White Heart (Merrydian's Gate, #1)

Merrydian’s Gate

  Book One: White Heart

  A.E.Wright

  White Heart (Merrydian’s Gate #1)

  A.E.Wright

  Copyright 2014 by Amy Wright

  Cover Design by www.thecovercollection.com

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All right reserved. No part of this book may be produced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One - The Belfry

  Chapter Two - The Tale of the Sorceress

  Chapter Three - Falinn Galdur

  Chapter Four - Old Friends

  Chapter Five - The Road to Thistlewick

  Chapter Six - The Sacrifice

  Chapter Seven - Politics

  Chapter Eight - Bloodlines

  Chapter Nine - Loch Du

  Chapter Ten - The Stalker

  Chapter Eleven - Balthus

  Chapter Twelve - As the Crow Flies

  Chapter Thirteen - The Grave

  Chapter Fourteen – Acquiescence

  Chapter Fifteen - The Heart of the Mountain

  Chapter Sixteen - Alphus the Damnable

  Chapter Seventeen - The Chamber of Light.

  Chapter Eighteen - The Darkest Dawn

  Epilogue

  For my wonderful husband and three beautiful children,

  You are my daily inspiration.

  “Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent than the one derived from fear of punishment.”

  Mahatma Gandhi

  Prologue

  Gwen

  Britain 542 AD

  I slip the muddied parchment into my scarlet robe; it says to meet at the babbling brook. It is a risk but I will go there, I have no other option. I am afraid, my hands tremble as I loop the cotton around the catch but I try to keep my demeanour calm. I am a queen now and I must behave accordingly. I catch the eye of one of my guards, for a moment I think he knows. I feel like he senses my fear, I am projecting it much more than I ought to if I’m ever going to slip away unnoticed by him or any of other three guards in my personal chamber. I am glad I have mastered the art of unspoken magic as I quickly incline my hand toward his head. He falls into a deep sleep not obvious to the naked eye. Although the guard stands just as he did the moment before, his blue eyes open wide and blinking, he is not seeing the conscious world he inhabits. I have given him the gift of a beautiful dream, a dream of the natural word and all her secret beauties and eccentricities. I am sorry to use magic on him, outlawed since Agrona began her war, the mortals are afraid of magic now but I have only ever used the purest of magic. It is the only kind of magic I know.

  My grandmother Madge did not like people to see her. She had always been the reclusive type for as long as I could remember, and that was years back into my childhood. For her to come here to meet with me, took a lot of courage on her part. I could not expect her to come to the castle, where there were so many prying eyes and wagging tongues. No, I did not begrudge her privacy and she was the only person I would agree to meet in secret at this point. Most people were terrified of her appearance, distorted by a terrible curse; she became half woman half dragon. She’s as mad as a March hare but brilliantly wise after her long years of life. Some find my grandmother questionable due to her eccentricity but I completely trust her and I am convinced she has the answer that will end this war.

  It is true that my father Merrydian, the most powerful wizard that ever lived, is better equipped to destroy the witch than any other living being but as I venture out to meet Madge, he stays on the island of Galdur. It is the island we grew on, the island we lived as a family on before my marriage and the onset of this terrible war. He sits in his wooden chair and says nothing; he simply stares into oblivion as if eternity can answer the questions that he could not answer himself. Until my father, consumed by his grief for my mother and sisters, emerges from his melancholy state of catatonia, Madge is our only hope.

  I know my sisters and my mother have passed from this world. I know Agrona took them, I know what she did to them. I am aware of what she plans to do to my father and me, given the chance. She will take our hearts; she will render herself the most powerful and the only truly immortal being to walk the natural earth. She will tear our hearts from our bodies and attach them to her own. My father warned me the day before Agrona took my sister, that she has discovered a mysterious and very ancient magic that allows her to take in another’s magical life-force. He warned us both; Benevoley did not believe in such dark magic she was naïve of the evils that inhabit the world. She took risks to help others and she paid with her life. Knowing my father would not take such matters lightly, I took the road of caution. Because of this, I am still alive and my baby daughter Ambrosia is safe, but that is not enough any longer. I want to live in a world liberated from Agrona’s malice, a world where magic is trusted again. I must try, if there is hope of defeating her I must go to Madge. There is one place I must visit first, a much more important place.

