The Eternal Edge Of Aether

by Nicola Claire

  “You’ll be pleased to know,” Marcus says as I finish my meal, “that Noah is fully on board with your plan.”

  “My plan?”

  Marcus shares a look with Sonya.

  “He really is slow,” he says.

  “Told ya so,” she deadpans.

  “My plan?” I say again.

  “You know, the plan to act as Aether’s sword and balance Pyrkagia, therefore, help keep balance in the world?”

  “Oh, that plan,” I say. I hadn’t realised it was an official plan. I was more or less acting on instinct.

  Marcus cocks his head and stares at me.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks.

  I frown at the empty wrapper in my hand. I am not quite one hundred percent, but I will not say that.

  “I’ll be fine,” I say.

  “Sure,” he offers and then delves into the bag he brought into the tent. “So, Noah has been rather helpful.” He proceeds to pull out a large object. A satellite phone, I realise. Then he reaches back inside and pulls out another. Two satellite phones.

  “I see,” I say. But really I don’t.

  Maybe I am a little slow as Sonya says.

  “A show of faith,” Marcus says. “His way of letting you know that he’s on our side.”

  “Is any Alchemist truly on our side?” I comment.

  “I am,” Marcus says with a shrug. “And I think we can trust Noah. He did decapitate the Alchemists’ previous leader.”

  I smile. That had been rather unexpected.

  “So he did,” I say.

  Sonya looks from my teeth baring grin to Marcus’ corresponding teeth baring grin and shudders.

  “There is something really wrong with you two,” she says.

  Marcus places a hand on the human’s shoulder and squeezes.

  “We’re the good guys, Marin,” he says and winks.

  “Whatever,” she mumbles and turns her attention to a still sleeping Nico.

  I look at the phones in Marcus’ hands.

  “And what does the good doctor think he is achieving with those?” I ask.

  “These?” Marcus says, lifting up the two satellite phones. “These, your Surly-and-Snarkiness, are a gift for Aether.”

  For Cassandra?

  And then I let out a shuddering breath.

  My eyes meet Marcus’. I reach for a phone. He hands it to me, a look of understanding gracing his face.

  “Of course, someone has to take one of these babies to her,” he murmurs.

  I stare at the phone for a moment as if it is the answer to all of my prayers.

  “You truly believe we can trust Noah?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I think he would die for Casey.”

  That’s enough for me for now.

  “Then go,” I say. “Take the phone to Cassandra. And tell her…Tell her…”

  Marcus stands and places a hand on my shoulder.

  “You can tell her yourself, your Majesty.”

  Chapter Seven

  Who Was That?

  I climb out of the tent half an hour later, having eaten and freshened myself up as much as I can. The satellite phone is in my hand; I am unsure if I will ever let it go. Marcus has already left. Saying a tearful farewell to Sonya; promising that she will be reunited with Casey soon.

  I hold on to that promise as if he has voiced it to me.

  Pisces turns from his vigilant stance in front of the tent and lets his eyes coast over my body. I stand tall and do not let him see I am still feeling weak. A show of power had been necessary, and from what Marcus has reported, it succeeded to some degree. We have more of Pyrkagia on side, but Mikkos and Leon are still with my mother, and their influence is not to be ignored, either.

  Pisces nods his head to me and returns his attention to the camp at large. Hippolytos jumps up and down on his feet, swinging his arms at his side excitedly.

  “Grandfather was pleased,” he says.

  I stare at him but don't offer a word.

  “You quoted him,” Hippolytos explains.

  I grimace; it had seemed appropriate at the time.

  “Aeras is at your service, your Highness,” he offers, and I suck in a breath of air.

  “Your grandfather is not Rigas,” I say on the exhale.

  “My grandfather has his ways,” is all the shaman’s grandson says.

  I nod my head and accept the offering for what it is.

  “And Nero?” I ask Pisces.

