Acclayne Book 1: The Game Begins
Chapter 6

Thewinding lane was dark; too dark even for most people to be able tosee. It was a clear night and the stars shone above, yet none oftheir twinkling light made its way into the nearly deserted lanebelow. The houses clustered together as if whispering gossip; theirunevenly slanted rooftops almost touching in conspiracy, blocking anylight that may have filtered through. The wind whistled through thegaps, bringing with it the sound of drunken laughter from a nearbyInn. One was never alone in the city; no matter how alone one felt.

The man below had beensleeping on the streets now for some time. It was not something thathe had thought he would have to become accustomed to. He huddled in acorner between two houses, he could hear the families inside bustlingabout; getting the children ready for bed no doubt. He wasn’tfamiliar with the voices as he made sure to keep moving, but all themuffled voices he had heard had started to sound the same to him; thesame worries, the same hopes, same fears and the same dreams. For themost part the people he heard were content with their lot. This bothpleased and angered him, how could one be happy living in conditionssuch as these? It was if time had forgotten Corthus. Things hadremained the same for as long as anyone could remember. Sure therewere differences but ones so subtle that it was hard to believe thatanything was really any different at all. The city had grown slowlyover the years, houses on the outskirts seemed to form graduallyupwards from the ground, twisted and misshapen as if grownorganically; affected by the environment around them. There seemed nologic as to where they were built but they had multiplied to formclusters which then attached themselves to the city.

On his travels he hadvisited Cortharen quite frequently, the buildings there werecultivated; ordered in rows with beautiful gardens. Each was builtwith care and no two houses were quite the same; having been madewith precision by the people who lived there. Time had definitely notleft Cortharen behind. He found immense beauty in the order and graftdisplayed by the Cortharens, their drive and ambition was somethinghe could relate to. Still, he kept returning to Corthus, the citythat by its very nature rejected him. He shuffled uncomfortably, astone from the building behind him jutting uncomfortably into hisback. He had work to do.

Closing his eyes tofocus his mind, he could hear a group of men a few streets away, thesmell of beer floated in the air, signalling their impending arrival.In the opposite direction were smaller footsteps; a little girlwalking all alone, meandering and aimless. He pulled his hat down,covering his face and began to hum to himself. The sound was low,throaty and monotonous. It carried on the wind…

Kaylaer fingered therough stonework wall. Bored of the impromptu history lesson she hadwandered off in search of her own excitement. She had never visitedthe city before yet she felt a strange affinity with it. It seemed totwist and turn in whichever direction it pleased and that suited herjust fine. It was dark in the narrow lanes, aside from the odd splashof light from a house window here and there. There was no possibleway of knowing where she was and yet she felt no fear. It was as ifshe was searching for something that she didn’t understand.Something reverberated within her, a low pulse which she letsubconsciously guide her. It vibrated throughout her entire body,calling to her. She had felt this feeling only a few times; the lasttime it had prompted her to turn the boy who sat in front of her intoa lemur. This had earned her a meeting with the Headmaster, whichhad, in turn, led her to become part of this expedition. She reasonedthat there was method in the madness, and that it was probably bestnot to ask questions. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath. Theair in the city was heavy, heady with the scent of crammed bodies,food and alcohol. It was stifling yet at the same time a comfort; itreminded her of wrapping herself up in a blanket right up to hernose; of chicken soup with stale bread; her father kissing hergoodnight on the head, himself tired after working and drinking. Itreminded her of home.

She let her long, leanlegs carry her forward through the narrow streets. Briefly shewondered if she should turn back; her teacher was probably freakingout over her sudden disappearance. It was just a passing thought;however, and was easily drowned out by the reverberations in hermind. The further she walked the stronger this strange feeling seemedto become. What she had previously mistaken for a pulse was now alow, monotonous vibration. Her slight body felt almost as if it weretrembling, she looked down at her small hands as if to confirm thisyet they were completely steady. Instinctively she knew some sort ofsorcery must be afoot, yet what it was she wasn’t sure. Shecouldn’t remember reading about this feeling in any textbook; notthat she had ever paid much attention to those. She certainly hadn’theard anything about it in any class; though she reasoned that it wasprobably because she hadn’t bothered to turn up that day; and ifshe had she had probably already been sent back out of the classroom.

