Descent

by Charlotte McConaghy

  His eyebrows arched. ‘Hiding is not a luxury I can afford on any night, majesty. Nor is being unimportant, it seems, no matter how hard I might try.’

  ‘Arrogance doesn’t become you,’ she said icily. ‘Now will you come? Or will I have to tell my brother that you are as reliable as your reputation states?’

  He only smiled. ‘Lead the way, lovely lady.’

  Elixia struggled to keep her mouth shut. Who was this boy to be having any effect on her emotions? This strange thumping in her heart was going to stop this very instant.

  As they walked down the stairs he was very close behind her and their hands brushed. She had no idea if it was his intention to touch her, but the contact made her skin tingle. She walked faster, striving to put distance between them. They made it to the bottom and she turned to look at him.

  ‘Fern said for you to go to the spot where the three of you arrived and wait there.’

  Without meeting his eyes she turned to walk away from him.

  ‘Lix,’ he said, and she froze at the sound of her father’s nickname on his lips. ‘Have we come to this?’

  Very slowly, she turned back to meet his dark eyes. The guard seemed to have slipped for an instant as he waited for her response. But Elixia knew that she was not the type of girl who waited around on the whims of a boy and his ever-changing personality. Whatever friendship they had created seemed to have been shattered almost as quickly as it arose simply because of his need to hide.

  ‘You brought us here,’ she told him, and then she walked away.

  Altor stared at the same patch of grass, his body still. There was blood on his hand where his fingernails had bitten into his palm. He thought about the pain, and only the pain. He dug his fingernails even deeper. It numbed some of the rage inside him.

  ‘Altor?’ Harry’s voice called out through the darkness. He could see the boy’s silhouette against the light of the palace and he considered not saying anything. It would be so easy to slink away into the dark.

  ‘What?’ he asked flatly.

  Harry jumped and clutched his chest. ‘Jesus, Altor. Could you be any creepier? Fern sent me to give you this.’

  Altor took the flask and stared at it. ‘What the hell is this?’

  Harry shrugged. ‘A sleeping potion.’

  ‘What’s it for?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I’m losing my patience, Harry,’ Altor snapped. ‘Give me something to prove you aren’t completely useless or I’m walking from this spot right now.’

  The hurt in Harry’s face didn’t reach through Altor’s anger.

  ‘He just said to give you this, and to tell you to wait.’

  ‘Wait for what?’

  ‘If I knew that I would already have told you!’ Harry exclaimed. ‘I can’t stand your moods—wait here or don’t, it’s up to you, but I know I wouldn’t want to deal with Fern after disobeying him on a night like this.’

  ‘Disobeying him,’ Altor repeated flatly.

  Harry sighed. ‘You know I just meant—not helping him. Altor, why can’t you just wait here for him?’

  ‘Because none of this has anything to do with me!’ he rasped, turning his back on his friend.

  ‘Fine,’ Harry said, walking away. Altor didn’t move, however, because no matter what he said, what he told himself, he was involved.

  Something occurred to him then, and he was almost too late. ‘Harry!’ he yelled, and the man stopped and turned to face him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I need you to do something for me.’

  ‘Oh really? And why should I do that?’

  ‘Because you’re in love with my mother.’

  The silence hung in the air between them. If he’d been able to make out the colour of Harry’s face, Altor was sure it would have been bright red.

  ‘Go on,’ he said softly.

  ‘I need you to check on her, Harry. As her champion. Your job is to protect her. She is ... she’s in a bad situation. It could be dangerous.’

  ‘Where is she? What’s going on, Altor?’

  Harry’s voice was no longer embarrassed—now it was businesslike, and for the first time Altor actually appreciated the wild, hopelessly romantic gesture of protection a seventeen-year-old boy had made two years ago. He weighed up how much to say.

  ‘She’s with Accolon.’

  ‘What? What the hell do you mean she’s with Accolon?’ Harry replied.

  ‘Harry, she can look after herself.’

  ‘Then why even bother telling me to check on her?’