  Pisces scowls at me. He is not in his monstrous form this morning. But he towers over Hippolytos and me easily.

  “My father wishes to see which way the fish will swim,” the Water Prince says. Clearly a Nero saying.

  “He won’t commit until I face my father?” I query.

  Pisces shakes his head. “My Rigas won’t commit until you dethrone your father.”

  It is not entirely unexpected. I had hoped the Nero would side with their closest allies; Aeras. But Aeras’ commitment to my cause is based on a crazy prophet’s word. The Nero Rigas is more circumspect than that.

  Should my father win the challenge, though, balance will not be maintained. Alliances will be forgotten. The world will revert to what it had once been prior to Aetheros’ return and Aether’s sacrifice.

  I can not allow that.

  “Will your Rigas interfere?” I ask.

  Pisces scowls at me.

  “He has honour,” he says.

  “And you, Pisces, Prince of Nero?”

  A slow smile spreads Pisces’ lips, displaying a ragged strip of very sharp teeth.

  “I am at Aether’s service,” he says.

  I nod my head. For now, it’s the best I can do. I won't win the Water King over before the challenge is set, but having his favourite son in our court may be enough to convince him in the end.

  Of course, beating my father in the challenge is likely to convince him, as well.

  It’s likely to convince everyone.

  The weight of what lies ahead hits me hard, and I almost stagger. It has nothing to do with the continued weakness in my legs. I have to win this. I have to win this for Cassandra. But even more importantly, I have to win this challenge for the world.

  I am unsure if a conversation with my father can persuade him. I doubt it, but I must try. If I can reach him, at least the part of him that is still sane; perhaps I can save us the bloodshed. I do not wish to kill my father. It is not something I have ever coveted in the past. The crown was always a distant burden; one I could avoid if I kept my nose clean.

  But then I met Casey. I fell for a Gi. And my careful house of cards came tumbling down around my ears, and my father disowned me.

  An exiled Prince of Pyrkagia. But you know what they say…you can take the Prince out of Pyrkagia, but you can never take Pyrkagia out of the Prince.

  Pyrkagia needs this as much as the world needs stability.

  There is a long list of reasons why I must win this challenge and a corresponding weight on my shoulders to succeed.

  Failure is not an option, but right now I am unsure if success is guaranteed.

  I nod my head to Pisces and then walk out into the camp. Pyrkagia needs to see me.

  I spend an hour greeting my people. Hearing their concerns. Accepting their support when given freely. There are a few among the number who talk wistfully of seeking out the Gi. Earth and Fire. Fire and Earth. We had forgotten what those two Elements together mean.

  It is a start. But a cloud hangs over us all. A dark shadow that blocks out the warmth of the sun. I reassure as many of my people as I can, but I make no promises. If I am to be their King, they must see me as being beyond honest.

  Even if I win this, reunification with the Gi is not certain. Pyrgos lies in ruins. Pyrkagia is broken just as completely. To fix it, we must heal. Would we heal in the Amazon or closer to our home in New Zealand? Pyrgos can be rebuilt.

  But should it?

  So many atrocities.

  I stand at the edge of t
he camp and stare out across the water to Rangitoto Island. The volcano has not stopped rumbling since the End of Days. I am unsure if it is Gi unsettled until Pyrkagia is settled. Or whether this country has changed beyond recognition and there is no chance at all to reverse it.

  If we leave, would New Zealand heal?

  I am aware that Pisces has shadowed me, leaving Hippolytos at the tent guarding our still unconscious team. I am thankful for that small service. Pisces’ presence sends a message to the Nero. I cannot allow hubris to undermine what that brings.

  And I am still weak.

  I stare down at the satellite phone in my hand and then dial the number Noah the Alchemist has programmed into the machine.

  It rings twice before she answers. Once for her to draw a startled breath. Twice for her to be relieved. I close my eyes as Casey’s voice sounds out over the airwaves.

  “Theo,” she says.

  “Oraia,” I manage to reply.

