Echoes of the Ringing Bells

Chapter 25 –

Fire was a fascinating thing. Beautiful, elegant, and oh so deadly.

The loveliest thing she had seen.

She dreamt of it, incessantly. The blazing glow that she saw was always inviting her to step in. To take her first steps up into terrifying depths.

The heat became a memory. Replaced by cold, dark, depths.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't see.

She tried to scream but water rushed in, filling her lungs with an icy dread. It was dark, and cold, and she was sinking, sinking into the abyss.

She clawed upwards, her fingers scraping against smooth stone. There was no escape, just a never-ending void, and the sound of a voice echoing through the water, along a loud eerie incessant pealing of bells.

Then she saw green.

She reached, her hand outstretched towards the mesmerizing green fire. It flickered, dancing on the tip of a towering, unseen blade.

Within the fire, an eye opened. A red, slitted eye, pulsing with malevolent light.

Chills wracked her body, deeper than the icy water. The bells pealed louder, their incessant rhythm like death wailed in the silence. The water itself seemed to claw at her, pulling her down.

The bells crescendoed, deafening, repeating. A relentless, agonizing dirge.

Then, a flash of demonic red heat, consuming everything.

Silence descended, heavy and absolute.

The stench of death filled the water.

And then the voice. Clearer, louder now, screaming, demanding her attention. The red light grew brighter, consuming everything, and she was falling, falling into a hellish embrace.

"Fern!"

Fern gasped, her eyes snapping open, the remnants of the nightmare clinging to her like cobwebs. She took a few deep breaths, the cool morning air filling her lungs, chasing away the lingering chill of the dream.

The familiar salty tang of the Honeywine river drifted in through the open window, a comforting reminder of home and reality.

The clamor of voices downstairs told her that the inn was already bustling with life.

Her father's booming voice echoed through the inn, a warm and familiar sound that banished the last vestiges of fear.

"Fern, rise and shine, lass!" Liernen's voice boomed through the door, jolting her awake. "The sun's already high, and we've hungry bellies to fill downstairs. Don't forget, you've got your tests at the citadel today! You don't want to be late!"

Fern swung her legs out of bed, a smile tugging at her lips. "I'm up, Papa!" she replied, her voice still thick with sleep. "Just give me a moment to get dressed, and I'll be down in a moment."

Fern quickly slipped into a simple woolen dress and a sturdy pair of leather boots. She grabbed her apron, tying it securely around her waist, and made her way down the creaky wooden stairs.

The smell of frying bacon and freshly baked bread filled the air as she entered the main lounge of the Learned Anchor.

Her father, Liernen, was already busy in the kitchen, his broad back hunched over the stove as he stirred a steaming pot.

"Morning, Papa," Fern chirped, pulling her apron tight.

Liernen turned, a wide smile spreading across his weathered face. "There's my little girl! Just in time. The plates are almost ready. Be a dear and run these out to the tables, would you? Yours is nearly done too."

"Will do, Papa," Fern replied, grabbing a tray laden with steaming bowls of porridge, tankards of ale, and baskets of bread.

She weaved through the tables, her eyes scanning the room. A group of city guards, still bleary-eyed from their night watch, huddled around a table near the hearth. A few servants from the Starry Sept, dressed in their somber grey robes, occupied a corner booth, their hushed conversation barely audible above the din.

"Your breakfast, would you like anything with it?," Fern asked, setting the tray down on the guards' table with a practiced hand.

"Ah, thank you kindly, lass, that is more than enough" one of the guards grunted, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the food.

Fern moved on to the next table, where a pair of merchants were engaged in a heated discussion.

"Your order," she interrupted, placing their plates before them. "would you like anything else with that?"

The merchants barely acknowledged her.

Fern smiled to herself and moved on, her tray growing lighter with each stop.

As she delivered the last meal, her father emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron.

"All done, Papa," Fern announced, beaming up at him.

"Well done, lass," Liernen replied, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Now scoot and eat your own breakfast. You've got a big day ahead of you."

Fern settled into a chair, gratefully accepting the bowl of steaming porridge and a hunk of bread her father placed before her. Liernen sat across from her, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched her wolf down her breakfast.

