After the Ninth Bell

After the Ninth Bell

What happens in the mysterious Grand Castle after the Ninth Bell tolls?

All characters engaging in sexual activity are over the age of consent.

Chapter One - Before The Ninth Bell

Freya looked up at the sprawling Castle ahead of her on the hill. It looked huge from the town, but up this close the brooding, ominous bulk was almost oppressive; dark towers silhouetted against the night sky, the full moon shining off the snow covered roofs and turrets.

Shivering, she pulled her scarf around her face more tightly and crossed the moat bridge, not daring to get too close to the edge. Not for her the luxury of the main gate - according to her friend Triss, the servant's entrance was round the back - still a long way yet in this cold. She hunched her shoulders trying to keep to the carriage tracks for easier footing but the side paths were less well used than those out front. She stumbled on beneath the dark walls, cursing Triss for telling her about the job and cursing herself even more for listening to her.

Cursing was fine, but she was here now and she had to make the best of it. As she at last reached the servant's entrance, she fingered the token in her cloak pocket that Triss had given her. She took it out and examined it again. It was about the size of a five crown piece - not that Freya had held many five crown pieces of course. On one side was a crest - a rampant dragon breathing fire. On the other, a number six followed by a symbol of a bell with two other numbers beneath - 13/11.

The Sixth Bell on the thirteen day of the eleventh month. Her certification for tonight's job.

Right on cue, the bell rang from the tower in the town square below and on the sixth toll, the servant's door opened. There were two other girls waiting; one Freya recognised from the Empress Galina. The Empress was across the town square from the tavern in which Freya worked and considered itself to be more upmarket. The girl nodded at her but did not speak.

They were ushered into the kitchens which were stiflingly hot compared to the chill outside. They hung up their cloaks and were provided with black aprons adorned with the same dragon crest as the token Freya had been given. The token had now been passed on to the head servant Nadia on her arrival.

Triss was already there with a few other girls, some of whom Freya recognised from the town. Triss gave a her a little wave and went about her duties as the new girls were given their instructions. By the end of Nadia's speech, Freya's head was reeling. It was a list of things to do - and more importantly - not to do. She just prayed to the Saints that she would remember everything.

Her first duties were to peel potatoes and onions. Not a problem - she had helped prepare the stews and casseroles in the Tavern often enough. She had come to the town as soon as she was able, aged sixteen Turns, to get away from the drudgery of village life in the hope of being able to make more of herself than a farmer's wife.

So far, her plan was not really succeeding. To start with, she had managed a few menial jobs no better than those she'd had back in the village, but just over a Turn ago she landed herself a job at one of the taverns in the town as a serving wench. Initially she cleared tables and washed up and helped prepare the hearty food the tavern was renowned for, but once she came of age, she graduated to serving tables.

As she had not long come of age, Tenby, the tavern owner, only permitted her to work lunchtimes and afternoons. He was a strange, fat old man but had a very strict moral code. The girls that worked the evenings needed to be a little more savvy and worldly-wise than young Freya. Triss was a little older and had already taken on evening work and some of the tales she told made Freya glad she was not yet ready herself.

When she first arrived at the Dragon's Nest she knew virtually no-one, but Triss had taken her under her wing and they had become best friends. The girl had also come to town in recent Turns; not exactly seeking her fortune - no-one was naive enough to think the streets were paved with gold - but she also thought she had a better chance than in the Southlands where she was born. In keeping with the Southern races, her eyes were slightly slanted and mysterious and there was a definite point to her slender ears as they poked through her short, silky blonde hair. Her accent was rich and rolling, full of odd words and phrases and Freya soon came to love the sound of it. It was that which had swayed her to take the job tonight.

"You makes more in a single night than we earnses in a week here," her friend had told her after her shift at the Dragon's Nest last Midweekday. "Twelve Crowns for nuffin'! All the fings we does here - pourin' drinks, collectin' plates..." Her short blonde hair was bobbing as she spoke enthusiastically. Freya had sensed she was about to say something more, but she clammed up suddenly; something completely out of character with her usual bubbly nature and infectious charm. When Freya accepted she had given her the token to show to Nadia.

