Storm of Ash

by Michelle Kenney

  I looked at him, empty of words, never more aware that Max’s fate was dependent on the outcome of the battle too. I’d told him briefly what had happened in Ludi Cirque Pantheonares, and we’d agreed to spare Carah the Pantheon vaccine detail. But it wasn’t that to which he was referring – we both knew that. He reached out and pulled me into a swift hug.

  ‘What about you,’ I responded after a beat, ‘have you heard anything?’

  I was suddenly acutely aware he hadn’t mentioned anyone since our return, let alone an undersea prince who wanted Cassius stopped as much as we did.

  ‘The Oceanids are loyal to no one but themselves,’ he closed.

  ‘Well, he’ll have me to answer to if he messes with you, Prince or no Prince,’ I responded firmly, squeezing his hand.

  Matters of the heart were complicated enough without mixing in the unpredictable dating behaviour of a mythological species. He smiled, the way he used to when we were kids. Then I turned and made my way into the quiet forest.

  The sun had melted into a scarlet well on the horizon. Time had always stretched out endlessly before Pantheon, sunny days punctuated by meals, sleep, stories and the occasional monsoon storm. Now, it had a crueller edge. It was a keeper of all our fates – Outsiders, Insiders and everyone else in between. No one was exempt from its power, and I kept one eye on the horizon as I walked, not knowing whether it was going to be my last.

  The path was freshly trodden, and as a lorikeet dived low overhead I told myself he wouldn’t have gone far. There was anticipation in the forest this eve, a tension in the boughs that reached out to brush my skin, as though to warn me to stay alert. And the darting, inquisitive eyes peeking out from behind thickened banyan roots looked unusually apprehensive, as though they too sensed a looming darkness.

  ‘Where are you, Lake?’ I whispered, gazing up at the highest point in the North Mountains.

  Had she retreated? Did she sense Cassius was gathering his army?

  The path narrowed and descended past a burst of wild orchids, spilling out from a tree stump, as though the world wasn’t teetering on its smallest axis.

  And then I saw him, seated against a large willow trunk, his head resting on his folded arms, the long feathery willow branches reaching down to caress his hunched shoulders. I paused, suddenly feeling an intruder to his grief. He looked so different here in the forest with no uniform, loose Outsider clothing and dark hair ruffled and unkempt.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, almost regretting the words as soon as they passed over my lips.

  He looked up, staring intently, as though I were a vision conjured by the translucent sunlight that could disappear any second.

  The old hemp shirt he’d borrowed from Seth’s meagre store gaped around his muscular frame, while the open neck fell around the edge of his glittering Equite tattoo, the only visible sign of his Pantheonite heritage. His olive colour could easily be mistaken for belonging here, beneath the sun, while his iris-blues seemed to have acquired a dusky forest veil.

  I swallowed, despite everything. He looked as though he’d been born under a constellation, not in a laboratory.

  ‘For what?’ he responded finally. ‘For doing everything you could to try and stop this happening? For giving people hope? For being stronger than I could ever hope to be? Come what may, Talia finds her way.’

  And it wasn’t ironic or flattering, it was just broken.

  I drew a shaky breath, memories clamouring for space. He’d done nothing but try and protect me, right from the beginning. And I’d fought him in every way possible – in the forest, in the domes, before Octavia, before Cassius. He’d even fought his own nature, to try and make me see we were something stronger than the state of Pantheon could ever be. And I’d rejected him. Believing it was better to shut him out and bury all the hurt and guilt.

  When I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  I barely noticed the soft forest grass beneath my feet as I flew across the clearing. And then I was in front of him, taking his hands and talking. Saying all the words that had got buried and lost along the way.

  ‘Astra inclinant, sed non obligant,’ I whispered fervently. ‘Remember? The stars guide us, they never bind us. We choose our path. We are who we are, who our friends are. We are the choices we make. Everything I’ve done, I’ve only done because I had loyal friends beside me – and because of the belief of one Insider who saw a different world, and was brave enough to sacrifice everything he knew for it. Despite the storm.