Leaning in, he whispered, "Ready for your tests today, Fern?"

Fern nodded, a flicker of determination in her eyes. "Maester Marwyn seems to think so," she whispered back. "I'll earn those links, Papa. I won't let you down."

Liernen's chest swelled with pride. "I know you won't, my girl," he said, his voice thick with emotion. He paused, then asked, "Has Pylos risen yet?"

Fern's brow furrowed. "Blast it, I forgot to check," she muttered. "I'll rouse him once I'm done."

Pylos, bless his soul, had become very lazy since Caelum had departed with Maester Marwyn.

Fern knew he missed their friend dearly; the citadel wasn't the same without him.

Yandel was always busy, running errands for Archmaester Gyldalyn or Archmaester Ebrose, or some other Archmaester that had need of the foundling.

And her constant charade of pretending to be "Nerf" was becoming increasingly tiresome. She had to concoct elaborate excuses for her absences, always careful not to arouse suspicion.

In all that, Pylos was left all alone.

Fern couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

She missed Caelum too, in truth. He had been very helpful around the inn.

A pang of worry tugged at her heart.

She remembered the day Maester Marwyn had whisked Caelum away from the inn. The boy had looked pale and drawn, and the archmaester's haste had been unsettling.

Fern didn't believe Caelum was truly ill; she suspected the maester had offered him an apprenticeship in the arcane arts, just as he had done for her.

She wondered if Caelum had made any progress in his magical studies. All she had learned so far was that magic demanded sacrifice and patience.

The rest of her time had been spent endlessly copying Maester Marwyn's tome, "The Book of Lost Books." She had transcribed Daenys the Dreamer's cryptic prophecies and portents so many times that she could practically recite them in her sleep.

Liernen interrupted her thoughts, "we're running low on grain. We'll need to make a run to Gorman's farm soon."

Fern nodded, swallowing a mouthful of porridge. "Think we can make it last the month?"

Liernen stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Just about, I reckon."

"Then I'll head up there at the end of the week," Fern decided. "Maybe Pylos can come with me."

Liernen gave her a hearty clap on the back. "Sounds like a plan, lass."

Fern and Liernen finished their breakfast in a comfortable silence. Just as Fern was about to rise, the inn's front door creaked open, its bell jingling merrily. Fern turned to greet the new patron, but her jaw dropped in astonishment.

Standing in the doorway was Caelum, his dark hair tousled and his blue eyes brighter than she remembered. His clothes were worn and travel-stained, but his smile was as warm as ever. Behind him stood Maester Marwyn, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the floor.

Liernen quickly recovered from his surprise, his face breaking into a broad grin. "Caelum, lad! Welcome back! We were worried sick when you had to leave so suddenly. Are you feeling better?"

Caelum nodded, his smile widening. "I'm right as rain now, Liernen. Archmaester Marwyn took good care of me." He turned to Fern, his eyes sparkling with joy. "Fern! It's good to see you."

Fern's heart leaped with happiness. "Caelum!" she exclaimed, rushing over to embrace him. But as she hugged him, she felt him stiffen, his arms barely encircling her.

Puzzled, she pulled back. "What's wrong?"

Caelum grimaced. "Nothing, just a bit weak still," he mumbled, looking away.

Fern's brow furrowed, but she quickly dismissed her concern. "Well, Pylos will be thrilled to see you," she said brightly. "He's missed you terribly."

Caelum's face lit up. "Pylos is still here? I thought I'd missed him and would have to wait until I reached the citadel."

Liernen chuckled. "He's likely still abed, the lazy oaf," he said. "Fern, be a dear and wake him, would you? And then get ready for your errands. You need to meet Hop Bean soon."

Maester Marwyn cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "I have returned your charge, Liernen," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I shall be on my way."

Liernen, flustered, apologized for his lack of attention. "Would you care for some refreshment, Maester? The stew is still hot."

Marwyn declined politely, chewing on a piece of sourleaf bark as he turned to leave. "Caelum," he instructed, "freshen up and then head to the citadel for your tests." With a final nod, he strode out the door.

"Your old room is still waiting for you, lad," Liernen said, bustling towards the kitchen. "I'll warm up some stew for you."

