by Brindi Quinn
But even as I think it, I realize it is not so.
As the felion rises into the air atop her great gleaming beast, her eyes are brimmed with tears, genuine and sorrow-filled. Mael aches greatly. She is not the heartless pursuer we believed her to be.
Indeed, if she sought to lure him, then why not just take him now while he cannot protest? Why not bring her quarry to Ensecré herself?
While I contemplate these things, the draggar makes a sudden movement. One moment it is hovered, and the next, it is darting across the sky in a blink. How quickly the creature is able to flit! Almost too quickly to see!
And just like that, the witch, the necromancer and the Count are gone. To that despicable hovel they fly.
Equally fast, my surroundings undergo a change. Without Mael to maintain its spell, the fold of space reverts. The water of the pool refills. Sharper becomes the paltry crowd of Yel’ram-dwellers brave enough – or maybe foolish enough – to have remained throughout the draggar’s rising. Armani and Sanjuel and Awyer come into clear view.
My pactor. My Awyer. My heart.
But I am forced to focus on something more pressing.
Water mists my cheeks.
“Ah!” I hurry to move Pedj and Feligo out of drowning’s way, but even as I step, my foot does not hit the ground. Though I am wetted by the water, I can make no contact with anything solid.
I am again unseen. Unreal. Only my shadow remains.
And three unconscious men are in my care.
Chapter XVIII: Choice
“There you go.” The wrinkled man pushes his spectacles up his nose. “Now, why don’t you tell me what happened?”
Upon Sanjuel’s table, a large leather-bound book rests, opened two-thirds of the way in and stenching of must. Periwinkle sleeves rolled, Sanjuel waits with quill in hand. Armani stands beside him, elbows settled on the table and eyeing Feligo’s shortened hair with remorse.
In the adjacent room, weakened Pedj lies sleeping beside my resting pactor. Neither of them would approve of sharing a bed, but neither of them have much of a say at the moment.
And neither do I.
I am again unheard.
I am grateful to the periwinkle man for fishing fox and zombie out of the water, but his demands to accurately chronicle the draggar’s rising are more trouble than they are worth. We have not time to give in to his requests. Mael and Techton and Bexwin are, even now, preparing to rid the world of color.
Feligo takes a drink from the glass of water presented him, and begins to describe in detail as much of the events from the falls as he can. It does not matter whether or not our secrets are revealed now. Very soon, the world will change and none of it – Ark, the sphinxes, Amethyst – will matter anymore.
As Feligo recounts his tale, I look to Pedj with urgency. Even if I wanted to flee after Mael myself, I could not. Awyer and I are connected. I cannot go any great distance from him. Not that I would choose to leave his side if I could.
No. And I cannot go without him and I cannot move Awyer without outside help. I require Pedj’s bonemen.
“Hold up,” says Sanjuel, not looking up from the book. “You say the light came from within that boy?” He scribbles onto the page. “Mmhm, and which end did it come out of?”
Feligo shows a look of appalling before admitting that he does not know.
“Hmmm,” says Sanjuel. “I’ll just assume it was the . . .” He continues to jot.
“Don’t assume anything!” Feligo shouts. “Say it rose out of him! Nothing more!”
Sanjuel swats the air. “It’ll be fine. Everyone embellishes now and then.”
The Maestro – most likely questioning how a man tasked with chronicling can take such liberties – eyes the book with horror.
“There are greater things to be concerned with,” he says. “For one, what’ll you do now that the creature is gone? The falls were raised by its power, correct?”
Feligo is an intelligent man. Even without hearing so from me, he gathers the fate of this place on his own.
Once the last of its lingering power recedes, Cascade Yel’ram will fall.
“Yes . . .” Sanjuel trails.
“Then don’t you think you should be organizing an evacuation?!” says the silverfox.
Sanjuel’s bugged eyes bulge even buggier through his small-framed glasses. “You might have a point.”
