Autumngale

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  Leaping onto the lip of the small wall around the bell, he leaned out over the city below like a bird about to catch flight. As he spread his arms, Lila was already dashing forward. As he lifted his face into the sun, she was leaping toward him.

  What was she thinking? She was going to kill them! His heart was in his throat, racing so fast that his vision was blacking in and out.

  The Grandfather dove from the tower, leaping up and then somersaulting to leap headfirst in his dive. Lila tumbled after him – less graceful, more flailing arms and legs than an actual dive.

  Tamerlan screamed inside. Fear and panic flooding through him like water through a canal. He was going to die! What had she done?

  Bright purple and gold sparks danced around the Grandfather and he began to whirl in midair. He was about to pop out of this time and place and into another – again. He had the luxury of that.

  Lila clenched the smoking roll of Spice between his teeth and the lit end flared brightly as the wind sped around it.

  Smoke it! Let me stay!

  He had no chance of getting free of her – not like that!

  Get free and you will die. I’m your only hope.

  Beneath them, the city rose up like a living map about to swallow them up.

  He sucked in the smoke.

  He felt a sudden push.

  Oh. This is a surprise.

  31: Yellow and Purple Sparks

  Marielle

  SHE HAD TAMERLAN IN her clutches, the weasel! She’d tossed her red hair and laughed just before she grabbed him and threw him at the Grandfather back along the canal and she was laughing still. Laughing as she drove him to his death. She smelled of careless certainty. The minty smell of that certainty was so strong that it almost overwhelmed the elderberry of her insanity. And the glint in her eye as she rode him down changed everything.

  It was still wrong to take over someone else’s mind. It was still wrong to let them do that to themselves. It was maybe even evil.

  But sometimes you had to do something unthinkable to save someone. And Tamerlan needed saving as badly as she did.

  Marielle blinked as she popped into space beside Lila where she clung to Tamerlan’s back. Surprise was her only advantage. Before the Legend could notice her, she pushed with all her might, grabbing Tamerlan with her ghostly arms from behind, sinking her face into his shoulder. They had to be quick. They couldn’t lose their one chance!

  She had him! What a heady feeling! His mind and body were suddenly as much hers as her own ever had been. She could feel the beat of his heart in her chest, the breath of his lungs in her mouth. His golden scent – hot honey and cinnamon flooded her like the warmth of sunshine. But there was no time to bask.

  She pulled his arms back and pulled his feet together so that he flew through the air more swiftly, angling toward the spinning Grandfather. His limbs were powerful as they moved, the ease of his movement a joy.

  Focus, Marielle!

  If she timed it just right ...

  Marielle? Dragon’s Spit! Are you in my mind?

  Yes.

  She shuddered at the admission, flinching from how it stained her.

  Don’t leave. Please don’t leave!

  He sounded so desperate. Lonely.

  Don’t let me die alone – or worse – don’t let me die with all of them fighting for me like scrabbling dogs.

  Marielle reached for the Grandfather, physically and mentally. Loud sounds like cracks and pops of a fire filled her mind and then their vision was nothing but purple and yellow sparks as they were sucked into the whirl of the Grandfather.

  She emerged on a butte overlooking a wide plain. The scents of it filled Marielle’s nose – no wait, that was Tamerlan’s nose. And they weren’t her usual scent abilities. They were just regular smells – the smells of grass and fragrant bushes. She felt blind for a moment with this dull nose until she saw the colors.

  They made no sense! They weren’t full of scent. They were just there – everywhere. Not swirling or trailing or glowing, just there as if each object had its own. And they were vibrant and full and distracting. They were so stunning that it took her a moment to realize that the Grandfather was creeping along the edge of the butte looking down.

  He’s going to see me.

  But he was wrong about that. Marielle could still smell the Grandfather’s emotions – sort of. It was like trying to smell through a thick scarf, but it was still there if she fought for it. What she smelled most was interest and excitement swirling around him in wide bands. He was watching something.