Caelum shook his head, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, sir, but I've already eaten. I'll just change into some clean clothes and wake Pylos. We'll head to the citadel together."

Liernen paused, concern creasing his brow. "Are you sure you're up for the tests, Caelum? You've been ill for so long. Perhaps you should wait until next year."

Caelum's smile broadened. "Don't worry, sir. Maester Marwyn continued my lessons while I was recovering. I'm confident I can earn my links." With that, he bounded up the stairs, his footsteps light and quick.

Fern watched him go, a mixture of curiosity and slight envy swirling within her.

Clearly, Maester Marwyn taught him magic, she thought. What kind of sickness could have lasted all these months, without it being fatal? No, he was very pale that night. The demon had also attacked the manse by the river that night, so perhaps his sickness was magical in nature?

There had been rumors of Demons that had attacked a manse by the Honeywine River. The folk at the sept believed that it had been retribution by the Gods for the horrific things that Maester Qyburn had done down there.

Though, apart from poor Ser Elmar, and the stable hand, no one had seen the demon in truth.

Some said that the fire that had sprung around the manse had been demonic in nature, those who had been fortunate enough to see the melted metallic doors of the manse seemed to agree.

There had been ice around the metal! Amidst all that fire, Ice!

But they were just rumors. The maesters had been quick to prohibit anyone from venturing into the manse, or the property around it. And Lord Leyton had posted more men to keep watch for demonic activity around the area since.

Poor Ser Elmar had not been the same since. But the Gold he had received for his work in fighting the demon must have lifted the crippled Knight's spirits at the least.

She didn't think she'd have liked to see the demon up close, but perhaps that had something to do with Caelum's sickness.

She would have to ask Maester Marwyn.

She shook her head, pushing aside her musings. She had her own tasks to attend to. "I need to go, Papa," she said, grabbing her cloak from the hook by the door. "I'll be back before dinner."

Liernen nodded, pressing a few copper coins into her hand. "Give Hop Bean my regards," he said as he ruffled her hair.

Fern kissed him on the cheek and slipped out the door.

Fern hurried through the winding streets of Oldtown, her footsteps echoing on the cobblestones. The salty breeze from the Honeywine River tugged at her cloak as she navigated the bustling crowds, her destination clear in mind.

Hop Bean's home, a modest dwelling nestled near Ragpicker's Wynd, was a short walk from the Learned Anchor. It was a stone's throw from the brothel where her mother had once worked, a place Fern had only glimpsed from afar.

She knocked on the worn wooden door and waited. It opened to reveal a plump, cheerful woman named Hilda, her rosy cheeks framed by wisps of auburn hair.

"Fern, dear!" Hilda greeted her warmly. "Come in, come in. Bean's just gathering your things. He'll be with you in a moment."

Fern handed Hilda the copper coins, a silent thanks for her discretion. She stepped inside, the familiar scent of beeswax and lavender filling her nostrils. Hop Bean's wife was known for her skill in crafting scented candles, a skill she had taught Fern as well.

Hop Bean was a stout dwarf. He emerged from the back room, his arms laden with a jumble of fabrics and accessories. "Ah, Fern," he said as he trundled toward her, "Are you ready for your tests?"

Fern nodded, taking a seat on the stool he indicated. Hop Bean was a master mummer, his disguises so convincing that even her father had been fooled on occasion. But more than that, he was a trusted friend.

"Did you get the copper?" Hop Bean asked, turning to his wife.

Hilda nodded, "Of course, dear."

Hop Bean set to work, his nimble fingers weaving Fern's boyish brown hair into a flattened style and concealing it beneath a mummer's cap. He helped her into a loose tunic and breeches, padding her shoulders and chest to create the illusion of a broader frame.

Hilda returned, balancing a tray laden with milk, honey, and bread. "A little something for you, dear," she offered.

Fern smiled apologetically. "Thank you, Hilda, but I've already eaten."

Hop Bean clucked his tongue. "You work too hard, woman," he admonished his wife. "Think of the little ones."

Hilda snorted, "I'm pregnant, not a cripple," she retorted. "Besides, they're your children, Hop Bean. They'll take up less space in my belly than they would if they were of any other's seed."

