It’s as good a theory as any, Aurelia replied. She told Cassandra about the Duke’s condition, about his officious Major-domo Terietta who probably did want her dead. She told her of the backstabbing, infighting and insulting ladies of the Argentor court, and Nepheli Opetreia, who had befriended and sought to help her get her army. She ended by telling her about the mysterious boy Marcus who had kissed her in a paddy field, and then the bad-tempered spokesman from the Premiers, Harold Vingian.
Wait, this boy, you don’t know who he is? Does he know who you are? asked Cassandra.
I suppose he must. Everyone does.
Cassandra was silent for a moment. But that puts you at a disadvantage. To be honest, Relia, they all worry me. Nepheli and Marcus and Lucinda all sound far too close, like they are trying too hard. I don’t like it.
I can’t stop now. I have to convince someone to help me and our people.
Cassandra considered. Beware of the Premiers, at least. They are meant to be allies of the throne in Theris, but we know what Verismuss was like.
Aurelia felt herself sigh and decided to change to subject. Cassandra sounded anxious, like she had far too many concerns she could do little about. You mentioned Totelun. I didn’t think you could talk to him?
Cassandra’s wash of positive emotion was strong. It buoyed Aurelia up to realise her sister was also happy despite her worries. We found a way. We converse in Gathralt, by writing messages to each other on soft leaves.
Gathralt! That old dead language we thought we’d never need!
Yes, the very one.
We gave Ennius such trouble with that.
Cassandra laughed. But I am so grateful he taught us despite that. Now I can talk to Totelun whenever we want. He is wonderful.
Aurelia didn’t tackle that yet. Some other time. And where are you?
We have begun to climb mount Cartracia.
That’s amazing, sent Aurelia. But I’m jealous. You are having an adventure, while I’m stuck dealing with politics again.
I would say I’m in constant danger, and you should feel lucky. But I know you’re in danger too. Neither said anything to that. Aurelia didn’t want to spark the previous conversation off again. Totelun asked me if I had seen my own death in my visions. I told him I had seen his death in so many ways.
And have you? Aurelia found herself interested despite the morbid subject; they’d just done the same for her.
I don’t want to talk about my death with him.
Overlords, Cass, have you seen it?
Yes.
And?
And I die.
Aurelia ignored that. Her sister was becoming more melodramatic by the day. We all die, she sent. Remember what we discussed before; what you see in your dreams isn’t the only course the future will take. Totelun isn’t dead.
But this time I have seen only two alternatives, Cassandra intoned. Either I die saving Totelun or he dies saving me. There are only two alternatives in that moment.
Aurelia didn’t know what to say. Cassandra had every reason to worry it seemed. She was probably holding it all in around Totelun, but when she spoke to Aurelia it was her chance to be herself and let it all out.
Cassandra was the one to break the silence. What did you want to ask me about?
Aurelia hadn’t forgotten. I keep having a recurring dream. A nightmare really.
Concern flooded the connection. Describe it.
A figure approaches the throne of the Medousa. She claims to have known they were coming.
And you can never see their face.
No.
It’s one of my visions, sent Cassandra.
Yes, I guessed it might be.
If it works anything like the others, as we get closer and closer to the time that it occurs we will see more and more. We may see who it is confronting Noctiluca.
Hopefully not before it’s too late, Aurelia intoned.
They were interrupted by a brisk courtesy knock at the door, before Terietta bustled inside. Aurelia stood up and met her in the foyer of the suite. Chrysaora appeared at one of the other doors.
Terietta looked much worse than she had that morning; there were bags under her eyes and she was gruff and frantic. ‘Your presence is required at the behest of the Duke,’ she said sharply.
She didn’t wait to see that Aurelia was following and left the room. Aurelia hurried after her, tilting her head to indicate Chrysaora should attend her. She needn’t have bothered; her bodyguard was right on her heels.
