The Curse on the Chosen (The Song of the Tears Book 2) (32 page)

Colm wasn’t her problem. Sliding out of bed, she walked away
from the dim illumination that surrounded them. The floor was cold under her
bare feet but, being still warm from bed, she found it soothing and
stimulating. At a point where Maelys could just see the twin glimmers on Flydd
and Colm, she began to pace in a great circle around them. She needed to walk
but dared not lose sight of them, else she might never find her way back.

On her second circle, Maelys thought she heard a faint call.
She looked back to the lights but they were not moving.

Hello.

This time it was clearer, a rich male voice, though it
sounded far away. An attractive voice, she thought. Trustworthy. She searched
the blackness for a sign of the man who had spoken, but the Nightland remained
as impenetrable as ever. She didn’t answer.

Who are you?

Or was the voice in her head? She couldn’t tell. Maelys kept
silent, for it occurred to her that the Nightland must still exist for a
reason. It might be used as a prison for all manner of desperate scoundrels;
why else would someone expend all that power to maintain it? She took a few
steps into the darkness, in the direction from which the voice seemed to be
coming.

What’s your name?

He didn’t sound like a villain. His voice sounded young,
gentle and, well, nice. Maelys wasn’t foolhardy, though, and such impressions
would not have carried her another step towards him except that he also sounded
lost, and terribly lonely. She knew those feelings; she’d suffered them since
childhood, and she felt for him.

She checked on Flydd and Colm again. She must have gone
further than she’d thought, for they were just small points of light in an
infinite blackness.

‘What’s yours?’ she said softly.

I’m Emberr
, he
said, in a rich burr.

‘Emberr.’ Maelys tried to roll her r’s the way he had. She
liked the name – it sounded safe, yet strong. ‘Where are you?’ She went
slowly forwards, still wary, taking no risks.

This way
. A point
of light appeared in the distance.
Please
come
.

She stopped. She wanted to see him, but dared go no further.
‘I’ll get lost.’

He gave a cheerful chuckle.
You can’t get lost with me as your guide
.

‘Are you a prisoner?’ Her voice quavered.

No, but I am trapped
here.

Maelys believed him; she just
knew
he was telling the truth. She continued, step by step, and when
she finally came to her senses and looked back, Flydd’s and Colm’s lights had
disappeared.

That shook her; she turned in a full circle but there was
nothing to be seen save Emberr’s beckoning glimmer. Was he telling the truth?
She believed so. Could she trust him to guide her back? She hesitated, coolly
analysing her feelings for the least uncertainty, the tiniest unease. Feeling
none, she went on.

Maelys walked through the dark for a long time, and every so
often the small glow illuminating her touched other virtual contrivances
hanging in the air to left or right. She gave them no more than a passing
glance. Their design and purpose was unfathomable.

As she went on, the light grew steadily, and shortly she
made out a pretty little cottage with lights streaming through windows all
around, surrounded by a low fence. Flower gardens luxuriated on either side of
the path to the front door, while behind she made out a vegetable garden, fruit
trees and a small forest fading into the night. It would have been beautiful,
had all not been in shades of Nightland black.

She stood at the front gate, afraid to go further. It was
made of old, weathered wood; she ran her hand along it and splinters dug into
her skin. It felt so real, so homely, yet Maelys was not such a fool as to
think it might not be a trick. The stuff which made up the Nightland could be
formed into any shape that could be imagined, if one had the Art for it.

‘What is your name?’

His voice was much louder now; she could hear it properly,
rather than just inside her head. He might have been standing on the other side
of the door.

‘Maelys.’ She spoke in the barest whisper.

‘Such a pretty name. Come closer, Maelys, so I can see you
clearly.’

She didn’t move. ‘How did you know I was here?’

‘I smelled your perfume from a league away.’

‘I’m not wearing any.’

‘You smell like the most beautiful perfume in the world.’

What a romantic thing to say. Maelys imagined that she
smelled of sweat, mud, swamp creeper and perhaps even a trace of Phrune, but
she was touched nonetheless. No man had ever said anything romantic to her
before. Yet as soon as he saw her, all ragged and grubby and dressed in boy’s
clothes, Emberr would realise how wrong he’d been.

