Descent

by Charlotte McConaghy

‘Fern,’ he breathed, holding his hands up to stop them. There was an unfamiliar feeling inside Altor. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t make any words come out. Clenching his teeth at his own weakness, he said carefully, ‘There’s something up ahead that you don’t want to see, Fern.’

  ‘What? What are you talking about?’ Both he and Jane had grown very still.

  ‘There’s been a ... your wife was out during the night for some reason. Her body is up ahead.’

  Nobody said anything. The wind blew through the windows of the carriage, making a high-pitched whistling sound. Fern stared at Altor, the colour drained from his face. Jane’s eyes were wide with horror.

  The Elvish Prince sat there a moment longer, and then he kicked his horse hard, racing forward to the bundle on the ground. Altor followed him as quickly as he could, and saw as Fern dismounted and sagged to the ground. Altor turned and held the rest of the group back, letting the man have at least this one last moment alone with his wife.

  Jane felt the pain slash through her as keenly as if it had been her own grief. She watched from the back of the group as Fern bent over Athena’s body and started to cry. She wanted to go forward and comfort him, but she couldn’t make her body move. Her vision swam with a clear, brutal flash of guilt. And hot on its tail was a desperate sorrow, because she knew that she could not possibly be the one to comfort Fern.

  ‘Won’t it ever stop?’ she whispered into the wind, to no one in particular.

  That evening, in the tavern they were staying in, he turned away from her when she came to find him. There was a new ache inside him, for he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to be with her, wracked with guilt as he was.

  ‘How are you?’ she asked him worriedly.

  ‘Fine.’

  Jane walked forward a few steps. ‘I’m so sorry—’

  ‘—No, don’t,’ Fern warned. ‘I can’t ... be near you right now.’

  Jane drew back a little, her eyes anxious.

  ‘Every time I looked at her, all I saw was you,’ he spat angrily. ‘And Athena knew that. She died knowing that I didn’t love her.’

  Jane could think of nothing to say. She reached for him again but he pulled away violently.

  ‘Just don’t, Jane! Not now.’

  She nodded quickly and backed away. She paused briefly, her voice firm, ‘Please don’t blame yourself. If you do, you will never get past this.’

  Jane found Altor sitting at the bar of the tavern downstairs from their rooms. His face was buried in a mug of ale, and he barely looked up when she sat down next to him. Ordering the same, Jane sat in silence. When the ale came she sipped at it, trying to ignore the bitter taste and focus on what she was here to say.

  ‘Have you ever had a moment when things just slide into place, finally?’ she asked him softly. ‘Like you’ve just suddenly gained some perspective?’

  Altor said nothing.

  Jane sighed. ‘I’ve been an unforgivable, whinging baby for way too long, Al. I’m really, truly sorry for my behaviour. But I wanted to tell you that I’m not going to do it anymore—wallow in self-pity. There are ... there are so many worse things in life...’ Her voice caught slightly and she closed her eyes, willing herself not to think about the crumpled body under the cloak.

  Jane opened her eyes and placed a hand on Altor’s shoulder. ‘Altor,’ she said firmly. ‘Look at me.’

  Slowly he dragged his eyes to her. There were deep circles under them, and he looked deathly tired. But what shocked her the most was the fury in his gaze. She ignored it—she had the same thing inside her after what they’d seen that day and they couldn’t allow it to overtake them or else they would be lost too.

  ‘You have to go up there,’ she told him clearly. ‘You have to look after him. It can’t be me—but he loves you. I know you don’t want to, but y ou’re the only one.’

  Altor stared at her. The rage never left his face; she understood it was too deep for that. But after a while he nodded, leant forward and kissed her on the cheek softly, before heading upstairs.

  It had taken Ria the entire trip to work up the courage to face Luca. Partly because she was afraid of what had happened to him, and partly because she knew that if she was in his presence for long, she would want to take back all the cruel words she’d spoken.

