Sunstone

by Freya Robertson

  He stopped in front of the Prince, whose face lit with relief at the sight of him. “Ready for bed?” Demitto asked. He had wondered if Tahir would be fearful to think his evening was already over, but the Prince nodded eagerly and rose to join him.

  Nobody took any notice of the three of them and the dog as they made their way along the edge of the hall and exited the room. And that, Demitto thought, was probably the saddest thing of all.

  Outside, however, Tahir seemed to take the first deep breath he’d had all night. “At last,” the Prince murmured, stretching up his arms.

  “I am sorry for that,” Demitto muttered, leading them through the palace grounds. Trimmed hedges and borders filled with limp flowers could not distract him from the smoking mountain that reared behind the spires of the palace. He tore his eyes away and instead smiled at Tahir. “You deserve so much more.”

  “It is of no concern,” Tahir said, looking down and stopping to pick a flower. “I am just glad it is over.”

  Demitto couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

  They approached the palace gates leading to the town, and Tahir glanced to the right at the high wooden fence that Demitto had told him earlier encircled the Arbor. “I do not suppose we could stop and see it?” he asked quietly.

  Demitto shook his head. “I am sorry. The Selected are forbidden to visit the Arbor before the Veriditas.”

  Tahir nodded, and they walked on.

  Demitto knew they should have called for a royal carriage to take them to the Nest, but the city was in celebration mode and he thought it would be nice for the boy to spend his last evening outside. Besides which, the heat was unbearable, and he thought he might pass out if he had to sit in a carriage in his armour. He glanced over at Catena, seeing how the strands of hair that had escaped the knot at the nape of her neck curled from the heat, and how her skin was flushed pink. A tenderness he had not expected swept over him. None of them had asked for this. If given the choice, they would all have chosen a different future.

  They walked through the streets, and although Tahir wasn’t hungry, Demitto bought him a candied apple to nibble, and Catena bought him a stuffed toy dog that looked like Atavus.

  Tahir looked up at Demitto. “I would like him to be there tomorrow.”

  Demitto hesitated, knowing the King didn’t like animals at the ceremony, but he did not have the heart to tell the Prince that. “Of course,” he said, promising himself that he would find a way to smuggle the dog in.

  He had wondered if the people in the streets would recognise them from the procession into the city, but oddly it was as if the three of them were invisible as they walked back to the Nest. Even though he still wore his ceremonial armour, and all of them wore clothes clearly too fancy for them to be ordinary citizens, they passed through the throng untouched, and it wasn’t long before the crowds thinned out and the walls of the Nest rose before them.

  Demitto glanced to the right of the complex, noting the flurry of activity outside the mouth of the Cavus as the Nox Aves carried out last-minute preparations. Catena looked over too; she caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, but he gave a little shake of his head and was relieved when she said nothing.

  The guard on the gate recognised them and let them in, surprise flitting across his features at the realisation that they had walked back alone.

  It was nearly dark, the courtyard lit by lanterns, and as they approached the buildings and Manifred came out to welcome them, it obviously hit Tahir for the first time that this would be his last night on Anguis, because he went completely white and began to shake.

  Manifred smiled, though, and several other members of the Nox Aves came out, and together they took Tahir to his room, gave him some mulled wine to calm him, helped him out of his clothes, dressed him in a cool linen gown, and put him to bed.

  At this point, the Nox Aves standing around the bed bowed their heads, and Manifred spoke a prayer. Demitto dipped his head, but he could not take his eyes from the boy’s face. Tahir blinked rapidly, his golden eyes wide, the pulse racing his throat, and that made up Demitto’s mind. He had hoped to spend the last night alone with Catena, but at that moment he knew he could not leave the boy.