  Alto’s gaze dropped to the ground. He let out a long breath. ‘Because no one should have to look after themselves all the time. That’s what champions are for, however ridiculous the notion sounds.’

  Harry smiled briefly. ‘Okay. I’ll check on her.’ He paused. ‘Are you okay, Altor?’

  To which Altor replied, ‘I’m always okay, Harry.’

  Altor watched the moons in the sky. It was almost sunrise. The night, it seemed, had gone on forever. He’d been waiting outside for what felt like hours.

  That was when he heard a grunt and turned to see a strange shape coming out of the palace. It took him a moment to realise it was someone being supported by another person. Jane and Fern.

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’ Altor barked, running to take the load of the man’s weight from Jane. She breathed in relief, straightening her back with a wince.

  ‘He’s very tired,’ she said. ‘Altor, I need you to help me get him out of the city.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ll explain on the way. Do you have the sleeping potion?’

  He nodded. ‘How far are we going? Will we need horses?’

  ‘Yeah. Anna told me about a hut in the forest just outside Amalia. There will be a lot of guards stationed at each exit of the city. They won’t want us to leave.’ Jane sighed, wishing she didn’t have to lay so much weight on one boy. ‘It’s a lot to ask,’ she whispered. ‘But I have no one else, and I need help. Can you get us there, Altor?’

  Fern managed to lift his head and look at him, and Altor felt something inside him shift. Like the dark, broiling cloud might have dispersed a little.

  ‘I give you my word, whatever it is worth,’ he said softly, ‘that I will get you there, or die trying.’

  Chapter 41

  As they raced towards the gates of the city atop stolen horses, Jane wished fervently that they’d had time to prepare some sort of plan. Fern seemed barely conscious, and Jane’s own fighting skills were horribly lacking, especially while she was being thrown around on the back of a horse. And she still had no idea how to call up that power she seemed to be able to do so much with. Altor was a good fighter—but could they rely on him? It was a lot to ask, especially of a child.

  As they thundered towards the eastern gate she saw him draw his sword. Fern, clutching Jane’s waist, tried to do the same. She could feel his body shaking with the effort of just holding the sword aloft, and she understood once more just how deeply drained he must be.

  Guards were stationed inside all the gates, precisely to stop people trying to escape once they realised the protectors were being taken down. There were eight guards at this particular gate, and they moved to present their shields, blocking any discernible path through.

  ‘Fall behind me!’ Altor yelled. ‘Wait until I clear a path, Jane!’

  ‘Let me off,’ she heard Fern mumble from behind her. ‘I can help him.’

  She pulled their horse to a halt a safe distance away and refused to let go of Fern’s hands. ‘You aren’t going anywhere near them like this,’ she snapped.

  ‘He can’t fight them on his own.’

  Which, in the end, turned out to be wrong.

  What neither of them could know about the Black Prince was that he’d lived and breathed fighting since he’d been able to walk. He’d grown up in an Amazonian orphanage, where he’d been trained every day by the fiercest women in the world. And when he was forced to h
elp Leostrial fight, he had been made to see the fall of the Elvish Prince against the war god himself. If the seven-year-old boy had needed any other shaping in life, any other reason to hone his skills so acutely, then it had not yet arisen.

  It was part of his escape. An outlet for all the rage inside him.

  So he drew his sword and cleaved it through the first guard’s shield, his blow so powerful that it sliced through the man’s neck, killing him instantly. Jane gasped as Altor manoeuvred his horse adeptly with his knees, striking down on top of the guards, again and again, each stroke heavy and accurate, not a single movement wasted.

  Jane felt like she was watching a younger version of Fern. But this had none of the flashy brilliance of the older man. This was contained, understated deadliness. It was over in minutes.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Altor shouted, and she snapped awake, kicking her horse forward. Then they were galloping through the gates and into the forest.

  ‘It’s about fifteen kilometres east along the path!’ Jane called out breathlessly and Altor nodded, surging forward to lead the way.

  She gripped Fern’s hands tighter around her waist and realised he’d somehow fallen asleep. ‘Wake up!’ she shouted over her shoulder and he snapped his eyes open. ‘It’s not safe to sleep out here!’ she hissed. ‘Hold on a bit longer.’ He held on to her tighter, and sat up straighter.