  Tamerlan? Are you okay in there? I’m sorry that I stole your body. I just didn’t want you to die.

  Dragon’s spit, Marielle! Do you think I’m angry about that? I’m relieved. I’m glad that you’re okay – that we both still live!

  Marielle crept Tamerlan closer, careful not to make a sound. They needed to get the Grandfather. Now. Before he leapt again. And she didn’t dare leave Tamerlan yet. What if the Grandfather leapt and Tamerlan couldn’t chase after him?

  He pulled a deep breath through the tube of Spice in his lips. Strange that he could choose to do that when she had control of every other aspect of him. It tasted almost good. Like smoke, sure, but fragrant and almost tasty. She breathed it in like life. The longer he had it in him, the longer she’d stay to help.

  Don’t go, Marielle.

  He felt so familiar. His body felt like home. And yet it was nothing like hers. Large where hers was small. Narrow where hers was wide. Wide where hers was narrow. It gave her a giddy feeling of being totally at home in a foreign place.

  She just had to be sure that no one else could shove her away the way she’d shoved Lila. She could still see them there, floating around her – the Legends. They wanted Tamerlan back. They lurked just over the Bridge, biding their time, waiting for their chance, with wicked, gleaming red eyes.

  Didn’t he see that when he called them? Didn’t he see that they wanted him, not to help him, but to own him like a slave, like a shared avatar used to give them second life?

  She could see it plainly. The Grandfather was a problem for the Dragonblood Plains. But these Legends were just as dangerous. They were consuming her friend’s soul.

  Do you see what he’s looking at?

  She wasn’t looking at that. She was trying to maneuver silently behind him. If she could hit him over the head with something, or stab him with the knife Tamerlan still held ...

  Did he need to be alive to replace her in the clock? She wasn’t a murderer, but this might classify as self-defense.

  It’s the Smudgers! They fled from the five cities to somewhere north and west. This is them! Look at their burning braziers!

  Knowing that didn’t help them to catch the Grandfather. And that was her only goal.

  They all went somewhere and no one knew where or how, but do you see what they’re doing? They have that woman lifted up on a platform, pinned spread eagle over it in the sun. That must be awful. She’s probably going mad from the heat. Are they passing smoking braziers under her?

  She needs to be rescued.

  She took a careful step toward the Grandfather, easing her weight onto the balls of her feet and then lifted the other foot. It was harder to maneuver Tamerlan’s body. She wasn’t used to such long legs or to so much weight in the shoulders.

  Look! Something’s happening! Look!

  But she was trying not to look. One more step and she’d be on him.

  “Dragon’s spit and the entrails of the Legends!” The Grandfather’s vulgarity spilled out like a cup knocked over. “They’ve made her again.”

  Now was the time! While he was distracted!

  Wait! Do you see it? She’s tearing the ropes up! She’s ripping the bracing from the platform. She’s leaping down!

  Marielle sprang forward, stabbing toward the Grandfather, but he twisted away as if he could see her lunge behind his back. He spun, caught her gaze, spat a curse, and then the purple and yellow sparks er
upted.

  Marielle leapt forward, catching his coat with a hand as he whipped through time and space.

  Did you see that? Didn’t you see that? Tamerlan was babbling. I think they put a spirit into her with all that smoke. I think – is it crazy that I think they put Maid Chaos into her? That she might be Maid Chaos reborn?

  What was crazy was that he was so obsessed with it. What mattered right now was the Grandfather. What mattered was putting him back in the clock. They could deal with any violations of the law that the Smudgers had made later when both of them were whole and free of Legends.

  The law never rested. It never slept. It would come for those Smudgers with slow, trudging steps.

  But this will never end, Marielle. Not if we don’t stop it at the source.

  What did he mean by ‘we’? Since when was it their job to stop all evil? It was her job to enforce the law. Both the laws of the cities and the real law. But the fates of Legends and worlds were not hers to be responsible for. As if she wasn’t already burdened enough!

