by Jen Williams
‘Get away from me, it’s me he wants to kill,’ she said quickly. ‘He might even forget you’re here if you can get out of its line of sight.’
Terin took hold of the hand pushing him away and opened his mouth to say something, but the huge golden figure was raising its right fist into the air, blotting out the sun.
‘Terin, get away!’
Abruptly the fist came whistling down, and Devinia raised her hands over her head, knowing it was pointless but unable to disobey the reflex. The fist crashed into the water next to them, sending up a huge spout of water, that then fell and soaked them both. Devinia gasped, blinking water out of her eyes, but the Dawning Man was already turning away. She braced her legs as fierce waves lapped at them, threatening to push her over. Next to her, Terin was wiping water from his face with a bemused expression.
‘I could kill you all, at any time,’ Kellan was saying on the deck of the Dragon’s Maw. He seemed to be addressing the whole crew, but his eyes were trained on the Banshee. ‘Remember that. Remember it well.’
With that he turned away, heading back below decks, whilst the Dawning Man stood dormant once more.
56
Hunting was going surprisingly well.
The small dragon-kin were noisy and undisciplined, tending to swarm on prey as soon as it came into sight, and they had lost several meals because of it. But often their sheer numbers would win, particularly against flightless animals too surprised to move quickly. Once they had brought their prey down they would fall on it immediately, tearing the flesh to pieces so swiftly that it was often little more than a red stain on the grass by the time Ephemeral saw it. Inky, the dragon-kin with the dark splotches over her forehead and snout, was always in the midst of the action, jaws snapping eagerly. She was already slightly bigger than her siblings, and her wings were unfurled now, although she had yet to use them. They were all so much bigger than they had been. The fresh meat was filling them with strength, Ephemeral was sure of it.
They hunted, and they kept moving, heading always towards the lagoon. Even so, they did not travel as quickly as Ephemeral wanted. For a few hours they would make good progress, and then a beast would wander across their paths and they would all be lost to the hunting fever for a time – Ephemeral included. She would come back to herself with a guilty start, blood on her hands and on her tongue, the pure shining web of her connection to the kin fading as the hunting fever passed, and then she would be awash with guilt.
Terin, Terin, Terin, she reminded herself, his name like a talisman against the desires that might wash her away. It was like being with her sisters again, but with none of the discordance that had eventually split them. There was just a shared purpose, a singing in the blood, and the knowledge that they hunted to feed – not, as it had been, for the sheer pleasure of destroying what was whole and untainted. Despite their shapes, there was nothing of Y’Ruen in these young souls, and for that Ephemeral was grateful.
‘We’ll rest here, Inky.’
The sun had set, filling the spaces between the trees with red light and then deepening shadows. They were not far now, she told herself. They would sleep tonight, and be refreshed enough to travel quickly, arriving at the lagoon late the next day.
Ephemeral found a space at the foot of a tree where the foliage formed a reasonably soft mat and made herself as comfortable as she could. The dragon-kin gathered in round her, finding their own spaces and pressing their bodies close together; for comfort rather than warmth. Sensing the comfortable silver web that was their joint presence – already some of them edging towards sleep – Ephemeral let herself relax. All around her, the island was alive, bright with magic, and, nearby, Terin shared the same darkness.
Ephemeral dreamed. She stood in front of a great ring of concentric stones covered in dusty spider webs. It was dusk, and the sky was full of lavender light, while the stones seemed to hum with a power she didn’t understand. There was something at the heart of them, something dangerous. She wanted to climb the stones and look at it, but at the same time fear clutched at her heart. There was a flash of lightning from the clear sky and suddenly there was a tall figure on the steps, his broad shoulders covered in a ragged cloak, his chin thick with a black beard. Ephemeral’s heart leapt at the sight of him, and she made to move towards him when a great dark shadow passed over them both. She knew the shape of the shadow like she knew her own name, but when she looked up there was no dragon in the sky.
