Descent

by Charlotte McConaghy

  Anna and Harry followed Mia silently, and as if from far away, Jack felt Harry rest a hand on his shoulder before they, too, disappeared.

  No. This was going to be okay. She would come back to him. She’d realise soon enough what a mistake she’d made and then things would go back to normal.

  Jack chanted this, over and over in his mind, because it was easier than admitting to himself that maybe he was the problem after all. Far easier than thinking about the fact that this was becoming scarily like the nightmares he suffered through each night.

  Fern had been schooled by his sister to believe in the importance of dreams, and their deeper connection to the psyche.

  His dream was haunting him; the words of the woman would not leave his mind. It was not hard to figure out who she’d been. If there was anyone who could enter dreams, it was a goddess. And if a goddess was walking in his sleep, then what if...?

  Fern was plagued by the questions, and by the thought.

  She might still be alive.

  Ever since he returned, Fern had been blocking out his grief. He tried desperately to not think about the way he had ended things with Jane—by making her believe she’d hurt him. And now everyone said she was dead. Which was, if he let himself think about it, the most heartbreaking thing that could ever happen to him.

  So he didn’t think about it.

  But what if the dream...?

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Athena continued to ask him, but he couldn’t speak it. Finally one evening as they were getting ready for bed she slapped him hard on the face.

  ‘You are walking around like a ghost; not looking at anyone, not talking to anyone. You eat because you have to, and sleep because you don’t want to do anything else. What is wrong with you?’

  He touched his cheek. ‘It has nothing to do with you,’ he told her flatly.

  Her eyes filled with tears. ‘And that’s the problem.’

  Fern shook his head tiredly. ‘Athena,’ he said, then stopped, shrugging.

  ‘Why can’t you tell me?’

  ‘You don’t want to know. Believe me.’

  ‘That’s just it—you don’t seem to understand that I want to know everything about you! Not just the good things!’ She had stormed from the room in frustration, but he hadn’t been able to conjure any sort of real feeling about it. A vague sense of guilt, but not much else.

  Which was why he walked from the ice castle of the Elves, away from the city and out onto the plains of Cynis Witron, alone amid a seemingly endless field of yellow grass. How could they not let him grieve? Rationally he knew they couldn’t understand—they didn’t know about his feelings for Jane. But he resented them anyway for their blind ignorance. For their blunt, oafish happiness and their messy emotions. All he had was one. Despair, in all its forms.

  So Fern stood there alone. He closed his eyes, and tried, somehow, to feel her.

  He ached to be able to kiss her, to hold her. He imagined her everywhere. Laughing with the other Elves, dancing with them. Every corner he turned he thought he saw her, and it made him feel like he was actually going mad. At night he imagined her next to him, and the desire was so strong it made him ill.

  He’d never had cause to know grief before. His life, until recently, had been ridiculously easy, foolishly whimsical. And now—now the grief was enormous. Nothing worked for his bruised, broken body. The body that carried within it a heart that would never again work. Not without her.

  ‘Jane,’ Fern whispered into the air, his eyes closed, trying to imagine her there with him. The word was like balm on his lips, sweet and healing. The first time he’d let himself speak it. He thought he could feel it caressing his ears from where it flew with the wind.

  He shaded his eyes against the sun and stood for a moment longer.

  Then Fern clenched his teeth and turned to walk away. He was a fool. Jane was dead. Why did he torture himself? He was making life agony for himself, and the ferociousness of his rage just then was startling.

  He thought he understood something though. Why she had left. Jane had watched him get killed; she had stood there and had seen him die. And if she’d felt even a portion of the grief in his heart, he knew it would have been the easiest thing in the world to just give up.

  His steps were slow as he trudged back across the plains to the castle on the horizon that was supposed to be his home now. Each movement was an effort, and the sight of the city made his feet so much heavier to lift.

  But then he felt something, and he froze. A change in the wind, so slight it would have been imperceptible to anyone else. A whisper against his ears, a caress against his skin.

