Hitra turns to the only Watcher still seated. “Roan?”
Roan speaks without hesitation. “I agree with Sayah.”
“Kole?” Hitra asks.
Kole doesn’t speak, simply dips his head in agreement.
Hitra breathes in through her nostrils. I open my mouth to speak but she raises her hand. “We will consider this, Émi. But we will not be rushed. You’ll hear our decision tomorrow, after the Fledgling Ceremony.” Then she turns away and the three of them gather to talk in hushed, urgent tones. It is time for us to leave.
No one says a word until we are outside, sitting under the tree in the courtyard.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Alyssa whispers, which I think is her way of saying thank you.
“Yes, I did,” I reply, pleased that her anger towards me has softened.
Tsam sighs and shrugs his wings. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re right. Maybe we’re not ready for this?”
Alyssa throws her hands up in the air. “How can you say that? We’ve trained for this. We know what we’re doing.”
Garrett puts his arm around his sister and squeezes her. “Lyss, it’s not an insult. Tsam’s right. We don’t know what we’re up against. Mahg’s army is growing and, even if that Spectre has diverted him, it’s still not going to be easy.”
Alyssa wriggles out of Garrett’s hug and scowls at him. “I know that. But I think we can handle it.”
“So do I,” I say. “I can’t explain it. I just know you have to come with me.”
“What do we do now?” Garrett asks, drumming his fingers on his thighs. “Just sit and wait for them to make their decision?”
Alyssa stands and rests her hands firmly on her hips. “Well, I don’t know about you two but I’m going to practise for tomorrow. If we want them to believe we can do this, we have to put on a good show.”
Garrett stands too. “Not a bad idea. Tsam?”
Tsam looks at me, unsure whether to stay or go, but Kole interjects. “I have to take Émi with me for a few hours. You should go and practise. We will find you later.”
Tsam rests a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be okay?”
I glance at Kole, then back at Tsam. “Of course,” I say, although I’m not sure I mean it.
When the others have taken flight, I ask Kole where we’re going. “To prepare you for the journey,” he says, leading me to the back of the courtyard and through an archway that opens onto an expanse of meadow. It should remind me of the field behind The Emerald, but it doesn’t. The grass is taller and greener, and it’s speckled with yellow flowers. It reaches all the way up to my forehead, so I have to concentrate on Kole’s back to avoid being swallowed up by it as we make our way across. I let the fronds run through my fingers, tickling my skin.
The long grass stops about three metres away from the trunk of an oak tree, and so do we. Kole looks up, searching for something. He moves slowly around the trunk, stepping over its protruding roots, then bends down. One root in particular sticks out further than the others. Kole tugs it and my eyes widen as a square of earth folds inwards like a trapdoor. He steps down into the opening and motions for me to follow him. When the trapdoor closes, we are encased in a thick, earthy darkness that makes my heart beat faster and my breath catch in my chest. Kole draws a match from his pocket and strikes it against his belt, chasing away the closeness.
We are inside a tunnel that winds down through the soil. Kole has to lean sideways so that his head doesn’t bash the ceiling. We walk, one behind the other, for what feels like an eternity. Then, a pinprick of light appears in the distance. As we draw nearer, I can see that it is a torch, fixed in the centre of a large wooden door. Kole taps the door four times. The tap tries to echo but it’s contained by the tightness of the tunnel. Claustrophobia scratches at my skin. My heart jumps and the torch flickers from the draught as the door opens.
We are greeted by a tall, lithe Watcher whose wings are puffed out to the sides. She flicks her feathers in greeting and lowers her head at us. Kole presses his hands together and says something I don’t understand. She ushers us inside. The room we step into is cavernously tall and illuminated with hundreds more torches.
The Watcher flashes her teeth at Kole. “It’s lovely to see you again, Taman. Is this…?” She trails off and looks at me with her diamond-grey eyes.
Kole nods. “This is Émi.” Although he speaks quietly, at the sound of my name the others in the room look over.
“Émi, it’s an honour. I’m Rhea.”
