Amelie: Wizards of White Haven Read online

  Amelie

  The Wizards of White Haven

  Book One

  By Frances Howitt

  Text copyright ©2012 Frances Howitt

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is dedicated to my father with love, for the help, support and practical advice that made it possible

  Table of Contents

  1. The Condemned

  2. Freedom

  3. The Dragon

  4. The Camp

  5. The Battle

  6. The Wolf Man

  7. Lord Dirk’s Place

  8. Prince Casper

  9. Meeting The Locals

  10. Welcome Suggestions

  11. Departure

  12. The Woodsman’s Trail

  13. Forest’s End

  14. The School

  15. The Testing

  16. Premonitions

  17. Headmaster

  18. Drako

  19. Under Attack

  20. Invitation

  21. Vako’s Council Report

  22. New Beginnings

  23. Odd Changes

  24. Grain Order

  25. Visiting Lord Aubrey

  26. Homeward Bound

  1

  The Condemned

  Amelie heard the jailor slowly descending the steep stone stairs, recognisable by the dull clinking of his overburdened key ring. The sound of further heavy feet following was accompanied by snippets of speech, which resolved itself into the swearing and coarse banter between at least three soldiers. No food smells accompanied the men, so it wasn’t dinner arriving. She took a swift swallow from her water pitcher to try and pacify her gaunt and growling stomach. They never gave her enough to eat and tonight they were late serving what they termed dinner.

  Amelie moved back into the shadows of her cell and drew her filthy matted hair closer about her face, but the guards did not come her way. Something was distracting the soldiers from coming down the rows of cells to torment whichever prisoner took their fancy. Searching for clues, she concentrated her senses on the guardroom at the entrance to the dungeons. She finally decided another individual had been brought in, someone either important or dangerous enough to warrant the soldiers’ full attention. The newcomer was silent, perhaps unconscious, since she could scent traces of blood. She was intrigued that he scented of clean fresh pine forest and summer meadows rather than dirty city. She shifted her close focus attention to the soldiers’ speech and discovered they were trying to decide where to put this newest prisoner since all the cells already had at least one occupant. She silently fumed at the jailor’s callous enquiry as to whether this one was to be kept alive, at least for the time being. Adding a person to an existing prisoner’s cell was a regular evening’s entertainment for the guards, who watched and placed bets on how long it would take the luckless individual to be killed. It was horrifying how quickly a person could be goaded into a mindless killing frenzy by torture and blackmail. Only yesterday however, their most prized "psychopath" allowed an imposed adversary to deal him a fatal blow. He had done the only thing left to him to end his suffering.

  She was uneasily aware that none of the other current inmates had been there long enough to have undergone the "training" the jailor favoured. He appeared to have decided he needed someone consistently savage enough to facilitate his own version of justice to the condemned; which also served to keep the numbers down. The badly wounded opponent had won his life last night, at least for the moment. Assuming he recovered, he was probably destined to take over the justice position, whether he wanted it or not.

  She hoped yet again they wouldn’t drop someone dangerous into her cell. The last thing she needed was for her body to give her away by attempting to convert itself into another form just now. It might be a superb defence mechanism to be able to turn into an animal, but that latent possibility was the reason she and all her blood kin were locked up and systematically exterminated. Anyone proven to possess the ability to successfully shape shift was viewed with hostility by the ungifted masses. Who wished to live next door to, or risk having an argument with a family able to change into leopards with very big teeth? A shifter’s dual nature also made “ordinaries” nervous and consider them two faced in more ways than one.

  The wild magic had been genetically passed down from the people known as the Erien. It took two main forms, animus and wizard. The animus ability enabled a person to closely identify with a particular type of animal, something that echoed their character, and could physically change into that creature. It usually gave them an affinity and appreciation for the order of the natural world. They were generally peaceful and lived simply, caretakers of the wild creatures and lands. No-one knew where the Erien had originally come from, or where they had gone, but none had been seen for generations. Most people assumed they’d died out, although some believed they may have used a portal to take them to a different place. Their legacy remained strong however in the magic passed to some humans. Whilst easy to belittle the Erien as simple country folks, it was clear they had used the portals, magic gateways, to travel to other continents. No-one now knew how the portals had been created. Had the Erien invented them or were they left over from an even earlier extinct civilisation? Perhaps they might even be a natural phenomenon. Certainly only those with magical ability could activate them. The portals had been one of the first priorities to limit access to and lock away during the land wars. Wizard spies or assassins could jump into another kingdom with ease, causing untold havoc and disappear again, completely out of normal human reach, with frightening ease.

  The increasing spread of man onto Erien lands and his narrow-minded warlike nature had inevitably caused conflict. Man’s greed for particular raw materials and his lack of respect for nature in harvesting them, had been intolerable to the Erien and they had fought back in unexpected magical ways. Despite their lack of numbers they were considered formidable adversaries, if incomprehensible ones. In some Kingdoms, it became common practice to send armies in to “clear the land” of Erien to forestall the likelihood of Erien resistance. Even though huge tracts of land were not destined to be used for any other purpose, the Erien were still driven from their homes and their villages burned. Fortunately, in other places the ruling lords were not as intolerant and listened to the Erien teachings. Their people learned to respect the Erien way of life, co-exist and even intermarry.

