The Eternal Dusk (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Two)
Page 22
Lorn’s eyes turned red, her whole body went up in flames and she sank away from his grasp, blasting a fireball at him as she stepped away. It hit him in the ribs, and he brushed it away before any sparks could reach his wings. The skin was already blistering where it had landed. How? Lorn had nowhere to go—it was precisely why he’d brought her here, the only way off the tower was down.
“Fia will be the one to rekindle the sun. Ohinyan will be in her debt.” He whipped at her feet with his dark power, forcing her back to the edge.
Lorn laughed, fireballs ready in her palms. “Sounds like some affection is brewing in that dark heart of yours, sire.” She flung her fireballs at him, and he became ethereal just as one of them blasted right through him.
He was right, in this form, they had no effect. But he had no desire to remain this way. Affection. The word did nothing to convey the depths he would go to, to feel close to Terah once more.
A rock fell onto the roof beside Lorn’s feet, and then another and another. She turned her attention away from him, searching for where they could have come from, just as a witch on a glider flew up on a pocket of air from the side of the tower, ready to swing a kick at Lorn. Erebus recognised the blue circlet on the witch’s forehead, the centre stone the same colour as her eyes. Another of Fia’s friends, the Lady Noor. One he had tried to win to his side many times and failed. He held onto Lorn’s ankle with a slither of his darkness, just as the witch landed a kick to her chest.
“We haven’t had the pleasure of a proper meeting, just yet,” Noor said, sheathing her glider as Lorn staggered back.
Erebus considered swiping the witch off the roof but wanted to see Lorn’s powers in action—a test, as it were. No sooner had he finished the thought than she hurled a jet of flames towards Noor, and the witch rolled to one side to dodge them.
Noor patted flames off her leg and pushed herself back to her feet as Lorn threw another fireball. This one clipped Noor on the arm as she brought her hands together to conjure something. These witches and their illusions.
Erebus was growing tired of watching. Lorn’s strength may well have been affected as a result of her injuries, but he didn’t have time to waste. He had to deal with her before he could find Fia. He rushed at Noor as Lorn screamed, some unseen force attacking her—Noor’s illusion. But he passed straight through the witch’s body onto the other side as if it were air. Erebus tried to click his tongue but remembered he didn’t have a tongue, not in this form. Another illusion. From the corner of his vision, he caught the real Lady Noor as she leapt off the tower, glider outstretched, and made her escape into the city below.
Enough. He wrapped himself around Lorn once more and dived off the tower with her in his grasp, away from the witch, away from Djira and away from Fia. They would all pay for delaying his plans, all of them.
Once he’d dealt with Lorn, he would return for Fia—even if it meant destroying her friends. The time for playing games was over.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Fia
A flag bearing the symbol of Ohinyan flapped in the wind as Fia approached Maab’s ship. Osara would be somewhere behind her, she knew, but didn’t look back to check. They hadn’t spoken on the journey back, and Fia was exhausted from the weight of the suit.
Maab was waiting on the deck as she touched down, and helped her out of the wings immediately. As soon as she looked up into his eyes, Fia felt her emotions bubble up and willed herself not to cry.
“I saw Enne,” she said softly. “He wanted me to tell you he missed you with all his heart. That he’s here with you every day, and that you know how much he loves you.” Her words came out in a rush, but she wanted to make sure she told Maab everything Enne had said. She wouldn’t forgive herself if she left anything out, and she’d repeated Enne’s words over and over on the journey back.
Maab was quiet and walked over to the gunwale to look out to the horizon. Fia rotated her shoulders, one after the other as she gave Maab a quiet moment to himself before joining him to gaze at the water. She’d lost all sense of time. Heavy clouds hung in the sky; the strange light made it feel as if it were permanently dusk. The scents of the city mingled with brine and Fia ran her fingers along the rough wood of the railing to give herself something to focus on.