Feligo grits his teeth. “Of course I do! What’s wrong with you lot?! You wait over the bones of a fearsome creature for centuries, protecting its secret, waiting for it to be exhumed, without making preparations for the aftermath of its awakening?!”
Sanjuel looks to Armani. Armani looks to Sanjuel. Sanjuel strokes his chin. Armani strokes hers too.
“Well? Go!” Sanjuel blurts suddenly, sending Armani scampering through the door.
Feligo shakes his head and grunts. “Judging from the air, I’d say you have a week before the power’s gone completely.”
I zip through him because he has forgotten something important.
“Even less if our associates succeed in their extinction of magicks,” he adds.
“. . . Extinction?”
“Yae, extinction.” Feligo releases a great, strained sigh.
With that, the fox begins to recount everything, leaving neither big nor small detail to the imagination. And while he does, I skim to Awyer’s side. I pass through Pedj in an attempt to wake him. His breathing is deep. His face is peaceful. Though the draggar is raised, Pedj lives. The quarry lives.
In the days of Bloőd,
The boy and his felion will surpass the colors.
The boy will be filled with sun.
And the felion, upon seeing his might,
Will follow him, o’er the course of days.
He will be her quarry, and she will be his pain.
With his sacrifice, the draggar will rise,
And the felion, birthed in sun,
Will be Queen of the colorless age.
Beneath the cascade, the bones sleep,
Protecting ye faithful with darkened might.
From beyond the Vessel and slain in blood,
The creature’s wrath bides.
Hark and heed, ye faithful few!
The Truth shall set ye free.
When falls fall under foreign sun,
The UNSPOKEN will claim its debt.
And the Queen will claim her quarry.
. . . Perhaps the sacrifice was nothing more than Pedj’s sun? After all, he lost it to the beast.
As I try to make sense of it, there is movement in the bed, accompanied by the rustling sounds of someone arising from slumber.
“Zombie!”
Hair disheveled, Pedj sits up, rubs his eyes, and lets out a guttural belch, and when he sees that he is very near beside Awyer, he yells, “WAAK!” and scuttles over the side of the bed much in the way a crab would.
Thud!
The sound of his knobby knees rapping upon the floor alerts Feligo to his waking.
“What’s is?!” he squawks. “Did they do it?! Are the colors crankin’ GONE?!”
Feligo springs sprightly into the room. “Calm down, man!” He snaps his fingers, calling into existence a tiny cloud of Gold. “The colors are still here, see? But according to Old Man Mancer, a girl and two men rode away on the draggar! It serves to say your sister, the dark thing, and Magister Bexwin are en route to some destination to finish the job!”
“Cousin,” Pedj corrects. “And what the hoo? What happened to your hair?”
Feligo brings a hand to his shortened locks. “That’s your priority!?”
“Well, NO! You say them’s flew smack away on a DRAGGAR?! Mael actually did it?! She raised the draggar?!” Gaunt-faced, he studies his hands, turning them this way and that. “But I ain’t dead! . . . Er, am I?”
Sigh. There is much to get caught up on before we can hope to carry on. What is more, I am barely able to remain afloat. I require sleep. Sleep requires time. And time is not som
ething we can afford to spend.
. . .
A cherry-framed clock upon Sanjuel’s wall ticks.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
A disembodied spirit, I rest upon the chest of my sphinx, while Feligo and Pedj offer theories of the day’s transpirings late into the night. Neither of them saw what fully happened at the central falls. My attempts to correct their assumptions fail. They cannot see me. They cannot hear me. They wrongly read my signs. And none of them possesses any great knowledge of the ancient script.
I cannot tell them what I know.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
And as they discuss, Mael furthers from us.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I am bound to Awyer. I have no choice but to wait for them to move him.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The cozy interior of Sanjuel’s home dampens as the walls push flat and the roof floats away. I am alone upon a hill in a large clearing marked by a ring of crystals. The partway-unearthed jewels catch the moon’s light and shine with brilliance. Overhead, halos of stars circle in the deep sapphire sky.