  As I pass the slumberous guard, I incline my head in a slight nod. It gives the signal to the other guards that this guard is my chosen escort. My slumberous sentinel follows subconsciously. He cannot see me, he remains in a state of rapture yet he follows. Once again, I am using magic, manipulating him to come in the direction I want him to. I feel genuinely guilty to have to exert such power over a helpless man but I cannot let that detract from my goal. I must reach the brook and Madge and I must reach them tonight. My husband is on the verge of battle with Agrona and her army of demonic Gnarls. It is a battle he will surely lose. Nevertheless, it is impossible for me to explain to him, that one woman is more powerful in her maleficent ego than an entire army of great and good knights. He is a good man; he wants the best for our part of the kingdom but he does not understand how powerful her sinister magic really is, not in the same way that I do. Even if he did, I do not doubt that he would continue to fight, apathy in the face of evil is not what makes a king or his kingdom strong. I leave the guard at the very bottom of the stone staircase; he reclines against the wall happily. He will wake in around an hour or so but I will be long gone by then.

  As I walk out into the night, the brilliant silver moonlight washes over my skin. It is a source of great comfort to me, repelling what would otherwise be incontestable darkness. I am not going far for the first part of my journey but I should not be beyond the castle grounds at all. On orders of my protective king, I am to stay in the west wing of the castle under armed guard. I love my king but I am not in the habit of being inhibited by neither man nor woman. I am cautious in the face of my enemy but I am not controlled by my fear, if I was, Agrona would already have won. I journey on foot to the small stonemason’s cottage just outside of the castle grounds. My daughter, Ambrosia is there with her guardians. They are travelling north far beyond our territory this night and I could not let her go without one final kiss.

  The soft skin of her plump cheek, her unique floral smell, her pudgy little fingers; I drink them all in the way only a mother who is about to be torn away from her child could. Her sleek red hair tickles my chin as I give her one final kiss and then pass her sadly back to her guardians. Ambrosia was born without magical ability, but that has not deterred Agrona in her quest to capture her and me. I know the guardians I have chosen for her will
keep her safe, no matter what they will protect her. The man is a knight, the bravest warrior in the kingdom after the king. The mother has not shied away from the battlefield herself. She is a match for her husband in every aspect. That is why I choose them and I feel nothing but confidence in my choice. As I close the heavy wooden door behind me, I hear Ambrosia whimper for me. This does not upset me instead, I feel happy that my child knows she is loved and loves me enough in return to yearn for my presence when I leave. I hold onto the thought of a reunion with her, I need that powerful emotion in order to perform the next piece of magic I will need if I am to reach the brook in time.

  I go to a patch of wild flowers that I know are growing nearby the cottage. I have been contemplating them every time I have journeyed to the cottage to meet with Ambrosia. This is the only outing the king has allowed me in recent days. The flowers look hardy but I am unsure as to if there are enough for the task in hand. There is only one-way to find out and with my hands guiding them, I manipulate the flowers into a new form. They uproot from the ground and the air is filled with the aroma of the earth as they dance and twist around one another. Each finding its own perfect place in the profile of the creature I am creating. When the final pink dogwood bloom takes its place, the fully formed flora Shire horse before me is magnificent. She whinnies uneasily with her first taste of the crisp night air. I reach out my palm and gently pat her soft botanic mane. I name her Blossom. She only exists in this form for a short while, the duration of my journey will only be around two shifts of the moon but every creature deserves a name. I give her the gift of her name, whispering it into her ear as I carefully climb onto her back. She instinctively knows the direction we are heading in, it is a bond between creator and creation as strong as my bond with Ambrosia. As she bounds away with the speed and strength of the wind, I wonder if I ride toward my salvation or my doom.