  “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

  I cannot speak. I have a lump the size of Greece inside my throat. My heart is beating mercilessly. I squeeze the satellite phone’s casing, hearing it crack. It takes an enormous amount of effort to unfurl my fingers. To breathe.

  “It’s OK,” she says. “I’m OK,” she whispers. And then she tells me about the trees and the birds and the fish in a newly recreated Amazon River. And I close my eyes, and I listen to her beautiful voice, and I see myself at her side, looking out on the vastness of the Amazon. The Amazon as it will one day again be.

  “You are magnificent,” I eventually say.

  “I have help,” she admits. “Rhea has become a godsend. I don’t know what I would do without her guidance. She carries a bow and arrow everywhere she goes,” she adds, sounding bemused by the notion. “A true Amazonian.”

  She has a guard. I cannot explain how that eases my worry.

  “And Marcus is there?” I ask. Of course he is there, she has the satellite phone.

  Casey laughs. And it’s light and free and lifts me up from the ground and lets me float above everything.

  For a brief moment in time, my worries are forgotten. My Thisavros is happy.

  “He’s teaching the hunters to play soccer with an enormous Kapok seed for a ball. It’s hilarious.”

  I smile and stare out to sea.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  “For what, Oraia?”

  “For sending him to me.”

  “He is doing me a service,” I say.

  She huffs out a breath of air.

  “I know you’re facing a deadly challenge,” she whispers as if voicing the words louder would tempt fate somehow. “I know you need people you can trust around you right now.”

  “Perhaps I do not trust Marcus,” I offer to tease.

  “Yeah. That's it,” she says, clearly not believing me.

  “He is where I need him to be,” I say.

  Silence and then. “We’re OK, Theo.” Her and the baby.

  I close my eyes and just breathe.

  “I am coming to you, Oraia,” I say. And my mind is made up.

  Pyrkagia will thrive in the Amazon. The Pyrgos will rot alongside the corpse of my father.

  New Zealand was once home to me. But my home is now with Casey.

  “I am coming to you,” I repeat.

  She says nothing, knowing as I know that what lies ahead could be the death of me. For a long while, we just listen to each other breathe.

  And then Pisces grumbles inaudibly behind me, and I am forced to turn my attention to New Zealand.

  “What was that?” Casey says.

  I turn and look over my shoulder, seeing Melita; bruised, battered, robes torn, blood marring the white starkly. She calls my name, then collapses. Pisces just manages to catch her before she hits the dirt at her feet.

  “Who was that?” Casey demands.

  It would be amusing if it weren't so tragic.

  My mother's first move. And I must now choose how to answer.

  I tell Casey I’ll call her back, and then I walk toward the Queen’s offering.

  Chapter Eight

  At His Peril

  Melita has been brutalised. I am sick with revulsion at my family. Pyrkagia burns within me in a constant simmering of rage. The camp is in stasis, aware that something horrific has happened, something that has changed the battlefield.

  Alliances I have so recently won are now, once again, uncertain of their allegiance. Mikkos and Leon are stirring trouble in the background, I do not know how, but they are succeeding. Whispers run like wildfire through Pyrkagia.

  The Nero King has moved his people to another part of Auckland City.

  Aeras have distanced themselves mentally.

  Noah tends to Melita inside our tent. Thankfully, Aktor, Nico and Isadora have woken and can show their faces at a time when we are very much needed to be seen.

  No one knows for certain what has happened, but the activity around our tent has placed a spotlight on my team.

  My mother soothes the masses quietly, the sympathetic Queen, while I stand before a tent that houses the most heinous crime an Athanatos can commit.

  My rage fuels everybody.

  The Council meeting has been postponed indefinitely.

  The Right of Rule is therefore delayed, also.

  It only adds fuel to the flames. Scorching everything.

  I appear unstable; I know this. And yet I am unable to reconcile what has happened to Melita with what I know of my mother. What I have wanted to believe of my mother.