I smile, allowing Rhea to take my hand and press her lips on top of it. When she releases me, she says, “Only a few of us know about this place, and about you.”
In the centre of the room, there is a large table strewn with small wooden structures – miniature mountains, trees and people. Rhea notices me staring.
“It’s a replica of The Four Cities,” she explains. “We use it to track Mahg’s movements, his army…”
I walk over to it and brush my fingers over the little wooden elephants beside Tarynne’s lake. I try not to look at Nhatu, which is depicted as merely an empty square box. No Quarters, no camps. But I can’t help it. Ma is there. So far away…
Perhaps misinterpreting my gaze, Rhea points to the cluster of islands beside Nhatu. “We believe Mahg is still on the Island of Bones. We have scouts keeping watch throughout the Cities, but so does he.”
She catches me nodding. “Kole informed us of your encounter with the Spectre. It was unfortunate, but at least we have proof that Mahg is employing creatures like her to do his bidding.” She turns to Kole. “You say he promised them freedom?”
“It seems he is using dark magick to control them. He has told them that if they bring him the girls, he will set them free.”
Rhea strokes her chin. After a moment, she says, “We need to find out which other creatures are working for him.”
“She mentioned Kelpies and Ogres,” I say, remembering my father’s, almost comical, drawings of the Ogres near Esyllt.
“That’s a start,” says Rhea. “Thank you, Émi.”
Kole nods, almost impatiently, then changes the subject. “Rhea, I believe you’re to inform us of our plan for departure?”
Rhea blinks at him, then taps the wide open space on the table that indicates the desert between Abilene and Tarynne. Speaking more to me than Kole she says, “We need you to travel to Tarynne. It’s a short journey, only a day’s walk. We suggest you go by foot. It takes a lot of energy for Watchers to carry passengers, especially in the heat, so it’s best preserved for when it’s most needed.”
“Why Tarynne?” I ask. “You think Ava is there?”
“No, not Ava. But someone who can help you find her. A woman called Silvana.” She pauses. “Mahg’s mother.”
I frown. The words don’t make sense. “He has a mother?”
Rhea laughs. “Well, yes. Everyone has a mother, Émi.” Then, immediately, she flushes. “Oh I’m sorry. I know you don’t… that was thoughtless of me.”
At first I don’t understand why she’s embarrassed. Then the realisation hits me. I have no mother. I wasn’t born. I was conjured.
Rhea clears her throat. “Silvana abhors her son’s actions. She is a kind and gentle woman. We trust her.”
Kole mm’s in agreement.
“She was very close to the sorcerer who created you. His name is Søyen. He entrusted her with a message that will tell you where to find Ava.”
“Mahg’s mother knows where Ava is?” I ask, wondering whether they can hear how that sounds.
“Not exactly – Søyen’s message can only be opened by you, Émi. That’s why we need you. Silvana is simply guarding it.”
“But surely Mahg could—”
“He could try,” says Rhea, “but think about it – who’s the one person, in all The Four Cities, Mahg wouldn’t be willing to kill?”
“Oh.” I see now.
“Even Mahg wouldn’t kill his own mother,” she says, although I’m
not sure she believes it.
“What about Søyen?” asks Kole. “When we locate him and Ava, are we to bring him back to Abilene also?”
Rhea hums and strokes her fingers across the little wooden hills that represent Esyllt – the Third City – the true home of magick. “Esyllt are our friends, but they prefer to remain distanced. Søyen is different. We hope he will return with you. He would be a great asset in our fight.”
Kole nods slowly, then says, “Émi is still learning to control her powers. They are unpredictable. Can you provide her with a weapon?”
Rhea smiles. “Certainly. Émi, follow me.”
We leave Kole studying the map and walk towards a door that looks identical to the one we arrived through. Just above the handle, there is a dial which Rhea turns until it makes a clunk sound. She pushes the door open and allows me to enter first. The room is full, from floor to ceiling, with weapons: crossbows, swords, arrows and daggers. They all glint wickedly in the half-light.
