by Bex Hogan
Gaius nods. ‘But before I could catch them, you were born. And, Marianne, how the islands trembled. You think anyone else can do what you do? That anyone can summon water raptors? You are alive with more power than you deserve. I knew the moment you arrived on this earth that the true child of the islands was here at last. And so I sent the Viper to find your parents. My Eastern connections came in handy once more.’
‘Adler murdered them … for you?’
‘Very efficient, I thought. Unfortunately he was supposed to bring you to me but I guess it’s true what they say. Never trust a Snake. Still, at least I knew where you were, all safe and sound.’
It’s like the world is falling away and there’s nothing left to cling to. ‘It was you. It’s always been you.’
Gaius’s victory is complete. ‘Yes, my dear.’
His absences grow ever longer, sometimes so my water bowl runs dry, and I think I shall die from dehydration and be spared more torture. But he always returns in time to save me. To condemn me. Then one time he leaves and it finally and truly dawns on me. I will die here in this cavern of despair. But not soon. I will rot here for years. I look at my mutilated hands and feel numb. Gaius will take me piece by piece and, as he grows in strength, I will weaken. I can feel it already, the shift in balance. There will be no one to stand against him and he will make all that has come before seem kindness. He will, as Old Tatty foresaw, destroy everything.
As the last dregs of hope ebb away, I sit in a darkness I’ve never known before. It’s cold and lonely. All is lost.
And then, in the emptiness, a small pale glimmer flutters before me. A starmoth has flown into this desolate place, its shimmering wings beating fiercely like sparks of light. It’s so tiny but so alive. And an ember of fire glows in a distant corner of my spirit. I’d forgotten the beauty of life. The colour of it. The strength of it. The magic of it.
I want to live.
Though I still fear my magic, if I stay here Gaius will use it for evil anyway. I must try whatever I can, whatever the cost, to stop him.
I just don’t know if there’s enough of me left to succeed.
I rest my bloody, mangled hands on the lock of my cage and will the magic to the surface. If Gaius has taught me nothing else, it’s that I’m capable of great power. He wouldn’t want me otherwise. And knowing I’m so valuable to him gives me confidence.
Nothing happens. The hollow space where once my magic dwelled has spread and consumed all of me. My hope. My strength. My future.
‘Please,’ I beg it, as I try again to summon it. ‘Please.’ But all that happens is my skin slides in the blood seeping from one of my many wounds.
I close my eyes and think of those dearest to me. The memory of Grace and Tomas. Torin and Sharpe. Bronn. I will never see them again. Hot tears spill down my cheeks. Love shouldn’t hurt this much. Gaius may have tortured my body, but it’s the thought of them, of knowing I shall never see them again, that delivers the fatal wound to my heart.
A scream escapes me, rage, frustration and grief all rolled into one sound, and I shake the bars with all the strength I possess. ‘Come on!’ I shout at them, at myself. ‘Come on!’
Something stirs inside me, something forgotten, something familiar. From the deepest parts of myself the smouldering ember catches fire, heat spreading as the magic rises – slowly at first, then faster, as if it can’t believe its luck in finally being set free.
I can’t believe it either, and a tiny laugh escapes my lips as I grasp the bars tightly, terrified I might lose it once more.
‘Brena, hyrri,’ I say, repeating the incantations for ‘burn’ and ‘fire’ over and over, only they are no longer simply words. I am the words, I am the magic – it’s all one. My blood soars through me, a furnace in my veins, and I watch as the lock starts to melt, the heat surging out through my remaining fingertips until the metal has utterly liquefied and the door pushes open. I gasp, wondering how to stop the flow, because it’s as dizzying as if blood itself was draining from my body. I clench what’s left of my hand into a fist, and the magic pauses, pulsing beneath my skin ready for my next command.
I’m free. Now there’s just the question of whether I have the strength to stand, let alone move. But I have to – simply have to – or I’m worse than dead. If Gaius finds me now, he’ll cut me up and keep me in a state where I’ll be begging for death.
