Untitled

Chapter II: The Chain

Moonlight filtered in from the grim smoke-caked window, casting a dull glow on the bed. Sybil lay awake, her gray eyes dark and troubled. She glanced at the sleeping form of Cryndelle, her hair glistening despite the dark.  The child had an unusual head of dark plum colored hair, though they looked almost black due to the cascade of curls she had. She was a pretty child and one could see that she would grow up to be a beautiful woman someday, beautiful and destructive unless she learned to control that power of hers. Sybil slowly got out of bed, careful not to wake her child and groped around for a candle. She didn't like darkness; it made her remember things, bad things from her past. She hadn't led an easy life and if she didn't take heed, her daughter didn't have much chance either.  Cryndelle was indeed gifted. She could make fire out of thin air in the palm of her hands. The fire at the mansion had been the first time Cryndelle had produced a blue fire. Sybil still remembered how Cryndelle had raged, she hadn't been herself. There had been icy coldness in her eyes that had made Sybil proud and afraid and even as she thought about it she shivered.  Sybil practiced magic and wasn't really good at it. She'd left her precious home in order to meet the necromancers that were talked about in tones of awe by the sorcerers. She had wanted to be a necromancer, but it was not acceptable by her family's upper class living standards. Her parents thought it to be improper and one day Sybil realized it was she who wasn't suited to the life they led in that grand mansion at Sonrayberg. Heartbroken but determined she fled, knowing little about her future. Her quest to find the necromancers was fairly easy, she found them alright. But none of them would keep her as an apprentice; for all she could do was make the cauldron spit and cackle. Then she came across this young necromancer, who'd taken her under his wing. His name was Rudolph Shea and he was considered as a very powerful fellow amongst his peers. He was not really interested in teaching Sybil the art of necromancers, on the contrary he wanted her to be by his side as his wife, to cook for him and take care of his house. How foolish had she been, all that time the truth was staring her in the face and yet she chose to ignore it. It wasn't until Sybil was with child did she discover the vile, dark and cunning magic her husband practiced. 

Those late night hunts, killing young virgins and using their blood. In short he practiced black magic, so much for the skill of necromancers. She remembered the day she'd confronted him, he'd acted like a child and started rambling about how he served his dark master and how he made him do all the vile stuff. He told her repeatedly between bouts of panic attacks that he truly cared for her and their unborn child and he wanted them to be safe. 'He's very cruel to me,' he kept saying over and over again. Nonplussed, Sybil has asked about the dark master of his and started babbling about the seven year old apprentice he had taken some months back. That had been funny; she had never seen him so afraid and had actually laughed. That brought him back to his senses and he left in a hurry, probably to steal more blood from innocent girls. Sybil left him that night, vowing never to return. She knew she could not go back to her ancestral village so she tarried a while, learning few meager skills the witches practiced in the dingy small rooms throughout the day and served as a whore house at night. When her pregnancy started showing, she fled, worried that they may use her baby for some vile deed. She came to this nice little village and settled there as a sorceress, wise and strong. She cursed the day she came to that place. And she cursed the day the young lord came back home. How handsome he had been and how strong, Sybil had admired him. She thought if she ever had a son, she would want him to be like the young lord.

A loud bang jolted Sybil and her eyes darted around in fear, as though looking for somebody there. She hurried over to a small dirty table and fished in her reticule. Her fingers felt the cool gold chain and Sybil drew it out. I must get rid of this soon, she thought. She bent over to the sleeping form of Cryndelle and loving caressed her face. She stayed up the whole night praying. The next day the mother and child were delayed because of a raging storm. To make matters worse, their carriage had broken down. As a result they arrived at Sonrayberg four hours later than expected. Sybil couldn’t wait to get off the carriage, such was her excitement. In the front, she heard the coachman curse and an offending odor drifted in her nostrils, the smell of acrid smoke, of burning flesh and ashes, screaming of death. With dread Sybil quickly got off the carriage and the coachman reached her side and helped Cryndelle out. Sybil gasped and her mouth fell open.  It was difficult to breathe for her throat felt constricted. For a moment she stood still and then she started shaking. Before her eyes, the whole village had turned to ash. Razed to the ground completely, and so was her spacial ancestral home. Everything was all dust now. She ran up ahead, towards where her house had once been. Everything reeked of death. She found a little boy sifting through the ash. 'What are you doing?' she inquired her voice dry. The young boy looked up and said, 'Collecting things for my master. He's a necromancer…' 

Sybil barely paid attention to what he said and asked urgently, 'What happened here?'

