Dreams of Darkness Rising Read Online Free Page B

shell pendant; it was one of her nervous habits. Her scalp was itching with the ash and grease.
    In an attempt to ease her nerves her gaze drifted to the tapestry above the sideboard. It was faded like most of the Keep, its once bright colours leached by the sunlight to match the depressing hue of the stone. Emelia could make it out as a battle scene, maybe from the time of the Eerian Empire. A dominant figure to the right was commanding a vast army of conquering Eerians. Above him flew a dozen griffon-borne knights and overlooking the scene was the great god Merciful Torik and to his side, the elemental race of the air, the feathered Netreptans.
    Emelia’s mind wandered back to nights full of tales in the kitchen as Mother Gresham had regaled them with stories of knights, Netreptan archers and handsome bards. She had recounted fables of dashing princes of far away lands, who cowered before the short lived might of the first Empire. She had told of sun-kissed Feldor, of the splendid Knights of Artoria and of gallant Thetoria with its duelling barons. Magical lands that she would never see, save in her dreams.
    Emelia savoured every instant of dreaming, for in her dreams she could sometimes find freedom instead of fear. In these dreams, she was a dancing princess, entrancing a handsome traveller who would inevitably turn out to be a brave prince. There were castles in the clouds and griffons that would fly them to the four moons and back. In her dreams she was a magnificent and regal lady, not a housemaid sold by her parents in the Scattered Isles with nothing but a pair of freakish eyes.
    The clatter of the arriving tray jolted her from her daydream. The platter was laden with alcas bread, jams, butter, sweetmeats and tongue. Her stomach rumbled and then tightened. The odours swam in her head and for a fearful moment she feared her nerves might make her vomit. Emelia took several slow deep breaths and rapped on the door before lifting the tray. She paused for a moment and looked down the corridor— the boy, Torm, was long gone. Emelia grinned to herself and pushed open the oak door. She’d definitely got the better deal of the pair.
     
    ***
     
    Lord Talis Ebon-Farr’s day chamber was long and thin, much like the noble himself. The grand windows afforded astounding views over Lower Eeria. On the far left of the room were two doors that led to the study and the bedroom respectively. The chamber was warmed by a crackling fire that jutted into the room. A huge mirror loomed above the fireplace, its borders carved in the likeness of soaring eagles.
    In the centre of the chamber were a selection of plush chairs and tables made of the finest wood from the second Eerian city of Tosnor. In two of the chairs sat Lord Ebon-Farr and his early morning guest.
    Lord Talis Ebon-Farr could trace his lineage back to the time of the Eerian Empire some eleven hundred years ago. In the centuries since then, the intermarriages of the Eerian nobility had assured that almost all of the great houses had some association, though not necessarily cordial, with one another. Lord Ebon-Farr sat on the Eerian council, one of the nine lower-lords and it was through this that his friendship with his guest had come.
    Lord Ebon-Farr displayed the pure bred features of an Eerian noble. His swept back grey hair crowned a thin face, made sharper by a hooked nose. It was as if living at such an altitude in a city famed for its arrogance and aloofness had warped the Coonorians—the residents of Eeria’s capitol Coonor—into a resemblance of their avian neighbours, the Netreptans.
    Talis was chattering as Emelia approached. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor; one did not meet the gaze of the masters. Her entire will was focused on balancing the awkward tray.
    “I’m sure that my nephew, Jular, will pass Ni-Faris. I know my wife’s brother is especially eager for his career in the magi to begin early. He is a most generous chap. Have I introduced you,