Fortress of Ghosts by Tom Huddleston

Author:Tom Huddleston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-05T13:52:59+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

The Sorceress’s Apprentice

Ashnakh was waiting for him in a long corridor near the base of the castle, her face dark with suspicion. Darkwing flapped down and perched on her shoulder, chattering in her ear.

‘Mistress, my apologies,’ Kaspar began. ‘I was exploring this wondrous castle and I simply lost track of–’

He gasped as he felt his feet leave the ground, his body tipping forward until he hung face down, suspended above the mirrored floor. Ashnakh made a gesture and his arms flew outward, stretching until he heard the joints in his elbows creak. His legs did the same, yanked backwards like there were ropes around his ankles, tugging him in every direction at once. His fingers strained, his shoulders popped, and he knew that if she wanted to Ashnakh could tear him limb from limb.

‘It’s my own fault,’ she hissed, regarding him with cold, unsympathetic eyes. ‘I forgot who you were. To most children, a barrier like the one around my trophy room would be a warning. To a thief like you, it’s an invitation.’

She waved a hand and Kaspar dropped, crashing face down.

‘From now on you keep that pendant around your neck at all times,’ the sorceress told him. ‘I’ll know if you take if off.’

Kaspar staggered to his feet. ‘Yes, mistress,’ he managed.

Ashnakh’s expression softened. ‘There’s no harm in being inquisitive,’ she said. ‘I was, at your age. But you must respect the boundaries placed upon you, or be prepared to face the consequences. Now come, it’s time to begin your training.’

She led him along the wide, downward-sloping corridor into the echoing under-chambers of the castle. The arched walls were patterned with a mirrored mosaic, their reflections cut and splintered into a thousand shimmering shapes – he saw mouths, eyes, towers and monsters. At the end was a huge glass doorway made from two opposing panels, and in each one Kaspar could see spectres moving, shapes writhing in the tinted glass. Guardians, protecting whatever was inside.

Ashnakh spoke a string of dark words and the ghastly forms withdrew, the vast doors swinging silently open. ‘This is the place where I learned who I truly am,’ she said, beckoning Kaspar forward. ‘This is where I became Ashnakh.’

The hall was impossibly massive, its far walls and its mirrored ceiling lost in fog. But it was not dark or gloomy, it was a place of shimmering, spectral light, shafts and sparks illuminating every corner. Kaspar couldn’t make out the source of the light but he could see it reflected in a thousand pieces of shadeglass, all of them floating untethered through the grand space.

Then he saw that these weren’t simple panes like the ones surrounding the castle. They were containers and caskets, chests and coffers, racks and shelves all fashioned from translucent materials. And inside and upon them were heaped every kind of mystical artefact Kaspar could imagine – cauldrons and alembics, scales and divining wands, staffs of wood and bone and steel. There were books, too – rows of leather-bound tomes, stacks of scrolls and parchments, all floating silently through the luminous air.

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