As the Seventh Bell struck, some of the girls including Triss began to take out the first delicacies of the evening. The food looked incredible to Freya - far more sumptuous than anything the Dragon's Nest could conjure up. As the doors to the Banqueting Hall opened she tried to get a glimpse of the guests, hoping she'd see the Lord and Lady at the head of the table. She had seen them a few times from a distance in the town and they looked impossibly beautiful and exotic. No-one knew exactly where they had come from - some said the Far Southlands, others from across the Great Sea. Wherever they hailed from, a few Turns ago they had made the Castle their home and had largely kept to themselves ever since. The townsfolk were fine with that - they were no trouble and brought business to the area, though there were occasional whispers in the Tavern as to why they might be there. Freya craned her neck trying to see into the room; she could hear the hubbub of conversation and gentle music but her view was blocked by the constant to-ing and fro-ing of the waitresses.

She had just finished topping up some wine flagons when Nadia told she and two other girls to go in and begin collecting plates. She tried to remember her instructions and followed the other girls into the room, her heart pounding in her chest. She was carrying a large tray onto which the others piled plates and dishes until she thought her arms would break. She tried to steal glances at the guests in their finery, but found herself concentrating so hard on not dropping her tray, she took little in. There must have been thirty or more revellers; the Lord and Lady at the top table with their closest friends and allies, two more tables running down the length of the hall from each end. It took three visits to clear the tables and on the third, Freya finally got to peek at the hosts; Lady Drusilla with her normally sleek, silvery white hair in thick plaits tonight, deep in conversation with a man to her right. And there next to her was Lord Anders, his long dark ringlets framing his handsome, bearded face, bestowing his charms on an elegant lady with hair of alternating black and silver streaks.

But her vision of the couple was short-lived as she was consigned back to the kitchens and her next task was to help wash the plates she had just retrieved from the hall. The next two hours flew by and before she knew it, they were approaching the Ninth Bell.

She was drying her hands when she heard Nadia shout at her. "You girl, quick now - some guests still needs wine. Remember what you was told." Freya took the heavy wine jug, Nadia's instructions ringing in her ears. Trembling, she made her way into the Banqueting Hall and began offering the guests wine. She was desperate not to spill any or break the etiquette that said she should always approach from the right and enquire politely of "My Lord?" or "My Lady?", and above all not to speak otherwise or make any eye contact.

As she neared the Lord and Lady, she was glad the wine jug was now so much lighter as her hands were shaking. She approached the woman to the left of Lord Anders who ignored her other than to hold her goblet aloft. She filled it and moved on to Lord Anders. Her voice sounded tiny and tremulous to her. "My Lord?"

Without looking at her either or breaking his conversation with the woman, he held his hand over his goblet indicating his refusal.

Sighing, she moved on to Lady Drusilla. "My Lady?" Again, not so much of a look in her direction, but this time the wine goblet was pushed towards her with long, elegant fingers; the nails a deep blood-red . She poured slowly, daring herself to look at the Lady for a second. She could smell her exotic perfume and see those shining silvery white braids falling almost to her waist in her peripheral vision. She was about to move on to the man the Lady had been talking to earlier when she felt a hand close gently around her wrist.

Involuntarily she turned her head and stared straight into the eyes of Lady Drusilla. Her striking yellow orbs burned into Freya's green eyes and the girl looked away instantly, bowing her head and stammering, "Forgive me, my Lady, I did not mean-"

She was cut off by a surprisingly gentle voice that she barely caught above the hubbub of the room. Lady Drusilla sounded amused. "But it was my fault, young lady. We are not all rude charlatans here." She cast a disparaging glance towards her consort and his friend. "I merely wished to thank you for my wine." She paused. "Look at me..."

Freya held her head down, aware that all eyes were now upon her. "But Madam, I was instructed not to look upon her Ladyship..."

Drusilla let out a little laugh. "And you choose take your instruction from a serving girl when the Lady of the house commands you otherwise?" She gripped Freya's wrist harder and her voice became more steely. "I repeat, girl - look at me!"