The Duke’s chambers were not as far from her own as Aurelia might have guessed; still it was a level or two higher and a labyrinth of corridors later that they came upon Terietta once again after having lost her multiple times. Two guards admitted the major-domo without preamble and she beckoned Aurelia inside. But even through her anxiety Terietta could be prejudiced. ‘Your thrall,’ she said, one palm held up, ‘will have to wait outside.’
Chrysaora shrugged. She was no longer put out by the casual bigotry shown by the vast majority of Argentori citizens. Aurelia was forced to leave her in the corridor.
The chambers smelt like astringent covering decay, and it was clear the windows had not been opened for some time. At the back of the room, the Duke lay on a four-poster bed of pale pink linens. Aurelia noticed mainly because of the difference in colour to his skin, which had lost its fleshy tone, turning a rank and pallid grey. Not the kind of deliberate grey of Cassandra’s post-thrall skin, but more sickly and bloodless. His eyes were cloudy, like another substance had been stirred in. He didn’t seem to see her immediately.
The nurse who had attended him on campaign sat at the bedside on a long chair covered in the accoutrements of care; dirty bandages from the wounds that still clearly wept pus, fresh ones to replace them, powders and potions and the remains of food uneaten.
Terietta stood beside Aurelia at the foot of the bed.
‘He is getting inexplicably worse,’ she said.
Aurelia addressed the nurse. ‘When we were travelling he seemed okay. I thought he was simply recuperating? Meant to make a quick recovery?’
‘He was,’ she said, upset, ‘but his condition has worsened sharply since then.’ She looked even more tired than Terietta, drained and forlorn.
Aurelia wondered what had changed, but she knew too little about the situation. He had gone from travelling to being treated in this chamber, but anything could have brought on the worsening of his condition; his injuries could have just been more extensive than they realised. She wished she could have brought Chrysaora in; she could have felt for internal injuries with her magic.
‘We do not know what to do for him,’ said the nurse. ‘I have tried everything.’
At her words, Lepitern seemed to wake, although his eyes had been open already. ‘Aurelia?’ he said softly.
‘Is he lucid?’ she asked.
The nurse nodded. ‘Usually.’
‘Am I lucid?’ he sputtered. ‘I’m right here, you cheeky waif.’ Aurelia hoped he meant the nurse.
‘Lepitern,’ said Aurelia, stepping round the bed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Oh, don’t worry yourself, my lady. It’s not your fault.’ He glanced down at himself and winced. ‘As you can see, I’m not at my best. But thank you for coming to see me.’
Aurelia took his hand. It was cold.
‘I cannot marry you, my lady of Nectris,’ he said.
‘We don’t need to talk of that,’ she replied quickly. ‘For now you need to preserve your strength, fight through this and then later–’
‘I can’t talk of it later,’ he snapped. ‘I’m dying. There won’t be a later.’ He was interrupted by a coughing fit, the nurse dabbing blood from his chin.
Aurelia felt guilty. This man that she had injured through her actions was more concerned with her marriage request than his own health.
He tried again. ‘I didn’t listen to you before. I should have. I have had a lot of time to think since then, lying here. The real enemy ar
e the Medusi. I saw enough of Theris’ end to know that. We have to fight them, and we need young blood to do it.’ He looked at her and his eyes seemed to clear for a moment. ‘You will marry my son Faibryn instead. Once I am gone and he is Duke, you will have the army you seek and the means to fight the Medousa.’
For a moment Aurelia had no idea what to say. She hadn’t entered the room thinking to talk of marriage – it had been far from her mind. And now for him to take away his marriage and propose his son Faibryn instead, the son she had never met. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised; nobles and monarchs did this kind of thing all the time. He was simply trying to preserve a political alliance, but he knew as well as anyone her political capital was poor right now. What was the real reason?
Then the problems started to cascade in.
‘But what about Nepheli?’ she blurted. ‘Faibryn is already betrothed to Nepheli Opetreia!’
