The Obsidian Pillar

Chapter Twenty-nine

I was angry that the darkness had not appeared. No secret voice had made its way into my thoughts or dreams. What had he told me? That I would come to him willingly? Perhaps that would be what it would take. But, just like Sebastien, he had lied to me. He had told me that he would mentor and support me. Well, where was he now?

The journey had been uncomfortable. The black horse's hooves had pounded the grass beneath it and drew us further into Vakaaria under the misty, early morning light. I had barely been able to keep my eyes open, despite the jolting of the horse. Once I understood that Brindt meant to keep me alive, if only until I was returned to Avorr, it had relaxed me enough that I had risked a few moments of sleep that I could no longer fight. My body was aching from the endless walking, riding, running and sleeping on the ground that had become my life now, and Brindt's elbows nudging into my sides as he jostled the reins only increased my discomfort.

With the smell of smoke and the agonising screams of battle far behind us, we had finally slowed our pace. As I reluctantly allowed my head to loll back onto Brindt's shoulder, I felt his hot breath and his dry lips against my ear, but was too fatigued to understand his words or to push him away.

Not knowing how much time had passed, I was finally awoken by a loud bark from Brindt to open the gates. I opened my eyes in time to see the cast iron gates swing open, pulled by two men in cerulean livery, as Brindt boomed his thanks and nudged his exhausted horse to enter.

A long path sprawled ahead of us, winding its way across lawns of luscious green, a strong variation from my travels across the stony grounds of Rinturst. As we trotted down the path, I noticed a large house stood at the end of it, although I questioned whether house was indeed the correct term for it.

It was stately and impressive against the beautiful setting. Its natural stone housed at least twelve windows to its front across two floors. A large set of oak doors opened onto a marble staircase which led down to a round pool of water built of the very same material. I squinted to see it glisten, and as we approached I saw several fish within the water.

There was little time to appreciate all of this finery as Brindt roughly pulled me from the horse with him. 'Welcome to Manor Dunelvyn,' he said stiltedly, jealousy pouring from him as he gazed around it himself. He dragged the both of us, my arm clasped in his large hand and the black horse's reins in the other as he found the stables.

'Ensure that she is fed, watered, and that she is shod well enough for another long journey. I don't intend to stay long,' he snapped at a young stable hand that had straw in his curly brown hair, most likely from sleeping in the hay, I thought to myself with a tug of homesickness for the farm. I knew it was unfounded, that there was no home to return to, but the turning in my stomach could not be eased.

'Let me fetch a maid,' the stable hand said in the croaky voice of interrupted sleep.

'No,' Brindt pulled me from the man's outstretched arm, with which he would have helped me. 'That is unnecessary.'

'Didn't mean to offend, Sir.' The last word dripped with sarcasm as the stable hand turned to the black horse.