  A gasp escaped his lips, because his senses had come alive as if shocked by lightning. He spun around wildly, his breath quick, not knowing what was happening. And then he saw it.

  A figure in the sky, riding one of two unicorns, though he could not tell if it was the white or the black.

  As he watched, her outline became clear, lost its ephemeral shadings as she entered the world of mortals and became what she had once been. Out of the sky she rode, graceful and wondrous, and Fern’s heart began to thump violently.

  The unicorns landed at precisely the same moment, their hooves hitting the ground, their wings tucking in behind their backs. Before they had even stopped moving, Jane leapt to the ground. The two brilliant creatures trotted away and began to graze nearby. Jane stood a few feet away from him. She didn’t move.

  A dream, he thought. Just like all the others. He was going insane. It had to be an illusion—she could not possibly be standing before him.

  But then he noticed that she was breathing very heavily, her chest heaving with the effort of pulling air into her lungs, her eyes wide and otherworldly. Her body was shaking.

  ‘Fern,’ she whispered, and sank to her knees. He ran forward to catch her, tightening his arms around her. Her eyes fluttered open and then focused on him, big and brown and flecked through with hazel.

  ‘Jane,’ he whispered, panicked. Their eyes locked, and the longer they stared at each other, the more solid her focus became. Very slowly, her breathing calmed, and her body stopped trembling. She sighed wearily, and then she smiled.

  ‘What took you so long?’ she asked faintly, and the sound of the humour in her voice was enough that he finally believed she was real.

  ‘How ... where have you been?’ he managed.

  ‘Help me up,’ she murmured. He lifted her to her feet, his skin electrified where it touched hers. Jane gave a soft laugh. ‘I’m a little weak,’ she explained. ‘It has been a very long time, hasn’t it?’ Then, seeming to remember his question, she shrugged and smiled again. ‘I’ve been learning things. Remembering things. Waiting for you.’

  Fern sank to his knees, too overwhelmed to stand any longer. She moved closer and knelt in front of him. ‘Oh, Fern,’ she said. ‘It’s all right. I’m here now.’

  His arms encircled her and held on to her desperately. ‘I thought you were dead,’ he said, his hand in her hair. His grief had been like a living thing, debilitating him, and now it was just ... gone. His body felt as though his heart had only just begun to pump blood again.

  ‘And you were dead,’ she laughed, her voice muffled where her face was pressed into his shoulder. ‘I had to leave, so that while I waited for you, I could finally understand some things.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘We can talk about that later.’

  ‘How did you know to wait? How did you know I would come back?’

  ‘Fern, your sister is a necromancer. I was fairly certain she wasn’t going to give up on you.’ Jane stroked his cheek gently.

  It was so long ago, and yet they both remembered it as if it were yesterday. ‘Jane,’ he said desperately, ‘You know I was lying, don’t you? On the boat? I only said what I did to protect you. You never did anything wrong, it was all my fault, and I’m so sorry—’

  ‘Stop, Fern,’ she said. ‘It’s all right. It doesn’t matter anymore.’ />
  ‘I hated myself for hurting you like that.’

  ‘I understand,’ she murmured.

  And then finally the full weight of his mistake came crashing down on him.

  ‘Oh, gods,’ he whispered, covering his face with his hands.

  ‘What, Fern?’ she asked worriedly.

  ‘Nobody told me,’ he muttered. ‘I didn’t know you were alive—they said you were dead. Everybody told me you were dead...’

  ‘It’s all right, Fern,’ she said again, but now he pulled away from her touch, and she was unsure what to do. He looked up at her, his face haggard.

  ‘I’m married, Jane,’ he said roughly.

  ‘What? What are you talking about?’

  ‘I ... you were dead. I had duties here to my people, my mother ... I thought that ... I thought you were never coming back, so it didn’t matter...’

  She stared, and finally she understood. Quickly she stood, stepping away from him. ‘Jesus, Fern. You’re such an idiot!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Jane. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do...’ Fern shuddered.