Things are not as they should be.
I am asleep.
. . . But what if Pedj and Feligo decide to leave Sanjuel’s home?! I will be left behind!
A hand grazes my back. “You will feel it.”
True. I will feel it if Awyer is removed from me, and I will awaken and follow the pull of our pact.
I reach for the hand, and it slides downward. It plays with me, uncaring to let me catch it. I know this, so I spin to find its master. Awyer stands in the nightlight, hair tossing, eyes reflecting the moon.
The day has been draining. I feared more today for our pact than I have ever before. Because of this, I must go to him. My body must meet his.
“Awyer!”
My hands are to his face in a flash. I draw my thumbs along the warmth of his cheeks. I trail my fingers down the sides of his neck.
“It is you,” I whisper.
He does not move. He is a statue, poised beneath my grasp.
“Mm,” he says.
But I am hungry for more. “Let me see your shoulder.”
I do not wait for permission. My fingers urgently begin undoing the buttons of his shirt. His face alights with surprise. He opens his mouth to protest, but covers it with a swallow, and as I continue to unbutton, his face falls serious. Eyes aglow from the moon, he takes a lock of my hair into his hand. I move down his shirt, and when I am through, Awyer snatches my hand and forces it to his chest.
“W-what?” I stammer.
Too intent over laying sight on the mark of our pact, I did not notice that he, too, appears hungry.
His eyes transfix on me, holding me in place. “Do not move. And then you can see it.”
“Do not move?”
He nods.
“For how long?” I ask.
“A minute.”
Awyer will not let me check the mark on his shoulder unless I remain still for one minute? It is a game? Small anticipation gives a kick in my chest.
“Very well,” I tell him. “I will not move.”
Eyes still on mine, Awyer gives one commanding nod. Then he wraps his arms around me and lowers me to the ground.
Ah! I said that I would not move, but I did not expect that HE should move me.
My body lands against the hill. My hair falls over my shoulders. Awyer releases my waist slowly, allowing his hands to feel my body before placing them on the ground on either side of my head. He is over me, and I am not allowed to move.
His eyes shine. His mouth is calm.
I am not calm. Something behind my chest tears at me from within, urging me to shout or moan or pull Awyer closer.
Awyer must sense it. The corner of his mouth twitches.
I look to the stars over his shoulder, seeking diversion. “Th-this place is peaceful,” I say. “Dimensia is.”
He shakes his head. “Not always. But you always appear in places like this. . . . You moved your mouth. I get another minute.”
“A–”
Before I may protest, he places his lips to mine and muffles my words. When he pulls away, I no longer have the will to speak. He brings his mouth lower, now, and places it upon my collar. I cannot hold back. I grip at the back of his shirt and pull him closer until his stomach is flush with mine. I kiss his neck, and this time he does not mind that I move my mouth.
More.
I wish to kiss him more.
“Good job,” he says suddenly, and ceases his pursuits.
Good . . . job?
I wait for further advances, but none come.
My hand lies curled in the grass. It slides to prop me up. I search my pactor, seeking reason for his abruptness.
“You gave me a minute,” he says with toying. “You can look now.” Pulling the shirt from his shoulder he reveals his tattoo. Like a cracked, imperfect shard of obsidian crystal, the spelled shape rests against his skin, binding him to me, allowing him to see and hear me, and allowing me to feel him wherever he is.
A sigh of relief escapes me as I see the boldness of its shape.
Awyer sees my relief and shakes his head in response. “Grim, you are hasty.”
“Why do you say such a thing?” I ask.
He gestures to the sky. “You do realize you could look at it anytime?”
So I could. Out there. In the real world. I could very well examine his tattoo at any time.
My face grows hot at the realization. But Awyer only laughs.