‘She will have to stand aside.’ Lepitern coughed.
‘And if she won’t?’
‘She will be made to understand. For the good of the city.’
Aurelia could foresee just how that was going to play out, and she didn’t need any help from Cassandra’s visions.
She dreaded the next few days; it wasn’t as if she was going to pass up the potential route to getting her army. It was just that now she had to betray her new friend in order to achieve it.
There was a knock at the door of the chamber.
‘I sent for Faibryn while I was coming to get you,’ said Terietta by means of explanation, walking briskly to the door.
Aurelia sighed deeply. She was about to meet Faibryn Argentor for the first time and tear him away from his fiancé. She felt suddenly sick, she shivered even though the room was warm.
When Terietta returned she walked in tow with a young man. When he reached the bed, he entered the pool of light spread by the candles that surrounded the bed. He looked up and met Aurelia’s eye.
It was Marcus!
Marcus was Faibryn Argentor.
Part Three
Chapter Eighteen
Totelun
Cartracia was one of the hardest climbs Totelun had faced in a young life filled with hard climbs. The Floating Islands were covered in crags and cliffs enticing to a young boy eager to prove his mettle. He always made sure to leave his younger brothers far below.
But the mountain was an unforgiving beast, even for him, intent on dislodging the two tiny creatures who dared to challenge it. By night the mountainside turned black, and visibility was reduced to the weak bioluminescent blue glow of Cassandra’s Medusi. Fire wasn’t a problem for them; they weren’t being directly pursued and some evenings, when he had pushed them far further in darkness than was safe to go, they would stop and build a small one. Fire was life up at these heights where the cold air struck like a dagger through clothes and skin right to his heart. He worried for Cassandra clad in only the skins and clothes he had made for her; if she succumbed to frostbite it would be his fault.
He marvelled that the Floating Islands were higher still, yet above the clouds he had never felt such a chill as this. The Islands seemed to make their own heat, or got more direct sunlight.
Daylight brought its own share of problems; although Totelun could now see far in every direction without the aid of the Medusi’s light, Cassandra had a harder time of it. Her eyes were sensitive to bright light, and when the sun caught the white snow, the reflection was like looking directly into it. She wore the darkened goggles that he had given her, but they were barely sufficient to allow her to see. Even for Totelun the glare was painful when it caught him. They supported each other depending on the time of day; a shelf of grey rock jutting out from the mountain, impassable during the night, would reveal secret hand and foot holds in the morning light for Totelun; when darkness came on fast in the afternoon, Cassandra would find them a cave to rest in. When the nights were cold and biting Totelun was grateful for the furs he had sewn, but come noon, the sun forced them both to remove some of the same furs, then burnt his exposed skin. Cassandra’s grey skin they found was even more susceptible, and she soon had burns from both the cold and the heat.
Whether by light or by darkness they made steady progress. Near the foot of the mountain and just beyond the sea of Medusi, they happened across an abandoned waystation. It had been stripped by bandits, Totelun guessed, of every type of food it might have ever held, but he found a few coils of rope frozen solid with ice. Three days of hiking and shallow inclines and the silent sentinel began to steepen. After a day on his back the rope had thawed and could be used to tie them together as they climbed.
Cassandra had proven herself an asset when they had crossed the sea of Medusi, but Totelun had doubted she would be able to manage the climb ahead. But she had surprised him yet again. She kept up with him as they trudged through snow and ice, stayed close to light the way in the dark; her fingers bled from the climb just as his did but she would not complain. As they came to the steeper sections, Totelun would tie the rope around her waist and Cassandra would silently take one of the piton daggers for herself.
Then they would climb. Totelun would go ahead, driving the stake into the ice or rock, making hand and foot holes for himself and then moving on. He would loop the rope over strong jutting rocks or the odd protruding root to give added leverage should either of them slip. As the rope stretched taut, Cassandra would follow, using the hand and foot holes that Totelun had fashioned, and the dagger to drive her own support. With perseverance they prevailed; each obstacle put in their path was soon left far behind them.