  Manifred and the Nox Aves withdrew, but Demitto continued to talk about the day as he unbuckled his armour, about how fat the King was, about how hot it had become, and how Atavus’s breath smelled from the meaty bones he’d eaten. Catena took the hint and chatted too, and after they’d tidied away Tahir’s clothes and there was nothing more to do, they removed their own clothing leaving on just their linen undershirts and climbed onto the bed with the Prince, one on either side. Atavus leapt up onto the bed and lay across Tahir’s feet.

  Catena talked about Harlton, about the river threading through the city, about the smell of metal in the air and the way the seagulls dipped over the castle, and she stroked Tahir’s dark hair as she talked, bending occasionally to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. Tahir continued to shake, however, and as Catena noticed his distress her voice petered out as emotion overwhelmed her too, so Demitto took over.

  As he talked, he made up a future for Tahir. He spoke of what adventures the boy would have, of the battles he’d fight, the warriors he’d best, the dragons he’d defeat, and how one day he’d find his one true love. He talked about the places he’d visit – the hills of Wulfengar’s highlands, the patchwork quilt of Laxonian fields, the glittering blue of the sea off Hanaire’s coast, the forests of Komis with their avenues of carved trees. He spoke of a life of beauty, of excitement, of love and of triumph. He made him seem a hero, and Tahir listened with glistening eyes.

  Demitto knew he had a talent for storytelling, and as the lanterns were extinguished outside and their room faded into darkness with the only light coming from a lone candle on the table, he let his voice soothe the troubled prince until finally, late into the night, the boy’s eyelids drooped.

  He just thought Tahir had dozed off when the boy whispered, “Demitto? Do not leave me.”

  His throat tightened. “Never, young prince. I will be there until the end, I swear.”

  Tahir’s eyes closed.

  Demitto began to hum a song he remembered from his childhood: an old hymn about the Arbor that his mother used to sing to him. He sang all five verses softly, emotions stirring within him at the memory of the days when he had thought the whole world consisted of his parents and the house by the lake.

  By the time he’d finished, Catena’s cheeks were wet, and Tahir finally slept.

  “You have magic in your voice,” she whispered, wiping away the tears with a hand.

  He reached across the sleeping prince and brushed a few she’d missed with his fingers. “Do not cry.”

  “I cannot help it. It is a terrible crime.” She looked down at Tahir. “He does not deserve to die.”

  “It is his destiny,” he said simply.

  “But…”

  “Catena. You do not rail against the setting of the sun or the leaves that fall from the tree in The Falling.”

  She frowned at the analogy. “It is not the same.”

  “It is the same.”

  Her green eyes shone in the candlelight. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “I do not know.” And he didn’t – he was not a scholar. All he knew was that the events of the following day were as inevitable as the sunrise. But something within him – something as magical as the night had turned out to be – urged him to say, “It is all a cycle, Cat. Life and death. The fools in the palace understand nothing, but the Nox Aves know. At this moment in time, Tahir is the most important person in the world. He stands at the centre of the wheel of fate, and he holds the future of the whole of Anguis in his hands.”

  “And what of us?” she whispered. “Tell me my fate, Demitto.”

  He hesitated. Manifred had sworn him to secrecy, had instructed him never to share his knowledge of what was to come.

  But it was the night of nights, and Catena was
scared, and he wanted to comfort her.

  He reached out a hand and – to her obvious surprise – rested it on her belly.

  “This is your future,” he said. “As one life ends, another begins, sweet Cat.”

  And while the Prince slept, Demitto linked their fingers, and told her everything.

  III

  Geve clenched his fists, anger rising within him and making it difficult for him to hold back from knocking Josse flat on his back.

  “We are not leaving her!” he yelled.

  Josse glared at him. “Sarra’s overactive imagination has led us away from our home to this terrible place. It is her fault we are here. We do not even know if we can get back to the Embers yet. We could be lost here forever!”

  “Then what is wrong with spending another day to persuade her to come with us?” Geve snapped.

  “Why should we? She clearly does not want to come with us. She wants to be alone. So let us leave her alone!”

  Geve opened his mouth to retaliate, but Comminor cut him off.