Filled with confidence, I turn my magic on myself. Resting my hand against my broken leg, I try again to heal my bones with my touch. But though I strain until my veins are bursting, I have to admit defeat. Such a skill is simply beyond my ability and I don’t have time to waste in delusions.
I stumble out of the cage, pain shooting through me, but I ignore it. I’m the Viper. I’m a queen. I can’t let pain stop me now. I know there’s no point trying to escape the way I came in – it’ll be guarded and I’m in no condition to fight anyone – but there’s the far end of the cavern, where light and air have tantalised me with their proximity. That’s my best bet and so I shuffle my broken body in that direction, silencing the voice in my head insisting I can’t leave everything else behind. I want to save them all: the children, the birds, the animals. But I can’t help them right now, and though it hurts I make the selfish decision to save myself. If I can live today, maybe I can save them tomorrow.
If. Maybe.
Neither seems very likely right now, as I can feel the effects of my torture destroying me from the outside in. It seems to take for ever to reach the cave mouth, and with every agonised step I dread Gaius returning and discovering me. And then I realise why Gaius has left this entrance unguarded.
The cave opens straight into the cliff face; the only way out is a sheer and deadly drop down into the ocean.
Panic rises quickly, I can feel my fear taking over and I sink to the floor in a messy heap as despair returns, taunting me for ever thinking I could be free.
But then a strong gust of sea air blows in, the salt stinging my face like a slap. The only alternative is to hobble back to my cage and wait for death and I will not give Gaius the satisfaction. I look down at the swirling waters below, crashing over jagged rocks, and begin to smile as a plan takes shape in my head. It’s a plan of the desperate, a plan ridiculously unlikely to work, but it’s something. I’d rather die in the attempt and deny Gaius his magic, than live for nothing.
There’s no time to waste. I shuffle back into the cave as fast as I can, until I reach the cages housing the serpents. I’ve watched Gaius extract venom from all of them except one – a horned black snake, whose back is zigzagged with scars from where Gaius has bled him. For some reason Gaius has avoided this snake’s venom, and I can only guess it’s because it’s so toxic. And Mama told me about a snake with such venom – a death asp. I’m making a big assumption, but I think that’s what it is. I can’t cope like this for much longer, my body is too damaged to keep going, so if I want to escape, I need help. I remember what Mama said about the old myth, that a death asp can offer his venom as a cure. One bite from this snake will either enable me to carry on, or will kill me where I stand. Either way, I shall be free.
The snake and I regard each other for a moment. I say nothing; we do not share a language, but there are other ways to communicate. As I did once, what feels like a lifetime ago, with the timber bear, I look into the serpent’s eyes and share my pain, my desperation, as I poke my mutilated fingers through its bars. Slowly it extends its head towards me, its forked tongue flicking over my skin, my blood. And then, with considered precision, it sinks its fangs into my flesh.
Instantly my pain lessens, not entirely, but enough for it to be bearable, and relief floods through me. Though its effects are no doubt temporary, the snake has granted me its venom as a gift, one condemned prisoner to another.
When it releases me from its jaws, I extract my fingers and open its cage. Mine was the only one Gaius deemed necessary to lock. Offering the snake freedom is the least I can do, but I don’t wait to wa
tch it slither away, I’m too busy opening all the other cages, allowing the creatures to escape, if they have the strength. Birds flap weak wings and fly towards the air, rodents scuttle into cracks in the cavern walls, and serpents wind their way over the dusty ground, perfectly camouflaged. In the final cage is a small black gull. It chirps noiselessly at me, an eerie silence. I do my best to wrap my hands round the bird as I take it from its prison. It’s thin and weak and its dull eyes plead with me for death.
‘Not today, friend,’ I whisper. I carry the gull to the opening and let it feel the wind ruffling through its feathers. It opens its beak but no sound comes out – it’s pitiful. I let my outrage fuel my magic, relieved to feel it rising to the surface again – quicker this time – and I close my eyes.
‘Talla.’ I order the bird to speak, willing my magic to fill the void Gaius left. Heat bubbles under my skin, my blood boiling with power that glides over the gull, shrouding it with energy and restoring what was stolen.