Rhea assesses me. “I see you already have a blade,” she says, motioning to the one Alyssa gave me. “So…” She walks about halfway down the wall on our right until she arrives at an empty shelf. She presses the wall behind the shelf and a drawer slides out. From it, Rhea takes a glass vial that reminds me of the one Tsam used to bring his wings back. Except this one is full of dark green liquid.
Rhea hands it to me. I hold it up towards the torchlight and notice there are tiny gold specks floating inside. “When Kole said a weapon, I thought he meant a sword or something?”
Rhea flicks her hair and chuckles. It’s the same sound Amin’s coffee pots make when they’re warming up in the mornings. “Émi, you’ll be leaving Abilene straight after the Fledgling Ceremony tomorrow. I don’t have time to teach you to sword fight.”
My cheeks redden.
“This is a very powerful potion,” she continues. “Use it only in an emergency. One drop of this will dissolve whatever it comes into contact with. It acts like acid, but twice as fast.”
I think of Falk’s face. Melted. The way I dragged the keys from his belt. If all they’re going to give me is a dagger and a potion, I need to learn to control my powers.
When we return to the three-dimensional map, Kole is talking to a Watcher with cropped hair and chunky features. They are clearly disagreeing about something.
“It is not appropriate,” Kole says. “Not now.”
“I’m sorry. Hitra insists…”
When they see me, they immediately stop talking.
“Gentlemen,” says Rhea, raising an eyebrow, “is everything alright?”
Kole says nothing, just makes a tutting sound and walks away, shaking his head.
“Émi,” says the Watcher with short hair, “I’m Cai. Hitra asked me to come and meet you.” He pauses and glances at Kole, who is standing by the entrance with a stony expression on his face. “She thinks it’s important for you to understand a little of where you came from.”
“Alright,” I say tentatively.
“If you’d come with me?”
I look back at Kole. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t smile or say, “Go ahead…” Just stares straight ahead.
Cai rests his hand on my elbow and guides me forward. “It won’t take long,” he says, crossing to the far side of the room and opening another identical-looking door. “Just through here…”
The space behind the door is empty, other than one solitary torch on the back wall. Cai tells me to stand in the centre of the room.
“That’s perfect,” he says. “Now, what you’re about to experience will feel very real, Émi, but it’s not. It’s a projection of what has been, not what is. Do you understand?”
I don’t.
“It will begin when I close the door.”
“What wi—”
He is gone.
The torch flickers, then dies.
The room is black.
The floor beneath my feet quivers and the sensation makes me want to hold on to something but there is nothing there. The blackness vibrates. I feel like I’m spinning, the room disintegrating. Nausea springs into my throat and I close my eyes. Then, it stops.
I open my eyes.
I am by the shore of the sparkling lake. There are pebbles beneath my feet. The sun is slipping lazily beneath the horizon, giving way to twilight, and the cliff where Tsam and I stood earlier looms up behind me. To my right, the Academy glistens. To my left, a bridge arcs from one side of the lake to the other. The underneath of the bridge is in shadow, but someone is there. I move closer. The someone doesn’t look up. It’s a boy – perhaps sixteen or seventeen – scrawny and pale. He can’t be a Fledgling because he has no wings. He is hunched over a large tattered manuscript, muttering strings of words I don’t understand, running his fingers over the lines of the page.
A sharp gust of wind whips across the lake. The boy’s mutterings grow louder. He looks out across the water, holding his palms out and staring up at the sky. Time accelerates. The sun is gone but there is no moon. I want to leave – find my way back to the torchlight and the warmth but I can’t move. The surface of the lake is becoming unsettled, as though a storm is on its way.
A dark mist seeps in from the water’s edge. The boy’s breath puffs in icy clouds as I feel the temperature drop. He begins to shiver and I notice that I am too. The mist clings to his feet. He looks down and his eyes widen as it coils itself around his legs, up towards his waist, over his chest and around his arms. When it reaches his throat, he begins to panic. Like an animal caught in a trap, he tries to break free. But it’s too late. It smothers him, whole. He cries out and I try to run to him, to help him, but I can’t.