‘Come inside,’ he said.

Maelys was well brought up and wary; she was not that
smitten. ‘Come out where I can see you.’

The door opened. She swallowed; licked her dry lips; for a
moment she was blinded by a flood of warm yellow light, the one thing in this
place that wasn’t black.

He stood in the doorway, a silhouette against the light,
then the door swung shut behind him and he came slowly down the steps. He wore
only a kilt fastened about his waist with a fabric belt. He was tall, which she
liked, but not too tall, which she also appreciated. He had broad shoulders and
a strong chest, a narrow waist and long legs. His hair was dark, curly and worn
long, which she was not used to in a man, though she conceded that it looked
right on Emberr. He was handsome and strong, yet she had been right about him:
he had a kind face.

The moment he saw her, his eyes widened and he stopped in
mid-step, staring.

‘Is something the matter?’ said Maelys.

‘You’re … not what I expected.’

‘Oh!’ she said dully, thinking him disappointed. He’d
expected a tall, elegant princess, as was his due, not a small, grubby girl who
was inclined to be buxom.

He looked her up and down, drinking her in and marvelling at
her. ‘It’s not what you’re thinking. Not at all. You’re beautiful, Maelys.’

It wasn’t flattery; he meant every word. She bit her lip;
this was too much. Was she in some weird Nightland dream? If she was, she
didn’t want to wake from it. But then, she thought, how many girls does he
know? If I’m the only one he’s met, it’s no wonder …

‘What are you doing here, Emberr?’

‘I was born in the Nightland, so I can never leave.’

‘Never!’ she cried involuntarily. Poor man. She leaned
forwards, staring at him just as avidly, and gained the impression that he was
reconsidering a previously made plan.

‘Unless someone takes my place.’

She took a hasty step backwards, thinking that it was a trap
after all, but he was staring into the distance, sadly, pensively. ‘How do you
know?’ she said.

‘My mother told me, a very long time ago, that I could only
be freed from the Nightland if a woman took my place. I was too young to
understand what she meant, and mother never came back to explain.’

‘Is that why you lured me here?’ Maelys said coolly, getting
ready to run, though she had no idea which direction to take to find Flydd and
Colm. What a fool she’d been – she should have realised it was a trap.

‘I didn’t
lure
you,’ Emberr said sadly. ‘I merely called you, and you came. I used no magic at
all.’

Yes you did, she thought. The most irresistible magic of
all. But she said, ‘I’m not as big a fool as I look.’

He slumped on the bottom step and put his head in his hands.
‘I knew this would go wrong. I don’t know anything about people.’ He looked up
at her. ‘Maelys, I would never ask you to take my place, nor try and trick you
into doing so. I was born here, and I can survive in the Nightland if I must,
but it would destroy you.’

‘But …’ said Maelys.

‘I’m not unhappy here, for I know nothing else, but I’m
terribly lonely. Yet if I have to live my remaining years here, I can endure
it.’

She believed him, and it was so sad that her eyes stung. It
was such a waste. She pushed the gate open and went a step along the path,
before stopping. ‘There must be a way to get you out.’

He looked up at her. ‘Only the way I mentioned – by an
exchange with a young woman. The rules which govern the Nightland were embedded
within it when it was created, and nothing can change them. You’d better go
– your friends are calling you.’

Maelys couldn’t hear anything. She stared at his broad
chest, feasting herself on him. He was everything her romantic soul dreamed of
– the perfect mate – save that he was trapped here forever.

‘There must be something I can do.’ She could not think of a
thing.

‘There’s nothing. Please don’t mention me to your friends.’

‘Why not?’

‘My mother has a terrible enemy, one who will not hesitate
to harm me if it ever finds out where I am. No one must ever know about me.’

It was the last thing she had expected him to say, and she
could not doubt his sincerity. It drew her closer to him. She wanted to tell
him of her own enemies, her own desperate flight, but did not want to add to
his troubles.

‘All right,’ she said reluctantly, and turned to go.

‘Wait!’ He reached out to her. ‘Will you swear it?’