  When finally they reached the palace several days later, she did visit him, and it became clear that her thoughts were foolish and selfish. Ria was the least of Luca’s problems at the moment. He was sitting at the window, looking out into the evening sky. Lindel and Jael both shone brightly, casting an eerie light on his face—his pained face that seemed to convey nothing but dreariness.

  He didn’t look at her as she entered, and she had the feeling he didn’t even notice her presence. Ria dragged a stool next to him and sat down. Slowly he turned to her, a dull, uncomprehending expression in his eyes.

  ‘Luca?’ she asked, looking closely at him.

  Eventually he nodded. ‘Yes, that’s me. I’m Luca.’ His voice was slow. He stared at her, waiting.

  ‘How do you feel?’ she stammered.

  He paused again. ‘I’m having trouble ... I can’t...’ he rubbed his head. ‘I don’t know ... some things. There are too many shadows. I can’t remember you...’

  She could see he was trying, but things were muddled in his mind. She could see the distress this caused him.

  ‘I’m Ria. My name is Ria,’ she replied softly, but there was no recognition at all—only a blank stare. She swallowed and shut her eyes. This was her punishment. That this man, this wonderful, broken man should not know who she was, after all that they had been through.

  He said nothing more, and Ria felt that he had left the conversation completely.

  ‘Why should you remember me?’ she said lightly. ‘I’m just a friend.’

  He turned slowly back to the window, murmuring quietly, and Ria couldn’t make any sense of what he was saying. His hands were clenching and unclenching in his lap, roiling, anxious masses of swollen flesh and nobbled bones. She couldn’t stand it any more. She had tried, but she couldn’t look at him while he was like this.

  And could she be blamed? He was frightening, and who said she had to subject herself to his madness? It was not as though she had caused it!

  Ria clenched her teeth and stood, fighting a violent wave of guilt. Luca started to laugh hysterically, his voice slicing horribly into her ears. She left quickly and shut the door. On the other side, Ria lent heavily against it and shut her eyes, sucking in deep breaths, unable to block out the sound of his cackling.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Jane asked and Ria’s eyes snapped open quickly.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she replied shortly, standing up straight. Jane approached from the other end of the corridor, holding some books.

  ‘You saw Luca?’ Jane asked, and when Ria nodded she went on. ‘He needs the company. I’ve taken to reading to him—there’s a whole library that Cornelius has given me access to, and I think Luca really needs the mental stimulus—’ she broke off from her cheerful speech as Ria shook her head.

  ‘He doesn’t know who I am!’

  Jane sighed and rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘I know it’s hard. But it isn’t his fault. And it’s not a reflection of his feelings for you either. It’s just ... he’s hurt. It can’t be helped.’

  This only worked to make Ria feel worse.

  ‘How long were you in there with him?’ Jane asked, looking into her face.

  ‘A few minutes. I had to get out of there—I couldn’t stand to see him like that!’

  Jane frowned and patted Ria’s back gently. ‘We have to help him, Ria. He needs us to be there for him. Especially you.’

  ‘Me? I’m the last thing he needs!’ Ria laughed bitterly. ‘He’s blocked me out of his mind!’

  ‘No, Vezzet did that. Not Luca,’ Jane said firmly. When Ria didn’t reply, Jane’s frown deepened. ‘Go back and sit with him for at least a little while. He’s not goi
ng to hurt you—you aren’t allowed to just give in. I know it’s scary, but think about how he must feel. And don’t bother crying!’

  Ria stifled the tears that had indeed been on their way. With an overwhelming sense of shame, she pushed past Jane and ran down the hall, away from his room.

  She didn’t go back to see Luca. Nor did she try to find Fern and comfort him. She could not offer any solace for Bayard after what he had been through—his guilt, and grief, and shame.

  What was wrong with her? Maybe Bayard had been right when he’d told her she was too damaged.

  Some days later, Ria paced her room, thinking about his words once again. A moment later she burst into Bayard’s room and found him sitting on the balcony, trying in vain to polish his sword with only one hand.

  ‘You know what?’ she yelled. ‘I’ve been berating myself for fact that I’m not good enough for you, but you’re the one who’s damaged if you’re willing to just give up on me!’