She tried to imagine how it would feel if someone delivered a message like that for her—from Sophie, or her parents. Would she be comforted by it? Or would she just feel resentful that someone else had received the message and not her?
Maab reached out and placed a hand over hers. He didn’t speak. He just carried on gazing out to the horizon. Fia breathed through her nose and bit down on her lip to make sure she didn’t cry. It wasn’t that she thought there was anything wrong with the act of crying—she just didn’t want to take anything away from Maab—this was about his feelings, his partner. His loss.
She wondered if Enne was with them now. Sophie too. Everyone they’d ever lost. As much as she wanted to know they were there with her, she also wanted to know what their new existence was like. Were they happy? She should have asked Enne. There was so much she should have said.
“I promised you a training session,” Maab finally said, pulling his hand away. “Get some rest, and then perhaps Okwata will let us use his garden.”
Fia examined his face. She didn’t know how old he was—he looked no older than thirty—but he always had an authoritative air about him that made him seem old and wise. His pastel eyes glistened, and he wiped away a tear. She flung her arms around him and pressed her face into his chest.
“Thank you,” he whispered, hugging her back. She felt a few hot tears roll down her cheeks. She couldn’t help it. Maab pulled away and looked down at her. Was he mad it wasn’t him that got to speak to Enne? How was he so calm? He wiped her tears away and smiled. “Go rest. Then we’ll train.”
Fia brushed at more tears as they fell and nodded in response. If she spoke, the tears wouldn’t stop, she knew. Someone had already taken the wingsuit down for her, she realised. Her eyes blurred as she made her way to Maab’s office, and as the door clicked shut behind her she sank to the floor and let the tears flow freely.
Not knowing if Alexander was dead… her stomach was in knots. How do you grieve someone if you don’t know what happened to them? The thought of never seeing him again… she tried counting her breaths, but it was no use. Had he died going through a window? Had he died at Erebus’s hand? Had the earth witches got to him? She played over scenarios and couldn’t push away the image of him lying still. She shoved herself up and paced the room. She couldn’t rest. She knew every time she closed her eyes, he was all she’d see. Lifeless.
A knock sounded at the door. Shit. Fia wiped at her face and puffed out a breath. “Come in.”
“Fia, my child.” Altair reached out to her as soon as he stepped into the office. “My ship arrived earlier. I heard about Arion. I’m so very sorry.” His cloak swung around them both as he pulled her into a tight hug.
“It’s my fault,” she said, sniffing back her tears. “He was the last, and it’s my fault.”
“Of course it isn’t your fault. You did not cause the attack. You did not strike the final blow.” He was quiet for a moment, looking down at her, a frown creasing his brow. “The great winged horse lived for many of our lifetimes. He was treasured throughout Ohinyan, and he will not be forgotten. Come, sit.” He led her to the bench and patted the wood beside him as he sat.
“I don’t know how to do all of this, Altair. I don’t think I can. Not knowing what’s happened to Alexander, if he’s alive or… I can’t focus on anything, and there’s so much to do.” It was true. There was so much that needed to be done. So many people relying on her, she felt the eyes of the crew on her every time she was above deck.
“I know it feels overwhelming, Fia, but we’re all here with you.”
One, two, three. Focusing on her breathing was all she could manage. “It’s just a lot, you know. And I want to be what everyone
expects of me, I want to help. How we choose to go on in difficult times makes a difference, I know—my friends keep reminding me of that. I just wish…”
Altair took her hand. “When my wife died and I was left with our son, a tiny baby who I had no idea how to care for, I took it one day at a time. I told myself, all I can do is get through today. And I told myself that every morning when I woke up. Just get through today. It was all I could do to keep going. And I did. There were difficult days…” he shook his head, “there were many difficult days. But I got through every one of them. And so will you.”
Difficult days, Fia could handle. She’d handled enough of them in her life already. But she hadn’t imagined any of this without Alexander. “Thank you, Altair. I’m so grateful you’re here.”