  “We stay together,” the Chief Select said flatly, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “There is nothing else to say.”

  For once, however, the usually obedient Josse stood his ground. “This is foolishness.” He gestured out at the scorched landscape. They had all watched the firebird swoop across the barren land, and Geve’s heart had risen in his throat as he’d seen it pass so close to Sarra that he was sure he saw her hair glow scarlet. Josse’s face now reflected his fear. “Why should I risk my life for her?”

  Geve looked down at the scene. They could just see Sarra in the distance. She had stopped walking and appeared to be lying on the ground. Geve wasn’t sure if she was injured or just tired, but his heart went out to her to think of her in pain and alone.

  He wanted to beg the others to help her, but deep down he could understand why they felt like that. She hadn’t lied – she had led them to the Surface. But what was the point of it all when the world was dead? Why had they been led to this place? What was the point?

  Still, a tiny part of him believed in her. There was something about her, something special that he couldn’t define. Yes, he loved her, but it wasn’t just that. Comminor could see it, and he thought the other members of the Veris could too. They had followed her unquestioningly, as if an inner instinct had convinced them she was telling the truth. And he couldn’t just stop now, even though despair kept threatening to overwhelm him whenever he looked out and saw burnt rock instead of grass.

  “Well I am going down there,” he said, picking up his bag. “I understand if you do not wish to follow. But on the small chance that it is not all over yet, I am willing to give her one last try.”

  He turned and walked over to the lip of the room, climbed over, and began to descend the mountain.

  A moment later, Comminor slid down beside him, and the two of them began walking together.

  When he looked over his shoulder, his throat tightened at the sight of everyone else following not far behind.

  They slipped and skidded down the steep slope on the loose stones, and before long his skin became streaked with ash and dirt. He glanced across at Comminor, silent and solid beside him, and smiled wryly at the sight of the older man’s face streaked with black. He wanted to hate Comminor, but in truth he was just thankful he’d backed him up. Although Geve was jealous of the other man’s relationship with Sarra, at that moment he just wanted her safe, and the more people who could help with that, the better.

  It took them a long time to reach her, and by then the sun had obviously risen, even though all it did was lighten the red fog that hung in the air. Geve eyes – used to a lifetime of semi-darkness in the Embers – watered continuously, and when he looked around at the others, he saw their soot-marked faces also streaked with tears. Everyone looked exhausted, but they all pressed on, presumably filled with the same sense of determination he himself felt.

  The slope began to level out, and he and Comminor picked up speed and almost ran the final mile or so, eager to get to the prone form of Sarra ahead of them. They ran up to her, chests heaving, and dropped to her side, and Geve lifted her limp body into his arms. Her hair stuck to her damp skin, and he tried to smooth it away from her forehead, although all he succeeded in doing was smearing the black on her face even more.

  “Sarra?” He patted her cheek lightly, panic filling him as she didn’t stir. “Sarra?”

  She jerked then, and her eyes opened and she looked up at him. She blinked a few times, and then her mouth curved. “Geve?”

  “It is me.”

  She looked around, saw Comminor on the other side of her, then tried to look past him. “Where is he?”

  “Who, my darling?”

  Her eyes came back to him. “Help me up.”

  He lifted her to a sitting position, watching as she looked around for someone. But all she said was, “It does not matter.”

  The others arrived, dropping to the ground around her.

  “Are you all right?” Amabil asked, resting a hand on Sarra’s swollen stomach.

  “I think it has begun,” Sarra said. “The pains are regular and close together now.”

  Geve exchanged a glance with Comminor. If she were in labour, that changed everything. Now they had to get her to safety.

  “Listen, we are going to try to think of a way to get you back to the Broken Room,” he said. He looked around. “Maybe if we scavenge for wood or anything else that could be used as a stretcher, we could–”

  “I am not going,” Sarra said.