  Bayard stared at her blankly. ‘Ria, are you all right?’

  ‘You can’t just walk away from me because I’m too difficult!’ she snapped. ‘It’s weak and cowardly. You have to be better than that.’ Her hands had started to shake. She’d never been this angry.

  Bayard was on his feet, reaching for her. ‘It’s okay—’

  ‘—It’s not okay!’ she hissed. ‘You’re not allowed to do that! What about me, Adon? What about me when you just walk away? Instead of telling me I’m damaged, why not acknowledge that at least I’m trying? You just have to try harder too. You don’t just ... leave.’

  He nodded, something in his eyes changing as he looked at her. He nodded again, more firmly this time. ‘Okay,’ he said seriously. ‘You are right. I won’t leave. I’ll be better. I promise I’ll be better.’

  A few nights earlier, in another room, in another palace, two men stood looking at each other, each thinking about the message they’d just received in their mind.

  Harry, his eyes filling with enraged tears, turned and punched his fist into the door, tearing open the skin on his hand. Jack stood frozen to the spot, everything inside him finally starting to overflow.

  ‘How could this happen?’ Harry asked, his voice loud in the silence of the room. Blood dripped from his hand. ‘ How could I let this happen to him?’

  The words barely registered in Jack’s ears, because as he stood there, he was struck with a realisation that had come far too late. As he thought about what one of his best friends had become, and what had happened to him because of it, Jack understood something about himself, and what he had to do.

  It dated back to a conversation he’d had with Luca before the boy had gone off to be tortured. A conversation in a room very near this one, about the slave trade, and the Red Lion, and what Luca was going to do. Jack thought of his nightmares, and how, even with Elixia’s help, he’d barely made any progress. He thought of his own powerlessness.

  ‘He was trying to change something,’ Jack said softly, almost to himself. ‘He was trying to make a difference.’

  Harry didn’t say anything, his face weary with pain.

  ‘He was trying to make a difference,’ Jack whispered once more, everything becoming clear.

  Chapter 34

  Mia’s hands shook as she sat in the carriage that would carry her to the temple on the evening of the ritual. She was covered head to toe in a red veil, the same colour as the robes that the priestesses wore. The wheels bumped over the stones on the road, throwing her against the seat, rattling her nerves.

  She finally knew about the ritual. And felt like she might throw up.

  How was a girl who had been a vegetarian her whole life supposed to enter a temple and slaughter a bull in front of an audience of people—then drink its blood from a sacred goblet?

  She was going to be sick. She couldn’t do it. It was barbaric. She understood now why the people of Samaraq had been thought of so badly by the rest of the world.

  Tye sat next to her, looking very worried. Gwen and Claudia kept reaching out to pat her back, or touch her arm, thinking it might help calm her. But she was beyond being calmed. Mia was terrified and panicked, and this was not going to go away unless she could somehow get out of doing what she was on her way to do.

  They arrived at the temple all too soon.

  She could hear the people outside the carriage. There must have been thousands, all those who couldn’t fit into the temple crowded outside to hear the announcement that the sacrifice had been made and the goddess was appeased for another year.

  Mia couldn’t stop thinking about Luca, about the violence that had been inflicted on him. About how she was about to commit the same kind of violence on another living creature.

  ‘I’m going to be sick,’ she rasped, leaning over to put her head between her knees. Unable to stop, she vomited onto the floor of the carriage. Gwen quickly pulled her hair and veil back from her face.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Claudia told her softly. Mia didn’t feel any better. This was a nightmare. She was going to ruin everything by being a weak-stomached little girl.

  ‘Tell me again,’ she whispered frantically, turning to meet Tye’s eyes.

  ‘Livestock is one of our most precious commodities. By sacrificing something that we need in order to survive, we are proving to Neith that we understand the sacrifices she makes for our souls every single night.’

  ‘And what does she sacrifice again?’

  ‘Every night, she battles the Devourer of Souls, risking her life that we might be safe. Isn’t it fair that we give her something in return?’