  That’s fine, Marielle. You don’t need to take this on. You’ve done enough.

  His words were compassionate, and yet they stung. He made it sound like she wasn’t sufficient. Like she’d settled for something less than his great cause.

  No, no, not at all. It’s just that all this is my fault. And I have to find some way back into humanity. Some way out of the madness. Some way to heal all the wounds I’ve gouged, rebuild all the buildings I’ve crumbled, wash away the tears I caused.

  The way he said that – like he was drowning, like he just wanted air for a moment ...

  The only way to do that is to find evil at its core and destroy it. The only way is to break the chains our people have been put under and finally set them free.

  What did that have to do with the Smudgers? What did that have to do with the Legends?

  I don’t know yet. I just know that I have to keep diving deeper until I find the source.

  The whirling stopped and they fell back into time.

  32: Triumph of the Mother

  Marielle

  THE GRANDFATHER WAS hard to catch. She couldn’t blame Tamerlan for taking so long to catch up with him when the Grandfather slipped through her own fingers so fast that she could barely gasp and he was gone. And Tamerlan’s body didn’t work like hers, didn’t run like hers, or jump like hers. What made it worse was that she didn’t want to have to think about the fact that she was currently possessing him. It was – a violation of sorts.

  Your mind is nice inside mine. Like a pool of fresh water. Cool. Transparent. Easy.

  It didn’t help that his thoughts caressed her mind, swirling gently around it, seeming to be everywhere at once like an embrace.

  She tried to force away mindfulness of that kind of intimacy and focus on the work at hand. They had a Legend to catch. And if she let Tamerlan go right now one of the other Legends would grab him and do whatever they wanted with him – and that wouldn’t mean catching Grandfather Timeless.

  He was on the rooftops. She could smell him if she focused. He smelled of insanity – the elderberry scent astringent even in her weakened ability to smell – and of the charcoal mists of time that puffed to cloud the memory. She focused on that smell, letting her mind name it and remember it so that she could follow it anywhere. And then she opened Tamerlan’s eyes.

  They were balanced on a rooftop.

  She’d thought at first that it was Choan, but the white waves of the invaders were not present. The tang of the brackish sea was not there. No ... this was another city of the Dragonblood Plains. Beneath her, in the streets, the Orange Wars were waging as people tossed oranges at one another and engaged in mock skirmishes. There was some laughter. Some scuffling with minor injuries. Marielle had never liked Autumngale. The scent of competition and brotherhood swirling through the air in carrot orange and the smell of apple cider was nice, but the complicated swirls of musky green envy and the puffs of russet ambition irritated her nose.

  And this Autumngale, there was something more.

  She wrinkled Tamerlan’s nose, trying to catch it.

  I hate to sound impatient, but do you think we should be chasing him?

  Yes. Of course. He pulled another lungful of smoke from the roll of Spice balanced on his lips – asking for her to stay. The burning end was almost gone.

  Light another one. They’re in my inner pocket.

  She fumbled inside and found the oilcloth roll, carefully extracting one before wrapping the others. Urgency bit at her, but if she wasn’t careful, and she ruined these rolls, this might be the end of their chance. Carefully, she lit one with the other, replacing the old stub for a new roll between Tamerlan’s lips.

  Okay. Now, to run.

  She took off across the rooftops, combining Tamerlan’s greater strength and larger muscles with her own street experience to push him harder and faster across the rooftops than she had ever been able to go.

  And more skillfully than I could.

  She ignored the compliment, focusing – searching with her nose.

  This way!

  She followed the trail up a tile roof, using Tamerlan’s feet to climb the slippery tiles. The Grandfather wasn’t far ahead.

  Below, a roar ripped through the crowd and she glanced down to see a cloud of orange – oranges flying through the air and in the streets and on the wall and the carrot orange smell of sport puffing around them. That was fine. Just the Autumngale celebration.