His face creased as a smile broke across it, his tired old eyes as dark as the pine trees Fia had camped in. “You are not alone in this, Fia. We’re all going to help you see it through.” He looked at her earnestly for a moment before making his way to the door. “Get some rest.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and Fia pulled her blanket off the bench and climbed under the desk to her makeshift bed. Just get through today. She held her hands out in front of her, palms facing and concentrated on the space between them as she moved them in and out with each breath. She visualised a ball of fire spinning between her hands, just a tiny ember no bigger than a marble. Nothing happened. Don’t give up so easily. She kept trying, closing her eyes and imagining the fireball growing bigger. Nothing. She couldn’t concentrate. She couldn’t rest either. She tossed aside the blanket and made her way back up to the deck.
Maab was talking with Osara beside a pile of sacks and barrels. Supplies for the next part of their journey, no doubt. “You’re supposed to be resting,” he said as Fia approached.
“I can’t sleep, too much energy. Training usually solves that.” She forced a smile. It was true, training with Jo was the only thing that had got her through many days in London. Before Sophie died, and after. It was the only thing that drained her enough to sleep. She pictured Jo opening up the gym for the day, welcoming people in with a cheery smile. The thought made her eyes sting. She’d never see her friend again.
“Osara, I’ll return soon.”
Osara nodded at him. Her ash-blonde hair rested in studded braids over her shoulder, and her clothes were similar to Maab’s—leather bracers at her wrists and a metal breastplate across her chest. The Nords always seemed ready for a fight.
Fia led the way, and this time Maab walked beside her as a man. Fewer faces stared at them as they made their way through the stone streets of Djira. The odd Asharian still stared—Fia knew both she and Maab stood out here, her red hair next to his wild looks was enough to make any of the feline faces turn in their direction. But none of the Asharians bared their teeth, this time at least.
Ahrek stood waiting by the door to Okwata’s home as they approached.
“How did you know we were coming?” Fia called out as she and Maab made their way down the tight passageway.
“I have eyes and ears across the city,” Ahrek replied in Asharian. “The portable device is almost ready. Come.” He pushed open the door, and Fia followed him into the darkness, through the dark stone corridors until they stepped through into Ornax.
“I still feel it,” Maab said as they entered the lab.
“The window?” Fia asked. She couldn’t feel anything. She thought she could hear a slight hum, but she wasn’t sure if it was the equipment in Okwata’s lab.
Okwata wheeled his way towards them. “Of course you feel it, there’s no taking the wild out of you, whichever form you walk through in. It’s good to see your human form, Maab.” His smile was bright, his brown eyes creasing at the corners.
“Fia wishes to train. I am simply here to accompany her.” Maab had returned to his usual stoic self, no hint of emotion flickering across his face.
“Of course, please.” He gestured to his garden beyond the glasshouse. “The device is almost ready. Runa and Malachai are due back soon. Perhaps you would like something to train with? Ahrek.” Okwata gestured to somewhere behind him, and Ahrek seemed to know what he was referring to.
Something to train with? Fia hadn’t even thought about it. Exhaustion really is getting to me. The Asharian returned a moment later with two staffs, ornately carved and painted with bright red and green paints. He handed them to Fia and walked back through the window to Ohinyan without uttering another word or casting a glance their way.
“Is he always so… like that?” Fia asked, motioning the staffs in Ahrek’s direction.
Okwata laughed quietly. “He doesn’t care for the heat. But if I so much as whisper, he hears me.”
Maab didn’t seem to care, he was already making his way down to the courtyard.
“Doesn’t the heat bother you?” Fia asked as she handed him a staff. Blue butterflies scattered as they walked under trees and past colourful bushes.
“I will endure it.” He unclipped the plate across his chest, placed it beside the white wall, and swung around to face her.
Fia held her own staff up, ready. She could attack first, but she wanted to see how he moved. She’d seen Maab fight, but only ever as a tiger, never as a man. She had no doubt he’d be just as ruthless.