  ‘And I’ve never wished so hard to be back in our North Mountain cave, so I could show you how I believe, what I always believed deep down …’

  I had no breath left, but when his lips met mine, my words blurred and faded anyway. The soft warm grass became a makeshift bed and the whispering willow a natural curtain that gave us a few precious, stolen moments to say the only thing left to say. And if what happened in the North Mountains had suffocated us, this was breathing again, an answer to the fire that had sparked so long ago in this same forest.

  ‘I thought I’d lost you,’ August whispered, tracing a line of tiny kisses down my throat, ‘that what happened in the research centre, had … finished us.’

  We were still naked and entwined, and though the willow was cocooning us, time was whispering through the leaves. I reached up and kissed the bridge of his Roman nose.

  ‘I thought we’d traded us with the Oceanids,’ I whispered. ‘That I didn’t deserve anything when so many had been hurt. But … I could never be free now, without you.’

  Words that finally made sense of the shadows. Freedom didn’t belong to Outsiders or a chosen life beneath the sun, it belonged to anyone with a heart to give.

  I scrutinized his face, committing every cell to memory, and this time there was no crushing guilt. Fear and pain made us human, but it didn’t define us. Only our choices could do that. Whatever was coming, we would face side by side, Outsider and Insider, together.

  ‘We have to go,’ I whispered, all too aware our brief escape was over.

  I twisted to look at the horizon. August’s proximity was intoxicating, and my traitorous body yearned to start over, but we were needed.

  ‘Time to find our alpha,’ I whispered, watching a squirrel monkey swing from our willow tree into a neighbouring baobab.

  It paused to look back as I slipped on my borrowed Outsider tunic, and briefly I wondered if it was my little apricot monkey, the one I’d set free right back at the start. It would seem prophetic somehow.

  August slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me close and setting a gentler kiss on my lips, before dropping his forehead to rest against mine, skin to skin. The intimacy of his gesture made me flush the colour of wild strawberries, despite everything.

  ‘Just in case we are fried by a huge, multi-genus, mythological beast, I want you to know I just had the best moment of my life. There. With you.’

  I smiled up shyly. Eyes dancing.

  ‘Then just in case we are fried by a huge, multi-genus, mythological beast, I want you to know that that sounds like a challenge,’ I responded.

  He laughed before kissing me again, and then we were running, at hunters’ pace.

  Chapter 24

  The aurochs knew as soon as we moved them up to the eastern forest line. They were nervous, and shied from every shadow as we penned them in. The fencing was secure enough to keep them grouped as a herd, but nothing they couldn’t jump from if they really needed. From this vantage we could see both the City of Dust and Isca Pantheon’s great dome staining the dusky sky, and the view was stark.

  When would they come?

  The aurochs were a second line of defence, part of the Lynx cavalry when Cassius broke through the Arafel hunter and Komodo line. And although there were no more than twenty Lynx left, their proud Nordic heritage was an impressive sight to behold.

  ‘A veritable ice army,’ August murmured, as he organized battle lines.

  After consultation with Seth and Eli, it wa
s agreed we should leave Lake’s recruitment until the very last moment, though the occasional ground tremor confirmed she wasn’t far. There was enough danger without inviting a hormonal chimera to join us before absolute time. Though we were all aware leaving her too long carried risks too.

  ‘We need to time this perfectly … and you’ll need a second when you go – Eli’s your best choice,’ August muttered through gritted teeth, glancing at me.

  I knew he was torn. He wanted to come to Arafel, but our Outsider army was precious, small and disparate enough without a general at its helm. And Eli was just about the best second I could have.

  I nodded, showing Therry how to sharpen blades against a stone. Eli was just behind us, penning in the Komodo dragons. They were an impressive group of lizards but none of us were under any illusions. We all knew that the moment Cassius broke the skyline with his myth army, it would take a miracle for us to hold our ground without backup.

  ‘Just what do you think controlling the elements actually means?’

