant steel door comes to ground, the floor of the grand chamber shakes. Whirring and grinding the cogs replace the bars to their resting place with nine loud clunks. Morrigan returns her gaze to the stream and focuses all of her attention into the water.