Maab lunged forwards and their staffs connected with a crack. Fia laughed and pivoted out of the way, dropping low to swipe her staff at his legs, but he was ready and jumped over it.
They both stepped back, circling each other, waiting for the next move.
“Perhaps he’ll let you practice your magic on him,” Okwata said as he made his way down the pathway beside Runa and Malachai.
“Your what?” Runa chirped.
Shit. Fia was too tired to tell them. But she owed them an explanation, all of them. She sighed. A full explanation, this time.
“Fia can do more than just talk with people and creatures.” Okwata positioned himself beside her. “I’m sorry, Fia. They need to hear it.”
Fia couldn’t help but think of Enne’s words. You’ve been lied to by more than one. Okwata was still the only other candidate, except Dante. But they couldn’t have both been lying, could they? She sighed and leaned her weight against her staff as if it were a hiking stick. But then she hadn’t been honest with them, either. She’d felt like a fool for trusting Dante, but now she felt even worse for lying to her friends. She sucked in a breath. “Something happened. Something I didn’t tell any of you because—because of what happened with Oren, and I felt like, like I’d let you all down.”
“Fia. What do you mean? You can tell us, it’s okay.” Runa touched her hand to Fia’s arm, her eyes bright and full of concern.
“After that guy attacked, and he took me to a cave. I did escape with the wingsuit, but he escaped with me, only I didn’t know how to fly it, and he—he just fell away from me.” Her words came quicker as she told the story. “And I was falling, crashing, totally out of control. I fell into a tree and I thought for sure I was going to die; that tree must have cracked half my ribs and cut up my legs but then—an angel rescued me.” She paused to look at them all, four faces staring back at her waiting for her to finish her story.
“He said his name was Dante, that he was a scholar of Alexander’s. He told me Alexander was dead and he—he healed me, with magic. He told me all about the prophecy, about how I have magic and that only the fire mother can rekindle the sun. He even tried to teach me how to practice magic too, but,” she looked at her hands, “honestly, I think it was all a lie. There was something about him, he said he’d grown up away from the other angels.” She chewed at her lip, wondering how to tell them why she’d left Dante behind. Because he could be working for Lorn. Because he could have been a spy.
Runa and Malachai exchanged glances. “What did he look like?” Malachai asked.
“Silver hair, black roots, grey wings, ripped like the rest of you. A white tattoo along his arm and across his chest.”
Fia felt the colour drain from her face. If not a scholar, or an angel known to Runa and Malachai, who was he—and why had he saved her?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Fia
F our faces stared back at her still, but Fia had no answers for them. All she could think about was why Dante had saved her. To take her to Lorn? It didn’t make any sense. She turned away from them and leaned against the wall to look out over the plains. A flock of the emerald birds flew in formation and arced down towards the watering hole.
“Fia.” Runa put a hand on her shoulder. What was there to say? That she should have known better than to trust him? That she shouldn’t have believed anything he said? Despite all of it—how much she’d let them all down, how disappointed she knew they all must have been in her—she clung to one small sliver of hope. Alexander might still be alive.
“Sir. There’s a witch outside, says she’s a friend. She’s injured.” Ahrek had joined them, and he addressed Okwata in Asharian.
Fia whipped around at his words. “A witch? Describe her.”
“Tall, black, braided hair, circlet with a blue sto—”
“It’s Noor.” Fia said it in the common tongue, but she didn’t wait for a response, she ran back to the glasshouse, out of the lab and into Okwata’s house, and tore open the door.
Noor sat in the dirt clutching her side, leaning against the wood of her glider for support.
“Noor, what happened?” Fia began helping her to her feet, just as Runa and Malachai reached them.
“She’s wounded, Mal. Go tell Okwata, help him prepare.” Runa took Noor’s weight and propped her up with an arm around her. Even though Noor towered over Runa, the angel didn’t flinch as she helped her inside the building.
“What happened?” Fia asked again as they took her to Okwata’s lab.