Shards of Flame

Chapter 5: Esmerella

I'm running. My feet slip and slide on the ice beneath them, causing me to lose my balance. I can hear the shouts of ember guards behind me, their dogs snarling and straining to be free from the leashes they put them on. Gods, I'm so stupid. I didn't have to walk Angus back to his camp, I could have left him out in the cold, I'm sure someone would have found him soon anyway. But, in my heart I know that isn't true. He would have died out there, the cold slowly freezing him from the inside out. I shiver and toss my braid over my shoulder, more hair out of it than in it at this point, and push myself harder to make it up this mountain. My feet slide out from under me and I fall to the ground with an almighty thud. My hands take the brunt of the force, my palms smarting. I pull them up and push myself back onto my feet, I have no time to feel sorry for myself. I dart up the steep, winding steps, the carved staircase curling round the mountain. My foot slips again and I throw my hand out, grabbing at the jagged lines of the ice mountain. The sharp edge slices my hand, blue blood trickling down from my palm. I hiss but push on, leaping up the elegant steps 3 at a time. My footing is terrible, and I nearly fall off the narrow staircase multiple times, my heart stopping every time. By the time I reach the top the roar of the guards has long since quietened, so the only thing I can hear is the gentle whoosh of the wind whistling through the hinges of the door in front of me

I bend double, panting heavily from the race up the mountain. After a few minutes like this, I straighten up and look out at the view. The constant snowfall looks like diamonds drifting through the sky. The occasional star winks through the covering of cloud, light reflecting off of the snow. I sit down, my back pressed against the wooden door behind me. I say wood, I really mean wood which is covered in so many sheets of ice it is almost made of the stuff. My breath starts to slow, the small clouds becoming less frequent. I tilt my head back and I'm suddenly overcome by the urge to laugh. And, even though I really don't see anything funny in my current situation, I do. I laugh so much that tears stream down my face, blurring the world around me into a whirling kaleidoscope of blue and white. As my laughing fit starts to slow, I let out a sigh of relief. They didn't get me. I think about what I've done tonight:

1. I killed a glass wolf

2. I killed a dusk (Definitely wasn't the ember that killed it... shut up)

3. Saved an Ember's life (Why, I don't know)

4. Safely delivered said ember back to his camp (Again, I don't know why)

So, all in all, a fairly successful evening. Except from the fact I'm now stuck. Up a mountain. Alone. At least I know where I am. The old ice palace. I'm pretty certain that I'm the only person who's been here in the last 2000 years. The last time this palace was used, the last time we won the the trials, was 2000 years ago. The last Ice Queen of Ailech was famous for being, arguably, the most beautiful monarch to ever live. Her portraits line the halls of this palace, her ice blue eyes staring down at anyone who dares trespass through her halls. She looks the same in every portrait, long blue hair curling down her shoulders, glossy, thick waves falling in a brilliant cascade. Her pale skin was almost luminous, blue veins shining through. She held herself with a regality that would rival the Royal Embers today. However, her most striking feature, was undoubtedly her eyes. They had a sort of piercing quality, as though she was staring into your soul. They follow me around every time I come here and roam the grand corridors. It gives me the shivers every time I come here. I push my hands against the door, straining with the effort. The door groans and swings open, small particles of dust floating out. I hit my shoes against the door frame, getting rid of some of the snow. I always do that when I come here. I don't know why. I suppose it feels strange walking through the plush carpeted halls in snowy shoes. With a deep breath, I step over the threshold.

A long corridor opens up in front of me, torches magically flickering into life. A lilting melody starts to play, violins and flutes swelling in a graceful waltz. I walk down the hall, running my fingers over the mahogany walls, the evenly spaced pattern causing them to catch ever so slightly. My clunky steps are muffled by the soft red carpet which lines the floor. Light filigree of gold traces delicate designs on the carved, decorative arches in the ceiling. Dim firelight from the torches casts playful shadows onto the walls around me. Before long, I reach the end of the hall, another door sitting closed in front of me. The music is now in full swing, dipping and twirling almost like it's dancing itself. This door opens with little more than a nudge and reveals a massive ballroom, a crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling, light reflecting off it. Ornate paintings cover the ceiling, telling tales of heroes, kings and bloody battles. The dance floor is made of polished oak wood, varnish glinting in the soft candlelight. The source of the music is the orchestra of floating instruments which are currently playing a lively tune. Gold trims the oval windows which look out at the twilight beyond. A sudden thought comes to mind. I wonder what the ember palace is like? Does it have painted snowflakes ingrained into the floor from years of laughter and dancing? Does it have white glass hanging from the ceiling, light refracting through it, causing rainbows to spread across the ceiling? Does it have a floating band, who are playing the Ices' Ballad? It probably doesn't have any of those things, except for the floating band. But their band won't be playing the Ices' Ballad. Their ballroom will most likely be filled with guests, their laughter and the sound of clinking glass reaching high into the rafters above. Ember nobles will be dancing their merry dances, ladies heels clicking on the marble floors, brown hair flying out around them. Then another thought pops into my suddenly curious mind. Has Angus ever been in the Ember Palace? I mean, he certainly looks like he belongs there, with his high cheekbones and perfectly styled hair. I can almost imagine him now, in a suit twirling some gorgeous ember girl around the dance floor, his charming smile lighting up the room. A strange pang of jealousy hits me when I think of him with another girl. How ridiculous is that! I've known the guy for a total of what, forty five minutes, and I'm already jealous of even the thought of him with another girl. And he certainly has the arrogance for court. He didn't think I could carry him. Sure, I couldn't, but it's the principle of the thing. I feel the urge to smash something, so I stomp over to the floating orchestra, their once pleasant song turning to an irritating grating on my ears. I snatch the nearest instrument, a violin, and bring it down onto the floor with a snap. Splinters of wood fly out across the polished wood, and I bring the ruined neck of the violin up to my face. Shame floods through me at the sight of the splintered wood. I throw it away from me like the ruined instrument was a burning coal. It clatters loudly to the floor, and the music abruptly stops. All the instruments swivel round, their non existent eyes silently judging me. "What are you looking at." I snap. They hastily resume their playing and I stomp across the shiny floor, the only other sound the soft drip of my blood which leaves a blue trail behind me.