The Obsidian Pillar

Chapter Eleven

I found myself in a small, grimy room that allowed only a tiny slit of light to filter through a gap in the wall near the ceiling. It was damp and cold. A cellar, or basement, of some sort, but luckily, I was alone. I hoisted myself into a comfortable sitting position on the cold stone floor, not without resistance from the chains attached to my feet. The noise brought unwanted attention.

I looked up to find a door opposite me, which I had not previously noticed in the darkness. It swung open, with an ominous creaking to reveal Avorr, who looked years older than before. He was angry. I no longer recognised him as the uncle I once had.

He stepped into the slither of light which highlighted his wrinkled eyes and his jaw, taut with fury. 'I've had a change of heart.' I was not fooled by the statement. His clipped tone told me the opposite. 'Your aunt has persuaded me to return you to her. She thinks that it would be better if you were to remain with us after all. You wouldn't have lasted out there on your own anyway.'

I laughed to myself. I am much more resilient than you think. I recalled how the magic had shot from me when I needed it the most. I was sure of myself now, I could do it again if needed. I could use magic.

'What do you say to that?' he snapped.

I deliberately delayed my answer. 'I will not be returning with you.'

'No? You would leave your aunt grieving and bereft?'

'I don't believe that you would ever listen to her, let alone act on her orders,' I stated in a matter of fact tone.

He curled his fist into a ball. 'I love my wife,' he answered without a prompt. A lie he was obviously used to telling himself.

He moved closer, until he was standing over me in the dingy cell. 'I have a strong position here. I am respected, by rulers far and wide and they allow me a great deal of freedom to act as I wish here. But they have decreed that you are to remain in Willowheathe, for reasons unknown to me. My orders are to keep you here, regardless of whether I want that or not. And so, it shall be.' I frowned, but before I could ask anything further, Avorr had fled the room, locking me inside.

#

Hours later, I heard light footsteps on the stairs. The door slowly and silently swung open to reveal a man of shadow. He was clad in a grey cloak with the hood covering his eyes. His light brown hair fell to his shoulders and was dirty and matted. I saw the sword at his belt and the dagger in his hand, slightly concealed by his grey sleeve. He seemed to be roughly Avorr's age, from the deep lines around his unshaven mouth.

'If you're going to kill me, be quick about it,' I breathed, surprised by my own courage. He seemed to be amazed too as he took in my chained ankles and my bleeding fingers from where I had attempted to prise the lock open. I dug my nails into my palms, hiding the scorch marks from him.

'From the way you fainted on that beach, I thought I might have found a crying wreck.' His voice was rough, but light with humour.