Sweet music dances on the air. I snap open my eyes to stare at the little bird, now singing his heart out. I did it. But there’s no time to waste marvelling at the wonder.
‘I need your help,’ I breathe into its ear. ‘Find Talon and send him to me. Can you do that?’
The bird chirps, but it looks uncertain. It’s a long flight and the gull’s little body is empty.
‘It’s OK,’ I say, stroking its fragile head. ‘I’ll help.’ And once more I focus on the energy still buzzing at my fingertips. I’m going to have to give the bird some life, and the only one I have to give is my own. I won’t steal from others like Gaius.
‘Take what you need,’ I say, my voice lost on the wind. I feel my energy pass to the bird, feel myself weaken as it grows in strength. When the bird stirs restlessly in my hands, I stop the transfer. ‘Flauga. Fly, my friend. And good luck.’
I release my hold, sending the gull into the air. He soars upwards and away, twisting and gliding with delight, before turning east and disappearing from sight. I smile, but then realise quite how much weaker I feel. With a bitter pang I comprehend how closely magic is linked with life force. I’ve seen it, seen Gaius take for himself, but for the first time I’ve experienced the exchange of energy, and can’t deny the sense of loss to my body. Can’t deny how tempting it would be to want to replenish that strength, how easy it would be to justify it in order to survive. The line between right and wrong doesn’t look so clear any more, and it terrifies me. But for now I will not let the magic consume me. Not today.
I bring myself to the edge of the opening and move my legs so they hang over into nothingness. Even with the death asp’s venom I won’t get down this cliff alive by myself – not even if I had all my fingers and toes left. I need more help. I won’t demand it from anyone or anything. But I’m not too proud to ask.
‘Veitja.’ I speak the word into the air, hoping someone will respond. The rock, like it once did before, or the ocean perhaps. But I’m met with silence.
‘Please,’ I say, my voice breaking into a sob. ‘Help me.’
A distant noise reaches my ears and for one chilling moment I think it’s Gaius returned, roaring with anger, but then I realise the sound is coming from outside the cave, not within.
Searching for the source, I squint and see the sea moving strangely, like part of it has separated from the rest and is moving in a different direction. The noise is thunderous as it stampedes towards me, a tidal wave rolling against the tide. Only when it’s close do I see what has come to my aid.
A sea stallion – half foam and water, half flesh and blood – calls out to me with a piercing whinny.
I don’t hesitate. I push myself off the cliff and fall, the wind cradling me before the stallion rises up to catch me. There is no pain on impact, just the warmth of life beneath me. I reach my hand towards a watery neck and what I touch immediately forms as solid shape.
‘Thank you,’ I say, though I’m not sure I make a sound. Maybe I just think the words over and over, but I’m certain the horse hears no matter what.
‘Can you take me to the Eighth Isle?’ I know I merely think that, too exhausted for anything more, but no sooner does the thought form, than the stallion is moving at staggering speed, galloping across the water so that his hooves throw up giant waves behind him.
I pass out after a while. I’m safer than I’ve been in the longest time and I sense the sea stallion will protect me a while longer. When I wake, I’m lying on the familiar white sparkling sands of the Eighth. The sea stallion is nowhere to be seen, the water now entirely calm, and though I’m far from feeling well I’ve regained some strength from my rest. Sending thoughts of gratitude out towards the ocean, certain my saviour will hear them, I drag myself up the beach.
I have no idea how much time has passed since I escaped, but I’m not safe yet. It’s time to put the next part of my plan into action.
It’s time to hide.
Esther’s hut greets me with cold emptiness. Nothing’s changed since I was last here, apart from one crucial detail: my understanding of what happened to her. She perceived the threat of Gaius and hid – and now I know what he’s capable of, what he’ll do to steal my power, I’m doing the same.