At the ageof fourteen Kaylaer was tall, slender and angular. When she looked atherself in the mirror she felt that she had been stretched and thatthere wasn’t quite enough of her to comfortably fit her frame, andwith her porcelain colouring even she would concede that she lookedsort of delicate. Eventhinking it repulsed her. It was with this in mind that shedeliberately acted out; cultivated her hard reputation. Delicate shemay be but she would certainly not allow herself to be breakable.She allowed her mind to wander like this as she felt the effects ofthe vibration lead her on; eyes closed once more. It wasn’t untilshe heard someone stumble a little way ahead of her that she openedher eyes. She stood still. The vibration stopped.

Argyle had been havingsome problems at home, or rather he had been having some problemswith the wife. He was never home and apparently that was a problem.She didn’t want him there anyway, she told him so on a daily basis.No that was unfair, she had never said it in as many words; rather hewas a waste of space, a bore, a mess and to top it off; he smelled.As inconspicuously as he could while so inebriated he raised his armand sniffed at his armpit. She was right on one count at least. Notthat he would admit that to her and give her the satisfaction. Not achance.

“’ere,” he turnedto his companion, “do y’think I shmell?”

“Do I thunk youwha?”

“Sssshmell?”

“Nah mate, s’jus’th’booze.” Argyle nodded slowly; his head light from his lastdrink, or possibly the one before it. Lowden was his best mate andsuddenly he had the overwhelming urge to tell him so;

“Lowden.”

“yer?”

“Yer ma bess’…”he paused to burp, “mate.” he stood still for a moment, swayed,and patted Lowden firmly on the back. He stumbled forward a little atthe impact. “an’ yer drunk.” He laughed. Lowden frowned.

“Noralf as drunk asyou.” He smiled then, and they both smiled drunkenly at each other,bonded together through drink and life’s disappointments. Neitherman was where he expected he’d be at this age but at that momentneither cared because they had each other and they were pleasantlydrunk and surely that was all you could ask for.

“Not as drunk as whenI gor with ma wife’o aye?” Argyle let out a booming laugh,pleased with his own joke.

“Whatchit. Tha’s masssshister.” And the moment was gone.

Something had gonewrong. From where he sat in the shadows he could sense the movementof the strangers around him. The young girl had stopped moving. Shewas approximately three corners away. So close. Caught up in his ownconcentration he had neglected to keep track of the two drunkardsthat had stumbled right on by him, now they had come between him andhis prey; breaking the spell that had held her. He focused on hernow; she was scared, body pressed tightly against the wall of ahouse. The scuffling drunks were edging nearer to her, soon she wouldbe seen. He had hoped to be more subtle about this; to slip byunseen. It was not going to happen. He stood swiftly and creptbetween the shadows.

“’Ere, you can’tgo sayin’ stuff like tha’ bout ma own ssshister.” The taller ofthe two men pushed the other into the wall of the house opposite. Thetwo of them were illuminated by the pale light that filtered throughthe window. Kaylaer had tucked herself into a corner and was, for themost part, hidden in the shadows. Drunken arguments weren’t new toher and she knew from experience to steer well clear of them. Shestruggled to keep her breathing low; panic was rising in her chestdespite her best attempts to push it down. She knew her limits andthese men were both at least twice her size; and drunk. Drunk menwere unpredictable. She also knew this from experience.

“Ah’llsay wor I wan’ bout ma wife.”Slurred the shorter man as he pushed his companion back. The tallerman stumbled and fell backwards onto the floor just in front ofKaylaer, who despite her best efforts let out a small whimper. A factthat she would neglect to mention when recounting the story to herpeers.

“An’ wor is this?”Kaylaer forced herself to look down. The man on the floor was lookingup at her.

“Wors wor? Youflamin’ Idio- well now ain’t you a pretty lickle thing.” Theother man had spotted her now too. Kaylaer forced herself against thewall as far as she could, willing herself to somehow morph into thevery stonework that she was pushing against. Head down she allowedher long, blonde hair to fall down into her face; obstructing hervision of the scene in front of her. She squeezed her eyes shut,willing herself away.

“’Ere,Argyle I reckon she’s scared.” Lowden mumbled from the ground.Argyle continued to stare at the girl in front of him. He wastransfixed by her; her pale hair shone white in the dim light and herskin had an almost luminous quality about it. Though if asked toarticulate what he had thought he would merely be able to say thatshe looked like some sort of angel; pretty and sort of glowy.

From his position onthe floor Lowden could not make out Argyle’s face but he could seethe girl physically squirm at the proximity of his drunken friend.His drunken mind put her somewhere in her late teens but she wasslight, so slight… perhaps not?

“She’s not scared.Are ya? Precious?” Argyle stepped closer. His breath blew againsther hair and she instinctively recoiled.