  She shook her head. ‘Let’s not do this,’ she said softly. ‘I can’t right now. I’m too tired. We can talk about it later.’ Then she turned and walked away from him. Fern’s chest tightened painfully, but suddenly she paused, looking over her shoulder at him.

  ‘I’ll need somewhere to stay to recover for a night or two,’ she said bluntly. He nodded, his heart starting to beat again. So they walked across the plain towards the ice castle together.

  There was a part of him that knew what he had lost, the part that made his footsteps heavier.

  But better she was alive and not his than dead. He’d lost her out of his own haste and stupidity, but at least they had not all lost her from the world.

  Jane was alive, and finally he could breathe again.

  It was at that precise moment that the power of banishment was broken. A force that had for so long been silent, a name that was feared to mention, became a reality once more.

  It was at that moment that the Scourge of the land of Paragor, creature of dark malevolence, destroyed the bindings that had held him. His thoughts, so long focused on his banishment, turned towards the people of Paragor, with all the vengeance and hatred that had been sitting at the bottom of his black heart for over a thousand years.

  And the power he commanded now, born and fed by his own anger and longings, was great. He would not be overcome again. This time he was too strong.

  This time he had a plan.

  Chapter 16

  Mia lay face down on her bed, swaying with the waves that rocked the ship. A timid knock on the door interrupted her sobs. Wiping her eyes, she struggled to stand and open the door. In front of her were the two ladies Elixia had sent to accompany her on her journey. Harry and Anna had wanted to come with her, because they hadn’t understood that she needed to do this alone. They had only agreed not to come if Mia took the two women along.

  ‘Lady, whatever is the matter?’ the younger one—Claudia—gasped, rushing into the room to put a comforting arm around her. The girl had a mess of blonde hair and a giggly, whimsical imagination. Gwen, on the other hand, was older and sterner. Her lips were constantly forming a thin line, not of disapproval, but of watchfulness.

  Now she went quickly to the basin, wetting a cloth and wiping Mia’s face. The two women sat her down on the bed and stroked her hair gently.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Mia cried. ‘I didn’t mean for you to see me like this.’

  ‘Hush now,’ Gwen said. ‘There’s no need for apologies.’

  ‘Why are you upset?’ Claudia asked, her eyes wide.

  Mia sighed, shaking her head. ‘I just ... I just broke up with someone.’

  ‘A man!’ Claudia exclaimed. ‘You were courting someone? Who was it?’

  ‘Don’t harass her, child,’ Gwen chided.

  ‘Another Stranger,’ Mia explained. ‘We came to Paragor together. But ... he didn’t understand why I needed to come here, so ... I ended it.’

  ‘If he didn’t follow you to the ends of the land, then he did not truly love you!’ Claudia announced with a grand sweep of her hands.

  ‘I told him not to follow me,’ she said miserably. ‘Maybe I was too harsh?’

  Gwen shook her head firmly. ‘No use crying over what-ifs. Now let’s get you ready for bed.’ The older woman began preparing Mia’s nightgown, while Claudia started to comb the tangled mess of her red hair.

  Claudia laughed. ‘I never imagined I’d get to wait on one of the famous Bright Ones!’

  ‘It’s so strange to think of us as famous,’ Mia smiled. ‘I haven’t done anything!’

  ‘You will,’ Gwen murmured, almost too softly to hear.

  ‘The first four did enough that the six of you will be talked about forever,’ Claudia said with a happy sigh.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve heard all about that,’ Mia said.

  ‘But you know them personally!’ Claudia went on excitedly. ‘Could you tell us about them?’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Well ... I’ve always wondered about ... Jane and the prince.’

  ‘Actually,’ Mia said, ‘So have I. I don’t have a clue what happened.’

  ‘So you don’t know what happened in the end, when he died?’

  ‘No. I’ve heard that she left.’

  Claudia frowned. ‘I guess that is possible.’

  Gwen shook her head. ‘Claudia,’ she snapped. ‘There’s no sense in encouraging such thoughts.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because everyone knows...’ Gwen coloured slightly.