But I finally comprehend what I should have a long time ago. Esther hasn’t abandoned me, any more than I’ve abandoned my friends. She’s been reaching out to me in visions, trying to show me her location – not so I can find her, but to warn me to go to ground. More importantly I’ve realised something else. There’s a reason this clearing feels so devoid of magic. Esther has put an enchantment on it to disguise it from searching eyes. From Gaius’s eyes. Which means, for now at least, I’m safe here.
I need to write a message for Bronn. He’s the last person I should be asking for help. But he’s the only one I can. It’s time to place all my trust in him.
There are no quills and no ink. I search high and low and when I find nothing I search the other huts for anything I can use. Fortune favours me slightly when I find an old book, from which I tear a sheet of paper, but as for ink I’m going to have to be creative.
I have no blade, no weapon of any kind, so I venture outside and find a stick, which I sharpen with a stone until I fashion a point. Then I stab it into my finger and watch the red blossom of blood bubble to the surface. And I start to write.
I keep it short, concise. Seeing my plan scrawled in blood makes me question whether I have truly gone mad. It’s pure insanity. But it’s all I’ve got. I squeeze fresh blood out and carry on writing, stating what I require of Bronn. I want to tell him I miss him, want to tell him how desperately I’ve felt his absence, but I don’t. There’s no room left on the paper.
I lie out under the stars, but I’m too tired to sleep and instead feel the magic rise and fall like the tide inside me. It knows what I intend to do and welcomes it. I simply must hold on long enough to see my plan through.
No one comes. I remain undisturbed, undetected, hidden in this clearing just as Esther knew I would be. I hope wherever she is, she’s safe.
By morning the sight I long for comes into view. At first it’s just a black smudge against a stormy sky, but within minutes a sea vulture soars down towards me, stirring me from my waking dreams.
Talon swoops to my shoulder, pecking my ear with undisguised affection, and I have to stop myself from crushing the bird in an embrace. I’ve never been more pleased to see him.
‘Good bird,’ I say, thanking him for his speedy arrival. ‘I need to ask a favour, old friend. Can you take this to Bronn?’ And I hold up the scroll of bloodied paper.
The great sea vulture shrieks in answer and I brush his wing with my stubbed finger.
‘Is he doing OK?’
The bird tilts his head intelligently, and I see his sympathy glistening in those wise eyes.
‘Better than me, huh?’ I laugh. ‘That wouldn’t be hard. Give this directly to him, and no one else. And, Talon? Look after him for me.’
Talon gives a gen
tle cry and nudges my face with his beak as I attach the scroll to his leg. I don’t want him to leave now that he’s here; he’s a comforting piece of the life I wish I hadn’t left behind. But there’s only one way forward.
‘Fly safe. Fly fast,’ I whisper into Talon’s ear, and with a mighty flap of his wings the great bird soars into the air, bearing east.
Now I have to wait. And prepare.
Days then nights pass, while I rest my body and hone my plan. I know what must be done, but it all hinges on Bronn, and whether he’s prepared to do what I’ve asked.
The mangled stumps of my fingers and toes begin to heal over. I think of Olwyn and my Guardian friends. Do they hate me for the crimes they’ve been told I committed? Are they safe? Will Gaius dare to reveal himself or will he continue his pretence a while longer? Fear for them threatens to undo me, but worrying serves no purpose. They can take care of themselves, and right now, there’s nothing I can do for them.
I collect rainwater in leaves to drink, and chew on the woody stems of plantains that grow up through the sandy ground. It’s not much, but with the remnants of the death asp’s venom still sustaining me it’s enough.
Eventually I decide the time has come to leave the sanctuary of the clearing. If Bronn set a course west as soon as he got my message, then he should be here soon. I want to be waiting.
My journey to the beach is painful, my body stiff from lack of use, my broken bones healing all wrong. And I feel afraid. I’m unarmed, I can’t defend myself. I’m vulnerable and it’s terrifying.
But there’s no one here, this side of the island completely deserted. I idly wonder whether that is Esther’s doing too – she certainly would have used whatever magic was at her disposal to repel intruders.
The sand greets me with the tingling warmth of magic and I nestle in its banks at the top end of the beach, hidden from anyone passing – on land or sea. I try to remember when I last slept deeply.