‘It’s all right, Ephemeral, she’s not here,’ said Sebastian. ‘You don’t have to worry about her any more.’
His eyes were kind and blue, as they always had been. The shadow passed over them again, and despite his words Ephemeral looked up for a second time, expecting to see their death circling in the sky, but there was nothing. When she looked back, Sebastian was gone, and her heart was wrought with the worst pain she had ever experienced. She knew with a terrible cold certainty that she wouldn’t see him again – it didn’t matter that this was a dream, the truth of it sang through every vein. Sebastian was gone where she could never follow.
She awoke in the dark, her heart hammering in her chest. The night felt cold and dangerous, and there was an alien wetness on her cheeks. Ephemeral curled in on herself and sought out the minds of the dragon-kin, looking for some small comfort, any comfort at all.
57
‘I’m not even certain I could recreate it again at will.’
Selsye had taken Frith to a great, draughty hall in the centre of Lan-Hellis. It was the tidiest place he had seen so far; the floors had been swept and polished, and the walls were hung with tapestries and paintings that were well cared for. There were low wooden tables with glass cases, and inside these were various items displayed on cream silk. On a bench at the far end, Joah was busily arranging a selection of objects in a row.
‘Try not to worry about it too much,’ said Selsye. Her blond hair was pushed back with a green kerchief. ‘These are just the first of our experiments to try and gauge the range of this magic of yours. And its effects. No pressure here, Lord Frith, only curiosity.’ She grinned at him sunnily. Frith grimaced.
‘It also seemed to have a debilitating effect on me,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I passed out after I used it in Krete, and in the carapacer. It took me some hours to come around.’
‘And we shall be very careful indeed. Xinian gets very annoyed if I knock any guests unconscious. How’s it coming, Joah?’
‘Nearly there.’
Frith looked around for something to distract himself. Over to the right there were a number of larger items on display – a set of armour that looked as though it had been made for a giant, a great curling snakeskin, as wide as his own body at its thickest part and dotted with shimmering ruby scales. And—
‘What, by all the gods, is that?’
Selsye looked up and broke into a grin. ‘Monstrous, isn’t it? And “by all the gods” is right. Lord Frith, meet Tia’mast, a god who lived long before this current crop were a twinkle in anyone’s eye.’
It was a giant reptilian skull, or at least part of one. It filled an entire corner of the hall by itself, raised up on a low plateau of dark wood. It didn’t appear to be made of bone, but of a green crystal, just like the Heart-Stone. He could see the smooth crease of its long snout, the gaping section of the eye socket, and the top half of the right side of its jaw. When it was whole, Frith guessed, it would be about twice the size of Y’Ruen’s head, and she had been big enough to swallow a man without having to bite off any bits. The teeth were each as long as the length of Frith’s arm, from middle finger to elbow. Tia’mast must have been mighty indeed.
‘A dragon. How can you have the skull of a god?’
‘Oh, it was excavated from a quarry in Onwai, long before my time I’m afraid. It’s been at Lan-Hellis for centuries. I have to admit, I barely notice it any more but I suppose it is quite striking. On festival nights the new students tie brightly coloured bows around his teeth.’ Selsye cleared her
throat. ‘I suppose that isn’t very respectful, but high spirits and that. Joah?’
‘All ready.’
Reluctantly, Frith turned away from the giant skull fragment. On the bench Joah had arranged several pieces of fruit, a loaf of bread, and a few other objects that Frith didn’t recognise.
‘Lord Frith,’ Joah gave him a nod that was almost a bow, ‘what I propose is starting with this apple here. See if you can push it, as you did with the rubble and the dragon’s spawn.’
Frith frowned. It felt ludicrous to be trying this here, particularly with Joah Demonsworn looking on. Every time he caught sight of the man he felt a surge of anger, and it was getting harder and harder to contain. He fought it down, and concentrated on Selsye instead, who was nodding encouragingly.