  Comminor took her hand in his. “You cannot have your baby here, Sarra. It is too dangerous. The firebird might come back, and other Incendi could appear at any moment.” As if illustrating his words, a spurt of flame erupted from the ground not far away from them, making them all jump and filling the air with an even more intense heat.

  “I am not going,” she said again. She would have added more words, but at that moment another contraction began, and she gripped Geve’s hand hard as she rode out the pain.

  Panic filled him. He knew nothing about childbirth at the best of times, but even he knew this was not the place to bring a baby into the world. “Sarra, please. I will carry you…”

  The contraction released its grip on her, and she lay back, exhausted. But still she shook her head. “I have to stay. I do not expect you to stay with me, though.”

  “I cannot leave you,” he said, near to tears. It had been such a long journey, both literally and metaphorically, from meeting Nele, to forming the Veris, to finding out Sarra was also having the dreams, to leaving the Embers. He could not bring himself to abandon her, but equally the thought of staying out in the burnt wilderness terrified him.

  Next to him, however, the women were already getting organised.

  “Take out all your blankets,” Amabil instructed, “and we’ll make a bed for her.”

  Betune lifted the strap of her bag over her head and extracted her blanket, gathered the blankets from the others as they unpacked, and with Paronel began to lay them out in a rectangle to soften the ground. Comminor and Nele formed clothing wrapped in a blanket into a makeshift pillow, and then they moved her onto the ‘bed’. Josse and Viel took all the food and began to discuss how much they should ration and how long it could last.

  Choked at the fact that in spite of their misgivings and their own fear, everyone had decided they were going to support Sarra, Geve sat cross-legged beside her and took her hand. “We are all here for you,” he said. “I will not leave you. I promise.”

  She bit her lip and her eyes glistened as she glanced around at them all. “I am so sorry. But I cannot explain. I have to…” Her words faded out as another contraction overtook her.

  Geve saw the women exchange glances and knew it meant things were speeding up. It wasn’t really surprising considering the speed with which her pregnancy had developed. Her hand crushed his, but he bore the discomfort and spoke soothing words as he
encouraged her to ride it out. Betune moistened a cloth with a tiny amount of their precious water, and he used it to wipe her face and cool her brow.

  She sank back, breathing more regularly as the pain eased. A tear rolled down her face. “I do not think I can do this.”

  “Of course you can. We will all help you.”

  “You are right – he should not be born here.” She looked around at the blackened landscape. “This is a place of death.”

  “Not anymore,” he said firmly.

  “This was meant to be,” Comminor said. He stood a few feet away, looking out across the broken rocks and scorched earth. “We have been led here, and all we can do is take our places on the stage and watch the events unfold.”

  He turned back to face them, and Geve saw that the man’s eyes were lit with a strange excitement. “Can you not feel it?” he said. “Can you not see it?”

  Geve frowned, puzzled, but as he opened his mouth to ask what Comminor meant, a sudden glimmer of the air around them made him stop. “What was that?” he whispered.

  “It is beginning,” Comminor said.

  Sarra’s hand tightened on Geve’s again and she cried out. Amabil moved quickly to her side, and they held her as the next contraction began. Amabil raised Sarra’s dress, and the men politely averted their eyes as she inspected the mother-to-be.

  An exclamation from Amabil caused Geve to look back, however, and he saw the blanket between Sarra’s pale thighs soaked with liquid.

  “Her waters have broken,” Amabil clarified. “It will not be too long now.”

  They waited for her contraction to stop and then removed the sodden blanket. Nele took a fresh one and went to replace it.

  And then he stopped and stared at the ground.

  Comminor frowned. “What is it?” He looked, and his eyes widened too. Everyone crowded round, following their gaze.

  Geve’s jaw dropped.

  A tiny green shoot protruded from out of the blackened earth.

  For a long time, none of them said anything.

  Then Nele bent closer and touched the shoot with the tips of his fingers. “It is alive,” he said, his voice filled with wonder.