  Throwing humans into the genetic mix had produced the first wizards; people who could not change form, but could take the magic and shape it for particular purposes. Animus people were a more direct, purer throwback and their ancestry often revealed itself physically in their likeness to the original Eriens. They were always tall, with a rapid metabolism, great strength and blindingly fast reflexes. They were easy to single out. A wizard however, could look just like any other normal human, at least on the surface.

  Amelie knew that at some point the King’s Animal Catchers would get around to testing her to see whether she had the active animus ability or not. She also knew that a positive result was customarily fatal. Close records were kept of the old bloodlines most likely to produce anyone with any "unnatural" abilities, so they could be stamped out. They were classed as undesirable mutations and dangerous throwbacks to an extinct race, particularly the rare multi-shape shifters. Wizards however were mostly tolerated, probably because they could more easily hide what they were and were also too useful and too dangerous to cross.

  It took an enormous energy toll on a body to change form, and for that reason she was given only the barest minimum of rations as a precaution. She was unlikely to have the strength to make use of any inherent ability, even if she were certain she could change. She’d
never been given the freedom from watching eyes to be able to experiment with the wild Amelie she kept closely reined in. Her self control was the major reason she was still breathing.

  The cell walls fronting the corridor were stone from the waist down. Above were bars of sturdy steel drilled from wall to ceiling. The doors were steel bars only. It was therefore easy for the jailor to keep an eye on his prisoners without running the risk of opening cell doors. He swung the lantern into Amelie’s cell, and sure enough a pair of eyes glinted, reflecting the light. It still gave him an uncomfortable shiver to see eyes like that, particularly when they were fixed his way. He was well aware that wild animals often had glinting eyes in torchlight on a dark night, but normal people did not. The Animal Catchers hadn’t tested this one yet since she’d given no real sign of the "Gift" and was already safely locked away, but to his mind she wasn’t normal. He’d resisted letting the soldiers go in to “play” with her. Her own abilities might be unknown but she was of the old blood from a family well known for possessing magic on both sides. She might act meekly but he was sure that’s what it was, an act. He certainly knew the inmates close to her cell rarely gave her any trouble even though she was the only woman down here, and that spoke volumes to him. Dead soldiers always created too much paperwork and besides, he’d been given strict instructions to leave her alone until the Catchers could deal with her. He glanced at the man being dragged between the two soldiers. He was another potentially dangerous and thorny prisoner he’d rather be without. But for all his reservations about her abilities, she did not strike him as being someone to attack and kill without serious provocation. It was more than could be said of the rest of the prisoners.

  ‘OK. Stop whittling,’ he wearily snapped at the guards. ‘Yes, we’ll put him in with her.’

  ‘Back up now, and don’t you be thinking of trying anything,’ he said waving his sturdy spiked cudgel at her. ‘You know the corridor’s full of men who’d like nothing better than a bit of sport.’ He kept a close eye on her as he unlocked the door, even as she obediently obeyed. The men dragged their limp burden just inside the cell doorway, swiftly turned and slammed the gate shut. They only relaxed when the gate was safely locked again. She hadn’t moved but watched them with a direct unblinking stare that was disconcertingly predatory. They felt like they’d just risked stepping into a cage with a tiger, and for all they knew, they might very well have done exactly that. She glanced contemptuously at the unmoving intruder then returned to the stone bench that served as her bed.

  The above ground soldiers, loitering outside the small guardroom down the corridor, soon got bored with the inactivity, and left. The jailor had immediately headed back upstairs out of the dungeon’s stench, clearly uninterested in what might occur. The two dungeon guards retreated into the comfort of their cosy guardroom from where they would occasionally poke a head out in case the newcomer had woken and any fight activity might be about to take place.

  Amelie quietly watched the stranger for some minutes. She was fairly certain he was feigning unconsciousness and such presence of mind was fairly alarming.

  ‘They’ve gone,’ she said quietly. His head moved slowly and she met a pair of bright, assessing, pale blue eyes. He slowly got up, absently brushing off the dirty straw whilst taking note of his surroundings. Then he returned his complete attention to her. His air of disdain and the insolence of his regard were clearly calculated to let her know he had rank, deserved respect and to prove his superiority. If she wasn’t so vulnerably frail she might have risked his ire to openly laugh at him. She could smell his fear and knew anyone cornered could lash out with little provocation.

  The guards had treated him with utmost caution, only handling him when they thought they’d rendered him unconscious and she couldn’t see an obvious reason for it. His clothes were plain and well made but bore no obvious rank or guild sigils. He was stocky but not overly muscular and couldn’t be much more than twenty years old. But most importantly, his open face did not show any hint of a mean character. If anything, he appeared gentle and harmless. Something didn’t add up and it made her suspicious and wary. She’d heard the guards discussing where to put him, they’d been nervous someone would provoke him to fight. She knew assassins were often chosen because they physically appeared trustworthy. He’d been put with her to avoid being attacked. But how was he likely to behave towards her? They had locked a man, a young and physically fit man, in her cell! She had to breathe deeply to calm her immediate panic. She was aware of the other inmates clustered at their bars watching, at first in silence, then when they didn’t move, egging them to fight. Would he try to take advantage of the situation? She was well aware she was at a physical disadvantage. As the calls became suggestive for a different type of sport she stopped listening in disgust. If he tried anything along any of those lines he’d get an equally rude surprise, no matter the cost.