  They reached the cabin and Altor dismounted, running over to help Fern to the ground.

  ‘I’m all right,’ Fern protested, pushing the younger man away and making his own way into the cabin. Once inside he sank down onto the bed. ‘I’m starting to feel a lot better,’ he assured them.

  ‘Okay, so now what?’ Altor asked him. ‘Why the sleeping potion?’ It took Altor only a moment to realise. ‘Wait—you plan on going to sleep outside the protectors? Why?’

  ‘No,’ Jane said softly, and both men turned to look at her. ‘That’s not what he’s doing. It’s what I’m doing.’ And before either of them could protest, she took the flask of sleeping potion and drank the contents in several huge gulps.

  ‘Jane! NO!’ Fern yelled, jumping up to hit the cup from her hands, but it was too late. The flask, as it crashed to the floor and rolled into a corner, was empty.

  They stared at her, horrified.

  ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ Altor whispered. ‘They’ll never let you wake up.’

  ‘I was going to fight them, Jane,’ Fern said, his eyes pained. ‘It was going to be me.’

  Slowly she shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t have worked, Fern. It’s me they want. They’ve been trying to get me for a long time now. Once they know I’ve entered their world, no one else will get a second look.’ She met Fern’s grey eyes. ‘You know it’s true,’ she told him gently.

  ‘What? Why?’ Altor snapped. ‘Why would they only want you? Because you’re a Stranger?’

  ‘Because thousands of years ago, Altor,’ she told him softly, ‘when I lived for the first time, my name was Amara, and I banished their master from Paragor.’

  There was silence, then, deeper than the earth, as the three of them contemplated a legend. One that stated that their child of light, their saviour, would return when the end of the world came upon them, when the Scourge finally returned.

  ‘That’s how you know me!’ Altor exclaimed suddenly, staring at her with shocked eyes. ‘In a past life? It has to be!’

  Jane looked at him for a moment. Then a smile creased her face and she nodded. Before anything more could be said, the edges of everything started to blur. The faces of the two boys warped, as though she was looking at them through an ocean of water. Panic clutched her—this was a suicide mission, and she hadn’t said any of the things she needed to.

  ‘Altor,’ she said quickly, her speech slurred. ‘Try to let go of your anger, because you’re a great man, and you need to believe that about yourself.’

  ‘Jane,’ he said, reaching out to steady her as she swayed. Quickly he led her to the bed. She closed her eyes, then forced them open. She couldn’t leave yet.

  ‘Please, Al,’ she went on, but he shook his head.

  ‘Stop, Jane. You don’t need to do this. I’ll be here you when you wake up.’

  ‘You have to let yourself be happy,’ she tried, feeling her shoulders droop. This seemed to be very important, at the end. He needed to know. ‘You deserve so much more than what you let yourself have. Your parents love you. That’s all that matters. Not what you’ve lost. Not what you hide from. You’re more than all of that. Do you understand?’

  He stared at her.

  ‘Do you understand, Altor?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, defeated.

  ‘You’ve given me more shelter than I ever could have asked for, been more of a friend than I ever expected to find in this world,’ she whispered and he felt the words inside him, sharp and complicated. ‘You helped my smile remember me.’

  There were tears in his eyes.

  Jane’s face was growing slack, and she sank down onto the pillow. She couldn’t hold on much longer. Her eyes opened one last time, searching for his face, searching for the only man she would ever love, the man who was the reason she had to save this world, the simple reason and rule of her heart. He was there above her, his eyes as grey and as perfect as they had always been.

  ‘Jane,’ Fern said loudly, shaking her shoulders. She was slipping away, and she couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t tell him all the things she needed desperately for him to hear. There was far too much unsaid. Too many things in her heart that he needed to know before she slept, possibly never to wake again.

  ‘Fern,’ she managed to say, but then the potion took hold, and she fell asleep.

  They stared at her comatose form. No amount of calling her name or shaking her could wake her. Altor was consumed by the words she’d spoken to him, but more so by the fact that there had been no time for words for the man next to him.

