Ebon Robes

Chapter One

There was only the earth and the sky. Mordecai was certain of this. His bare arms rested on soil, and he knew just from the smell and feel of it that it was rich and moist and dark. He could feel the smooth, hard surface of a small rock pressing against his shoulder-blades, reminding him of the great weight of stone that lay underneath him. It occurred to him that, if the scholars were correct, then there was more of it than anybody could ever imagine. Mordecai's perspective shifted suddenly, and he felt as though the earth lay on top of him, not the other way around. The disorienting, frightening sensation caused his heart to tighten, but it passed as quickly as it had come. He stared up at the sky, and the anxious hammering of his heart slowed and calmed. Punctuated by only the occasional daub of white, the blue seemed endless. To Mordecai it looked cool and serene, and he wished he could be up there. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw something moving, and he turned his head towards it. A hawk drifted on the air currents. It dipped, then banked to its left and unhurriedly began to spiral downwards, seemingly content to let the currents take it where they willed. Mordecai wondered if the hawk would descend all the way to the ground, but eventually it caught another warm current once more drew it upwards.

His attention was brought back down to earth by the tickling sensation of an ant crawling along his left arm. He gently brushed the ant off. Closing his eyes, Mordecai tried to imagine what it would be like to glide amongst the clouds. A chill breeze rose up and sighed across his prone body, and suddenly he imagined he could feel air currents pushing and tugging at his arms. In his mind's eye they were transformed into wings, and he was lifted up into the heavens. He could hear a rumbling noise in the distance, but he ignored it and looked down. The ground was a long way away, and everything on it had shrunk. His own body looked about the size of an ant; it seemed very small and insignificant.

Mordecai's eyes sprang open in alarm. The rumbling noise had transformed into a rhythmic drumming; it took him a couple of seconds to realise that it was the sound of hoof-beats, and that they were drawing nearer. Afraid of being trampled, Mordecai rose unsteadily to his feet. His vision was suddenly filled with grey horse-flesh and flashing hooves, and he instinctively stumbled backwards. As he fell Mordecai could hear the panicked neighing of the horse, and someone cursing loudly and angrily. With dismay, he realised it was his father Simmias' voice. Then Mordecai struck the ground, and the wind was knocked out of him, and he no longer cared about his father, the horse, the hawk, the sky or the earth. In an instant, the world was reduced to the searing pain in his back, and the gasping need to breathe. For a long time Mordecai was aware of nothing but the battle between his instinct to breathe and the constriction in his chest. When his breathing finally started to come easier, Mordecai found that his head was resting in his father's lap. He stared up at his father's shaggy face, a face filled not with concern but with anger and disappointment. "Is the horse hurt?" asked Mordecai, hoping to mollify his father. After a few seconds Simmias sighed, and his face softened. "No, she ain' t hurt, thank the Gods." He shook his head. "You didn't half give her a fright, though, and me too, popping outa the ground like that. What were you doing there anyway?"

Mordecai looked away, unsure whether he would be able to make his father understand. And even if he could, it would only make his father angry again. "Daydreaming again, I suppose," said Simmias. "When will you learn that there ain't no sense to it? I know it's your nature, but there just ain't no sense to it. It'll bring you to a bad end, you see if it don't. I -" He paused briefly, and his face hardened. "I don't want to do it, Cai, but if I have to strap you, I will. I won't have no son of mine coming to no bad end."

Alarmed, Mordecai looked back up at his father. "Course, it don't need to come to that," said Simmias, a little gentler. "I won't have it said that I took a hand to my own son without proper reason. There won't be no strapping, if you can promise to me that there won 't be no more daydreaming." "I promise," said Mordecai hastily; his father had never taken his hand to him before, but neither was he given to empty threats. Mordecai winced involuntarily as the pain in his back began to throb insistently. "Can you stand?" asked Simmias. Mordecai shook his head. Even that small movement had made his head swim. "Then I shall carry you," said Simmias. With seemingly no effort, he wrapped his arms around Mordecai and rose to his feet. He whistled, and the grey trotted over. "Can you sit in the saddle, Cai?" asked Simmias. Mordecai shook his head emphatically. Already he felt like throwing up. "Well, I can't carry you all the way back to the house," said Simmias. "It's near a mile. You'll have to go across the saddle. Watch your head." With that unnecessary warning, Simmias unceremoniously lifted Mordecai up and onto the saddle. Mordecai's stomach pressed into the leather, and the nausea rose uncontrollably. It was too much for him, and his consciousness fled into the arms of the waiting darkness.

"It's time." Mordecai turned to face the speaker, and came face to face with a young, mail-clad woman. Her face, framed by long, golden hair, was pale and cold, and her eyes gleamed like sapphires. In her right hand was a sword, the blade long and keen and glittering in the sunlight. In the woman's left hand was a rope tied into a noose. Mordecai's heart leapt anxiously at the sight of it, and he shook his head emphatically. He tried to speak, but the lump in his throat prevented it. "It is time," said the woman again, and stepped up to Mordecai. She placed the noose over his head, and it slipped down and rested on his shoulders. Mordecai tried to resist, to pull off the noose, but he couldn't move his arms. He looked up, and saw that the tail of the noose was tied to a sturdy wooden beam about three feet above his head. The noose tightened around his neck, and he felt the knot press into his throat. He looked back at the woman, and found that he could now speak. "Why?" "Because I cannot do otherwise," she said coldly. "You have tied my hands, prevented me from helping you. Now it is too late." Mordecai shook his head, not comprehending. There were muted voices behind him; he couldn't hear the words being spoken, but it was clear that some of them were laughing and joking. "It is time," said the woman one more time. The ground underneath Mordecai's feet gave way and he plummeted into darkness.

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