  ‘Well, aren’t you going to attack me?’ he demanded hearing the calls around them and unnerved by her silence and intent gaze. ‘Or were they meaning for me to kill you, do you think?’ When she remained silent he added, ‘assuming you do think.’

  ‘If you had any live value to them, you wouldn’t be here,’ she informed him.

  ‘But I’m innocent,’ he protested

  ‘No. Now you are nothing at all. The person you were is of no consequence here. If you are lucky, they will allow your death to be swift.’

  ‘My death?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what everyone here is waiting for.’

  ‘How long have you been here?’ he asked.

  She guessed he asked just to try and disguise the depth of his shock. ‘Two years, three months and 21 days.’ She indicated tally marks scratched on the wall. ‘I guess they’re trying a new tactic to get rid of me.’ His silent regard prompted her to elaborate.

  ‘A death here has to have explanatory paperwork, which the jailor hates. It’s always checked you see, as well as the body just to make sure the "accident" seems a feasible cause of death. You know, one prisoner beating up and accidentally killing his cellmate is quite common, commonly accepted too. It’s one way of limiting the number of prisoners that have to be fed and accommodated, not to mention the workload of the judge and jury and even for the King himself if the person is important enough. He might have been called on to actually judge if someone in here is guilty as charged and that is quite a tedious thing,’ she said in a sarcastically royal tone. ‘If there’s any doubt about it, that person often doesn’t make it to trial, let alone court. Did you know that?’

  ‘No.’ His instinct told him she was not lying, yet for the King to condone behaviour like this was chillingly unexpected.

  ‘So, what happened at your trial?’

  ‘I haven’t been tried and it’s not likely I will be either.’

  ‘You’ve been here such a long time,’ he said with a small shiver. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ she said sharply.

  ‘But…,’

  ‘No,’ she snarled. He stepped back, suddenly wary and she hastily took hold of her temper. Had she let some of the wild Amelie show, if only for a split second? She glanced up at him and noticed he was looking at her with his head tilted to one side. Something about his intense regard was familiar and very “seeing” and the puzzle fell into place.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said contritely. ‘That must be a painful subject for you.’

  He fell silent again but she was aware that he was still staring at her, trying in the very poor light to see her more clearly. She had let her long dark hair fall over her face so that while she could still see him, he couldn’t see her clearly. She was tempted to ask why he was staring at her, but wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

  ‘I’m Jim, by the way,’ he offered in a conciliatory tone.

  ‘Amelie,’ she responded automatically, but started to feel a little better about his presence. Perhaps he wasn’t completely ill mannered. ‘You’re a wizard
aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, how can you tell?’

  ‘It’s obvious.’

  ‘Surely they wouldn’t just kill me?’ he noticed her level gaze and flushed. ‘My guild will kick up a fuss when they find out I’ve been arrested like a commoner.’

  ‘I’m sure they will. But it’s not much good to you if you’re already dead. They don’t like wizards much down here. They’re bound to try to deal with you quickly just in case you’re dangerous.’ She eyed him a little sceptically wondering what kind of wizard he might be. Did he have any useful skills to get out of this place? Could she trust him?

  ‘So, what will happen now?’ he asked.

  ‘If we don’t fight and kill one another, they’ll have to come back in to take you. There may be some opportunities to escape if we were to work together,’ she suggested.

  He nodded and approached a little closer to better hear her quiet words. ‘Alternatively, I think I can unlock that door,’ he offered, ‘but getting past the guards and out is another matter. They took my weapons and there were a lot of guardsmen upstairs.’

  ‘I know. How quickly can you unlock it?’ she asked.

  ‘Quickly. What about getting out?’

  ‘There’s a Portal. It’s down that corridor,’ she gestured over her shoulder.

  ‘A Portal? What kind, ground level?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘Of course not; this is a prison for the condemned. It’s an Air one.’

  ‘How is that of any help to us? Are you going to grow wings?’ he asked rather flippantly. Clearly the prison had originally been built on this site to secure the portal against unauthorised use, since it was a gateway to another continent. It also occurred to him that if it was known to open at a high altitude in open air then it was doubtless used to quietly dispose of people.

  ‘Don’t know if I can, but I’d rather die trying.’ He frowned but nodded; so he already knew she was animus then. He knew, and wasn’t showing signs of repugnance to be in her presence. That was refreshing. She lifted her head and sniffed for a moment. ‘Dinner’s coming. About time, I’m literally starving.’ She raised the edge of her tunic and showed him the sharp protrusions of her ribs above her trousers. ‘Got any food on you?’