Disclaimer – I do not own BMT world, it belongs to Trudi Canavan

Fear

Cold. So very cold. I am cold. Frozen. I cannot move.

What is this place?

Silence.

The very silence is loud in my ears. Nothing heard, nothing seen. I am afraid, so very afraid.

Where am I?

How long have I been here?

Who am I?

Try to think!

Gradually she began to remember.

Sonea, I am Sonea.

Her body seemed to have a strange, half-life of its own. Rooted to the spot, she could feel the tremors, a never-ending rippling of her form. She could not control her shivering, no matter how she tried. Magic, her magic, didn't work here. She was frozen in more than one sense. Her body was unable to move from the spot where she was standing. All she could do was try to keep control of her limbs and prevent her shudders getting worse. Her brain was frozen too. She tried to think but apart from knowing her name, nothing would come to mind.

She could see nothing except the darkness which surrounded her. She could hear nothing, despite straining to hear the smallest sound. Even the sound of a hungry animal snuffling after her scent would have lifted her spirits but there was absolute silence. She had no idea how long she had been trapped in the black nothingness, nor what had led to her capture. Her mind screamed only one thing – I have to get out of here!

Time passed. She had no way of knowing how much time, but it seemed to her that the cold was becoming more bitter and the blackness was heavy against her frozen flesh. Her tremors increased and her teeth began to chatter.

Concentrate!

She had a strong feeling that if she could break free from this spot, move her body forwards or backwards or sideways, she would be able to escape back to some sort of normality.

She focused her mind on her left foot. She couldn't feel it, but she knew it was there. She pictured it in her mind; she had been wearing sturdy outdoor boots, so she began to create the left one in her mind. Yes, there it was. She could see the lacings, the scuff mark where her horse had given her a glancing blow with its hoof. She imagined the grain in the leather, the thick soles, the way the stitching kept the boot together. She could almost smell the leather.

Satisfied she could see the boot, she began to picture her foot, clothed in a woollen sock, covered by the boot. At first, she could not see anything at all in the boot. She compelled her mind to work, slowly building her sock-covered foot and forcing it into the boot. Yes, there it was. Now, to move it.

She strained, but nothing happened. She had a moment of panic. What if I never move again! The fear that she had earlier supressed began building again. For a moment, it felt as if she couldn't breathe. She fought the feeling and took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm. She tried again, but her foot stayed firmly where it was. Sonea felt the sweat on her forehead. She was still shivering badly, yet she could feel the heat in her face, the sweat slowly slipping down until it was lost somewhere in the blackness. She flung her mind at the task, trying to see her first step, picturing the foot lifted, then moving forward, waiting to hear the sound of leather hitting the floor. But the foot didn't move.

She tried again, and again and again. She achieved nothing except for a growing dampness around her neck. She assumed it was the sweat, collecting in the collar of her shirt. She groped with her hands and felt the moist cloth tightening around her neck. The fear inside grew, like some ravenous beast. She could feel it clawing at her belly. She couldn't breathe.

STOP!

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she remembered an early lesson in magic. It had been all about illusion and how magicians could create images in the minds of their opponents. Left unchecked, a magician under attack could almost think himself to death under the power of suggestion. And that's what this was, she concluded. Somehow a powerful magician had gained control over her mind and was forcing her to see and feel only what her captor wanted her to see and feel.

But who?

Beyond knowing her name and convinced somehow that she was a magician, Sonea could remember nothing else. It was if her mind was shut away behind a thick door and she had no way of gaining access to it.

She shook the sweat from her eyes and tried to remember. I must forget my fear. I must try to be calm. I must try to remember. She whispered the three sentences over and over, until the tightening sensation around her neck grew less and her fear subsided to a manageable ache in her belly. Her breathing became slower and softer. She held her breath for a moment in case there were other sounds to help her understand where she was, but there was nothing, only the bleak silence.

Although she was alone in the dark, somehow she knew there were others nearby. Who they were or what they wanted, she didn't know, but she was sure they were there. Are they helpers or the ones controlling me? There was no way she could answer that question, so she returned to the problem of getting her foot to move.

Time passed. Sweat poured down her face. The foot remained firmly fixed to the ground. Over and over she tried, until even her strong will failed. She felt tears join the sweat as it trickled into her clothing.

I will never move again.

She longed to sink to the floor, to bury her head in her hands and weep, but that was impossible. She was forced to stand, her only movement the shudders shaking her body.

There is someone who can help me.

In the deepest recesses of her mind, she unearthed a vague memory. She could almost, but not quite, see a figure and she knew it was the shape of a man, a friend, someone who cared for her and protected her, but she could not distinguish any features. The shape was simply a tall figure enveloped in long flowing robes, blacker than the darkness pressing down on her. She struggled to see a face, or remember a name.

If I can remember his name, I can call and he will come.

Time passed. No name came to mind, nor could she picture him in her mind, just the black shape of a robed figure. Tears ran unchecked down her face as fear began gnawing at her insides once again.

I shall never escape….