Heir of Dust and Wind

Chapter 16 - Meeting the Council

"Will you stop fidgeting!" 

Trygve practically growled down their metaphysical bond.

It was the third time he had reminded Ava to remain calm, at least on the outside. However, his tone - even in mind-to-mind - clearly revealed that he was on edge, too. The only difference being, that those centuries of serving a short-fused tyrant had taught him to not show his nervousness to anyone. 

Ava sighed and let her hands drop from the simple white cotton wrap dress she was wearing, untangling her fingers from the bow she had been fiddling with.

At least this time she had been able to leave the hair slide alone. She felt a strong compulsion to check on it regularly because losing it equalled her and Trygve's death sentence or worse - her potential marriage to one of the council members.

Ava could barely suppress a shudder at the thought which had haunted her dreams ever since Orla had brought up the topic.

But she mustn't let her fears get the best of her. Appearances were of the essence if she - and by extension, Trygve - wanted to survive whatever waited for them on the other side of the portal that Frode had just opened. 

Together with the Alderman and his giant general, Yngvar, they stood outside the building that served as his headquarters, waiting for their departure.

The enormous former industrial building looked oddly out of place in the surrounding landscape. But then again it didn't, Ava had thought when seeing what was outside of the place for the first time.

While the stark modernity of its architecture clashed with the primaeval countryside that consisted of rough grey rocks, partially covered in moss and lichen, the fact that there were no hills or trees for miles in any direction, made it appear just as empty and bare as the rooms and walls inside of the Alderman's residence. A harsh and chilly wind swept across the vast rocky steppe and made her shiver both from the cold and the anticipation of what lay ahead of her.

They were still waiting for Ferris, the spymaster, who had been sent to retrieve a prisoner from the depth of Frode's dungeons who was to be taken before the council of all three Aldermen and the High King. Even though they hadn't been waiting for long, time seemed to stretch making each second last for what felt like hours, not helping her anxiety at all.

Finally, she watched the raven-haired Dracaeni come through the wide entrance of the headquarters. Alongside him, he was dragging a hooded miserable-looking figure.

The prisoner was so haggard that he looked cadaverous. His too pale skin was grimy and streaked with dirt so that it appeared almost grey. As another gust of wind hit her, his smell nearly made her nauseous. He reeked of someone who had been confined to a too-small, airless room for far too long.

"At long last," Frode scoffed at his spymaster, bristling with impatience. "Let's be gone then, " he declared and turned to step through the portal.

Instead of the green pool, she had stepped into at the bookshop, this one was shaped like an archway, featuring the same green and turquoise mist floating inside of it. Yngvar beckoned her to follow his liege with a gesture of his hand, his gaze never completely left Trygve, ready to jump at him, should he try something stupid. Behind him, Ferris, the prisoner and two Dracaeni she didn't know waited for them to be on their way.

Pushing back her shoulders, she took a deep breath and then stepped into the portal and towards what lay beyond its shiny green mist.

****

This time her journey didn't feel like tumbling down a rabbit hole, it simply felt like walking through a short, mist-filled tunnel that ended in a completely different world.