“She’sa kid Argyle,” mumbled the man on the floor. Argyle,she’d remember that name, “’snotright.” He began to heave himself up off of the floor; or soKaylaer imagined in her minds eye as her real eyes were firmly shut.She could feel his breath on her face now, the familiar smell ofdrink penetrated her nose and twisted images and memories flooded hermind.

She felt; rather thansaw, him lift his arm to brush her hair from her face. But before hecould make contact the feeling was gone.

From a safe distanceaway he had been watching the situation ahead of him unfold. Thelarger of the two men was now on his feet and stood a little behindhis companion. He could see the left side of the smaller man’sface; a smirk was beginning to form as his left arm came up towardsthe girl. This was not meant to have happened at all.

All of a sudden Argylewas aware of the ground coming up very quickly to meet with the rightside of his face. He lay on the floor; his left arm out ahead of him,as he felt pain blossom on the left side of his face. He could tasteblood.

“Bloody ‘ell!” Hewasn’t sure but he thought he heard Lowden stumble away.

“Lowden…”

“I amafraid your friendseems to have left.” The deep voice came from somewhere high abovehim, “Pity.” now it came from beside his ear. He heard the deepcrunch of his nose breaking before he felt it. As his drunken mindslowly processed the pain from his newly broken nose he felt a sharpkick to his right knee. He heard himself yowl in pain. It went onlike this for what felt like an age until finally; his eyes tightlyshut, he was unprepared for the well aimed kick that hit him directlybetween the legs. His last thought before passing out was that that’dbe one more thing for the wife to complain about.

He had not intended forthat to happen either. He looked down at the mess of a man beforehim. He reasoned that it was no more than he had deserved. The girlwas slumped over on the floor where she had been standing. He was notsure how much she had actually witnessed but he was willing to betthat her eyes had been shut for the most part. Probably for the best.She was not supposed to have seen him at all.

“Are you okay?” Hisdeep voice cut through the silence. The girl whimpered in response.Slowly; tentatively, he walked over to her. She had stopped shakingnow; less afraid than she had been. He wondered to himself if thatwas a wise decision on her part. He crouched down in front of her.“It is okay now. He will not be awake for some time.” She stifleda quiet sob; her face now buried in her hands. His words were notdoing much to comfort her. Gently he reached out and held her wrist;it was tiny in his hand. She was delicate; he observed, like asparrow. “It really is okay now. I promise.” As he spoke thistime he felt her relax; she was under his influence now. Herbreathing slowed and became deeper as she entered what he referred toas a wakeful sleep. In his right hand he felt the cool, smooth stonegiven to him by his father and as swiftly and as gently as he couldhe dropped it into the girl’s pocket. Briefly a huge sense of lossthreatened to overwhelm him, but he had prepared himself for it. Hehad read that he would instinctively want to snatch it back; to keepit save in his own pocket which held the stone left to him by his nowlate mother. He fought the urge, the stone must stay where it wasneeded. For now. He snapped back into focus just as the girl in frontof him woke herself from “sleep”. Maybe he had chosen wrongly.

“Who…Whydid you-?” The man crouched in front of her was not Argyle. Nor washe drunk. Kaylaer took a moment to absorb this fact. His hand was;however, wrapped around her wrist. “Get the hell off of me!” shetried to snatch her wrist back but underestimated his grip. His headwas tilted down and away from her. He was listening for something.She balled her fist; agitated now, all sense of fear had subsided.She wasn’t sure what had happened but she was desperate to get thehell out of there. Right. Now. She balled her fist, “GerrOFFofme!”His head snapped up and he stared directly at her. Kaylaer feltherself instantly transfixed. Whether it was the dim light or not shecould not tell but he had the deepest, darkest, brown eyes she hadever seen. She felt as though she was being drawn into them. He wasclose now and she could just about see the dark wavy tendrils of hairthat framed his face; a face that was too strong and angular to becalled beautiful, but that was the only word her teenage mind couldthink of to describe him. Beautiful.

She felt her fist golimp as he stared back at her. Warmth seemed to radiate from him andgradually she let her body succumb to it. She could hear voices inthe distance, they were calling. Were they calling for her? She couldnot tell. In a soft voice the man in front of her whispered;

“Kaylaer, So that iswho you are.” and before she could react the warmth was suddenlyripped away from her, and so was her saviour. She was alone and stillsat on the floor when Malcolm found her minutes later. The heat ofhis hand still lingered on her wrist.