  It seemed hideously inappropriate. Cataclysmically unfair. Altor looked at his best friend, the one man who meant anything to him, and couldn’t tear his eyes away from the raw agony in Fern’s gaze. The loss, the powerlessness.

  So he took charge.

  ‘Her body will need protection until she wakes up,’ he said calmly. ‘You and I will do that, Fern. We’ll make sure she is safe.’

  ‘It was supposed to be me,’ Fern whispered.

  Altor rested a hand on Fern’s shoulder. ‘That doesn’t matter now. We’ll protect her and she’ll be fine. Are you going to help me do that?’

  Fern was silent for a moment, and then he nodded.

  But they didn’t get any further in their planning. A mighty scream tore through the air, so sudden and so piercing that it sliced through the cabin and made both of them recoil. Jane was squirming on the bed, her body struggling as though held by some unseen force. Her back arched in pain or terror or both, and Altor and Fern saw three deep gashes appear across her chest, tearing her clothes from her shoulder down to her navel. It was as though an invisible hand had raked through her body, and blood splattered forth.

  Altor turned cold. He’d lived through nightmares, but he’d never seen anything so horrifying.

  Fern rushed to her side. ‘Jane!’ he yelled, his voice hoarse and desperate. ‘What the hell’s happening?’ he hissed at Altor.

  Altor shook his head numbly. ‘I don’t know. The creatures have her. But I’ve never ... I’ve never seen...’

  ‘Altor!’ Fern snapped.

  ‘I’ve never known the effects of a Valkyrie nightmare to have physical manifestation. I’ve never seen anything like this.’

  Jane screamed again and writhed in agony, blood soaking her shredded shirt and the linen sheets. Her flesh gaped and her face was full of terror. ‘What can I do?’ Fern yelled.

  Her shriek drove itself into Altor’s heart and he took a desperate step forward. The noise halted, but her face twisted as if issuing a soundless scream.

  ‘Gods,’ Fern whispered. He tried t
o hold some of the linen against her wounded chest, but she flailed so wildly that he was forced to stand back.

  There was nothing either of them could do. They watched helplessly as her body thrashed to and fro on the bed, terrorised by a foe they could not fight.

  ‘I’m going after her,’ Fern said suddenly, his voice low and deadly.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Look at her,’ the older man whispered. ‘How can I leave her?’

  ‘Maybe this isn’t something you can save her from, Fern. Maybe this is something she has to do for herself.’

  Fern’s eyes flashed dangerously and there was a trace of fire in them.

  ‘If she was yours, Altor, would you honestly be sitting here and watching this, waiting for whatever it is inside her to tear her apart?’

  If she was yours.

  ‘Is she yours?’ Altor asked softly. He’d tried to keep any kind of edge out of his voice, but wasn’t sure if he’d managed it.

  Fern stiffened. He looked, finally, like he understood, and Altor cringed inwardly at his own stupidity, at how foolish he’d been in giving himself away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quickly. ‘If she is anyone’s, of course she is yours.’

  What happened next was a measure of the man, the bright Elvish Prince, and how much he loved Altor.

  Fern’s face softened and he rested a hand on Altor’s shoulder. ‘Jane is very easy to fall in love with,’ he said. ‘I could never blame another man for doing the exact same thing as I did. But I will charge you, instead, with understanding. You must know, Al, that if it is still within my power to try, then I will always, always try.’

  They held each other’s gaze. Heavy with the knowledge that he might very well lose them both, Altor said, ‘If you fall asleep touching her, if the connection between the two of you is strong enough, you will be able to share your dreams. And I think it is—strong enough, I mean.’

  Fern smiled and embraced him. ‘You’re a brother to me, Al. You always will be. Do the best you can, it’s all anyone can ask.’

  Altor watched, his eyes full of tears for the first time in a great many years, as Fern lay down next to Jane, holding her hand tightly in his. Fern closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his breathing. A soldier knew how to send himself to sleep, no matter what was happening around him—sometimes it was the only way to get a moment’s rest.