Hop Bean rolled his eyes, "Very funny, dear," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Hop Bean stepped back, eyeing Fern critically. "There," he declared, "Now off you go to the citadel, Nerf. Good luck with your tests."

Hilda echoed the sentiment, her eyes filled with warmth. "May the Seven guide your hand, child."

Fern curtsied, a grateful smile on her face. "Thank you, both of you," she said. Then, with a quick farewell, she slipped out the door and into the bustling streets of Oldtown.

The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows on the cobblestone streets. Fern quickened her pace, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She couldn't be late for her tests.

She arrived at the citadel, its towering spires piercing the sky like needles. The giant twin sphinxes guarding the entrance seemed to watch her with their enigmatic smiles as she hurried past them. Inside, the halls buzzed with activity as acolytes, novices, and maesters went about their daily routines.

Fern made her way to the lecture halls, her eyes scanning the crowd for her friends. She spotted Pylos and Caelum standing outside the hall dedicated to the healing arts.

Pylos, usually so morose, was actually smiling and chatting animatedly with Caelum.

Seeing him in good spirits warmed Fern's heart. Caelum's return must have cheered him up massively.

She couldn't linger here; she had to focus on the challenges ahead. She would meet with Pylos and Caelum later.

With a deep breath, Fern turned away from her friends and made her way towards the Tower of the Healer. The first test awaited her.

Archmaester Ebrose's gentle voice filled the quiet chamber as he questioned her on poultices and potions, on the signs of plague and the birthing of babes. Fern answered with a confidence born of countless hours poring over dusty tomes and watching the maester deliver babes in the citadel.

A warm smile spread across the old maester's face as he presented her with the silver link of healing.

Next came the imposing figure of Archmaester Theron, the citadel's seneschal. His bald head gleamed in the candlelight as he grilled her on the intricacies of trade routes and tariffs, on the value of dragon gold and the fluctuating prices of Myrish glass, lace and other goods from Essos.

Fern's voice wavered at times, her palms clammy with nerves, but her knowledge held firm.

Theron, though stern, nodded his approval, awarding her the red gold link of money and accounts.

The afternoon sun slanted through the stained glass windows of the Maester's Terrace as Fern faced her final test.

Archmaester Ryam, a wizened man with a penchant for riddles, challenged her with intricate calculations.

Fern's mind raced, the numbers dancing before her eyes.

But she persevered, her determination fueled by a deep-seated desire to prove herself. She needed to earn all the links to help her father run his inn better than he already has been.

With a final flourish, she solved the last problem, earning the yellow-gold link of numbers and sums.

As the sun began to set, Fern emerged from the citadel, three new links gleaming on her robes. A sense of accomplishment washed over her, but it was quickly tempered by a lingering worry for her friends.

She knew Maester Marwyn had tutored Caelum, but could he truly be prepared for the tests after so long away from the citadel's resources?

Fern let out a long sigh of relief, the weight of the tests finally lifting from her shoulders. She fingered the three gleaming links on the chain around her neck, a tangible reminder of her hard-won achievements.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she headed towards the library, hoping to find Pylos and Caelum where they used to meet before Caelum's departure.

She hadn't seen Yandel all day, but she figured he must have either taken his tests on a different day or completed them earlier. She crossed her fingers, hoping he had done well.

As Fern approached the library, a smile blossomed on her face. She had done it. She had earned three of the most difficult links in the citadel within a single year. It was a feat that few novices could boast, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.

She knew she had been fortunate. Her friendship with Yandel had opened doors that would have otherwise remained closed to her. The vast resources of the citadel, the libraries overflowing with knowledge, had been hers to explore.

She would miss this place dearly, but she knew she couldn't stay. The risk of her deception being discovered was too great, now that she'd have to take her vows as an acolyte.

With a bittersweet pang, Fern pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the library, eager to share her triumph with her friends and see how they had fared in their own tests.

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(A/N)

Hey! This one is also a short, straightforward chapter. There's supposed to be a second part to this. But life sucks.

I have the last chapter of this book written already. But I can't find the time to write the two leading up to it. I will soon, hopefully.