‘Fine.’ He closed his eyes, trying to remember what the magic had felt like. It didn’t boil in his chest like the Edenier had, but surged throughout his entire body. He had felt it in every nerve ending. He reached for that feeling, trying to summon it through memory alone, but there was nothing. He opened his eyes.
‘This is a waste of my time.’
‘Please, Lord Frith, you must have patience.’ Selsye’s face was solemn now. ‘There is plenty of time, no need to rush.’
Frith scowled. He pictured again the instances when the magic had come to life. The first time had been by the wall, when Res’ni had threatened to bring the stonework down on them. A chip of stone had struck Wydrin on the temple and cut her skin there. He had seen her blood, and then everything around him had just stopped. Likewise, on the carapacer, Wydrin had been forced to the floor, a monster about to rip out her throat. The sense of losing her had been so clear, so sharp. The power had lit up inside him at the very thought of it. And now he thought that there had been another occasion too; on the rotting ship when the flying lizards attacked, he had pushed there too, and the deck had shifted. Had he performed this magic then without realising it? He supposed it was possible. It was his will that was the key – not the mages’ words, and not the magic in the world around him. It was his will.
Frith held out his hand to the apple on the bench. He took a slow deep breath and willed the rest of the world away, concentrating only on the apple. Everything else could just stop.
He thought he heard Selsye murmur something next to him, but then she seemed to fade, as did Joah. The hall grew dim, with only the apple remaining as a bright, lively thing. He could feel the reality of it, the solid flesh ripe with juices, so perfectly itself in this place and time. He could change that.
Frith pushed the apple. His body tingled all over and as he watched, the apple’s skin turned brown and blistered, and then as the flesh inside rotted away it collapsed. He pulled back in shock, but not before the fruit sank down onto the bench in an oozing pile.
‘Oh my goodness!’
Frith stumbled, his head spinning, and a strong hand grabbed hold of his arm. In a daze he watched as Selsye ran to the bench, and poked at the mess that had once been an apple.
‘You did it.’ She turned back to him with an expression of amazement. ‘You aged the apple in front of our eyes. And it was just as Xinian described – you glowed with an inner light.’
‘This is not Edenier.’ With a start Frith realised that the hand supporting his arm belonged to Joah. He shook him off abruptly and stepped away, willing his legs to hold him. Joah gave him a distracted look, then continued. ‘And it involves no crafting, so it’s not Edeian. A combination of the two, perhaps?’
Selsye nodded thoughtfully. ‘That could well be the case. But I have never heard of such a combination. Lord Frith, do you think you could manage a few more demonstrations for us?’
Frith swallowed hard. There was already a deep fatigue in his bones and he longed for a hot bath and a few hours’ sleep, but the sense of satisfaction when he had pushed the apple through time had been sweet. He was eager to feel it again.
‘I will stay close to you,’ said Joah. ‘I will not let you fall.’
‘I will be fine,’ said Frith, not quite able to disguise the edge in his voice. ‘I do not require your assistance.’
Over the next hour Frith successfully shrivelled two more apples, a peach and a potato, and turned the loaf of bread black with mould. At the end of it he felt exhausted, but exhilarated. It was true, then – magic had not completely forsaken him, despite the Edenier trap.
‘Well, we have successfully reduced the kitchen’s fruit supply,’ said Selsye. She was gently tossing the shrivelled potato from one hand to another. ‘Lord Frith, I understand that you are a private person, but is there anything you can tell us that might aid our understanding? You are obviously a naturally talented Edeian crafter, but I understand you told Xinian that you were once a mage, but that you aren’t any longer?’
Joah looked at him in surprise, his brown eyes concerned. ‘How is that even possible?’
I did it to destroy you, thought Frith. I did it to stop the monster you eventually became.
‘That is private,’ said Frith. ‘I would rather not talk about it.’
‘But Lord Frith,’ started Selsye, ‘if we are to figure this out, we must be in possession of all the facts—’
‘Try this one now,’ said Joah. He had walked over to the bench and picked up a small stone object. ‘I want you to try pulling this time. You’ve pushed these others forwards. Can you do the reverse?’