  ‘Why the hell would she want me to drink the blood of a cow? What in the world does she get out of that?’

  ‘As her anointed one you are responsible for receiving the sacrifice in her name. It proves our devotion, and your own,’ he said firmly. ‘It brings you closer to her, and therefore to us as your people. Look, Mia. It just has to be enough that you know it is important. You can work through the “whys” later. Right now, stop thinking and just do it.’

  Mia sucked in a deep breath and, gritting her teeth, emerged from the litter into the night air. No cheer went up—this was a sombre night. All eyes watched her intently as she moved up the steps of the temple and disappeared inside.

  Hundreds of people were crammed into the space within. A good number of them were priestesses, dressed in red as she was. A sea of blood red, staring at her.

  Mia focused everything she had on staying calm as she walked up to the altar. She stood through the ritual as if in a daydream, trying not to think about what she had to do. Finally, at the very end, they led out the bull. It was perfectly white, mighty and strong, its eyes wide and crazed in the candlelight.

  The knife was placed in her hand. It was long and sharp and cold. Mia stared at it, and then the bull.

  It seemed to her then that she was floating out of her body and looking down on the scene below. She saw herself through the eyes of all those watching her, and realised that despite what was going on inside her, she looked strong and sure. She saw the faces of her people, the need in their eyes, and then she turned to the statue of Neith. There was something about the strength in the goddess’ gaze, the unwavering determination to protect and fight that made Mia come to realise something.

  In that moment, with all eyes on her, Mia first began to understand what it meant to be a true leader of people. It meant compassion, and bravery, and also strength in its most potent form. She had to be unwavering like the goddess, even if it meant doing something she didn’t want to do. This was what they needed from her, for whatever reason. It was going to make her people feel safe. That’s what mattered.

  Without another thought, Mia sliced the knife as quickly as she could across the throat of the bull and watched as the blood trickled steadily into the sacred goblet. The corpse was removed, and then the cup was offered to her.

  Looking at the statue of her goddess, the Queen of Samaraq drank the blood of the offered sacrifice to prov
e to her people how devoted she was to them, finally understanding in her heart what it meant to be queen.

  That night Mia stood atop the wall of the palace and looked down over her city, the cool air of the night bringing bumps to her skin. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks. They weren’t tears of sadness or inadequacy. They were simply falling because she was so full of everything.

  How could one heart have enough room in it to love an entire nation of people as if they were her very own children? It grew, that’s how. It grew until it took up her whole body. But that heart—the size of it—allowed all the sorrow inside as well. All the worry and the determination. All the sadness.

  Luca wasn’t far from her mind. She wanted to be with Jane and Anna, trying to look after him. She wanted to give him something, but she didn’t know how, when everything inside her was being taken up by this place.

  She heard footsteps and knew who was behind her. She had known with certainty that he would come and find her tonight.

  ‘Tye,’ she said softly, turning to look at him. He didn’t look away from her tears, but held her gaze with the innate kindness she had come to know in him.

  ‘Mia,’ he said. And there was something in his voice when he said that word that made everything shift inside her.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said softly, holding his eyes. ‘Tell me what you are hiding from me. Tell me what you try each day to tell me and fail.’

  Her heart, so overflowing, had been able to detect something she never would have seen before tonight; it was finally able to feel something that had been staring her in the face all along.

  Tye looked down at his hands clasped together tightly. ‘It has to do with why we were banished, highness,’ he said softly. ‘In the end, it was one thing that pushed us over the edge. You see, majesty, you fell in love with your servant, and such a thing, I fear, was too much to be borne.’

  He paused, and Mia felt something clenching in her chest. Too many avenues, in this new heart, to pain.

  ‘It might go a small way in explaining, too, the reason I have been so unforgivably rude of late. I’m in love with a woman who does not remember me, or the way in which she loved me in return. I went to sleep one night, full and alive, holding you in my arms, and when I awoke, you were gone. Now I walk this life as a ghost, empty and starved.’