Freya slowly raised her head and gazed again into Lady Drusilla's eyes. They were deepest yellow, flecked with green highlights that shone in the candlelight. She had narrow, upright slit pupils that reminded Freya of a cat's. The eyes sparked with life and Freya found them mesmerising. It felt as if the woman was looking straight through her own eyes and into her inner soul. Drusilla ran a finger along her lips contemplating the girl standing over her as Freya tried not to break her stare. Her narrow, pointed ears were just visible through her plaits. Freya wondered if there were any other physical differences beneath the woman's elegant red silk dress.

"You are new, yes?"

Freya cleared her throat and nodded. "I am my Lady."

"Name?"

Freya swallowed hard. She wasn't expecting this. "Pardon, my Lady?"

Drusilla shook her head, laughing. "You do have a name, girl? Something to call you by? You know, that little word people use to distinguish you from others." A laugh went up from around the room and Freya felt herself reddening. She pointed at herself. "Drusilla." She picked out a few others. "Phoebe. Calliope. Henrik... see, quite easy. I can remember so many names... so surely you can remember yours? Hmm?"

Freya was mortified as more laughter rang around the room. She stammered. "F-Freya, my Lady. I am f-from the t-town." She thought she would spill the wine she was shaking so hard.

Drusilla turned to her guests with her arms wide. "Seems I have turned this lovely young thing into quite the chatterbox. I ask her name and end up getting her life story!"

As the guests laughed all the harder, Freya was sure her face must be the colour of Her Ladyship's fingernails by now. All she wanted to do was run back to the kitchens and hide, but the Lady still had her wrist firmly in her grasp and she still had a full table to serve.

Lady Drusilla smiled at her and her face lit up. Freya thought it really was a lovely, genuine smile - no token gesture for a lowly serving girl. She lowered her voice so that only Freya could hear . "I am sorry, lovely Freya. I have embarrassed you in front of my guests. Not really conduct becoming of a Lady. Allow me to recompense you." At last Drusilla released her grip on Freya.

She reached into a small box on the table in front of her and pulled out something that Freya could not identify. She dropped it into the pocket of Freya's apron. She put a gentle hand on Freya's arm. "Use this before you retire tonight, lovely girl. I guarantee it will bring you sweet dreams!"

Utterly bewildered, Freya managed a small curtsey. "Thank you my Lady, you are most kind. May I enquire as to what gift you have given me?"

Drusilla's eyes narrowed. "My you are a naive little thing are you not? It is Ice-fire, of course!" her voice dropped to the merest whisper. "Don't tell the other girls - they will be terribly jealous!" She paused. "Now, finish your duties, sweet Freya - it is almost the Ninth Bell."

As Freya turned to go, Drusilla gave her a long appraising look, taking in the mass of red hair that fell around the girl's sweet, lightly freckled face in cascades. It came halfway down her back in natural, glossy ringlets. She had piercing green eyes, full lips and lovely budding breasts that filled her apron rather nicely. She was medium tall, with a build that Drusilla would describe as willowy. There was a look of complete innocence about her. Clearly she was of age otherwise Nadia would never have hired her. She felt a little lurch down below as she thought of nuzzling between the girl's legs as Anders entered that sweet, pouting mouth. She took hold of Anders' hand to gain his attention and nodded at the girl's retreating back. Her husband took a long, smouldering look at the girl and nodded his approval before returning to his conversation with Pheobe. She had been telling him all about what she was going to be doing to him after the Ninth Bell and her hand was stroking him beneath the table with fingers as long and elegant as Drusilla's. If she went on like this, he'd not make it to the first strike. That mouth of hers made him quiver.

In a daze, Freya finished serving the last table without further incident and was dragged through the door to the kitchens by an apoplectic Nadia just as the Ninth Bell sounded. "Where's you bin, girl? Told you no servants in the Hall after the Ninth!"

Freya stammered. "But M-miss, it was her Ladyship-"

She thought Nadia was going to hit her. "Don't Ladyship me, girl. Who d'you's think you is, blamin' her Ladyship?" She pointed at a huge pile of pots and pans. "Think of her Ladyship while yer cleanin' that lot..."

Freya's heart sank as she approached the pile of dirty pans. The girl from the Empress Galina joined her, her face a mask of fury. It appeared she had done something to upset Nadia as well. Freya glanced around the kitchen. "Where's Triss and the others?"