Frith bunched his shoulders. He was tired, he wanted to be away from these people. He wanted to be with Wydrin. ‘What is it?’ he asked irritably.
‘It’s a relic,’ said Joah, affably enough. ‘As for what it truly is, perhaps with your help we can find out. Pull, remember.’
Selsye shrugged. Frith closed his eyes, and evened out his breathing. Once this was done, he would go back to their room and await her there. He wouldn’t have to speak to anyone.
The room grew still. He looked at the object, seeing it properly for the first time. It was a vague lump of reddish rock, obviously deeply carved once but now smoothed and worn away by time. He stilled the room, felt it grow dim, and pulled the rock backwards. The sensation was slightly different, but the satisfaction the same: before his eyes the anonymous rock began to bulge and grow, seeping into a shape he had been unable to guess at. In seconds he could see that it was a rough statuette of a woman, her breasts and stomach exaggerated in their fullness. Golden seeds popped into existence on her brow, a tiny delicate crown, and in her arms, a horn spilling with corn. This was what it had been hundreds of years ago, before time had eroded her away, and he had restored that.
He gasped, and the room popped back into reality. Despite the gloom it hurt his eyes. Joah and Selsye were both crowding around the little statuette, and Frith leaned against the nearest table, trying to regain his strength.
‘It’s such a beautiful little thing!’ cried Selsye. ‘And it depicts Queen Aliyah of Pathania, if I’m not mistaken. Crops sprouting from a horn were always her motif. Extraordinary!’
Joah turned to look at Frith, a look of frank amazement in his eyes. And something else too. Something more familiar. ‘I didn’t believe you’d really be able to do it, but you did, brother mage. Imagine, imagine what we can learn from this.’
Frith leaned heavily against the table, too tired to speak. What we can learn, indeed.
58
Y’Gria had invited them to dinner.
Sebastian entered the giant throne room cautiously, with Oster following on behind. Where previously there had been empty space there was now a long table of shining red wood, set with glittering silverware. There were spaces for five diners, and there were several elegant bottles of a pale golden wine, but no food as yet. Y’Gria herself stood by the table, a welcoming smile on her face. Her green hair was pulled up on top of her head and secured with a net of golden wire, and she wore a sheer white dress, embroidered at the hem and the throat with a repeating spiral pattern, like the ram’s horns that curled at her temples.
‘Oste
r, it is good to see you,’ she said evenly. ‘Are you enjoying the gardens?’
‘They are extraordinary,’ he replied. The young god looked as nervous as Sebastian felt, and he walked around the table, putting it between himself and Y’Gria. ‘They remind me of—’
‘Of Euriale?’ Y’Gria nodded, and gestured to the table. ‘Please, have a seat, little brother. It’s true, I’ve taken many plants from our island home. There is something comforting about it, don’t you think?’
Oster sat down at the far end of the table. When Sebastian remained standing, Oster glanced up, frowning, before turning his attention back to Y’Gria.
‘Should Sebastian sit also?’
Y’Gria gave him the barest glance, as if she had only just remembered he was there. ‘Of course. He is your friend, little brother, so he is welcome here.’
Sebastian sat to Oster’s right, and without waiting to be asked, picked up a bottle of the golden wine and poured himself a glass. The wine of the gods smelled like a late summer night.
‘You remember Euriale, then?’ he said, taking a small amount of satisfaction from the twitch of irritation that moved across Y’Gria’s face. ‘The Spinner told us that Euriale was the cradle of the gods. Where you are all born.’
‘I have no interest in answering your questions, Sebastian Carverson,’ she said sharply.
Sebastian put the glass down and met her eye levelly. ‘I do not mean to upset you, my lady.’
‘I do wish to know about Euriale though,’ said Oster. He leaned forward in his chair. ‘I want to know about everything. The Spinner wasn’t able to tell me.’