  I’d stepped over to help August hide supplies of poison-tipped arrows among the twisted boughs of nearby trees. The hunters, Komodos and mixed Insiders were the infantry, covering as much ground as possible, leaving the agile Lynx to flank the action with arrows and axes.

  It was a tough decision to include the children. There were only a handful remaining, but we didn’t have any choice. Every child was an extra pair of hands to fire darts and throw knives, and left in a safe-hold they ran the risk of discovery anyway. Unus had already taken the colourful group under his wing, which settled my qualms a little. I knew he would protect them with his life, and they already doted on him.

  ‘No one knows for sure,’ August returned, ‘but I know how Cassius looks at it. Take nature, imagine that strength and volatility bound up in one legendary being, and call it Hominum chimera. It’s a kind of physics: every action has an equal and opposite reaction. In nature’s case, it’s Lake.’

  I felt a chill scuttle down my spine, despite the forest warmth. Even without strength of mythical proportions, Lake was a force to contend with. And yet, I had to believe that Thomas had foreseen this day and hidden the only true control within his bloodline.

  Would my voice be control enough? Or would it need blood like the infant chimera? How could I let a draco eight times the size of a treehouse feed on my blood without giving everything?

  My thoughts grew darker with the night descending around us, conjuring up the starving, fiery child who’d pulled a knife on Max, her double-lidded eyes the only clue to her true genetic heritage. We’d shared a connection from the beginning, but this was different.

  Would she even remember me?

  ***

  ‘It was just after dusk last time,’ Eli signed as he helped me climb out of the freezing water tunnel and, together, we turned to look out at the silent valley of Arafel.

  I’d always detested the only entrance and exit into our old village but oddly, tonight I didn’t mind it. The numbing water felt like a balm, easing the pain of seeing the ashen remains of Arafel for the first time since the day Mum and I were taken by the Eagle aircraft.

  This cave and the Ring were the only untouched parts of the village and a wave of nausea threatened to engulf me as I looked out onto what was once a hub of community life. In the twilight, its stark, abandoned appearance was haunting. I closed my eyes and heard Raoul joking as I handed him my foraged goods, caught the faint crow of the cockerel as it heralded the day, and the hammering of the builders working on a new treehouse somewhere in the forest. Max in my shadow, making me laugh.

  An owl hooted as Eli touched my arm, and I jumped. I’d never noticed before just what a mournful sound it was, like a warning.

  ‘You OK?’ he signed.

  I nodded, swallowing hard. There had been no sign of Cassius yet, but every passing minute brought that likelihood closer. We dared leave Lake no longer. He was coming, and it was up to us to be ready when he did.

  ‘Just asking Arafel for her help,’ I responded, laying my drying cloth out to dry in the cool air.

  Then we stole like young cats through the night, taking to the trees whenever we could, although there were still large areas of ground devoid of any life. The heat had been so severe, most of the old centre was still barren, and more than half the closest treehouses were missing. I kept my eyes on our route, and tried not to look too hard at the shadows.

  It was only when we reached the site of Art’s wizened old ash treehouse that I slowed. The Eagle aircraft had split this part of the forest, so his neighbour’s treehouse still reached into the sky, like the gnarled hand of a survivor, clutching at the air. But its remarkable survival wasn’t the reason I’d hesitated. It was because high up among the budding foliage there were marks – deep indentations that looked very similar to the ones we’d glimpsed in the North Mountains.

  ‘She passed by here,’ I whispered.

  Eli nodded. ‘It looks like some kind of territorial marking,’ he signed, ‘partly warning and partly way-marker, guiding you to her … for a warm bite to eat.’

  I rolled my eyes.

  He only winked and we pushed on, more watchful this time.

  We took to the trees for the last few minutes. There was less damage in this part of the forest, and when we passed the place I’d left Ida, it was covered with bluebells. I smiled briefly. It meant something to see life where her body had lain broken.