  This changes everything.

  “Theodoros,” Isadora says at my side. “You need to rein it in.”

  “Don’t,” I say. “Do not ask that of me.”

  I am unable to stop the rage.

  “I’m not saying a response is unnecessary.”

  “I should hope not.”

  “I’m just saying there is more at stake than this.”

  I turn and look down at my Second.

  “You cannot seriously believe that,” I growl.

  “Theo,” Dora pleads. Even her unusually soft voice does not reach me. “This is what they want.”

  Of course it is. That is why they have done it. But can’t Dora see that it was done because of me? Because of my past association with Melita. Had we not had a relationship, she would not have been targeted. Cassandra is not here, so they went for the next best thing.

  They could have chosen Isadora, but Isadora can protect herself. They would not have thought to choose Sonya. She is human, and as such to an Ekmetalleftis she means nothing.

  Thankfully, they do not realise that Sonya is precious to Casey and therefore precious to me.

  I asked Nico to watch the human closely. It had been unnecessary. But that did not stop me from asking. I almost asked Hippolytos to take her to Casey. But Sonya insisted on being in the tent with Noah.

  A human protecting an Athanatos from an Alchemist.

  It should mean something.

  Instead, all I can feel is rage.

  “They will pay for this,” I say.

  “Yes,” Nico agrees.

  “They will pay,” Aktor announces.

  Isadora just shakes her head at me.

  “You are losing support as we speak,” she advises.

  “Do you think support is at the forefront of my mind right now?” I almost yell at her.

  “I do not think much is at the forefront of your mind right now,” she snaps back at me.

  We stare at each other for a good minute, and then I turn my back to her and stare at the tent resolutely.

  “Hip,” I hear Isadora say. “I need you.”

  “Of course,” the Areas says.

  I do not hear the rest of their conversation as they walk some distance away.

  The hours pass, the sun begins to slide behind Rangitoto. I have worn a track in the dirt in front of the tent with my pacing. Finally, Noah emerges, leaving Sonya inside the tent with Melita.

&n
bsp; I pounce on the Alchemist before he has a chance to scrub his face.

  “How is she?” I demand.

  “Recovering.” He arches a brow at my responding growl. “She is immortal, your Highness. Her wounds are healing swiftly.”

  “Her physical wounds,” I say.

  The doctor sighs.

  “Can I talk to her?” I ask.

  “She’s sleeping. And I suggest she remain undisturbed until tomorrow, at least. Miss Marin has agreed to stay with her. She has everything she needs.”

  “Did Melita say who did this to her?” I demand.

  Noah looks up at me, holds my fierce gaze.

  “She did not say.”

  “Did she say anything?” I press.

  The look that crosses his face is harrowing.

  “She cried,” he says. “That was all she was capable of doing.”

  For a moment I am speechless. Melita is not a warrior; never has been. But a reminder of her fragile state of mind almost crushes me.

  This could have been Casey.

  A steely resolve takes over my mind and body. I straighten and stare above Noah’s head.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” I say.

  He looks at me for a moment longer and then dips his head and walks away.

  “Theo?” Nico calls.

  “I wish to speak with my mother,” I say.

  “Is that wise?” Aktor offers.

  “Ignoring her is unwise.” I turn to Nico. “Set it up,” I say.

  He nods his head; the order received. And walks away.

  “This won't be resolved in one conversation,” Aktor advises.

  “It won't be resolved if we do nothing either.”

  “And the people?”

  I glance out across the camp. My mother has already got her hooks into them; I can see it. They stare at me with various looks of fear on their faces. She cannot fight my status as heir. The exile is moot now Pyrkagia is broken. The End of Days has helped bring about that.

  Something I had not thought I would be thankful for.

  But she is able to fight my state of mind. My suitability to be a King to these people.

  They see someone who is barely in control of their Pyrkagia. They see someone who rages.

  They see my father in me.