Totelun had continued to sew night and day, whenever the trail allowed; they both now wore the skins of rabbits, squirrels, a few mountain goats – which made passable gloves – and parts of a wolf. He’d even managed to start overlapping them. Without the skins he was sure they would have perished the first night.
When daylight broke on the fourth day, Totelun woke to find Cassandra was not beside him. They had quickly set aside any awkwardness between them and huddled close for warmth each night, often finding their furs salted with frost come morning. Totelun feared they might freeze to death one night and just never wake. He found her a few feet away standing precariously close to the edge of the icy shelf they had used that night. But what really caught his eye was what he could see beyond her.
Totelun scrambled to his feet and came to stand beside her. The Islands of his childhood hung in the air before them, closer now than ever before. It was just as Mengu had said in his dying breath; they were aligning on the peak of the mountain.
Cassandra handed him a half frozen leaf. [They are beautiful,] was all it said.
They truly were. The Islands were so close that if Totelun closed one eye and ruined his depth perception he could almost reach out and touch them. Each would fit in the grasp of his hand at their current distance. The Islands were still far higher than they had climbed so all they could see were the strange bases, like upside down cones of rock and soil. They looked like they had been wrenched right out of the land by an incredible force and hung in the sky. Totelun could see the roots of trees that grew on the top of the island stick out from the soil. The roots must be holding it together, he thought. Unless it was ancient overlord magic.
He looked back at the mountain, and the reality of the climb ahead hit him. [We have so far to go,] he wrote. [And I don’t know how much time.] The Islands were so much closer now; he had no idea when they would finally cross the summit, but they had to be there when it happened.
[We will make it,] Cassandra wrote back. [We worked out the time, remember?]
The sky above them was blue and growing brighter as dawn cleared away the night, but he could see some of the Cloudsea from below. It was strange to see it above him instead of below, as close as he had been since he had fallen through it all those months ago.
Cassandra handed him a second leaf before she left the cliff edge and began to climb. [But not if we stand around gawking.]
>
*
At first, Totelun assumed the mountain was just cold dead rock, as devoid of life and desolate as legends said of the surface of the moon. What could possibly grow and thrive up here in this frozen waste?
He quickly found he was mistaken; in its own way Cartracia teemed with as much life as the lush forest. There were hardy grasses and reeds that peeked up through the snow for a glimpse of the sun at noon, before curling up again barely an hour later sated for the dark cold night. Pale spiky lichen covered every rocky surface that wasn’t iced over, and repelled any ice from forming over it. Mosses opened like sea anemones when the sun touched them, and shrivelled again when it passed.
And there were animals too. A snow-white predatory cat the size of a full-grown man stalked them for almost an entire day until Totelun made it clear they were not food, by putting an arrow in its side. Cassandra wouldn’t have him killing it.
[It’s just obeying its natural instinct,] she wrote. [We are encroaching on its territory.] Totelun couldn’t argue with that. But it’s skin would have made a wonderful extra layer, he thought as he rubbed his hands together.
After Cassandra found tiny tracks in the snow that hardly even compacted the icy surface, Totelun tracked down a little family of hibernating rodents in the bore of a tree that looked to have been struck by lightning some years past. Their fat distended bellies were full for winter, each one the size of two human fists. They would make for great eating. He could just imagine the grease that would drip off them over an open spit. As he reached in, Cassandra cuffed him across the head. When he looked round she had murder in her eye.
[Don’t you dare!] she wrote furiously, her writing a scrawl. [How would you like it if you went to sleep for winter and never woke up!] When he considered he’d been thinking exactly that some nights, he set his chin and recovered the bore with the leaves and mosses the rodents had gathered.
Embrace of the Medusi (The Overlords Trilogy Book 2) Page 26
