Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Three: Otherworld

"They should stew in their own piss."

Anarabelle Novae blinked. The High Lord Harkenn, the most important man in Nictaven, beacon of hope in the dark, stared at her over the back of his chair with a thin line of drool glistening on his chin and a half-empty glass of wine in one hand. The other half lay in a blood-coloured puddle on the rug under his desk.

"Stew in it," he repeated. "Until they can smell nothing else for a month."

"Yes, my Lord," she said. Her chains rattled as she repositioned, attempting to ease the ache in the stumps of bone where her wings had once been. They had been particularly sore recently, she thought, reaching back to rub at her left shoulder. The pain fanned out across her back and lit up the bruises scattered over her abdomen. The lord went through phases frequently and his current preferred pastime was pushing her down the stairs and seeing how far she got. There had been worse, but there had also been much better.

"Yes," the lord echoed, glancing at the stack of letters on his desk, all complaints. "Piss." He picked up an envelope and put it down again with a heavy sigh, taking a draught of wine instead. "What does anyone expect me to do about two headed livestock anyway? Shove the lamb back in and order the mother to try again? Why do I need to read a letter about it?"

Nova said nothing, turning away to stare at the floor. The drapes had covered the window all day so she'd had very little else to look at, but now Faellian got to his feet with an exasperated sigh and wrenched them open.

He froze.

"What," he breathed, "in the name of Nict, is th..."

The door to the study flew open. A soldier stumbled inside, followed at a more serene pace by Yddris. Nova nodded a greeting to the Unspoken, who returned it and waited for the lord to invite him to speak, hands clasped in front of him. Though she was curious about what Faellian had seen through the window, she was more preoccupied by what Yddris might have brought with him. His cloak was filled with hidden pockets. She happened to know that most of those hidden pockets contained knives and throwing blades, but sometimes he brought something in them for her.

The soldier was not quite as patient as Yddris.

"My Lord," he gasped. "The sky..."

"Thank you, Captain," Faellian cut him off, "I don't know if it's escaped your notice, but I have eyes." He turned to the Unspoken. "It's a portal, isn't it?"

Yddris nodded.

"Nict's balls," Faellian muttered. "And I suppose everybody's out there thinking the sky is falling on them, aren't they? Damn."

Both men were silent and Nova started paying attention. She looked between the visitors.

"Someone fell through," she guessed. Faellian whirled on her and she tensed, ready for the strike to land, but at the last moment the Lord turned and stalked back to the window. She breathed.

"Is it true?" he snapped. "Someone fell in?"

Yddris looked at the soldier on the floor. The Lord's orange gaze snapped to him. Nova could hear his armour rattling when he started shaking.

"Two, my Lord," he stammered, "And a demon, I think."

"Demon?" Faellian growled, advancing on him. The guard wasn't short, but he seemed abruptly tiny. "What kind of demon?"

"I-it looked like a Listener, my Lord."

Faellian blew two sharp breaths through his nose and leaned away. "Well, there's something. Gather a search party and wait for me outside. They won't have gone far." When the guard hesitated, he gave the man a look that sent him scurrying.