Again, I look to the sky. “When I awaken, I will take us to Ensecré. Mael is on her way there already, and she aims to go through with removing magicks from the world.”
My sphinx says naught.
I run my fingertips over his tattooed shoulder. “I am afraid,” I admit.
Still, he says naught.
Though I attempt to keep my voice steady, I cannot fully hide my desperation. “I do not know what will happen to us!”
“Grim . . .” Awyer calls my eyes to his.
“Tell me that we will be all right,” I whisper.
“We will be all right.”
. . .
“Aha! Found it!”
From below the mess of greenery, Feligo’s hand triumphantly pops, holding in it the voided crystal that will be our salvation.
“Yeah, but you cheated!” Pedj insists. “Got your feelers spread all over the place! How the heck am I supposed to get on competin’ with that?!”
It is true – Feligo’s agions are scattered all around the clearing where we conversed with Bexwin.
Cheating or not, I am just pleased that one of them managed to find it. I fly through Pedj, warning him to place the crystal in his mouth if he hopes to be spared from more passes.
“WAAH! I twig it, Grim! I twig it! Geesh.”
I do not wait for the crystal to fully enter his mouth. The early morning sun shines over Cascade Yel’ram, giving urgent reminder that we are already half a day separated from Bexwin and the others. Rapidly, I begin to deliver Mael’s message, and when I am through, my reinstated confidant tugs at his collar.
“So THAT’S what happened.” He digests everything that I have told him. It does not sit with him well. “Argh! You sayin’ she was cwyin’? You sayin’ she was normal Mael? First she goes all Maelcontent one minute, then the next she’s sayin’ she’s sorry and whatnot? What GIVES?! Tell me, GWIM! WHAT GIVES?!”
“Be still,” I speak to him, gladdened to be heard once more. “There was something about the lady. Listen to what I say carefully, my confidant. Mael said to go there if it is your will. She said she would wait for as long as she could, implying that whatever is going to happen will happen with or without you present. It is almost as though . . .” I think about how best to phrase my thoughts. “Do you think the ‘sacrifice’ spoken of in the prophecy may not have been your life, but your light, Pedj? Your power of the sun? After all, you cannot use it any longer, can you?”
Pedj wrinkles his forehead
and motions at one of Feligo’s silver agions poking from the ground.
One lazy tuft of Gold forms.
“See?” I say. “When you attempt to access it now, all that is summoned is regular Gold. Might it be that you are not meant to die after all? I have thought it over repeatedly. Mael had a perfect opportunity to take you with her. There was nothing to stop her. Yet she left the choice to you. I do not think we would be foolish to view it as a show of good faith!”
“Hmmmm. Suppose that’s true . . . Say, cwoop. What do you fink we should do?” Pedj proceeds to relay the events, as I have told them, to Feligo.
“What do I think?” Upon hearing my recollection, the Maestro delivers one of his judgmental points. “Naturally, you should flee the other way!”
“EH?!” The zombie takes a step backward.
“But of course!” Feligo cries. “How will you defend yourself without your glowy, glowy sunpower?!”
Pedj deflates. “Glowy . . . glowy?” he says, pitch shifting irritably.
“You are not all defenseless,” I counter. “You still contain Gold, and so, too, do I.”
Clearly torn, Pedj looks from me to Feligo to the southern sky. It does not take long for his teeth to begin to grind.
I really do not mean to rush the zombie into unnecessary danger, but . . .
“Think it over,” I say, solemn. “If you will not carry Awyer there, then I must find another way. And I do not have time to spare. We took a great risk, allowing ourselves to rest in the night. You may have until we reach the ramp to decide which course you will take.”
“The . . . The wamp?! You mean you’s leavin’ wight now?!”
“As I said, I do not have time to spare. Even if you decide against accompanying Awyer and me to Ensecré, I expect you to assist me until it is our time to part ways.”
“But–!”
“Either way, you cannot stay here. These islands and their pillars will soon begin to fall.”
