Sunrise

Chapter One: Well Met

The day was darker than usual.

But Spiral Castle was dark in general, a moldering maze of creeping shadows even where no shadows should be; where the edges of walls were never quite where you expected them and it was almost easier, sometimes, to close your eyes and feel your way along. Only long familiarity with its eccentricities kept her from tripping over uprooted cobblestones or bashing her head into some odd-angled beam...familiarity, and the faint sense that the castle itself, behind the shadows, grudgingly responded to her will. Eilonwy had learnt in early childhood, over many explorations down endless, twisting passageways that never seemed to go where they were supposed to, that a silent stop that directed at the nearest wall often resulted in the swift appearance of a familiar corner or archway...and then there you were, at your own chamber door or the kitchen or the great hall, just where it should be after all.

But her will didn't serve to make the place any lighter, so she always carried her bauble with her, to keep the shadows at bay with its warm golden glow. Even now, in mid-afternoon in the courtyard, she kept it lit, fighting the impenetrable gloom hanging over the ancient stones.

Yes, much darker than usual.

There was a tingle in the air, a tense, prickly sensation like the lull before a thunderstorm; it raised the hair on her arms and had driven her from the castle's interior. It tasted like Achren's anger, a thing Eilonwy avoided if possible, even when it wasn't directed at her. Ever since that band of nasty half-decayed warrior-things had shown up at the gates and infested the castle like a pack of rats, it had been necessary, more than ever, to tiptoe around Achren, who was obviously none too fond of them but had not, for whatever reason, sent them away. She called them cauldron-born, and had flown into a rage when Eilonwy questioned her about them.

The morning's magic lesson had been interrupted by some commotion involving them, not that Eilonwy had minded the interruption. She'd been in the midst of a complicated bit of spellwork, feeling her way through sticky strands of magic like a fly trying to pick its way out of a spider web. As always during lessons, Achren was a dark presence beside her, nudging her mind in the directions the spell demanded - which were not always the directions she desired to go. To resist the queen's instruction, however, was to risk being left alone in a confusing netherworld of strange forces: a place without form or solidity, all ghosting lights and nameless colors, senseless sound and that shrill, metallic taste that filled her mouth whenever she spoke words of power. Whatever beauty there was in it would be swallowed by terror until Achren chose to rescue her, a thing that would not happen until Achren judged her submissive enough to continue. Last time her body had been cold when she was brought back to her senses.

This time, a knock at the door and Achren's annoyed, "Enter" had yanked her back to the natural world. She had blinked, with a tingly sense of relief, and shaken the last of the spiderwebby feel out of her ears just in time to hear a guard at the chamber door announce that a party of cauldron warriors had returned with two prisoners in tow. Achren had looked even more annoyed, but her transformation was instantaneous when the guard produced a scrap of black cloth on which something was embroidered in gold thread. The queen had risen, smacking the books shut with a wave of her red-nailed hand.

"That will do for today."

Eilonwy stared at Achren's face; usually marble-white, now flushed in unmistakable agitation. Hard experience told her that arguing was unwise when commands were given in the tone she'd just heard, yet the sight of Achren discomfited was so unusual that her curiosity was piqued. "Why must we stop?" she demanded. "I was doing it right, wasn't I?"