43 Nim

"What should we do now?" Gareth asked, his short sandy hair dripping slightly from the light rain that had been falling all morning.

Nim shrugged, "All we can do is knock, I suppose." She lifted a wrinkled hand to the massive oak doors that led into Astrophel's keep and wrapped three times with force.

Agremonth Castle, they had learned it was named, loomed before the pair formidable and brooding. Nim had seen castles like it before arriving in Ovandale over a hundred years ago, and presenting to gargantuan fortress reminded her once again why she had left in the first place. Excessive in size and the workforce needed to keep it running, Agremonth was yet another monument to the neverending obsession for power men in these lands held.

A long moment passed, Nim becoming slowly more agitated, and Gareth appearing more and more nervous. "Maybe we should return to the glade?" he asked, his pale grey eyes darting around fervently.

"The faeries gave us all the information they have, boy. It's either this or we find another farmer's cart and see what awaits us at the next town." Nim huffed. Gareth nodded slowly. She could tell the soldier was still apprehensive about being caught. While camping out in the nearby forest the night before, the boy had mentioned they were not far from the last fort he was stationed at before leaving for Ovandale. The threat of being recognized as a deserter loomed over him now as they waited.

Nim reached her arm up again to knock, but slowly the dense wood began to creak open. A small woman, no taller than Nim herself, poked her head out between the large doors. Cropped copper hair that fell to her shoulders in soft curls framed a smooth freckled face. Nim could see a red tattoo snaking along the woman's neck in a delicate circular pattern. Why would a witch answer the door and not a servant? Nim thought to herself.

"Who are you?" the tiny woman snapped. The woman might have appeared angelic at first glance, but her eyebrows were now furrowed in a look of stern annoyance.

Nim shifted her weight where she stood, relying less on the wooden cane she carried to support her weight, "I am Cora, this is Gareth, and we seek an audience with Lord-"

"Astrophel does not entertain visitors, nor does he give alms to the needy. You may go." The woman interrupted, starting the heave the door back into place.

Nim always believed that being tied to the earth was the most useful of skills to have as a witch. Resources for spells were readily available and prominent in everyday life. The older woman directed just a bit of onya into pushing the door back open and received the intended reaction.

The small woman's green eyes widened with surprise, "You don't have a marking," she hissed, "How did you get here, and what do you want?"

"I already told you, girl, we seek an audience with Lord Astrophel. Now let us in out of the rain."

The girl nodded, scurrying behind the door to pull it open, fully allowing Nim and Gareth the room to enter. She stepped inside the keep grateful for the warmth provided by a nearby fireplace. Nim supposed the foyer looked like any other she had seen before, tapestries hung against wood-paneled walls, and marble floors lined with exquisitely detailed rugs. The younger witch led them to a small sitting room off the main hallway to wait.

Gareth preferred to stand, thanking the woman all the same, but Nim sat down contentedly on a short sofa stretching out her short legs by the fire. Between the weather and the slow passage of time, not to mention the excessive amount of magic Nim had been using, it felt as if every bone in her body pulsed with a dull ache.

"My name is Sana," the witch said, "You two can wait here while I inform Astrophel of your arrival."

Nim thought it odd the girl did not refer to the vampire Lord by his title and could feel that something was off here at Agremonth Castle. It especially did not escape her notice that unlike any other woman she had seen since coming to Ibudal, Sana was not wearing a dress or even a skirt. Her diminutive body was clad in tight brown pants and a loose white tunic embroidered at the hem with intricate green vines. Her tiny feet patterned away in soft leather boots leaving Nim and Gareth alone in the room.

The former-soldier paced about the room slowly, occasionally picking up one of the many books that sat upon the various small tables lining the walls. Nim could see that he was more relaxed, having met no guards inside the castle walls.

After she had sent one of the faerie folk off with a message for Caroline, the two had spoken at length into the night about his family and desire to leave the Ibudali army. Even with so much uncertainty surrounding them, it seemed that a weight had lifted from the boy's shoulders.

That morning Nim and Gareth worked out a plan as to what they would tell Lord Astrophel. Gareth had suggested Nim assume the identity of his grandmother and that they were refugees seeking asylum from lands further to the south. The idea was to buy them some time within Agremonth to seek out members of the Assembly within its walls. Save for Sana, it was still unclear how many witches the vampire employed.

She had agreed, but only because telling the truth might find them in a cell or back in the hands of Talmot and neither scenario would get them any closer to Caroline or saving Ovandale from an invading army.

Nim felt Astrophel enter the room before she saw him. The fire seemed to dim somewhat as a cold rush of air permeated the small sitting room driving away any warmth that had been relieving the soreness from her body.

Nim turned to see a tall rail-thin vampire enter the room, his head almost brushing the top of the doorway. Nim first noticed his piercing red eyes set within a gaunt face with sharp cheekbones highlighted by the hollowness of his features. A small smile played at Astropehl's lips as Nim observed him taking a seat in a highbacked wooden armchair.

The vampire's hair was so white it almost appeared silver, half tied into an intricate pattern from his temples while the other half hung down to his waist. Even though the color of his hair belied age, the vampire's face still retained the visage of youth, unmarred by wrinkles or creases brought forth by time. A simple grey jacket and pants only amplified the paleness of the vampire's skin.

Nim and Gareth remained silent as the specter-like lord quietly assumed his seat among them. Both too enthralled by the lord's stark appearance to utter a word.

"An uncontracted witch and a disgraced ex-soldier at my door and step willingly inside." the vampire with a voice like silk, soft and low. "What a gift!" Lord Astrophel finished with a grin that sent shivers down Nim's spine.