‘I swear that I will tell no one about you.’

‘Thank you. And there is one other thing,’ he said softly.

‘Of course,’ she said without thinking.

‘Would you kiss me, Maelys? I have never kissed a woman.’

Danger signals went off in her head. Was this what he’d been
aiming for all along? If she kissed him, would it trigger a spell that would
trap her forever and allow him to go free? But why would he need a spell? He
could leap up and catch her in a few bounds.

‘Nor I a man,’ she said, and went towards him, knowing she
was a reckless fool, but she wanted this more than anything and for once she
was going to give way to her feelings.

He stood up as she drew near, staring at her with an
intensity that sent shivers up her spine. He held out his arms and she went
into them. He ran a finger along the line of her jaw where it was swollen, and
she flinched.

Emberr frowned and
carefully turned her head to one side and back, touching the bruise with a
fingertip. ‘Someone struck you?’

‘A very evil man; but I attacked him first; and I got him,
too.’

‘Even so.’

Emberr laid the flat of his palm on the bruise and the pain
faded away completely. He did not question her, but bent his head and kissed
her on the mouth, and she yielded to his arms, still half-expecting it to be
some hideous trap but quite unable to resist.

He did not kiss her passionately; it was just a delicate,
lingering brush of the lips, yet it was more sensual than any touch she could
have imagined. She pressed herself against him, clinging to him, only dimly
realising the hardness growing between them. Emberr arched away at once and she
tried to push herself against him, seeking the comfort of human touch, but he
let go and stepped back, looking down at her with those soft brown eyes.

‘Thank you,’ Emberr said. ‘I will never forget you, Maelys,
but you must go at once. I’m protected here but you are not.’

‘But …’ She rubbed her tingling lips, wanting more.

‘Go quickly!’ he said hoarsely. ‘That way!’ He pointed over
her shoulder.

She saw moving lights in the distance. She looked back at
him, wanting him more than she had ever wanted anyone, but with a wave of his
hand the cottage, the gardens and the forests vanished, and so did Emberr.

Who was he, and why was he trapped here? There were no
answers. Maelys stumbled back towards the lights, more alone than she had ever
been, and terribly afraid that she would never see him again.

 
TWENTY-FOUR

‘That was foolish,’ Flydd said as she met them, though
he did not seem angry. ‘Whatever possessed you to wander away?’

‘Sorry,’ Maelys said distractedly, trying to control her
face so as to not make him suspicious. ‘I woke feeling restless. I needed to
walk.’

He was smiling and seemed so much more relaxed than before.
‘No harm done. The sleep has done me good – I think I know a way out of
here. Let’s see if we can find one of Rulke’s virtual devices – the right
one.’

‘Which one?’

‘The model for his construct. He couldn’t use it to make a
portal and escape because he didn’t have the power.’

‘Why not?’

‘He could make objects from the matter of the Nightland, but
they would always remain part of it, for Rulke could draw on no power that did
not come from here. But I can.’

Flydd held up the pyramid-shaped ice flask. Chthonic flame
swirled lazily inside it.

‘It took a gigantic column of white fire to break into the
Nightland,’ Colm pointed out, ‘and even then you barely managed it. How do you
expect to get us out with that piddling flame?’

‘I was opposed by Jal-Nish and Vivimord, if you recall,’
Flydd said mildly, ‘and I’d never done it before. But if we can find Rulke’s
virtual construct, the most subtle engine for making portals that has ever been
devised, the tiniest amount of power should suffice. The chthonic flame trapped
here ought to be enough for several such portals, and that’s just as well, if
we’re going to Elludore first.’

‘But you said …’ began Colm, confused.

‘I’ve decided I’m not yet ready to face the Numinator. A
trip to Elludore would give me the chance to grow into my renewed body and get
it fit for the task. By then the rest of my memories may have come back, too,
and hopefully my Arts.’

They searched for what felt like a day and a night,
though Maelys found it impossible to keep track of time here – it did not
seem to run the way it did in the real world. Flydd inspected all the virtual
devices they’d encountered previously, and every other one they came to, but
none proved to be what he was looking for.