The girl glared at her. "Got allocated 'other duties'. I gets fuckin' pans again. Now fuckin' shut up an' scrub."

Any further thoughts of conversation were banished by the girl's demeanour and for the next hour Freya played back her little tableau with Lady Drusilla to keep herself sane as the pile of pots and pans diminished slowly.

Finally, her ordeal was over. Nadia handed her a coin purse which felt pleasantly heavy. She didn't dare open it and count it in front of the woman. Instead she thanked her and made her way back down to the town. Thankfully the snow had held off. She caught up with the girl she had been cleaning pots with. Something had been nagging at her all night. "So - why aren't we allowed in the hall after the Ninth Bell? Where did Triss and them go? Not seen them since it rang."

The girl turned to her. She looked on the brink of tears. She picked up a huge handful of snow and balled it up. She screamed at Freya, "Oh fuck roight off, you silly little bitch!" She launched the snowball at her, narrowly missing her head and catching her on the shoulder. She ran off down the hill crying, leaving Freya as bewildered as she had been with Lady Drusilla and brushing snow from her cloak.

Chapter Two - Don't Touch!

Freya got home to the cottage she shared with two other girls, shivering against the cold and trying not to disturb the girls sleeping in the rooms next to hers. She couldn't wait to move out into her own cottage, but that seemed a long way off. She'd need a lot more nights up at the Castle to afford a place of her own. At least it was cosy and comfortable and she had her own room and the girls were good company.

Exhausted she got into bed and snuggled under her rough blankets for warmth. She had made sure the small fire would not go out through the night but she was still freezing from the walk home. She desperately wanted to give in to the feelings she had been having recently and touch herself 'down there'. She knew Triss did it and said it was wonderful. She had felt stirrings herself even before her coming of age but her mother's and the priest's warnings about it being sinful and wrong kept her from doing anything about it. Every time she thought of sliding her hand down below, she heard her mother's voice. "It's for dirty girls and cheap whores." The problem was it was getting harder to ignore the feelings almost by the day. She was well past eighteen Turns now - almost a woman, and she had not yet been kissed.

She tossed and turned on her little bed unable to sleep, reliving over and over her interaction with Lady Drusilla. The woman was strikingly beautiful and she had said nice things about Freya, despite making her blush. She seemed almost playful and flirty - not the demon that some of the others made her out to be. Then she remembered the little gift Drusilla had given her. She had transferred it from her apron to her cloak pocket as she left the Castle hoping no-one would see. 'Sweet dreams' sounded like a nice proposition, although the name 'Ice-fire' did sound a little scary.

She got out of bed and dug into her cloak pocket. She hadn't really looked at it properly before. It was a tiny bottle with a sliver of something shiny in the corner. What was she supposed to do with it? She snuggled down into the warmth of her bed again and broke the wax seal around the stopper. She had never done anything like this before and found her heart pattering ninety to the dozen. Something told her to stop, but after all, Her Ladyship had told her to use it. She thought of that soft, velvety voice. "I guarantee it will bring you sweet dreams!" She couldn't disobey a Lady, could she?

Still none the wiser, she pulled out the cork. Immediately there was a soft hiss and the bottle became opaque with some sort of mist-like smoke as the shard dissolved. She held it up and caught a slightly musky whiff. It smelled enticing and she felt a little thrill run down her body. Slowly and tentatively she held it to her nose and sniffed again. This time, her stomach turned a somersault and she felt a glow from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She knew she shouldn't go any further, but she was powerless to stop herself. She put a finger over one nostril and inhaled deeply. She felt the bottle slip from her grasp as her stomach gave another lurch and she began to fall down a long, spiralling slide that whirled faster and faster, making her head spin. If these were sweet dreams, she wondered what a nightmare would be like.

She came to a shuddering stop. There was fog all around her - thick, swirling mist that she could not penetrate. She was lying helpless, unable to move as though the air itself had solidified around her. After long minutes lying, frozen to the spot, her heart pounding, she began to make out shapes in the mist. Something was writhing just below the surface. She strained to see what it was and as the mist cleared a little more, her heart almost stopped.