  Finally we approached our treehouse. While the old white oak itself had miraculously survived the worst of the Eagle fire, our shell of a treehouse home now rested precariously on a broken branch, which forked downwards. One wall of the living room was completely gone, exposing the inside, which now looked weathered and faded, and I could just make out the blackened remains of Jas’s bed against the wall I’d painted the colours of the forest. It was a hard scene to assimilate, its broken edges framed by the twilight.

  I scanned the bushes. It was quiet. Too quiet perhaps, even for a ghost village.

  ‘Where exactly was she when you saw her?’

  But the question died on my lips as a flare tore through the night sky, dividing it in two. It was accompanied by a violent crack of thunder, as though Cassius was shaking the entire world in his greedy, malicious hand.

  I reached out to grab Eli. My skin felt clammy, and the trees around us seemed to loosen in their roots.

  Was this what it was like when the bombs came for our ancestors? A threat that even the safe, solid ground beneath our feet couldn’t withstand?

  ‘Lake?’ Eli questioned, the whites around his eyes gleaming and alert.

  I shook my head as the violent thundering ceased as abruptly as it had started.

  ‘Cassius,’ I signed, trembling. ‘It’s begun.’

  This time I wasn’t aware of anything but the whisper of the old trees as we flew. I could almost hear their warning, as if they still remembered the last time, and could sense danger in the air.

  And if Lake wasn’t here in Arafel, where was she?

  To whom was she drawn more?

  The ground trembled again as we dropped like arrows into the freezing water, and it took every ounce of control I had to remain calm as the walls trembled, losing dirt and rubble into the black water. Only Eli’s steadying hand, pulling me out of the water and into the outside forest, quelled my rising nausea. We both knew there was no room for panic. We had to reach the others and pray Lake was close, if we were to make any stand against whatever he’d unleashed from the depths of the Flavium.

  We took the swiftest route back, but there was no need to search for a path. The forest fringe was already glowing amber, illuminating the sky, and before long we were flying against a wave of animals heading away from the threat.

  We passed chimps, cats, monkeys, lemurs, rodents, birds of paradise and hordes of scurrying insects, all moving together. And there seemed to be a sense of knowledge in their flight, as though a genetic memory created by the Great War had entrenched itsel
f in their cells, pre-empting their behaviour. A number of ground-dwelling animals had also taken to the trees, trusting to their archaic strength and refuge. It made a chilling sight and Eli and I fought hard against the sudden surge in life and wayward branches, foretelling their own warning.

  I paused, face to face with a black panther, her lithe body hunched between a tree fork, her beautiful flecked eyes reflecting the glow of the sky. She yowled softly and then she was gone, her message still ringing in my ears as the first cries reached us. It was a noise that carried me back to the North Mountains, to the nights we’d spent listening to the lonely echo of wolves. Only this howling was deeper, darker and driven less by hunger, and more by blood.

  We only slowed when we reached the perimeter of the defence line. It was eerily still here but the faint baying was getting louder with every passing second. I hooted softly and then I saw them: eyes, lots of wide eyes peering through the branches at me. Before a bulky shape melted out from the cover of dense umbrella trees, carrying a huge club.

  I dropped to the ground and crept forward.

  ‘Tal,’ Unus whispered, his pale eye wary and troubled.

  ‘They come … August say … stay back here with young ones … your mum too … But how can Unus help here?’

  I hugged his huge bulk tightly, so relieved to spy Mum’s profile with the children in the trees behind, and not allowing myself to wonder if it was for the last time.

  ‘You have the most important job,’ I whispered, gripping his free hand and kissing it fiercely. ‘Defend them – they’re very precious.’

  He nodded, his eye glistening, and if it was ironic to leave the future of the outside in the care of a rejected Insider, it didn’t feel it. It felt like the safest haven left on earth.

  Eli and I stole forward stealthily, our path made much clearer by the emptying trees and the fact the south-east skyline was lit up like dawn, except the sun was still abed.

  Finally we reached a tree with a view from Pantheon’s no-man’s land right across to scorpion plain, where we caught a first glimpse of our enemy’s approach.