  ‘What?’ Mia pressed.

  ‘She died,’ Gwen finished softly, staring at the ground.

  There was a deep silence in the room.

  ‘There are other stories,’ Gwen said gently. ‘Other ways it might have happened.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Claudia agreed quickly. ‘Some say she was turned into a mermaid!’

  ‘What?’

  Gwen rolled her eyes, but the younger girl ignored her. ‘The story of the first mermaid is centuries old. As a human, she was the first woman to ever experience a broken heart—a real broken heart. She couldn’t bear it, this woman, so she went to Freyja the love goddess, and she asked to be set free of the torture. Freyja offered her a deal—no more pain, but no more joy either. An eternity of nothingness, swimming the cold and unforgiving oceans. So great was the woman’s pain that she agreed, and so was transformed into a half-woman, half-fish, that she might navigate through the water, icy like her heart, for the rest of time. And so the story goes that every woman who has ever had a real broken heart ends up with the same fate.’

  Mia stared at her, her mouth open. ‘ And this is what happened to Jane?’

  Claudia blinked. ‘Oh, no—I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Of course it isn’t,’ Gwen snapped. ‘It’s just a ridiculous tale, told by silly young girls.’

  Mia lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. They were wrong. Jane was coming back. She had to. ‘She was just a girl,’ Mia murmured. ‘My friend. And she didn’t know anything about boys. How could she have a broken heart?’

  Neither of the girls replied.

  The next day the ship arrived at the small dock of Tirana.

  Standing a few paces back from the wooden walkway, amid leagues of hot sand that stretched as far as the eye could see, was a tall, dark-skinned man. He wore a light cotton vest, and had his large arms crossed, his legs spread wide. The sun reflected off his bald head. Mia stopped in front of him, her eyes wide.

  The enormous man’s lip curled, and without speaking, he turned and began walking into the desert.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Mia called out to his retreating form. He ignored her, except to give a flick of his head that indicated they should follow him.

  Claudia looked terrified, but Gwen gave a shrug. ‘Suppose we’d better go with him then.’

  Mia cast a wishful look at the boat
behind them, already preparing to sail again, and then resolutely turned away from it, an image in her mind of towering walls amid a sea of sand that was very much like the sand she was standing in.

  It took them the good part of the morning to reach the camp. Mia spotted it in the distance—hundreds of white shapes, glistening under the hot sun, turning red as night drew closer. All day the heat had threatened to make her dizzy, but now its edge was fading, and she knew it was going to be very cold here at night.

  A group of people waited on the outskirts. A man stood in front of them, almost an exact replica of the man who had led them through the desert, except this one was not as tall, and his face was beaming with a wide, welcoming smile.

  ‘Greetings,’ he said, bowing as he clasped Mia’s hand. ‘You must be the Bright One, Mia. We have awaited your arrival very gladly. I am Emperor Liam of the Kabduh, and you stand now in the Sands of Anuk.’

  Mia blinked, bowing as gracefully as she could. This man had tattoos all over his face, and his body was adorned with knives and swords. The whites of his eyes, and the brightness of his teeth stood out in a sharp contrast to his dark skin.

  ‘Thank you,’ Mia said, unable to help the grin that spread across her face. ‘It’s a pleasure to be here.’ And she meant it. Despite the sand that had made its way into every crevice of her body, Mia already loved the desert. More than that—she loved that she was on her own, making her own adventure.

  ‘Come inside and have tea with us,’ Liam offered, leading her into a tent and sitting down on a mat. ‘You’ve already met my younger brother, Lastaam. Forgive his manner—he doesn’t speak a word of your language.’

  ‘I get the feeling that’s not what he was upset about.’ Mia eyed Lastaam who stood near the entrance to the tent, brooding.

  Liam frowned. ‘I apologise if he was anything but polite to you—he thinks he was being punished by being sent on an errand to look after women.’

  ‘I see.’ Suddenly Mia didn’t think she was going to like Tirana as much as she thought. Claudia moved uncomfortably on the mat beside her.