  Her grip slipped and she fell slightly, catching herself in time, but the knife in Tamerlan’s right hand skimmed across his leg leaving a gouge.

  Oh no.

  Calm. It will be okay.

  I cut you!

  She shook, at the thought. She’d taken someone’s body and cut them with their own knife.

  An accident.

  But taking him hadn’t been an accident.

  I welcomed you.

  Not good enough. She clenched his jaw, sheathed the blade and stood still, glued in place while her breathing grew more and more rapid.

  Can I have just a little control over my body?

  Oh, dragon’s spit! Why hadn’t she ... fumbling mentally, she tried to find a way to give it to him without surrendering to the triumphant looking spirits around them. Their fingers seemed longer as they reached for him. She felt his mind grow stronger, gently nudging her aside. The touch was close – as close as a brush cheek to cheek would be.

  There we go. Let’s calm down a little. Deeper breaths. Yes, there you go.

  It was his body. So, why did it feel like he was taking care of her? He caressed her mind.

  Easy now, easy. Let it out. Big breaths. You’re going to be okay.

  He said that like he’d said it a thousand times before.

  I have. I tell myself that a lot. When life is too much. When I feel trapped. He paused. You’re going to be okay.

  She was going to be okay.

  Let’s follow the Grandfather. This is Yan and I think he’s heading for the Palace.

  She thought so, too. But why?

  He was there before to get a book. Maybe he needs another book.

  That seemed reasonable. She pulled in a long breath and then began to scramble again, ignoring the ache in her – his – leg where the knife had scored it.

  Tamerlan?

  Right here.

  It felt almost as if his consciousness were holding hers – like the clasp of hands.

  I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken you over.

  You did what was necessary. And I am grateful.

  His mental voice felt warm on her consciousness,

  They were climbing quickly now. Climb up one side of the roof, slide down the other. Jump to the next. But what would they do when they reached the first canal or a similar barrier that they couldn’t cross?

  Almost before she thought it, they were there. She stopped with a skid on the edge of the tile roof, a single tile falling from her quick stop and plung
ing over the edge of the roof into the street below.

  She stared down. Had she hurt someone? Calls and cries drifted up and around the tile, a swell of red rolled over the street. But she didn’t see anyone hurt and lying in the street. She could smell it now, though, the overpowering smell of violence – red and smoky.

  Look.

  She followed his mental prodding, looking toward where the crowds fought, and oranges flew through the air. But that wasn’t all. Red swirled up and spattered outward, the scents mixing with actual colors. Someone was shedding blood.

  “Variena!” someone in the crowd called. “Our savior! For Variena!”

  That was her mother’s name.

  Just the thought of it sent a spike of sadness through her chest. She would probably never see her mother again. Like almost everyone else, she had probably perished when Tamerlan saved Marielle in Jingen and woke the dragon.

  I am guilty of many things, but not the death of your mother.

  She hadn’t meant to accuse him. It just hurt to think of her, that was all.

  I saw her alive and well in the refugee camps here just days ago. She looks like you.

  Marielle felt like she’d frozen. He’d seen her?

  Except she has brown eyes.

  That was her!

  Icy excitement filled her at the thought.

  “Variena!” the cry was louder now and before Marielle’s eyes, they surged into the streets – thin men and women with gaunt faces and wild eyes, swirling with the red smoky scent of violent determination. They came in a mass, their jaws set, and weapons held out. Where they met the groups of people throwing oranges, they waded in like harvesters to the wheat, hacking, chopping, stabbing. Not a change of expression filled their faces. Not a hint of sympathy. They came to conquer. And they came in the name of her mother.

  She shivered, feeling suddenly cold to the core.

  Do you see why I must end it all? I must find the root of all this trouble? Everything is wrong. Everything!

  And then a new group plowed out onto the street. Yan Palace Guards in blue and gold tabards, holding their halberds high, marched like toy soldiers through the streets. They were minutes from clashing with the hollow-eyed uprisers. Moments and then they’d really see battle.