The Girl in the Light by June Wilson

Author:June Wilson [Wilson, June]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-04T22:00:00+00:00

MIDDENGARD

17

Orla had been summoned to Hel’s Hall. Her escort was one of the Goddess’s favorites, a young man she had enslaved some centuries ago. This was evident in his dress, as he wore extravagant silk breeches and an embroidered waistcoat. His gaunt features were disguised by white powder and rouge and a long, curled wig sat atop his head. Orla was tempted to laugh every time she saw him, but since he had never done her harm, she felt this would be impolite.

“She’s not in the best of moods,” he warned as they hurried down damp passageways. “She snapped at me this morning.” He raised a kerchief to his eyes and dabbed at them. “I hate it when she’s in a temper.”

“I’m sure she’s not angry with you,” Orla said in her most reassuring tone. She knew exactly why Hel was angry. Lady Eleanor had been due to arrive the previous day. Orla had sat quietly whilst the Goddess strode up and down the river’s edge, her agitation increasing with every hour that passed. They waited from dawn till dusk, until the blue-black sky became thick with bats and other creatures of the night. Hel was so enraged she could barely speak. “The insult…she will pay…how dare she…” were the half-formed utterances that echoed in the dark. Orla had done her best to soothe her, but to no avail. And now it seemed the Goddess’s temper had lasted through the night and into the morning.

“Ah – here is the priestess,” Hel announced as Orla stepped into the glittering cavern. “The liar.”

The assembled crowd – spirit-takers, attendants and messengers – tittered. They enjoyed nothing more than seeing Hel’s anger directed at anyone other than themselves.

“You know I do not lie.” Orla’s time with the Fae made it impossible for her to do so, which the Goddess knew as well as she did.

“So if not you, then the one whom you serve. Eleanor of Skellstor.” Hel’s face was a death mask - a white skull with fleshless lips. “I knew it was a trick. Varia warned me not to trust you.”

Orla bit her lip and scanned the cavern for the witch’s face. Surely she would be here to gloat? But there was no sign of her.

“It was no trick,” she said. “Lady Eleanor must have been delayed.”

“And yet she sent no message. No raven, nothing. She, of all the people in this land, should show greater courtesy.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t wise to do so. Perhaps…” Orla’s voice waivered as she countenanced an unwelcome thought – that Lady Eleanor had been attacked en route; that she might be lying, injured and unaided, somewhere in the Vale.

“Ha! So, little priestess, though your powers are great, you cannot see what has happened to her. She may be dead, for all you know. Or she may arrive here after all.” Hel spread her hands as if she were weighing up the options. It was clear Orla’s discomfort amused her. She gave a ghastly smile and her face returned to its normal duality: one half youthful, the other ancient.

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