“Someone help!” I shout, searching for the Watchers, or for Kole. “Help him!” I am shaking uncontrollably. When I look back, the mist is retreating and the boy is lying unconscious on the pebbles.
The scene before me starts to bleed into itself, like one of my posters, drowned in a rainstorm. I turn around and I’m no longer on the beach – I’m on the bridge. It is heaving with people: men, women and children, all with majestic white wings folded neatly against their backs, smiling and patting each other’s shoulders and pressing their palms together in greeting. Flickering lanterns adorn the edges of the lake below us and, on the shore near the bottom of the cliffs, a towering bonfire blows blue-grey smoke into the air. Somewhere, music is playing.
Behind me, a voice shouts, “Inta!”
It’s the boy from under the bridge. He breaks through the crowd, scanning faces, searching for someone.
“Inta!” he calls, looking straight at me. Except he’s not looking at me; he’s looking through me. I turn to see a girl, about my age, with elfin ears and long wavy hair. The feathers on her wings rustle as she sweeps past me to embrace the boy.
“I was looking for you,” he says. “You’ll never believe what’s happened!”
“What is it?” the girl asks.
“It’s incredible!” he replies. “I knew it would work, I just knew it!”
“What, Mahg? Tell me!” Inta replies, grinning.
Mahg. The young boy I’m watching is the one who wants to destroy me. The thought tears through my bones. The Council told us he was born with black wings. But this boy has none.
Suddenly, I know what is going to happen next.
Inta is still smiling when Mahg’s face contorts and he falls to his knees. The shirt on his back splits open. He reaches around, desperately trying to understand what is happening. I have seen this before. When Tsam drank his potion – but it wasn’t like this.
“What have you done?” shouts Inta. “Mahg, what have you done?”
The boy starts to scream. Mothers grab their children and husbands shield their wives. The girl called Inta is trying her best to calm Mahg down, but it’s no use. And then, Amin – or a young version of Amin – is there too.
“Did you know he was going to do this, Inta?” he asks. “Did you?”
“No, Amin, I swear,” she g
asps. “I had no idea…”
Between them, they struggle to restrain a petrified Mahg as he thrashes and shouts. But his wings don’t stop growing; they get larger and larger, and they’re different to any others I've seen. His feathers are jagged, sharp, solid – like jet-black scales bursting from his skin. They grow and grow until they are all I can see.
Then I run.
I run from them as fast as I can. I push through the crowds and don’t stop running until I reach the top of the cliffs. When I finally look back, the scenery shifts and the bridge is calm again. The light is different. Mahg is gone. The Watchers on the bridge gaze quietly across the lake. This is a different night. A different Ceremony.
From the Academy, a voice booms. “Welcome, all of Abilene! Tonight, another class of Fledglings will become Watchers of the Fire Stone. Tonight, we celebrate!”
Cheers and whoops ripple through the air.
“Let the festivities commence!” cries the voice.
The hammering in my chest should be slowing but it’s not. Something is wrong. Something is going to—
Before the thought even has time to form, the ground shifts. A deep rumbling thunderclap rips through the air. Except it’s not thunder; it’s an explosion.
I fall to my knees. The bridge has collapsed. Huge chunks of it splinter into the lake below. A handful of Watchers manage to fly, but the rest are taken by surprise and they plunge towards the water before they have time to spread their wings.
After the combustion, there is silence. And then there is screaming. So much screaming. And more thunder. The Academy is on fire.
I don’t want to see it, I don’t want to see any of it. I close my eyes but when I open them I’m on the beach again and there are bodies all around me. I see my posters, the ones with the blood and the dead, and their messages: What Mahg’s evil magick did to The Four Cities. Then I see Amin, older than before but not as old as he is now. He’s running towards me, shouting, “Tsam! Inta!”
From the commotion beneath the rubble of the collapsed bridge, Rumah appears. She is holding her arm and her wings are bent at a sickening angle.
Fire Lines Page 13