  I am not naïve of the fact that this meeting could be an ambush but the risks are outweighed by the rewards. The possibility of defeating Agrona is too important an opportunity to surpass. We bound towards an incline in the hill that leads to the forest, bolting with greater speed and agility I could have imagined of her, Blossom is taking me to my destination a little sooner than I’d hope to get there. I gently pat the side of her neck and she slows in response to my gesture. I admire the way the sliver moonlight glistens on the natural dew of the ferns and trees surrounding us. To my mind, there is no precious jewel or metal that can match the beauty of nature. A hunting owl swoops overhead and lands almost silently in a nearby tree. I can hear the trickling of water as I near my destination. I am almost at peace in this moment, almost but not quite. There is something about the air in the forest tonight that makes me uneasy. I hear the scream-like bark of a fox; it is always a bad omen. I feel tense, I should turn back but I have come so far. I dismount from Blossom and stroke her nuzzle gently. She bows her head and is perfectly silent. I admire her beauty one final time before I wave my hands, using magic, to disband her. The wildflowers that previously made up the shape of her body, twirl in the air in a glorious display. They eventually settle on a patch of grass. Re-rooting, they once again take the form of a patch of wildflowers, swaying gently with the midnight breeze.

  I am at the entrance of the brook now, it is an open meadow and I am nervous about being so exposed. So far, I have been sheltered by the protective woodland. I begin to feel alone now that I have returned Blossom to her original condition. Even if it is not Madge waiting for me at the other side of the brook, I could not escape a predator at this point, especially if that predator is a Gnarl. I walk towards the stream uncertainly but there is no sign of Madge. She has no reason to hide from me, something is very wrong. Madge is not here, Madge did not send the note. I turn to flee but the grass is wet and my shoes are unsuitable for the sprint I attempt to break into. I lose my loose heeled shoes in the damp grass. My toes catch in them and I fall to the ground spinning onto my back. I hit my head on something hard, probably a rock. I think I fall asleep or I am knocked unconscious, I am unsure.

  When I open my eyes again, I am disorientated. I have forgotten why I have come to this place, I know my purpose was important but I just cannot remember specific details. I lie stationary on the ground, hoping to grasp and hold onto a clear thought but my mind is hazy. Instead, I attempt to calm myself the same way I always do, by appreciating the beauty of the natural environment around me, perhaps then I will remember. When I finally arise, I walk to the babbling brook. I stare into the clear water for a moment. There is something magical about the water reflected in the light of the moon, for a moment I feel as if I am the only being that inhabits the planet. I am alone and I am peaceful. That is when I hear it. It is a sound I have heard before. A sound that evokes fear in the very depths of my being. A maleficent screech of a creature I know well but cannot bring to mind, I am in danger, extremely serious danger. My heart races and the hairs on my body stand to attention.

  I am faced with a choice. I can flee but I will not get away in time. I will be caught and I will have given my hunter the satisfaction of my fear. I can fight but I do not possess the kind of magic I need to defeat this creature. In addition, violence is not something I am accustomed to, not even in this dire situation can I bring myself to use it. I have a third option, I can make an echo, this option will not save my life but this is the option I choose. The echo will resonate the events that are about to take place, like a sound traveling infinitely through the ether until it reaches a receptor that is able to hear it.

  It takes mere seconds for me to locate my mind’s eye, the instrument I will need to record the fate that lays ahead of me. I practiced this magic over and over with my mother before she was murdered. She firmly believed in the power of the ‘other realm’ as she called it, activities such as dream reading and echoes were her primary focus as her age advanced. She reasoned that even magic born people like me, who live very long lives compared to others, would benefit from the ability to leave a part of them behind after they are gone. Although at the time, I did not give her theories much weight, in this moment I am grateful for her teachings. I allow myself to embrace the hurt I feel that she is gone. It transforms into an all-encompassing sense of joy that I am about to be reunited with her in the ever after. I am no longer disorientated, I know exactly what is about to take place but I have no fear in my heart any longer. I am content. I am calm. I am resigned and I am ready.

  I take my eyes from the brook and gaze into an otherworldly face staring out at me from the other side of the water. It is the dark face of my fate, the evil glare of a malign demon. I smile; it is my last wilful action on the earth. Then death comes greedily to greet me.