'I do not know ma'am. Last night, the whole village burned. I live up ahead, a bit yonder and we saw the whole thing ma'am. Fire like I had never seen. It started in the grand mansion. It killed everyone, not one survivor ma'am. Not one.' Saying that, he left, humming cheerfully.

Sybil stood rooted to the spot and then looked back at Cryndelle. It suddenly occurred to her how dangerous this was, especially for Cryndelle and she hurried back. As she got back in the carriage, she instructed the coachman to take them to some other town that was far away from Sonrayberg. It was almost midday and the fifth consecutive night Sybil had stayed up but she was glad. She was happy to see the sun shining and bathing everything in its luminous light. She had started dreading nights, eerie quiet nights, when everything she tried to forget came back to haunt her. Sybil was at the end of her tether, she wasn't sure how long she could go on. Now she knew that the young Lord was capable of many vile and dangerous things, she was in panic. By the passing hour her frenzied fear escalated to new heights, no matter what happens, I have to keep Cryndelle safe. They stopped at a local inn for supper and to gather some provisions for the journey ahead. Throughout the supper, Sybil was aware of a pair of watchful eyes staring at them. He sat alone at the table, covered in shadow. The inn was dingy and dark and Sybil squinted, trying to see better who was taking such a keen interest in them. The man was smoking, Sybil could tell by the amber glowing at his mouth. His hair was long and shabby and so were his clothes. He wore some kind of a hooded robe which was filthy looking. Surely he couldn't be connected to the Lord, could he?  Sybil thought wildly. She was becoming acutely uncomfortable by the minute. The man was now steadily looking at Cryndelle and Sybil felt a wild rage boiling inside of her. Deciding to immediately start their journey ahead, she dragged Cryndelle out in haste and headed for the market. Even if he was to follow them, the market would provide them good cover. The market was busy with buyers and merchants and Sybil skillfully blended in the crowd. She stopped to buy bread and cheese from a young seller. He smiled at Sybil as he handed her the supplies. It was probably the first genuine smile Sybil had received in a long time and suddenly she felt overwhelmed. She wanted to give up and end it all. She was tired of all the running, the chasing, the nightmares and terrors. 'You have a very pretty daughter' the merchant commented, snapping Sybil out of her reverie. She fished in her reticule and paid him the last of the coins she owned. Her fingers touched the cold surface of the gold chain and a weight settled on her heart. I'll have to be careful with the money, for who knows how long ahead we have to go and I can't sell the gold chain yet. Not yet… Sybil thought.  She had enough money to pay for the next carriage and as she guided her little girl towards one she spotted an antique looking shop that stated 'We buy Gold'. It was an omen; it was God's way of telling her to sell the gold. Sybil hesitated for a split second and her fingers tightened around the pouch that she carried on her person. She let out a long sigh, as though she was gathering the courage to do something dangerous. With uncertain steps, she walked towards the shop, clutching tiny Cryndelle's hand tightly. As she stepped inside the dim shop, she was greeted with the smell of mould and decaying wood. 

The counters were empty and Sybil rang the bell. Sybil scanned the dusty shelves which were empty except for one or two cheap tinkers. Cryndelle was fascinated by the gaudy jewels and brass figurines that were haphazardly stacked in the display and she pulled Sybil's sleeve, 'Look ma, aren't they nice?' she said excitedly as she put her hand on the display. 'Yes, my dear. They are but do not touch anything, it's all dusty and you'll dirty your hands.' Sybil said impatiently, watching Cryndelle hastily remove her hand from the glass as though she was burned. Sybil patted her shoulder and gave her hand a slight affectionate squeeze. For what seemed like an awfully long time, nobody appeared and then she heard heavy footsteps shuffling in the back. A heavy-set man slowly emerged, his clothes all wrinkled and his hair in disarray. He did not look too pleased about having his slumber cut short and he wasted no time in expressing that to his new customers. 'This better be good, having dragged me here at this hour. People just like wasting my time…..' He looked at the pair's shabbily genteel clothes and muttered some profanity under his breath. Sybil stiffened but politely informed him, 'There's something I'd like to sell'. The old man grunted and inched towards the counter. He had a shrewd face, a horribly spotted skin and a long droopy nose. His mangy beard was long and shriveled at the end. 'Now let's see what you got, haven't got all day,' he muttered again. Sybil sighed and extracted the gold chain carefully. It seemed to glisten from the meek rays of sun that were penetrating from the dusty windows. He snatched it greedily from her